|
This article was written in response to Keith
Augustine's article "From
Chris Carter: Does Consciousness Depend on the Brain?". Carter's original
article can be found at
www.SurvivalAfterDeath.info/articles/carter/consciousness.htm
I AM glad that Keith Augustine has taken it upon himself to defend the
hypothesis of materialism, by criticizing my article. This gives me the
opportunity to clearly expose the fallacies of the materialist argument, as
illustrated so well by Augustine.
Augustine starts off by saying he has “two general comments”, but if you read
them carefully, you will notice that his “two comments” are just restatements of
the same position: that materialism is a better explanation. But before I show
why dualism is a better explanation for the observed facts, I would first like
to deal with some of his criticisms.
For instance, he first quotes the following passage from my article:
James then explores the various possibilities for
the exact type of functional dependence between the brain and consciousness. It
is normally thought of as productive, in the sense that steam is produced as a
function of the kettle. But this is not the only form of function that we find
in nature: we also have at least two other forms of functional dependence: the
permissive function, as found in the trigger of a crossbow; and the transmissive
function, as of a lens or a prism. The lens or prism do not produce the light
but merely transmit it in a different form.
Augustine then writes:
In The Illusion of Immortality, Corliss
Lamont directly rebutted the prism analogy, which could easily be modified to
cover the organ analogy as well:
"If the human body corresponds to a colored glass ... then the living
personality corresponds to the colored light that is the result of the glass....
Now while light in general will continue to exist without the colored glass ...
the specific red or blue or yellow rays that the glass produces ... will
certainly not persist if the glass [is] destroyed" (p. 104).
Yet Carter does not say a word in reply.
What is there to say about this silly non
sequitur? It simply does not follow from Lamont’s remark that the prism
produces the light instead of merely transmitting it in a different form, or
that the light cannot be transmitted through a different prism if the first is
destroyed.
Augustine continues:
And what about the simple point Paul Churchland
raises in the introduction to his 1984 Matter and Consciousness:
"If there really is a distinct entity [an immaterial soul] in which reasoning,
emotion, and consciousness take place, and if that entity is dependent on the
brain for nothing more than sensory experiences as input and volitional
executions as output [the transmissive hypothesis], then one would expect
reason, emotion, and consciousness to be relatively invulnerable to direct
control or pathology by manipulation or damage to the brain. But in fact the
exact opposite is true. Alcohol, narcotics, or senile degeneration of nerve
tissue will impair, cripple, or even destroy one's capacity for rational
thought.... And the vulnerability of consciousness to anesthetics, to caffeine,
and to something as simple as a sharp blow to the head… [emphasis added].
Perhaps Churchland and Augustine would expect this,
but none of the writers mentioned in my article – Schiller, Bergson, or James –
would argue that the transmission hypothesis implies that the mind “is dependent
on the brain for nothing more than sensory experiences as input and
volitional executions as output.” As I wrote earlier, William James started his
famous Ingersoll Lecture by first remarking that “Every one knows that arrests
of brain development occasion imbecility, that blows on the head abolish memory
or consciousness, and that brain-stimulants and poisons change the quality of
our ideas.” He then made the point that modern physiologists “have only shown
this generally admitted fact of a dependence to be detailed and minute” in that
“the various special forms of thinking are functions of special portions of the
brain.” The exact type of functional dependence between the brain and
consciousness – production or transmission/permission – is the issue at stake.
In the essay “Remarks on the Mind-Body Question” - which argues the scientific
case for interactive dualism - Nobel prize-winning physicist Eugene Wigner wrote
that “we do not know of any phenomenon in nature in which one subject is
influenced by another without exerting an influence thereupon.” No one denies
that the interaction between mind and brain runs both ways. Master-sophist
Churchland and his eager pupil Augustine are merely attacking a straw man.
Augustine continues with this remark:
What always varies with the varying mental
capacities of (say) different organisms? The answer: The complexity of their
brains. As brain complexity goes up, mental abilities increase. As brain
complexity goes down, mental abilities decrease. Brain complexity, then, causes
mental ability. In short, the brain causes (or "produces") the mind. If the
William James' transmissive hypothesis were correct, and the brain essentially
only acted as a "transceiver" for consciousness, there is no reason to think
that ever increasing mental complexity would require, in step, ever increasing
brain complexity.
