Jetlag - By Martin Prior

Jetlag

My mind says Pacific Standard Time (GMT-8). My brain says be on the safe side, go to sleep and wake up every two hours.

I know that I have a mind: it is that which knows and thinks.  I do not need to know I have a brain.  Many societies don't.

And when I see somebody with brains, s/he may quite reasonably be in two minds (or more).  But the number of minds and the number of brains need not be identical.  To my mind that is the key point.

And to my brain, it is time to go to sleep again. 

By Martin Prior

The Philosophy Takeaway 'Mind & Body' Issue 35

The false dichotomy of the mind and brain: - By Samuel Mack-Poole

The false dichotomy of the mind and brain:

Romeo: Peace, Peace, Mercutio, peace!   

Thou talk’st of nothing.

Mercutio: True, I talk of dreams,

Which are the children of an idle brain,

Begot of nothing but vain fantasy.

Lines 95 – 99, Act 1, Scene 4, Romeo and Juliet.

Many of us who are philosophically minded have met ardent dogmatists. Although they are entertaining, due to the spittle dripping from their chins, their insight into the human condition is limited by its very nature. As philosophers, it is our role to think a little deeper than most, to aim that beautiful light of truth into the murky depths of ignorance and be prudent about the claims we can make. In all honesty, I see a true philosopher as someone who considers and analyses, deduces and induces, reverses and inverts, asks questions and argues, not from ego, but due to that ache that resides in us to discover and uncover. Thus, my brethren, I can only reiterate that we should be prudent about claiming what we can know.

Firstly, we should start with defining our terms – Ellese Elliott, my intellectual sparring partner, assures me that this methodology is the most respected academic method. Who would I be, as humble as I am, to flaunt what the academics hold in such a sacred regard?  I will use a common dictionary to define the key terms. The mind is defined as:

“(in a human or other conscious being) the element, part, substance, or process that reasons, thinks, feels, wills, perceives, judges, etc.: the processes of the human mind.”

I believe this definition, is, however, too narrow to define the word “mind”.  After all, there is that unoriginal Hollywood homage to mental illness in the shape of the film A Beautiful Mind. What is being referred to in this film title is the protagonist’s intellectual capacity; thus, the word “mind” is clearly utilised in different contexts. Do you think it is any coincidence that we use the word “mind” as a noun and a verb? If you live in London, you know to “mind the gap” – this is because of the word’s etymology, which I will expound upon later.

Thus, when juxtaposing the prior definitions with the definition of “brain”, we will come to the sticking place.  The word brain is defined as:

“Anatomy, Zoology . the part of the central nervous system enclosed in the cranium of humans and other vertebrates, consisting of a soft, convoluted mass of grey and white matter and serving to control and coordinate the mental and physical actions.”

However, when we dig a little deeper, we find another definition – the word “brain” is a direct synonym of mind! Here’s the definition: “the brain as the centre of thought, understanding, etc.; mind; intellect.”

The mind can only ever be part of the brain, after all the word’s etymology is from the Old English gemynd, meaning memory. And what is memory, if not part of the brain? The “mind” is a mere word, outdated in its use, a construct, a mere fiction with a fantastical history. There is no credible proof that it exists: none, whatsoever. Any atheist, who attests there is a mind, is contradicting their arguments on a lack of a deity.  No true empiricist (a philosopher who believes that knowledge is mainly gained through experience) will ever make such a lowly assertion that the mind exists outside or independent of the body.

Philosophy, a noble tool of thought, critical to critical thinking skills, is in danger of becoming regarded by scientists as a dead subject. When notable and intelligent philosophers contradict what can be proven to be true, we sully the name of philosophy. When we jump down the rabbit hole of the supernatural, we may as well gift our scientific critics goldfish in a barrel to shoot at.

Science and philosophy shouldn’t be antagonists but natural bedfellows: Dawkins and Singer epitomise this. The fact that science was born from philosophy, and now has returned to its mother with the gift of knowledge, is beautiful. We should celebrate the fact the prodigal son has returned, with such noble presents to boot.

