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Thinking And Moral Problems/Contents
Why do humans have beliefs and religions? This question puzzled me for many years. The answer, “to help us solve moral problems and make moral decisions,” only introduces other questions. Why do we have moral problems anyway? Clearly, everyday living requires us to solve many practical problems, but where do moral problems come from?
To understand why humans need beliefs and religions we must first investigate how we think—particularly how we solve practical problems and make practical decisions. Understanding these matters explains why solving abstract problems of morality requires us to invoke beliefs and construct religions. And this, in turn, equips us to examine, with some impartiality, the religions we now employ (we attempt to do this in Part Two, Religions And Their Source).
Chapter One, Thinking, tackles the first task. It discusses the brain, moves to the idea of a mind, and ends by exploring what we usually mean when we say we are thinking. We will find that a great deal of our thinking has to do with solving problems.
Chapter Two, Solving Problems, shows that all problems originate in, and are structured by, the various environments that we inhabit; practical problems devolve from the practical environment, social problems from the social environment, and so on. But moral problems, issues of “right” or “wrong,” originate entirely within our minds, and it is the mind’s lack of an environment (other than the one each of us constructs—more about this in Part Two, Religions And Their Source) that makes these difficult to solve.
Chapter Three, Making Decisions, discusses decision-making. It points out that the desire to attain a purpose is basic to making any decision, be it practical or moral. Moral judgements are metaphysical judgements, so we must have some metaphysical purpose in mind (and also want to attain it) before we can make moral decisions. Religions provide such purposes. They also provide various metaphysical environments; these create and structure our moral problems, as we shall see.
In short, Part One demonstrates that we cannot solve moral problems or make moral decisions without valuing the attainment of some kind of purpose (which can be spiritual or secular). We do not do this because there is (or is not) a god. We do not do this because we follow a religion. We do this, as we will shortly discover, because we try to think rationally when solving important problems and when making important decisions.
The four parts are:
Part One, Thinking And Moral Problems. This part includes Chapter One Thinking, Chapter Two Solving Problems and Chapter Three Making Decisions.
Part Two, Religions And Their Source. This part includes Chapter Four Religions' Origins, Chapter Five Revelations And Conversions and Chapter Six Present Day Religions.
Part Three, Purpose. This part includes Chapter Seven The Universe, Chapter Eight Life, Chapter Nine Looking For A Purpose and Chapter Ten Life And Exploiting.
Part Four, Developing A Universal Religion. This part includes Chapter Eleven Why Bother?, Chapter Twelve Possible Applications, Chapter Thirteen Determining Moral Behaviours and Chapter Fourteen A Universal Religion.
The four parts attempt to explain why the world needs a "universal religion."
To properly understand the need for a universal religion, we must first understand why religions are needed. Part One, Thinking And Moral Problems, of this book examines the neurological and environmental conditions that create the mental need for a religion. Essentially, our minds are problem-solving and decision-making entities, handling practical situations proficiently but often finding moral ones difficult. Religions help by shaping the background “environment” that defines the moral problem that confronts us.
Unfortunately, none of our existing religions could become the basis for a universal religion. The rationale for stating so is developed in Part Two, Religions And Their Source.
Part Three, Purpose, searches for a purpose that is significant enough to be used when universally applicable moral decisions have to be made. It gives reasons for stating that life’s behaviour itself may provide such a purpose. Part Four, Developing A Universal Religion, presents some philosophical and practical reasons for using such a purpose then illustrates how it might be used to develop a rational code of “moral” behaviour. Part Four ends with a few suggestions about religion building.
The emphasis throughout this book is on the importance of choosing a suitable (i.e., universal, timeless and rational) purpose and using it to make decisions that impact upon civilization’s progress. In that such a purpose will generate moral solutions, it may eventually head a “universal religion.” However, this book explores only the reasons why such a religion is needed and how one might be derived; the possible development of one is a task that others might like to think about undertaking.
Some points in this series may promote discussions and dissensions. These are welcome, of course, but can make following the text difficult if included within the text. I suggest that:
- facts (as defined in wikipedia [[1]]) are included as changes in the text, but
- opinions (as defined in wikipedia [[2]]) are added to the discussion page. Please give your name or a pen-word, so that others can refer to your entry in any replies.
N.B. Changes in text can be found by referring to the history page.
Since the text is being modified, you may wish to read, or print, parts (or all) of the original book. You can do this by downloading the PDF file.
David Hockey 20:53, 2 January 2006 (UTC)
You may also download copies for ebook readers from http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/849
David Hockey (talk) 11:18, 9 July 2009 (UTC)
By: Andrean Rule Bomediano
Introduction to chapter One
A discussion about thinking must begin by saying a little about the brain and the mind. The first exists in concrete form: it is pinkish-grey in colour, weighs about three pounds, and has the consistency of jelly. It contains about a hundred billion neural cells supported within some trillion neuroglial cells, consumes about twenty percent of the body’s energy, and can be dissected and examined microscopically. But the mind is quite a different kettle of fish. In fact, some neuroscientists deny its very existence. They prefer the simpler explanation that thoughts occur in the brain, and claim that what we call the “mind” does not exist. However, it is simpler to discuss the two separately, and this is how they will be treated in this book.
Chapter One. Thinking
The Brain
The brain evolved in animals because there is a strategic advantage in being able to detect and capture food (as in say a mollosc) and later to search and find food and sexual partners. The brain is thus a mechanism for locomotion and for avoiding hazards.
The brain’s chief job therefore is to store and operate the controls that command many inherited (or instinctive) body functions. This section discusses a little of what happens during this process, so that the difference between what the brain does and what is involved when thinking can be made clearer.
Instinctive behaviours are transmitted from one generation to the next through gene codings, as has been demonstrated many times. For instance, fruit flies normally wake up with daylight, nap in the afternoon, then fall asleep at dusk. This behaviour is controlled by a gene, the so-called “period gene.” If this gene is removed from male and female flies which then mate, their descendants sleep at random times. If the gene is then returned to these time-less progeny, they and their offspring will resume regular sleep patterns.
The first, tiny part of this instinctive behaviour started as the result of a mutation [1] eons ago that caused one fly to sleep during the dark, with the concomitant reduced danger of being eaten compared to flies that were sleeping during the day. Surviving and passing this mutation to its descendants, this fly became the progenitor of successive generations that also fell asleep at dusk, so surviving in greater numbers than those lacking this [2] Jonathan Weiner provides an example[3] that nicely illustrates the value of instinctive behaviour in animals larger than fruit flies. He describes an experiment that uses a blackened piece of cardboard or wood cut into a bird-like shape. When this shape is moved in one direction across a light sky or ceiling it appears to be the silhouette of a goose flying; if it is moved in the other direction it resembles a hawk. When newly hatched goslings, raised in an incubator and having had no contact whatsoever with any adult goose, are shown the cut-out moving in the goose-resembling direction, they pay no attention. When the same cut-out is moved in the opposite direction, they scatter and attempt to hide.
Instinctive behaviours, like all others, depend upon the brain recognizing the significance of signals received from body sensors, or from the presence or absence of chemicals in body fluids. The question slowly being answered[4] is, “how does the brain know what to do when it receives such signals?” Neurons in the brain (Hercule Poirot’s “little grey cells”) hold the answer.
Most human neural cells (neurons) resemble minute, spiky blobs with tails. The blob, or body, is called the soma. The tail, a long, thin, branching, tube-like extension, is called the axon. The hundreds of short, spiky structures fringing the soma are called dendrites. When activated, electrical signals in the form of electrically charged chemical ions travel from the dendrites, through the soma, along the axon and its branches (the fanout[5]), to a number of bubble-like terminating vesicles. Ions arriving at the vesicles cause the discharge of neurotransmitter chemicals into the minute gaps that separate one neuron from another. These chemicals are detected by so-called synaptic knobs on dendrites belonging to neighbouring neurons, where they may start new ion flows within receptive neurons.
Neural networks store information for later use. This is done in a two-step process. First, flows of chemical ions circulating in tiny closed networks of neurons hold data temporarily. Much information from eyes, ears and other sense organs is temporarily stored in such neural loops while being screened for significance. Since the majority of incoming information is of little interest, most of it is discarded. (Cutting off the energizing nutrients prevents the loops from becoming significant.) Second, information having a relationship to other pre-stored or incoming data that is deemed significant can be kept active by constantly re-energizing the loops. This induces the growth of synaptic knobs on dendrites.[6] Additional synaptic knobs facilitate the transmission of neurochemicals across the dendritic gaps and thus build pathways of lowered electro-chemical resistance connecting one neuron to another. These pathways form neural networks that can retain the bytes of information that induced their formation for many years. Millions and millions of neural networks, each storing tiny bits of information, are to be found within everyone’s brain (most laid down during our first few years of life). [7]
The brain analyzes and interprets information coming from the senses[8] by routing it through earlier-formed neural networks. These respond (think “resonate”) to the presence of specific, tiny, chunks of information that match the chunks that earlier caused the network to form. This can be illustrated by electronically tracing what happens to information received by the eye, a well-explored example that helps us to understand what the brain does with data from other body sense organs. Light, reflected from the object we are looking at, enters the eye and falls upon the light-sensitive rods and cones in the eye’s retina. This creates millions of tiny signals, and these travel along the optic nerve to the brain. Key aspects of the component signal, such as information bytes denoting vertical edges, excite existing neural patterns (i.e., tiny memories) of the kinds of objects that have vertical edges. The same “analysis” is done for horizontal edges, relative sizes, colours, shapes (for instance, the vertices of any triangular aspects the object may possess), and so on.[9] This process continues until the brain excites a pattern that matches stored patterns of objects similar to the one being viewed and the object is “recognized.” “Recognition” is complete when additional characteristics, retrieved from other neural networks storing “memories,” can be added.[10]
Memories of objects and events are built up by a reverse process. Early in life, a toddler, staring at a fir tree, for example, would have stored information in his or her brain about its general shape, colour, branch pattern, leaf shape and other characteristics. Each aspect would have been broken into smaller bytes, temporarily then permanently stored and linked by neural pathways to other related bytes (including, but added much later, bytes representing the name of the tree). If more fir trees were noted, neurotransmitting chemicals would continue to induce the formation of synaptic knobs linking and reinforcing stored memories of tree parts and whole trees. Eventually, neural networks storing relatively detailed memories of fir trees would be built. Information received upon seeing a maple tree, having many similar features, would connect into many of the same neural patterns used by the fir tree memory, but would, of course, connect into other quite different ones. (At least, it would for those who had learned the difference between a fir and a maple. Those who had not discovered the similarities and differences would have to make do with a generic tree-memory.)
Whether or not any of this knowledge affects survival would be a matter of circumstance, but it is clear that memories built up through experience do greatly affect what we know,[11] as well as what we come to believe and how we behave. Much more about this later.
Information that depicts frequently seen objects travels along, and reinforces, the same neural pathways, making them evident by the thousands of synaptic knobs (as many as 10,000 or more) that form on the dendrites of neurons along these routes. Such large numbers of synaptic links vastly increase the brain’s sensitivity to similar stimuli,[12] thereby decreasing response time—an important survival feature in potentially dangerous environments. Conversely, seldom-seen objects take more mental effort and may be only slowly recognized. Because our brains can carry out many unconscious functions simultaneously, we experience signal analysis and recognition as though it happens instantaneously. However, information flow along neural axons and across synaptic gaps is slow compared to information flow in computers.
Of course, recognizing the significance of incoming stimuli involves a lot more than described above. To better appreciate how information from our senses is used within our brains, consider what must be happening if, for example, we suddenly notice that we are about to walk into the branch of a tree. Before the brain can induce any action, it must, at the very least, understand the following. First, it must understand the nature of the tree’s relationship to us (e.g., that the tree will do nothing to us if we do not bump into it). Second, the brain—as well as the mind—must have access to, and be able to use, memories of what actions have succeeded in the past (e.g., that we can avoid trouble by simply ducking our head or by stepping sideways). Third, the brain needs to be constantly aware of the body’s abilities and limitations (e.g., it must know that we can’t jump out of the way if, for example, we walk with a cane). All these things, and many more, must be known to the brain just so that it can cause the body to act in a suitable manner.
It is important to note that most of what has been described above is not thinking, for even simple life forms perform many of the same functions. They react to stimuli, and show evidence of possessing memories by using the information stored in these memories when reacting. Amoebae move away from acidic areas. Earthworms sense the void of large holes in the ground and move around them. Spiders feel their web trembling and emerge to envelop prey, and so on. All living entities respond to changes in their environment by sensing stimuli of one kind or another, then acting upon what these stimuli represent to them.[13] These sensing, analyzing and danger-avoiding activities are continually being carried out, even by primitive animals. Advanced animals have inherited these same abilities, most of which occur within the brain. But almost all of these are programmed activities which take place without any thought.[14] They form what may be considered to be a lower level of neural functioning. Although collecting, storing and recognizing signals are important and necessary functions significant to thinking (just as buying and storing tools and materials are important functions in a factory’s operation), they are not “thinking” per se. They are simply operations that trigger the release of action-inducing chemicals. In as much, these functions are similar to many others that support and maintain the body’s welfare. Section three of this chapter, First- And Second-Level Thinking, clarifies this distinction.
The Mind
The human mind is that part of the brain that is able to imagine, and exists mostly in the forebrain. That is why the foreheads of modern people do not slope backwards as in other primates. This forebrain was probably previously the organ of smell, which for our species uniquely, has evolved in a truly remarkable way. Imagination and communication are so closely related that it is reasonable to aver that the principal purpose of language is really to to tell lies!
We will have much to say about the mind, memories and thinking, so these terms should first be defined. It is reasonable, for our purposes, to say that the myriad of neural networks of stored information that we call memories, when considered together, form what we might call a “quiescent” mind—a mind that is ready to handle information, but is not actually doing so. (A person with such a mind would be called “brain dead,” and the kind and amount of information that such a “mind” might be reactivated to handle would vary greatly with circumstances.) An “active” mind would be one where chemical ion flows are carrying information from place to place. All living minds are constantly active.
The term “memories” includes all of an individual’s mentally stored facts, theories, opinions, personal experiences, recallable emotions, past thoughts, ideas, etc. “Thinking,” for most of our purposes, can be defined as the act of seeking relationships between these memories, or between memories and current stimulations being received from body sensors. (What occurs during thinking is examined more thoroughly in the next section.)
