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| A Review of The Mystical Mind: Probing the Biology of Religious
Newberg and d'Aquili's research was launched in the popular media not long ago with a tempting slogan: "Are we hardwired to believe in God?" The question carries ambivalent implications. It could have a reductionist meaning: perhaps our brains are structured so as to provide us with experiences that make us believe there is a God, but this conclusion may be merely the results of internal brain activity. Or, it could have a meaning supportive of theology: our brains have the capacity to perceive God, and since our brain is designed to attune us to reality, this points to the likelihood that there is a God. Another alternative is that, since we can't step out of our brains, we'll never know.
The Mystical Mind explores this territory using, for most of the book, the language and tone of reductionism. Brain structures and functions are explained-patiently, for the nonspecialist-in strictly mechanical terms. Ultimately, however, the tables are turned. Although in one sense we can "never know" anything outside the awareness provided by our neurological mechanisms, the authors conclude that the most reasonable position is that religion, when it talks about God or the Absolute, is talking about something real. How they arrive at this conclusion is not immediately obvious, and it certainly involves more than neurology. But most strikingly, they hold that neurology must be the new foundation-the metatheology-for all theologies (and epistemologies), and that neurology in turn yields the likelihood of a megatheology that affirms God. Is this plausible? I am not a specialist in neuroscience, but a scholar of comparative religion, so I cannot evaluate whether a different interpretation of the neurological research data is possible. I must assume that d'Aquili and Newberg are presenting an accurate picture of the current state of research and a reasonable hypothesis for explaining brain action (to be described in layman's terms below). But I hope to help us explore to what extent their claim is justifiable, that neurology provides a new basis for understanding religions and theologies.
The line of the argument is as follows: Research into the various types of neural activity have resulted in a "mapping" of many areas of the brain in such a way that we can trace some of their mutual influences. There are "circuits" which respond to internal and external stimuli in such a way as to create a dependable relationship to the world and to enable a person to modify behavior in response (the "empiric modification circuit" or EMC). Building on this is a "primary circuit" which includes, in humans, the ability to conceive of self or ego as a unified source of operations. Incorporated within the scheme of circuits are seven basic cognitive "operators"-holistic, reductionist, causal, abstractive, binary, quantitative, and emotional-value-that can be identified as regular brain-mind processes. (Note that with this expression, D'Aquili and Newberg intend to avoid, for the time being, the problems of defining mind as separate from brain.) Taken together, when neurology understands these systems correctly and more completely than at present, these will provide the basis for a "metatheology," an explanation of the principles "within the structure and function of the mind/brain" by which "any and all theologies are formulated" (195).
What we recognize as mystical experiences are also a result of built-in operations of the brain. Our autonomic nervous system has long been recognized as having two modes, sympathetic and parasympathetic, characterized by d'Aquili and Newberg as producing states of arousal and quiescence, respectively. Whenever one of these is intensely engaged we have "hyperarousal" or "hyperquiescence"; if one goes to the point of "spillover," it erupts so as to activate the opposite system (which would normally be dormant). Unusual events occur in any of five states. For example, hyperquiescence (for our purposes HQ) may produce a feeling of oceanic tanquillity, while hyperarousal (HQ) creates a sense of "flow" with high alertness. The spillover of HQ creates HQ/A, which may produce a sense of absorption into an object or symbol, while HA/Q may produce an ecstatic or orgasmic rush. The furthest excitation of both systems, HQ/HA, creates a mystical experience described by d'Aquili and Newberg as Absolute Unitary Being or AUB (25-27).
The high arousal often shuts down external input to (=deafferentiates) the orientation association area, which normally informs us about our space-time location and boundaries. Thus AUB is generally accompanied by loss of all sense and space and time (42). Because this exalted brain-mind state also affects the parietal module, an individual may experience loss of a sense of differentiation between self and other. These extraordinary experiences are reported across many traditions in similar ways and, significantly, are usually regarded as foundational-as more "real" than the "baseline reality" of ordinary conscious interaction with the world. Of course, without going all the way to the AUB experience, meditation and other religious practices such as rituals create other unusual or "hyperlucid" experiences. D'Aquili and Newberg offer the hypothesis of a "unitary continuum" of experiences that can be called religious or mystical, and that involve various extraordinary states of the nervous system.
As hypotheses about brain states correlated with reports of experience, these ideas are suggestive and quite fascinating. Whether they will be borne out remains to be seen as further neurological studies are undertaken. Our concern here, however, is with the direction in which d'Aquili and Newberg push their claims, toward the sacred ground of theology. First, they suggest that the ability of the mind to produce these and other states provides the principles underlying all religions. Without even going to the AUB, intense rhythmic patterning as occurs in ritual drives the "holistic operator," thus making possible larger and larger gestalt perceptions which may be perceived as all-inclusive. The strong activation of the causal operator may yield the experience of "pure causality." These basics (which, to the non-neuroscientist, look suspiciously Kantian), set the framework for all human knowledge. But pushing them to their limits can result in humans postulating a First Cause, connections among all sentient beings, and "higher," that is more abstract, values and principles.
