Concepts of consciousness
author: Matthijs Cornelissen
last revision: March 2019
Consciousness is notoriously difficult to define, and dictionaries tend to become self-referential when they try. The New Oxford Dictionary of English, for example, defines consciousness in terms of awareness, awareness in terms of perception and perception again in terms of consciousness. Professional dictionaries hardly fare better: the Penguin Dictionary of Philosophy escapes the problem by simply omitting the term. This ostrich-like behaviour is, strangely enough, not an isolated phenomenon: to ignore consciousness has been the general policy of science for much of the 20th century. It is said that during the last 30 years or so, consciousness has again become a legitimate subject of scientific and philosophical enquiry, but if one looks a little more closely, it becomes clear that most of this research has not been about consciousness itself, but about its physical correlates, which is what mainstream science knows how to research. It is only in recent years that we see consciousness more frequently described in terms of lived experience, and compared to the Indian tradition, most of this work is still in an early stage of development and surprisingly naive.
The inability of science to deal in a meaningful way with consciousness is tragic since consciousness is central to our existence as human beings, so central in fact that it is impossible to describe what human life would be without consciousness, because it would simply not be there. Though some hard-core physicalists continue to trivialize consciousness as a more or less incidental side-effect of the complexity of our brains, it is good to realize that without consciousness we would not be aware of anything: the world would not exist for us, nor would we exist for ourselves. Without consciousness not only would there be no point to our individual life, there would be no point to anything. After all, even the most "objective" scientific explanations need to exist in "in the eye of a beholder". If consciousness would not be there to support them, not only beauty, love, experience, and truth would lose their meaning, but even scientific theories would dissolve into unobserved paper, ink, and fleeting blobs of brain-chemistry. There would be nothing that would make any sense, and it is not clear whether or how anything could exist. There is an Upanishad which expresses it well:
"Matter or object is related to spirit or subject, and the subject or spirit is equally related to the object or matter. If there were no object, there would be no subject, and if there were no subject, there would be no object, for on either side alone nothing could be achieved.".
To think of a completely unconscious universe is incoherent because without consciousness there would be nobody around to do that thinking. To think of a largely unconscious universe in which conscious beings like us are the exception, is logically conceivable (and at present it might well be the majority view in the field of Consciousness Studies), but it is still not very convincing. It is hard to imagine how a huge, unconscious, and thus inherently meaningless, dead machine suddenly, after billions of years, in an almost inconceivably tiny corner of itself, could produce not only consciousness, but embedded in it, truth, love, and beauty — qualities that in spite of our own puny size and life span, never fail to give us a sense of eternity, of infinity, of connectedness. One of the great strengths of modern science is that it presumes that its laws and constants are universal and unchanging throughout the entire immensity of space and time. It is hard to conceive why comparatively small and unimportant details like most of the known physical laws and constants would be universal, while the fundamentals of truth, love, and beauty would suddenly pop-up ("emerge") out of nowhere in an otherwise chance-driven universe due to nothing more than the complexity of our tiny, fragile, and exceedingly short-lived human brains.
Though perhaps not entirely impossible, the prevailing view which limits consciousness to human brains, some other mammals and/or human-made machines looks suspiciously like the flat-earth theory in medieval astronomy. Just as the flat-earth view took the little patch of land on which we stand as the centre of the physical universe, so the mainstream, medical view of consciousness presumes that consciousness is dependent on (and limited to) how it occurs in a functioning human brain. And just as the earth-centered understanding of the solar system stood in the way of understanding the physical cosmos, so the human-centered view of consciousness stands in the way of understanding our selves, our human nature, and in fact our very existence. Fortunately there is a more coherent alternative vision of consciousness available in the Vedic tradition, a tradition in which the narrow, physicalist conceptualization of consciousness is considered a beginner's error1.
In the newly developing field of Consciousness Studies there is nothing remotely like a consensus on what consciousness is or does, and it is not for nothing that the subtitle of the Journal of Consciousness Studies is “controversies in science and the humanities”. In the much older Indian tradition there is no consensus either, but the Indian tradition has perfected a remarkably effective way to resolve differences between viewpoints. It presumes that the underlying structure of reality as well as of truth is essentially hierarchical, that the upper ranges of the hierarchy are ineffable, so that human theories can never be more than partial expressions on a lower level of the single but ineffable truth at the summit. This allows us to look at our many different ideas about the divine and its manifestation as a family of ideas in which each member represents some truth; no one can claim to have the one and only truth and dogmatism and excessive scepticism are equally avoided. It may be clear how wholesome (if not indispensable) such a wide-open approach to truth and reality is for the developing multicultural global civilization, and in this book I will try to show how the Indian conceptualization of truth and reality can help to provide an amazingly beautiful, rich, and comprehensive understanding of consciousness and its role in the world.
