Chapter 24 WHY THESE RULES?

The real miracle isn’t any particular event—it’s that the rules permit complexity at all.

24.1 Fine-Tuning

Return to the Game of Life.

Conway’s rules are special. They hit a precise sweet spot.

Consider variations:

Variation	Outcome
Survival requires 1-3 neighbors instead of 2-3	Patterns explode and fill the grid chaotically
Survival requires 3-4 neighbors instead of 2-3	Patterns stabilize too quickly; little emergence
Birth requires 2 neighbors instead of 3	Explosive growth; everything fills in
Birth requires 4 neighbors instead of 3	Almost nothing is ever born; the grid empties

Most variations produce boring universes—either chaotic explosion or rapid death. Only certain rule-sets permit the rich complexity of gliders, oscillators, and universal computation.

Conway found his rules through trial and error. He was looking for rules that would be interesting. Most combinations weren’t.

Now consider our universe.

Physics has identified fundamental constants—numbers that appear in the equations governing reality:

The gravitational constant (G)
The speed of light (c)
Planck’s constant (h)
The fine-structure constant (α)
The cosmological constant (Λ)
Others

These constants have specific values. Those values appear arbitrary—not derived from any deeper principle, just measured by observation.

But the values are special. Change them slightly, and the universe becomes sterile.

24.2 The Anthropic Coincidences

Here are some examples:

The strong nuclear force. This force holds atomic nuclei together. If it were 2% stronger, hydrogen would be rare (fused into heavier elements in the early universe), and stars like our sun couldn’t burn. If it were 2% weaker, only hydrogen would exist—no heavier elements, no chemistry, no life.

The electromagnetic force. This force governs chemistry. If it were slightly stronger, electrons would be pulled into nuclei, and atoms would be unstable. If it were slightly weaker, atoms wouldn’t form molecules—no water, no DNA, no life.

The cosmological constant. This governs the expansion rate of the universe. If it were much larger (positive), the universe would have expanded too fast for galaxies to form. If it were much larger (negative), the universe would have collapsed before stars could ignite. Its actual value is extraordinarily small—roughly 10^-122 in natural units—and finely balanced.

The mass of the electron. If electrons were heavier, atoms would collapse. If they were lighter, chemical bonds wouldn’t form. The actual mass is precisely in the range that permits chemistry.

Carbon resonance. Carbon is essential for life. Its production in stars depends on a nuclear resonance—an energy level that allows carbon to form efficiently. Fred Hoyle predicted this resonance before it was discovered, reasoning that carbon’s abundance required it. The resonance is fine-tuned; without it, carbon would be rare and life impossible.

The list continues. Dozens of constants and conditions are precisely tuned to permit a universe where complexity can arise.

This is the fine-tuning problem: why are the constants what they are?

24.3 Possible Explanations

Several explanations have been proposed.

Explanation 1: Coincidence.

The constants just happen to have these values. We’re lucky. No deeper explanation exists.

This is logically possible. But the luck required is staggering. The probability of hitting the “life-permitting” region of parameter space by chance is astronomically small—perhaps 10^-100 or less, depending on how you calculate.

Coincidences happen. But scientists are usually suspicious of theories that require extreme coincidences.

Explanation 2: Necessity.

Perhaps the constants couldn’t have been otherwise. Perhaps a deeper theory (a “Theory of Everything”) will show that the values are mathematically required—the only consistent possibility.

This would be elegant. But no such theory exists. Current physics treats the constants as free parameters—inputs to the equations, not outputs. A future theory might derive them, but that’s speculation.

Explanation 3: The multiverse.

Perhaps every possible combination of constants is realized somewhere. Our universe has these values; other universes have others. We observe life-permitting values because only life-permitting universes contain observers.

This is the “anthropic” explanation. It dissolves the coincidence by inflating the sample size. With infinitely many universes, even improbable combinations occur somewhere—and we’re necessarily in one of them.

The multiverse is taken seriously by some physicists, particularly in the context of inflationary cosmology and string theory. But it’s controversial. It may be untestable. It raises its own questions: why is there a multiverse? Why does it generate all possibilities?

Explanation 4: Design.

Perhaps the constants were chosen—set by an intelligence that wanted a universe capable of complexity, consciousness, meaning.

This is the theistic explanation. The fine-tuning is not coincidence but intention. The rules permit life because the rule-maker wanted life to be possible.

Critics argue this explains nothing: why does the designer exist? What explains the designer’s existence and abilities? The explanation seems to push the mystery back a step without resolving it.

Theists respond: God is not a being requiring explanation but the ground of being—the axiomatic foundation that makes explanation possible. We’ve covered this territory.

24.4 The Deepest Question

Set aside, for a moment, which explanation is correct.

