As usual with Casual posts, these are my opinions, not based on solid evidence, though my reasoning sometimes fortuitously aligns with results from existing or future data.
Keeping the ball rolling
This will be an attempt to condense a somewhat complicated but familiar idea into as little words as possible for it is not the main point more than merely the premise.
To begin, thinking about it from a completely rational perspective (for the time being ignoring the argument that it is actually more rational for humans to accept certain levels of irrationality as opposed to absolute rationality), regarding the ultimate causation of human reproduction: the survival of our genes, what does this survival actually achieve—what does the survival of our genes accomplish other than the survival of our genes?
Is it like a ball that keeps rolling, only continuing to roll because it, unlike the vast majority of the others, had the ability and propensity to begin rolling in the first place, and therefore just keeps rolling until it’s eventually stopped—it just happens that it’s designed to roll while the others just sit there because they weren’t designed so? From this perspective life would seem rather arbitrary—there would be no difference between whether our ball had started rolling in the first place, as it need not have begun rolling to begin with, and the others that didn’t roll aren’t by any means incorrect; they just happened not to have the propensity to roll, which we are, again, assuming is arbitrary and need not exist.
The alternative, of course, might be that there is some purpose—some goal—for the ball to be rolling, perhaps it was thrown towards some pins at the end of a very long bowling alley? Perhaps the meaning of life is to reach those pins (and perhaps score a strike?). Of course, one need not resort to Creationist ideas in order to get the ball rolling, one can of course imagine that nature in itself has a goal at some end—that there is a meaning to all this rolling, even if by accidental design. By that, I mean that there just so happens to be a point to continued existence—a tangible goal—that nature somehow has formed purely by accident. Of course, there are no signs of this (there’s enough time for a curveball in the next few billion years), but if it were to exist, what would happen then? Would all life just come to an end upon reaching this goal? After all, if the point of life in the first place is to reach this goal, then life would have no longer any point once it’s reached it, would it?
An argument to this would be that the goal can never be reached, or that there are infinitely many goals, one after the next. But if this were the case, wouldn’t this bring us back to the initial idea: that life just rolls on indefinitely with no end? This doesn’t seem very useful, does it? If it can never be achieved, by definition, then it might as well not exist. Like the distinction between Appearance and Reality, is “Reality” even worth considering if it cannot and does not affect us in any way, by definition not being available to our perception? We do not live in the realm of “Reality” rather than that of “Appearance”, of which we should be concerned about instead. If the goal is both undefinable, unknown, and by definition unachievable, or if there is nothing but an infinite amount of checkpoints (no amount of checkpoints can prove that there is a goal), then why does it concern any of us? Ignoring the fact we cannot prove the existence of something we literally cannot, by definition, prove exists by reaching it (it would be rather anticlimactic for mankind to invent a “goal” from their imaginations only for a future civilisation to reach it and find that nothing has changed at all), is this not the same as the distinction between Appearance and Reality in that we need not—and by definition cannot—consider these nebulous ideas?
While I cannot be sure that our universe did not, in all its randomness, “accidentally” create a goal for life which, upon being reached, would end all life for no longer serving any purpose—that the existence of life in general was designed to be finite, I find that thought a little too discouraging; as much as it may give me a palpable sense of purpose and excited feelings of anticipation it also fills me with equal dread. Perhaps, even, to the point I might suggest avoiding trying to achieve the purpose of life in order to prevent it from ending, like never reading the last chapter of your favourite book or never beating the final boss in a computer game, just wandering around the world, far too attached to want all of it to end.
What if our goal was something as familiar as carrying our species, ignoring the fact that over many, many generations of evolutionary process it’s not entirely clear what “our species” means any more other than what we recognise and define it as humans (perhaps we’re talking about an unbroken heritage?), through to a certain time? Or perhaps the invention of a particular something that humans find so irresistible, or perhaps something even more familiar: what if everyone became happy and the world (at least for humans) ended, having achieved its goal? Of course, another argument to be made against this is that this perspective is highly and characteristically anthropically-centric in nature and thus extremely biased: surely we cannot use human positive affect to determine how the universe is for everything else we might deem “life”, of course also ignoring that “life” is a human-invented definition, just like how recent events has sparked some new life into the debate of whether we ought to classify viruses as “living” things, further demonstrating the post-hoc nature of the definition of life and how, on that basis, we may not even be “alive” if we could define it so.
