This is fluid and will likely evolve as I encounter new ideas, meet new people, and enter new environments.

the bug

While on guard post duty, a small bug came up to me and started climbing up my boots. Cameras are supposed to be disabled on base, so it took me a while to figure out what the little scuttler actually was. It ended up being, disappointingly, a stink bug.

I shook it off a few times. It continued to try, but eventually it started avoiding my foot, climbing around rather than over it.

But how'd it know? How smart is this thing?

In some minimal sense, it classified my boot as a threat, and it knows it needs to change direction. Survival likely encapsulates its entire neural pathways.

But what does it not know? Probably everything else. It has no concept of "foot" or "human" or my "intentions." It can't conceive that I have thoughts, memories, plans extending across years. Definitely not that I'm sitting here thinking about it.

The bug exists in my world but has no framework to understand my world. The abstractions that structure my entire reality, like causation and time, don't exist for the bug. Not because it hasn't learned them yet, but because they lie completely outside what its nervous system can process.

How am I any different, as a human?

There's a high probability that some intentions are shaping my life that I can't conceive of. Likewise, frameworks likely structure my reality that I lack the bandwidth to recognize; forces operate on me that lie outside of my puny little brain.

If the bug's perceptual and cognitive apparatus limits what dimensions of reality it can access, then my perceptual and cognitive apparatus limits what dimensions of reality I can access. This seems almost trivially true.

But it's also the case that the acceptable norm is that's "just how life is," so we seem to live as if we're not aware of it.

the bandwidth problem

I thought about it, and how we're limited seems to come down to two broader domains. I'll refer to them as the "surface" (limitations we're aware we have) and the "underground" (concepts we don't even know we're missing).

Some well-known surface limitations could be things like:

  • physical & cognitive limits, like only seeing around 0.003% of the electromagnetic spectrum, while sharks detect electrical fields. Learning quantum physics is fun because it feels like your mind is being blown, but that might just be a symptom of a bigger problem: that ultimately, despite understanding it, I'm incapable of intuiting it.
  • conceptual frameworks, such as medieval humans' inability to conceive relativity. Even educated people in the 1800s couldn't conceive of information theory. Rather than a lack of knowledge, it seems as if, at the time, the thoughts themselves were unthinkable.

If we treat reality like a simulation, we know that these concepts are are real properties of reality. Inside the simulation, some other interesting gaps I found could be in quantum mechanics, consciousness (subjectivity's clash with physics), and models for meaning/value. At least we're aware our frameworks explicitly break down.

But what about the underground, i.e. outside the simulation?

Either we're not aware that the problems exist, or we understand the problems through a very limited lens. What if we're perceiving time under a suboptimal bandwidth, so time is not what it actually seems it is? What if our modes of expression (e.g. verbal/body language) are severely limited in communicating certain ideas, and we're actually only receiving a fraction of the information when interacting with someone.

The bug doesn't know it's missing anything because it's just doing bug things.

We're probably doing human things, unaware of what we're missing.

the ugly

I went a step further, and now it's getting real ugly. Let's take climate change as an example.

We see symptoms, like storms and melting ice, similar to how the bug saw my boot. We know it involves feedback loops and emergent properties across time. But it's a wonder if that struggle itself reveals a deeper limitation? What if 'nonlinear feedback loops across timescales' is still us trying to cram something into our current frameworks, when the real pattern operates on principles we haven't discovered yet?

Or maybe "threat" itself is the wrong framing, and there's some other dimension we're missing because we're locked into survival-mode thinking.

And if we go on and on...if "climate change is bad," we mean bad-for-human-civilization. But what do we actually know is important, good, or bad for us (if that's even the right question to ask)—with absolute certainty?

It seems like very little: We prefer some states (health, autonomy) over others (death). But then, humanity's evaluating from within its own bandwidth.

By definition, I can't tell you what we're actually missing.

And yet, we often make decisions within a narrow framework with absolute certainty. I think this happens in politics quite often.