We know now, due to advancements in the field of biology that a thought is a physical process. A neuron (also known as a neurone or nerve cell) is an excitable cell in the nervous system that processes and transmits information by electrochemical signalling – that is what a thought is. Now, my friends, should we disregard this information?  No! We should embrace it. This definition, although narrow, doesn’t capture the poetic beauty of imagination, but it does convey that a thought is a distinct physical process; one which is observable.

There is, of course, much more to thought than the biology of it. Nevertheless, such an earthy materialistic, purely biological view of the mind isn’t cold; it doesn’t lack romance. In fact, I would say that that those who look forward with truth in their hearts are the most genuine in their outlook regarding humanity, as well as its place in the vast cosmos in which we reside. This is far more preferable than looking back to the 17^th century with rose tinted intellectual glasses.

I know what I’m saying is controversial, even abhorrent to some philosophers. Please understand me, as I must clarify my position. I’m not saying ancient philosophy has no value; that would be foolish. However, where ancient philosophy contradicts modern science, should we really stand idly by and argue the inarguable? Although it is a good mental exercise to do so and it is important to have such debates, can we really invoke the fallacy exposed by Russell’s teapot* in good conscience?

I started with a quote, thus I shall end with a quote from the great Christopher Hitchens, which illustrates the facile pomposity of ignoring empiricism, albeit ironically:

“My own view is that this planet is used as a penal colony, lunatic asylum and dumping ground by a superior civilization, to get rid of the undesirable and unfit. I can't prove it, but you can't disprove it either.”

By Samuel Mack-Poole

* If Bertrand Russell claimed that a teapot was orbiting Jupiter, and we had no scientific way of proving that there was no such teapot, it would be ludicrous to believe that it existed! What he is saying is that the burden of proof in philosophy lies with the person making the claims, and not on the other person to disprove it - Ed.

The Philosophy Takeaway 'Mind & Body' Issue 35

The origins of mind and body (and other possibilities) - By Selim 'Selim' Talat

The origins of mind and body (and other possibilities)

I -

The origin of an idea is hard to know, if not impossible. Who was the first to suggest that the mind and the body are made of two different substances? It might seem obvious to us now that there is a rational part of the human being, which has the ability to think things through and make choices, and that there is the bodily part which is full of primitive drives and urges. For this is the philosophy  whose roots stretch back to Rene Descartes, who is essential in the understanding of this question, but also saturates it, and whom I shall avoid discussing. What is important is that if we remember that this mind and body divide was not always so, it was not always 'obvious' to us.

  If we go back to the ancient greeks (a familiar path we take in western philosophy, unschooled as we are in the wisdom of the east!) we can find a different idea of body and soul in the great works of the playwright Homer. Although we was a dramatist, his work was so  epic that he literally created the greek pantheon of gods! People  genuinely lived their lives by these passionate deities, believing that they could influence human beings directly, and so deserved worship. This was a mythical world view that encourages what we would call determinism - that our actions are decided for us by a force beyond our human willing. It was only after the body died that the soul took any real form, enjoying the rest of its time in the underworld.

  Even the idea of mind being associated with the brain is not so obvious, for it was a popular ancient greek idea that the main core of consciousness was actually in the human heart.

With Pythagoras comes a strengthening of the souls place in this equation. A believer in eternal rebirth (who would stand up for a bullied dog if he thought it contained the reincarnated essence of a late friend) Pythagoras gives us the idea of the soul being linked to this world, not departing elsewhere after death. It is an eternal element within us that is separate from the actual physical body and can remember its past lives. This makes the body separate to the soul in quite a profound way, like a passenger switching between trains.

  In addition to this we have the mathematical world view of the Pythagoreans. Perhaps this was the start of reason as we know it! For now all could be reduced to mathematics and this meant that everything could be understood through the power of pure mindthinking. Suddenly, the prospect of perfect reason separate from 'earthy things' becomes a possibility.

II -

The pre-socratics (the philosophers who came before Socrates) were often searching for the one fundamental substance of the cosmos. They were often asking 'wot stuff wos made of!'. Thales had his water, Anaximenes had air, Heraclitus had fire and all had their reasons for believing this. Today we might see physicists trying to find the building blocks of everything, atoms and quarks and strings and energy and such. The point to be raised here is thus: If everything is made of one specific substance, then your computer is made of the same thing as you. So is the light hitting your eyes, the chair you are seated upon, and so on. There is nothing differentiating you from any of it. Which raises the further question - what is so special about us and how do we know that inanimate objects do not also possess conscience?     

