From Brainbound to Enactive: a Primer on Contemporary Theories in Philosophy of Mind

There are may views regarding the extent to which consciousness and its correlative cognitive functions, e.g. thought, perception, imagination are embodied.

In this essay, I will explore the traditional brainbound view as well as a competing approach to the understanding of consciousness and its cognitive processes known as the enactive view.

If we were to place these views on a continuum, with fully brainbound views trending to the right, then we would place the many opposing embodied, embedded, enactive, and extended views at the far left, which is characterized by the term “radical embodiment.”

In order to fully understand the implications of the brainbound view, I will briefly describe the well-known Brain in a Vat thought experiment, then draw from the work of Dorothée Legrand to show how this thought experiment, if taken seriously, reasonably leads us to favor the enactive view.

After bridging the brainbound theory and enactive perspectives by way of Legrand, I will further explain the explore the enactive view itself. As I will show, the enactive view is one of consciousness as life-regulating force.

On the enactive view, causal-functional brain/body coupling and an agent’s dynamic interaction with their environment are what determine the embodied agent’s ability to maintain a state of significant existence: a form of aliveness I will explore in the final portion of this piece.

The Brainbound View

The traditional view of consciousness is that cognitive functions occur and exist entirely in the brain, hence the term brainbound.

There are good reasons to question whether the body is even necessary to the presence of cognitive processes since it is clear that many people who have lost the use of body parts as in cases of paralysis, or who have lost entire limbs as in case of amputation, continue to live entirely full and phenomenally-rich mental lives.

Such evidence clearly indicates that at some level, certain body parts are not necessary to a continued state of significant existence in the way that a functioning brain is. Some even attempt to validate brainbound views of consciousness by pointing to instances of phantom limb sensation, in which an amputee reports the feeling of excruciating pain emanating from a limb that no longer exists.

In this context, the brainbound view asks its critics, “How could such experiences of pain be possible, if they do not occur entirely within the domain of the brain?”

In testing the limits of the brainbound view, its adherents often point to the well-known thought experiment of the Brain in a Vat, where “the image is of a brain floating around in a vat of chemicals, kept alive by artificial nourishment, and kept informed by various electrodes that carry information about the world, or about whatever the mad scientist running this experiment wants to feed it” (Gallagher 147).

Supposedly, this thought experiment, along with observable evidence from cases of phantom limb pain and the accompanying neuroscience, show that all the necessary elements to leading a phenomenally-rich mental life are present in the brain alone.

As summed up by Jesse Prinz (2009), for adherents of the brainbound view, “the bottom line is there is no serious reason at this time to suppose that the correlates of consciousness will include anything outside the head.”


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From Beast to Sentient Being: An Evolution in Buddhist Metaphysics

With the emergence of Chinese Chan and Japanese Zen around the 6th century, Buddhism underwent an evolution in metaphysics, and an accompanying change in the ontology of the nonhuman animal.

A prime example of the conceptual transition of the nonhuman animal from beast to sentient being is seen in The Platform Sutra: an autobiographical account of the Sixth Patriarch of Zen, Hui-neng (638-713 CE).

Considered a barbarian by the monks from whom he sought kinship, Hui-neng was not initially welcomed with open arms into the sangha. Upon his arrival to pay homage to the Fifth Patriarch, he was put to task splitting firewood and pounding rice in the back of the monastery.

The [Fifth] Patriarch said, “You are a barbarian from the south; how could you expect to become a Buddha?”

I replied, “there are people in the south and people in the north, but their Buddha-nature is the same. As a barbarian I may be different from you physically, but what difference could there be in our Buddha-nature?”

—Stephen Addiss, et al. Zen Sourcebook: Traditional Documents from China, Korea, and Japan (2008)

After eight months of pounding rice, Hui-neng’s understanding of the Dharma (and specifically of the essence of mind) was recognized as distinct by the Fifth Patriarch. Upon transmitting his robe and bowl to Hui-neng as the mark of succession, the Fifth Patriarch assigned Hui-neng a new task:

“You are now the Sixth Patriarch. Take care of yourself, save as many sentient beings as you can, and spread the teachings so they will not be lost in the future.” He then gave me this stanza:

Sentient beings sow their seeds
And cause the earth to bear fruit and return to birth;
Nonsentient beings have no seeds,
And their empty self-nature has no rebirth.

