Does the Mind Exist? Understanding Eliminative Materialism
Consciousness Theories. Physicalism #6
What if everything you think you know about your own mind is an illusion?
Eliminative materialism makes this radical claim. They claim that all your beliefs, desires, thoughts, fears, sensations, and pains — don’t actually exist.
A radical claim is putting it mildly. It seems absolutely absurd!
But despite apparent absurdity, eliminative materialism remains a significant theory discussed in the philosophy of mind.
To find out why, let's ask three questions:
What is eliminative materialism?
Why might someone believe in eliminative materialism? and,
What are the main arguments against eliminative materialism?
This is Part 6 in our series on physicalism, the theory that the physical world can fully explain consciousness. Here’s what we’ve explored so far:
A quick note before we jump in:
Eliminative materialism was developed by philosopher Paul Churchland. Sometimes, eliminative materialism is attributed to the late Daniel Dennett. While it is true that Dennett and Churchland share similar perspectives, Dennett’s views don’t strictly align with eliminative materialism. So, in this article, I’ll describe Churchland’s view, which is outlined in his classic paper, Eliminative Materialism and Propositional Attitudes.
Q1: What is Eliminative Materialism?
The materialism part of eliminative materialism refers to the idea that all human capabilities can be explained by the physical (material) brain.
The eliminative part refers to the idea of eliminating our common-sense understanding of the mind.
The argument the eliminative materialist makes can be summed up like this:
As we learn about the brain, our commonsense theory of the mind, with its concepts of beliefs, desires, thoughts, pains, and the like, will be shown to be wrong. So, we will eliminate this theory along with its concepts and replace it with a more neuroscientific understanding.
Before we get into the logic of this argument, there's an important distinction to highlight between eliminative materialism and reductionist views (like the mind-brain identity theory).
Reduction vs Elimination
You'll recall that identity theorists are happy to keep concepts like beliefs, desires, thoughts, and pains because they think these mental states really do exist — mental states are simply brain states but at a different level of abstraction. So, the mind-brain identity theory is a reductionist theory — they believe the mind can be reduced to the brain, just like water can be reduced to H₂O.
But the eliminative materialist is an eliminativist theory — they seek to eliminate the mind altogether along with the concepts that go with it, like beliefs, desires, thoughts, and pains.
The Logic of the Argument
Eliminative materialism has two premises:
Premise 1: Our everyday, common-sense framework of the mind is a theory (Churchland calls this theory folk psychology).
Premise 2: Folk psychology is a bad theory.
From these two premises, Churchland concludes that because the theory is so fundamentally wrong, it should be eliminated and replaced with a better theory. When a theory is bad, the argument goes, a simple reduction will not work. And Churchland judges the ideas of folk psychology to be ‘too confused and too defective’ to survive reduction.
When discussing Churchland's arguments, it's important to distinguish folk psychology from the modern academic discipline of psychology. By folk psychology, Churchland is referring to our everyday, commonsense understanding of mental states—the intuitive framework we use to explain and predict behaviour based on everyday concepts like beliefs, desires, fears, sensations, pains and intentions.
While Churchland may take issue with the academic discipline of psychology's use of terms that originated in folk psychology, Churchland's critique is aimed at the commonsense notion of mental states, not at the biological explanations given in the academic discipline of psychology.
Q2: Why Might Someone Believe in Eliminative Materialism?
Let’s examine the strength of the two premises.
Premise 1: Folk Psychology is a Theory
So, what exactly is a theory?
A theory does two things — it tries to explain why something happens, and it tries to predict what might happen in the future.
For example, the theory of gravity explains why objects fall to the ground and predicts how they will behave under different conditions. It explains why planets orbit the sun and can predict the paths of celestial bodies.
Importantly, all theories can be wrong. They don't have to be correct to be considered theories. They just need to be capable of explaining phenomena and making predictions.
Imagine I have a theory that eating ice cream causes sunburn. I hold this theory because I notice that on days when many people eat ice cream, there are many cases of sunburn, and on days when fewer people eat ice cream, there are fewer cases of sunburn.
