Introduction
COMPETING IMAGES
We understand ourselves through stories, pictures,
and images. This book is about the
conflict between two grand images. The humanistic image says we are spiritual
beings that self-create by way of our free will. The scientific image says that we are animals obedient to natural
law. The question is this: Which is it?
The two images, at least as stated in terms of these simple formulae,
are incompatible. The answer can't be
both. Or, if it is, there is a lot of
explaining to do.
We want to see our selves truthfully and we want
our stories to depict life as if it really means something, as if it genuinely
matters. But we live in a world in which two distinct self-images vie for our
allegiance. The two images disagree about
our nature and about the ground of meaning.
One image says humans are possessed of souls and that everything turns
of the state of our soul. The other
image says there is no such thing as the soul and thus that nothing depends on
its state.
The humanistic image, the image embraced by most
laypersons, scientists and intellectuals, claims to be uplifting and
inspiring. We create ourselves by
exercising our free wills. If we will
well, when we die we go to heaven. From
the perspective of the scientific image, the humanistic image lacks nuance, is
excessively flattering and self-serving.
If it provides meaning, it does so at cost to the truth.
The
trouble with the scientific image, as seen from the perspective of the
humanistic image, is that it is de-humanizing – it drains life of meaning. Life has no transcendent purpose, and the
quest to live morally is just one, among several quirky features of our kind of
animal. Defenders of the scientific image will claim that their image need not
be seen as depressing, inhumane, or inhospitable to seeing one's self and
others as dignified creatures that are capable of living morally and
meaningfully. Proponents of the
humanistic image will be skeptical. It
is part of that image to deem science, especially the mental and human
sciences, as a threat. Science is
reductive, materialistic, and it has absolutely no resources to tell us how we
ought to live, no resources to help us find our way in the high stakes drama
that is life.
We cannot rule out in advance that the truth about
human nature and an uplifting story about the meaning of life might be in
tension. The truth can sometimes be
painful. Perhaps really acknowledging
the truth about human nature would necessarily undermine any sense of purpose
and meaning, and bring ennui and nihilism in its train. We tell our children
stories about Santa Claus and tooth fairies.
These stories are false, but they please the kids. Could we be grown-up babies who fabricate
false stories for the sake of meaning? Possibly. Some defenders of the scientific image think this is exactly the
case. There is another
possibility. Perhaps the mythic stories
we are used to telling about our nature are beloved, not because we absolutely
need them, but because we have been historically conditioned to think we
do. This is what I think.
In claiming to be able to find room for mind,
morals, and a meaningful life, the scientific image, like the humanistic image,
claims that it can preserve much of what it means to be a person. If this is true, then the stark
inconsistency I initially claimed marked the two images off from each other is
-- at some level at least -- more apparent than real.
In fact, this is what I think. In my experience most defenders of the
scientific image either ignore the dominant humanistic image or deem it silly
and misguided, while defenders of the humanistic image simply assert that the
scientific image is de-meaning. But if
I am right, both images share a common aspiration -- to maintain a robust
conception of what it means to be a person -- a being possessed of
consciousness, with fancy reflexive capacities for self-knowledge, and the
abilities to live rationally, morally, and meaningful. No advocate of the scientific image has yet
made an adequate effort to explain carefully, patiently, and explicitly how the
scientific image can do this. That is
the task I set for myself.
"The problem of the soul" in the book's
title is a shorthand way of referring to a cluster of philosophical concepts
that are central components of the dominant humanistic image. What are these concepts? A nonphysical mind,
free will, a permanent, abiding and immutable self or soul, for starters. It is
the status of these concepts that ordinary people fear are at risk as science
proceeds, and it is this fear that is at the root of a deep-seated resistance
to the scientific image. The reason is
that ordinary intelligent people have a view – inchoate in places – according
to which nothing less than the meaning of life itself turns on how these
concepts fare. If these concepts do not
refer to real things but are mere appearances, then, well, it is the end of the
world – at least the end of the world as we know it.
Some readers will undoubtedly claim that 'the
soul' is an old-fashioned term that is now rarely used, save in specifically
religious contexts, and then only by true believers. But in my experience, even if the term is not part of everyday
usage, it is a concept that most people believe in or implicitly assume. This is even true of so called secular
humanists. A quick and reliable diagnostic test to show this is to ask a person
if they believe humans possess free will.
