Nothing Really Matters.

This is a fundamental plank of my philosophical platform. (I need a better metaphor.) It colors pretty much all the rest of my philosophy. Even when I talk about things that matter to /me/, or matter to /us/ (meaning all people), there is always that implied asterisk: nothing /really/ matters.

This plank is based on a few assumptions.

1. There is no PP: God. There never was. And there never will be.
2. There is nothing particularly special about this time. The universe has existed for billions of years, long before we came into existence, and will continue to exist for billions more years, long after we cease to exist.
3. There is nothing extremely special about this place. Note I said "extremely" instead of "particularly". In fact, it is looking like rocky planets in the Goldilocks Zone is perhaps less common than Frank thought it might be. But still, even if Earth-like planets are extremely rare, the vastness of the universe almost certainly means there are/were/will be quite a few. See Cosmological Principle.
4. Pretty much all of eternity will exist without us. This is to say that as googolplex after googolplex years go by, the percentage of time during which any life is possible will approach the limit zero.

Note that these are all assumptions. I cannot prove any of them, nor (I believe) can anybody else. But that doesn't shake my PP: Faith in them.

Many Things Matter to Me

I am a living thing. I am the product of millions of years of evolution. My mental state and thinking processes are the way they are because they (roughly) improved the chances of reproduction. A living being that didn't act like it cared if it lived or died would not survive long in as intensely-competitive an environment that our planet has been over its time supporting life. It is not by my choice that many things matter to me, it's pre-programmed into my brain.

Even though I intellectually believe that nothing really matters, there are plenty of things that matter to me. My own personal health and comfort matter to me. The health and comfort of my loved ones matter to me. The health and comfort of perfect strangers matter to me, albeit less so than my loved ones. The health and comfort of my dog matter to me. The health and comfort of the chicken that will be my dinner in a few months matter to me, albeit less so than my dog. The health (and comfort?) of a random tree on a random mountainside matter to me, albeit less than my future chicken dinner. The preservation of a random natural rock formation matters to me; I'm not sure how it compares to a random tree, although neither one matters very much. Kindness matters to me (funny since I'm not always kind). Consistency of opinions matters to me (even funnier since I'm not all that consistent). Truth matters to me (funny since the older I get, the more slippery "truth" becomes).

My point is not that these things have intrinsic or absolute value. None of them will matter in a googolplex years. But they matter to me because my brain is hardwired to care about things. And there's nothing wrong with that, any more than there is anything wrong with water being made of hydrogen and oxygen. That's just the way it is.

And let's face it - if nothing really matters, then my caring about things doesn't matter either. No harm, no foul.

But just understand that things mattering is a construct. The things that matter to me consist of some combination of:

1. Things that my influencers taught me to care about. This starts out being my parents and other authority figures, but can also be peers and even children. BTW, this "influencer teaching" can also be indirect, through books or articles, or even (shudder) social media.
2. Things that my experience has demonstrated benefit me.
3. Things that my social peers care about, especially those I admire, and I instinctively conform to social norms. (Note: this one can be circular - I admire somebody partly because they conform to my values, and I can be inspired to evolve my own values based on those I admire.) This can be hard to separate from #1; I'm thinking here about things that you don't deeply care about but act like you do because of social pressure.
4. Things that my reason tells me I should care about. I.e. I care about human health and comfort, and respected scientists tell us that CO2 emissions will damage human health and comfort, so my reason tells me that I should care about CO2.

Other people may have different influences. For some people, many of the things that matter to them are derived from demands made upon them by their God. Although unless those people believe they had a direct communication with their God, that God-inspired mattering mainly comes from the above 4 routes. I.e. how do you know what God's demands are? Your elders taught you, based on what they were taught. (And what about those people who claim to have a "personal" relationship with their God? Most of them are being generous with their definitions of "personal". "I can say whatever I want to Him and He still loves me!" But communication the other direction? "I opened the bible at random and this verse jumped out at me. It exactly answered my needs!" I don't want to throw too much shade at people who sincerely believe that God speaks to them, but really, if you lose track of the metaphorical nature of it, you need stronger meds.)

So, why does all this "mattering" play such a central role in my personal philosophy? Because my reason tells me that the future is going to suck.

1. Climate change impacts (mass migration, food system disruption, extreme weather)
2. Pandemics (both natural and engineered)
3. AI safety risks and technological disruption
4. Nuclear war
5. Biodiversity collapse and ecosystem disruption
6. Chemical pollution (including microplastics and forever chemicals)
7. Resource depletion (particularly freshwater)
8. Antibiotic resistance
9. Political unrest, tribalism, polarization, dehumanization, and the rise of authoritarianism
10. The widening gap between rich and poor

And there ain't much that we can do to prevent any of that. Makes me thing William was right (although that automatic writing thing is just plain weird). It's enough to make you despair of making any kind of difference in the world.

How fight the despair? Remembering that nothing really matters, even the things that matter specifically to me. Yes, it makes me less socially responsible, which is not a good thing. But the alternative is worse: despondency. Doing nothing.

Nothing matters, so I might as well enjoy the day. I might as well write some code. I might as well get something good for dinner. And sure, I'll also pick up some litter, donate some money to good causes, and vote my conscience. But I'll also look for what joy I can in this increasingly dark time.