Something From Nothing

             Parmenides’ argument regarding Being is airtight. If we assume that “nothing” does not exist, then there must be a single Being that is indivisible, immovable, unchangeable, was not created and cannot be destroyed. After all, if one were to divide, move, or change this being, what would be left in its place? It would have to be nothing, but we have already assumed that nothing does not exist! All change, therefore, is an illusion according to this argument. The world of Becoming is a collective hallucination, a misrepresentation of reality.  

Of course, most of us find this conclusion absurd. Obviously, there is change in the world, so Parmenides must be wrong. But how? His beginning assumption seems perfectly reasonable: in his words, “that it is, and that it is not possible for it not to be” ​(Reeve and Miller 14)​. The logical steps he takes also seem valid. It may be that the only way to refute his argument is to refute the assumption. In other words, “nothing” must exist, in some way.  

One possible alternative view of the world comes from the Atomists, who have been largely vindicated by scientists in the last few centuries. The first well-known proponent of Atomism is Democritus, who famously declared, “By convention [nomos] sweet; by convention, bitter; by convention, hot; by convention, cold; by convention, color; but in reality [phusis], atoms and void” ​(Reeve and Miller 34)​. According to Democritus, atoms are organized into a wide variety of shapes and patterns that affect our senses in precise ways. As a result, what we perceive as “change” is really atoms rearranging. Things are not “sweet,” “bitter,” “hot,” “cold,” or “colorful” in themselves, but they appear that way to us. While Democritus got some of the details wrong (it turns out that atoms are not indivisible), he got the basic idea right without the help of modern science. Impressive!  

Atomism partially solves the Parmenidean problem. The “void” in Democritus’ model may be a refined understanding of the “nothingness” that Parmenides rejects. Consequently, when we see things being moved, changed, created, or destroyed, these are not violations of the nature of reality. Atoms simply collide and interact with each other in different arrangements, all while moving in the void. However, the problem is not fully addressed. To explain why, let’s take an example of atoms rearranging to create an observable change. When the molecules in solid ice move more quickly, the ice will melt into water. If they move even faster, then the water will evaporate into steam. Slowing down the atoms will reverse the process, transforming steam back into water and water into ice.  

In order for the atoms to move at all, they must get from location one to location two. That is, they must stop existing in their current state, at least in terms of their location, and start existing in another state. How can this possibly occur? Part of Parmenides’ concern was that what-is-not cannot come from what-is, and vice versa. If that is the case for an overarching, omnitemporal and omnipresent Being, then surely that is also the case for atoms, right? This predicament doesn’t appear to be solved by the nature of movement. It is tempting to say that atoms change location by moving, but this doesn’t explain how moving is possible in the first place. Why would an atom stop existing at one point and then “reappear” at another point? Similarly, why would the velocity of the atoms change, transforming the ice into water, water to steam, and so on? Why would the property of having “velocity one” vanish in exchange for “velocity two”? There must be another element to the “what-is-not” that isn’t included in the void.  

One possible element is time. According to one scholar’s analysis of Parmenides, “time presupposes the past and the future, each of which is included in what-is-not (now)” ​(Reeve and Miller 15)​. This sentiment reflects the A theory of time, in which the present is the only time that truly exists, while the past and the future do not. If the A theory of time is correct, then it must be possible to get something from nothing since time is constantly moving forward. Parmenides is not fond of this conclusion, so perhaps he would be more receptive to the B theory of time.  

The B theory of time may be analogous to a movie made up of individual frames that, when isolated, are indistinguishable from normal photographs. Each moment in time is stacked against other moments around it that create the illusion of a smooth transition. Contrary to what Parmenides states, the past and the future exist as much as the present moment. They are part of the “what-is”, and when we say something like “this cup,” we really mean one part of the cup that extends through the fourth dimension of time in addition to the three dimensions in space.  

However, this B theory of time also doesn’t explain change. Why would we “move” from one point in time to the next? The problem appears similar to traditional movement. In the same way that an atom moving from one spatial place to another seems to imply the existence of nothing, an atom moving through time appears to do the same under this model. Why would the present moment shift from one “part” of time to another? To do this, a past moment would have to be, in some sense, “abandoned,” and a future moment “adopted”. It is similar to “abandoning” location one and “adopting” location two. How could this change occur without what-is coming from what-is-not?   

