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Falsification, Simplicity, and Survival

Michael Prescott’s readers have responded to my latest series of critical remarks on their earlier comments. Here I’m only going to comment on one reader’s response, the first in the thread.
 
The reader writes:
 
I have read the article by Sudduth and I think he will not be satisfied until someone develops a survival hypothesis that make predictions that can be falsified, that is, according to him, the key is not what observations could confirm my hypothesis but what observations would falsify my hypothesis, following the Popperian epistemology.
 
He goes on to say:
 
However, I do not accept the epistemological approach of Sudduth, because he is a deductive approximation based on the work of Popper: postulate hypothesis draw their predictions and observe if the hypothesis is falsified, but the hypothesis of survival is part of the abductive and inductive hypotheses: observe a number of phenomena and infer the simplest hypothesis that relates to everyone. And here the simplest hypothesis that relates OBEs, NDEs, apparitions, mediumship and people seem to remember their past lives is a determined survival hypothesis, ie that there is a vehicle of the psyche that remains after biological death and it can appear, own certain individuals, rebirth and remember their previous incarnations lives.
 
RESPONSE: I am not a Popperian, nor do my criticisms of survival arguments, unfortunately misrepresented by the reader, depend on Popperian epistemology.  In fact, I explicitly reject Popperian epistemology, which I regard as largely misguided and corrected by subsequent philosophers of science.
 
The core problem with survival arguments is not lack of falsifiability.  It’s relatively easy to formulate a survival hypothesis that can be falsified.  If we recall the Duhem-Quine thesis (to which I’ve referred several times now), it becomes clear that any hypothesis is easily falsifiable, including survival. I can, for example, easily falsify the God-with-purple-objects-fetish hypothesis: the world was created by a supremely powerful being who wanted everything to be purple. Similarly, I can easily insulate any hypothesis from falsification. The God-with-purple-objects-fetish hypothesis is not falsified by there being non-purple objects because he only wanted some things to be purple, as he was actually in fetish recovery when he made the world.  There are dozens of survival hypotheses that can be falsified (or rendered immune to this), and I’ve explained how this would work.  So I’m actually quite satisfied at this juncture.
 
The core problem, to repeat, is lack of independent support for auxiliary hypotheses needed to generate predictive consequences (or explanatory salience). To be sure, this creates problems for falsifying hypotheses, but falsification is not the core problem. The problem of auxiliary hypotheses infects survival arguments in all their classical formulations, including inference to best explanation formulations (which the commenting reader favors).  What is essential to all formulations of survival arguments is the idea that the survival hypothesis is supposed to lead us to expect (deductively or probabilistically) the observational data.  This is essential whether we’re construing the survival argument abductively (as an inference to best explanation) or in terms of non-explanatory confirmation criteria.  This requirement leads right to the problem of auxiliary hypotheses, which, I should repeat, is completely independent of Popperian epistemology.
 
As for the survival hypothesis being the most simple explanation of the data, I’ve yet to see a single survivalist make this argument in the light of the auxiliary hypothesis requirement. Survivalists routinely make the mistake of comparing a simple survival hypothesis (which has minimal or zero explanatory power) with robust alternatives (that is, alternatives that require various auxiliary hypotheses), and then they argue that the survival hypothesis is the simpler hypothesis.  Naturally, survival wins using this strategy, but the strategy is a logical sleight of hands, as I pointed out in my interview with Jime Sayaka earlier  this year. Survivalists need to show that a robust survival hypothesis is more simple than robust alternatives. This has yet to be done, largely because survivalists ignore their dependence on auxiliary hypotheses.  So I regard all simplicity arguments as a bit of a cheat.
 
Finally, whether the appeal to simplicity has any explanatory or evidential value will depend on the particular explanatory or confirmation model we assume.  That being said, it’s generally the case that simplicity is only one determinant of explanatory power (or evidential weightings in confirmation models), and it’s probably the least significant given the elastic nature of the criterion.  Like the appeal to fit with background knowledge, survivalists hang heavy arguments on a very thin and loose nail.
 
Most importantly, it’s utterly premature to appeal to the survival hypothesis being the simplest explanation of the data until one first shows that the survival hypothesis *explains* anything at all.  Simplicity is a “criterion of choice,” meaning that we appeal to it when our explanatory candidates are dead even in other respects, for example, predictive power. Survivalists assume that survival explains the data. They never really show this.  At best they show that other hypotheses do not explain the data.  To show that survival explains would burden survivalists with the baggage of auxiliary hypotheses.
 
I consider appeals to simplicity as, in principle, no different from appeals to “fit with background knowledge” and the alleged “failure of explanatory competitors,” a strategy of argument that attempts to circumvent requirements for the genuine testing of an ostensible empirical hypothesis.  It distracts from the core issues and core deficiencies of hypotheses.  When your hypothesis either explains or predicts nothing, shift the focus to the alleged defects of competing hypotheses and make your positive case, to the extent you have one, based on thin criteria like simplicity and fit with background knowledge.  This is usually a sign that we’re dealing with a metaphysical hypothesis that’s parading as an empirical one. Metaphysical hypotheses have a wonderful way of accommodating any data you wish.  So-called empirical arguments for survival are exactly like this. They are great examples of ex post facto reasoning or evidence retrofitting, which of course can serve explanatory competitors just as well (or poorly, as the case may be).  If the empirical world had been any other way, you could run exactly the same argument.  One certainly doesn’t have to be a Popperian to find this form of reasoning objectionable.
 
Michael Sudduth
 
Related Readings in Philosophy of Science:
Heather Douglas, “Reintroducing Prediction to Explanation,” in Philosophy of Science, 2009, 76: 444-463.
Elliott Sober and Christopher Hitchcock, Prediction Versus Accommodation and the Risk of Overfitting. British Journal for the Philosophy of Science 2004, 55: 1-34.
Elliott Sober, “Evidence” in Sober, Evidence and Evolution: the Logic Behind the Science. Cambridge University Press, 2008.

Response to Prescott’s Minions

Earlier in the month I responded to author Michael Prescott’s critical comments on my  critique of Chris Carter’s defense of empirical arguments for life after death. After publishing my response on his blog, his readers have offered various counterpoints.  I told Prescott that I would be happy to respond to “highlights” of his readers’ posts.  So here’s my response to the selections he emailed me earlier in the week. Since I don’t provide much background to the various comments, I’d recommend that interested subscribers to my blog first read the comments section in Prescott’s blog where Prescott’s readers responded to my arguments. – M.S.

—————————————– 

Michael:

I’ve read the selected comments you forwarded to me from your readers.  Here are some responses. 

First, some of your readers brought up near-death experiences (NDEs), which I have not directly addressed at this stage.  So here’s a preview.  On my view, NDEs provide prima facie justification for belief in survival for those who have such experiences, and the testimonial data from such experiences may provide an interesting argument against some materialist philosophies of mind.  But I don’t think there’s a good argument for survival from the testimonial data.  In fact, I’d say that arguments for survival based solely on the data from NDEs are the second weakest kind of survival argument, the weakest being arguments from apparitional experiences. In addition to the widely advertised problems with NDE survival arguments, all such arguments will run into the problem of auxiliary hypotheses. I’ll discuss this in more detail in my book.

Second, as far as the alleged consistency of NDEs goes, it’s not clear to me what precisely your readers think this actually proves, shows, or otherwise establishes vis-à-vis the survival hypothesis or my critique.  For reasons I’ll note here, I think the appeal to the consistency of NDEs has limited value within the larger landscape of the survival debate.

(i) As is well known from the analysis of religious experience in the philosophy of religion, it’s relatively easy to find consistent/inconsistent features in different experiences when the experience-type has vague parameters. Given the elastic parameters of NDEs, the acceptance of the survivalist interpretation of NDEs based on their consistency is just as unwarranted as the rejection of the survivalist interpretation of NDEs on the grounds of their alleged inconsistency. Proponents and opponents are equally held captive to naïve ways of conceptualizing the situation. 

(ii) Even if we grant that the descriptions of NDEs are consistent and exhibit various non-trivial coherence relations, what follows? It’s unclear how this shows a “hole” in my argument.  My central argument, even applied to NDEs, is entirely compatible with NDEs exhibiting coherence.  It’s also compatible with the consistency of NDEs contributing to the evidential value of NDEs.  However, until we formulate an argument for survival that is informed by the issues in evidence assessment I’ve raised, we don’t really know the net value of consistency.  This is just another example of survivalists thinking that the demands of serious argument are met by claiming that survival is true because they’ve provided a statement of their subjective degree of confidence in unclear or contentious principles.

