Irrational Man: An Analysis (Part 3, Chapter 9: Heidegger)

In my previous post of this series on William Barrett’s Irrational Man, I explored some of Nietzsche’s philosophy in more detail.  Now we’ll be taking a look at the work of Martin Heidegger.

Heidegger was perhaps the most complex of the existentialist philosophers, as his work is often interpreted in a number of different ways and he develops a lot of terminology and concepts that can sometimes be difficult to grasp; and there’s also a fundamental limitation of fully engaging with the concepts he uses unless one is fluent in the German language, due to what is otherwise lost in translation to English.

Phenomenology, or the study of the structures of our conscious experience, was a big part of Heidegger’s work and had a big influence on his distinguishing between what he called “calculating thought” and “meditating thought”, and Barrett alludes to this distinction when he first mentions Heidegger’s feelings on thought and reason.  Heidegger says:

“Thinking only begins at the point where we have come to know that Reason, glorified for centuries, is the most obstinate adversary of thinking.”

Now at first one might be confused with the assertion that reason is somehow against thinking, but if one understands that Heidegger is only making reference to one of the two types of thinking outlined above, then we can begin to make sense of what he’s saying.  Calculating thought is what he has in mind here, which is the kind of thinking that we use all the time for planning and investigating in order to accomplish some specific purpose and achieve our goals.  Meditative thought, on the other hand, involves opening up one’s mind such that they aren’t consumed by a single perspective of an idea; it requires us to not limit our thinking to only one category of ideas, and requires us to at least temporarily free our thinking from the kind of unity that makes everything seemingly fit together.

Meaning is more or less hidden behind calculating thought, and thus meditative thought is needed to help uncover that meaning.  Calculative thinking also involves a lot of external input from society and the cultural or technological constructs that our lives are embedded in, whereas meditative thinking is internal, prioritizing the self over the collective and creating a self-derived form of truth and meaning rather than one that is externally imposed on us.  By thinking about reason’s relation to what Heidegger is calling meditative thought in particular, we can understand why Heidegger would treat reason as an adversary to what he sees as a far more valuable form of “thinking”.

It would be mistaken however to interpret this as Heidegger being some kind of an irrationalist, because Heidegger still values thinking even though he redefines what kinds of thinking exist:

“Heidegger is not a rationalist, because reason operates by means of concepts, mental representations, and our existence eludes these.  But he is not an irrationalist either.  Irrationalism holds that feeling, or will, or instinct are more valuable and indeed more truthful than reason-as in fact, from the point of view of life itself, they are.  But irrationalism surrenders the field of thinking to rationalism and thereby secretly comes to share the assumptions of its enemy.  What is needed is a more fundamental kind of thinking that will cut under both opposites.”

Heidegger’s intention seems to involve carving out a space for thinking that connects to the most basic elements of our experience, and which connects to the grounding for all of our experience.  He thinks that we’ve almost completely submerged our lives in reason or calculative thinking and that this has caused us to lose our connection with what he calls Being, and this is analogous to Kierkegaard’s claim of reason having estranged us from faith:

“Both Kierkegaard and Nietzsche point up a profound dissociation, or split, that has taken place in the being of Western man, which is basically the conflict of reason with the whole man.  According to Kierkegaard, reason threatens to swallow up faith; Western man now stands at a crossroads forced to choose either to be religious or to fall into despair…Now, the estrangement from Being itself is Heidegger’s central theme.”

Where or when did this estrangement from our roots first come to be?  Many may be tempted to say it was coincident with the onset of modernity, but perhaps it happened long before that:

“Granted that modern man has torn himself up by his roots, might not the cause of this lie farther back in his past than he thinks?  Might it not, in fact, lie in the way in which he thinks about the most fundamental of all things, Being itself?”

At this point, it’s worth looking at Heidegger’s overall view of man, and see how it might be colored by his own upbringing in southern Germany:

“The picture of man that emerges from Heidegger’s pages is of an earth-bound, time-bound, radically finite creature-precisely the image of man we should expect from a peasant, in this case a peasant who has the whole history of Western philosophy at his fingertips.”

So Heidegger was in an interesting position by wanting to go back to one of the most basic questions ever asked in philosophy, but to do so with the knowledge of the philosophy that had been developed ever since, hopefully giving him a useful outline of what went wrong in that development.

1. Being

“He has never ceased from that single task, the “repetition” of the problem of Being: the standing face to face with Being as did the earliest Greeks.  And on the very first pages of Being and Time he tells us that this task involves nothing less than the destruction of the whole history of Western ontology-that is, of the way the West has thought about Being.”

Sometimes the only way to make progress in philosophy is through a paradigm shift of some kind, where the most basic assumptions underlying our theories of the world and our existence are called into question; and we may end up having to completely discard what we thought we knew and start over, in order to follow a new path and discover a new way of looking at the problem we first began with.

For Heidegger, the problem all comes down to how we look at beings versus being (or Being), and in particular how little attention we’ve given the latter:

“Now, it is Heidegger’s contention that the whole history of Western thought has shown an exclusive preoccupation with the first member of these pairs, with the thing-which-is, and has let the second, the to-be of what is, fall into oblivion.  Thus that part of philosophy which is supposed to deal with Being is traditionally called ontology-the science of the thing-which-is-and not einai-logy, which would be the study of the to-be of Being as opposed to beings…What it means is nothing less than this: that from the beginning the thought of Western man has been bound to things, to objects.”

And it’s the priority we’ve given to positing and categorizing various types of beings that has distracted us from really contemplating the grounding for any and all beings, Being itself.  It’s more or less been taken for granted or seen as too tenuous or insubstantial to give any attention to.  We can certainly blame our lack of attention toward Being, at least in part, as a result of how we’ve understood it as contingent on the existence of particular objects:

“Once Being has been understood solely in terms of beings, things, it becomes the most general and empty of concepts: ‘The first object of the understanding,’ says St. Thomas Aquinas, ‘that which the intellect conceives when it conceives of anything.’ “

Aquinas seems to have pointed out the obvious here: we can’t easily think of the concept of Being without thinking of beings, and once we’ve thought of beings, we tend to think of its fact of being as not adding anything useful to our conception of the beings themselves (similar to Kant’s claim about existence as a superfluous or useless concept).  Heidegger wants to turn this common assumption on its head:

“Being is not an empty abstraction but something in which all of us are immersed up to our necks, and indeed over our heads.  We all understand the meaning in ordinary life of the word ‘is,’ though we are not called upon to give a conceptual explanation of it.  Our ordinary human life moves within a preconceptual understanding of Being, and it is this everyday understanding of Being in which we live, move, and have our Being that Heidegger wants to get at as a philosopher.”

Since we live our lives with an implicit understanding of Being and its permeating everything in our experience, it seems reasonable that we can turn our attention toward it and build up a more explicit conceptualization or understanding of it.  To do this carefully, without building in too many abstract assumptions or uncertain inferences, we need to make special use of phenomenology in this task.  Heidegger turns to Edmund Husserl’s work to take this project off the ground.

2. Phenomenology and Human Existence

“Instead of making intellectual speculations about the whole of reality, philosophy must turn, Husserl declared, to a pure description of what is…Heidegger accepts Husserl’s definition of phenomenology: he will attempt to describe, he says, and without any obscuring preconceptions, what human existence is.”

And this means that we need to try and analyze our experience without importing the plethora of assumptions and ideas that we’ve been taught about our existence.  We have to try and do a kind of phenomenological reduction, where we suspend our judgment about the way the world works which will include leaving aside (at least temporarily) most if not all of science and its various theories pertaining to how reality is structured.

Heidegger also makes many references to language in his work and, perhaps sharing a common thread with Wittgenstein’s views, dissects language to get at what we really mean by certain words, revealing important nuances that are taken for granted and how our words and concepts constrain our thinking to some degree:

“Heidegger’s perpetual digging at words to get at their hidden nuggets of meaning is one of his most exciting facets…(The thing for itself) will reveal itself to us, he says, only if we do not attempt to coerce it into one of our ready-made conceptual strait jackets.”

Truth is another concept that needs to be reformulated for Heidegger, and he first points out how the Greek word for truth, aletheia, means “un-hiddenness or “revelation”, and so he believes that truth lies in finding out what has been hidden from us; and this goes against our usual views of what is meant by “truth”, where we most often think of it as a status ascribed to propositions that correspond to actual facts about the world.  Since propositions can’t exist without minds, then modern conceptions of truth are limited in a number of ways, which Heidegger wants to find a way around:

“…truth is therefore, in modern usage, to be found in the mind when it has a correct judgment about what is the case.  The trouble with this view is that it cannot take account of other manifestations of truth.  For example, we speak of the “truth” of a work of art.  A work of art in which we find truth may actually have in it no propositions that are true in this literal sense.  The truth of a work of art is in its being a revelation, but that revelation does not consist in a statement or group of statements that are intellectually correct.  The momentous assertion that Heidegger makes is that truth does not reside primarily in the intellect, but that, on the contrary, intellectual truth is in fact a derivative of a more basic sense of truth.”

This more basic sense of truth will be explored more later on, but the important takeaway is that truth for Heidegger seems to involve the structure of our experience and of the beings within that experience; and it lends itself toward a kind of epistemological relativism, depending on how a human being interprets the world they’re interacting with.

On the other hand, if we think about truth as a matter of deciding what we should trust or doubt in terms of what we’re experiencing, we may wind up in a position of solipsism similar to Descartes’, where we come to doubt the “external world” altogether:

“…Descartes’ cogito ergo sum moment, is the point at which modern philosophy, and with it the modern epoch, begins: man is locked up in his own ego.  Outside him is the doubtful world of things, which his science has not taught him are really not the least like their familiar appearances.  Descartes got the external world back through a belief in God, who in his goodness would not deceive us into believing that this external world existed if it really did not.  But the ghost of subjectivism (and solipsism too) is there and haunts the whole of modern philosophy.”

While Descartes pulled himself out of solipsism through the added assumption of another (benevolent) mind existing that was responsible for any and all experience, I think there’s a far easier and less ad hoc solution to this problem.  First, we need to realize that we wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between an experience of an artificial or illusory external reality and one that was truly real independent of our conscious experience, and this means that solipsism is entirely indeterminable and so it’s almost pointless to worry about; and second, we don’t feel that we are the sole authors of every aspect of our experience anyway, otherwise there would be nothing unpredictable or uncertain with respect to any part of our experience, and therefore we’d know everything that will ever happen before it happens with not so much as an inkling of surprise or confusion.

This is most certainly not the case, which means we can be confident that we are not the sole authors of our experience and therefore there really is a reality or a causal structure that is independent of our own will and expectations.  So it’s conceptually simpler to simply define reality in the most broadest sense of the term, as nothing more or less than what we experience at any point in time.  And because we experience what appear to be other beings that are just like ourselves, each appearing to have their own experiences of reality, it’s going to be more natural and intuitive to treat them as such regardless of whether or not they’re really figments of our imagination or products of some unknown higher level reality like The Matrix.

Heidegger does something similar here, where he views our being in the “external” world as essential to who we are, and thus he doesn’t think we can separate ourselves from the world, like Descartes himself did as a result of his methodological skepticism:

“Heidegger destroys the Cartesian picture at one blow: what characterizes man essentially, he says, is that he is Being-in-the-world.  Leibniz had said that the monad has no windows; and Heidegger’s reply is that man does not look out upon an external world through windows, from the isolation of his ego: he is already out-of-doors.  He is in the world because, existing, he is involved in it totally.”

This is fundamentally different from the traditional conception of an ego or self that may or may not exist in a world; within this conception of human beings, one can’t treat the ego as separable from the world that it’s embedded in.  One way to look at this is to imagine that we were separated from the world forever, and then ask ourselves if the mode of living that remains (if any) in the absence of any world is still fundamentally human.  It’s an interesting thought experiment to imagine us somehow as a disembodied mind “residing” within an infinite void of nothingness, but if this were really done for eternity and not simply for a short while where we knew we could later return to the world we left behind, then we’d have no more interactions or relations with any objects or other beings and no mode of living at all.  I think it’s perfectly reasonable to conclude in this case that we would have lost something that we need in order to truly be a human being.  If one fails to realize this, then they’ve simply failed to truly grasp the conditions called for in the thought experiment.

Heidegger drives this point further by describing existence or more appropriately our Being as analogous to a non-localized field as in theoretical physics:

“Existence itself, according to Heidegger, means to stand outside oneself, to be beyond oneself.  My Being is not something that takes place inside my skin (or inside an immaterial substance inside that skin); my Being, rather, is spread over a field or region which is the world of its care and concern.  Heidegger’s theory of man (and of Being) might be called the Field Theory of Man (or the Field Theory of Being) in analogy with Einstein’s Field Theory of Matter, provided we take this purely as an analogy; for Heidegger would hold it a spurious and inauthentic way to philosophize to derive one’s philosophic conclusions from the highly abstract theories of physics.  But in the way that Einstein took matter to be a field (a magnetic field, say)- in opposition to the Newtonian conception of a body as existing inside its surface boundaries-so Heidegger takes man to be a field or region of Being…Heidegger calls this field of Being Dasein.  Dasein (which in German means Being-there) is his name for man.”

So we can see our state of Being (which Heidegger calls Dasein) as one that’s spread out over a number of different interactions and relations we have with other beings in the world.  In some sense we can think of the sum total of all the actions, goals, and beings that we concern ourselves with as constituting our entire field of Being.  And each being, especially each human being, shares this general property of Being even though each of those beings will be embedded within their own particular region of Being with their own set of concerns (even if these sets overlap in some ways).

What I find really fascinating is Heidegger’s dissolution of the subject-object distinction:

“That Heidegger can say everything he wants to say about human existence without using either “man” or “consciousness” means that the gulf between subject and object, or between mind and body, that has been dug by modern philosophy need not exist if we do not make it.”

I mentioned Wittgenstein earlier, because I think Heidegger’s philosophy has a few parallels.  For instance, Wittgenstein treats language and meaning as inherently connected to how we use words and concepts and thus is dependent on the contextual relations between how or what we communicate and what our goals are, as opposed to treating words like categorical objects with strict definitions and well-defined semantic boundaries.  For Wittgenstein, language can’t be separated from our use of it in the world even though we often treat it as if we can (and assuming we can is what often creates problems in philosophy), and this is similar to how Heidegger describes us human beings as inherently inseparable from our extension in the world as manifested in our many relations and concerns within that world.