The fallacy in Augustine’s thinking can be
illustrated with the analogy of the TV set. A high-definition, stereophonic,
color television set is a more complicated mechanism than a black & white,
monophonic television. The greater complexity of the former allows the reception
and transmission of richer, more complex information. But none of this implies
that TV sets produce the programs. In other words, none of this implies that the
TV programs are programmed and generated inside the set.
And again, none of the authors I quoted – Schiller, Bergson, or James – would
agree with Augstine’s remark [did Augustine even read my article?]. Schiller,
for instance, argued that the simpler physical structure of “lower beings”
depresses their consciousness to a lower point, and that the higher
organizational complexity of man allows a higher level of consciousness. In
other words, “Matter is not what produces consciousness but what limits it and
confines its intensity within certain limits.”
Augustine then quotes me as writing:
Carter concludes: “The dependence of consciousness
on the brain for the manner of its manifestation in the material world does not
imply that consciousness depends upon the brain for its existence”.
It seems to me that there is an intentional ambiguity here: what does Carter
mean by 'the manifestation of consciousness'?
To use the same metaphor, I mean the pictures and
sounds of the TV set, rather than the TV signal. In other words, the
transmission hypothesis is consistent with the common observation that the
states of consciousness that we experience depend, at least in part, on the
states of our brains. Changes in the components of a TV can affect its tuning to
particular channels or the reception of programs, but this does not imply that
TV programs are produced and generated inside the set.
Finally, let us deal with Augustine’s main point: “it is simply false to
characterize the explanatory value of materialism and dualism, with regard to
the overwhelming evidence for mind-brain dependence, as on a par. Materialism
clearly explains such evidence better in demonstrable ways.”
But does it? Saying so is one thing. Demonstrating it is another. So, let us
examine the evidence.
The philosopher of materialism Paul Edwards considers the case of an Alzheimer’s
patient, which he thinks illustrates that “the instrument theory is absurd.” It
concerns the mother of a friend of his, a Mrs. D., who in her pre-Alzheimer days
was “courteous and well-behaved”, but who ended up in a nursing home and in the
later stages of the disease, not only no longer recognized her daughter, but
also became violent.
Let us now see what the survival theorists would say
about Mrs. D.’s behavior. It should be remembered that on this view Mrs.D.,
after her death, will exist with her mind intact and will only lack the means of
communicating with people on earth. This view implies that throughout her
affliction with Alzheimer’s Mrs. D.’s mind was intact. She recognized her
daughter but had lost her ability to express this recognition. She had no wish
to beat up an inoffensive paralyzed old woman. On the contrary, “inside” she was
the same considerate person as before the onset of the illness. It is simply
that her brain disease prevented her from acting in accordance with her true
emotions. I must insist these are the implications of the theory that the mind
survives the death of the brain and that the brain is only an instrument for
communication. Surely these consequences are absurd.
However, these are not necessarily the implications
of the theory that the brain is an instrument of the mind, but only of Edwards’
crude caricature of this theory. The disputed issue is not the fact of
functional dependence of mind on brain, but only the nature of this functional
dependence – that is, whether it is productive, or transmissive and
permissive.
It is perfectly conceivable that Mrs. D.’s damaged brain prevented her from
accessing memories of her daughter, so that she genuinely did not recognize her.
If, following Ducasse, we define the mind as ‘a set of capacities’, then by this
definition Mrs. D.’s mind was not ‘intact’ (from the Latin word intactus,
meaning ‘untouched’), since it would seem that several capacities were indeed
affected. However, the fact that certain capacities do not appear to currently
function because of impairment due to disease, injury, or intoxication does not
imply that they have been permanently destroyed.
