The Philosophy of Mind

It was on a dreary night of November, that I beheld the accomplishment of my toils. With an anxiety that almost amounted to agony, I collected the instruments of life around me, that I might infuse a spark of being into the lifeless thing that lay at my feet. It was already one in the morning; the rain pattered dismally against the panes, and my candle was nearly burnt out, when by the glimmer of the half-extinguished light, I saw the dull yellow eye of the creature open; it breathed hard, and a convulsive motion agitated its limbs. Frankenstein, 1818

Thus Mary Shelley describes the moment of triumph and disaster for Victor Frankenstein in her novel. He had sought the origin of life by a process of analysis, dissecting the human body and exploring its various components. He had observed the changes that take place on death, the corruption of the various organs, and had longed to reverse that process, to bring life back to the dead. Then he collected the 'materials' for his experiment - all the various bits of human anatomy - and fashioned them into a human-like creature. Eventually he finds the secret of their animation, and in that horrifying moment, the creature which he has fitted together comes to life. (In Shelley's novel details of this process are not given, but later film treatments of the Frankenstein story have generally focused on electricity - the 'spark of life' being brought about by the sparks of electrical discharge.)
Released into the world, the 'creature', not fully human and shunned by society, nevertheless develops human emotions, 'reasoning and skills. Filled with both tenderness and rage, longing for a mate of his own kind and murderously angry with Frankenstein for creating him thus, he asks 'Who am I?' The 'philosophy of mind', or 'philosophical psychology', is that branch of philosophy which undertakes the Frankenstein-like task on analysing bodies, minds and persons, dissecting them and attempting to re-animate them, in order to understand the nature of intelligent life. As you read this book, your eyes are scanning from left to right, your fingers turn the pages, your brain is consuming energy, taking oxygen from its blood supply, tiny electrical impulses are passing between brain cells. All that is part of the physical world, and can be detected scientifically. How does all that relate to the process of reading, thinking, learning and remembering? And how do both relate to personal identity? If, as the result of an accident, I were to have an arm or leg amputated, I should refer to the detached member as 'my arm' or my leg', not in the sense that I owned it, but that I regarded it as part of myself, a part which I must now do without. In the same way, I can list all the parts of myself: my hair, my face, my body, my mind, my emotions, my attitudes. Some of these will be parts of my mental make-up, others will be parts of my physical body. Where in all this is the real 'me'?
  • Am I to be identified with my physical body? With my mind?
  • Am I somehow a collection of all these things?
  • Do I exist outside my body? If so, could I continue to exist after the death of my body?
  • Is my mind the same thing as my brain? If not, then where is my mind?
  • Can I ever really know other people's minds, or do I just look, listen and guess what they're thinking?
  • What about computer-created artificial intelligence?

These are just some of the questions that are explored within the philosophy of mind. Its issues relate to biology, psychology, sociology, computer science, and all possible matters related to human thought, memory, communication and personal identity. But we shall start with a basic question, which opens up many of these issues: How is my mind related to my body?

The relationship between mind and body
Philosophy has explored a whole range of possible relationships between mind and body. At one extreme there is the idea that only the physical body and its activity are real (materialism and behaviourism), at the other is the rarer idea that everything is fundamentally mental (idealism). Most philosophers come to a view that both bodies and minds have distinct but related realities (dualism). How exactly they are related is a further problem, and so our consideration of dualism has many sub-theories.

Materialism
A materialist attempts to explain everything in terms of physical objects, and tends to deny the reality of anything that cannot be reduced to them. So, for a materialist, the mind or 'self' is nothing more than a way of describing physical bodies and their activity. We may experience something as a thought or emotion, but in fact it is nothing more than electrical impulses in the brain, or chemical or other reactions in the rest of the body. Points to consider:

  • Apply electrical shocks to the brain, and the personality can be affected. (This is the basis of a form of treatment for severe depression, simulating epileptic fits.)
  • A person who suffers brain damage is no longer the same. In severe cases he or she may not appear to be a person at all, but merely a living body, devoid of all the normal attributes of mind.

Do these examples confirm the materialist view? Materialism takes a reductionist approach to mental activity (see p.13). A person is nothing but a brain, attached to a body and nervous system.
The 'nothing but' distinguishes materialism from other theories, for nobody would deny that, in some sense, a person is related to a brain, in the same way as a symphony is related to air movements. The essential question is whether or not it is possible to express what a 'something more' might be, if the materialist position seems inadequate.

