ThinkBlog

Thomas Nagel’s question that is the title of his 1974 article, “What is it like to be a bat?” is a foundational problem for philosophy of mind. Where is consciousness located?; wherein does it consist? What is it like to be a human being? Are beings with physical constitutions identical to ours imaginable sans consciousness? These are compelling questions; this is where science and philosophy meet, and sparks inevitably fly. (See my post from the second of May 2006 on Chalmers’ evaluation of the options for philosophers of mind.)

But it seems to me that this is a fundamental question for all of us to answer, if we’re being honest. The obvious question implied here is about humans—materialistic accounts of reality don’t account for consciousness satisfactorily (at least, so goes the claim).

It’s a question we all have to answer for ourselves, though, is, “What is it like to be myself?” See, consciousness is defined by experience insofar as the debate between materialism versus all the other approaches are concerned. This, to me, seems to be analogous to the difference between popular psychology, literature, and even pop culture—and the truth of one’s own experience as themselves. I struggle with this; though I am not a materialist, I have been guilty of committing what I see as an analogous error: of believing that people are constituent units of whole stereotypes that make up an entire whole. This whole is not unique, not really. If you are an ESTP, I know something about you, if I know something of Jungian typology; if you were born in Minnesota, I know something about how you are, where you come from, insofar as I know about Minnesota and the way people there interact; if you are a brother, a sister, a husband, a wife, a runner, a swimmer, a biker, a writer, a lover, a drinker, a smoker—all these labels tell me something about you. I am discouraged, often, by my falling into a trap of believing that the set of { ESTP | born:MN | non-smoker | occasional-drinker | passionate lover | climber } tells me all, or nearly all, of what I need to know to nail that person down.

It’s really uncanny, though. Ask an iNtuitive [Jungian] type who also scores high on Feeling to predict what someone is like. They’ll usually nail it, right down to the propensity toward rhinestone belts and the cowboy hats (for example), if he or she is really intent on the request.

Now, there’s something to that. You know something about me by knowing I am a male in my twenties who was born in South Carolina, an enjoyer of fine wines, cigars, cyberpunk novels, and concertos by Bach; you know something more about me by knowing my height, my weight, my ethnicity, my marital status, and the fact that I’m an INTP according to the MBTI, IPTI2, and KPI. But do you really know me, knowing all that?

No, you can’t. There’s an element of uniquity in everyone because of, if nothing else, the circumstances surrounding his or her life: the historicity of his or her being, the fact that this person at this point in time has never existed before or since, regardless of similarities shared in terms of ethnicity, aesthetics, cosmetics, personality, and all the rest.

But that means the onus is on each one of us to find out what it really means to be an “us,” an Ego. You share so much with other people; what defines you as apart from them? What separates you from others in such a way that allows you to connect and serve them in a way that is not identical to your own? It’s here that we find identity; and that’s why Christ’s admonition that “whomsoever seeks to save his life shall lose it; but whomever loses his life for My sake shall find it.” While we merely dwell in what can be described by stereotype, delimited by rules, we never own our sense of identity as placed here, in time, just in this moment, to do precisely what we were meant to do.

You are not unique: you can be defined in any number of ways. And yet you are unique in this, that the infinitely dynamic image of God resides in you, and that there are no others precisely like you in the ways you can serve others, and be a help to others. Aye, and to hurt others; but this is a part of life, and part of the responsibility that comes with consciousness, with uniquity, with life. What is it like to be who you are?

Thomas Nagel’s question that is the title of his 1974 article, “What is it like to be a bat?” is a foundational problem for philosophy of mind. Where is consciousness located?; wherein does it consist? What is it like to be a human being? Are beings with physical constitutions identical to ours imaginable sans consciousness? These are compelling questions; this is where science and philosophy meet, and sparks inevitably fly. (See my post from the second of May 2006 on Chalmers’ evaluation of the options for philosophers of mind.)

But it seems to me that this is a fundamental question for all of us to answer, if we’re being honest. The obvious question implied here is about humans—materialistic accounts of reality don’t account for consciousness satisfactorily (at least, so goes the claim).

It’s a question we all have to answer for ourselves, though, is, “What is it like to be myself?” See, consciousness is defined by experience insofar as the debate between materialism versus all the other approaches are concerned. This, to me, seems to be analogous to the difference between popular psychology, literature, and even pop culture—and the truth of one’s own experience as themselves. I struggle with this; though I am not a materialist, I have been guilty of committing what I see as an analogous error: of believing that people are constituent units of whole stereotypes that make up an entire whole. This whole is not unique, not really. If you are an ESTP, I know something about you, if I know something of Jungian typology; if you were born in Minnesota, I know something about how you are, where you come from, insofar as I know about Minnesota and the way people there interact; if you are a brother, a sister, a husband, a wife, a runner, a swimmer, a biker, a writer, a lover, a drinker, a smoker—all these labels tell me something about you. I am discouraged, often, by my falling into a trap of believing that the set of { ESTP | born:MN | non-smoker | occasional-drinker | passionate lover | climber } tells me all, or nearly all, of what I need to know to nail that person down.

It’s really uncanny, though. Ask an iNtuitive [Jungian] type who also scores high on Feeling to predict what someone is like. They’ll usually nail it, right down to the propensity toward rhinestone belts and the cowboy hats (for example), if he or she is really intent on the request.

Now, there’s something to that. You know something about me by knowing I am a male in my twenties who was born in South Carolina, an enjoyer of fine wines, cigars, cyberpunk novels, and concertos by Bach; you know something more about me by knowing my height, my weight, my ethnicity, my marital status, and the fact that I’m an INTP according to the MBTI, IPTI2, and KPI. But do you really know me, knowing all that?

No, you can’t. There’s an element of uniquity in everyone because of, if nothing else, the circumstances surrounding his or her life: the historicity of his or her being, the fact that this person at this point in time has never existed before or since, regardless of similarities shared in terms of ethnicity, aesthetics, cosmetics, personality, and all the rest.

But that means the onus is on each one of us to find out what it really means to be an “us,” an Ego. You share so much with other people; what defines you as apart from them? What separates you from others in such a way that allows you to connect and serve them in a way that is not identical to your own? It’s here that we find identity; and that’s why Christ’s admonition that “whomsoever seeks to save his life shall lose it; but whomever loses his life for My sake shall find it.” While we merely dwell in what can be described by stereotype, delimited by rules, we never own our sense of identity as placed here, in time, just in this moment, to do precisely what we were meant to do.

You are not unique: you can be defined in any number of ways. And yet you are unique in this, that the infinitely dynamic image of God resides in you, and that there are no others precisely like you in the ways you can serve others, and be a help to others. Aye, and to hurt others; but this is a part of life, and part of the responsibility that comes with consciousness, with uniquity, with life. What is it like to be who you are?