If the mind must inhabit a biological machine in order to operate in and
manifest itself in the material world, then as long as it is bound to this
machine we should expect its operation and manifestation to be affected by the
condition and limitations of the machine. If the machine is impaired then -
under both the production hypothesis and the transmission hypothesis - so too
will be the operation and manifestation of mind. Both of these theoretical
possibilities are consistent with the observed facts of this case.
However, the effects of brain damage and old age on the mind are not consistent
with Edwards’ crude caricature of the transmission theory, in which causal
effect only seems to run from mind to body, and never from body to mind. This
seems to be the basis for Edwards’ repeated characterization of the instrument
theory, and its implications, as “absurd.”
Yet it is conceivable that only as long as an individual has a body is
consciousness dependent upon it for its operation and its manifestation, and
that when the body dies the individual is freed from this dependency.
Consciousness may be joined with a brain during life, the interaction may run
both ways - as it apparently does with every causal relationship in the physical
world - and at death the connection may be severed. The fact that up until the
brain’s death the mind can be affected by the condition and limitations of the
brain does not entail that the mind cannot continue to exist without the brain,
and to carry on at least some of its processes.
At any rate, Edwards, Churchland, and Augustine are not scientists, so it seems
appropriate to now examine the arguments from three scientists who have examined
the physiological evidence in great detail over the last 80 years.
Scientific Opinions
Wilder Penfield started his career as a neurosurgeon
trying to explain the mind in terms of physical processes in the brain. In the
course of surgical treatment of patients suffering from temporal lobe seizures,
Penfield stumbled upon the fact that electrical stimulation of certain areas of
the cortex could activate a stream of memories that had been laid down years or
even decades earlier - in fact, the patient would “relive” the earlier episode,
recalling incidents in far greater detail than would be possible by voluntary
recall. But during the flashback the patient would remain completely aware of
what was happening to him or her in an operating room. Penfield summed up the
conclusions he formed on the basis of these experiments:
The patient’s mind, which is considering the
situation in such an aloof and critical manner, can only be something quite
apart from neuronal reflex action. It is noteworthy that two streams of
consciousness are flowing, the one driven by input from the environment, the
other by an electrode delivering sixty pulses per second to the cortex. The fact
that there should be no confusion in the conscious state suggests that, although
the content of consciousness depends in large measure on neuronal activity,
awareness itself does not.
On the basis of his experiments, and examinations of
patients suffering from various forms of epilepsy, Penfield concluded that the
mind interacts with the brain in the upper brain stem, an ancient structure that
humans share with reptiles. Penfield considers the rest of the brain to be a
magnificent biological computer, programmed by the mind. He found that
electrical stimulation of most parts of the brain results either in memories
relived in vivid detail, involuntary movement of a part of the body, or
paralysis of some function, such as speech. By contrast, injury to or epileptic
discharge in the higher brain stem always simply resulted in loss of
consciousness, leading Penfield to conclude that “Here is the meeting of mind
and brain. The psychico-physical frontier is here.”
Penfield thought that the brain as a computer could accomplish a great deal by
automatic mechanisms, but that “what the mind does is different. It is not to be
accounted for by any neuronal mechanism that I can discover.”
There is no area of gray matter, as far as my
experience goes, in which local epileptic discharge brings to pass what could be
called “mind-action.” … there is no valid evidence that either epileptic
discharge or electrical stimulation can activate the mind.
If one stops to consider it, this is an arresting fact. The record of
consciousness can be set in motion, complicated though it is, by the electrode
or by epileptic discharge. An illusion of interpretation can be produced in the
same way. But none of the actions that we attribute to the mind has been
initiated by electrode stimulation or epileptic discharge. If there were a
mechanism in the brain that could do what the mind does, one might expect that
the mechanism would betray its presence in a convincing manner by some better
evidence of epileptic or electrode activation.
In other words, Penfield argues is that if the brain
produced or generated consciousness, then we would expect that consciousness
itself could be influenced by epilepsy or electrical stimulation in some way
other than simply being switched off – that is, we would expect beliefs or
decisions to be produced. The complete absence of any such effect in Penfield’s
experience led him to reject the production hypothesis in favor of dualistic
interaction.
