From Carl Sagan's "Shadows of Forgotten Ancestors"
Today, I spent some quality time with Carl Sagan, or at least with his book, Shadows of Forgotten Ancestors. Sagan's knowledge, intellect, and understanding are keen and vast. And they had a powerful effect on me. I greatly appreciate individuals like Sagan who dare take up the grand task of melding science and philosophy to change our most core perspectives. Let me share some of his words with you here.
pg 166
"But we, who live in a more enlightened time, when the penalties for disquieting ideas are less severe, not only may, but have an obligation to, inquire further-as many since Darwin have done. What, if anything, do animals think? What might they have to say if properly interrogated? When we examine some of them carefully, do we not find evidence of executive controls weighing alternatives, or branched contingency trees? When we consider the kinship of all life on Earth, is it plausible that humans have immortal souls and all other animals do not?
pg 168-9
And when you have a massive collection on mutually integrated programs, capability for learned behavior, data-processing prowess, and means of ranking competing programs, might it not start feeling on the inside, a little bit like thinking? Might our penchant for imagining someone inside pulling strings of the animal marionette be a peculiarly human way of viewing the world? Could our sense of executive control over our ourselves, of pulling our own strings, be likewise illusory-at least most of the time, for most of what we do? How much are we really in charge of ourselves? And how much of our actual everyday behavior is on automatic pilot?
Among the many human feelings that, although culturally mediated, may be fundamentally preprogrammed, we might list sexual attraction, falling in love, jealousy, hunger and thirst, horror at the sight of blood, fear of snakes and heights and "monsters," shyness and suspicion of strangers, obedience to those in authority, hero worship, dominance of the meed, pain and weeping, laughter, the incest taboo, the infant's smiling delight at seeing members of its family, separation anxiety, and maternal love. There is a complex emotion attached to each, and thinking has very little to do with any of them. Surely, we can imagine a being whose internal life is nearly wholly composed of such feelings, and nearly devoid of thought.
pg 171
If it were possible to peer into the psyche of a spider or a goose, we might detect a kaleidoscope progression of inclinations-and maybe some premonition of conscious choice, actions selected from a menu of possible alternatives. What individual nonhuman organisms may perceive as their motivations, what they feel is happening inside their bodies, is for us one of the inaudible counterpoints to the music of life.
When an animal goes out to seek food, it often does so according to a definite pattern. A random search is inefficient, because the path would turn back on itself many times; the same places would then be examined again and again. Instead, while the animal may dart off to left and right, the general search pattern is almost always progressive forward motion. The animal finds itself on new ground. The search for food becomes an exercise in exploration. A passion for discovery is hardwired. It's something we like to do for its own sake, but it brings rewards, aids survival, and increases the number of offspring.
Perhaps animals are almost pur automatons-with urges, instincts, hormonal rushes, driving them toward behavior which in turn is carefully honed and selected to aid the propagation of a particular genetic sequence. Perhaps states on consciousness, no matter how vivid, are as Huxley suggested, "immediately caused by molecular changes in the brain substance." But from the point of view of the animal, it must seem-as it does with us-natural, passionate, and occasionally even thought out. Perhaps a flurry of impulses and intersecting subroutines at times feels something like the exercise of free will. Certainly the animal cannot much have an impression of being impelled against its will. It voluntarily chooses to behave in the manner dictated by its contending programs. Mainly, it's just following orders.
pg 173
Each species has a different model of reality mapped into its brain. No model is complete. Every model misses some aspect of the world. Because of this incompleteness, sooner or later there will be surprises-perceived, perhaps, as something like magic or miracles. There are different sensory modalities, different detection sensitivities, different ways the various sensations are integrated into a dynamic mental map of...a snake, say, in full hunting slither."
These days, if one asks whether we have free will, most scientists and philosophers-most thinking individuals-would answer "no". We are who we are and do what we do because of who are parents where, where we were born, the circumstances we are faced with, and all the talents and limitations that come with the package. This much is accepted. But are we to give up on freedom? Do we not make choices every day? And what significance is knowledge for freedom?
