“And how do you explain that it doesn’t affect your relationship with your parents?”
“I don’t know. At times I wonder if my brain isn’t split in two, one part does the thinking; one part decides how to behave.”
“The two parts aren’t connected in your view?”
“Yes, that’s the way it seems. I can imagine almost anything and it doesn’t influence my behavior. After dinner the other night, I found myself thinking I was a Hollywood star and that people were seeking my autograph. Then I woke up and continued cleaning the kitchen, which I had been doing all along.”
“Go on.”
“At other times, I find myself behaving in ways I hadn’t planned.”
“For example?’
“Let’s see. The other day I took my car to be fixed. I noticed that the mechanic had a political sticker on the shop wall. It wasn’t a candidate I like. Soon I was involved in a heated argument with him over the merits of our candidates. I never do things like that, never once that I can remember.”
Mrs. X had solved my problem. I would start with dualism and monism. “Philosophy, here I come,” I thought.
A LONG HISTORY
For as long as there have been philosophers, there have been questions about beliefs. What are they? How are they created? Do they qualify as knowledge? Are they useful? How can they be justified?
Ancient Greece is a convenient place to pick up on their interest. A familiar group—Socrates, Plato, Aristotle, Heraclitus, and Empedocles, to name only a few—created an agenda of issues not only for their time but also for much of philosophy through today. During the ensuing millennia, Descartes, Hume, Locke, Berkeley, Spinoza, Bergson, Kant, Hegel, Russell, Heidegger, Lovejoy, James, Pepper, Wittgenstein, Quine, Fodor, and Dennett—again, to name only a few—as well as members of the church such as Augustine, Aquinas, and Cardinal Newman have grappled with the same issues, enlarged the agenda, and added amendments of their own.1 Over the same period, members of so-called primitive societies have been engaged in similar activities.2 Philosophy largely dominated inquiry until circa 1900. Since then, psychology and neuroscience have been active participants.
ABOUT THIS CHAPTER
Given the time involved and the brain power of philosophers, a formidable body of knowledge and theory has evolved. Thus, it is fitting to inquire about its relevance to belief and divides. I make no attempt to address the entire corpus of this knowledge, its complexity, or its many nuances. The modest aims of this chapter are as follows: to evaluate two philosophical views as they relate to belief and divides, to assess if and how they are informative, and to review selected findings from neuroscience.
First, it is worth discussing monism and dualism, two very different philosophical views with clear implications for belief and divides. I am interested in inquiring briefly as to why dualism persists. Monism, the view on which this book is based, is the next section in which the emphasis is on how monistic-based beliefs interweave with memory, situational belief, emotion, findings from neuroscience, and energy conservation by the brain.
As the chapter unfolds, recall that divide references how individuals—not others—perceive the distance between a belief and the evidence they take as justifying the belief to be true. Divides may be narrow, wide, somewhere in between, or indeterminate. A narrow divide is present when a person perceives that a belief is strongly supported by evidence. A wide divide is present when a person perceives that there is no evidence supporting a belief. When a divide is indeterminate, a perceiver is uncertain if there is evidence that might justify a belief.
MONISM AND DUALISM
Much of what philosophers have discussed regarding belief and divides falls under the umbrellas of monism and dualism.
While the German philosopher Christian Freiherr von Wolff (1679–1754) first introduced the term monism in the eighteenth century, the view has roots extending back to well before the ancient Greeks. It is found in an early form in the writings of the pre-Socratic philosopher Parmenides. He argued that mind—the complex of elements in an individual that feel, perceive, think, will, and reason—and the physical brain are not separate and can be explained by one unifying principle or as manifestations of a single substance.
Identifying and characterizing the unifying principle or single substance are two of the tasks philosophers have embraced, and myriad attempts have been devoted to just these tasks. The results have fallen short of agreement, however. Monistic theories differ significantly in what is viewed as the unifying principle. It may be material, as in the doctrine that energy is the only reality. It may be spiritual, as it is for Hegel, in which mind or spirit is the true reality. For Spinoza, it is a substance or a deity of which the mind and body are attributes. Or it may be some mixture of mass, structure, energy, time, space, and information, a possibility to which we will come.
Dualism assumes that the mind and the physical brain represent two distinct and irreducible separate principles. Like monism, dualism takes many forms. For Plato, there is an ultimate dualism in being and becoming. For Kant, there is an ontological dualism between the nominal (that which is apprehended by thought) and the phenomenal or experienced world. It also has a theological application as among the Manichaeans—a religion roughly contemporary in time with the Roman Empire—whose founder viewed evil in the world as resulting from an ultimate evil principle, coeternal with good.3 For many neuroscientists, psychologists, and poets, there are variations of these views.4
DUALISM
Dualism and monism carry very different implications for these pages. The view taken here is monistic: essentially, what we usually refer to as “the mind” and “the brain” represent two ways of characterizing a single biological system that can be studied scientifically.5 This means that a scientific explanation of beliefs and divides will be incomplete unless it is grounded in biology. For dualism, explanations of beliefs and divides pay minimal heed to their biological origins. Given the differences in these views, it might then seem that a further discussion of dualism could be dispensed with. Read on.