Edwards argues that the most Penfield has shown is that brain activity is not a
sufficient condition of consciousness; Edwards argues that it may still be a
necessary condition. Edwards refers to this alleged confusion of sufficient and
necessary conditions as “the confusions of Penfield.” Edwards writes: “The fact
that Penfield could not produce beliefs or decisions by electrical stimulation
of the brain in no way shows that they do not need what we may call a brain-base
any less than memories and sensations.” But Penfield fully agrees that the brain
might still be a necessary condition for consciousness. He writes: “When death
at last blows out the candle that was life…what can one really conclude? What is
the reasonable hypothesis in regard to this matter, considering the
physiological evidence? Only this: the brain has not explained the mind fully.”
Penfield’s point is simply that there is nothing in brain physiology that
precludes the possibility of consciousness in the absence of a brain, contrary
to what Edwards would have us believe. Once again, it appears that it is Edwards
who is confused – in this case, about what Penfield actually thought.
In direct contrast to Edward’s statement that “the instrument theory is absurd”,
Penfield writes: “To expect the highest brain-mechanism or any set of reflexes,
however complicated, to carry out what the mind does, and thus perform all the
functions of the mind, is quite absurd.”
Penfield sums up what he thinks the physiological evidence suggests for the
relationship between mind and body:
On the basis of mind and brain as two
semi-independent elements, one would still be forced to assume that the mind
makes its impact upon the brain through the highest brain-mechanism. The mind
must act upon it. The mind must also be acted upon by the highest
brain-mechanism. The mind must remember by making use of the brain’s recording
mechanisms. … And yet the mind seems to act independently of the brain in the
same sense that a programmer acts independently of his computer, however much he
may depend upon the action of that computer for certain purposes.
And on the final pages of his book he states:
I worked as a scientist trying to prove that the
brain accounted for the mind and demonstrating as many brain-mechanisms as
possible hoping to show how the brain did so. In presenting this monograph I do
not begin with a conclusion and I do not end by making a final and unalterable
one. Instead, I reconsider the present-day neurophysiological evidence on the
basis of two hypotheses: (a) that man’s being consists of one fundamental
element, and (b) that it consists of two. In the end I conclude that there is no
good evidence, in spite of new methods, such as the employment of stimulating
electrodes, the study of conscious patients and the analysis of epileptic
attacks, that the brain alone can carry out the work that the mind does. I
conclude that it is easier to rationalize man’s being on the basis of two
elements than on the basis of one.
The relevance of Penfield’s arguments can be
summarized as this: if the neurophysiological evidence suggests that man’s being
consists of two elements rather than one, then the separate existence of these
two elements cannot be ruled out.
A second prominent neuroscientist to endorse a dualistic model of mind-brain
interaction was Nobel laureate John Eccles. Eccles found the conscious
integration of visual experience impossible to account for in terms of known
neurological processes, because nervous impulses related to visual experience
appear to be fragmented and sent to divergent areas of the brain. This
difficulty led Eccles to postulate the existence of a conscious mind existing
separately from and in addition to the physical brain, with the raison d’etre of
the former being the integration of neural activity.
In addition to noting that there is a unitary character about the experiences of
the self-conscious mind despite the fragmentary nature of brain activity, Eccles
also held that there can be a temporal discrepancy between neural events and
conscious experiences; also, that there is a continual experience that the mind
can act on brain events, most apparent in voluntary action or the attempt to
recall a word or a memory. These considerations, combined with his life-long
study of the brain and its neurons, form the basis of his opinions on the
mind-body relationship.
