The Body Problem
Barbara Montero
University of Chicago
Is the mind physical? Are mental properties, such as the property
of being in pain or thinking about the higher orders of infinity,
actually physical properties? Certainly many philosophers think
that they are. For no matter how strange and remarkable consciousness
and cognition may be, many hold that they are, nevertheless, entirely
physical. While some take this view as a starting point in their
discussions about the mind, others, well aware that there are dissenters
among the ranks, argue for it strenuously. One wonders, however,
just what is being assumed, argued for, or denied. In other words,
one wonders, Just what does it mean to be physical? This is the
question I call, "the body problem."
As I see it, there is little use in arguing about whether the mind
is physical, or whether mental properties are physical properties-questions
many take to be central to the mind-body problem-unless we have
at least some understanding of what it means to be physical. In
other words, it seems that in order to solve the mind-body problem,
we must solve the body problem. A satisfactory solution can fall
short of being a strict definition. However, it seems to me that
the question of what it means to be physical at least ought to be
addressed. It strikes me as odd that while bookstores and journals
are overflowing with debates about whether consciousness is physical,
hardly anyone is concerned with "What counts as physical?"
Moreover, it would not be much of an exaggeration to say today,
as John Earman did more than twenty years ago, that "attempts
to answer this question that have appeared in the philosophical
literature are for the most part notable only for their glaring
inadequacies." Clearly something is amiss: if we want to discuss
whether the mind is physical, we should say something about what
it means to be physical. For unless we do, it seems that not only
will all attempted solutions to the mind-body problem be out of
focus, but the very problem will be as well.
Some may argue that such clarification is unnecessary. As they
see it, understanding the term "physical" is no more difficult
than understanding the term "table." They may point out
that while we cannot provide necessary and sufficient conditions
for tablehood, we nonetheless understand the concept because we
can readily identify things that are clearly tables as well as things
that are clearly not. And the same is true, they may argue, of our
notion of the physical.
It seems to me, however, that the situations are not analogous.
While there appears to be something correct about the claim that
we can identify central cases of being physical-what could better
exemplify the physical than things like rocks and trees (except,
perhaps, quarks and leptons)?-there is an extra wrinkle: rocks and
trees (as well as quarks and leptons) are identified as central
cases only on the assumption that idealism is false. For there is
not much point in arguing about whether the mind is physical if
our central examples of physical entities are entities composed
entirely of sense-data. (And to say that rocks are a central example
of physical objects or that the properties of rocks are central
examples of physical properties only if rocks are physical, obviously
does not provide us with a useful clarification.) Moreover, even
ignoring this wrinkle, it seems that one needs to say at least something
about how we are to determine what we can place in the category
along with rocks and trees. That is, once we have specified that
rocks and trees are central examples of physical objects, one needs
to say something about how we are supposed to go on from there.
Because in certain ways, beliefs and desires are like rocks and
trees while quarks and leptons are not. For example, talk of beliefs
and desires plays a role in our ordinary folk understanding of the
world while talk of quarks and leptons does not. Moreover, beliefs
and desires seem to be part of the same macro-level causal network
as rocks and trees while quarks and leptons do not. But neither
the physicalist nor his foes think that the view that quarks and
leptons are nonphysical is what we should infer from our central
examples of physical objects.
Now, perhaps these problems could be overlooked if we had clear
intuitions regarding the nonphysical. However, it is not at all
obvious that we do. The stock example of a nonphysical entity is
some sort of ghost. For example, Jaegwon Kim defines "ontological
physicalism" as the view that "any creature with mentality
is wholly constituted by physical parts-ultimately basic physical
particles. There are no nonphysical residues (e.g. Cartesian souls,
entelechies, and the like)." And Jeffrey Poland states that
the physicalist's bottom line is really: "There are no ghosts!"
But, while references in the literature to ghosts as well as spirits,
entelechies and angels belie this fact, talk of ghosts must merely
be for fun. For as physicalists and nonphysicalists alike must realize,
whatever understanding we do have of the notion of a ghost does
not lend support to the view that we understand the notion of the
nonphysical. For what exactly is it about a ghost that is supposed
to be nonphysical? Is it that they can pass through walls without
disturbing them? Neutrinos, I am told, can pass right through the
earth without disturbing it, yet neutrinos are classified as physical.
Is it that they have no mass? Photons have no mass yet are considered
physical. Perhaps it is that they supposedly do not take up space.