Our authors recognize that this could be perceived as a purely cognitive approach, so they tackle some of the most recalcitrant problems in the study of religion, namely myth and ritual. Myth, they hold, is relatively simple to understand as a creation of cognitive operators, particularly the causal and binary operators. D'Aquili and Newberg are clearly influenced here by Levi-Strauss, who held that myths are constructed of binary opposiitons. Most myth theorists today hold that this is at best a highly exaggerated perspective, but its validity is not relevant to our concerns in this review. Ritual offers the more difficult problem. It would seem to be simplest to put myth in the cognitive/causal parts of the brain, and ritual in the emotional/patterning portions. Indeed, d'Aquili and Newberg posit "two distinct neuroanatomical and neurophysiological mechanisms in the brain," one of which perceives causal sequences, and the other oriented to producing unusual states of consciousness.
"The first of these . . .results in an attempt to impose control over the world through the manipulation of posited causal constructs such as gods, demons, spirits, and other personalized causal agencies. The second mechanism is the result of neurophysiological evolution culminating in the potential to develop altered states of consciousnsess. Such experiences are often interpreted as glimpses into the world of the supernatural and tend to confirm the existence of the personalized power sources generated by the first mechanism just mentioned. Furthermore. . .such experiences can often facilitate both a reorganization of the persoanlity structure and a realignment of the individual toward the cosmos." (149)
Despite the fact that myth looks like a product of mechanism #1, and ritual/meditation of #2, d'Aquili and Newberg insist that ritual must be explained in terms of myth. They claim, following an old and far from universally accepted theory of myth and ritual, that ritual is a powerful solution to a cognitive problem:
"Ritual itself is always performed in order to solve a problem presented by and to the verbal analytic part of the mind/brain. The problem may be between good and evil, life and death, or the disparity between God and humanity. . . .[O]ur higher cognition . . . carried with it-indeed, it requires-the formation of myths that present problems for which the ancient rhythmic motor behaviors help generate solutions. In other words, when ritual works (and it by no means works all the time), it powerfully relieves our existential anxiety. Furthermore, when ritual is most powerful, it relieves us of the fear of death and places us in a sense of harmony with the universe." (92-93)
The authors are arguing, essentially, that the human mind necessarily produces narratives that embody problems or tensions-theologians refer to them as paradoxes-not resolvable in cognitive terms. These are resolved by the enactment of myth through ritual. It would seem that the paradox is not so much resolved as dissolved, in emotional or suprarational experience.
Is this plausible? The myth-ritual theory in which ritual is understood to "enact" myth has been shown to be too narrow an understanding of ritual, derived from certain ancient literate-urban societies, already interpreted and theologized many times over. Rituals in less complex societies are often only distantly related, or even unrelated, to any known myth. The "mystical mind" thesis that ritual is "always" performed to resolve a cognitive problem, seems highly unlikely from an empirical point of view. Most theorists would probably prefer a subsidiary suggestion made by d'Aquili and Newberg, that ritual in humans is like animal rituals which produce a feeling of connection to conspecifics-i.e., rituals produce intense feelings of community. Yet even Durkheim, whose theory has often been invoked by those who believe communal feelings are the main purpose of ritual, sensed that those very events that produce ecstasy and community bonds are also connected to cognitive forms. For Durkheim, however, ritual did not solve pre-existing problems but created the (socially based) forms in which thought itself occurs.
D'Aquili and Newberg want to prove the connection between ritual and cognition not socially but neurologically. They argue that we have "a powerful inbuilt mechanism to act out our thoughts," but we have developed inhibitory mechanisms that prevent this (88). The analogies used to support this proposal are echolalia, echopraxia, and latah, in which abnormal brain function causes individuals to repeat what they hear, act out what they see, or obey what they hear (respectively). Note, however, that there is a difference between acting out what is received sensorily and acting out what is thought internally. Whether there is a neurological condition that provides a more accurate parallel I do not know.
But of course it is obvious that we act out our thoughts, as I do when I type this essay. I just don't act out all my thoughts, and I don't particularly care to act out stories I think of, although of course I could. Yet it is highly unlikely that I would act them out by drumming or dancing. The argument of The Mystical Mind is that "because of the reciprocal representation of the content of the major neural systems that human beings are naturally disposed to act out their myths . . .by rhythmic motor behavior. Humans reach far into their evolutionary past and graft an ancient motor behavior onto the product of their neocortices." (88-89) It seems a stretch; in addition, it makes ritual seem like a mere survival except insofar as it produces altered states of consciousness and, as d'Aquili and Newberg also argue far more plausibly, synchronizes processes within and among ritual participants.