Eccles hypothesizes that the mind may influence the brain by exerting spatio-temporal
patterns of influence on the brain, which operates as a detector of these fields
of influence. In his book Facing Reality: philosophical adventures of a brain
scientist, Eccles first discusses the structure and activity of the brain in
great detail, and then writes:
In this discussion of the functioning of the brain,
it has initially been regarded as a ‘machine’ operating according to the laws of
physics and chemistry. In conscious states it has been shown that it could be in
a state of extreme sensitivity as a detector of minute spatio-temporal fields of
influence. The hypothesis is here developed that these spatio-temporal fields of
influence are exerted by the mind on the brain in willed action. If one uses the
expressive terminology of Ryle, the ‘ghost’ operates a ‘machine,’ not of ropes
and pulleys, valves and pipes, but of microscopic spatio-temporal patterns of
activity in the neuronal net woven by the synaptic connections of ten thousand
million neurones, and even then only by operating on neurones that are
momentarily poised close to a just threshold level of excitability. It would
appear that it is the sort of machine a ‘ghost’ could operate, if by ghost we
mean in the first place an ‘agent’ whose action has escaped detection even by
the most delicate physical instruments.
Eccles postulated a two-way interaction between
brain and mind, with “brain receiving from conscious mind in a willed action and
in turn transmitting to mind in a conscious experience.” It is not clear whether
or not Eccles was convinced of the existence of an afterlife, but he did write
that “At least I would maintain that this possibility of a future existence
cannot be denied on scientific grounds.”
Like Penfield, Eccles came to the conclusion that the mind is a separate entity
from the brain, and that mental processes cannot be reduced to neurochemical
brain processes, but on the contrary direct them. And like Penfield, Eccles also
thinks that a mind may conceivably exist without a brain. Since Edwards has not
succeeded in showing that the possibility of survival is inconsistent with the
facts of neurology, and since we have seen that two prominent neuroscientists do
not share Edwards’ opinion that the transmission theory is “absurd”, we can now
clearly see Edwards dismissal as what it is: dogmatic prejudice against an
empirical possibility that does not coincide with his materialistic faith.
Are memories stored in the brain?
Some skeptics of the idea of survival of bodily
death have argued that memory is bound up with the structure of the brain, and
so when the brain is destroyed then memories must also cease to exist. If
memories are stored in the brain, and only in the brain, then it is indeed hard
to imagine how personal identity could survive the dissolution of the brain.
It is commonly assumed today that memories are somehow stored in the brain, and
this belief goes back to ancient times. Aristotle, for instance, compared
memories with impressions left by seals in wax. As time has passed the analogies
have been updated - most recently in terms of tape recordings, or computer
memory stores - yet the basic idea has remained the same. But how well does the
neurophysiological evidence support the belief that memories are stored somehow
as traces within the brain?
Neuroscientists have tried for decades to locate the sites of memory traces
within the brain, and an enormous number of animals have been expended in the
attempt. The usual process has been to train the animals to perform some task
and then cut out parts of their brains to find out where the memories are
stored. But even after large chunks of their brains have been removed – in some
experiments up to 60 percent – the unfortunate animals can often remember what
they were trained to do. Even experiments on invertebrates such as the octopus
have failed to locate specific memory traces, leading one researcher to conclude
that “memory seems to be both everywhere and nowhere in particular.” (Boycot,
1965)
There is however, much evidence that changes can occur in the brains of animals
as a consequence of the way they grow up. Experiments with rats have shown that
animals raised in an environment with plenty of stimulation and activity have
bigger brains than those raised in solitary confinement. The nervous system is
dynamic in its structure, and its development is influenced by its activity.
This consideration has been used in an experiment with chicks in an attempt to
localize memory traces in the brain laid down during the learning process. A day
after hatching, they were trained to perform a simple task, the effects of which
were studied by injecting radioactive substances. Greater amounts of these
substances were incorporated into nerve cells in a particular region of the left
hemisphere of the forebrain than in chicks that did not undergo the training. In
other words, nerve cells in a particular region of the brain showed greater
growth and development in chicks that had learned to perform the simple task.
But when the region of the forebrain associated with the learning process was
removed a day after they were trained, the chicks could still remember what they
had learned. The cells that had experienced greater growth and development
during the learning process were not necessary for the memory retention. Once
again, the hypothetical memory traces have proven elusive.
