Herman M. Van Praag, MD, PhD

What in the Western world is understood by the moniker, “enlightened person”? Someone in who’s life reason and nature occupy central positions; someone who has renounced, or left behind, faith and the supernatural; someone who considers himself or herself to be an adept of the Enlightenment.

During the Enlightenment in Europe, reason superseded faith, and power and influence of the church receded. The Enlightenment is a period in which an almost messianic belief developed in uninterrupted progress, thanks to the march of science and technology. Only that is considered to be “true,” that has been made experimentally plausible. The conviction that reason will succeed the Almighty gained ground, and religion was laid to rest just as superstition had been earlier.

The secularist-adhering to no faith and critical of every aspect of religious conviction-gained prominence. Nothing is sacred to him, nothing unassailable, nothing is accepted a priori without reasonable evidence, thus nothing is a priori entitled to respect or veneration.

The secularist occupies in our society a prominent position, in particular among those who consider themselves to be educated and to be thinkers. It is politically and scientifically correct to be a secularist-the term has become almost synonymous with intellectual.

If this characteristic of enlightened man is correct, then men of faith who adhere to a religious conviction, who cultivate ties with coreligionists, and who honor religious traditions find themselves in twilight, at best. Because of a shortage of light, of illumination of the mind, fantasies are mistaken for reality.

According to their enlightened fellow citizens, men of faith position themselves beyond the pale of the intellectually sophisticated world. They do not think. They are, as Bartstra,

 a Dutch philosopher, noted, “a product of institutionalized imprinting of irrational thoughts and absurd ideas.” Or worse, they are deserters. To cite another Dutch philosopher, de Boer,

 “By embracing religious faith, one abandons the camp of thinking men. It is desertion.” Faith and reason are viewed as opposites-reason is the source of light, faith is a dimmer of that light.

The famous Dutch playwright from the early part of the 20th century, Herman Heyermans,

 expressed this latter viewpoint dramatically in his play 

 The principal character is Sachel, an elderly, blind Jew, who is “betrayed” by his only son, Raphael. Raphael falls in love with Rose and wants to marry her. His father had another woman in mind for him-he is furious and feels that his authority as the father has been impinged. To make things worse, Rose is not a Jew, which invokes intense sorrow in Sachel. He tries to change Raphael’s mind, but fails. At last, he curses his son and drives Rose to suicide.

Heyermans portrays Sachel as a latter day Shylock and, in fact, still a degree worse. He is not content with a pound of flesh from his opponent, he requires-figuratively speaking-his heart. Sachel is portrayed as an intellectual fossil; short-sighted, heartless, a victim of his faith. In this milieu, Raphael is the only one who rises above that. He represents future mankind, modern men who have chosen definitively for personal freedom, and who have undone themselves from parental settings and the “God of our fathers.”

The play was reviewed and analyzed by the Dutch philosopher Ger Groot,

 a well-known writer and prototypical secularist. He puts himself squarely behind Raphael. I quote: “Sachel’s motives are repugnant to me, and that from the bottom of my heart.” Groot considers Sachel’s urge to cling to his Jewish soul to be a hindrance to an enlightened world. Groot sees Raphael as “a typical idealist of the Enlightenment, a character we all would like to be ourselves.” It is Raphael “who is on the right side of history.” In Raphael’s own words, “The true God had still to come, the God of the new community, the community without Gods, without wickedness, without slaves.”

Reason as the universal source of light, religious faith as a dimmer of that light-is that a tenable point of view? I think it is not. I hold that reason is not the universal source of light, that complete enlightenment of the mind requires that faith, the faculty of believing, come to full development as well. In spite of this viewpoint, I consider myself to be an enlightened person.

I will clarify this point of view, but before that I will briefly discuss what I understand by the constructs I am referring to: religiosity and religion.

