by Rupert Sheldrake
In this essay, I am going to discuss the concept of collective
memory as a background for understanding Jung’s concept of the
collective unconscious. The collective unconscious only makes sense
in the context of some notion of collective memory. This then takes
us into a very wide-ranging examination of the nature and principle
of memory-not just in human beings and not just in the animal
kingdom; not even just in the realm of life - but in the universe as a
whole. Such an encompassing perspective is part of a very profound
paradigm shift that is taking place in science: the shift from the
mechanistic to an evolutionary and holistic world view.
The Cartesian mechanistic view is, in many ways, still the
predominant paradigm today, especially in biology and
medicine.
Ninety percent of biologists would be proud to tell you that they
are mechanistic biologists. Although physics has moved beyond the
mechanistic view, much of our thinking about physical reality is
still shaped by it - even in those of us who would like to believe
that we have moved beyond this frame of thought. Therefore, I will
briefly examine some of the fundamental assumptions of the
mechanistic world view in order to show how it is still deeply
embedded in the way that most of us think.
MECHANISM’S ROOTS IN NEO-PLATONIC MYSTICISM
It is interesting that the roots of the 17th-century mechanistic
world view can be found in ancient mystical religion. Indeed, the
mechanistic view was a synthesis of two traditions of thought, both
of which were based on the mystical insight that reality is timeless
and changeless. One of these traditions stems from Pythagoras and
Plato, who were both fascinated by the eternal truths of
mathematics. In the 17th century, this evolved into a view that
nature was governed by timeless ideas, proportions, principles, or
laws that existed within the mind of God. This world view became
dominant and, through philosophers and scientists such as
Copernicus, Kepler, Descartes, Galileo and Newton, it was
incorporated into the foundations of modern physics.
Basically, they expressed the idea that numbers, proportions,
equations, and mathematical principles are more real than the
physical world we experience. Even today, many mathematicians
incline toward this kind of Pythagorean or Platonic mysticism. They
think of the physical world as a reification of mathematical
principles, as a reflection of eternal numerical mathematical laws.
This view is alien to the thinking of most of us, who the physical
world as the "real" world and consider mathematical equations a
man-made, and possibly inaccurate, description of that "real" world.
Nevertheless, this mystical view has evolved into the currently
predominant scientific viewpoint that nature is governed by eternal,
changeless, immutable, omnipresent laws. The laws of nature are
everywhere and always.
MATERIALISM’S ROOTS IN ATOMISM
The second view of changelessness which emerged in the 17th century
stemmed from the atomistic tradition of materialism, which addressed
an issue which, even then, was already deep-rooted in Greek thought:
namely, the concept of a changeless reality. Parmenides, a
pre-Socratic philosopher, had the idea that only being is; not-being
is not. If something is, it can’t change because, in order to
change, it would have to combine being and not-being, which was
impossible. Therefore, he concluded that reality is a homogenous,
changeless sphere. Unfortunately for Parmenides, the world we
experience is not homogenous, changeless, or spherical. In order to
preserve his theory, Parmenides claimed that the world we experience
is a delusion. This wasn’t a very satisfactory solution, and
thinkers of the time tried to find a way to resolve this dilemma.
The atomists’ solution was to claim that reality consists of a large
number of homogenous, changeless spheres (or particles): the atoms.
Instead of one big changeless sphere, there are a great many small,
changeless spheres moving in the void. The changing appearances of
the world could then be explained in terms of the movements,
permutations, and combinations of the atoms. This is the original
insight of materialism: that reality consisted of eternal atomic
matter and the movement of matter.
The combination of this materialistic tradition with the Platonic
tradition finally gave rise to the mechanical philosophy which
emerged in the 17th century and produced a cosmic dualism that has
been with us ever since. On the one hand we have eternal atoms of
inert matter; and on the other hand, we have changeless,
non-material laws which are more like ideas than physical, material
things. In this kind of dualism, both sides are changeless - a belief
that does not readily suggest the idea of an evolutionary universe.
In fact, physicists have been very adverse to accepting the idea of
evolution precisely because it fits so poorly with the notion of
eternal matter and changeless laws. In modern physics, matter is now
seen as a form of energy; eternal energy has replaced eternal
matter, but little else has changed.