My theory seems to explain how sunburn occurs, and it predicts (fairly accurately) when there will be an increase in sunburn cases. But my theory is clearly flawed.
Premise 1 of Churchland’s argument — that folk psychology is a theory — is an important one.
If folk psychology is a theory, then it's possible that it could be wrong. And, just as my theory about the cause of sunburn is wrong, if our commonsense theory of the mind is wrong, it should be eliminated and replaced with a better theory.
So, is Folk Psychology a Theory?
Ordinary people, Churchland argues, are constantly using the concepts of folk psychology to explain and predict other's behaviour.
Imagine you see your friend, Sarah, walking along carrying an umbrella on a sunny morning. Without thinking too much about it, you explain Sarah’s behaviour by thinking that Sarah believes it’s going to rain later today. You’ve used the folk psychology concept belief to explain Sarah’s behaviour.
Later that day, if it does, in fact, rain, you predict Sarah will open her umbrella because of her desire to stay dry. Again, you’ve used a folk psychology concept — this time desire — to predict Sarah’s behaviour.
Folk psychology certainly seems like a theory — we use its concepts to explain and predict.
Premise 2: Folk Psychology is a Bad Theory
So, what’s so bad about folk psychology?
Churchland highlights two main reasons for his low opinion of folk psychology.
1. It does not adequately explain and predict
Imagine two colleagues. Let’s call them Alex and Sam. Alex and Sam have similar lives; they work in the same office, belong to the same network of friends, and enjoy the same extracurricular activities. But Alex and Sam are different in an important way. Sometimes, Alex goes through periods where he rarely leaves his home, speaks little, moves slowly, does not do things he normally enjoys and lies in bed for extended periods.
Churchland argues that folk psychology cannot accurately explain why Alex sometimes behaves like this, nor can it predict when Alex is likely to exhibit these behaviours or how long they might last.
According to Churchland, folk psychology, despite its everyday use, epically fails to explain and predict a great deal of complex mental phenomena. It offers no coherent explanation for mental illnesses like depression, schizophrenia or bipolar disorder. It struggles to explain phenomena like visual illusions, implicit biases, or how memory works. It has no framework for understanding the effects of brain injuries on personality, why we sleep, or how learning transforms us from a baby to an adult.
2. It does not map onto our neuroscientific understanding
To support his second reason for his low opinion of folk psychology, Churchland points out that other scientific fields, such as physics, chemistry, biology, and neuroscience, have each developed into a cohesive theoretical framework. Together, these sciences explain and predict human form and behaviour remarkably accurately. In contrast, folk psychology has remained largely stagnant for centuries and somewhat isolated from the other sciences.
Churchland argues that this stagnation and isolation might be because folk psychological concepts do not clearly map onto what we've been learning in these sciences — especially the neurosciences. And if we can’t incorporate them into our scientific understanding, they should be eliminated.
We already have some evidence of the elimination of folk psychology concepts. Historically, concepts like humors, vapours, hysteria, and animal spirits were part of our common-sense understanding of the mind.
For instance, the theory of four humors (blood, phlegm, yellow bile, and black bile) was once used to explain personality traits and illnesses. Vapours were thought to cause mood swings and anxiety, particularly in women. Hysteria was a catch-all term for various psychological disturbances, again mostly applied to women. Animal spirits were believed to be fluids flowing through nerves, controlling behaviour and emotions. As our scientific understanding has advanced, these concepts have been eliminated from scientific talk and (almost all) everyday language.
With the benefit of hindsight, we might find it easy to see why these concepts were eliminated. What about the folk psychology concepts we commonly use today? Will we eventually eliminate concepts like willpower, character, selfishness, and evil?
Q3: What are the Main Arguments Against Eliminative Materialism?
Some of the main arguments and counter-arguments for and against eliminative materialism draw on the idea of ‘begging the question’. If this term is new to you, or you need a refresher, here's a quick explanation:
Begging the question is a logical fallacy that occurs when an argument assumes its conclusion is true as part of its reasoning to prove that same conclusion.
It’s also known as circular reasoning.
