Waking Up: A Guide to Spirituality Without Religion

waking upSam Harris is the co-founder and CEO of Project Reason, a non-profit organization dedicated to spreading science and secular values. Many of its members speak openly against the dangers and evils of religion, so I find it significant that in 2014 Harris released Waking Up: A Guide to Spirituality Without Religion.

It’s significant because it’s a risk. It doesn’t play to a large audience. According to the jacket, Waking Up is for the “20 percent of Americans who follow no religion but who suspect that important truths can be found in the experiences of such figures as Jesus, the Buddha, Lao Tzu, Rumi, and the other saints and sages of history.”

Most of Harris’ fans are hardline atheists and anti-theists who probably wouldn’t deign to admit that there is such a thing as “spirituality.” Even Harris’ brilliant contemporaries like Daniel Dennett and the late Christopher Hitchens haven’t entertained “spirituality” with much respect, and I suspect that a large number of people simply never will. So this book is not for them, and Harris has risked alienating himself from some of his own team.

There are also a number of other public meditation advocates who portray reason and rational thinking as an enemy to spiritual progress. Shunning reason has left many of these gurus open to absurd beliefs about consciousness and the cosmos. I assume advising against critical thinking is one of the reasons some of them remain so popular.

When I first became interested in meditation, yoga, and various techniques for the manipulation of consciousness, I went to the beginning. I read several ancient Indian yoga books, doing my best to account for cultural differences. I took claims about conquering death and walking on water with an arched eyebrow, and tried let the exercises and proofs of experience speak for themselves.

As I worked my way through history, things clarified slightly, becoming more contemporary and palatable, but even now the amount of pure garbage written about consciousness is staggering and time-consuming. I wish I had found Waking Up years ago when I first began.

Harris’ writing is clear, his claims based on evidence and experience, and he adds no metaphysical nonsense to the completely practical, physical, real-world exercise of meditation. He also expresses many of the philosophical issues about consciousness in a tidy fashion, peppering in humour and sharp skepticism along the way.

Much of the opening explains what he means when he says “spiritual.” Transcendent experiences are valid, he says, and they have long been misinterpreted through the lens of religion. Granted, some people may never have these experiences, and many will confuse transcendence with moments of aesthetic contemplation or ecstatic bliss (both of which may be extremely valuable), but for Harris, transcendence is the subjective experience of consciousness in a state prior to thought, when the illusion of the self is annihilated.

Of course, we’re all thinking all the time, so getting to that state can prove quite difficult. With years of meditation training, a firm grounding in philosophy and a PhD in neuroscience, Harris gives straightforward advice, tips about the snags and traps one can find on the path of meditation, and ample evidence that meditation is for most people an entirely beneficial practice.

Harris has successfully written a brief but engaging overview of meditation from scientific, philosophical, and personal perspectives. At 237 pages, Waking Up provides ample explanations and citations in the endnotes from a wide variety of sources. Waking Up will hopefully serve as an olive branch to people searching for peace without the usual religious baggage.

How To Argue Badly And Fool People

In the last few months I followed a handful of Twitter accounts about neuroscience. Occasionally I’ll read a post that is intriguing, offering the latest insights into the mind and the workings of the brain based on scientific evidence. But recently @NeuroNow posted an argument that disturbed me. The writer of the article was the millionaire New-Age guru Deepak Chopra.

In the article, he criticized “Are We Really Conscious?” by Michael S. A. Graziano, an Op-Ed piece in the New York Times. He says Graziano’s post will generate conversation, and he wanted to contribute. When I read the contribution, I was frustrated and decided to add my two cents to Chopra’s two cents.

Chopra writes: “[Graziano] states the extreme case for brain-as-machine: We are fooling ourselves to believe we are conscious. He also states, quite falsely, that this mechanistic view is the only viable explanation for consciousness currently to be found in science.” Quite falsely, he says, so surely Chopra must have a better explanation for consciousness, and surely he will cite this explanation to refute Graziano’s point.