Whichever theory of time we accept, it appears that the Parmenidean problem is not entirely solved. Both involve something coming from nothing, or at least the implicit acceptance that “what-is-not” exists in some fashion. For thousands of years, philosophers have taken creation ex nihilo as a given impossibility. However, if we are to accept Parmenides’ logic and believe that change occurs, then it seems we have few other options. We must not only accept that it is possible for something to come from nothing, but that it happens all the time! It is the nature of change itself that requires this fact to be true. When we use physics to describe the orbits of celestial objects, we are implicitly skipping the step of “disappearing” and “reappearing” without realizing it! This doesn’t mean our knowledge of physics is wrong, but it is incomplete.  

Parmenides’ argument is mind-boggling, but it is difficult to ascribe a specific logical fallacy to it. Unfortunately, he rejects the belief that his starting place – “nothing” does not exist - must be false in favor of the more absurd conclusion that the world of Becoming is an illusion. The Atomists were able to address some of the problems he brought up with their own theory, but even they do not account for how time works. Furthermore, neither the A nor B theory of time fill in all the remaining gaps. For these reasons, perhaps it is unwise to follow the strict philosophical rule that ex nihilo creation should be completely discarded.  

My University's Writing Contest Submission

Logical and Eloquent Mr. Y 

    This is an introductory chapter for a fiction book I am writing, which I submitted to a writing contest at my university earlier this month. Unfortunately, I lost, but I am still proud of how my writing turned out. This also gives me a chance to post something a bit different from most of my posts, which are more formal arguments. 

 

Oskar stared at the mechanistic lawyer in the mirror, a logical and unsympathetic tool compelled by an invisible force to fight for justice. A black cloth hid his hair, eyes, nose, chin, and ears behind an empty void. The nothingness replacing his head lived above a formal suit. A grey coat with a red tie only half visible before vanishing behind a button. His hands were gloved, the same fabric and color as his mask. He brushed the tips of his fingers on the device strapped to his throat, feeling for the power button. After testing the voice modulator with a few vocal exercises – the typical “testing, 1, 2, 3” – he picked up his files from the desk and walked to the courtroom. At this moment, he was no longer Oskar Vilde, a unique character with a personality and history distinguishable from everyone else, but Mr. Y, a deliverer of reason and fairness.  

Silence purified the air, aside from the poisonous shuffling of people moving into their seats. He saw his client already near the front of the room, closer than anyone else to where the judge will be. The faceless lawyer strolled next to his client, Patrick Riamo. Alleged criminals have the right to hide their own faces in court – something that Vilde had recommended to hide the scar across the right side of Riamo’s forehead – but his client had refused. He believed that forcing the jury to look him in the eye would make it harder for them to convict an innocent man. Mr. Y disagreed, having represented far too many cases where the defendant’s looks only cost them their freedom. He sat down and looked around the room. Behind his left side, the jury were already discussing Riamo’s negative physical features.  

“Where did he get that gash?” one lady asked.  

“He looks guilty to me,” an older man decided.  

“…deserves to go to prison,” someone else whispered, although that may be from the audience directly behind him.  

Next to each exit stood two police officers; their faces were covered with dark blue masks made from the same fabric as Mr. Y’s. Certain government employees had their own specifically colored masks, each of which offered vision to the outside world from within, but not the other way around. This had multiple effects; firstly, it encouraged a hive-mind mentality for all government employees to fulfill their duties and obligations for the benefit of their community and nation. Most people are surprised to learn how a simple wardrobe change can drastically affect one’s treatment to and from others. Secondly, it reduced the prejudices of ordinary citizens against the government employees. They are not distracted by trivial factors such as gender, race, or facial appearance. Unfortunately, there was nothing that could be done about height, and very little they could do about body shape, but at least this was one way to level the playing field. Early prototypes of the masks were difficult to fit over one’s head or facilitate breathing, but with enough innovations, they became more comfortable for almost everyone. For the few who still disliked them but worked in government, they could make a special order.  

