Psychophysical Holism

Putting the brain-mind-body connection to good use

“Two thousand years ago, in ancient Greece,” writes neuropsychologist Lisa Feldman Barrett in her engaging book 7 1/2 Lessons About the Brain, “a philosopher named Plato recounted a war. Not a war between cities or nations but inside of each human being.” So began one of Western culture’s most enduring myths—the competition between reason and emotion, played out in eternal warfare inside each person’s soul. Feldman Barrett continues:

Your human mind, wrote Plato, is a never-ending battle between three inner forces to control your behavior. One force consists of basic survival instincts, like hunger and sex drive. The second force consists of your emotions, such as joy, anger, and fear. Together, Plato wrote, your instincts and emotions are like animals that can pull your behavior in divergent, perhaps ill-advised directions. To counteract this chaos, you have the third inner force, rational thought, to rein in both beasts and guide you on a more civilized and righteous path.

Plato’s compelling morality tale of inner conflict remains one of the most cherished narratives in Western civilization. Who among us has never felt an inner tug-of-war between desire and reason? Perhaps it’s unsurprising, then, that scientists later mapped Plato’s battle onto the brain in an attempt to explain how the human brain evolved. Once upon a time, they said, we were lizards. Three hundred million years ago, that reptilian brain was wired for basic urges like feeding, fighting, and mating.  About one hundred million years later, the brain evolved a new part that gave us emotions; then we were mammals. Finally, the brain evolved a rational part to regulate our inner beasts. We became human and lived logically ever after. (p. 13)

While I think Feldman Barrett dismisses Plato a bit too casually, her book is an accessible and persuasive debunking of the old tripartite soul mythology. This idea keeps hanging around in folk psychology because it feels like an accurate description of our inner experience. The akratic weakness of will posited by the Platonic-Aristotelian model of the psyche seems to be a perfect explanation of why we sometimes don’t follow through on our good intentions, or why people often act against their better judgment.

To the best of our current knowledge, however, the brain and nervous system—and therefore our mental experience or mind, which arises from the physical functioning of the nervous system—is not part-based but network-based. Feldman Barrett emphasizes that the magic of human cognition arises not from any special parts but from the dense interconnectedness of our neural network. Or as Kevin Mitchell describes it in Free Agents: How Evolution Gave Us Free Will (which we previously reviewed in detail):

A living system cannot be deconstructed into constituent mechanisms, because their functionalities are inherently conditional on each other and thus inextricably intertwined. Indeed, it is becoming more and more clear that information about many behavioral parameters is widely shared across brain areas previously thought to work in isolation. (loc. 3730)

What’s especially fascinating, from a Stoic perspective, is how well these contemporary views from neuropsychology fit with traditional Stoic psychology. While some aspects of ancient Stoicism sit uneasily with modern physical science—for example, the idea that the cosmos results from a divine breath (pneuma) intermixed with matter—Stoic psychology seems to be increasingly validated by modern investigation. It may have once been quite feasible for the Platonic-Aristotelian conception of a tripartite soul to be taken seriously by philosophers, but today the Stoic model of psychophysical holism is the clear winner.

“Psychophysical holism” is a term coined by Christopher Gill to describe the Stoic and Epicurean holistic approach to the human psyche, in contrast to the part-based Platonic-Aristotelian model. In The Structured Self in Hellenistic and Roman Thought, he puts it this way:

Human beings, like other animals, are seen as psychophysical and psychological wholes or units. They are not seen as a combination of a psychic or mental core or essence and a body, or as a complex of distinct psychic parts, conceived as independent sources of motivation. (loc. 126)

This includes both psychological wholeness, whereby the psychic activities such as reasoning and emotions are integrated rather than separate, but also psychophysical wholeness, whereby mental activities are integrated with the physical body:

In modern terms, both Stoicism and Epicureanism exhibit a combination of non-reductive physicalism and non-dualistic interactionism in their thinking about the psyche-body relationship and about advanced psychological functions. They are physicalists in regarding the psyche as a form of body, though this does not involve reducing all psychological processes to (merely) physical or material ones or eliminating all analysis in non-physical terms. They are interactionists in that they conceive all psychological activities as involving the interaction of psyche and body. But interaction is not conceived in dualistic terms, that is, as the interaction of two entities which are of radically different kind and value, as in, for instance, the dualism of Plato's Phaedo. (loc. 656)

Similar to a modern neuroscientist like Feldman Barrett or Mitchell, the ancient Stoics believed mental events like motivation and emotions arise from physical processes. Of course, the mechanisms the Stoics theorized for this were completely different from 21^st century psychologists: they thought life was generated by pneuma, which gave each entity a certain degree of tension. Higher tension resulted in greater intelligence, so that rational humans had a higher level of tension than nonrational animals, which had more tension than plants, which had more tension than inert matter. Today, most psychologists do not see minds as animated by a divine substance; rather, the current view is that our brains exhibit a higher degree of complexity than other creatures, which gives rise to our special cognitive abilities.