Animal behaviour studies suggest that many animals possess rudimentary thinking abilities. Tool making is considered to be evidence of the ability to think and many creatures make and use tools. Racoons pick up and use stones to break open clams. Beavers not infrequently shape wood as they construct dams to hold water to store and preserve food they need during winter. Chimpanzees use rocks or heavy sticks to crack open hard-shelled fruit and nuts; they also fashion drinking cups and rain-sheltering umbrellas from banana leaves, and use sticks to extract insects and grubs from small holes. [15] Birds also make and use tools. [16]
Many animal behaviourists contend that their studies demonstrate animals can think. Hausser declares that animals think,[17] but simply lack the ability to express their many thoughts and emotions to others.[18] Calvin states that animals can assess their environment, consider alternative actions and make decisions—all necessitating the ability to think.[19] That animals can think implies that thinking, like every other biological feature and process, has evolved over the ages. Thinking certainly did not suddenly spring, fully formed, into existence in humans.
The specific content of any mind (animal or human) is currently hidden to investigators because the mind functions only when neural networks are biochemically or electrically activated, and, to date, scientists have no technique precise enough to find out just which memories of the multitude locked in the brain’s neural patterns are being activated at any particular instant.[20] Nevertheless, neural networks are real; they can be seen (and photographed as they develop) increasing in complexity as infants age and learn. (The increasing complexity of an adult’s learning brain is hidden within, and masked by, its multitude of existing neural pathways.) The biochemical flows that retrieve and carry information stored within these neural patterns is also real. In short, neural networks whose paths store memories within the brain constitute the mind, and thinking depends upon biochemical flows activating some or many of these networks, so releasing (and making available for potential use) the information they hold.
First- And Second-Level Thinking
Just what does the human mind do when it thinks? Here we must conjecture a little.
Thinking seems to occur on several levels. (The term “level” will be used to distinguish one kind of mental activity from another.[21] These thinking activities overlap, and are not actually separate and distinct. They could be described as different "modes of thought,” but separating the process into three “levels” aids explanation.)
Before we begin, let us distingiush what happens autonomically—the brain’s control of body functions mentioned in section one. As has been stated, what the brain does reflexively is not really considered to be thinking. For example when confronting danger, the body prepares for flight or fight - the pulse races, the lungs ventilate, the digestion is suspended, the stomach and bowels may be emptied (hence such expressions as sick with worry and frightened shitless).
Thes emotional responses are fast and dirty survival mechanisms. Except insofar as they affect mood and thus rational thinking we will mostly ignore this kind of uncontrollable activity.
First-Level Thinking--Awareness
In what will be called the “first level” of thinking, the brain simply absorbs information from its sensors (predominantly the eyes, and then the ears for humans). First-level thought amounts to little more than a general awareness of one’s surroundings. Cassirer writes about this mental activity as follows. “In the realm of mythic conception” . . . (which preceded the use of words and language) . . . “thought does not confront its data in an attitude of free contemplation, seeking to understand their structure and their systematic connections, and analyzing them according to their parts and functions, but is simply captivated by a total impression. Such thinking does not develop the given content of experience; it does not reach backward or forward from that vantage point to find ‘causes’ and ‘effects,’ but rests content with taking in the sheer existent.”[22]
Animals, certainly, have this ability. Most mammals mainly comprehend their environment visually, as we do, but many obtain the same kind of awareness predominantly through a different sense—that which has become their most highly developed one. Bats, we know, rely upon their ears, much more than their eyes, to build instantaneous mental pattern-pictures of their surroundings. Dogs are likely to develop odour maps of their territory.
First-level thinking is restricted to this kind of activity; the mental equivalent of simply displaying information within the brain. It exists only as temporary neural ion flows that form patterns, none of which become associated with previously stored patterns, for memories are not needed to generate this kind of awareness. These experiences never (unless linked to other memories during subsequent second-level thinking activities and recalled as an impression of some kind) form part of any permanent memory.[23]
This is predominately located in a specific area of the brain, a sensory strip along the top center of your brain. Others forms of worldly awareness may exist however, much like earthworms response to light or even a venus-fly-trap's response to touching it's hairs, all transmitted chemically.
Second-Level Thinking--Association
Second-level thinking occurs in two forms, subconscious and conscious. It is defined to be occurring when the mind discovers meaningful associations between stored memories (i.e., earlier-formed, data-storing, neural networks) and incoming information, between two or more sets of incoming data, or between stored memories.[24] Second-level thinking happens continuously at the subconscious level and intermittently at the conscious level. (This implies that subconscious thought precedes conscious thought, a phenomenon that brain-scanning has verified. We will refer to this again, in Chapter Five.)
Scanning incoming data for relevancy and significance is second-level thinking’s most important function. A living entity’s most relevant and important concern is almost always survival (resulting in a constant search for active threats or potential danger,[25] and for food and water). Its second most relevant and important concern is the possible opportunity to reproduce. The nature of this kind of thinking means that information is almost always stored in conjunction with emotional overtones.[26]
Almost all subconscious second-level thinking is immediately discarded (as most habitat environments are benign and otherwise not of much significance). When meaningful relationships between incoming data and stored memories are found, they may trigger body reactions (such as danger-avoiding activity) and may break through from the subconscious into the conscious mind, where they are further considered.[27]
Again, animals make these associations and comparisons (continually at the subconscious level, and periodically, with varying degrees of ability, at the conscious level). Animals generally ignore non-threatening events but react to potential danger situations, demonstrating that they know from past experience or instinct (remembering the gosling experiment) how to distinguish one from the other.
(Animals can do more than simply react to situations; they can plan ahead, using a knowledge of prevailing circumstances—social as well as situational. Dunbar [after describing how an old, ousted, male chimpanzee used rewards and punishments to manipulate an alliance with a weak young chimpanzee and so regain and retain control of a harem from its new, stronger leader] concluded that the behaviour of monkeys and apes showed that they can predict the outcome of their actions.[28])
Associating memories and/or stimuli in meaningful ways forms the basis of second-level thinking; language is certainly not needed to make such neural network linkages. Infants demonstrate that they can make associations and comparisons long before they can speak; for example, they react with surprise if some aspect of a frequently observed image has been changed.
The critical aspects that distinguish second-level thinking from first-level thinking are that, during second-level thinking, two or more sets of information are compared, differences are noted, and the relevance of any found variance is sought. The degree to which any detected difference is understood depends upon the sophistication of the animal—its evolutionary level, past experiences, education and intelligence. Simple animals may understand little about any discovered differences; humans may understand much.
The discovered relationship may, as previously noted, be immediately discounted and forgotten. However, those deemed to be significant may become stored as part of a new neural network if one or more links are forged between pre-existing patterns. The simple example that follows might clarify this important process.
Imagine that I want to drill a hole through a block of wood, and that I have the required drill but the drill bits are too short. What would I do? Well, I would look around to see what I had that might be long enough. When this first happened to me, it took a little while to think of cutting the head from a long nail then using the nail. However, the second time this occurred, I quickly remembered my previous solution.
The first situation above entailed second-level thought, the second occurrence did not. In the first situation, my mind had to mentally list the properties a useful bit must possess (strength, hardness, rigidity, length and so on) then cause me to seek something that possessed such properties. The two data sets (the neural network patterns that stored information about what was required, and the streams of data coming from my eyes as I looked over my workshop) were compared, and matches that denoted relevance to the problem induced temporary ion-flow loops between corresponding aspects. Once a solution was found, once I had spotted a nail and realized that it would serve my purpose, the temporary links[29] that were significant were retained long enough to be made permanent through the growth of synaptic knobs, thus becoming available for future use as part of my neural network complex. Linking and learning turn out to be the same thing.
Simply remembering something done, heard, seen or read about is not second-level thinking, it is merely reactivating previously formed neural paths. No new links are made, and nothing new is learned during simple recall.[30] In other words, recalling memories to mind is similar to looking at a picture or running a movie in one’s head, whereas second-level thinking is more akin to looking at two pictures or running two movies side-by-side, while constantly comparing and contrasting the two.
Infants, with brains containing well over 100 billion neurons, make neural links continuously as they attempt to join sensory stimuli with information that is stored in memory.[31] Infants and young children learn quickly and easily, because stimuli are being stored and linked on a more-or-less “tabula rasa” (a term meaning “blank slate,” first used by John Locke in 1690 in his Essay Concerning Human Understanding to describe the mind of a newborn). That many of these associations will turn out to be incorrect and unusable is inconsequential; the links that matter are the ones that are subsequently reinforced through use. Billions of early made connections remain unused throughout all our lives, slowly atrophying. Christian de Duve pointed out[32] that neurons initially make many loose connections; these are strengthened only if useful, and are discarded if not. The associations that are used, of course, are those connecting memories that, by being linked, provide useful understandings: the name of a toy, object or a sibling; the idea that certain results always follow certain activities (things fall to the ground when released, for instance); how to call for food, etc.[33] Adults learn more slowly, because their minds first attempt to fit new stimuli into previously existing networks, and only when this can’t be done do they progress to looking for, then forming, completely new links. In other words, adults do not immediately think when reacting to a stimulus; they first search, very rapidly and almost entirely subconsciously, for past associations and use them, whenever the fit seems close enough.
Realizing that second-level thinking is little more than electrochemically comparing memories with incoming data (or comparing memories already in storage), recognizing relationships of significance between them, then making new neural links, tells us again that this kind of thinking cannot be unique to humankind. The brains of many animals do this.[34] In fact, we should expect linkages to form between memories and incoming sensory stimulations in all animate entities, because sense receptor cells and neurons exist to provide information so that similarities and differences between incoming and stored memories can be detected. Animals and humans learn what these variations may imply and use this knowledge to survive and to mate.[35] In short, humans are not the only life forms that think—animals do too.
However, thinking did not become what we generally understand it to be today until early humans discovered the use of words and languages. The next section shows how this ability led to a more comprehensive level of thought, one that we will be calling third-level thinking. Third-level thinking is, primarily, a human activity.
Third-Level Thinking And Language
The advances brought about by human thought have made modern life so different from the way it was just a few hundred years ago, that folks of those days might rightly have called us sorcerers or magicicians, were we and a few of our many technologies to suddenly have appeared among them.
People of such times would have had the upmost difficulty to understand how we can talk to someone many kilometres away, can be heard or how their image can be projected upon a screen, nor how heavy machines can fly through the air, how joints and body organs can be replaced, or how pest- and disease-resistant plants can be developed. Today most of us take these developments for granted.
How has it been possible for humans to discover and accomplish so much in just a few thousand years? Only 5000 years have elapsed since the first major road some 2,857 km from the Persian Gulf to the Aegean Sea, was built, although humans seem to have emerged some 3 million years before that.
Many other species have existed for tens of millions of years; why have none ever attained anything even remotely approaching human achievements? Why did their cognitive ability not develop as it has for humans? The answer, we know, is two-fold: We are a relatively puny species, and had to find ways to survive in competition with better adapted animals.
Fortunately the forest dwelling ancestors of humans developed opposable thumbs for locomotion in trees, and that grasping, manipulative capacity led to Homo Hablis. When the forest receded (or humans migrated to the savannah grasslands) standing on the back legs provided a wider field of view for avoiding predators and finding prey. Eventually perpetual bipedalism released the upper limbs from locomotion, allowing unrestricted hand usage and maximizing latent abilities to build and use tools. Learning how to make and use tools and weapons involves much more imagination than merely copying, and our ancestors therefore developed advanced, formal signalling which led to language.
Formal audible signalling is widly used to express emotions. Many animals and birds can be heard declaring their feelings when they grunt, cry, bark or sing to signal danger, mark teritory or attract mates. Such sounds sum their current emotional state and declare it to the world, conveying meaning to other sentient species around them. Human mothers recognize infant cries and know 'instintively' when their infants are hungry, uncomfortable, distressed or merely bored.
Intentional sounds such as an infant cry are not just involuntary reactions to a stimuli — are dramatically improve the probability of survival for the originator and its species.
There is an important difference between publicizing one emotion and vocalizing a series of them. A cry of pain can be an instinctive reaction, requiring no thinking ability—a behaviour discussed previously. A cry of pain followed by one of anger, then one of threat, may well be demonstrating the use of something like a language because the animal is attempting to make others understand and respond to its mental or emotional state.
The development of any language, like most evolutionary change, would doubtlessly have taken place sporadically, in dribbles and spurts. Significant advances were likely only made whenever a particular kind of vocalization could be repeatedly used to convey some special meaning to another, or when an exchange of sounds enabled an exchange of intentions, and such an interchange was reiterated with some consistency.[36]
Animals can, and do, use advanced signalling systems with some proficiency. Gerbils have developed a fairly complex language to warn one another of the presence of predators. Dolphins, like whales, exchange complex information sonically; they can also recognize, and respond appropriately to, the meaning hidden within the grammatical structure of human hand signals. Chimpanzees use primitive language forms, and many have been trained to select symbols that convey their desires for food, drink, or toys. They are also able to express a whole range of other reactions in response to questioning. Several have been trained to use ASL signs, and one such chimp subsequently taught others some signs. The experiments are regarded widely as failures - the chimps did not learn language, they were simply able to mimic an extremely limited number of signs in more-or-less appropriate contexts. [37]
Primitive language usage would have emerged a great many times as species developed,[38] but it has never developed to any significant extent (as far as we know) in any species other than our own. Two evolutionary developments contributed to our ability: a deep-set larynx (which forms a large, resonating chamber, possibly helped into position as we began walking upright) and vocal chords (which can vibrate and are controllable). These features allow us to form and vocalize an almost unlimited number of distinctly different sounds.[39]
Thinking by using word equivalents became possible as soon as words began to be used. A simple proto-language (employing nouns, verbs, subjects, objects, and simple sentence structures) would have begun to take shape from the outset.
Language use improved our species’ ability to recall memories (the first step in discovering links or relationships between them and incoming stimuli). Once relationships had been found and named, early humans would have used this knowledge within their clans to enhance their group’s survival. Third-level thinking and language development would now continue forever hand-in-hand, because an improvement in one concomitantly produces an improvement in the other.
