Thomas
Kuhn coined the term "paradigm" to refer to the
beliefs and assumptions that underlie a particular science. But beneath
all our scientific paradigms lies an even deeper and more pervasive
assumption. It is the belief in the primacy of
the material world. When we fully understand the world of space,
time and matter, we will, it is held, be able to account for everything
in the cosmos. Being the paradigm behind all our scientific paradigms,
this worldview has the status of a "superparadigm".
Eminently successful as this model has been at explaining the world
around us, it has very little to say about the non-material world of
mind.
Nothing in the physical sciences
predicts the phenomenon of consciousness. Yet its reality is apparent to
each and every one of us. As far as the current superparadigm is
concerned consciousness is a great anomaly.
When paradigm anomalies first arise
they are usually overlooked or rejected. Or, if they cannot be so easily
discarded, they are incorporated in some way, often clumsily, into the
existing model. Witness the attempts of mediaeval astronomers, wedded to
Plato's belief in the perfection of circular motion, trying to explain
irregularities in planetary motion with theories of epicycles (circles
rolling along circles).
Western science has followed a
similar pattern in its approach to consciousness. For the most part it
ignored consciousness completely. More recently, as developments
across a range of disciplines have shown that consciousness cannot be so
easily sidelined, science has made various attempts to account for it.
Some have looked to quantum physics, some to information theory, others
to neuropsychology. But the failure of these approaches to make any
appreciable headway into the problem of consciousness suggests that they
may be on the wrong track.
All these approaches assume that
consciousness somehow arises from, or is dependent upon, the world of
space-time-matter. In one way or another they are trying to accommodate
the anomaly of consciousness within the materialist superparadigm. The
underlying beliefs are seldom, if ever, questioned.
When Newton proposed his laws of
motion, he turned the problem of what made things move into the
foundation stone of his new paradigm; objects continued to move unless
acted upon by some external force. When
Einstein formulated his Special Theory of Relativity, he took the
problem of the constancy of the speed of light and made it an axiom of
the new model. I believe we need to do the same with the problem of
consciousness. Instead of trying to explain consciousness within the
current superparadigm, we need to accept that consciousness is as
fundamental as matter—in some ways, more fundamental. When we do we
find that the key ingredients for a new superparadigm are already in
place; all we need to do is put them together.
Perception and Reality
The key to this new model of reality
is an understanding of how we perceive
reality. Advances in physics, psychology, and philosophy have shown
that reality is not what it seems. Take vision, for example. When
I look at a tree, light reflected from its leaves is focused onto cells
in the retina of my eye, where it triggers a cascading chemical reaction
releasing a flow of electrons. Neurons connected to the cells convey
these electrical impulses to the brain’s visual cortex, where the raw
data is processed and integrated. Then—in ways that are still a complete
mystery—an image of the tree appears in my consciousness. It may seem
that I am directly perceiving the tree in the physical world, but what I
am actually experiencing is an image generated in my mind.
The same is true of every other
experience. All that I see, hear, taste, touch, smell and feel has
been created from the data received by my sensory organs. All I ever
know of the world around are the mental images constructed from that
data. However real and external they may seem, they are all phenomena
within my mind.
This simple fact is very hard to
grasp; it goes against all our experience. If there is anything about
which we feel sure, it is that the world we experience is real. We can
see, touch and hear it. We can lift heavy and solid objects; hurt
ourselves, if we're not careful, against their unyielding immobility. It
seems undeniable that out there, around us, independent and apart from
us, stands a physical world, utterly real, solid and tangible.
But the world of our experience is
no more "out there" than are our dreams. When we dream we create a
reality in which events happen around us, and in which we perceive other
people as individuals separate from us. In the dream it all seems very
real. But when we awaken we realize that everything in the dream was
actually a creation of our own mind.
The same process of reality generation occurs
in waking consciousness.
The difference is that now the reality that is created is based on
sensory data and bears a closer relationship to what is taking place in
the real world. Nevertheless, however real it may seem, it is not
actually "the real world". It is still an image of that world created in
the mind.