We can see from these considerations that the conventional theory of memory
traces stored in the brain is in fact an assumption, one that follows from the
currently orthodox theory of life – the mechanistic theory, according to which
all aspects of life and mind are ultimately explicable in terms of the known
laws of physics and chemistry. And results from the experiments mentioned above
have not usually called this assumption into question. As biologist Rupert
Sheldrake has pointed out:
The conventional response to such findings is that
there must be multiple or redundant memory-storage systems distributed
throughout various regions of the brain: if some are lost, back-up systems can
take over. This hypothesis, invented to account for the failure of attempts to
find localized memory traces, follows naturally from the assumption that
memories must be stored somehow inside the brain; but in the continuing absence
of any direct evidence, it remains more a matter of faith than of fact.
Sheldrake has his own theory of how memories may be
stored outside of the brain, and notes that:
There may be a ridiculously simple reason for these
recurrent failures to find memory traces in brains: They may not exist. A search
inside your TV set for traces of the programs you watched last week would be
doomed to failure for the same reason: The set tunes in to TV transmissions but
does not store them.
But what about the fact that memories can be lost as a result of brain damage?
Some types of damage in specific areas of the brain can result in specific kinds
of impairment: for example, the loss of the ability to recognize faces after
damage to the secondary visual cortex of the right hemisphere. A sufferer may
fail to recognize the faces even of his wife and children, even though he can
still recognize them by their voices and in other ways. Does this not prove that
the relevant memories were stored inside the damaged tissues? By no means. Think
again of the TV analogy. Damage to some parts of the circuitry can lead to loss
or distortion of picture; damage to other parts can make the set lose the
ability to produce sound; damage to the tuning circuit can lead to loss of the
ability to receive one or more channels. But this does not prove that the
pictures, sounds, and entire programs are stored inside the damaged components.
[1991, p. 116-117]
If memories are not stored within the brain, then of
course they should not be expected to decay when the brain decays. But of
course, this hypothesis does not automatically lead to the conclusion that
survival is a fact. Sheldrake has considered the implications of his theories
for the survival of bodily death, and realizes that the crucial issue is the
relationship of the mind to the body.
On the one hand, this hypothesis can be interpreted
within the framework of a sophisticated and updated philosophy of materialism.
If the conscious self is nothing but an aspect of the functioning of the brain
and its associated fields, then the brain would still be essential for the
process of tuning in to memories, even if they are not stored inside the brain.
In this case, the decay of the brain would still result in the extinction of
consciousness.
On the other hand, if the conscious self is not identical with the function of
the brain, but rather interacts with the brain through morphic fields, then it
is possible that the conscious self could continue to be associated with these
fields even after the death of the brain, and retain the ability to tune in to
its own past states. Both the self and its memories could survive the death of
the body. (1990, p. 120)
It should be clear from the above that a
consideration of only the neurophysiological evidence leaves us at an impasse
with regard to the question of whether or not consciousness continues to exist
after death of the material brain. Both possibilities are fully consistent with
the neurophysiological evidence considered alone – and so there is really no
antecedent improbability of survival (nor any antecedent probability either).
The question can only be resolved in a rational manner by a consideration of
other forms of relevant evidence.
A word should perhaps be said here about complexity. Some have argued that the
transmission theory is more complex than the production theory, and so this
means the latter should be preferred. But a theory must accommodate all known
facts, not merely those which we think support our pet theory. The quantum
mechanical theory of matter is much more complex than the simple Newtonian
theory. But it is now known that the Newtonian theory is fundamentally and
grossly incorrect. We should not pretend the world is simpler than it is, just
so we can go on believing whatever we like.
The issue of whether or not survival is a fact cannot be settled by declaring,
as Lamont does, that the connection between mind and body “is so exceedingly
intimate that it becomes inconceivable how one could function without the
other”, or that “man is a unified whole of mind-body or personality-body so
closely and completely integrated that dividing him up into two separate and
more or less independent parts becomes impermissible and unintelligible.” Nor
can it be decided, as Edwards does, by simply dismissing a crude caricature with
the statement that “the instrument theory is absurd.” The issue can only be
decided by conceiving of the various possible relationships between mind and
body; by determining what sorts of evidence would tend to corroborate the
various possibilities; and then by critically examining the evidence without
prejudice one way or the other, in order to decide which of the possibilities
provides the best fit with all of the evidence. In the absence of such a careful
inquiry as a basis for the conclusion that mind and body are in fact
inseparable, these assertions of Lamont and Edwards are merely examples of
pseudo-scientific dogmatism. If we are to decide the issue on rational grounds
as opposed to religious or materialistic faith, then we must carefully examine
the empirical evidence, with our minds both critical and open.