Although dualism has a history dating back to well before ancient Greece, it is most often associated with the French philosopher Rene Descartes (1596–1650) and what is arguably the most famous axiom in philosophy: “I think, therefore I am.” For Descartes, the physical world is mechanistic and divorced from the thinking mind—that is, what we experience in awareness. There is perhaps no clearer description of dualism. In its strongest form, it allows for literally no interaction between the brain and its mechanisms and mind.
Descartes’s assertion has had an influential yet controversial place in philosophy. It has been subject to serious criticism not only by philosophers but also by scholars from other disciplines. For example, the social psychologist George Herbert Mead views it this way:
The unsatisfactory result of this division of nature between mind and the physical universe led to the objective idealistic systems in which nature was taken entirely into mind, not as a representation of an actual or possible reality outside of mind, but as the sum total of reality. . . . The undertaking failed, for one reason, because it identified the process of reality with cognition, while experience shows that the reality which cognition seeks lies outside of cognition, was there before cognition arose, and exists independent of cognition after knowledge has been attained.6
Or, in the words of the neuroscientist Antonio Damasio:
What then, was Descartes’ error? . . . Taken literally, the statement (“I think therefore I am”) . . . suggests that thinking, and awareness of thinking, are the real substrates of being. And since we know that Descartes imagined thinking as an activity quite separate from the body, it does celebrate the separation of mind, the “thinking thing,” (res cogitans), from the nonthinking body, that which has extension and mechanical parts (res extensa).7
In 1949, philosopher Gilbert Ryle characterized dualism as a “category error” and “the ghost in the machine.” For Ryle, the d
eath of dualism as a viable philosophy was only a matter of time.8
And, nearly two decades ago, psychologist Henry Plotkin summed up much of the criticism as follows:
What philosophy has done is refine the problems of knowledge without giving us answers that square either with ordinary life or with the extraordinary success of science itself.9
There is far more to Descartes’s views than those that are considered here.10 However to discuss them would divert attention from a key point: namely, that Plotkin’s evaluation is spot-on. “Ordinary life” is the life most of us lead. In that life, the wisdom and concerns of philosophers often seem remote from what we experience and how we believe and behave—recall the earlier discussion about postmodernism. Nonetheless, dualism thrives. That it does clarifies in part why two-thousand-plus years of discussions about belief and divides have failed to provide compelling explanations about their biological nature and workings.
WHY DUALISM PERSISTS
We often experience things as if they are separate from our bodies. Such experiences are a type of direct evidence, and they are convincing and believable to those who experience them.
For example, close your eyes and imagine something as far-fetched as encountering a lovesick armadillo. You are likely to have a sense of an animal with an unhappy face. Now, imagine that the armadillo finds a mate. What you experience in awareness is likely to change to that of an animal with a happy face. Imaginings such as these flash into awareness and disappear rapidly—they can have a very short half-life. Nonetheless, with surprising ease, they can alter divide distance or confirm already-present views about how the world works. Unrealistic romantic afflictions, exaggerated self-appraisals, and the misinterpretation of events are often their aftermaths. Such imaginings don’t necessarily require evidence. Nor is there the recognition that unperceived brain systems are involved in their creation. We are, as a number of scholars have put it, “born dualists.”11
It’s as if such imaginings are playthings—toys of the mind, so to speak—that can be created, manipulated, remembered or forgotten at will. And as we play, which we all do, there is literally no awareness that they might be contingent on the activities of unperceived brain systems. What we experience is disconnected from the body. Only at moments when a belief is associated with an emotion such as happiness, excitement, anxiety, fear, despair, disgust, or pain or when we are focusing on some part of our body is there an appreciation of the body’s presence.
Further, we experience most actions as initiated in awareness. For example, you believe your car needs a new battery. Your mind seemingly initiates a plan to obtain one, and off to the store you go. Or you believe that it is necessary to review your finances, so one afternoon, you sit down with your spouse and discuss the family budget. Such experiences occur repeatedly as people attempt to make sense out of and manage their lives. Again, what is sensed is experienced in awareness as separate from the body; the detailed workings of the brain are hidden from awareness. There is nothing unusual about this hiddenness. The kidneys, spleen, liver, and immunological system operate twenty-four hours a day largely without any perception that they are at work.
Our perception that awareness is a system that is separate from our bodies thrives because it is consistent with our experience.
Our experience aside, however, it seems clear that our sense that our minds are separate from our bodies is untenable. Noting what happens when people are anesthetized, suffer from a severe concussion, or incur a serious brain injury should be sufficient to make this point: when the brain is not functioning, “I think, therefore I am” is nowhere to be found.12 Nonetheless, and despite Ryle’s prediction of its disappearance, a sure bet is that dualism will persist in daily life. That it will is a measure of the powerful influence of our experiences in awareness and the explanations with which they are associated. We may be able to imagine—even believe—that the brain is responsible for our perception that our minds are separate from our bodies, but that won’t change what we experience. Such influence hints at one of the brain’s seeming priorities: establishing beliefs is far more important than assessing how beliefs are created or justifying them.
