An Argument for Materialism
A philosopher (like a scientist) can never prove anything but only at best provide evidence or reasons for (or against) believing something. Nevertheless a philosopher, like anyone, can still believe things, and we philosophers in particular fancy that our beliefs are at least rational if not proven. To me this means simply that whatever we believe, we do so in light of careful reflection on the evidence and arguments adduced pro and con.
That is all preamble to my stating that I am a materialist, that is, I believe that human beings are wholly physical animals; and so even our consciousness, which seems “nonphysical” and for which, frankly, there is still no adequate explanation, is either nothing but the firing of synapses in the brain or does not even exist in its own terms but is illusory.[1]
But how could I possibly believe such a thing, when the counterevidence seems to stare us in the face (almost literally)? Indeed, I know the pull of this (what I now believe to be an) illusion. I relish conscious experience (as most of us do) … unless, of course, it’s painful. But pain would seem to be an even more salient reason to believe in the reality of consciousness.
Without rehearsing the various arguments for materialism, including some of my own in previous writing, I would just like to add one more here. There is the common, and seemingly puzzling phenomenon of being convinced of something and yet continuing to think, feel, and behave as if one wasn’t. Illusions are somewhat like this when one is not wholly deluded by them but actually knows (believes) they are merely illusions. As I have often noted, a pencil or other straight stick will continue to appear bent or separated if partially immersed in water even when one knows this is just a trick of the light.
But the real analogy is an especially strong illusion (if that is even still the right word), whose effects are not merely sensory or even behavioral but cognitive. A cognitive illusion seems paradoxical, for it involves believing what you don’t believe. And yet this is precisely the kind of mental position we are in, not uncommonly, when we become convinced of something “intellectually” and yet still, in some sense, don’t accept it.
I will note that there are compromise interpretations, which could account for this phenomenon without paradox. For example, it could be maintained that one “doesn’t really” believe what one claims to believe “intellectually.” There is also the lovely concept of an “alief,” a kind of etiolated belief, coined by philosopher Tamar Szabó Gendler, which might apply to what we think we believe.
But it does seem to me that one can fully believe x – or believe it as much as one believes most of the things one believes, which may yet fall short of certainty -- and still not believe x. The example most on my mind these days is a/moralism. It does surely seem to me that most people believe in morality, that is, objective right and wrong. And I am also convinced that I don’t any longer. And yet I don’t kid myself that I have given up the belief either. But I view the latter belief as illusory. And only that, since it does not delude me any longer, precisely because I don’t any longer believe in objective right and wrong.
But morality’s hold on me is strong! I liken it to the illusion of vertigo, which can call upon one’s entire sensory and even behavioral apparatus. But, again, morality grips me cognitively. When I perceive something as wrong, I can be thrown into a fury about it … even though I might a moment later “catch myself” that my fury is based on a mistaken attribution of wrongness to an action and badness to a wrong-doer. The reality, I believe, is simply that I really don’t like what I am seeing.
So here is the evidence for materialism. I have struggled for years to bring this illusion of morality under control. I have met with some success … and in the last year in particular (at long last!), even great success … although even now I remain uncertain whether the illusion can ever be extinguished, no more than a standard optical illusion that one knows to be an illusion. Maybe at best it can be managed, like a chronic illness. But whichever outcome is achieved, my point, and my “evidence,” is that it can take a long time.
Why is this evidence for materialism? Well, you might suppose (given our ordinary conceptualizations of mental notions) that if you became convinced that a belief was false, you would at once cease to believe it. And that is especially true in my kind of case, where I am incentivized to give up the belief not only because of my commitments to truth and rationality but also because I think life and the world would go better without the belief in morality. But, again, it seems to me (pace the compromise interpretations I mentioned) that the meta-belief that beliefs will change instantly in light of new evidence is false.
And the obvious explanation that remains, it seems to me, is that beliefs, like all mental phenomena, are manifestations of structures in the brain. So what is involved in changing a belief is in fact the alteration of a large number (hundreds? thousands? millions?) of synaptic connections. That is why it can take so long. And that explanation is an argument for materialism.
Again, this is not a proof. Besides the compromise interpretations, I note also that there is an alternative explanation in terms of the mental. After all, every belief has ties to other beliefs … perhaps even to all of our other beliefs, but in any case a great many. And so even if we are presented with definitive counterevidence to a particular belief, the belief might not instantly vanish simply because it is being held in place, as it were, by those other beliefs. But I still feel that this is rather metaphorical speaking and must be undergirded by a physical reality.
Another argument for materialism:
When a genuine anomaly is discovered in an existing physical
theory, a physical explanation is sought, and sometimes even leads to a new
physical theory. For example, when Newtonian physics could not correctly
predict the orbit of Mercury, Einstein’s general theory of relativity turned
out to be able to handle it. When an anomaly is discovered in mental
experience, however, the explanation is not sought in a more refined mental
theory but rather, as with physical anomalies, in the physical realm. This is
why, for example, schizophrenia is treated with drugs and not just psychotherapy.
They work by blocking the effect of various chemicals on the brain.
[1] I
tend toward the latter view in the spirit of Daniel Dennett.