I define religiosity as the affinity for the religious root-idea. That idea holds that apart from the world that we perceive with our senses, a supranatural world exists. Man of faith feels the urge to reach out for that metaphysical world. He wants to provide life with a vertical dimension. He is receptive to the concept of God and knows feelings, thoughts, and experiences that are linked to that concept. Religiosity presupposes imaginative power. Not for naught, that latter term relates ability to imagine, with vital strength.

Religion, on the other hand, refers to a set of religious doctrines; actually to a philosophy, a way of interpreting the human existence, with the God-idea as focal point. Religion provides the urge “to think upward” (an image used by the philosopher De Rijk) with content and form. Religion is the formalized, structured, and often (unfortunately) codified expression form of religiosity. Religiosity is the substructure, religion the superstructure.

Religion is presented in various frames. On one extreme, one finds what I have called a coagulated, codified set of rulings one is obliged to believe or to practice. This set of rulings often inhibits rather than encourages reflection and is likely to induce feelings of sin and shame instead of generating joy of living.

On the other extreme, one finds a view of life that captivates; is without difficulty incorporated in one’s life; prompts discussion; stimulates reflection as to purpose and meaning of one’s life; and provides no certainties, only possibilities.

Religion may enrich a life or corrupt it. One may reject the system or embrace it, partly or entirely. It can be an influence for good or for evil. All to often the latter has been the case. This has gotten religion a bad reputation.

We now return to the main discussion: religious faith is, in principle, a bright spot, a potential source of light. What evidence supports that thesis?

My first argument is that “thinking upward” is not a gratuitous business. It leads to something, and with it one gains access to the metaphysical world. A world beyond the horizon-a world completely irrational that is impervious to rational, logical analysis. That world is not empty: humans cannot easily manage a vacuum, they tend to fill it up. A lull in a conversation is filled with words; in the case of a metaphysical universe, with undeterminable forces that influence one’s life as well as that of the community of which one is part. The forces imagined to operate in this metaphysical universe, may remain vague, unformed, noncommittal; this I call spirituality. Alternatively, the forces fancied are brought together in one, omnipresent, omnipotent, all-embracing mythical being, called God; this I call religiosity.

I use the term “mythical” not to denigrate. On the contrary, I consider myth as a superior way to express in a narrative, symbolic way experiences that are tenuous, those that cannot be concretely defined but are nevertheless intense and full of meaning and significance. The God-myth is of that nature. It is solidly rooted in human society, and its influence there has been profound and permanent.

For men of faith, that conception, that effigy, that likeness of God acquires a variety of functions. I will mention some. It is, first of all, a symbol of unlimited creativity and ultimate morality. As such it becomes for the faithful a role model, a touchstone for one’s own behavior>-

. It is held as an absolute unattainable ideal, and at the same time, as a supreme guide for life. In his capacity of sublime example, God encroaches on man’s conscience, integrates with his conscience. In that capacity, God warns him when he threatens to go astray and stirs up guilt feelings if that happens.

The word symbol, metaphor, just like the concept myth, lacks any denigrating connotation. A metaphor is the very means to express verbally something actually impossible to catch in words. It provides an image of something ineffable and unimaginable.

Moreover, both fatherly and motherly qualities are projected in an idealized form in the God-effigy. In the experiential world of the faithful, God is both advisor and supreme protector. He steps in during times of emotional upheaval and provides solace or resignation, as needed.

Finally, God, as perceived by the faithful, has expectations. He expects man to sanctify life, to single out a destination with an altruistic character. A destination that contributes to the well-being of a society on a social, cultural, or scientific level. The destination can be less lofty but no less important by trying to make the best of one’s family or one’s professional and social life.

Undeniably, the relationship of a religious person to God is one of dependency. For that reason, Freud qualified it as infantile and, thus, regressive. I disagree. Maturity and dependency are not opposites. A fully independent being-if such creatures exist at all-is a lonely being. No one is fully self-sufficient. Humankind consists of interdependent relationships, those that are complementary and reciprocal. The one fills up where the other has needs and vice versa.