Cassirer, discussing these early phases of language development, stated: “Before the intellectual work of conceiving and understanding of phenomena can set in, the work of naming must have preceded it, and have reached a certain point of elaboration. For it is this process which transforms the world of sense impression, which animals also possess, into a mental world, a world of ideas and meanings. All theoretical cognition takes its departure from a world already preformed by language.”[40]
Word arrangements, syntax and sentence structures are essential components of all languages.[41] Thus the ability to sequence thoughts must have developed before language could have evolved. Calvin suggests[42] that this skill first arose as our ancestors learned how to throw rocks and sticks accurately, an ability which requires the careful sequencing of vision, arm, and finger movements to be successful.[43] This is likely to have happened some two million years ago, when Homo erectus emerged from trees to live on the African plains, where surveillence and throwing from an upright posture became a common occurrence.
Sequencing (of data) is a necessary part of comparing memories and incoming stimuli; it simplifies the discovery of meaningful relationships between mental data, and, as earlier noted, relationship-discovering is the quintessential feature of second-level thinking.
Various kinds of evidence exist indicating early human life forms used sophisticated language. Rudgley, in The Lost Civilizations of the Stone Age,[44] refers to work done by Dietrich and Ursula Mania, on findings that date to between 350,000 and 300,000 years ago from the Bilzingsleben Lower Palaeolithic site near Halle in former East Germany. This site contains evidence of workshop areas, complete with anvil stones (where tools were made) and stone, wood and bone remnants (all showing tool markings). Four artifacts with a series of parallel-cut incisions were also found. It is thought that a clan of considerable dexterity lived and worked in this area, one which very likely used some rudimentary form of language, and that the parallel lines probably conveyed some specific meaning.
Rhulen, a linguist, investigated word origins, and has found evidence that supports the theory that all languages originate from one, proto-sapiens, language, which existed some 100,000 years ago.[45] Nichols has examined syntax and other structural mechanisms used in languages, and dates their origins even further back, to at least 132,000 y.a.[46]
Words and language are central to what we are calling third-level thinking. We may not always select and use actual words when thinking consciously, but a few moment’s reflection about how attention is being directed from one aspect to another within our mind when thinking consciously makes it apparent that we use sentence-structure equivalents. (Tattersall and Matternes go as far as to say that we could not even conceive the idea of thought if we did not use a language.[47])
Third-level thinking manifests itself as if we were talking to ourselves. For instance, when we are preparing to express a point of view we fabricate sentences, developing and rejecting trains of thought within our minds. We usually attempt to follow one main track when thinking, but our central theme is always surrounded by a plethora of other, loosely associated, thoughts and images, each offering more data for potential inclusion. Our thoughts wend their way among these submissions, and only finally crystallize when we mouth or write a statement, or act upon a thought. Cassirer again: “only symbolic expression can yield the possibility of prospect and retrospect, because it is only by symbols that distinctions are not merely made, but fixed in consciousness. What the mind has once created, what has been culled from the total sphere of consciousness, does not fade away again when the spoken word has set its seal upon it and given it definite form.”[48]
Third-level thinking is slow compared to the speed of second-level thinking because word selection and arrangement takes time. Moreover, third-level thinking is always preceded by second-level thinking. Although we may feel that our conscious thoughts occur immediately, experiments (particularly those with people who have sustained brain damage[49]) show that unconscious emotional signals—a component of subconscious thinking, alluded to earlier—always precede conscious thinking, and certainly affect decision making.[50]
The consequences of prior subconscious second-level thinking have been often noted by novelists. They, not infrequently, state that their characters “took over” and wrote the story. Actually, their subconscious second-level thinking would have continuously explored and developed associations between memories of characters, and the results of this activity would have been fed to their conscious second and third level of thinking, giving rise to the feeling that their characters were in control.[51]
Language development facilitated huge improvements in Homo sapiens’ ability to problem solve,[52] and this significantly increased their survival ability. Language use allowed early men and women to teach weapon construction, organize group hunting, deploy themselves to previously determined purposes, and so on, considerably enhancing their chances of obtaining food, killing animals or besting enemies. Greater skill and efficiency in these areas left more time for other activities—in animal and plant domestication, artistry and creativity, pottery and ornament production, culture and recreation, to provide just a few examples. Thinking, language use, problem solving, and the practical application of what has been learned form a spiral of constant and accelerating improvement that continues in humans today. (But only as long as the whole is reality-based: introducing fanciful assumptions about the nature of things warps and obstructs the whole process. More about this in later chapters.)
Language And Uniqueness
This might be a good time to note that, although we use words as though they mean to others exactly what they mean to us, this is never the case. The precise meaning or nuance of every word differs from one person to another for several reasons.
Minor misunderstanding is vital to language development, for we learn a language by linking mental images of objects and events to words and phrases that we memorize. But the library of mental images we each must have before we can begin to learn a language is built from life experiences, and these are unique to each possessor. Every word a speaker or writer uses is defined for that person by the bank of memories carried within their mind.
Each person hearing or reading these words interprets their meaning using their own memory set. (A couple of crude examples: one person says “tree,” thinking of a small fir tree in a garden; the other person hears “tree,” and thinks of a large maple tree in a forest. Or, one person says “look at that motor,” admiring a vehicle's colour; the other says “yes,” seeing the same vehicle, but thinking of the engine that powers it.)
We can never convey precisely what we have in mind to another person, but as long as we are sane we can get close. Legally, a person whose internal mental model is not reliably realistic of the external real world is said to be insane. Furthermore, each of us defines what we consider to be true by referring to what we know about ourselves and our universe (i.e., by referring to the memories of reality that life has delivered to our minds since infancy) and this is constantly changing, as our knowledge about objects and events keeps changing.[53] Thus, even our personal definition of the “truth” will change as we ourselves age and mature.[54]
The fact that word meanings change over time and become more precise as we understand more, can be readily illustrated by considering the word “atom.” Two thousand years ago there was debate about whether such a thing even existed.
Two hundred years ago a few believed that atoms existed, but no one knew anything about their structure. Twenty five years ago physicists wondered about the possibility of quarks existing within atoms; today we know that quark trios make up the protons and neutrons that are nuclear components of every atom, and that quarks are possibly composed of dimensionally bound energy fields.
Now, not everyone knows such details, but some do, and given enough study, most of us could learn more. So the images that the word “atom” conjures up in the minds rather depends on our level of understanding, and for those with more learning each word or expressed concept is clearly more meaningful, precise, potentially useful and valuable than the mind images of those who do not know very much about such things.
Remove language, and third-level thinking will disappear, mental consciousness[55] will degenerate, and what we have been calling second-level thinking will be all that remains. Uninhibited feelings and emotions may then dominate behaviour as they once must have done in dinosaur days.
Thinking And The Universe
Linking sensory data together, as second-level thinking does, can produce meaningful results precisely because everything in the universe is linked to every other thing through causality. Causality simply means that nothing in the universe happens without some preceding cause. This more-or-less obvious fact (known to René Descartes over three hundred years ago) actually reveals several other important details about the universe.
Causality states that everything that happens has been caused by some previous event or events, and it means that everything that exists today was created from some thing or things that existed in another form at an earlier time. In other words, events and things don’t just appear out of thin air, something causes them to appear.
It is easy to understand that everything is made from smaller pieces, and that these are, in turn, made from even smaller fragments. Also we can readily understand that the properties of any structure depends upon the properties of its components. For example, we don’t build railway bridges out of wood these days; it’s not strong enough. We use steel made mostly from iron, because iron atoms are tightly bound together by an electromagnetic force. (Wood is made from larger, widely spaced, carbon-based molecules that are only weakly held together.) The properties and behaviour of everything can be similarly explained in terms of more fundamental properties, once we know enough. The point is, we wouldn’t discover any such relationship through second-level thinking, nor develop any such explanation with all its useful predictions, if the universe was not causal.
Causality affects everything about us; it allows us to learn and it allows us to make things that work. Consequently (although not consciously) we have built this concept deep into the roots of the languages we use and the thinking we do.[56] However, we don’t usually go around saying that the universe is causal; we just expect it to behave rationally or logically. Rational behaviour has been defined as behaviour that is consistent with, or based upon, reason or logic, and neither is possible without the existence of limitless causal relationships. One single break in this chain of causality would negate every one of the explanations and predictions we so much rely upon in all aspects of life.
The fact that the universe is causal has a number of very interesting linguistic consequences. One is that the very words and languages we use must grow out of, and conform to, the reality that surrounds us. This cannot be otherwise. We might try to invent a language not limited by the nature of the universe, but what could it possibly be? Existing words could not be used, for each one carries some of our understanding about the nature of things. Words would have to be invented, but none of these could refer to anything within the universe, by definition of what we are trying to do. We would end up with gibberish, not a language. It would convey no meaning and bring about no understanding. In fact we could not even invent such a language, because we are unable to think without being affected and constrained by the logic and rationality of the knowledge about the universe that we carry within our brains.
Steven Pinker[57] argues in support of Chomsky's theory that a “Universal Grammar” underlies and constrains all languages. He further claims that the existence of a Universal Grammar is evidence that culture is not just a matter of nature and nurture, as the standard social science model would have us believe. This, he suggests, means that morality cannot be relative to time or situation, but must be universal and becomes built into our minds by our use of a language.
As for morality; we devise our moral statements using words whose definitions vary from one language to another, and that change from time to time and from person to person, as previously noted. Some might conclude from this that no humanly stated moral law or ethical principle can be universal or permanent. By the same token, it has been known since Herodotus (to name just one historical writer) that varied opinions as to right and wrong have existed simultaneously as far back as can be traced. It is difficult to conclude from mere variety of expression that there is no underlying human basis nor that such a basis is impossible.
Thinking And Intelligence
Webster[58] defines intelligence as follows.
the power or act of understanding; mental acuteness or sagacity; the power of meeting any situation, esp. a novel situation, successfully by proper behavior adjustments; the ability to apprehend the interrelationships of presented facts in such a way as to guide action towards a desired goal.
Any of these definitions may be applied to second-level thinking. Third-level thinking enhances and continues this process; it amplifies “mental acuteness or sagacity.” Thus, thinking and intelligence amount to much the same thing. Chapter Two investigates this connection a little more fully by discussing the mental gymnastics of problem solving.
Chapter Two. Solving Problems
Summary
The following points are important to this discussion.
The brain receives, stores (in temporary as well as permanent locations), and uses information to direct activities that support the body’s welfare. These responses are mostly “hardwired,” the result of millions of years of evolution, and do not involve what we call “thinking.”
The mind develops as meaningful relationships between stored information (memories) and incoming sensory perceptions are discovered. Mental activities include becoming aware (first-level thinking), noting relationships (second-level thinking), and consciously manipulating information using words and a language.
Sentient species think (to the extent that this is possible for their species) and act rationally most of the time. To do otherwise reduces the species’ chances of survival because their home (the universe) is rationally (i.e., causally) constructed.
A dropped larynx, vocal chords, time, imagination, and much practice, have changed grunts into sonnets, and caves into space stations. Languages have allowed us to name, record and even tell friends on the other side of the world about the neural-link-forming relationships we discover everywhere we bother to look.
The universe’s causality binds thinking, language and intelligence together. Applying what we have discovered through investigating causality’s consequences enables us to solve problems and make decisions proficiently. Rational thought helps us to survive; it gifts us with understanding and confers a degree of control over objects and events.
Additional layers of mental ability will doubtless accrue as life continues to evolve: heightened empathy, intuitive-like jumps in comprehension, telepathy perhaps; capabilities unimaginable today, as some of our current capabilities would have been unimaginable a few thousand years ago. Life’s rise from bacteria to cephalopod to humankind—as we can trace on this planet alone—provides reason enough to expect more intellectual aptitude to come in the future.
The future of humans as a species is much less predictable. It depends so much on our willingness to think and act rationally. Solving problems and making decisions, both practical and moral, in a manner that respects the universe’s causality, are the activities that will determine humanity’s future.
It is time to examine how we actually perform these tasks.
Endnotes
1. Breaks in the DNA strands of a sperm, ovum or zygote (caused by such factors as carcinogens, naturally occurring free-radical oxidation within cells, energetic electromagnetic radiation such as ultra-violet and X-rays, radon gas, and so on) are, to a large extent, repaired. The few that may not be repaired (or are incorrectly rebuilt) are called mutations; these become reproduced, as are all DNA molecules, in all of the cells formed from the zygote—including those of future generations. Since DNA controls cell formation and growth by affecting protein synthesis and the sequence in which sets of genes are turned on, these mutations can have various wide-ranging effects, from insignificant to fatal.
2. A later different mutation in the same gene caused a fly to nap in the heat of the afternoon, which must also have contributed to that fly’s survival, and to the survival of many descendants, for this behaviour has also become inherited by the majority of fruit flies.
3. Read Jonathan Weiner, Time, Love, Memory (New York: Vintage Books, 1999) for an eloquent description of some of the experiments with fruit flies and mice that proved that instinctive behaviour can be genetically inherited.
4. The use of computers and a variety of instruments has greatly expanded our knowledge of the brain in the past few decades. Magnetic Resonance Imaging (MRI) provides detailed, thin, cross-sectional images. (This technology, which uses high frequency radio waves and strong magnetic fields, can also detect chemical changes that occur in the brain during various behaviours.) Functional Magnetic Resonance Imaging (fMRI) maps changes in oxygen concentration and shows localized neural activity. (For instance, an analysis of fMRI patterns can tell researchers, to an 85% accuracy, which particular picture, from a selection of several different pictures, subjects were viewing while being scanned.) Positron Emission Tomography (PET), using radioactive tracer chemicals, shows the formation of neurotransmitters as signals disseminate from neuron to neuron. Electroencephalography (EEG) and minute wire probes detect chemical and electrical changes occurring within single neurons. Voltage sensitive dyes show groups of neurons lighting up in sequence following sensory stimulation. Advanced Magnetoencephalography (MEG) scanners show that visual recognition and decision making processes within the brain move from the visual cortex, through memory and speech (i.e., sub-vocalization) regions, to the right parietal cortex, where decisions are consciously made. New ways of investigating the brain’s functioning are continually being introduced, and undoubtedly our understanding of what is occurring will grow rapidly over the next few years. (MEG scanners, which use an array of super-conducting quantum interference devices bathed in liquid helium, are one such recent introduction.)