Wrong. And this is Chopra’s appeal; he uses authoritative-sounding language to hide the fact that he has no explanation at all outside of his hodgepodge of pseudo-mystical solipsism. Let me show a handful of examples so the next time you think of taking Chopra seriously, you can avoid his little traps.

Graziano says that human beings are not a special act of creation, but a twig on the tree of evolution. Chopra writes, “Actually, human beings are neither of these. Our nervous system makes us unique on the evolutionary ladder, which is more than being a twig.” The word “actually” makes him sound really authoritative doesn’t it?

Saying our nervous systems make us unique in evolution is nonsense. Our nervous systems are similar to other primate nervous systems. Also, one could argue that every species is “unique” in evolution. The fur, ears, incredible sense of smell, loyalty, and limited intelligence make dogs unique evolution too. Being the apex predator of the sea makes sharks unique in evolution. All of this is meaningless, yet the sentence makes him sound like an expert while sidestepping the real issue.

Graziano’s position, roughly, is that electrical and chemical activity in the brain forms experience, and that what we experience as “mind” is the actual electro-chemical activity and not some metaphysical observer. We know that chemical or electrical changes in the brain manifest in experience because we can test this. But Chopra says this is wrong, and says that Graziano’s argument is like solving the question on gender equality by saying that women don’t exist. Yes, he actually wrote that.

This is a crude attack, meant to turn you against Graziano and blind you to his argument. I mean, how could you listen to someone who says women don’t exist? Well, Chopra’s analogy is an immoral ad hominem attack, that to my mind, has no logical connection with Graziano’s actual argument and merely aims to paint Graziano with a broad brush of sexism for no reason other than the fact that Chopra wants to refute him. This fact alone should let you safely cross Chopra off your reading list forevermore. Chopra seems so sure Graziano’s opinion is wrong because he really, really wants it to be. If Chopra had a coherent, alternative Theory of Mind, he would present it with evidence. But he doesn’t. Battling science with emotions and slander, however subtle, is just distasteful.

Graziano argues that a computer and camera can determine that grass is green, and that what we perceive as green is similar in principle (recognizing contrasts in the spectrum of light). Chopra states this is “flat wrong.” He says that the experience of colour is dependent on a human nervous system, photons have no colour, and that a camera and computer have “no perceptual ability whatever.”

This is a favorite manoeuver of Chopra’s: to retreat into solipsism to refute empirical evidence. He’s basically saying that experience only exists to human beings, and if you push him on this point, I suspect he would stand firm. He is of the type who believe a tree makes no sound if it falls in a forest with no observer.

This is another semantic trick. What we call “sound” is a human experience, filtered through a human nervous system, and it’s called “sound” because we’re the only species that uses human words. So what we call “sound” is technically a human phenomenon, translating vibrations in the atmosphere through the ear into internal experience.

But if a tree falls in the forest with no human around, the tree still falls, and the atmosphere is still disturbed. The vibrations still ripple out across the woods, and it’s those vibrations that become “sound” to our ears and minds (should we be present). The fact that there isn’t a human present to call it sound doesn’t mean the phenomenon we call “sound” isn’t going on. It obviously must be going on, and we know this because of our huge and expanding knowledge of the physics Chopra tries to ignore.

And to say a camera and computer can have “no perceptual ability whatever” is the same argument. Chopra thinks that “perception” must only be a human being having a subjective experience. But the light still goes through the camera’s lens, and the computer creates a representation of the external world for processing. Chopra here suffers from the same species-centric chauvinism as before; he seems to support the idea that humans are the only species to have real experiences, and everything outside of the human experience isn’t real. This is a bad argument of definitions and philosophy, not science, and certainly not neuroscience.

We can confidently infer that light from an event travels through a lens and can be interpreted by a computer, recreated in detail, and we know the information is in the computer. But Chopra refuses to acknowledge that this has happened until a human puts his or her eyes on it, and then he attributes the phenomena to some vaguely miraculous human perception. This is not science, it is fairy magic, and I’m disappointed and troubled that a so-called “neuroscience” article would print such an anti-scientific, ill-considered worldview. Like so many of Chopra’s ideas, it is purely an argument from ignorance.

