Brief Peeks Beyond

by Bernardo Kastrup

  In conclusion, both nature itself and religious texts are expressions of a mysterious divine perspective and, as such, valid sources of concrete data for theological study. Theology has a clear, concrete subject, as well as a clear and concrete challenge: to decode the divine mystery behind the images – both ‘unconscious’ and empirical – that we experience during life. Coyne is simply wrong. While the natural sciences attempt to model and predict the patterns and regularities of nature, theology attempts to interpret those patterns and regularities so to make some sense of their first-person perspective; that is, God’s perspective. Theology also attempts to interpret the symbols and allegories in religious literature so to reveal the ‘unconscious’ psychic processes behind them, which betray something about the innerworkings of God’s mind. In both cases, theology represents an attempt to provide a hermeneutics of texts and nature. This is essential, because a life worth living isn’t only about practical applications; it is about meaning and purpose.

  2.7. Quantum physics: a parsimonious solution to the measurement problem

  In essay 2.1, I argue that we do not need to postulate a whole universe outside consciousness – outside subjective experience – in order to make sense of empirical reality. The implication is that all reality, including our bodies and brains, is in consciousness, not consciousness in our bodies and brains. This ontology, called monistic idealism, is entirely compatible with a classical view of nature: it doesn’t exclude the possibility that objects may exist in definite states and locations even if no living creature is observing them. Indeed, monistic idealism entails the existence of a transpersonal form of consciousness underlying all nature, in which objects can still exist with definite outlines as transpersonal experiences, even when not observed by personal psyches. The latest experiments in quantum mechanics, however, seem to defeat this classical view of empirical reality.40 They seem to show that, when not observed by personal psyches, reality exists in a fuzzy state, as waves of probabilities. This seeming implication of quantum mechanics isn’t incompatible with monistic idealism either. Indeed, there is a harmonious – even natural and synergistic – relationship between the two.

  Before we jump into it, let me briefly recapitulate the core ideas in essay 2.1. Consciousness is the only carrier of reality anyone can ever know for sure. I maintain that we do not need more than this one undeniable fact to explain reality: all things and phenomena can be explained as excitations of consciousness itself. As such, underlying all reality is a stream of experiences that I metaphorically describe as a stream of water. Experiences are represented by the movements – excitations – of water. As such, inanimate objects are like ripples experienced subjectively by the stream itself, which I call ‘mind-at-large.’ Living creatures are localizations of the flow of experiences in the stream: whirlpools. This way, the body-brain system is simply what a whirlpool in mind-at-large looks like from the outside. It doesn’t generate consciousness for exactly the same reason that a whirlpool doesn’t generate water. And since there is nothing to a stream full of ripples and whirlpools but water in movement, all reality is simply consciousness in movement.

  Because of a natural mechanism of reverberation and amplification of mental contents that I discuss in essay 2.1, movements of water within each whirlpool obfuscate all movements outside the whirlpool. Therefore, a living creature can only be lucidly aware of the ripples that penetrate the rim of its own whirlpool – in our case, our skin, eyes, ears, tongue, and nose – but becomes seemingly unaware of everything else going on in the stream. This is the reason why we can’t see when we close our eyes: the ripples from the broader stream that we call photons can no longer penetrate the rim of our whirlpool and get amplified within it. And since our thoughts, emotions and other forms of perception still get amplified inside, the outside ripples end up becoming obfuscated like the stars are obfuscated by the Sun at noon. Yet, those outside ripples are still in consciousness, for the same reason that the stars are still in the sky at noon. They just aren’t in our personal awareness; they don’t penetrate our whirlpool. As such, all nature is in consciousness in the form of ripples (inanimate objects) and whirlpools (living creatures) in the stream. But only certain aspects of nature enter personal awareness, in the form of ripples that penetrate a whirlpool and get caught and amplified within its central vortex.