Let me put forward another possible account of the connection of ritual to cognition, an account which seems to be equally well supported by their neurological maps-with the caveat I mentioned before, that I am in no position to evaluate the soundness of the maps themselves. Rituals do operate with intense patterned activities which can lead to altered states of consciousness. Biologists have sometimes referred to the effects of these patterned activities as *entrainment*, whereby various body rhythms becomes so coordinated-that the person feels in an exalted state of mind. In such a state, the symbols, objects, and relationships involved in ritual would likely be sharply imprinted on the ritual participants, because, as D'Aquili and Newberg argue, such states of mind, even short of AUB(e.g. HQ/A or HA/Q), may seem "more real" than baseline reality. Because of this imprinting, rituals in effect create the sets of forms in which the mind can think. Analystically, they may seem to offer "existential solutions" to "problems" created by the cognitive operators, but in fact the categories in which the problems can be solved may well be already present in the ritual patterns. The illustration of this (essentially an adaptation of Durkheim) would, of course, considerably exceed the length of a book review, but I offer it as a possible line of thought.
Further, the encounter with symbolic representations while in altered states of consciousness could provide food for mythic thought. We often find, for example, that Native American rituals like vision quests produce visionary encounters with sacred beings or totem animals; the stories of these encounters are themselves contributions to the store of traditional mythic thought.
In addition, I would suggest why ritual is so much more prevalent than meditation as a way of accessing altered states of consciousness. Deafferentiation of the orientation association area or parietal module must be, in ordinary cases, highly disorienting and anxiety-producing. However, rituals protect the participant by beoming intensely concerned with marking the boundaries of space and time and surrounding participants with familiar symbols. This provides security for individual participants-an external boundary to replace, temporarily, their own internal orientations which may dissolve in ritual. In practical ritual work, I have found spatio-temporal orientation absolutely essential to allow students of ritual to feel "safe" in experimenting with new forms.
Finally, it is noteworthy that most rituals are performed according to instructions, handed down by tradition. It is not so much that ritual participants are acting out myths, but rather are performing according to instructions. Do it the way you have been told, pack your baggage appropriately for the journey, and the desired results will follow-the encounter with sacred beings, the transformation, the encounter with other dimensions that can transform personal or communal life (including rain for the drought, healing for the sick). Myths are most likely to be part of the instructions, or perhaps more accurately the authority for the instructions.
These suggestions about the myth-ritual relationship are intended to clarify an area which is, unfortunately, still very muddy in religious studies. We have mystified ritual and myth too much, while not appreciating-as, d'Aquili and Newberg do so well-its mystical and transformative dimensions.
Indeed, the "mystical" in the title of this book holds sway in the end. D'Aquili and Newberg argue, finally, that the sense of total awareness, beyond the subjective-objective separation, is the only solid ground for any kind of awareness, and at the same time is the foundation of a "megatheology."
Epistemologically, they claim that the only way we can tell what is really real is by our sense of reality. For them, even intersubjectivity, which is widely claimed to be the only certification of "what's real," ultimately depends on our awareness certifying other people as "very real." Thus all criteria for reality collapse into the subjective sense of reality, and with this approach, mystical experience holds up very well, pointing to a foundation beyond all specific religions and theologies. While neurological analysis might seem to lead to a dismissal of mystical experience as "merely" a product of brain configurations, they affirm the contrary, that the experience of AUB certifies itself as the "most real," certainly as more real than baseline reality. Far from being a hallucination or dreamlike state (which people with normal brains clearly recognize as "less real"), these experiences indicate that the Absolute is not a figment of imagination (191).
Those who have not experienced AUB or other hyperlucid, self-verifying states of consciousness will, of course, remain doubtful. But for the "mystical mind," the peculiar brain configurations that have evolved to permit our survival in a complex world of other beings are just that-configurations allowing for survival. When those configurations are held in abeyance, the brain/mind can open to larger perceptions of reality-to the Awareness that is beyond all the particulars, to the unitary Absolute behind our normal experience.
______
Tamar Frankiel, teaches modern Christian and Jewish studies at the University of California, Riverside. She is the author of Christianity: A Way of Salvation (Harper, 1985) and other books and articles on religion in the modern West, as well as four books on Jewish spirituality: The Gift of Kabbalah (Jewish Lights, 2001); The Voice of Sarah (Harper, 1990; Biblio, 1995); and Minding the Temple of the Soul and Entering the Temple of Dreams, co-authored with Judy Greenfeld (Jewish Lights, 1997, 2000).
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The Mystical Mind: Probing the Biology of Religious Experience by Eugene d'Aquili and Andrew B. Newberg. Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 1999. ix + 228pp.
Published 2002.09.25
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