MONISM
We return to monism. Five topics are discussed as they relate to belief and divides: memories of beliefs, situational belief, emotion, neuroscience findings, and energy.
MEMORIES OF BELIEFS
How are beliefs stored in the brain? One way—often referred to as representation—posits that a sentence or a symbol or a network of molecules is stored in the brain and may be accessed or recalled.13 What we experience is consistent with this view as in instances when we are aware that we are actively searching our memory to recall a belief from an earlier time. In a manner of speaking, such memories seem to be hidden in a remote closet or in an attic of the brain waiting to be found following an active search. What we experience is something like this: we sense that, somewhere in our brain, there is a belief; we search to find it; suddenly it is recalled. In effect, one brain activity is to store memories, another is to search for them, and a third is to experience them when they are found. But unlike a physically tangible item stored in the attic, which, when found, is essentially the same as it was when it was stored, beliefs often undergo change while they reside in memory and are out of awareness. How this might happen, as well as its importance for understanding belief is a topic of coming chapters.
Situational belief. Situational belief is a version of the extended mind hypothesis, which deals with how external information initiates brain activity and changes in awareness.14 For example, I am reading a book, and the telephone rings. A likely response is “someone is calling me”: external information has triggered a change in my brain activity and awareness. Such experiences are similar to school reunions, where the faces and voices of once close friends initiate long forgotten memories of past moments.
Situational belief is so commonplace, so automatic, and so effortless that its occurrence usually is unrecognized. A sink full of dirty dishes, the smell of burning toast, an unexpected explosion, everyday conversations, and a cry for help are examples. Each is associated with a change of brain activity and awareness. Add to these examples the similar effects of the written word and a clear implication is that, except perhaps for sleep, the brain is continually influenced by information from outside the body. Such influence appears to begin before birth.
Research findings are consistent with these points. For example, the amygdala is a brain center that contributes to emotional states in recipients of external information. It is particularly responsive to the direction of the gazes of others when they send messages of anger or fear. Messages sent head-on are associated with significantly less amygdala activity and emotional response compared to the same messages sent when the sender’s head is at an angle.15 The degree of exposed eye white—squinting versus open eyes—also results in different degrees of amygdala activity.16 Or, if one wishes to look to findings from studies of nonhuman primates, in certain species, submissive displays by subordinate animals directed toward dominant animals alter the brain chemistry of dominant animals.17
Situational belief explains the seeming paradox in which the absence of external information affects memory and initiates change in divides. For example, say you grew up on a farm, left the farm to attend college when you were seventeen years old, and haven’t returned since. During your absence, the farm has been bulldozed away and now is the site of a housing project. Then one day you return to the site of the farm. Many of its details—exactly where the barn was located, whether its doors opened inward or outward, and so forth—can’t be recalled. Your ability to remember is contingent on the availability of specific environmental information that no longer exists. Said differently, part of your personal history has been erased. You still believe that there was a barn and it had doors, despite the fact that memories of critical details are unavailable. You are unlikely to change your belief even though the divide about th
e barn and its doors has changed. It was narrow before you returned to the farm. Now it’s wide.
Several points follow. One deals with how to characterize the brain. Anatomically, it includes the tissue within the skull and nerve extensions throughout the body. Operationally, it may be necessary to add information from the environment, at least during periods of wakefulness. Conceived of as an operating system, the brain includes brain tissue, nerves throughout the body, and information from a variety of sources, including the environment. There appears to be little difference between a response associated with the pain of a stubbed toe or the irritation that accompanies the recognition that one’s car has a flat tire. It follows that the exclusion of environmental information from efforts to explain how the brain works invites serious review.
A second point deals with belief. External information can trigger beliefs. For example, visualizing a sudden movement in high grass may be followed nearly instantly by the belief that a snake is present.
A third point deals with divides. Divide distance varies with external-information type. For example, a difficult-to-interpret noise or smell often leads to the belief that something is amiss with a sense of uncertainty about its cause. There is an absence of evidence that can be quickly and easily interpreted. Divides are likely to be indeterminate at such moments. On the other hand, if you hear a familiar voice, such as that of your child, you will believe that your child is its source and there is no divide. Because environmental information is endless in its variety, there is literally no limit to the number of its divide-related influences on brain activity and belief.
EMOTION
There are few more-daunting areas of scientific research than that of human emotion. Part of the reason is that it is difficult to study. Awareness of an emotion may range from the barely perceivable to an extreme that dominates one’s awareness and behavior—recall my experience of reading about jaguars and water (see chapter 6). At times, two or more emotions combine, as in moments of fear and disgust.
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