The Brain-Brain Problem

Time for some conceptual house-cleaning, or furniture-arranging. We have been talking about the mind-body problem all wrong; we need to bring our formulations up to date. We used not to know that the brain is the central mechanism of the mind; now we do. The mind is an aspect of the brain—mental properties are properties of the brain. The self is the brain; mental properties are properties of the self; therefore, they are properties of the brain. There is no mental substance for them to be properties of, and we now know that the brain is responsible for what happens in the mind—for mental events, faculties, etc. There is nothing to prevent us from saying that mental properties are brain properties.[1] We could (and probably should) drop the definite description “the mind”, or “the human mind”, which suggests there is a thing called “the mind” that is not identical to the brain. Let’s get used to speaking of mental properties as brain properties. The brain has many properties—anatomical, cellular, biochemical, electrical, atomic, and mental. The brain is what is consciousness exists in. On the other hand, the body is not strictly part of the problem, if we mean the biological structure in which the brain (and hence the mind) is situated—belly, legs, arms, etc. That may not even exist and we would still have a “mind-body” problem. What we really have is a brain-brain problem: how do some aspects of the brain relate to other aspects of the brain? How do the non-mental aspects relate to the mental aspects? Thus, the problem concerns how the brain relates to itself—what might be succinctly called “the brain problem”. How is what we call the brain possible? Must we be dualists about the brain? Are some aspects of the brain reducible to others? Are some properties of it supervenient on others? Could there be a brain physically just like the actual brain that had only non-mental properties (a zombie brain)? What is it like to have the brain of a bat? Are brains beyond human comprehension? Is the brain a miracle-worker? That’s the way to talk.

It is evident that not all aspects of the brain present a philosophical problem. First, some parts of the brain have no mental aspect, so don’t present a “mind-body” problem. Neurons are not universally mentally endowed. Second, even among those that are correlated with mental properties, there are unproblematic inter-aspect relations. There is no deep problem of relating the gross anatomical architecture of neurons with their biochemical properties. Nor are electrical properties puzzlingly emergent on chemical properties. We have no problem understanding how the shape of the brain arises from its constituent parts. The brain is not inherently a puzzling mysterious place; it’s as transparent as the heart or the kidneys, more or less. Only in one aspect does it present philosophical difficulties—the mental aspect. It is selectively problematic. A subset of its properties (designated “mental”) resist unification with its other properties. We have a partial brain problem not a general one. The brain is only a bit mysterious—though it’s quite a big bit. It’s like investigating the railway system of a country and finding it pretty easy to understand—except when it comes to how (say) people buy tickets. Everything is fairly smooth sailing (the weather is fine) except for where the brain sails into mental waters (then things get stormy). It is, we might say, anomalously problematic. It ought not be problematic at all to a general inspection, but then it suddenly turns opaque. The brain is locally mysterious—mysteriously mysterious, one might say. Why does it turn mysterious only with respect to one of its aspects? Yet it does. We get the possibility of dualism, with zombies and disembodied minds, type and token identity theories, functionalism, panpsychism, and the rest. The brain problem is itself a problem—why does the problem even exist? How did (could) brains evolve from inanimate matter? The mind itself is not such a problem, and the body is intelligible enough, but the mental aspect of the brain is a deep mystery. The brain alone is an enigma, flanked by (relatively) intelligible things (bodies, minds). Our question ought to be “Can We Solve the Brain Problem?” I don’t say this formulation will make it any easier to solve, but at least it frames the question correctly.[2]

[1] Of course, I don’t mean by this that mental properties are reducible to other brain properties (like C-fiber firing); I mean they are already brain properties (like pain). Mental properties could be completely irreducible and yet still properties of the brain. I take no stand on that issue here.

[2] Philosophers don’t usually study the brain as part of their formal training, so are not used to thinking about it. When I first studied it as part of my psychology degree, fifty-six years ago, I was deeply troubled by how the brain relates to consciousness and the mind generally. I think there is an instinctive resistance among philosophers to acknowledging the centrality of the brain to the mind, but this resistance needs to be overcome. The philosophy of mind is really the philosophy of the brain—in its mental aspect. (I am not advocating “neuro-philosophy”.) The brain has a mind as the heart has ventricles. Psychology and philosophy of mind are about this aspect of the brain; physiology is about its other aspects.

