A
Under Physicalism, your physical head is a real thing, a real object of
the real world. Therefore, it can contain other things. And so it is that,
under Physicalism, the contents of your perception are contained by your
head. But under Idealism, the ‘physical’ world is not the real world; it is
instead a cognitive representation thereof. Now, your head is part of this
‘physical’ world. Therefore, it is also a cognitive representation, not a
real thing that can contain other things. Your head, as perceived, is an
icon on the computer desktop, a dial indication on the dashboard, not a
real thing. This way, your head doesn’t contain your mental activity;
instead, it is a representation thereof. This is why, under Analytic
Idealism, the contents of perception are not inside your head.
Let us again try a metaphor to clarify this. Imagine that we are having
a video call online. You are in your home, and I am in mine. But you can
see my head on your phone’s screen. Well, not quite: you can see an
image of my head on your screen, a representation of my head in the
form of colorful pixels. Would you then say that this image of my head
contains my thoughts? Of course not; pixels don’t contain thoughts;
images are mere representations, not containers. The best you could say
is that the image in some sense represents my thoughts, or is correlated
with my thoughts in some manner (e.g., through my facial expressions,
as represented on your phone’s screen).
Now, in exactly the same way, under Analytic Idealism my actual
head—the ‘physical’ entity you could see and touch if you were right in
front of me—is but an image, a representation of my individual mind,
pixels. In other words, my head is part of what my mind looks like when
you measure and then represent it on your internal dashboard. As a
‘physical’ entity, my head doesn’t contain my thoughts; instead, it is part
of what my thoughts—and the rest of my mental inner life—look like
when represented on a dashboard. Do you see the difference?
Representations don’t contain anything, for the same reason that the
pixels representing my head on your phone’s screen don’t contain my
thoughts. Representations just, well, represent things. That my head is
made of tiny atoms or elementary subatomic particles means only that
such ‘physical’ representations are, ultimately, also pixelated; just as an
image on your phone’s screen is pixelated.
Ergo, under Analytic Idealism your head does not contain the world
of your perceptions; it’s the world of your perceptions that contains your
head, insofar as your head is a perceived entity. And this is, in fact,
exactly what our natural intuition tells us: our heads are in the ‘physical’
world, not the ‘physical’ world in our heads. It’s so obvious it’s almost
embarrassing.
Amazingly, thus, casual physicalists attribute to Idealism precisely
one of the most counterintuitive aspects of their own metaphysics
(namely, that the world of perception is inside our head), while
attributing to Physicalism one of the most intuitive aspects of Idealism
(namely, that the world of perception is not inside our head, but our head
in the world of perception). It’s quite an ironic cultural game of bait-and-
switch.
The discussion about Analytic Idealism above is a bit of a digression, in
that I am still to elaborate much more carefully on what Analytic
Idealism is, what it entails and implies, why you should take it seriously,
etc. This will come in later chapters. But I am deliberately dropping hints
and partial characterizations of Analytic Idealism as I go along for two
reasons: first, to slowly acclimatize you to a different perspective, a
different way of thinking about reality; and second, to immediately
establish contrasts between mainstream Physicalism and Idealism, so to
constantly highlight to you the importance of being critical about
metaphysics in general, and Physicalism in particular.
There is one more thing mainstream Physicalism has going for it; one
that is particularly pernicious: mainstream media bias, especially the
science media. I am not suggesting conspiracies of any form here, and I
don’t believe there is any (frankly, I don’t think the people involved are
clever enough to pull off such a thing). What happens is much more
banal: good-old human insecurity, laziness, opportunism, careerism,
disregard for ethics, and, of course, stupidity.
As I mentioned earlier, research has consistently shown—for over a
decade, with results reproduced by many different research groups, using
a variety of psychedelic substances and imaging instruments—that
psychedelics only reduce brain activity, not increasing it anywhere in the
brain beyond measurement error margins. I have discussed and
documented this ad nauseam, in multiple publications, such as my
Scientific American article with Prof. Edward F. Kelly, titled
“Misreporting and Confirmation Bias in Psychedelic Research” (2018),
as well as Chapter 27 of my earlier book, Science Ideated (2021).
