Philosophy Lounge

February 9, 2011

‘Free Will’ and Common Misconceptions of Some Scientists

Filed under: All,freedom of will,philosophy and psychology,science and philosophy — Tags: — jbernal @ 11:22 am

Some scientists conclude that the sciences of the human nervous system and psychology have nullified the old, traditional belief that humans can act freely; i.e., that ‘free will’ is a myth that must be discarded by any scientifically informed person. This is a philosophical inference from the work of science, and like many such inferences from the data of sciences it should be subject to critical scrutiny. A good example of the nullification view (of free will) is given by James Miles (a British evolutionary theorist) in an article that appeared in Reports, the magazine for the National Center for Scientific Education (vol. 25, no. 3-4, 2005).

Miles writes:

“The subject of free will “is another area where selfish-gene theorists refuse to challenge evolutionary psychologists, maybe because at least one influential selfish-gene theorist wants to believe in this particular self-serving delusion. In Elbow Room: The Varieties of Free Will Worth Wanting, (Daniel) Dennett tells us that the implications of rejecting the idea of free will are, for him, “almost too grim to contemplate”. . . . Not to be rude, but in what sense is Dennett’s special pleading for free will in any material sense different from the creationists’ apologias for a 6000–year-old Earth?”

Miles continues:

“Why is free will so germane to this investigation into EP [Evolutionary Psychology]? Because it cuts to the chase. It asks just how far we are willing to go for science. Darwin called free will a “delusion”. George Williams, founding father of modern evolutionary biology, described free will to me as “a stupid idea” (see Miles 2004: 155). Darwin, who tried to place humans in nature, had no time for free will. Evolutionary psychology, which seems to try in all ways to separate humans from nature, crows about our free will. Evolutionary theorizing does not need EP [Evolutionary Psychology] and its blind faith in free will, nor does it need Dennett’s bland rationalization that free will is “worth wanting.”

The statements by Miles and Williams are good examples of the practice of drawing philosophical inferences from the work of the sciences and then advancing these ‘philosophical statements’ as if they trumped all other philosophical views on the subject at issue, in this case, free will. Many philosophers and writers have argued that the work of the relevant sciences (genetics, neurology, psychology, etc.) do not show that all our actions are determined or constrained in ways that deny freedom. I could spend time summarizing these arguments, but presently I will say a few things in defense of Daniel Dennett’s arguments in defense of freedom, which Miles apparently completely misunderstood.

Daniel Dennett’s work in Elbow Room: The Varieties of Free Will Worth Wanting would be not much worth reading if all he did was “special pleading for free will,” as Miles puts it. Miles would have us conclude that Dennett is talking about a traditionally defined “free will” which science clearly rejects but which he (Dennett) cannot give up. Anyone who reads Dennett’s Elbow Room knows that this is not so. First, in this book Dennett is primarily interested in dealing with a number of misguided fears and misconceptions that arise in connnection with the issue of free will and determinism, arguing that even when one accepts a form of ‘determinism’ and accepts the sciences’ rejection of ‘metaphysical freedom’ (aka ‘free will’), one is not beset with alleged consequences that people are somehow lacking freedom in their action.

Apparently the ‘free will’ which scientists reject as an illusion and as a stupid idea is the traditional notion of free will as a form of metaphysical freedom which posits forms of human conduct not conditioned by our biological and psychological nature. Sometimes this traditional concept includes the notion of free will as a special mental faculty which allegedly allows for free, creative acts, not analyzable in physiological terms.

However, when Dennett talks about ‘free will’ he is not talking about free will in this sense at all. He is not trying to rescue that ‘free will’ which Darwin called an illusion and Williams called a “stupid idea.” What Dennett does (along with a number of other critical philosophers) is to distinguish between that outmoded sense of ‘free will’ (a mysterious faculty, metaphysical freedom) and a concept of freedom of action consistent with scientific findings about our biological and physiological nature. This is what he refers to when he mentions a “free will that is worth wanting.” This is the notion of freedom which we have in mind in our ordinary talk that distinguishes between those things we do because we desire to do them or because we think they’re in our best interest and those things on which our hand is forced; or the ‘freedom’ that people lacking it (e.g. slaves, victims of an oppressive, totalitarian state) are talking about when they struggle to gain their freedom. Nothing that evolutionary biology, neurology, and psychology have done nullifies such freedom. The alleged ‘nullification’ only arises when certain scientists, philosophers, and writers fall into the trap of advancing an undeveloped, uninformed philosophy —- one which a little effort in critical thought easily exposes.

In his later book on the free will issue: Freedom Evolves, Dennett argues that free action is consistent with an evolutionary account of human nature and human behavior.

(Note to Miles and Williams: Please give Dennett some credit for having a modicum of scientific ‘savvy’ and not holding onto “stupid ideas.”)

In brief, my reply to Miles, Williams or anyone who ridicules any attempt to show that free action is compatible with (scientific) determinism is to ask how exactly they propose to define “free will.” As a philosophical issue which has run for a good one hundred years or more, “free will” has been defined in different ways. Philosophers and writers who deal with the free will-determinism issue often spend much time trying to clarify exactly what they mean by the human freedom. Surely, my (and your) ability to choose between alternative actions and act on the basis of that choice does not imply that somehow our decisions and actions cannot be scientifically analyzed as evolutionary scientists would analyze them. Nor does it imply that we possess some form mysterious faculty of free will.

February 6, 2011

Notes on difficult subjects: Confusing our concepts, experiences, and reality

Filed under: metaphysics,philosophy and psychology,theory of knowledge — Tags: , — jbernal @ 11:36 am

It is true that we must presuppose the spatial-temporal dimensions to make sense of our experience of the physical world. But this does not logically imply that the spatial-temporal dimensions are not objective features of the physical world. The objectivity of space and time is consistent with the notion that our analysis of experience discloses that experience of the world cannot happen devoid of spatial-temporal ordering. That our experience is ordered temporally and spatially by our cognitive faculty is consistent with the proposition that time and space are properties of the objective order of reality.
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Our epistemological models do not have to posit the subjective starting point, i.e., a conscious subject (an “homunculous”) inside the head, isolated from physical and social reality. The subjective starting point is common to Descartes, Locke, Hume, and in part to Kant, and sets up the epistemological problem the task of showing how the subject can achieve knowledge of the objective world.

Ultimately, the notion of an isolated, conscious subject who can reflect on his own ideas and impressions and speculate about to their external causes (viz., use language and concepts) is an incoherent notion. But this incoherent notion is required for the epistemological model presupposed by Cartesians, Locke, Hume, and Kant.

The epistemological model of realism starts with a conscious, perceiving, acting organism (e.g. a human being) existing in a natural and social environment, experiencing that object world, causally interacting with it and with other organisms who co-exist in those worlds. This more desirable model is one found in the work of Thomas Reid and can be seen as presupposed by a Darwinian evolutionary biology, and the scientific pragmatism of John Dewey.
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Intuitively it strikes me as correct to say that the world of phenomena (objects, processes, forces, etc.) is a spatio-temporal world, i.e., one existing in space and time.