Third, with respect to Rouge’s comments about auxiliary hypotheses, I think he’s confused either about what independent testability involves or about how it’s applied in the sciences. 

(i) Contrary to Rouge’s suggestion, the auxiliary hypotheses required to test different evolutionary hypotheses actually are independently testable in the relevant sense.  See Elliott Sober’s Evidence and Evolution (chapters 3-4), where this is demonstrated, for example with reference to common ancestry and phylogenetic relationships. 

But let’s be clear about what independent testability involves. Your readers seem to be operating with some highly inflated and/or idiosyncratic conception.  Roughly stated, for a hypothesis H (proposed to explain observation O) to be independently testable means there’s a procedure that produces a justification for h that does not depend on our being antecedently justified in accepting H, not H, or O.  I’ve provided many examples in my publications showing how this condition is widely satisfied in the sciences and in a variety of everyday applications.  (I direct your readers once again to my “Getting Sober about Survival” blog series where I discussed these issues). So survival arguments fail to secure an epistemic virtue that is widely exemplified across different disciplines and modes of inquiry.  In the light of this, the survivalist appeal to “consistency” looks at best like “last prize.”  This tends to reinforce suspicions about survival arguments rather than rescue them from skeptical objections.

(ii) There’s no doubt that the fossil record by itself, though incompatible with certain theistic-creation hypotheses, is nonetheless compatible with a range of alternative hypotheses of the sort Rouge outlined.  But this strikes me as utterly insignificant.  A single piece of evidence at the scene of a crime may eliminate one suspect but still leave us with three possible suspects.  This is why it’s important to locate “discriminatory evidence,” that is, observations that are to be expected given one hypothesis but not another. And, as I’ve argued, an essential aspect of such a program is locating independently testable auxiliary hypotheses in arriving at predictive consequences for both one’s preferred hypothesis and whatever hypothesis is the competitor. Again, I refer readers to Sober’s discussion (in Evidence and Evolution) of how a hypothesis is to be tested against a competitor.

Fourth, Rouge appeals to the transmission theory of consciousness, apparently to show, contrary to what I’ve argued, that some conceivable survival scenarios are more to be expected than others if consciousness survives death.  This is at least an interesting suggestion. 

There’s some initial confusion in Rouge’s argument, for he begins by saying: 

I would argue that any version of the transmission theory is compatible with the persistence of memory, intentions, skills, and personality, and that the transmission theory in some form is by far the most likely model of the mind-brain relationship.

But, of course, the issue is not whether the transmission theory is compatible with the persistence of memories, etc. (of course it is), but rather—the stronger notion—whether these are to be expected.  Rouge then switches to the stronger conception: 

On the basis of the transmission theory, certain afterlife-related outcomes would be predicted to occur – not invariably, given the individual variations that are natural in any study of human consciousness, but at least in some cases. We would expect some dying patients to show heightened lucidity as consciousness begins to slough off the damaged brain – and there are cases of “terminal lucidity,” vivid and veridical deathbed visions, and NDEs in which thought and perception are heightened far beyond ordinary experience. We would expect mental confusion attributable to a damaged brain to clear up in a postmortem state, and mediumistic communications provide support for this. We would expect the deceased to retain their memories and even to experience them more vividly, and again this is consistent with mediumship, past-life studies, and NDEs (the life review). So I would suggest that, while testable predictions in this area are inevitably less certain than those in (say) chemistry or physics, the transmission theory does provide us with some predictions, and these predictions have tended to pan out.

It looks like Rouge wants to treat the transmission theory of consciousness as an auxiliary hypothesis for the purposes of developing a space of plausible survival worlds from among a larger array of merely conceivable survival worlds. So if consciousness survives death (the survival hypothesis) and the transmission theory (auxiliary hypothesis) were true, then certain afterlife-related outcomes would be predicted to occur, well, at least in some cases.  Since the transmission theory has been independently tested (with success, according to Rouge), we have a survival-friendly auxiliary hypothesis for which there is independent evidence but which leads us to expect the relevant data. 

This is the most interesting suggestion from among the various comments, but ultimately it’s not plausible.

(i) Where T = the transmission theory and O = any of the observational data (noted by Rouge), let’s assume that the value of Pr(O | T)—the probability of O given T—is well defined.  The relevant range of data for survival arguments is considerably broader than O.   Survival arguments require that the Pr(D | S) has a well-defined value, where D = the broader range of data and S = the survival hypothesis.  A well-defined value for Pr(D | S) requires the kinds of auxiliary hypotheses I’ve outlined in detail, but it’s not possible to derive these auxiliaries from T.   So even if Pr(O | T) is well-defined, this would be insufficient to extricate survival arguments from the problem of auxiliary hypotheses.

(ii) However, as it turns out, the value of Pr(O | T) is actually not well-defined. Rouge doesn’t actually show why T should lead us to expect O, but this is precisely what needs to be argued.  And this is particularly important because Rouge has hedged the prediction with an extremely important qualifier, namely in some cases.  So why should T lead us to expect O, yet only in some cases? Which cases exactly?  What are the even approximate parameters here? And is this a consequence of the content of T, or T + something extra? Rouge nonchalantly refers to “individual variations that are natural in any study of human consciousness,” but this is not to be lightly passed over.  Until Rouge can answer these questions, there’s no workable model here at all, and certainly no challenge to my claim that the auxiliary hypotheses required by survival arguments are not independently testable.

On the face of it, Rouge’s assertion of alleged predictive derivations strikes me as more retrofitting.  He’s simply transferred this from the survival hypothesis to the transmission theory.  His qualifier is quite convenient, too convenient.  It allows easy confirmation but makes difficult, if not impossible, falsification.  For example, it allows us to treat verified memory claims as evidence for the theory, but not their absence as evidence against the theory.  If either survival or the transmission theory makes genuine predictions, I should like to know what observations we should expect if the theory is true but not if the theory is false.

(iii) As it happens, transmission theorists have taken different views concerning the degree of psychological continuity there would be between ante-mortem and postmortem consciousness, to what extent unique personality features would carry over, what causal powers would be attributed to surviving “selves,” and so forth.  Understandably so. Simply proposing that the brain “transmits” consciousness rather than produces it is compatible with a broad range of survival scenarios. In fact, the language can be interpreted in terms of multiple models of consciousness.   And this shows again that the value of Pr(O | T) is simply not well-defined even among those who advocate transmission theories.  Indeed, on some views, if we survive death, we should not expect our ordinary personality to survive. See Tart, Charles. 1990. “Who Survives? Implications of Modern Consciousness Research.” In What Survives? Contemporary Explorations of Life after Death, ed. Gary Doore. Los Angeles, CA: Jeremy P. Tarcher, Inc., 138–151.

Fifth, several of your readers are under the impression that disposing of materialist views of mind/reality somehow renders survival more plausible.  But that’s too quick in point of logic.  At best, disposing of materialism removes an objection to some hypotheses of survival, but removing an objection to a hypothesis is not the same thing as providing evidence for a hypothesis.  And at all events, whether materialism is true or not (or whatever metaphysical theory survivalists wish to advocate) is irrelevant to the problem of auxiliary hypotheses.

Sixth, your readers didn’t properly understand my references to Broad, Price, and Ducasse.  My point there was simply that they, unlike other writers, were cognizant of there being many different conceivable survival hypotheses with varying predictive consequences.  That’s not an endorsement of any of their particular flirtations at this juncture.  Anyhow, any attempt to refute Broad’s “persistence hypothesis” or Price’s “place memory hypothesis” (as alternatives to personal survival) will run right into the problem of auxiliary hypotheses and get caught in the net I’ve cast into the survival debate.

Finally, I’ll leave you with a quote from Elliott Sober that sums up the plight of empirical survival arguments on my view. 

The lazy way to test a hypothesis H is to focus on one of its possible competitors H0, claim that the data refute H0, and then declare that H is the only hypothesis left standing. This is an attractive strategy if you are fond of the hypothesis H and are unable to say what testable predictions H makes. (Sober, Evidence and Evolution, p. 353).

This is basically the strategy of argument in most books that try to present empirical evidence for survival, Carter’s included.  They are just so many variations on lazy testing. 

Michael Sudduth

Zen, Starbucks, and Iron Maiden

In a week my life undergoes a major transition. On June 1 I move into a Zen center/community in the Santa Cruz mountains, where I will reside for the summer, writing, making bricks, and engaging in Zen practice. As time permits, I intend to blog on my experiences during the summer, as well as continue blogging on material related to my book on survival.

