Deep End

 “Mister Callahan?  Mister Callahan, how are you feeling?”

I had suddenly broken surface, rising from the blank depth of essential non-being into the stark and familiar realm of consciousness. The voice came from of a woman sitting close beside me. In front of her was a dizzying array of tubes, wires and monitors.  “I feel like I have to go to the bathroom.” 

“You don’t need to get up, you have a catheter. My name is Paula. I’m your recovery nurse. I’ll let your wife know she can see you now.” 

A dull ache in my abdomen confirmed that the surgery was complete. The tight pull of surgical tape extended from my left side across the center of my stomach. The day was October 18, 2018, about 2 o’clock in the afternoon. I was in Shands Hospital in Gainesville, Florida, and had just undergone a radical nephrectomy, an operation to remove my left kidney. Attached to the kidney was an enormous cancerous tumor. The last thing I remembered was being lifted onto the operating table and saying “Good night” to the surgical team. That was some three hours earlier. 

Cancer can be a major life disruptor. But disruption itself is not always a bad thing. During the weeks following my surgery my physical activity was limited, so I spent a lot of time lying around thinking. I thought about the brevity of life and of small things that are important. I also thought about things I would not ordinarily devote much time to. One is the question: What is consciousness? This is a subject that has intrigued me for years, and my experience with anesthesia renewed my interest in it. Where was “I” when my body was under anesthesia? Did “I” even exist? Exactly what happened when “I” regained consciousness? What does it mean to be “conscious” anyway?

The dictionary defines consciousness as ‘the quality or state of being aware, especially of something within oneself; the state or fact of being conscious of an external object, state, or fact; the state of being characterized by sensation, emotion, volition, and thought; the totality of conscious states of an individual; the normal state of conscious life; the upper level of mental life of which the person is aware as contrasted with unconscious processes.’ [The emphasis here are mine.]

To me, these dictionary definitions seem circular and rather nebulous. Why is this so? We all experience consciousness. We know the experience intimately. You would think we could put it more precisely and succinctly into words. 

Philosophers have wrestled with this for a very long time. Consciousness has been described as one of the most perplexing areas of philosophy. Broadly speaking, there are three schools of thought regarding it. The first is materialism. This is the view that nothing exists beyond the physical. There is matter and energy, and nothing more. What we experience as consciousness is an epiphenomenon resulting from electrochemical processes in the brain. It can be explained in terms of evolutionary biology, by cause and effect, by the workings of neural networks and the firing of synapses. The perception we have of self is an illusion. Physical brain states and mental states are the exact same thing. The second school of thought is dualism. This is the view that reality entails aspects that are both physical and non-physical in nature. Consciousness is in some sense non-physical. It may rely on physical brain chemistry to operate, but the mind or self, the entity doing the thinking, is somehow separate. Mental states and brain states are not identical. The third school of thought is idealism. Idealism is at the opposite end of the spectrum from materialism. Idealists contend that mind is the basis of all reality, what we perceive as physical is derived from it. There is consciousness, and nothing more. Matter and time are mental constructs. The material universe is not ontologically independent, and apart from consciousness, does not exist. 

Dualism seems to align with actual experience. We perceive our identity as linked to a mind that is capable of thinking freely and is unique unto itself. I remember as a very young child thinking “this is me thinking this”, or “this is me looking at this.” These in fact are some of my earliest memories. The sensation was very strange. We all have this feeling, the sense of being an ‘observer’ standing outside of our own experiences. This, to me, presents a major difficulty with materialism. It is hard to conceive how an inanimate process can give rise to such a complexity as the illusion of an intelligent self. Intelligence entails the ability to think independently and abstractly. It seems unlikely that blind material causes through the process of random natural selection could generate such complex illusions as the abstract concepts of, for example, analytical trigonometry, or social justice, or the literary arts. What caused me to write this article? What caused you to read it? What might cause me to delete it tomorrow if I suddenly think it’s a waste of our time? It hardly seems that any of these actions could be ineluctably determined by a chain of material events extending all the way back to the Big Bang. 