But if you were to read a report published on CNN on April 13, 2016
—titled “This is your brain on LSD, literally” and authored by journalist
James Griffiths—you would have found the following statement:
“Images of the brain under a hallucinogenic state showed almost the
entire organ lit up with activity ... The visual cortex became much more
active with the rest of the brain” (my emphasis). However, the scientific
paper covered in this report—namely, “Neural correlates of the LSD
experience revealed by multimodal neuroimaging,” by Robin Carhart-
Harris et al.—stated no such thing. Not only that, it showed precisely the
opposite: that brain activity decreases across the brain, and across
frequency bands, in the psychedelic state induced by LSD. How can the
science media report precisely the opposite of what the study has found?
A key illustration in the scientific paper depicts a brain with regions
highlighted in yellow, orange, and red. But what those colors mean is an
increase in resting-state functional connectivity (RSFC) across brain
areas, in the psychedelic state. In other words, brain activity is reduced
across the brain with LSD, but the residual activity that is left exhibits
relatively more correlation across different brain areas. The journalist
reporting on the study, however, seems to have neglected to read the
figure’s captions, thereby reporting what he thought he was looking at,
which happens to have been precisely the opposite of what the study
found. I have publicly called for a correction of this report multiple
times, not only towards CNN but also towards the study’s authors, who I
think have the ethical responsibility to at least try to correct
misrepresentations of their work by the media. Nonetheless, as I write
these words, almost exactly seven years later, the appallingly incorrect
report is still to be found on CNN’s website.
But this is just the beginning. Reporting on the exact same study, the
Guardian newspaper in the UK—in a report titled “LSD’s impact on the
brain revealed in groundbreaking images,” by Ian Sample, science editor
of the Guardian, on April 11, 2016—reproduced a version of the very
figure in question, but with one twist: all references to RSFC—i.e.,
references that explain what the figure means—were removed. Instead,
the Guardian added the following caption: “A second image shows
different sections of the brain, either on placebo, or under the influence
of LSD (lots of orange).” As a reader, you cannot know what “lots of
orange” mean, unless the original figure caption had been reproduced, or
replaced with running text. And when you see a brain under LSD
depicted with ‘lots more orange’ than a brain under placebo, you are
bound to conclude that LSD lights up the brain like a Christmas tree. Yet
the opposite is what was actually found.
The CNN report, in fact, reproduces the exact same figure, edited in
the exact same way, so as to remove references to RSFC. Both CNN and
the Guardian credit Imperial College London as the source of the image.
It is impossible for me to determine which party actually edited the
original to remove the references. But if the science institution in
question is responsible for the, well, ‘simplification’ of the figure, I am
being unfair to the media and the problem is a lot more alarming than I
thought at first. Be that as it may, as of this writing both reports are still
online.
Two years earlier, the same group from Imperial College London had
published another paper on the neuroscience of the psychedelic state:
“Enhanced repertoire of brain dynamical states during the psychedelic
experience,” by Enzo Tagliazucchi et al. (2014). That study found that,
in the psychedelic state, brain activity variability increases in dream-
related areas. In other words, although brain activity decreases in the
psychedelic state—which many other studies have shown ad nauseam—
the residual activity left behind varies more. The difference between
activity and activity variability is entirely analogous to that between
speed and acceleration: the latter is the first derivative of the former; they
are not the same thing.
To produce this result, the study did a power spectrum analysis of the
brain activity signal read out by brain imaging instruments. Technically,
we say that such an analysis happens in the frequency domain. And
because it does not preserve phase information, one cannot transpose the
conclusions to the time domain. To put it less technically, the study was
such that no statements could be made about the amplitude of the brain
activity signal in time, which could otherwise have shown how much
brain activity there was. All the study could say is whether that activity
—however high or low it might be—varies more under psychedelics. I
am going through the trouble of explicitly naming the technical issues
here because I want to impress upon you that, as someone with a
background in electronics engineering, I understand the signal
processing science behind the study very well; it’s rather straightforward
stuff for anyone who studied electronic communications.
But several media outlets reported on this study by stating that it
found brain activity increases in dream-related areas of the brain, in the
psychedelic state. For instance, the Washington Post—in a report titled
“Psychedelic mushrooms put your brain in a ‘waking dream,’ study
finds,” by journalist Rachel Feltman, on July 3, 2014—stated: “After
injections, the 15 participants were found to have increased brain
function in areas associated with emotion and memory” (my emphasis).
They then went ahead and quoted study coauthor (!) Robin Carhart-
Harris in an interview as having said: “You’re seeing these [dream-
related] areas getting louder, and more active” (my emphasis). And: “It’s
like someone’s turned up the volume there, in these regions that are
considered part of an emotional system in the brain. When you look at a
brain during dream sleep, you see the same hyperactive emotion centers”
(my emphasis). But the scientific paper says nothing of the kind; it says
only that activity variability increases in dream-related areas of the brain,
not activity per se; the methodology of the study makes it structurally
impossible to extract conclusions about the latter.