Even given this significant difference, however, I think we can still apply the ancient concept of psychophysical holism to Stoicism today. Following Gill’s work, what’s important for us today are the following key points:

• Psychological holism - the mind is integrated, not divided into parts such as reason and emotion

• Psychophysical holism - the mind is integrated with the physical body

• Wholeness, order, structure - properties exhibited by nature that characterize the universe and virtuous the human mind

Let’s look at each of these points in more detail and what they mean for practical Stoicism.

Psychological Holism

In both Stoicism and most contemporary views of psychology, beliefs, desires, emotions, reasoning, and other cognitive processes fall under the same umbrella of human rationality. Here is Feldman Barrett again, clarifying that the traditional tripartite division is simply a myth:

So you don’t have an inner lizard or an emotional beast-brain. There is no such thing as a limbic system dedicated to emotions. And your misnamed neocortex is not a new part; many other vertebrates grow the same  neurons that, in some animals, organize into a cerebral cortex if key stages run for long enough. Anything you read or hear that proclaims the human neocortex, cerebral cortex, or prefrontal cortex to be the root of  rationality, or says that the frontal lobe regulates so-called emotional brain areas to keep irrational behavior in check, is simply outdated or woefully incomplete. The triune brain idea and its epic battle between emotion,  instinct, and rationality is a modern myth. (p. 24)

So why is it that some people seem to act “more rationally” than others? In the Stoic view, all normally functioning adult humans have rationality, but some people misuse their rationality and do not reach their full potential. This does not mean they have subjugated their rational part to their emotions or desires, as in the Platonic model; rather, they have failed to apply their rationality in the optimal way. They have not developed consistency of desires, and instead follow contrary sets of desires one after another. This leads to erratic and inconsistent behavior. But the Stoics are adamant that this inconsistency is not due one part of the psyche winning out over another. It’s just that the whole didn’t work together properly and function as well as it should.

Psychophysical Holism

What exactly did the ancient Stoics mean with this idea of psychological and physical integration? It’s a complex and technically detailed topic, so I can only scratch the surface here. But basically they envisioned each person as directed by a “control center,” the hegemonikon, that coordinated all the processes within an animal. As Gill notes, “The specific functions of the control-centre are impression, assent, impulse, and perception; another function is that of coordinating the other seven psychic functions, those of the five senses, utterance, and reproduction” (loc. 715). In other words, the hegemonikon had most of the functions that we attribute to the brain today, such as receiving, processing and coordinating input from the body and directing both conscious and unconscious actions.

I should note that although the Stoics were prescient in seeing the mind and body as integrated, they got a few things really wrong. Chrysippus thought the control center was in the heart because the chest is where we most strongly feel expressions of emotion, such as heartbeat and breathing. One important reason for this mistake was that he thought this system would physically resemble a tree trunk with branches carrying impulses throughout the body. Since veins and arteries quite visibly extend throughout the body in this pattern, outward from the heart, Chrysippus thought this was a good candidate for the hegemonikon.

Even in antiquity Chrysippus was criticized for this choice (particularly by Galen, who lived 300 years later), but as Gill points out, what was important for the Stoics was not specifically where in the physical body the control center was located, but that there was a physical control center in the first place. So the important point for us today is that Stoicism sees the mind as physically integrated with the body and our mental experience as arising from physical signals in the body¹—in Gill’s words, “its workings involve the total interpenetration of psychological and bodily processes” (loc. 818). Here is Mitchell essentially offering a 21st century statement of psychophysical holism, which I think describes a contemporary Stoic position well:

The patterns of neural activity in the brain have meaning that derives from past experience, is grounded by the interactions of the organism with its environment, and reflects the past causal influences of learning and natural selection. The physical structure of the nervous system captures those causal influences and embodies them as criteria to inform future action. What emerges is a structure that actively filters and selects patterns of neural activity based on higher-order functionalities and constraints. The conclusion—the correct way to think of the  brain (or, perhaps better, the whole organism) is as a cognitive system, with an architecture that functionally operates on representations of things like beliefs, desires, goals, and intentions. (loc. 3382)

“Structure, order, and wholeness”

In a way similar to modern scientists, the Stoics saw order at both a cosmic scale and in the microcosm of human psychology. Gill uses the phrase “structure, order, and wholeness” to describe what the Stoics found important about the organizational pattern of the universe as a whole and in humans. This pattern even extended into ethics, since human virtue consists in a supremely structured and coherent psyche. The mind of a sage would be completely harmonious, with all desires, beliefs, motives, and all other psychic events working in concert. The ancient Stoics referred to this perfected condition as eutonia, or good tension (Gill, loc. 746), but today we would probably say the sage exhibits coherence or consistency. In any case, it’s clear that the inner life of a wise person is well-structured and orderly.

Personally, I still find great value in investigating the structure, order, and wholeness of the human psyche. It makes sense to me that a wise person would act in an incredibly consistent, coherent, and well-structured way. All of her beliefs are well-supported by evidence and life experience, and she is open and attuned to patterns in the people and the wider world around her. She is emotionally stable but open to change when warranted by circumstances. There are no divisions or contradictions within the well-tempered mind, but all is harmonious and orderly.