For reflection
You see people waving to you and smiling.
  • Does that indicate that they are friendly? That they know you? That they have minds as well as bodies? That they have freely chosen to act in that way? That they have previously recognised you, had friendly thoughts towards you, and therefore decided to wave?
  • Let us analyse what is actually happening as you look at one of those people:
    - You see an arm moving.
    - Within that arm, muscles are contracting.
    - The contraction is caused by chemical changes, brought about by electrical impulses from the brain.
    - Brain activity depends on consuming energy and having an adequate oxygen supply via the blood.
    - Nutrition and oxygen are taken in from the environment.
    - And so on, and so on.
  • The act of waving is explained in terms of a material chain of cause and effect. That chain is, for practical purposes, infinite - it depends upon the whole way in which the universe is constructed. There is no point in that chain for some 'mind' to have its say - the world of sense experience is a closed system, and everything in it is totally determined. That is the materialist perspective, but - as far as the idea of a closed system of causes is concerned - it also follows from the ideas of Kant, for whom the phenomena of experience were determined, and causality was imposed on them by the human mind. The difference between the materialist and Kant is that Kant holds that there are minds and things-in-themselves but we cannot know them through sense experience, whereas the materialist holds that there is nothing other than the material world known to the senses.

Behaviourism
is the term used for the rather crude materialist theory that mental phenomena are in fact simply physical phenomena. Crying out and rubbing a part of the body is what pain is about. Shouting and waving a fist is what anger is about. All mental states are reduced by the behaviourist to things that can be observed and measured. People usually take a behaviourist position because they hold a radical empirical view of philosophy - everything must be reduced to sensations. The problem is that we experience a difference between a sensation or thought and the physical movement or the words that result from it. I can think before I speak, or before I write, but for a behaviourist there is nothing other than the words or the writing. To know a feeling, for a behaviourist, one must observe behaviour.

Idealism
The opposite of materialism is idealism: that reality is mental rather than physical. What we see of our body, and the bodies of others, are sense experiences; and these, after all, are simply impressions we get in our minds. Descartes, realising that his senses could always be deceived, came to the view that 'I think, therefore I am' as the starting point for philosophy. All he knew for certain was the fact of his own thought. Descartes used that fact as a basis for a dualist viewpoint, for he did not deny the reality of bodies, whereas a strict idealist holds that mind is the only reality. One criticism of the idealist approach might be that, although we may not be certain of the existence of matter, for all practical purposes we have to assume it. However much other people are merely sense impressions in our mind, we infer that there are people with minds and bodies like ours that are causing those impressions. Two idealist philosophers were mentioned in Chapter 1: Berkeley (see p. 19) and Leibniz (see p.32).

Dualism
If neither the materialist nor the idealist position convinces you by its account for the relationship between mind and body, the answer may be sought in some form of dualism: that mind and body are distinct and very different things. Each is seen as part of the self, part of what it means to be a person, but the question then becomes: How do these two things interact?
This question has a long history. In Phaedo, Plato argued for the immortality of the soul on two grounds:

1 That the body was composite, and was therefore perishable, whereas the mind was simple, and therefore imperishable.
2 That the mind had knowledge of the universals, the eternal forms (such as 'goodness itself') rather than individual events and objects. Because it relates to the immortal realm (the forms being immortal, because not particular), the soul is itself immortal and able to survive the body.

Few people today would wish to take up these arguments in the form that Plato presented them. But they persist in two widely accepted features of the mind/body question:
1 That the mind is not within space/time and not material - and thus that it should not be identified with its material base in the brain.
2 That the mind functions through communication - is not simply limited to the operations of a single particular body, i.e. the mind is not subject to physical limitations, and is related to transpersonal communication.

Descartes' starting point in the quest for knowledge, 'I think, therefore I am', implied a radical distinction between the world of matter, known to the senses, and the mental world, known (at least in one's own case) directly. They are two different realms, distinct but interacting. The mind, for Descartes, is able to deflect the flow of physical currents in the nervous system, and thus influence the mechanical working of the physical body. For Descartes, there has to be a point of interaction, for in all other respects he considers the material world to be controlled by mechanical forces, and without a mental component to make a difference, there would be no way in which a mental decision to do something could influence that otherwise closed mechanical world. One danger here is to imagine the mind as some kind of subtle, invisible body, existing in the world of space and time, yet not subject to its usual rules of cause and effect. This, of course, is a rather crude caricature of what Descartes and other dualists have actually claimed. (It is also an important caricature, having been used by Gilbert Ryle in The Concept of Mind (1949), a most influential book for an understanding of the mind/body issue, where he called the Cartesian view the 'official view' and labelled the mind 'the ghost in the machine'.)
The essential thing for Descartes is that mental reality is not empirical and therefore not in the world of space. The mind is not located in the body - it may be related to the body,but it is not some occult alternative set of physical causes and effects. It is therefore a matter of debate whether Ryle was justified in calling Descartes' view 'the ghost in the machine', although a popular form of dualism may well give that impression.

