Responding to Alex's "Why we Should Act Morally"

Earlier this week, Alex published a journal titled Why we Should Act Morally. As is always the case, this piece was thoughtfully executed and eloquently written. Although Alex and I differ quite significantly on our religious views, many of the thoughts he wrote about resonated with me.

For those who are unfamiliar, Alex is studying religion and morality with various focuses such as dispelling religion, exploring free will, and developing the framework for a moral system. Earlier in the year, I questioned Alex's project and it really goes without saying, he has seldom neglected to thoroughly and critically address most, if not all, facets of the concepts he studies and writes about.

In this particular journal, Alex rifts off his most recent SDA which delineated the foundation for the moral system he is formulating. Herein, he tackles the question of why one should act morally. What it comes down to, according to Alex, is that even when there seems to be no clear personal benefit from acting morally, we must possess the conviction of human magnificence. It is because we develop an appreciation for human life, thought, and complexity that we ought to willingly help a stranger, someone with whom we've never crossed paths - even if there doesn't seem to be any immediately personal benefit to come forth from it. The reason why this assertion from his piece stuck out to me is because it reminded me of the work I did last year and the ideological realization I came to achieve by the end of my journey through the brain. Although of course, there can be no clear "end" to any study of the brain, I refer to the culmination of last year as a stopping point where I was able to reflect on the work I had done, or rather, the connections I observed.

In my second year of E=MC2, I spent a substantial amount of time studying the brain and the structures that make it so. I will admit, I was lacking direction at first and that limited the scope of what I could accomplish through the year, but that journey without a doubt, taught me a little bit about exactly what Alex discusses - human complexity. The assertion that our biological prowess is something to elicit valuation of other humans around us may at first seem baseline or foundational. After all, we are pretty unique mammals. But I think it takes something special - a remarkable realization to see that we aren't beautifully striking beings solely because our hearts can circulate blood or only because the cones and rods in our eyes allow us to see everything in the world around us. We, humans, are not special because we have all of these individually striking parts to our whole. Perhaps, it wouldn't be completely outrageous of me to contend that our true complexity lies in the fact that our individual organs, tissues, cells, organelles, and atoms, work in unison to make us who we are. Now, what would be completely outrageous is if the kid studying the brain didn't talk about the brain right about now.

The one thing I think I have remained considerably sure of throughout my time with neuroscience is that I have never been left more awestruck than when I consider our sentient ability to think, do, and exist within our principally human roles. But the interesting thing about this surety - which I was reminded of through Alex's journal - is that I never actually came to understand such until I stopped looking at the brain as a sum of each of those pieces. I mean, obviously, at the elementary stages of learning, it was necessary to compartmentalize and build a durable scaffolding of knowledge, but then I had to put everything together. I had to see the larger picture without losing sight of the intricacies that this bigger picture consists of.

Let me give you an example. At the end of each neuron, something amazing happens. It connects to another neuron, and through that connection it can send signals - Common knowledge, right? We do have trillions of them in our nervous system so I would say, we are quite familiar with this phenomenon. But have you ever stopped and considered what this connection looks like? What it's made of? My answer to you then, is nothing. It's made of nothing, just empty space. So if I had the audacity to claim that the brain, being considered a sum of its parts was the true wonder, I would be frankly, severely mistaken. If the case were so, then it should be possible to take the hypothalamus out of someone's brain and watch it secrete hormones, without being bound to the structures around it. And what's more, wouldn't you say that trillions of empty spaces between these neurons takes away from the brain's whole? Now stay with me, you see, the stunning reality is that the space between two neurons' terminal buttons does not take away from the brain's complexity, because in this case, less is more. Less matter warrants more connections. More neurotransmitters to carry a signal from neuron A to neuron B. Less, makes US more. Do we not use this wondrous brain of ours to conduct our affairs? Physically, emotionally, mentally, subconsciously, the list is never ending. To realize then, that it isn't solely our prefrontal lobe or more neuroplasticity that makes us so, was to realize that we are more than the sum of those structures - to conceive that the "magic" happening at those terminal endings, within those empty spaces, was to see the very benefit of external interaction embodied within our own anatomy. The point then becomes, as Alex tells us;

"By knowing just how unique and just how complex each and every one of our brains are, and by knowing the propensity we have towards forming meaningful relationships with these brains, we have a new reason to view them less as obstacles, and more as opportunities."

When we view others as obstacles, we limit our collective complexity, and thus retreat into a more base version of what a community could be. This might be getting a little bit meta, but I think our brains are a fine example. If we were to exist on an individual basis, take our EMC crew for example, we would really just be adding a sprinkle of neuroscience to a dash of morality, to a coding, dreaming, painting, medley. While at first, this may seem to be exactly what the brain does, I ask you to consider the way I classified it as addition. We would become a sum. The brain, in the same scenario, would be limited to a sum of every piece's contribution. But those empty spaces, the way they warrant leaps of connection and interaction, are not bound by summative potential. Instead, they are set free by multiplicative potential. What I mean by this is that having the opportunity to explore the brain showed me how truly marvelous connection can be. And Alex, then, put that concept into pragmatic expression. When we realize that every single person crossing our path has a brain that is probably the most complex thing in the universe, we not only come to a better understanding of that other human, but we realize the potential of good that can come out of connecting with that person.

I know all of this is largely thoughts, I haven't exactly presented any substantive evidence for my claims. But I think it's safe to say that when we are gaining something, we might not always be adding something.