5. Axon fanouts can have between one and ten thousand branches.
6. Synapses have been photographed growing in rats following stimulation of the optic nerve. New knobs take about an hour to grow.
7. The development of the brain from its simplest beginnings to its current complexity in human beings is ably discussed by John Morgan Allman in Evolving Brains (New York: Scientific American Library, 1999). See also John H. Holland, Emergence: from Chaos to Order (Reading, Massachusetts: Helix Books, Addison-Wesley Publishing Company, Inc., 1998). Larry R. Squire and Eric R. Kandel, Memory: From Mind to Molecules (New York: Scientific American Library, 1999) provide a different perspective.
8. Neurons transmit data from body sensors to the brain, and from the brain to body muscles, as well as within the brain itself.
9. Studies have shown that stimuli from the retina move successively through the lateral gemiculate nuclei (which respond to changes of brightness or colour), to the primary visual cortex (which can detect motion and its direction), then on to well over twenty other cortical regions (which detect shapes), and eventually on to more specialized regions such as the inferior temporal cortex (which can recognize objects and identify their form). The sequential detection of optical stimulation shows how vision has evolved over time to become what it is today. Many hundreds of millions of years ago one or more genetic mutations occurred, producing a slight cellular sensitivity to light. Helping the entity to survive, the altered genes were passed on to descendants. Subsequent mutations, perhaps forming several light-sensitive patches, and probably occurring many generations later, gave additional survival benefits, and these were also passed on. Gradually, after many thousands of genetic modifications (the majority of which would not have helped survival, and whose possessors would not have had a greater chance of surviving to reproduce), primitive eyes and the associated decoding memory networks in the brain, would exist. All organisms’ body tissues and systems have been constructed in this manner, with non-lethal modifications being passed to descendants as additions to those already present.
10. One of these memories would likely be its name, for animals having language abilities. See section three of this chapter for more details.
11. Magnetic Resonance Imaging (MRI) is able to show brain activity when mental tasks are performed. When a subject is shown pictures of places visited, memories of those places cause particular brain areas to activate. Pictures of places not visited do not elicit such a response. The techniques which detect this mental behaviour can be used to examine people suspected of taking part in criminal activities. This creates an interesting moral problem: should such a technology be developed? See Brad Evenson, “The guilty mind,” National Post, February 8, 2003, A1 and A6.
12. Brains of rats raised in stimulating environments possess many more synaptic knobs, are heavier, and have a better blood supply than the brains of rats raised in uninteresting conditions. See Susan Greenfield, The Private Life of the Brain: Emotions, Consciousness, and the Secret of the Self (New York: John Wiley & Sons, Inc., 2000). Rats (and mice) raised in enriched environments also learn better. See page 42 of “New nerve cells for the adult brain,” in The Hidden Mind, a special edition of the Scientific American, May 2002, 38-44.
13. Plants also do this; for instance, gravity orients stem growth upwards, roots develop toward nutrients, and branches shape so that their leaves gather maximum sunlight.
14. William H. Calvin, in The Ascent of Mind: Ice Age Climates and the Evolution of Intelligence (Bantam Books, 1990) discusses this topic in a straight-forward manner. He explains reflex actions as due to “sensory schemas” being firmly linked to “movement programs” (see page 39 of his book). Computers can be programmed to carry out similar functions, i.e., to oversee and care for the well-being of machines, vehicles and factories. Although many expect computers to eventually be able to think, these care-giving electronic chips certainly do not. The parallels between the human brain and a computer have been interestingly developed in Chapter Seven, “The Evolution of Consciousness,” of Daniel C. Dennett’s book, Consciousness Explained (Boston: Little, Brown and Company, 1991).
15. See Andrew Whiten and Christophe Boesch, “The Cultures of Chimpanzees,” Scientific American, January 2001, 61-67, for intriguing descriptions of chimpanzee behaviour. Neighbouring communities of chimps apparently occasionally battle each other to the death. (Ah! Perhaps we can blame a common ancestor for contributing the same trait to us.)
16. Crows in the New Caledonian rain forest are as advanced in their ability to use tools as were Stone Age humans. The birds strip bark from a twig, cut the twig just below an offshoot to create a hook, and then insert this hook into tree cavities to remove insects and larvae. They also use a barbed type of leaf which they peck into a tapered point for similar functions (showing a left-handed preference when tailoring pine needles). They make several different types of tools, each for its own specific purpose, and even produce tools in assembly line fashion—that is, they finish a number of tools before using any of them. Man did not reach this stage until the Lower Palaeolithic era, 2.5 million to 200,000 years ago. Readers with an interest in the intelligence of birds, crows in particular, will enjoy Bernd Heinrich’s book, Mind of the Raven: Investigations and Adventures with Wolf-Birds (New York: Harper Collins, 1999).
17. Marc D. Hauser, Wild Minds: What Animals Really Think (New York: Henry Holt and Company, 2000), 209.
18. Hauser, 257.
19. Calvin, The Ascent of Mind, 24.
20. However, Wilder Penfield, in his experiments that electrically stimulated points within the brain, may have been close to finding out. (This kind of investigative work is considered unethical and is not practiced today.)
21. It may help some to use the word “consciousness” instead of the word “thinking” when reading this section. I have chosen to use “thinking” because I wish to emphasize differences (“levels” of thinking) that are harder to separate when using the word “consciousness.” (Consciousness is further, although briefly, discussed in a postscript to this chapter, Consciousness And Conscience.)
22. Ernst Cassirer, Language and Myth, translated by Susanne K. Langer (New York: Dover Publications, Inc., 1953), 57.
23. Savants (see later) are likely exceptions to this generalization; many explanations of their exceptional capabilities depend upon their being able to access an almost perfect memory of things seen or heard.
24. It also occurs as a stress-relieving activity, as will be discussed later.
25. This is why information from the eyes is first routed to pass through networks that check for changes—see this chapter, endnote 9.
26. Penfield, more than seventy years ago, noted that electrically stimulating tiny areas of the temporal lobes of a patient produced sensations of different smells, accompanied by associated memories and feelings.
27. Stimuli propagate in two ways: as electrically charged ions, which flow along and between neurons; and as chemical discharges (e.g., the release of adrenaline or endorphin) which move about in body fluids. Neural transmissions are relatively fast, and some of them may give rise to feelings (e.g., pain). Chemical transmissions are relatively slow to act and take longer to fade; they may give rise to the longer-lasting emotions (e.g., happiness). Emotional responses are considered to be inherited from ancient learned responses. Animals employing such devices have inherited them from ancestors who first developed these as solutions to survival or reproductive threats. Thus human males react emotionally (particularly in early adulthood) to other males entering their territory or attempting to usurp females. Overt emotional displays act as warnings, and may obviate the need to use potentially self-harmful force. For a well-organized and informative discussion of the mind’s psychological development and functioning, see David M. Buss, Evolutionary Psychology: The New Science of the Mind (Boston: Allyn and Bacon, 1999).
28. Robin Dunbar, Grooming, Gossip, and the Evolution of Language (Cambridge, Massachusetts: Harvard University Press, 1996), 25.
29. Temporary ion-flow loop formation is similar to storing data in random access memory (RAM) in computers; this information is retained only as long as its supporting medium is energized. Permanent link storage, on the other hand, is similar to storing data on a computer’s hard disk, where it remains even after the power is switched off. (This suggests that it may be possible, one day, to retrieve the long term memories stored in a “dead” brain.)
30. However, additional synaptic knobs may form, lessening the neural pathway’s resistance to future ion flows and thus somewhat increasing the probability that this path will be chosen above neighbouring others.
31. The brain enlarges rapidly in volume, from about 350 cc (cubic centimetres) at birth to double that at six months, doubling again to approximately adult size (some 1400 cc) at four years old. (See Susan Greenfield, The Human Brain: A Guided Tour [New York: Basic Books, 1997].) Dendrites form most rapidly after this neuronal growth has occurred—from four to ten years of age. The majority of association-forming neural connections are made during these early years. Newborns and very young infants initially experience stimuli devoid of context. Stimuli produce feelings and emotions—pleasure, pain, satisfaction, rejection, joy, anger, and so on—with initially no understanding that a link between stimuli and emotion, or between past cause and future effect, exists. Understanding only begins to arrive after experiences have become stored as memories, when neural links between them, or between them and new stimuli, can be made. (Although the retrieval and use of some of the information already held in the mind is often under rational control, the storage of information coming to our brains from our body’s sensors is usually not. However, when we want to sure we will remember something of importance, we can consciously direct our minds in the way it stores thoughts. Thus, for example, as a reminder to telephone Bill early tomorrow, we can picture ourselves drinking a breakfast mug of coffee, then picking up the phone. The next morning this task comes to mind while coffee drinking, just as desired. We remember to call because we have associated or linked it to another action, an action that needs no reminder to occur. Mnemonics, used in memory training, employ the same trick.)
32. Christian de Duve, Vital Dust: Life as a Cosmic Imperative (New York: Basic Books, 1995), 241.
33. Memory-building in infants must progress from knowing nothing, to becoming vaguely aware of a shape, noise, or other sensation, then on to storing this as an unrecognized neural pattern that seems to have some significance. Subsequent detection of similar stimuli, because it is of a comparable nature, follows the now-existing neural pathway and thus reaches the first neural patterns stored. Any extra information brought in by the new stimuli may then be stored as additional neural patterns linked to (i.e., associated with) the earlier stored patterns. In this way, memories slowly build in complexity and data completeness, until they become what adolescents and adults experience—full-blown mental representations of objects and events that have existed (or exist) in the outside world. (It is because many repetitions of an event must occur before it can be meaningfully linked to create an understanding, that fully one-third of all blind-from-birth adults, whose ability to see has abruptly been restored, revert initially to closing their eyes to navigate and generally make sense of the world.)
34. We must again differentiate between simply recalling memories and second-level thought. The example of European blue tits all over England opening tinfoil caps on milk bottles to obtain the cream is widely known. But only the first bird to discover this was “thinking”; the others simply copied what they saw another bird do. (The first bird associated or linked memories of cream at the top of bottles and memories of pecking to make holes; it was “thinking.” Birds copying this behaviour were simply demonstrating “learned” behaviour, or memory recall, not original thinking.) A related observation involves Imo, a macaque monkey, who discovered the benefits of washing sweet potatoes in the sea before eating them. This could have been due to second-level thinking (for instance, if Imo had associated memories of eating sweet potatoes found in the sea and sensory perceptions that these potatoes lacked grit or were saltier, etc., and were more enjoyable to eat). The many other macaques who later adopted this practice did so because they had seen and memorized, then recalled and imitated, what Imo did. Thinking was not involved in these subsequent behaviours. (Similarly, much of what any animal does, including humans, does not require conscious thought.) (Note that each of these behaviours have come into common use, and thus might be considered to have become part of the animal’s culture, to be passed through repetition from generation to generation, and to die out when their practice is recognized as being no longer beneficial. Human cultures build in exactly the same way.)
35. Plants, also, react to changes in their environment. For example, stomata close in dry weather, rootlets grow toward nourishment, flowers typically open in sunlight, etc. Although no one would claim that plants are thinking when they respond to changes in the environment, this kind of behaviour is genetically encoded, and was probably passed on to animals when they later evolved. Thus, plant reaction to environmental variations may be regarded as being a precursor to animal responsiveness and even to human thinking.
36. Much more than this may have been needed. For instance, recent research suggests that the gene FOXP2 mutated some 100,000 years ago, giving humans a genetic sequence that differs from apes in this area. In humans, a deficiency in this gene severely affects how language is both expressed and understood. See Wolfgang Enard et al., “Molecular evolution of FOXP2, a gene involved in speech and language,” Nature, 418, 869-872.
37. For example, a 14-year old bonobo chimpanzee called Panbanisha, first refused, then “granted” and participated in, an interview with a reporter. Panbanisha lives at Georgia State University, and has been taught the meaning of about 3,000 words by scientists at the university’s Language Research Centre. Another chimp, Washoe, living at Central Washington University, has a working vocabulary of 240 signs and has taught other chimpanzees to sign.
38. Robin Dunbar, in Grooming, Gossip, and the Evolution of Language, postulated that ape and monkey groups are necessarily limited in size to less than about 150 animals because they socialize through grooming. He extended this theory to state that languages developed to permit larger groups to bond via social gossip. I favour a different explanation. Group bonding requires intelligence to observe, analyze (i.e., associate relevant memories) or recognize behaviours that promote bonding rather than distancing. In other words, social intelligence incorporates the results of a great number of problem-solving activities. Thus problem solving predates bonding. In my opinion, languages developed to facilitate problem solving.
39. We are not the only hominids to possess the low-lying larynxes required to form a full range of sounds: 200,000 year old Neandertal bones show that they also possessed such an anatomical feature.
40. Cassirer, Language and Myth, 28.
41. Klaus Zuberbüler, of the Max Planck Institute for Evolutionary Anthropology in Germany, may have found monkey-communication syntax. If so, then some monkey tribes may have developed relatively advanced linguistic abilities. (See James Randerson, “Call of the wild?” New Scientist, 30 March, 2002, 10.) This issue of the New Scientist also contains an article that describes how robots, programmed only with “goals, agendas and the desire to form relationships” developed languages employing around 8,000 words. See Helen Phillips, “First Words,” pages 24-27.
42. William H. Calvin, The River that Flows Uphill: A Journey from the Big Bang to the Big Brain (New York: MacMillan Publishing Company, 1986). This very readable book interlaces a fact-filled description of the evolution of life and the universe with anecdotes about a trip down the Colorado River.
43. This, if valid, nicely illustrates how a skill that evolved due to its survival value in one area can be put to use in quite a different area. Another, perhaps better known, example of this phenomenon (termed “exaptation”) is the transition of feathers, which are thought to have first evolved as light-weight insulating material to keep the body warm. Animal bodies have been built from, and consist of, numerous adaptations. Their convoluted origins frequently cause them to be more cumbersome and less efficient than those an intelligent being might design from scratch. The retina of most animal species, for instance, receives photons of light only after they have been filtered through several layers of non-active cells. Contrast this with the eyes of molluscs—light falls immediately upon the retina of an octopus, for example, a much more efficient and sensitive arrangement. Generally, body organs are effective, but probably all might be modified and made more efficient—something scientists have deliberated, and are beginning to attempt.