According to Kant our cognitive faculties (of the experiencing subject) provide the spatio-temporal template by which our phenomenal world (the world experienced) is ordered. Any phenomenal object (the tree and its lemons that occupy my backyard) must be described in terms of the intuition of space and time and the categories of the understanding. These intuitions and categories are imposed on experience by the subject’s cognitive faculties. But world behind the phenomena, the world separate and independent of the ordering activity of the cognitive mind, is one outside our knowledge and comprehension. This is Kant’s world-in-itself, or noumena. Presumably the real tree-in-itself and lemons-in-themselves are neither knowable nor conceivable by me. I cannot even claim that they’re found in my backyard!
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Something has gone terribly awry when we assert that any answer to the question ‘What is the real object?’ must be given in terms of the obscure notion of thing-in-itself, i.e., in terms of some object which we cannot know, experience, or even conceive.
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There’s nothing whatsoever that we can say about this putative world-in-itself. We cannot legitimately say that it is the real world, or that it is the partial cause of our phenomenal world.
At best, the notion of thing-in-itself or noumena is a limiting concept (See Strawson’s book, The Bounds of Sense).

To hold that noumena is the world as it really is, rather than world as it appears to human cognition, is erroneously to take a limiting concept as have metaphysical, ontological import.
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Insofar as our coherent language and thought allows, the so-called “phenomenal world” is the real world, i.e., the world in which we exist, the one we experience and one accessible to human understanding. Of course, our concept of this reality can be refined through analysis, mathematical modeling, scientific theorizing and investigation. The resulting picture or model, a refined one when compared to our untrained intuitions, will be a picture or model of the world of experience. It does not point to a “world-in-itself.”
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The real world is one that humans and other creatures inhabit, experience, and one with which they continually interact. Existence and experience can be characterized as transactions between the subject and the world. When humans think about or conceptualize physical aspects of this world they do so in terms of spatial extensions and a temporal dimension; and apply basic categories like object-hood, substance, cause-effect, force, and such. Conceptualization of the world presupposes application of these basic categories and intuitions. It is because the real world has the properties it has, i.e., a spatial, temporal, physical nature, that this application is an apt one.

(Yes, I know that modern physical theory — relativity physics, quantum physics, and the latest theories of particle physics — raise many questions about the ‘objective’ nature of the real world. But I’m not prepared to accept the paradoxes of particle physics as determining what we can and cannot say about the world we inhabit.)
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Our “Kantian problem” is rooted in the tendency to confuse conceptual analysis with psychology, i.e. to confuse the analysis of basic elements in our concept of experience with the scientific work of describing our cognitive faculties. Both David Hume and Immanuel Kant fall into this confusion.

With Kant it is his tendency to proceed as if he were exposing the structure of our cognitive faculties, rather than exposing the basic ideas in our concept of experience. This leads (or misleads) him to claim that the world of experience is a world of appearances only (a phenomenal world), not reality independent of the ordering activity of our cognitive faculties.
According to Robert P. Wolff, Kant offers a “theory of mental activity.” See his book, Kant’s Theory of Mental Activity.

Does Kant carry out an exploration of the conditions of experience? Alternatively, does he carry out a conceptual inquiry regarding our concepts of objective experience?

To think of an object (e.g. a tree) we must presuppose that the object is a spatial-temporal object. We cannot think of the object except as existing in time and space, having spatial extension and duration. This is a claim about our conceptual scheme. It is not a description of our cognitive faculties. It is not the work of psychology.
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We should keep these two areas of work separate from one another:
• Logic-Epistemology-Conceptual Analysis
• Empirical Psychology – theory of mental activity – description of experience.

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See Richard Rorty’s The Mirror of Nature for a sustained critique of the epistemological project from Descartes through Locke and Hume and culminating in Kant’s First Critique.
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Too many philosophers confuse their talk and thinking about the world with the world itself. Too many confuse talk about experience (e.g. perception) with a psychological account of the mental processes underlying experience.
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What would a metaphysician basing himself on Kantian philosophy say? Maybe he would assert that the California Redwood forests of the northern California coast only represent phenomena conditioned by the subject who experiences them. (?) In truth, the rugged coast and the California Redwoods are a reality independent and prior to any human experience of them.
[If certain tribes of philosophers refer to this position as naïve realism, so be it.]

Yesterday Virginia called me out to the backyard to pick lemons from our tree. What would a metaphysically inclined Kantian say? Would he assert that those lemons were not real lemons, since the lemons that I experienced (picked) were partly conditioned by my cognitive faculties? Would he declare that the real lemons, viz. the lemons-in-themselves, were unknowable and outside any possibility of my experience (I could not possibly pick them)?
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A Kantian view: The world that we experience is mere phenomena (appearance only?). The real world — the noumena is forever hidden from us. Reality lies behind the stage of phenomenal objects, processes, and actions. [Does this make any sense?]
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When we argue that the perception of X presupposes fundamental concepts of X, our argument takes place in the area of conceptual analysis; we are not doing a psychological study of the mental processes underlying perception.

When we attempt to sort and clarify perceptual concepts, and attempt to say how people can coherently speak about (and think about) perceptual experience, we do not attempt to conduct scientific (psychological) investigation into the mental processes underlying perception.
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(Caveat: Yet these two lines of inquiry, conceptual and scientific, may relate to each other. The scientific results of a psychological-neurological study of perception may significantly influence our conceptual efforts. Conversely, philosophical analysis of relevant concepts may influence how scientists approach their investigation of the mental processes related to perception, although scientist are not restricted by our ordinary ways of thinking and talking about perception. {* see note below.})

(2nd Caveat: Philosophers engaged in epistemological work have a great difficulty keeping these two forms of inquiry separated.)

* The cognitive scientist, Steven Pinker (psycho-linguist), makes use of Kantian ideas in his study of human nature via our fundamental ideas and language. See his work The Stuff of Thought.

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Scientific study of mental activity, e.g. psychology, neurology, is distinct from the work of conceptual analysis (e.g. epistemological philosophy) in which one attempts to sort and clarify such concepts as knowledge, belief, perception, truth, memory, doubt and such.

January 9, 2011

A Quick Way with the ‘Mystery’ of Consciousness

Filed under: philosophy and psychology — Tags: — jbernal @ 12:16 pm

Recently I overheard the following exchange on the internet.

You seem to assume some great mystery about consciousness that can never be explained by our intelligence. With that I am quite suspicious. I see no great mystery there any more than I see a mystery about self-consciousness or the subject/object dichotomy (category of understanding). – Paulino

McGinn (writer on the subject) would challenge you to explain how mental phenomena arise from brain activity. If you were unable to do so, he would say that his point is proved: there is a great mystery about consciousness. – Spanos

We often hear people (mainly philosophers and some psychologists) assert that consciousness is a mystery which the physical and biological sciences cannot explain. For example, some point to the difficulty — even impossibility — of “how mental phenomena arises from brain activity.” Of course, much has been written and argued on his subject. There are theories which claim that such an explanation is not forthcoming; thus, we cannot escape some sort of dualism – so they claim. Other theories of mind and consciousness take up the challenge and offer accounts of how brain processes give rise to consciousness.

I offer a quick way with this issue which I present by way of a short dialogue between a ‘Mysterian’ — who claims that consciousness is a mystery not explained by the sciences —- and a First-Responder (e.g. scientist) who shows a way to defusing the putative mystery.

Mysterian (Mys): Nobody has ever explained how consciousness can arise from material things or physical processes, such as brain activity.

First Responder (FR): We can explain how conscious organisms (e.g., persons, higher mammals) evolve. This is called evolutionary biology, along with related neurology and evolutionary psychology. In short, we explain the emergence of ‘consciousness’ by explaining how conscious entities evolved.

Mys: But this does not explain consciousness itself. This does not explain the mystery of consciousness arising from purely material/physical processes.

FR: Your mystery arises only because you assume that stand-alone consciousness is a possibility. But if there is no such thing as a stand-alone consciousness, and consciousness is always the consciousness of some conscious entity, then your mystery dissolves.

