withallyourmind.net

Intentionality is defined as the “ofness” or “aboutness” of sensations, beliefs, and thoughts. Intentionality is a feature which is true of mental states, but not of physical states. Beliefs are about something, thoughts are of something, and sensations are of things. Neurons and electrical impulses are not about or of anything. One cannot say that a particular neuronal connection is “about” eating ice cream, but a thought can be about such a thing. A neurochemical process is not “about” the president of the United States, but a belief can be. As illustrated in previous posts, it is evident that there are properties held by mental states which are not true of physical states. Therefore, applying Leibniz’s law, we can see that they are not identical.

One might argue that all that has been shown so far is that there is a difference in mental properties and physical properties. This would at least establish that property dualism is true. I think there is good reason to go further and believe that substance dualism is true. It is not just that the physical brain has two kinds of properties (property dualism), but humans possess a body and an immaterial soul which possess their respective kinds of properties.

In my next post, I’ll provide some reasons for thinking this is the case.

I ended the first part of this brief series by asking the question: “Are there things which are true of mental states/properties which are not true of physical states/properties?”

The answer is yes. Physical states or properties may be described in terms of size, shape, electrical charge and spatial location. Mental states or properties do not have size, shape, or spatial location. For example, What size is the thought of pecan pie? What shape is the desire to drink water? If we apply Leibniz’s law, therefore, mental states are not identical to physical states.

Likewise, mental states (e.g., thoughts) can be true or false, whereas physical states cannot. Similarly, sensations can be pleasurable, whereas physical states cannot.

A blind neuroscientist can have exhaustive knowledge of the neurophysiology of seeing color, as well as the physics of light. Does she know everything there is to know about color perception? Most would agree that she does not. She does not know what the color red actually looks like. Suppose she suddenly gained ability to see, would she learn something new about perceiving the color red? Obviously, yes.

A related example was made famous by philosopher Thomas Nagel when he asked, “What is it like to be a bat?” One could have complete knowledge of the biology and physiology of bats, but one would not know something about the bat, that is, exactly what it is like to be a bat. The first-person awareness of being a bat is not capable of being described in physical terms.

The above arguments, in addition to others not mentioned here demonstrate that consciousness, or mind, is not identical to physical states or properties. A scientist can know much more about my brain than I do, but he cannot have more knowledge of my thoughts, emotions, and beliefs than I do. The mind is not identical to the brain.

Next, a few words about intentionality.

Physicalism is the philosophical belief that the only kinds of things that are real are physical things. Only entities which can be described by physics are considered to exist. Therefore, such things as the soul or an immaterial mind are not real. Physicalism is a form of monism, teaching that the universe, including man, is made of one kind of substance, physical or material. This is the dominant philosophy in academic circles today. In contrast, throughout most of human history, both the educated and uneducated alike have held to a form of dualism, that is, that reality consists of more than just matter and physical laws. Christianity has held for centuries that man is, in the words of Thomas Aquinas…

… composed of a spiritual and corporeal substance.

There are good reasons to accept dualism and reject physicalism as the proper ontology of our existence. I will briefly submit a few of these reasons over the next couple of posts.

For many, modern science has proven that the immaterial mind does not exist. What we call the mind is just a complex organization of matter and chemistry. Is the mind nothing more than a function of the brain? To answer this question, we turn to Leibniz’s law, which states for any X and any Y, if X is identical Y, then for all properties P, P is true of X if and only if P is true of Y. In other words, if a property is true of X which is not true of Y, they are not identical. When applied to the issue at hand, the question becomes, “Are there things which are true of mental states/properties which are not true of physical states/properties?”

Next, I’ll attempt to answer that question.

I posted this review of The Shack by Tim Challies a few weeks ago. I’ve just read this review of The Shack by Ben Witherington III.

Witherington seemed to find a few more redemptive qualities in the book than did Challies, but in the end he voiced some of the same concerns. I think these concerns are weighty enough to far offset any redemptive qualities the book may have. The Shack promotes grave theological error.