  If we consider ourselves star-stuff which somehow gained awareness, then we must at some point have transformed into life out of this 'inorganic' matter. Yet not all life contains 'mind' (or at least, we do not all think it does), so at some point we must have moved from life-without-sentience (awareness) to life-with-sentience. If I may boldly speculate, I believe this to be the result of a gradual emergence out of wilder nature through the creation of language and concepts to distinguish things. Then a sense of time which allowed reflection on the past and thinking about probabilities in the future, as well as developing an understanding of death as inevitable. The belief in spirits and perhaps even deities would be the first acts of creativity which are not so directly related to survival. The development of counting and planning would be essential to this idea of continuous identity. Slowly but surely, the world around could be divided up into more and more parts, with an understanding of how those parts interact to make up the whole. The greater this process of division and articulation, the greater the understanding of oneself an as a separate and articulated entity, yet the greater one understands the outside, the greater one can perceive the whole and understand how it continues to affect us.

III -

  

A new question is raised: If we are made of the same thing as everything else, is it possible for us to transcend our environment by making choices? Materialists can look at the world as a machine, a series of causes and effects that could all be discovered if we had greater knowledge of how the machine worked (we could in theory discover what caused what, from every perceiveable angle, and then predict the unfolding of the entire future!). Mind in this case would be awareness, and 'free will' an illusion. Yet this search for cause and effect does not have to be limited to scientific study of matter. If everything is made out of chi, then perhaps this too can be understood as an unfolding process of cause and effect.

  The point is this: Our minds must be outside of the chain of cause and effect to have freedom.

IV -

Now that we have had our brief look at this question lets get pragmatic. Why bother talking about it at all?

Why but for the reason that the mind / body distinction is of immense importance to our lives. It is not just 'empty philosophizing'.

  The culling of animals every year is encouraged by the separation of mind and body (animals do not have minds from this perspective and thus have no basis for the right to life). 

  When someone commits what we deem a crime they are tried as an individual capable of making choices, with the severity of their punishment being decided by how much they were under duress. We assume that people are always capable of rationalizing their actions.

  Intelligence is something separate from the body, it is not part of a unified process, for the body is just that place where all of our 'yucky stuff' is contained – it is low and base and disgusting where all of those horrible things such as taking a s*** happens, and where all of those immoral impulses such as sexual pleasure threaten the ones 'purity'.

  It is of massive importance to the politics of freedom, to aspiration and competitiveness, egotism and individuality. In short, it is of importance to every aspect of our lives!

By Selim 'Selim' Talat

The Philosophy Takeaway 'Mind & Body' Issue 35

A rebuttal: The False Dichotomy between the Mind and Brain. - By Elliott, E. 2012

A rebuttal: The False Dichotomy between the Mind and Brain.

This article is a rebuttal to Samuel Mack-Poole’s ‘The False Dichotomy between Mind and Brain’. It will outline and argue against two key claims in his article. Firstly that the mind is part of the brain, and secondly that thought is a physical process. I will then briefly outline what is empiricism and why empiricism can be used, not to refute mind, but to prove mind. Poole answers the question ‘what is mind’ using the following dictionary definition, “...the element, part, substance, or process that reasons, thinks, feels, wills, perceives, judges,...1.” So the mind is a thing that reasons, thinks, feels, wills, perceives, judges. Poole does not reject this definition, but says that it may be broadened. I don’t necessarily disagree here, but he doesn’t give an alternative definition so I will work with this one. He embeds mind in brain by favouring the following definition of brain. “The brain is a centre of thought, understanding, mind and intellect.”

So here, the mind is a: reasoning, thinking, feeling, willing, perceiving, judging thing and this thing is part of a material thing which is a centre of thought, understanding, mind and intellect. The first question which arises out of this picture is, how can a brain have a mind? How can a brain be the centre of mind? How does the mind orbit the brain if you will? Poole does not offer a causal account of mind and brain, but only that the brain seems to be the central substance. The phrase ‘the centre of’ here is a bit ambiguous. It is already very complicated at this stage and challenges the view that only people are thinking things.