To Graziano’s claim that we should be skeptical of the validity of our inner feelings, Chopra cites Sam Harris as a defender of subjective experience. But Chopra has almost never agreed with Harris in the past. Harris is a materialist and a (real) neuroscientist, and I bet he would gladly tell Chopra that the mind is a product of the brain. Appealing to an authority he has never sided with in the past—one who seemingly has the exact opposite worldview—shows desperation.

Graziano says the brain builds up models about items in the world, and the models are often not accurate. Chopra says this point “is flogged to death by similar thinkers like Daniel Dennett who somehow believe they can accuse the brain of being faulty, fallacious, and unreliable.” Chopra seems here to believe the brain is not a product of evolution, subject to flaws, trial and error, and so forth; that the brain is a special and perfect gift from heaven. He can’t really believe this, can he?

Both human eyes have a blind spot (which is easily proven with visual tests) yet we never notice it. The visual information in the blind area of each eye is picked up by the other eye, but even looking through one eye we don’t “notice” it unless we know how to look for it. Our impressions of the world are incomplete without us even acknowledging this. Also, as Dennett points out, the mysterious affliction known as “blindsight” shows that brains unreliably report the world.

And what about light and colour? We know (from scientific testing) that light comes in different wavelengths we call colour, but our eyes cannot see this fact. Instead, our perception adjusts to the context of light to give us a general “best impression.” This is the brain inaccurately representing the external world and should be all the proof we need that our brains can be unreliable. Also, dreams. Also, any time someone has ever made a mistake.

            “Almost all other theories of consciousness are rooted in our intuitions about awareness. Like the intuition that white light is pure, our intuitions about awareness come from information computed deep in the brain. But the brain computes models that are caricatures of real things. And as with color, so with consciousness: It’s best to be skeptical of intuition.” – Michael S. A. Graziano

Chopra says, “neurons are made of molecules, and molecules don’t create or listen to music. They don’t create any experience of the world, any more than the wood and ivory in a piano experience music even though music is played on a piano.” This piece of incoherence, when you strip it down, is just a juvenile, terrible argument. He’s basically saying that molecules can’t do much, so how can something made of molecules get anything done? Think about that. His argument goes as follows, by analogy: I need a car to drive to the store, but molecules can’t drive to the store, and my car is made of molecules, therefore my car can’t drive me to the store.

In the final paragraph Chopra revisits his human-as-center-of-all-experience argument, saying “information” requires a mind. This is a squishy, semantic argument only, even if it sounds authoritative. Any data about a tree is “information.” But the attributes of trees exist even without humans around to call that data “information,” and so much of Chopra’s argument uses this obfuscation that it’s shocking.

I literally can’t tell if Deepak Chopra is maliciously trying to confuse the point to promote his brand, or if he’s genuinely, absolutely confused. Either way, it seems wrong that he’s allowed to call himself a doctor, and it’s especially shameful that he and his religiously addled ideas should be promoted by a Twitter account allegedly supporting neuroscience. There is nothing scientific about the man or his theories, and just because he’s found out how to word things strongly doesn’t make him right. After my first read of this article, my thought was that he’s flat wrong. After reading it again, and checking to make sure my quotes were accurate, I’ve come to believe he’s “not even wrong.”

Free Debate

Last year I read Free Will by Sam Harris. The book impressed me as a concise demolition of folk psychology’s casual (lazy) assumptions about free will, written with straightforward language and a direct approach. I had a few issues with the book, and as an exercise wrote a “Devil’s Advocate” critique in which I used the last vestiges of the dualism I inherited from growing up with church and Catholic school.

Shortly after I read Free Will, I read Consciousness Explained by Daniel Dennett. The latter struck me as beautifully written, philosophically and scientifically strong, and it razed my already crumbling Cartesian Theater. I remember thinking distinctly that I’d like to read Dennett’s take on Harris’ book, as Free Will openly challenges Dennett’s stance on the issue.