Man’s relationship with God is one of co-dependency. For man, God is both guide and protector. God represents both the archetypical father figure and the archetypical mother figure. On the other hand, the concept of God is fulfilled by humans because God is unknown to other earthly creatures. “The human soul is God’s lamp,” states one of the Proverbs (20:27). If it were not for human beings, God would not exist. The religious believer is like a sculptor. The stone out of which the sculptor will create the work of art contains, as it were, the concept of that work of art, but it is still unformed, shapeless. The sculptor cuts the stone out, by which the unformed is formed and the concept becomes visible. In a similar way, man becomes aware of, gets in touch with, one might say: creates God.

The relationship of man to God is one of reciprocal dependence. Hence, I consider this bond to be normal.

Religiosity enlightens life: it becomes lighter, less difficult. Moreover, it provides light, makes it easier to find purpose and meaning in life, so that at the end of the journey one can say: it all made sense. I made a difference. The God-effigy is certainly not the sole provider of meaning, but no doubt an important one.

In his essay “The Myth of Sisyphus,” Albert Camus considered the central question of philosophy to be whether life is worth living. To me, it is the central question for each and every human being: Without meaning or purpose or goals, life loses its lustre and one is left wondering if it makes sense to continue.

The above conclusion should be complemented with the important provisio that religiosity must come to fruition without coercion, without pressure from without. If religion is enforced and God is presented as a tyrannical, demanding, merciless authority, religiosity will be experienced as a straight jacket. In such cases, religiosity darkens rather than enlightens life.

The secularist is not convinced. He asks the faithful: “Do you really think that your metaphysical world is ‘real’? Is that world not a stubborn fabrication.” The faithful answers: “I don’t know whether that world is a reality. I don’t know, no one knows, no one will ever know. I don’t care. Your question is irrelevant. That world exists for me, in my subjective experiential world. For me that is enough. I don’t need any proof, other than what my experiential life provides me with.” The faithful is right, he has the capacity to create effigies and to imbue them with spiritual meaning. Religiosity is a quality completely outside the rational sphere. It is, above all faith, an experiential state with no need for proof.

There is evidence that supports the notion that religiosity contributes to enlightenment. There are studies that show that religiosity is a normal component of the human personality, a normal feature of man’s experiential range. Its normal occurrence suggests it has a particular function, probably a useful function.

It was shown in all Western countries that religiosity is a frequent phenomenon, even in the Netherlands (one of the most secularized countries in the world).

 Religiosity is expressed in many different beliefs, in different ways-as an omnipotent personal god, an abstract principle, an afterlife, immortality of the soul, divine influence in one’s life. Although church and church authorities have lost prestige, religiosity still has a strong appeal.

When data indicate the high prevalence of religiosity in community populations, reason is violated when it is considered as abnormal, primitive, regressive, or atavistic. Religiosity is a normal component of the human personality-it is an attribute of the human mind, whereas religion is a product of the human mind. Religion can be disposed of; religiosity is there to stay.

The second set of data indicating that religiosity is a normal constituent of the human personality is biological in nature.

 Religiosity, although partly learned, is in part genetically anchored.

 Moreover, there is evidence that the brain contains neural systems that are at the root of spirituality. If these neural systems are activated by electromagnetic currents, religious experiences occur in both believers and nonbelievers. During intense religious preoccupation (as in praying and during mystic experiences), blood flow and glucose consumption in these regions are increased. These are signs of increased neuronal activity.

Furthermore, the intensity of religious devotion and its salience for a given individual have been found to correlate with the binding capacity of certain serotonin receptors.

 Does that mean that religiosity is biologically caused, that it is no more than the product of some overactive neuronal circuits? No, the brain is the intermediary between religious needs and the gratification of those needs. The religious needs are, as discussed, of psychological origin; their gratification is made possible by the brain through biological processes.

