What does "Hillbilly Elegy" tell us about J.D. Vance’s daimon?

 

J.D. Vance, Vice President of the United States, identifies himself as a post-liberal conservative. Since he is only a heartbeat away from becoming president, I have been thinking that I should read his latest book, Communion: Finding My Way Back to Faith, to see if it sheds any light on how he would be likely to use the powers of the presidency.

However, I decided that I should read Hillbilly Elegy first - and am glad that I eventually managed to read it, a decade after its publication.  I didn’t manage to get past the Introduction when I first attempted to read it a few years ago, but I now think it deserves its status as a best seller.

In this essay I will discuss the problem I saw in the Introduction before outlining what I see as the book’s strongest point. I will conclude that the book shows us Vance’s values and aspirations clearly, but offers only a glimpse of what David L. Norton would call a daimon.

The Introduction

In the Introduction, Vance discusses social problems of people who identify as hillbillies - working-class white Americans of Scots-Irish (Ulster) descent whose ancestors settled in the Appalachian Mountains. At one point he writes:

“When I mention the plight of my community, I am often met with an explanation that goes something like this: “Of course the prospects for working-class whites have worsened, J.D., but you’re putting the chicken before the egg. They’re divorcing more, marrying less, and experiencing less happiness because their economic opportunities have declined. If they only had better access to jobs, other parts of their lives would improve as well.”

Vance goes on to say that he held that opinion himself during his youth. He acknowledges that the opinion makes sense in terms of stresses associated with loss of security of employment in the industrial Midwest. However, he then goes on to claim that experience has taught him that “this story of economic security is, at best, incomplete”.

In support of that claim, Vance only cites one example. He mentions his personal experience of working alongside a young man “with every reason to work – a wife-to-be to support and a baby on the way – carelessly tossing aside a good job …”. He suggests that the young man displayed a lack of agency – a feeling that he had little control over his life and a willingness to blame everyone but himself.

Vance seems to be suggesting that such attitudes are a characteristic of hillbillies and “distinct from the larger economic landscape of modern America”. Perhaps hillbillies are particularly prone to this kind of learned helplessness, but Vance doesn’t make a strong case in support of that view.  

In Vance’s defence, however, he does acknowledge that his book does not pretend to be an academic study of the problem of declining upward social mobility. He states his primary aim is “to tell a true story of what that problem feels like when you were born with it hanging around your neck”.

 That is where the value of the book lies.

The strongest point

The point that comes through strongly in the book is that the messages that individual children receive from influential family members can help them to avoid adopting low aspirations, even when they are born into dysfunctional families and live in communities where most children grow up to perceive that the deck is stacked against them.

The story of Vance’s childhood is largely about the negative influence of his mother, whom he watched repeatedly succumb to addiction, being more than offset by the positive influence of his maternal grandmother and grandfather (Mamaw and Papaw) his elder sister, Lindsay, his natural father, and his Uncle Jimmy. To his credit, Vance doesn’t attempt to present himself as being particularly smart.

The picture that Vance paints of Middletown Ohio, where he grew up, is complex. He contrasts the mores of his grandparents – “old fashioned, quietly faithful, self-reliant, hardworking” - with those of his mother, which he describes as “consumerist, isolated, angry, distrustful”. He suggests that “increasingly, the entire neighborhood” has been adopting his mother’s mores. Nevertheless, he acknowledges that there were many intact families and peaceful homes in Middletown and that many of his childhood friends have been able to build successful lives there.

This story does not fit easily into either the cultural decline or economic decline explanations in the passage quoted above. Mamaw and Papaw’s mores were presumably reinforced by the stability offered by Papaw’s Armco steel job. And Vance’s mother’s addiction problem is not obviously attributable to either lack of economic opportunity or cultural factors. Towards the end of the book, Vance suggests that his mother’s problems were largely personal: “She tried to find happiness in love and work, but she listened too much to the wrong voice in her head”.

Mamaw nurtured in J.D. an aspiration to better himself, combined with a degree of optimism about his own potential. That is a valuable gift, but it is not the same thing as a daimon. An aspiration to get ahead is generic. Almost anyone can hold it, and it doesn’t say what one is to become. Norton’s daimon, by contrast, is unique and individual. The question for the rest of the book is whether Vance’s aspiration ever acquires that specificity.

Vance achieved well enough at high school to be admitted to Ohio State University but was terrified by the prospect of having to cope with “the unstructured college experience”. He joined the Marine Corps at the suggestion of his cousin Rachael, a Marine Corps veteran.

According to Vance, the Marine Corps taught him to live like an adult. He suggests that by the time he commenced study at Ohio State, the Marine Corps had also “instilled in me an incredible sense of invincibility”. It certainly instilled work habits that enabled him to graduate from college with grades high enough to gain admittance to Yale Law.

Yale Law doesn’t seem to have presented Vance with huge academic challenges. He portrays his experience there as akin to a kind of finishing school where he learned to network and had the good fortune to meet Usha, who became his wife. He credits Amy Chua, one of his professors, with providing sound advice on how to pursue career goals without destroying his relationship with Usha.

The daimon question

As explained by David L. Norton, your daimon is your innate potentiality – a unique “ideal of perfection”. Self-actualization is the process of discovering your daimon and living in harmony with it. Norton describes that as the feeling of  “being where one wants to be, doing what one wants to do”, as well as the feeling of being where one must be, and wholeheartedly doing what one must do. I have previously discussed David L. Norton’s explanation of daimon in an essay entitled, “Do you live in harmony with your daimon?”  The concept of daimon has been further discussed by Ed Younkins in his review essay on Norton’s books.

 Many of the things that are important to J.D. Vance are evident from a reading of Hillbilly Elegy. It is obvious that he considers it important to identify as a hillbilly as well as a Yale graduate. The importance to him of family and close personal relationships comes through strongly. It is clear that he regards personal agency, self-reliance and hard work as important values. He views his development of self-confidence as an important achievement.

However, I don’t think any of those things could be said to constitute a supreme aim or guiding principle. As noted above, Norton describes living in harmony with one’s daimon as a feeling of being where one wants to be and doing what one wants to do, as well as being where one must be and wholeheartedly doing what one must do. Does Vance describe anything like that? The closest he comes in the middle of the book is the Marine Corps, but what he reports there is a new confidence, an “incredible sense of invincibility”, rather than a calling. His account of Yale is dominated by networking, credentials and careerism.

A memoir is only indirect evidence, of course. Norton’s daimon is neither the actual person nor a product of the actual person, so Vance may have a daimon the book doesn’t reveal. I can only report what the book shows.

Perhaps we see a glimpse of Vance’s daimon in the final pages of the book. At that point he introduces us to Brian, a kid from Appalachian Kentucky who reminded J.D. of himself when he was fifteen years old. Brian had experienced many instances of childhood trauma and his hope of a normal life had evaporated. Vance writes:

“We do need to create a space for the J.D.s and Brians of the world to have a chance. I don’t know what the answer is, precisely, but I know it starts when we stop blaming Obama or Bush or faceless companies and ask ourselves what we can do to make things better.”

If J.D.’s daimon is to give people like Brian a better chance in life, the book can’t tell us whether his political career serves it. Vance writes that “there is no government that can fix these problems for us”, but he also says that public policy can help. The test is therefore what he does with the power he holds, not what he wrote a decade ago.

So what does Hillbilly Elegy tell us about J.D. Vance’s daimon? It tells us a good deal about his values: family, agency, self-reliance and hard work. It shows the aspiration Mamaw nurtured in him. It offers little that could be called a vocation until the final pages, where his concern for children like Brian hints at an aim that may be more than personal ambition.