I immediately e-mailed the paper’s authors seeking clarification. In
private e-mail correspondence, first-author Enzo Tagliazucchi confirmed
to me, in writing, that I was correct. Involved in the correspondence,
Carhart-Harris acknowledged that he indeed had misunderstood the
conclusions of the study. I find this plausible, as Carhart-Harris doesn’t
seem to have a background in signal processing, and the technical issues
involved can be tricky for a layperson. Nonetheless, I fully expected that
he and Tagliazucchi would promptly issue public corrections, since the
incorrect statements were prominently featured by the media and
scientific integrity demanded decisive action. But no such correction has
ever been made, despite my publicly calling for it repeatedly over the
years.
Not only that, Carhart-Harris penned a popular science essay on the
science blog The Conversation, where he insists on the error: “psilocybin
increased the amplitude (or ‘volume’) of activity in regions of the brain
that are reliably activated during dream sleep” (my emphasis), he wrote.
This is flat-out and unreservedly false: amplitude can only be determined
in time-domain analyses, not from a power spectrum lacking phase
information (technically, without phase information one cannot know
whether the frequency components interfere constructively or
destructively with one another, in the time domain). As I write these
words, in 2023, one could still find this quote in his essay “Magic
mushrooms expand your mind and amplify your brain’s dreaming areas –
here’s how,” published on July 3, 2014.
He has argued by e-mail that the word ‘activity’ is ambiguous and,
therefore, could be interpreted as activity variability. I believe this is
brazenly false and insisting on it is, at the very least, irresponsibly and
gratuitously misleading; for any educated reader will read ‘activity’ as,
well, activity. Moreover, later in the very same essay, Carhart-Harris
does use the word ‘activity’ in the correct, normal sense: “Our first study,
published in Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences in 2012,
revealed decreases in brain activity after injection of psilocybin” (my
emphasis). What the paper cited shows is a proper reduction in activity,
not activity variability. It therefore continues to baffle me that, almost a
decade later, none of these errors—including those in an essay penned by
Carhart-Harris himself—have been corrected.
It gets worse. A few years later, in a social media exchange in which
I, once again, publicly called on the authors to issue corrections, Enzo
Tagliazucchi stated that it was me who misunderstood the implications of
their signal analysis, mistaking frequency-domain for time-domain
conclusions. He wrote on X, then known as Twitter: “We had a long time
ago the same discussion when you confused changes in BOLD activity
levels with changes in BOLD variance” (this tweet, published at 6:26
PM CET on October 27, 2018, is still online as of this writing).
Astonishingly, Tagliazucchi was accusing me of the very error his
coauthor Carhart-Harris had made towards the media, which I had
pointed out to them four years earlier! This, of course, prompted me to
immediately publish the full record of the correspondence we had had on
the topic, on my personal blog, under the title “Setting the record straight
with Robin Carhart-Harris and Enzo Tagliazucchi,” on October 28, 2018.
I do not believe that malice was involved in any of the original errors
(though I reserve judgment about the continuing unwillingness of the
people in question to publicly correct those mistakes). I believe that
Carhart-Harris honestly misunderstood the signal analysis that his own
colleague had performed and reported. I also believe that Tagliazucchi
sincerely misremembered who was confused about what. Yet, how could
he not only misremember something so simple, but invert the facts? How
could Carhart-Harris communicate towards the mainstream media, with
obvious confidence and authoritativeness, something he had not
understood at all—because he lacks the background—and should have
known better? Here’s your answer: since Physicalism has to be right—
we all know it is right, don’t we?—it must have been the case that brain
activity increased in dream-related areas; for this is exactly what
physicalists would have expected to see, due to the similarities between
psychedelic and dream states. The fact that the study’s methodology
cannot—and was never meant to—measure the amplitude of brain
activity played a minor de facto role in face of such powerful theoretical
prejudices. Moreover, since non-physicalists are always wrong—we all
know that too, don’t we?—it must have been Bernardo Kastrup who got
confused about the methodology four years prior, not a physicalist
coauthor of the very study in question.