It is here we encounter the problem of free will. There is much debate as to whether free will actually exists. Those holding to a strict materialistic view of determinism say it does not. For determinists, free will, like consciousness, is an illusionary by-product resulting from physical states in the brain. Our thoughts and behavior are dictated by physical causes over which we have no actual control. Our seeming making of choices and willing of actions are a fictitious facade. I may think that I could have turned down the offer for that thirteenth beer before I rammed my car into the school bus, but in fact “I” played no part in any decision-making process. My genes and external environment were in control. The event was unavoidable and mechanistically set up to happen. The inference here is disturbing. Namely, that humans are mindless hormone-driven survival machines and hold no moral responsibility. What we contrive as civilized society --our systems of law and ethics and government-- except as a mere survival mechanism, is meaningless. 

An alternative view to determinism is indeterminism. Indeterminists interject chance into the equation and assert some degree of control to human agency (however that may be defined; there are many opinions). The idea is that not all events are wholly determined by antecedent causes. Humans have the ability to make choices that are not predicated solely on genes and environment. For example, a person has the ability to will her hand to move from her lap to her forehead without the event being causally predetermined. She could have moved her hand or she could have not; her autonomous decision triggered the event. I could have said “no” to drinking that thirteenth beer and perhaps avoided an accident (although twelve would probably still have been enough). For indeterminists, everything that happens in the universe is not inevitable. People have the ability to alter the course of their lives. This too seems to align with common experience. We feel that we have the innate ability to choose one course over another. I can command my limbs to move or my eyes to close any time I wish. If our thoughts and behavior were in fact predetermined by inanimate causes, our so called “minds” have been thoroughly fooled. 

Dualism is not without problems however. It is difficult to explain how the mind, a non-physical substance, is linked to the body, which is physical. The 17th century French mathematician and philosopher Rene Descartes believed the pineal gland located at the center of the brain performed this function. But exactly how it did this, he was unable to say. 

But what do we really know about the material world anyway? Our minds have no direct access to it. Information that comes into our minds comes by way of our senses. What I perceive as this computer keyboard in front of me is in fact just a perception. I have no direct knowledge of it. The keys feel solid to my fingertips, but without the sense of touch I would not perceive them as such. Without the sense of sight, I would not see them. The mind is intermediated by the body. Since my mind cannot access the keyboard directly, how can I be sure that it exists? (After all, thirteen beers can alter one’s perception!) Could it be possible that the physical world is an illusion? 

The science of quantum physics calls into question long-held beliefs about matter and the nature of the universe. Since the time of Isaac Newton, people have believed that solid matter is distributed throughout an infinitely large and static universe. Newton showed that the motion of material objects is governed by unchanging laws of force and gravity. If the present state of an object is known, it is possible to predict how the object will move in the future and how it moved in the past. Space is distinct from matter and time passes uniformly regardless of what is going on. This is called the “classical mechanical model", or the “Newtonian” model of physics. It deals with objects of everyday size. The classical model has served us well. Engineers have used it to put men on the moon, land robots on Mars, and explore the far reaches of our solar system. Quantum mechanics is a more recent branch of physics that deals with the very small. Matter is composed of atoms. Atoms are composed of smaller particles, such as electrons, quarks, and leptons. When you look at objects of subatomic size, the rules of Newtonian physics no longer apply. Science has discovered that these small particles do not exist in a steady known state. They exist only in a haze of probability. In other words, a particle has only a chance of being at any given place at any given time. Its location cannot be followed or predicted like that of a billiard ball. It does not move continuously from point A to point B. Subatomic particles are at essence minuscule packets of vibrating energy called “quanta” that randomly pop into and out of existence. This changes the way that we must think about matter. The world is not solid as it might seem. It is at essence a frothing sea of energy. What we perceive as solid matter is actually energy aligned in patterns of statistical probability. 