44. Richard Rudgley, The Lost Civilizations of the Stone Age (New York: The Free Press, 1999), 224-233.
45. Merritt Ruhlen, The Origin of Language: Tracing the Evolution of the Mother Tongue (New York: John Wiley, 1994).
46. Johanna Nichols, Linguistic Diversity in Space and Time (University of Chicago Press, 1999).
47. Ian Tattersall and Jay H. Matternes, “Once We Were Not Alone,” Scientific American, January 2000, 62. For a slightly more recent discussion of the significance of language, read Ian Tattersall, “How We Came to be Human,” Scientific American, December 2001, 56-63.
48. Cassirer, Language and Myth, 38.
49. For instance, when the connection between the inferior temporal cortex (which handles the signals that allow us to recognize faces) and the limbic system (which deals with emotions) is severed, familiar faces (relatives, for instance) can be recognized, but this recollection is devoid of all emotional associations, making it impossible for affected persons to decide how to appropriately greet an approaching visitor.
50. Magnetic resonance imaging provides evidence suggesting that emotions play a part in every decision made, even decisions that might be considered to be entirely based upon reason. (These emotions may be arising from the role our personal or private goals play in all decision making—see Chapter Three, section one Practical Decisions.)
51. The reason why this kind of subconscious activity takes place is explored more fully in section four of Chapter Five The Source Of Revelations.
52. E. MacPhail, “Vertebrate Intelligence: The Null Hypothesis,” in the Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society of London, 1985, B308:37-51, declares that language is the “big step” to becoming intelligent. I disagree, for “intelligence,” to me, includes that which animals demonstrate when challenged by a problem of concern to them. (For example, tool-invention by animals or barrier-circumvention by squirrels demonstrates intelligence.) Intelligence (see section seven of this chapter) and second-level thinking are one and the same thing; neither requires language. However, language greatly improves the ability to associate findings and ideas; thus language use increases the ability to solve problems, and so acts to increase intelligence.
53. Reality differs from person to person, and greatly depends upon the accuracy of each person’s sensory perceptions. This is unquestionably demonstrated by people suffering from synesthesia (who often see black letters, words, and numerals as coloured differently, or as coloured symbols, or who may experience loud noises as bright lights, and so on). See Vilayanur S. Ramachandran and Edward M. Hubbard, “Hearing Colors, Tasting Shapes,” Scientific American, May 2003, 52-59.
54. The concept of “truth” is convoluted and personalized precisely because each of us uses our own experiences to interpret what different words mean. And as Ullian (W. V. Quine and J. S. Ullian, The Web of Belief [Random House, 1970]) argued, everything we think we know about the universe is subject to revision. Mathematics comes closest to being the “truth” (as we shall see in Chapter Two, Mathematical Problems), and religion frequently claims to be absolute, but both give way in light of new knowledge (mathematics more readily than religion). Try as we may, our mental deliberations and verbal expositions can never represent the whole, real, or perfect truth because we can never know it, and because we can never find words precise enough to think or express it. Furthermore, different people will always interpret their personal experiences of the same event in different ways. The “pure and simple truth” can never be expressed. Quine pointed out that no statement is necessarily true except those we ourselves decide to be true. In fact, extending the discussions presented in earlier sections of this chapter, since the words we use must necessarily be selected from our own mental dictionary of meanings, each one of us defines our own truth. This truth can never be conveyed to another. The best anyone else can do is to try to assimilate the general idea, then, using their own frame of reference, guess at what is meant. It is interesting to note that a “Theory Of Everything” (see “The Conservation Laws,” a postscript to Chapter Seven General Systems Theory and The Conservation Laws), if ever formulated, is expected to be only expressible mathematically. It would be impossible to sufficiently define words to represent all that this theory would be capable of telling us. A Theory of Everything would devolve to other less-comprehensive theories (e.g., quantum mechanics or a theory of gravity), which could be more or less understood through defining words, but the Theory of Everything itself could not be linguistically defined.
55. For a discussion of consciousness see the postscript to this chapter, Consciousness And Conscience.
56. This is why we expect our religions and their teachings to be rational and are disappointed when they appear to be irrational. (More about this in later chapters.)
57. Steven Pinker, The Language Instinct: How the Mind Creates Language (New York: William Morrow and Company, 1994).
58. Webster’s New Collegiate Dictionary, John P. Bethal, General Editor (Springfield, Mass.: G. & C. Merriman Co., 1959).
===Humans excel at solving problems. (Pinker actually states that the mind has evolved simply to outsmart the competition by being able to solve problems.[1] Humans living and working in space is possibly one of the best examples of how successful we have become in problem solving, but examples can be found in all fields of endeavour, from discovering how genes work, to creating an emotional demand for a new product.
Problems come in two flavours, tangible and abstract. Or, if you like, practical and metaphysical. The difference between these two types can be illustrated by discussing the kinds of problems that interest mathematicians and scientists. Chapter Two provides some examples, then explores how we all typically go about solving everyday problems. This approach will show why moral problems are often difficult to solve, what humans have done to reduce this difficulty, and prepares the way for later suggesting what might be done to facilitate moral problem solving in the future.
Chapter Two. Solving Problems
Mathematics is a set of precise languages comprising such topics as arithmatic (numbers) geometry (shapes) Algebra (symbols) and calculus (concepts).
Mathematics is an edifice, built from the ground up, assembled, definition by definition, from scratch. Those of you who studied geometry in school will remember its never-ending series of theorem proofs. Geometry, we were told, is one of the oldest branches of mathematics, taught by Pythagoras in the sixth century BCE, and used by the Pharaohs’ surveyors to restore field boundaries each time the Nile flooded. Geometry starts with the very simplest statement, a definition of a point, a line or a circle, then looks for the extensions and connections that are logically implicit within these definitions. The whole process is repeated each time a new definition (that of a parallelogram, for instance) is introduced.
Mathematicians have been adding new definitions to geometry for centuries. At the same time, they have been busy constructing other branches of mathematics: algebra, calculus, trigonometry, topology, set theory, and so on. Each function, each definition, and each statement in every branch has to be very carefully assessed for logical consistency when introduced, then again every time it is used to link to something newly added, and once more whenever it is put to theoretical or practical use. This is done, because each newly added feature introduces more relationships, and it is these relationships that determine if the whole assembly makes sense. Mathematics, then, is held together just as precisely as the universe itself seems to be held together.[2]
Through these means, mathematics is created to be internally sound and rational, self sufficient to the extent of possessing its own reality, dependent upon the real world only in as much as it is built from a language defined in the real world, and connected to the real world in meaning only if we choose to make such a connection. By itself, mathematics is abstract, pure and complete; it does not need to be given any link to the universe (other than that necessarily implicit in its nomenclature). In fact, it is not uncommon for mathematicians to explore the properties of creations such as multidimensional space or imaginary numbers—fancies which no one has experienced first hand.
However, we can, and very often do, link our mathematical understandings to the real world. We do this, for instance, when demonstrating to children that three fingers plus two fingers equals five fingers. Remarkably, it is becoming more and more certain that the mentally constructed world of abstract mathematics contains the ability to describe, explain and predict the very concrete behaviour of the real universe we inhabit.[3]
Pythagoras showed this over two and a half thousand years ago, when he described mathematically a property of two dimensional space (the relationship between squares formed on the sides of a right-angled triangle). Newton demonstrated the same connection between mathematics and reality over four hundred years ago, when he showed mathematically that the force holding planets in orbit is related to the involved masses and distances between them.
Einstein confirmed this connection when he discovered and proved, again mathematically, that the properties of the four (space-plus-time) dimensions prohibit matter from moving faster than the speed of light. Mathematicians continually push the boundaries and today routinely use complex number theories to define the properties of multidimensional space, a reality which some think may actually exist (perhaps within black holes, or defining fundamental “superstring”[4] properties, or building a universe external to our own).
Because mathematics has been rigorously and logically constructed to be an abstract entity, mathematicians think that its various domains will be considered to be as true in a million years time as they would have been a million years ago, long before they could have been understood by any sentient being living upon this planet. (Moreover, because scientists can use mathematics to predict and explain events occurring billions of light-years distant,[5].
Mathematicians also consider that these mathematical statements hold true in other galaxies, and are therefore discoverable by life forms living upon planets in those regions.) To pure mathematicians, it is often a subsequent (and, possibly, less important) finding that the mathematical properties they uncover have meaning in the real world. They prefer to solve problems within the bounded beauty of a fully discoverable, self-consistent, abstract world. Be this as it may, the many connections between abstract mathematics and the practical realities of the real world have allowed us to solve countless complex problems, and have led to a multitude of discoveries in arenas as diverse as economics, sociology, epidemiology, space flight, nuclear physics, genetics, cosmology and medicine, to name just a few.
That logically generated mathematics describes and defines the universe so accurately reinforces a fact that has already been stated: the universe must be causal and rational, for, if it were not, the intrinsic fit between mathematics and the universe’s functioning would not exist.
Science is the observation, identification, description, experimental investigation, and theoretical explanation of observed phenomena that can be tested and challenged by others.
Scientists are a similar breed of specialists to mathematicians. They also deduce relationships, but their work typically starts from, and is grounded in, the concrete world (for example, in the field or in the laboratory), rather than the abstract world.[6] Scientists aim to uncover the causal and connective relationships that exist between “real” events and “real” things. They strive to explain and understand reality.
We might say that science began when humans started to wonder about the nature of their surroundings in some kind of organized manner; when individuals first asked what might be causing the sun and stars to appear to move, or thunder to deafen, or animals to be so similar inside yet so outwardly different.
Middleton, in his 1963 discourse on the scientific revolution, realized that this occurred many centuries ago. He noted that Thales of Miletus (who lived from 640-546 BC) wanted to explain the universe. In other words, Thales understood that there is a causal reason for each tiny piece of the universe to be the way it is. This, stated Middleton, marked the birth of science.[7]
Slowly, by careful observation, control of variables, measurement, accurate records, repetition and a great deal of thought, scientists began to understand why nature behaves as it does. Understanding grew in leaps and bounds once scientists learned to extend their senses’ abilities by building instruments: first measuring sticks, balances and graduated containers, then micrometers, microscopes and telescopes.
People eventually discovered (only about two centuries ago) that precision and knowledge go hand-in-hand with the ability to challenge accepted wisdom.[8] Accurate measurements allowed Copernicus and Galileo to place the sun, rather than the Earth, at the centre of our collection of planets.[9] Newton carefully observed moving objects (some say a falling apple), then wrote the gravitational formula that explains how the universe is held together. Wallace and Darwin recorded fine details of life’s species, then deduced the mechanism of evolution. Einstein employed acutely crafted thought-experiments about relativity, then extended the significance and value of Newton’s work.
Scientists and mathematicians follow similar methodologies; they seek and uncover facts, then try to discover any relationships that may exist between these facts, or between these and other known facts or theories. Both professions are delving deeper and deeper into the nature of the universe, and the two, seemingly distinct, knowledge domains are converging. Scientists routinely use mathematics to obtain precision and to extend their discipline’s utility. Mathematicians use their skills to describe what is happening in the centre of stars, and to reconstruct what must have happened moments after the universe began. The abstract explains the concrete; the concrete adds flesh to the abstract.
Of course we all, scientists, mathematicians, or laypersons, solve many problems every day. While most of these are addressed and resolved routinely and efficiently, the speed and accuracy of our problem solving depends almost entirely upon one factor—how well we understand the background situation, i.e., the “environment” (examples discussed below will shortly clarify and extend this term) that contains and presents the problem we are trying to solve. Everyday problems are solved very quickly, often without realizing a problem is being addressed, because we generally know a lot about the various environments we inhabit. On the other hand, scientific and mathematical problems not infrequently take a long time to solve; this is usually because those working on the problem do not yet have sufficient information about their problem’s environment.
To correctly solve any problem then, we must correctly understand its “environment.” This is because a problem is only properly solved when its solution can be used within (or is accepted by) the relevant environment, without causing additional problems. Luckily, each problem’s environment also invariably contains the criteria which the problem’s solution must satisfy. It is important to understand the meaning of the term “environment” when used in the current context. The word is used here to identify the physical, social, occupational, political, economic, religious, cultural, or other context (or an often complex combination of several such contexts) that contain the problem that confronts us. Recognizing that problems exist within one or more environments is key to understanding how problems (particularly moral ones) are solved.
Thinking about a few everyday situations may help to clarify this discussion. Consider dressing, cutting the lawn, and cooking a meal. The choices to be made in each case can be thought of as being minor problems to be solved, and we’ll review each in turn.
When we select something to wear from a choice of clothes, we refer to the occasion or situation for which we are dressing in order to decide what to wear. This is so whether we are dressing for work, to go on a trip, climb a mountain, or just lounge in the house. We choose clothes by considering what’s available (e.g., clean, comfortable, appropriate, etc.) and the circumstances pertaining when wearing the clothes (e.g., temperature, weather, others present, etc.), although for routine occasions this may happen so quickly that we don’t notice that we are solving little problems. The criteria or standards that determine the success of the eventual choice made is clearly located in the environment that presents the problem—in some of the situations just mentioned, the work, social, local, or home environments. (Furthermore, note that the environment also determines what kind of goal can be achieved successfully; for instance, it is not possible to receive praise for being fashionably dressed if no one else will be present when lounging in the house. More about this in Chapter Three, Practical Decisions.)
Consider the second example. I look out of the window and notice that the grass needs cutting, perhaps just a small problem now but one that will grow if neglected. So I make the decision to mow the grass later in the afternoon. In this case, note that I appear to be driven to meet some standard of lawn appearance, and that this standard has been set by my external environment—the society and culture in which I live. If I had earlier decided to ignore society’s conventions, or if I lived in a place where people did not bother about such matters, then long grass would not be seen as a problem, and I may not even notice how tall the grass had become. Note, again, that when there is a problem, it is an external environment that both thrusts the problem upon me, and that holds the standards or criteria to be met when correcting the problem. Living in town, I would probably have to mow the grass weekly; living in the country, once or twice a month might suffice.