In science we call this ‘confirmation bias,’ this case being, in my
opinion, a spectacular and grotesquely sustained instance thereof. This is
why I considered it worthy of recounting in detail: it makes the otherwise
abstract notion of confirmation bias very concrete; it brings it to life in
all its rawness. Had I not told you about these specific, real-life facts, I
might have left you with the impression that my claims about
confirmation bias are merely vague, generic, unsubstantiated, and
perhaps even biased themselves. But with concrete, living examples,
such as the above, I hopefully could impress upon you the alarming
reality of confirmation bias.
More generally, confirmation bias means this: when you expect
certain results or conclusions with deep but unexamined and uncritical
confidence, you will see—and therefore report—what you expect to see,
regardless of what is actually in front of your eyes. You will also design
your experiments to find what you expect to find, as opposed to what is
there to be found. Finally, you will do your statistical analysis so as to
carve out and highlight what you expect to be the case, and filter out
more significant effects that you consider a priori impossible. You may
even read into your results—and thereafter communicate to the press—
what you believe they should imply, instead of what they actually imply.
And once you are publicly caught in this web, it becomes difficult to
disentangle yourself from it without harm to your reputation and career;
the only perceived option is to double-down. Therefore, errors are
perpetuated; no one corrects anything; one just hides behind precarious
and lamentable language games, such as the notion that the word
‘activity’ is so ambiguous as to mean variability, or functional
connectivity, or entropy, or whatever else you find increasing in the brain
under psychedelics. Under the pretext of making things ‘simpler and
easier for intellectually stunted science journalists,’ crucial details are
omitted in press materials, which allow for a result that clearly
contradicts physicalist expectations to be misinterpreted—and then
misreported—as corroborating these expectations. This is the world we
live in. The confirmation bias injected into science by the metaphysics of
Physicalism is probably the most powerful there has ever been.
But I don’t want to leave you with the impression that the problem is
localized and contained. So I shall give you one more example. In a 2014
scientific paper titled “Homological scaffolds of brain functional
networks,” by G. Petri et al., researchers tried to illustrate how the
correlations across residual activity in different brain areas increase
under psychedelics (even though activity itself decreases). To do this,
they used graphs with linked nodes, different nodes representing
different brain areas, and the links representing the correlations between
the respective areas. They then applied successively lower thresholds of
correlation for drawing the links, until enough links—whatever ‘enough’
means in this case—were visible in the graph. This, of course, created
the arguably artificial and misleading appearance that the brain under
psychedelics exhibits dramatically increased global connectivity.
In all fairness to the researchers, in the scientific paper they warn that
the graphs are but “simplified cartoons,” encouraging caution in their
interpretation. However, these same graphs were subsequently used, with
no such qualification, by respected journalist Michael Pollan in his book
How to Change Your Mind (Penguin, 2018) as the primary ‘evidence’ for
a physicalist interpretation of the results. Puzzlingly, Pollan barely
mentions the far more impressive and direct measurements of decreased
brain activity reported in multiple other studies. In how many other
popular science books, newspaper reports, and magazine essays, do you
think confirmation biases such as this can be found? And how many of
them pass for perfectly good and trustworthy science material?
The problem here is not theoretical or abstract; it’s becoming
increasingly more concrete and alarming as we transition from Internet
search engines to AI queries, such as OpenAI’s ChatGPT chatbot.
Indeed, traditionally, when using the Internet to find an answer to some
question, we did so through search engines like Google. We knew that
many search results were questionable, unreliable, or even flat-out
malicious, and thus proceeded with caution. We took responsibility for
finding the correct answer, for we knew that doing so depended on the
quality of our search and our ability to critically evaluate the results. We
didn’t expect that Google would always give us truth; we knew it
couldn’t do that.
But as we begin to abandon search engines and pose, instead,
questions to AI chatbots in natural language, our psychology leads us to
believe the answers produced by the chatbot as if they were truths
pronounced by an all-knowing oracle who understands what it is saying.
The reason is that we no longer see search engine results; we no longer
see the sources of the information being conveyed to us. Instead, we see
a human-like answer on the screen, as if an authoritative professor were
verbally elucidating the issue. And since often that answer is true, we
slowly let our guard down and drift towards trusting all answers
uncritically. This is similar to how we slowly drift towards trusting
autonomous driving software, even if in the beginning we feel rather
edgy about letting go of the steering wheel. The result is that we lose our
ability to be critical of the answers and begin to believe in fallacious and
even malicious material.