Mys: But many great and reputable philosophers, scientists, and psychologists always refer to consciousness as such. Surely so many people cannot be wrong and confused about the existence of consciousness?

FR: The term “consciousness” is just a short-hand way of referring to the consciousness of some individual or groups of individuals capable of conscious thought. It is a convenient abstraction like so many other convenient abstractions that we routinely refer to without implying the existence of separate, mysterious entities: e.g., justice, love, evil, law etc. These are not mysterious entities which exist in their own right. What really exist are people in relations to other people which we designate as just, or loving, or evil. The same is true of consciousness. When I am conscious or aware of the cold air as I walk out the door, we might speak of my ‘consciousness’ that it is cold outdoors. But this does not imply a mysterious entity ‘my consciousness.’ It is just a short-hand way of referring to my being conscious of the temperature outdoors.

Mys: It seems that you have simply chosen to side step the difficult problem of showing how our idea of ‘consciousness’ in its own right comes about.

FR: If you insist on such an account it would go something like this. We explain our natural tendency to abstract, viz, the process of abstraction.

1) I (or any animal whose brain is adequately evolved) am aware of some object (a possible predator) in the environment.

2) We restate this as the awareness or consciousness of that object.

3) We make statements like “there is an awareness or a consciousness” of the object.

4) Then, if we’re not too careful, we infer the existence of an abstract entity called ‘awareness’ or ‘consciousness.’

This is how ‘consciousness’ arises.

But, none of this will dispel that human-all-too-human tendency to talk abstractly and then posit the existence of abstract entities. So people will go on scratching their heads and wondering about the “mystery of consciousness.”

December 1, 2010

Doubts about Mysticism as basis for Knowledge, Morality, or Spirituality

Filed under: critique of religion,philosophy and psychology — Tags: — jbernal @ 2:12 pm

(A philosophical acquaintance, Pablo, and I had a discussion touching on mysticism and morality. He had been complaining that secular humanism is too quick to dismiss mysticism as a likely source of knowledge and value.)

Pablo: (started by relating a few lines by Richard Jefferies in which the atheistic poet describes a mystical experience):
“…there is an existence, a something higher than soul – higher, better, and more perfect than deity. Earnestly I pray to find this something better than a god. There is something superior, higher, more good. . ..”

Moi: It should not surprise us that an atheist expresses such feelings if we keep in mind that, just as there are many different kinds of theists and believers, there are also many different kinds of atheists. Among non-believers there are some who have mystical experiences and desire to make the transcendental leap to the “other world,” while rejecting the prevailing or popular images of the deity. The significant philosophical question is: What are we to make of these experiences and the associated longing for the ‘transcendental’?

Pablo: “….mysticism can be best understood and defined by a simple tabulation of characteristics commonly associated with mystical experiences. Often called an analytic definition….”
(He lists several characteristics that purport to define mysticism. Each is followed by my remarks and questions.)

Pablo: Mysticism is characterized by an Ineffability – The inability to express in human words or concepts.

Moi: Does this refer to the great difficulty people have when they try to describe the mystical experience? Does this mean that ordinary language and intuitive concepts fail completely when a mystic tries to describe the experience? Given the great amount of mystical literature available, apparently many mystics have had much to say about their experiences; they must be capable of describing something. Does this disqualify their experiences as mystical experiences?

Pablo: Next there is a cognitive (noetic) quality which supplies us with some non-scientific information about some part (or all) of reality.

Moi: Of course, this is the mystic’s subjective feeling that the experience discloses something about reality or his feeling that he is immediately aware of some indescribable reality. We cannot simply define the experience as actually supplying the mystic with “non-scientific information about some part of reality.” This would simply beg the philosophical question regarding the nature of these experiences.

Pablo: A third characteristic is the experience of Oneness with the world, which eliminates the thought or feeling that we are distinct from the rest of the world; we are one with the object of our thought.

Moi: Again, as with the previous characteristic, we should note that this is the mystic’s feeling or experience that he is one with the object of the experience. Surely, the definition cannot simply affirm that the mystic actually is one with the object of his thought. Furthermore, some mystics have mystical experiences that do not involve this feeling of oneness with all reality. Are such experiences to be rejected as being mystical experiences?

Pablo: Mystical experiences have some natural or supernatural referent. There is always some object or referent of our mystical state which could be Nature, God (or the Godhead), Being (Existence).

Moi: I am very suspicious of the assertion that these experiences always have some object or referent, natural or supernatural. This implies that there is more here than just an extraordinary experience, that it is an experience of something which is real. Of course, the analogy is with perceptual experience, which generally is experience of something in the objective world. But this analogy is very misleading here.

(I’ll accept Pablo’s characteristics of mystical experiences as a working definition of mysticism. But this is just a way of getting the discussion started; at this point the concept of ‘mysticism’ is still very much at issue, since our “definition” raises as many questions as it answers.

Pablo then proceeded to state that “…these experiences have often become the basis for a strong moral code most commonly absorbed by the religion of the cultural milieu.”

Moi: I am very puzzled by this claim: mystical experiences (of the sort identified by our stated characteristics) are the basis for a moral code(?). This cries out for explanation. Do we have some clear examples from history? Which moral codes? Which mystics? The Jewish Bible tells us that Moses had some sort of experience on the mountain and came down with the stone tablets listing the Ten Commandments. Did he have a mystical experience? What evidence is there for thinking he had a mystical experience? The Jewish Scripture tells of the Hebrew prophets experienced visions, dreams, communications with Yahweh. They were great moral leaders and moral teachers for the Hebrews. Did they have mystical experiences of the sort defined above, and did the experience form the basis for their moral codes? Again, what grounds do we have for such an interpretation? (Walter Kaufmann argues that the prophets had experiences of inspiration, rather than mystical experiences.) Of course, a famous religious experience in Christian history is Paul’s conversion experience on the road to Damascus, which resulted in his becoming the great missionary and organizer for early Christianity. But I doubt that his experience would count as a mystical experience as defined above. Furthermore, there is no reason for thinking that his experience was the basis for a strong moral code. It became the basis for Paul’s concept of faith in the resurrected Christ, the highest imperatives for Christian faith; but not in any clear sense a strong moral code.

Pablo: continues: “….some scholars have thought the mystical elements of life the most important aspect of the spiritual life, a view I share.”

Moi: Much here needs clarification. What are the “mystical elements of life”? Are you talking about a life that includes mystical experiences? Or do you mean simply a mystical way of looking at life, one that involves mystical ideas and values: the oneness of reality, the insignificance of material, corporeal existence, and such? Hopefully, you’re not contending that in order to have a genuine spiritual life one must be a mystic. This simply would eliminate too many people from ‘spiritual life,’ people who are (were) not mystics but were excellent in other “spiritual ways.”

Referring to the object of the mystical experience, Pablo mentioned “the Godhead, the Immanent God, the God within”

Moi: Can we non-mystics really make any sense of these notions? As with the notion of the subject’s identification with God, I doubt that anyone really knows what they’re talking about when they mention such notions as the ‘Godhead’ or the ‘God within.’ Here we really are blind men looking for a black cat in a darkened room.

Pablo: (some additional comments): “Moses and some of the early prophets may have been mystically inclined (and maybe even Jesus himself)”

Moi: Again we need some explanation. What is it to be mystically inclined? Is it to have mystical experiences? Certainly these Biblical figures had religious experiences of some kind, but I don’t have any evidence for saying they had mystical experiences of the kind defined above.