Most everyone will answer 'yes'.
Then ask what their free will is or consists in. This diagnostic test
reliably reveals advocacy of a conception of persons as possessed of the
ability to circumvent natural law. The
only device ever philosophically invented that can do this sort of job is an
incorporeal soul or mind. And that is
why the soul is the problem.
When people are introduced to the conflict between
the humanistic and scientific images, Copernicus and Galileo, Darwin and Freud
are mentioned as the major players. And
they are. Furthermore, each hit to the
humanistic image -- the cosmological, the biological, and the psychological --
advanced by these great thinkers has in various ways been accommodated by the
humanistic image without causing it to completely unravel. The standard move is to acknowledge that we
are both fallen and part animal, and to acknowledge that the theories advanced
by these thinkers enrich our understanding of our animal part and partly
deflate certain excessively flattering, but ultimately unnecessary, stories
about our nature and place in the universe.
The basic strategy is to provide both the humanistic and scientific
image with room to roam within a certain circumscribed space. The humanistic image reveals our spiritual
nature. While science unlocks the
secrets of the external world and our animal part.
However, this sort of accommodation cannot work
without the premise that we are only partly animal. But the current situation is that the scientific image --
especially as it is being propelled forward by advances in the sciences of the
mind, cognitive science and cognitive neuroscience, in particular -- is that we
are all animal. Furthermore, the mind
or the soul is the brain. Prior peace
treaties between the two images cannot abide this sort of challenge. Or so I claim.
The question remains, can we do without the
cluster of concepts that are central to the humanistic image in its present
form -- the soul and its suite -- and still gain some or most of what these
concepts were designed to do? My answer is 'yes'. Although there are no souls or nonphysical minds, no immutable
selves, although there is no such thing as free will, there are still, at the
end of the day, persons. What is a
person? A conscious social animal that
deliberates, reasons, and chooses, that is possessed of an evolving or
continuous -- but not a permanent or immutable -- identity, and that seeks to
live morally and meaningfully.
So what's lost? What's different? What is lost is the cluster of philosophical
concepts that are believed by most to be central to the humanistic image. My own view is that since these concepts
don't refer to anything real, we are best off without them. Furthermore, once these concepts are
eliminated, we still have more or less what we wanted -- a picture of persons
as rational social animals. Mind,
morals, and the meaning of life are all still in place.
An attentive reader will rightly worry: what about
God and personal immortality? The
cluster of philosophical concepts which I say must go, not only support a
certain traditional conception of the person, but they also support and are
supported by a mother lode of views in philosophical theology, views about God,
his nature, and our place in his plans.
There is no point beating around the bush. Supernatural concepts have no philosophical
warrant. Furthermore, it is not that such
concepts are displaced only if we accept, from the start, a naturalistic or
scientific vision of things. There are
simply no good arguments -- theological, philosophical, humanistic, or
scientific -- for supernatural entities and forces, for the beliefs in divine
beings, miracles, or heavenly afterlives.
Of course, I can't just say this and expect the reader to let me get
away with it. I'll do my best to show
why supernatural concepts lack rational warrant.
But my main aim is to show that the scientific
image can gain us pretty much everything we can sensibly want from the concept
of a person without the unnecessary concepts of free will, an incorporeal mind,
and an immutable soul. So far as the
nature of persons goes -- as rational social animals that seek to live morally
and meaningfully -- the humanistic and scientific images can be reconciled.
Most of what we traditionally believe about the nature of persons remains in
place even without the unnecessary philosophical concept of the soul and its suite. Furthermore, accepting the part of my
argument that supernatural concepts refer to nothing real does not mean that the
moral and communal functions of religion lose their sense. The attempt to awaken the mind and heart by
words and hymns that gesture at that which is higher and greater than us is not
rendered senseless if the concepts of the soul, God, and a spiritual afterlife
go the way of phlogiston. There is much
that is greater than each of us taken alone.
There is love and friendship. There is benevolence and compassion
expressed by a feeling of connection to all creatures great and small, indeed
even to the awesome inanimate cosmos. And
there are certifiably great individuals who exemplify our most noble
aspirations, Moses, Confucius, Buddha, Jesus, and Muhammad, among them. Words such as 'holy', 'God,' and 'grace' gesture
metaphorically, but not literally. And if understood as modes of metaphorical
expression, but not literally -- not as genuinely referring terms -- they can be
used to advance what is noble and good.
