Friday, December 21, 2007

The Genesis of the Soul through Reification

I was just thinking the other day:

The Greeks didn't come up with the soul, but from their thinking, one can easily see where the idea comes from.

The ancient philosophers thought that objects acted the way they did in part because it was essential to their nature; events had a material cause in the subjects of the action performing in accordance with a predisposition. Complex materials were explained by Anaxagoras (or maybe it was Anaximander; I get them confused) as mixtures of elements that provided them with their essential properties. Wet matter contained water; the release of the water rendered the matter dry. Earth provided hardness and weight.

This idea continues to pervade lay impressions of the world even though science has largely rejected it. For example, people think it surprising that sodium and chlorine, neither of them a very savory material (a solid that explodes on contact with water, and a corrosive poision gas) unite to form table salt. The fact is that the properties of a substance depend on much more than the properties of components. Look at diamonds versus graphite. Both contain nothing but carbon. It is the arrangement of the atoms into larger structures that gives them their particular properties, not some missing or differing material component from one to another.

If properties and tendencies really belonged to object in material form, then you could take any positive or negative characteristic and, as they say, "bottle it." Sex appeal, money smarts, strength, slipperiness, heat, cold, invisibility: I'll take a liter of each.

There were different words for soul. Anima was the theoretical construct that distinguished living (animate) from unliving (inanimate) matter. You could have another for sentience, and another for conscience, or motion or repiration, or reproduction. If properties stemmed from material components alone, any of these properties would be things that were in living people (many of them in animals as well) and absent from dead people. If they were material, and ceased to be in a body, then they had to either have been destroyed, or suppressed into a potential but inactive or invisible state, or have gone somewhere else, existing as pure essence without the body.

It sometimes makes sense to think of some properties this way, because they truly are conserved. If one billiard ball hits a larger, heavier billiard ball dead on, it will impart its momentum to the second ball. With some loss for friction, momentum is conserved. Speed will not be conserved, because the larger mass will move slower. You can speak of the momentum being transferred. You can think of the speed being potential, with the possibility of coming out if the heavy ball hits a lighter one.

But other properties are pretty much gone. They change form so totally, it is not really useful to talk about them moving or hiding. When the ball falls off the table and hits the ground, it transfers its momentum to the Earth: it has just hit a super-massive billiard ball. Its speed? I'm sorry, but the speed of the billiard ball is dead. You're not going to re-extract that from the ground. Vaporize a painting of the last supper with an A-bomb and see if you can find that last-supperiness somewhere in the radioactive mist. John McCain's chances of being elected president in 2000: gone.

Mass is conserved pretty easily, although little bits of mass are coming and going all the time, changing back and forth into energy. Patterns and arrangements, shapes, structures, information generally, are much more fragile. Processes, once interrupted, may not easily be restarted. Of course the information isn't really gone. But its recoverability into a recognizable form is likely to be so attenuated as to render it the practical equivalent.

In any event, there is no intact, all-together chunk of concentrated image of Jesus and the apostles in the ionized smoke of the atom blast. The information is scattered, diffused, unrecognizable, and no human means can reassemble it. Likewise the motion of the past billiard ball sitting on the floor, or the shape of the ice sculpture that melted, or the softness and slipperiness of the graphite once it has become a diamond. You can't bottle these things. Nor the animate property of living matter. It's gone.

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