Linking this back to our discussion on media bias: AI chatbots collect
the information they provide you with by crawling the Internet. They
will look at magazine articles, blogs, news reports, etc., so to find the
information you are looking for. And when those sources are biased and
wrong, so will the answers the chatbots give you. For chatbots, despite
being considered instances of ‘artificial intelligence,’ in fact have no
understanding of what they are saying; none whatsoever. They are
merely natural language interfaces to search engines. As such, even if
their algorithms favor sources with high credibility scores—such as
CNN, the Guardian, The Wall Street Journal, and the academic blog The
Conversation, all of which are much more credible than your neighbor’s
social media feed—the nonsense will still make its way to you, because
of reporting biases at the highest echelons of academia and journalism. It
is crucial for our future as a society that we understand this.
To test my own point above, I decided to ask ChatGPT a question (in
May 2023): “Do psychedelics increase brain activity?” ChatGPT’s
answer: “Yes, psychedelics can increase brain activity ... [they] can lead
to increased activity in ... the default mode network (DMN) ... It should
be noted that while psychedelics can increase brain activity in certain
regions, they can also lead to decreased activity in other regions. For
example, research has shown that psychedelics can decrease activity in
the default mode network” (my emphasis). Obviously, this answer cannot
be correct, as it is internally contradictory; and it is so in a very specific
—not a merely generic—manner. Clearly, ChatGPT has no
understanding of what it is saying; it simply provides a natural language
interface to search results. In reality, research has consistently shown that
psychedelics reduce brain activity, primarily and precisely in the Default
Mode Network. Where do you think ChatGPT’s ‘confusion’ comes from?
AI chatbots are not intelligent in any way remotely akin to how you
and I are intelligent. AI chatbots do not understand anything; they just
collect and present information in natural language format; they reword
back to us what is written out there in the wilds of the Internet. So when
the media reports on scientific results in an inaccurate, biased manner—
or worse, when the researchers themselves do so—those errors and
biases are incorporated into our cultural database; the ‘oracle’ that the
vast majority of the population will be consulting to inform their lives for
the next decades. This is perhaps the biggest thing Physicalism will have
going for it in the future.
But there is more. The psychedelic science cases of media and
confirmation bias discussed above are particularly appalling, but
countless seemingly innocent instances of the same bias are happening
literally every day. Let us take memory, for instance: a core premise of
Physicalism is that memory is information physically stored somewhere
in the brain, just as your files are physically stored in your computer’s
main storage drive. This premise has a scientific implication: we should
be able to find memory information in physical brain states.
Science has been trying to find this secret information storage for
well over a century, with results that often contradict the physicalist
premise. For instance, in 2013 researchers reported on an amazing study:
little aquatic flatworms called ‘planaria’—which have the remarkable
ability to regrow amputated body parts, including their head—were
trained to navigate an irregular surface to find food. The researchers then
decapitated the planaria—thereby removing their neurons, which are in
their head—and waited for two weeks until a new head grew. With a
brand-new head in place, the planaria maintained their originally trained
ability to navigate the rough surfaces to find their food, without
additional training. Somehow the planaria remembered their training
even after their head was severed, contradicting the premise that
memories are physically stored in (networks of) neurons. After all, if you
throw your computer’s main storage drive away, you will not expect that
the brand-new one you just bought will automatically have all of your
old files in it. The research in question has been published in the paper
“An automated training paradigm reveals long-term memory in
planarians and its persistence through head regeneration,” by Tal
Shomrat and Michael Levin, published in the Journal of Experimental
Biology in October 2013.
But I digress. The point I am trying to make is not per se that
Physicalism is wrong when it comes to memories—though it clearly is—
but that scientific results about memories are reported inaccurately and
with bias in favor of Physicalism. To see this, let us take a press release
put out on September 10, 2008, by UCLA Health: “How memories are
made, and recalled.” The press release ambitiously claims that “scientists
at UCLA and the Weizmann Institute of Science in Israel have recorded
individual brain cells in the act of calling up a memory, thus revealing
where in the brain a specific memory is stored and how the brain is able
to recreate it” (my emphasis). But when one actually reads the technical
paper, a very different picture emerges.
Here’s what the researchers did: having instrumented subjects with
electrodes to record neuronal activity, they asked the subjects to watch
short video clips. They then recorded the patterns of neuronal firings
during the experience of watching the video clips. Some time later, the
subjects were asked to remember what they had watched. Their patterns
of brain activation were recorded again. Lo and behold, roughly the same
patterns of neuronal firings were observed during the primary experience
and the recall of the experience.
