My Own Personal Divinity

meditations on descartes and st. anselm
by stacy carolan

“I think: therefore, I am.”
         -Rene Descartes

In essence, this famous (and oft misquoted) tidbit of philosophy provides us with the only knowledge we can ever possess: the knowledge that we exist. And it provides the means by which we gain this knowledge: that fact that we can consider our own existence.
         For what else can we truly know? That there is a world around us? That there are other people in that world? In truth, we can know none of this for certain.
         Our perception of the world is through our senses. Our senses receive information, which is transmitted, via our nerves, to our brain, which then translates the information into our perception of our surroundings. This is true of sight, sound, taste, smell, and touch. All input from these five senses is merely so much electrical noise until interpreted by the brain.
         "If a tree falls in the forest, and no one is around, does it make a sound?" If something exists without our knowledge, does it exist for us? We can say Yes, something can exist independent of our knowing of its existence. But can we prove that?
         Continue the argument by saying that, while we may not know something exists, perhaps someone else does. Let’s say there’s a purple cow somewhere in the world, but we don’t know that. Does it exist? What if Ned saw this cow one day? Now does it exist? Well, who’s this Ned, anyway? We didn’t even know Ned existed. Now we have to know that Ned exists, and that he saw this elusive purple cow, just to know that this cow exists at all. It’s back to the same question.
         So, naturally, suppose someday you meet Ned, and you realize that he exists. Ned comes into existence for you the minute you meet him. And suppose he tells you of the purple cow. You had no idea that purple cows existed, until now. All of the sudden, your view of the world has to be changed to accommodate this new addition to your reality.
         But let’s not be too hasty. How do we know Ned’s not lying? And (dramatic organ chord) how do we know that Ned even exists? Sure, we’ve seen him, we’ve shaken hands with him, we’ve smelled his cologne, we’ve listened to his tale of the purple cow… but what has that proven to us? All of those actions involve the interpretations of nerve impulses. How can we be sure that something else didn’t stimulate our nerves, and our brain didn't decide to interpret those stimulations as Ned? How do we know that our brain just didn’t make up the whole idea of Ned and the purple cow?
         That’s just silly, you might say. Our brain wouldn’t just make something up, the brain doesn’t work like that, don’t be ridiculous.
         Quite to the contrary, though, the brain does this sort of thing all the time. By the light of day, it’s called imagining. By the dark of night, its called dreaming.
         So our brain is quite capable (and, as dreams show, well-practiced) in creating worlds for us that aren’t really there, worlds that we can’t distinguish from the “real” one. Given that, how do we know we’re not dreaming now? “I dreamt I was a butterfly, dreaming he was a man.” What is real? What can we prove?
         Thanks to Descartes's insight, we can prove that the mind exists, for the very fact that there is a world we perceive, or at least think we perceive. We perceive something, be it an actual, physical reality or just subconscious imagining, and that perceiving gives away the existence of the mind. Were the mind not to exist, we wouldn’t be able to consider the world around us. We wouldn’t be able to consider the world that might only be within us. We simply wouldn’t be.
         That is what that famous saying tells us. Because we can think, we know we have a mind; we know we are.
         Enter St. Anselm. Anselm provides a proof of the existence of god, through pure, impenetrable logic:

“... If that, than which nothing greater can be conceived, exists in the understanding alone, the very being, than which nothing greater can be conceived, is one, than which a greater being can be conceived. But obviously this is impossible. Hence, there is no doubt that there exists a being, than which nothing greater can be conceived, and it exists both in the understanding and in reality.”
         - St. Anselm.

         For Anselm, the definition of god is, “That, than which nothing greater can be conceived.” God is the greatest being imaginable. Forget that we can never propose to fully understand god; we can understand that there is nothing greater than god.
         But which is greater: to exist only in the understanding, or to exist in reality? Clearly something that exists only in the understanding would be less than something that actually exists. But the definition of god says that god is the greatest being imaginable. So, to hold true to the definition, we must accept that god exists in reality.
         The logic is watertight. But why end it there?
         We’ve established that it is greater for god to exist in reality rather than only in the mind. But how can we perceive god? Logic is all fine and good for proving things, but it falls short when one is asked to perceive something.
         For example, the logic of mathematics can prove that in a right triangle the square of the hypotenuse is equal to the sum of the squares of the other two sides. But where exactly is this triangle? On the paper? That’s just a representation of it. Where is the actual triangle?
         Even more basic, then, is the fact that half of four is two. What is this four? Where is it? And two? Show me a two, please, I’ve never seen one. I’ve seen the symbol that represents a two, but never a two itself. Or is it something that should be smelled? Will I be able to taste a two when one is given to me?
         Logic does not provide perception. We never saw the purple cow, but Ned told us that he did. So, logically (and barring any duplicity on Ned’s part), we understand that the purple cow existed. But we’re still no closer to perceiving the purple cow than we were before.
         Likewise with god. We can’t perceive god any more now that we’ve proven god’s existence than we could before. Right now, god lacks our perception.
         Well, which would be greater: a god that exists in reality without our knowing it, or a god that exists in reality, and that we can perceive? Clearly, by Anselm’s own logic, a god that we could perceive would be greater than a god that existed independently of our perception. And a god we couldn’t perceive would be of no more consequence to us than the falling tree in the forest.
         But what can we perceive? What can a mind be sure of? According to Mr. Descartes, the only thing a mind can be sure of is its own existence. By perceiving itself, the mind proves its own existence.
         So what then? The mind is guaranteed existence, while this “greatest conceivable being” isn’t? How can it possibly be the greatest conceivable being, then, if the mind is greater? The mind can conceive of the tree falling, but it makes no difference to the mind whether or not the tree actually exists. Once the mind can perceive the tree falling, then it gains meaning to us, instead of just being some hypothetical “what-if” to pass the time.
         So perceiving can be said to be just as important as merely conceiving or understanding. And if god cannot be perceived, what good is just understanding the concept of god? Or, to phrase the question as Anselm would have, which is greater: A god whose existence is still ambiguous, or a god who we can directly percieve? Would not the greatest being conceivable be the greatest being perceivable? And is not the greatest being perceivable - indeed, the only being perceivable - the human mind?
         So is not the human mind god?
         And, since the only mind we can truly perceive - and therefore the only mind that we can prove exists - is our own, then all of a sudden we find that we are god. Or, from my point of view, I am god. Obviously from your point of view, you’re god, but I have no proof that your point of view even exists, so you would have no way of convincing me that I’m not god. If I were to consider your point of view (hypothetically, of course, because you don’t exist), then I would be equally unable to convince you that you are not god. Everyone who exists can prove they’re god, but only to themselves. Too many gods, you say? Not really, because I’m the only one of them who truly exists. Trust me.