Pablo: (After noting that mysticism is more prevalent and more accepted in Asian cultures than in the western cultures) “Unfortunately, we don’t find much support for mysticism today in any aspects of our culture. Many think mysticism the antithesis of the methodology and results of science. Since mysticism is a more intuitive, subjective, personal and intimate human experience, it has been shunned by scientists in general as a way of getting at the truth. And, perhaps, there is some justification for this, since the scientific method …. would be inconsistent with the noetic (cognitive) claims of mysticism.”

Moi: Pablo reluctantly concedes that perhaps there may be some justification for scientists’ rejection of mysticism as a source of knowledge. But our problem is not simply that there is inconsistency between the methods of science and the claims of the mystic. Our problem is that, if you grant epistemic legitimacy to the claims of the mystics, you admit a purely subjective experience as a basis for knowledge of a reality not accessible to ordinary experience, not subject to scientific investigation or to rational inquiry. When the subjective experience of the mystic is the sole criterion for “knowledge,” you open the gates and let in a wild, woolly and crazy world. How many different kinds of “mystical truths” and “mystical realities” would we have to accept?

Pablo then conceded that perhaps mysticism does not give us new knowledge about the external, natural world but gives us knowledge “..about morality; how we ought to be and behave in this world. As the philosopher Theodore Webb has said: “Mysticism is not a rejection of science, but a transcendence of it.” There need be no contradiction here since they appear to deal with different aspects of our existence.” (* My italicizing of the text, not Pablo’s or Webb’s.)

Moi: These comments provoke more questions and critical rejoinders. How do mystical experiences yield knowledge of morality? For example, are there any clear cases in which a mystical experience or the counsel of a mystic (based on his mystical experience) helped anyone to resolve a moral dilemma? Have mystics been models of high moral behavior? The notion of mysticism transcending science is very problematic, at best a suggestive figure of speech. But what does it really mean?

Other questions to be addressed to Pablo:

What about naturalistic explanations of the mystical experience? Would such explanation show that mystical experiences are not anything special or likely sources for extra-ordinary knowledge?

What do we say about religious mystics who claim that their experience is “proof” or “evidence” for specific religious doctrine? For example, proof of the trinity, or the intercession of the Virgin Mary, and so on.

Do we have reasons for thinking that only people of high morality have mystical experiences? Aren’t there mystics who are not good moral models?

The emotional make-up of the person seems significant in bringing about a mystical experience: and historically and currently individuals and organized groups use different kinds of discipline, exercises, even deprivation to induce mystical experiences; furthermore, mystical experiences can be drug-induced. How do these facts affect the claim that mystical experiences are special and spiritually important?

Isn’t it true that each mystic brings to his experience beliefs and cultural/religious conditioning held prior to the experience, and interprets his experience accordingly? (As Walter Kaufmann says: “Suzuki does not have the same experience as Saint Teresa”)

Isn’t it true that non-mystics are totally dependent on what the mystic says about his experience, i.e., the way he interprets or describes his experiences? Hence, non-mystics are limited to hear-say evidence for their ideas of the “mystical experience.”

September 16, 2010

Chopra’s Deep Confusion: The Brain & Doubts about the External World

Filed under: All,philosophy and psychology,philosophy of mind,the mind-body problem — Tags: , — jbernal @ 2:35 pm

In an article titled “A conversation: consciousness and the connection to the universe” Deepak Chopra recounts an interview (March 27, 2010)** that he held with Dr. Stuart Hameroff of the Center for Consciousness Studies of the University of Arizona.

The interview is interesting on a number of points, e.g., Hameroff’s attempt to explain perceptual consciousness in terms of quantum physics. This is an ambitious project that cries for scrutiny and critique. But presently I shall focus on another aspect of the interview. The interviews discloses some fundamental misconceptions and fallacies committed by both men. Let us look briefly at a few excerpts from that interview and see where they fell into old traps and confusion.

The interview starts with some statements and a question directed to Hameroff by Chopra:

“You’re an anesthesiologist as well as an expert in consciousness. Here’s my question: Our brain inside our skull has no experience of the external world. The brain only responds to internal states like, pH, electrolytes, hormones, ionic exchanges across cell membranes and electrical impulses. So, how does the brain see an external world?”

Right from the start, the good doctors Chopra and Hameroff fall into some basic misconceptions. To recap the main points:
First, they note (Chopra states and Hameroff agrees) that the brain resides inside the skull (obviously!).
Then we have the inference that the brain has no direct experience of the external world: “The brain only responds to internal states.”
From this Chopra raises the profound question: “[H]ow does the brain see an external world?”

The very notion that the “brain sees anything” is suspect. (More on this later.) But for now let’s look at what Hameroff replies to Chopra’s heartfelt question as to the mystery of how the “brain sees the external world.”

“Well that question goes back at least thousands of years, and the Greeks said that the world outside is nothing but a representation in our head. Then of course Descartes recognized the same thing. That the only thing of which he could be sure was that he is, that he is conscious. I think therefore I am. So, we’re not really sure the outside world is as we perceive it. Some people would say it’s a construction, an illusion, some people would say it’s an accurate representation. It’s kind of a mix of views. And then when you add quantum properties to it, it’s really uncertain if the world we perceive is the actual world out there.”

Chopra then brings up the example of seeing a rose:

“So, Dr. Hameroff lets just take an example. I’m looking at a rose, my retinal cells are not actually looking at the rose they’re responding to photons aren’t they?”

This gives the good Dr. Hameroff the opportunity to expound on the processes that go into our “looking at a rose”:

“Yes. It’s also possible that quantum information is transduced in the retina in the cilia between the inner and outer segments before the photon even gets to the rhodopsin in the very back of the eye. So it’s possible that there’s additional quantum information being extracted from photons as they enter your eye through the retina. They might somehow more directly convey the actual essential quality or properties of the rose and the redness of the rose. . . .”

I don’t know about all this extracting of quantum information, but I doubt that there’s anything approaching consensus among physicists and neurologists on these speculations. However, the points I wish to focus on are conceptual points: the identification of the subject who ‘sees’ or doesn’t ‘see’ the external world with the brain; and the inference that all this leads to the ages old skeptical problems about our knowledge of the external world.

Hameroff seems to think that the Greeks (which ones?) held that the “world outside is nothing but a representation in our head” and that Descartes recognized the same thing. In short, we cannot know for certain that the world is anything like what we perceive.

Of course, none of this follows from the initial premise that the brain is located inside the skull and the brain processes our perceiving of the features in the world external to the brain.

The first gross confusion is to hold that the brain is the subject which sees anything. Let us grant that the appropriate sciences can describe and analyze the processes by which the nervous system (sense faculties, brain) enable the animal to perceive and negotiate its environment. But this is an analysis of how the animal (e.g. human, apes, monkeys, dogs, etc.) perceives the world; the brain is a vital element of this process, as are the sense faculties; but the brain is not the subject who sees X (the object of perception) and then faces the problem of connecting ‘X’ to the external world. Furthermore, the skeptical issue (that we face the problem of connecting ‘X’ to the external world) does not follow.

Furthermore, we are not rationally compelled to affirm that “the world .. is just a representation in the head”. Which the of the ancient Greeks held this view? Likewise, there isn’t any cogent argument for inferring the dualistic Cartesian picture (that the mental subject is distinct and apart from the material world). Furthermore, for Descartes the brain, being a physical organ, is found in the ‘external,’ material world. The isolated brain – encased in the skull and separated from the object perceived – which worried Chopra, has nothing to do with Cartesian skepticism about the external world.