Is this result at all surprising? We have known for a long time that
many types of subjective experience correlate with specific patterns of
brain activation (except, of course, psychedelic states, syncope,
hyperventilation states, brain damage associated with acquired savant
syndrome, states of cardiac arrest, etc.; but I digress again). Therefore,
insofar as the experiences of watching a video clip and recalling the
video clip are qualitatively similar, of course the associated patterns of
neuronal activation should be similar; duh. This says precisely nothing
about the supposed physical mechanisms underlying memory.
The relevant question here is this: how does the brain know which
neurons to reactivate during the recall experience? How does it
remember which neurons were active during the original experience of
watching the video? Where is the information stored, and later retrieved,
which tells the brain which neurons to reactivate during recall? That’s
what would say something about where memories are stored in the brain.
But the study says nothing about it. That the same neurons go active
during recall is at least largely irrelevant to elucidating how the brain
knows which ones to reactivate. The press release’s claim—a UCLA
press release, mind you—that researchers revealed where in the brain a
specific memory is stored is unjustified. Indeed, it takes some very
charitable imagination jiu-jitsu to figure out a sense in which the claim
can relate to the actual experiment.
But we live in an age where doing science is a career job, and
research institutions fight tooth-and-nail for funding. Scientists go
through performance appraisals every year. Funding and careers can only
be secured if visible and relevant progress is made and announced to the
world with great fanfare. So people and institutions have every
motivation to exaggerate and mislead when communicating to society at
large, to highlight the great progress and relevance of their results;
without it, there may be less funding and less jobs next year. And since
the foundational metaphysical assumption of our culture is Physicalism,
the exaggerations and biases consistently toe the line of Physicalism;
otherwise, they would attract the wrong kind of attention and scrutiny.
Nobody wants that.
Still on the topic of memory, another research group announced, in
2009, the discovery that memory storage may be associated with the
interplay between synaptic activity and DNA transcription in the nucleus
of neurons (see “Reducing memory to a molecule: A researcher explores
the molecular essence of memory,” by M. Hendricks, Johns Hopkins
Institute for Basic Biomedical Sciences). A 2012 study, on the other
hand, discovered that memories may be encoded digitally in neuronal
microtubules—structures in the neuronal cytoplasm, not in the nucleus
(see “Cytoskeletal signaling: Is memory encoded in microtubule lattices
by CaMKII phosphorylation?” by T.J. Craddock et al., published in
PLoS Computational Biology). Yet another 2012 study announced the
discovery that memories may be stored as patterns of inter-neuron
synaptic connections in the hippocampus (see “Synaptic conditions for
auto-associative memory storage and pattern completion,” by E.Y. Cheu
et al., in the Journal of Computational Neuroscience). All these studies
claimed fundamental scientific advancements confirming the physicalist
premise that memories are stored physically in the brain. The only
problem is: the conclusions are mutually contradictory.
Don’t get me wrong: there are true and relevant scientific discoveries
in probably most of these studies. The problem is that, to highlight their
relevance, broad metaphysical claims are made that are often entirely
unsubstantiated by the results. For instance, researchers often fail to
distinguish memory pathways—i.e., neuronal mechanisms correlated
with memory access—from memory storage. If a person becomes
unable to recall short-term memories because of damage to certain areas
of the brain, maybe ‘physical’ structures correlated with memory access
have been compromised, not memory storage itself (otherwise, the well-
known phenomenon of ‘terminal lucidity’—look it up—wouldn’t be
possible). But alas, this kind of careful and rigorous reasoning is all but
absent when it comes to the science media and the press offices of
research institutions. The result is a circus of misleading, biased, and
sometimes flat-out false claims being pumped out to and by the media, in
an effort to successfully compete in the funding—and career—
marketplace.
If you are a casual educated reader simply going over the latest
science headlines, you are bound to come away convinced that the
physicalist premise that memories are stored physically in the brain has
been scientifically proven over and over again. Here are a couple of the
headlines published in association with the studies mentioned above:
“Reducing memory to a molecule,” “Scientists claim brain memory code
cracked,” and so on. So many times will you have read similar headlines,
claiming major advances in pinning down the physical location and
mechanisms of recall, you just won’t think it possible that they are all
wrong. Yet, as far as metaphysics is concerned, they more than likely
are, not least due to the fact that the claims are mutually contradictory.