Monday I was happily informed through social media that this has happened. Sam Harris has posted Dennett’s rebuttal here. The rebuttal is a bit long, a bit thorough, and, to my thinking, imperfect, but I highly recommend both Free Will and Dennett’s take on it. Because what’s more fun than sitting at home reading philosophy?

Why should you read Harris’ opinion that free will is an illusion, then read Dennett’s opinion that Harris is wrong? It might seem a bit of a waste on the surface; if neither has the whole answer, what do we gain from these essays? We get a glimpse into a dialogue between two intelligent minds, and dialogue is the reason books like Free Will should be written in the first place.

Newton’s theories of space and time held sway for a couple hundred years until they were shown to be wrong by Einstein. But there could have been no “Einstein” if not for the foundations laid by Newton. Without Newton’s boldness, his willingness to put opinion to paper and publish it, science might have remained a stagnant morass of religious dogma and superstition. Even as Einstein was proving those theories wrong, he was standing on Newton’s shoulders (and the shoulders of many more recent scientists and philosophers).

“[A}ny hypothesis, however absurd, may be useful in science, if it enables a discoverer to conceive things in a new way; but … when it has served this purpose by luck, it is likely to become an obstacle to further advance.” – Bertrand Russell, History of Western Philosophy

It takes guts to point out what you think are mistakes and sloppy thinking in the work of a professional, especially one that is a friend. But Dennett speaks his mind and isn’t worried about Harris’ feelings because this is what intellectual adults do. They make rational arguments, arguments that come from science and sound philosophy. They are not arguing emotionally, and you can be sure since Harris posted the rebuttal on his own website that he respects the man behind it and thinks the rebuttal worthy of our time, even if it is expressly intent on showing Harris is wrong.

Why does this behavior seem strange to me? Because so many outspoken debaters fail at it. Deepak Chopra, for example, debates publicly about God but quickly gets emotional and degrades himself by hurling ad hominem attacks, like this muddled thing he co-authored about Sam Harris. This confused article says nothing of significance, continually attacks Harris, and yet is couched as a sort of moral high road for sloppy thinkers who hold onto beliefs despite evidence.

Some scientific figures like Richard Dawkins think some debates can be a bad idea. Dawkins posted this article on his website admonishing Bill Nye the Science Guy for debating evolution with Ken Ham, founder of the Creation Museum (what items this “museum” contains, I do not know). Dawkins thinks these debates give undo credence to propositions that are not falsifiable and lack real evidence.

But this free will debate is completely justified, and I’m excited to read Harris’ response. Dialogues like these enrich our understanding, and though Harris and Dennett share many beliefs, they are two very distinct minds with distinct styles of argument. Neither is liable to make a proposition without either empirical evidence or a strong philosophical argument.

I don’t think this dialogue will resolve the issue once and for all. Certainly neither side will convince everyone in the world if scientists can’t even convince creationists of evolution. But if the debate causes us to question our own beliefs, maybe even shed some of our lazy assumptions, it will have done the us good.

Snoop Lion From On High

Who’s ready for a new spiritual leader? Religions are less popular than ever, but obviously if some guy somewhere has a spiritual awakening, that’s a big deal for everyone. Things get especially serious if that guy is former pornographer, pimp, and rapper Snoop Dogg. His third eye was opened on a trip to Jamaica. He is now the reincarnation of Bob Marley. You will call him Snoop Lion.

Obviously his rapping ability and life of good works has augmented his karmic balance sheet. The gods have moved him up the animal kingdom to the top of the food chain…in certain specific climates. Now that I think of it, wouldn’t “Snoop Human” be a better leap up the karmic ladder? We still have time, I guess.

The saving grace for Snoop Lion is that he’s always been pretty much hilarious. He’s a musician, and he’ll continue to do his thing. His reincarnation carries about as much weight as one of Madonna’s reinventions. Snoop’s charisma will ensure he has enough fans and haters no matter what he does, but what the world needs now is a cult to form around him.

