Epilogue


LEONARD

In the mid-nineteenth century, a leading physicist in England was asked to assess the “table-turning” phenomenon that had become a craze among people who felt that a type of spiritual contact was occurring during these sessions, allowing them to communicate with the dead. The supposed contact took place as participants sat around a table, resting their hands upon it. After some time, the table would become animated. It would turn, tilt, and move about, sometimes dragging the sitters along with it. Determined to embark on a serious investigation of the phenomenon, Michael Faraday, inventor of the electric motor, one of the founders of electromagnetic theory, and one of the greatest experimental physicists of all time, attended two séances, where he performed a series of technically difficult, intricate, and ingenious experiments that enabled him to understand what was happening. Faraday showed that the motion began as random fidgeting; then at some point the participants’ small fidgety movements would coincide and amplify one another until the table moved slightly. The expectant participants followed it, inadvertently amplifying the motion even further until it seemed the table had a mind of its own. The effect was quite dramatic, and the participants, who were unconsciously pulling and pushing the table themselves, not being pulled by it, genuinely believed the motion to be a communication from another realm. But Faraday discovered that it wasn’t.

Every once in a while we all come across something mysterious and unexplained. When that happens it is good to be open-minded. But to passively accept a ready-made answer, without a critical consideration of the alternatives or any serious scrutiny of the “proof,” is not being open-minded, it is being empty-minded. Unfortunately, humans seem to be by nature more comfortable with a definite if flimsily supported explanation than with hypotheses requiring more investigation and analysis before the issue can be regarded as settled.

I don’t mean to compare Deepak’s spirituality, which has its roots in ancient Eastern philosophy and religion, to the nineteenth-century “spiritualist” movement that embraced table moving. I use the example merely to show that science has often, throughout history, examined untraditional ideas. Moreover, sometimes it comes around to accepting them. For example, until Einstein’s work in 1905, the idea that measures of space and time are subjective, and depend on the motion of the observer, would have sounded just as foreign and implausible as Deepak’s ideas sound to most scientists today. And some of Einstein’s contemporaries never did accept relativity. Nevertheless, it soon became mainstream physics. Why? Because relativity’s predictions were shown to conform to experimental observation. Unfortunately, Deepak’s words and ideas do not.

I have tried in this book to point out where Deepak’s arguments clash with what modern science tells us. In response, he has referred to a “stubborn resistance of science to other ways of regarding the cosmos.” He argues that scientists are closed to seeing the world other than through their traditional “materialist” lens. Deepak’s views of a purposeful universe and the immaterial realm of the mind do not constitute a religion, yet like the religions that address these issues, Deepak’s beliefs are far less open to being questioned and altered than are the beliefs of science. The Catholic Encyclopedia explicitly warns us that to disbelieve the Christian revelation “involves not merely intellectual error, but also some degree of moral perversity,” and that “doubt in regard to the Christian religion is equivalent to its total rejection.” Deepak does not go that far, but his key points, too, have traveled to us largely unchanged if not unchallenged since their origination with great Eastern philosophers of centuries and even millennia ago. In science, on the other hand, we are constantly refining our views, and have readily forsaken the orthodoxies of our sages, from Newton to Einstein to Bohr, whenever the evidence required us to do so. Science thrives on doubt. Far more than any religion, science has been open and accepting enough to embrace vast revolutions in its worldview, and seeming heresies on issues like the corruptibility of time and space, and the impossibility of certainty in prediction. Even the materialism that Deepak tells us science holds sacred has been altered as our knowledge of the universe has increased. At first science considered only visible, palpable objects as real; then science grew to accept intangible force fields, unseen atoms, and even unseeable quarks. Science is open to accepting new truths. What it resists is accepting untruths.

Science is open-minded because it has no agenda. Science does not care if the Earth is the center of the universe or just another planet, if the Milky Way is the only galaxy or just one of many billions, or even if our universe is not unique. Science does not take offense at finding that human beings developed from apes or bacteria, that we are gone to dust when we die, or that our consciousness has no magical side to it. Darwin did not approach the issue of the origin of life saying “We must remove purpose from creation.” Deepak, in comparison, writes, “If we want to evolve beyond our worst impulses, the only way is through a higher purpose that benefits everyone” and “Spirituality restores purpose and direction to their rightful places at the heart of evolution.”