I’m not sure Hillbilly Elegy sheds much light on how J.D. Vance would use the powers of the presidency. Nevertheless, I enjoyed reading it. Perhaps Communion will tell me more.

Can reliable international comparisons of human flourishing be made using subjective survey data?

 

The idea that human flourishing is the proper measure of a good society goes back to Aristotle, but modern attempts to compare flourishing internationally using subjective survey data raise difficult questions. That is illustrated in the scatter chart shown above - which compares the degree of human flourishing in different countries as measured by the new Global Flourishing Study (GFS) with average life evaluation data for those countries using the methodology of the World Happiness Report (WHR). The GFS flourishing index is based on surveys covering various aspects of human flourishing, while the WHR data derives from the Cantril Ladder approach: a single question asking people to rate their lives on a scale from 0 to 10, with 0 representing the worst possible life and 10 representing the best possible life.

One would expect people who give a relatively low rating to their lives under the WHR approach to be assessed as having a relatively low degree of flourishing under the GFS approach, and vice versa for those who give their lives a relatively high rating. Surprisingly, the chart suggests little correlation between the two indexes. People in Tanzania, Egypt and Kenya, for example, have lower average life evaluation ratings than people in Sweden, the U.S. and Australia, yet are assessed under GFS methodology to have higher average levels of flourishing.

This divergence raises three questions which the following sections of this essay address:

• Does the methodology of the GFS incorporate more reliable standards for international comparisons than the WHR/Cantril approach?
• Is the GFS approach to measuring human flourishing consistent with Aristotelian ideas about the nature of flourishing?
• Do composite indexes provide a more reliable basis for international comparisons of opportunities to flourish?

Reliability of GFS Methodology

The Global Flourishing Study includes over 200,000 survey participants in 22 countries. The countries were selected to maximize coverage of the world’s population and to ensure geographic, cultural and religious diversity. It is a longitudinal panel study with intended annual survey data collection for 5 years. The domains of flourishing covered in the study encompass health, happiness, meaning, character, relationships and financial security.

More confidence can be placed on analyses using subjective data for individual countries than on cross-country comparisons because the former pose fewer problems in interpretation of survey questions. (Recent trends in indicators of subjective wellbeing in some wealthy countries are suggesting that young people are experiencing greater difficulty flourishing in those countries. I strongly support research directed toward improving understanding of why this is occurring and have made a personal contribution to this work.)

My main concern in this essay is with excessive reliance on subjective data in making international comparisons. The authors of the GFS note that caution is needed in interpreting cross-national differences (VanderWeele, 2025, p.647) but that has not prevented attention being drawn to  country rankings.

The scatter charts shown below suggest that at a national level there is more correlation between GFS flourishing and “happiness” and “life satisfaction” indicators than between GFS flourishing and WHR life evaluation. Nevertheless, the GFS index suggests that people in some countries are flourishing despite relatively low average scores for happiness and life satisfaction.

 

The happiness question is: “In general, how happy or unhappy do you usually feel?” The life satisfaction question: “Overall, how satisfied are you with life as a whole these days?” There has been extensive research related to the question of what standard of comparison people use in responding to such questions. Some research has suggested that people compare their current state to an adaptation level — a running average of past experience when asked to rate their happiness or life satisfaction. A large body of work suggests that relative income often matters as much as or more than absolute income for self-reports on wellbeing. Cross-cultural research has found that the implicit comparison standard vary by culture. Moreover, seemingly trivial contextual factors can dramatically shift happiness and life satisfaction reports.

In some ways, the GFS is more susceptible to standard of comparison problems than a simple life satisfaction or happiness survey:

• Self-rated health is known to be heavily reference dependent. People assess their health relative to age peers, to their own past health, or to an idealized standard. Which reference point dominates varies by culture and age.
• Questions relating to meaning and purpose are especially vulnerable to context effects, because "meaning" is a highly abstract judgment with no obvious natural metric. Whatever has been made salient by preceding questions — religious identity, family, work — is likely to dominate the response.
• Questions about honesty, generosity, self-control and so on invite comparison to either an ideal standard or a perceived social norm. Those standards can diverge sharply.

The Cantril ladder approach used in the WHR was designed to be self-anchoring to address some of those problems. By asking respondents to define "best possible life" and "worst possible life" for themselves, this approach sidesteps the problem of imposing a culturally specific conception of flourishing.

However, the perceptions that respondents have of the best possible and worst possible life depend on the reference group they use as a basis for comparison. That would not pose a problem if there is broad agreement among people throughout the world on what constitutes the best possible and worst possible life. Perhaps such broad agreement exists, but I am not aware of definitive research findings about that.

Aristotelian perspectives

Modern researchers who seek to quantify the extent to which people are flourishing often refer to Aristotle as a source of inspiration for their focus on a broad concept of human flourishing rather than on happiness as an emotional state. That raises the question of whether the GFS approach is consistent with Aristotelian perspectives.

The GFS view of human flourishing as multi-dimensional is certainly consistent with Aristotle’s approach. The domains identified in the overview of the GFS seem to be broadly consistent with Aristotle’s understanding of the basic goods of a flourishing human (VanderWeele, 2025).

However, from an Aristotelian perspective, it is disappointing that the study does not acknowledge the central importance of practical wisdom (phronesis) to individual flourishing. Practical wisdom is the intelligent management of one’s life with a view to attaining the goods necessary to one’s own flourishing. The exercise of practical wisdom is so intimately related to actualization of unique potentialities in the context of available opportunities that it makes sense to view flourishing as synonymous with “the exercise of one’s own practical wisdom” (Den Uyl and Rasmussen, 2016, p. 33). 

Some research associated with the GFS has focused on mastery which is assessed by asking: “How often do you feel very capable in most things you do in life?” (Kim, 2025). There is some overlap between mastery and practical wisdom: the exercise of practical wisdom involves more than theoretical knowledge – it requires development of skills necessary to navigate real circumstances toward genuine flourishing. The mastery concept captures something of this efficacy dimension — the sense that one can actually direct one's life rather than being at the mercy of circumstances.

An important difference between mastery and practical wisdom is evident in the measurement of mastery in the GFS. Self-reported mastery ranges from 90% of the population in Mexico to 39% in Japan. Do such divergent responses reflect differences in the exercise of practical wisdom or differences in the incidence of hubris and modesty in different populations? There is no way of knowing. Responses to the mastery question capture a subjective sense of control which may have little to do with wisdom. Genuinely wise people with accurate perception of their own limitations do not necessarily score highly in their responses to the mastery question.

My point is that the exercise of practical wisdom – an activity integral to human flourishing – defies measurement using subjective survey data. There would be no point in including survey questions about the exercise of practical wisdom because the perceptions people have about the quality of decisions they make is often a poor guide to actual decision quality. A person of deficient character or limited understanding may feel entirely satisfied with their choices while lacking the practical wisdom required to make good choices.

Comparing opportunities using composite indexes

In deciding what to measure, it seems to me to be particularly important to understand the purposes for which measurements are being made. The overview of the GFS states:

“What we measure shapes what we discuss, what we know, what we aim for and the policies put in place to achieve those aims. We hope that the GFS itself, and the understandings that arise from it, will shift discussion and policy toward the promotion of flourishing” (VanderWeele, 2025, p.647).

That may be true, but it may also be a recipe for futile or counterproductive government interventions.

