The Tides of the Mind

That which comes to light does so for a reason. The purpose for which everything was created defies complete understanding. But in faith we come to accept that there is no useless thing. Everything that is - being - is teleological. We know this because Aristotle said so. That should be enough. We explore the meaning of reality in various ways, but we come back to the threshold of probable science - especially when our exploration is conducted by sense perception. Where Berkeley has denied material substances and Kant has demarcated the world into noumena and phenomena, we come to realize that the best reality we get is in the mind, and our reason creates our reality. This is the modern philosophy project.

 

It is only with phenomenology that we begin to retrace our steps back to the old days, when we allowed for there to exist an epistemological realism, a relationship between the ideas we conceive in the mind and the extramental material substances that we believe cause the ideas. These substances have sides, aspects and profiles, and are manifold in their possession of all three. Through phenomenology, we can confidently say that we appreciate reality as that: reality. We are able to have an intentional grasp of it.

For Kant, there is need to examine consciousness, especially a consciousness of the self, in such a fashion that we examine our memories and see how they form a logical representation of the reality that we accept in manifold, but which we synthesize in order to make sense of a complex world. This Kantian paradigm is different from the Berkelian model, but I think they both point to the reality of the limitedness of science, especially when it is lower than math. Descartes and the moderns would let us have math; but they would wash their hands off the possible crime of letting us have physical sciences as well. They would like Pilate ask us to bear the risk of believing what our senses tell us.

No one in any case has yet explained in full what the relationship between the mind and the body is, or how it is that we can will and spontaneously behold the product in the body of the effect of willing in the mind. For if the mind and the body are supposedly separate, how can they seem to be so fluidly one and the same as per effects? This precludes modern understanding. Philosophy continues to search for the ultimate causes of things, metaphysics continues to swim in murky waters. They continue to carry us along the current of our human understanding, bearing us along the tides as far as we can and may go. And no farther.

In Honor of Nelson Mandela

Perhaps today, some woman will gather her children around the kitchen table and say, "I want to talk to you all about Nelson Mandela." If the children are very small, haven't lived long enough, they may ask, "But who is this Nelson Mandela, mama?" What will she tell them? It's all coming back to me now. I too was a child, but not very small. I lived in Festac at the time. Festac was a lovely town whilst I lived in it; I hope it still is. The video stories are coming back to me. I see the people running. I hear the guns firing. I see some people falling to their deaths, and others dying as well, while trying to bear the corpses along, or as soon as they stoop to mourn briefly. The people are the Blacks of South Africa, agitating for freedom. They are tired of oppression. They are tired of being treated like second-class citizens in their own country. They are tired of being tired. They are marching; they are singing. They want to fly; they want to soar.

 

Mandela is still in prison at this time. He is breaking rocks. He lifts the axe up, and he brings it down, hard. He lifts the axe up again, and again he brings it down, hard. The rocks are smashing, and they are singing. Mandela knows the song. It was the birds that taught him it. It is the song of his beating heart. It is the song Maya Angelou taught the caged bird when they discussed the sadness of confinement. She knows why the caged bird sings. One day, I will ask her. I will ask her to teach me the song, the one Mandela sang as he brought his axe down on the rocks. It was a song of freedom. He sang it to the sun, the one that shone on his glistening back; the one that caused the sweat to fall from his handsome face. He was in prison, still. He was paying for daring to ask his oppressor for more from life. Like Oliver Twist, he had made his oppressor afraid when he asked. The oppressor had turned pale, deathly white, and gasped, "More!" And he had clamped Mandela in jail.

 

As a child growing up in Festac, I and my buddies used to play in the sand after watching the videos. We would ask one another, "So what do you think will happen to Mandela - do you think the White man will let him go?" "Hardly. I'm sure they will kill him. Who knows what mischief is in the White man's heart?" "Indeed, who knows. They will kill him. How sad. They will definitely kill him." And we would shake our heads ruefully and begin to picture the White man killing him. We would picture the grave they would throw his corpse in. And after they had covered the grave up, we would picture them wiping their hands and smiling mischievously. Ah, the White man! Terrible, terrible man. We mourned our dear Mandela back then, seated in the sand, mere children we were, growing up in Festac and watching the videos of our siblings in South Africa.

