By Deepak Chopra, M.D., FACP and Jordan Flesher, BA Psychology
Most of us take perception for granted as a photograph - in five sensory dimensions - of the real world. If you walk past the house where you were born, however, you won't see it the way a camera would. You can't help but see it as a personal part of your life. A termite inspector would see it a different way, as would a zoning official, an architect, a landscaper, and so on. The fact is that we can take any perspective we want on any object in the universe. No one disputes this fact, but it can't be taken for granted, because there's a deep mystery about how we apply mental models to the reality that spreads out before us. The application of this mystery to the rise and fall of skepticism will become evident in a minute. Increasing attention is being paid to the late Polish-American mathematician Alfred Korzybski (1879-1950), who has lent a popular phrase to this whole problem of what we see and what is real: "The map is not the territory." In a nutshell it captures the problem of believing in maps - or models - created by the human mind. It's obvious when you walk past the house where you were born that your mind creates the memory of growing up there. But some models are so convincing that we forget how we made them. Or we think the map is the territory, and then many missteps can arise. If you own a lovely house but all you can think of is that it might have termites or that burglars are waiting to rob you in the night, mounting anxiety can take over to the extent that you are ruled by your fixation. To someone with claustrophobia, an elevator is never neutral - it's the source of fear.
Skeptics are perfectly entitled to create and enjoy their own model of the world, but when it becomes a fixation, a valid aspect of the scientific method - demanding verification of facts - becomes a source of bullying, disdain, ad hominem attacks, and in the worst cases, blindness to reality. But since militant skepticism is essentially a nuisance born on the blogosphere, it wouldn't be a serious impediment to scientific thinking any more than booing fans cause a football team to march off the field. The importance of dismantling militant skepticism is minimal except when it comes to the kind of deeper investigation that Korzybski was interested in. He devised mathematical theorems and non-Aristotelian logic to demonstrate that the neurological system of a scientist is engaging in a highly selective process - it consists of selecting out some information and omitting the remaining. This is the very essence of making a map, or a model. When you look at the house where you were born, there are literally thousands of facts about it that you ignore anytime you think about the house. How many nails have gone into the wooden framing? How many microbes and mold spores live behind the sheet rock? Who lives there now, and what are their lives like? Somewhere in the world somebody makes it their business to collect data on such questions and countless more, because our ability to select and discard is infinite. The skeptics' movement makes the mistake of giving certain models - basically their own, which is based on mistrust - a privileged position, when the truth is that all models have some advantages and some disadvantages.
The scientific model is abstract and reductionist. It isolates certain data (which are abstract) and organizes them to arrive at the essential qualities of an object (reducing it to pertinent facts). This is a fluid, dynamic, and subjective activity. But it's not the same as perceiving reality. Going to the most basic level of logic, one must concede that the human brain processes only the tiniest fraction of the billions of bits of sensory data that bombard us every day. We each have established our own filters for what we select and what we discard. If you are having chest pains and jump into your car to get to the emergency room, it won't matter to you what the scenery is like along the way. Expanded to the activity of science, what this says is that every one of us is participating in the universe in a personal, creative way. There is no fixed reality "out there."
So, how much weight should we give to how models differ from reality? Korzybski realized that there is an indefinite number of characteristics making up the physical environment that a scientist is unavoidably embedded within. He calculated the physical-energetic data impinging upon the sensory receptors of the scientist's neurological system before the system engages in further levels of abstraction. In other words, the threshold of data the your brain can process, is already an abstraction (a map) before you, or a scientist, starts to come up with newly created maps and models. For example, the simple fact that you can't hear frequencies as high as what a dog hears, means that your threshold for perception isn't perfect, complete, or even true. "This room is nice and quiet" isn't true for a dog being tormented by a persistent shrill noise in its ear that doesn't exist for you.
Science prides itself on investigating all kinds of things that the five senses don't pick up. But this extension of perception, astonishing as it is when the Hubble telescope images distant galaxies, still doesn't mean that science is viewing reality. Instead, it is expanding a map, putting in more detail. As Korzybski might point out, there is no way to NOT be embedded in the universe we observe. Here's the pathway that maps take before anyone engages with the universe: Physical-energetic data is conveyed by our sense organs and transduced (transformed) into electro-chemical nerve impulses, which are themselves even further decoded (translated) by other higher order levels of the brain into conceptual-linguistic (thought) interpretations of what is then experienced as "real."
If you suppose, as skeptics do, that science somehow transcends this intricate pathway, delivering "just the facts and only the facts," you are being naive. Take just one mystery, that of dark matter and energy. By current calculations, which are very imprecise, 96% of the universe may be composed of dark matter and energy, which no one can see or measure. The visible universe, which we rely upon as the very foundation of reality, amounts to 4% of what's out there. At the very least this means that the threshold of what the brain processes is a minuscule portion of the totality. If it turns out, as some theorists suspect, that dark matter isn't even based on atoms and molecules, how can the brain, itself composed of atoms and molecules, conceive of reality to begin with?
These are the kinds of mysteries that militant skepticism rails against when someone tries to deviate from the dogma of "the facts and nothing but the facts." It's not easy to come to terms with the interface between brain, mind, and reality. But to ridicule the investigation, as militant skeptics do, to denigrate someone else's model because you are the privileged keeper of truth, to shrug of advanced theories as pseudoscience - in other words, to own allegiance to the skeptical model - is pure ignorance.
Korzybski confronts us with a sobering but undeniable fact: As each level of abstraction occurs in the brain, more and more information is omitted. A scientist, like all of us, is both objectively and subjectively placed further and further away from what could be termed "really real reality." So what is that reality? As Korzybski pointed out, whatever reality might be, it transcends the confined, limited, and anthropomorphic point of view that we are tied to, because of the neurological system and its constructed map. Reality must be accounted for in its totality before any wide-scale truth claim, reality-claim, or thesis regarding morality and consciousness can be considered mildly sufficient -- no matter what field of study the claim is constructed within, whether that field is science, psychology, or philosophy. Until then, the Dawkins-Harris-Dennett movement, despite its noisiness, should take a lesson from Korzybski and realize that the map is not the territory.