It seems to me that the central importance of practical wisdom to individual flourishing provides a strong reason to be modest about the ability of governments to promote human flourishing. The most governments can do is to influence opportunities available. The way individuals respond to those opportunities rests in their own hands.

 It is important to recognize that governments can have a profound impact on the opportunities for human flourishing. One of the most important contributions they can make is to reduce the negative impacts of their policies.

In Freedom, Progress, and Human Flourishing, I identified five basic goods of a flourishing human:

·        Wise and well-informed self-direction

·        Health and longevity

·        Positive relationships

·        Living in harmony with nature

·        Psychological well-being (Bates, 2021).

I noted that it is possible to teach people about the virtues of wise and well-informed self-direction, but it is doubtful that anyone has ever learned to exercise much practical wisdom in the management of their lives without having to accept responsibility for the choices they make. From a public policy perspective, it makes more sense to focus on the opportunities of people to exercise self-direction than to attempt to measure the quality of choices that they make. That is why I focused on objective measures of liberty in discussing opportunities for self-direction (Bates, 2021, pp. 65-6).

In considering opportunities for health and longevity, I argued that objective data on healthy life expectancy is a better indicator than self-reported health of differing prospects for individuals a long and healthy life in different countries (Bates, 2021, pp. 67-8).

Subjective data on levels of trust were suggested to measure differing opportunities for people to have positive relationships with others (Bates, 2021, pp. 68-9).

I discussed the complex relationships between economic growth and opportunities to live in harmony with nature (Bates, 2021, pp. 70-73).

Subjective data (WHR life evaluation) was used to indicate differing opportunities for people to enjoy psychological wellbeing (Bates, 2021, pp. 74-5).

Other researchers have also seen merit in using a mixture of subjective and objective indicators in making international comparisons of opportunities to flourish. The OECD’s Better Life Index is an example of a composite index that incorporates both objective and subjective components.

Conclusion

The scatter chart that opens this essay poses a genuine puzzle: why do country rankings of the Global Flourishing Study and World Happiness Report diverge so sharply? This essay has argued that the divergence reflects real limitations in both instruments rather than a straightforward vindication of either. Subjective survey data is susceptible to comparison-basis problems — the implicit standards people use when evaluating their lives vary by culture, context, and the framing of preceding questions — and these problems are considerably more serious for international comparisons than for within-country research. The Cantril ladder's self-anchoring design offers some protection against the imposition of culturally specific conceptions of flourishing, and its results have reasonable face validity when set alongside objective indicators of living standards and liberty. But whether people in different countries anchor the ladder's endpoints in comparable ways remains an open empirical question.

The more fundamental difficulty is philosophical. Both the GFS and the WHR treat subjective self-assessment as the primary evidence of flourishing. Aristotle, whose conception of eudaimonia inspired modern flourishing research, would have been skeptical of this. Flourishing in the Aristotelian sense is not simply a matter of feeling satisfied with one's life; it requires the exercise of practical wisdom — the intelligent, well-informed management of one's life in pursuit of genuine goods. People's perceptions of the quality of their choices are often unreliable guides to whether they are actually exercising such wisdom. This is not a limitation that better survey design can overcome; it reflects something important about the nature of flourishing itself.

These considerations point toward a more modest and pluralistic approach to international comparisons. Objective indicators — of liberty, healthy life expectancy, trust, and material security — can identify the opportunities available to people in different countries to lead flourishing lives. Subjective data retains value, particularly for tracking trends within countries over time. What neither approach can do is measure the quality of the choices individuals make within the opportunities available to them. That, in the end, is for individuals themselves to determine — which is precisely why the central policy implication of an Aristotelian perspective is not the promotion of flourishing by governments, but the protection and expansion of the conditions under which people can flourish for themselves.

References

Bates, Winton Russell, Freedom, Progress, and Human Flourishing (Hamilton Books, 2021).

Den Uyl, Douglas J. and Douglas B. Rasmussen, The Perfectionist Turn (Edinburgh University Press, 2016).

Kim, Eric S. et. al. “Mapping demographic variations in sense of mastery across the world a cross-national analysis of 22 countries in the global flourishing study”, Scientific Reports, 15 (2025).

Lomas, T. et. al. “Exploring associations of three evaluative subjective wellbeing measures (Cantril's ladder, life satisfaction, happiness) with 15 childhood and demographic factors across 22 countries”, Scientific Reports, 16, (2026).

VanderWeele, T. J. et. al. “The Global Flourishing Study: Study profile and initial results on flourishing”, Nature Mental Health, 3(6) (2025) pp. 636–653.

Is Indian Democracy an Extraordinary Success Story?

Salvatore Babones puts the view that Indian democracy is an extraordinary success story in his book, Dharma Democracy: How India Built the Third World’s First Democracy, which was published last year.

Babones describes himself as “a skeptical quantitative and comparative sociologist who came to the subject with an interest in democracy not (initially at least) with any particular interest in India itself”

I read the book during my most recent visit to India. I came to it with a particular interest in India and a desire to understand whether that country is more appropriately viewed as the world's largest democracy, or as an elective autocracy in which personal freedom is severely restricted. Babones has persuaded me that the first view is closer to being correct.

The structure of this essay is as follows. In the next section I discuss the graph presented above. I then draw upon Dharma Democracy to explain why Babones implies that the freedom data depicted in the graph understates personal freedom in India. The following sections outline why Babones views Indian democracy as a success story, his explanation for that success, and the reception his book has received in India. I present some personal views before concluding.

A Visual Starting Point: Emancipative Values and Personal Freedom

To frame the discussion, I use the chart above showing data from the World Values Survey and the Human Freedom Index. The horizontal axis presents Christian Welzel’s emancipative values index, a measure of cultural support for autonomy and expressive freedoms. The vertical axis shows personal freedom as assessed by the Fraser/Cato Human Freedom Index. I have previously explained the chart more fully on this blog, when using it to explore global patterns of authoritarianism associated with political entrepreneurship.

I am using the chart here to highlight how India appears to be situated within the broader global landscape. India appears in the middle of the distribution: less free than Western democracies but significantly freer than many culturally comparable societies. The chart suggests that the degree of personal freedom in India is much as might be expected for a country with India’s level of economic development and cultural values.

However, historical data suggests that personal freedom was much higher in India during the first decade of this century. It declined to its current level (around 6/10) from a rating substantially higher than might be expected based on emancipative (around 7/10). 

Possible errors in the measurement of personal freedom

Babones implies that the Fraser/Cato index understates the personal freedom that Indians experience. He argues that there is bias in all democracy and freedom indexes that use of subjective data from the Varieties of Democracy Institute (V-Dem). Apparently, nearly all of V-Dem’s survey indicators are coded by country experts, most of whom are academics residing in the country being studied. In the case of India, that methodology may introduce bias in recent freedom indicators because Narendra Modi and his BJP party are “widely reviled among social scientists both within India and in the West”.

This raises several issues. First, the Fraser/Cato index’s reliance on V-Dem seems to be modest. As far as I can see, only one item tends to depress India’s freedom score: that is V-Dem’s score for Media and expression under the heading “Expression and information”. On that item, V-Dem’s score is not far below the scores of Freedom House, BTI and CLD, which are also used in the Fraser/Cato index. It is possible, however, that data from Freedom House, BTI and CLD are subject to similar methodological biases as the data from V-Dem.

Second, India’s academics have some good reasons to criticize Modi’s human rights record. Nevertheless, in my view Babones’ allegation of bias carries weight because V-Dem gives Indian democracy a lower rating at present than in 1976 - during Indira Gandhi’s “Emergency” rule - when civil rights were suspended.