Starbucks: During the past two weeks Starbucks has been something of a second home for me as I dismantle my domestic life and embark upon a new phase of life’s journey. I’ve met some really interesting people at Starbucks and had some great conversations. I’d like to dedicate this blog to them. Here I offer some Zen-oriented contemplations on Nirvana and enlightenment, quite appropriately while sitting in Starbucks and listing to Iron Maiden. 

Now for contemplations under the influence of many cups of Starbucks tea and Iron Maiden tunes. . . .

According to Buddhism, attachment to fictions such as ‘permanent world’ or ‘permanent self’ is the cause of dukkha (lack of satisfaction).   Nirvana, literally ‘to be blown out,’ is usually described as the cessation of attachment to such fictions and consequently the cessation of dukkha. 

However, when the mind tries to grasp Nirvana, the mind thinks ‘goal to be achieved.’ Immediately the mind is in the grip of a delusion.  That which must be ‘achieved’ is judged not to be present, but Nirvana is precisely the present reality.  To look for it elsewhere is to miss it together.  More specifically, to look for it is delusion.   Nirvana is not a thing at all, which is why it is nothing to be achieved.

Nirvana is beyond the grasp of the mind, beyond all thinking, feeling, and sensing.  The mind can no more know Nirvana than a character in a film can know the screen out of which it is made.  All ‘things’ are made of Nirvana.  All ‘things’ are Buddha nature. 

Duality/Non-Duality: It’s not that there is no duality. It’s not that there is no non-duality. It’s that these are different ways of speaking of what cannot be spoken, diverse ways of grasping at what cannot be grasped by the mind.

Life minus ‘mental story telling’ equals Nirvana. 

To see the flower without judgment is all that is meant by Nirvana.

If nirvana is a goal, it is unattainable.  If nirvana is practice, it is trivially attained. Nirvana is therefore practice and goal, simultaneously unattainable and as easy as your next breath. 

When I blow out a candle, the room is plunged into darkness, but does the cat care?

No one ever achieves Nirvana, for all sentient beings are even now the Buddha nature.  What does it mean that we are Buddha nature?  Nothing more than what is present in each breath. You are already experiencing Nirvana.  It just goes unnoticed. Breathe, therefore, with awareness.

Nirvana is unstoppable.  As you are powerless over delusion, you are powerless over enlightenment.

In the big mind there is plenty of space for chaos and nonsense.

Nirvana sometimes appears as birth.  At other times, it appears as death. When birth has been freed from attachment and death has been divested of aversion, birth and death are non-different from Nirvana.  The lake that is stirred up by wind is tranquil when the wind has ceased.  Whenever life is revealed as it is, there has been cessation.  This is nirvana.

Nirvana is the field covered with bullshit when bullshit gives rise to life.  Nirvana does not require the removal of bullshit from consciousness, only its rearrangement, that is, seeing bullshit as bullshit.  This is what Nagarjuna meant by saying that nirvana and samsara (life and death) are non-different.  Life happens. Death happens. Shit happens.  See it clearly and you won’t step into it, and if you step into it, grass will grow from your feet. 

What, from the perspective of duality, appears as ‘entering Nirvana’ is in fact only the falling away of the body-mind.

As long as you are inside criticism or judgment, nirvana is veiled.  But the truly hard thing about removing the veil covering nirvana is not cessation of criticism and judgment but simply our stopping talking altogether.  You want to see clearly? Just stop talking, at least for a few minutes.

In zazen (Zen ‘meditation’), there is no essential concentration of any object, but rather a relaxing of attention on objects.  Thoughts, feelings, and sensations are permitted to arise without attachment or aversion to them.  This may be described as a gentle watching of mental activity.  Watch the rising and falling of layers of mental content, like waves on the ocean. 

If you sit in zazen, you may experience something people call ‘enlightenment,’ or you may not experience what people call ‘enlightenment’.  Most likely, you will experience enlightenment but not know that you have experienced enlightenment, for the effects of zazen are beyond our conscious life. 

But if you sit again, and again, you may nonetheless conjecture the work is being done.  I believe this is what Dogen meant by saying that sitting in zazen is the effect of enlightenment, not its cause.  And this is true even of the first sit.  It too is the effect of enlightenment.  Ultimately zazen is grace – grace expressing grace. 

What is enlightenment? Dogen said it was the tea and rice of daily living. For me, it’s 12 hours at Starbucks drinking Calm tea with steamed milk while listening to Iron Maiden.

I’m waiting in my cold cell, when the bell begins to chime.


Reflecting on my past life and it doesn’t have much time


‘Cause at 5 o’clock they take me to the gallows pole.

The sands of time for me are running low, running low

 

When the priest comes to read me the last rites


Take a look through the bars at the last sights


Of a world that has gone very wrong for me.

Can it be that there’s some sort of error


Hard to stop the surmounting terror


Is it really the end, not some crazy dream?

Be Water, My Friend

“Empty your mind. Be formless, shapeless, like water. Now you put water into a cup; it becomes the cup. You put water into a bottle; it becomes the bottle. You put it in the teapot; it becomes the teapot. Water can flow or it can crash. Be water, my friend.” – Bruce Lee

If we watch Bruce Lee in action as a martial arts master, we see a physical manifestation of the perennial eastern wisdom Lee here expresses.  His bodily movements were flexible, fluid, like water, capable of adapting to changing circumstances. His body often appears to have no boundaries, no limits. We might say that Lee “empties” his body. This emptying is the experience of the body as intrinsically without form or shape.  Therefore, it is capable of taking on many different forms and shapes.

But here Lee speaks of “the mind,” not the body.  He says “empty” the mind. He says to be “formless, shapeless.” What is it, then, for the mind to be empty, for the mind to be formless or shapeless? 

First, observe in yourself the tendency to give consciousness a form or shape: anger, sadness, bliss, anxiety, being tired, perceiving a tree, or remembering yesterday’s breakfast. Or better yet, think of the presumption that consciousness is this or that form. I am angry because I have experienced some deep emotional injustice. I am sad because my partner dumped me. Here consciousness has shape or form.  And so do I, for notice the subtle psychological identification of self with these states of consciousness. It’s not simply that anger or bliss is present to or in me. How impersonal is that? Rather I am this!  This is why pleasant and unpleasant experiences land a powerful punch or kick. Consciousness has been incarnated, and we experience attachment to it or we experience aversion to it.  I like this thing “bliss,” and I don’t like this thing “sadness.”  In the first case, I am happy; in the second, I am unhappy.

To speak of consciousness as shapeless or formless is in the first instance simply to cease identifying consciousness with any particular name or form, be it a pleasant or unpleasant one.  It’s to communicate the idea of a larger consciousness or mind, of which anger, sadness, and such are but temporary manifestations. Eastern spiritual teachers often use the analogy of the wave and the ocean to communicate the idea of smaller, temporary manifestations of a larger enduring reality. This larger enduring reality is pure consciousness, what Vedanta calls the Self and Zen calls the larger or bigger mind. 

When we examine our experience, we find thoughts, feelings, and sensations, or more properly the activity of thinking, feeling, and sensing.  Upon more careful introspection or meditation, we also find a witnessing background to these mental activities, an ever present, abiding awareness, the one who watches the coming and going of thoughts, feelings, and sensations. The eastern teachers tell us that our sense of being an I, an enduring self, derives from this witness, but this true “I” is veiled through a false identification of “I” with the body-mind. And this delusion is the root of our suffering.  We think we are something we are not. We therefore want what we do not need. Consequently, we suffer.

Return to the water metaphor. Like water, consciousness is essentially without form or shape. Therefore, like water, consciousness can permeate everything and it can become anything. You put consciousness into an unpleasant experience, and it becomes the unpleasant experience.  You put consciousness into a pleasant experience, and it becomes the pleasant experience. Better yet, formless consciousness becomes incarnate in every thought, feeling, and sensation, but consciousness itself is neither pleasant experience nor unpleasant experience.  It can therefore take the name and form of either. It is not this or that experience, but the witnessing background of all experience. Since it is no thing, it can become everything, just as the water is one though it becomes many names and forms – now pot, now cup, now bottle. This is why the Upanishads identify the true Self with Brahman and declare that “Brahman is the world.”

If, then, you are that shapeless, formless mind, understand that you are no less present when it is incarnated as the unpleasant experience than when it is incarnated as a pleasant experience.  You are there, not merely in the background of all experience but in the foreground, as the very knowing inherent in all thoughts, feelings, and sensations.  It is this presence for which the small mind searches because, being small, it has judged itself as in need of completion or enlargement, and implements clever but unsuccessful strategies of assimilating and rejecting this or that object. We take ourselves to be teapot-water longing to be bottle-water, or cup-water longing to be teapot-water.  Only if I am “this” or “that” can I fail to be what I want or succeed in being that which I do not want. 