If, like most contemporary Western philosophers
and scientists, I were completely ignorant of, or blandly indifferent to these
phenomena, I should, like them, leave the matter there. But I do not share their
ignorance, and I am not content to emulate the ostrich.
- C.D. Broad, Lectures on Psychical Research
The following material is for those of us who are
not content to stick our heads in the sand, but have the courage to examine the
evidence.
Certain features of the near death experience support the hypothesis of
selective transmission. As Schiller and Bergson pointed out earlier, those who
are dying have often reported that their entire life histories flashed before
their eyes in incredible detail, suggesting that one purpose of the brain is to
filter out memories not necessary for day to day existence. More recently,
Raymond Moody, Kenneth Ring, Michael Sabom, and many other researchers have
described the experiences of people who underwent clinical death, but were later
revived. Instead of being unconscious, many of the individuals interviewed
remembered experiences they had while clinically dead, and several described
their perceptions as being sharpened to an incredible degree, and their thought
becoming unusually lucid and rapid.
In contrast to Moody and others, Osis and Haraldsson conducted extensive
analysis of cases in which unusual experiences were reported on death beds
shortly before death, cases in which the individuals involved did not recover.
Several phenomena suggestive of survival were reported in many cases, but of
direct relevance to the present discussion are cases in which individuals
suffering from severe mental illness or a disease affecting the brain were
reported as showing improvement just prior to death. Osis reported two cases of
chronic psychotics, both completely out of touch with reality, who seemed to the
medical observers to be their normal selves again shortly before death. An even
more interesting case is that of a woman dying from meningitis, a disease which
is primarily destructive to the brain. She was severely disoriented almost until
the end, but then, “she cleared up, answered questions, smiled, was slightly
elated and just a few minutes before death, came to herself. Before that she was
disoriented, drowsy, and talked incoherently.”
These are not the sort of experiences one would expect dying individuals to
report on the assumption that the brain generates consciousness. But they make
perfect sense if the purpose of the brain is to selectively inhibit
consciousness and memory to those thoughts and memories of utilitarian value to
the organism. These experiences can be interpreted as the activity of mind
disengaged, or in the process of disengaging, from the restrictions of a
material brain.
There are several other lines of evidence as well, all of which are described in
great detail in my series of books, which I hope to have published over the next
few years. All three books deal with the so-called “skeptical” objections to the
findings of parapsychology.
The decisive advantage of the transmission theory is that it can accommodate the
facts that refute the production theory. In terms of the production theory, the
cases of veridical out-of-body perception during times of severely compromised
or entirely absent brain function are completely inexplicable, except in terms
of fraud. This desperate last resort is always available, of course; but we
should wonder why the defenders of materialism are left with no other realistic
option.
But in practice, the defenders of materialism largely ignore the evidence,
rather than deal with it. This is one available tactic; another is to treat
materialism as an ideology rather than a scientific theory. The celebrated
philosopher of science Karl Popper wrote
We can always immunize a theory against refutation.
There are many such immunizing tactics; and if nothing better occurs to us, we
can always deny the objectivity – or even the existence – of the refuting
observation. Those intellectuals who are more interested in being right than in
learning something interesting but unexpected are by no means rare exceptions.
One such intellectual would almost certainly be
Michael Shermer: historian, author, Director of the Skeptic Society and
publisher of Skeptic magazine. Shermer also has a regular column, ‘Skeptic’, in
Scientific American magazine. After flirting in his youth with various New Age
practices such as ‘pyramid power’, Shermer is currently on a crusade is to
expose ESP, out-of-body experiences, and alien abductions for what he now thinks
they are: complete nonsense.