The issue is that Physicalism, for being mainstream, provides a cover of
protection for journalists and scientists alike: if you interpret and report
results along physicalist lines, you are less likely—or so the calculation
goes—to go wrong and be punished for it than if you dare to contradict
the mainstream narrative. The latter will attract critical scrutiny, put you
on the defensive, motivate scorn by your colleagues (who are competing
against you for that promotion or that funding, and will smell blood the
moment you hint at a non-physicalist position), entice the public ire of
big-mouthed pundits who do no science but make a career of talking
about it, dramatically reduce your chances of getting a paper or report
published, and so on. At the very least, it will triple the amount of work
you will need to do to defend your point. In a newsroom, the difference
between safely cowering under physicalist cover or critically questioning
it is that of having your report published immediately, or seeing it
escalated to management, scrutinized meeting after meeting, having
more work demanded of you, and all this for a much higher risk of
rejection.
If you go with Physicalism and err, you will be forgiven, for how
could anyone have imagined that things aren’t quite like Physicalism
predicts, right? But if you go against it and err, God help you; you will
be branded a nut with untrustworthy judgment and face an immediate
career glass-ceiling. Therefore, if you have big career ambitions and less
big commitments to ethics, you may calculate that it’s best to confirm
general expectations, even when you know that you are misleading the
public and misrepresenting your own results. People willing to do so are
the ones who stand the greatest chance of finding themselves in
influential and well-paid positions—department heads, chair professors,
and whatnot—for obvious reasons. Universities and news organizations
compete in an arena where schmoozing with power is king, and power is
older; power is old-fashioned; power is physicalist. Ergo, firing a shot
against it is akin to shooting yourself in the foot. It takes great
intellectual, scientific, and journalistic integrity to objectively pursue
reason and evidence in a rigorous manner, whatever the cost. Alas, such
level of integrity appears to be rare. The more popular calculation seems
to be that it’s best to err on the side of Physicalism. This is what
perpetuates our current metaphysical insanity like a self-fulfilling
prophecy, to the point that—scandalously—the very opposite of the true
findings is what sometimes gets reported.
Clearly, thus, despite being the worst metaphysics on the table today—
the most internally inconsistent to the point of incoherence, the most
empirically inadequate, having the weakest explanatory power, etc.—
culturally speaking Physicalism has a lot going for it: a perceived (and
self-fulfilling) lack of rational alternatives, the prevalence of unexamined
physicalist assumptions leading to widespread question-begging, the
delusion that Physicalism underpins science and technology
methodologically, the vagueness and resulting unfalsifiability of
Physicalism, general public ignorance of what is entailed and implied by
Physicalism, and brazen confirmation bias in science and the media in
favor of Physicalism. This is why it continues to dominate our culture,
despite its untenability being so self-evident and overwhelming to those
who care to look a little closer. But who will have the time and
background to look closer, unless they are a philosopher specialized in
the subject? Who will be able to muster the required energy and
discipline, in late evening hours after arriving home from a tiring day at
work, to critically study the relevant, often highly technical literature?
And thus the colorful carnival wheel of metaphysical drivel, ironically
cladded in the garments of science and reason, continues to go merrily
round.
Chapter 5
The remedy is worse than the disease
In his Lectures on the Philosophy of History (1837), Georg Hegel
introduced into the Western mind the idea of historical evolution, the
notion that humanity somehow progresses in the course of time,
advances, gets better in some significant sense, steadily minimizing
some error or cost function. Charles Darwin latched onto the underlying
intuition in his own On the Origin of the Species (1859)—indeed, as
Friedrich Nietzsche stated in The Joyful Wisdom (1882), “without Hegel,
no Darwin”—and cemented steady evolution as one of the most
powerful, fertile, and consequential ideas in Western thought. Early 20th
-
century Positivism, Marxism, Scientism, New Thought, etc., all have
their inception in this now deeply ingrained intuition of linear,
monotonic increases in human insight.
Never mind that Thomas Kuhn already comprehensively demolished
such a naïve and arbitrary idea in his seminal book, The Structure of
Scientific Revolutions (1962), and that Carl Jung already provided a
more empirically adequate model of the dynamics of our epistemology—
namely, ‘circumambulation’—than linear evolution: today, we still like
to regard all mainstream scientific and philosophical developments since
the Enlightenment as linear steps forward. Even if earlier Enlightened
models or ideas turn out to be false, we find ways to regard them as
merely incomplete steps that, nonetheless, played a positive role in
opening the doors to a deeper understanding.