At any rate, the skeptical problems outlined by Hameroff have at best a loose connection with Chopra’s initiating question: How does the brain see the external world? Furthermore, any putative skepticism about the external world is in order only if we fall into the initial trap of taking some entity inside the head (the brain?) as the subject who perceives the world. But of course, the animal acting and reacting in its natural, social environment (e.g., the small ape on the tree) is the subject who perceives features of that environment. Hameroff has simply fallen into some basic misconceptions here, misconceptions set up by an even more confused Chopra.

The words used in the title that Chopra gives this dialogue with Hameroff “….consciousness and the connection to the Universe” suggests another fundamental confusion at work here: this is the confused idea that ‘consciousness’ is a mysterious ‘thing’ of sorts, which may or may not be “connected with the universe.” Chopra’s assumption, like many who talk this way, is that consciousness involves more than a commitment to the facts that certain animals (including human in a social setting or small apes sitting on a tree branch) are capable of taking in or being aware of features in their environment. But there aren’t any good reasons for asserting that we’re committed to something called “consciousness.” (Imagine someone proclaiming that in addition to the small ape on the tree, the ape’s consciousness sits there as well.) As some philosophers (e.g.,Gilbert Ryle, Richard Rorty, D.W. Hamlyn) have argued, one can dispense altogether with the idea of consciousness as an entity (?) or as a mental state and still give adequate accounts of all the mental, perceptual capabilities of complex, evolved animals as humans. Science can account for my seeing the rose or being aware of the cool temperature in my environment without anyone having to posit my state of consciousness or an actor called “consciousness.” That I see things and am aware of things is beyond dispute. But this does not commit us to the reality of some mysterious state or entity called “consciousness.”

When we speak of a person being in a state of consciousness, or perception, or awareness – we simply resort to a way of talking. We don’t make an ontological commitment. The same may be said for a statement like: “There was an awareness that we were in trouble.” None of these require that we posit a mysterious state or entity called “consciousness” or another called “awareness,” which may or may not be connected to the external world. Chopra is just falling victim to an age-old confusion here.

All the ensuing talk by Hameroff concerning the “fine structure of the universe,” and “quantum information extracted from photons” is at best questionable speculation, at worst, a bit of New-Age, post-modernistic “mumbo-jumbo.”
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** The full interview can be found at

http://articles.sfgate.com/2010-04-07/news/20840306_1_quantum-information-interview-brain

July 16, 2010

Remarks about the Philosophy-as-Therapy Idea

Filed under: All,philosophy and psychology — Tags: — jbernal @ 5:29 pm

One dictionary definition of ‘therapy’ is the treatment of a disease, physical or mental, by medical or physical means, usually excluding surgery. A more general definition refers to ‘therapy’ as the effort to alleviate some disorder, usually mental in some sense, by some use of a therapeutic method or technique. It is doubtful that the study of philosophy is a form of therapy in either of these primary meanings of the term “therapy.” Generally philosophers do not offer treatments for psychological problems; nor are there widely accepted philosophical methods or techniques for treating those who seek therapy. But maybe the case for philosophy as therapy is better when we consider other accepted uses of the term ‘therapy,’ as when one speaks of the therapeutic benefit of a relaxed walk in the woods, or a session of meditation, or a visit to the Grand Canyon, or a conversation with good friends, or from listening to great music or reading our favorite poets. This secondary sense of “therapy” is one that might apply when we consider the question whether philosophy can have therapeutic value.
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The proposition that philosophy can function as a form of therapy brings up two related questions:

1) Can the study of philosophy help a person to improve his thinking and actions, and maybe realizing some version of the ‘good’ life?

2) Can we describe philosophy, as a family of disciplines, as aiming in part to helping individuals deal with suffering, frustration, unhappiness and mild mental disorders; i.e., does the work of philosophers aim at some form of therapy?

My answer is a qualified “yes” to the first, and “no” to the second question. Philosophy is primarily an intellectual discipline, focused on conceptual-theoretical issues, not at all a method of therapy. In its primary function philosophy is not a therapeutic method or practice. However, there are aspects of philosophy, past and present, which allow a more favorable assessment of the therapeutic value of philosophical study for some forms of ‘philosophy’ and for some individual needs.
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Many students and practitioners of philosophy do not associate philosophy with therapy of any kind. I would guess that this is the opinion held by many of my contemporaries, who were trained in philosophy at American colleges and universities back in the 1960-70s decades (my period of formal studies in philosophy at the undergraduate and graduate levels). Our training in philosophy enabled us to teach, analyze, discuss, and write concerning great figures in philosophy, differing schools of philosophy, different issues, problems and persisting questions in philosophy. Among other things, the objective was to familiarize students with the history, the great philosophers, and the persisting questions in philosophy; and eventually to enable students (those who majored in philosophy) to handle philosophical questions in logical and critically-informed ways. Any grading of students’ performance was based on critical, conceptual criteria. Most people did not expect that students would realize some therapeutic value from taking a course in philosophy. If some students did realize some personal, psychological benefit, it was seen as an accidental affect of the course of study, which often resulted in disturbing students more than reassuring them. Generally students did not expect any significant personal improvement or psychological benefit to result from their study of philosophy.
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There are some aspects of the subject of philosophy which suggest the contrary view: that philosophy touches on ‘therapy’ insofar as it has something to do with challenges of living a good life and working toward some form of personal happiness or fulfillment. The famous quote from the great Socrates, “the unexamined life is not worth living,” and his reference to the inscription at Delphi to “know thyself” surely suggest a view of philosophical life which is more than an impersonal study of theories, concepts, and problems. It suggests the life and teachings of Socrates as an example of a life worth living. In addition, the ethical works of Aristotle, which give guidance to a life of ethical excellence and the development of a morally virtuous character, surely seem to imply that philosophy aims not simply at enabling philosophical knowledge but also at instructing us to act well in the world. When we add the reflections of the Stoic philosophers, the ‘consolations’ of Beothius (“.. a just man unjustly suffering is confirmed in his conviction that happiness and fortitude may be found in adversity.” ), and in later period, the rational faith expressed by Spinoza in his Ethics (“to act in conformity with virtue is nothing but acting, living, and preserving our being as reason dictates.”), we see an aspect of traditional philosophy which has much to do with the individual’s attempts to cope with the challenges of life, to find ways handling tragedies and difficulties, and eventually to find the path to personal excellence and fulfillment. Thereby, we can say that some aspects of traditional philosophy in the West appear to support the idea that the practice of philosophy somehow touches on a form of personal therapy. At least this much is true: many figures in the history of Western philosophy have pursued philosophy as a form of life rather than just an academic field of study.