THE EMERGENCE OF THE EVOLUTIONARY PARADIGM
Nevertheless, the evolutionary paradigm has been gaining ground
steadily for the past two centuries. In the 18th century, social,
artistic, and scientific developments were generally viewed as a
progressive and evolutionary process. The Industrial Revolution made
this viewpoint an economic reality in parts of Europe and
America.
By the early 19th century there were a number of evolutionary
philosophies and, by the 1840’s, the evolutionary social theory of
Marxism had been publicized. In this context of social and cultural
evolutionary theory, Darwin proposed his biological theory of
evolution which extended the evolutionary vision to the whole of
life. Yet this vision was not extended to the entire universe:
Darwin and the
neo-Darwinians ironically tried to fit the evolution
of life on earth into a static universe, or even worse, a universe
which was actually thought to be "running down" thermodynamically,
heading toward a "heat death."
Everything changed in 1966 when physics finally accepted an
evolutionary cosmology in which the universe was no longer eternal.
Instead, the universe originated in a Big Bang about 15 billion
years ago and has evolved ever since. So we now have an evolutionary
physics. But we have to remember that this evolutionary physics is
only just over 20 years old, and the implications and consequences
of the Big Bang discovery are not yet fully known.
Physics is only just beginning to adapt itself to this new view,
which, as we have seen, challenges the most fundamental assumption
of physics since the time of Pythagoras: the idea of eternal laws.
As soon as we have an evolving universe, we are confronted with the
question: what about the eternal laws of nature? Where were the laws
of nature before the Big Bang? If the laws of nature existed before
the Big Bang, then it’s clear that they are nonphysical; in fact,
they are metaphysical. This forces out into the open the
metaphysical assumption that underlay the idea of eternal laws all
along.
LAWS OF NATURE, OR JUST HABITS?
There is an alternative, however. The alternative is that the
universe is more like an organism than a machine. The Big Bang
recalls the mythic stories of the hatching of the cosmic egg: it
grows, and as it grows it undergoes an internal differentiation that
is more like a gigantic cosmic embryo than the huge eternal machine
of mechanistic theory. With this organic alternative, it might make
sense to think of the laws of nature as more like habits; perhaps
the laws of nature are habits of the universe, and perhaps the
universe has an in-built memory.
About 100 years ago the American philosopher, C. S. Pierce, said
that if we took evolution seriously, if we thought of the entire
universe as evolving, then we would have to think of the laws of
nature as somehow likened to habits. This idea was actually quite
common, especially in America; it was espoused by William James and
other American philosophers, and was quite widely discussed at the
end of the last century. In Germany, Nietzsche went so far as to
suggest that the laws of nature underwent natural selection: perhaps
there were many laws of nature at the beginning, but only the
successful laws survived; therefore, the universe we see has laws
which have evolved through natural selection.
Biologists also moved toward interpreting phenomena in terms of
habit. The most interesting such theorist was English writer Samuel
Butler, whose most important books on this theme were Life and Habit
(1878) and Unconscious Memory (1881). Butler contended that the
whole of life involved inherent unconscious memory; habits, the
instincts of animals, the way in which embryos develop, all
reflected a basic principle of inherent memory within life. He even
proposed that there must be an inherent memory in atoms, molecules,
and crystals. Thus, there was this period of time at the end of the
last century when biology was viewed in evolutionary terms. It is
only since the 1920’s that mechanistic thinking has come to have a
stranglehold upon biological thought.
HOW DOES FORM ARISE?
The hypothesis of formative causation, which is the basis of my own
work, starts from the problem of biological form. Within biology,
there has been a long-standing discussion of how to understand the
way embryos and organisms develop. How do plants grow from seeds?
How do embryos develop from fertilized eggs? This is a problem for
biologists; it’s not really a problem for embryos and trees, which
just do it! However, biologists rind it difficult to find a causal
explanation for form. In physics, in some sense the cause equals the
effect. The amount of energy, matter, and momentum before a given
change equals the amount afterwards. The cause is contained in the
effect and the effect in the cause. However, when we are considering
the growth of an oak tree from an acorn, there seems to be no such
equivalence of cause and effect in any obvious way.