—Stephen Addiss, et al. Zen Sourcebook: Traditional Documents from China, Korea, and Japan (2008)

As seen previously, the Buddhist cosmology views nonhuman animals as karmic beings that experience rebirth, so from the stanza above we can infer from the Fifth Patriarch’s words that animals are to be included in the class sentient beings rather than nonsentient beings.

Although my research has not returned any explicit evidence of such a theory, my interpretation of Hui-neng’s initial reception by the sangha as an outsider is that his experience afforded him unique insight into the nature of Otherness.

Combined with the Fifth Patriarch’s parting stanza, this unique insight may have contributed to the development of Hui-neng’s compassion for animals as sentient beings. As beastly and different from humans as early Buddhist texts represent them, Hui-neng nonetheless came to view nonhuman animals as worthy of moral consideration.

Later in life, when forced into hiding due to being “pursued by evil men,” Hui-neng recounts the way he modeled and enacted this compassion, and how he fulfilled the mission tasked to him by his predecessor.

To avoid trouble, I took refuge in Szu-hui, where I stayed with a group of hunters for 15 years. I occasionally taught the Dharma to them, in accordance with their capabilities. They often asked me to watch their nets, but when I found a living creature, I set it free. At mealtimes, I added vegetables to their pots where they cooked their meat, and when they questioned me, I told them I would only eat vegetables.

—Stephen Addiss, et al. Zen Sourcebook: Traditional Documents from China, Korea, and Japan (2008)

Buddhist Metaphysics: The Self and Intersubjectivity

In Buddhist metaphysics, the individual is seen as a collection as skandhas, or constituents of existence. In definite terms, the skandhas are known as form, sensation, perception, volition, and consciousness (Addiss 268). When taken as an aggregate and situated within natural phenomena (dharma), one’s lived experience emerges. Understanding the interplay between one’s skandhas and the dharma of one’s life is key to setting one on the path to cessation of suffering.

Image Source: TheZenUniverse.org

As explained by Gerald Dōkō Virtbauer:

Seeing clearly into the characteristics of one’s own existence and the connection that creates this existence, and in which it is embedded, is the goal of Buddhism, which should lead to an ending of suffering. Suffering is the result of the opposite; the less clearly the characteristics of being are recognized, the more a human being suffers in life.


–Gerald Dōkō Virtbauer, “Dimensions of Intersubjectivity in Mahayana-Buddhism and Relational Psychoanalysis” (2010)

Because the dharma of one’s own life and existence is determined by the cause-and-effect principles of the cosmic Dharma, it is necessarily interconnected with the dharma of all other sentient beings within the karmic cycle of birth/rebirth.

A keen awareness of this metaphysical state of affairs, namely that one’s place and experience within the cosmos is connected to and dependent upon the place and experience of others, is key to the Buddhist principle of intersubjectivity.

In basic terms, intersubjectivity can be understood as “seeing from the Other’s point of view.” However, intersubjectivity is distinct from the modern concept of empathy, which is a much simpler notion used to describe the ability to understand or accurately detect the emotional and mental states of others.

More technically, one might define intersubjectivity as the ability of an embodied subjective agent to comprehend the experiences, intentions, desires, and interests of another embodied subjective agent, and to contextualize that understanding within the broader scope of one’s own life experience (dharma).

To put the term in the context of Buddhist metaphysics, intersubjectivity is the ability of one sentient being to understand the interplay between another sentient being’s skandhas and dharma in relation to one’s own life experience, and the interconnectedness of it all more broadly within the cosmic Dharma.

One particularly powerful and well-known illustration within Buddhism is Indra’s Net. Indra is revered in Hinduism, Jainsim, and Buddhism, and each tradition mythologizes the Vedic god in its own way. In Buddhist cosmology, Indra rules over the realm of the devas, and along with Brahma, he is seen as guardian of the Buddha Siddhartha.

Indra’s Net shows the interplay between Buddhist principles of emptiness, interconnectedness, and intersubjectivity. As described by Virtbauer,

Indra’s net is depicted as an endless fishing net with jewels on its knots. The jewels hang in such a way that in each jewel all other jewels are reflected. When looking at one jewel, one sees all other jewels within this particular jewel. Because of the infinity of the net, each jewel, in fact, reflects infinitely many other jewels. The characteristic appearance of each single jewel is only guaranteed due to the connection and mutual dependence to all other jewels.

