Mormonism and the Contingency Cosmological Argument

     Ancient and modern philosophers have frequently attempted to construct arguments that command rational assent to the existence of God. One class or family of arguments for the existence of God goes by the name "cosmological arguments." These arguments aim to show that we cannot explain the cosmos and its causal structure without a creator.* Samuel Clark (1675 - 1729) offered a unique type of cosmological argument styled the "contingency cosmological argument." Specifically, Clark argues that atheism undermines the principle of sufficient reason, which holds that for every being that exists or ever existed, there is an explanation of the existence of that being. Since modern atheism relies on science to provide an exhaustive explanation of the cosmos, Clark's claim poses a serious threat. Interestingly, Clark's claim also threatens Mormonism's claim that the cosmos is co-eternal with God.

     Before proceeding further, however, I need to carefully explicate Clark's argument. For sake of accuracy, I quote Clark at length:

"There has existed from eternity some one unchangeable and independent being. For since something must needs have been from eternity, as has been already proved and is granted on all hands, either there has always existed some one unchangeable and independent being from which all other beings that are or ever were in the universe have received their original, or else there has been an infinite succession of changeable and dependent beings produced one from another in an endless progression without any original cause at all. Now this latter supposition is so very absurd that, though all atheism must in its accounts of most thing [. . .] terminate in it, yet I think very few atheists ever were so weak as openly and directly to defend it. For it is plainly impossible and contradictory to itself. I shall not argue against it from the supposed impossibility of infinite succession, barely and absolutely considered in itself, for a reason which shall be mentioned hereafter. But, if we consider such an infinite progression as one entire endless series of dependent beings, it is plain this whole series of beings can have not cause from without of its existence because in it are supposed to be included all things that are, or ever were, in the universe. And it is plain it can have no reason within itself for its existence because no one being in this infinite succession is supposed to be self-existent or necessary (which is the only ground or reason of existence of anything that can be imagined within the thing itself [. . .]), but every one dependent on the foregoing. And where no part is necessary, it is manifest the whole cannot be necessary - absolute necessity of existence not being an extrinsic, relative, and accidental denomination but an inward and essential property of the nature of the thing which so exists."

From this, Clark concludes that atheism sacrifices the principle of sufficient reason, since it cannot explain the existence of the entire cosmos. For sake of clarity, I will set forth concisely Clark's main premises below.

Diagram: X---------->X---------->X---------->X---------->X---------->X---------->X---------->X

1. If the entire cosmos is composed of contingent beings (i.e. a being that could or could not exist), then we can explain the existence of a particular contingent being in terms of the totality of contingent beings or some subset thereof.
1. For example, a tree is a contingent being (think of an X in the previous chart as a tree). We can explain the existence of a tree with certain physical realities (a seed, soil, water, sunlight) that converge to bring the particular tree into existence (think of the X previous as the physical realities). In turn, we can explain the those physical realities, which are contingent, in terms of other physical realities that converge to bring them into existence. And so on, ad infinitum. This would explain a contingent being by a subset of contingent beings.
2. Alternatively, we could attempt to explain the existence of a contingent being by pointing to the totality of all existing beings. In the simple diagram above, we may say the final X relies on the totality of contingent things for its being. This isn't exactly what Clark has in mind, but I will set forth what he has in mind below.
2. Such an explanation will satisfy the principle of sufficient reason, which holds that for every being that exists or has existed, there is an explanation of the existence of that being.
3. However, while we can explain the existence of a particular contingent being (a particular X in the series above), we cannot explain the existence of the entire series of contingent beings in terms of the totality of contingent beings or some subset thereof.
4. After all, since the series is composed of particular contingent beings, it follows that the totality and any subset is contingent as well.
5. Thus, to explain the series' existence, we must suppose that a necessary being exists (i.e. God, a being that could not not exist).

More concretely, unless we presuppose that God exists, we cannot explain why something rather than nothing exists at all. The very existence of the cosmos requires a creator, since neither the cosmos, or any part of the cosmos, can explain its own existence.

     For atheism, this argument poses a threat, since it cannot explain the very existence of the world, and as such, sacrifices the principle of sufficient reason as to the whole of reality. Likewise, for Mormonism, this argument also poses a threat. After all, as Terryl Givens has observed: "God is the supreme intelligence in the universe, but he is not the source of all being, or even the creator of that which constitutes the human soul. Men and women have existed from eternity as uncreated intelligence."** In other words, the universe and human souls within that universe have existed for eternity. Clark's argument is threatening precisely because Mormonism, it would seem, sacrifices the principle of sufficient reason by taking the entire cosmos as a brute fact.