But if taking up no space shows that something is nonphysical, point
particles (if they in fact exist) would have to be classified as
nonphysical. Yet physicalists, I take it, would see this as a mistake.
So to say that the physical means something like "no spooky
stuff" (as my friend Martin Lin once put it) does not help
matters in the least.
It might seem, however, that while talk of ghosts is merely for
fun, talk of "the ghost in the machine," the Cartesian
soul, is not. In other words, it might seem that physicalism at
least excludes the view that there is some type of mental substance,
a substance completely different in kind from physical substance.
But what might such a substance be? Descartes had a beautiful answer
to this question: the essence of body is extension-extension in
length, breadth, and depth-and anything without extension is completely
different in kind from body. To be sure, the question of exactly
what Descartes meant by extension is a much discussed topic. Nonetheless,
Descartes gave us some sort of purchase on the mind-body problem,
and the problem has certainly stuck. But what, today, enables us
to distinguish physical substance from nonphysical substance? Not
only do we lack a beautiful answer to this question, we seem to
lack an answer altogether.
Since most physicalists are happy to admit that there is more than
one kind of elementary particle, it is difficult to see what the
sense of "nonphysical substance" or "stuff of a different
kind" could amount to. Perhaps the idea is that whether or
not there is only one basic particle, say, strings, or it turns
out that in addition to strings there are also Ferris wheels, physicalism
is the view that everything nonbasic is composed of the same kind,
or kinds of basic particles. But this cannot be quite right either.
For example, some physicists have posited that there are large halos
of nonluminous matter surrounding galaxies-the mysterious dark matter-and
that this matter is composed entirely of axions, hypothetical new
elementary particles. But since the fate of physicalism does not
ride on whether dark matter is ultimately composed of the same stuff
that tables and chairs are ultimately composed of, it seems that
the simple intuitive notion of stuff of a different kind does not,
in fact, provide us with the relevant notion of nonphysical.
This, I think, also indicates a problem with another suggested
criterion for being physical, namely, being composed of the same
stuff of which ordinary inanimate objects are composed. Imagine
that scientists discovered that dark matter was in fact made out
of something entirely different from tables and chairs. And imagine
that they also discovered that human beings were made out of something
entirely different from both dark matter and ordinary furniture.
Now, would this be a mark against physicalism? Needless to say,
it would be quite astonishing if this were to be discovered. But
not all astonishing discoveries are discoveries of nonphysical things.
Certainly it would mean that there would be some explaining left
to do, and, perhaps, physicists would have to make room in their
ever expanding booklet of elementary particles for yet another.
But it is not clear that it would mean that human beings are not
physical.
Moreover, I believe that most physicalists would take it that panpsychism-the
view that mental properties pervade all aspects of the world-is
incompatible with physicalism. Yet panpsychism is compatible with
the view that people and tables and chairs are all made up of the
same kind of stuff. And so, while physicalists, as much as anyone
else, are entitled to choose their own enemies, it seems that physicalists
who draw the battle line between those who think that human beings
are composed of the same stuff that ordinary inanimate objects are
composed of and those that do not, perhaps, ought to reconsider
their choice.
Granted, in order to discuss the mind-body problem one needs to
make certain assumptions. And it is clear that if we tried to fully
explain every technical term-e.g., property, concept, world, etc.-we
would never get around to the problem at hand. Nevertheless, sometimes
we should question assumptions. And in the context of the mind-body
problem, I think that the need to explain what is meant by "physical"
instead of merely relying on intuitions is especially exigent. For
it may very well be that the intuitive, or at least common way of
understanding what it means to be physical is that the physical
is whatever is not mental. Yet this is precisely not what is meant
by those who argue that the mind is physical. But what, then, is?
We need to address the body problem in order to better understand
the basic question "What is the relationship between mind and
matter?" Moreover, many of the central arguments in philosophy
of mind depend on a distinction between physical and nonphysical
properties, facts, worlds, things, etc. A clear example is Frank
Jackson's famous "Mary in the black and white room" argument.
The story is a familiar one: imprisoned since birth in a black and
white room, Mary is supposed to have learned all the physical facts
about color vision yet, according to Jackson, when she is released
from the room she learns something new. When she is released, she
finds out for the first time what it is like to see red, and this,
supposedly, is knowledge of a nonphysical fact. Conclusion: the
physical facts do not exhaust all the facts. But which exactly are
the physical facts? What exactly is it about certain facts, such
as facts about what it is like to see red, that makes them nonphysical
facts?