–Gerald Dōkō Virtbauer, “Dimensions of Intersubjectivity in Mahayana-Buddhism and Relational Psychoanalysis” (2010)
Indra’s Net. Image source: Buddhism.org

When enacted, intersubjectivity is characterized by one’s respect for the bodily autonomy, self-determination and non-interference in the life of another sentient being, especially through methods of harm reduction and the avoidance of inflicting suffering (known in sanskrit as ahimsa).

Where the Buddhist value of compassion is concerned, intersubjectivity necessarily originates with an empathetic stance toward the material conditions of the Other’s existence, and an understanding of the Other’s place in the cosmos more broadly, especially in relation to oneself.

Such a conception of intersubjectivity is taught by the Buddhists of today, as Virtbauer quotes the Vietnamese monk and vegan Thich Nhat Hanh:

When you understand, you cannot help but love. You cannot get angry. To develop understanding, you have to practice looking at all living beings with the eyes of compassion. When you understand, you love. And when you love, you naturally act in a way that can relieve the suffering of people.

–Gerald Dōkō Virtbauer, quoting Thich Nhat Hanh, “Dimensions of Intersubjectivity in Mahayana-Buddhism and Relational Psychoanalysis” (2010)

Sources for this post

  • Addiss, Stephen, et al. Zen Sourcebook: Traditional Documents from China, Korea, and Japan. Hackett Publishing Company, 2008.
  • Virtbauer, Gerald Dōkō. “Dimensions of Intersubjectivity in Mahayana-Buddhism and Relational Psychoanalysis.” Contemporary Buddhism, vol. 11, no. 1, 2010, pp. 85–102.

Posts in this series

  1. Buddhist Intersubjectivity and Animal Ethics
  2. Animals as Symbolic Representations in Buddhism
  3. Literal Representation of Nonhuman Animals in Buddhism
  4. From Beast to Sentient Being: An Evolution in Buddhist Metaphysics
  5. Toward An Animal Ethics Grounded in Buddhist Intersubjectivity

Literal Representation of Nonhuman Animals in Buddhism

The ontological status of animals is well established in early Buddhist cosmology, which is divided into six realms: heavenly beings, devas and demigods, humans, ghosts, beasts, and the damned.

Relegated to a cosmic realm only one degree removed from the eternally forsaken, nonhuman animals inhabit the beastly realm. Here they are defined as creatures of “unfortunate destiny” due to their fallen status and lack of praiseworthy features in comparison to humans. In this way, animals occupy a caste against which humans can define themselves as beings of distinct cosmic identity worthy of moral consideration.

Image source: ComicNewbies.com

As Ohnuma describes the beastly realm, there is “not a single notion of pleasure—no kinship, no communication, nothing but disgust and revulsion. The distinction between human beings and animals must be total and categorical” (Ohnuma 13). Humans are separated from animals on the basis of diet, physicality, and virtuous capacity. The animals are born in filth, move without dignity, live in waste, feed on corpses, engage in cannibalism and commit incest.

Even the Buddha spoke to the fallen pitiful status of the beasts, telling the monks in the Balapandita Sutta, “in that realm, there is no righteous conduct, no tranquil conduct, no wholesome action, no meritorious action. In that realm, Monks, there is only mutual devouring and devouring of the weak” (Ohnuma 12).

Unlike western philosophy, which primarily marks the capacity for reason as the basis for differentiating humans from animals, some Buddhists have based human/animal individuation on the basis of the capacity for gratitude.

For example, Nagarjuna (ca. 150-250 CE), the Indian philosopher and founder of Madhyamaka school of Mahayana Buddhism, spoke of the karmic implication of a beings capacity for gratitude in The Treatise on Perfection of Great Wisdom:

Knowing gratitude is the root of great compassion and the first gate to establishing good deeds. […] Upon death you will attain rebirth Heaven and in the end you will attain the way of the Buddha. Those who do not know gratitude are beasts.