The Two
Realities
It is important to distinguish
between two ways in which we use the word "reality". There is the
reality we experience, our image of reality; and there is the underlying
reality that has given rise to this experience. The underlying reality
is the same for all observers. It is an absolute reality. The
reality I experience, the reality generated in my mind, is a relative
reality. It is relative to my point of view, my past experience, my
human senses and my human brain.
The fact that we create our image of
reality does not mean, as some people misconstrue, that we are creating
the underlying reality. Whatever that reality is, it exists apart
from our perception of it. When I see a tree there is something that has
given rise to my perception. But I can never directly perceive this
something. All I can ever know of it is the image appearing in my mind.
When, two centuries ago, Bishop
Berkeley proposed that we know only what we perceive, his contemporaries
debated whether or not a tree falling in a forest made a sound if no one
was there to hear it. From what we now know of the psychophysiology of
perception, we can say the answer is "No". Sound is not a quality of the
underlying reality. There may be movements in the air, but the
interpretation of those movements as sound is something that happens in
the mind—whether it be the mind of a human being, a dog or a woodpecker.
Similarly with light. Whatever the
tree is in physical reality, it is not green. Light of various
frequencies is reflected from the tree to the retina of the eye, where
cells respond to the amount of light in three frequency ranges (the
three primary colors). But all that is passed back to the brain are
electro-chemical impulses; there is no color here. The green I see is a
quality created in consciousness. It exists only in the mind.
The same is true of our perception
of distance. The pattern of light that falls on the retina creates a
two-dimensional image of the world. The brain estimates distance by
detecting slight differences between data from the left and right eyes,
the focus of the eyes, relative movement, and past experience as to the
likely size of a tree. From this data it calculates that the tree is
fifty feet away. A three-dimensional image of the world is then created
with the tree placed "out there" in that world, fifty feet away. Yet,
however real it may seem, the quality of space and distance that we
experience is created in the mind.
The Kantian Revolution
Long before modern science knew
anything about the processes of perception or the structure of matter,
the eighteenth-century German philosopher Immanuel Kant had drawn
a clear distinction between our perception of reality and the actual
object of perception. He argued that all we ever know is how reality
appears to us—what he referred to as the phenomenon of our
experience, "that which appears to be". The underlying reality he called
the noumenon, meaning "that which is apprehended", the thing
perceived.
At the time, Kant's arguments were a
watershed in Western thinking. They were, as Kant himself saw, the
equivalent of a Copernican Revolution in philosophy. Whereas Copernicus
had effectively turned the physical universe inside out, showing that
the movements of the stars are determined by the movement of the earth,
Kant had turned the epistemological world inside out, putting the self
firmly back at the center of things. We are not passive experiencers of
the world; we are the creators of the world we experience.
Because all we ever know is the
product of the mind operating on the raw sensory data, Kant reasoned
that our experience is as much a reflection of the nature of the mind as
it is of the physical world. This led him to one of his boldest and, at
the time, most astonishing, conclusions of all. Time
and space, he argued, are not inherent qualities of the physical world;
they are a reflection of the way the mind operates. They are part of the
perceptual framework within which our experience of the world is
constructed.
It seems absolutely obvious to us
that time and space are real and fundamental qualities of the physical
world, entirely independent of my or your consciousness—as obvious as it
seemed to people five hundred years ago that the sun moves round the
earth. This, said Kant, is only because we cannot see the world any
other way. The human mind is so constituted that it is forced to impose
the framework of space and time on the raw sensory data in order to make
any sense of it all.
Strange as Kant’s proposal may have
seemed then, and strange as it may still seem to many of us today,
contemporary science is proving him right.
Spacetime
The first significant scientific
challenge to the assumption that space and time are absolutes came
in 1905 with Einstein's Special Theory of
Relativity. He showed that what we observe as space and what we
observe as time are but two aspects of a more fundamental reality, which
he called "the spacetime continuum". How much of this continuum
manifests as space, and how much manifests as time varies from one
observer to another, depending on their motion. Space and time may
appear to us to be fixed qualities, but that is because we are not
traveling at speeds close to that of light. If we did, things would look
very different.
Just what the spacetime continuum
itself is like we never know. Einstein agreed with Kant; all
we ever know of the underlying reality are the ways in which it appears
as the two very different qualities of space and time.