Now the third example: imagine preparing a meal. When I am in this situation I find that before I can choose a menu or select a method of cooking I must first think about who will be eating the meal, what food is available, where I might have to go to buy missing ingredients, what might be nice to eat today, what has been recently eaten by those attending, other goals I might want to achieve with these particular guests, and so on. All of these thoughts relate to my environment (the physical, social, nutritional and emotional elements mostly, in this case) and this environment limits what I can do if I want to cook and serve a successful meal.
Note that, besides referring to external environments we also refer to what’s inside our minds, our “internal environment,” because a great deal of relevant information has been stored there and some of it is used in making any decision. For example, our mind tells us what cooking skills we have, whether or not the lawn mower is in working condition, when a particular suit was last worn, etc. But, in all cases, our mind is only providing previously acquired information relevant to the situation we are in, and this information always comes from some knowledge of external environments of one kind or another.
Sometimes, our own bodies may present a problem to the mind (a craving for salty food, for instance), in which case it is our body’s feelings or standards of well-being that have to be included in the problem-solving process. This is still an example of a problem stemming from an environment external to the mind (the organs or systems that are calling for salt are external to the mind. Problems that arise solely within the mind are special situations, and will be discussed in section four.)
We should mention here that dressing or cooking to suit nothing other than our own current feelings is also, like the salt-craving example, an attempt to satisfy a mood biochemically caused by some agent (dopamine or serotonin, perhaps) within our body or brain, i.e., it emanates from a source that is again external to our mind. We choose the solution that best satisfies our desires. In cases like these, we might say we “go with the flow.” (A few of us may try to do this much of the time—living in the “here and now” was popular a few decades ago and is still a desired behaviour for some.) However, simply responding to biochemical desires is an emotional, not reasoned, response to a situation, and not of much pertinence to the current discussion.
To recapitulate and summarize this section: problems can never be solved without reference to the particular environment that presents them. This will always be true, for several reasons. First, we have to know, understand and explore the properties of a problem’s environment to determine what is causing a problem. Second, each environment contains the criteria that must be met if a problem is to be solved without causing additional problems. And, third, we must know what the environment will permit us to achieve before we can select an achievement to strive for. Only once we understand what is causing the problem, what can or can’t be done about it, what end-results are achievable (and desirable to us—more about this in Chapter Three, Practical Decisions), can we then solve the problem. In short; to succeed, we must know what we want and can do.
Well, that is probably enough about how we solve practical problems; now we are ready to investigate what we do to solve moral problems.
Morality means thinking and acting in accord with standards of right or good conduct according to the system of ideas of right and wrong held by society. Religious morality emerged as a survival strategy, so in most religions it is generally forbidden to kill other people, but there are occasions when killing is permitted. Most formal religous organizations resist the abolition of the death penalty ('capital punishment) for criminals, and support just wars yet many ordinary people interpret religious scripts against killing more literally, as does the Universal Declaration of Human Rights and its little sister, the European Convention.
Much less difficult moral problems can emerge from any environment—home, family, business, social, medical, and so on, and many may look just like any other kind of problem. None come with a flag that states, “Beware—Moral Problem!” So, the mind cranks up the same problem-solving routine it has been using since second-level thinking began. It gathers details about the situation that presents the problem and quickly formulates several solutions. It then has to decide which solution is the most appropriate. And this is where difficulties may arise, as a simple example might illustrate.
Imagine that someone in a store takes an item to the checkout counter and the clerk rings up the wrong price. If the checkout price is higher than it should be, most people would question it and ask for a correction. But, if it were lower, some might speak up while others might say nothing. This kind of situation, most would say, is a moral one, and the action taken would be the result of making a moral decision. The problem of which choice to make (speak up and pay more, or say nothing and save) can be simple for some. Many might invariably be “honest” and speak up; others might always choose to maximize their personal gain and would say nothing. People in either of these categories might not even notice that there is a choice; for them there is no problem to be solved, their mind-set automatically provides just one solution and they act upon the decision their mind presents without questioning it.
However, some would see that they are being asked to make a moral decision, and this is where difficulties can arise. To understand why, we have to discuss what’s happening in a little more detail.
Moral problems are actually very similar to mathematical problems. Like math problems (which have their origins in the abstract mathematical environment that defines them), moral problems arise from their own abstract moral environment. And we must understand the true nature of this environment in order to find satisfactory solutions. Moreover, the more difficult the problem is, the more we have to understand about its environment.
Moral problems ask the mind to decide which solutions are “right” rather than “wrong,” and which behaviours might be deemed to be “good” rather than “bad.” Now, as we have seen, the criteria needed to select the right answers for practical problems are found by examining the environment that presents the problem. But what environment actually presents moral problems? From where do they stem? This would be the rightful place to find the criteria sought, but this presents a dilemma: the universe contains no practical, concrete, “real” or verifiable moral environment waiting to be found and consulted.
Moral problems arise solely within the mind, and it is therefore the mind itself that both defines the moral environment and contains the criteria that solutions must meet to be deemed satisfactory. Everything that makes some particular concern a “moral problem” to a person is contained wholly within that person’s mind. Thus, it is the mind-set of the customer at the checkout counter that determines if being undercharged presents a moral problem, and it is this mind-set that provides the frame of reference that is drawn upon when the decision to speak up or remain silent is made.
We should stop here to consider what this means, and what we typically do about it. If a person is a practicing member of a religion, then they almost certainly possess an appropriate mental environment which they can consult when contemplating moral issues, and usually nothing stops the problem-solving process for them at this point. The most important function of any religion is to build such a mental environment, to teach followers what to believe and how to behave (that is, to provide solutions that resolve various kinds of moral problems). The “religious environment,” the neural networks constituting memories that those following a religion have spent time building within their minds, is available for exactly these occasions. It is rare (although perhaps now becoming more common) to encounter a moral problem that has not been already solved by others within the doctrine, but, if ever this does occur, then the adherent is expected to think about what has been written in religious texts, taught by their religious teachers, or said by a religious leader. The devout likely solve most of the moral problems they encounter by referring to one or more of these sources. More complicated issues might involve talking to a theologian or other respected authority. But there exists, for people following a religion, a relevant environment to consult, in which can be found the criteria to judge which solutions are acceptable, as well as the valued purpose that provides reasons for making the “correct” choice.
However, it may be that many moral problems are not actually solved this way today, even by the devout. Perhaps some, or even most, everyday “moral” problems are in fact solved by recourse to the individual’s social or cultural environment.[10] In other words, perhaps when a person wants to know the “right thing to do,” they [possibly quite subconsciously] might think along these lines; “now, what does society sanction?” Or, “what would my group expect of me?” They might even think, “what can I get away with?” Or, “how far can I go without being caught?” The last two examples might be a little extreme, but they serve to make a point: that in many situations today we may actually be obtaining our values, our standards, the criteria we use to judge which solutions are morally acceptable, from the social sub-set we inhabit, not from our religion.[11] I suspect that, to the extent that this may be true, it is mostly so because our religions are failing to keep up with the changing times.[12]
So be it for those who have a religion to follow, or those who can be satisfied by adopting their society’s criteria of what a “good person” should do. People with these ideologies can make decisions (and feel or be certain that they have behaved morally) by consulting their knowledge of these constructed environments. But, what about those who have no mental religious environment to guide their decisions and disdain the vagaries of social standards? How can these people solve moral problems? Admittedly, there may be relatively few such people today, but there must have been many pondering such dilemmas before religions became common features of social life. Since we will shortly be investigating the emergence of religions, it is particularly important to explore what such people might do.
Presumably, some who have thought about such issues will have worked out their own value system, perhaps one based upon standards drawn piecemeal from one or more existing religions or societies they know about, but personalized in some manner. Others might just “play things by ear,” letting their emotions and feelings tell them how to behave as each situation unfolds. But a few, surely, would not be satisfied by such methods, and would want to work out solutions in a careful and rational manner. Where are these individuals to obtain the criteria they need to make moral choices? The physical environment holds none. The social environment has been ruled insignificant. Every religious source has been deemed artificial or irrelevant. And, they lack an appropriate internal, or mental, environment. How can such individuals solve moral issues rationally, and make decisions they can live with?
We are not quite ready to answer such questions yet but will do so in Chapter Three, where we explore how decisions are made. Before then, there are a couple of other issues that should be addressed. The first has to do with what people consider to be moral problems; the second asks why such problems arise.
It is difficult to provide examples of moral problems because what may be a concern for some, may not be so for others. But I will propose a few that may illustrate the point to be noted.
Consider a woman who has learned that the fetus she is carrying has a life-threatening defect. Some may see this situation as a moral issue, others may see it as a practical one. However, the point is, for this discussion, a religious person might have fewer options regarding the fetus than others; for example, abortion may be out of the question for those of certain faiths, and the woman may have no choice at all regarding her situation. Those without such a religion may have a greater number of options, but may lack guidelines of any kind; they would likely find it very difficult to make a decision about the fetus.
Another example: consider someone whose spouse is terminally ill, in considerable pain, and who expresses a wish to die. May the healthy spouse act to fulfil such a desire? How does a non-religious person make this kind of decision, if they see it as a moral issue? How do they justify the choice they make? (And, is this justification likely to be acceptable in law, or to society?)
An example that shows the global nature of moral dilemmas today: what criteria should nations use to determine if intervening in another country’s affairs is justified? Is committing genocide a moral problem? By what criteria is this decided? What “environment” defines the situation as a moral, rather than a practical, one? What “greater purpose” is there to be achieved that permits overriding the tradition of respecting another nation’s autonomy?
One final example: many see acts of terrorism, when innocent bystanders, children and adults, are maimed or killed, as morally reprehensible. But an unknown number of others see such acts as a short-cut to paradise. One act—two diametrically opposite views, with seemingly no middle ground to enable reconciliation.
Clearly, by providing the otherwise non-existent but needed mental environment, religions fulfil a necessary role. Just as clearly, current religions are unable to provide a singular environment that could apply to and be adopted by all nations of the world. Consequently, humanity has no common moral authority to cite, and no collective conscience. The sudden collapse of energy giant Enron Corporation illustrates what can happen to organizations that lack moral environments. We might ask ourselves if such things as terrorism or the wealth disparity between nations (which affects maybe a billion or more people) illustrate that civilization lacks the same thing and if global collapse is a possible consequence.
The second question we should touch upon before moving on is: what prompts the appearance of “moral” problems? If individuals possess no inherent mental “religious” environment and have to be taught in order to construct one, then why would any “moral” problem have arisen in the first place? What would have prompted its appearance?
This question is easy to answer. Moral problems arise simply because the mind has the words and language that makes posing such problems possible. It is our mind’s ability to manipulate words that causes it to ask, “is it right to do this?” Humans are so used to mentally seeking the best course of action to take when practical alternatives arise that it is done automatically whenever more than one choice is offered. To put it crudely, we simply daydream moralistic alternatives, and then become stuck when trying to decide, “what is the right thing to do now?”
Without the mental ability to pose and answer questions (i.e., to note and solve problems) we could not ask ourselves if anything were right or wrong. In short, we don’t agonize over moral problems because we must, we do so simply because our mental ability with languages makes it possible, as the “moral” problems presented earlier in this section demonstrate. Our daily requirement to decide how to behave (together with the fact that religions have made the words “moral” and “ethical” part of most people’s vocabulary) is all that is needed to prompt such inquiries.
We are now well equipped to investigate the nature of decision making. Doing so will provide answers to the questions asked earlier: how can individuals solve moral issues rationally, and make decisions they can live with, if they lack a relevant (possibly religious) mental environment?
(See the discussion page for a revised statement of this issue. David Hockey 13:17, 25 March 2007 (UTC))
The mind uses words, phrases and thinking patterns that have developed as a result of dealing with real world situations. Questions such as, “should I take this path?” are perfectly answerable when walking along wooded trails, for example, because we may have a map that describes the territory, and because, presumably, we know where we want to go or what we want to achieve. The very same words seem to be meaningful when asked metaphysically, but often they are not—the question can arrive without a map or a goal of any kind in mind.
Mathematicians and theoretical scientists, it must be emphasized, do have a map and a purpose in mind when they begin their explorations. They, therefore, can pose abstract questions, and are able to find meaningful answers. Every iota of their maps is connected, each to another, joined by the glue of rationality, and logical exploration of the territories they describe is practical and possible.
Theologians also have maps, but the glue holding the pieces of their maps together is faith, which, unfortunately, may bear no relationship to logic or fact. This may not have mattered in days of yore, when logical consistency was of little importance, but every aspect of modern society is driven by technology and its computers, and humans living in modern environments are beginning to demand that their religions become as rational as they themselves are being forced to become. A modern age is calling for a modern religion, a call that might be very dangerous to ignore.
1. Steven Pinker, How the Mind Works (New York: W. W. Norton and Company, 1997), 21.
2. And perhaps by the same formula—something like: the universe’s underlying causality enforces its rational behaviour, while mathematics underlying rationality enforces its causal interrelationships.
3. Of course, mathematics must describe the real world because each of its many terms has been precisely defined using language, a language that has itself been constructed from our knowledge of the real world (as section six of Chapter One and the previous paragraph pointed out).
4. See “The Conservation Laws,” a postscript to Chapter Seven.
5. A light-year is the distance that light travels through space in one year, about 9.5 x 1012 kilometres, or 5.9 x 1012 miles.
6. There are many important branches of theoretical science, where specialists work with pen and paper (or, more often these days, with computers) and do not work in laboratories or the field, but their work will always have its links to the real world. If it didn’t, colleagues would probably start calling them mathematicians.
7. W. E. K. Middleton, The Scientific Revolution (Toronto: C.B.C. Publications, 1963), 12.
8. This is because the universe’s various substructures (e.g., quarks, electrons, atoms, etc.) are very small.
9. They both probably knew that Aristarchus of Samos had discussed the idea of a sun-centred solar system in the third century BCE. (And was promptly accused of impiety for doing so.)
10. When individuals judge people (or more accurately but perhaps less frequently, people’s behaviour) to be “good” or “bad,” they most commonly use criteria valued by their own society. (Note that these values always mirror those espoused by the nation’s dominant religion; this is because religions gain their prominence by both guiding the state’s evolution and by being reciprocally supported by the state as it grows.) Society and its intertwined institutions (families, schools, churches, governing bodies, powers-elite, laws, etc.) collectively, over time, determine what is considered “good” or “bad” within that society. And society’s criteria provide adequate guidance for many, probably the majority, of us, for we often look no further when making a moral decision.