But I'm not trying to start a conspiracy theory. At some point, you have to execute. It's like, if you take calculus, it wasn't "wrong"; rather, it was unthinkable. But that's preceded by an understanding of what we know right now, so I can start with that.

I'm realizing that excessive questioning without discipline isn't helpful. A healthy balance is necessary to not stall progress.

the response

So how much questioning is a "good amount?" I recently read Peter Thiel's thoughts on favoring careful planning and advancement through technology. But as much as discovering "secrets" in the world is valuable, he dismisses anything outside immediate comprehension as impossible "mysteries."

I do agree that very valuable work happens within frameworks. As founders, we think we've reached our ultimatum if we create value from "striking gold"—aka, find something others missed, like a new technical possibility. Scientists work within the scientific method. This isn't settling because it's how progress actually happens, and you need constraints to do anything.

But I think it's still reasonable to ask whether some people should simultaneously take the time to question the frameworks themselves.

For example, It seems like consciousness is unexplored because it's "too hard." I can't say it's wrong, and it's a productive simplification that lets us make progress. But unless I'm overly naive, ultimately, it's a simplification.

How would you know if you were in a local maximum? By definition, it looks optimal from within.

Right now, I'm not any different. fiveRoll attempts to pick up on patterns others miss. That form of horizontal (local) expansion is valuable, and I love doing it. Within our bandwidth, I'm positive that most problems can be solved with enough knowledge and creativity; at least for fiveRoll, the longer we grapple with a problem from first principles, the more creative solutions seem to emerge.

Vertically, I'm still optimistic, but it feels like humanity hyperfocuses on horizontal progress, probably because its counterpart is beyond rare.

Ultimately, what scares me is how devastating it would be if humanity falls because we long ago accepted our downfall, thinking we lacked capability, without realizing that was a locally determined conclusion all along.

So are we hyperfocused on the problems we have the bandwidth to perceive?

I don't know. I guess that's kind of the point. But unlike the bug, at least we can hold the question.

what can i do?

Yeah, now that we've come this far, life seems pretty dark. But I'm pretty optimistic. I'm certain that we've expanded our bandwidth before, and we can do it again. Not in the sense of transcending our biology, like expanding our view of electromagnetic spectrum, but we've found ways to make more of reality accessible.

We're not like the puny bug. New conceptual frameworks (e.g. calculus, to an extent) let us conceive of not things unknown to us but those were outside the space of possible thoughts.

I should work on important problems using existing frameworks because that's fulfilling on its own. But now, I should stay alert for where the frameworks break.

Frameworks, by definition, depend on internal consistency, assuming that they can explain reality to the fullest. When a contradiction persistently happens, that might be where bandwidth expansion is needed. This is probably going on as we speak!

Or, for the sake of being more deliberate:

  • Understand the universe as much as possible
  • Pick a hard problem and push existing frameworks as far as they go
  • Notice what questions the framework makes unaskable, not just unanswered
  • When multiple frameworks give contradictory answers to the same question, that might be a sign
  • Build something new. If it works and was previously impossible, I've expanded bandwidth

my purpose

If all of this started from the bug, that would be pretty darn sick. But in all honesty, I would say it also started from some observations, over time, of how people around me perceive their lives.

A few thoughts have emerged since:

  • a limited bandwidth's implications make me uncomfortable
  • many things now pale in comparison
  • but within the current bandwidth, life is still beautiful and worth living (e.g. love)
  • capable people must work on the most important things
  • environments with solitude and distance from social performance, like confined military spaces versus college, seem to create better conditions for this kind of thinking because they make you less susceptible to being consumed by low-bandwidth forces (edit: when i don't have to deal with my NCOs)
  • the universe is vast, and that's fascinating

This leads to a fluid yet conviction-led purpose, in two clauses:

I find sufficient purpose in solving important problems for humanity, using whatever bandwidth we currently have.

My ultimate purpose is to solve problems we can't yet see, which requires expanding our bandwidth to perceive them.

I recognize that the ultimate purpose is much harder to attain, but I'm 21, damn it! I have a good amount of conviction that I'll find my way there. In fact, I'm already on the path to fulfilling the first clause.

Eric