Although observers moving at
different speeds may disagree on the amounts of time and space
separating two events, they do agree, no matter how fast they may be
moving, on the amount of spacetime separating them—what Einstein called
the "interval". It is a little like cutting a string in two; cutting it
in different places will give pieces of differing lengths, but the total
length of string will always be the same. Similarly, any observation
divides the spacetime interval into a certain amount of time and a
corresponding amount of space, the exact proportions depending on the
motion of the observer. (With the difference that the mathematical
formula for the combination of space and time is not simple addition; it
is more like "space squared minus time squared.")
The "Speed" of Light
In proposing his theory Einstein
postulated that the speed of light was a universal constant. However
fast you may be traveling, you will always measure the speed of light
relative to you to be the same—186,000 miles per second. You can never
catch up with light. Even if you were traveling at 185,990 miles per
second, light would still pass you by at 186,000 miles per second.
Why should this be so? It seems
totally counter-intuitive that the speed of light never varies. But this
perplexing behavior takes on a rather different character when we
distinguish our image of reality from the underlying reality. Space and
time, and hence speed, are aspects of the phenomenal world; they have no
meaning, it turns out, for light itself.
According to the equations of
Special Relativity, as an observer's speed increases, time slows down,
and length (in the direction of motion) contracts. At the speed of
light, time has slowed to a standstill and length contracted to zero.
Although no object with mass can ever attain the speed of light (the
equations predict that it would then have an infinite mass), light
itself does (by definition) travel at the speed of light. From light's
point of view—and this after all must be the most appropriate
perspective from which to consider the nature of light, not our
matter-bound mode of experience—it travels no distance and takes no time
to do so.
This reflects a unique property of
light. In the spacetime continuum, the interval between the two ends of
a light ray is always zero. How can we interpret this? We probably
should not even try to interpret it. Any attempt to do so would make the
mistake of applying concepts derived from our image of reality to the
underlying reality. All we need to recognize is that, from light's
perspective, this zero interval manifests as zero space and a
corresponding amount of zero time.
However, when we in the world of
sub-light speeds perceive light, we see a different manifestation of the
zero interval. We observe a finite amount of space along with an "equal"
amount of time. In our world, the light does travel through space and
time. Since the total interval must be zero, the distance covered must
exactly balance the time taken—that is, we must always observe 186,000
miles of space for every second of time. This we interpret as the speed
of light. But this "speed" is not an intrinsic property of light itself;
traveling no distance in no time, light has no need of speed. What we interpret as the speed of light is
actually the ratio in which space and time manifest in our perception of
reality. It is this ratio that is constant. And this is why all our
measurements of the apparent speed of light are constant.
Wave-Particle Duality
The fact that light itself knows no
space or time resolves another difficult conundrum. In our image of
reality we observe light traveling across space and time and so observe
energy traveling from the point of emission of the light ray to its
point of absorption. Naturally, we ask how the energy travels. Is it a
wave, or is it a particle?
The answer, it seems, is both. In
some situations light behaves as a continuous wave spreading out in
space—but, curiously, a wave without a medium. In other situations it
behaves as a particle traveling through space—but, equally curiously, a
particle without mass. Physicists have accommodated these two strange
and seemingly paradoxical conclusions by deciding that light is a
"wave-particle." In certain circumstances it appears as a wave; in
others as a particle.
But if we look at things from
light’s point of view, the reality is very different. Since it did not
travel through space and time, it needed no vehicle or mechanism of
travel. Light itself has no need to be either a wave or a particle. From
its own frame of reference—which is probably the most appropriate frame
of reference from which to consider light—there is no duality, and no
paradox.
The physicist’s conundrum appears
only when we mistake our image of reality with the "thing in itself",
and try to visualize light in concepts and terms appropriate to our
image of reality—that is, waves and particles.
No matter
A photon is a single quantum of
action. We are all familiar with quantities such as mass, velocity,
acceleration, momentum and energy. Action is just another member of this
family, but not one that we come across much in ordinary life. It is
defined as the product of momentum and distance traveled, or,
equivalently, energy and time. Thus the amount of action of speeding
bullet is higher than the same bullet traveling more slowly across the
same distance. Double the bullet's mass, and you get twice the
action—which accords with our intuitive concepts of action.