After all, if whether something is “alive” is a human designation, then surely we can also do the inverse and designate something as “not alive”? Of course, then, we could simply add that a key characteristic of being alive is the ability to think that one is alive or anywhere along those lines, perhaps even to the point of going “I think, therefore I’m alive” (sorry for the pun). But that would also further prove that our very definition of life is mutable, and we could also very well exclude ourselves from any definition of life, albeit to no useful function; if this were to ever happen one day—and that’s a big if, we’d just find a new word to describe “life”, I suspect, even in less than a couple minutes we’d have found a new word to describe the intuitive and intrinsic conceptualisation of life that has been so essential to our survival as a species.
To infinity (but not beyond because that’s not what infinity means)
For emotional reasons, then, I would rather believe that there is no goal—no purpose—to life. With no final goal to reach—with nothing to complete, we can have all the freedom we want, to do whatever we want to do, fully assured that the universe won’t decide to surprise us with a credits screen, celebration the completion of the existence of life. It may be a happy occasion, but yet for some reason it is nothing but a grim possibility to me.
I would, then, rather that life had no meaning—that the ball just rolls because it just happens to roll, in whatever direction it happens to roll in with no destination at all. And this brings us back to our first question: what does the survival of our genes—the continued rolling of this ball—achieve?Or, more relevant to the very original point, when can I say I’ve done “my part”? Assume we had an infinitely-distant goal, and our goal as humans is to survive until that point. How much would I have to contribute to the survival of my genes in order to say I’ve done my part? If it is infinitely distant, then any progress I make towards it will be infinitesimally small, and thus completely—by definition literally—insignificant, no matter how much I do. It does not matter whether I ensure my children survive, or whether I have grandchildren, or whether I have great-grandchildren, or any number of “greats” for that matter, as any progress towards an infinitely-distant goal on this scale would be, again, infinitesimally small—I would have made literally no progress towards this goal (unless, of course, we assume the goal is not infinitely-distant, in which case I would be even more distressed, for the reasons mentioned earlier).
But let’s play around with this scale a bit, just for the sake of discussion, and take that infinity is a practically useless concept to creatures of finite time, such as us (and thus should be disregarded). Going backwards a bit, let’s ask a few questions: If my genes make it to the next generation but my children have no children of their own, have I done my part? What is the appropriate reaction to seeing firsthand the hitherto unbroken lineage dating all the way back to my very first ancestor end right at the generation after mine? To put it frankly, in honest terms, it would suck. Even imagining it is giving me distress. What a waste for it to all end here! Though there have been many, many lineages—far too many to count—that have long perished, it’s a dramatically different matter when it comes to mine, would be my thought process. The definition of lineages has some perhaps inconvenient complexities and exceptions, of course, such as inclusive fitness strategies where say a sibling—sharing half their genes—helps their other sibling find a mate at their own expense (for example by providing for a younger sibling through school at the expense of their own education and career), ensuring that whatever part of their genes their sibling also has survives (grossly oversimplified, but sufficient for the scope of this discussion). Reality is often far muddier than anyone trying to simplify things would like, though it’s never in itself a justification for the oversimplification that some may resort to as a last resort (though unfortunately for many this oversimplification is instead their first and only default).
Rephrasing our question, perhaps there is a demarcation we can create: at which point—how far down the line—can I consider myself to have achieved my goal (if my goal is to ensure that my genes survive)? How many generations will it take?
If there really are potentially infinite generations due to infinite time or if (human) existence will go on infinitely (though for several practical reasons it might not, for example, and though unlikely, we never find a way to escape extinction in 4.5 billion years when our Sun goes kaput, assuming we don’t ourselves go kaput before then), then there is no difference between any specifiable distance in future and right now. If so, then, it follows that there is no difference for my genetic lineage to end here compared to even a trillion years in future, given that time goes on infinitely. A question that may also follow, then, is that if it’s all going to end at some point before infinity, why not right now? After all, in the span of infinity, there is no difference between any specifiable time in future, and now.
So, why drag it on for a few more generations? Why are we even rolling? If there is an infinite distance to roll, then it doesn’t matter where we stop; assuming we will stop at some point it doesn’t matter how far we go, we’ll always be infinitely far away from infinity. I have to point out that this doesn’t work if we can actually survive for that infinite duration, but with infinite time, an infinite number of things can happen, and one of these things may very well cause us to become extinct, even beyond the “obvious” predictions like the heat death of the universe which, again, may not necessarily be what kills us once and for all. After all, what is more dangerous to us is usually not what we expect, but rather what we do not.
