7 December 2019 | New Scientist | 27“highly detailed” simulations of
“entire artificial societies” with
“extraordinary accuracy”. For
argument’s sake, let’s grant
that we can construct such
simulations – even though we
cannot yet simulate even a single
artificial intelligence.
Could such an assemblage
ever accurately predict the future?
What, for example, will the world
look like in five years? That might
depend on whether Donald
Trump gets impeached, whether
India and Pakistan get into a
nuclear war over Kashmir,
whether the UK leaves the EU,
whether there is a pandemic
of a new zoonotic disease...
What is going to accurately
simulate future events like these?
Even in much smaller scenarios,
such as refugees in a Norwegian
city that Lawton mentions, I
suspect that social dynamics are
chaotic and cannot be predicted.
We are rather sceptical
of this ‘helical engine’
19 October, p 15
From Rory Allen, York, UK
David Burns’s idea for a “helical
engine” with no propellant is
ingenious. He imagines a movable
ring, whose mass is much greater
when it slides in one direction
than the other. But transferring
energy to the ring to increase its
velocity and hence, by the rules of
relativity, its mass also transfers
mass, and therefore creates
momentum. It seems to me that
the transfer of energy to and from
the source exactly cancels out the
transfer of mass by the ring.
From Tony Blake,
Adelaide, Australia
It looks hard to find any fault with
Burns’s design for propulsion
without a propellant, but
centuries of experience tell us
that, in all attempts to get around
the conservation of energy, an
increase in energy somewhere
is always balanced by an exactly
equal decrease somewhere else.
My guess is that this proposal
will turn out to be neglecting
some effect in general relativity.
I suspect that the answer to the
apparent anomaly might be found
in D. W. Sciama’s beautiful paper
“On the Origin of Inertia”, in which
he justifies Mach’s Principle – the
idea that the inertia of local
masses is an effect of all the
masses in the rest of the universe.Several layers of the deep
mystery of consciousness
21 September, p 34
From Ed Subitzky, New York, US
Michael Graziano asks how the
brain, a material thing, produces
what are called qualia – the
redness of a rose, the stabbing of a
pain, the aroma of brewing coffee.
As basically a materialist, I am
forced to be quite puzzled by
qualia. There are two implications
in the question itself: a brain really
exists; and qualia really exist. It
seems to me that perhaps the only
way we know that the first is true is
because the second is true.
If qualia were in some way
not real, we couldn’t know that
we have a brain to produce
them. Perhaps we shouldn’t
draw a sharp distinction between
qualia and materiality.From Derek Bolton,
Sydney, Australia
To me, consciousness means that
narrative that runs in my head,
like a film with added senses.
Graziano appears at first to take
the same view, but then conflates
it with concepts that probably
belong to a “lower” layer.
A key fact about this narrative,
as found by Benjamin Libet, is that
it runs about half a second behind
reality (11 August 2012, p 10). This
suggests a model of at least these
three layers: independent parallel
processes, analysing inputs and
competing for attention; a
resolution layer that selects
actions based on the competingWant to get in touch?
Send letters to New Scientist, 25 Bedford Street, London
WC2E 9ES or [email protected]; see terms at
newscientist.com/lettersdrives and embodies attention
and the “global workspace”; and
a narrative layer, synthesising
inputs and chosen actions into
experience. A delay is necessary
because different sensory inputs
have different processing path
lengths. Maladjusted delays may
well be responsible for room-
spinning and speech-slurring
when drunk, and for déjà vu.
If this is correct, it reopens the
question of what consciousness is
for. I suggest it comes into its own
when we need to stop and think.
It provides a feedback to the lower
levels, allowing more sustained
consideration of a subject.I think I can think without
language, as can my dog
Letters, 26 October
From Max Starkey, Avignon, France
Peter White argues that some
people without language can
think (Letters, 7 September)
and David Werdegar insists that
thought does depend on language.
That exchange on the subject
reminded me, being bilingual,
of questions I am often asked:
“in which language do you think”
and “in which language do you
dream”? After much thought, the
answer is neither. I think (and
dream) in concepts and images.
Language is only used to
communicate those concepts and
images. Sometimes, people in my
dreams do speak a language.From Frank Siegrist,
Gland, Switzerland
People with a severe form of
aphasia may not identify a spoon
as a means of transporting food,
and therefore require help with
feeding, writes David Werdegar.
He concludes that thought
depends on language.
I am always surprised how easily
my dog identifies the hatch at the
back of any car, even of a make andmodel she has never seen, as the
place she should be let in. In any
flat she straight away identifies
the kitchen as the place where her
water and food bowls should be.
Clearly dogs’ brains work with
abstract concepts. Concluding that
they therefore possess language
would be a bit of a stretch.Hypnosis and achieving
goals in life and letters
9 November, p 34
From Terry Klumpp,
Melbourne, Australia
I write this letter in a state of
hypnosis. Now I’m going deeper
still, repeating, as you suggest,
an “affirmation” that helps me
achieve my desired outcome.
“This letter will be published.
This letter will be...”From Kris Ericksen,
Wellington, New Zealand
Helen Thomson describes the
potential of self-hypnosis. What
is the difference between this
and mindfulness meditation?
They seem, to me, to involve
exactly the same processes.The editor writes:
There are certainly many
parallels between the two
and there is likely to be shared
neurobiology. For many people,
the states of mind are very similar.
The biggest difference seems to
be that the end point of mindful
meditation is generally focused
on letting go – of worries, say –
and attempting to be fully in the
present. Self-hypnosis is much
more goal-focused, concentrating
on things you want to achieve. ❚For the record
❚ Meat and dairy production
accounts for 85 per cent of the UK’s
total agricultural footprint, in the UK
and elsewhere (26 October, p 24).
❚ When Scottish greyface ewes
are injected with male levels of
testosterone, it is their daughters
that show the symptoms of
polycystic ovary syndrome
(23 November, p 16).