To speak of light as pure action is
both appropriate and strange, depending upon one’s point of view. In the
world we experience, the world in which space and time exist, and light
travels great distances at unmatchable speed, light seems to be nothing
but action. It never rests; it never slows. From this frame of
reference, action seems a most appropriate quality.
From its own frame of reference,
however, light never goes anywhere. A photon covers no distance, and
knows no time. Nor does it have any mass. Strange then, that something
without mass, space or time should be the fundamental unit of action.
Strange it may be; nevertheless, that is the nature of the underlying
reality. Once again, nothing like what we expected. Nothing like the
phenomenon generated in the mind.
Kant argued that space and time are
characteristics not of the noumenon, the underlying reality, but of the
mind. Quantum theory reveals that the same is true of matter. Matter
is not to be found in the underlying reality; atoms turn out to be
99.99999999% empty space, and sub-atomic "particles" dissolve into fuzzy
waves. Matter and substance seem, like space and time, to be
characteristics of the phenomenon of experience. They are the way in
which the mind makes sense of the no-thing-ness of the noumenon.
The
Fabric of Reality
When we speak of "the material
world", we think we are referring to the underlying reality, the object
of our perception. In fact we are only describing our image of reality.
The materiality we observe, the solidness we feel, the whole of the
"real world" that we know, are, like color, sound, smell, and all the
other qualities we experience, qualities manifesting in the mind. This
is the startling conclusion we are forced to acknowledge; the "stuff" of
our world—the world we know and appear to live within—is not matter, but
mind.
The current superparadigm assumes
that space, time and matter constitute the basic framework of reality,
and consciousness somehow arises from this reality. The truth, it now
appears, is the very opposite. As far as the reality we experience is
concerned
— and this remember is the only reality we ever know — consciousness
is primary. Time, space and matter are secondary; they are aspects of
the image of reality manifesting in the mind. They exist within
consciousness; not the other way around.
Similar claims have often been made
in spiritual teachings, particularly Indian philosophy.
Patanjali’s Yoga Sutra’s, for example, speak of the entire world as
chitta vritti, "the modifications of mind-stuff". When physicists
hear statements such as this, and take them to be referring to the
physical world, they or are understandably perplexed and perhaps
dismissive. But when we understand this to be a statement about the
manifestation of our experienced world, it begins to make more sense.
If we consider the reality we
experience, then we have to accept that in the final analysis they are
correct: Consciousness is the essence of everything—everything in the
known universe. It is the medium from which every aspect of
our experience manifests. Every form and quality we ever experience in
the world is an appearance within consciousness.
The Hard Question
As mentioned at the outset, the very
existence of consciousness is an insurmountable anomaly for the current
superparadigm. How can something as seemingly unconscious as matter ever
lead to something as immaterial as consciousness. The two could not be
more radically different. The philosopher David Chalmers has dubbed this
the "hard question" facing any science of consciousness. Even if we were
to fully understand the workings of the brain, down to the tiniest
detail, it would still leave unanswered the question as to why any of it
should result in a conscious experience? Why doesn't it all go on in the
dark, without any subjective aspect?
The question that is apparently
being asked is: How does the underlying reality ever gives rise to
consciousness?
But never being able to know the underlying reality directly, we are not
really in any position to even ask this question, let alone answer it.
Indeed, for all we know, consciousness may be an intrinsic quality of
the underlying reality In which case there is no hard question to
answer.
The question that is actually
being asked is: How does the material world—the world of space, time
and matter—give rise to consciousness? But this is trying to
account for consciousness in terms that are themselves manifestations of
consciousness. Space, time, matter, and all the forms and structures we
observe in the world, are aspects of the phenomenon arising in the mind;
they are aspects of the image of reality appearing in consciousness.
The question we should
be asking is the exact opposite. How is that consciousness, which
seems so non-material, can take on the material forms that we
experience? How do space, time, color, sound, texture, substance,
and the many other qualities that we associate with the material world,
emerge in consciousness? What is the process of manifestation within the
mind?
But this is not a question that
science may ever be able to answer. It is more in the domain of the
mystic, and others in the more contemplative traditions, who have chosen
to explore the nature of consciousness first hand.