By way of an analogy: one is moved by beautiful music. That feeling depends on still largely unknown brain circuits that generate aesthetic experiences. Without these brain circuits, aesthetic experiences would not occur. However, the circuits are not the cause of those experiences, the music is. Neural circuits make the experiences possible. The brain is the intermediary between the music and the sense of beauty one experiences. The same holds for religious experiences. Their origin is found in psychological needs; their gratification depends on brain activation. The brain is the intermediary between need and gratification of those needs.

The fact that religiosity is biologically based indicates that, evolutionarily speaking, religiosity provides functions advantageous to mankind. I hypothesize the main advantage to be its illuminating potential.

Psychiatry provides further support for the thesis that religiosity may enlighten a life.

 Koenig reports on the relationship between religiosity and depression. The faithful were compared with nonbelievers. The study findings indicate that under comparable, taxing circumstances, the risk of depression is smaller among believers than among nonbelievers. If depressive symptoms did appear, recovery was faster among believers than among nonbelievers. The same held true for long-term prognosis.

However, there is an important caveat: the beneficial effects of religiosity were demonstrable only in those with a positive image of God-God experienced as a support system and as a source of hope, a source of positive expectations and, if so needed, as a source of consolation. There are indications that God as a demanding, punishing, guilt-inducing authority has an opposite effect and increases the risk of depression and negative outcomes.

Faith and reason are two ways to approach and understand the world around us. They do not oppose each other, they are complementary. Reason satisfies the urge to know, faith the urge to understand. I correct myself: reason and faith may complement each other, and that depends to a large extent on personality structure and its integrative abilities.

The human personality is like a brilliant, precious stone with many facets. Each facet represents a particular intention, tie, interest, need, preference, affinity. Those “interests” might be contradictory but may be experienced as compatible. The mature mind demonstrates an imposing elasticity and plasticity. It tolerates multiple loyalties. I maintain that a personality can only be called mature when it has developed multiple loyalties. The more facets a gem has, the more it shines, the more valuable it is. The more “interests” a mind embraces, the more it glitters, the richer the life of its carrier. If the facet “faith” remains underdeveloped, mind’s glittering lessens, its carat decreases.

I have reached the quintessence of my discourse, but before going into that, I clarify my definition of the construct “normal religiosity.”

Articles

 Psychiatrists cannot, with impunity, disregard an important domain of man’s personality makeup. He ought to remain a searcher of the soul at large.

Enlightenment and Dimmed Enlightenment

In the middle ages, scholars often began their debates and expositions with the formula:

meaning, “it would appear that such and such is not true.” Thus, the scholars defended their thesis in 2 steps.

First, the discussions centered on the considerations that made the thesis seemingly unlikely. Subsequently, the scholars argued that these considerations were not valid.

meaning, “it seems that such and such is true,” to subsequently show that actually it is untrue.

The issue at stake: It appears that in psychiatry, soul and mind have to retreat in favor of the brain and that brain sciences will soon occupy center stage, if that is not already the case.

Here we argue that this prediction is insufficiently grounded, and that if it should happen, the damage to psychiatry would be considerable.

To begin with, briefly, the definitions of the concepts involved. The word “soul” (or psyche) is used as a metaphor for the conglomerate of psychic functions that enable man to be cognizant of both the world around him and his inner world, to make contact with fellow men, and to interpret that information both intellectually and emotionally.

The word “mind” is used to indicate those ingredients of the soul that make each individual into a unique self. It pertains to the internal structure of the self: the cognitive style of an individual, his ability to analyze, to conceptualize, and the depth and variegation of his emotional repertoire. Mind refers to his aspirations, hopes, and disappointments, his ability to love and to make moral judgments, the measure of his self-consciousness, etc. Mind also encompasses man’s urge to achieve purpose and meaning as well as his desire to provide life with a vertical dimension, to once in a while reach out beyond the horizon-where the lands lie of our dreams, our imagination, and the metaphysical experiences-and where religious sensitivity finds its birthplace.