     While some Mormons may be willing to make that sacrifice, they do not need to do so. Clark's reasoning, after all, rests on the fallacy of composition. The fallacy of composition names a form of faulty reasoning, wherein an argument concludes that a whole possess a certain property because its parts possess that property. This is flawed reasoning, however. A Grand Piano is not light-weighted merely because its component parts (keys, strings, wood) are light-weighted. Likewise, just because the particular beings in the cosmos are contingent (it is possible for them to not exist), it does not follow that the entire cosmos is contingent. 

     Notice that Clark must rely on this flawed assumption.*** After all, if the entire cosmos exists necessarily (as Mormonism contends), then we do not need to invoke the existence of an immaterial, transcendent God to explain its existence. Thus, Clark's argument fails at premise 4 above. This shows that Clark's argument fails on its own terms. 

     Thus, it seems clear to me that Mormonism escapes Clark's argument. It seems less clear to me, however, that atheism escapes Clark's challenge. After all, certain types of scientific atheism claim that the entire universe flashed into existence with the big bang. In these brands of scientific atheism, the whole cosmos is contingent, it could have never existed. And if the cosmos is contingent, then atheists need some way to explain its existence if atheism is to preserve the principle of sufficient reason. Since Mormonism rejects this entire picture of the cosmos, it easily survives Clark's argument.

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* Cosmological arguments focus on the causal structure of the cosmos. In comparison, teleological arguments focus on designed complexity in the cosmos. Alma, in the Book of Mormon, confronts Korihor with what appears to be a teleological argument for God's existence: "But Alma said unto him: Thou hast had signs enough; will ye tempt your God? Will ye say, Show unto me a sign, when ye have the testimony of thy brethren, and also all the holy prophets? The scriptures are laid before thee, yea, and all things denote there is a God; yea, even the earth, and all things that are upon the face of it, yea, and its motion, yea, and also all the planets which move in their regular form do witness that there is a Supreme Creator." (Alma 30:44). In a previous post, I took up this argument to show why Alma's putative teleological argument is quite unlike from the teleological arguments of the philosophers.

**Terryl L. Givens, Wrestling the Angel: The Foundation of Mormon Thought: Cosmos, God, Humanity, page 45.

***I think Clark resists this conclusion by noting that "absolute necessity of existence not being an extrinsic, relative, and accidental denomination but an inward and essential property of the nature of the thing which so exists." In other words, necessary existence is not a property like weight, and as such, making this inference does not commit the fallacy of composition. I cannot go into that argument here, but it should suffice to note that Alvin Plantinga has persuasively demonstrated that "necessity" is a predicate in modal logics. This, in my judgment, lays the ground work for showing that Clark's attempt to resist the fallacy of composition by noting that necessary existence has to do with essence, not property, is flawed.

Disentangling Immaterial Souls

Classical Christian doctrine—and for that matter, nearly the whole of contemporary Christian doctrine—espouses belief in immaterial souls. Properly understood, our immaterial souls ground individual identity, conscious life, rationality, and moral accountability. At time of biological death, our souls will separate from the physical body, with the hopes of reunion at resurrection day.

Despite its respectable genealogy—mostly attributable to Plato—and its widespread acceptance, the doctrine of immaterial souls cannot fulfill the measure of its creation. One reason is the inability to disentangle and distinguish one immaterial soul from another.

Matter, unlike an immaterial soul, can be identified via its location in space-time.[1] Matter is extended and locatable in relation to other physical entities. An immaterial soul, by contrast, is not extended and not locatable in space-time. Consequently, we cannot distinguish your soul and my soul by indexing them to a particular space-time location.

Thus, this question emerges: in virtue of what are two immaterial souls disentangled and distinguished?

One proposal distinguishes immaterial souls with reference to a unique, identifying psychology. This psychology would include a unique set of memories, habits, character traits, and the like.

