This is a review of chapter two of Edelman's book.
Ontology of Body, Mind, and Consciousness
Edelmann’s objective in this
chapter is three-fold: i) to provide a general overview of the Bhagavata
Purana’s views on the ontological relationship between the body, mind, and
consciousness; (ii) to examine the evidence often employed to countenance the
physicalistic or naturalistic view of consciousness while also demonstrating
the compatibility of certain forms of Judeo-Christian theology with such
physicalistic theories and; (iii) to suggest that the theory of consciousness
postulated by the Bhagavata Purana offers an alternative to physicalism.
It is the Sankhya/Yoga school
of thought’s ontology and metaphysics that informs the Bhagavata Purana’s
theory of consciousness. Edelmann does a commendable job of offering a crisp and concise review of the basic ontology that
undergirds the Bhagavata’s understanding of the relationship between the body,
mind and consciousness. He explains that, according to this view, the human
being (and for that matter, all living organisms) are constituted of ‘three
categories of substance: the physical body (sthula-rupa, deha), the mind
(antar-atman), and consciousness (purusa). After enumerating the twenty-four
constitutive elements of matter, Edelmann points to a fundamental difference
that distinguishes the Sankhya view from its Western counterparts. In contrast
to a wide range of Western thinkers, the mind along with its various
constituents are categorized by the Sankhya theory of ontology as belonging
wholly to the realm of matter. In other words, in common with modern biology,
the Bhagavata argues that the mind and the mental realm more generally can be
reduced to material nature. Whereas the mind is treated along with the physical
body (or sthula-rupa) as belonging to the realm of matter, consciousness on
this view is held to be ontologically distinct from matter, that is to say, not
reducible to it or capable of being supervened by it.
After offering a brief
overview of the various elements that are said to make up the physical body or
deha, Edelmann shifts his attention to the second aspect of the human being,
namely the ‘subtle-physical body’, which is divided up, according to this view
into four interrelated parts- ‘mind (manas), intellect (buddhi), ego
(ahamkara), and awareness (citta)’. This division is intended to reflect the
different functions or vrttis of each part. Without delving too deeply into the
functional definitions of each aspect of the mental world, the salient point to
take away here is that ‘unlike prominent forms of Western dualism, the mind and
intellect in the Bhagavata are functions of matter, processes that have no life
or self-awareness in themselves; they are only subtle aspects of the same
material substance of which tables and chars, for example are made.’
The Sankhya school postulates
consciousness as constituting the third and final aspect of the human being. As
stated above, this school departs from conventional Western accounts on the
subject, by treating consciousness as ‘ontologically distinct from the mental
functions and from the body’. It is the ego or ahamkara (an aspect of the
mental realm) that acts as the glue, ‘binding consciousness, the observer of
all the mental functions and the physical world’ to the body-mind complex. It
is the ego that is responsible for the formation of a person’s sense of
identity. As Edelmann puts it crisply, ‘the function of the ego is [to] attach
or fasten the transcendent self to a particular mind-body complex.’
The implication of this view
can be said to be three-fold: identification with the body: (i) is unnatural; (ii)
causes suffering and; (ii) removing consciousness from identification with the
body and mind is the ‘key to happiness’ and liberation. Note here that
consciousness’ identification is not just with the body; if that were the case
then upon death the purusa would achieve liberation. Nowhere however in the
Bhagavata is such a view supported. The key thing to note here is that the
predicament purusa finds itself in has as much to do with its identification
with the body (gross) as it does with the mind and its various aspects (the
subtle body). At death, though the gross body perishes, the subtle body
continues to exist, travelling ‘with the self from one body to another,
retaining memories and emotional dispositions’. This view, then, offers a
useful illumination of our perceived tendency to come to this world equipped
with a seemingly wide and diverse range of psychophysical predilections and
predispositions.
In an important paragraph in
this chapter, Edelmann explains how the Bhagavata’s view, as the aforementioned
account sought to detail, contrasts with Cartesian-style substance dualism. The
latter view essentially holds that the body and mind are constituted of
different substances and while ‘the first is extended in space, the second is
not’. As I hope that the former account has helped to make clear, this view is
not shared by the Bhagavata. To recapitulate, the latter view holds that the
mind and body together constitute
aspects of the same material substance. There is therefore, at least in a
substantial sense, no material difference between mind and body. The Bhagavata
however does retain some element of the substance dualism claim since it
asserts that consciousness is ontologically distinct from the mind-body
complex.
Edelman’s economical
recapitulation of the aforementioned account is useful: ‘In summary, the
Bhagavata presents the living organism- humans and animals in particular- as a
composite of three parts: consciousness (purusa), the subtle-physical body, and
the physical body. The subtle and physical body are, however, reducible to one
category of matter, whereas consciousness is not. When combined, the result is
called a jiva or embodied being. The ego fashions the self with a sense of ‘I’
and attaches it to a particular mind-body complex. The result is that
consciousness falsely identifies with a particular mind-body complex.’
