An erstwhile member of my
book club, Dr. Robert
Burton, is an eminent neuroscientist and sometime novelist and columnist. He has written two lay books on his
field, the more recent being A
Skeptic's Guide to the Mind: What Neuroscience Can and Cannot Tell Us About
Ourselves.
The book addresses the capabilities of the brain and
mind. Most importantly, it is
careful not to conflate the two.
Through advances in fMRI and other technologies, we are getting to know
more and more about the operation of the brain, a delimited entity made up of
untold billions of neurons and trillions of their connections. However, we know very little about the
mind, with its much less understood attributes of intention, agency, causation,
feelings of morality [1],
sense of self and free will [2], etc. Burton stresses that the mind is a
largely uncharted abstraction extending well beyond the brain and the sensory
organs attached to it, indeed to the entire outside world:
"If we wish to understand
such phenomena as group behavior, cultural biases, or even mass hysteria, it
seems preferable to see the mind in its largest possible context rather than
persisting with the arcane notion of the individual mind under our personal
control. The receptors of our conceptual mind reach out to the far
corners of the universe even as our experiential mind tells its personal tales
and sings its unique songs just behind our eyes."
From this viewpoint, the human
mind is diffused—akin to, yet much more complex than, the mechanisms governing
colonies of eusocial insects such as ants and bees [3],
synchronized flocks of birds, and swarms of locusts.
The skepticism that Burton announces in his title stems from
assertions by some neuroscientists that they have located distinct sites in the
brain of attributes of the mind.
Looking at neurons and their connections, he says, can no more tell us
about the behavior of the mind than examining carbon atoms can reveal
higher-order features of life. Confounding an understanding of the mind even
further is the self-reference of the effort: the observer, who has a mind, is
trying to comprehend the mind's behavior, which cannot be done without the
overlay of the observer's solipsistic, perceptual and experimental biases. Considerations such as these provoke
Burton's uncertainty that we can ever fully understand the mind at all. His argument is persuasive; I am
convinced by him that attempts to fathom the mind are at best in their infancy.
However, with considerably less warrant, Burton extends his
skepticism to fields other than neuroscience, although he admits that they are
not as susceptible to the bias of the observer. For example, after peremptorily dismissing modern
cosmological theories by such scientists as Stephen Hawking and Lawrence
Krauss, who contend that our universe may have arisen from "nothing"
(more precisely, in Krauss' case, from the quantum froth and embedded energy in
the so-called vacuum of space [4]),
Burton says:
"My interest is in
underscoring how an operational conception of the mind is the beginning point
for all theories—whether talking about the cosmos, climate change, or the
nature of consciousness. Theories should not begin with assumptions about
the subject under inquiry; they should begin with a close look at the tool—the
mind—that creates these assumptions. Otherwise it is a short step to
believing in the spontaneous creation of something from nothing."
Even acknowledging our capability
for conceptual error, that seems to me a prescription for paralysis.
Despite the dead ends that physical science has encountered, nothing would ever
be accomplished if we were to follow such a timid and introspective
course. That would be skepticism raised the Nth power.
Taken as a whole, A Skeptic's Guide is an interesting read, with many fascinating
clinical anecdotes illustrating points about the mind. Still, I'm disturbed by the skepticism
that is the book's hallmark, which at times surfaces as derision for the
lifework of those who do not have Burton's worldview. Perhaps unfairly, I cannot rid myself of the feeling that
Burton has set himself up as the Great Mocker: he is too quick to spotlight humanity's built-in
biases and limited cognitive powers, belittling its efforts to overcome them so as to make sense of the mysteries of the universe.
To be sure, we all have our blind spots and predispositions. Yet we must examine the universe through the imperfect lenses we have, trying as well as we can to overcome their distortions. I don't think those distortions are as pervasive as Burton would have us believe. And I don't think that addressing them with Burton's deep-seated skepticism is a productive endeavor.
To be sure, we all have our blind spots and predispositions. Yet we must examine the universe through the imperfect lenses we have, trying as well as we can to overcome their distortions. I don't think those distortions are as pervasive as Burton would have us believe. And I don't think that addressing them with Burton's deep-seated skepticism is a productive endeavor.