However, if consciousness is like water, it matters not whether consciousness is “in the bottle” or “in the cup” or “in the teapot.”  It is not intrinsically confined to any of these forms. And if the container should crack or shatter, nothing is lost but a limiting condition of our essential nature.  This is why, as Kahlil Gibran noted, “your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding.”

What does it mean to “empty the mind”? Not the dissolution of the contents of the mind, but rather the dissolution of the understanding of my relation to these contents, specifically the dissolution of the belief and subsequent feeling that what I essentially am shares in the limits and destiny of the body-mind.  I do not deny the shape the water has taken when it is in the cup if I say water is formless and shapeless.  I imply that the water is more than this, that it is essentially not this shape.  What is dissolved in emptying the mind is a particular story the mind tells about itself, the world, and the relation between them – the dualistic story that divides the world essentially into subject-object relations. To empty the mind is not simply to take something away; it is to give the small mind the very completion for which it searches. This completion is the cessation of the story that perpetuates its suffering.

Of course, if you are the water, now flowing then crashing, the call to “be water” is simply a way of saying notice or lend attention to what you already essentially are. You flow and you crash. You are fully present in each moment of life as it happens.  And the peace you seek is your very Self, whether flowing or crashing.

Michael Sudduth

A Response to Michael Prescott

Author Michael Prescott has recently provided some critical comments on my recent blog post on Chris Carter’s defense of empirical arguments for postmortem survival. Prescott’s widely read blog often addresses the topic of life after death.  However, unlike many other bloggers, Prescott brings some quality insights to the topic, so naturally I’m happy to see a discussion of my arguments on his blog, and I’m happy to respond to his comments.

In his most recent blog,  Prescott focused on what I call the “problem of auxiliary hypotheses.”  On my view, empirical arguments for survival depend on auxiliary hypotheses that are not independently testable.  In this way survival arguments are very much unlike empirical arguments we encounter in other domains of inquiry (e.g., detective work, jury deliberations, and the sciences), where the predictive consequences of hypotheses are derived with the assistance of added assumptions that can be independently tested and for which there is independent evidence. As a result of reliance on auxiliary hypotheses that lack independent support, survival arguments carry significantly less force than their proponents claim.

Below is my response to Prescott’s criticism of my argument concerning auxiliary hypotheses. The specific context here is my application of the problem of auxiliary hypotheses to one of Chris Carter’s defenses of survival arguments against appeals to living-agent psychic functioning as a viable counter-explanation of the relevant empirical data. As explained in “Chris Carter’s Challenge: Survival vs. Super-Psi,” Carter rejects living-agent psi explanations of the data because they can only account for the data by being expanded into a fairly robust version of living-agent psi called super-psi, but – so Carter contends – super-psi lacks independent support. 

My response to Carter is a simple parity argument.  Survival can only account for the relevant data by being expanded into a fairly robust version of survival, one that, like super-psi, involves a large number of auxiliary hypotheses for which there is no independent support.  Hence, if “lack of independent support” is a reason to reject non-survival explanations of the data, it is equally a reason to reject survival explanations of the data.  As I see it, Carter and other survivalists who reject non-survival counter-explanations of the data on the grounds that these alternative explanations lack independent support are ignoring the extent to which the survival hypothesis fails in precisely the same way. The integrity of survival arguments is undermined by reliance on what amounts to an epistemic double standard.

Prescott attempts to rescue Carter from my critique by arguing that, while survivalist auxiliary hypotheses are not independently testable, they do fit with our background knowledge. While the strategy of generating a salient difference between the auxiliary hypotheses of competing explanations is in principle sound, Prescott’s particular argument does not work. The main problem in Prescott’s argument is that there are many different auxiliary hypotheses that (i) are consistent with the survival hypothesis, (ii) fit with our background knowledge, but (iii) generate very different predictive consequences, many of which would disconfirm the survival hypothesis.  Otherwise stated, there are many different survival hypotheses.  Only a very narrow range of these survival hypotheses would lead us to expect the data adduced as evidence for survival.  We simply don’t know how the world should look if survival is true, which is why empirical survivalists can’t tell us how the world should look if survival is false.

The upshot:  in the absence of independent testability/support, we have no way of selecting auxiliaries in a way that does not appear to be a case of explanatory retrofitting.  Particular facts are judged salient and consequently selected because they fit the auxiliaries one’s favored hypothesis needs to generate successful predictions.  This is not a truth-conducive policy in explanatory reasoning in any other domain in which we aim to weigh empirical evidence.  The burden is on the survivalist to show that the survival hypothesis is an exception to this rule.

– M.S.

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Response to Michael Prescott

Michael:

Thanks for your continued discussion of my critique of Carter. I’ve provided some comments here on your blog “More on Super-Psi.”

You have my permission to post this response on your blog. I’ll probably post it on my own blog this coming week.

Before digging into your main argument, let me offer an initial clarification.  In your blog, you wrote:

“I don’t think that a rigorously logical proof, along the lines of proving a mathematical theorem, is possible when dealing with empirical evidence, especially when the evidence involves something as in inherently ambiguous and subjective as states of consciousness (incarnate or discarnate). Instead, I think what is needed is something more like the reasoning we hope to find in a jury’s deliberations.”

I agree that a “rigorously logical proof, along the lines of proving a mathematical theorem,” is not possible when dealing with empirical evidence. Of course I’m not asking survivalists to produce such an argument. This is not the problem with empirical survival arguments.  My criticisms are directed towards what survivalists claim on behalf of their arguments.  Survivalists make claims (of varying sorts) about the force of evidence for the hypothesis of survival, often claiming that the evidence confers some favorable probability on this hypothesis.  I’m subjecting these claims and their supporting arguments to critical evaluation, and I’m relying on principles that are broadly applicable to evidence assessment across different domains of inquiry.  I really don’t see how we can do justice to survival arguments and avoid technical issues in confirmation theory and general epistemology.

With reference to my critique, you’ve mainly focused on one of my several criticisms of Carter’s arguments.  Carter objects to the super-psi hypothesis on the grounds that it lacks independent support.  I had argued that the empirical survivalist is in exactly the same position.  The only kind of survival hypothesis that generates anything in the way of even general predictive consequences depends on a range of auxiliary hypotheses for which there is also no independent support.  My argument is a straightforward parity argument: Carter demands “x” of super-psi arguments, but survival arguments don’t satisfy “x.”  It’s also an application of one of my more general criticisms of survival arguments, namely that the lack of independent testability/support for auxiliary hypotheses significantly deflates the force of empirical survival arguments in their classical formulations.

Now it appears that we agree on at least two issues.  You agree that empirical survival arguments depend on auxiliary hypotheses.  You also appear to agree that these auxiliary hypotheses are not independently testable and lack independent support. The point of disagreement concerns whether this fact undermines Carter’s particular criticism of the super-psi hypothesis.  You seem to think not.  And here you make the observation that survivalist auxiliaries are consistent with our background knowledge. It’s not entirely clear how this observation, which is surely correct, deflates the force of my criticism of Carter, but I suspect you intend something of the following sort:  while it may be true that survivalist and living-agent psi explanations of the relevant data each depend on auxiliary hypotheses that are not independently testable, the survivalist assumptions at least fit with our background knowledge, whereas living-agent psi auxiliaries do not, or at least the former fit better with our background knowledge than the latter.  So it seems that your answer to my parity argument is a “disparity” counter-argument.

Well, this is an interesting approach.  In principle it’s the right kind of move to make.  To deflate a parity argument you’d need to show an overriding salient disparity, a significant difference between the survival hypothesis and its explanatory competitors that favors the survival hypothesis, even if my parity thesis is true.  However, I don’t think you’re going to get the necessary mileage out of this particular argument.  In fact, I’m inclined to think that it actually highlights precisely what I think is wrong with survival arguments.  So it’s worth looking at this.

First, there’s something of a challenge here in determining the precise role of fit with background knowledge in the larger framework of the survival arguments we’re critically engaging, and this includes Carter’s defense of survival arguments.  “Fit with background knowledge” is plausibly a virtue of some sort for hypotheses.  But what sort? And what sort of weight do we give it in the larger context of other criteria we’re invoking in evidence assessment.  The same is true with respect to “simplicity,” which participants on both sides of the debate tend to wield in an incautious manner.  Until this is explored, it’s hard to see the net impact of your observation on either survival arguments or my critique of Carter’s objections to super-psi.