  This worldview is entirely compatible with classical physics: it does not exclude the possibility that the ripples of the broader stream that never penetrate a whirlpool can still exist in definite form, in a definite space-time locus. They can still exist as definite experiences in transpersonal mind-at-large; that is, the stream itself. But quantum mechanics has been showing that such a view is untenable: when not observed by personal, localized consciousness – that is, when not penetrating a whirlpool – reality isn’t definite.41 Instead, it exists only as fuzzy waves of probabilities. How to reconcile this with the worldview just described?

  Clearly, the ripples in the broader stream – mind-at-large – must be ripples of probabilities, governed by Schrödinger’s equation. 42 They are subjectively experienced by mind-at-large as fuzzy possibilities, not definite storylines. This isn’t at all difficult to visualize: when we ponder about our own uncertain futures, we know exactly what it feels like to experience reality as fuzzy possibilities. Now, we know from direct experience that, when a ripple of probabilities penetrates a whirlpool, the many possibilities superposed in it collapse into one well-defined, classical storyline. After all, we see well-defined tables and chairs in definite locations, not gaseous clouds of possibilities. How this collapse happens is not understood, which is known in physics as the ‘measurement problem.’

  Monistic idealism offers a promising new avenue to make sense of it. Because the collapse happens only within a whirlpool, it is reasonable to infer that whatever causes it has to do with the reverberation/amplification process inherent to the whirlpool. I would go further and speculate that the mechanism of collapse is the amplification: only one of the possibilities superposed on the ripple gets amplified, obfuscating all others in exactly the same way that all reality external to the whirlpool is obfuscated. In other words, collapse happens for exactly the same reason that you can’t see when you close your eyes. This is quite parsimonious, because both collapse and obfuscation are then explained by one and the same mechanism in the whirlpool. In fact, with that one mechanism of mental amplification – which neuroscientists identified as back-and-forth communication between different brain regions43 – we get rid of an abstract world outside consciousness, the so-called ‘unconscious’ and of inflationary explanations for quantum collapse; all in one fell swoop.

  Now, as it turns out, the particular storyline amplified by one whirlpool happens to be always consistent with the storylines amplified by all other whirlpools, since we all seem to share the same reality. How exactly this synchronization happens is an open question. But that it happens isn’t at all implausible, since all whirlpools are, ultimately, one and the same mind. It is intuitively reasonable to expect that one consistent storyline should prevail in the ‘dream’ of this one mind-at-large. In fact, anything else would be surprising.

  Even more interestingly, there is a sense in which this idea brings the so-called Copenhagen and Many-Worlds interpretations of quantum mechanics – which are irreconcilable under materialism – closer together. This requires some background, so bear with me. According to the Copenhagen Interpretation, a fundamental transition occurs during the collapse of the probability ripple: in one moment, reality is a fuzzy superposition of possibilities; in the next moment, it somehow becomes a definite, single storyline. What exactly causes this rather magical transition is unclear.44 Whatever the case, the Copenhagen Interpretation always requires reality to fit into not one, but two very different ontological frameworks: superposition and classical; fuzzy and definite. This, plus that unexplained agency required to cause collapse, motivates many physicists to look for an alternative interpreta
tion. And the most popular alternative is the so-called Many Worlds Interpretation.45 According to it, no real collapse ever occurs; only an appearance of collapse. All superposed possibilities in the probability ripple do actually play themselves out classically, but each in a different, hypothetical parallel universe. Each parallel universe comprises a definite, classical storyline. You and I happen to inhabit one of these universes, where the storyline we experience is one of the countless possibilities in the probability ripple. Countless other versions of you and me supposedly inhabit other parallel universes, living out all the other possibilities in the probability ripple. If this sounds far-fetched, it’s because it is. The Many-Worlds Interpretation is extremely inflationary in that it requires postulating not one, not one million, but countless extra universes like our own.