This suggestion, however, may prove inadequate. To begin, memories, habits, character traits, and the like are constituted by, and are manifested in, the causal structure of reality. My psychology is formed, in significant part, during interaction with the social and physical world. Further, my psychology manifests itself in relation to that social and physical world. So, it is not clear how my immaterial soul possesses a psychology that is dependent on the causal structure of the world. Such an immaterial psychology would be, at best, always in potentiality until reunion with a resurrected body and that is like no psychology we are familiar with.

More importantly, though, this suggestion suffers conceptual breakdown. Imagine a parallel universe identical to this universe in all relevant respects. Now imagine your parallel twin in that universe. She possesses your identical psychological structure. She has your same temperament, habits, and predilections. In short, respecting psychology, you and your parallel twin are identical. However, your parallel twin is not identical to you, since you reside in different universes. Now imagine that at the exact moment you die, your parallel twin also dies. At time of soul/body separation, you and your parallel twin possess the identical psychological structure. Thus, if your immaterial soul is distinguished from your parallel twin’s immaterial soul by psychology, it follows that at time of death, you and your parallel twin are identical. For that matter, it follows that your souls are identical during life as well. Yet, logic compels the distinction all along the way.[2] Importantly, even though this may never happen in the actual world, it shows that conceptually, the criterion cannot possibly correct.  

The parallel twin example suggests another way to disentangle and distinguish immaterial souls: each immaterial soul is distinguished by being associated with a particular body. But again, conceptually, this criterion won’t suffice. Imagine that God assigns an archangel, call him Michael, to create and bind immortal souls to particular human bodies at the time of conception.[3] However, prior to Noah’s flood, God and the other archangels are overworked and so recruit Michael to help. Unfortunately, one day Michael, multitasking and distracted, creates a soul and fails to properly bind it to its intended body. The floodwaters eventually roll in, destroying the soulless shell of a body, and the created soul never unites with its intended host. Fortunately, Michael, now devoted full time to soul-body binding, never repeats the former accident. At the end of God’s magnificent redemptive work, every single human soul was associated with a particular body, except one. However, this single immaterial soul can be distinguished precisely in virtue of the fact that it was never associated with a particular body. Thus, a soul can be distinguished without being associated with a particular body.

Now imagine the same thought experiment in the reverse: imagine the exact same scenario. Michael is distracted during Noah’s flood, only this time he does not misplace a single soul, but places two created souls into a single body. The result is conjoined-soul twins that share the same host body. If they are distinguished by reference to a particular body, then they will be identical and hence indistinguishable. But God created two souls. In short, the body-soul association suggestion can’t possibly be right. 

At this point, one may argue that God distinguishes souls. He recognizes each individual soul and in that recognition disentangles and distinguishes them. But the question reoccurs: in virtue of what does God recognize and distinguish each individual soul? Is it in virtue of a soul’s psychology, including its memories and habits? Is it in virtue of a body-soul association? Some combination? Some other criterion altogether? In the end, this explanation may prove theologically satisfying, but it will not prove philosophically satisfying.

Faced with similar arguments, German Idealists, like Hegel, and some strains of Buddhist thought, deny the existence of immaterial souls. Instead, since souls cannot be distinguished, such theorists hold, there must be a single, unifying principle, or world/universe soul underlying all of empirical reality. Accordingly, a deep unity pervades all apparently distinguishable phenomena. At the other extreme, contemporary physicalists, like Daniel Dennett and Patricia Churchland, deny immaterial souls. Instead, humans are beautifully complex meat computers, nothing more.

Between these two responses, Mormonism points to a third-way: a layered physical reality, with material souls. And I will walk that “third-way” in a subsequent post.

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[1] Though I note, quantum mechanics may challenge this claim.

[2] An argument from contradiction demonstrating the distinction could be supplied by relying upon Leibniz criterion of identity, which states that if x=y, then anything that can be predicated of x, can be predicated of y. The fact that you and your parallel twin reside in distinct universes supplies all we need to generate such an argument. I spare you the details. 

[3] In Christian theology the view that God creates the soul at time of conception is called creationism. By contrast, traducianism is the view that individual souls are generated as a natural result of the procreation process.  

Defending Mary from Dennett

Since its initial publication in a 1982 article entitled “Epiphenomenal Qualia,” Frank Jackson’s thought experiment involving Mary, a brilliant scientist, has been met with a voluminous amount of literature intending to refute the experiment. This response was to be expected. After all, if the thought experiment stands, then physicalism becomes an untenable ontological position and the belief that mental states can be reduced to gray matter will be a shipwrecked enterprise. In this paper, I will defend Jackson’s thought experiment from one of its more radical critiques as given by Daniel Dennett. I will show that Dennett’s critique is actually a red herring and as such does no damage to Jackson’s argument.

