Yesterday’s post may have been a little too short and cryptic. I may have assumed you were more familiar with all the other things I’ve written than you are. Perhaps some elaboration would be helpful.
One of yesterday’s main points was that there is no central part of the brain that is in control of my thoughts and feelings. However, these thoughts and feelings do occur in a specific brain, identified in this case as Norm’s brain. Paul Breer In his book, The Spontaneous Self, makes an important distinction between “I” as locator, and “I” as agent. Its use as locator is essential to social functioning—I have to be identifiable as the human being who lives at this address. The agent usage on the other hand, as some sort of entity in the brain that is in control of this human being, is a myth that has grown out of the very utility of the locator function. No one is in charge of their brain, just like no one is in charge of the weather. What the brain does is the product of its architecture and of all the things it has learned about the world through its history; similarly, weather results from the principles of thermodynamics and the specific conditions in the atmosphere.
I was pleased this morning to read of the Buddha’s presenting pretty much the same ideas as related by Gil Fronsdal in the latest issue of Inquiring Mind. The Buddha and his teenage son were on their way to alms rounds when the Buddha noticed that his son was preoccupied. The son had been thinking about his good looks and found the thoughts disturbing. The Buddha said pretty much the same thing I’ve been saying, that his son shouldn’t think of his body or anything that went through his mind from the point of view of “me, myself or mine.” This line of thought is in perfect accord with current science of the brain, and is the part of Buddhism that I most like.
The difficulty in this line of thought involves the question of who is it that is supposed to adopt this attitude of regarding the products of the brain’s operations as not belonging to it? Who is the observer of thought that says, “This is not my thought?” It may be helpful to think of this “who” as one of the brain’s subroutines.
The brain is constantly monitoring the organism’s surroundings, and cues in those surroundings trigger whatever subroutines have been found useful in previous encounters with similar circumstances. When it notes that the organism is immersed in water, the swimming subroutine will be activated—hopefully you have acquired that one. When on dry land, the standing, sitting, or lying down subroutines may be appropriate—if dry land cued the swimming subroutine, it would be less than useful. When cued up by a given set of circumstances, the subroutine that is active is in control of the organism, and its effectiveness is monitored by other subroutines which may alter its standard operation, or cue up another subroutine if the first one called is not performing well.
The same sorts of mechanisms are invoked in more complex social situations: work, home, recreation, etc. Each situation cues a range of relevant subroutines. We have the impression that we are the same person in all these situations because we have the same body, the same language, and the same memories, no matter where we are. I have the feeling that I am the same person, and that “I” am in control, no matter which subroutine is currently in charge of “my” brain and body, even though the subroutines may vary wildly from one situation to another, and even though the neuronal interactions that produce behavior are totally inscrutable to conscious thought. It only takes a little study of the brain to realize the “mind-boggling” complexity of what it does, and to realize that only a tiny fraction of the end products of those activities can be encompassed by consciousness.
Marvin Minsky offers a wonderfully entertaining and detailed discussion of these processes in his book, The Emotion Machine. He has clarified my own thinking tremendously, and I owe him a great debt, although there are significant differences in our points of view.
The Buddha and I are suggesting that it is possible, and desirable, for a new subroutine to evolve which would monitor the other subroutines. This particular class of subroutine is what Marvin Minsky would call a “critic:” one that evaluates the performance of what he calls, “ways of thinking.”
New subroutines are evolving all the time: any new skill or new bit of knowledge may alter existing routines or form totally new ones. We may learn to play tennis, or chess, or how to solve differential equations, and each of these will be cued by appropriate stimuli.
The particular subroutine I’m advocating is one that monitors thoughts. Ideally, it would be activated any time we are thinking, in the same way that thoughts of food are activated by hunger. This meta-routine would monitor other brain activity and tag it appropriately: thoughts of food—we must be getting hungry; sexual thoughts—hormone levels are changing; depressed thoughts—the body may be tired. It would note each thought, or change in thinking, and recognize that it was triggered either by some external stimulus, or by some change in internal conditions. It might not always be able to name the cue responsible for the change, but it would note that some cue must be involved—changes don’t occur without stimuli.
The fact that you have read this far means that the possibility of such a meta-routine has been presented to you. If that possibility resonates with salient items in your history, your brain may be motivated to pursue reinforcement of the idea, resulting in the evolution of your own handy-dandy thought-monitoring meta-routine. You may eventually find that claiming responsibility for the thoughts that occur in your head seems a totally ridiculous notion, and you will be freed from pride, guilt, and shame.
Welcome to your new life.
Beginning, Ending, Beginning…