In the 17th century, the main mechanistic theory of embryology was
simply that the oak tree was contained within the acorn: inside each
acorn there was a miniature oak tree which inflated as the oak tree
grew. This theory was quite widely accepted, and it was the one most
consistent with the mechanistic approach, as understood at that
time. However, as critics rapidly pointed out, if the oak tree is
inflated and that oak tree itself produces acorns, the inflatable
oak tree must contain inflatable acorns which contain inflatable oak
trees, ad infinitum.
If, on the other hand, more form came from less form (the technical
name for which is epigenesis), then where does the more form come
from?
How did structures appear that weren’t there before? Neither
Platonists nor Aristotelians had any problem with this question. The
Platonists said that the form comes from the Platonic archetype: if
there is an oak tree, then there is an archetypal form of an oak
tree, and all actual oak trees are simply reflections of this
archetype. Since this archetype is beyond space and time, there is
no need to have it embedded in the physical form of the acorn. The
Aristotelians said that every species has its own kind of soul, and
the soul is the form of the body. The body is in the soul, not the
soul in the body. The soul is the form of the body and is around the
body and contains the goal of development (which is formally called
entelechy). An oak tree soul contains the eventual oak tree.
IS DNA A GENETIC PROGRAM?
However, a mechanistic world view denies animism in all its forms;
it denies the existence of the soul and of any non-material
organizing principles. Therefore, mechanists have to have some kind
of preformationism. At the end of the 19th century, German biologist
August Weismann’s theory of the germ-plasm revived the idea of
preformationism; Weissman’s theory placed "determinants," which
supposedly gave rise to the organism, inside the embryo. This is the
ancestor of the present idea of genetic programming, which
constitutes another resurgence of preformationism in a modern guise.
As we will see, this model does not work very well. The
genetic
program is assumed to be identical with DNA, the genetic chemical.
The genetic information is coded in DNA and this code forms the
genetic program. But such a leap requires projecting onto DNA
properties that it does not actually possess. We know what,
DNA
does: it codes for proteins; it codes for the sequence of amino
acids which form proteins. However, there is a big difference
between coding for the structure of a protein - a chemical constituent
of the organism - and programming the development of an entire
organism. It is the difference between making bricks and building a
house out of the bricks. You need the bricks to build the house. If
you have defective bricks, the house will be defective. But the plan
of the house is not contained in the bricks, or the wires, or the
beams, or cement.
Analogously, DNA only codes for the materials from which the body is
constructed: the enzymes, the structural proteins, and so forth.
There is no evidence that it also codes for the plan,
the form, the
morphology of the body. To see this more clearly, think of your arms
and legs. The form of the arms and legs is different; it’s obvious
that they have a different shape from each other. Yet the chemicals
in the arms and legs are identical. The muscles are the same, the
nerve cells are the same, the skin cells are the same, and the
DNA
is the same in all the cells of the arms and legs. In fact, the
DNA
is the same in all the cells of the body. DNA alone cannot explain
the difference inform; something else is necessary to explain form.
In current mechanistic biology, this is usually assumed to depend on
what are called "complex patterns of physio-chemical interaction not
yet fully understood." Thus the current mechanistic theory is not an
explanation but merely the promise of an explanation. It is what Sir
Karl Popper has called a "promissory mechanism"; it involves issuing
promissory notes against future explanations that do not yet exist.
As such, it is not really an objective argument; it is merely a
statement of faith.
WHAT ARE MORPHIC FIELDS?
The question of biological development, of morphogenesis, is
actually quite open and is the subject of much debate within biology
itself. An alternative to the mechanist/reductionist approach, which
has been around since the 1920s, is the idea of morphogenetic
(form-shaping) fields. In this model, growing organisms are shaped
by fields which are both within and around them, fields which
contain, as it were, the form of the organism. This is closer to the
Aristotelian tradition than to any of the other traditional
approaches. As an oak tree develops, the acorn is associated with an
oak tree field, an invisible organizing structure which organizes
the oak tree’s development; it is like an oak tree mold, within
which the developing organism grows.