None of this implies that an essential element of the study of philosophy is either a therapeutic method or a form of personal therapy. Some people may realize therapeutic value from such a study, and surely many great figures in history saw philosophy as something directly applicable to the problems of living. But many individuals have studied philosophy and pursued philosophical answers to a variety of philosophical questions in ways that cannot be characterized as therapeutic or applying to problems of living. Of course, much depends on the ‘philosophy’ that one engages; or if you like, the nature of the philosophical task that one takes on. In the area of practical ethics and some aspects of normative ethics, it makes sense to propose that one’s aim is a practical one of specifying the paths to moral virtue and the higher good of human existence. To the extent that one does not merely try to define these, but also tries to put them into practice in one’s own existence, one might approach philosophy as activity having therapeutic value. A fairly recent book by Robert Nozick, The Examined Life, is a good example. But this is only one side of the field of Ethics; other aspects are not much concerned with values of life. Other areas of the philosophical disciplines include logic, epistemology, metaphysics, philosophy of science, of mathematics, and analytical, linguistic philosophy. In these areas one is not trying to find the key to better living, but concerned with more conceptual issues. (For example, much of the work in epistemology by John Locke, David Hume and Immanuel Kant; and work in logic, philosophy of math, and philosophy of science by such modern philosophers as Gottlob Frege, Bertrand Russell, and the early Wittgenstein.)
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In Western tradition starting in the seventeenth and running through the nineteenth centuries, attention turned to problems related to knowledge, perception, consciousness, and theory of mind with Rene Descartes, through the line of British Empiricists, and given a critical analysis by Immanuel Kant. The student of philosophy working in these areas of epistemology and philosophy of mind did not focus much attention on questions of the good life and ways of attaining it. Contrary to this intellectual concentration, we find the Romantic writers and philosophers emphasizing a more vital perspective of human reality, which could be seen as involving some practices which could be called forms of therapy. We might also mention that philosophies in other cultures, e.g. Asian philosophies, tend to emphasize the themes of wisdom and a life more attuned to higher values and different dimensions of consciousness, rather than focusing attention on the intellectual-conceptual approach dominant in the West.

In English speaking societies, the trend in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries was toward the more logical, analytical, ‘scientific’ form of philosophy. Here the natural sciences and mathematics were seen as models for intellectual disciplines. Insofar as English speaking philosophers (in the U.K., in the U.S., Canada and Australia) saw their discipline in this light, the philosophical disciplines are not characterized as a search for wisdom and rules for better living. These simply were not part of the philosophy practiced at many universities.

But the contrary case is evident with respect to schools of philosophy in Europe and South America, where Existentialism and more personally-oriented philosophies are in evidence. Many existentialist philosophers are concerned with the problems of human existence, although they may reject traditional ideas of wisdom and virtue. Insofar as their writing is directed to helping someone (writer, readers) cope with the absurdity, inauthentic values, and lack of integrity in modern life they can be seen as involved in a kind of therapeutic work. The works of philosophers like Kierkegaard, Nietzsche, Miguel de Unamuno, Sartre, and Albert Camus can surely be read in this light. In America, the works of William James, Walter Kaufmann, Robert Nozick, more recently Martin Gardner and Stanley Cavell, reflect a philosophical approach concerned with ‘existential’ issues and thus touch on ways of coping with challenges of life. Philosophy here is not limited to conceptual and theoretical problems, but grapples with issues of living and working our way through the difficulties that life often brings. Hence, some people are inclined to see the work in a therapeutic context.
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Most students of Wittgenstein’s later philosophy are not surprised to hear that some aspects of his work (e.g., in the Philosophical Investigations) can be seen as therapeutic in a philosophical sense. Some of his metaphors and analogies suggest that philosophical reflection of problems of language aim at enabling movement from a state of ‘disorder’ to a ‘healthier’ state. His reference to the need to recognize the extent to which language can “bewitch us,” his reference to philosophical problems as much like “philosophical cramp” that needs relief and his metaphor of “trying to show the fly how to escape the bottle,” all suggest that philosophy can be viewed as a sort of therapy.
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Sometimes we might say that the writer himself (or herself) realizes some ‘therapy’ from his (her) work. A Wittgenstein or a Nietzsche intensely works to relieve some conceptual problem, in some cases, even some mental-spiritual difficulty. Readers or the audience of this effort might also get some help in dealing with their philosophical difficulties.

But does any of this indicate anything more than the fact that some people indulge in some intellectual, literary, or artistic activity — in some cases called a ‘philosophy’ – that has some therapeutic significance? Does it come to anything more than the fact that occasionally one feels better about one’s situation after reading some ‘therapeutic’ writer? Those who promote the idea of philosophy-as-therapy would argue that there is more to it than that; but this does not show that philosophy is a therapy. At best, some aspects of philosophical work may have therapeutic implications. Even those of us who remain skeptical of the idea of philosophy-as-therapy may assent to the qualified idea that some aspects of philosophy can help people to improve their thinking and actions, and thus prove ‘therapeutic’ in this sense.
David's watercolor fish

June 19, 2010

Some Remarks about the Concept of ‘Belief’

Filed under: philosophy and psychology,theory of knowledge — Tags: , , — jbernal @ 11:11 am

The Spanish Philosopher Miguel de Unamuno once described his approach to philosophy as trying on a glove in different ways, even inside-out, to see how many different ways the glove could be worn. It is in this spirit that I offer my somewhat disconnected thoughts on the concept of ‘belief’: I trying out different perspectives to see how they fit.

William James wrote a well-known essay “The Will to Believe,” in which he defended certain religious belief as compelling even if not rationally grounded beliefs; for example, the decision to belief in God as a vital choice that many persons make, despite lacking good rational grounds to support that belief. We will to believe in God.

In one sense of the term “belief,” what James contends may strike us as being absurd. For in ordinary circumstances our belief that something is such & such (e.g., that it will rain today, or that my car has enough gasoline to get me home) is not a matter of choice or of our willing it, but rather a case in which we base the belief on supporting evidence. Here making a decision to believe irrespective of the evidence could get us in trouble. To the degree that we operate intelligently in the world, we believe that it will rain today based on relevant evidence (heavy storm clouds moving in, or a reliable weather forecast). We believe that the car has enough gasoline to make it home because the fuel tank gauge indicates the tank is half full, and we know that home is only twenty miles away; and half a tank of gasoline is good enough for 150 miles travel. The notion of “will to believe” or freedom of choice with regard to what I believe does not apply here. To operate well in the world, we strive for beliefs that conform to reality. (There is not much room here for “will to believe” or choosing to believe.)

However, Mr. James probably had in mind another sense of the term “belief” when he wrote his famous essay. This is ‘belief’ in the sense of faith or conviction, in which notions of “the will to believe” or “deciding to believe” do apply. The area of religious faith is an obvious case; but first let us try to approach the subject indirectly.

No one has knowledge of what will happen in the future, although sometimes we have some basis for highly probable inferences. Yet we never know for sure, and sometimes don’t even have a clue as to how things will turn out in the future. But we often need to assume a belief (or beliefs) as to what will happen, or at least assume beliefs as to the general pattern of future events. Sometimes we must make a choice as to how we “see” the future. If we tend to be optimists, we choose optimistic beliefs concerning the future; if we tend to be pessimists, we choose less positive beliefs.

In our daily routine, we may come in contact with hundreds of people. We don’t know most of them and really have no evidence for thinking that they are decent, law-abiding people. But in order to carry on with our daily routines and not become paranoid, we work with the belief that, like ourselves, they are decent, law-abiding people.
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Sometimes opting to believe one way or another comes by way of a “working hypothesis”; at this time we have no evidence to support any belief, but we must make a choice in order to get on with what we’re doing.

Suppose we use the terms “faith” and “objective belief” to distinguish between these two kinds of belief. Faith involves the will-to-believe; objective belief does not.

This may help some in our effort to sort through the concept of ‘belief’ in its various uses; but let’s not jump to the conclusion that this distinction tells the whole story. For we must allow that emotion, the desire or will to believe that something is true, sometimes occur with regard to our “objective beliefs”; on the other hand, some people of strong religious faith will find the notion of ‘will to believe’ foreign to their experience of faith, holding instead that they have no choice in matters of religious faith.
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In religion, opting to believe [in God, for example] may or may not be analogous to adopting a working hypothesis. Blaise Pascal may conceive of belief in God as taking the “rational” option; but many other theists will argue that their experience (religious and existential experience) is such that they have no choice on the question of God’s reality.