  Now let’s get back to my speculation about mental amplification and collapse. According to it, a kind of collapse does occur, in that only one out of the many possibilities superposed on the ripple is amplified and, thus, experienced in a classical sense. This clearly differentiates one storyline from all the others and avoids the highly inflationary need to postulate classical parallel universes. But this collapse isn’t a fundamental ontological transition: it consists simply in the amplification of one particular possibility, which then obfuscates all others. All possible storylines continue to be experienced as fuzzy, obfuscated possibilities in the stream of mind-at-large, but only one is amplified and lucidly experienced in a classical manner. Again, this is parsimonious in that it avoids the need to postulate different ontological categories for superposed (‘fuzzy’) and collapsed (‘definite’) storylines. It all becomes a matter of degree, not of fundamental transition in nature. Finally, notice also that this interpretation is entirely compatible with quantum decoherence, for reasons that escape the scope of this brief essay, but which physicists will immediately recognize.46

  In summary, we may have an opportunity here to perform a handsome trade-off: in exchange for accepting the unanswered question of how whirlpools get synchronized on the particular storyline they amplify, we solve the following problems: we get rid of the need to postulate an unprovable universe outside consciousness; we get rid of the ‘unconscious mind’ and its problematic ontological status; and we solve the problem of interpreting the measurement problem in quantum mechanics. All in all, I dare entertain the possibility that this may be a promising avenue for future work by physicists and philosophers.

  3. On consciousness, neuroscience and the media

  The most vexing aspect of nature from a materialist perspective happens to also be the only carrier of reality anyone can ever know: consciousness itself. Indeed, materialism would make a lot more sense if consciousness didn’t exist at all; if the entire universe consisted simply in the mechanical unfolding of unconscious processes. Clearly, it doesn’t. So how could a metaphysics that fails to explain –even in principle – the one obvious aspect of existence attain, and maintain, the status of reigning worldview? Many indications are provided in the essays of this chapter.

  Essays 3.1 and 3.2 discuss how materialists, unable to make sense of consciousness, attempt to deny its very existence. The in-your-face absurdity of this position, and how it is tendentiously spun by many scientists, philosophers and the media alike, is examined. Essays 3.3 and 3.4 address a problem that materialist neuroscience has failed to solve for more than a century: the nature of memories. They expose the public relations charade responsible for the pervasive cultural illusion that neuroscience knows what memories are and where they are located. Finally, essay 3.5 discusses the effects of psychedelics on the human brain, as well as their implications for the materialist axiom that the brain generates all experience. This essay was the most unsettling for me to research and write, for reasons that will become clear to you after you’ve read it. For a while, in the interest of avoiding polemic, I considered not including it in this book. Yet, precisely for the reason it is so upsetting to me, essay 3.5 is probably one of the most illustrative of the overall message of this work.

  3.1. Consciousness: an unsolvable anomaly under materialism

  Nobody in science or philosophy has ever managed to explain, even in principle, how presumably unconscious matter could possibly give rise to subjective experience. This is known as the ‘hard problem of consciousness’ or the ‘explanatory gap’ in philosophy of mind.47 The issue is so significant that, in 2005, Science magazine chose the ‘hard problem’ as the second most important unanswered question in science.48 Indeed, since all we can know about reality is, ultimately, a content of consciousness, the fact that we can’t explain consciousness itself is rather vexing for science.

  Some neuroscientists and philosophers speculate that consciousness is an ‘emergent’ property of the brain. ‘Emergence’ happens when a higher-level property arises from complex interactions of lower-level entities. For instance, the fractal patterns of snowflakes are emergent properties of complex interactions of water molecules. But to merely state that consciousness is an emergent property of the brain is rather a cop-out than an explanation. In all known cases of emergence, we can deduce the emergent property from the characteristics of the lower-level entities that give rise to it. For instance, we can deduce the fractal shape of snowflakes from the characteristics of water molecules. We can even accurately simulate the formation of snowflakes in a computer. However, we cannot – not even in principle – deduce what it feels to see red, to be disappointed or to love someone from the mass, charge or momentum of material particles making up the brain. As such, to consider consciousness an emergent property of brains is either an appeal to magic or the mere labeling of an unknown. In both cases, precisely nothing is actually explained. Consciousness remains an anomaly under materialism. It would be much better if it didn’t exist.