Mind makes man identifiable for himself and others. Mind is the very essence of selfhood. It overshadows the bodily characteristics of the self by far. Phrased parsimoniously: the soul provides the basic tools with which the unique edifice of the mind is constructed.

The relationship between body and soul has been debated by philosophers for thousands of years. Descartes is linked to the notion that a sharp distinction should be made between body and mind. The body-the

-has spatial extensiveness; the mind-the 

-on the other hand, does not. Both “substances” were thought to operate independently, apart from a possible hyphen Descartes hypothetically located in the pineal gland. The body could be studied with mechanical tools, like a machine; the mind could not, was a domain for philosophical studies.

Descartes has often been misunderstood, taken for a rigorous dualist. For instance, Damasio

 wrote: “Descartes imagined thinking an activity quite separate from the body.” Damasio erred. Descartes considered features such as “feelings” and “tendencies” body- (ie, brain-) dependent. The mind was not, could not be, because it was considered to be immortal. In his day and age, this viewpoint could hardly be (openly) questioned.

Dualism, the separation of brain and mind, is not a popular viewpoint in neurobiological circles, including among biologically oriented psychiatrists. Kendler

 wrote: “Cartesian dualism is false. We need to reject definitively the belief that mind and brain reflect two fundamentally different and ultimately incommensurable kind[s] of ‘stuff.’” He expressed himself rather moderately.

 stated: “We are our brains. The mind I see as a product of our brain cells. Mind is simply material, or better, brain and mind are one thing.” Kandel

 wrote: “What we call mind is a range of functions carried out by the brain.” And, Guze

 declared: “One’s feelings and thoughts are as biological as one’s blood pressure and gastric secretion are.”

Neuronal determinism, as this worldview is called, reigns supreme today. Many neuroscientists, including their psychiatric adherents, believe that by means of brain research, the code of mind and selfhood will be cracked. They consider the problem-solving power of the sciences-the natural sciences-principally boundless. To me this sounds like scientific messianism.

The appearances, however, seem to be against me: 

 Scan technology, for instance, brought functional and morphological brain defects to light in a variety of psychiatric disorders. Most evidence suggests that these disturbances underlie the behavioral aberrations, rather than being their consequence. Functional brain changes enable us to execute those functions.

Brain damage, more often than not, leads to behavioral and experiential changes. Drugs may influence brain functions and have the potential to exert both beneficial and detrimental effects on the behavioral repertoire. Chronic biological strain damages the brain and may lead to mental disturbances. Even religiousness, the most esoteric of the mind’s ingredients, seems to be neuronally anchored.

Mind is a brain derivative and mental disorders are essentially disorders of the brain, and their causal treatment is a matter of brain repair. So it seems. Yet, I reject this reasoning categorically. I submit that dualism, neodualism should be “in” and should remain the very foundation of psychiatry, in both its clinical and therapeutic endeavors. With the term “neodualism,” I allude to the notion that body-brain and mind, although interdependent, can each boast a considerable amount of internal autonomy.

Furthermore, I maintain that mind and brain are made of fundamentally different “stuff”; that mind “stuff” should be systematically studied in its own right, with specific methods not comparable to the ones used by neurobiologists; and that mind “stuff” cannot and will never be fully extrapolatable to brain “stuff.” As an analogy: electric currents can be generated by a generator. Generator and current are coupled, yet they are phenomena of a totally different order, to be studied with different methods. Neither can the beauty, the color, the smell of a rose be extrapolated to the soil from which it springs.

This is the title of a book recently published by the neurobiologist Swaab.

 The wording sounds terse but misses the point. It holds water in that without the brain we wouldn’t be. This logic falters because our spiritual luggage is left unattended. We are more than a machine. Immaterial components are part of our being-our essential parts. They are lost in the phrase “we are our brains.” Brain knowledge yields pitifully little mind knowledge.