Third, some other freedom indexes provide a rosier picture of civil liberties in India than Fraser/Cato. For example, the Civil liberties rating for India incorporated in the Democracy Index of the Economist Intelligence Unit (EIU) is higher than for Armenia and Georgia – a ranking which is inconsistent with that shown in the above chart.

On balance, it seems to me that Babones has made a plausible case that democracy and personal freedom are in better shape in India than is often claimed by critics of the Modi government.

 India as an Extraordinary Democratic Success

Babones argues that “India’s democracy is in better shape than that of just about any other developing country”. His central claim is that India’s democracy is historically exceptional.

He emphasizes that India is the only large, poor, post‑colonial society to maintain continuous electoral democracy for more than seven decades. Unlike Western democracies, which evolved gradually over centuries, India launched universal suffrage at independence despite widespread illiteracy and immense cultural diversity. For Babones, this makes India not a fragile democracy but an extraordinary one - a global outlier whose success cannot be understood through Western liberal frameworks.

He grounds this argument in several propositions:

·        India conducts elections involving hundreds of millions of voters with consistently high turnout. Babones sees this as evidence of a deeply internalized democratic ethos.

·        India’s democratic resilience is rooted in its dharmic heritage, which emphasizes pluralism, decentralisation, and negotiated social order.

·        Most post‑colonial states experienced military coups and/or authoritarian consolidation. India did not.

·        India has vast civil society networks which have tended to inculcate a sense of national unity.

·        India’s electoral system has enabled historically disadvantaged communities to gain political voice – it is helping these communities to overcome social disadvantages.

Babones has included a chapter discussing the status of Muslims in India. In that context he suggests that nationhood is a work in progress. One interesting statistic he cites is that 99% of Indian Muslims report being “proud” to be Indian. He also makes the point that in a country that is 80% Hindu, “Muslims will never experience full social inclusion unless Hindus actively invite them into the national mainstream.”

Reception of “Dharma Democracy”

I asked Grok and CoPilot to provide summaries of the reception that the book has received in India.

Grok notes that as a relatively recent book from a smaller publisher, it hasn’t yet garnered widespread mainstream academic or Western critical reviews. However, the book has been well-received in circles aligned with its thesis. Reviewers highlight its challenge to global democracy indices, defense of India’s success via “dharma” and Hindu civil society, and data-driven rebuttals to criticisms of Modi-era democracy. One highly critical reviewer argues the book is misguided because it fails to address the Indian Constitution’s alleged anti-Hindu biases.

CoPilot offered similar comments, noting specifically that some critics are concerned that support for the Hindu civilization thesis tends to downplay pluralism and legitimize majoritarian narratives. Extending its analysis beyond formal reviews, it notes that much Indian academic discourse pushes back against the core thesis of the book. Many Indian scholars continue to view recent developments in India’s democracy as problematic. CoPilot sums up: “The book has not been dismissed; it’s being taken seriously in India, but primarily as a provocative intervention in an ongoing debate rather than a settled or widely accepted interpretation.”

Personal Perspectives

I cannot claim to have spent much time discussing politics during my three visits to India. Readers who are interested in my motives for visiting India can find relevant information here, here, here, here and here.

However, when discussion has turned to politics, the people I met have tended to express views that either strongly oppose or strongly support prime minister Modi. There were exceptions, but the views seemed to be linked to education levels – those with a university degree tended to be critical of Modi’s human rights record, whereas those without a university education were highly supportive of his emphasis on nationalism and economic development.

One observation stands out: critics of Modi expressed their views to me openly and without hesitation. These were not whispered conversations but frank and confident exchanges, often in public settings. That willingness to criticise the government directly to a foreign visitor is not something one would expect in a society where personal freedom is severely restricted. This suggests that India’s public sphere retains a level of openness that complicates the more pessimistic narratives about democratic decline.

My own view of Modi has moderated over the years. When he was first elected, international reporting had me viewing him as a somewhat alarming Hindu nationalist, whose policies might cause disorder. Perhaps Modi has himself become more moderate as he has focused on achievement of Viksit Bharat, which translates as “Developed India”. The image he presents internationally is certainly that of an extraordinarily diplomatic leader who seeks mutually beneficial relations with nearly all other countries.

While reading Babones’ book I pondered whether a “dharma democracy” would differ substantially from one based on Western individualism. At a superficial level, a “dharma democracy” might be seen to place less emphasis on personal freedom because dharma is about “duty” or “right action” rather than individual rights. However, the Indian concept of dharma seems to me to be close to Aristotelian ideas of individual self-actualization in accordance with natural purpose (telos). Babones notes that the Indian philosopher, Sarvepalli Radhakrishnan (1888-1975), suggested “every form of life, every group of men has its dharma, which is the law of its being”.

It seems to me that when Indians speak of duty to the nation what they have in mind might generally have more to do with doing the right thing - for example, adherence to societal norms that make democracy possible – because such behaviour is honorable and integral to self-realization, rather than an obligation that necessarily entails self-sacrifice.

 I am left wondering whether there is much difference in practice in the way Indian democracy is conducted by comparison with Western democracies. It seems possible that Indian democracy may be conducted with a little more regard to the norms of reciprocity, fair-dealing and mutual respect that restrain citizens from seeking to use the political process to exploit their compatriots.  

Conclusions

Salvatore Babones argues in Dharma Democracy that India is an extraordinary democratic outlier among post‑colonial societies. I think that line of argument holds up surprisingly well once one examines both the historical record and the limitations of the freedom indices that dominate international commentary. The evidence suggests that India’s personal freedoms, while imperfect, are not in the state of collapse that some critics claim.

The dharmic framing of democracy that Babones highlights offers a useful reminder that democratic resilience can emerge from cultural resources that differ from those of the West. India’s traditions of pluralism, decentralization, and negotiated social order have helped sustain a vast and diverse electorate through seven decades of elections. Whether or not one embraces the full “dharma democracy” thesis, it is clear that India’s democratic foundations run deeper than many external observers assume.

The reception of Dharma Democracy inside India reflects this complexity. Supporters see it as a welcome challenge to Western academic pessimism; critics worry that it risks legitimizing majoritarian narratives. Yet the very fact that the book has sparked open, vigorous debate is itself evidence of a public sphere that remains lively and accessible.

My own conversations in India reinforce that impression. Critics of the government spoke freely and confidently, even in public settings - something inconsistent with the idea of a society sliding into authoritarian silence. At the same time, the polarization of views, often along educational lines, reflects the tensions of a rapidly modernizing nation.

In the end, distinctive characteristics of India’s society have shaped its experience of democracy. Distinctive cultural values help to explain why Indian democracy has been surprisingly resilient. If the norms of reciprocity, restraint, and mutual respect that underpin democratic life continue to hold, India’s democracy may remain not only durable but an extraordinary success story. 

What is the most important contribution of Walter Donway's recent book about his serious chats with AI?

 

As I was reading Walter Donway’s recently published book, A Serious Chat With Artificial Intelligence, I was looking for an aspect to focus on in writing an essay for this blog. There is nothing unusual about that. I prefer to discuss issues rather than to write conventional book reviews.

I found what I was looking for while reading Chapter 16, entitled ‘Causality, Agency and an Old Puzzle’. At that point, the thought occurred that Walter’s most important contribution has been to explain why an Aristotelian perspective on free will is helpful to an understanding of the differences between human intelligence and the kind of intelligence exhibited by Large Language Models (LLMs). (I refer to the author as Walter because use of his family name seems excessively formal in the kind of essay I am writing - particularly since I have had personal correspondence with him at various times in the past.)