In his next section in the
chapter, Edelmann sets out to define physicalism and in so doing seeks to
provide ‘the scientific, theological, and philosophical reasons that have
caused many thinkers to adhere to a form of physicalism’. The definition that
he offers, though remarkably succinct, does a useful job of conveying the
basic, foundational tenet of the outlook: physicalism, Edelmann argues,
describes the view that consciousness or mind is ‘dependent upon the brain,
comes from the brain, or is reducible to the activity of the brain’.
Darwin’s evolutionary
narrative is identified by Edelmann as a key factor contributing to the
widespread acceptance of physicalism (at least as applied to the human mind)
among the scientific community. In contrast to Platonic or Cartesian theories
of ontology, the evolutionary narrative suggests that the mind is materially
related to the brain and that the mind/brain evolved for adaptive reasons.
Consciousness, on this view, is rooted in matter and is the product of a
particular organisation of the brain. The evolutionary narrative then does not
regard the soul or the mind as immune to the evolutionary process.
In arguing for a genealogical
continuity between man and animal, Darwin was also at pains to demonstrate that
‘there must be an evolutionary history to human mental traits just as there is
a history to biological traits: just as bodies had evolved in response to a
changing environment, so had all cognitive capacities.’ An important
implication of Darwin’s theory was that it rendered incoherent and
unsustainable the drawing of ontological distinctions between man and animal.
Christian theology sought to justify its exaltation of humanity by arguing that
humans possessed a unique set of characteristics (a soul, heightened
rationality etc), which distinguished them from their fellow creatures.
However, ‘all the characteristics that were said to distinguish a human being
from animals in Christian theology were argued [by Darwin] to exist in
incipient forms in lower animals’.
In this sense, at least then, evolutionary
theory problematizes the Judeo-Christian notion of the human person and the
attendant notion of human uniqueness. The implication drawn from evolutionary
theory that there exists a striking continuity between animal and man poses
fewer difficulties for Indic traditions. This is because such traditions have
long recognized that ‘the vital consciousness that animates the human body is
the same sort of vital consciousness that animates non-human bodies.’ This is
not, of course, to suggest that Indic traditions do not advocate any sort of
discontinuity between animal and man. Many of them do; the point here though is
that such discontinuity derives less from a conceptualization of the human soul
as distinctly unique and more to do with the perception that the human form of
life affords heightened capacity for God consciousness.
Edelmann’s summary of the
implications of evolutionary theory for the philosophy of mind is useful:
‘evolutionary theory shows [] that the human mind and consciousness evolved
along with the mammalian brain through an unbroken chain of incremental steps,
and thus the mind or consciousness must be no more than the activity of the
brain.’
Outlining certain Christian
views of the soul, Edelmann argues that such views may be reconciled with a
soft form of physicalism. Recall that physicalism describes the view that the
soul/mind and consciousness can be reduced to the brain or to the material. The
Thomistic understanding of the self envisions ‘souls as rooted in the
organisation of matter’ rather than constituting an ontologically distinct
substance. Note that this view departs from the hard form of physicalism since
it asserts that though the soul is rooted in the organisation of matter, the
soul itself is not material. Edelmann goes on to survey the views of other
prominent Christian theologians and suggests that they have all argued for a
particular type of physicalism.
Edelmann’s study of Keith
Ward’s theological contribution is particularly insightful. He describes Ward’s
stance on evolutionary theory as follows: ‘Ward does not question that there is
an unbroken chain of natural events that gave rise to consciousness, but only
that the process does not have built-in purpose. For Ward, purposive and final
causality are built into the structure of matter, and, as it has a propensity
towards complexity all its own, external direction from God is not required.’
In other words, for Ward, absent modification, the standard evolutionary account
problematizes theistic belief insofar as it characterizes the evolutionary
process in too arbitrary and accidental a manner. Ward seems to suggest that
the attribution of causality and purpose to the evolutionary process diminishes
the conflict that such an account would otherwise have with theism.
Edelmann concludes his
discussion of physicalism by exploring the implications neuroscience
contributes to the field. He argues that the close relationship between brain
states and mental states that neuroscience seems to have discovered offers
support to the view of mind/consciousness being dependent on the brain. In a
particularly perceptive paragraph, the author argues that from the perspective
of the Bhagavata, neurobiologists are only studying ‘the manner in which two
categories of matter (gross and subtle) relate to one another’, and not
consciousness proper. Their field of study essentially entails the examination
of the brain (part of the gross-physical body) ‘in an attempt to understand the
mental realm (subtle-physical body)’. But, of course, since this study only
involves the examination of two material categories it cannot shed light on
consciousness proper since the latter falls entirely outside the scope of the
material realm. On this account then, all that they can gain insight into is
the ‘manner in which consciousness (purusa) observes the relationships between
brain and mental events.’ As Edelmann himself puts it: ‘neurologists are
primarily working with the gross and subtle components of matter, since the
mental events caused by the brain are material, but these components have no
relationship with consciousness itself. There is full agreement between
contemporary scientists and the Bhagavata that the body and the mind are
material, but in the terms of the Bhagavata neurology as it is conceived of at
present does not study consciousness itself.’