            

In Jackson’s experiment, Mary a brilliant young scientist, is “forced to investigate the world from a black and white room via a black and white television monitor” (Jackson 1982, p. 130). In this condition Mary is completely deprived of any color experiences. However, through this investigation Mary is able to acquire all physical facts pertaining to color vision. She understands, in the most exacting of detail, everything that goes into the formation of a color experience. She “discovers, for example, just which wave-length combinations from the sky stimulate the retina, and exactly how this produces, via the central nervous system the contraction of the vocal chords and expulsion of air from the lungs that results in the uttering of the sentence “the sky is blue”” (Jackson 1982, p. 130).

            

When Mary is eventually released from this controlled environment to experience color for the first time, it is clear that she will learn something new about color—specifically, what various colors look like. Even though Mary knows everything there is to know about the physiology and physics of blue, as experienced when looking at the sky, it is clear that upon first seeing a blue sky she is learning something new; viz. the phenomenal feel of “sky blue.” Yet, if Mary learns something new, “then it is inescapable that her previous knowledge was incomplete. But she had all the physical information. Ergo there is more to have than that, and Physicalism is false” (Jackson 1982, p. 130).

            

It is hard to overestimate the ramifications of this thought experiment. If Jackson is right, then all facts in the universe are not physical facts. There are also phenomenal facts which are of a different kind. If this is the case, then physicalist ontology is a dead enterprise. For the sake of precision and forthcoming analysis, I will set forth Jackson’s argument into premise and conclusion format:

1.     Before her release from her black and white environment, Mary had all physical information about various color experiences.

2.     Upon her release Mary, for the first time, experiences what it is like to see various colors. Through these experiences Mary acquired new information—i.e. information pertaining to the phenomenal property of what it is like to see a particular color.

3.     If Mary were to acquire new information outside of the room, then that information would be nonphysical (by definition from 1)

C1. Upon her release, Mary obtained information which was nonphysical (modus ponens by 2, 3)

4.     If Mary acquired information which was nonphysical, then it pertained to a nonphysical property of the color experience.

C2. The information Mary received via experiencing color demonstrates that there is a nonphysical property pertaining to the experience of color (modus ponens by C1, 4).

5.     If color experiences have a component which is nonphysical it follows, by definition, that physicalism is false (by definition from physicalism).

C3. Physicalism is false (modus ponens by C2, 5).

Before moving onto Dennett’s attempted refutation of this argument, it is important to point out the full implications of Jackson’s thought experiment. Specifically, even though this thought experiment analyzes a singular sense modality, it could, in principle, be extended to all sense modalities. It is easy to imagine a similar thought experiment for tactile, auditory and olfactory experiences—in short for all sense experiences. Consequently, the Mary experiment purports to show that the most basic building blocks of conscious experience, qualia, cannot be accounted for via physicalism.

DANIEL DENNETT AND MARY

The philosopher Daniel Dennett objects to Jackson’s thought experiment outright. Specifically Dennett claims that Jackson has given us “a bad thought experiment, an intuition pump that actually encourages us to misunderstand its premises” (Dennett 1991, p. 399). In other words, Jackson’s thought experiment plays on un-tuned intuition as to what physical information can reveal. From here, he makes an easy transition to its conclusion “physicalism is false.” According to Dennett,

 “The image is wrong; if that is the way you imagine the case, you are simply not following directions! The reason no one follows directions is because what they ask you to imagine is so preposterously immense, you can’t even try. The crucial premise is that “She has all the physical information.” That is not readily imaginable, so no one bothers. They just imagine that she knows lots and lots—perhaps they imagine that she knows everything that anyone knows today about the neurophysiology of color vision. But that’s just a drop in the bucket, and it’s not surprising that Mary would learn something if that were all she knew.”