A fact I’ve been ignoring thus far is the possibility of being able to create more than merely one offspring, which I’ve been omitting for the sake of simplicity, but any number of creatures simultaneously rolling through time shouldn’t change anything. Granted, it is true that having more offspring reduces the chances of being completely eliminated, but the point only requires one offspring to carry across, any others being irrelevant to the point (theoretically, two people would only need one offspring that’s guaranteed to survive in order to carry their lineage, but it would also cause a global decline in population with an eventual decline in genetic variety causing all sorts of problems that threaten existence, thus not actually being a very reliable strategy, as much as there also may be problems with the inverse of too much population and disproportionate availability of resources but I won’t get into that).
To select for intelligence
To keep things short, when selecting a mate, we want them to have the strongest indicators of evolutionary fitness: we want the highest chances of our genes, combined with theirs, producing something that’s capable of having the most offspring compared to if we had picked a different set of genes to combine with. Granted, we aren’t just looking at people, sequencing their DNA in our minds and picking “the best one” because that’s ridiculously vague in addition to being impossible, humans generally evaluate attractiveness and suitability as a mate on more holistic terms, such as the ability to provide for the offspring.
An oversimplified example would be something like this: Suppose you had to pick between two potential mates, one with gene A and one with gene B. You know, for a fact, that when combined with your genes, gene A will provide a 90% chance of survival for your offspring (in many ways), while gene B will provide only 80%. But, the one with gene A, despite being superior, is unfortunately financially destitute with poor social standing, while the one with gene B is financially stable and commands a decent social standing. With which mate, then, would your offspring have the highest chance of making it to adulthood and finding a mate of their own?
With any holistic consideration, we would go for B, as the one with A is unlikely to be able to support the offspring, and may even risk reputational damage due to the poor social standing. Granted there are many exceptions but for the sake of this oversimplified example that is, ironically, in no way actually holistic due to its overly-simplistic nature, I’ll just use the cliche: “bad things happen to good people” to explain why the one with the supposedly superior genes is in such bad shape. It is true, after all, that there is a lot of luck involved. Also in this case we have assumed perfect judgement; in reality, nobody has the ability to foretell the future with such uncanny precision and accuracy, which might lead to the conjecture that the one with gene A is actually a dark horse who will eventually become incredibly successful (who also happens to be the protagonist of a heartwarming romantic drama).
At the risk of seeming too callous I will keep this next part short: disabilities, congenital illnesses (or even the tendency to illness) can negatively affect one’s appeal due to being potentially less capable of parenting compared to an able, healthy individual. For example, individuals possessing a certain gene are more susceptible to depression than others, requiring less traumatic events on average to develop depression. A potential parent looking for a mate may consider this, and judge, probabilistically, that it would be best to look for someone who isn’t depressed, in order to reduce the chances of their offspring acquiring this gene. Of course, this would be irrelevant if the parent could be irrevocably confident in their offspring experiencing no traumatic events, ever, in their entire lives, but this unbelievably unlikely and thus the consideration would be valid.
That being said, there are still many other factors in this holistic evaluation of potential mates, and one might just have enough positive traits to offset not only their potential for depression but even outdoing the competition at the same time. Though already included in the holistic consideration I feel the need to further emphasise that time pressure and opportunity cost is very real: humans do not stay at a reproductive age forever, and one may relent and settle for a less-optimal mate compared to the risk of continuing their search and not finding anyone better within an acceptable time.
So far, we have been assuming that our actor has perfect judgement, but humans generally do not. In fact, the ability to accurately judge potential mates may be, in itself, a variable trait. That means that one may use their potential mates’ abilities to judge their own potential mates as a way to judge these potential mates. Oversimplifying again for a moment and assuming there is a gene that corresponds to being able to select suitable mates, it would be fair to assume that one would not want their offspring to lack this ability, or worse possess the opposite of it, therefore avoiding those who seem incapable of choosing good mates at risk of their own offspring making “rubbish choices” when they grow up (I have an inkling of suspicion that I know what corresponds to the unquestioning attitude and blind adherence towards authority figures such as parents who disapprove of their choices against their subjectively better judgement, but I’m not trying to start a fight).