  And so it happens that, in a move that should give anyone pause for thought, some materialist philosophers49 and neuroscientists50 assert that consciousness, well, actually doesn’t exist! This is a position generally known as ‘eliminative materialism.’51 If these people were right, it would mean that you, dear reader, presumably aren’t aware of the book you’re reading right now. You aren’t aware of the chair you’re sitting on, the aroma of coffee in the air, the love you feel for your children, etc. You’re merely an unconscious biological mechanism that mistakenly believes itself to be conscious.

  The motivation behind eliminative materialism is clear: if we deny the very existence of consciousness, presto, we no longer need to explain it! The ‘hard problem’ magically disappears; the anomaly dissolves into thin air. But, as philosopher Galen Strawson pointed out, ‘This particular denial is the strangest thing that has ever happened in the whole history of human thought.’52 It is an attempt to make facts conform to theory, as opposed to theory conform to facts (more on this in essay 3.2).

  Eliminative materialists try to substantiate their bizarre notion by claiming that the existence of consciousness is merely the mistaken conclusion of a model engendered by the brain; a model that cannot be trusted.53 In other words, you just compute that you are conscious, but you really aren’t. The premise behind this is ludicrous. I can create a computer program that ultimately attributes the logical value ‘true’ to a variable labeled ‘conscious,’ but obviously that doesn’t take the computer any closer to having inner life the way you and I have, no matter how complex the program. As philosopher John Searle demonstrated decades ago with his famous ‘Chinese Room’ thought experiment, the manipulation of variables is utterly unrelated to subjective experience.54 Moreover, eliminative materialists fail to notice that their claim about the non-existence of consciousness is itself the output of their intellectual models; models that, according to their own logic, cannot be trusted. If I can’t trust my brain when it tells me I am conscious, why should I trust it when it suggests I am not? The Gödelian self-defeat here is ironic.

  If anything, the denial of consciousness is an admission of the impossible impasse that materia
lism has brought upon science and philosophy today. The danger it entails, however, is the willingness of eliminative materialists to replace the starting point and carrier of anyone’s reality – our very awareness – with convoluted systems of abstraction. Here we have consciousness trying to trick consciousness into believing that it doesn’t exist! Yet, the incoherence of this position doesn’t stop the mainstream media from routinely publishing eliminative materialist views.55

  For the sake of preserving a minimum degree of empirical honesty in our culture, we must remain grounded in the primary datum of reality: experience itself. Experience is what there is before we start theorizing about the world and ourselves. It takes precedence over everything else. It is the departing point and necessary substrate of all theories. All knowledge resides in consciousness, the sole canvas of reality anyone can ever know for sure. Everything else – all abstractions, all conceptual frameworks – is provisional. We must never forget this, lest we totally lose our connection to reality.

  There are other ways in which consciousness is an anomaly under materialism in general, not only its rather absurd eliminative formulation. For instance, today’s scientific worldview requires that every property of a living system be explainable, at least in principle, by Darwinian evolution. In other words, if consciousness really exists – for instance, as an emergent property of the brain – it should play a role useful for survival. Otherwise, it is impossible to explain why it allegedly arose in the first place. The problem is that we can, in principle, explain the structure and function of every living being without requiring consciousness.

  Indeed, under the assumptions of materialism, it’s not difficult to imagine that computer technology could one day replicate human brains in all detail. It’s also not difficult to imagine that robotics technology could one day perfectly replicate a human body. Put these two things together and you can coherently conceive, under materialism, of an entirely unconscious, purely mechanistic system that perfectly replicates the structure and function of a human being; a system wholly indistinguishable from a conscious person. Yet, there would be nothing it is like to be that system. It would have no inner life. It would perform functions and process information totally ‘in the dark.’