So Dennett will run the thought experiment over again, taking very seriously the claim that Mary possess all physical information pertaining to color vision. This emphasis will be a key point in Dennett’s denial of the second premise in Jackson’s argument above. If Dennett can establish his case then the rest of Jackson’s argument from premise two onwards will be false. By encouraging us to take seriously the claim that Mary has all the physical information Dennett hopes to tune our intuitions into greater clarity, thus allowing us to see that Jackson’s thought experiment does not prove anything at all. In order to achieve the greatest clarity possible, I will simply cite the thought experiment Dennett gives at length:

And so, one day, Mary’s captors decided it was time for her to see colors. As a trick, they prepared a bright blue banana to present as her first color experience ever. Mary took one look at it and said “Hey! You tried to trick me! Bananas are yellow, but this one is blue!” her captors were dumfounded. How did she do it? “Simple,” she replied. “You have to remember that I know everything—absolutely everything—that could ever be known about the physical casues and effects of color vision. So of course before you brought the banana in, I had already written down, in exquisite detail, exactly what physical impression a yellow object or a blue object (or a green object, etc.) would make on my nervous system. So I already knew exactly what thought I would have (because, after all, the “mere disposition” to think about this or that is not one your famous qualia, is it?). I was not in the slightest surprised by my experience of blue (what surprised me was that you would try such a second-rate trick on me). I realize it is hard for you to imagine that I could know so much about my reactive dispositions that the way blue affected me came as no surprise. Of course it’s hard for you to imagine. It’s hard for anyone to imagine the consequences of someone knowing absolutely everything physical about anything!” (Dennett 1991, p. 399-400)

         

How Dennett envisions Mary being able to accomplish such a feat is not wholly clear. To be sure, she has all the physical facts, providing information far above and beyond anything our intuitions can currently imagine. However, even though Dennett assures this, it appears he believes Mary has to perform some type of inference in order to get at the phenomenal data of a color experience.

Specifically, Dennett claims that Mary has a great deal of knowledge at her disposal already. She already knows varying shades of gray; the difference between “such surface properties as glossiness versus matte, and she knows the difference between luminance boundaries and color boundaries” (Dennett 1991, p. 400). All of this information is combined with detailed knowledge of how her Nervous system will react to any given wavelength of light. In Dennett’s words,

the only task that remains is for her to figure out a way of identifying those neurophysiological effects “from the inside.” You may find you can readily imagine her making a little progress on this—for instance, figuring out  tricky ways in which she would be able to tell that some color, whatever it is, is not yellow, or not red. How? By noting some salient and specific reaction her brain would have only for yellow or only for red. But if you allow her even a little entry into her color space in this way, you should conclude that she can leverage her way to complete advance knowledge, because she doesn’t just know the salient reactions, she knows them all (Dennett 1991, p. 400-01)

So, it seems clear that Dennett’s explanation to render plausible exactly how Mary is gaining her knowledge of color experience is via inference from information she already has.

In the end, Dennett’s position seems strong and clear. We cannot possibly know what possessing all physical information pertaining to a given domain would be like. In order to reach a sweeping ontological conclusion (i.e. physicalism is false) based on our current intuitions as to what physical information can be said to provide, is premature at best.

WHY DENNETT IS WRONG

           

I think it can be established that Jackson has not given us a mere intuition pump and that Dennett has actually provided us with an elaborate red herring. In order to demonstrate that point I will run the thought experiment again, in a modified form, with the hopes that Dennett’s faulty reasoning can be exposed. However, before I undertake that endeavor, I would like to acknowledge two points by way of critique. These need to be set forth to adequately prepare the ground for my thought experiment.

           

First, I would like to hone in on Dennett’s Mary. In order to render plausible the idea that Mary has not learned anything new at all, Dennett focuses on her ability to distinguish colors. She knew she was being tricked when she was handed a bright blue banana. She was able to accomplish this feat through a detailed knowledge of her nervous system and how it would react with varying wavelengths of light. This characterization of the situation does not demonstrate that Mary hasn’t learned anything new though. All Dennett has demonstrated is that Mary has “know how” when it comes to distinguishing colors. To be sure, “know how” is likely a necessary condition in saying whether someone has knowledge of different colors. If May were unable to distinguish a blue banana from a yellow one, we would not say that she had the relevant knowledge of colors.