In ‘Neuroscience and Philosophy’, Hacker and Bennett attack the field of Neuroscience by accusing Neuroscientists of being conceptually confused. It is people who think, feel, perceive and all those other things. They called these kinds of activities that people do ‘psychological predicates’ which can only be ascribed to people, for example ‘Fred is thinking about his cat’ or ‘Jay is remembering his anniversary’. It is not brains that understand, or parts of the brain, but people.

This same theme crops up in a paper on ‘The Distinction Between Mental and Physical Illness’, where Kendell argues that it is not the body that is sick, nor is it the mind that is ill, but the person. These types of critiques are based on Wittgenstein’s later works in the ‘Philosophical Investigations’ where he argues that it is the job of philosophers to see when people from different language games are importing the rules of another language game and say to them, ‘hey, you are operating outside of your language game’, or ‘you are breaking the rules of your own language game’; which is what Neuroscience is doing. Neuroscience can here be accused of stealing the language from what Poole argues, stems from a fantastical history. If Neuroscience is to be strictly scientific, that is base its conclusions on observations, than why is science still employing mind, or concepts that stem from a fantastical period? ‘Poole goes on to assert that thought, something which has brain as its centre, is a physical process. Now what is a physical process? A physical process isn’t a fixed state, but something that is comprised of parts which are causally linked through the dimension of time. This can get complicated here, but we will leave thinkers like Hume to the side at the moment. If we employ the term thought as a physical process, as Poole states is proved by science, then surely science should be able to show us thought. Well, can they? Can Science prove thought? I went ‘in my mind’s eye’ to a live operation by which the person was alive2. The clever surgeons carefully sawed through the subjects head in a semi circle and lifted up part of thesubject’s skull, like a skull cap. Underneath the blood and flesh we saw the brain, in the white light. Wow, amazing. Yet through the disgusting yellow and grey matter – where, Dr. Scientist, can you shown me this subject’s thoughts? The scientist then points to a bolt of electricity that momentarily makes the brain light up. ‘There it was- a thought’ exclaims the Scientist. But, to beg the question, is that a thought? Is a thought a flash of lightening in the brain? Ironically we may use lightening as a metaphor when we say we have been struck with an idea, but do we mean it literally? No. A bit of brain lighting up is not a thought.

Moreover, if I was to see someone’s thought, would it still be a thought, as usually what we mean by thought is something private, that only I can experience and not you. The scientist, by this qualification, could never show a thought for as soon as another observed ones thoughts it would cease to be a thought as it is no longer private, but publicly seen.

I think the definition of thought as physical process is wrong, yet a physical process may be a part of thought. I do not know if this is actually the case, but would suggest here that science does argue this – and even sometimes is as bold to give some kind of casual account which usually lands flat on its arse again. But thought is not electricity in the brain; it is not only a physical process.

The only other thing I will point out is the contradiction in his sentiments concerning empiricism. Empiricism –simply- is the doctrine which holds a number of arguments for the position that knowledge comes from experience. Now I won’t go into these arguments here as they are not important here. Poole implies in his article that if it is not in your experience or stemming from it then there is no proof. Besides from the fact that I can argue for mathematical or logical proofs as being alternative forms of proof, I will merely say that my experiences are only experienced by me, and your experiences are only experienced by you. They are idiosyncratic. Within my experience there are tables, chairs, trees and flowers, but there are also thoughts and feelings, memories and ideas. So, we do have empirical proof that thoughts and feelings exist, but these things are based on my experiences and not yours. I think Poole really wants to argue for a notion of truth called ‘endoxon’, truth is consensus. But this is naïve and depends on a correspondence theory of truth which can only be asserted and has no sufficient proof as of yet, nor will it ever. As, in order to prove a correspondence theory of truth, which quite simply states that if I can point to it, it is real, depends on us transcending our own self. We can only have our own experiences of something and cannot, as Kant argued, know something beyond the realm of sense data and the categories of the mind. I would go on, but I think I have successfully tackled two of the main problems in Pooles article. Firstly, by identifying the conceptual confusion, using Hacker and Bennett and latter Kendell, present in Poole’s article by ascribing psychological predicates to the brain. Secondly, by arguing that empirical proof is based on the account that only I can experience my experiences, and if experience is a sufficient criteria for truth then we can still have thoughts, memories and all those other things as different aspects of experience which do not have a material quality. There are a number of other confusions in the article which I have left, like the two definitions he compares and states are synonymous, are by definition not. The part is not the whole, the part in this case being mind and the whole the brain.