Usually, anyone who claims to be “enlightened” or “awakened” is almost surely not enlightened. I’ve observed this maxim over and over again. A person might truly believe they are ”enlightened”, but this doesn’t make it so.  Sam Harris seems more “enlightened” to me than Deepak Chopra even though Deepak rambles on and on about cosmic consciousness like an authority. There is a big difference between words and works.

Charisma can work wonders for charlatans. Having a magnetic personality, a face that’s easy to look at, and a certain way with words might be all it takes to build a base of devoted followers. If you’re charismatic enough, maybe your followers will go out and recruit other followers to your cause. Thus, cults spring up around individuals, from Buddha to Charles Manson. It also helps if the leader knows his or her audience.

Unfortunately there is no litmus test for enlightenment. A one-pointed mind might be a good indicator, the way Jesus was constantly on-message, but that same behavior could also be viewed as mania bordering on psychosis. Equanimity might be a sign, but some people are naturally stoic and others comport themselves in a way that only looks serene. Other than a certain mysterious good feeling we get from a person, the main indicators that we’ve witnessed genius are the works left behind.

Charles Manson left behind some crappy works. I’d call that fraudulent guru-hood. Beethoven left nine amazing symphonies. John Lennon’s Imagine always reminds me how potent simple instructions can be. Put Imagine on, do what he says, and tell me that guy wasn’t a genius. The last time I heard from Snoop, I think he was telling me to “put some Kush up in it”.

While that is sound advice, Snoop Lion’s new music is supposed to be family friendly. Can he really undergo a Rastafarian rebirth and come out on the other side talking less about weed?

Free Will: A Devil’s Advocacy

Here are some thoughts on Sam Harris’ Free Will that weren’t in my review. I hope you get a kick out of them.

Much of the strength of Harris’ argument rests on the weak shoulders of the concept of free will, which is vague, flimsy, and usually inadequate. The popular concept of free will, in this sense, is similar to the popular concept of God, which is often argued over but rarely defined. His point, briefly, is that we all inherit accidental conditions when we’re born and throughout our lives that define the range of our experience and reactions. We have no control over these conditions and therefore our will can never be truly “free”.

What Harris does best is to present an argument to the popular, “common sense” assumptions about free will (much like he does with God in this “debate” with a confused Deepak Chopra). Harris’ argument constantly pleads for a causal look at physical phenomena and evidence-based conclusions. He shows over and over again that there is no real evidence to support free will.

Some of the semantic elements of his presentation did not sit right with me, however, so I’ll outline a few of these issues as I see them. I welcome comments and opinions, as I am nothing like an authority on any of these issues. If it’s a bit fragmented, that’s because I agreed with most of what he said, and only took issue here and there.

“Free will is an illusion.”

Rather than open with a working definition of free will—which would put people on the same page immediately, even if it were a weak definition—Harris says that free will IS an illusion. This is his thesis statement. But the “Is”, in this case, as in all subject-predicate propositions, over-extends its authority. When we say what something is, what exactly do we mean?

I can predicate all I want, but my statements will never cover all the facts of reality. I can talk about some fundamental, permanent property in an object, and I can make a definitive judgment about objects—say, “the grass is green”—but my judgment doesn’t close the issue altogether and won’t necessarily be true under all conditions (green grass viewed under a red light appears black).

How do I know what something is? I look, or in the case of a priori phenomena, I intuit and reason. I can sense features of the object of inquiry, but I can never know everything about it. Better I should declare my judgment in terms of my frame of reference. The subject-predicate “is” misleads because it unconsciously assumes ultimate, objective authority and falls prey to misguided is/is-not dual logic.

If I translate his “is” claim with this in mind, it becomes “free will appears as an illusion to me.” This simple and honest change of wording strips his argument of its tone of authority. The “to me” implies his epistemology (i.e. free will appears as an illusion according to principles 1, 2, 3, etc.). We shouldn’t speak authoritatively about facts as though they exist alone in a vacuum. I prefer arguments that avoid claiming what something “is” and instead describe the world as it actually works, through verbs expressing process-transactions with an observer.