           

Even though “know how” may be necessary condition in saying whether someone has knowledge of color, it is not sufficient. We can imagine Mary distinguishing colors merely by the behavior of her central nervous system. She may have no clue that blue has that type of look and feel and yet “know how” to distinguish it from yellow merely by noting that the patterns of firing produced in her central nervous system do not conform to the physical information she already possesses in regards to color interaction with her nervous system. So, “know how” is not sufficient to prove Dennett’s case. In effect, it appears that Dennett has tried to conflate notions of “know how” with “know that” in order to make his thought experiment more plausible. However, in so doing he has presented us with a red herring that detracts us from the original question: Does Mary learn anything new? We are looking for indications that Mary has gained “know that,” not merely “know how.” The possession of “know how” with all physical information is not all that implausible, even for Jackson’s Mary.

           

Second, Dennett is encouraging us to dispel our intuitions in regards to what type of knowledge physical information could provide. Essentially, he is claiming that with a complete inventory of all the physical information—a situation we can’t currently imagine—qualia will come along for free. In other words, complete physical information will allow us to gain knowledge of qualia experiences free of those experiences themselves. Dennett recognizes that physical facts, as currently envisioned, cannot perform the feat he is requiring of them. So, he asks us to write a blank check against our well-trained intuitions in anticipation of the problem being resolves with an exhaustive inventory of the physical facts. The problem with this whole set up, is that Dennett emphasizes the problem as being one of quantity—we do not have all the physical information—not one of quality.  Knowledge gained via inference from physical facts to particular quale is qualitatively different than knowledge gained by a direct experience of those quale themselves.

In essence, all physical information gives Mary a foothold from where she can infer her way to a full knowledge of qualia. As Dennett puts it, “if you allow her even a little entry into her color space in this way . . . she can leverage her way to complete advance knowledge, because she doesn’t just know the salient reactions, she knows them all” (Dennett 1991, p. 400-01). The difficulties associated with a serious defense of this position are paramount. Perhaps foremost is the difficulty of establishing that knowledge of qualia gained by inference has the same modal quality as knowledge gained by direct experiences. No matter how sound an inference may be, the possibility of error is always looming and with it the possibility that our judgment concerning some entity or entities, in this case qualia, may in fact be incorrect. The same cannot be said of a direct experience of a quale, say the color red. It is not in doubt whether or not I am seeing that color, there, right in front of me. Furthermore, it is not in doubt whether or not that color there has the properties I see it to have. My knowledge is direct and therefore indubitable. To be sure, I can doubt whether or not I am applying the term “red” in the same manner as the community at large. However, that is tangential to the issue. Our knowledge, from a direct experience of a quale is of a different modal quality than knowledge gained by an inference. Consequently, it seems clear that all the physical facts does not get us the same type of knowledge that direct experience does. Hence, Mary would learn something new upon leaving her black-and-white room for the first time.

So, with Dennett conflating notions of “know how” and “know that” and with it apparent that we cannot even conceive of what type of physical information would provide us undubitable knowledge of qualia experiences free from those experiences themselves, it becomes clear that Dennett has not made his case that Jackson has given us a mere intuition pump. Jackson is not solely playing on our intuitions. He is leveraging our best understanding of what physical information can be taken to demonstrate. Free of some radical new understanding of how physical information, even all physical information in a given domain, could be used to achieved knowledge with the characteristics ascribed to qualia, we are not compelled to accept Dennett’s conclusions. Dennett asks us to write a blank check, claiming that some day all physical information will be able to account for all the facts within the universe. With no indication of whether or not Dennett’s gamble is right, it would be unwise to accept his invitation.

           

MARY THOUGHT EXPERIMENT CONTRA DENNETT

With the key information in place, and with a preliminary critique, I can now run Jackson’s thought experiment over again from a different angle. This time, I will employ two Marys, Mary 1 and Mary 2. Running the thought experiment with separate Marys in tandem will allow me to use one Mary as a control. This control will allow us to see the difference between “know how” and “know that” knowledge, as well as demonstrating that knowledge via nervous system inference is not of the same character as knowledge via direct experience.

Mary¹ and Mary² have been forced to investigate the world through a black-and-white room. In this condition they are able to obtain all the physical facts pertaining to color vision. To have all the physical facts pertaining to color vision is to fully and completely exhaust all possible physical information on the subject. To be sure, we cannot imagine what it would be like to have all physical information on this given subject, since our current understanding of the human nervous system is in its infancy. The information it provides may be far grandeur than we could imagine, exceeding even our greatest expectations.