When we try to understand ancient Indian approaches to consciousness, there is, however, a problem of translation. If one compares works by different scholars writing in English about the Indian tradition, one encounters an amazing variety (if not plain looseness) in the manner in which Sanskrit terms related to mind and consciousness are translated. Words like “consciousness” and its cousin “mind” tend to serve as rather vague catch-alls that are used for a staggering number of different words in Sanskrit. Each of these Sanskrit words has, moreover, its own history, meanings and connotations, and as the Indian tradition spans a long period and consists of many conflicting schools of thought, many terms are used with different meanings at different times by different authors. In line with Sri Aurobindo, I will use "consciousness" primarily as translation for cit, which as ultimate reality transcends, originates and permeates all that is. I'll also use it occasionally for some of the derivates of cit. In the context of Samkhya, I will use it — again in line with Sri Aurobindo — primarily for the pure consciousness of the Self, the puruṣa.
The core of the problem with consciousness is, however, not a simple problem of language or culture. It is that in the ordinary waking state, consciousness tends to be transparent to us, more or less in the same way that we normally don't see the interior of our own eyes: we are aware of the world, but not of consciousness itself. In some sense consciousness is not part of the objective side of reality at all: it is the subjective half. In us, human beings, consciousness is that in which and from which we deal with ourselves and the world around us. In this sense, consciousness has been described as the stage on which the drama of our life is played out, as the light within which everything we are aware of takes place, or as the pool in which the Moon is reflected. [REFs to Baars etc] Though these are catching images that appear at first sight to be right, they do not tell the whole story. There are two riders to it.
The first rider is that consciousness is not only awareness. It is the very core of our identity. In a very deep and essential sense, consciousness is simply what we are, and what we are has a passive and an active side to it. On the passive side it is, indeed, awareness and it is this which has been captured beautifully in the images of the light and the pool. On the active side, it is the force that determines our qualities, and beyond that, it is the source of intent and agency. In the more comprehensive image of the stage, the active side is represented by the actors and — behind the scenes — by the stage director and the author of the play.
The second rider has to do with the fact that we cannot even begin to understand consciousness as long as we hold it to be limited to the narrow anthropocentric variety we discussed earlier. We cannot even begin to understand how consciousness works until we accept that consciousness is an essential constituent of the very stuff of existence. We'll come back to both issues in more detail in sections two and three of this chapter.
While it is very difficult (and perhaps impossible) to define consciousness, people still feel that in some strange, implicit way, they actually do know what it is. The Kena Upanishad says it in a rather stark and strikingly post-modern way: “If you say you know it, you haven’t understood the problem yet; but if you say you don’t know it, that isn't quite true either.”- [REF and exact translation] One consequence of the deep link between consciousness and identity is that, somewhere deep down, everyone thinks he is an expert on consciousness and has a right to claim that what he thinks about consciousness is true.
As a result of all this, there are many different concepts of consciousness. We have discussed in another chapter how we can construct a three-dimensional concept space in which these different concepts of consciousness can be located. In the present chapter, we will have a detailed look at three concepts that stand out: two because they are typical of whole civilizations, or at least of large, representative sections of thinkers within them, and a third which is their synthesis. I will call these three concepts of consciousness physicalism, exclusive spirituality, and integral spirituality.2 Of these three, physicalism and exclusive spirituality see consciousness as an entirely passive awareness, but they are each other's opposite in most other aspects. The integral spiritual view holds that consciousness is also active: consciousness is not only awareness but also force. Beyond that, the integral view aims at a higher-level synthesis of what it sees as most true and useful in the other two concepts, without accepting their denial of each other. Though there are exponents of all possible views in the West as well as in the East, one could say that various forms of physicalism are the mainstay of contemporary science, while the various schools of the Indian tradition tend to locate themselves between the poles of exclusive and integral spirituality. Integral spirituality is the position this text will champion because it appears to be the only one that does full justice to the marvellous complexity of our human lives and the world in which we live. It is however the most difficult position to formulate intellectually, because, strictly speaking, one can only do justice to the Indian concept of integrality from the highest possible point in the Vedic hierarchy of consciousness. The reason for this is that it is only at that highest level that one can integrate all lower forms of consciousness without violating their intrinsic value and dignity. If one tries to achieve integrality horizontally or from too low a position in the hierarchy, one is bound to err through one or more of the errors of transpersonal theory which Jorge N. Ferrer quite rightly protests against (2002, p. 87).
1. One wonderful story which looks at the physicalist worldview in this way is in the Chandogya Upanishad (8. 7-12) .
2. The basic idea of these three major positions is derived from the second and third chapters of The Life Divine. Sri Aurobindo differentiates here between the “Materialist Denial” and the “Refusal of the Ascetic” and then advocates an older, more integral approach.
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