The first of Witherington’s concerns relates to book’s negative attitude toward organized Christianity:

… (W)hile no one would deny it’s very much about living and loving relationships, the truth of the matter is that it is a false dichotomy to separate Jesus from religion, or for that matter organism from organization. Let me give an illustration on the latter point.

Consider for example a very simple organism indeed—the single cell amoeba a form of protozoa. Now the amoeba is nothing if not flexible. It can subdivide over and over again. But within that larger flexible entity there is organization—there is a nucleus for example, without which it could not exist. It also has pseudo-pods by which it moves and vacuoles by which it maintains its equilibrium. Without structure, order and organization it could not ever be even a viable living thing. This is in fact true of all organisms, and that includes the church, if one wants to call it an organism. That doesn’t mean that human beings aren’t capable of over-institutionalzing things, or ossifying some of the structures, but to pit organism over against organization, with one seen as living and the other dead, one God-given, and the other man-made is absolutely a false dichotomy when it comes to the church.

There is no such thing in heaven or on earth as an organism without organization, order, structure, form, otherwise it would have no distinct shape, purpose, or being. And that applies to God, the church, as well as to all created things—remember the story of how God created the universe in a very specific order with very specific properties? Well it’s always been like that. Creativity takes a particular form and shape, bring order out of chaos or a disparate group of elements. Spontaneity is not particularly more God-like than something that was planned before the foundations of the world and executed over a long period of time. And why we should think an organism like the church needs to normally be completely spontaneous in order to be ‘alive’ is a mystery. Perhaps it is an over-reaction to spending too much time in moribund or unwell churches.

A second serious misstep in The Shack is its heretical presentation of the Trinity. Here, again, is Witherington:

Another of the bad guys in this novel is ‘hierarchy’ whether in human relationships or in the Godhead…

There are some real problems with this sort of formulation, especially when one comes to deal with the fact that the Son is the only begotten of the Father, and only the Son dies on the cross, and no one comes to the Father except through the Son, and no one receives the Spirit except if the Father and Son sends the Spirit. Even in the most revealing of Gospels when it comes to the relationship between Father and Son, the Fourth Gospel, we have a very clear picture of a functional subordination of the Son to the Father—he can only do and say what his Father gives him to do and to say, even though he is fully equal in being to the Father and can be called God in John 1 and 20 (see my study The Shadow of the Almighty). In other words, hierarchy and subordination are not inherently the enemies of equality of being… The image of God in this novel is even pushed so far as to say that following “When we three spoke ourself into human existence as the Son of God, we became fully human. We also chose to embrace all the limitations that this entailed.” (p. 98). This statement is closer to Monarchianism, a heresy the early church rightly condemned than it is to Biblical Christianity.

The Father and the Spirit did not become incarnate as the Son did, and did not assume the limitations the Son did at the point of the Incarnation. Only the Son took on flesh. The three-ness of God must be stressed just as much as the oneness of being or ‘ousia’ of God, and in that three-ness there are things that can be said of the Son that cannot be said of Father or Spirit (for example the Father is unbegotten from all eternity, the Son alone died on the cross, and the Spirit did not become Incarnate with or as Jesus). Equally problematic is the comment on p. 100—“I am one God and I am three persons, and each of the three is fully and entirely the one.” This for sure is not what the ecumenical councils said about the relationship of Father, Son and Spirit. They said that the three persons of God shared the divine nature or ousia, not that each of the 3 are fully and entirely the one (go back and read up on monarchianism, monothelitism, Sabellianism, and Apollonarianism).

Ben Witherington’s review has much more excellent insight, including questions concerning freedom raised by the novel. I encourage the reading of his full review.

A London Times article, Richard Dawkins slaps creationists into the primordial soup, by Kate Muir, describes Richard Dawkins as “a knight of the mind who goes into battle against the ignorance and foolhardiness of the populace.” By this, she means, of course, the antiquated belief in God. I’ve rarely read such drooling adulation in the public media. Dawkins, who will featured in a three-part television series in Britain, Dawkins on Darwin, claims that:

natural selection is “the most important idea to occur to the human mind”, the slow change of species over millions of ideas disproving the religious theory of intelligent design by God.