If this is not enough, if you feel that you really need the concepts of the soul and
its mates, as well as the theological ones to which they are connected to refer
to real things, then you want more than you can have -- more than any
philosophically respectable theory can provide.
Although my main aim is to show that the
scientific image leaves ample room for a humane concept of the person, in order
to show this I will need to wade waist deep into the waters of philosophical
theology. One reason is that the problem
of the soul -- that is the entire class of troublesome concepts that pertain to
the nature of persons and their minds -- has deep theological roots. Indeed, one might say that the concept of
the soul is a theological concept. So I won't be able to convincingly make the
reader see how souls can go while persons remain fully intact without doing a
fair amount of work exploring the various ways the traditional concepts of
persons and their minds are part of a philosophical picture with deep
theological roots.
The word person comes from the Latin persona which originally referred to the mask worn in Greek and Roman
drama. The word eventually took on a
broader meaning -- role, part, character, role represented by an actor, eventually
citizen. It is telling and useful to
think of persons as characters in a play and of human life as a drama. Drama has structure, plot, theme and
meaning, and it brings both thought and the emotions powerfully into play.
We want human life to possess all these
characteristics -- structure, plot, theme, meaning, and to enliven our hearts
and minds. The role an actor plays in a
normal play is make-believe. A good
actor can play a role with which she doesn't personally identify. In the drama of real-life we want to be
ourselves. And we want both our
character and the larger plot to be genuinely meaningful, not simply the result
of a good plot and good performance.
We are immensely complex animals, amazingly
intricate in design, and possessed of remarkable gifts -- consciousness, as
well as the abilities to live rationally, morally, and meaningfully. But we are animals through and through.
Unless, we accept this truth about ourselves we lack self-knowledge of the most
basic sort. And we will be tempted to
succumb, as most people have, to puffing up and decorating the basic image with
all manner of magical and supernatural props, all manner of self-serving
nonsense about the ways in which God -- or various minor spirits -- bless our
kind of person, sometimes exclusively.
In the drama of real life meaning comes from the
large-scale stories, pictures, and images we have of our natures and our place
in the larger scheme of things. Most people find the grand images they believe
in and abide in churches, synagogues, and mosques. Even those who have never entered these hallowed halls get their
picture of their nature, station and duties at least in part from such
places. How's that? The stories told
in these places leak out and permeate our ideas of what it means to be a
person, what it means to live a moral life, and where and how fulfillment is to
be found.
I can put the point another way: most ordinary people are religious, and even the ones who aren’t, are. What, you ask, does that mean? It means that when people in the West talk about mind, morals and the meaning of life, when we use words like ‘mind,’ 'soul,' ‘self’, ‘free will,’ and ‘morality’ we either explicitly acknowledge that we embed them in a religious philosophy, or we use these ideas and concepts in ways that reveal that they are so embedded.
This is why we cannot adequately understand the humanistic image, even in its alleged secular variant, without acknowledging that the concepts it endorses pertaining to human nature have deep theological roots that are part of what gives them their sense. We are made in God's image after all.
There is, as I've said, no way to discuss the
nature of persons and their minds without wading into the waters of
philosophical theology. What I hope to
show is that we can preserve much of what we mean to say when we speak of
'mind', 'soul,' 'the self', 'free will,' and so on without continuing to endow
them with that part their meaning that comes from their religious or
theological roots. These concepts can
be tamed and naturalized without engendering a depressing picture of what it
means to be human. But this cannot be
done without a more thoroughgoing honesty about the way such concepts still
function with their religious roots as part of what existentialists called the Background -- or what following
Dostoevsky and Freud-- we might call, the Underground.
The scientific image, and the naturalistic
philosophy that is its ally, no longer accepts the terms of the peace treaty
that sequesters it to understanding and explaining our animal side. Our animal side is our only side. We are all animal and the brain is our
soul. Is this bad news? I don't think so. There are still persons.
Consciousness exists. Love, friendship, and morality all remain in
place. Nothing disappears, save for
certain fictions that weren't there anyway.