Closing?
Anyway, going back to the point (I apologise for my disjointed writing style, but my brain does genuinely throw thoughts all over the place, which I’m merely writing down), we do not select for intelligence,
Actually, the whole point of this was to say that I cannot see any reason for intelligence to be correlated with physical attractiveness, as intelligence is not a trait that’s selected for: that intelligence in itself barely holds a candle to raw physical attractiveness, and isn’t a necessary let alone common prerequisite for financial security, social skills, reputation, and other factors that may influence the offspring’s childhood experiences. Though the stereotype that intelligent people tend to be cold and rational, not exactly the kind of people you’d associate with being “good with kids” is not necessarily true, it definitely does not help.
Along with many other stereotypes that do not help including being too boring, for one. Strangely, I can only think of negative traits when it comes to the stereotypes of intelligent people. I wonder what that says about me. I do believe that there were studies that demonstrated that females, especially, were actually perceived less attractive if they were more intelligent. As this is a Casual post I do not want to bring actual data in, but let’s think about this hypothetically: if this were the case, then intelligent females would want to hide their intelligence—would want to dumb themselves down—in order to increase their chances of finding a mate. It makes sense, after all reproductive success is not entirely founded in intelligence, and it need not matter as much if their potential mate is comparatively duller.
That said, if the child inherits the intelligence and is born “Gifted”, I suspect it would be a big headache for the father as the child quickly outwits him, undermining his authority, or fails to feel understood by his own parent. Many bad things can happen, and I do hold the controversial (very, very controversial) position that “Giftedness” is actually an illness—a curse—that has to be treated early before it causes long-term damage to the child, which not every child gets. If the child does not receive early intervention and treatment, they often risk growing up with an all-you-can-eat buffet of mental health issues. I’ve long maintained that it is only those who are normal who wish to be different; those who are different to begin with wish for nothing but to be normal like everyone else. And yes, I am aware that the success stories of Gifted children and adults overshadow the neglected, pathetically underachieving population by far. Perhaps it is only the minority that end up badly, but my reasoning compels me to believe that, after reading the many lists of traits for highly-intelligent/Gifted children, it cannot possibly be a good thing to begin with—to be this different from everyone else; ostracising themselves by their very own nature and obviously against the natural human desire to want to have friends. They can’t change what they are, and they can’t be like everyone else. “Why can’t I just be like everyone else?” always remains an unsettling question to hear from a child.
Anyway, that’s a very contemptible point and I will not argue against you should you wish to reject it as I have far oversimplified human psychology (especially the variances in) to the point it would be as simple as kicking a cardboard box off a ledge; just because I left it there doesn’t mean I will defend it, it’s not something precious, you know. Maybe when I refine it one day I’ll find it worth defending, but I don’t feel like defending cardboard at the moment.
Regardless, for many reasons, I don’t believe that intelligence is in itself a trait that evolution would select for with significant priority over other traits. Almost nothing beats physical attractiveness, being far more appealing than intelligence and thus more likely to be selected for. To find a mate who’s both physically attractive and intelligent, then, would be a matter of pure luck—they’re uncorrelated. A physically attractive potential mate would only be intelligent by coincidence; they would not be intelligent because they were physically attractive, or vice versa. In fact, I suspect there is no correlation at all and that anyone who happens to be both is really just the result of multiplying two extreme probabilities together.
If we want only the 1st percentile (1/100) in terms of intelligence, we’re already eliminating 99% of the population by definition. Not a very good start. Physical attractiveness is harder to quantify, but I think most of us can agree that most people aren’t incredibly good-looking. I like to call this “multiplying by stupid” due to the frustratingly low probability, but mostly because this is a really stupid way to judge people in real life.
Anyway, I do want to end this long ramble, so I’ll leave the two unaddressed-but–very-important points for the future:
- Humans do not think in ultimate causation, despite how I’ve been phrasing everything since the start
- As a result, this (proximate causation) does actually matter: personal happiness is important and one will not be too keen on choosing a mate that produces offspring of higher survivability at the expense of lower personal happiness, even if the lowered personal happiness does not affect the offspring’s upbringing enough to justify the difference; a highly-intelligent person may fear the prospect of becoming desperately lonely when married to an ill-fitting intellectual companion, which is a terribly depressing reality for both.