The problem of what is meant by "physical" arises just
as forcefully in discussions of inverted spectra and absent qualia
arguments. In one popular version of the inverted spectrum argument,
we are asked to imagine two physically identical people whose experiences
of color are inverted with respect to one another: when one looks
at a fire truck, for example, he has a visual experience of red,
while his physical duplicate looking at the same truck experiences
green. The absent qualia argument is similar except one experiences
red while his physical duplicate, the zombie, experiences nothing
at all. Some philosophers believe these situations are coherent,
some think they are not, and still others think that inverted qualia
are possible while absent qualia are not. But what exactly is supposed
to ground our intuitions? How, in fact, can we even have intuitions
about these cases unless we know what counts as a physical duplicate?
A final example of the importance of solving the body problem can
be found in the debate over mental causation. It is commonly held
that there is a problem in explaining how mental causation is possible
because if 1) the physical world is causally closed and 2) there
is no causal overdetermination, it seems that despite what we think,
it is not literally true that, for example, my belief that there
is a glass of water before me, and my desire, to quench my thirst,
could (in virtue of being mental phenomena) cause me to reach out
for that glass of water. Whether this conclusion follows, however,
depends on our conception of "the physical world." Yet,
it is rarely made clear what this conception should be.
Those working on the mind-body problem who do address the topic
of what it means to be physical often admit that some work needs
to be done in order to clarify the concept. And it is not entirely
uncommon for these philosophers to put forth, first, a rough definition
of what counts as physical and what counts as nonphysical; second,
to admit that their definition is not quite adequate; and third,
to point out that, really, their argument does not turn on the adequacy
of this exact definition. However, it is always the case that these
arguments turn on there being some distinction between the physical
and the nonphysical. For if there is no distinction, no basis for
saying this is what it takes for something to be physical, debates
over whether the mind is physical will lack philosophical nerve.
So, then, what is the distinction?
I think it is safe to say that philosophers commonly answer this
question by deferring to the physicists. In its simplest form, the
physical is said to be whatever the physicist, or more precisely,
the particle physicist, tells us exists (what we might now think
of as quarks and leptons, as well as the exchange particles, gluons,
gravitons, etc.). And the nonphysical is everything else, if there
is anything else. On this view physicalists-that is, those who hold
that everything is physical-are committed to the claim that physics
provides us with an exhaustive and exclusive line to all of reality.
Now, this is a relatively straightforward answer to the body problem.
However, as stated, it is a bit too simple since most philosophers
take it that things like rocks, tables and chairs are just as physical
as quarks, leptons, and gluons.
To be sure, whether it is acceptable to say that the physical is
nothing but what the physicists take to be fundamental is partially
a terminological issue. I was present at a seminar once where a
debate erupted about whether rocks are physical, with the professor
insisting that no matter what else is true, rocks are physical,
while the student kept replying that rocks are clearly not physical.
What was going on, though I'm not sure if either ever made his position
clear to the other, was that the student was using the term "physical"
to refer to the fundamental entities of physics while the professor
was using the term broadly. But there is a substantive issue here
as well. While the question of whether to reserve the name "physical"
for just the fundamental constituents is merely terminological,
the question of exactly how many layers of reality to countenance
is not. For the most part, physicalists want to allow for not only
the smallest stuff, but for the atoms, molecules, rocks, and galaxies
as well. So the leave-it-to-the-physicists approach is usually amended
to the view that the physical world (or, if you prefer, the material
world, or the natural world) is the world of the fundamental particles,
forces, laws, etc. as well as whatever depends, in some significant
sense, upon this fundamental stuff. As such, we can allow at least
for the possibility that rocks are physical.
Over the years there have been many discussions of how, exactly,
this significant sense of dependence should be cashed out. Some
have thought that the relation between higher level phenomena and
lower level phenomena must be explanatory, that everything about
the higher level must be entirely explained in terms of lower level
phenomena, or that the higher level must in some other strong sense
reduce to the lower level. More recently, however, many have expressed
misgivings about reducing the mental to the physical and have employed
the notion of supervenience in hopes of formulating some type of
nonreductive physicalism. Supervenience is supposed to capture the
notion that all mental phenomena are determined by lower level phenomena,
typically expressed with the slogan "No difference without
a lower level difference." To be sure, this slogan needs to
be filled in. For example, since nonreductive physicalism is intended
to be incompatible with eliminativism, it must be stipulated that
the supervenient levels exist (and perhaps, in order to avoid the
possibility of a purely mental world in a situation where no minds
differ, it should also be stipulated that the subvenient level exists.)