“There are no self-sustained facts, floating in nonentity.” – Alfred North Whitehead, Process and Reality

The other issue I have with his claim is this: labeling a persistent fact “an illusion” doesn’t make the illusion go away. Even if we wholeheartedly buy Harris’ argument, we still feel free to make the choices presented to us. Calling free will an illusion doesn’t diminish the fact that I make conscious decisions that affect my future. The term “illusion” is not so firm a concept that Average Joe can’t easily misapply it. People will continue to live just as they did before, even if they adjust their assumptions about how much freedom is actually involved.

Hindus believe that the phenomenological world is an illusion, that our senses obscure true divine reality. But Hindus still live with the phenomenological world of sense every day. We can reason away sensations as merely neurological events, but this does little to take us out of the experience of that illusion. I find this thought echoing in my head when Harris writes, “[e]ither our wills are determined by prior causes and we are not responsible for them, or they are the product of chance and we are not responsible for them” because a similar line of reasoning likely led the Hindus to develop their metaphysics of karma.


On this issue I am confused, and I would be happy if someone would clear things up for me. If I accept that physics can explain everything that exists, then material facts must be responsible for false beliefs. If I believe trolls control reality through magic, this belief is explained as an outcome of weird biology or neurochemical activity (psychosis, bad drugs, etc.). So the physical facts of my brain are responsible for my subjective misreading of the world around me. This underlines the importance of communicating my judgments in terms of my own frames of reference (i.e. “I am going under the Great Bridge when I die, according to my beliefs, because I paid the toll and the trolls have chosen me.”).

Science is a semantic activity first and foremost; although it aims at objectivity, empirical testing should always refer to the observer applying tests to the facts at hand (i.e. “Under these conditions, I noticed X.”). The more observers corroborate a fact, the higher the probability that the next observer will see the same thing and further corroborate the observation. By this, the scientific method, we approach facts and laws. But the point here is that experience is the only measure of reality. We can say nothing meaningful about an unobserved world, and if we do we are confusing inference for fact. Free Will takes advantage of this tactic, frequently using absolute, objective language when it is not possible to have absolute, objective knowledge. His use of absolute language is obviously a linguistic dilemma. It doesn’t mean that I disagree with the spirit of his argument.

I will quote him as an example: “Consider what it would take to actually have free will. You would need to be aware of all the factors that determine your thoughts and actions, and you would need to have complete control over those factors.” Remove superlatives from this sentence. “Consider what it would take to actually have free will. You would need to be aware of some of the factors that determine your thoughts and actions, and you would need some control over those factors.” Well, we are aware of some of the factors, and we do have some control, so the statement simply begs the definition of “free”. In this case, “free” doesn’t mean “completely free”, but there is wiggle room for free will if we admit that we have some freedom in our conscious actions.

I’d like to return to my question: are thoughts and semantics purely material? Can the various levels of abstraction, the nuance and individuality of human brains and nervous systems be completely accounted for with only empirical evidence? I don’t think so. If you take strict material determinism as your view, you do not have the empirical evidence to claim that all of human experience can be explained by physics, even if it really, really seems that way.

There seems to be some missing explanation, some mystery that translates these so-called simple neuronal firings into complex visible, audible, tactile experiences that we can actually think about in infinite (indefinite) degrees of abstraction. It’s easy to say, “Thought A is caused by the firing of neuron X,” but a thought has a subjective, omni-valent presentation to it and a neuronal firing does not. How consciousness translates neuronal firings into experience seems mostly mysterious to me.

We can measure the brain activity of someone who is meditating or sleeping or doing a puzzle or looking at a red Chevy Nova. We can get reams of data, collated and colour-coded, and that makes us think we have the facts. But try going the other way here. Try looking at brain activity on the page and tell me exactly what it is like to live in that brain, complete with all itinerant facts, all the memories of each element of the event, the fantasies the person calls up consciously and unconsciously because of personal, historical correspondences, etc. It’s impossible. Numbers and data are not experience itself. Math and science are only models of experience. They are usually more correct models than primitive superstitions, sure, but still only models.