Those who have placed Mary¹ and Mary² in there black-and-white cells have every intention of releasing them into the world. However, before they do, they decide, at random, to use Mary¹ as a control. In essence, the put Mary¹ under the knife, ablating critical connections to the cortical regions responsible for color processing. Since Mary¹ has all physical facts pertaining to color vision, she knows exactly how this procedure has effected her nervous system and will be able to compensate for it when seeing color. As Mary¹ and Mary² first color experience, her captures have prepared a bright blue banana. Upon being presented with this banana, Mary¹ appears shocked. She cannot believe that her captors have played such a trick on her. She tells them that the banana is a lighter shade of blue and not yellow like bananas are supposed to be. When they asked her how she accomplished such a feat, she responded that she knew in acute detail how the wavelengths would react with her retina and the associated portions of her cerebral cortex, including how the ablations would effect the flow and process of visual information. She knew how to distinguish sky blue from yellow due to this information.

In a parallel room, Mary² is also handed a sky blue banana. Upon being handed the banana Mary² is also stunned that her captors would play such a trick on her. When asked how she knew that the banana was not yellow, she gave much the same response as Mary¹. However, unlike Mary¹, Mary² is actually having the experience of sky blue. This experience, or “the what it feels like” of sky blue is information which Mary¹ does not have at her disposal. Consequently, it seems clear that mary² has gained nonphysical information not available to Mary¹. Therefore, not all facts in the universe are physical facts and physicalism is false.

Dennett may be inclined to respond with the same line of attack with which he started, i.e. I am not taking seriously the claim that Mary¹ has all physical information about color vision. This includes her exhaustive information of Mary² and her healthy, functioning nervous system. Consequently, she would know, in rich detail, how such an experience must be for Mary². So, Mary², has not gained information unavailable to Mary¹. In response, it may become immediately clear how inadequate this line of response is. For Mary¹ to know, in rich detail, the experience that Mary² is having, via Mary²’s nervous system, would require an inference from the physical information to the quale of sky blue itself. However, as I have already pointed out, knowledge via inference is not of the same modal kind as knowledge of qualia via direct acquaintance. This modal difference should be sufficient to establish that even if Mary¹ we able to infer Mary²’s experience, should would not gain information of the same modal kind, and consequently, Mary² still has access to information not available to Mary¹. So the above conclusion that physicalism is false, must hold.

CONCLUSION

Frank Jackson’s thought experiment with Mary, a brilliant young scientist, has been faced severe criticism on many fronts. One critic, Daniel Dennett, has given perhaps the most radical critique claiming that Jackson has given us a mere intuition pump. Dennett further argues that given all physical information it is possible that Mary learns nothing at all. I have demonstrate that Dennett’s argument is a red herring in so far as he conflates notions of “know how” with “know that.” We are not interested in whether or not Mary can distinguish colors, we want to know if she learns something new. Additionally, Dennett’s claim that Mary can gain information of qualia via an inference from the physical facts is implausible on modal grounds. Consequently, in running the Mary experiment again and providing a control I was able to demonstrate that Jackson’s thought experiment avoids Dennett’s criticisms and that Jackson’s initial conclusion can hold. Consequently, barring stronger arguments from Dennett, it appears that physicalism is false and some form of ontological dualism or pluralism is implied.

Works Cited:

Dennett, Daniel. Consciousness Explained (New York: Back Books Company/Little, Brown and Company, 1991)

Jackson, Frank. “Epiphenomenal Qualia.” The Philosophical Quarterly (Apr. 1982) pp. 127-136

Does the Infinite Exist?: the Distortion of Language and Self

Does the Infinite exist apart from our thinking it? or is it bound to our cognition? This is similar to other questions in philosophy, such as, whether numbers exist in objective reality or are they simply “in the head” as entities created by human cognition. In this post, I will present two arguments for and against the existence of the Infinite. These arguments will dovetail into one another. The first argument will be an ontological argument. Ontological arguments attempt to prove a position by the meaning of the term alone. In this case the meaning of the Infinite will be used to show that the entity corresponding to the term must exist independent of our minds. The second argument will be a reductio ad absurdum. It will begin with the claim that the Infinite exists—the conclusion of the first argument—and show that this position leads to absurd, untenable results. In the end, I will briefly elucidate the consequences of accepting either position.