Self
Earlier I said that it was probably
impossible not to see the world of our experience as "out there" around
us. But it may be that some of those who have devoted themselves to
meditation and observation of the arising of experience in the mind have
developed sufficient inner clarity to see past appearances. Judging from
various spiritual texts, they may have recognized, as a personal
experience rather than an intellectual insight, that the entire
phenomenal world is creation in the mind, and that consciousness is the
primary stuff of their universe.
Such people—enlightened ones, we
usually call them—are those who have experienced the new
superparadigm. For them "I am That, Thou art That, and all this is
That", as it is put in the Upanishads, or more simply "All is
Brahman" (the Sanskrit word which might be translated as the One, or
Essence).
In Western traditions, the same
sentiments occur in the statement "I am God". But the word
"God" has so many different meanings and associations that such
statements are prone to considerable misunderstanding and confusion. To
the lay person, the words "I am God" smack of extreme
arrogance—particularly if there is the implication that "I", this
particular individual human being, is God. To the more religious person,
it sounds heretical, if not blasphemous, and some have burned at the
stake for it. While to many scientists, such statements are meaningless,
the symptoms of some delusion or pathology.
Science has looked out into deep
space, back in "deep time" to the beginning of creation, and down into
the "deep structure" of the cosmos, the very essence of matter, and is
proud to tell us that it finds no need nor place for God—the Universe
seems to work perfectly well without his assistance. But whoever said
God is to be found "out there", in the realm of space, time and matter?
This is a very naive and old-fashioned interpretation of God. When
spiritual teachings refer to God they are, more often than not, pointing
towards the realm of inner experience, not some thing in the physical
realm. If we want to find God, we have to look within, into the realm of
"deep mind"—a realm that science has yet to explore.
If we look more closely at the
statements of those who have explored deep mind, they seem to be saying
that the "I", that innermost essence of ourselves is a universal
essence. Whatever we may be conscious of, the faculty of
consciousness is something we all share. This consciousness is the one
truth
we cannot deny. It is the absolute certainty of our existence. It is
eternal
in that it is always there whatever the contents of our experience. It
is the essence of everything we know. And, since every aspect of
our experience is a manifestation in the mind, it is the creator
of the world we know.
These qualities—truth, absolute,
eternal, essence, creator—are amongst those traditionally associated
with God. From this perspective, the statement "I am God" is not so
puzzling or deluded after all. Although it might be more accurate to say
that "I am" is God, or possibly, "God is consciousness".
The Key
The foundation stone of the
Copernican Revolution was the realization that the Earth was not still,
as had hitherto been supposed, and as daily experience seemed to
confirm, but was spinning about its own axis. From this shift in
perception was born a radically new model of the cosmos. The foundation
stone of this discussion has been the distinction between the reality
generated in the mind, and the underlying reality. Most of the time we
are not aware of this distinction. We tacitly assume that things are as
they appear, and that we are experiencing the world as it is. We think
that the tree we see is the tree in itself.
When we realize that they are not
the same thing at all, but are very different indeed, a revolutionary
new model of reality emerges. Space, time and matter fall from their
absolute status, to be replaced by light in the physical realm, and
by consciousness (the inner light) in the world of experience.
Instead of matter being primary, and the source of everything we know,
including mind;
consciousness becomes primary, and the source of everything, including
matter, as we know it. For a second time, the universe has been
turned inside out.
This shift in superparadigm has not
happened yet. The existing model runs even deeper than did the
geocentric view of the cosmos, and will probably meet even more
obstacles than did the Copernican Revolution, (although now, somewhat
ironically, it is science not the church that is the establishment, and
will be the source of the greatest resistance). Nevertheless, I believe
all the pieces are in place, they have only to be put together into a
coherent model.
New paradigms stand or fall
according to their ability to account for persistent anomalies, and
incorporate new findings. The emerging new superparadigm
accounts for consciousness—an intractable anomaly for the old model,
remember. It offers radically new perspectives on some of the
most perplexing problems in contemporary physics. And, most
significantly, points towards a resolution of one of the oldest
challenges of all—the reconciliation of the scientific worldview with
the spiritual.
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