We can see why this distinction between reality and appearance has caused such trouble. If it is possible for us to mistake the images in the Mirror for the way things really are—or at least be tempted to dwell on these images of our fulfilled desires as a substitute for reality—then aren’t we in danger of confusing appearance for reality and thus failing to gain knowledge? Something that is a mere appearance and not real still might cohere well with other beliefs, but because it is only a mere appearance it won’t correspond to reality. And so, mere appearance wouldn’t be true, and wouldn’t be knowledge. This is why Dumbledore warns Harry that the Mirror cannot give knowledge or truth. Our knowledge is a true account of the way the world is. If we fail to identify the actual features of the world and instead dwell on mere appearances, then we fail to find knowledge or truth.
Descartes’s Dreams
Philosophers from Plato forward have worried about this problem of being able to distinguish appearance from reality. One such philosopher who attempted to give an account of knowledge was the seventeenth-century French philosopher René Descartes. One of Descartes’s main concerns was to give an account of knowledge that wouldn’t fall prey to skepticism—the view that we do not and cannot have knowledge. In his Meditations on First Philosophy, Descartes temporarily adopts the stance of the hard-core skeptic in order to defeat skepticism. 57
Just like a good skeptic, Descartes rejects all his beliefs and opinions if there is any reason at all to doubt them. The reason to doubt could be quite far-fetched—Descartes even imagines an Evil Demon who has the power to deceive someone into thinking false things about matters we thought were certain, such as mathematics. This Demon could, for instance, make someone believe that 2 + 2 = 5 or that a triangle has four angles. Thus, Descartes even doubts his mathematical beliefs. In doubting so thoroughly and extensively, he is looking for some belief or idea that is incapable of being doubted. If he can find such a belief—one without any possibility of being false—Descartes will have shown the skeptic to be wrong. We would know something not open to any doubt and we will have avoided mere appearance by discovering a true claim about reality. By raising the standard of knowledge to the highest degree—absolute certainty—Descartes thinks he can discover the foundation of knowledge in the face of challenges posed by skepticism and the appearance-reality dichotomy.
Descartes thought that because of the apparent deception of senses, reality could not be accessed through them. Descartes writes, “I noticed that the senses are sometimes deceptive and it is a mark of prudence never to place our complete trust in those who have deceived us even once.”58 If Descartes is right about these deceptions, then they are potentially mere appearances, and not reality.
Dreams also raise the concern about the appearance-reality dichotomy for Descartes. Often while dreaming, we are totally convinced of our dream’s reality. As Descartes says, “there are no definitive signs by which to distinguish being awake from being asleep.”59 We thus might often mistake our dreams for reality. Yet, we know that dreams are just mere appearances and cannot be an awareness of reality; and therefore, cannot give us knowledge. Moreover, even if we can actually distinguish being awake from dreaming while we are awake, there is still the concern that we might confuse the appearances in our dreams for reality and fail to acquire knowledge.60
Descartes’s method eventually leads him to claim that the foundation of knowledge is knowledge of his own existence. This is his famous cogito ergo sum: I think, therefore, I exist. Descartes argues that we cannot be deceived in this idea; it cannot be a mere appearance that I exist. It is “necessarily true every time I utter it or conceive it in my mind.”61 To be deceived or to see a mere appearance, I must first exist. Descartes thereby thought he had found the basis for knowledge exempt from any risk of error.
Whether or not we fully agree with Descartes’s account, we can agree that there is a real concern raised by this account that some of our experiences—for example, dreams and hallucinations—might be confused for an authentic awareness of reality.62 However, such experiences cannot give us knowledge because knowledge is about reality, not mere appearances or delusions. And while we might not get or need the absolute certainty that Descartes is looking for, we should still be concerned that what we claim to know is truly knowledge of reality. This is the heart of Dumbledore’s warning about the Mirror of Erised. Like a dream, the Mirror will not offer us an awareness of reality, but only mere appearance, preventing us from gaining knowledge or truth.
The Experience Machine
The late American philosopher Robert Nozick provides another way in which to examine Dumbledore’s warning not to waste away dreaming in the Mirror. Nozick asks us to consider a kind of virtual reality machine—the Experience Machine—that allows us to experience whatever kind of life we choose.63 The Machine provides us with realistic, lifelike, and absolutely convincing experiences. One might program it to offer the experience of being the world’s greatest Quidditch player, Wizard Chess Champion, or the Defense against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts. The Experience Machine can simulate whatever sort of experience we want, even program realistic and convincing images of and interactions with whatever significant others we might desire. Moreover, while in the machine we wouldn’t know we were in it, so we would not regret leaving others behind or realize that the experiences were not authentic.
Whatever experiences we choose, the Machine would replicate precisely how these would feel “from the inside.”64 If we choose to fly in an enchanted car, we would feel the effects of gravity, the acceleration forces, and see the open expanse of endless sky. The Machine would stimulate our brains in a way that makes us think and feel as if we are flying a car, a broomstick, or an airplane—if conventional Muggle transportation more suits our fancy.