The domain of comparison needs to be specified (is the difference
intended to be between individuals, regions, worlds?), as does the
modal status of the claim. Moreover, many have thought that in order
to arrive at some sort of nonreductive physicalism, one must add
that the higher level is constituted by, or composed of (but not
identical to) lower level stuff. And specifying what exactly is
meant by "constitution" or "composition" is,
again, another project entirely.
While much interesting work has been done clarifying these relations,
my concern here is not with the relations per se but rather with
what everything is being related to: all of the proposals for grounding
higher level phenomena rely on a notion of a lower level dependence
base, what is often referred to as "the microphysical."
I want to know what can be meant in these proposals by "the
microphysical." It is quite natural to think of microphysical
phenomena as the phenomena described by the most recent microphysics.
But if the physical is defined over current microphysics, and a
new particle is discovered next week, the particle will not be physical.
And this is a consequence most philosophers want to avoid. But if
not current microphysics, what else could the microphysical be?
Almost twenty years ago, Carl Hempel posed a dilemma for those
attempting to define the physical in reference to microphysics.
On the one hand, it seems that we cannot define the physical in
terms of current microphysics since today's principles of microphysics
are, most likely, not correct. Despite some physicists' heady optimism
that the end of physics is just around the corner, history cautions
prudence. For the end of physics has been predicted before: toward
the end of the nineteenth century, just before the relativity revolution,
Lord Kelvin remarked that all that is left for physics is the filling
in of the next decimal place; then, in the early part of this century
Max Born supposedly claimed that physics would be over in six months.
And, in all likelihood, today's claims that we've (just about) got
it right are similarly unrealistic: today's physics is probably
neither entirely true (some of our theories may look as wrong-headed
to future generations as phlogiston theory looks to us now) nor
complete (there is still more to explain). Yet on the other hand,
if we take microphysics to be some future unspecified theory, the
claim that the mind is physical is extremely vague since we currently
have no idea of what that theory is. Geoffrey Hellman sums up this
dilemma nicely: "either physicalist principles are based on
current physics, in which case there is every reason to think they
are false; or else they are not, in which case it is, at best, difficult
to interpret them, since they are based on a 'physics' that does
not exist." Faced with this dilemma, what is a physicalist
to do?
Some try to take the middle road, explaining what they mean by
"microphysical" by referring to "something like current
microphysics-but just improved." But in what respect is this
microphysics like current microphysics? And in what respect is it
improved? Since these questions are usually not addressed (save,
of course, for the implication that it is similar enough to be intelligible
yet different enough to be true) it seems that Hempel's dilemma
recurs for these compromise views. For it is very likely that if
the theory in question is significantly similar to current physics
it will be false; but if we give up on significant similarity, we
give up on having a clear notion of the physical.
I think it is more common, however, for physicalists to take one
of the more extreme positions. And it seems that most physicalists
simply accept the second horn of the dilemma. That is, they define
the physical in relation to future microphysics and ignore the unseemly
consequence that they cannot specify what they are talking about.
However, there are philosophers who see this horn as more treacherous
than the first. For example, recently in an intriguing paper Andrew
Melnyk has argued that while it is in fact very likely that current
physics is both false and incomplete, physicalism should still be
formulated in terms of current physics. Physicalism, he thinks,
should be formulated in terms of a theory that is more likely false
than true. This doesn't, in Melnyk's opinion, preclude one from
being a physicalist. Strange as it may sound, according to Melnyk,
one can be a physicalist without believing in physicalism.
On the face of it, this is a rather awkward situation; for as G.E.
Moore might have put it, there is something paradoxical about saying
"everything is physical, but I don't believe it." So it
is not surprising that the bulk of Melnyk's paper is about what
sort of attitude, if not belief, a physicalist is to take towards
the thesis of physicalism. This attitude, he claims, is analogous
to the attitude a scientific realist/antirelativist takes towards
the hypotheses of science. For according to Melnyk, the scientific
realist/antirelativist need not believe her favorite theories, nor
even hold them to be more likely true than false; she need merely
take them to be better than current and historical rivals. While
Melnyk doesn't argue in much depth for this claim, what he says
seems plausible enough. And in any case, the more pressing issue
for our present concerns, is whether the physicalist can have the
same attitude.