 

And just before we got up from the sand and dusted our seats, one boy said something unique: "But maybe they will not kill him." How naïve! Elaigwu has always been naïve. He was my first best friend. Perhaps it was because he was so naïve that I loved him so. I put my hand on his shoulder, as we began to make our way from the sand to the houses nearby, where we lived with our parents and siblings. "Don't be so naïve, Elaigwu; of course they will kill him." "But maybe not. We need to have hope." I sighed. Maybe he was right. Hope was a good thing. Perhaps we needed hope: hope with which to watch the videos with less pain; hope to be optimistic when we sat in the sand and talked; hope when it seemed that the difficulties of life would undo us; hope when we made our way back to the house after contemplating the fate of Mandela. But we were mere children growing up in Festac back then when the world was younger. What did we know of hope? What did we understand about life, and the fate of the men in it? What could we know?

 

But Elaigwu was right. Time and tide proved him so. The White man did not kill Mandela. He let him go free. I knew then that I was wrong about the White man. I knew then that he was not as mischievous as the videos had led me to believe; was not as bad as I had thought. Elaigwu was right to have hope. He was not naïve; he was wise. The White man behaved just as Elaigwu said he would. He did not kill Mandela. He let him go free. Ah, the White man! Who can know him? And when we sat in the sand again, after the White man had let Mandela go free rather than kill him, I said to Elaigwu pensively, "You were right." Elaigwu was a humble lad. He did not gloat. He did not say, "I told you so," as prouder boys might have. He simply bowed his young head and said: "I thank God. My father was very happy." "I am happy too. Thank you for having hope." Elaigwu did not say anything. None of us did for awhile. We were thinking. We were contemplating what the future would be thenceforth. What would happen now that Mandela was free? The sand was comforting to sit on that day. It was not too hot, and it was not cold. Like the Little Bear's porridge, the one that Goldilocks ate, it was just right. All was right with the world. And we hoped again that things would get better, or at least stay the same. "Elaigwu!" It was his mother calling. He promptly stood up from the sand. He wiped his seat and said, "I am going."

 

Going. Back then, it sure seemed like we all were going someplace or another. But where? Where were our families, our communities, and our interconnected worlds going? Forward? With hope. With the same hope Elaigwu, my first best friend, inspired in us. We were going to the promised future. We were putting one foot in front of another. Perennially. Persistently. And we did progress. Mandela did subsequently become president of South Africa. I went to college. I traveled abroad. I grew up. And I kept hope alive. And as I sit at my computer typing this heartfelt post in honor of one of the greatest men that ever lived, Nelson Mandela, I recall the words of one of the songs we children used to sing back then in the sand: "We are going higher everyday; why not join us?"

Hold Your Horses

We need patience in our lives. There is probably nothing we can achieve without it. Even the most mundane of tasks is never done without patience - we need to start it, and then see it through to completion. That in itself is patience. We must never be too much in a hurry to not wait for results to activities we set in motion. It is only through patience that what we start can end. Jesus was a very patient person. He said in this regard: When you are about to build a house, take stock of everything that is required to do such building so that, having begun the project, you don't run into a situation where it becomes impossible to finish. If that happens, people may laugh at you and say that you began to build but could not finish. We must try to finish what we start. It is always neat that way. Who was it that said nature abhors a vacuum?

What are some of the things in your life that you have started without finishing? Do you still want to finish them? If yes, why don't you? If no, why did you start such things in the first place? I agree that, as they say, there is no hurry in life. But I also know that true enjoyment consists in looking at the things we start being brought to their logical conclusion. It is only the devil that takes pleasure in not finishing what he starts. In fact, the very person or identity of the devil is not finishing what he starts. This is what makes the devil the devil: eternal potentiality; eternal non being. True children of God on the other hand endeavor to emulate God, who is pure act, who is the perfection of all things, and in whom there is no privation. God never starts what he cannot or does not finish. This is because he is pure thought, and he is responsible and patient to see all things to their logical conclusion; what Heidegger calls legein, which translates to the gathering of all things into a perfect wholeness.