Now one way “fit with background knowledge” often enters the structure of empirical arguments is as a determinant of the prior probability of a hypothesis.  By “prior probability” I mean the credibility of a hypothesis independent of the evidence it’s adduced to explain.  So we might treat your observation as offering “credit” to the prior probability of the survival hypothesis.  However, assigning a prior probability to the survival hypothesis is a notoriously difficult matter.  I’m highly skeptical that such assignments do anything more than express the arguer’s subjective degree of certainty in the hypothesis of survival.  And this is one of the several problems that infect (Bayesian) formulations of survival arguments that incorporate claims about prior probabilities, which is why Likelihood formulations are better suited to survival arguments, even if the conclusion must be a bit more modest.  (See my blog series “Getting Sober about Survival” for a discussion on Likelihoodism).

Second, with respect to the alleged advantage of survival-friendly auxiliaries over living-agent psi-friendly auxiliaries, it’s important to note that there are lots of different auxiliary hypotheses that may be used to generate robust living-agent psi hypotheses that account for the data in a way consistent with our background knowledge.  Here I’ll refer only to Braude’s well-developed living-agent psi hypothesis.  There simply isn’t a single super-psi hypothesis.  Both Hodgson and Carter adopt a fairly narrow set of auxiliary assumptions about super-psi (as well as auxiliaries about the relevant psychodynamics that might play a role in its operation), and from this position they try to show that super-psi generates predictive consequences that are contrary to our observational data. However, in the absence of independent support for these auxiliaries, we really don’t know whether the alleged observational data count against the super-psi hypothesis or count against the auxiliaries Hodgson and Carter have adopted.   I’ve discussed this problem in Sudduth 2014b.

Third, and this is really the crucial issue, while there’s no doubt that the survival-friendly auxiliaries you cite fit with our background knowledge in precisely the ways you’ve suggested, there are dozens of other auxiliary hypotheses that are (i) consistent with the survival hypothesis, (ii) fit with our background knowledge, but (iii) generate very different predictive consequences of varying degrees of specificity.  Broad, Price, and Ducasse each outlined a range of different robust survival hypotheses, each of which has analogues with our current experience (e.g., dream consciousness, dementia, dissociative identity disorder, psychogenic amnesia).  But these alternate robust survival hypotheses do not lead us to expect the data adduced as evidence for survival. For example, they would not lead us to expect the persistence of ante-mortem autobiographical memories, intentions and purposes, skills, or the personality traits/profiles of relatively unified selves.

The root of the problem is apparent if we look more carefully at how you make use of fit with background knowledge.  What you’ve done is show how the auxiliaries needed for predictive success in survival arguments fit with a selected subset of our total relevant background knowledge.  But note – you could have selected very different auxiliary hypotheses about the nature of postmortem consciousness, and these would have been equally compatible with our background knowledge.  Had you selected a different subset, the survival hypothesis would not have had predictive success because, relative to these alternate hypotheses, we would not expect survivors to have strong psychological continuity with their ante-mortem lives.  Why privilege your subset then?  That’s the crucial question.  Since you acknowledge you have no independent support for your auxiliary hypotheses, your selection procedure is open to the charge of being more accurately a retrofitting procedure.  Particular facts are judged salient and consequently selected because they fit the auxiliaries one’s favored hypothesis needs to generate successful predictions.

If defenders of living-agent psi hypotheses appear to adopt ad hoc auxiliaries, survivalists are guilty of adopting auxiliary hypotheses that beg the question.  In the absence of independent support for auxiliary hypotheses, we have no way to sensibly navigate the vast array of options in the logical space occupied by auxiliaries that are consistent with our background knowledge but that produce very different predictive consequences.  This is why survivalists have a hard time stating what observation would be evidence against survival.  It’s simply not clear what the world should look like if survival is true, which is rather unfortunate for empirical arguments for survival.  Similarly, and contrary to Hodgson and Carter, it’s also not clear what the world should look like if “super-psi” is true.  It follows that we don’t know whether the relevant data are more to be expected given survival or super-psi.  What then of arguments that purport to show that the evidence favors survival over living-agent psi?  Perhaps this explains why the jury is still out on this one.

Michael

The Dharma

The Dharma 

This Dharma is utterly unattainable, and yet I vow to attain it. A butterfly landed on my arm. The contradiction dissolved.

This Dharma is utterly unknowable, and yet I vow to know it. I watched my pain and suffering. The contradiction dissolved. 

This Dharma is utterly unspeakable, and yet I vow to speak it. I ordered a Venti Earl Grey tea with steamed milk. The contradiction dissolved.

This Dharma is utterly unlivable, and yet I vow to live it. I took the first of twelve steps. The contradiction dissolved.

 

This Dharma is painful, and yet I vow to feel it.

This Dharma is blissful, and yet I vow to let it go.

 

The Dharma is introverted, but I vow to extrovert it.

The Dharma is extroverted, but I vow to introvert it.

The Dharma is thinking, but I vow to feel it.

The Dharma is feeling, but I vow to think it.

 

What is this Dharma?

 

The Dharma is “think not thinking.” The Dharma is “feel not feeling.”

The Dharma is “know not knowing.”  The Dharma is “perceive not perceiving.”

The Dharma is the dawning of consciousness upon the dark night of the unconscious.

The Dharma is the unconscious.

 

The Dharma is being. The Dharma is non-being. 

The Dharma is that which is beyond being and non-being.

The Dharma is the God, incarnated, crucified, and resurrected from the dead.

The Dharma is the God who plays the flute and dances in the forest of Vrindavan.

 

What is this Dharma?

 

Chanting is Dharma. 

Zazen is Dharma. 

Prayer is Dharma.

Bliss and non-bliss are Dharma. 

Self and non-self are Dharma.

The Dharma is life and the Dharma is death.

 

The Dharma is the heart in which sits

the unborn child that never was conceived.

The Dharma is the cat chasing mice, and the mice chasing cheese.

The Dharma is the man chasing dreams, and the dreamer chasing himself,

ghost upon the wind, 

wind upon the face, 

face upon the sky,

and sky upon the world.

 

The sand between my toes, 

a kiss upon my lips, 

the silence of the waves, 

flickering flame blown out – nirvana,

the essential emptiness of lover and beloved,

ocean without water, 

fire without heat, 

mind without thought, 

the no-thingness of “things.”

 

The Dharma is the butterfly that lands upon my arm, 

the suffering that is born with the rising sun, 

and which passes away by eventide, 

reborn again in the words that pass between my lips, 

and cast into the dirt upon the ground I walk, 

where my softly moving feet take root.

 

The Dharma is the cat to which I bow.

The Dharma is the mountain to which I bow.

The Dharma is the suffering to which I bow.

 

The Dharma is Buddha.

The Buddha is You; the Buddha is Me.

Buddha is life as it is.

Compassionate Knowing

What is compassionate knowing? This is an exploration in search of a beginning.

Let it go. Let it return. Let it be. Compassionate knowing?

See the world as it is. Respond without expectation, without ego-interest, without defensiveness. Compassionate knowing?

In zazen a fly landed on my nose. I noticed it but let it remain. Compassionate knowing?

I was misperceived, misjudged. I had no reaction. Compassionate knowing?

I saw the pain behind her anger. My judgment dissolved. Compassionate knowing?
I saw the pain behind my anger. My anger dissolved. Compassionate knowing?

I bowed to a cat named Bodhi. She blinked in return. Compassionate knowing?

I meditated on a cat named Rasa. May you dance with mice in your dreams. Compassionate knowing?

I saw the chair across the room but didn’t see it as a “chair.” Compassionate knowing?

Absence of compassion. Void filled with poisons: judgment, guilt, shame, anger, defensiveness. Deeply rooted in delusion, the greatest of which is denial. Is there any self knowledge without compassion?

I watched with no interest to control. Compassionate knowing?

I watched the anger arise and singe the borders of hope. I watched it dissipate. Compassionate knowing?

I presented an argument, but I could have just as well have read poetry or ate a spoon of cashew butter. Compassionate knowing?

I embraced my shadow in the dark. Compassionate knowing?

The “I” disappeared, leaving only knowing. Compassionate knowing?

 

Chris Carter’s Challenge: Survival vs. Super-Psi

Empirical survivalists believe in life after death and also believe that there is observational data that provide evidence for this.  Arguments for survival based on this alleged evidence are designated empirical arguments for survival.  An important feature of these arguments is “ruling out” various explanatory competitors that attempt to account for the data in some way other than by postulating persons surviving death.  This eliminative procedure is partly a consequence of the structure of most empirical survival arguments.  The arguments typically maintain that certain empirical data are evidence for survival because the survival hypothesis is the best explanation of the data.  The comparative strength of non-survival counter-explanations of the data thus becomes important to the internal logic of empirical survival arguments. 