For example, consider the argument that witches are evil, so they must be killed. Therefore, because witches are evil, we should continue to hang them. The premises (witches are evil and evil things should be killed) are used to support the conclusion (witches should be hung). The argument assumes what it's trying to prove.
In everyday language, begging the question is sometimes mistakenly used to mean raising the question. But this is a misuse of the term in philosophical discussions.
To argue against eliminative materialism, we can challenge its premises, and we can question the soundness of its argument.
Let’s take these arguments in turn:
1. Folk Psychology is Not a Theory
The first argument against eliminative materialism challenges the first premise. It suggests that eliminative materialism is wrong because folk psychology is not a theory.
The critic might argue that we don’t need a theory to tell us about our mental states. Our mental states are experienced directly. The existence of mental states is obvious — in fact, it’s the most obvious of things. I don’t need a theory to tell me that my beliefs, desires, intentions, and pains exist. I know they exist.
To this, Churchland replies that the critic is begging the question. They are making the same mistake that the village people made when claiming that witches should be hung.
To insist that our common-sense understanding of mental states is valid is to beg the question. The premise (I can see that I have mental states) is used to support the conclusion (that I have mental states).
Churchland argues that the conclusions we make about the world are never direct or theory-free. Instead, we always interpret our observations using our existing theories about how the world works. Therefore, the conclusions we draw are shaped by, and limited by, the theories we use to understand our experiences.
So, in the case of witches, the merit of the conclusion is only as good as the theory of witchcraft, which we now recognise as flawed. And in the case of mental states, the merit of the conclusion that mental states exist is only as good as our folk psychological theory, which Churchland argues is similarly flawed and inadequate.
2. Folk Psychology is a Good Theory
The second argument against eliminative materialism accepts that folk psychology is a theory but challenges the second premise.
Sure! claims the critic. ‘Folk psychology might be enhanced by neuroscience. And perhaps some concepts like willpower, character, selfishness, and evil might be eliminated from our vocabulary, but the elimination of ALL mental states is a little over the top, don’t you think?’
Folk psychology, the critic might argue, is actually a pretty useful theory that helps us make fairly accurate predictions about others' behaviours. In fact, we've been using this theory for a very long time, and it has served us well. We don't need to know what goes on in the brain to predict behaviour — folk psychology does a great job.
Perhaps the question of elimination versus reduction of folk psychology will not be answered with a simple either-or. Our future understanding of mental states might involve some elimination but also some reduction. And possibly the introduction of entirely new concepts altogether.
3. Folk Psychology is a contradiction
The third argument against eliminative materialism challenges the logic of eliminative materialism.
If I say I believe that beliefs don't exist, what exactly am I saying?
The claim that the eliminative materialist makes (that beliefs don't exist) requires a belief — in other words, it requires the existence of the very thing it is trying to deny. So, the argument seems logically inconsistent.
But here, again, Churchland claims the critic begs the question.
Churchland claims that the statement is meaningless precisely because the premise assumes the folk psychology concept of belief — which is precisely what eliminative materialism challenges.
Here’s an analogy from Patricia Churchland (Paul Churchland’s wife) that may be helpful:
The anti-vitalist says that there is no such thing as vital spirit. But this claim is self-refuting. The speaker can expect to be taken seriously only if his claim cannot. For if the claim is true, then the speaker does not have vital spirit and must be dead. But if he is dead, then his statement is a meaningless string of noises, devoid of reason and truth.
In essence, Churchland is arguing that the apparent paradox only arises if we assume that our current folk psychological framework is the only possible way to understand our capabilities.
Churchland’s argument here highlights a common point of confusion for people trying to get their heads around eliminative materialism.
Understandably, when we hear statements like — mental states don’t exist — we naturally think the claim is absolutely absurd!
But the eliminative materialist's claim, while still provocative, doesn't necessarily deny that something is happening in our brains that we currently interpret as experiences. Rather, it suggests that our folk psychological concepts — including our notion of 'experience' are interpreted through the lens of a flawed theory. As our understanding advances, what we think of as experiences might be radically different from our current understanding.
