You can prefer that state, sure. But that doesn’t mean that it is an accurate reflection of reality. The abstract idea of my daughters existence beyond the light cone is comforting, and would make me happy. But the abstract idea of my daughters existence in heaven is also comforting and would make me happy. I wish it were true that she existed. But I don’t believe things just because they would be nice to believe.
This is what I meant when I said that thought experiments were a bad way to think about these things. You’ve confused values and epistemology as a result of the ludicrously abstract nature of this discussion and the emotionally charged thought experiment that I had thrust upon me.
I am not saying, “You value her continued existence, therefore you should believe in it.” I am rather saying that your values may extend to things you do not (and will not, ever) know about, and therefore it may be necessary to make estimations about likelihoods of things that you do not (and will not, ever) know about. In this case, the epistemological work is being done by an assumption of regularity and a non-privileging of your particular position in the physical laws of the universe, which make it seem more likely that there is not anything special about crossing your light cone as opposed to just moving somewhere else where she will happen to have no communication with you in the future.
I am rather saying that your values may extend to things you do not (and will not, ever) know about, and therefore it may be necessary to make estimations about likelihoods of things that you do not (and will not, ever) know about.
It seems like a waste of time to think about things I can’t ever know about. It seems like make-believe to place objective value on the existence of things that I’ll never be able to experience or interact with. I don’t understand why I should care about things that I will never ever know or experience. My values are broken insofar as they lead me to value abstract concepts in and of themselves, as opposed to physical things that I can interact with.
I’d like to point out that my interpretation means I’ll fight like hell to keep my daughter inside my light-cone, because I don’t want to lose her. Your interpretation means you’ll be content with the idea of your daughters existence in the abstract, and to me that’s no different than belief in an afterlife. I point this out because I think the initial example emphasizes the “downsides” to my position while ignoring any corresponding “upsides” that it might entail.
In this case, the epistemological work is being done by an assumption of regularity and a non-privileging of your particular position in the physical laws of the universe, which make it seem more likely that there is not anything special about crossing your light cone as opposed to just moving somewhere else where she will happen to have no communication with you in the future.
I thought about this. It turns out I’ve been using a modified version of Hume’s problem of induction as the basis for my argument, in the back of my head. When it comes to real life and my future, I’m willing to temporarily discard the problem of induction because doing so brings me rewards. When it comes to things beyond my light cone and my experiences, I’m not, because there is no such reward and never could be.
In other words, I have a heuristic in my head that says paradoxes only go away when it is pragmatic to ignore them, because otherwise you sacrifice mental accuracy. This heuristic means that I’m not willing to discard the problem of induction when it comes to experiences and existences beyond my range of interaction.
Hopefully that makes my position clearer to you. It’s not that I’m privileging my own position; it’s that my position is the only one I have to work from and that I have no idea how things would work outside my light cone.
You can prefer that state, sure. But that doesn’t mean that it is an accurate reflection of reality. The abstract idea of my daughters existence beyond the light cone is comforting, and would make me happy. But the abstract idea of my daughters existence in heaven is also comforting and would make me happy. I wish it were true that she existed. But I don’t believe things just because they would be nice to believe.
This is what I meant when I said that thought experiments were a bad way to think about these things. You’ve confused values and epistemology as a result of the ludicrously abstract nature of this discussion and the emotionally charged thought experiment that I had thrust upon me.
I am not saying, “You value her continued existence, therefore you should believe in it.” I am rather saying that your values may extend to things you do not (and will not, ever) know about, and therefore it may be necessary to make estimations about likelihoods of things that you do not (and will not, ever) know about. In this case, the epistemological work is being done by an assumption of regularity and a non-privileging of your particular position in the physical laws of the universe, which make it seem more likely that there is not anything special about crossing your light cone as opposed to just moving somewhere else where she will happen to have no communication with you in the future.
It seems like a waste of time to think about things I can’t ever know about. It seems like make-believe to place objective value on the existence of things that I’ll never be able to experience or interact with. I don’t understand why I should care about things that I will never ever know or experience. My values are broken insofar as they lead me to value abstract concepts in and of themselves, as opposed to physical things that I can interact with.
I’d like to point out that my interpretation means I’ll fight like hell to keep my daughter inside my light-cone, because I don’t want to lose her. Your interpretation means you’ll be content with the idea of your daughters existence in the abstract, and to me that’s no different than belief in an afterlife. I point this out because I think the initial example emphasizes the “downsides” to my position while ignoring any corresponding “upsides” that it might entail.
I thought about this. It turns out I’ve been using a modified version of Hume’s problem of induction as the basis for my argument, in the back of my head. When it comes to real life and my future, I’m willing to temporarily discard the problem of induction because doing so brings me rewards. When it comes to things beyond my light cone and my experiences, I’m not, because there is no such reward and never could be.
In other words, I have a heuristic in my head that says paradoxes only go away when it is pragmatic to ignore them, because otherwise you sacrifice mental accuracy. This heuristic means that I’m not willing to discard the problem of induction when it comes to experiences and existences beyond my range of interaction.
Hopefully that makes my position clearer to you. It’s not that I’m privileging my own position; it’s that my position is the only one I have to work from and that I have no idea how things would work outside my light cone.