The Ship of Theseus
- Mike McMullen
- Feb 27
- 3 min read
If there is one thing I can't get enough of in this world, it's the mental puzzles of riddles, paradoxes, and hypothetical thought experiments. I came across a gem a couple days ago that I hadn't heard in a while and wanted to share it.

"The Ship of Theseus":
A little background to start. Who the hell is this Theseus guy? Theseus was a mythological ancient king of Athens famous for killing the Minotaur (a man eating half man half bull) and ending Athen's burden of having to send seven boys and seven girls to King Minos of Crete to be eaten by said Minotaur as a tribute every nine years in reparations of the death of Minos's son in Athens...
When you start in media res with Greek mythology it can get pretty complicated pretty quickly...
Anyway, in celebration for Theseus' deeds, the athenians would sail the ship of Theseus upon which he escaped back from Minos every year.
As you can imagine this ship would eventually age and need repairs and replacements of parts...
And so begins "the paradox of The Ship of Theseus"
"The Paradox of The Ship of Theseus":
As the years pass, the wooden planks of the Ship of Theseus begin to rot. To keep it from falling apart, the Athenians start replacing the planks, one by one. First, they replace a single board, then another, and over time, every piece of wood on the ship is swapped out for a new one. Eventually, not a single original piece remains—yet the ship still sits in the harbor, looking just as it always did.
Now, here’s the question: Is this still the Ship of Theseus?
Some say yes—after all, it has always been called the Ship of Theseus, and its form and function remain unchanged.
Others say no—if none of the original materials are left, how can it be the same ship?
And then, imagine this: What if someone had carefully collected all the discarded wooden planks, stored them in a warehouse, and used them to rebuild a second ship, identical to the first? Now we have two ships—one made of all the original parts, and one that Theseus sailed but has been entirely rebuilt over time.
Which one, if either, is truly the Ship of Theseus?
This had me pondering until my eyes crossed.
But what is the relevance of this thought experiment to medicine and health?
This thought experiment challenges how we define identity and persistence over time. It applies not just to ships, but will soon be applicable to people. As technology advances and we have designer replacement organs like in the movie "Bicentennial man", or if the merger of biological brains and AI occurs in 2045 as Ray Kurzweil predicts, or if digital chips become so advanced as to accurately re-create the connections of one's brain, then we will have some interesting questions on our hands.
What I find interesting is the question of how do we start thinking about and addressing these questions prior to having the conundrum at hand, so that we can use our insights to guide the future of medicine to a brighter more utopian as opposed to dystopian future?
The Ship of Theseus paradox forces us to rethink what it means for something to remain itself even as it changes. It explores deep philosophical issues about identity, continuity, and change, influencing fields like metaphysics, personal identity, and even modern discussions on AI, biology, and restoration.
As always, my response to these type of thought problems echos back to an Esther Perel quote that has stuck with me for years: They are not problems to be solved, they are paradoxes to be managed."




Comments