If beliefs have a material basis, the materialist says his nervous system and brain is more correct than a faith-based person’s nervous system. But both generate models for consideration. New and different models help guide us toward understanding reality as long as we eventually eliminate the false models. There will always be new models of reality because models reflect our collective subjectivity, which evolves and reacts to environmental conditions. To ossify any one model into dogma is to insist on an end to our development in understanding reality.

The Neuroscience of Consciousness

Harris refers several times to the fact that brain scans reveal activity significantly sooner than a person feels he has made a decision. “These findings are difficult to reconcile with the sense that we are the conscious authors of our actions.” But is it possible that the complexity of the brain and nervous system, with our conscious and unconscious abstractions on multiple levels, simply takes longer to register cogently in consciousness than it does to register on an EEG? We don’t know of a more complex machine than the brain/CNS. Since all signals travel at finite speeds, might the time delay be explained by the abstract processing and reprocessing, the neuronal and physiological feedback loops we perform unconsciously to fit events into our worldviews?

He notes that seemingly random neuronal firing originating in the brain has been observed. But how do we know something is random? We call a signal random if it doesn’t follow our idea of patterned stimulus (in this case, it doesn’t fit our ideas of material determinism). Of course, what appears random may in fact be purposeful and not random at all. Pi, for instance, looks like a completely random string of numbers (3.141592654…), but we know it isn’t random. It signifies a concrete relation.

If I were to argue for the existence of a soul, I might argue this so-called random firing is not random at all, but direct material evidence of the soul’s activity. The neural action rises from unknown causes in a manner that material determinism can’t explain. Of course if I were to make this argument, I would be stepping outside of the materialist paradigm. Naturally, using a complete unknown as “proof” for anything is totally backwards…but weirder arguments have been made (by Deepak Chopra).

Since it would be impossible to trace all the contributing factors in any decision, many human activities must seem on paper to be randomly generated (from a window of possibilities, tendencies, etc.). If there was an immaterial soul and free will, it would be immeasurable and we could only detect its impulses after the impulse worked through the nervous system and was processed on different levels of abstraction, so the conscious mind might be the last to know of the soul’s impetus.


While Harris can safely kill the concept of “freedom” in any argument for free will, he concedes that we do have will and we do make conscious decisions that affect our futures. Our apparent “freedom” falls within a bracket of possibilities. But with intellectual and/or spiritual growth, we continually understand more of our unconscious tendencies and open the window of possible outcomes, thereby increasing our freedom.

“Willpower is itself a biological phenomenon. You can change your life, and yourself, through effort and discipline—but you have whatever capacity for effort and discipline you have in this moment, and not a scintilla more (or less).”

Even arguing against free will, Harris believes willpower exists and is effective. Rather than thinking about humanity as a purely clockwork organism, he grants that our wills are unique to us and we do have a measure of control over our own lives.

     “A creative change of inputs to the system—learning new skills, forming new relationships, adopting new habits of attention—may radically form one’s life.               Becoming sensitive to the background causes of one’s thoughts and feelings can—paradoxically—allow for greater creative control over one’s life. It is one thing to bicker with your wife because you are in a bad mood; it is another to realize that your mood and behavior have been caused by low blood sugar. This understanding reveals you to be a biochemical puppet, of course, but it also allows you to grab hold of one of your strings: A bit of food may be all that your personality requires. Getting behind our conscious thoughts and feelings can allow us to steer a more intelligent course through our lives (while knowing, of course, that we are ultimately being steered).”

So Harris’ argument hasn’t damaged our humanity, it has just given us an honest look at what we mean when we say we are free. We definitely are not completely free, and there is no conceivable behavior we can adopt to prove we are free from background causes.