Suppose we had detailed knowledge of the neuronal substrate of aesthetic experiences, would that explain their origin, character, and salience in a given individual, and his or her personal preferences? Suppose the neuronal underpinnings of religiosity became an open book, would that make us wiser about the origin of the spiritual needs, about the significance the “vertical dimension” has in someone’s life? Suppose the neuronal substrate of what is called intelligence had been fully clarified, would that knowledge reveal the ways those abilities were actually used? for what purpose? on which grounds? whether intellectual faculties have been used to the fullest, whether intellectual development has been detrimental to one’s emotional life. Does brain knowledge bring us any closer to understanding a person’s hopes, expectations, disappointments, sorrow, bliss, or shame? his love life and the way he loves? Does it provide information about his ability to make moral judgments?

The answer to these questions can hardly be in the affirmative. It is true, the mind’s existence depends on the existence of a brain. But it is also true that the mind has a life of its own, impenetrable to brain researchers, at least for the foreseeable future. The mind is in many respects an independently operating “product” of the brain. It is a domain with its own rules, its own provisions, to be studied with specific methods-methods that have nothing to do with biology. If the mind becomes a vassal territory of the brain sciences, science would suffer irreparably.

Oscar Wilde characterized a cynic as someone who knows the price of every thing but nothing of its value. If “knows” is replaced by “wants to know,” this definition fits the neural determinist perfectly.

Psychiatry is particularly endangered by this extreme variant of biological monism. The brain is dear to the psychiatrist; the mind no less. He has to deal with both-every day and with every patient. What is wrong in the brain? What is the matter with the mind? He ascertains that mental disturbances, more often than not, are preceded by perturbations of the mind. He knows that mind perturbations may cause brain perturbations. The study of the mind is therefore essential to diagnose and treat mental disorders properly. By definition, the psychiatrist is an examiner and healer of the brain as well as of the mind. If a car engine is malfunctioning because of long-term exposure to bad roads, both the engine and road need to be repaired. If they are not, engine problems will return.

 called free will an illusion: “Neural determinism will take its place: What we experience, what we think and what we do, is fully determined by the actual state of the brain.” This, too, is a half-truth. The fact that we experience, think, and act is indeed completely determined by the brain. What we experience, think, and do-all of which are in large measure determined by us-is not our selfhood. That self is shaped by life experiences, the milieu in which one is raised, and regular introspection.

The brain provides no information on the way these factors shape the individual. Psychic individuation is not primarily determined by the brain, it is determined by selfhood-by the one I’m going to be and ultimately will be. Selfhood creates itself. It is the master builder of the mind. It is both product and producer. Such is the enigmatic character of who we are. Selfhood’s “fabric” is nebulous and elusive, yet it is experienced as concrete and real.

In the brain, selfhood is not recoverable. It is approachable only for soul researchers and soul healers, and that only to a limited extent. For neurobiologists, it is an entity like the Holy Grail: fascinating but untraceable, for the time being-and I presume, forever.

This is not a novel idea. In the first verses of the book of Genesis, God “formed man of the dust of the ground.” It was not before He breathed in man’s nostrils “the breath of life” that man became a person.

 Man’s mind was created by unique “mind-stuff.” Stuff that made man into more than a thing, it made him into an individual.

Man conceived as a machine is an obvious half-truth. A machine indeed, but a most peculiar one, a spirited machine. For some, a statement beyond belief. For others, like me, a truth. A mystery of the same magnitude as when, long ago, dead matter was converted into living matter, able to reproduce. In principle, mysteries are solvable. The ones I mentioned, however, are more 

 ie, a mystery that will remain a mystery, for the time being and probably forever. It is more a romantic than a scientific idea. But, frankly, life without mysteries, in which everything is explicable and without wonders, would lose its luster. At least for me.