Heidegger’s reference to Being as some kind of field or region of concern can be illustrated well by considering how a child comes to learn their own name (or to respond to it anyway):

“He comes promptly enough at being called by name; but if asked to point out the person to whom the name belongs, he is just as likely to point to Mommy or Daddy as to himself-to the frustration of both eager parents.  Some months later, asked the same question, the child will point to himself.  But before he has reached that stage, he has heard his name as naming a field or region of Being with which he is concerned, and to which he responds, whether the call is to come to food, to mother, or whatever.  And the child is right.  His name is not the name of an existence that takes place within the envelope of his skin: that is merely the awfully abstract social convention that has imposed itself not only on his parents but on the history of philosophy.  The basic meaning the child’s name has for him does not disappear as he grows older; it only becomes covered over by the more abstract social convention.  He secretly hears his own name called whenever he hears any region of Being named with which he is vitally involved.”

This is certainly an interesting interpretation of this facet of child development, and we might presume that the current social conventions which eventually attach our name to our body arise out of a number of pragmatic considerations such as wanting to provide a label for each conscious agent that makes decisions and behaves in ways that affect other conscious agents, and because our regions of Being overlap in some ways but not in others (i.e. some of my concerns, though not all of them, are your concerns too), it also makes sense to differentiate between all the different “sets of concerns” that comprise each human being we interact with.  But the way we tend to do this is by abstracting the sets of concerns, localizing them in time and space as “mine” and “yours” rather than the way they truly exist in the world.

Nevertheless, we could (in principle anyway) use an entirely different convention where a person’s name is treated as a representation of a non-localized set of causal structures and concerns, almost as if their body extended in some sense to include all of this, where each concern or facet of their life is like a dynamic appendage emanating out from their most concentrated region of Being (the body itself).  Doing so would markedly change the way we see one another, the way we see objects, etc.

Perhaps our state of consciousness can mislead us into forgetting about the non-locality of our field of Being, because our consciousness is spatially constrained to one locus of experience; and perhaps this is the reason why philosophers going all the way back to the Greeks have linked existence directly with our propensity to reflect in solitude.  But this solitary reflection also misleads us into forgetting the average “everydayness” of our existence, where we are intertwined with our community like a sheep directed by the rest of the herd:

“…none of us is a private Self confronting a world of external objects.  None of us is yet even a Self.  We are each simply one among many; a name among the names of our schoolfellows, our fellow citizens, our community.  This everyday public quality of our existence Heidegger calls “the One.”  The One is the impersonal and public creature whom each of us is even before he is an I, a real I.  One has such-and-such a position in life, one is expected to behave in such-and-such a manner, one does this, one does not do that, etc.  We exist thus in a state of “fallen-ness”, according to Heidegger, in the sense that we are as yet below the level of existence to which it is possible for us to rise.  So long as we remain in the womb of this externalized and public existence, we are spared the terror and the dignity of becoming a Self.”

Heidegger’s concept of fallen-ness illustrates our primary mode of living; sometimes we think of ourselves as individuals striving toward our personal self-authored goals but most of the time we’re succumbing to society’s expectations of who we are, what we should become, and how we ought to judge the value of our own lives.  We shouldn’t be surprised by this fact as we’ve evolved as a social species, which means our inclination toward a herd mentality is in some sense instinctual and therefore becomes the path of least resistance.  But because of our complex cognitive and behavioral versatility, we can also consciously rise above this collective limitation; and even if we don’t strive to, in other cases our position within the safety of the collective is torn away from us as a result of the chaos that reigns in on us from life’s many contingencies:

“But…death and anxiety (and such) intrude upon this fallen state, destroy our sheltered position of simply being one among many, and reveal to us our own existence as fearfully and irremediably our own.  Because it is less fearful to be “the One” than to be a Self, the modern world has wonderfully multiplied all the devices of self-evasion.”

It is only by rising out of this state of fallenness, that is, by our rescuing some measure of true individuality, that Heidegger thinks we can live authentically.  But in any case:

“Whether it be fallen or risen, inauthentic or authentic, counterfeit copy or genuine original, human existence is marked by three general traits: 1) mood or feeling; 2) understanding; 3) speech.  Heidegger calls these existentialia and intends them as basic categories of existence (as opposed to more common ones like quantity, quality, space, time, etc.).”

Heidegger’s use of these traits in describing our existence shouldn’t be confused with some set of internal mental states but rather we need to include them within a conception of Being or Dasein as a field that permeates the totality of our existence.  So when we consider the first trait, mood or feeling, we should think of each human being as being a mood rather than simply having a mood.  According to Heidegger, it is through moods that we feel a sense of belonging to the world, and thus, if we didn’t have any mood at all, then we wouldn’t find ourselves in a world at all.

It’s also important to understand that he doesn’t see moods as some kind of state of mind as we would typically take them to be, but rather that all states of mind presuppose this sense of belonging to a world in the first place; they presuppose a mood in order to have the possibilities for any of those states of mind.  And as Barrett mentions, not all moods are equally important for Heidegger:

“The fundamental mood, according to Heidegger, is anxiety (Angst); he does not choose this as primary out of any morbidity of temperament, however, but simply because in anxiety this here-and-now of our existence arises before us in all its precarious and porous contingency.”

It seems that he finds anxiety to be fundamental in part because it is a mood that opens us up to see Being for what it really is: a field of existence centered around the individual rather than society and its norms and expectations; and this perspective largely results from the fact that when we’re in anxiety all practical significance melts away and the world as it was no longer seems to be relevant.  Things that we took for granted now become salient and there’s a kind of breakdown in our sense of everyday familiarity.  If what used to be significant and insignificant reverse roles in this mood, then we can no longer misinterpret ourselves as some kind of entity within the world (the world of “Them”; the world of externally imposed identity and essence); instead, we finally see ourselves as within, or identical with, our own world.

Heidegger also seems to see anxiety as always there even though it may be covered up (so to speak).  Perhaps it’s hiding most of the time because the fear of being a true Self and facing our individuality with the finitude, contingency, and responsibility that goes along with it is often too much for one to bear, so we blind ourselves by shifting into a number of other, less fundamental moods which enhance the significance of the usual day-to-day world, even if the possibility for Being to “reveal itself” to us, is just below the surface.

If we think of moods as a way of our feeling a sense of belonging within a world, where they effectively constitute the total range of ways that things can have significance for us, then we can see how our moods ultimately affect and constrain our view of the possibilities that our world affords us.  And this is a good segue to consider Heidegger’s second trait of Dasein or human Being, namely that of understanding.

“The “understanding” Heidegger refers to here is not abstract or theoretical; it is the understanding of Being in which our existence is rooted, and without which we could not make propositions or theories that can claim to be “true”.  Whence comes this understanding?  It is the understanding that I have by virtue of being rooted in existence.”

I think Heidegger’s concept of understanding (verstehen) is more or less an intuitive sense of knowing how to manipulate the world in order to make use of it for some goal or other.  By having certain goals, we see the world and the entities in that world colored by the context of those goals.  What we desire then will no doubt change the way the world appears to us in terms of what functionality we can make the most use of, what tools are available to us, and whether we see something as a tool or not.  And even though our moods may structure the space of possibilities that we see the world present to us, it is our realizing what these possibilities are that seems to underlie this form of understanding that Heidegger’s referring to.

We also have no choice but to use our past experience to interpret the world, determine what we find significant and meaningful, and to further drive the evolution of our understanding; and of course this process feeds back in on itself by changing our interpretation of the world which changes our dynamic understanding yet again.  And here we might make the distinction between an understanding of the possible uses for various objects and processes, and the specific interpretation of which possibilities are relevant to the task at hand thereby making use of that understanding.

If I’m sitting at my desk with a cup of coffee and a stack of papers in front of me that need to be sorted, my understanding of these entities affords me a number of possibilities depending on my specific mode of Being or what my current concerns are at the present moment.  If I’m tired or thirsty or what-have-you I may want to make use of that cup of coffee to drink from it, but if the window is open and the wind is starting to blow the stack of papers off my desk, I may decide to use my cup of coffee as a paper weight instead of a vessel to drink from.  And if a fly begins buzzing about while I’m sorting my papers and starts to get on my nerves, distracting me from the task at hand, I may decide to temporarily roll up my stack of papers and use it as a fly swatter.  My understanding of all of these objects in terms of their possibilities allows me to interpret an object as a particular possibility that fits within the context of my immediate wants and needs.

I like to think of understanding and interpretation, whether in the traditional sense or in Heidegger’s terms, as ultimately based on our propensity to make predictions about the world and its causal structure.  As a proponent of the predictive processing framework of brain function, I see the ultimate purpose of brains as being prediction generators, where the brain serves to organize information in order to predict the causal structure of the world we interact with; and this is done at many different levels of abstraction, so we can think of us as making use of many smaller-scale modules of understanding as well as various larger-scale assemblies of those individual modules.  In some cases, the larger-scale assemblies constrain which smaller-scale modules can be used and in other cases, the smaller-scale modules are prioritized which constrain or direct the shape of the larger-scale assemblies.

Another way to say this is to say that our brains make use of a number of lower level and higher level predictions (any of which may change over time based on new experiences or desires) and depending on the context we find ourselves in, one level may have more or less influence on another level.  My lowest level predictions may include things like what each “pixel” in my visual field is going to be from moment to moment, and a slightly higher level prediction may include things like what a specific coffee cup looks like, it’s shape, weight, etc., and slightly higher level predictions may include things like what coffee cups in general look like, their range of shapes, weights, etc., and eventually we get to higher levels of predictions that may include what we expect an object can be used for.

All of these predictions taken as a whole constitute our understanding of the world and the specific sets of predictions that come into play at any point in time, depending on our immediate concerns and where our attention is directed, constitute our interpretation of what we’re presently experiencing.  Barrett points to the fact that what we consider to be truth in the most primitive sense is this intuitive sense of understanding:

“Truth and Being are thus inseparable, given always together, in the simple sense that a world with things in it opens up around man the moment he exists.  Most of the time, however, man does not let himself see what really happens in seeing.”

This process of the world opening itself up to us, such that we have an immediate sense of familiarity with it, is a very natural and automated process and so unless we consciously pull ourselves out of it to try and externally reflect on this situation, we’re just going to take our understanding and interpretation for granted.  But regardless of whether we reflect on it or not, this process of understanding and interpretation is fundamental to how we exist in the world, and thus it is fundamental to our Being in the world.

Speech is the last trait of Dasein that Heidegger mentions, and it is intimately connected with the other two traits, mood and understanding.  So what exactly is he referring to by speech?

“Speech:  Language, for Heidegger, is not primarily a system of sounds or of marks on paper symbolizing those sounds.  Sounds and marks upon paper can become language only because man, insofar as he exists, stands within language.”

This is extremely reminiscent of Wittgenstein once again, since Wittgenstein views language in terms of how it permeates our day-to-day lives within a community or social group of some kind.  Language isn’t some discrete set of symbols with fixed meanings, but rather is a much more dynamic, context-dependent communication tool.  We primarily use language to accomplish some specific goal or another in our day-to-day lives, and this is a fundamental aspect of how we exist as human beings.  Because language is attached to its use, the meaning of any word or utterance (if any) is derived from its use as well.  Sounds and marks on paper are meaningless, unless we first ascribe a meaning to it based on how its been used in the past and how its being used in the present.

And as soon as we pick up language during our child development, it becomes automatically associated with our thought processes where we begin to think in our native language, and both real perceptions and figments of our imagination are instantly attached to some linguistic label in our heads.  If I showed you a picture of an elephant, the word elephant would no doubt enter your stream of consciousness, even without my saying the word or asking you what animal you saw in the picture.  Whether our thinking linguistically comes about as a result of having learned a specific language, or if its an innate feature of our how our brains function, language permeates our thought as well as our interactions with others in the world.

While we tend to think of language as involving words, sounds, and so forth, Heidegger has an interesting take on what else falls under the umbrella of language:

“Two people are talking together.  They understand each other, and they fall silent-a long silence.  This silence is language; it may speak more eloquently than any words.  In their mood they are attuned to each other; they may even reach down into that understanding which, as we have seen above, lies below the level of articulation.  The three-mood, understanding, and speech (a speech here that is silence)-thus interweave and are one.”

I’m not sure if Heidegger is only referring to silence itself here or if he’s also including body language, which often continues even after we’ve stopped talking and which sometimes speaks better than verbal language ever could.  In silence, we often get a chance to simply read another person in a much more basic and instinctual way, ascertaining their mood, and allowing any language that may have recently transpired to be interpreted differently than if a long silence had never occurred.  Heidegger refers to what happens in silence as an attunement between fellow human beings:

“…Nor is this silence merely a gap in our chatter; it is, rather, the primordial attunement of one existent to another, out of which all language-as sounds, marks, and counters-comes.  It is only because man is capable of such silence that he is capable of authentic speech.  If he ceases to be rooted in that silence all his talk becomes chatter.”

We may however also want to consider silence when it is accompanied with action, as our actions speak louder than words and we gain information primarily in this way anyway, by simply watching another do something in the world.  And language can only work within the context of mutual understanding, which necessarily involves action (at some point) and so perhaps we could say that action at least partially constitutes the “silence” that Heidegger refers to.

Heidegger’s entire “Field Theory” of Being relies on context, and Barrett mentions this as well:

“…we might just as well call it a contextual theory of Being.  Being is the context in which all beings come to light-and this means those beings as well that are sounds or marks on paper…Men exist “within language” prior to their uttering sounds because they exist within a mutual context of understanding, which in the end is nothing but Being itself.”

I think that we could interpret this as saying that in order for us to be able to interact with one another and with the world, there’s a prerequisite context of meaning and of what matters to us, already in play in order for those interactions to be possible in the first place.  In other words, whether we’re talking to somebody or simply trying to cook our breakfast, all of our actions presuppose some background of understanding and a sense of what’s significant to us.

3. Death, Anxiety, Finitude

Heidegger views the concept of death as an important one especially as it relates to a proper understanding of the concept of Being, and he also sees the most common understanding of death as fundamentally misguided:

“The authentic meaning of death-“I am to die”-is not as an external and public fact within the world, but as an internal possibility of my own Being.  Nor is it a possibility like a point at the end of a road, which I will in time reach.  So long as I think in this way, I still hold death at a distance outside myself.  The point is that I may die at any moment, and therefore death is my possibility now…Hence, death is the most personal and intimate of possibilities, since it is what I must suffer for myself: nobody else can die for me.”