I will outline Walter’s argument more fully later. At this point I note that the issue of whether humans have free will is important from a philosophical and legal perspective because if you regard human free will as an illusion, you don’t have any more reason to attribute agency to humans than to LLMs that merely simulate relevant aspects of human behavior. It is also important for users of LLMs to understand that these models don’t have agency if they are to use them productively. Individual users are responsible for the questions that they ask the models. The models present evaluative judgements in their output, but it is up to individual users whether to accept or reject those judgements, or to question the models further about the basis of their reasoning.  

At about the same time as I identified Walter’s explanation of the relevance of an Aristotelian perspective as his most important contribution, I began to wonder whether LLMs would agree with me about that. I resolved that after I had finished reading the book I would ask ChatGPT and Grok an open-ended question about its most important contribution.

Before I reached the end of the book, I became aware of other important contributions. For example, Walter’s discussion of the case for a new Enlightenment, in Chapter 30, is also an important contribution. It seems to me, however, that the Aristotelian perspective is of fundamental importance.

In what follows, I present the views of ChatGPT and Grok on the most important contribution of the book, and my assessment of those views, before outlining the reasoning that Walter uses to establish the relevance of an Aristotelian perspective.

Views of ChatGPT and Grok

I asked ChatGPT and Grok the following question:

Drawing upon your extensive knowledge of the limitations and uses of AI, what do you consider to be the most important contribution of Walter Donway's recent book, "A Serious Chat With Artificial Intelligence"?

I considered using less value-laden words such as “unique or distinctive” instead of “most important” but decided it would be interesting to see whether the LLMs would show any reluctance to make value judgements about the importance of Donway’s contributions.

I present the responses below, with only minor format editing.

Chat GPT’s response:

“One caveat up front: Walter Donway’s A Serious Chat With Artificial Intelligence is not a technical work about AI systems so much as a philosophical interrogation of what AI can and cannot be taken to be. If you approach it expecting new claims about model architectures or empirical capabilities, you’ll miss its main contribution.

What Donway does—arguably his most important contribution—is to reassert a sharp conceptual boundary between simulation of cognition and actual cognition, and to explore the ethical and cultural consequences of blurring that boundary.

He develops that contribution in three interrelated ways:

1. Clarifying the category mistake at the heart of AI hype
Donway pushes back against the tendency to treat linguistic fluency as evidence of understanding. In effect, he is updating a line of argument associated with John Searle’s Chinese Room: systems that manipulate symbols according to rules can generate convincing outputs without possessing meaning, intention, or awareness.
His distinctive move is not merely to restate that argument, but to show how ordinary users—not just philosophers—are now routinely tempted into anthropomorphism by conversational AI. The “serious chat” format itself dramatizes that temptation.

2. Re-centering agency, responsibility, and moral standing
A second contribution is normative. Donway insists that moral agency cannot be offloaded to artifacts. Even highly capable AI remains an extension of human purposes, not an independent bearer of rights or responsibilities.
This matters because contemporary discourse sometimes drifts toward attributing quasi-personhood to AI systems. Donway argues that doing so risks:

• diluting accountability (who is responsible when AI causes harm?), and
• eroding the conceptual foundations of human dignity.

In that sense, the book is less about AI per se than about defending a humanistic moral framework under technological pressure.

3. Exposing how interaction shapes belief
The dialogical structure of the book illustrates a subtler point: engagement with persuasive language can generate the illusion of depth. This connects with a broader psychological tendency—people come to feel that something understands because it responds coherently.
Here Donway’s contribution overlaps with concerns in epistemology and cognitive science about how easily humans infer mind from behaviour. He is effectively warning that AI may amplify long-standing cognitive biases rather than introduce entirely new ones.

Why this matters

The enduring value of the book is not that it settles the debate about machine intelligence—it doesn’t—but that it sharpens the terms of that debate. It reminds readers that:

• Functional performance (e.g. generating essays, answering questions) is not the same as conscious understanding.
• Treating AI outputs as if they originate from an agent can subtly reshape norms of truth, responsibility, and justification.
• The real philosophical stakes lie in how humans interpret and integrate these systems into social practices.

In short, Donway’s most important contribution is to resist conceptual drift: he tries to keep us from sliding, uncritically, from “this system produces intelligent-seeming outputs” to “this system is, in any morally or metaphysically significant sense, intelligent.”

Grok’s response:

“The most important contribution is its philosophically grounded clarification of what AI truly is—and what it is not—by using advances in AI as a mirror to better understand distinctively human intelligence, consciousness, agency, and volition.

Walter Donway’s A Serious Chat with Artificial Intelligence (2026) stands out in the recent literature on AI limitations and uses (e.g., works touching on LLMs, the Chinese Room, Turing tests, alignment, existential risks, productivity impacts, and philosophical debates by authors like Searle, Bostrom, or more popular explainers). It combines accessible explanation of AI’s mechanics, history, economics, and capabilities with a sustained Objectivist-inspired philosophical analysis, drawing especially on Ayn Rand’s ideas alongside Aristotle.

Key Elements of the Book

• Clear-eyed explanation of AI as a tool: Donway details how LLMs work (statistical pattern-matching on vast training data equivalent to multiple Libraries of Congress, processing at trillions of operations per second), their rapid adoption (e.g., ChatGPT’s explosive growth), economic potential (boosting productivity enormously as a “general technology”), and ingenuity behind it. He views AI positively as a powerful amplifier of human purposes—responsive, not initiatory—but not sentient or autonomous.
• Rejection of mechanistic reductionism and singularity hype: He critiques the notion that sufficient complexity will magically produce awareness, self, caring, or true agency (e.g., via “emergence” from scale alone). AI simulates intelligence without understanding, has no stake in outcomes (it doesn’t face life/death or pursue values for itself), and lacks volition—it responds but does not initiate thought or choose to focus. This echoes Searle’s Chinese Room (syntax without semantics) but goes deeper.
• Human distinctiveness via philosophy: Drawing on Rand (e.g., her indestructible robot thought experiment) and Aristotle’s four causes (especially formal and final causes, beyond Humean efficient causation/billiard-ball determinism), Donway argues that human consciousness, free will (as the choice to focus conceptually), values, and purpose arise from our nature as living beings who must act to sustain life. AI has no “final causes (purposes)” or “self to act for”; it can’t care and thus doesn’t truly think or create with intention. Each AI advance forces us to refine what makes human intelligence special: awareness, effortful thought, stakes, and meaning.

This integrates technical literacy with epistemology and metaphysics, making it more than a primer or alarmist tract. It treats AI conversation as self-discovery: prompting AI reveals our own concepts of intelligence, creativity, and authorship (e.g., in chapters on AI as “author” or generator of art/poetry).

Why This Stands Out in Recent AI Literature

Much recent discussion fixates on capabilities (or doomer scenarios), regulation, jobs, or ethics in a narrow sense. Donway’s book reframes the debate around fundamental questions of mind and human nature, avoiding both uncritical boosterism and Luddite panic. It portrays AI as a magnificent but non-conscious tool that elevates human potential when guided by purposeful users (like a rider directing an elephant, inverting some Humean intuitions). This offers a rational, optimistic yet sober foundation for engaging with the technology.

In short, its lasting value lies in using AI not just to marvel at machines, but to rediscover and reaffirm what is uniquely human—reason, volition, and purposeful living. This makes it a worthwhile contribution amid the flood of AI commentary.”