—Barbara Ambros, quoting ancient Indian philosopher Nagarjuna, “Animals in Japanese Buddhism: The Third Path of Existence” (2014)

Despite their incapacity to cultivate the virtue of gratitude because of their beastly nature, there are instances in Buddhism of animals gaining enlightenment, or at the very least karmic advancement, through the prasāda mechanism.

Described by Ohnuma as a loophole of sorts in the cosmic Dharma, it is through this mechanism that “animals are capable of catapulting themselves up the karmic hierarchy to become deities in heaven, and may even make progress toward the final goal of release” from samsara (Ohnuma 40).

Often translated as faith, prasāda is seen to arise within the heart of animals in close proximity to the Buddha Siddartha as depicted in the Divyāvadāna and Avadānaśataka texts.

The animals in these tales appear as animals and not as mere symbolic representations of moral precepts. That is, they are depicted as conscious beings trapped in samsara and in desire of liberation. Although they are clearly seen as members of a subcaste of creatures by humans in the tales, the animals are present as demonstrably bound by karma, just as humans are.

Through these tales, we witness a bull saved from slaughter and foretold to be reborn as a king named Asokarvarna after ninety-nine eons, a talking parrot granted “stream-entry,” and a flock of geese reincarnated as faithful Buddhist practitioners who offer alms to the Buddha upon their return.

We also see the Buddha tame a charging buffalo that is then predicted to be reborn as a heavenly deity, and a venomous snake compelled to bring about its own annihilation through starvation in order to be “reborn among the the superior Trayastrima gods” (Ohnuma 38).

In each of these cases, the animal is able to make cosmic progress after entering the presence of the Buddha and merely laying eyes on him. Acting as prasādika, or attractive agent of faith, the Buddha’s charisma, poise, and grace are sufficient to spark prasāda within even these cosmically-determined fallen creatures.

Characterized as a “wonderful refuge for the powerless,” “the mental inferiority of the animal here becomes irrelevant, since the mechanism of prasāda appears to bypass the mind altogether” (Ohnuma 27).

Again, the key is not the capacity for reason, nor some other form of higher-level consciousness or cognitive function. Through prasāda–faith in the Buddha and proximity to him–the dissolution of karmic chains that encumber the animal is catalyzed, and liberation (moksha) is achieved.

Interestingly, in cases where animal representation appears in the literal sense, we begin to see a striking similarity between humans and nonhuman animals. Though believed to occupy a different cosmic realm depending on the context of incarnation, the being is capable of karmic advancement or release, regardless of whether the being is human or animal.

Sources for this post

  • Ambros, Barbara. “Animals in Japanese Buddhism: The Third Path of Existence.” Religion Compass, vol. 8, no. 8, 2014, pp. 251–263.
  • Ohnuma, Reiko. Unfortunate Destiny: Animals in the Indian Buddhist Imagination. Oxford University Press, 2017.

Posts in this series

  1. Buddhist Intersubjectivity and Animal Ethics
  2. Animals as Symbolic Representations in Buddhism
  3. Literal Representation of Nonhuman Animals in Buddhism
  4. From Beast to Sentient Being: An Evolution in Buddhist Metaphysics
  5. Toward An Animal Ethics Grounded in Buddhist Intersubjectivity

Animals as Symbolic Representations in Buddhism

In early Indian Buddhism, animals appeared as symbolic representations primarily for didactic purposes. In other words, they were used to teach moral principles. Animals weren’t present as sentient beings or as beings worthy of moral consideration, but were instead used as metaphor and in allegory.

Even in cases where animals are depicted as capable of superhuman or mythical abilities, it is in service of teaching a greater truth meant to be grasped by human practitioners, not for the purposes of understanding animals in a literal sense. As further evidenced by Ambros,

Even scholarship that deals with animal-related topics usually places emphasis on human concerns. Relatively few studies have explored how Buddhism has affected the lives of actual animals; instead, scholarship has focused on the metaphorical uses of animals in Buddhist literature and has been preoccupied with mythical and hybrid creatures.

—Barbara Ambros, “Animals in Japanese Buddhism: The Third Path of Existence” (2014)

The pre-modern Jataka tales are an example of animals appearing as metaphorical representations in Buddhist texts. There are literally hundreds of individual stories comprising the Jataka tales, many of which depict the former lives of the Buddha as incarnated in animal form.