While aligning the attitude of the physicalist with the attitude
of the scientist seems to be a good strategy-for in the eyes of
the physicalist there is, perhaps, no one more worthy of respect-it
is not clear how similar the two really are. That is, can a physicalist
actually do without belief? Jeffrey Poland thinks that the answer
is definitely "no". As he puts it, for a physicalist "the
basis for all objective fact and truth and of all entities and influences
must be real, not just a convenient fiction, and not something about
whose existence we need have no beliefs." So, even if one can
be a scientific realist without believing the best theories of the
day, it is not clear that this attitude captures what physicalists
take themselves to be committed to. Of course, from Melnyk's point
of view, Poland is simply mistaken about what physicalists are committed
to. For, as Melnyk says, all a physicalist needs to hold is that
the thesis of physicalism is better than rival theories, that is,
formulated theories that are "sensibly intended to achieve
a significant number of [physicalism's] theoretical goals."
But does this actually commit one to accepting physicalism?
It seems to me, contrary to what Melnyk thinks, that one can believe
that a theory is better than its rivals without accepting it at
all. For example, someone might be a realist about free will and
also think that Humean compatibilism is better than all other theories,
both current and historical, in accounting for free will. Yet she
might not be a Humean compatibilist. It is merely that she believes
that all approaches to solving the problem of free will-for example,
libertarianism, Humean compatibilism, Davidsonian compatibilism,
even Colin McGinn's theory that we are cognitively closed to the
solution of the problem, etc.-are downright failures at explaining
free will but that Hume's approach just has, say, the fewest contradictions.
But this does not suffice to make her a Humean compatibilist. A
similar point can be made with the attitude one might take towards
religion. Someone might have faith in God yet think that no religion
captures what he feels must be true about the world. If asked to
rank all the religions, he might put Buddhism at the top of the
list because it comes closest to capturing his faith even though
he does not identify himself as a Buddhist. So as I see it, just
as holding that Buddhism is better than its rivals does not make
one a Buddhist, holding that physicalism is better than its rivals
does not make one a physicalist.
This certainly does seem to be a problem for Melnyk's view. And
it is compounded by the fact that it is not even clear that Melnyk's
version of physicalism actually is better than rival theories. Melnyk
defines physicalism as the view that everything either is itself
or is constituted by the entities or properties mentioned (as such)
in current physics. Now, is this our best account of, as it were,
everything? Some would certainly hold that a preferable theory is
the theory that everything either is or is constituted by what microphysics
twenty years hence says there is. But since Melnyk holds that rival
theories need to be formulated and also holds that theories such
as the one just mentioned are not (yet) formulated, he does not
take it as a threat to his version of physicalism. However, in making
this move (i.e. ruling out theories that are not formulated) Melnyk,
rather than arguing for accepting the first horn of Hempel's dilemma,
is, in effect, begging the question in favor of it.
It seems that taking on the first horn of Hempel's dilemma, that
is, defining the physical in terms of current microphysics, does
not provide us with a very comfortable solution to the body problem
(to say the least). But does taking on the second horn fare any
better? While defining the physical over a true and complete physics
may initially seem less problematic than Melnyk's approach, I think
we will see that, in the end, it brings us no closer to our much
awaited solution.
Physicalists who take on the second horn want a physicalism they
can believe in. And David Armstrong is a clear example. He explicitly
tells us that when he says "physical properties" he is
not talking about the properties specified by current physics, but
rather "whatever set of properties the physicist in the end
will appeal will appeal to." In a similar vein, Frank Jackson
holds that the physical facts encompass "everything in a completed
physics, chemistry, and neurophysiology, and all there is to know
about the causal and relational facts consequent upon all this."
And even if it is not always explicitly stated, it seems that, as
Barry Loewer puts it, "what many have on their minds when they
speak of fundamental physical properties is that they are the properties
expressed by simple predicates of the true comprehensive fundamental
physical theory." So for Armstrong, and others as well, it
is not today's physics upon which we are to base our notion of the
physical, but, rather, a completed physics, a physics in the end.
But what is this? The answer, as Hempel has pointed out, is that
we have no idea.
Basing one's notion of the physical on an unfathomable theory seems
to be a serious problem, and one might think that it is ammunition
enough to discourage defining the physical over a final theory.