I definitely see the merit in viewing death as an imminent possibility in order to fully grasp the implications it has on how we should be living our lives.  But most people tend to consider death in very abstract terms where it’s only thought about in the periphery as something that will happen “some day” in the future; and I think we owe this abstraction and partial repression of death to our own fear of death.  In many other cases, this fear of death manifests itself into supernatural beliefs that posit life after death, the resurrection of the dead, immortality, and other forms of magic; and importantly, all of these psychologically motivated tactics prevent one from actually accepting the truth about death as an integral part of our existence as human beings.  By denying the truth about death, one is denying the true value of the life they actually have.  On the other hand, by accepting it as an extremely  personal and intimate attribute of ourselves, we can live more authentically.

We can also see that by viewing death in more personal terms, we are pulled out the world of “Them”, the collective world of social norms and externalized identities, and able to better connect with our sense of being a Self:

“Only by taking my death into myself, according to Heidegger, does an authentic existence become possible for me.  Touched by this interior angel of death, I cease to be the impersonal and social One among many…and I am free to become myself.”

Thinking about death may make us uncomfortable, but if I know I’m going to die and could die at any moment, then shouldn’t I prioritize my personal endeavors to reflect this radical contingency?  It’s hard to argue with that conclusion but even if we should be doing this it’s understandably easy to get lost in our mindless day-to-day routines and superficial concerns, and then we simply lose sight of what we ought to be doing with our limited time.  It’s important to break out of this pattern, or at least to strive to, and in doing so we can begin to center our lives around truly personal goals and projects:

“Though terrifying, the taking of death into ourselves is also liberating: It frees us from servitude to the petty cares that threaten to engulf our daily life and thereby opens us to the essential projects by which we can make our lives personally and significantly our own.  Heidegger calls this the condition of “freedom-toward-death” or “resoluteness.”

The fear of death is also unique and telling in the sense that it isn’t really directed at any object but rather it is directed at Nothingness itself.  We fear that our lives will come to an end and that we’ll one day cease to be.  Heidegger seems to refer to this disposition as anxiety rather than fear, since it isn’t really the fear of anything but rather the fear of nothing at all; we just treat this nothing as if it were an object:

“Anxiety is not fear, being afraid of this or that definite object, but the uncanny feeling of being afraid of nothing at all.  It is precisely Nothingness that makes itself present and felt as the object of our dread.”

Accordingly, the concept of Nothingness is integral to the concept of Being, since it’s interwoven in our existence:

“In Heidegger Nothingness is a presence within our own Being, always there, in the inner quaking that goes on beneath the calm surface of our preoccupation with things.  Anxiety before Nothingness has many modalities and guises: now trembling and creative, now panicky and destructive; but always it is as inseparable from ourselves as our own breathing because anxiety is our existence itself in its radical insecurity.  In anxiety we both are and are not, at one and the same time, and this is our dread.”

What’s interesting about this perspective is the apparent asymmetry between existence and non-existence, at least insofar as it relates to human beings.  Non-existence becomes a principal concern for us as a result of our kind of existence, but non-existence itself carries with it no concerns at all.  In other words, non-existence doesn’t refer to anything at all whereas (human) existence refers to everything as well as to nothing (non-existence).  And it seems to me that anxiety and our relation to Nothingness is entirely dependent on our inherent capacity of imagination, where we use imagination to simulate possibilities, and if this imagination is capable of rendering the possibility of our own existence coming to an end, then that possibility may forcefully reorganize the relative significance of all other products of our imagination.

As confusing as it may sound, death is the possibility of ending all possibilities for any extant being.  If imagining such a possibility were not enough to fundamentally change one’s perspective of their own life, then I think that combining it with the knowledge of its inevitability, that this possibility is also a certainty, ought to.  Another interesting feature of our existence is the fact that death isn’t the only possibility that relates to Nothingness, for anytime we imagine a possibility that has not yet been realized or even if we conceive of an actuality that has been realized, we are making reference to that which is not; we are referring to what we are not, to what some thing or other is not and ultimately to that which does not exist (at a particular time and place).  I only know how to identify myself, or any object in the world for that matter, by distinguishing it from what it is not.

“Man is finite because the “not”-negation-penetrates the very core of his existence.  And whence is this “not” derived?  From Being itself.  Man is finite because he lives and moves within a finite understanding of Being.”

As we can see, Barrett describes how within Heidegger’s philosophy negation is treated as something that we live and move within and this makes sense when we consider what identity itself is dependent on.  And the mention of finitude is interesting because it’s not simply a limitation in the sense of what we aren’t capable of (e.g. omnipotence, immortality, perfection, etc.), but rather that our mode of existence entails making discriminations between what is and what isn’t, between what is possible and what is not, between what is actual and what is not.

4. Time and Temporality; History

The last section on Heidegger concerns the nature of time itself, and it begins by pointing out the relation between negation and our experience of time:

“Our finitude discloses itself essentially in time.  In existing…we stand outside ourselves at once open to Being and in the open clearing of Being; and this happens temporally as well as spatially.  Man, Heidegger says, is a creature of distance: he is perpetually beyond himself, his existence at every moment opening out toward the future.  The future is the not-yet, and the past is the no-longer; and these two negatives-the not-yet and the no-longer-penetrate his existence.  They are his finitude in its temporal manifestation.”

I suppose we could call this projection towards the future the teleological aspect of our Being.  In order to do anything within our existence, we must have a goal or a number of them, and these goals refer to possible future states of existence that can only be confirmed or disconfirmed once our growing past subsumes them as actualities or lost opportunities.  We might even say that the present is somewhat of an illusion (though as far as I know Heidegger doesn’t make this claim) because in a sense we’re always living in the future and in the past, since the person we see ourselves as and the person we want to be are a manifestation of both; whereas the present itself seems to be nothing more than a fleeting moment that only references what’s in front or behind itself.

In addition to this, if we look at how our brain functions from a predictive coding perspective, we can see that our brain generates predictive models based on our past experiences and the models it generates are pure attempts to predict the future; nowhere does the present come into play.  The present as it is experienced by us, is nothing but a prediction of what is yet to come.  I think this is integral to take into account when considering how time is experienced by us and how it should be incorporated into a concept of Being.

Heidegger’s concept of temporality is also tied to the concept of death that we explored earlier.  He sees death as necessary to put our temporal existence into a true human perspective:

“We really know time, says Heidegger, because we know we are going to die.  Without this passionate realization of our mortality, time would be simply a movement of the clock that we watch passively, calculating its advance-a movement devoid of human reasoning…Everything that makes up human existence has to be understood in the light of man’s temporality: of the not-yet, the no-longer, the here-and-now.”

It’s also interesting to consider what I’ve previously referred to as the illusion of persistent identity, an idea that’s been explored by a number of philosophers for centuries: we think of our past self as being the same person as our present or future self.  Now whether the present is actually an illusion or not is irrelevant to this point; the point is that we think of ourselves as always being there in our memories and at any moment of time.  The fact that we are all born into a society that gives us a discrete and fixed name adds to this illusion of our having an identity that is fixed as well.  But we are not the same person that we were ten years ago let alone the same person we were as a five-year old child.  We may share some memories with those previous selves but even those change over time and are often altered and reconstructed upon recall.  Our values, our ontology, our language, our primary goals in life, are all changing to varying degrees over time and we mustn’t lose sight of this fact either.  I think this “dynamic identity” is a fundamental aspect of our Being.

We might help to explain how we’re taken in by the illusion of a persistent identity by understanding once again that our identity is fundamentally projected toward the future.  Since that projection changes over time (as our goals change) and since it is a process that relies on a kind of psychological continuity, we might expect to simply focus on the projection itself rather than what that projection used to be.  Heidegger stresses the importance of the future in our concept of Being:

“Heidegger’s theory of time is novel, in that, unlike earlier philosophers with their “nows,” he gives priority to the future tense.  The future, according to him, is primary because it is the region toward which man projects and in which he defines his own being.  “Man never is, but always is to be,” to alter slightly the famous line of Pope.”

But, since we’re always relying on past experiences in order to determine our future projection, to give it a frame of reference with which we can evaluate that projected future, we end up viewing our trajectory in terms of human history:

“All these things derive their significance from a more basic fact: namely, that man is the being who, however dimly and half-consciously, always understands, and must understand, his own being historically.”

And human history, in a collective sense also plays a role, since our view of ourselves and of the world is unavoidably influenced by the cultural transmission of ideas stemming from our recent past all the way to thousands of years ago.  A lot of that influence has emanated from the Greeks especially (as Barrett has mentioned throughout Irrational Man), and it’s had a substantial impact on our conceptualization of Being as well:

“By detaching the figure from the ground the object could be made to emerge into the daylight of human consciousness; but the sense of the ground, the environing background, could also be lost.  The figure comes into sharper focus, that is, but the ground recedes, becomes invisible, is forgotten.  The Greeks detached beings from the vast environing ground of Being.  This act of detachment was accompanied by a momentous shift in the meaning of truth for the Greeks, a shift which Heidegger pinpoints as taking place in a single passage in Plato’s Republic, the celebrated allegory of the cave.”

Through the advent of reason and forced abstraction, the Greeks effectively separated the object from the context it’s normally embedded within.  But if a true understanding of our Being in the world can only be known contextually, then we can see how Heidegger may see a crucial problem with this school of thought which has propagated itself in Western philosophy ever since Plato.  Even the concept of truth itself had underwent a dramatic change as a result of the Greeks discovering and developing the process of reason:

“The quality of unhiddenness had been considered the mark of truth; but with Plato in that passage truth came to be defined, rather, as the correctness of an intellectual judgment.”

And this concept of unhiddenness seems to be a variation of “subjective truth” or “subjective understanding”, although it shouldn’t be confused with modern subjectivism; in this case the unhiddenness would naturally precipitate from whatever coherency and meaning is immediately revealed to us through our conscious experience.  I think that the redefining of truth had less of an impact on philosophy than Heidegger may have thought; the problem wasn’t the redefining of truth per se but rather the fact that a contextual understanding and subjective experience itself lost the level of importance they once had.  And I’m sure Heidegger would agree that this perceived loss of importance for both subjectivity and for a holistic understanding of human existence has led to a major shift in our view of the world, and a view that has likely resulted in some of the psychological pathologies sprouting up in our age of modernity.

Heidegger thought that allowing Being to reveal itself to us, was analogous to an artist letting the truth reveal itself naturally:

“…the artist, as well as the spectator, must submit patiently and passively to the artistic process, that he must lie in wait for the image to produce itself; that he produces false notes as soon as he tries to force anything; that, in short, he must let the truth of his art happen to him?  All of these points are part of what Heidegger means by our letting Being be.  Letting it be, the artist lets it speak to him and through him; and so too the thinker must let it be thought.”

He seems to be saying that modern ways of thinking are too forceful in the sense of our always prioritizing the subject-object distinction in our way of life.  We’ve let the obsessive organization of our lives and the various beings within those lives drown out our appreciation of, and ability to connect to, Being itself.  I think that another way we could put this is to say that we’ve split ourselves off from the sense of self that has a strong connection to nature and this has disrupted our ability to exist in a mode that’s more in tune with our evolutionary psychology, a kind of harmonious path of least resistance.  We’ve become masters over manipulating our environment while simultaneously losing our innate connection to that environment.  There’s certainly a lesson to be learned here even if the problem is difficult to articulate.

•      •      •      •      •

This concludes William Barrett’s chapter on Martin Heidegger.  I’ve gotta say that I think Heidegger’s views are fascinating as they serve to illustrate a radically different way of viewing the world and human existence, and for those that take his philosophy seriously, it forces us to re-evaluate much of the Western philosophical thought that we’ve been taking for granted, and which has constrained a lot of our thinking.  And I think it’s both refreshing and worthwhile to explore some of these novel ideas as they help us see life through an entirely new lens.  We need a shift in our frame of mind; a need to think outside the box so we have a better chance of finding new solutions to many of the problems we face in today’s world.  In the next post for this series on William Barrett’s Irrational Man, I’ll be looking at the philosophy of Jean-Paul Sartre.

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Some Thoughts on “Fear & Trembling”

I’ve been meaning to write this post for quite some time, but haven’t had the opportunity until now, so here it goes.  I want to explore some of Kierkegaard’s philosophical claims or themes in his book Fear and Trembling.  Kierkegaard regarded himself as a Christian and so there are a lot of literary themes revolving around faith and the religious life, but he also centers a lot of his philosophy around the subjective individual, all of which I’d like to look at in more detail.

In Fear and Trembling, we hear about the story found in Genesis (Ch. 22) where Abraham attempts to sacrifice his own beloved son Isaac, after hearing God command him to do so.  For those unfamiliar with this biblical story, after they journey out to mount Moriah he binds Isaac to an alter, and as Abraham draws his knife to slit the throat of his beloved son, an angel appears just in time and tells him to stop “for now I know that you fear God”.  Then Abraham sees a goat nearby and sacrifices it instead of his son.  Kierkegaard uses this story in various ways, and considers four alternative versions of it (and their consequences), to explicate the concept of faith as admirable though fundamentally incomprehensible and unintelligible.

He begins his book by telling us about a man who has deeply admired this story of Abraham ever since he first heard it as a child, with this admiration for it growing stronger over time while understanding the story less and less.  The man considers four alternative versions of the story to try and better understand Abraham and how he did what he did, but never manages to obtain this understanding.

I’d like to point out here that an increased confusion would be expected if the man has undergone moral and intellectual growth during his journey from childhood to adulthood.  We tend to be more impulsive, irrational and passionate as children, with less regard for any ethical framework to live by.  And sure enough, Kierkegaard even mentions the importance of passion in making a leap of faith.  Nevertheless, as we continue to mature and accumulate life experience, we tend to develop some control over our passions and emotions, we build up our intellect and rationality, and also further develop an ethic with many ethical behaviors becoming habituated if cultivated over time.  If a person cultivates moral virtues like compassion, honesty, and reasonableness, then it would be expected that they’d find Abraham’s intended act of murder (let alone filicide) repugnant.  But, regardless of the reasons for the man’s lack of understanding, he admires the story more and more, likely because it reveres Abraham as the father of faith, and portrays faith itself as a most honorable virtue.

Kierkegaard’s main point in Fear and Trembling is that one has to suspend their relation to the ethical (contrary to Kant and Hegel), in order to make any leap of faith, and that there’s no rational decision making process involved.  And so it seems clear that Kierkegaard knows that what Abraham did in this story was entirely unethical (attempting to kill an innocent child) in at least one sense of the word ethical, but he believes nevertheless that this doesn’t matter.

To see where he’s coming from, we need to understand Kierkegaard’s idea that there are basically three ways or stages of living, namely the aesthetic, the ethical, and the religious.  The aesthetic life is that of sensuous or felt experience, infinite potentiality through imagination, hiddenness or privacy, and an overarching egotism focused on the individual.  The ethical life supersedes or transcends this aesthetic way of life by relating one to “the universal”, that is, to the common good of all people, to social contracts, and to the betterment of others over oneself.  The ethical life, according to Kierkegaard, also consists of public disclosure or transparency.  Finally, the religious life supersedes the ethical (and thus also supersedes the aesthetic) but shares some characteristics of both the aesthetic and the ethical.