I agree that it is good to lead a purposeful life, but that should not be confused with believing that nature has purpose built into its laws. I also applaud Deepak’s vision of how people ought to live and to treat one another. But whereas Deepak and I both would like to see a better world, one in which people have transcended their worst impulses, as a scientist I cannot let the way I want the world to be drive my apprehension of the way the world is.

One of the issues Deepak feels science is closed-minded about is the existence of a hidden or invisible realm. It is true that historically science has rejected many suggestions of invisible realms. But that’s not because science has never examined them. One of the most important traits of a great scientist is curiosity, and over the years scientists from Faraday to Feynman have pondered such issues. But another great trait of the scientist is skepticism, for there is no joy in satisfying curiosity with false explanations. The requirement that our theories correspond to what we observe in the real world has thus far necessitated our always rejecting ideas regarding the immaterial realm.

Events can be deceiving, and discovering their true explanations often isn’t easy. The emergence of galaxies, stars, and people from chaos can appear, like tables apparently moving by themselves, to demand some supernatural explanation. When philosophizing one can talk freely about unseen realms, invisible realities, and organizing forces that guide evolution. One can illustrate the ideas with stories and anecdotes, and argue by analogy. One can use everyday language, with its pitfalls of vagueness, and terms with multiple meanings. One can pepper one’s prose with satisfying terms like “love” and “purpose.” One can even appeal to ancient sages and texts. These arguments may seem attractive. But science answers to a higher authority—the way Nature actually works.

When Richard Feynman had the idea to recast quantum theory based on his new interpretation, a reformulation that would give physicists a completely different picture and a new understanding of reality, he too began with simple examples and analogies. But then he spent years making his ideas precise, figuring out all the details, defining exactly what his words and ideas meant, and recalculating almost every quantity anyone had ever calculated using the old formulation in order to check that his form of the theory produced the same predictions—all of which had been confirmed by experiment. Only then did Feynman believe and publish his revolutionary work. For a theoretical physicist to have a new and interesting idea, or even to develop an attractive and plausible new theory, is not uncommon. To have it meet the test of reality and find acceptance is. The scientific approach to truth has brought humanity a wealth of knowledge not attainable by other means.

Deepak has repeatedly brought up the destructive applications of science. But let’s not forget that a world that ignores the truth of science is a world left in the darkness of superstition, the misery of ignorance. Centuries ago, the human condition was one of pestilence, filth, hardship, and disease. Think about the improvements in living conditions that have resulted from the scientific revolution. Being a physician himself, Deepak knows that if we relied on his wisdom tradition for our knowledge of the universe, instead of the scientific method, we’d still be falling victim to rampant diseases like smallpox, tuberculosis, polio, and pneumonia, and women would still commonly perish in childbirth; we’d be the victims of dirty and disease-ridden water; and we’d be starving because agriculture could not have kept up with worldwide food demand, nor would reliable contraception methods exist to help people limit the number of children to those they can feed and support. In short, we’d still be dying before middle age because ancient wisdom traditions are no substitute for modern science.

I’m not saying that science has all the answers. Consciousness lies at the heart of Deepak’s worldview. It is also science’s last frontier. Today science does not even have a good operational definition. We are like Michael Faraday at the start of his career. As he explored what we now call electromagnetism, even the characterization of electricity as positive or negative was controversial. Many analogous debates about the fundamental nature of consciousness take place in science today. We poke around, we make observations, but we are not really sure what it is we are trying to study. Still, there is no reason to believe that consciousness won’t be explained. We need not jump the gun and accept that its explanation lies in some unphysical realm.

There are many mysteries in physics today, from the nature of dark matter, to the recent discovery that the expansion of the universe is accelerating, to the possible observations of exotic new types of neutrinos that don’t fit into the standard model. Such mysteries could result in a revision of current theories, or in a complete overhaul. Either way, it is natural for scientific theories to keep evolving. When I talk to other scientists about the possibility of identifying a phenomenon that pokes a hole in our current theories, the most common response I hear is a desire for such an anomaly to occur. For while metaphysics is fixed and guided by personal belief and wish fulfillment, science progresses and is inspired by the excitement of discovery. The scientist’s dream is to make new discoveries, especially when they mean that established theories must be revised. Scientists discovered two new forces in the twentieth century—the strong and weak nuclear forces—and the same excitement that accompanied those discoveries would reign if we ever found real evidence of another realm of consciousness. All it takes is convincing data to support the idea. If that were to come, many a scientist would enlist in the effort to find more evidence, in order ultimately to prove or disprove the existence of that realm.