Abby Philip Strikes Again

Last night was surely a turning point. Abby Philip’s nightly show features vigorous debate between pundits of the left and pundits of the right (usually the MAGA right). She handles it with the utmost integrity and intelligence (not to mention charm). I always dislike the right-wingers she has as guests—all of them. I often think they should not be allowed on TV to spew their poison. Last night, however, broke new ground: one of them (whose name I will not even mention) went so far that he had to be removed from the show during a commercial break (I also will not repeat his vile comments). Abby apologized to the audience on behalf of CNN. About time, I thought. No doubt he will now become a hero to the MAGA right and used as evidence of “media bias”. Complete rubbish, of course, but you know the script. Abby managed it impeccably, as always. I hope this sets a precedent: such people should not be given a soapbox. We will of course now see assorted apologists trying to defend this awful character, adding to the political degradation that is enveloping us.

Brain and Self

I say “I have a heart”, “I have lungs”, etc. I am evidently saying that I stand in the having relation to organs in my body—possession, ownership. These things are not identical to me; they are extrinsic to me, not what I am. I also say “I have a brain”, as if expressing the same relation by “have”. That would be true if dualism were true—if I were an immaterial being standing apart from my brain. My relation to my brain would be like my relation to my heart—contingent, external. That was a view long held and may be assumed to have shaped our language. But there is a crucial difference between the two cases: for I am my brain but I am not my heart. Dualism is false about the self: the self simply is the brain. This is why the identity of the self tracks the identity of the brain, as in brain swap thought experiments. I will not defend this view here, but take it as given. My question is whether it is consistent with saying that I have a brain. I think the two propositions are inconsistent: you can’t be your brain and also have a brain. Since it is true that you are your brain, it must then be false that you have a brain. This idea is a result of dualist thinking, encouraged by the empirical character of our knowledge that our self is located in the brain (not, say, in the heart). Our language is logically misleading, but intelligibly so, since the identity in question is a posteriori. It is as if we said “Water has H2O”, suggesting a possession relation, while in fact water is H2O. The brain is certainly part of my body and distinct from it, but it is not part of my self, or possessed by me, or an accessory of mine. We don’t say “I have me” or “I have Colin McGinn”—I am those things. Similarly, I am my brain—but then I can’t have my brain. This has consequences for the way we think: I can say that I breathe with my lungs, but can I say that I think with my brain? That certainly sounds funny—I don’t use my brain to carry out acts of thinking, as if it is something separate from me. The truth is rather that my brain thinks, because I am my brain. We don’t talk that way, for intelligible reasons, but it is the literal truth. Nor do I perceive with my brain, or emote with it, or will with it—it does all these things, since I do and I am it. We could truthfully go around saying “My brain is thinking (perceiving, emoting, willing)” instead of “I am thinking etc.”. Our language would be more “logically perfect” (factually accurate) if we were to do that. We have made the a posteriori discovery that the self is the brain, as we have made the a posteriori discovery that water is H2O and the stars are giant lumps of matter (the stars don’t have these lumps as merely correlated entities). If I were to say “I am thinking but my brain is not”, I would contradict myself. I am not linked to my brain as I am linked to my other bodily organs; my brain constitutes me. Anything mental that I do, it does. We would do well to talk this way and not perpetuate an outdated dualism of self and brain. My stomach digests, my lungs breathe, my heart pumps, and my brain thinks. I don’t merely have a brain that enables thinking, while that act is something that only I can do. The brain is not an under laborer but the main actor. If so, I don’t stand in the possession relation to it; it is not something I am connected to, linked with, in principle separable from.