But the truth is, most seem content to ignore this problem and charge
ahead to the more juicy questions, such as whether knowledge of
all the physical facts, (whatever they happen to be) enables Mary
to know what it is like to see red. So perhaps we need more ammunition.
Besides Hempel's point that relying on a future physics makes physicalism
a rather indefinite theory, another consequence of using the notion
of "physics in the end" or "a completed physics"
to explain the physical is that, at least under a certain interpretation,
it seems to trivially exclude the possibility that the mind is not
physical. For on one understanding of it, a completed physics amounts
to a physics that literally explains everything. And if mentality
is a real feature of the world, it follows, on this definition,
that a completed physics will explain it too. Now, there is nothing
wrong with trivial truth per se, however, this is not the type of
solution to the mind-body problem that most philosophers are looking
for. For neither physicalists nor their foes think that at this
time in the debate we already know that the mind is physical simply
because this fact follows from the definition of physical. Physicalists
think the claim needs to be argued for and, as many hold, will ultimately
depend on what scientific investigation reveals. And their foes
clearly do not think that they are denying what amounts to, more
or less, an analytic truth.
It seems, then, that when physicalists who take on the second horn
of Hempel's dilemma talk about a true and complete physics, they
cannot mean a theory of absolutely everything since they do not
intend for the claim "the mind is physical" to be trivially
true. Of course, this claim could appear to be trivially true only
if such a theory everything is not an impossibility. We actually
know that we cannot describe a theory of, literally, everything:
Godel's theorem tells us that the set of arithmetic truths cannot
be enumerated by any computable procedure. Thus, we simply cannot
present a theory of everything including all the arithmetic truths.
Perhaps the final theory need not be a formalizable one; and perhaps
physicalists can somehow exclude the arithmetic truths from the
explanandum. But if so, and a final theory is possible, we would
be back with a version of physicalism that appears to be trivially
true. In either case, there is reason to think that by "final
physics" physicalists do not mean a theory that explains everything.
Yet, there is also reason to think that they do not simply intend
to refer to the temporal end of physics. For this physics might
still be inaccurate and incomplete; even worse, for all we know,
physics might regress. So it seems that physicalists need another
option; but it is not at all apparent what this option should be.
Chomsky has identified a related problem for those who define the
physical in terms of a final physics. In Chomsky's words, there
seems to be no principled "delimitation of 'the physical' that
excludes Fregean 'thoughts' in principle, but includes mathematical
objects that 'push each other about,' massless particles, curved
space-time, infinite one-dimensional strings in 10-dimensional space,
and whatever will be contrived tomorrow." Put perhaps a bit
more bluntly, Chomsky's point is that since we cannot predict the
course of physics, we cannot even say with certainty that a final
physics will not include mental properties, qua mental, as a fundamental
properties. Yet if this purported final physics takes the mental
realm to be fundamental, the significant difference between physicalists
(who claim that mental properties will be accounted for in terms
of a final physics) and dualists (who claim that the mental properties
are fundamental properties) seems to dissolve.
Chomsky's threat to formulating a notion of the physical has not
gone entirely unnoticed. And the standard response is that, just
to be safe, physicalists can simply exclude mental properties from
the dependence base. This seems to be a fairly straightforward way
to stop Chomsky's slippery slope, but one wonders what grounds there
are for this restriction. Surely it is difficult to predict the
future: the claim that physics will never incorporate the mind could
turn out to be just as mistaken as Leibniz's claim that physics
would never accept action at a distance. That is, physics will proceed
as it will proceed regardless of what restrictions philosophers
place on its development. However, philosophers can make empirical
claims; and perhaps the claim that this true and complete physics
will not invoke mental properties is a perfectly acceptable empirical
claim. Yet (assuming that such a physics is possible) this restriction,
alone, still does not make physicalism-that is, physicalism as defined
over a final physics-into something other than a trivial truth.
For if all we say about this final physics is that it is a physics
that explains everything yet does not mention mental properties,
qua mental properties, then this physics still, by definition, explains
everything. And as such, there is no room for debate regarding whether
it also explains the mind. But what else is there to say?