These tales often show the Buddha performing meritorious acts, or interceding on behalf of other animals, who are depicted as unintelligent and incapable of feats reflecting an enlightened nature. In his analysis of the Jataka tales Paul Waldau, states that

[They are] good examples of the Buddhist belief that one should give generously to ‘others,’ and that one should not violate moral principles even if it is extremely disadvantageous to do so. But the stories reveal that it is humans, rather than other animals, who are beneficiaries of this kind of thinking.

—Paul Waldau, The Specter of Speciesism: Buddhist and Christian Views of Animals (2002)

In other tales, such as the Kurunga Jataka, the Buddha interacts with humans by taking animal form as a way of again conveying a didactic message. Here the Buddha has been incarnated as the bodhisattva deer who avoids being trapped and killed by a hunter:

The hunter, enraged, says, ‘Be gone! I’ve missed you this time,’ and in response the bodhisattva deer replies, presumably in response to his slaying of other animals: ‘You may have missed me, my good man, but depend on it, you have not missed the reward of your conduct, namely the eight large and sixteen lesser hells and all the five forms of bonds of torture.

—James Stewart, “Violence and Nonviolence in Buddhist Animals Ethics” (2014)

Finally, with the emergence of Zen in 6th c. CE, we see the presence of animals in Buddhist texts turn toward positive representation. The Ox Herding Poems, composed around 1050 by Ch’ing-chi, describe the process of seeking, losing, then gaining enlightenment (Addiss 85).

Here the oxen are not present as oxen in the literal sense, but they are metaphorical representations of enlightenment pursued by human Buddhist practitioners. After searching for the ox, seeing it, and catching it, the practitioner turns to taming the ox:

Image Source: Columbia.edu

Don’t lose the whip, hold onto the rope
Or he’ll buck away into the dirt.
Herded well, in perfect harmony
He’ll follow along without any constraint.

[…]

Whip, rope, self, ox—no traces left.
Thoughts cannot penetrate the vast blue sky,
Snowflakes cannot survive a red-hot stove.
Arriving here, meet the ancient teachers.

—Stephen Addiss, et al. Zen Sourcebook: Traditional Documents from China, Korea, and Japan (2008)

Sources for this post

  • Addiss, Stephen, et al. Zen Sourcebook: Traditional Documents from China, Korea, and Japan. Hackett Publishing Company, 2008.
  • Ambros, Barbara. “Animals in Japanese Buddhism: The Third Path of Existence.” Religion Compass, vol. 8, no. 8, 2014, pp 251-263
  • Stewart, James. “Violence and Nonviolence in Buddhist Animal Ethics.” Journal of Buddhist Ethics, vol 21, 2014, pp. 623-655.
  • Waldau, Paul. The Specter of Specieism: Buddhist and Christian Views of Animals. Oxford University Press, 2002.

Posts in this series

  1. Buddhist Intersubjectivity and Animal Ethics
  2. Animals as Symbolic Representations in Buddhism
  3. Literal Representation of Nonhuman Animals in Buddhism
  4. From Beast to Sentient Being: An Evolution in Buddhist Metaphysics
  5. Toward An Animal Ethics Grounded in Buddhist Intersubjectivity

Buddhist Intersubjectivity and Animals Ethics

To what extent are animals present in Buddhist teachings and what is their place in the Buddhist cosmology? What can we learn from Buddhist metaphysics about the ontological nature of the nonhuman animal, and to what extent has this ontology evolved over time?

This week, I will publish a five-part series in which I will explore (1) the appearance and representation of animals in Buddhism, (2) the application of the Buddhist principle of intersubjectivity between sentient beings, including animals.

After first exploring how animals appear as symbolic representations in early Buddhist texts, I’ll examine the literal representation of animals in the Buddhist cosmology and tradition. Finally, I’ll discuss the shift in Buddhist metaphysics that occurred around the 6th century CE, with the emergence of Zen.

I will argue that this shift, which placed an increased emphasis on the interconnectedness of all sentient beings, might reasonably be taken as a basis for the extension of moral consideration to animals through the application of the intersubjectivity principle illustrated by the mythical example of Indra’s Net.

The Myth of Japanese Uniqueness Theory

It may surprise those of us in the West, who are likely to subscribe to a conception of Buddhism shaped by Japanese Uniqueness Theory, to learn that in sum and over time, Buddhism has proven itself far from universally nonviolent when it comes to its treatment of animals.

