What else could a decision be but the product of a combination of the present state of being, fashioned by the past, and the environment that a person finds themself in? From at least Hume onwards, many philosophers have understood that the only meaningful sense of free will is action free from coercion or force, not action exempt from the causal necessity of the physical world. To that debate, neuroscience adds nothing.

I don’t wish to disparage neuroscience. On the contrary, I am in awe of what is being discovered about the mechanics of mind. But it is simply a philosophical mistake to think that understanding more about the nuts and bolts of the basis of self and identity must add something to our fundamental understanding of what makes us the individuals we are. Some scientists agree. “I don’t think the self is ultimately a scientifically tractable question,” clinical neuropyschologist Paul Broks told me while I was writing The Ego Trick.

The main reason is that the very notion of a science of the self depends on us identifying its subject – the self – from the perspective of first-person experience. Science can correct false beliefs about what sustains that experience, and it can explain what makes such experience possible, but it cannot change what it means to be a self without erasing the very data it depends on.

— Julian Baggini in New Scientist, issue 2803.

I’m still chewing on this very last phrase. It’s like a star I can only see by turning my eye very slightly away.

solving, unsolving

Unsolving the City: An Interview with China Miéville
Geoff Manaugh

(….)

Novelists have an endless drive to aestheticize and to complicate. I know there’s a very strong tradition—a tradition in which I write, myself—about the decoding of the city. Thomas de Quincey, Michael Moorcock, Alan Moore, Neil Gaiman, Iain Sinclair—that type-thing. The idea that, if you draw the right lines across the city, you’ll find its Kabbalistic heart and so on.

The thing about that is that it’s intoxicating—but it’s also bullshit. It’s bullshit and it’s paranoia—and it’s paranoia in a kind of literal sense, in that it’s a totalizing project. As long as you’re constantly aware of that, at an aesthetic level, then it’s not necessarily a problem; you’re part of a process of urban mythologization, just like James Joyce was, I suppose. But the sense that this notion of uncovering—of taking a scalpel to the city and uncovering the dark truth—is actually real, or that it actually solves anything, and is anything other than an aesthetic sleight of hand, can be quite misleading, and possibly even worse than that. To the extent that those texts do solve anything, they only solve mysteries that they created in the first place, which they scrawled over the map of a mucky contingent mess of history called the city. They scrawled a big question mark over it and then they solved it.