The most deeply entrenched and widely discussed explanatory competitor to the survival hypothesis is the living-agent psi hypothesis (hereafter, LAP hypothesis).  According to this hypothesis, very roughly stated, psychic functioning among living persons (in the form of extra-sensory perception and psychokinesis) is proposed as an ostensible explanation of data otherwise seemingly explained by the survival hypothesis.  In response, empirical survivalists have presented several arguments aimed at dismantling this proposed counter-explanation of the data.  When, earlier this year, Jime Sayaka interviewed me on the topic of empirical arguments for postmortem survival, I critically addressed survivalist dismissals of the LAP hypothesis in some detail.  In particular, I responded to a number of questions concerning survivalist Chris Carter’s “challenge” to defenders of the LAP hypothesis.

Since my interview with Sayaka was quite dense, I’m going to use the present blog to summarize several of my criticisms of Carter’s “challenge.”  It will come as no surprise to those familiar with my work that I don’t think Carter has produced a substantial challenge to the LAP hypothesis or the super-sized version of it called “super-psi” or “super-ESP”. In fact, Carter’s “challenge” simply perpetuates in popular form much of what’s wrong with the literature on survival at the conceptual level.  I focus on Carter here, not because he offers anything unique or special in his critique of LAP counter-explanations; rather, he illustrates survivalist orthodoxy at this juncture, is something of a poster-boy for popular survivalist bloggers (such as Michael Prescott), I periodically receive emails from people asking me to respond to Carter’s objections, and quite a few well-known parapsychologists have endorsed his work.  While I have personally commended Carter on some aspects of his work (Sudduth 2011), in the interest of advancing the empirical survival debate there’s much that is also inadequate and merits rejection after critical scrutiny.

UPDATE (June 21, 2015): Subsequent to the publication of this post, Michael Prescott and his readers offered a critical response to my arguments in his blog.  My responses were published as A Response to Michael Prescott (May 19, 2014), Response to Prescott’s Minions (May 30, 2014), and Falsification, Simplicity, and Survival (June 2, 2014). The arguments I sketch here are more fully developed in my forthcoming A Philosophical Critique of Arguments for Postmortem Survival (Palgrave Macmillan, 2015).

1. Carter’s Critique of the Super-Psi Hypothesis

To give context to Carter’s specific critique of the so-called super-psi hypothesis, let’s begin with a statement of what we might call the “orthodox position” concerning the LAP hypothesis among empirical survivalists. 

Empirical survivalists have usually argued that the appeal to LAP fails because either (L1) the LAP hypothesis cannot account for some sub-set of the relevant data or (L2) the LAP hypothesis can account for the data in a robust way but only by being stretched into a “super-psi” hypothesis. “Super-psi” (or “Super-ESP” as Carter prefers to call it) refers to psychic functioning with a magnitude, potency, and/or refinement for which there appears no independent evidence, especially if we restrict the evidential domain to the results of laboratory-based psi experiments. The survivalist contention is that proposed explanations of the relevant empirical data in terms of super-psi is implausible.  So empirical survivalists present something of a dilemma for those favorable towards LAP counter-explanations.  Either ordinary-psi (i.e., “psi” for which the majority of parapsychologists suppose there is evidence) doesn’t account for crucial bits of data, or super-psi, though it could account for the data, is implausible since it lacks independent evidential support.  So the LAP defender must choose between a hypothesis that either doesn’t account for the data or doesn’t account for the data in a plausible manner.

Jime Sayaka interviewed Chris Carter (for the second time) in 2013.  In the interview Carter provided a concise summary of his argument against the LAP hypothesis, an argument he presented in his most recent book Science and the Afterlife Experience: Evidence for the Immortality of Consciousness (Inner Traditions, 2013).  Most empirical survivalists, and Carter is no exception here, think it’s fairly clear that ordinary-psi cannot account for salient strands of evidence.  Hence, Carter speaks of “ESP of the required power and range” (emphasis mine). So survivalists tend to devote most of their energy to refuting the super-psi version of the LAP hypothesis. 

Now I’ve argued elsewhere (Sudduth 2013a, 2013b) that survivalists have not adequately grounded the ostensible requirement that psi be of a greater magnitude, potency, or refinement than ordinary-psi in order to pose a problem for survival arguments.  In this I’m preceded by and indebted to the high caliber work of philosopher Stephen Braude (2003).  Part of the problem is that survivalists operate with an implausibly narrow conception of how living-agent psi would challenge empirical arguments for survival, and this is often further based on a weak grasp of the content of the LAP hypothesis.  I’ve tried to show how ordinary-psi does indeed pose a challenge to classical empirical survival arguments. This is particularly acute when survival arguments are formulated along Bayesian lines and propose a conclusion about the net plausibility of the survival hypothesis based on the extent to which the survival hypothesis leads us to expect the data, the extent to which the data are otherwise not to be expected, and the initial credibility of the survival hypothesis. 

That being said, here I’m going to focus on the second horn of the dilemma above, specifically Carter’s “challenge” to those open to or favorable towards counter-explanations of the relevant data in terms of super-psi, or at least who—like myself—think that it significantly reduces the strength of empirical survival arguments.

Carter provided the following comments on the super-ESP hypothesis in his interview with Jime Sayaka (3/1/13):

Now, actually, what I said in my book was this:  ‘Evidence for the existence of ESP of the required power and range is practically nonexistent. Defenders of the super-ESP hypothesis are hard-pressed to find any such examples – outside of cases of apparent communication from the deceased.’  And so defenders of the super-PSI hypothesis have not challenged that objection, but have simply agreed with my statement.

The fact that they cannot find any such cases demonstrates the purely ad hoc nature of the super-ESP ‘explanation,’ because of the utter lack of any independent evidence for super-ESP. If super-ESP as an explanation is to be scientific, then it would predict the demonstration of such wide-ranging, virtually-unlimited powers in instances in which we are not dealing with evidence of apparent survival.

If the function of super-ESP is the use of its virtually unlimited powers by the subconscious mind to surreptitiously protect us from the fear of death by fabricating elaborate evidence that seems in every respect exactly as if the deceased are visiting or communicating, then why dont we have evidence of our subconscious minds employing these vast powers to protect us from the actual threat of imminent death? That would at least provide a more plausible evolutionary reason for the existence of these vast powers.

Instead of offering any such evidence, these ‘recent defenders of the Super-ESP hypothesis’ simply agree that there is no independent evidence, apart from the cases apparently offering prima facie evidence of survival.  This means that their “argument” is not an argument at all; rather, it is nothing more than the purely dogmatic assertion that cases of evidence for survival must be cases of super-ESP, period.

The fact that they cannot come up with any such independent evidence shows that what they propose is pseudo-science, pure and simple.

Carter’s main claims are: 

(C1) There’s no evidence for super-psi outside cases otherwise suggestive of survival.

(C2) The super-ESP hypothesis would lead us to expect that such evidence would exist.

(C3) The super-ESP hypothesis is pseudo-science.

He argues (C3) on the basis of (C1).

Furthermore, he at least appears to suggest that

(C4) The super-psi hypothesis is refuted by observational data, 

and this on the basis of (C1) and (C2) together.

2. Response to Carter’s Criticisms 

While Carter has a good grasp of the general history of parapsychology, this is unfortunately outweighed by significant conceptual weaknesses that vitiate his treatment of the empirical survival debate and its interface with parapsychology. In particular, like many other survivalists, Carter presents no logically rigorous formulation of the argument for survival from the purported evidence.  This lack of rigor results in an unfortunate masking of deficiencies in his defense of the survival hypothesis against deeply-entrenched objections, especially those concerning counter-explanations of the relevant data in terms of living-agent psi.

So let me pull together in a semi-condensed form what I’ve argued for a number of years now in response to Carter’s “orthodox” survivalist critique of the appeal to living-agent psi.  I’ll try to list these in a rough order of significance, beginning with what I consider the two most significant problems. Since this is intended as a summary, I don’t develop my main criticisms in any detail, but I have provided links to my publications and on-going writing where the arguments are developed in considerable detail.