Japanese Uniqueness Theory, as articulated by Ambros (2014) is the propagation of “oversimplified notions to construct premodern Japan as morally superior to and less dominionistic than its Western and Asian counterparts” (Ambros 259). Although vegetarianism is common (though not universal) among Buddhist practitioners, a detailed historical survey of Buddhism reveals a morally problematic view of animals that is far from constant or continuous over time.

In fact, within Buddhism, we find “a high degree of ambivalence toward animals by presuming a fundamental kinship between humans and other animals while also taking for granted that nonhuman animals occupied a subhuman status” (Ambros 259).

As I will show in the posts to follow, animals appear in Buddhism in two distinct ways. First, they appear as representations of other concepts. Second, animals appear as animals in the literal sense vis-a-vis their presence as fallen beastly creatures in the Buddhist cosmology, and later as sentient beings in Zen.

Sources for this post

  • Ambros, Barbara. “Animals in Japanese Buddhism: The Third Path of Existence.” Religion Compass, vol. 8, no. 8, 2014, pp. 251–263.

Other posts in this series

  1. Buddhist Intersubjectivity and Animal Ethics
  2. Animals as Symbolic Representations in Buddhism
  3. Literal Representation of Nonhuman Animals in Buddhism
  4. From Beast to Sentient Being: An Evolution in Buddhist Metaphysics
  5. Toward An Animal Ethics Grounded in Buddhist Intersubjectivity

A Standard Method of Philosophical Inquiry

The invention of the idea of a theory—a systematic set of logically related propositions that attempt to explain the phenomena of some domain—was perhaps the greatest single achievement of Greek civilization.

– John Searle

Ryan Holiday recently published a piece about Why You Should Study Philosophy. It’s a good read, and Holiday makes a number of insightful points about the value of inviting big ideas into one’s life.

Philosophers through the ages have had a lot to say about the widest possible range of topics, spanning from the broadest generalities to the oddest particularities. They’ve mused on how to live a good life and the sorts of endeavors that are worth pursuing; they’ve argued about how to discern right from wrong and what it means to be a moral person; and they’ve postulated innumerable theories about the nature of reality and the origins of human consciousness.

And these don’t even begin to scratch the surface of the painstakingly researched esoteric minutia the philosophers of today dedicate their lives to litigating, one peer-reviewed journal submission at a time. Truly, there exists no lack of rigorously interrogated philosophical scholarship regarding just about any specific domain of inquiry today.

Studying philosophy has long been more than a pastime of mine, to the extent that I’ve devoted years of my life and tens of thousands of dollars to doing so in the form of pursuing a Philosophy degree. And one realization I’ve come to as a student of the discipline is that studying philosophy is quite different from doing philosophy.

Just as reading a chemistry textbook is quite different from spending time in a laboratory, studying the latest anthology of contemporary problems in philosophy of mind is quite different from spending time methodically formulating one’s own beliefs into a coherent framework by following a predetermined recipe for rational thinking.

In spite of the preponderance of philosophical literature available today, these are troubling times for knowledge creation and the recognition of true facts, with practices of thoughtless information consumption and pseudointellectualism running wild. Even trusted news sources walk the line on a regular basis between sensationalism and blatant disinformation.

The Washington Post, for instance, recently ran the following headline: ‘Horns’ are growing on young people’s skulls. Phone use is to blame, research suggests. Despite the Lovecraftian mental images this headline may evoke, the “horns” referenced in the article turn out to be what are more accurately (but less sensationally) known as bone spurs: a phenomenon commonly linked to poor posture. Further, a day after its publication, WaPo prepended the following update to the article:

Update 6/25: After publication of this story, concerns were raised about an undisclosed business venture of one of the researchers, who works as a chiropractor. This story has been updated to reflect questions about a possible conflict of interest involving his business. The journal that published the main study in question said it was investigating the concerns. The researchers say they are making minor changes to their paper, but stand by their work.

This is only the most recent case of flagrant sensationalism and click-bait reporting to come across my newsfeed, but more extreme and potentially harmful stories have abounded for years. During the run-up to the 2016 Presidential election in the US, we saw false reports of the Pope endorsing Donald Trump over Hillary Clinton spread like wildfire across social media. We also saw verified reports of Macedonian troll farms employing disinformation artists working full time to corrupt the flow of factual information from reputable sources to the screens and eyeballs of would-be voters.