There is much one could say about this article, but one particular comment of Dawkin’s caught my eye. Muir explains:

Again he lapses into silence, but I now know to sit out these Pinteresque moments rather than interrupt – while most interviewees are floundering, Dawkins is thinking. “There’s a very important misunderstanding of the relationship between Hitler and Darwin, which is relevant to this,” he resumes. “A lot of people think that Hitler sort of was a Darwinian, which he absolutely wasn’t. What Hitler did was to take the principle of domestic breeding of animals and apply it to humans. What Darwin did was to take the principle of the domestic breeding of animals and apply it to nature. It’s all done by nature, by who as a matter of fact survives.”

About three months ago, I wrote a post, The Darwin-Hitler Link, which was written in the context of the controversy stirred by the Ben Stein movie, Expelled: No Intelligence Allowed. This movie suggested that Darwinism was a necessary, but not sufficient, condition for the atrocities committed under Hitler. Of course, the church of science, of which Richard Dawkins is the leading evangelist, contested about the unfairness and illegitimacy of claiming that Darwinism was in any way responsible for Naziism.

Now, whether or not Hitler ever knew of Darwin (which he most certainly did), Dawkins seems to admit that the Hitler and Darwin both based their theories and/or actions on the same basic understanding. Hitler applied domestic breeding principles to human beings, while Darwin applied it to all of nature. Based on this observation, it seems to be a straightforward, non-contestable claim that Hitler’s actions were based on Darwinian principles. Human beings are, on a Darwinian view, nothing more than a part of nature. They are, like any other animal, a product of blind chance and natural selection. To say that it is a misunderstanding that Hitler was “sort of a Darwinian” seems moot in any important sense. Hitler applied the same principles as did Darwin to a subset (human beings) of the total Darwinian set (all of nature, including human beings). Am I missing something, or is not the Darwin-Hitler link established by Dawkins’ statements?

(HT: Al Mohler)

As I attempted to catch up on the last week’s posts by my favoite bloggers, I came across this surprising one in which John Mark Reynolds attempts to defend the (nearly) indefensible. The (nearly) indefensible, in this case, is the sacrilege offered by scientist/religious skeptic P.Z. Myers:

I have an idea. Can anyone out there score me some consecrated communion wafers? There’s no way I can personally get them — my local churches have stakes prepared for me, I’m sure — but if any of you would be willing to do what it takes to get me some, or even one, and mail it to me, I’ll show you sacrilege, gladly, and with much fanfare. . .

These remarks (and others) have produced much angry response. Reynolds, first of all explains why some are rightfully upset about Myers’ words. After this, however, Reynolds offers some great counsel concerning what a Christian’s response to such “blasphemy” should be.

First, he advises, one should not confuse the actions of one skeptic with that of most skeptics. Not all, in fact, not many, skeptics share his views, or would condone his actions.

Second,…

if P.Z. Myers does blaspheme, then it will be a sad act of theatrical atheism doing more harm to his own cause than to Christianity. Such antics embarrass the vast majority of nonbelievers who are good neighbors in our pluralistic, but majority Christian society.

Third, and perhaps most importantly, Reynolds reminds us that Christians should examine their own attitudes and actions:

Surely it is no better, and perhaps worse, when we piously kneel to receive Christ’s body only to slander our neighbor over the after church coffee? Myers blasphemes a God he does not know, but we fail in our duty to a God we do know.
Thereby, the tortured body of Christ suffers…

Professor Myers harms what he does not understand, but many of us have harmed ourselves and others, and thus Jesus Christ, while knowing what we are doing. Sadly, it will not likely be Professor Myers who causes the suffering Son of God the most pain this year.

Lastly, he stresses that one should be allowed to express his private opinions without fearing for his job at as a teacher at a public university. In Reynolds’ words:

Myers is invincibly ignorant of sophisticated philosophy or theology, but is evidently a fine scientist and teacher…

We may protest, argue, and defend our ideas. But history shows that our ideas will prosper best and that our churches are most safe in a society where Professor Myers can say what he wishes.