1. Whether other animals have mind, which is not what should be focused on here. 

2.  Let’s not for the time being argue qualifications of life as it will distract from the issue again at hand, albeit an interesting one.

By Elliott, E. 2012

The Philosophy Takeaway 'Mind & Body' Issue 35

Spinoza on emotions, self-preservation and our being

Emotions: pesky little things aren’t they? Some bring joy; others anguish, with a whole host of different feelings betwixt the two. Think of the first time you fell in love, or got a present you really wanted, or passed an exam or driving test. Now, think of a saddening event. Thence, think of how you felt before and after. A whole host of emotions plague us, day in day out: to be torn in all directions is the natural human condition.

For a certain Mr Baruch de Spinoza, who believed that we are all defined through a non-religious God who ultimately controls all things in the universe, emotions are beautiful, logical things. This is because God is defined by logic: he is self-causing and his essence is this self-causation – he must thus continue to produce things to continue to exist. Logical, no? If we are thus created by a logical God, and so is everything else – every imaginable thing: plants, cars, muscles, thoughts, pens and paper, musings and eyebrow raises – emotions, too, are logical. ‘Emotions can be treated and explained through logic, as if they were geometry’, to paraphrase the good man. 

Power of acting; definition of emotions

How though, do we get to this idea? What, first of all, is an emotion? Spinoza tells us in the following statement to define it as the modes of a body by which the body’s ability to act is increased or decreased, the perceptions of these and the resultant reaction. 

Let us take the following example to understand Spinoza’s idea better: I am punched in the face. I see it coming, I feel it – my face feels it and my mind registers it simultaneously. I now stumble back: I cannot act, or be, as well as I could before the punch. I feel anger – my power of acting, of moving, of doing anything, may be better than before, but still not as good as before I was punched. Emotions cannot be controlled by us, says Spinoza – they are logically defined.

Spinoza gives us two base emotions, upon which all others are constructed: joy and sadness. It is through emotions that we can see how the environment is working for us. Emotions are the link between our inner state and the outer world. We can only find our ‘power of acting’ indirectly through the emotions – it can never be grasped directly.

We constantly desire to maintain a joyous, happy state – as everyone, of course, likes to be happy. We thus attempt to repel things that will have the ability to make our power of acting decrease – be it a sad event in our lives, an argument with somebody or a punch in the face; we always strive for the happier ones, as these give us a bit more ‘oomph’ and confidence.

Conatus

The notion of the ‘power of acting’, Spinoza takes yet a step further. Spinoza notes that we all have a certain drive within us: a desire and striving to stay alive. As we are all ultimately created by God, and he, as noted above, must necessarily create to keep existing, he leaves a little imprint of his power in all things, including humans: the desire to survive, the power of self-preservation at whatever cost. This power, he coins as the term ‘Conatus’.

The Conatus is in all things: it can be as obvious as someone running at us with a knife and us fleeing, or as abstract as an electron figuratively turning away from a proton or neutron. Self-preservation is what makes us, us. We do not want to be destroyed, hence we run – this is at our very being.

As the mind and body are simultaneously aware of each other through perceptions of the outside world (as one hits the body, the mind registers it and vice versa) and as the body cannot come into contact with something that would destroy it, neither then, can the mind. This means that the mind cannot think of anything that would destroy it: it cannot comprehend or even have a vague notion of death. To have a vague notion of death, would equate to its feeling of death through the body and it cannot do this, for if it had felt that, it would, by definition, be dead and thus unthinking. As a result, for Spinoza – the mind can only feel incredible highs and the depths of sadness, but nothing beyond that: death is not an option.

A few questions...