To the right sat the prosecution. It involved a middle-aged woman, who also chose to remain visible, and her lawyer with a black mask stretched over his face. They were looking over case files together for the last few minutes. Mr. Y had already memorized all of the relevant facts; he had to since the odds were against him and his client. The jury and the audience already seemed to have made up their minds about Riamo, meaning that reason alone would be his best hope of being acquitted. Vilde predicted this when Riamo told him of his decision to stay visible, and he forced himself to recite all the details in the case file and his arguments until they were scorched into his brain.  

After a few minutes, everyone was asked to stand as the judge entered the room. They had a white mask covering their face, another color to represent a specific government position. It is supposed to be reminiscent of the white wigs that the Founding Fathers wore centuries ago when drafting the founding documents of this great nation. Oskar wondered if they would be proud to see what their legal system had become – a testament of true freedom and equality under the law, or at least as close as one could practically get to it. Not only guaranteed liberty and fair treatment by a parchment and ink locked away in a secure building, but also guaranteed safety from irrational biases and assumptions embedded in human psychology. Under his mask, Oskar couldn’t help but smile at the thought of delivering the promises of Jefferson, Washington, Hamilton, and everyone else he considered a hero. When he realized what he was doing, he snapped back to reality and silently ordered himself to remain stoic. Judge M took his seat and officially began the trial.  

“Good morning, everyone,” he began, “We are here today for the final day of the trial of Mr. Patrick Riamo, a man accused of assault and first-degree murder of Mrs. Sali Kinzer, a mother of two children and a first-grade teacher at Florence Elementary School.”  

Mr. Y turned towards Riamo, then noticed people from behind staring at him. Riamo himself had his face angled slightly downwards, but his eyes looked up towards the judge to compensate.  

“The bad news is that this is going to be a long day, but the good news is we are almost done. Let’s get right into it. We will begin with the prosecution.”  

Mr. H, representing the prosecution, stood up and began talking. For the next several hours, a flurry of arguments, documents, witnesses, security footage, and DNA tests were presented to the court. The two sides went back and forth, hitting the ball across the net before quietly allowing the other person to complete their turn to speak. Mr. Y ignored his nervousness every time he took his position, carefully eyeing where his rival struck and quickly deciding how to best respond. The light from outside gradually brightened, and the hands of the clock on the wall slowly crept towards greater numbers.  

Eventually, it was time for closing statements. Mr. H and Mr. Y presented their final thoughts, then Judge M struck their gavel and began speaking again. “That concludes the presentation of the evidence. I will now ask the jury to retire to conference room B, down the hall and to the left. The two officers nearest to you will guide you there while you reflect on the evidence, and when you are ready, you will present us with your verdict. I implore you to consider the information you have seen here today with as much clarity and reason as you can possibly muster, for this may be one of the most important things you do as a duty to your community, and your country. I also want to thank you all for taking time out of your busy schedules to be here for the last several days. Determining whether someone is guilty or not of a crime as serious as this is difficult, both for a person’s head and their conscience, but it is vital for a functioning society meant to be filled with trust and civility. With that, we are adjourned until further notice, but please do not leave the building until we have delivered a verdict.”  

With one more strike of the gavel, everyone started murmuring and walking out of the courtroom. Mr. Y looked at his client frowning and staring at an empty spot on the wooden table under his hands. It must have been torturous in his mind; his fate now fell into the hands of a dozen people who did not know of his existence only a month ago, and who owed him absolutely nothing. There was no promise of empathy or understanding, only an order to review the evidence before them. For all intents and purposes, they may as well have been callous machines. Mr. Y nudged his shoulder to catch his attention. When Riamo looked up, he gestured to walk out of the back of the room with him.  

When they were in the “Private” area, dedicated only for the people directly involved with the case – lawyers, the judge, immediate family members, and a few security officers – Riamo’s wife, Laura, came up and hugged him. Two officers stepped towards them, but Mr. Y put his hand up to signal that it was okay. They backed up, but kept their gaze fixed on them through the blue masks.  