The term the Infinite means that which is unbounded.[1] We can think about this concept and understand its meaning. Yet, in thinking about the Infinite, if we suppose that it is confined to our cognition alone—i.e. it does not exist independent of us—then we are not thinking about that which is completely unbounded. After all, an entity which is bound to our cognition is not completely unbounded. Since the Infinite means that which is completely unbounded, the entity we refer to in using the term the Infinite must exist independent of our thinking it.[2] In other words, what we mean by the term the Infinite requires that something actually exist independent of us in order to satisfy the meaning of the term. Therefore, the Infinite exists independent of us.

The Infinite exists and is wholly unbounded. To be wholly unbounded, the Infinite must encompass all that we encounter in experience, viz. the whole cosmos. The Infinite contains all abstract objects and concrete objects, including human agents.[3] However, these entities have distinct properties that demarcate them from one another. For example, human agents have the distinct property of subjectivity—i.e. they are aware of themselves as freely acting subjects with an independent identity separate from other agents and entities.[4] If these various entities truly can be demarcated from one another, and if the Infinite, by definition, must contain them since it is unbounded and encompasses all things, then either the Infinite is not unbounded since it has divisions in itself setting forth various boundaries between various types of entities and human agents, or these various entities and human agents are mere illusions arising from human cognition. It cannot be the case that the Infinite has divisions within itself, since it would not be truly unbounded. Therefore, the entities we encounter in experience, including ourselves as distinct subjects, are merely illusions. The Infinite requires that all reality is one, unbounded whole and since it must exist (see the Ontological argument above) we as human agents cannot have an independent existence over and against each other or other things. It therefore follows that there is no such thing as individual personalities—i.e. your sense of being an independent personality is an illusion—or separate entities, all reality is one; it is all the Infinite.

If these arguments are both sounds and cogent, respectively, what they show is that inherent difficulties result from taking either position. If we conclude that the Infinite actually exists, it follows that we as human agents—as independent personalities which are thinking about the Infinite—do not exist as individuals. All things are metaphysically one. If, on the other hand, we conclude that the Infinite does not exist, then we must conclude that our language is not a reliable guide to reality; for the term the Infinite seems to require a corresponding object independent of us. If our language is unreliable the next natural conclusion would be an epistemic skepticism about what we can know by means of our language. We may suppose that we can deny the existence of the Infinite and rethink the way our language works; in particular, that our language doesn’t have to reliably refer to things in reality, by its terms, in order to grant us knowledge. A language detached from referential relations in this manner may engender greater difficulties than just biting the bullet and maintaining the existence of the Infinite, though. So, we either don’t exist as individuals or, if we do exist, our language is an unreliable guide to reality leadings us into a type of skepticism.[5]

As for my part, I would refer the reader to my previous blog post entitled “The Infinite.” I suggested there that any attempt to speak about the Infinite annihilates our understanding of it. For if the Infinite is truly unbounded, it cannot be encapsulated in a definition or, more broadly, in our language through description. And perhaps this blog has further demonstrated that point. When we attempt to encapsulate such a grandiose entity into our language it distorts it—almost as if it is trying to break free of our concepts, being too large for them, and in the process completely bends the usual boundaries of our linguistic concepts. Further, in the attempt to encapsulate the Infinite it began to bend and warp our sense of self or our sense that we can reliably know the world through our language. In short, whatever the Infinite is, the attempt to encapsulate it in human thinking and language leads to the inevitable distortion of the same. Perhaps Wittgenstein’s wisdom comes radiating through even more brilliantly, “whereof one cannot speak, thereof one must be silent.” Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus.

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[1] See my previous post entitled “the Infinite” for further clarification on this premise.

[2] Kant’s criticism that “exist” is not a true predicate may seem appropriate here. However, when it is observed that the Infinite cannot be bounded in any sense, including bounded to modal contingency, then it seems appropriate to say that the Infinite must “necessarily exist.” Important, necessary existence is a true predicate.

[3] If the Infinite did not encompass all entities then it would have a boundary, viz. a boundary separating it from these entities.

[4] We all have this experience. I experience myself as Judson Burton with certain memories, habits, desires, interests, etc. And I recognize that my identity in all of this is separate from the identity of my wife, Angela. She is an independent person apart from me.
[5] As with all philosophical arguments, these conclusions can be resisted. In a later post, I will take up a response to these arguments to ward of potential skepticism and maintain our common sense notion of the self.