Allow me to belabor this point a bit, for it is crucial to our
understanding of ourselves, and of how we go about the business of
metaphysics. We like to see our errors as things we can build upon; we
like to conjure up and attribute value to all our endeavors, even when
they turn out to be just silly. Our psychology has made it extremely
challenging for us to recognize that, sometimes, we are just flat-out
wrong and that’s all there is to it. It makes us uncomfortable to think that
certain ideas we’ve adopted as a culture were just a royal waste of time
that led to nothing. We feel the need to validate even our worst missteps,
because in doing so we validate ourselves; we get that warm and fuzzy
feeling that our efforts somehow always lead to something of value,
incomplete as they may be.
As the obvious shortcomings of mainstream Physicalism begin to
erode the confidence of even the most prejudiced and pigheaded
intellectual elites, the need to regard it as incomplete—as opposed to just
silly—is now reaching overwhelming levels. And so it is that, since the
late 1980s or so, an effort has been underway in academia to reframe
Physicalism as a merely insufficient step in the right direction. This effort
goes by the name of ‘Micro-Constitutive Panpsychism’—or simply
Panpsychism, as I shall call it henceforth.
There are two different formulations of Panpsychism. I’ll first discuss
their differences and then elaborate on what they have in common.
The first formulation is the notion that elementary subatomic
particles (henceforth simply ‘fundamental particles’), in addition to
physical properties such as mass, charge and momentum, also have
fundamental experiential properties. In this view, experience is simply
added as an extra property of matter, next to the other known ones.
The second formulation of Panpsychism, on the other hand, states
that experience is the intrinsic nature of fundamental particles; that is,
what we call a fundamental particle essentially is experience, which then
manifests itself outwardly, through interaction with other fundamental
particles, in the form of the other known properties, such as mass,
charge, momentum, etc.
Notice that these two formulations really are different. In the first
case experience is simply another property of matter, while in the second
case matter is experience. Yet, their underlying spirit is the same. Indeed,
what makes both formulations panpsychist—as opposed to idealist—is
this: in both cases, the structure of experience—i.e., of subjectivity itself
—is supposed to be the structure of the distribution of fundamental
particles across space and time. In both cases, the world is constituted
by these fundamental particles, which, in turn, are the carriers and
subjects of experience. Therefore, the way the particles arrange
themselves in space and time is the way subjectivity arranges itself.
In addition, under both formulations of Panpsychism there is
something it feels like to be a fundamental particle; there is something it
feels like to be an electron, a quark, or a photon: electrons, quarks and
photons not only have standalone reality, they also are conscious in and
of themselves; each photon, each quark, each electron is a little
microscopic subject of experience, or ‘micro-subject.’ Our conscious
inner life is supposed to be the aggregate result of how these discrete
micro-subjects arrange themselves and interact with one another inside
our body. The micro-subjects constituting our brain somehow combine
with one another inside our skull to give rise to our seemingly unitary
subjectivity—i.e., to what it feels like to be us.
The motivation for Panpsychism is obvious: since mainstream
Physicalism has predictably failed to explain (qualitative) experience in
terms of (purely quantitative) physical stuff, the panpsychist just deems
the existence of experience to be a brute aspect of physicality that
requires no explanation; and presto, no more ‘hard problem of
consciousness’! The idea is to stick to the same irreducible, basic
building blocks of nature that mainstream Physicalism already
postulates. In the mind of the panpsychist, these basic building blocks
are the fundamental particles: microscopic little ‘marbles’ that have
equally irreducible properties—i.e., properties that cannot be explained
in terms of anything else. The panpsychist then simply postulates that
experiential states are either (a) just one more type of fundamental
property of the particles, essentially extrapolating the line already drawn
under Physicalism; or (b) the inner essence of the particles, which fills in
a hole left open by Physicalism.
The critique of Panpsychism that follows presupposes only what the
two formulations discussed above have in common. Therefore, I shall
henceforth no longer differentiate between them.
Notice that Panpsychism explains precisely nothing: it simply finds a
subterfuge to avoid the need for an explanation. If this were to be
considered a valid line of reasoning, then any vexing empirical
observation could be trivially ‘accounted for’ in the same manner: How
do we make sense of the fine-tuning of the universal constants? Well, it
is just a brute fact of physicality. How can we account for why people
with no risk factors still develop cancer? Well, it is just a brute fact of
physicality. And so on. Is this in the spirit of philosophical and scientific
inquiry? (If you think Analytic Idealism—for also considering
experience fundamental in nature—is guilty of the same sin, then read
on; I will tackle this question very explicitly later. For now, if you are so
inclined, you could try and think about it yourself, so we could compare
notes later.)
No comments:
Post a Comment