However, this gives us pause: most people did not originally make a conscious choice to adopt the religious belief they hold. They were born into a “world” of people holding, teaching, and imparting such religious beliefs, and never examined or questioned those beliefs. The religious beliefs just became part of their view of reality.

Nevertheless, for many people religious belief does seem to be in a different category from belief in other contexts. In a religious context, the term “belief” is used more like the term “conviction” or the related term “faith.”

Here the “belief that X” may express a strong conviction (or as some people put it: “a rock-solid conviction.” My belief that X here is not understood as a peripheral claim (tentative, subject to reexamination). It is certainly not a weak epistemic claim, made in place of a stronger claim to know that X. Here my claim that “X is true” functions much like a basic principle that defines and controls my existence. (Let “X” stand for “Jesus is the divine redeemer.”)

Here we might think of an analogy with Thomas Reid’s Principles of Common Sense. Our very existence as social beings demands the reality of the external, material world, even if the skeptic (D. Hume) demonstrates that from a subjective perspective we cannot prove that this belief is true.
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Another way of stating it: In the religious context, belief functions at a primary level —much like a principle or rule of action. It does not function like a weak epistemic claim that needs supporting evidence. The call for supporting evidence is seen as irrelevant.

It is in this context that a proponent of religious faith will say that rational skepticism is “out of order.”

Here one is more likely to “believe in something or someone” as opposed to “believing that such and such.” An example could be “belief in the goodness of human beings.”

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Much of what I believe comes from other people. People whom I admire or whom I recognize as knowledgeable authorities advance arguments and establish certain conclusions, which I accept as my beliefs. (“The belief strikes me as a reasonable one, so I adopt as my belief”).

Much of what we believe comes from familial and cultural conditioning. There is a vast body of beliefs (presuppositions) that forms the basis for our outlook on the world and our acting in the world. Most of us have never examined or evaluated these beliefs. (In what sense are these beliefs subject to choice?)

Intellectual growth and development toward some psychological maturity requires that we rationally evaluate these beliefs that we have inherited. Have we educated ourselves sufficiently to recognize the different features of our body of beliefs?

“I’ll believe what I please!” makes sense in some contexts, but not in others. And here too there will be a matter of degrees.

In some cases, beliefs are much like preferences, as in “I prefer coffee to tea.”
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On the other hand, when we remark that “Based on the evidence, I think he did it,” or “I have good reasons for thinking he did it” we are in the realm of rational belief: I believe it because I have evidence or good reasons for the belief.

By “objective belief” I mean that type of belief that a person holds because evidence or rational considerations, such as perception, factual evidence, logical inference, compel him to hold the belief. Consider, for example, the case of my belief that it will rain because heavy storm clouds are moving this way and reliable meteorological forecasts have predicted rain for today. There’s a sense in which we don’t have a choice in what we belief.

The ideal here is that our beliefs all be well-grounded (rationally well-grounded, that is). The person consciously working to realize this ideal would try to limit his beliefs to those beliefs that are supported by the facts, rational inference or immediate experience. And in those areas where such beliefs are not found, he proceeds hypothetically and experimentally.

In this context, belief that such & such is a weaker epistemic claim than knowledge that such & such. For example, I don’t know that O.J. Simpson killed his wife (in the sense that I would know if I had seen him do it), but I believe he did it (in the sense, I have some evidence that points to his doing it, although it does not prove that he did it). And I believe this only because there is much evidence that points to this as highly probable.

Here we could set up a scale of epistemic weight:

1) I know that X. (We have full, undeniable knowledge)
2) I am sure that X. (I have every reason to believe X and nothing that stands against it.)
3) Probably X. (There is a strong case to be made of X.)
4) I believe that X. (I have some reason for thinking that X. I lean this way.)
5) Possibly X. (X may be true, but we have to look more.)
6) I doubt that X. (There are good reasons against X being true.)
7) I know that not-X. (We have knowledge that X is not the case.)

Only #1 and #7 represent knowledge. The other marks on the scale represent varying degrees of belief, all weaker epistemic claims. We fall back on some form of belief when we lack knowledge or objective certainty.

In this context, my desire or need to believe are irrelevant; the strength of my faith or conviction are irrelevant.
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One attempt to define “knowledge”:
Knowledge obtains when one affirms P (some proposition, e.g., the U.S. is a democracy); and
a) the proposition affirmed (P) is true;
b) there is a rationally relevant basis for affirming ‘P’.

Of course, this applies to propositional knowledge; here we tend to analyze knowledge in terms of belief. However, this is not so obvious the way to break down ‘knowledge’ in cases of knowing by direct acquaintance (as in case of knowing that you’re here because I see you and touch you) or in the case of knowledge that applies when we ‘know how’ to do something. (I know how to ride a bicycle.)
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Don’t let our ‘belief’ expressions mislead you to think that beliefs are independent entities, existing separately from all believers. We might say that a belief is something held by some person; but should not think this implies a special entity ‘belief.’ Beliefs don’t have existence. People exist who think this or that, and hold beliefs.
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Thus, one way of dealing with beliefs leads us toward psychology: an examination of the believer.

We’re probably dealing with different personality types:

1) The rational/scientific type who feels that, as much as possible, our beliefs should be rational, well-grounded beliefs. The important things are acquiring knowledge, understanding, eventually gaining some truth about ourselves and our world, and operating intelligently in this world.

2) The religious type, who feels that the over-riding importance is that our basic beliefs reflect the highest values and convictions that we hold, and that we hold beliefs that will promote the spiritual, moral aspects of our existence. (The over-riding concerns are the kinds of lives we live and, in case of Christians, our personal salvation.)
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What I directly experience compels me to assent. In other cases, an obvious rational inference from the factual evidence compels me to believe. Objective conditions push me one way or the other. In so far as we are conscious, intelligent beings, we are pushed (by objective conditions) to believe one way or another.

When these compelling objective conditions are absent, people respond in different ways, depending on their inclinations:
The rationalist, given to logical/scientific habits of thought, will suspend belief, at most allow himself very tentative hypothesis.
The religious type will adopt some kind of “religious belief,” belief in or faith that works despite the push/pull of objective conditions, or even works in opposition to the “force” of objective conditions.

It is in this context that some people say such things as “Science and rational inquiry do not give us complete knowledge; they leave many gaps. Therefore, we must turn to religious faith to get a complete picture of reality.” Or “Science and rational inquiry takes us only part of the way; to complete the trip, we need to turn to religion.”

It is likely true that everyone has some degree of faith, including the hardest scientists and the strongest skeptic. It is also true that some people use the term “faith” to cover the most irrational fanaticism or the most absurd fantasies. And we have many degrees and gradations in between.

But having faith need not imply that the person of faith embraces irrational fanaticism or childish fantasies.

April 19, 2010

Remarks About Psychology and Philosophy (Uneasy Siblings)

Filed under: philosophy and psychology — Tags: , — jbernal @ 2:22 pm

Historically in Western Philosophy, Psychology was part of philosophy until the 19th century when it became a separate science.

Is Psychology a sibling of Philosophy? Surely in the past they were close siblings, members of the same family. After the 19th century the relationship becomes more problematic.

