Skip to main content

The Other Mind

I've said that I don't identify as human.  What do I mean by that?  I've spent a lot of time thinking about that claim.  Does it even make sense? 

As my parents are fully human, it's reasonable to assume that there's an aspect of me that's fully human, too.  But there's another aspect that is something else.  I don't know what. 

We generally think of conscious creatures as comprising a body and a mind, with the latter being dependent on the former.  We take it for granted that a human body will only have a human mind.  In this, we presume that the humanness of the human mind is necessarily determined by the humanness of the body, but what if it isn't?

If the nature of the mind, such as it is, emerges from neuroanatomy, suffiently divergent neuroanatomy could create a mind that diverges significantly from humanness.  On a spectrum between more typical and less typical human neuroanatomy, an anatomical configuration nearest the least typical end could produce a mind that resembles human minds only in the smallest ways.

Is it possible to say that one mind can differ from another?  If "human mind" means something concrete, it probably isn't monolithic.  There could be aspects of the human mind that are different by degrees from person to person.  If so, it could be possible for a person to have the most different kind of human mind.  I know a human will never have a horse's mind, but maybe there are human minds with the lowest number of especially human traits.  If there are kinds of differences that are impossible, then there are kinds of differences.  If there are no kinds of differences between human minds, then why do individual minds appear to be different?   Why can we say that my mind isn't your mind, if we can?

This goes into questions about what the mind is, what identity is, what we mean by "I," and how those things might relate to each other.  If the mind exists, are there things about it?  I don't know.  I do know that culture and environment play as big a part in our development as anatomy.  And I know that I feel different from humans in significant ways that I clearly struggle to articulate.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Man Is Not Great: The Evolution of Anthropocentrism

Why do humans care whether their species is special? Why are they so invested in their specialness that they're uncomfortable with the idea that they aren't? Why is it a bitter pill to swallow that humans aren't uniquely important in the universe, that they aren't the intended end of evolution, and that their wondrous and diverse subjective experiences emerge from the same physical processes observable in "lower" animals? I think that the maladaptive human tendency to insist upon their specialness in the universe is an extension of an adaptive tendency to self-advocate in their tribes. Consider fear. The predisposition to turn around when you feel like something might be behind you is likely to save you when there really is something there. Most of the time, when you can't help but turn around on the dark basement steps, there's no threat. From an evolutionary perspective, it’s better to turn unnecessarily than to do nothing in a moment of danger. That...

The Gravity of Mattering

I used to care very much what people thought of me.  As a teenager I was desperate to integrate.  I didn't fit in and it drove me crazy.  The world seemed made to reject me, but I didn't see that society is not the world.  I invested in what people thought because I believed winning acceptance was the only path to happiness.  I couldn't have known then what I know now because I had barely been alive.  I hadn't existed long enough to see the world beyond society. I know now that people's opinions are ephemeral.  Good or bad, the thoughts anyone has had about me have been drops in the oceans of their lives.  I remember being made fun of, and when it was happening it was like an apocalypse.  From grade school to high school I was tormented by ridicule and rejection.  But that's over.  There's no resolution to seek now, no balm for the past.  Whether or not I should have been treated in any particular way is an infertile discussi...

George Versus Lennie

People seem to believe that you can't have cognitive deficits if you don't seem stupid. The image many carry in their minds of a person with cognitive problems is an image of someone whose internal dysfunction necessarily finds clear outward manifestation in unusual physical proportions, motor skills, vocal quality, and speech patterns. Less objectively, it's an image of a cartoon idiot: Lennie from Of Mice and Men as depicted in Looney Tun es .  This is a suboptimal situation.  My autism involves some cognitive impairment. Because I'm intelligent and articulate, even paraprofessionals have trouble remembering or, in fact, believing that I'm not as able to apply my intellect as ordinary people are. I'm smart, I'm not Lennie, but I'm not George either. The dichotomy between those characters is the only way many people can understand the difference between neurotypical people and people with cognitive or neurodevelopmental disabilities. If I'm n...