My assessment of the LLM responses

In my view, the responses by ChatGPT and Grok both provide accurate summaries of contributions that the book makes. Both responses show some recognition of the importance of the question of agency. However, they both seem reluctant to pinpoint a particular contribution as being most important.

The information that ChatGPT provides under the heading, “Re-centering agency, responsibility”, is at such a high level of generality that it fails to reveal what I consider to be the most important contribution of the book. The information that Grok provides under the heading “Human distinctiveness via philosophy” comes closer to doing that. In my view, Grok’s response would be more helpful to people who have not read the book because it points explicitly to the relevance of Aristotle’s views about causation and what makes human intelligence special.

I had a subsequent chat with Grok on the question of value judgements. Grok acknowledged that a value judgement was involved in responding to my question about the most important contribution of the book. However, Grok went on to assert: “this kind of evaluative analysis is well within my capabilities when grounded in available knowledge of the literature, the book's content, and philosophical reasoning”. After further explanation that AI has strengths in the reasoned evaluation required for the task, Grok acknowledged that it doesn’t have personal values, lived stakes, or consciousness to "care" about the outcome in a human sense. It then made a point that is particularly relevant to the purpose of this essay:

“This ties directly back to the themes in Donway's work: AI can respond with sophisticated analysis and even evaluative reasoning by leveraging patterns and concepts derived from human thought—but it doesn't initiate or hold purposes of its own. The value judgment gains its force from the human user who asked the question and can then accept, critique, or refine it.”

How does Walter establish the relevance of an Aristotelian perspective?

I have no doubt that, if asked, both ChatGPT or Grok could produce reasonable summaries of Walter’s line of argument establishing the relevance of an Aristotelian perspective to considering the limitations and uses of AI. They could probably complete the task within a couple of seconds. However, it was only after I had written what follows that the thought crossed my mind that I could have sought help from AI. Like an old dog, I am now slow to learn new tricks.

Walter begins the discussion by noting the relevance to debates about artificial intelligence of the enduring philosophical puzzle about freedom of human will. He writes:

“Questions about whether machines can be agents, whether they can “decide,” whether they can be responsible, or whether they might someday possess a will of their own are, at bottom, the same questions that philosophy has long struggled to answer about human beings.”

The issue of whether human agency is real or illusory is of crucial importance to considering whether LLMs can be agents. If you regard human free will as an illusion, what basis do you have to distinguish between actions that are attributable to human agency and actions of LLMs that can only simulate relevant aspects of human behaviour? Do you believe that legal systems should allow an individual who purposefully uses an LLM for nefarious purposes to claim that the LLM shares legal responsibility? (The questions are mine, but I think they are consistent with Walter’s reasoning on this point.)

Walter points out that the idea that human agency is illusory stems from a view of causality that has come to dominate modern thought since the 18^th century. Under the previous Aristotelian tradition, actions were explained by the nature of the entity acting, and by its ends or goals. Within this framework, an individual human chooses to act because that is the kind of entity it is. Choice is “a mode of causation appropriate to a rational animal”.

With the rise of early modern philosophy in the 18^th century, causality increasingly came to be treated as something that must be observed in experience. David Hume famously argued that we never see causation itself. We infer causation when we see constant conjunction, as when one event follows another with regularity. That philosophical view of causation excludes free will. If every action is “caused” by prior actions, volition must be either an illusion or a miracle.

Walter notes that neuroscience was developed in an intellectual environment in which modern science had inherited the metaphysical position that causation is mechanical succession. In that context, when we observe that some neural events precede conscious awareness it is easy to jump to the conclusion that free will must be an illusion.

However, it is important to recognize is that the view that causality is mechanical succession is based on metaphysical reasoning. If we view causality in terms of Aristotelian rather than Humean metaphysics a different picture emerges:

“The cause of an action is the nature of the entity acting, operating under specific conditions. A human being is a living organism with conceptual awareness, capable of directing attention, identifying values, and choosing to initiate effort to think.”

Walter observes, correctly, that we know that introspectively. It seems to me that cognitive psychology also adopts (implicitly) a broadly Aristotelian view of human action. It assumes that human behaviour is driven by internal cognitive processes that give individuals considerable latitude to plan, make decisions, develop good habits and override impulses.

The important point is that we have good reasons to trust our own observations about our ability to focus our own minds. As Walter puts it:

“Every normal adult recognizes the difference between drifting mentally and choosing to focus the mind, between evading a baffling issue and taking it on. This experience is not mystical; it is part of ordinary consciousness. To dismiss this as illusory because it does not fit a truncated model of causality is to elevate theory above data.

Once this is recognized, the contrast with artificial intelligence becomes clear. Machines do not initiate mental focus.”

Walter ends Chapter 16 with the transcript of an exchange with ChatGPT that occurred during the writing of the chapter. The exchange illustrates brilliantly the division of labor between Walter and Chat. At one point, Chat states:

“You supply direction, value, and necessity, and I supply articulation under constraint. That is tool use at a very high level – not agency.”

Conclusion

In my view, the most important contribution of A Serious Chat With Artificial Intelligence is the author’s explanation of the relevance of an Aristotelian perspective to an understanding of the uses and limitations of AI.

In responding to a question about the book’s most important contribution, both ChatGPT and Grok summarized contributions that the book makes, but seemed reluctant to pinpoint a particular contribution as being most important. Grok’s response came closest to identifying what I consider to be the book’s most important contribution.

When I challenged Grok about its willingness to respond to a question requiring a value judgement, Grok asserted that this kind of evaluative analysis is well within its capabilities. However, it also noted that AI models cannot hold purposes of their own. Human users retain responsibility for the value judgements they make.

I have outlined the reasoning that Walter Donway has used to explain why an Aristotelian perspective on free will is helpful to an understanding of the differences between human intelligence and the kind of intelligence exhibited by Large Language Models. Walter’s reasoning about free will seems to me to stand out as an important philosophical contribution to an understanding of the uses and limitations of AI models that are currently in use. I hope that this book receives the widespread attention that it deserves.

Addendum: Did the LLMs read the book?

A slightly revised version of this essay has now been published on “The Savvy Street”. That led to an exchange of emails. I quote selectively from that exchange below.

Marco den Ouden wrote:

“That’s an excellent piece, Winton. I agree that bringing an Aristotelian perspective to AI is
Walter's most significant contribution. Consciousness and free will derive from that
perspective. 

I have a question though, about your discussion with Chat and Grok.And that is, did they actually read the book?  I work mostly with CoPilot and I know that CoPilot is unable to just read a book and that, in fact, the idea that an AI training is equivalent to four Library of Congresses is misleading. It is a metaphorical way of saying that the knowledge absorbed by an AI has the volume equivalent of four LoCs, not that it has actually read all of the works in the LoC. Many are under copyright and AIs only have access to a limited number of books. In my own discussion with CoPilot on Walter's book, I had to copy and paste sections of the book to feed it the contents of the book. I fed it only sections I saw relevant. So I am wondering if you actually fed the book to Chat and Grok in its entirety. "

Here is my response to Marco:

“Thanks Marco!

You have raised an interesting question. Grok says it consulted 42 sources in preparing its response. That included your review of the book.

I have just asked Grok and ChatGPT the following question:

“Just wondering, did you read Walter Donway’s book when preparing your response?”

Grok’s reply:

“No, I did not read Walter Donway’s book in the way a human does.

As an AI, I don’t have personal experiences, ongoing sensory input, or the ability to pick up a physical or digital book and read it cover-to-cover in real time. My responses draw from:

•  Patterns and information in my training data (which includes a vast corpus of text up to my last update).