Another way to think about matter is from the standpoint of information. The most basic form of information is binary. Something is either here or not here, on or off, light or dark, up or down. Simply being in one state or another tells you something. A computer processes information in this way. Silicon chips turn on and off, creating electrical patterns of “1s” and “0s” in arrangements that have meaning and convey information. So, let’s take a piece of matter, a chunk of granite, say. Granite is composed mainly of quartz and feldspar with minor amounts of mica, amphiboles, and other minerals. Each of these minerals is composed of specific elements, such as silicon and oxygen, that are linked together in specific ways. Elements are composed of single atoms that have specific numbers and arrangements of protons and electrons. Electrons and protons are composed of subatomic particles which are packets of energy randomly coming into existence and disappearing out of existence in patterns that are statistically probable. Now, let’s take water. We know that water and granite are very different materials. Water is composed of hydrogen and oxygen atoms linked together in a very specific way. These atoms are made up of the same protons and electrons that you find in granite or any other material. They just happen to be arranged differently. Water is simpler, less complex in composition, but made of the same stuff. 

We see from this that any physical system conveys information by virtue of its structure. Matter in essence is information. Matter is vibrating packets of energy popping into and out of existence in specific patterns. But patterns are not patterns unless they can be recognized as such. Patterns have no meaning without an intelligent mind to observe them. Matter is not matter without intelligence. It is undifferentiated energy, or potential. 

Cogito, ergo sum. “I think, therefore I am.” This, according to philosopher Rene Descartes, is the only statement that cannot be doubted. It is the foundation on which all knowledge is built. Technically, Cogito, ergo sum is the conclusion of a logical syllogism having the premises: 1) whatever thinks exists; 2) I think. Descartes used this proposition as the foundation to his system of ontological reasoning. He discarded sensory perception as unreliable, surmising that it is logically possible that a malicious demon could highjack his mind and deceive his senses (much the same way that thirteen beers will do!). If the demon were wicked enough, it might even try to trick him into thinking that he existed when he really did not. This would be impossible however, because a mind that does not exist cannot be deceived. Therefore, the only thing we can be one hundred percent sure of is our own conscious existence. 

There are people who think that science and Christianity are incompatible. They are often divided into two opposing camps, Scientism and Creationism. Scientism is an atheistic philosophy that holds to strict materialism and universal application of the scientific method. Empirical science constitutes the only authoritative worldview; anything that falls outside of it is roundly discounted. Creationism, narrowly defined, is a fundamentalist Christian ideology that holds to a literal interpretation of the biblical creation account. Creationists believe that the universe and all that is in was created directly by God over the course of seven 24-hour days. Extrapolating from biblical genealogies, they estimate the earth to be about 4,000 years old. For Creationists, science is suspect, as is anything that calls into question their strongly-held beliefs. But what has this to do  with consciousness? I believe the key to understanding consciousness lies somewhere between these two extreme worldviews. I do not think science and Christianity are exclusionary. I believe both are useful in helping us understand the nature of reality.  

God has always been a mystery. He is invisible to our eyes, yet he is supposed to be everywhere. He is supposed to be all knowing, all powerful, and all loving, yet horrific things happen in this world that seem to contradict this. Can a reasonable person believe in the existence of a deity whose nature is so contradictory and elusive? There are accounts in the bible of theophany, instances where people are said to have experienced manifestations of God in ways that are tangible to the human senses. One of the most interesting occurs in Exodus chapter 3. God appeared to Moses in the form of a burning bush, a piece of shrubbery that was on fire but not consumed by the flames. God speaks from the bush and tells Moses to go to Egypt’s pharaoh and secure the release of the enslaved Israelite people. Moses said to God, “If I come to the people of Israel and say to them, ‘The God of your fathers has sent me to you,’ and they ask me, ‘What is his name?’ what shall I say to them?” God said to Moses, “I AM who I AM.” And God said, “Say this to the people of Israel: ‘I AM has sent me to you.’” 

I find this passage interesting because of the way God identifies himself. I’m reminded of Descartes’ Cogito, ergo sum, which asserts that thinking, conscious existence is the only thing that cannot be disputed. “I think, therefore I am” is a powerful proclamation and foundation for truth. God establishes his identity in similar fashion, not by naming some proper name such as Ra or Osiris, but by powerfully declaring he is who he is by virtue of his being. Moses was left no room to question. “I AM” has sent me.’ If I, in seeking to understand my identity, were to strip away all the adjectives and pronouns and descriptive nouns that I or other people have placed on me, what do I have left? The interior experience of being. I am who I am. The correlation here is striking. Could it be that the God who spoke to Moses is in fact this mysterious thing we call consciousness? If this were so, it might change our view of everything.

To be continued...