11. These criteria reflect Kohlberg’s six stages of moral judgement: from Self-Interest (Punishment and Reward) through Social Approval (Interpersonal Relations and Social Order) to Abstract Ideals (Social Contract and Universal Rights). See Lawrence Kohlberg, The Meaning and Measurement of Moral Development (Massachusetts: Clark University, 1981). Or see Lawrence Kohlberg, Essays on Moral Development. Volume I. The Philosophy of Moral Development: Moral Stages and the Idea of Justice (San Francisco: Harper & Row, 1981), 409-412. Kohlberg, and others, have found that children generally operate at the first two stages (Punishment and Reward)—as do many in prison; that most adults work at stage four (Social Order); and very few are at stage five (Social Contract). No one has yet been found at stage six (Universal Rights).
12. Social mores, of course, are necessarily trivial standards in this book’s frame of reference because they are local and temporal. The criteria used to determine correct social behaviour vary from society to society and are constantly changing. (They can even be observed changing from moment to moment during emergencies.)
===Chapter Two observed that we solve problems by consulting their relevant environments, and that this is both to understand the problem and to find the criteria that an acceptable solution must satisfy. We glossed over the fact that there are frequently several solutions to each problem that will satisfy these criteria. This chapter discusses how the mind decides which solution to adopt. The answer in brief is: we make decisions in order to achieve a valued purpose.
Chapter Three. Making Decisions. Introduction
Almost every problem can be solved in more ways than one. A simple example, that of going to work, for instance, illustrates this, and also the fact that we choose a solution to achieve a valued purpose. Thus, there may be several ways to travel from home to work: by bus, bike, car or by walking perhaps, and there may be a choice of several routes. The decision made is a successful one if we arrive at work, on time, and have also met any other valued purposes (such as obtaining some exercise, or buying a newspaper on the way).
Or, consider our previous dressing-for-work example. Our work environment may dictate that we dress somewhat formally, but we may be able to do so in a number of ways. Consequently, we might decide based upon what was worn yesterday, or we may let our feelings decide, simply satisfying our mood of the moment. We discussed these kinds of choices earlier, and we noted that the criteria we use to make our decision is found in an environment that is external to the mind itself.
However, situations are never as simple as those portrayed in the examples mentioned. Probing more deeply will show that every decision we make is affected by attempts to meet one or more psychological needs that exist entirely within the mind. For example, what we finally choose to wear may have been decided in an attempt to impress the boss, or to win our friends’ admiration, or to heighten our self-concept. These goals or purposes are seldom known to others, and may be only partly known to ourselves.
We may think that some decisions can only be made objectively, and that private, subjective, or personal goals may play no part in them, but this is incorrect. As an example, imagine that we have to choose a bolt to anchor a structure we are building. We decide what size to use based upon what we know about the structure’s mass and orientation, the strength of materials, type of foundation and so on. We are using our knowledge of the external physical environment, of course. But we also make this choice based on our personal desire for the structure to endure. Quite a different choice could be made if our private purpose was to sabotage the result. Whether or not our private purposes override the public purposes depends upon our psychological state of mind.
Thus, every time we make practical decisions we consult two environments. One is external to our mind and public; it contains all the facts and criteria required to select solutions that will satisfy its needs, and any suitably knowledgeable person could make an identical decision. The other environment is internal to the mind and private; it contains all the personal goals, self-chosen purposes, and maybe several (probably unrecognized) psychological needs that also influence each final decision.
However, only one environment is involved when making moral decisions—our own internal mental mind-set. It has to provide the environment, the criteria to be met, and the goals to value and seek. Thus, there may be no constraints upon what people may decide is moral or what are moral actions. Of course, religions provide environments and guidelines (i.e., criteria), but those without a religion, or who reject their society’s norms, have nothing other than their own personal mental constructs[1] to consult when deciding how to act. Having only one’s own mental environment to guide one’s actions can have significant and terrible consequences (as the activities of numerous psychopaths throughout history have demonstrated).
Now we are ready to return to the situation introduced in section four of the last chapter. We were imagining a person who has no religion, yet who wants to live a moral life. Consider what such a person faces—where might he or she find the valued purpose needed to guide moral decision making? The physical environment holds no purpose in the moral arena. The transitory social environment is nugatory. Religious sources are considered unreliable or even false. No external environment holds a purpose worthy of being used to make a moral decision, and the mind, when lacking any belief system, holds none.
Search as they may, individuals in this position cannot solve moral problems, for there is nowhere else to look.[2]
Since the mind has to know and value the attainment of some purpose before it can make any decision rationally, minds lacking relevant purposes cannot make moral decisions rationally. For some, this mental state of affairs may churn for years. Such individuals may eventually give up the search, and simply choose to abide by social customs. Others in this condition may look at various religions and find a way out by adopting one, or bits and pieces of several. For a few, neither choice is feasible, and the dilemma escalates. Every decision to be made appears to be causally related to this missing purpose. The mind’s primary function of directing the body’s behaviour becomes incapacitated, and its owner may sink into depression, claiming, quite correctly, that they see no purpose to life, and that without purpose life has no meaning[3] and they have no reason to live. A mental breakdown can easily result.
In all of this behaviour, we must remember, the mind is being entirely rational. If a moral environment of some kind is not available, then, although everyday language allows moral problems to be posed, no satisfactory solutions can be found, because without a desired purpose decisions can’t be made rationally.
Apart from insanity or death, there is only one way through this impasse. The mind has to accept a solution that it has been considering, possibly consciously, certainly subconsciously, but which has hitherto been rejected for one reason or another. Some formerly unacceptable metaphysical purpose must be reclassified as desirable. For this to happen such a purpose has to be accepted as representing the truth—it must be sanctioned by the mind itself. The mind’s decision-making expertise will then be freed from its confining tangle of unacceptable choices, its state of constant stress will vanish, and it will at last find peace. This acceptance of a purpose almost always happens in a split second, occurring unexpectedly (and often appearing fully formed) to the affected individuals. They experience it as a “revelation” and may undergo a “conversion.” (Chapter Five Revelations And Conversions further discusses these phenomena.)
It does not matter what this purpose is.[4] Absolutely any criteria can be used to judge behaviour as “good” or “bad.” (A “moral” person could even be considered an “evil monster” by another’s standards.) What matters is that the mind’s previous quandary has vanished, and it can once again resume its function of thinking rationally as it directs the body’s functions.[5]
But let us return, for a moment, to the instant of reclassification—the mind’s conversion from an absence, to an acceptance, of some mental environment containing both criteria and purpose. For the mind to take advantage of such a contrivance it must have already been stored in memory. Most of us have religious memories provided to us by our parents or teachers, and we all have some understanding of the beliefs in vogue in our society. This formerly discounted knowledge is often the environment grasped when the mind is under the kind of stress earlier discussed.
The newly converted typically accept unconditionally all that is contained within the religion (whether spiritual or secular) whose purpose they have suddenly adopted. Not infrequently, the intensity of emotion associated with this metamorphosis moves the converted to tell others what they have come to believe. That which, when they were non-believers, was simply “good” or “bad” behaviour, has suddenly become “right” or “wrong” behaviour to the new believer. This kind of distinction marks the transition—moral judgements have replaced value judgements for them.
Very occasionally, the straw grasped during conversion is not an existing religion but some abstraction, probably imaginatively pieced together by the mind’s owner in earlier, restless, years. A new metaphysical purpose may be recognized to be valid, important and desirable. This new purpose may or may not centre around a belief in a god—but there are not many choices when it comes to inventing a purpose deemed important enough to guide moral decision making. (This is why people normally convert to existing religions; they have no alternative in mind. This book will be suggesting one later.)
A few, undergoing such a transformative mental revision, become convinced that they are another messiah: they become a prophet, one who has “seen the light.” The conversion they experience is so real to them, so significant—the vision and clarity of the new truth so bright—that they cannot contain their emotions nor refrain from trying to convince others that they have found the most important manifestation in life (for, to them, it is the most important). They proselytize. And the vivacity and clarity of the words they speak attract the undecided. Cults and sects form, and eventually, if the number of followers continues to grow, additional leaders develop, (see Chapter Four, Leaders). Eventually the originator may be revered and loved as the founder of a great religion. We will be exploring this phenomenon in Part Two.
Before moving to Part Two, it may be helpful to summarize a few of the points that have been made in the past three chapters. The following are important.
The universe’s causal construction dictates that inhabitants who think and act rationally have a greater chance of surviving, procreating and succeeding, than those who do not. This, in turn, has favoured the genetic continuation of mutations which help minds to work in this manner.
Practical problem solving and decision making entails consulting external environments to find the criteria that acceptable solutions must meet, then consulting the mind’s internal environment to find what personal purpose is sought.
Moral problem solving and decision making entails consulting the mind’s own environment to find both the criteria for acceptable solutions, and the purpose being sought. Mental environments are always invented ones (composed, as we saw in Chapter One, Thinking, from linked memories of perceived events, experiences and learnings, all tinged by the choice of words used when envisioning them consciously), and have no reality outside the minds of those who subscribe to them.
Religious environments are made real to individuals through faith or belief. Belief provides a feeling of certainty; however this exacts a price. Belief can cause us to ignore, override, or transcend some of the more substantive reality that constitutes the rational universe we inhabit. In time, this may lead us into grey pastures.
1. See Chapter Five for an elaboration of this term.
2. According to Postman, individuals lacking a sense of purpose can fall into a state of psychic disorientation and become preoccupied by a frantic search for meaning. See Neil Postman, Building a Bridge to the Eighteenth Century: How the Past Can Improve Our Future (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 2000), 10.
Postman subsequently postulates that we have no better choice than to search the past to find where to go in the future. I strongly disagree. We are where we are today because of our past thoughts and actions. While this has led to considerable human progress we have made mistakes. Surely we can do better—searching the past for ideas seems a prescription for repeating past mistakes. Moreover, all environments change over time, and historical environments no longer exist. To find where to go in the future, we must look in that direction. In fact, there may be a highly satisfactory beacon to be found in the future, one that does generate a sense of purpose and certainty. The outlook I have in mind will be discussed in Part Four; it is one that could only be determined using today’s knowledge.
3. See a postscript to this chapter, Purpose And Meaning, for a discussion of the words “purpose” and “meaning.”
4. The metaphysical purpose adopted by many Westerners to guide their moral decision making is to do their best to ensure that they will continue living beyond death. A “soul” or equivalent is usually postulated to exist, since it is clearly not possible to continue living in a body that decays when dead.
In contrast, the metaphysical purpose adopted by many Easterners is to stop living beyond death. A series of progressive reincarnations is the accepted way to achieve this. (Features of major religions are outlined in Chapter Six.)
5. The mind’s prime requirement to think rationally about important issues accounts for the extreme lengths to which people may go in order to behave in accordance with such beliefs. More about this in Chapter Five.
===What a wonderful manifestation is the mind. From its elemental beginnings when it simply helped the body to survive, the mind has become an instrument exquisite. It creates individuals of us all, and provides flights of fancy any time we care to climb aboard. Is there anything it might not do in the future?
But, does the mind do all this on its own, or does some Guiding Hand help it on its way? These flights and fancies; these revelations and beliefs—from whence have they come? Are they solely the product of a rational mind working in a rational universe, or might some of such thoughts have come from a god?
It is important to the theme of this book to determine how beliefs, in particular, come to mind, for they have greatly affected our past, are certainly affecting our present, and may well dictate our future. If we contend that certain beliefs are god-given, we might act in one manner; if we discover that all beliefs may have a more mundane origin, then we might be persuaded to think and act more circumspectly, for we would expect no saviour’s help should anything go wrong. Thus, Part Two explores the origins of beliefs.
===
===Postscripts--thoughts relevant to the discussions in the chapters of this part.
Consciousness and Conscience
What is the “me” that makes one think in a manner that is peculiar to only oneself?
The total “me” is easy to imagine; it must be the accumulation of events and understandings that one has experienced during one’s life, added to the genetically inherited abilities and aptitudes present in one’s brain.[1] As we have noted, molecular memories and the understandings they represent are stored as linked paths and networks of greater or lesser significance through everyone’s brain—the whole constituting the “mind,” just part of it forming the “me” concept.[2] This collection, together with the biochemical activities and emissions of the cells of one’s body, makes the “me” think and act the particular way that one does. As Descartes said, cogito, ergo sum (“I think, therefore, I am”).
Second-level thinking, i.e., when animals analyze situations and recognize their implications, then act upon (or dismiss) what they have understood, may or may not involve consciousness of self. If the situation is totally independent of their own individuality (for example, for an antelope when a lion walks nearby) then an awareness of their own unique identity is not called for (only the need to include the knowledge of such things as their proximity to the lion, wind direction, etc., in their analysis). But, if, in order to correctly assess a situation, an animal needs to separate its identity from that of others (for example, when in a family or grooming group, where knowing one’s social standing, and how others act and react toward one’s presence and actions), then a degree of consciousness of self must be present.
The recognition of personal identity, a separate self or me would have occurred very early in the development of third-level thinking ability. Cassirer knew this when he stated, “it is language that makes his existence in a community possible; and only in society, in relation to a ‘Thee,’ can his subjectivity assert itself as a ‘Me.’ ”[3]
Third-level thinking, using words and languages, provides the consciousness we are familiar with, where thoughts can be consciously directed and where moral questions are formulated. This is the detached self that can examine (with some difficulty) what is happening at the second level.
As we have discussed, everything we “know” is built, held and maintained as second-level constructs—developed by second-level thinking that builds neural networks which form and link the memories. These give us the mental images of objects, events and ideas that we carry in our mind’s eye; they are our own Platonic cave-wall shadows. It is the mental construct of one’s own body that one “sees” when experiencing an out-of-body sensation (that of looking down upon oneself). Out-of-body sensations occur as the conscious third level of thought is (semi-consciously) drawn by prevailing circumstances[4] to picture mind images of one’s body as though they were separate and distinct (i.e., disconnected) from the mental networks that denote self.