Then how should we understand the relation between self and brain? Is the possession relation alien to these things? That doesn’t follow, and I think we have reason to invert the traditional conception—my brain possesses me. Brains possess selves. My brain has me—I don’t have it. Why do I say that? I say it because the self is useful to the brain, part of its equipment, what it needs to survive. The brain has various parts and attributes that enable it to survive from day to day, which are vital to it biologically and humanly. We cannot survive and reproduce without an intact brain, and we cannot live as value-laden sentient beings without the brain. Life is valuable to us, and brains are needed for that. Let us speak of the “selfish brain”—a biological unit (analogous to the gene) that seeks to preserve itself. Organisms strive to keep their brain alive (if they have one, and brains are very common among animals). Thus, the human brain has various substructures with Latin names that must function for the brain to stay alive: these are the organs of the brain—and the brain hasthem. The human brain has a hypothalamus, for example. Among these organs are various mental faculties (comparable to bodily organs) that also help keep the brain alive. The brain possesses a faculty of thinking (seeing, feeling, remembering, etc.). It also possesses a self—an ego, a person. This entity also helps the brain survive—it wouldn’t have come to exist if it didn’t. So, the brain has a self. Not all of it is that self, however; some of the brain has nothing to do with mental activity. Strictly speaking, the self is identical to part of the brain—the part responsible for the mind. So, the brain is larger than the self, more inclusive; and this larger entity possesses a self. It is a biological unit with parts analogous to a body’s parts, and among these parts is a self or mind. We may therefore correctly speak of the brain as “having” a self. I could give my brain a name such as “Binky” and say “Binky has me” or “I belong to Binky” or “I am possessed by Binky”. It sounds funny (in both senses) but it’s true. My selfish brain is the possessor of a bunch of things, and I am one of them. My brain is a biological unit containing functional parts, and I am one such. In a certain sense, I am a servant of my brain (as the whole organism can be said to be a servant of the genes). Call this the “brain’s-eye” view of the self-animal world (as biologists speak of the “gene’s-eye” view of the biological world). From the brain’s perspective it is the pivotal entity.

You might find yourself convinced by this as an abstract argument, but uncomfortable with the conclusion—it seems counterintuitive, conceptually perverse. Let me try to assuage this unease with a thought experiment. Suppose we reach a point at which brain transplants have become common: bodies fail and we can now place brains in new bodies that prolong life indefinitely for the brain transplanted. Suppose too that these are placed in a transparent dome through which they are clearly visible. In addition, plastic surgery on brains has become commonplace to enhance their appearance (they were never pretty), perhaps accompanied by cerebral jewelry and makeup. The crucial role of the brain in producing personhood has long been commonly accepted. Brains have names and people regularly talk as if brains have minds in them; it has become fashionable so to talk. Wouldn’t it then be quite natural to think in the way I have been recommending? The brains (=people) want to survive, which is why they pay for a transplant, and they readily speak as if brains house selves. Folk ontology has changed in such a way as to make brains salient and recognized for what they are—persons in their own right. Some brains may choose to live out their days detached from a body and just floating in a vat—they are not thereby declared non-persons. People say “You look good today” when coming across a recently buffed and powdered brain glowing with good health. People think of themselves as brains and they do not refrain from speaking of the attached self: “The self of my brain is behaving well today, no more going off on tangents, thank God”. No one ever says “I have a brain” anymore, because the obvious retort is “What do you mean? You are your brain—get with the program!” Or suppose on a distant planet a life form has evolved that consists just of a brain in a shell. It lives parasitically in trees and reproduces by division. Inside is a mind that serves the organism well (it selects good trees to perch on). Wouldn’t we say that this species of creature has a mind (other similar species might not)? These brain-like organisms contain or have a self. But isn’t that what we normal humans actually and centrally are–selves in a brain? We are brain-selves—carbon-based neural selves. Isn’t it about time that common sense caught up with science—as our astronomical beliefs have? The earth revolves around the Sun; the self revolves around the brain. Isn’t that what scientific ontology is telling us? Talk of “having a brain” is antiquated mumbo-jumbo, misleading at best. I once had a brain, or should I say, it once had me—to paraphrase the Beatles (Norwegian Wood). It is just not true that you have a brain, but it is true that your brain has you.[1]

[1] Someone might try to contrive a sense in which “I have a brain” is consistent with identity with my brain—say, “There is a brain inside my skull”. But this does not preserve the analogy with “I have a heart”, which relates me to something not identical to me. No, the original sentence says, or presupposes, that I am not identical with my brain, i.e., that dualism is true. But it isn’t.