There is no privation in God because he is the perfect philosopher. He is the perfect thinker. Just reflect on this awhile. What is it that makes you not complete what you start? Is it not because, half way through, you realize that was not what you wanted to do in the first place? If you realize half way through that you are doing what you never wanted to do in the first place, it means that you did not think it through in the beginning. It was probably some misguided emotion that led you to embark on the task in question, whereas on the other hand you might well have chosen not to begin it at all, because you would have thought it through. You would have, like Jesus recommended, sat down and counted the cost of building the metaphysical house that the task you contemplate represents. You would have known if you could at all finish it once you did in fact start.

Thought is synonymous with patience, and with Being, for Heidegger. We cannot live authentic lives without thought. We cannot live authentic lives without patience. We cannot live authentic lives without patient thought, or contemplation. Socrates has said as much. Plato has echoed the strain. We have to think, and we have to be patient. It is the way to finish what we start. It is the way to start what we can and do finish. It is the way to move forward successfully and optimally. It is the way by which not to stack up endless regrets. It is the way to actualize ourselves as human persons. We must be patient. We must be actual; we must be metaphysical, ontological, philosophical. We must be like God. As his children, we must trust and emulate him, and ape his perfection, just as Christ would recommend. We must not trust in the physical, amplify our devotion to the senses. We must not trust in the power of the horse, but hold it with the metaphysical reins of reason. Because the bible informs us with great caution that, despite the horse's power, it cannot save.

Only God can save. And we must look to him for salvation. Always. Hold your horses, people. Be patient enough to think things through. Start what you can and do finish. Take stock of projects you choose to embark upon. Do not venture into stuff based on emotions. Do not go feet first into the metaphysical waters of phusis. Rather contemplate the Dasein that is synonymous with thought and which pays credence to the ought, to the moral imperative that underlies and perfects existence. Pay attention to the being that is distinct from seeming and becoming, and which informs both. Pay attention to the "things themselves," and not to the predicable categories that attempt to becloud reality with appearances that can at best suggest probable science, phenomena as opposed to what is. Patiently remove the accidents and then attempt to soulfully, spiritually capture what lies beneath.

A Succinct Version of George Berkeley's Arguments Against Material Substances and in Favor of Spirits, Part 4

In other words, only through notions can an intuitive grasp of the mind (spirit), which lies beyond the realm of ideas, be had. To underscore the fact that the mind lies beyond the realm of ideas, Berkeley states: “Hence there can be no idea formed of a soul or a spirit; for all ideas whatever, being passive and inert, they cannot represent unto us, by way of image or likeness, that which acts. A little attention will make it plain to anyone that to have an idea which shall be like that active principle of motion and change of ideas is absolutely impossible. Such is the nature of spirit, or that which acts, that it cannot be of itself perceived but only by the effects which it produces.” [Effects such as willing and understanding, as earlier shown.]

Further in the paragraph, Berkeley offers a challenge in this regard to anyone who can have ideas of the powers of will and understanding, or of substance or being in general. These spiritual realities in Berkeley's view cannot “be represented by any idea whatsoever.” For Berkeley, in other words, only notions can be had of minds, or souls or spirits, and their operations, such as willing, or loving, or hating or the like. Indeed, the active source of all ideas of sense for Berkeley is some “spiritual substance.” For Berkeley, this spiritual substance is not finite, since it should be able to convey to the finite mind the entire natural order. This spiritual substance would rather be infinite.

Conclusively, Berkeley’s argument in my estimation in successful. For Berkeley, there are only two things: passive ideas of sense, and active spirits, who do the perceiving. Indeed, Berkeley is staunchly of the view that in addition to perceived things (ideas), there are perceivers, which are minds or spirits, as he often terms them.” So, reality is either that which perceives (mind, spirit, soul), or that which is perceived, and nothing else.