He is a neuroscientist, and his arguments imply material determinism, as when he says, “if I were to trade places with one of these men, atom for atom, I would be him: There is no extra part of me that could decide to see the world differently…” So although he seems to write as though agnostic about the existence of a soul, Free Will is in fact an argument against the soul. This hidden message shouldn’t surprise anyone, as he is the founder of Project Reason, and their modus operandi is to spread science and secular values to the world.

Free Will is a fine piece of work and I recommend it. It does away with a shabby, ill-defined concept in favor of evidence-based conclusions. It might seem a colder way to look at the world, but feeling cold or feeling warm and fuzzy doesn’t change the facts of reality. Nor does his work strip us of spirituality. I am eager to read Harris’ upcoming book, Waking Up: Science, Skepticism, Spirituality, due in 2014.

Free Will by Sam Harris

A little while ago I wrote a review of Free Will by Sam Harris. The review, in which I speak very highly of the book, was aimed at the casual reader, someone who might pick it up out of sheer curiosity, so I avoided some of the semantic and epistemic issues that rubbed me the wrong way. Here is the review, as written. Next week I will post some of the problems I had with the book. These problems didn’t make it into the review because I doubt they will bother the average reader and reflect my own distinct brand of nitpicking.

Article first published as Book Review: Free Will by Sam Harris on Blogcritics.

Free Will by Sam Harris

By now we’ve all noticed the campaign of scientific materialists to discredit religion in the hope that a saner, more scientific society will prevail. This future society, it is hoped, will base decisions on empirically verifiable facts and not superstition. Among those leading the campaign for atheism are Richard Dawkins, the late Christopher Hitchens, Bill Maher, Ricky Gervais, and the co-founder of Project Reason, philosopher and neuroscientist Sam Harris.

Harris’ position is very clear: he believes that physics explains all phenomena and therefore our so-called free will is actually an illusion. Because the decisions we make arise out of our current conditions, and those conditions are the result of innumerable physical influences (brain structure, weather, etc.), our decisions are simply the outcome of a specific organism (us) going through a specific physical history (everything that formed us).

Looking back at any action, it is easy to feel as though we could have done things differently. But we cannot prove this. To say we could have acted differently is to suppose that at least some condition at the time of our decision would have been different. If not for the particular conditions influencing us, why did we decide as we did?

Free Will acknowledges the psychological fact that we all feel we are in control of our decisions. This is, in reality, one of the very few arguments for free will. So Harris asks us to look into the causes of our future decisions. We can tell a story about what influences us and how we will likely act, but this story covers very few of the innumerable factors that actually move us to one action over another. When we finally make a decision and exercise our will, we cannot say the impetus lies solely with our conscious “I.”

The conscious “I,” Harris argues, is a simply a function of human organisms. Consciousness is necessary to sort priorities and make decisions, but no supernatural agency is needed to justify this; it is simply an adaptive biological function. Willpower, he claims, is one factor of our consciousness, and we can never truly know why we choose to do one thing over another.

With Harris’ position, there is no need to invent supernatural explanations for any of the facts. God and the soul are comforting fictions but cannot maintain in a society that bases its decisions on empirical data.

This book should be fairly convincing to anyone with an open mind. I empathize with the frustration that theists must feel at the disrespect with which many writers and celebrities criticize religion. But Harris is not belligerent at all. His writing is clear, cogent, and makes no unnecessary detours to put down any creed. He instead prefers a straightforward approach, written in firm language.

Far from abstract verbalism, Free Will discusses the practical issues of morality, politics, and justice without yanking the rug out from under them. From Harris’ position justice must still be served, but our inclinations to hate criminals must be reassessed as we realize these criminals aren’t in complete control, but are the unlucky outcomes of bad genes, bad environments, or other maladaptive conditions. The elimination of free will in no way leads to the decay of morality.

What really impresses me about Free Will is the logical, masterful way in which he unfolds his thesis. Many times I finished one chapter with specific questions, only to find those exact questions tackled in the next chapter. Whether the reader is convinced or not, the execution of this little book is far superior to most on the subject.