I’ve argued for a worldview grounded in observation and evidence, and I’ve argued that such a viewpoint need not deny the richness of the human spirit, or the wonder of the universe. As Einstein wrote, concerning the idea that human behavior is governed by nothing more than the laws of nature, “This is my belief, although I know well that it is not fully demonstrable. [But if] one thinks out to the very last consequence what one exactly knows and understands, there will be hardly any human being who will be impervious to this view, provided his self-love does not ruffle up against it.”

Admittedly, our self-love makes it difficult to accept a worldview in which human beings do not play a central role in the universe. But science’s ultimate triumph lies in the integrity of its methods, the openness of its point of view, the eagerness of its embrace of the truth. Science may never have all the answers, but it will never stop looking for them, and it will never take the easy way as it continues on its search for understanding.


DEEPAK

To many readers, there is no war of two worldviews, or if there is, one combatant is puny and unarmed while the other possesses tanks, robot drones, and smart bombs. Science is fully armed, while a new spirituality, divorced from religious dogma, is a fledgling. I’d suggest that the war doesn’t need to be fought anymore, because it’s already over. Hidebound science is ready to topple, making way for a new paradigm where consciousness takes center stage. Don’t expect the bodies of fallen physicists littering the field. The outcome won’t be the vanquishing of science but its expansion. The expanded version will be able to admit into evidence something that Leonard shuns: a purposeful universe. (When Leonard says that I am clinging to precepts from thousands of years ago, he can’t be serious, given how much up-to-date science the new spirituality has come to terms with.)

He himself hits on the guiding principle of an expanded science, which “answers to a higher authority—the way Nature actually works.” Unfortunately, he hasn’t been able to follow his own prescription. Faced with evidence about post-Darwinian evolution, the quantum basis of consciousness, and the futility of equating the brain with the mind, Leonard runs for shelter in cherished beliefs that forward-looking science is abandoning with greater and greater speed. I invite him to jump in the water—it’s not scary—but like the Catholic Encyclopedia he somewhat bizarrely cites, he has deeper concerns (scientific salvation, perhaps?) that make it forbidden to accept a spirituality that is consistent with science. Anyone allied to rooting mind in matter will continue to ignore the anomalies that crack their worldview.

Leonard is in favor of leading a purposeful life, only he wants to divorce it from science. I’ve always been struck by the way scientists wed themselves to the dogma of a random universe, one totally devoid of meaning, when it’s obvious that every moment of life embraces the things that matter to us, even if your goal is as small as making it through the day, finishing a mystery novel, or picking up the kids after soccer practice. If our life has meaning, it must have come from somewhere.

For me to declare that the war is over, I must offer evidence. These essays have indicated numerous trails of evidence—from the plasticity of the brain to the fluidity of genes, from the quantum vacuum to the domain outside space and time—to meet the call for “new insights” that Sir Roger Penrose has sounded. Twenty-five years ago, my medical colleagues in Boston refused to believe that there was a mind-body connection. Now it’s accepted without question that our thoughts, feelings, and moods are conveyed instantly to every cell in the body. The cell membrane receives news of the world, inner and outer, and on a microscopic level it is the world, written in molecules. Back then, when a professor of medicine smirked at the notion of the mind affecting the body, I would blurt out, “How do you wiggle your toes? Isn’t your mind sending an order to your feet?”

I’ve declared repeatedly that I am not defending any conventional God. But spirituality cannot be artificially segregated from the essence of religion. Both depend on a personal journey, leading in the end to the transformation of consciousness. The invitation to begin such a journey comes from reality itself. I firmly believe that reality wants to be known, and human evolution answers to that call. Science is one answer, but it can’t hog the road; spirituality is just as valid an answer.

Science shouldn’t be the enemy of the inner journey, and I feel disheartened if Leonard believes that his view of a “higher authority” forbids inner exploration, as if table rapping in a Victorian séance should be our model for spirituality. Does anyone think that the Buddha and Plato ran séances? Yet there’s no reason to make rhetorical hay here. The world’s great spiritual teachers were Einsteins of consciousness. They provided principles and discoveries fully as valid as those of Einstein, who had his religious doubts but never lost sight of the awe and wonder that he felt were essential to all great scientific discoveries.

