Why do we have a sense of self?

This essay is part one of two in which I explore how contemporary ideas in neuroscience and evolutionary biology can help to make sense of the human condition and the Buddhist response to it. I begin with selfhood, the sense of being a 'self'. The notion of a self - having a self, being a self - comes in for sustained and often bitter criticism from Buddhists. I have argued in several blog posts [1] that it is not the self per se that is the problem, since without it we could not function, but selfishness or self-preoccupation. Selflessness, the opposite of selfishness, is not the absence of a self, but an attitude which values others at least as much, if not more, than one's self.

One might well ask why the very idea of selfhood - often the word 'ego' is used though it hardly fits the context - is so problematic for Buddhists? And if the sense of self is the root of all our problems, why do we even have it? Why did we evolve so unsatisfactory a faculty in the first place? I find the traditional answers to this question deeply unsatisfying and I know from talking to other Buddhists that I'm not alone in this. [2]

I've dealt with some of these questions in previous posts (see below) so here I want to look at where the sense of self comes from and why we have it. This is one area in which we need to quietly drop the tradition and find a better answer. I believe that neuroscience can provide a more satisfying answer to these kinds of questions, while leaving us the full scope of Buddhist practice as the best response the problems we encounter.

To my mind the best explanation for we we have a sense of self is put forward by Antonio Damasio in his book The Feeling of What Happens. Organisms, he says, are complex self-regulating mechanisms. Even a single cell is able to respond to changes in it's environment which allow it to survive better than if it were simply passive. So for instance if we are too hot we sweat, this fluid evaporates and this cools us down. This process has limits, but it enables us to tolerate a wide range of hot conditions, opening up ecological niches that might not be available otherwise. However sweating means we lose salt, and therefore we must ingest more salt. So the situation is complex and requires constant monitoring. In order to most successfully monitor our current state we need to compare a number of variables from the present (e.g. temperature, salt levels) with those in the past. Ideally we will have access to information about both the immediately preceding moment, but also to some longer term data which enables us to respond to trends in change. Even a single cell organism is able to monitor and adjust for such quantities as salinity, temperature, internal pressure, availability of food, light and dark, presence of predators, toxins, pathogens; and to do this without anything like sentience. We humans have a far bigger job. On top of each cell monitoring and regulating itself in concert with it's neighbours near and far, we have internal structures and systems such as organs; and we have an overview of the whole for maintaining things like balance, and readiness for action, and for the all important social interactions that we maintain. There is a vast, elaborate array of internal states at a variety of levels to keep track of. This is the primary function of our brain. We map all of this information in our minds - largely unconsciously - and keep track of it. This is the most rudimentary level of consciousness.

We also maintain archives of previous states: we can compare our present state to the immediate past so that we can respond to trends in the environment. If I am a little hotter now, but know that I'll be cooler again soon because it's late afternoon and the sun is getting low in the sky, then the need to cool my body is less urgent. Longer term memory enables us to understand trends and minor fluctuations better. But a consequence of this ability to compare our present state with many previous states is that we develop a sense of continuity. There is our map of our internal states now, and there are all these previous states. Demasio argues that the sense of continuity is an illusion. Consciousness is a series of discreet states of awareness, a snapshot of how we are now that can be compared with how we have been. This happens fast and often enough to give a sense of continuity - much like a film gives the illusion of motion by using 25 frames per second.

At some point in the evolution of this faculty the comparison of states begins to take in mental states. When it takes in the act of comparing then there is an element of self-awareness. We become aware of being aware, and because of the sense of continuity we have the feeling that there is a constant presence 'I' behind the observations and acting on them. However contra what most Buddhists say the 'I' naturally experiences itself as embedded in a complex web of relationships with the environment and other individuals. 'I' is not naturally alienated from these relationships. [3] Next week I'll look more at why 'I' has become alienated, and in two weeks will look at the 'I' as the basis for empathy.

This is not mere epiphenomenalism - the idea that consciousness is caused by the matter of the brain, and not the other way around - because it suggests that the demands of consciousness have driven the evolution of the brain. If anything the brain is an epiphenomenon of consciousness.

A further advance on this faculty is the ability to predict future states. This is the basis of imagination - the ability to project ourselves into the future and see if a course of action is fruitful, or if a situation is likely to be dangerous. It enables us to plan ahead, to predict the kind of impact the environment is going to have on us and to make preparations. It enables us to devise ways to overcome problems before they arise - by building a structure to keep the rain off before it comes, or planting crops that won't be harvested for several months, and to store food for winter or famine. Without the 'I' none of this would be possible.

The sense of being an embodied self, then, emerges naturally from the evolving faculties of the human organism, and it is important to our healthy functioning. However we are still left with the problem of suffering and what to do about it, which is the subject of next week's essay.

Notes

1. Links to my other blog posts on ego.
• Ego Again [20.2.09]
• Anatta in Context [24.10.08]
• The Problem of Self-preoccupation [11.3.06]
• Ego in the Spiritual Life [4.3.06]
  


2. Many people struggle to see how suffering in this life is caused by actions in a previous life for instance. Also on the one hand saṃsara is said to have no beginning, no first cause; while on the other Buddhist cosmogonical myths suggest that we have fallen from a pure state at some point in the distant past, and Mahāyāna Buddhists talk of original purity. This begs the question of how we became defiled! The Buddhist discourse on self (ātman) makes little sense, in my view, unless we understand the intellectual context of the day: for my take on this see Anatta in Context [24.10.08] So we're left with considerable ambiguity.
   
