The book by C. Lewis called "Screwtape Letters" was a clever idea in exposing a number of tactics of the enemy. Those principles are still at work today in many churches.
Several years ago I was approached by Pentagon officials who asked me to volunteer for a highly dangerous and secret mission. The problem was that in an early test they had succeeded in lodging a warhead about a mile deep under Tulsa, Oklahoma, and they wanted me to retrieve it for them.
Well, the mission involved some pioneering applications of current brain research, and they had heard of my interest in brains and of course my Faustian curiosity and great courage and so forth. Well, how could I refuse? According to monitoring instruments, something about the nature of the device and its complex interactions with pockets of material deep in the earth had produced radiation that could cause severe abnormalities in certain tissues of the brain.
No way had been found to shield the brain from these deadly rays, which were apparently harmless to other tissues and organs of the body. So it had been decided that the person sent to recover the device should leave his brain behind. It would be kept in a safe place as there it could execute its normal control functions by elaborate radio links.
Would I submit to a surgical procedure that would completely remove my brain, which would then be placed in a life-support system at the Manned Spacecraft Center in Houston? No information would be lost, all the connectivity would be preserved.
At first I was a bit reluctant. Would it really work? The Houston brain surgeons encouraged me. If your brain were just moved over an inch in your skull, that would not alter or impair your mind. I met the large and brilliant support team of neurologists, hematologists, biophysicists, and electrical engineers, and after several days of discussions and demonstrations I agreed to give it a try.
I was subjected to an enormous array of blood tests, brain scans, experiments, interviews, and the like. They took down my autobiography at great length, recorded tedious lists of my beliefs, hopes, fears, and tastes.
They even listed my favorite stereo recordings and gave me a crash session of psychoanalysis. The day for surgery arrived at last and of course I was anesthetized and remember nothing of the operation itself. When I came out of anesthesia, I opened my eyes, looked around, and asked the inevitable, the traditional, the lamentably hackneyed postoperative question: She handed me a mirror.
Sure enough, there were the tiny antennae poling up through their titanium ports cemented into my skull.
A cheer went up from the assembled support team, and I responded with what I hoped was a jaunty salute. Still feeling lightheaded, I was helped over to the life-support vat. I peered through the glass. There, floating in what looked like ginger ale, was undeniably a human brain, though it was almost covered with printed circuit chips, plastic tubules, electrodes, and other paraphernalia.
I moved the switch to OFF, and immediately slumped, groggy and nauseated, into the arms of the technicians, one of whom kindly restored the switch to its ON position. While I recovered my equilibrium and composure, I thought to myself: I tried to project it into the tank, offering it hopefully to my brain, but I failed to carry off the exercise with any conviction.
Most puzzling and confusing. Being a philosopher of firm physicalist conviction, I believed unswervingly that the tokening of my thoughts was occurring somewhere in my brain: I tried and tried to think myself into the vat, but to no avail.
I tried to build up to the task by doing mental exercises.
I tried closing my eyes while thinking it. I began naming things. Now, where am I? Is it tokened in my brain, lounging about in the vat, or right here between my ears where it seems to be tokened? Where Hamlet goes there goes Dennett.
This principle was easily refuted by appeal to the familiar brain-transplant thought experiments so enjoyed by philosophers.
It was clear enough, then, that my current body and I could part company, but not likely that I could be separated from my brain. The rule of thumb that emerged so plainly from the thought experiments was that in a brain-transplant operation, one wanted to be the donor not the recipient.
Better to call such an operation a body transplant, in fact. So perhaps the truth was, 2. Where Yorick goes there goes Dennett. This was not at all appealing, however.“False consciousness” is a concept derived from Marxist theory of social class.
The concept refers to the systematic misrepresentation of dominant social relations in the consciousness of subordinate classes. Website of the revolutionary communist Progressive Labor Party.
Philosophy of Dreaming.
According to Owen Flanagan (), there are four major philosophical questions about dreaming: 1. How can I be sure I am not always dreaming? According to the Bible, God killed or authorized the killings of up to 25 million people. This is the God of which Jesus was an integral part.
Yes. Consciousness and matter are basically the same thing in different states, they are electromagnetic fields of energy. The field or wave can turn into a particle.
This is like ice turning into water. Click on image to read article. Seeds, Soil & Fruit by Sandy Simpson.
This DVD is a message based on this article.. Bad seeds from a bad tree yield bad fruit. Matt. The field is the world, and the good seed stands for the sons of .