In his best book, Kinds of Minds, Daniel Dennett presents
a marvelous account of the evolution of mind based on increasingly
sophisticated mechanisms by which organisms can modify their responses to their
environments. Going from memory here, in
the first stage a population of organisms diversifies, and the forms that
respond best are the ones that flourish.
Each individual has only one trick.
In the second stage, single organisms acquire a diversity of responses
and try each one to see if it works. The
organism can decide to approach or retreat, etc. In the third stage, organisms acquire the
capacity to make internal maps of the external environment, and more or less safely
test each one prior to trying it out in the real world. When last I tried X, it worked. That is the first case of something that
everyone might recognize as a mind.
Finally, in the fourth stage,
organisms find ways of uploading information into their environments to be used
later, thus expanding the information that they can use beyond the storage
capacity of their own brains. A bird may
decorate the area around its nest to make it easier to find. Since others of its own kind can read the same
information, this allows communication.
A dog may urinate on something to remind it that it has been here before
and to inform other animals that this is its territory. My daughter once remarked, as our dog was
inspecting our fence post just after another dog had passed by, that he was
reading his pee-mail.
Aristotle’s division of animals
into solitary, social, and political is relevant here. Social animals merely congregate but
political animals coordinate their behavior for a common purpose in which all
share. There are a lot of political
animals. When elephants arrange
themselves in a circle, with the adults on the outside protecting the young in
the center, that is political behavior.
Here I present a section from a
previous post on leadership. The passage
concerns a piece I read on capuchin monkeys.
When these primates forage, how do they decide which way to
go? The answer is that individuals break
off in different directions. As the
pathbreaker moves away from the group, she looks behind her to see who is
following. If no one follows, she will
give up and rejoin the group. If her
entourage includes two or three, or four or more… . The more of her troop that follow, the more
likely she is to persist in her chosen direction. Likewise, the more that follow, the more
likely the rest of the troop will follow suit.
That is leadership in a basically democratic community. Individuals compete for the position of
archon, and so the group can act as a unit working for the advantage of
all.
Something the same can be seen in the waggle dance of honey
bees, where returning hunters make their case for this or that patch of
flowers. It can be seen also in the
function of an animal mind. How does the
rabbit in my back yard decide what to do when I step off my deck? Different mental schema compete. One says “freeze”. Another says “run like hell”. As long as I am moving at a tangent and my
course is not too close, the animal is a statue. I have seen a cat walk right by a frozen
rabbit. If I stop and move toward the
rabbit, the “run” schema takes command.
For social animals to become
genuinely political, they upload information to the herd and download
information from the same. This makes
for a collective mind. Each time a
capuchin moves off from the group in one direction or another, she is making a
proposal. The other monkeys then vote
with their feet. That is politics.
The individual human mind is extraordinarily
good at creating and manipulating internal models of the external world. That is what its consciousness is doing
almost all of the time. When the young
man stands up in the town meeting exquisitely depicted by Norman Rockwell, he
is trying to lead the other members of his group in some direction. Human beings are more political than the
other political animals, as Aristotle says, because we can make a case for this
direction or that one. We go beyond merely
liking or disliking this way or that. We
can recognize that we like one way,
but that the better way for us lies in some other direction. We can distinguish between what looks good
and what is good, what is tempting and what is right.
Aristotle understood that the
more developed organisms are not simply different from the less developed ones,
as red is different from blue. Instead,
the more developed organisms add new capacities to those that they share with
the less developed, as purple is different from red. Plants grow, flourish, and wither. Animals do the same, but also move about and
are aware of things distant. When we add
modern biology to that model, human beings are still primates but they are more
than primates.
This points to the thesis I am
developing. What is the human
thing? Is it the individual, as the
early modern philosophers supposed? Or
is it the society, as the later historicists and socialists supposed? The answer is yes. Or to put it more accurately, the human thing
is the dynamic relationship between the individual and the community of which
he is a part. One cannot reduce either
to the other. Were human beings to be
entirely subsumed by their societies (as the Borg collective in Star Trek),
they would no longer be, in any significant sense, human. A human being who lives entirely alone is
human only in so far as she continues to draw on the cultural and linguistic
store that she acquired from others. If
Aristotle could not imagine the first, he could imagine the later.