Laura made promises she couldn’t keep – that everything was going to be alright, that Patrick was not going to go to jail, that no matter what she would always love him – and then turned her attention to Mr. Y, who still had his mask on.  

“Be honest,” she said, “What are his chances?”  

Mr. Y stood silent, which was enough of an answer for her. She simply thanked him and continued conversing with Patrick. Suddenly feeling short of breath, Mr. Y hurried to the bathroom and removed his mask, gasping for air. He placed his hands on the sink and felt sweat dripping down his forehead, almost like he was sick. After a few moments, he was able to calm down and slow his breathing, then splashed some water on his face to remove the sweat. Oskar looked at himself in the mirror, and now saw the opposite of what he saw before. Instead of a cold, rational representative of a client who couldn’t be swayed by the most heartfelt expressions of emotion, he saw a human being with wide eyes and terrible posture. His hair was disheveled. His voice modulator was loose. His mouth was open, consuming air that cyclically inflated and deflated his chest. The back of his neck was starting to itch, but somehow, he was unable to force his hand to move and scratch it. The unpredictable faceless lawyer that could only present information and data, unsure of whether it will sway anyone, was replaced with a man who felt certain that he was a failure. There was no question about it, and yet there was no way to truly prove it.  

When the itch strengthened, he finally regained the capacity to move. Unfortunately, the gloves made it difficult to scratch it properly, so he had to yank the one off of his right hand to continue. A momentary pain replaced the omnipresent discomfort in his neck as his nails shoveled dead skin cells into the air. After a few extra seconds of recomposing himself, Mr. Y put his mask and glove back on, then fixed his voice modulator and his posture to make himself more presentable. When he was satisfied with his appearance, he returned outside and took a seat while he waited for the jury.  

The next couple hours crawled along slowly. Oskar focused on his breathing and his posture while sitting, recognizing that there was nothing else he could do at this point. He might as well meditate and try to calm the deck of thoughts repeatedly shuffled and dealt by his malevolent brain. Some rounds he managed to win a few extra chips, but in most of them he gave in to the cruel and uncaring injustice of unfair odds. His mind continued to churn and writhe, and at any given moment when he finally felt that he might give in to resignation, a false sense of responsibility retook hold of him and shook him awake. He knew there was nothing he could do, and yet he couldn’t shake the feeling that he had to do something. Eventually, Officer B announced to everyone that the jury was ready to deliver their verdict and ordered everyone back into the courtroom. Mr. Y. obliged, returning to his seat where he was joined by Riamo a brief moment later. Everyone else flowed back into their seats, nearly all in the same spots they were before with only a few insignificant changes.  

Judge M was the last to take their seat and spoke with their technologically modulated voice, resuming the trial. After a few formal comments, they followed up with the moment everyone had been waiting for with little patience.  

“Jury, how do you find the defendant, Patrick Riamo on the charge of assault?”  

A young woman in the corner of the jury’s booth stood up and read from a piece of paper. Her beautiful face stood in stark contrast to the monochromatic masks and the defendant’s ugly scar. However, her voice sounded almost as deep and serious to compete with Judge M.  

“We find the defendant, not guilty, your honor,” she announced.  

Mr. Y felt chills fire up his spine, a thousand pinprick needles quickly placed into perfectly precise positions by a professional acupuncturist.  

“And on the charge of first-degree murder?” the judge asked.  

“We find the defendant, not guilty, your honor,” she repeated.  

Mr. Y became frozen again, unable to turn his neck. Was Patrick Riamo smiling? Crying? Laughing with joy? It was impossible to tell, until he grabbed his lawyer’s shoulder and shook him until he turned his neck. Riamo flashed a smile and silently offered – perhaps insisted would be a better word – for a handshake. Mr. Y granted his request, and then sat stunned while his client jumped up from his seat and went to the nearest officer to have his handcuffs removed. From there, he met his wife with a constricting hug and kiss, absent of any care in the world that he was in a public courtroom. The prosecution silently walked out of the room, keeping their own emotions much better hidden. Were they disappointed? Angry? Stoic? Perhaps it didn’t matter; all that mattered is that once again, the paralyzing doubts experienced by Oskar Vilde were misplaced towards the logical and eloquent Mr. Y.