It’s all about the Ship of Theseus
Maybe you’ve heard about the Ship of Theseus.
It is a thought experiment that has been provoking discussions about identity for thousands of years in everybody from Plato to you and I.
Imagine an ancient wooden ship, similar to images or movies you’ve seen depicting ancient Greek seafaring vessels.
This particular vessel consistently sails between two ports for the purpose of regularly delivering goods back and forth.
As tends to happen with boats, the Ship of Theseus needed to have regular maintenance in order to remain sea-worthy.
It was a wooden ship composed of many different planks and beams of wood, so maintenance generally consisted of replacing the various planks and beams that had become too worn down.
Certain parts of the ship, like the outer hull, required replacement more often than others.
Still, as the ship continued sailing back and forth delivering goods, every single component of that ship eventually had to be replaced with a new version.
The first question is: once every single component of the Ship of Theseus is replaced, is it still the Ship of Theseus?
Continuing the story just a bit further, imagine that each time the ship had to have anything replaced, the port that did the maintenance kept the old piece.
Sure, they weren’t in great condition, but over time the port would eventually accumulate every single piece that was originally a component of the ship of Theseus.
Now imagine that port uses all those old pieces to build a ship, identical in design to the original ship.
The second question is: which one is the Ship of Theseus?
The one in great sailing condition that has all newly replaced parts, or the old ratty one composed of original components?
Those who aren’t philosophy nuts tend to roll their eyes at this point and exclaim something to the effect of “Who cares?”
There are multiple modern applications for considering identities in this kind of way.
Consider having a close relationship with somebody, be it friendship or romantic.
Then, over time, the person seems to become different; more closed off, less thoughtful of your feelings, even hurtful.
Is this the same person that you started the relationship with?
Another example takes on the typical American behavior of materialistic consumption: consider buying a new mobile device.
When you first purchase it, especially if you spring for the top of the line model, you’re amazed at how fast it is and the wide variety of new functions and features.
The first few days and weeks of having that new device elicit joy and contentment at having such a high quality device to call your own.
But then, over time, somehow that same device of yours no longer seems to be so quick, and other devices with newer and fancier features become available.
That positive feeling you used to get just from holding it is no longer there.
Is it still the same mobile device?
Some may feel inclined to provide quick and concrete responses to those questions, but those would be missing the point.
The whole intent of framing the situation in this way is to encourage people to step back and consider these common life experiences in different ways, accounting for greater context and the bigger picture.
Should you stay in a relationship with somebody who has become a negative influence in your life?
Is it truly worth it for you to spend all that money on the latest top-of-the-line mobile device on the market?
The answers to these questions, and supporting rationale, is different from person to person.
The important part is to at least consider them in relation to your own life.
What does any of this have to do with Phalerum?
Phalerum was the port where the Ship of Theseus was maintained.