I’ve written about the telos of fake news myself, and danah boyd, Founder and President of Data & Society has taken note as well. According to DataSociety.net, the organization is a nonprofit “research institute that advances public understanding of the social implications of data-centric technologies and automation.”

In April 2019, boyd gave a talk at the Digital Public Library of America conference in which she enumerated the vulnerabilities of social media and the news media. She discussed concerns over “data voids” and both sides-ism, and she presented a clear case regarding the dangers of epistemological fragmentation that emerge when knowledge (or its absence) is weaponized.

All this is to say that the trouble is twofold: while trust in the information economy has gradually eroded on the one hand, our ability as individuals to sift through and make sense of the onslaught of dis/information has simultaneously become an increasingly difficult and rarely-exercised skill.

In light of this rather bleak state of affairs, I propose the adoption of the following model: a Standard Method of Philosophical Inquiry. It is my belief that if we arm ourselves with a more robust framework for discussing, debating, deciphering, and deconstructing today’s never ending waterfall of digitally distributed information, we might have a better shot at coming to a higher number of valid conclusions about the world. Indeed, this is the very purpose of philosophy in its most pragmatic sense: to make our ideas clear, not to muddy the waters.

Standard Method of Philosophical Inquiry

  1. Define…
  2. Explore…
  3. Initialize…
  4. Engage…

End of Sample

Thank you for taking time to read this sample of Creative Internet Human: Philosophy in the 21st Century by Joshua Judd.

Unlock the rest of this piece, and all CIH content in 2020, when the book launches on the Apple Bookstore. Your purchase will include access to the entire collection of Creative Internet Human essays, as well as audio narration by the author and even additional full-length articles never before published online.

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What is Animals Taking Over?

Crossposted from AnimalsTakingOver.com

When I began writing Animals Taking Over in 2013, my primary goal was simply to improve my own skills as a writer. After years of watching programs like The Daily Show with Jon Stewart and The Colbert Report and reading The Onion, it became clear to me that the mainstream media and The News is utter nonsense.

As is the case with so many monolithic industries, the News is a mass-produced, monetized commodity, often disseminated with the obvious goal of manipulating the audience rather than informing or educating. I see no real value in the production of such banal drivel other than to sedate the audience, to instill fear of The Other, or to make an appeal to the audience’s confirmation bias.

The Conan O’Brien Show, for example, has a long history of lampooning the News via its Local News Roundup segment. Pause for a moment here to view “Is it time for Dogs to have a Social Network of their Own?”

The writing underlying the News is weak, lazy, and predictable. In its embarrassing present state, the News more closely resembles MadLibs than true journalism. After analyzing only a handful of stories and deconstructing “the formula,” it becomes clear that anyone with half a brain and a touch of moxie can write in the style of News.

I began my project by reblogging amusing posts of animals that made their way to my tumblr dashboard, and at first I saw little need for commentary. But soon I found the exercise to be even more rewarding as I intentionally sought to incorporate humor as a vehicle to spark conversation about truth, fake news, and the relationship between humans and animals.

I conceived of a world where Humans and Non-Human Animals (NHAs) existed in a perpetual state of war that for political reasons was referred to only as “the continuing conflict.” This was a world counterfactual to our own, where humans dominated animals in every conceivable way, from the use of force to the dissemination of propaganda that served to reify the Conflict and homosapien hegemony.

I was Vegan when I started ATO, and the consumption of animal products has made its way back into my life since then. However, I still very much care about animals and find the ways humans exploit them to be abhorrent and morally repugnant. It’s an ongoing atrocity in which I fully admit to now finding myself complicit.

Considerable strides in Animal Welfare have been made over the years, but one need only consider the intrepid photography of Jo-Anne McArthur’s We Animals series to rediscover the horrific realities of modern NHA genocide and industrial scale exploitation, or the disturbing truths behind the work of investigative journalist Will Potter’s Green is the New Red to confirm that indeed there is a true interspecies war at play.