This ancient statement that “man is the measure of all things” was made by the Greek philosopher Protagoras. It is cited with applause by advocates of the “brain-only” idea. For me, this statement raises 3 objections.

1. Protagoras’s thesis has been unduly stretched. Protagoras probably meant to express that all human judgments are subjective, including those regarding abstractions such as righteousness, beauty, virtue, and values such as good and evil. Absolute truth does not exist. Every human being is entitled to make his own decisions.

Protagoras said: “As things occur to me, so they are for me; on the other hand, as things occur to you so they are for you.” In conformity with this reasoning he confessed to be an agnostic: “As far as the gods are concerned, I couldn’t say whether they exist or do not exist, or what their shape is, because many factors limit our knowledge as to that: the obscurity of the subject and the limitations of the human existence.” Protagoras was a relativist: man judges for himself and is his own chief justice. There exists no higher authority-man himself is the measure of all things.

“Brain-only” adherents link in to Protagoras’s relativism but give it another turn. Not so much man, since the brain is considered to be the measure of all things. Man is reduced to a strictly material entity. All his characteristics are materially determined, reducible to matter and hence measurable, given the availability of suitable devices. This holds for the whole of man, both his physical and spiritual features, ie, his mind.

“We are our brains.” The brain determines what and who we are. Beyond the brain lies nothingness. The brain is all-mighty and omnipotent. It is the ultimate contraption steering our life. The brain assumes almost divine grace-Protagoras’s thesis is excessively stretched; overstretched, I would say.

2. Protagoras phrased his thesis in such general terms that it is hard to interpret. He speaks of “man . . . ,” but which man? The average one (if that type exists), the exceptional man, the man approaching stupidity, the humane man or his egocentric counterpart? The variability of mankind is enormous. Furthermore, how do we “measure” man? Where does the benchmark go: in the middle, higher, or maybe lower?

Protagoras speaks of “all things.” But, what are these things? Morality perhaps? Taking into account man’s track record, this bespeaks a rather gloomy worldview. Is Protagoras speaking of introspection, reflection, empathy? The word “thing” is indefinite and, hence, meaningless. Thus, there are many questions but no answers.

3. The third objection is one of personal character. The statement that man is the touchstone of all things kindles in me dreary feelings. Is that arbitrary, undefined “man” really our gauge? Should the standard not be somewhat higher? My answer is: indeed it should. If not, a society stagnates and decays into colorless skepticism or, worse, into defeatism. I refer once more to the Bible in which the standards are very high-for many of us, perhaps unattainably high. Does it harm to consider that high level as a guideline? Certainly not, it is virtuous. It spurs us to try to reform or better a society, with the ultimate (although unattainable) goal of perfection. It provides life with purpose and meaning, however modest the improvement may ultimately be. Such objectives feed hope, and hope is the priceless fruit of the Messianic notion. Without hope, living would make little sense.

As a motto for a scientific movement, Protagoras’s adage seems unsuitable; as a motto for the human condition-disheartening. Man too often remains below par, to serve as a measure of all things.

. It would appear that in psychiatry the soul has to retreat in favor of the brain, that Cartesian dualism is false, that a truly causal treatment in psychiatry is treatment of a brain disorder. That viewpoint is misleading and counterproductive, in terms of both patient care and scientific progress.

Brain and mind are of equal status; communicating partners. They are unbreakably linked but made of fundamentally different “stuff.” Much can be achieved with technology. However, technology fails in understanding the mind. Man is more than a machine-he has spirit, will, and self-determination, all of which are impenetrable to biological technology.

Body and soul-brain and mind: two complex worlds mutually dependent and yet in many ways self-governing. Human nature truly is a natural wonder. It is not surprising that it is imagined (and believed by some) to be created in the image of God.

Descartes’ Error: Emotion, Reason, and the Human Brain

 Body and soul-brain and mind: two complex worlds mutually dependent and yet in many ways self-governing. 

Author | Herman M. Van Praag, MD, PhD

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