To Plug In …
Nozick asks us whether or not we should be willing to plug into the Experience Machine. Many of us would probably choose to do so for recreational and entertainment purposes—much like one might use the Holodeck in Star Trek.65 What Nozick invites us to consider, however, is not whether we would use the Machine for some temporary fun, but whether we would and should be willing to plug into it as a replacement for life? Would we, like Cypher in The Matrix 66 or Reginal Barclay in Star Trek, 67 actually choose the Experience Machine over real life? If our lives were bad enough, we probably would, understandably enough. Why not enjoy a pleasurable simulated reality rather than suffer a long, painful death from cancer? Moreover, if we give more weight to what William James called “psychological reality” (as opposed to “metaphysical reality”), we would probably enter the Experience Machine. James characterized such reality as meaning “simply relation to our emotional and active life… . Whatever excites and stimulates our interest is real.”68 After all, our “friends” in the Experience Machine will seem to treat us just the way we would like our friends to treat us. Our “relationships” would be fulfilling and satisfying to the greatest degree given our self-imposed amnesia about our true situation. So what practical difference is there, if any, between a life in the Experience Machine and one outside of it? If we go to our graves without being the wiser, what was lost?
… Or Not to Plug In
Contrary to this view, however, there do seem to be some compelling reasons not to hook ourselves up to the Machine. The most general reason might be that, like our concern in Descartes’s example of dreams, our experience would not be an authentic one. Such a life is a life of appearance and not reality; and moreover, “we want to connect with what is actually the case.”69 Not coincidentally, those who do choose to plug in to these kinds of simulations are generally viewed as making a serious mistake (Cypher in The Matrix) or as being sick (Barclay is diagnosed with “Holo-addiction”). To see how the Experience Machine relates to Dumbledore’s warning, let’s look at some of the reasons Nozick gives for not plugging in.
Doing Certain Things
One reason that Nozick cites for why we shouldn’t
opt for the Experience Machine is that “we want to do certain things, and not just have the experience of doing them.”70 Living our lives—not just dreaming or thinking about that life—is vitally important. A deeply authentic life is something that must be actively lived. No matter how realistic a Quidditch simulator might be, Harry wants to fly a real broom through a real sky and not just think he’s experiencing flying through a sky.
A distinction between two kinds of knowledge might be helpful here. One kind of knowledge involves experientially coming to know something or someone intimately and deeply, whereas another kind of knowledge involves coming to know propositions about that thing or person. Hermione could have read all the books available on Hogwarts and know a great number of facts about Hogwarts, but without attending the school, she would be missing the important, experiential knowledge of actually sitting in Snape’s classroom, avoiding Peeves, and conversing with Nearly Headless Nick. No matter how convincing Nozick’s Experience Machine is, it could never really offer us the genuine opportunity to know in the deeper sense any experience or, for that matter, any other real person. The Machine doesn’t provide us with reliable evidence for our beliefs nor can we tell if our beliefs correspond to reality. All it offers us is appearance and not awareness of reality, and so like a dream, it precludes the kind of knowledge we seek.
Moreover, if being virtuous and pursuing values is important—that is, essential for living and flourishing—then it is better that Harry actually be honest or actually have integrity than just to think he is honest or has integrity. And it is better that Hermione actually be successful in the pursuit of her values than merely to think she has achieved her values. Likewise, it seems obvious that it is better to cast a defensive spell after one is attacked by a Death Eater than to merely think one has. So, it is not just that we want to do things; we need to do certain things in order to live and flourish. The Experience Machine dangerously cuts us off from actually doing anything. All we experience is how things feel from the inside; we aren’t actually doing what we want and need to do. The Mirror of Erised, similarly, also seems to cut us off. Ron could watch himself win the Quidditch Cup, but he doesn’t just want to watch this happen, but do it himself.
Being a Certain Way
Nozick offers another reason why we should not plug into the Experience Machine. He says “we want to be a certain way, to be a certain sort of person.”71 For example, Hermione wants to be smart, wants to get good grades, and to know all there is to know about wizardry. She wants to be this kind of person—not just think that she is this kind of person. When Ron looks into the Mirror, he is excited to see himself as Head Boy. But Ron wants to be Head Boy. He doesn’t wish for some image in the Mirror to be Head Boy, but for he himself to be Head Boy. Harry, similarly, wants to be with his parents—not be with some images of them.
Even if the Mirror were a true Experience Machine and gave Harry or Ron an absolutely convincing and all-encompassing experience, we would arrive at the same problem. Nozick tells us that there “is no answer to the question of what a person is like who has long been in” the Experience Machine.72 If Harry were plugged into a true Experience Machine, and while in it had the experience of becoming a world-famous Auror for the Ministry of Magic, catching Voldemort and his followers, we cannot ask if Harry would be a good person for doing these. Harry isn’t doing them and so the question makes little sense. Once again, we see that for experiences to be authentic, they need to be based on an actual connection to reality and not mere appearances.