Steven Weinberg has referred to the final theory as a set of principles
that would, if achieved, bring to the end "the ancient search
for those principles that cannot be explained in terms of deeper
principles." Now this certainly has a nice ring to it, but
it leaves us with another dilemma: either the ultimate principles
will themselves explain mental phenomena or they will not. If they
do, that means that the mind is something that can be explained
in terms of the final theory; if they do not, then facts about the
mind will themselves be fundamental principles and thus part of
the final theory. So if we take the final theory to be the theory
that will end our search for ultimate principles, and we take the
physical to be either whatever is mentioned, as such, in the final
theory, or can be explained by it, we are back once more to holding
that the mind is physical by definition. And, as I've said, this
is not what is intended by those who are on either side of the debate.
I think it is beginning to seem that Hempel's dilemma is treacherous
indeed.
The problem we have found is that defining the physical over current
physics shows that the most widely accepted position in the debate
over the mind-body problem, that is, the physicalist position, is
a view that no one can believe, while defining the physical over
future physics shows that it is a view that is either excessively
vague or trivially true. It is interesting to note, however, that
those who argue for dualism often explain the dividing line between
the physical and the nonphysical quite differently than those who
argue for physicalism. For example, David Chalmers, while nominally
defining the physical in terms of a final and complete physics,
has a specific notion of what he takes to count as physics. Taking
his point of departure from Russell's Analysis of Matter, Chalmers
defines physics as the study of structure and dynamics. From here,
it is fairly easy to see how a dualistic view arises: the mental,
according to Chalmers, has an intrinsic nature; yet, as he says,
all you get from structure and dynamics is more structure and dynamics.
Another place the line is sometimes drawn by dualists and those
with dualist inclinations is between the subjective and the objective.
Cut up this way it is also fairly easy to see how one can be led
to dualism, especially if the mind is defined as that which is knowable
only from a first person point of view. Clearly, there is much more
to say about these views. However, since addressing them will lead
us into very different terrain, I'd like to put these issues aside,
and in the remainder of this paper indicate if not a solution to
the body problem, then at least a suggestion for a change of focus
on the mind-body problem.
I've mentioned a few times in this paper how very difficult it
is to say anything at all about what would count as being nonphysical.
All of the usual as well as unusual suggestions, such as ghosts,
disembodied souls, entelechies, and angles simply do not serve the
purpose of providing examples of nonphysical entities or entities
that, if they were to exist, would have nonphysical properties.
For what we take to exist is in flux: yesterday's ghostly phenomena,
such as massless particles, or curved space-time, can turn out to
be central to today's scientific understanding of the world. And
so it seems to me, if it turns out that such things as ghosts actually
do exist, that is, really and truly exist, or that mental telepathy
is a real phenomenon, there would be no need to simply throw up
our hands and say, "Oh well, the world is not physical after
all." Rather, as has happened in the past, when phenomena that
do not fit neatly into our current view of the world have been discovered,
we would work on adapting our view of the world to fit the phenomena.
For we do not blame the world when we come across something we cannot
understand, claiming that we've discovered something nonphysical.
Instead, we blame ourselves: it is merely our theories that are
at fault, not the world. Or at least, I would like to suggest, this
is what we should do. If it turns out that ghosts actually exist,
then we should take ghosts to be just as physical anything else.
In a sense, then, this indicates an answer to the body problem:
something counts as physical if and only if it exists. But it is
not a solution that helps us ground the mind-body problem. For the
threat of eliminativism notwithstanding, most of the central concerns
about the mind have little to do with whether it exists.
From what we have seen so far, it seems that a solution to the
body problem, or at least one that helps us to better understand
the mind-body problem, is not forthcoming. And I take it this indicates
that, at least for the time being, we should focus on questions
other than the question "Is the mind physical?" To this
end, I would like to suggest a question that, I think, highlights
some of the central concerns of both physicalists and dualists.
And this is the question of whether the mental is ultimately non-mental.
For it seems that physicalism is, at least in part, motivated by
the belief that the mental is ultimately non-mental, that is, that
mental properties are not fundamental properties, while a central
tenet of dualism is, precisely, that they are. Of course the notion
of the non-mental is also open ended. And, for this reason, it may
be just as difficult to see, what sort of considerations are relevant
in determining what counts as non-mental as it is to see what sort
of considerations could be relevant in determining what counts as
physical. But, of course, this is a project for another paper. One
advantage, however, is that, arguably, we do have a grasp of one
side of the divide-that is, the mental side. So, perhaps, rather
than worrying about whether the mind is physical, we should be concerned
with whether the mind is ultimately non-mental. And this, I should
mention, is a concern that has nothing to do with what current physics,
future physics, or a final physics says about the world.
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