In the 17th and 18th centuries, many Western philosophers did pioneering work in areas that later came to be known as “psychology.” Eventually psychological inquiry and research became separate sciences, the study and research into the mind. In short, psychology became identified as the science of mind insofar as its function is to analyze and explain mental processes: our thoughts, experiences, sensations, feelings, perceptions, imaginations, creativity, dreams and so on. It is mostly an empirical and experimental science; although the field of psychology does include the more theoretical Freudian psychology and the more speculative Jungian psychology.

But philosophical work was not always distinct, and even today is not wholly distinct, from psychological considerations. It may be that some forms of philosophy can never break away completely from psychological issues.

Baruch Spinoza’s great work, Ethics, includes many observations and insights about our reasoning processes and emotions. The early emphasis on epistemological questions by such thinkers as Rene Descartes, John Locke, David Hume, and Immanuel Kant includes much observations and statements about mental processes connected with knowing and belief; but in these writings there tends to be a mixing of psychological statements (process of knowing) with conceptual philosophy.

In our critiques of these works in epistemology we try to separate the philosophical theme (logic, conceptual and propositional evaluation) from the psychological aspect (causes of belief, mental process underlying perception). But in large part the problem remains, especially in such areas of philosophy of mind, of keeping philosophical work free of psychology altogether.

However, we should not assume that in all cases these must be kept separate, as some work in philosophy surely requires consideration of the psychological sciences.

As the sciences of physics, biology, astronomy and neurology broke with philosophy at earlier stages, empirical, descriptive psychology eventually broke away from philosophy. Scientific work that seeks to understand and explain the workings of the brain and the neurological processes which underlie thought and experience (viz., psychology) is different from philosophical inquiry into mind, consciousness, knowledge and experiences.

Edmund Husserl, the founder of phenomenology, takes great pains to keep his philosophy separate from empirical psychology. But it is not clear that his analysis (or other analyses) of the phenomenology of different experiences remains something clearly distinct from psychology.

Even today the student will likely be surprised by the number of psychological insights that Spinoza offers in this great work, Ethics, back in the 17th century and similar psychological observations by Friedrich Nietzsche in the 19th century.

William James, the great American pragmatist, includes much psychology in his philosophy. He has much to say about the stream of consciousness and special experiences, such as religious experiences.
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Philosophy of mind: There’s a sense in which the mind is a psychological construct; there’s another sense in which it is not. “My mind is such and such” can be restated as “my thinking is such and such.” Sometimes it is the psychology behind my thinking that is the issue; but other times we’re interested in what could be called the conceptual-propositional issues; and still other times we might be more interested in the literary-artistic expression of ideas, values, and perspectives. (In this latter connection, see Walter Kaufmann’s book, Discovering The Mind.)

In Epistemology we’re concerned with the concept of knowledge; but our primary interest is not one of describing the psychology of knowing. Our interest is not in the process by which we come to know something, but in the clarification of concepts associated with knowledge and belief; and in the logic of propositions related to knowledge. Included among the philosophers who engage in the philosophy of knowledge are Bertrand Russell, D.W. Hamlyn, and Richard Rorty.

In the area of academic philosophy, besides the large field of epistemology, we have philosophy of mind, theory of consciousness, philosophy of language, Cartesian Idealism, and the free will issue. Ordinarily these are not seen as forms of psychological inquiry. They are more directed to conceptual and propositional issues. Included among the philosophers who engage in work on knowledge, language, and mind in this vein are Ludwig Wittgenstein, Gilbert Ryle, D.W. Hamlyn, John Austin, and Daniel Dennett

But psychology is very much a part of those philosophical studies of special experience, such as the religious experience, the mystical experience, and even moral experience. A good representative of this approach is the great American pragmatist, William James. Much of his work in philosophy does not stray too far from his psychological interests.

Some aspects of philosophy are concerned with the nature of human thought. This interest is distinct from psychological study, description and theory. But to be adequate and credible it needs to take into account the work of psychologists and the cognitive scientists.

The subject of human thought is a big topic which can be approached from different directions. One of these is philosophy; another is psychology and the cognitive sciences. Still others are literary art, the fine arts, and history.

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How much of philosophy is concerned with the psychological well-being of the individual?

Another way of considering the interaction of psychology and philosophy is at the personal level when the person considers his philosophical reflections and meditation to bring about (or bring closer) some degree of psychic harmony. The idea here is that in some sense philosophy can be therapeutic.

To the extent that philosophical work and thought contribute to a person’s sense of well-being and even bring about some degree of fulfillment, one could argue that philosophy is a form of therapy. (?)

If the unexamined life is not worth living (Socrates), then it may follow that the examined life (the “philosophical life”) is worth living. This could be seen as suggesting that philosophical thought results in a form of personal fulfillment and good psychological health.

Contrary to this we have the view (mostly the prevailing view) that philosophy is an intellectual discipline which has little or nothing to do with anyone’s striving to achieve some form of personal, psychic fulfillment. Add to this the fact that most people who work in philosophy (e.g. academic philosophers or professors of philosophy) are not especially noteworthy for lives of psychic well-being. In this regard, think of people like Blaise Pascal, S. Kierkegaard, F. Nietzsche and Ludwig Wittgenstein. How psychologically healthy and well balanced were they? They were emotionally and mentally tormented, and won’t be mentioned much as models of psychic calm and well-being.

Some philosophers are driven to engage in philosophy, much like artists, poets, and composers are driven to do their creative work. Here we have a form of psychological compulsion that does not seem to be a form of therapy.
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Suppose I ask about Spinoza’s thought with regard to moral obligation; how does he defend the thesis that morality and rationality are closely intertwined? As a student of philosophy, my interests could be strictly philosophical interests. I want to know how he develops and defends his philosophical thesis. On the other hand, I could be curious about the causes of Spinoza’s thinking; or maybe interested in possible motives that he might have had for adopting his particular philosophy. What events in his childhood or family life led him to embrace the values of rationality and the ideals of the geometric method? In this latter case, I would be proceeding as an amateur, folk psychologist.

There are different ways of trying to understand the thought of a person, e.g. a writer or a philosopher. We take one way when we ask about the causes and motivations behind the person’s ideas; i.e., we ask about the psychological ‘workings.’ Another way is to do philosophical criticism and evaluation of the person’s ideas. But the two (psychology and philosophy) can be combined in a single study.

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The student as a psychologist: Here we have a person’s attempt to get clear about his/her thoughts and values; add to this a person’s attempt to be honest about one’s motivations. People used to say back in the 1960s era: I’m just trying to get my “head straight.”

Suppose that a psychologist can tell me about the causes, the mental processes, and hidden motives that underlie my thinking and behavior. He might say that in order to truly understand what I am about I must have some understanding of these “psychological” things; i.e., I must acknowledge and expose them. If I were to accept his advice and try to do those things, would I be acting in accordance with the Socratic maxim to “know thyself”?

The professional is concerned with empirical, descriptive psychology and with research into neurological and psychological processes. But we, the amateurs, are primarily indulging a form of folk psychology: Trying to say what I think about my own thinking. Or trying to deal better with my psychic life.

Sometimes I apply this ‘folk psychology’ to myself (I try to figure out what I’m about) or to others (I try to understand their motives for saying such and such or doing so and so.)

On a more practical level, we can imagine someone asking: “What do I really want in life? How do I get there?” Can philosophy help us here? Maybe not, but then again think of two of our great figures in Western Philosophy, Socrates and Spinoza, who are often cited as models of psychological harmony and wisdom.

Aren’t we all psychologists to some degree? Yes, to some degree we are insofar as we are awake, alert, conscientious, and honestly engage in self-examination. This does not need to be separated from our work in philosophy.

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