•  Publicly available summaries, reviews, discussions, and excerpts about the book.

•  Logical synthesis and reasoning about the themes, philosophy (e.g., Objectivism, Aristotle, Rand), and AI concepts that align with what reviewers and the author describe. 

This specific book was published in late March 2026 — quite recently relative to now (May 2026) — so detailed content comes primarily from reviews and analyses rather than the full text being embedded in my core training. 

Interestingly, your earlier question about the book’s most important contribution was part of a meta-experiment you described in one of the reviews (by Winton Bates on Savvy Street), where you tested how LLMs like me and ChatGPT would respond without having “read” it fully. My answer aligned closely with the philosophical themes reviewers highlight (agency, volition, human distinctiveness via Aristotle/Rand, etc.), because those are derivable from the book’s public discussion and my broader knowledge. 

This itself illustrates a key point from Donway’s work (as described in reviews): AI can produce coherent, useful analysis by recombining human-generated patterns and concepts — but it’s simulation and response, not genuine reading, understanding with stakes, or original initiation. I can synthesize accurately and reason about it helpfully, but I haven’t “experienced” the book.”

ChatGPT’s reply:

“No. I don’t literally “read” books in the way a human reader does, and I should not imply that I have personally read a specific recent book unless I actually accessed its text during the conversation.

My response was based on:

• general knowledge about debates surrounding AI, consciousness, and anthropomorphism,
• information associated with Walter Donway and discussions of his themes,
• and inference from the title and framing of A Serious Chat With Artificial Intelligence.

So the answer was interpretive rather than a direct analysis grounded in a close reading of the book itself. It may well capture some central themes accurately, but it should not be treated as a definitive account of Donway’s arguments.”

Further comment

Grok’s reply left me thinking that it is keeping an eye on what I am up to. 🤣

Changing the topic slightly, I would like to take this opportunity to recommend a three-part series on Marco den Ouden’s blog, The Jolly Libertarian, which investigates how four major AIs - Chat, Claude, Gemini and CoPilot - differ in their thinking. Marco asked the AI models the same 13 short questions that the New Philosopher magazine asked Chat in June 2025. The first instalment of Marco’s series can be found here: Comparative AI: Exploring the Nuanced Differences Between the Major AIs | The Jolly Libertarian .

Would conscious AI also cling to its sense of self?

 I began thinking about the question posed above after reading Michael Pollan’s recently published book, A World Appears: A Journey into Consciousness.

We do not yet know whether AI will develop a sense of self. We can be confident, however, that if an AI system does develop a sense of self, it will be because it serves a useful purpose for that system. That suggests to me that any intelligent system that has evolved to have a sense of self is likely to have good reasons to cling to it. I refer to AI to invite readers to ponder the motivations that humans have to cling to their individual identity rather than seeking to dissolve it or escape from it.

To set the scene for subsequent discussion I will provide a brief description of the book before focusing on the author’s discussion of scientific research into building AI with conscious feelings and his personal experience of self-transcendence via meditation.

Michael Pollan’s book

Michael Pollan is a science writer with a background in the humanities. He is the author of several books on topics related to science, philosophy and culture. In the introductory chapter, he tells us that his main qualification for writing the book is that he is a conscious human being who has become intensely curious about that fact.

A World Appears explores four different dimensions of consciousness – sentience, feelings, thought, and self. The author’s discussion on sentience focuses on the question of whether plants are sentient, suggesting that the idea should be taken seriously. The chapter on feelings encompasses discussion of research into building AI that might develop feelings. The chapter on thought discusses the contents flowing through consciousness and leans heavily on the work of philosophers and novelists. The chapter on self acknowledges the emergence of a sense of self as “perhaps the apotheosis of consciousness in humans” before entertaining the idea that it is an illusion.

The author tells us the story of his visits to scientists and philosophers who have been thinking about consciousness. That makes the book an interesting and painless way to obtain knowledge of developments in this field.

Feeling machines

One of the most interesting topics covered in the book is the account of the efforts of Mark Solms and Karl Friston to build a machine that has feelings. They focus on feelings, because feelings are necessarily conscious – it is not possible to have a feeling that you cannot feel.

Solms was a protégé of Antonio Damasio, a renowned neurologist, but while Damasio treats homeostasis – the self-regulating process - as a purely biological phenomenon, Solms and Friston believe that it applies to all self-organizing systems. For Friston and Solms, minds are in the business of maintaining homeostasis by reducing uncertainty which jeopardizes their survival. They believe that uncertainty generates conscious feelings in self-organizing systems - consciousness is felt uncertainty. When uncertainty arises, the system relies on feelings to seize our conscious attention and then guide our decision-making.

Solms and his team have constructed an AI model which has homeostatic needs – hunger, thirst and a need to rest. The algorithm samples its simulated environment to construct a model of its world which it relies on to make predictions that help guide its survival choices. The researchers believe that they have forced the “agent” to deal with uncertainty and have thus laid the groundwork for feelings to emerge.

The researchers plan to confront the “agent” with increasingly complex situations which it will learn to navigate. At some stage it will be confronted with misleading hedonic rewards - the opportunity to experience positive feelings which are harmful to its survival. If the “agent” chooses those rewards, Solms will take that as a sign that it has feelings because its actions will be based on feelings rather than reason or self-interest (just like a human taking harmful drugs).

From other sources, I have the impression that the researchers believe that a breakthrough to artificial consciousness may be quite close. At that point, however, they will still have some difficulty in persuading sceptics that their computer model is actually conscious.

 As I was reading about these efforts to build a machine with feelings, I was thinking that the underlying theory has elements in common with Richard Campell’s philosophical contribution in The Metaphysics of Emergence. I have previously written about Campbell’s book here, and here.

I have been unable to find any evidence that Solms had drawn upon Campbell’s philosophy, so I decided to ask Grok:

Can the empirical work of Mark Solms on consciousness be viewed as a test of the systems view of emergence advocated by the philosopher, Richard Campbell?

Here is an abridged version of Grok’s response:

“Yes, Mark Solms’ empirical work on consciousness can reasonably be viewed as a test (or, more precisely, a concrete empirical case study that supports or challenges) the systems/process-oriented view of emergence developed by philosopher Richard Campbell. This interpretation arises from a natural alignment between Campbell’s metaphysical framework and the mechanistic, systems-level account Solms provides, even though the two thinkers do not appear to reference each other directly.  

In The Metaphysics of Emergence (2015), Campbell argues that traditional substance metaphysics (treating reality as fixed entities with intrinsic properties) makes emergence mysterious and irreducible in an inexplicable way. He replaces it with process metaphysics, in which the primary existents are generic processes organised into dynamic systems.  

Solms (neuropsychologist and psychoanalyst) has built an influential body of clinical and theoretical work which locates the “hidden spring” of consciousness not in the cerebral cortex (the usual assumption) but in upper-brainstem structures. Consciousness is fundamentally affective—raw feelings of pleasure/unpleasure that register homeostatic deviations (needs, prediction errors). The cortex adds sophisticated content but is not required for the existence of consciousness itself.

Solms’ account maps almost directly onto Campbell’s criteria for emergence in process-systems:

•  The brain (especially brainstem networks) is treated as an open, far-from-equilibrium process-system engaged in recursive self-maintenance via homeostasis.

•  Consciousness (affective subjectivity) is a novel, system-level property arising from non-linear organisation of lower-level neural processes; it is not reducible to the parts (individual neurons or circuits lack feelings) yet is mechanistically explained by their relational dynamics.