3. I looked at this in my post: The Meaning of oṃ maṇipadme hūṃ particularly with reference to Glucklich, Ariel. 1997. The End of Magic. Oxford University Press.

Lest We Forget

In Britain last week 'we' were been saying farewell to 111 year old Harry Patch. Although most of us had never heard of him a month ago Patch, and 113 year old Henry Allingham who also died recently, had fought in World War One. Patch had been the last British man alive to have seen active services in the trenches, and had been very critical of war. "It wasn't worth it" he said. He had kept quiet about his wartime experiences until quite recently, but felt compelled to speak out when he realised that he was one of the very few left with first hand experience and that the rest of us were in danger of forgetting just how stupid is all was.

Politicians and military people seem to feel no irony in lauding Patch and repeating his sentiments as noble and reasonable. War, according to Harry Patch, is "organised murder"; and, I would add, not very well organised in most cases. Asked what Patch would have made of the conflict in Afghanistan, Chief of the General Staff, Sir Richard Dannatt, is reported to have said: "He would recognise there is an inevitability that when relations break down often fighting ensues." Would he? He was quite unequivocal in life, but Dannatt would have him be something of a pragmatist in death. Perhaps death brings a new perspective on organised murder?

In Afghanistan and Iraq Western soldiers are engaged in daily battles - many of these 'soldiers' are only teenagers. They were sent there to kill and be killed by these same politicians, and at least in the case of the Iraq war we can be reasonably sure that they lied about the reasons for starting the war. The avowed purpose of invading Afghanistan was to break the regime of the Taliban which harboured terrorists, and to disband Al-Qaeda and capture it's leader, former US Ally, Osama bin Laden. It has done none of these. The result of both conflicts has been civil war, with western forces in the middle. The media here daily report on the individual deaths of British Soldiers, but tens of thousands of local people have died and they continue to bear the brunt. The objective is nowhere in sight, and is being subtly replaced by something more achievable. By the end of the process the government will say that they achieved their objectives because by then the objectives will have become whatever was achieved. They will be rather like bankers receiving bonuses when the banks they ran went bankrupt.

Why are people in the Middle east - in Afghanistan, Iraq, Iran, etc - fighting back? Don't we offer the world prosperity and democracy and all the benefits these imply? Why are they so ungrateful? I don't have time to go over the whole history but I could summarise it by saying that the West has always sought only it's own prosperity in dealing with these nations and usually at their expense; we have frequently connived and plotted against the people - Western governments have propped up and armed(!) authoritarian regimes which were anti-democratic.* The flat truth is that Western governments, especially the governments of the UK and the US, cannot be trusted. Hell, even we the people no longer trust our own governments to be truthful and fair-dealing. The current wars are just typical behaviour for our nations. 'We' still think it's worth it. So we pay lip service to Patch and continue to start wars.

There are several reasons I seldom write about politics and politicians. I think that paying attention to them only encourages them - they are like sociopaths who misbehave in order to get attention. Secondly, though I can navigate some subjects with confidence, I find politics baffling. It's usually better to say nothing under these circumstances. Thirdly I see this blog as a way for me to work through my thinking on Buddhism and the Dharma, and frankly I fail to see how the Dharma can help with politics. All of which tends to put me in a bad mood, but the hypocrisy of warmongering politicians seemed to need some kind of comment.

In order for the Dharma to make a difference individuals must recognise the need for change, realise that the Dharma represents the best way forward, commit themselves to practice and persevere over quite a long period of time. One must resist the temptations of materialism and the crush of peer pressure and strike out on one's own. Conditions are generally against this kind of life, against this kind of inquiry. The political arena is particularly unsuitable for taking up the spiritual life because it is popularist, combative and materialistic.

One might argue that spiritual leaders can make large scale changes. One does see charismatic spiritual leaders able to mould the thinking and behaviour of their followers, but this usually involves abdicating personal responsibility and self-awareness. What often happens is that immature people follow blindly, and then at a later stage have a violent reaction against the authority figure and blaming them for their own weakness of will. How well we know this scenario in Western Buddhism! As Buddhists we are in a dilemma - we benefit from a stable society with freedom of religion (just as in the Buddha's time!), and yet in order to participate in the political process which ensures those freedoms we inevitably compromise our values. I don't know how to resolve this.

Let us not forget nor dishonour our dead, nor forget why they were killed. I do feel compassion for those who gave their lives, and those whose lives were taken against their will. This feeling has grown since I came to live in the UK where war is real in a way that it never seems to be in New Zealand. Let us also remember the history of conflicts and what lead our countries into conflict. These are days when we know the price of education but not the value of it, and this makes us very short sighted. History would seem to be more vital than any subject at present. Let our schools teach the history of Western involvement in Afghanistan, Iraq and Iran (and and the rest of the world) openly and honestly so that we may learn the lessons of history - that arrogance, double dealing and greed will breed hatred and mistrust; that as we have sown, so we are reaping. Perhaps we should not be so quick to resist the popular notion of karma - what goes around, comes around - in the case of politicians? They seem to believe that the consequences of one's actions can be avoided by skilful manoeuvring - they don't personally go to war.

Hopefully I won't feel compelled to write about politics for a long time to come.


Notes

* A useful summary of Western involvement in Iraq/Afghanistan/Iran can be found in Wheen, Francis. How Mumbo Jumbo Conquered the World : A Short History of Modern Delusions. Harper 2004. Especially chapter 7 'Us and Them'.

image: Harry Patch from Sailing to Byzantium.