Practical Applications

So what kind of practical implications do these points have?

Foregrounding the psychophysical holism of Stoicism enables us to readily take on board current neuropsychological and neurophysiological research, incorporating it into an existing Stoic framework. With a few theoretical adjustments—such as replacing the idea of pneuma with an understanding that life and intelligence emerge from inorganic matter of increasing complexity—Stoicism can accommodate contemporary evidence for the brain-mind-body connection.

One opportunity in recognizing this connection is the potential to improve our psychic wellbeing by improving our physical wellbeing. While some aspects of our bodies are certainly outside of our control, other aspects of our physical selves are highly amenable to influence. As the ancient Stoics recognized, food, exercise, and many of our physical habits fall into this category, so we should do our best to keep our bodies in a naturally healthy condition. That includes practicing cleanliness (read Epictetus’ Discourse 4.11 if you are in any doubt), not overindulge in alcohol or addictive substances, and generally take good care of ourselves in appropriate ways. (See especially the lectures of Musonius Rufus for some perennially practical advice on these topics.) A healthy body lends itself to a healthy mind.

But that’s the boring stuff—I’m sure you already know all that. What’s more interesting is the opportunity to mediate or modify our psychological and physiological responses to the environment in ways that align with virtue. I’ll provide just one example here, although there are many potential avenues to explore. Recently I’ve been experimenting with yoga and breathing techniques as a means of physically calming the body and enabling the mind to make better judgments. When the body is in a tense and anxious state, you are more likely to have a negative mindset, which encourages bad judgments and unwise reactions to the people and events around you. When you make a conscious effort to relax the body through breathing or meditation, you are setting your mind up for greater success.

To put it in Stoic terms: if something startles you and you experience the proto-emotion of fear, you have a choice whether to assent to this impression or not. If your nervous system is already in fight or flight mode, you are ready to pounce on whoever or whatever interrupted you. That makes you more likely to overreact or react negatively in an inappropriate way. However, if you have taken steps to calm your nervous system through conscious meditation and breathing exercises, you are much more likely to respond appropriately by not assenting to fear or anger. You were primed to react in a calmer, more reasoned way.

So if you have a physical tool to put yourself in a better mindset to practice virtue, why wouldn’t you take advantage of that? Choosing not to use these psychophysical tools that are readily available would be like (to use a materialistic expression) leaving money on the table. I think it would be foolish not to use all our available resources in the pursuit of virtue and a good life.

If you like tongue twisters, you might call these “psychophysical spiritual exercises,” in the tradition of the classical spiritual exercises noted by Pierre Hadot. This category would include various types of physical practice designed to modify the psyche through physiological intervention, such as breathing techniques, yoga, music and singing, and other time-tested ways of bringing the spirit into alignment with the intellect.

These are not, to my knowledge, considered part of the Western philosophical tradition, but I don’t understand why we would reject these practices if they are helpful to our pursuit of virtue. Other philosophical traditions have used them for millennia, to great effect. And given what we now know about the connections between human psychology and physiology, these psychophysical spiritual exercises could be a very valuable addition to Stoic practice.

Concluding Thoughts

As we conclude this topic, some precautions are in order. For psychophysical holism to be well-integrated into Stoic practice, we need to

• be careful not to obsess over our physicality (appearance, strength, etc.).

• avoid the mistaken belief that our happiness depends on physical health or ability.

• remember that we can still practice virtue even if physical practices are not available to us.

So perhaps these practices should be reserved for people who have already made progress in understanding those three caveats. But so long as we keep our priorities straight, I have found these psychophysical spiritual exercises to be really beneficial. By taking advantage of our mind-brain-body connection, we can make rational use of psychophysical holism in order to accomplish our ethical goals.

1. *For practicing Stoics who are familiar with passages such as “you are a little soul carrying a corpse around,” attributed by Marcus Aurelius to Epictetus (Meditations, 4.41), it might seem that the Stoics did see a role for dualistic thinking or some kind of split between body and psyche. In examining this question, Chris Gill cites several other passages that seem to contradict the standard Stoic approach outlined here but concludes that

“We have good reasons for preferring an interpretation of Epictetus' language which is consistent with psychophysical and psychological holism. Marcus Aurelius is not, of course, a Stoic teacher, and, on some points at least, there is room for raising questions about his doctrinal orthodoxy. But Marcus too, in a number of ways, makes clear his acceptance of the Stoic view that human minds are physical entities. In his case too, the contrast drawn in the passages cited seems to be, essentially, an ethical one, a way of framing the (self-delivered) injunction towards a virtuous rather than sensual response.” (loc. 1798)

These points are rather technical and are honestly beyond the scope of my post today, but if you are interested, I encourage you to look into the details in The Structured Self in Hellenistic and Roman Thought (pp. 96-100).