The author goes on to suggest
that the distinction the Bhagavata draws between the mind-body complex and
consciousness proper mirrors certain developments in contemporary philosophy of
mind. He points here to the work of David Chalmers and Thomas Nagel, who in
their works argue that ‘to understand the mind one must pay attention to
subjective qualia, or the sense of what it is like to be a particular organism.
Moreover, qualia cannot be adequately described merely in terms of brain states
because qualia is a subjective experience, whereas neurology only studies
objective matter’. I won’t delve two deeply into this area because I want to
post a review of Nagel’s book (Mind and Cosmos: Why the Materialist
Neo-Darwinian Conception of Nature is Almost Certainly False) after I finish
reading it.
In his final section in the
chapter, Edelman sets out to show how and why physicalism can be reconciled
with the ontology of the Bhagavata. Essentially, he begins by recapitulating
the Sankhya view that the mind-body complex is ontologically distinct from
consciousness (purusa). The former can be reduced to matter while the latter
occupies a distinct ontological category of its own. He suggests that ‘disputes
about the historical origins of mind-body are of minor importance, since they
are disputes about not-self and about the properties of matter’ that do not in
themselves exist in the ‘state of freedom’. This seems to me to be an important
point and it therefore merits greater discussion. Edelmann’s point essentially
is that the debate about the origin and development of the mind-body complex is
a debate about the origin and development of a particular form of matter. Consciousness,
however, is immaterial and therefore must be regarded as, if you like, a
non-participant in that debate. Any study that sets out to demonstrate how the
mind-body complex has evolved or developed over time cannot in therefore cast
any sort of coherent judgment on the existence of consciousness. In that sense,
at least then, the debates assumes a triviality since it has nothing to say
about the nature of the self proper. As Edelmann explains in a particularly
perspicuous paragraph, ‘Darwinism [is] concerned with, and can only make claims
about, the mind-body complex, and yet consciousness is distinct from this. Put
differently, if consciousness is a witness (saksin) of the mind-body, but is
ontologically distinct from it, the historical origin and development of the
mind-body complex (i.e. the subject of Darwinian theory) is not a central
concern. A central concern instead involves understanding the separation of
mind-body from consciousness’.
In seeking to suggest how the
Bhagavata may respond to the issue of the evolution of consciousness and
seemingly supportive neurological findings, Edelmann suggests ‘that the notion
of a non-physical consciousness that identifies with the mind-body complex
allows for an alternative interpretation of Darwinian evolution and the
neurological correlates of consciousness. Within the ontology of the Bhagavata
the non-physical consciousness (purusa) observes the relationships between the
mind and brain (which are both part of nature, prakriti), and this allows one to
avoid the physicalist conclusions argued for by Darwinists and neurologists’.
The key point to understand
here is the notion of consciousness identifying with the mind-body complex. Let
me call this the ‘identification thesis’. The author’s argument is that such an
identification provides for an alternative interpretation of Darwinian
evolution and certain neurological findings. The Darwinian view sees
consciousness as having emerged over the course of biological evolution as the
material organisation of living organisms developed. However, the
‘identification thesis’ permits for an alternative interpretation of
evolutionary history, one that would suggest, for example, that ‘when the self
is lined by identification to a body with a small brain, then the capacities of
that brain constrain the ability of the self to think and to reason. When it
begins to identify with a larger-brained body with densely packed neurons, then
the capacity for thought increases, and hence the observer’s experiences of
complex thought in that body increases.’ The ‘identification thesis’ argues
that the mind-body complex constrains the capacity of consciousness to the
extent that the latter identifies with the former. Identification enables
consciousness to experience the causal relationships between the mind-body (the
focus of Darwinian evolution and neuroscience) ‘even though those causal
relationships are distinct from the experiencer’. The strength and cogency of
the account lies therefore in the fact that it ‘allows for the evolution of
mind and body as in Darwinism and for the neurological correlates of
consciousness sought by neurology, yet also allows for the existence of a
transcendent consciousness.’
With respect to the
possibilities of dialogue (between Hinduism and Science), Edelmann bemoans the
understudied and under-expressed nature of the field in theological discourse
within Hinduism. He argues that the cogency of the Hindu position depends in
large part on the ability of Hindu theologians to express their views on consciousness
and the mind-body problem in ways that are intelligible and accessible to
Western audiences: ‘If Hindu theologians were to develop a discourse in a
language that is accessible to Western thinkers and that takes into account the
discoveries and theories of scientific studies on consciousness, then it would
be reasonable to suggest that such a discourse should be taken into
consideration by Western thinkers in the course of their own investigations
into mind and consciousness. Unless and until Hindu thinkers do develop their
own discourse of this kind, it is unrealistic to suggest that the sciences
should seriously consider them as scientific theories’.