Leonard places great store in doubt as a tool of science. I can only agree, but a rigid, hostile skepticism does no one any favors. Skeptics squat by the road like guardians of truth, letting no one pass who doesn’t come up to scratch. They never realize that they can see only what their paradigm tells them to look for. If you judge a person only by how well he plays pool, Mozart won’t pass scrutiny, but the fault is in your lens.

I was once talking on mind and body before an audience in England when a loud, red-faced man jumped to his feet shouting, “This is all garbage. Don’t listen to him. It’s crap!”

The audience stirred uneasily, and I was a bit shaken. “Who are you, sir?” I asked.

“I’m the head of the UK Skeptical Society,” he replied.

“I doubt it,” I said, and the audience burst out laughing.

Leonard comes close to joining the Society for the Suppression of Curiosity, which is where blanket skepticism leads. But I imagine he is as guided by awe and wonder as Einstein, so let me speak to those qualities. At the instant of the Big Bang, the laws of nature apparently came about within 10–43 seconds—an unimaginably short blink in which to assemble every ingredient of the known universe inside a space trillions of times smaller than the period at the end of this sentence. Nothing existed during the “quantum epoch” that preceded this instant except for a sea of roiling energy. Even that is conceptually shaky, because there were no physical laws, and therefore nothing like electromagnetism existed, either.

The human brain, if you believe in strict materialism, was also predetermined in this roiling energy soup billions of years ago. If so, then we are the product of what came next: this astonishingly fine-tuned universe, where dozens of constants are perfectly meshed in such a way that a change of one part in a billion would have defeated the whole venture. You are able to read and think—along with playing at billiards or the game of love—only because of what came after 10–43 seconds. Without light, gravity, and electrons, not to mention time and space, none of us would be here. What came before is unknowable, and for that reason alone, science is reduced to conjectures no less fanciful than what I have been proposing. When we argue over where the cosmos came from, the playing field gets flatter every day.

In fact, fanciful is being kind. Materialism cannot venture anywhere before the creation of matter. Objectivity cannot venture anywhere before there were objects to observe. If the fate of the universe was decided in a single moment, why can’t it be a creative moment? Leonard’s thundering “no!” makes little sense. It’s not as if his method will get us anywhere. Our subjectivity connects us to the primordial impulse to make something out of nothing; otherwise, we deprive ourselves of creativity, deep intelligence, and free will.

Ordinary people aren’t going to give up emotions and inspiration just because science sniffs at subjectivity. Science shouldn’t be so edgy and defensive. Vandals aren’t going to smash their way into laboratories and throw Bibles at the equipment. Despite reactionary religious activity on the fringes, we all accept that science represents something enormously good and progressive. The ivory tower would be a modern replacement for the sacred city upon a hill, but unfortunately, from that tower rained down not just good things but the atom bomb, biochemical weapons, and nerve gas.

Most scientists wince at the existence of weapons research and then go on about their business. The rise of diabolical creativity seems unstoppable. Other scientists join the profitable enterprise of death with relish. One must be decisive here: a world ruled completely by science would be hell on earth. Being wedded to rational thought is acceptable inside the lab, but once science ventures to dismantle faith, striving, love, free will, imagination, emotion, and the higher self as so many illusions cooked up in our fallible brain, a rescue effort must be mounted, and quickly.

I don’t mean to embarrass anyone by my fervor—we all know the destructive power of fervor when it’s attached to religious intolerance. But the time is growing late. Millions of people have abandoned organized religion. Almost a hundred years ago Freud derided religious faith as a rearguard action in defense of the indefensible. But aspiration is defensible, and it can’t be fulfilled by science—not unless science is willing to break down the walls that falsely separate the inner and outer worlds. Ten years ago it was considered unthinkable to be interested in consciousness and still preserve a respectable scientific career. Today one can attend conferences where hundreds of scientists across every field present panels on consciousness, and the word “quantum” is tossed around to describe brain processes, photosynthesis, bird migration, and cell formation. Right under the nose of physics, brilliant minds are creating a new field, quantum biology.

Which means that to have a vision of a new, expanded science is no longer a folly. Clearly the rescue operation needs to expand much wider, however. All around us people ache with emptiness and yearning; there’s a vacuum to be filled, and it’s a spiritual vacuum. What other word really fits? Only when people are given hope that this ache can be healed will we truly know what the future holds. Let science join in the cure, because otherwise, we may wind up with marvels of technology serving empty hearts and abandoned souls.