It was third-level thinking that made some early scientists postulate that there was an imp, or homunculus, directing mental traffic within the brain; the imp turns out to be the mind’s second-level activities.
Consciousness, then, amounts to an awareness of the existence of an assemblage of thoughts and memories within the brain, and of the particular significance that these have to the possessor. The awareness occurs at the third level, and it is the presence of mental constructs that creates the sense of permanency to one’s concept of self. Consciousness is aware of second-level activities, but their rapidity and subconscious independence make them hard to analyze. Second and third-level activities block ready access to first-level consciousness; training and practice aimed at decreasing third and second-level thinking activities (meditation, for instance) may occasionally allow first-level awareness to make itself known (as an experience, not as a detailed representation of the external environment).[5]
Research demonstrates that subconscious biochemical and electrical flows occur before we become consciously aware of them. (We should expect this because mental images must first form subconsciously to be recognized and analyzed for relative significance; only then can those of importance be selected and fed to our conscious third-level thinking where, finally, they may be put into words.) This is why the semi-consciousness we are occasionally aware of seems to have a life of its own. It does. Thoughts at the second level run their own course before we become aware of them. This effectively detaches them from our third-level thinking, and makes them seem to exist as an independent body of thought within our minds.[6]
Conscience is an entirely different issue. In essence, exercising one’s conscience amounts to expressing one’s concept of truth. This, therefore, represents both the highest and the most fundamental level of life’s activities: the highest, because life survives by determining the true nature of its environment; the most fundamental, because life does this to most effectively exploit its resources in order to live. Unfortunately, the true nature of things is readily distorted; by one’s sensors and one’s understanding of signals received by them, and by the words and mental constructs we and others use. Truth, to the extent that it exists, is often costly to obtain; finding it requires openness to the widest possible range of experiences, facts and ideas, then a constant debate over their meaning, with oneself and with others.
Conscience is often associated with morality—knowing “right” from “wrong,” and behaving accordingly. In that morality is always relative to its time and circumstances, it is a lesser concept than the concept of conscience. Most theologies recognize this, some going as far as saying that one’s conscience is God-given and must be followed, even if it contradicts religious teachings.
Most biologists dismiss any discussion of an animal conscience. For example, Hauser, in Wild Minds, states categorically (page 253) that animals have no moral system. But I think that advanced animals may possess a conscience of some degree because they do seek to understand the true nature of their environment, and they can separate a knowledge of “self” from that of another. Animal altruistic behaviour, which has not infrequently been observed, may demonstrate the operation of a conscience and of animal morality.[7]
Endnotes
1. Possessing particular body attributes (e.g., long muscular legs that might predispose one to be a runner) contribute to building the mind’s “me” concept, of course.
2. The same principles (i.e. networks of varying connective strengths and thresholds) have been used by David Fogel and Kumar Chellapilla in designing a computer program that evolves through survival and replication of successful variants as it competes with similar programs to play the game of checkers. The program can now beat an average human player. This achievement is important because the program was given only the rules of the game—it taught itself how to win. (This is radically different from the IBM computer program Deep Blue that defeated the chess champion Garry Kasparov in 1997. That computer was given a data-base of many thousands of possible moves and their consequences, and simply ran through them to determine the most advantageous move to make.)
The same has happened to us. Over the ages the universe has taught us how to win, and our memories, neural links, constructs, and the knowledge implicit in the words and language we use, sum up what we each understand of the rules of the game in the conglomerate we call our mind.
Computer programs that, once given a target and some parameters, recursively design to optimize their output, are now reality. In essence, these programs mimic the evolutionary process that life uses. See Steven Johnson, “Darwin in a Box,” Discover, August 2003, 24-25.
3. Cassirer, Language and Myth, 61.
4. See Chapter Five, endnote 24 for a discussion of oxygen starvation and other considerations.
5. Interesting work that can be related to our understanding of consciousness has been conducted by two scientists, using a methodology suggested by Snyder. Young and Ridding used transcranial magnetic stimulation to inhibit frontotemporal neural activity in volunteers, so preventing language and concept manipulation and reducing the volunteers to a savant-like state (where skills demonstrated are always associated with the possession of an exceptional memory). Over a quarter of these volunteers then showed an improved ability to draw pictures and perform mental calculations (although not to the degree frequently demonstrated by some savants).
In our terms, what may have been demonstrated is that savants (and some of the volunteers) could be directly accessing aspects of their first-level consciousness that have been stored for some reason. It may be this (relatively perfect, i.e., unencumbered by second or third-level thought manipulations) memory that is being used by savants, to perform, apparently instantaneously, certain kinds of mathematical calculation and to accurately draw what may have been seen only once a long time ago.
See Douglas S. Fox, “The Inner Savant,” in the February, 2002 edition of Discover, 44-49. Also Donald A. Treffert and Gregory L. Wallace, “Islands of Genius,” in the June 2002 edition of Scientific American, 76-85.
6. Much has been written about consciousness. For an excellent discussion, read Antonio R. Damasio, The Feeling of What Happens: Body and Emotion in the Making of Consciousness (New York: Harcourt Brace & Company, 1999). (N.B. Terminology differs between Damasio’s text and mine. For instance, what I have termed “first-level thinking” Damasio describes as “core consciousness.” Damasio, a research neurologist who maintains a clinical practice, describes patients’ disorders to add weight to his hypotheses. He provides many references for further reading.)
7. Frans de Waal, in The Ape and the Sushi Master: Cultural Reflections of a Primatologist (New York: Basic Books, 2001) shows how primates, particularly chimpanzees, develop complex social relationships, communicate, possess cultures and exhibit empathy and sympathy. Purpose and Meaning
There is an important difference between asking, “what is life’s purpose?” and asking, “what is life’s meaning?”
The first question is by far the most important, for we seek an answer that must be universally and permanently true. All of life, wherever it is and in whatever form it exists, is expected to be subsumed within the answer to the question about life’s purpose. “To do God’s will” might be the reply of many to this question, giving an answer that, they would claim, applies to all things and all creatures for all time. The point to note is that, although the chosen “life’s purpose” might vary from one person to another, every choice selected must meet the criteria of universality and timelessness.
The second question, asking life’s meaning, is clearly of less significance, because subjective and multiple answers are acceptable and even expected. Everyone is quite willing to accept different replies from the same person for we fully recognize that “life’s meaning” can change from day to day. “Life’s purpose” has no such freedom.
The answer to the question of life’s purpose turns out to be the key that unlocks the puzzle of life’s meaning. We can be sure of this, because whenever someone says that life has meaning for them, we always find that they are expressing a feeling that stems from acting to achieve one or more purposes they deem to be important.
Many do not recognize that they live their daily lives happily striving to attain a multitude of purposes. The desire to live comfortably, to provide for a family, to be without pain, to be emotionally satisfied, to enjoy life; all these and thousands of similar phrases are statements of purpose, all more or less distant from conscious thought, but all significant to our minds as they go about their task of making the decisions that guide our daily activities.
We sometimes consciously chose one or two purposes to have particular significance for us, and their achievement may then take primacy over others. Getting a degree, saving money to buy a house, or helping charitable organizations might be examples, and many of us spend much time and effort supporting the attainment of goals such as these. However, whether or not we recognize the fact, every one of our activities is directed toward the achievement of one purpose or another.
Of course, we often react to emotions and feelings as well. But these actions are taken to satisfy or alleviate the emotions or feelings that prompted them; thus acting to satisfy our emotions is also acting to achieve a purpose. The difference is that these are not purposes directed by conscious thoughts, they are responses to body chemicals. Thus, they are usually more primitive or animal-like in nature (although emotional responses to music probably pertain to relatively recent evolutionary developments).
The happy feeling that we are living a meaningful life, or that life possesses meaning for us, is a by-product of a mind that is doing its job well by directing its support system (the body) to meet a multitude of purposes. The feeling stems from the mind being able to work relatively stress-free, both consciously and subconsciously, because the tasks we perform, the thoughts we arrange, the decisions we make, are directed toward some worthwhile, i.e. purposeful, end.
It is pointless to directly seek the meaning of life. Feeling that life is meaningful is the normal state—a feeling of well-being, when the bloodstream is relatively free of stress-causing chemicals, because the mind is working efficiently and effectively, making purpose-directed decisions. Such a mind has no need to instruct the release of anxiety-causing chemicals.
There is no physical or biological requirement to feel that life has meaning. Living entities can eat, survive and reproduce, without any such feeling, as the daily lives of bacteria, plants and insects presumably affirm. In organisms capable of conscious thought, however, there is a definite requirement for such thought to be purpose-directed. Solving problems and making decisions rationally requires a desire to achieve some purpose—this systematizes conscious thought. Working rationally is the activity that makes the mind valuable to survival, thus ensuring its own survival.
People who lack valued purposes are susceptible to depression, when nothing seems worthwhile and life can feel meaningless. The cure is not to directly seek meaning, but to find a purpose worthy of being valued and sought, then use this purpose to make decisions and guide actions.
===
Part One. Thinking And Moral Problems
Part Two. Religions And Their Source
Part Four. Developing A Universal Religion===
Religions And Their Source
Introduction
Religions' Origins (Ch.4)
Revelations And Conversions (Ch.5)
Present Day Religions (Ch.6)
- Some Major Religions
- Common Features
- My Dissatisfaction With Existing Religions (with 3 dissenting opinions)
Conclusion To Part Two
Postscripts
Links to other Parts
Introduction
The Universe (Ch.7)
- What We See In The Sky
- The Expanding Universe
- What Happened After The Big Bang
- The Life Of A Typical Star
- The Earth
- What Started It All?
Life (Ch.8)
- Possible Origins Of Life On Earth
- Development Of Life On Earth
- Evolution
- The Probability That Life Exists Elsewhere
- Intelligent Life
Looking For A Purpose (Ch.9)
- Can We Adopt The Universe's Purpose?
- Can We Use Life's Purpose?
- Learning And Purpose
- What Purpose Can We Use?
Life And Exploiting (Ch.10)
- The Behaviour Of Living Things
- Energy And Life
- Life's Beginning
- Exploiting
- Complexity, Intelligence And Evolution
Conclusion To Part Three
Postscripts
Links to other parts
A Universal Religion
- For the complete table of contents for this book, please see Table of Contents
- There is also a cover under development.
Introduction
Before we begin we should clarify the distinction between a “meta-purpose” and the “universal purpose” we have been seeking to guide our collective morality.
Part Three sought evidence that the behaviour of the universe or life might be directed toward achieving some kind of purpose. It found none. It then suggested that (and proposed a reason why) life might continue evolving until it became an omnipotent being (but emphasized that there is no proof that this must occur).
Since the universe behaves in a reasonably predictable way, life forms able to correctly predict forthcoming events have a survival advantage. Sentient beings, able to plan ahead before acting, behave rationally when they predict a situation and make decisions that, when acted upon, help to achieve the chosen purpose.
As well as rational decisions, human beings also use instinct and emotion, a 'quick and dirty' decision process based on successful habits. According to the meta-science of evolutionary psychology, religion is a survival tool, an attempt to develop those 'feelings' that help us survive - dealing with our neighbours, accepting certain constraints and holding certain opinions, working together for some purpose such as world peace international justice, or the glory of God is as much an emotional response to things that we find life-threatening as much as a rational response to 'making the world better'.
We might decide that “supporting life’s journey for humanity to become an omnipotent Being (oB)” is a worthy goal, and we could make it our “meta-purpose” to guide moral decision making. However, this is too loose a statement for many practical purposes. While it might convey some emotional desires or feelings, it is not precise enough to guide the moral (and therefore physical) behaviour of an entire civilization
A universal objective must be able to withstand all manner of challenges — legalistic, moralistic, religious, economic,scientific rational emotional and many more. A clearly defined “universal purpose,”could turn wishful conjecture into tangible and beneficial practices. Moreover, if a “universal purpose” were to be derived from the concept of assisting the survival of our species then a worthy but dry legal document such as the Universal Declaration of Human Rights can come to life by providing the vision empowering people to constructively criticise the powerful with little fear of suffering the spiteful revenge common in dictatorships.
How a universal purpose might be defined is touched upon in the Postscript to Chapter Fourteen; it is difficult task but not one we need dwell upon. The question, “why bother to do anything?” is a much more important topic and must be addressed. Why should anyone go to the trouble of contemplating the precise wording of a universal purpose?
Chapter Eleven suggests some philosophical reasons why the effort should be made while Chapter Twelve offers some practical ones. I hope that one or more of the thoughts expressed in those chapters convince at least a few readers that the undertaking would be well worth while.
Chapter Thirteen delves into the nitty gritty of a possible new morality. Assuming a universal purpose based upon the premise of oB was crafted, just what behaviours would it support, and what might it forbid? And what is the rationale for the answers provided? My thoughts, hopelessly biased by my constructs, are provided only to initiate the discussion. Superior minds will hopefully someday undertake the task of developing a rational morality, one that might better guide us in solving the extraordinarily complex issues we face today and will surely encounter tomorrow.
In eras past, religions took generations to develop, with emotions playing a large part. Nowadays a sound religion might be rationally grown in a decade or two, via electronic communications. As shown in the subtitle of this book, my emphasis is upon the need to develop a universal religion, and where one might look, not upon actually doing so. Nevertheless, it seems appropriate to outline how such a fantasy might someday become a reality; Chapter Fourteen offers my musings.
Part One
- Thinking And Moral Problems
- Chapter One Thinking
- Chapter Two Solving Problems
- Chapter Three Making Decisions
Part Two
- Religions And Their Source
- Chapter Four Religions' Origins
- Chapter Five Revelations And Conversions
- Chapter Six Present Day Religions
Part Three
- Purpose
- Chapter Seven The Universe
- Chapter Eight Life
- Chapter Nine Looking For A Purpose
- Chapter Ten Life And Exploiting
Part Four
- Developing A Universal Religion
- Chapter Eleven Why Bother?
- Chapter Twelve Possible Applications
- Chapter Thirteen Determining Moral Behaviours
- Chapter Fourteen A Universal Religion.
Contents of this section
Why Bother? (Ch.11)
Possible Applications (Ch.12)
Determining Moral Behaviours (Ch.13)
- The Facts Of Life
- Behaviours Rewarded By Life
- Behaviours That Enhance Life
- Determining Moral Behaviour