The religious, like the aesthetic, operates on the level of the individual, but with the added component of the individual having a direct relation to God.  And just like the ethical, the religious appeals to a conception of good and evil behavior, but God is the arbiter in this way of life rather than human beings or their nature.  Thus the sphere of ethics that Abraham might normally commit himself to in other cases is thought to be superseded by the religious sphere, the sphere of faith.  Within this sphere of faith, Abraham assumes that anything that God commands is Abraham’s absolute duty to uphold, and he also has faith that this will lead to the best ends.  This of course, is known as a form of divine command theory, which is actually an ethical and meta-ethical theory.  Although Kierkegaard claims that the religious is somehow above the ethical, it is for the most part just another way of living that involves another ethical principle.  In this case, the ethical principle is for one to do whatever God commands them to (even if these commands are inconsistent or morally repugnant from a human perspective), and this should be done rather than abiding by our moral conscience or some other set of moral rules, social mores, or any standards based on human judgment, human nature, etc.

It appears that the primary distinction between the ethical and the religious is the leap of faith that is made in the latter stage of living which involves an act performed “in virtue of the absurd”.  For example, Abraham’s faith in God was really a faith that God wouldn’t actually make him kill his son Isaac.  Had Abraham been lacking in this particular faith, Kierkegaard seems to argue that Abraham’s conscience and moral perspective (which includes “the universal”) would never have allowed him to do what he did.  Thus, Abraham’s faith, according to Kierkegaard, allowed him to (at least temporarily) suspend the ethical in virtue of the absurd notion that somehow the ethical would be maintained in the end.  In other words, Abraham thought that he could obey God’s command, even if this command was prima facie immoral, because he had faith that God wouldn’t actually make Abraham perform an unethical act.

I find it interesting that this particular function or instantiation of faith, as outlined by Kierkegaard, makes for an unusual interpretation of divine command theory.  If divine command theory attempts to define good or moral behavior as that which God commands, and if a leap of faith (such as that which Abraham took) can involve a belief that the end result of an unconscionable commandment is actually its negation or retraction, then a leap of faith such as that taken by Abraham would serve to contradict divine command theory to at least some degree.  It would seem that Kierkegaard wants to believe in the basic premise of divine command theory and therefore have an absolute duty to obey whatever God commands, and yet he also wants to believe that if this command goes against a human moral system or the human conscience, it will not end up doing so when one goes to carry out what has actually been commanded of them.  This seems to me to be an unusual pair of beliefs for one to hold simultaneously, for divine command theory allows for Abraham to have actually carried out the murder of his son (with no angel stopping him at the last second), and this heinous act would have been considered a moral one under such an awful theory.  And yet, Abraham had faith that this divine command would somehow be nullified and therefore reconciled with his own conscience and relation to the universal.

Kierkegaard has something to say about beliefs, and how they differ from faith-driven dispositions, and it’s worth noting this since most of us use the term “belief” as including that which one has faith in.  For Kierkegaard, belief implies that one is assured of its truth in some way, whereas faith requires one to accept the possibility that what they have faith in could be proven wrong.  Thus, it wasn’t enough for Abraham to believe in an absolute duty to obey whatever God commanded of him, because that would have simply been a case of obedience, and not faith.  Instead, Abraham also had to have faith that God would let Abraham spare his son Isaac, while accepting the possibility that he may be proven wrong and end up having to kill his son after all.  As such, Kierkegaard wouldn’t accept the way the term “faith” is often used in modern religious parlance.  Religious practitioners often say that they have faith in something and yet “know it to be true”, “know it for certain”, “know it will happen”, etc.  But if Abraham truly believed (let alone knew for certain) that God wouldn’t make him kill Isaac, then God’s command wouldn’t have served as any true test of faith.  So while Abraham may have believed that he had to kill his son, he also had faith that his son wouldn’t die, hence making a leap of faith in virtue of the absurd.

This distinction between belief and faith also seems to highlight Kierkegaard’s belief in some kind of prophetic consequentialist ethical framework.  Whereas most Christians tend to side with a Kantian deontological ethical system, Kierkegaard points out that ethical systems have rules which are meant to promote the well-being of large groups of people.  And since humans lack the ability to see far into the future, it’s possible that some rules made under this kind of ignorance may actually lead to an end that harms twenty people and only helps one.  Kierkegaard believes that faith in God can answer this uncertainty and circumvent the need to predict the outcome of our moral rules by guaranteeing a better end given the vastly superior knowledge that God has access to.  And any ethical system that appeals to the ends as justifying the means is a form of consequentialism (utilitarianism is perhaps the most common type of ethical consequentialism).

Although I disagree with Kiergegaard on a lot of points, such as his endorsement of divine command theory, and his appeal to an epistemologically bankrupt behavior like taking a leap of faith, I actually agree with Kierkegaard on his teleological ethical reasoning.  He’s right in his appealing to the ends in order to justify the means, and he’s right to want maximal knowledge involved in determining how best to achieve those ends.  It seems clear to me that all moral systems ultimately break down to a form of consequentialism anyway (a set of hypothetical imperatives), and any disagreement between moral systems is really nothing more than a disagreement about what is factual or a disagreement about which consequences should be taken into account (e.g. happiness of the majority, happiness of the least well off, self-contentment for the individual, how we see ourselves as a person, etc.).

It also seems clear that if you are appealing to some set of consequences in determining what is and is not moral behavior, then having maximal knowledge is your best chance of achieving those ends.  But we can only determine the reliability of the knowledge by seeing how well it predicts the future (through inferred causal relations), and that means we can only establish the veracity of any claimed knowledge through empirical means.  Since nobody has yet been able to establish that a God (or gods) exists through any empirical means, it goes without saying that nobody has been able to establish the veracity of any God-knowledge.

Lacking the ability to test this, one would also need to have faith in God’s knowledge, which means they’ve merely replaced one form of uncertainty (the predicted versus actual ends of human moral systems) with another form of uncertainty (the predicted versus actual knowledge of God).  Since the predicted versus actual ends of our moral systems can actually be tested, while the knowledge of God cannot, then we have a greater uncertainty in God’s knowledge than in the efficacy and accuracy of our own moral systems.  This is a problem for Kierkegaard, because his position seems to be that the leap of faith taken by Abraham was essentially grounded on the assumption that God had superior knowledge to achieve the best telos, and thus his position is entirely unsupportable.

Aside from the problems inherent in Kierkegaard’s beliefs about faith and God, I do like his intense focus on the priority of the individual.  As mentioned already, both the aesthetic and religious ways of life that have been described operate on this individual level.  However, one criticism I have to make about Kierkegaard’s life-stage trichotomy is that morality/ethics actually does operate on the individual level even if it also indirectly involves the community or society at large.  And although it is not egotistic like the aesthetic life is said to be, it is egoistic because rational self-interest is in fact at the heart of all moral systems that are consistent and sufficiently motivating to follow.

If you maximize your personal satisfaction and life fulfillment by committing what you believe to be a moral act over some alternative that you believe will make you less fulfilled and thus less overall satisfied (such as not obeying God), then you are acting for your own self-interest (by obeying God), even if you are not acting in an explicitly selfish way.  A person can certainly be wrong about what will actually make them most satisfied and fulfilled, but this doesn’t negate one’s intention to do so.  Acting for the betterment of others over oneself (i.e. living by or for “the universal”) involves behaviors that lead you to a more fulfilling life, in part based on how those actions affect your view of yourself and your character.  If one believes in gods or a God, then their perspective on their belief of how God sees them will also affect their view of themselves.  In short, a properly formulated ethics is centered around the individual even if it seems otherwise.

Given the fact that Kierkegaard seems to have believed that the ethical life revolved around the universal rather than the individual, perhaps it’s no wonder that he would choose to elevate some kind of individualistic stage of life, namely the religious life, over that of the ethical.  It would be interesting to see how his stages of life may have looked had he believed in a more individualistic theory of ethics.  I find that an egoistic ethical framework actually fits quite nicely with the rest of Kierkegaard’s overtly individualistic philosophy.

He ends this book by pointing out that passion is required in order to have faith, and passion isn’t something that somebody can teach us, unlike the epistemic fruits of rational reflection.  Instead, passion has to be experienced firsthand in order for us to understand it at all.  He contrasts this passion with the disinterested intellectualization involved in reflection, which was the means used in Hegel’s approach to try and understand faith.

Kierkegaard doesn’t think that Hegel’s method will suffice since it isn’t built upon a fundamentally subjective experiential foundation and instead tries to understand faith and systematize it through an objective analysis based on logic and rational reflection.  Although I see logic and rational reflection as most important for best achieving our overall happiness and life fulfillment, I can still appreciate the significant role of passion and felt experience within the human condition, our attraction to it, and it’s role in religious belief.  I can also appreciate how our overall satisfaction and life fulfillment are themselves instantiated and evaluated as a subjective felt experience, and one that is entirely individualistic.  And so I can’t help but agree with Kierkegaard, in recognizing that there is no substitute for a subjective experience, and no way to adequately account for the essence of those experiences through entirely non-subjective (objective) means.

The individual subject and their conscious experience is of primary importance (it’s the only thing we can be certain exists), and the human need to find meaning in an apparently meaningless world is perhaps the most important facet of that ongoing conscious experience.  Even though I disagree with a lot of what Kierkegaard believed, it wasn’t all bull$#!+.  I think he captured and expressed some very important points about the individual and some of the psychological forces that color the view of our personal identity and our own existence.

On Parfit’s Repugnant Conclusion

Back in 1984, Derek Parfit’s work on population ethics led him to formulate a possible consequence of total utilitarianism, namely, what was deemed as the Repugnant Conclusion (RC).  For those unfamiliar with the term, Parfit described it accordingly:

For any possible population of at least ten billion people, all with a very high quality of life, there must be some much larger imaginable population whose existence, if other things are equal, would be better even though its members have lives that are barely worth living.

To better explain this conclusion, let’s consider a few different populations, A, A+, and B, where the width of the bar represents the relative population and the height represents the average “well-being rating” of the people in that sub-population:

Figure 2

Image taken from http://plato.stanford.edu/entries/repugnant-conclusion/fig2.png

In population A, let’s say we have 10 billion people with a “well-being rating” of +10 (on a scale of -10 to +10, with negative values indicating a life not worth living).  Now in population A+, let’s say we have all the people in population A with the mere addition of 10 billion people with a “well-being rating” of +8.  According to the argument as Parfit presents it, it seems reasonable to hold that population A+ is better than population A, or at the very least, not worse than population A.  This is believed to be the case because the only difference between the two populations is the mere addition of more people with lives worth living (even if their well-being isn’t as good as those represented by the “A” population, so it is believed that adding additional lives worth living cannot make an outcome worse when all else is equal.

Next, consider population B where it has the same number of people as population A+, but every person has a “well-being rating” that is slightly higher than the average “well-being rating” in population A+, and that is slightly lower than that of population A.  Now if one accepts that population A+ is better than A (or at least not worse) and if one accepts that population B is better than population A+ (since it has an average well being that is higher) then one has to accept the conclusion that population B is better than population A (by transitive logic;  A <= A+ <B, therefore, A<B).  If this is true then we can take this further and show that a population that is sufficiently large enough would still be better than population A, even if the “well-being rating” of each person was only +1.  This is the RC as presented by Parfit, and he along with most philosophers found it to be unacceptable.  So he worked diligently on trying to solve it, but hadn’t succeeded in the way he hoped for.  This has since become one of the biggest problems in ethics, particularly in the branch of population ethics.

Some of the strategies that have been put forward to resolve the RC include adopting an average principle, a variable value principle, or some kind of critical level principle.  However all of these supposed resolutions are either wrought with their own problems (if accepted) or they are highly unsatisfactory, unconvincing, or very counter-intuitive.  A brief overview of the argument and the supposed solutions and their associated problems can be found here.

I’d like to respond to the RC argument as well because I think that there are at least a few problems with the premises right off the bat.  The foundation for my rebuttal relies on an egoistic moral realist ethics, based on a goal theory of morality (a subset of desire utilitarianism), which can be summarized as follows:

If one wants X above all else, then one ought to Y above all else.  Since it can be shown that ultimately what one wants above all else is satisfaction and fulfillment with one’s life (or what Aristotle referred to as eudaimonia) then one ought to do above all else all possible actions that will best achieve that goal.  The actions required to best accomplish this satisfaction can be determined empirically (based on psychology, neuroscience, sociology, etc.), and therefore we theoretically have epistemic access to a number of moral facts.  These moral facts are what we ought to do above all else in any given situation given all the facts available to us and via a rational assessment of said facts.

So if one is trying to choose whether one population is better or worse than another, I think that assessment should be based on the same egoistic moral framework which accounts for all known consequences resulting from particular actions and which implements “altruistic” behaviors precipitated by cultivating virtues that benefit everyone including ourselves (such as compassion, integrity, and reasonableness).  So in the case of evaluating the comparison between population A and that of A+ as presented by Parfit, which is better?  Well if one applies the veil of ignorance as propagated by the social contract theories of philosophers such as Kant, Hobbes, Locke, and Rousseau, whereby we would hypothetically choose between worlds, not knowing which subpopulation we would end up in, which world ought we to prefer?  It would stand to reason that population A is certainly better than that of A+ (and better than population B) because one has the highest probability of having a higher level of well-being in that population/society (for any person chosen at random).  This reasoning would then render the RC as false, as it only followed from fallacious reasoning (i.e. it is fallacious to assume that adding more people with lives worth living is all that matters in the assessment).

Another fundamental flaw that I see in the premises is the assumption that population A+ contains the same population of high well-being individuals as in A with the mere addition of people with a somewhat lower level of well-being.  If the higher well-being subpopulation of A+ has knowledge of the existence of other people in that society with a lower well-being, wouldn’t that likely lead to a decrease in their well-being (compared to those in the A population that had no such concern)?  It would seem that the only way around this is if the higher well-being people were ignorant of those other members of society or if there were other factors that were not equal between the two high-well-being subpopulations in A and A+ to somehow compensate for that concern, in which case the mere addition assumption is false since the hypothetical scenario would involve a number of differences between the two higher well-being populations.  If the higher well-being subpopulation in A+ is indeed ignorant of the existence of the lower well-being subpopulation in A+, then they are not able to properly assess the state of the world which would certainly factor into their overall level of well-being.