A Succinct Version of George Berkeley's Arguments Against Material Substances and in Favor of Spirits, Part 3

In Berkeley's own words: “Thing or being is the most general name of all; it comprehends under it two kinds of entirely distinct and heterogeneous (concepts), and which have nothing common but the same, to wit, spirits and ideas. The former are active, indivisible substances; the latter are inert, fleeting and dependent beings.” Concerning how Berkeley argues that “we can think and speak coherently about spirits, but not about matter, although we have ideas of neither,” Berkeley further states: “We comprehend our own existence by inward feeling or reflection, and that of other spirits by reason. We may be said to have some knowledge or notion of our own minds, of spirits and active beings, whereof in a strict sense we do not have ideas.” He also states: “To me it seems that ideas, spirits and relations are all in their respective kinds, the object of human knowledge and subject of discourse.” In other words, Berkeley is asserting that we arrive at notions of spirits by inward perception. And it is based on these notions, obtained through inward perception, that we can speak coherently of spirits in a completely different way than about our sensations or ideas. 

If indeed we properly speak only of things that are, then the following words of Berkeley's further underscore how it is that “we can think and speak coherently about spirits, but not about matter”: “But it will be objected that if there is no idea signified by the terms, soul, spirit, and substance, they are wholly insignificant, or have no meaning in them. I answer, those words do mean or signify a real thing, which is neither an idea nor like an idea, but that which perceives ideas, and wills, and reasons about them.” 

He further states: “What I am myself, that which I denote by the term I, is the same with what is meant by soul or spiritual substance.” Berkeley is subsequently at pains to distinguish between spirit, which are active beings, beings which perceive; and ideas, which are objects of perception. He states in this regard: “I answer, all the unthinking objects of the mind agree in that they entirely passive, and their existence consists only in being perceived; whereas a soul or spirit is an active being, whose existence consists not in being perceived, but in perceiving ideas and thinking. It is therefore necessary, in order to prevent equivocation and confounding natures perfectly disagreeing and unlike, that we distinguish between spirit and idea.”

He goes further to say, concerning our having notions of spirits: “In a large sense indeed we may be said to have a notion of spirit; that is, we understand the meaning of the word, otherwise we could not affirm or deny anything of it.” He also avers that “we know other spirits by means of our own soul.” Berkeley is in any case insistent on differentiating spirits from ideas, and the knowledge of spirits from the knowledge of ideas. He states in this regard: “I suppose it is plain that our souls are not to be known in the same manner as senseless inactive objects, or by way of idea. Spirits and ideas are so wholly different that when we say they exist, they are known, or the like, these words must not be thought to signify anything common to both natures. There is nothing alike or common in them: and to expect that by any multiplication or enlargement of our faculties, we may be enabled to know a spirit as we do a triangle seems as absurd as if we should hope to see a sound.” And so, because spirits are real, active and existent, we can conceive notions of them and advance coherent, categorical discourse concerning them, unlike matter, which do not exist independently of mind. Also, spirits are called understanding or will, depending on how they operate. 

A Succint Version of George Berkeley's Arguments Against Material Substances and in Favor of Spirits, Part 2

Berkeley advances a master argument by which he seeks to conclusively undermine the possible reality of material objects. The master argument posits that it is not even conceivable that a material object can exist outside the mind. In this regard, Berkeley proposes that we venture to think of a material object that “exists” unperceived. He shows that this is impossible because, as soon as we do begin to think (conceive) of such an object, the object has become perceived. Berkeley states thus: “But do not you yourself perceive or think of them all the while? This, therefore, is nothing to the purpose; it only shows you have the power of imagining or forming ideas in your mind, but it does not show that you can conceive it possible that the objects of your thought may exist without the mind.” In other words, Berkeley’s master argument is: We can allow for the existence of mind-independent material objects only if we can conceive of them as “existing” unconceived. But there is no way we can even begin to conceive of something existing unconceived because the moment we attempt to, the supposedly unconceived object becomes in fact conceived. Hence, we cannot allow for the existence of mind-independent material substances. 

Berkeley also proposes as further attempt to undermine the possible existence of material objects that there is an element of relativity with regard to the perception of sensible objects. In other words, Berkeley observes that the way individual perceivers sense material things differs from one to another individual. He shows in this regard how one thing may feel cold to one person and hot to another; how one thing may taste sweet to an individual palate and bitter to another. Arguably, these qualities (such as taste, color, temperature) are secondary qualities; and philosophers such as Locke, Newton and Descartes have argued that material substances are preferably known by means of their primary qualities, such as: extension, solidity, motion, number, and figure. But Berkeley argues that even the so-called primary qualities of material objects must be seen to be just as mind-dependent as the secondary qualities. 