Forms of dualism
Epiphenomenalism This view is that the brain and nervous system are so complex that they give the impression of individuality and free choice. Although totally controlled by physical laws, we therefore 'seem' to have an independent mind. This is the closest that a dualistic view comes to materialism. The essential thing here is that mind does not influence the body mind is just the product of the complexity of the body's systems. The various things that I think, imagine, picture in my mind are epiphenomena. They arise out of and are caused by the electrical impulses that move between brain cells, but they are not actually part of that phenomena - they are 'above' (epi-) them.

Imagine a robot, programmed by computer. A simple version could be the source of amusement, as it attempts to mimic human behaviour. But as the memory capacity of the computer is increased, the process of decision making in the programme is so complex that the computer takes on a definite character. In this case the character can be seen to be a product of the computer's memory- that would be epiphenomenalism (We shall examine artificial intelligence later in this chapter.)

Interactionism
Most forms of dualism claim that the mind and the body are distinct but act upon one another. For example, if you have tooth decay (a bodily phenomenon) it will lead to pain (a mental experience): the body is affecting the mind. Equally, if you are suddenly afraid, you can break out in a cold sweat and start to shake: the mind is affecting the body. Although they interact, the mind and body remain distinct and appear self-contained. Thus (to take up the example of the person waving) an interactionist would not say that there is some break within the series of causes that led to the arm waving. The physical world remains a closed system within the body, but the whole of that system is influenced by the mind, and responds to its wishes. But how exactly is this interaction to come about? Here are some theories:

Occasionalism: On the occasion of my being hit over the head with a cricket bat, there is a simultaneous but uncaused feeling of pain! The two systems (physical and mental) do not have a direct causal connection. The philosopher Malebranche suggested that whenever he wanted to move his arm, it was actually moved by God.

Pre-established harmony: The physical and mental realms are separate and independent processes. Each appears to influence the other, but in fact they are independent but running in harmony. This view was put forward by Geulinx, a Dutch follower of Descartes. It is also found in Leibniz, who holds that ultimately everything is divisible again and again until you arrive at monads - simple entities without extension, and therefore mental. These monads cannot act upon one another, for each develops according to its own nature. But a complex being comprises countless monads. How do they all work together to produce intelligent activity? Leibniz argued that there must be a pre-established harmony, organising the otherwise independent monads. As far as humans are concerned, Leibniz holds that there is a dominant monad (a soul) and that God has established that the other monads that form the complex person work in harmony with it.

Note: 'Pre-established harmony' may seem one of the most bizarre of the mind/body theories, but in Leibniz it has a very specific purpose, and one which has important implications for both metaphysics and the philosophy of religion. Leibniz was concerned to preserve the idea of teleology (i.e. that the world is organised in a purposeful way) in the face of the mechanistic science and philosophy of his day.

If everything is locked into a series of causes, what room is left for a sense of purpose or for God? Leibniz' answer is that the individual monads of which everything is comprised do not actually affect one another. Rather, God has established a harmony by which they can work together.

Double aspect theory
This is the view, sometimes called the 'identity hypothesis', that ideas and the operations of bits of the brain are simply two aspects of the same thing. Thinking is thus the inner aspect of which the outer aspect is brain activity. (Perhaps we could say that music is the inner cultural aspect of which sound waves of particular frequencies are the outer physical aspect.) Of course, if the identity hypothesis is correct, there is a problem with freedom. Brain activity, like all physical processes, is limited by physical laws and, in theory, is predictable. But if mental events are simply another aspect of these physical events, they must also be limited by physical laws. If all my action is theoretically predictable, how can I be free? Spinoza argued that everything is both conscious and extended; all reality has both a mental and a physical aspect. The mind and body cannot be separated, and therefore there can be no life beyond this physical existence. Spinoza also held that freedom was an illusion, caused by the fact that we simply do not know all the real causes of our decisions.

In other words
Either everything is material and mind is an illusion.
Or everything is mental, and the material body is an illusion.
Or there are both minds and bodies, distinct by reacting on one another.

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