In his book The Borderlands of Science he provides his readers with a series of
criteria for distinguishing between real science and “baloney”. He particularly
warns us against people who have ideologies to pursue, whose pattern of thinking
“consistently ignores or distorts data not for creative purposes but for
ideological agendas.” But Shermer clearly seems to have an ideological agenda of
his own. His column in the March 2003 issue of Scientific American is devoted to
the brain, and contains the sub-heading: “If the brain mediates all experience,
then paranormal phenomena are nothing more than neuronal events.”
Fair enough. In his article Shermer concentrated on the out-of-body experience,
writing
Nowadays people are reporting out-of-body
experiences, floating above their beds. What is going on here? Are these elusive
creatures and mysterious phenomena in our world or in our minds? New evidence
adds weight to the notion that they are, in fact, products of the brain.
Shermer then quoted a variety of studies in an
attempt to show that OBEs “are nothing more than neuronal events”, such as a
study that scanned the brains of meditating monks, and speculated on what the
findings may imply for alien abductions. The last study Shermer mentioned seemed
to have the most relevance for his suggestion that OBEs are “products of the
brain.”
Sometimes trauma can become a trigger. The December
15, 2001, issue of the Lancet published a Dutch study in which 12 percent of 344
cardiac patients resuscitated from clinical death reported near-death
experiences, some having a sensation of being out of body, others seeing a light
at the end of a tunnel. Some even described speaking to dead relatives. Because
the everyday occurrence is of stimuli coming from the outside, when a part of
the brain abnormally generates these illusions, another part of the brain
interprets them as external events. Hence, the abnormal is thought to be the
paranormal. These studies are only the latest to deliver blows against the
belief that mind and spirit are separate from brain and body. In reality, all
experience is mediated by the brain. [emphasis added]
Shermer must have hoped that his readers would not
consult the original Lancet article, for if they do they are in for a surprise.
In it, the authors acknowledged that experiences similar to the classic NDE can
be induced in several ways, such as electrical stimulation of the brain,
excessive carbon dioxide, and with certain drugs. But they then pointed out that
“induced experiences are not identical to NDE.”
Instead of concluding that their research indicates that all experience is
mediated by the brain, these medical researchers came to the opposite
conclusion! This is what cardiologist Pim van Lommel and his co-authors wrote:
With lack of evidence for any other theories for the
NDE, the thus far assumed, but never proven, concept that consciousness and
memories are localised in the brain should be discussed. How could a clear
consciousness outside one's body be experienced at the moment that the brain no
longer functions during a period of clinical death with flat EEG? Also, in
cardiac arrest the EEG usually becomes flat in most cases within about 10 s
[seconds] from onset of syncope [fainting]. Furthermore, blind people have
described veridical perception during out-of-body experiences at the time of
this experience. The NDE pushes at the limits of medical ideas about the range
of human consciousness and the mind-brain relation.
Dr van Lommel was understandably furious when he
learned how Shermer had misrepresented his research. As I carefully document in
my book Parapsychology & the Skeptics, such distortion and denial of the
evidence is by no means uncommon among the “skeptics”. And they seem to be
growing increasingly desperate.
The production theory, defended by a long line of materialists before Augustine,
is really nothing more than an article of faith. Augustine, Shermer, and the
others are merely the last, desperate defenders of a dying ideology.
It seems fitting to conclude this essay with a quote from parapsychologist
Charles Honorton. Shortly before his death at age 46 in 1992, Honorton wrote his
classic article on skepticism, “Rhetoric over Substance”, which he concluded
with these words:
The distorted history, logical contradictions, and
factual omissions exhibited in the arguments of the critics represent neither
scholarly criticism nor skepticism, but rather counter-advocacy masquerading as
skepticism. True skepticism involves the suspension of belief, not disbelief. In
this context we would do well to recall the words of the great nineteenth
century naturalist and skeptic, Thomas Huxley: “Sit down before fact like a
little child, be prepared to give up every preconceived notion, follow humbly to
wherever and to whatever abysses nature leads, or you shall learn nothing.”
Note:
This article is published on this website with the
author's kind permission.
|