I've got a few ideas, but I'll leave it at this for now.
pg 166
"But we, who live in a more enlightened time, when the penalties for disquieting ideas are less severe, not only may, but have an obligation to, inquire further-as many since Darwin have done. What, if anything, do animals think? What might they have to say if properly interrogated? When we examine some of them carefully, do we not find evidence of executive controls weighing alternatives, or branched contingency trees? When we consider the kinship of all life on Earth, is it plausible that humans have immortal souls and all other animals do not?
pg 168-9
And when you have a massive collection on mutually integrated programs, capability for learned behavior, data-processing prowess, and means of ranking competing programs, might it not start feeling on the inside, a little bit like thinking? Might our penchant for imagining someone inside pulling strings of the animal marionette be a peculiarly human way of viewing the world? Could our sense of executive control over our ourselves, of pulling our own strings, be likewise illusory-at least most of the time, for most of what we do? How much are we really in charge of ourselves? And how much of our actual everyday behavior is on automatic pilot?
Among the many human feelings that, although culturally mediated, may be fundamentally preprogrammed, we might list sexual attraction, falling in love, jealousy, hunger and thirst, horror at the sight of blood, fear of snakes and heights and "monsters," shyness and suspicion of strangers, obedience to those in authority, hero worship, dominance of the meed, pain and weeping, laughter, the incest taboo, the infant's smiling delight at seeing members of its family, separation anxiety, and maternal love. There is a complex emotion attached to each, and thinking has very little to do with any of them. Surely, we can imagine a being whose internal life is nearly wholly composed of such feelings, and nearly devoid of thought.
pg 171
If it were possible to peer into the psyche of a spider or a goose, we might detect a kaleidoscope progression of inclinations-and maybe some premonition of conscious choice, actions selected from a menu of possible alternatives. What individual nonhuman organisms may perceive as their motivations, what they feel is happening inside their bodies, is for us one of the inaudible counterpoints to the music of life.
When an animal goes out to seek food, it often does so according to a definite pattern. A random search is inefficient, because the path would turn back on itself many times; the same places would then be examined again and again. Instead, while the animal may dart off to left and right, the general search pattern is almost always progressive forward motion. The animal finds itself on new ground. The search for food becomes an exercise in exploration. A passion for discovery is hardwired. It's something we like to do for its own sake, but it brings rewards, aids survival, and increases the number of offspring.
Perhaps animals are almost pur automatons-with urges, instincts, hormonal rushes, driving them toward behavior which in turn is carefully honed and selected to aid the propagation of a particular genetic sequence. Perhaps states on consciousness, no matter how vivid, are as Huxley suggested, "immediately caused by molecular changes in the brain substance." But from the point of view of the animal, it must seem-as it does with us-natural, passionate, and occasionally even thought out. Perhaps a flurry of impulses and intersecting subroutines at times feels something like the exercise of free will. Certainly the animal cannot much have an impression of being impelled against its will. It voluntarily chooses to behave in the manner dictated by its contending programs. Mainly, it's just following orders.
pg 173
Each species has a different model of reality mapped into its brain. No model is complete. Every model misses some aspect of the world. Because of this incompleteness, sooner or later there will be surprises-perceived, perhaps, as something like magic or miracles. There are different sensory modalities, different detection sensitivities, different ways the various sensations are integrated into a dynamic mental map of...a snake, say, in full hunting slither."
These days, if one asks whether we have free will, most scientists and philosophers-most thinking individuals-would answer "no". We are who we are and do what we do because of who are parents where, where we were born, the circumstances we are faced with, and all the talents and limitations that come with the package. This much is accepted. But are we to give up on freedom? Do we not make choices every day? And what significance is knowledge for freedom?
I've got a few ideas, but I'll leave it at this for now.
posted by Josh at
10:04 PM
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