Notice what the fine-tuning problem reveals: the rules matter.

Not just any rules produce interesting universes. Most rule-sets are sterile—chaotic or static, devoid of structure. Only special rules permit complexity to emerge.

This is true in the Game of Life. It’s true in physics. It’s probably a general principle: complexity requires constraint.

Too few constraints, and everything is possible, which means nothing is stable. Too many constraints, and nothing can happen. The sweet spot—where rules are restrictive enough to create structure but permissive enough to allow emergence—is narrow.

Our universe sits in that sweet spot. So does Conway’s Game of Life. Both permit gliders—patterns that persist, travel, interact, compute.

Why?

The coincidence explanation says: luck. We’re in the sweet spot by accident.

The necessity explanation says: it couldn’t be otherwise. The sweet spot is the only possibility.

The multiverse explanation says: every spot is occupied somewhere. We’re in the sweet spot because we’re observers, and only sweet spots have observers.

The design explanation says: the sweet spot was aimed at. The rules were chosen to permit complexity.

Each explanation has strengths and weaknesses. None is proven. The question remains open.

But the question itself is revelatory. The fact that there’s a sweet spot—that most possibilities are barren and only certain configurations permit richness—suggests that the rules are not arbitrary. They’re special. However they came to be, they have a character that makes emergence possible.

24.5 The Miracle of the Rules

We began this part of the book with miracles—divine interventions in the natural order.

But the deepest miracle might not be any particular intervention. It might be the rules themselves.

Think about it. Why should any rules permit life? Why should mathematical structures exist that, when embodied in physics, allow complexity to arise? Why should there be a sweet spot at all?

The existence of life-permitting rules is more remarkable than any particular event within those rules. Parting the sea is impressive, but the sea existing at all—matter and energy governed by laws that allow oceans and chemistry and biology—is more impressive still.

If you want to see a miracle, don’t look for violations of natural law. Look at natural law itself.

The laws are mathematically elegant. They’re comprehensible to minds. They permit complexity, consciousness, inquiry. They allow beings to arise who can ask why the laws are what they are.

This is not nothing. This is extraordinary.

Whether the laws were designed or are necessary or are one realization among infinitely many—the laws are wondrous. They didn’t have to be this way. (Or if they did, we don’t yet know why.) Their being this way is the ground on which everything else stands.

24.6 The Game That Permits This

We’ve been using the Game of Life as a model. Let’s push the model one step further.

Conway chose rules that would be interesting. He experimented until he found a rule-set that permitted emergence. He was the designer of his game.

Now imagine Conway didn’t exist. Imagine the Game of Life just… was. A grid with rules, existing without a creator, playing out for eternity.

Would the gliders be less remarkable? Would the universal computers be less astonishing?

Perhaps not. The emergent structures are what they are, regardless of how the rules came to be. The glider doesn’t care whether Conway exists. It just glides.

But we might still wonder. Why these rules? Why rules that permit gliders at all? Even without a Conway, the question arises: why this game rather than some other?

The question doesn’t require a designer to be interesting. The fine-tuning is striking regardless of its explanation. The sweet spot is narrow regardless of how we got there.

Our universe is a game that permits life, consciousness, meaning, inquiry. Whatever the explanation—coincidence, necessity, multiverse, design—the game is astonishing.

We are patterns in this game. Gliders of a sort—complex configurations that persist, travel, interact, compute. We arise from the rules. We are permitted by the rules. We would not exist if the rules were slightly different.

Why these rules?

We don’t know. We may never know.

But we can wonder. And in wondering, we participate in the deepest mystery—the mystery of why there’s a game at all, and why it’s a game that permits this.

Coda: The Ground Beneath the Rules

Where do the rules come from?

This question points beyond physics. Physics describes the rules; it doesn’t explain why there are rules to describe.

Perhaps the rules come from nothing—they just are, brute fact, the given that requires no explanation.

Perhaps the rules come from necessity—some deeper principle that mandates exactly these laws, making alternatives impossible.

Perhaps the rules come from a selection effect—they’re one realization among infinitely many, and we observe these because we couldn’t exist elsewhere.

Perhaps the rules come from a ground—a source, a logos, a rational principle that expresses itself as law.

We’ve spent this book exploring that last option. Not proving it. Exploring it. Seeing what it would mean, what it would explain, how it fits with what we know.

The ground—if it exists—is not a being among beings. It’s the reason there are beings. It’s not a rule among rules. It’s the reason there are rules.

Call it God. Call it logos. Call it the ground of being. Call it something else.

Whatever the name, the question remains: why does the game exist, and why is it a game that permits us?

The rules are wondrous. The game is astonishing. The question is real.

And we—patterns in the game, gliders on the grid, creatures asking why—are part of the wonder.