Another useful distinction that philosophers make is between being and becoming. We can be a certain way, as in being a Quidditch player. We can also be engaged in an activity or process of becoming a certain way, as Ron is as he learns to be a better Keeper in Order of the Phoenix. We can further recognize that part of being a certain way requires that we become that way through some process. An interesting example of this is seen in Order of the Phoenix when Harry views his father as a student at Hogwarts through Professor Snape’s Pensieve—a magical device that can store one’s memories. Having always thought of his father as an admirable and moral person, Harry is shocked and disappointed to see a young James Potter cruelly teasing and bullying a young Snape. Later on, Sirius tells Harry that his father was “a good person. A lot of people are idiots at the age of fifteen. He grew out it” (OP, p. 671). James Potter, like all of us, needed to become the good person he was. He couldn’t just be instantly good; he had to grow up and work at becoming good. Moral maturity requires a process.
This view is somewhat like Aristotle’s view that eudaimonia —or long-term, deep happiness or flourishing—is something that should be classed as an activity.73 To be happy, in Aristotle’s sense, requires that one be engaged in the kinds of activities in which a rational animal should be engaged. Being good isn’t just something someone is, it is something that one must become and be in the process of constantly and consistently becoming. If we ignore the becoming of life—by spending it dreaming away at the Mirror or in the Experience Machine—we can never be the kind of person we want to be. We can’t become in the Experience Machine (or the Mirror) because while in the Machine we are just feeling and experiencing, not actually developing our moral character or engaging in any activities.
Back to the Mirror
The Mirror of Erised raises similar authenticity problems for Harry as the Experience Machine does for us. Until Dumbledore reveals to Harry the misleading nature of the Mirror and warns him of its false allure, Harry probably believes that the image of his parents is more than an illusion. What makes the experience so meaningful to Harry is that he thinks he is actually seeing his parents and not just images of them. Finding out that the projection of his parents isn’t real will obviously dampen his enthusiasm for visiting it. One suspects he’ll still be interested, but probably only in the way he might look at old photographs. Much of the passion and excitement would be gone, and rightly so. The joy he felt that first night would likely succumb to the nostalgic sadness one feels while looking through an old yearbook. There’s a huge difference in value attached to the experience depending on whether it’s an experience of reality or not. Harry might enjoy a recurring dream he might have, say of leaving the Dursleys for good, but he would not value that dream nearly as much as actually being able to do it. Truth, knowledge, and the important values of real relationships and authentic living are worth fighting for and being passionate about; appearances and deceptions, inauthentic relationships, and merely simulated living are not.
Heeding Dumbledore’s Warning
So, while the Mirror of Erised is not exactly an Experience Machine, both fail, in similar ways, to meet our fundamental need for a real connection between ourselves and the world. Nozick sums this up by saying we want “to live (an active verb) ourselves, in contact with reality.”74 In the Experience Machine, one is not in contact with reality but with the output of the Machine. The same applies to the Mirror of Erised. We are not in contact with reality; instead, we are connected to images. We cannot have a meaningful relationship with a real person—all we can have is an image of such a relationship shown to us. We cannot discover the fundamental truths about the world—all we will get is an image of the discovery. The Mirror and the Machine, like dreams, might give us some enjoyable or pleasurable experiences, but also like dreams, they don’t connect us to reality. This lack of causal connection between the experiences and the world makes them inauthentic—and shows us why Dumbledore is right to warn Harry not to dwell on dreams and the images in the Mirror.
Still, the Mirror does offer us one truth—it shows us what we actually deeply and desperately desire. While our lives shouldn’t be spent just in desire-satisfaction—as the Mirror of Erised illustrates for us—we do have desires that are worthwhile to pursue and satisfy. For example, both the desire for a long, happy relationship and a rewarding career seem to be very important. That the Mirror can offer us some useful information about our desires doesn’t wea
ken Dumbledore’s warning. While we might be able to learn something from looking in the Mirror—perhaps something important and shocking—we cannot actually pursue or satisfy our worthwhile desires in the Mirror.
Though we might not be able to arrive at the kind of certainty that Descartes is looking for—knowledge beyond any doubt whatsoever—the Mirror of Erised and the Experience Machine remind us that there are things that we do value over other things, and rightly so. We care about having real relationships, being virtuous, and being successful in pursuit of values. All of these require a kind of authenticity and connection to reality that the Mirror of Erised and the Experience Machine are incapable of providing. And so we are right to take Dumbledore’s warning seriously and not dwell on dreams. It is a warning we should all heed; it is the warning that philosophy makes to all of us. We should pursue knowledge and truth and not linger too long in our dreams and desires while forgetting to live and authentically fulfill them.
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