In order to properly assess this and to behave morally at all, one needs to use as many facts as are practical to obtain and operate according to those facts as rationally as possible.  It would seem plausible that the better-off subpopulation of A+ would have at least some knowledge of the fact that there exist people with less well-being than themselves and this ought to decrease their happiness and overall well-being when all else is truly equal when compared to A.  But even if the subpopulation can’t know this for some reason (i.e. if the subpopulations are completely isolated from one another), we do have this knowledge and thus must take account of it in our assessment of which population is better than the other.  So it seems that the comparison of population A to A+ as stated in the argument is an erroneous one based on fallacious assumptions that don’t account for these factors pertaining to the well-being of informed people.

Now I should say that if we had knowledge pertaining to the future of both societies we could wind up reversing our preference if, for example, it turned out that population A had a future that was likely going to turn out worse than the future of population A+ (where the most probable “well-being rating” decreased comparatively).  If this was the case, then being armed with that probabilistic knowledge of the future (based on a Bayesian analysis of likely future outcomes) could force us to switch preferences.  Ultimately, the way to determine which world we ought to prefer is to obtain the relevant facts about which outcome would make us most satisfied overall (in the eudaimonia sense), even if this requires further scientific investigation regarding human psychology to determine the optimized trade-off between present and future well-being.

As for comparing two populations that have the same probability for high well-being, yet with different populations (say “A” and “double A”), I would argue once again that one should assess those populations based on what the most likely future is for each population based on the facts available to us.  If the larger population is more likely to be unsustainable, for example, then it stands to reason that the smaller population is what one ought to strive for (and thus prefer) over the larger one.  However, if sustainability is not likely to be an issue based on the contingent facts of the societies being evaluated, then I think one ought to choose the society that has the best chances of bettering the planet as a whole through maximized stewardship over time.  That is to say, if more people can more easily accomplish goals of making the world a better place, then the larger population would be what one ought to strive for since it would secure more well-being in the future for any and all conscious creatures (including ourselves).  One would have to evaluate the societies they are comparing to one another for these types of factors and then make the decision accordingly.  In the end, it would maximize the eudaimonia for any individual chosen at random both in that present society and in the future.

But what if we are instead comparing two populations that both have “well-being ratings” that are negative?  For example what if we compare a population S containing only one person that has a well-being rating of -10 (the worst possible suffering imaginable) versus another population T containing one million people that have well-being ratings of -9 (almost the worst possible suffering)?  It sure seems that if we apply the probabilistic principle I applied to the positive well being populations, that would lead to preferring a world with millions of people suffering horribly instead of a world with just one person suffering a bit more.  However, this would only necessarily follow if one applied the probabilistic principle while ignoring the egoistically-based “altruistic” virtues such as compassion and reasonableness, as it pertains to that moral decision.  In order to determine which world one ought to prefer over another, just as in any other moral decision, one must determine what behaviors and choices make us most satisfied as individuals (to best obtain eudaimonia).  If people are generally more satisfied (perhaps universally once fully informed of the facts and reasoning rationally) in preferring to have one person suffer at a -10 level over one million people suffering at a -9 level (even if it was you or I chosen as that single person), then that is the world one ought to prefer over the other.

Once again, our preference could be reversed if we were informed that the most likely futures of these populations had their levels of suffering reversed or changed markedly.  And if the scenario changed to, say, 1 million people at a -10 level versus 2 million people at a -9 level, our preferred outcomes may change as well, even if we don’t yet know what that preference ought to be (i.e. if we’re ignorant of some facts pertaining to our psychology at the present, we may think we know, even though we are incorrect due to irrational thinking or some missing facts).  As always, the decision of which population or world is better depends on how much knowledge we have pertaining to those worlds (to make the most informed decision we can given our present epistemological limitations) and thus our assessment of their present and most likely future states.  So even if we don’t yet know which world we ought to prefer right now (in some subset of the thought experiments we conjure up), science can find these answers (or at least give us the best shot at answering them).

The illusion of Persistent Identity & the Role of Information in Identity

After reading and commenting on a post at “A Philosopher’s Take” by James DiGiovanna titled Responsibility, Identity, and Artificial Beings: Persons, Supra-persons and Para-persons, I decided to expand on the topic of personal identity.

Personal Identity Concepts & Criteria

I think when most people talk about personal identity, they are referring to how they see themselves and how they see others in terms of personality and some assortment of (usually prominent) cognitive and behavioral traits.  Basically, they see it as what makes a person unique and in some way distinguishable from another person.  And even this rudimentary concept can be broken down into at least two parts, namely, how we see ourselves (self-ascribed identity) and how others see us (which we could call the inferred identity of someone else), since they are likely going to differ.  While most people tend to think of identity in these ways, when philosophers talk about personal identity, they are usually referring to the unique numerical identity of a person.  Roughly speaking, this amounts to basically whatever conditions or properties that are both necessary and sufficient such that a person at one point in time and a person at another point in time can be considered the same person — with a temporal continuity between those points in time.

Usually the criterion put forward for this personal identity is supposed to be some form of spatiotemporal and/or psychological continuity.  I certainly wouldn’t be the first person to point out that the question of which criterion is correct has already framed the debate with the assumption that a personal (numerical) identity exists in the first place and even if it did exist, it also assumes that the criterion is something that would be determinable in some way.  While it is not unfounded to believe that some properties exist that we could ascribe to all persons (simply because of what we find in common with all persons we’ve interacted with thus far), I think it is far too presumptuous to believe that there is a numerical identity underlying our basic conceptions of personal identity and a determinable criterion for it.  At best, I think if one finds any kind of numerical identity for persons that persist over time, it is not going to be compatible with our intuitions nor is it going to be applicable in any pragmatic way.

As I mention pragmatism, I am sympathetic to Parfit’s views in the sense that regardless of what one finds the criteria for numerical personal identity to be (if it exists), the only thing that really matters to us is psychological continuity anyway.  So despite the fact that Locke’s view — that psychological continuity (via memory) was the criterion for personal identity — was in fact shown to be based on circular and illogical arguments (per Butler, Reid and others), nevertheless I give applause to his basic idea.  Locke seemed to be on the right track, in that psychological continuity (in some sense involving memory and consciousness) is really the essence of what we care about when defining persons, even if it can’t be used as a valid criterion in the way he proposed.

(Non) Persistence & Pragmatic Use of a Personal Identity Concept

I think that the search for, and long debates over, what the best criterion for personal identity is, has illustrated that what people have been trying to label as personal identity should probably be relabeled as some sort of pragmatic pseudo-identity. The pragmatic considerations behind the common and intuitive conceptions of personal identity have no doubt steered the debate pertaining to any possible criteria for helping to define it, and so we can still value those considerations even if a numerical personal identity doesn’t really exist (that is, even if it is nothing more than a pseudo-identity) and even if a diachronic numerical personal identity does exist but isn’t useful in any way.

If the object/subject that we refer to as “I” or “me” is constantly changing with every passing moment of time both physically and psychologically, then I tend to think that the self (that many people ascribe as the “agent” of our personal identity) is an illusion of some sort.  I tend to side more with Hume on this point (or at least James Giles’ fair interpretation of Hume) in that my views seem to be some version of a no-self or eliminativist theory of personal identity.  As Hume pointed out, even though we intuitively ascribe a self and thereby some kind of personal identity, there is no logical reason supported by our subjective experience to think it is anything but a figment of the imagination.  This illusion results from our perceptions flowing from one to the next, with a barrage of changes taking place with this “self” over time that we simply don’t notice taking place — at least not without critical reflection on our past experiences of this ever-changing “self”.  The psychological continuity that Locke described seems to be the main driving force behind this illusory self since there is an overlap in the memories of the succession of persons.

I think one could say that if there is any numerical identity that is associated with the term “I” or “me”, it only exists for a short moment of time in one specific spatio-temporal slice, and then as the next perceivable moment elapses, what used to be “I” will become someone else, even if the new person that comes into being is still referred to as “I” or “me” by a person that possesses roughly the same configuration of matter in its body and brain as the previous person.  Since the neighboring identities have an overlap in accessible memory including autobiographical memories, memories of past experiences generally, and the memories pertaining to the evolving desires that motivate behavior, we shouldn’t expect this succession of persons to be noticed or perceived by the illusory self because each identity has access to a set of memories that is sufficiently similar to the set of memories accessible to the previous or successive identity.  And this sufficient degree of similarity in those identities’ memories allow for a seemingly persistent autobiographical “self” with goals.

As for the pragmatic reasons for considering all of these “I”s and “me”s to be the same person and some singular identity over time, we can see that there is a causal dependency between each member of this “chain of spatio-temporal identities” that I think exists, and so treating that chain of interconnected identities as one being is extremely intuitive and also incredibly useful for accomplishing goals (which is likely the reason why evolution would favor brains that can intuit this concept of a persistent “self” and the near uni-directional behavior that results from it).  There is a continuity of memory and behaviors (even though both change over time, both in terms of the number of memories and their accuracy) and this continuity allows for a process of conditioning to modify behavior in ways that actively rely on those chains of memories of past experiences.  We behave as if we are a single person moving through time and space (and as if we are surrounded by other temporally extended single person’s behaving in similar ways) and this provides a means of assigning ethical and causal responsibility to something or more specifically to some agent.  Quite simply, by having those different identities referenced under one label and physically attached to or instantiated by something localized, that allows for that pragmatic pseudo-identity to persist over time in order for various goals (whether personal or interpersonal/societal) to be accomplished.

“The Persons Problem” and a “Speciation” Analogy

I came up with an analogy that I thought was very fitting to this concept.  One could analogize this succession of identities that get clumped into one bulk pragmatic-pseudo-identity with the evolutionary concept of speciation.  For example, a sequence of identities somehow constitute an intuitively persistent personal identity, just as a sequence of biological generations somehow constitute a particular species due to the high degree of similarity between them all.  The apparent difficulty lies in the fact that, at some point after enough identities have succeeded one another, even the intuitive conception of a personal identity changes markedly to the point of being unrecognizable from its ancestral predecessor, just as enough biological generations transpiring eventually leads to what we call a new species.  It’s difficult to define exactly when that speciation event happens (hence the species problem), and we have a similar problem with personal identity I think.  Where does it begin and end?  If personal identity changes over the course of a lifetime, when does one person become another?  I could think of “me” as the same “me” that existed one year ago, but if I go far enough back in time, say to when I was five years old, it is clear that “I” am a completely different person now when compared to that five year old (different beliefs, goals, worldview, ontology, etc.).  There seems to have been an identity “speciation” event of some sort even though it is hard to define exactly when that was.

Biologists have tried to solve their species problem by coming up with various criteria to help for taxonomical purposes at the very least, but what they’ve wound up with at this point is several different criteria for defining a species that are each effective for different purposes (e.g. biological-species concept, morpho-species concept, phylogenetic-species concept, etc.), and without any single “correct” answer since they are all situationally more or less useful.  Similarly, some philosophers have had a persons problem that they’ve been trying to solve and I gather that it is insoluble for similar “fuzzy boundary” reasons (indeterminate properties, situationally dependent properties, etc.).

The Role of Information in a Personal Identity Concept

Anyway, rather than attempt to solve the numerical personal identity problem, I think that philosophers need to focus more on the importance of the concept of information and how it can be used to try and arrive at a more objective and pragmatic description of the personal identity of some cognitive agent (even if it is not used as a criterion for numerical identity, since information can be copied and the copies can be distinguished from one another numerically).  I think this is especially true once we take some of the concerns that James DiGiovanna brought up concerning the integration of future AI into our society.

If all of the beliefs, behaviors, and causal driving forces in a cognitive agent can be represented in terms of information, then I think we can implement more universal conditioning principles within our ethical and societal framework since they will be based more on the information content of the person’s identity without putting as much importance on numerical identity nor as much importance on our intuitions of persisting people (since they will be challenged by several kinds of foreseeable future AI scenarios).

To illustrate this point, I’ll address one of James DiGiovanna’s conundrums.  James asks us:

To give some quick examples: suppose an AI commits a crime, and then, judging its actions wrong, immediately reforms itself so that it will never commit a crime again. Further, it makes restitution. Would it make sense to punish the AI? What if it had completely rewritten its memory and personality, so that, while there was still a physical continuity, it had no psychological content in common with the prior being? Or suppose an AI commits a crime, and then destroys itself. If a duplicate of its programming was started elsewhere, would it be guilty of the crime? What if twelve duplicates were made? Should they each be punished?

In the first case, if the information constituting the new identity of the AI after reprogramming is such that it no longer needs any kind of conditioning, then it would be senseless to punish the AI — other than to appease humans that may be angry that they couldn’t themselves avoid punishment in this way, due to having a much slower and less effective means of reprogramming themselves.  I would say that the reprogrammed AI is guilty of the crime, but only if its reprogrammed memory still included information pertaining to having performed those past criminal behaviors.  However, if those “criminal memories” are now gone via the reprogramming then I’d say that the AI is not guilty of the crime because the information constituting its identity doesn’t match that of the criminal AI.  It would have no recollection of having committed the crime and so “it” would not have committed the crime since that “it” was lost in the reprogramming process due to the dramatic change in information that took place.

In the latter scenario, if the information constituting the identity of the destroyed AI was re-instantiated elsewhere, then I would say that it is in fact guilty of the crime — though it would not be numerically guilty of the crime but rather qualitatively guilty of the crime (to differentiate between the numerical and qualitative personal identity concepts that are embedded in the concept of guilt).  If twelve duplicates of this information were instantiated into new AI hardware, then likewise all twelve of those cognitive agents would be qualitatively guilty of the crime.  What actions should be taken based on qualitative guilt?  I think it means that the AI should be punished or more specifically that the judicial system should perform the reconditioning required to modify their behavior as if it had committed the crime (especially if the AI believes/remembers that it has committed the crime), for the better of society.  If this can be accomplished through reprogramming, then that would be the most rational thing to do without any need for traditional forms of punishment.

We can analogize this with another thought experiment with human beings.  If we imagine a human that has had its memories changed so that it believes it is Charles Manson, has all of Charles Manson’s memories and intentions, then that person should be treated as if they are Charles Manson and thus incarcerated/punished accordingly to rehabilitate them or protect the other members of society.  This is assuming of course that we had reliable access to that kind of mind-reading knowledge.  If we did, the information constituting the identity of that person would be what is most important — not what the actual previous actions of the person were — because the “previous person” was someone else, due to that gross change in information.