(1) Like most empirical survivalists, Carter overlooks how the survival hypothesis, if useful as a testable, explanatory hypothesis, requires supplementation with various auxiliary hypotheses that render it vulnerable to the same criticism he raises against the super-psi hypothesis, namely lack of independent support.  I initially drew attention to Carter’s failure to acknowledge the role of auxiliary hypotheses in my review of his book on near-death experiences (Sudduth 2011).  I’ve since developed the point at length by showing that the survival hypothesis has no predictive or explanatory power unless it’s supplemented with a large number of auxiliary hypotheses (Sudduth 2013a, 2013b, 2014a2014b).  The same is true with respect to the appeal to living-agent psi.  From this vantage point, “super-psi” is simply the appeal to living-agent psi supplemented with further assumptions about the magnitude, efficacy, and refinement of psychic functioning among living persons.  These auxiliary hypotheses are arguably (presently) lacking independent support, but the same is true for the auxiliary hypotheses required for the survival hypothesis to account for the data.  In fact, in Sudduth 2009 I argued that among such auxiliary hypotheses in cases of mediumship would be discarnate/deceased psi of roughly the same magnitude, potency, or refinement as required by the living-agent psi hypothesis.  Hence, by parity of reasoning, if lack of independent support diminishes the plausibility of the super-psi hypothesis, so much the worse for the survival hypothesis. 

(2) In the absence of a clear and moderately rigorous formulation of the empirical argument for survival, it’s wholly unclear how the absence of independent support for the super-psi hypothesis deflates the potential defeating power of this alternative explanation of the data.  In other words, we need to know quite a bit more about the logic of survival arguments, a lot more than Carter provides in either his interviews or publications to date, and this includes a serious engagement with competing principles of evidence assessment.  Labeling the super-psi hypothesis as “non-argument,” “dogmatic,” or “pseudo-science” is a poor substitute for critically exploring crucial concepts in confirmation theory and applying them to the empirical case for survival.  For instance, I’ve argued elsewhere (2014a), that lack of independent support for a hypothesis is not relevant when survivalist arguments are developed along Likelihoodist* lines, but it does gain significance in Bayesian formulations of survival arguments, specifically as a determinant of prior probability.  However, even in the latter case, it’s unclear whether the survival hypothesis enjoys any advantage here, especially if the survival hypothesis is treated in its robust form, with an array of required untestable auxiliary hypotheses.

(3) As I argued in 2013b, if there is evidence for psychic functioning of any sort, this would pose an important challenge to the survival hypothesis, at least if survival arguments are designed to show that the survival hypothesis leads us to expect data that are otherwise improbable.  So there is a sense in which so-called “super-psi” is an overblown issue that has actually distracted from the central issues in the debate.  And Braude (2003) has similarly argued that the designation “super-psi” is itself misleading. Hence, Braude and I each prefer the designation “living-agent psi.” More importantly, though, my more recent criticisms (2014a, 2014b) show that the survival hypothesis is crucially challenged even if there are no plausible explanatory competitors. Survivalists who assume that the survival hypothesis wins by default do no better than theists who maintain that God explains the existence or fundamental features of the universe because nothing else does.  Show me how the favored hypothesis leads us to expect the relevant data, what else must assumed for this predictive consequence to obtain, and whether the required auxiliary assumptions are independently testable.  This is my challenge to survivalists.

(4a) Carter says super-psi is “pseudo-scientific,” but at the same time he suggests that there’s an actual observation that falsifies it, namely the alleged fact that there’s no evidence for it outside the cases otherwise suggestive of survival.  I find this baffling.  Falsifiability is usually considered a necessary condition of scientific reasoning.  While this doesn’t preclude other demarcation criteria, independent support is not sensibly one of them (even though it is relevant to judgments of prior probability in Bayesian style arguments).  There may be little in the way of independent support for the hypothesis that there’s a particular planet of a certain mass, orbiting at a certain distance from its host star, but the hypothesis has something going for it epistemically if it makes a highly specific observational prediction and this prediction is confirmed. It’s hardly pseudo-science because it lacks independent support.  To be sure, independent support would be logical icing on the epistemic cake, but it’s not as if the hypothesis is without any scientifically situated epistemic merit in its absence.  Similarly, while ad hoc hypotheses frequently do not have independent support, lack of independent support does not entail that a hypothesis is ad hoc, as theorizing in contemporary extra-solar planetary science demonstrates.

(4b) As for Carter’s suggested falsification of the super-psi hypothesis, what this demonstrates is just how easy it is to adopt auxiliary assumptions that, together with a core hypothesis, lead us to expect something contrary to our observations.  But unless there is independent support for the auxiliary hypothesis, we simply don’t know whether our observations falsify the core hypothesis or the auxiliary hypothesis. This is a straightforward consequence of the Duhem-Quine thesis according to which the testing of empirical hypotheses requires testing sets of statements, not a single statement.  But here’s the catch: does Carter know enough about either psi or hypothetical super-psi to say just what it would predict in the way of observational evidence?  I doubt it, and at all events, he’s presented no argument to alleviate this concern.  There are many possible motivational factors that can in principle be adopted in conjunction with a super-psi hypothesis and that would conjointly yield very different kinds of predictions.  Carter listed only one such possible motivation, but his suggestion is purely conjectural.  In the absence of independent support for his assumption, a defender of the so-called “super-psi hypothesis” can reasonably take the failed prediction to falsify Carter’s auxiliary hypothesis instead of the super-psi hypothesis itself.

Having said this, I’m inclined to think that the so-called super-psi hypothesis is not a scientific hypothesis in the first place, but not for any reason Carter cites.  The problem is that it only leads us to expect the relevant observational data once we adopt various additional assumptions whose independent testability is, if possible at all, considerably more problematic than most scientific hypotheses.  And this is precisely why it’s easy, as Carter’s argument illustrates, to make assumptions that produce ostensible refutations of the hypothesis. The observation that Pandas have an inefficient ‘thumb’ (i.e., spur bone extending from the Panda’s wrist) refutes the existence of God if I further assume that if God were to exist, he would have wanted to make a universe where Pandas had a more efficient ‘thumb’ for collecting food.  Similarly, the same observation confirms the existence of God if we assume that God would have wanted the Panda to have a highly inefficient anatomy for collecting food.

So I think we should reject the assumption that super-psi is a scientific hypothesis in the first place. While some parapsychologists may regard it as such, I see no good reason for this view, in which case labeling it “pseudo-scientific” is a category mistake, like calling metaphysics or ethics pseudo-scientific.  And I’m inclined to think the same verdict needs to be rendered concerning the survival hypothesis.  It’s no more “scientific” than the super-psi hypothesis. 

(5) Carter says that there’s no evidence for super-psi outside the cases otherwise suggestive of survival, and that defenders of the super-psi hypothesis concede this point.  It’s not clear who these “recent defenders” are supposed to be, but both claims are problematic, if not unwarranted.

First, Stephen Braude—the most capable contemporary defender of the super-psi hypothesis—has argued in detail in two books (1997, 2002) that there is indeed evidence for so-called ‘super-psi.’  In these works, Braude presented a number of arguments based on experimental, semi-experimental, and spontaneous case empirical data for supposing that living-agent psi is broad in magnitude (including both small-scale and large-scale phenomena), extremely potent, and refined in its operation (often combining multiple psi processes and resistant to task complexity).  In a third book (2003), Braude applied its relevance to evaluating the force of survival arguments.  In Sudduth 2009, I argued for a related way of maintaining that there is independent evidence for the super-psi hypothesis. This was based on distinguishing between a core hypothesis of living-agent psi (for which many survivalists including Carter claim there is evidence) and plausible auxiliary hypotheses that augment or qualify the core conception.  To date, Carter had not critically engaged these arguments.

Second, like other survivalists, Carter assumes that if super-ESP were real, then it should be some sort of obvious datum of experience.  Braude has identified this as the implausible “sore thumb” assumption (2003: 12-13).  But to push the matter further, Carter fails to state what evidence for super-ESP outside cases of survival would actually look like. Why should we suppose that super-ESP would produce conspicuous results or results distinguishable from events grounded in ordinary causal chains in the world? Would it be distinguishable from the evidence survivalists take as indicative of survival? And if so, how so?  Unless we antecedently know the answers here, we don’t know whether phenomena allegedly suggestive of survival are instances of survival evidence or whether they are evidence of an important extension of LAP.  Otherwise put, in asking for instances of super-psi outside “cases of survival,” Carter is privileging a survivalist interpretation of the phenomena whose source is precisely what is at issue.  His request simply begs the question. 