Jehovah Our Righteousness
(Jeremiah, xxiii.6)

My God, how perfect are Thy ways!
But mine polluted are;
Sin twines itself about my praise,
And slides into my prayer.

When I would speak what Thou hast done
To save me from my sin,
I cannot make Thy mercies known,
But self-applause creeps in.

Divine desire, that holy flame
Thy grace creates in me;
Alas! impatience is its name,
When it returns to Thee.

This heart, a fountain of vile thoughts.
How does it overflow,
While self upon the surface floats,
Still bubbling from below.

Let others in the gaudy dress
Of fancied merit shine;
The Lord shall be my righteousness,
The Lord forever mine.

William Cowper (1731-1800)

One of the most memorable moments in my sports-watching history (which is quite extensive) occured on Monday night as I sat before the screen watching Josh Hamilton blast ball after ball over the Yankee Stadium wall and into the anticipating hands of fan. I’ve never seen such a prodigious display of power in my years of watching baseball. By the time the first round was over, Hamilton had hit 28 home runs, an all-time record, far outdistancing the closest competitor who had 8 home runs. This feat in itself is astounding, but adding to the spectacle is the story of Josh Hamilton.

Hamilton was the number one overall draft pick in the 1999 baseball draft. He was drafted out of high school by the Tampa Bay Buccaneers. In 2001, injuries led to a downward spiral in which he wasted much of his $4,000,000 signing bonus on drugs and alcohol. He was officially out of baseball. Here’s what happened a few years later according to Josh in this ESPN piece:

Within my first week of sobriety in October 2005 — after I showed up at my grandmother’s house in Raleigh in the middle of the night, coming off a crack binge — I had the most haunting dream. I was fighting the devil, an awful-looking thing. I had a stick or a bat or something, and every time I hit the devil, he’d fall and get back up. Over and over I hit him, until I was exhausted and he was still standing.

I woke up in a sweat, as if I’d been truly fighting, and the terror that gripped me makes that dream feel real to this day. I’d been alone for so long, alone with the fears and emotions I worked so hard to kill. I’m not embarrassed to admit that after I woke up that night, I walked down the hall to my grandmother’s room and crawled under the covers with her. The devil stayed out of my dreams for seven months after that. I stayed clean and worked hard and tried to put my marriage and my life back together. I got word in June 2006 that I’d been reinstated by Major League Baseball, and a few weeks afterward, the devil reappeared.

It was the same dream, with an important difference. I would hit him and he would bounce back up, the ugliest and most hideous creature you could imagine. This devil seemed unbeatable; I couldn’t knock him out. But just when I felt like giving up, I felt a presence by my side. I turned my head and saw Jesus, battling alongside me. We kept fighting, and I was filled with strength. The devil didn’t stand a chance.

Congratulations to Josh Hamilton for his success in the home run derby, but more importantly, in the contest of life. He has given his life to Christ, and it is to Christ that he gives all the credit for where he is today. His story inspires many others who struggle with addictions.

It’s a precept of my Christian faith that my redemption comes through Christ. But I’m also a big believer in the Golden Rule, which I think is an essential pillar not only of my faith, but of my values and my ideals and my experience here on Earth. And I’m also a believer, as part of my faith, that I am a limited being, with limited understanding. And so I operate on the basis of, I operate knowing what I know for myself, but not presuming that I know everything, certainly not enough for me to condemn others, or to presume that their path is wrong.

These words were uttered by a presidential candidate in a recent Newsweek article about his religious faith. Melinda, over at Stand to Reason, has an excellent post in which she takes a closer look at this explanation of religious conviction. In her insightful commentary, she notes the following:

This, of course, isn’t an unusual sentiment these days - even among those who profess Christ, as the Senator does. But the only way a rational person can make such a statement is if they don’t believe religion is objectively true with any factual basis. This kind of statement can only be made if religion is a different kind of conviction than the rest of our beliefs that we live and function by. Religion is a personal preference with no objective, rational, truthful basis. The evidence that this is how Senator Obama views religion is how he treats other things he believes in, like politics. He is running for president because he thinks he knows the solutions for America and he’s comfortable saying that President Bush and Senator McCain are wrong in politics. Why else would you run for president and be interested in putting your ideas into public policy and law? So he’s comfortable presuming he knows true things that he wants to persuade others of in politics, but not religion because religion is somehow not truthful or factual in the same way.