Why I Became a Pro-Choice Advocate

There have been a number of arguments raised over the years concerning whether or not a woman should have the right to choose to have an abortion or not.  I’d like to briefly discuss the primary arguments that I’ve personally found to be the most compelling.  Personally, I hold the view that a woman should indeed have the right to choose whether or not to terminate a pregnancy, and thus I am a pro-choice advocate, though this wasn’t always the case (as a former pro-life/anti-choice atheist, and before that a pro-life/anti-choice Christian).  The primary arguments I’m going to discuss will hopefully illustrate why in fact I hold the pro-choice view that I do, and why I believe it is both rational and reasonable for others to share this view as well.

First, when it comes to determining what individual rights we should or shouldn’t have, we must ask if we want to live in a world where we theoretically begin with no rights at all and then add any desirable rights as needed over time, or where we theoretically begin with every possible right and then remove/restrict rights as desired over time.  It seems obvious to me that the first scenario would be simply absurd and wholly impractical to implement.  Among many other reasons to reject this first scenario, we need only realize that if we began with no rights at all, we wouldn’t even have the right to determine or vote on what rights we should be given at some future point in time.  Furthermore, nobody would have the right to enforce any kind of “no-rights” system put into place.  At the very least, to avoid these absurdities and impracticalities, it is easy to see that the second scenario best describes what any rational person would want.  That is, people want to have as many personal liberties and freedoms as possible with the intention of only excluding certain liberties when they contradict other liberties that are more fundamental.  When it comes to determining which rights should be restricted or excluded in a society (and/or which are most fundamental), people also tend to want to accomplish that decision-making through well-informed democratic processes rather than some particular individual or group making the decision and forcing everyone else to abide by such laws.

Why Have Individual Rights in the First Place?

So what exactly is the primary goal of having and protecting any rights for an individual?  I believe the primary goal that most people (if not all) would agree with is the ultimate intention of creating, maintaining, and living in a society that is conducive to the greatest levels of overall satisfaction and well-being of the lives of every member of that society.  From a libertarian perspective, we could also say that this amounts to a goal of minimizing the magnitude and number of situations in which people are forced into doing something that they don’t want to do.  When we consider the topic of abortion, the primary arguments on either side of the issue tend to pertain to determining and defining which specific individual rights exist (or that arguably should exist) and then we apply these definitions and determinations to the scenario of abortion to see if any rights have in fact been violated.  With regard to this topic, we must also examine the consistency and efficacy of a person’s position on the issue in terms of how well it achieves the aforementioned goal or purpose of having and protecting rights and freedoms in the first place.  It goes without saying that if a person’s position on the issue is such that it’s implementation through any proposed legislation would effectively increase suffering in the world and/or increase the magnitude of people being forced to do things that they don’t want to do, then that person’s position is self-refuting in that it directly contradicts their ultimate reason for wanting to protect individual rights – unless their goal for protecting individual rights substantially differs from the one I’ve stated above, in which case, we would have to evaluate how rational any other stated goal would be in comparison. 

We must also examine the consequences of taking someone’s position on the matter to its logical conclusion, seeing how it would be applied in definitively similar situations, whether or not there would be special exceptions to the rules proposed, and once again whether all of those conceptual elements are consistent with one another.  Ultimately, how we choose to define terms (and their specificity) within this topic of discussion is important for determining the tenability of anybody’s position on the matter.  Let’s take a look at some of the primary arguments that have developed over time while trying to clarify some terminology and definitions along the way.

The Argument for Bodily Autonomy

Perhaps the most primary and fundamental argument in favor of protecting a woman’s right to choose to terminate a pregnancy is the argument for bodily autonomy.  In it’s basic form, it simply asserts that an individual has the right to choose who or what uses their body, for what purpose, and for how long.  The most common (and uncontroversial) examples of applying this very basic principle would be preventing a person from being forced to donate blood, tissue, or organs to another person, even if in doing so, it would potentially save that other person’s life.  If anyone abides by this principle and doesn’t believe that a person should be forced to donate blood, tissue, or organs to another person (to use these common examples) then the same principle would also forbid forcing a woman to donate blood, tissue, or organs to an embryo or fetus, even if in doing so, it would potentially save that embryo or fetus’ life.  During pregnancy, starting from conception, the embryo and later fetus indeed use the woman’s uterus, her blood, her tissue (including for the placenta that eventually forms) and even the woman’s food and oxygen resources. This is arguably the most extreme example of one person using another person’s body. If in fact the embryo or fetus’ use of the woman’s body is against the woman’s consent, then a right to bodily autonomy protects that woman’s right to abort that pregnancy, regardless of whether or not that fetus has no chance of surviving as a result.

Some might object and say, what about the embryo or fetus’ rights? Shouldn’t they have the same rights as every other human being? Well, if we treat all human beings equally and give them all the same rights (which is hardly controversial), then this amounts to giving the embryo or fetus the same rights to bodily autonomy as is afforded to the woman. However, the embryo or fetus doesn’t have any other person who is trying to use their body against the consent of that fetus (nor does that fetus have any consent on the matter one way or the other, although this is irrelevant in any case). Thus, one would have to afford the fetus special rights (a right to use another person’s body against their will), and this is a right that isn’t even granted to children that are already born, since a child’s mother isn’t forced to donate an organ, blood, or tissue to that child, even if it can potentially save that child’s life. Thus, arguments against a woman’s right to choose to terminate a pregnancy are only tenable if one also denies the right of bodily autonomy. Furthermore, if this right was only denied to a woman with respect to a fetus inside her (and not denied to anyone else), and thus is not consistently applied in all other cases, then we have a special right for fetuses that is being argued for, thus arguing against equal rights for all human beings. The only way to reconcile this and make the individual rights equal for all human beings (while attempting to preserve the life of the fetus) would be to completely abandon the right to bodily autonomy which seems like a position that almost nobody would choose to adopt.

On top of this, if one were to grant these same special rights to a less developed human being residing in a pregnant woman, such as a fertilized egg (the first stage of pregnancy), then women would also lose the right to take certain birth control medications. For example, while common birth control medications such as “the pill”, Norplant, or any other chemical birth control medications primarily function by preventing ovulation and impeding sperm, this isn’t 100% effective and so if the chemicals fail to prevent ovulation or fertilization, then they end up preventing implantation of the fertilized egg in the uterine wall, thus aborting the pregnancy. So it must also be kept in mind that if these special rights were granted to any developing human life residing in a woman’s body (whether a fertilized egg, embryo, or fetus), in order to remain consistent with this reasoning, one would also be taking away a woman’s right to use the most common forms of birth control in existence (i.e. chemical/hormonal and IUD methods) since it is well known that they often lead to abortions when they are used.

Defining “Personhood”

Another prominent argument in favor of a woman’s right to choose whether or not to terminate a pregnancy, involves the definition of personhood. In the case of the aforementioned argument for bodily autonomy, it was mentioned that the fetus could indeed be granted the same rights as the woman carrying that fetus, and it still wouldn’t deny the woman the right to abort that pregnancy since it is the woman’s right to bodily autonomy that is being violated in that case. However, it is also worth asking on exactly what grounds are people arguing that the fertilized egg, embryo, or fetus should in fact be granted the same rights as the woman carrying it, or any rights at all for that matter? This comes down to defining what exactly we are granting individual rights to. For example, are we granting rights to a fetus because it is human or has human DNA? A skin cell is also human and has human DNA, but we don’t grant rights to skin cells or the like so there is something else more specific under consideration here. It seems that the primary factor here pertains to defining personhood, for it seems undeniable that it is people that should have these shared individual rights. So what exactly is a person or individual and how do we define that concept?

One might argue that a person is simply a human body, but this can’t be correct, because we don’t grant rights to deceased human bodies. We could further clarify the definition of a person to be a human body that isn’t dead, but what about a brain-dead human body? If my mother became brain-dead but remained on life support (with a beating heart and functional organs), and I was given the option to “pull the plug”, if I chose to do so, would I be killing my mother? One way to determine the answer to this question would be to ask another, namely, who or what is my mother exactly? Would my mother be the brain-dead (though otherwise living) human body that lies before me? It may look like my mother, but I would argue that this body isn’t my mother at all, for my mother is a personality, an identity, a collection of memories, or at the very least a conscious and self-aware being that experiences perceptions and emotions.

Who my mother is exactly is ultimately contingent on the configuration and state of her brain, for it is our brain that manifests our personal identities and any particular self. To prove this, one need only consider the fact that if your brain were swapped with that of another person, you would cease to be you even if the rest of your body was kept original and intact. “You” would now have the personality, memories, thoughts, values, interests, likes and dislikes of that other person. On the other hand, you could swap your arms or legs or various other body parts with another person (or simply get them amputated), and you would still be you (so long as your brain was kept intact).

So to return to my hypothetical scenario involving pulling the plug on a brain-dead mother, because my mother is no longer alive in that case, but rather it is only her body that is alive, my pulling the plug would not in fact be an act of killing my mother. In fact, it wouldn’t even be an act of killing “a person”, because as was just illustrated, a person is contingent on a living brain, and more specifically a living brain with a particular configuration and minimal set of features (such that it has conscious experiences at least some of the time). This just goes to show what we value in a person and why we want people to have protected individual rights in the first place. It isn’t because they are living human bodies, but because we know that “people” are conscious, thinking beings and we value this fact and empathize with them and their experiences. We don’t want people to suffer because we know what it feels like to suffer (to varying degrees), and to consider the contra-positive, we also want to maximize the satisfaction and well being of people. So if a particular human being is not able to experience anything at all (that is, there are no perceptions, and thus no consciousness), then what we value in how we define a person is missing in this case, and thus the ultimate purpose for giving that human being rights is no longer applicable, for that human being is unable to suffer, let alone experience anything at all.

Now if we return to the concept of a fertilized egg, embryo, or fetus, we can apply the same reasoning and ask the same questions. When exactly does the fetus have the requisite brain structures developed such that it can be conscious and experience anything at all (much like my hypothetical mother was before she was brain-dead)? Well, a fetus doesn’t actually become neurologically active until approximately the fifth month of gestation (an event that the medical community refers to as “quickening”). It is at this point that some of the physical hardware (a complex form of the cerebral cortex) is in place for some future capability of consciousness, however the thalamo-cortical complex is integral for consciousness as well and doesn’t begin to materialize until sometime between the 24th and 28th week of gestation. It isn’t until about two months after that (32nd to 36th week), when a synchronous electroencephalographic (EEG) rhythm starts to signal that there is in fact a global neuronal integration taking place – a process that is a fundamental element of consciousness, working memory, etc.

Thus, before the fifth month of pregnancy (the 20th week), the fetus’ brain hasn’t nearly developed enough of the requisite hardware to be conscious (let alone to be self-aware), and thus it is unable to form an individualized personality, and therefore it is not yet a person based on the definition and reasoning given earlier. It doesn’t yet have this personhood status, the very status that we value and thus the very fundamental status that motivates us to ascribe individual rights to a person in the first place. It should also be noted at this time that the majority of elective abortions on record occur before the fourth month of pregnancy, which is several weeks before the fetus is even capable of being conscious, let alone well before it is even capable of beginning to develop any kind of personality or identity, which are necessary attributes in order to be considered a person as defined above.

Are Pro-Life/Anti-Choice Arguments Tenable?

So there are indeed very strong arguments for protecting a woman’s right to choose to terminate a pregnancy including the argument for bodily autonomy and the argument for defining personhood, using reasonable metrics that are based on what we fundamentally value in “people”, and thus why we want people to have protected individual rights in the first place. Arguments against a woman’s right to choose to terminate a pregnancy are likely to be ideologically untenable in that they deny a right to bodily autonomy that I think most people aren’t willing to universally (and thus consistently) argue against. These arguments also tend to rely on defining personhood using criteria or attributes that are either arbitrary, not universally applicable or that are unreasonable because of a fundamental misunderstanding of what we actually value in a person. Furthermore, these arguments are also pragmatically untenable since they also deny women the right to use the most common forms of birth control in order to remain consistent with the basic principles that constitute a pro-life/anti-choice position. For these reasons and more, my position on the issue has changed markedly over time, and after careful consideration of the arguments both for and against a woman’s right to choose, I am happy to say that I finally adopted what I found to be the most reasonable, rational, consistent, and ultimately tenable position on the issue.  Indeed, I support a woman’s right to choose, and I believe that the facts demonstrate this to be the most moral position to have on the matter.

Mind, Body, and the Soul: The Quest for an Immaterial Identity

There’s little if any doubt that the brain (the human brain in particular) is the most complex entity or system that we’ve ever encountered in the known universe, and thus it is not surprising that it has allowed humans to reach the top of the food chain and also the ability to manipulate our environment more than any other creature on Earth.  Not only has it provided humans with the necessary means for surviving countless environmental pressures, effectively evolving as a sort of anchor and catalyst for our continued natural selection over time (through learning, language, adaptive technology, etc.), but it has also allowed humans to become aware of themselves, aware of their own consciousness, and aware of their own brains in numerous other ways.  The brain appears to be the first evolved feature of an organism capable of mapping the entire organism (including its interaction with the external environment), and it may even be the case that consciousness later evolved as a result of the brain making maps of itself.  Even beyond these capabilities, the human brain has also been able to map itself in terms of perceptually acquired patterns related to its own activity (i.e. when we study and learn about how our brains work).

It isn’t at all surprising when people marvel over the complexity, beauty and even seemingly surreal qualities of the brain as it produces the qualia of our subjective experience including all of our sensations, emotions and the resulting feelings that ensue.  Some of our human attributes are so seemingly remarkable, that many people have gone so far as to say that at least some of these attributes are either supernatural, supernaturally endowed, and/or are forever exclusive to humans.  For example, some religious people claim that humans alone have some kind of immaterial soul that exists outside of our experiential reality.  Some also believe that humans alone possess free will, are conscious in some way forever exclusive to humans (some have even argued that consciousness in general is an exclusively human trait), and a host of other (perhaps anthropocentric) “human only” attributes, with many of them forever exclusive to humans.  In the interest of philosophical exploration, I’d like to consider and evaluate some of these claims about “exclusively human” attributes.  In particular, I’d like to focus on the non-falsifiable claim of having a soul, with the aid of reason and a couple of thought experiments, although these thought experiments may also shed some light on other purported “exclusively human” attributes (e.g. free will, consciousness, etc.).  For the purposes of simplicity in these thought experiments, I may periodically refer to many or all purported “humanly exclusive” attributes as simply, “H”.  Let’s begin by briefly examining some of the common conceptions of a soul and how it is purported to relate to the physical world.

What is a Soul?