3. Concluding Remarks

Carter raises the standard objections to appeals to living-agent psi as a potential counter-explanation of the data otherwise suggestive of survival.  These objections give an appearance of force because they’re inserted into a dialectical context lacking adequate clarity on the formal features of the empirical argument for survival.  Consequently, the problems inherent in such arguments are masked rather than critically engaged and the arguments defended with even modest logical rigor.  I think this also explains why survivalists have by and large not advanced the empirical survival debate since philosophers such as C.J. Ducasse and C.D. Broad laid the conceptual foundations for these arguments in the 1960s.  Like advocates of design arguments for the existence of God during the 17th and 18th centuries, survivalists have mastered the skill of creating increasingly large compendia of empirical data but they’ve made little progress at the more challenging conceptual and theoretical task of critically assessing competing explanations of the data.  The central problem facing empirical arguments for survival is simply not empirical in nature.

 

Notes

*From a Likelihoodist approach to confirmation theory, whether evidence favors hypothesis h1 over h2 depends solely on whether e is more to be expected given h1 than given h2, technically stated, whether Pr(e|h1) > Pr(e|h2).  A student walking down the hall from the Philosophy Department with three philosophy books in his hand favors the hypothesis that the student is a philosophy major over the hypothesis that the student is a biology major because the observational evidence is more likely given the former hypothesis than given the latter hypothesis.  Whether there is independent support for either hypothesis is not relevant to deciding which hypothesis the evidence favors, confirms, or supports.  Now, of course, the Likelihoodist approach doesn’t tell us which hypothesis is likely to be true, and therefore it doesn’t tell us which hypothesis to accept or believe.  It only tells us which of two or more hypotheses a body of evidence favors or supports.  But the point here is that if I’m a Likelihoodist, I can make sense of the relevant data favoring the super-psi hypothesis over the survival hypothesis, even if super-psi lacks independent support.

References:

Braude, S. (1997). The Limits of Influence: Psychokinesis and the Philosophy of Science. Revised Edition. Lanham, MD: University Press of America. 

Braude, S. (2002). ESP and Psychokinesis: A Philosophical Examination. Revised Edition. Parkland: Brown Walker Press.

Braude, S. (2003). Immortal Remains. Lanham, MD: Rowman and Littlefield Publishers, Inc. 

Carter, C. (2010).  Science and the Near-Death Experience. Rochester, VT: Inner Traditions. 

Carter, C. (2012). Science and the Afterlife Experience: Evidence for the Immortality of Consciousness. Rochester, VT: Inner Traditions.

Sudduth, M. (2009). “Super-Psi and the Survivalist Interpretation of Mediumship.” The Journal of Scientific Exploration, 23:2, 167–193.

Sudduth, M. (2011).  “Review of Chris Carter, Science and the Near-Death Experience: How Consciousness Survives Death.” Journal of Parapsychology, 75:1.

Sudduth, M. (2013a).  “A Critical Response to David Lund’s Argument for Postmortem Survival.” The Journal of Scientific Exploration, 27:2, 277-316.

Sudduth, M. (2013b). “Is Survival the Best Explanation of the Data of Mediumship?” in Adam Rock, The Survival Hypothesis: Essays on Mediumship.  Jefferson, NC: McFarland and Inc. Company.

Sudduth, M. (2014a). “Getting Sober about Survival,” Sudduth Blog at michaelsudduth.com http://michaelsudduth.com/getting-sober-about-survival-part-2-of-3/

Sudduth, M. (2014b). “Getting Sober about Survival,” Sudduth Blog at michaelsudduth.com http://michaelsudduth.com/getting-sober-about-survival-part-3-of-3/.

 

May 10 Contemplations

Zendo light grows dim
Buddha smiles on falling tear
compassion is born, compassion let go
impermanence of the world
take the journey in 12 steps
each of which is dependently arisen
pass through Enlightenment’s door
to the space where flowers bloom and quickly die
but all is just as it is
 
I am powerless – the starting point of every spiritual transformation.
You are powerless – the starting point of all forgiveness and compassion.
We are powerless – the starting point of all healing.
 
To repent is to wring out sin from the mind and bleed it out of the heart.
To pray is to confess one’s intrinsic and inescapable limits of power.
To worship is to surrender one’s ego to the perfection of non-ego.
To surrender is to freely acknowledge one’s emptiness.
To love is to treat the present moment as if it were your last.
To meditate is to enter the present without knowing it to be the present.
To study the self is to watch whatever arises in us and to examine with curiosity the suffering intrinsically connected to our sense of being this or that thing.
To reason is to fall into time and forget eternity.
 
I hear a bird chirping while a feeling of horrendous sadness overwhelms me. In this same consciousness arises the pleasant and unpleasant.  This I like; that I don’t like.  Now move to the space where the chirping bird and sadness are each present, but the mind’s story about them is absent. This is clear seeing, seeing life as it is.
 
The Buddha-nature is the substance of all things, even greed, anger, and delusion.  For the ego, greed, anger, and delusion are poisons, for non-ego they are enlightenment.
 
Nirvana is samsara once the ego has dissolved.
 
The transcending of suffering does not result in the dissolution of unpleasant experiences but only the dissolution of our judgments about them, for our natural peace is disturbed not by the world as it is but rather by the mind’s story about it.
 
One person notices the crooked wheel and is troubled.  Another person just keeps riding because, of course, the road is bumpy.
 
Enlightenment is overrated.  Suffering is underrated.
 
Why Zen? A soft mind is necessary.
 
While at Starbucks I noticed the customers carried away in anxious conversations about yesterday and tomorrow. The workers were highly focused on their specific tasks: this one focused on preparing steamed milk,  the other on mixing drinks and yet another on delivering orders to the pick-up counter. They were one with their work. They were present. Time dissolved. I thought “this is Zen.”
 
Zen is being at ease in whatever condition you find yourself.  Falling rain, falling leaves, and falling tears.
 
To freely feel what arises in us is to watch feelings, perceptions, and thoughts without clinging or aversion.
 
The witness and what is witnessed are non-different.
 
When I was inside anger, it engulfed and overwhelmed me.
When I resisted anger, it became a fire that consumed me.
When I was on the outside of anger, it burned but I was neither overwhelmed nor consumed.
When the fire burns, watch it closely.  Know the Dharma.
 
To watch anything is to be on the outside of it.  To watch anything without reaction, with neither clinging nor aversion, is to realize being non-different from it.
 
Drink the poison of anger without death.
 
Every angel has a sinner as a shadow, and every sinner walks in the shadow cast by his own halo.

As It Is . . . Again

As It Is .  .  . Again

 

Sri Krishna speaks –

Radha exits his mouth

takes form and then vanishes

into the dark night of the God’s unconscious.

The goddess descends into unknowing,

rises later in the form of an imperfect man.

Incarnation.

 

Close your eyes and the world disappears.  Open your eyes and the world reappears. Having discovered the Self when the world disappears into the darkness of unknowing, see it also as it manifests as the very form and beauty of the world.  

Right there at the heart of all beauty is the blissful union of the knower and the known, the experience of the Is-ness of the world as non-different from oneself. 

One who contemplates the ocean in silence and one who plays in it with laughter are non-different, for resistance is found in neither one and consequently peace is found in both.

There are three things I love about the ocean. Its ability to make me entirely present, its ability to keep me present, and the feeling of awe and reverence its presence evokes. 

Being born is Zen. Drinking is Zen.  Eating is Zen.  Breathing is Zen.  Loving is Zen.  Dying is Zen.  I am that.

The substance of everything unpleasant in life is the very bliss we wish we had instead. 

I shall not die unfulfilled if I die having failed to solve the riddles of life. I shall die unfulfilled, however, if I die without love in my heart. 

Only one thing prevents us from experiencing God . . . the failure to realize what we love most in life.

One hour in Zazen

the world slows down.

Two hours in Zazen

the world just stops. 

Three hours in Zazen

the world disappears. 

Four hours in Zazen

I disappear. 

All conventional means of addressing suffering fail because they are motivated by the intention to eliminate suffering.  At best they only temporarily alleviate suffering, while subtly perpetuating it, often intensifying it. Suffering is fueled by our determined efforts to extinguish it. It too wishes to live in us.  So lend your attention to its voice and seek only to hear and understand it. You will then want to ask, “Suffering, where have you gone?”

It is possible to analyze oneself out of or into any situation with impeccable logic and still fall into the most profound untruth. 

When the spirit of forgiveness is absent in us, the redemptive acts of others are unseen.

Where is my Muse? Precisely the question a Muse would ask. 

Those who Deify love soon became atheists.

Sitting in silence

all the gods flew out of my head

watching I understood

the passing of my seasons

Autumn turned to Winter

Winter dissolved into Silence

only emptiness remained

and then I saw clearly

emptiness was all there ever was.