She further notes:

Disagreeing with someone’s religion is not condemning them. Saying someone will go to Hell isn’t condemning them. It’s expressing a viewpoint. We don’t have control over whether someone goes to Heaven or Hell, and it’s possible we are wrong. But it’s God who condemns - or forgives. Not us. This common compulsion to compare disagreement with condemnation is false.

Here’s what I would love for a politician to say in reference to his religious beliefs (and moral beliefs for that matter). “I am firmly convinced that my religious faith (whatever that might be, Christian, Muslim, etc.) is true. That, of course, means I think other religious viewpoints are false in many of thier claims. Since we make contradictory claims, we cannot all be correct. I feel similarly about my political views. I believe I am right and the other candidate is wrong. This does not make one a bad person. I could be wrong about my beliefs and am always willing to reexamine them and rationally discuss them with those who disagree. I believe people should be free to embrace whatever religious beliefs which they feel are correct.”

Wouldn’t that be refreshing? (Of course, perhaps the person is a pluralist, in which case he should simply state that he is. He should then drop the line about his own faith and admit that all belief is equally true and valid and he chooses his own faith for reasons other than the truth value of it.)

In Al Mohler’s latest blog entry, Modernity, Madness, and Morals, he uses a recent Minette Marrin article in the London Times discussing a secular form of ethics called rational choice theory. According to this theory of ethics, which has features of a social contract theory, a person decides what is the correct course of action based on a rational choice. Mohler summarizes:

More recently, moral philosophers have settled on a more clearly secular theory of morality — rational choice theory. According to rational choice theory, people tend to settle on a moral code that fits their needs and leads, or is likely to lead, to their desired outcomes. In other words, individuals make a rational choice. A young woman might make a rational choice not to engage in premarital sex because she does not want to harm her reputation or opportunities or marriage. A young man might not shoplift because it would harm his chances of advancement. Rational choice theorists argue that their theory can explain virtually any human behavior, including moral choice.

As Marrin laments, and Mohler agrees, such a theory fails as an adequate theory upon which a society can base morality and ethics. Mohler uses the analogy of two boys, the first of which does well and receives positive reinforcement for his “good” decisions. The second receives no such reinforcement. Mohler observes:

The second boy has no experience of similar controls. He does not expect life to go better for him if he behaves well. He may lack parents who would even teach him how to behave, much less reward him when he obeys and punish him when he disobeys. Instead, he learns that cutting corners, breaking rules, flaunting his misbehavior, and playing the part of the “bad” boy works for him. He gets more attention (even if negative attention) and gains the respect of his peer structure by misbehavior.

Marrin astutely observes:

Morality depends on having something to lose. It isn’t just a matter of learning right from wrong, least of all in a post-religious society. Morality is socially constructed. I will respect your property and your person because I want you to respect mine. We both have something to lose. One does not have to be educated in political philosophy to understand that ancient deal. But if I have neither property nor respect from anyone, what’s in the deal for me?

Rational-choice theory certainly explains much of our behavior, but it is incapable of providing a firm basis of morality. This is the first of Mohler’s observations. The second is since much of our behavior may be explained by rational choice, humility should be embraced by all Christians who think they’re “good.” Much of our good behavior may be readily explained simply on the basis of rational choice. There is no place for pride. Mohler concludes thusly:

The rational choice theorist has little or nothing to say to the boys and young men of Minette Marrin’s concern. The Christian church does have something to say — the liberating truth of the Gospel. But in order to be heard, we had better first be humbled by the honest recognition that we are not as “good” as we like to think. We are all delinquents — every last one of us.