It seems that most people would define a soul to be some incorporeal entity or essence that serves as an immortal aspect or representation of an otherwise mortal/living being.  Furthermore, many people think that souls are something possessed by human beings alone.  There are also people who ascribe souls to non-living entities (such as bodies of water, celestial bodies, wind, etc.), but regardless of these distinctions, for those that believe in souls, there seems to be something in common: souls appear to be non-physical entities correlated, linked, or somehow attached to a particular physical body or system, and are usually believed to give rise to consciousness, a “life force”, animism, or some power of agency.  Additionally, they are often believed to transcend material existence through their involvement in some form of an afterlife.  While it is true that souls and any claims about souls are unfalsifiable and thus are excluded from any kind of empirical investigation, let’s examine some commonly held assumptions and claims about souls and see how they hold up to a more critical examination.

Creation or Correlation of Souls

Many religious people now claim that a person’s life begins at conception (after Science discovered this specific stage of reproduction), and thus it would be reasonable to assume that if they have a soul, that soul is effectively created at conception.  However, some also believe that all souls have co-existed for the same amount of time (perhaps since the dawn of our universe), and that souls are in some sense waiting to be linked to the physical person once they are conceived or come into existence.  Another way of expressing this latter idea is the belief that all souls have existed since some time long ago, but only after the reproductive conception of a person does that soul begin to have a physical correlate or incarnation linked to it.  In any case, the presumed soul is believed to be correlated to a particular physical body (generally presumed to be a “living” body, if not a human body), and this living body has been defined by many to begin its life either at conception (i.e. fertilization), shortly thereafter as an embryo (i.e. once the fertilized egg/cell undergoes division at least once), or once it is considered a fetus (depending on the context for such a definition).  The easiest definition to use for the purposes of this discussion is to define life to begin at conception (i.e. fertilization).

For one, regardless of the definition chosen, it seems difficult to define exactly when the particular developmental stage in question is reached.  Conception could be defined to take place once the spermatozoa’s DNA contents enter the zygote or perhaps not until some threshold has been reached in a particular step of the process afterward (e.g. some time after the individual parent DNA strands have mixed to produce a double-helix daughter strand).  Either way, most proponents of the idea of a human soul seem to assume that a soul is created or at least correlated (if created some time earlier) at the moment of, or not long after, fertilization.  At this point, the soul is believed to be correlated or representative of the now “living” being (which is of course composed of physical materials).

At a most basic level, one could argue, if we knew exactly when a soul was created/correlated with a particular physical body (e.g. a fertilized egg), then by reversing the last step in the process that instigated the creation/correlation of the soul, we should be able to destroy/decorrelate the soul.  Also, if a soul was in fact correlated with an entire fertilized egg, then if we remove even one atom, molecule, etc., would that correlation change?  If not, then it would appear that the soul is not actually correlated with the entire fertilized egg, but rather it is correlated with some higher level aspect or property of it (whatever that may be).

Conservation & Identity of Souls

Assuming a soul is in fact created or correlated with a fertilized egg, what would happen in the case of chimerism, where more than one fertilized egg fuse together in the early stages of embryonic development?  Would this developing individual have two souls?  By the definition or assumptions given earlier, if a soul is correlated with a fertilized egg in some way, and two fertilized eggs (each with their own soul) merge together, then this would indicate one of a few possibilities.  Either two souls merged into one (or one is actually destroyed) which would demonstrate that the number of souls are not conserved (indicating that not all souls are eternal/immortal), or the two souls would co-exist with that one individual and would imply that not all individuals have the same number of souls (some have one, some may have more) and thus souls don’t each have their own unique identity with a particular person, or it would indicate that after the merging of fertilized eggs took place, one of the two souls would detach from or become decorrelated with its physical counterpart, and the remaining soul would get to keep the booty of both fertilized eggs or so to speak.

In the case of identical twins, triplets, etc., a fertilized egg eventually splits, and we are left with the opposite conundrum. It would seem that we would be starting with one soul that eventually splits into two or more, and thus there would be another violation of the conservation of the number of souls.  Alternatively, if the number of souls are indeed conserved, an additional previously existing soul (if this was the case) could become correlated with the second fertilized egg produced. Yet another possibility would be to say that the “twins to be” (i.e. the fertilized egg prior to splitting) has two souls to start with and when the egg splits, the souls are segregated and each pre-destined twin is given their own.

The only way to avoid these implications would be to modify the assumption given earlier, regarding when a soul is created or correlated.  It would have to be defined such that a soul is created or correlated with a physical body some time after an egg is fertilized when it is no longer possible to fuse with another fertilized egg and after it can no longer split into fertilized multiples (i.e. twins, triplets, etc.).  If this is true, then one could no longer say that a fertilized egg necessarily has a soul, for that wouldn’t technically be the case until some time afterward when chimerism or monozygotic multiples were no longer possible.

If people believe in non-physical entities that can’t be seen or in any way extrospectively verified, it’s not much of a stretch to say that they can come up with a way to address these questions or reconcile these issues, with yet more unfalsifiable claims.  Some of these might not even be issues for various believers but I only mention these potential issues to point out the apparent arbitrariness or poorly defined aspects of many claims and assumptions regarding souls. Now let’s look at a few thought experiments to further analyze the concept of a soul and purported “exclusively human” attributes (i.e. “H”) as mentioned in the introduction of this post.

Conservation and Identity of “H”

Thought Experiment # 1: Replace a Neuron With a Non-Biological Analog

What if one neuron in a person’s brain is replaced with a non-biological/artificial version, that is, what if some kind of silicon-based (or other non-carbon-based) analog to a neuron was effectively used to replace a neuron?  We are assuming that this replacement with another version will accomplish the same vital function, that is, the same subjective experience and behavior.  This non-biologically-based neuronal analog may be powered by ATP (Adenosine Triphosphate) and also respond to neurotransmitters with electro-chemical sensors — although it wouldn’t necessarily have to be constrained by the same power or signal transmission media (or mechanisms) as long as it produced the same end result (i.e. the same subjective experience and behavior).  As long as the synthetic neuronal replacement accomplished the same ends, the attributes of the person (i.e. their identity, their beliefs, their actions, etc.) should be unaffected despite any of these changes to their hardware.

Regarding the soul, if souls do in fact exist and they are not physically connected to the body (although people claim that souls are somehow associated with a particular physical body), then it seems reasonable to assume that changing a part of the physical body should have no effect on an individual’s possession of that soul (or any “H” for that matter), especially if the important attributes of the individual, i.e., their beliefs, thoughts, memories, and subsequent actions, etc., were for all practical purposes (if not completely), the same as before.  Even if there were some changes in the important aspects of the individual, say, if there was a slight personality change after some level of brain surgery, could anyone reasonably argue that their presumed soul (or their “H”) was lost as a result?  If physical modifications of the body led to the loss of a soul (or of any elements of “H”), then there would be quite a large number of people (and an increasing number at that) who no longer have souls (or “H”) since many people indeed have had various prosthetic modifications used in or on their bodies (including brain and neural prosthetics) as well as other intervening mediation of body/brain processes (e.g. through medication, transplants, various levels of critical life support, etc.).

For those that think that changing the body’s hardware would somehow disconnect the presumed soul from that person’s body (or eliminate other elements of their “H”), they should consider that this assumption is strongly challenged by the fact that many of the atoms in the human body are replaced (some of them several times over) throughout one’s lifetime anyway.  Despite this drastic biological “hardware” change, where our material selves are constantly being replaced with new atoms from the food that we eat and the air that we breathe (among other sources), we still manage to maintain our memories and our identity simply because the functional arrangements of the brain cells (i.e. neurons and glial cells) which are composed of those atoms are roughly preserved over time and thus the information contained in such arrangements and/or their resulting processes are preserved over time.  We can analogize this important point by thinking about a computer that has had its hardware replaced, albeit in a way that matches or maintains its original physical state, and understand that as a result of this configuration preservation, it also should be able to maintain its original memory, programs and normal functional operation.  One could certainly argue that the computer in question is technically no longer the “same” computer because it no longer has any of the original hardware.  However, the information regarding the computer’s physical state, that is, the specific configuration and states of parts that allow it to function exactly as it did before the hardware replacement, is preserved.  Thus, for all practical purposes in terms of the identity of that computer, it remained the same regardless of the complete hardware change.

This is an important point to consider for those who think that replacing the hardware of the brain (even if limited to a biologically sustained replacement) is either theoretically impossible, or that it would destroy one’s ability to be conscious, to maintain their identity, to maintain their presumed soul, or any presumed element of “H”.  The body naturally performs these hardware changes (through metabolism, respiration, excretion, etc.) all the time and thus the concept of changing hardware while maintaining the critical aspects of an individual is thoroughly demonstrated throughout one’s lifetime.  On top of this, the physical outer boundary that defines our bodies is also arbitrary in the sense that we exchange atoms between our outer surface and the environment around us (e.g. by shedding skin cells, or through friction, molecular desorption/adsorption/absorption, etc.).  The key idea to keep in mind is that these natural hardware changes imply that “we” are not defined specifically by our hardware or some physical boundary with a set number of atoms, but rather “we” are based on how our hardware is arranged/configured (allowing for some variation of configuration states within some finite acceptable range), and the subsequent processes and functions that result from such an arrangement as mediated by the laws of physics.

Is the type of hardware important?  It may be true that changing a human’s hardware to a non-biological version may never be able to accomplish exactly the same subjective experience and behavior that was possible with the biological hardware, however we simply don’t know that this is the case.  It may be that both the type of hardware as well as the configuration are necessary for a body and brain to produce the same subjective experience and behavior.  However, the old adage “there’s more than one way to skin a cat” has been applicable to so many types of technologies and to the means used to accomplish a number of goals.  There are a number of different hardware types and configurations that can be used to accomplish a particular task, even if, after changing the hardware the configuration must also be changed to accomplish a comparable result.  The question becomes, which parts or aspects of the neural process in the brain produces subjective experience and behavior?  If this becomes known, we should be able to learn how biologically-based hardware and its configuration work together in order to accomplish a subjective experience and behavior, and then also learn if non-biologically-based hardware (perhaps with its own particular configuration) can accomplish the same task.  For the purposes of this thought experiment, let’s assume that we can swap out the hardware with a different type, even if, in order to preserve the same subjective experience and behavior, the configuration must be significantly different than it was with the original biologically-based hardware.

So, if we assume that we can replace a neuron with an efficacious artificial version, and still maintain our identity, our consciousness, any soul that might be present, or any element of “H” for that matter, then even if we replace two neurons with artificial versions, we should still have the same individual.  In fact, even if we replace every neuron, perhaps just one neuron at a time, eventually we would be replacing the entire brain with an artificial version, and yet still have the same individual.  This person would now have a completely non-biologically based “brain”.  In theory, their identity would be the same, and they would subjectively experience reality and their selves as usual.  Having gone this far, let’s assume that we replace the rest of the body with an artificial version.  Replacing the rest of the body, one part at a time, should be far less significant a change than replacing the brain, for the rest of the body is far less complex.

It may be true that the body serves as an integral homeostatic frame of reference necessary for establishing some kind of self-object basis of consciousness (e.g. Damasio’s Theory of Consciousness), but as long as our synthetic brain is sending/receiving the appropriate equivalent of sensory/motor information (i.e. through an interoceptive feedback loop among other requirements) from the new artificial body, the model or map of the artificial body’s internal state provided by the synthetic brain should be equivalent.  It should also be noted that the range of conditions necessary for homeostasis in one human body versus another is far narrower and less individualized than the differences found between the brains of two different people.  This supports the idea that the brain is in fact the most important aspect of our individuality, and thus replacing the rest of the body should be significantly easier to accomplish and also less critical a change.  After replacing the rest of the body, we would now have a completely artificial non-biological substrate for our modified “human being”, or what many people would refer to as a “robot”, or a system of “artificial intelligence” with motor capabilities.  This thought experiment seems to suggest at least one of several implications:

  • Some types of robots can possess “H” (e.g. soul, consciousness, free-will, etc.), and thus “H” are not uniquely human, nor are they forever exclusive to humans.
  • Humans lose some or all of their “H” after some threshold of modification has taken place (likely a modification of the brain)
  • “H”, as it is commonly defined at least, does not exist

The first implication listed above would likely be roundly rejected by most people that believe in the existence of “H” for several reasons including the fact that most people see robots as fundamentally different than living systems, they see “H” as only applicable to human beings, and they see a clear distinction between robots and human beings (although the claim that these distinctions exist has been theoretically challenged by this thought experiment).  The second implication sounds quite implausible (even if we assume that “H” exists) as it would seem to be impossible to define when exactly any elements of “H” were lost based on exceeding some seemingly arbitrary threshold of modification.  For example, would the loss of some element of “H” occur only after the last neuron was replaced with an artificial version?  If the loss of “H” did occur after some specific number of neurons were removed (or after the number of neurons that remained fell below some critical minimum quantity), then what if the last neuron removed (which caused this critical threshold to be met) was biologically preserved and later re-installed, thus effectively reversing the last neuronal replacement procedure?  Would the previously lost “H” then return?

Thought Experiment # 2: Replace a Non-Biological Neuronal Analog With a Real Neuron

We could look at this thought experiment (in terms of the second implication) yet another way by simply reversing the order of the thought experiment.  For example, imagine that we made a robot from scratch that was identical to the robot eventually obtained from the aforementioned thought experiment, and then we began to replace its original non-biologically-based neuronal equivalent with actual biologically-based neurons, perhaps even neurons that were each taken from a separate human brain (say, from one or several cadavers) and preserved for such a task.  Even after this, consider that we proceed to replace the rest of the robot’s “body”, again piecewise (say, from one or several cadavers), until it was completely biologically-based to match the human being we began with in the initial thought experiment.  Would or could this robot acquire “H” at some point, or be considered human?  It seems that there would be no biological reason to claim otherwise.

Does “H” exist?  If So, What is “H”?

I’m well aware of how silly some of these hypothetical questions and considerations sound, however I find it valuable to follow the reasoning all the way through in order to help illustrate the degree of plausibility of these particular implications, and the plausibility or validity of “H”.  In the case of the second implication given previously (that humans lose some or all of “H” after some threshold of modification), if there’s no way to define or know when “H” is lost (or gained), then nobody can ever claim with certainty that an individual has lost their “H”, and thus they would have to assume that all elements of “H” have never been lost (if they want to err on the side of, what some may call, ethical or moral caution).  By that rationale, one would find themselves forced to accept the first implication (some types of robots can possess “H”, and thus “H” isn’t unique to humans).  If anyone denies the first two implications, it seems that they are only left with the third option.  The third implication seems to be the most likely (that “H” as previously defined does not exist), however it should be mentioned that even this third implication may be circumvented by realizing that it has an implicit loophole.  There is a possibility that some or all elements and/or aspects of “H” are not exactly what people assume them to be, and therefore “H” may exist in some other sense.  For example, what if we considered particular patterns themselves, i.e., the brain/neuronal configurations, patterns of brain waves, neuronal firing patterns, patterns of electro-chemical signals emanated throughout the body, etc., to be the “immaterial soul” of each individual?  We could look at these patterns as being immaterial if the physical substrate that employs them is irrelevant, or by simply noting that patterns of physical material states are not physical materials in themselves.