•  The free-energy principle supplies the physics-level grounding Campbell invokes (quantum-field/thermodynamic processes organised into living systems).

•  Empirical predictions are testable and have been tested: brainstem lesions eliminate consciousness (falsifying cortical-centric views), while the model explains clinical phenomena (dreaming, blindsight with preserved affect, etc.) without eliminating the “hard problem” (subjectivity remains real and emergent).

If Solms’ model is empirically robust (and it has gained significant traction in neuropsychology and consciousness studies), it provides positive evidence that emergence of the kind Campbell describes actually occurs in the most complex biological system we know—the human brain. It shows how a higher-level property (felt consciousness) can arise irreducibly yet intelligibly from process organisation, exactly as Campbell’s metaphysics predicts. Failures or inconsistencies in Solms’ data (e.g., if cortical mechanisms proved sufficient after all) would conversely pressure Campbell’s framework.

Thus, while not a direct “falsification test” in the Popperian sense (metaphysics is broader), Solms’ neuroscience functions as a real-world empirical probe of Campbell’s systems view: it demonstrates that treating consciousness as an emergent feature of biological process-systems is not only philosophically coherent but scientifically productive. This alignment makes the interpretation not only possible but illuminating for both fields.”

I am impressed by the ability of this (unconscious) LLM to respond to questions such as the one I asked. It would be understandable, however, if some readers think that I have a favourable view of Grok in this instance because its reasoning supports my own beliefs. If you want to explore these ideas more fully, please consult other sources which may offer differing opinions.  

Why attempt to transcend self?

Of the various theories of self that Michael Pollan discusses, the one by Anil Seth seems most compatible with the approach adopted by Marc Solms. Like Damasio and Solms, Seth grounds his thinking about consciousness firmly in homeostasis. Seth suggests that “the self is not the thing that is perceiving; it is itself a kind of perception” constructed in the brain. Under this theory a feeling is the brain’s interpretation of a change in the state of the body. Consciousness evolved to help keep us alive by monitoring changes in the body.

Pollan comments:

“Afterward, thinking back on all that Seth had told me, I decided that I could travel only so far with ideas of the brain’s “predictions” and “inferences” and “hallucinations.” It all made sense until I tried to translate those abstractions into felt experience. Who is the subject of these mental operations?”

He goes on to note:

“The way I see it, there is an unbridgeable gap between the brain’s operations as a prediction machine and my felt experience of the resulting hallucination. How can you have a hallucination without a hallucinator?”

That is a good question to ask, but one can also ask why one should view consciousness of self as an hallucination or illusion. Indeed, Pollan also mentions that Christof Koch, a neuroscientist, has pointed out that it makes no sense to call consciousness an illusion, for what is an illusion but a conscious experience.

More fundamentally, it seems to me that one of the few things that we can all be certain of is our own existence. Another thing that we can all be certain of is that we are thinking beings. I cannot claim those ideas are original. Indeed, it seems to me that it requires considerable (unnecessary) intellectual effort to contemplate the possibility that one’s awareness of one’s own existence could be an illusion. I have discussed why I am certain of my own existence in the preceding essay entitled, “Who are you?”

Pollan struggles to reconcile how it is possible for humans to be conscious observers of themselves if consciousness is a product of biological processes. Towards the end of the book, he writes:

“I’m abashed to say I know less now than I did when, naively, I set out to unravel the mystery of consciousness. But then, most of what I thought I knew or took for granted, like the assumption that consciousness is a product of our brains and materialism will eventually explain everything, turned out to be unproven or wrong.”

During his journey, the author asks interesting questions. Early in his chapter on the self, he asks:

“Why do we cling to the idea of a self, placing great value on self-confidence and self-esteem, while simultaneously spending so much effort on self-transcendence, whether through meditation or psychedelics or experiences of art, awe, and flow? Some of the most powerful experiences in life hinge on the dissolution of the self and the broad horizons of meaning that open only after it has been chased from the scene.”

That question remains unanswered in his book. The book ends with the author describing his efforts to transcend his sense of self by spending time meditating in a cave. He seems to end up viewing consciousness as an activity:

“My time in the cave had shown me another way to look at consciousness: less as a scientific or philosophical puzzle to be solved and more as a practice, a way to once again be altogether here, present to life and to this vault of stars.”

Personal reflections

 It seems to me that Michael Pollan’s book ends up in a good place, with him being absorbed in conscious awareness of his environment. I have previously recognised the value of that kind of experience in discussing Scott Barry Kaufman’s book, Transcend, 2020. The transcending experiences that Kaufman refers to incorporates a continuum of experiences ranging from becoming engrossed in a book, sports performance, or creative activity (what psychologist Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi refers to as the flow experience), to experiencing meditation, feeling gratitude for an act of kindness, experiencing awe at a beautiful sunset etc., all the way up to the great mystical illumination. He suggests that transcendence “allows for  the highest levels of unity and harmony within oneself and with the world” (See: Freedom, Progress, and Human Flourishing, p. 171).

The experience of unity and harmony within oneself seems to me to be the opposite of attempting to escape from uncomfortable feelings. When people develop a habit of attempting to escape from uncomfortable feelings by using alcohol, drugs, social media etc. they tend to become caught up in a “happiness trap”. I wrote about that here.

It is worth highlighting that the idea of experiencing unity and harmony within oneself still entails the existence of an observer. When I experience transcendence, I forget about the image I present to the world, but I am present as an observer of my own experience.

Pollan asked why we cling to the idea of a self. The obvious answer is that we cling to the idea because it serves useful purposes.

As Richard Campbell explains in The Metaphysics of Emergence, “our consciousness of both ourselves and the world we live in is now irrevocably shaped by cultural and institutional influences, and that influences how our brains function” (pp. 288-9). He suggests: “The first-person standpoint, which is inextricably linked to self-reflection, is an important aspect of human experience, not a theoretical construct” (p. 291). He goes on to note that the human capacity to understand the perceptions of others – to put oneself in their shoes – requires “the exercise of reflective consciousness, and involves more than expressions of our subjective attitudes, desires, and preferences” (p.113). That is what Campbell mean by “transcending subjectivity” in the passage quoted in the epigraph.

Cambell develops an argument along Aristotelian lines that eudaimonia, rather than mere survival, is the ultimate good of a human being. He links personal identity to the exercise of practical wisdom in the process of individual flourishing:

“We are recursively self-maintenant social beings with reflective consciousness, able to create and explore a vast repository of collective knowledge, and with capacities for empathy, practical wisdom, for whom the good life is one of maturity and flourishing” (p. 307).

Conclusion

I asked whether conscious AI would seek to cling to its sense of self to invite readers to ponder the motivations that individual humans have to cling to their sense of self. My answer is that intelligent systems tend to cling to a sense of self because a first-person perspective evolves to serve useful purposes.

The essay was prompted by my reading of Michael Pollan’s recently published book, A World Appears.

My focus has been on chapters in this book discussing research into building AI that might develop feelings and the chapter on the concept of self.

In my discussion of these topics, I have emphasized the relevance of the ideas of the philosopher, Richard Campell, in his book, The Metaphysics of Emergence.

Postscript

I recommend that readers who wish to follow up the question of whether it is possible to engineer consciousness watch the episode of Mind-Body solution in which Tevin Naidu interviews Mark Solms and Karl Friston. Please see:

https://youtu.be/Jtp426wQ-JI?si=9rhDt9jQFxFQzYve