And this is a much more intriguing claim. The intrigue is centred around a fundamental question — when we study consciousness, where should we start?
Should we start with experiences themselves and assume these are true and undeniable? Or do we start with empirical evidence and assume experiences are a type of evidence that can be measured, tested, and analysed? And how do we reconcile these two approaches if they seem to lead to different conclusions?
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Another great entry in your series! Your other guests have made some strong points. I'll say up front that, while I've only encountered the Churchlands on other blogs, I've never made much sense of their approach.
Ultimately, I think if group A thinks looking in place X is best, and group B thinks looking in place Y is best, why don't both pursue their respective ideas (and leave each other alone)? I think science involves testing all possible branches of reality. And I have a general objection to theories that claim other (apparently effective) theories are wrong. Deconstruction is easy. I think it's what you construct that matters. Theories with better constructions win.
For me, the argument hinges too much on "folk psychology" and possibly begs its own question by defining folk psychology conveniently (i.e. that it is necessarily inept). Firstly, I think, at least among the educated, folk understanding converges on scientific understanding. Secondly, folk understanding is built not just on our own lifetime of observation and correlation, but on the reports of others and from the whole body of literature. In some people, the predictive ability is acute, demonstrating the effectiveness of the theory. Folk theory being partial needn't invalidate the observational data it's based on. Folk medicine got lots wrong, but the illnesses and injuries are real enough. Nor do I think it necessary to assume a folk theory is the *only* theory. Newton coexists with Einstein just fine as NASA. Ptolemy *still* works for simple astronomy.
With theories there also seems the issue of falsification. Ice cream consumption causing sunburn is easily falsified. How does one falsify the theory that my subjective experience is other than it seems to me. "What it is like" to be human *is* that subjective experience. We may come to understand it better, may associate neural correlates with it, but that doesn't change the uniqueness of a material system experienced from within as well as from without. How can we deny /cogito ergo sum/ when it's the closest thing to a true fact in our existence?
I think your question about what it means to say "I believe" is right on point. If I'm delighted by a movie or annoyed by a wasp, the labels "delighted" and "annoyed" are grounded in subjective experience and the recorded human experience of millennia. We may come to understand these better, completely unpack them in terms of neurophysics, but the effective theory of human experience seems too well documented to be based on an illusion. As you touched on in a comment reply, there may be forever an epistemic gap when it comes to subjectivity. Perhaps it just boils down to 'this is what it is like to be a brain structure' -- subjectivity emerges. Maybe a bit like being able to explain everything about water, except why it's so much fun to swim in it.
"Should we start with experiences themselves and assume these are true and undeniable? Or do we start with empirical evidence and assume experiences are a type of evidence that can be measured, tested, and analysed?"
I take phenomenal experience as the primary datum in need of explanation, which would mean eliminating it is the opposite of empirical. (But my understanding of the word, 'empirical', is probably different from what people mean by it today. It once meant 'verified by experience'—experience!—but now it seems to mean 'reducible to the quantifiable' or some such thing. To be honest, I'm not even sure what people mean by it anymore. Science-y?)
Anyway, to answer your question, I don't see why we can't have both. Science can go on looking for the neural correlates of consciousness (if that's what it's still doing) so long as it doesn't claim to be doing more than it actually is and so long as it doesn't reduce the phenomenal to the point of making it disappear (especially when this translates to popular articles in science magazines telling people their experienced reality is an illusion). In the particular case of consciousness where science isn't equipped to address phenomenal reality head on, it seems likely to hit a brick wall. Unless, of course, it adapts its methodology. What do you think?
BTW:
"In everyday language, begging the question is sometimes mistakenly used to mean raising the question. But this is a misuse of the term in philosophical discussions."
Hallelujah! I don't know why, but the popular use of 'begging the question' drives me nuts. I should be more understanding, I suppose. Especially since it doesn't matter all that much.
Also, another aside, I'd love to hear what you would make of this weird case (which you've probably heard of), and which theory of mind you think is best equipped to deal with it:
https://www.thelancet.com/journals/lancet/article/PIIS0140-6736(07)61127-1/fulltext