This is analogous to the concept that the information contained in a book can be represented on paper, electronically, in multiple languages, etc., and is not reliant on a specific physical medium.  This would mean that one could accept the first implication that robots or “mechanized humans” possess “H”, although it would also necessarily imply that any elements of “H” aren’t actually unique or exclusive to humans as they were initially assumed to be.  One could certainly accept this first implication by noting that the patterns of information (or patterns of something if we don’t want to call it information per se) that comprise the individual were conserved throughout the neuronal (or body) replacement in these thought experiments, and thus the essence or identity of the individual (whether “human” or “robot”) was preserved as well.

Pragmatic Considerations & Final Thoughts

I completely acknowledge that in order for this hypothetical neuronal replacement to be truly accurate in reproducing normal neuronal function (even with just one neuron), above and beyond the potential necessity of both a specific type of hardware as well as configuration (as mentioned earlier), the non-biologically based version would presumably also have to replicate the neuronal plasticity that the brain normally possesses.  In terms of brain plasticity, there are basically four known factors involved with neuronal change, sometimes referred to as the four R’s: regeneration, reconnection, re-weighting, and rewiring.  So clearly, any synthetic neuronal version would likely involve some kind of malleable processing in order to accomplish at least some of these tasks (if not all of them to some degree), as well as some possible nano-self-assembly processes if actual physical rewiring were needed.  The details of what and how this would be accomplished will become better known over time as we learn more about the possible neuronal dynamic mechanisms involved (e.g. neural darwinism or other means of neuronal differential reproduction, connectionism, Hebbian learning, DNA instruction, etc.).

I think that the most important thing to gain from these thought experiments is the realization of the inability or severe difficulty in taking the idea of souls or “H” seriously given the incompatibility between the traditional  conception of a concrete soul or other “H” and the well-established fluidic or continuous nature of the material substrates that they are purportedly correlated with.  That is, all the “things” in this world, including any forms of life (human or not) are constantly undergoing physical transformation and change, and they possess seemingly arbitrary boundaries that are ultimately defined by our own categorical intuitions and subjective perception of reality.  In terms of any person’s quest for “H”, if what one is really looking for is some form of constancy, essence, or identity of some kind in any of the things around us (let alone in human beings), it seems that it is the patterns of information (or perhaps the patterns of energy to be more accurate) as well as the level of complexity or type of patterns that ultimately constitute that essence and identity.  Now if it is reasonable to conclude that the patterns of information or energy that comprise any physical system aren’t equivalent to the physical constituent materials themselves, one could perhaps say that these patterns are a sort of “immaterial” attribute of a set of physical materials.  This seems to be as close to the concept of an immaterial “soul” as a physicalist or materialist could concede exists, since, at the very least it involves a property of continuity and identity which somewhat transcends the physical materials themselves.

Dreams, Dialogue, and the Unconscious

It has long been believed that our mental structure consists of both a conscious and an unconscious element.  While the conscious element has been studied exhaustively, there seems to be relatively little known about the unconscious.  We can certainly infer that it exists as every part of the self that we can’t control or are not aware of must necessarily be mediated by the unconscious.  To be sure, the fields of neuroscience and psychology (among others) have provided a plethora of evidence related to the unconscious in terms of neuronal structures and activity, and the influence it has on our behavior, respectively.  However, trying to actually access the unconscious mind has proven to be quite difficult.  How can one hope to access this hidden yet incredibly powerful portion of themselves?  In this post, I plan to discuss what I believe to be two effective ways with which we can learn more about ourselves and access that which seems to elude us day-in and day-out.

Concept of Self

It is clear that we have an idea of who we are as individuals.  We consciously know what many of our interests are, what our philosophical and/or religious beliefs are, and we also have a subjective view of what we believe to be our personality traits.  I prefer to define this aspect of the self as the “Me”.  In short, the “Me” is the conscious subjective view one holds about themselves.

Another aspect of the self is the “You”, or the way others see you from their own subjective perspective.  It goes without saying that others view us very differently than we view ourselves.  People see things about us that we just don’t notice or that we deny to be true, whether they are particular personality traits or various behavioral tendencies.  Due to the fact that most people put on a social mask when they interact with others, the “You” ends up including not only some real albeit unknown aspects of the self, but also how you want to be seen by others and how they want to see you.  So I believe that the “You” is the social self — that which is implied by the individual and that which is inferred by another person.  I believe that the implied self and the inferred self involve both a conscious and unconscious element from each party, and thus the implication and inference will generally be quite different regardless of any of the limitations of language.

Finally, we have the aspect of the self which is typically unreachable and seems to be operating in the background.   I believe that this portion of the self ultimately drives us to think and behave the way we do, and accounts for what we may describe to be a form of “auto-pilot”.  This of course is the unconscious portion of the self.  I would call this aspect of the self the “I”.  In my opinion, it is the “I” that represents who we really are as a person (independent of subjective perspectives), as I believe everything conscious about the self is ultimately derived from this “I”.  The “I” includes the beliefs, interests, disinterests, etc., that we are not aware of yet are likely to exist based on some of our behaviors that conflict with our conscious intentions.  This aspect in particular is what I would describe as the objective self, and consequently it is that which we can never fully access or know about with any certainty.

Using the “You” to Access the “I”

I believe that the “You” is in fact a portal to access the “I”, for the portion of this “You” that is not derived from one’s artificial social mask will certainly contain at least some truths about one’s self that are either not consciously evident or are not believed by the “Me” to be true, even if they are in fact true.  Thus, in my opinion it is the inter-subjective communication with others that allows us to learn more about our unconscious self than any other method or action.  I also believe that this in fact accounts for most of the efficacy provided by mental health counseling.  That is, by having a discourse with someone else, we are getting another subjective perspective of the self that is not tainted with our own predispositions.  Even if the conversation isn’t specifically about you, by another person simply sharing their subjective perspective about anything at all, they are providing you with novel ways of looking at things, and if these perspectives weren’t evident in your conscious repertoire, they may in fact probe the unconscious (by providing recognition cues for unconscious concepts or beliefs).

The key lies in analyzing those external perspectives with an open mind, so that denial and the fear of knowing ourselves do not dominate and hinder this access.  Let’s face it, people often hear what they want to hear (whether about themselves or anything else for that matter), and we often unknowingly ignore the rest in order to feel comfortable and secure.  This sought-out comfort severely inhibits one’s personal growth and thus, at least periodically, we need to be able to depart from our comfort zone so that we can be true to others and be true to ourselves.

It is also important for us to strive to really listen to what others have to say rather than just waiting for our turn to speak.  In doing so, we will gain the most knowledge and get the most out of the human experience.  In particular, by critically listening to others we will learn the most about our “self” including the unconscious aspect.  While I certainly believe that inter-subjective communication is an effective way for us to access the “I”, it is generally only effective if those whom we’re speaking with are open and honest as well.  If they are only attempting to tell you what you want to hear, then even if you embrace their perspective with an open mind, it will not have much of any substance nor be nearly as useful.  There needs to be a mutual understanding that being open and honest is absolutely crucial for a productive discourse to transpire.  All parties involved will benefit from this mutual effort, as everyone will have a chance to gain access to their unconscious.

Another way that inter-subjective communication can help in accessing the unconscious is through mutual projection.  As I mentioned earlier, the “You” is often distorted by others hearing what they want to hear and by your social mask giving others a false impression of who you are.  However, they also tend to project their own insecurities into the “You”.  That is, if a person talking with you says specific things about you, they may in fact be a result of that person unknowingly projecting their own attributes onto you.  If they are uncomfortable with some aspect of themselves, they may accuse you of possessing the aspect, thus using projection as a defense mechanism.  Thus, if we pay attention to ourselves in terms of how we talk about others, we may learn more about our own unconscious projections.  Fortunately, if the person you’re speaking with knows you quite well and senses that you are projecting, they may point it out to you and vice versa.

Dream Analysis

Another potentially useful method for accessing the unconscious is an analysis of one’s dreams.  Freud, Jung and other well-known psychologists have endorsed this method as an effective psychoanalytic tool.  When we are dreaming, our brain is in a reduced-conscious if not unconscious state (although the brain is highly active within the dream-associated REM phase).  I believe that due to the decreased sensory input and stimulation during sleep, the brain has more opportunities to “fill in the blanks” and make an alternate conceptualization of reality.  This may provide a platform for unconscious expression.  When our brain constructs the dream content it seems to be utilizing a mixture of memories, current sensory stimuli constituting the sleeper’s environment (albeit a minimal amount — and perhaps necessarily so), and elements from the unconscious.  By analyzing our dreams, we have a chance to try and interpret symbolic representations likely stemming from the unconscious.  While I don’t believe that we can ever know for sure that which came from the unconscious, by asking ourselves questions relating to the dream content and making a concerted effort to analyze the dream, we will likely discover at least some elements of our unconscious, even if we have no way of confirming the origin or significance of each dream component.

Again, just as we must be open-minded and willing to face previously unknown aspects of ourselves during the aforementioned inter-subjective experience, we must also be willing to do the same during any dream analysis.  You must be willing to identify personal weaknesses, insecurities, and potentially repressed emotions.  Surely there can be aspects of our unconscious that we’d like and appreciate if discovered, but there will likely be a tendency to repress that which we find repulsive about ourselves.  Thus, I believe that the unconscious contains more negative things about our self than positive things (as implied by Jung’s “Shadow” archetype).

How might one begin such an analysis?  Obviously we must first obtain some data by recording the details of our dreams.  As soon as you wake up after a dream, take advantage of the opportunity to record as many details as you can in order to be more confident with the analysis.  The longer you wait, the more likely the information will become distorted or lost altogether (as we’ve all experienced at one time or another).  As you record these details, try and include different elements of the dream so that you aren’t only recording your perceptions, but also how the setting or events made you feel emotionally.  Note any ambiguities no matter how trivial, mundane, or irrelevant they may seem.  For example, if you happen to notice groups of people or objects in your dreams, try to note how many there are as that number may be significant.  If it seems that the dream is set in the past, try to infer the approximate date.  Various details may be subtle indicators of unconscious material.

Often times dreams are not very easy to describe because they tend to deviate from reality and have a largely irrational and/or emotional structure.  All we can do is try our best to describe what we can remember even if it seems non-sensical or is difficult to articulate.

As for the analysis of the dream content, I try and ask myself specific questions within the context of the dream.  The primary questions include:

  • What might this person, place, or thing symbolize, if they aren’t taken at face value?  That is, what kinds of emotions, qualities, or properties do I associate with these dream contents?
  • If I think my associations for the dream contents are atypical, then what associations might be more common?  In other words, what would I expect the average person to associate the dream content with?  (Collective or personal opinions may present themselves in dreams)

Once these primary questions are addressed, I ask myself questions that may or may not seem to relate to my dream, in order to probe the psyche.  For example:

  • Are there currently any conflicts in my life? (whether involving others or not)
  • If there are conflicts with others, do I desire some form of reconciliation or closure?
  • Have I been feeling guilty about anything lately?
  • Do I have any long term goals set for myself, and if so, are they being realized?
  • What do I like about myself, and why?
  • What do I dislike about myself, and why?  Or perhaps, what would I like to change about myself?
  • Do certain personality traits I feel I possess remind me of anyone else I know?  If so, what is my overall view of that person?
  • Am I envious of anyone else’s life, and if so, what aspects of their life are envied?
  • Are there any childhood experiences I repeatedly think about (good or bad)?
  • Are there any recurring dreams or recurring elements within different dreams?  If so, why might they be significant?
  • Are there any accomplishments that I’m especially proud of?
  • What elements of my past do I regret?
  • How would I describe the relationships with my family and friends?
  • Do I have anyone in my life that I would consider an enemy?  If so, why do I consider them an enemy?
  • How would I describe my sexuality, and my sex life?
  • Am I happy with my current job or career?
  • Do I feel that my life has purpose or that I am well fulfilled?
  • What types of things about myself would I be least comfortable sharing with others?
  • Do I have undesired behaviors that I feel are out of my control?
  • Do I feel the need to escape myself or the world around me?  If so, what might I be doing in order to escape? (e.g. abusing drugs, abusing television or other virtual-reality media, anti-social seclusion, etc.)
  • Might I be suffering from some form of cognitive dissonance as a result of me having conflicting values or beliefs?  Are there any beliefs which I’ve become deeply invested in that I may now doubt to be true, or that may be incompatible with my other beliefs?  If the answer is “no”, then I would ask:  Are there any beliefs that I’ve become deeply invested in, and if so, in what ways could they be threatened?

These questions are intended to probe one’s self beneath the surface.  By asking ourselves specific questions like this, particularly in relation to our dream contents, I believe that we can gain access to the unconscious simply by addressing concepts and potential issues that are often left out-of-sight and out-of-mind.  How we answer these questions isn’t as important as asking them in the first place.  We may deny that we have problems or personal weaknesses as we answer these questions, but asking them will continue to bring our attention to these subjects and elements of ourselves that we often take for granted or prefer not to think about.  In doing so, I believe one will at least have a better chance at accessing the unconscious than if they hadn’t made an attempt at all.

In terms of answering the various questions listed above, the analysis will likely be more useful if you go over the questions a second time, and reverse or change your previous instinctual answer while trying to justify the reversal or change.  This exercise will force you to think about yourself in new ways that might improve access to the unconscious, since you are effectively minimizing the barriers brought on through rationalization and denial.

Final Thoughts

So as we can see, while the unconscious mind may seem inaccessible, there appear to be at least two ways with which we can gain some access.  Inter-subjective communication allows us access to the “I” via the “You”, and access to both the speaker’s and the listener’s unconscious is accomplished via mutual projection.  Dreams and the analysis of such appears to be yet another method for accessing the unconscious.  Since our brains appear to be in a semi-conscious state, the brain may be capable of cognitive processes that aren’t saturated by sensory input from the outside world.  This reduction in sensory input may in fact give the brain more opportunities to “fill in the blanks” (or so to speak), and this may provide a platform for unconscious expression.  So in short, it appears that there are at least a few effective methods for accessing the unconscious self.  The bigger question is:  Are we willing to face this hidden side of ourselves?