This also means that suicide is not an option – how is this explained? Spinoza would say that we can be killed, but only through an external cause, from an outside object. The mind would have no idea that we would die if someone stabs us: it would only sense threat. Can suicide ever exist in a Spinozian world?

Spinoza goes on to elaborate on every conceivable emotion in over 40 pages, all based upon the base emotions of happiness and sadness. Is it right to say that these are the basic emotions that we all feel?

Spinoza says that our basic desire for self-preservation makes us who we are. Is there not more to us than this?

Joe Sturdy

Disappearing Act - By Tara Silverthorn

Disappearing Act

As a performing art, dance is often talked about as an ephemeral form. It disappears before your very eyes. From the perspective of both audience and performer, it can vanish as quickly as it has been conceived, making it almost impossible to be fully realised in representative terms. This ephemeral quality is present in the performing arts in general, although dance and movement (as I wish to discuss it here) is unique in that it is a silent art form. It does not always have the safety net of spoken language to support or facilitate meaning and, differently to mime, does not by default use descriptive body language. For a dance to happen, only three key elements are required: time, space and body. The inherent involvement of the body on some level means that the potential for densely-layered and highly subjective generation of meanings – or intertexts – in the act is almost infinite.

As a dance performer, I have too often encountered and felt baffled by having gone on stage, done my stuff and come off feeling like I had very little idea what just happened. The piece escaped me, slipped through my fingers like water. As an audience member of contemporary theatre dance, a similar experience can occur: the movement happens and is gone the instant you have seen it. One feels only to have perceived it. Meaning can be hard to grasp and interpretation can transform before it has even had the chance to solidify. This experience can be alienating if one is seeking narrative and does not find it, if one is seeking something solid, unambiguous and clearly coded. In our bombarding society of advertising, commerce and image production, something which has no apparent usage or instantly discernable message can be coldly received and discarded as having no measurable productive value. I propose that it is precisely this ‘non-sense’ that makes the art of dance and its ephemeral nature peculiar, wondrous and ‘useful’. 

Despite the fiction of the theatrical situation, the body is real. It is corpo-real – earthly, worldly, human. In fact, ever in a state of flux and transformation, it is both the most and least consistent thing we have in our lives. It is a place of contradictions; at once the mysterious and concrete site of communication, at once reliable and faulty, at once universal and culturally shaped. It is the interface between us and the world we belong to and create. We all have it. We all are it. The Cartesian notion of body-mind dualism, established in the 17th Century by René Descartes, paints a picture of the body as separate to the mind – the body as base, the mind as rational, creating a clear hierarchy of mind over body. This perspective, which is still prevalent in (actually, seems to be incorporated into) western thinking, undermines the possibility of a much more integrated, whole and globally intelligent being, in relationship with its environment and others in a far more tangible, sensate and yet less ‘intelligible’ way. In this sense, we underestimate ourselves. Acknowledging the innate intelligence of the whole body – ‘body’ including the mind and ‘mind’ being considered as something not only isolated and encapsulated in the brain – just might begin to reconnect us on a deeper level with what makes us human. 

To be engaged in movement – the act of dancing or watching dance – is potentially to be paying attention or giving importance in that very moment to qualities which capitalism does not allow time for, so which are not necessarily valued in our contemporary neo-liberal society. Among these ‘under-productive’ qualities, for example, might be perceptive intuition; sensitivity (becoming sensate); engagement with process, rather than product-based goals; and becoming (moving, changing), as opposed to being (or asserting a fixed identity). Live movement and its disappearance intrinsically embrace the possibility of change. This is not to suggest that dancing is devoid of striving, or without desire - for expertise, for pleasure, for ‘doing it well’. These are all the motivations which move movement, allowing something to be communicated with as much clarity as possible, which subsequently lets people in to what they are seeing.  

Dance artist and choreographer, Deborah Hay, talks about the dancer as a “site for inquiry, i.e. a bodily presence trained in the performance of parallel experiences of perception”. In her mission statement, she expresses the wish to: 

…expand the notion of choreography to include the conditions by which the choreographer transmits a dance to a performer, accounting for the many and often discontinuous threads within a visible and invisible context for beholding now.

                                                                           - Deborah Hay (2011)

Tara Silverthorn