In view of the foregoing, he demonstrates that no material object may be conceived of as having only primary qualities and, as such, primary qualities are inseparable from secondary ones and, if this be the case, they must exist in the same place as secondary qualities do: the mind. In this regard, he states: “For my own part, I see evidently that it is not in my power to frame an idea of a body extended and moved, but I must in addition give it some color or other sensible quality which is acknowledged to exist only in the mind. In short, extension, figure, and motion, abstracted from all other qualities, are inconceivable. Where, therefore, the other sensible qualities are, there must be also, namely, in the mind and nowhere else.”

Therefore, for Berkeley, mind-independent material substances do not exist [and even if they could exist, we could never know them.] He states in this regard thus: “To me it is evident (that) those words (absolute existence of sensible objects in themselves or without the mind) mark out either a direct contradiction or else nothing at all. So far, the paper has advanced Berkeley’s arguments against the mind-independent existence of material objects. Having marshaled out Berkeley’s ideas and responses to objections to his view in the foregoing paragraphs, I assert that Berkeley makes a successful argument against the “existence” of material substances. 

A Succinct Version of George Berkeley's Arguments Against Material Substances and in Favor of Spirits, Part 1

We perceive material objects like mountains, rivers, houses, and so forth; but all we perceive are our own ideas or sensations, and so the material objects like mountains, rivers, houses and so forth that we perceive are our own ideas or sensations. Berkeley in this regard states thus: “For what are the aforementioned objects but the things we perceive by sense? And what do we perceive besides our own ideas or sensations?”

Representationalism, however, would posit that our sensations bear resemblance to the material objects of our perception. Berkeley denies this assertion. He does not allow that our sensations or ideas bear any resemblance to extra-mental material substances. Berkeley states in this regard as follows: “But, you say, though the ideas themselves do not exist without the mind, yet there may be things like them of which they are copies or resemblances, which things exist without the mind in an unthinking substance. I answer, an idea can be like nothing but an idea.”

Berkeley is also against the possible view that material things can be the cause of our ideas. In the first place, the existence of material things are not necessary for our possession of ideas, which in any case we can derive from say, dreams. Berkeley states in this regard, “Hence it is evident (that) the supposition of external bodies is not necessary for the producing (of) our ideas, since it is granted they are produced sometimes and might possibly be produced always in the same order we see them in at presence without their occurrence.” Secondly, our ideas do not source from material things because philosophers are yet to figure out the relationship between bodies and minds. Berkeley states in this regard thus: “for though we give the materialists their external bodies, they by their own confession are never the nearer knowing how our ideas are produced, since they admit themselves unable to comprehend in what manner body can act upon spirit or how it is possible it should imprint any idea in the mind.”

For Berkeley, mind-independent material things do not exist. For him, when the term “exist” is applied to material things, it simply means that such material things are being perceived. Berkeley states thus: “The table I write on, I say, exists; that is, I see and feel it; and if I were out of my study I should say it existed – meaning by that that if I was in my study I might perceive it, or that some other spirit actually does perceive it. There was an odor; that is, it was smelled; there was a sound, that is to say, it was heard; a color or figure, and it was perceived by sight or touch. This is all I can understand by these and the like expressions.”

Berkeley underscores the aforementioned by stating with regard to material (sensible) things: “And is it not plainly repugnant that any one of these or a combination of them should exist unperceived?” It is in this regard that one questions if sensible things disappear as soon as we are not presently perceiving them. Recall in any case what Berkeley has said concerning the “existence” of the table he writes on in his study, when he leaves the study: “some other spirit actually does perceive it.” It becomes clear in view of the foregoing that there are no circumstances in which Berkeley would allow for a demarcation between material objects and our sensations. He states in this regard thus: “In truth, the object and the sensation are the same thing and cannot be abstracted from each other.”