My view about the Animals has evolved over time from one closely aligned with thinkers such as Benthem, Francione, and Torres, to one more along the lines of Kymlicka and Donaldson. Even now as a non-vegan I find the idea of a utopic Zoopolis to be the most realistic and achievable, for it is a view that seeks to fully recognize Humans and Non-Human Animals for what they are–nothing more and nothing less. A truly modern Zoopolis is one that acknowledges the duties and responsibilities that Humans have for Non-Human Animals.

Enter the absurd. From the post-WWII French philosophers, writers, and artists (see Beckett, Camus, Sartre) we learned to deploy the absurd as a theater for examining and clarifying our own views about the world and ourselves. It is a space that forces us to define the necessary and sufficient conditions underwhich our values are founded.

When I speak of Animal Rights, it should be obvious that I am not implying Canines should be afforded the right to drive cars and operate heavy machinery, or that Felines should become fashion moguls, or that Goats secretly control the world’s monetary system. This is absurd.

Instead, I utilize the Absurd to implicitly argue that these species are just as entitled to live in peace and safety as our own and that the well-being of our planet depends on interspecies coexistence, rather than continuing conflict. In the long-term, homosapiens will face a reckoning for the unjust treatment perpetuated upon our planet and our fellow Earthlings.

Whether it be the loss of vital ecosystems such as the Great Barrier Reef through our over-consumption and environmental neglect, the annihilation of the Great Cats of Africa for sport, or the mass extinction of autonomous Bird Tribes as their migratory paths are disrupted, there is only one known species on this planet who will shoulder the blame: the human animal.

If we fail to expand our understanding of inclusion within the moral community, and continue our path of species-interest and planetary dominance, we will see our own destruction, as well as the elimination of the full majesty that is Nature.

It is my belief that our species, exalted for millennia as the rational animal, is unique in that we are the sole species that can be expected to fulfil duties not only to those we recognize as our own, but also to those who are clearly different from us. This applies to lines of race, religion, gender, sexuality, and yes, even species. I’m no Christian, but I do not jest when I assert that truly the Animals are the least of these among us Earthlings, and we will be judged for what we have done unto them (Matthew 25:40). For they are here with us, not for us.

The emerging science of Cognitive Ethology has taught us through observation and reproducible experimentation that Non-Human Animals are like us in every. way. that. matters. Yes, capability varies from species to species, but as a whole, the Animals form family units, they feel complex emotions such as fear and joy, they create art, they mourn the loss of loved ones, they go insane when isolated from their tribes, they recognize one another, they internalize trauma, they express devotion to beings beyond the borders of their own species.

As the Animal liberationist and intellectual Steven Best so eloquently expounded in his 2012 talk at the Sapienza University of Rome:

“They are sentient beings like we are. Because we are Animals too. And because everything we have, every moral capacity, every capacity to think, we got from the Animals through an evolutionary continuum. And of course we are different from animals: No, they can’t build space ships. No, they don’t do Algebra. No, they don’t write Romantic poetry like Shelley. Goddamnit can you swim like a whale? Can you fly like an eagle? Can you hear like a bat? Are you as beautiful as a cat? Do you smell as good as a cat? To single out Reason as the criteria for the moral universe and for who gets rights and who doesn’t, and who belongs in the community and who doesn’t…It’s absolutely absurd and arbitrary!”

I never expected anyone to take notice of Animals Taking Over, nor could I have predicted the prominent role that Fake News™ would play in our very real political moment of Donald Trump’s presidency. But this is where we find ourselves: Unable to believe that which is seen, unable to hope for truth in what we think is real, and ill-equipped to forge a path forward toward epistemic authenticity.

Where we go from here, I cannot guess. What I do know is that there are boots on the ground doing real work to end the continuing conflict between Humans and Non-Human Animals. The Nonhuman Rights Project is an example of a Real ™ group of Human activists, scholars, lawyers, and freedom fighters working to secure real protections for real NHAs.

The Nonhuman Rights Project is the only civil rights organization in the United States working through litigation, public policy advocacy, and education to secure legally recognized fundamental rights for nonhuman animals.

I urge you to look into the Nonhuman Rights Project and consider donating to support their important work to end our war with the Animals, and to create a lasting, more inclusive and expansive circle of belonging within the moral community (Francione, Warren).

Till we meet again, adieu.

Joshua E. Judd

05 March 2018