One fact which led to the development of this theory is the
remarkable ability organisms have to repair damage. If you cut an
oak tree into little pieces, each little piece, properly treated,
can grow into a new tree. So from a tiny fragment, you can get a
whole. Machines do not do that; they do not have this power of
remaining whole if you remove parts of them. Chop a computer up into
small pieces and all you get is a broken computer. It does not
regenerate into lots of little computers. But if you chop a flatworm
into small pieces, each piece can grow into a new flatworm. Another
analogy is a magnet. If you chop a magnet into small pieces, you do
have lots of small magnets, each with a complete magnetic field.
This is a holistic property that fields have that mechanical
systems do not have unless they are associated with fields. Still
another example is the hologram, any part of which contains the
whole. A hologram is based on interference patterns within the
electromagnetic field. Fields thus have a holistic property which
was very attractive to the biologists who developed this concept of
morphogenetic fields.
Each species has its own fields, and within each organism there are
fields within fields. Within each of us is the field of the whole
body; fields for arms and legs and fields for kidneys and livers;
within are fields for the different tissues inside these organs, and
then fields for the cells, and fields for the sub-cellular
structures, and fields for the molecules, and so on. There is a
whole series of fields within fields. The essence of the hypothesis
I am proposing is that these fields, which are already accepted
quite widely within biology, have a kind of in-built memory derived
from previous forms of a similar kind. The liver field is shaped by
the forms of previous livers and the oak tree field by the forms and
organization of previous oak trees. Through the fields, by a process
called morphic resonance, the influence of like upon like, there is
a connection among similar fields. That means that the field’s
structure has a cumulative memory, based on what has happened to the
species in the past. This idea applies not only to living organisms
but also to protein molecules, crystals, even to atoms. In the realm
of crystals, for example, the theory would say that the form a
crystal takes depends on its characteristic morphic field. Morphic
field is a broader term which includes the fields of both form and
behavior; hereafter, I shall use the word morphic field rather than
morphogenetic.
MIGRANT BEARDED CHEMISTS
If you make a new compound and crystallize it, there won’t be a
morphic field for it the first time. Therefore, it may be very
difficult to crystallize; you have to wait for a morphic field to
emerge. The second time, however, even if you do this somewhere else
in the world, there will be an influence from the first
crystallization, and it should crystallize a bit more easily. The
third time there will be an influence from the first and second, and
so on. There will be a cumulative influence from previous crystals,
so it should get easier and easier to crystallize the more often you
crystallize it. And, in fact, this is exactly what does happen.
Synthetic chemists find that new compounds are generally very
difficult to crystallize. As time goes on, they generally get easier
to crystallize all over the world. The conventional explanation is
that this occurs because fragments of previous crystals are carried
from laboratory to laboratory on beards of migrant chemists. When
there have not been any migrant chemists, it is assumed that the
fragments wafted through the atmosphere as microscopic dust
particles.
Perhaps migrant chemists do carry fragments on their beards and
perhaps dust particles do get blown around in the atmosphere.
Nevertheless, if one measures the rate of crystallization under
rigorously controlled conditions in sealed vessels in different
parts of the world, one should still observe an accelerated rate of
crystallization. This experiment has not yet been done. But a
related experiment involving chemical reaction rates of new
synthetic processes is at present being considered by a major
chemical company in Britain because, if these things happen, they
have quite important implications for the chemical industry.
A NEW SCIENCE OF LIFE
There are quite a number of experiments that can be done in
the realm of biological form and the development of form.
Correspondingly, the same principles apply to behavior, forms of
behavior and patterns of behavior. Consider the hypothesis that if
you train rats to learn a new trick in Santa Barbara, then rats all
over the world should be able to learn to do the same trick more
quickly, just because the rats in Santa Barbara have learned it.
This new pattern of learning will be, as it were, in the rat
collective memory - in the morphic fields of rats, to which other rats
can tune in, just because they are rats and just because they are in
similar circumstances, by morphic resonance. This may seem a bit
improbable, but either this sort of thing happens or it doesn’t.
Among the vast number of papers in the archives of experiments on
rat psychology, there are a number of examples of experiments in
which people have actually monitored rates of learning over time and
discovered mysterious increases. In my book, A New Science of Life,
I describe one such series of experiments which extended over a
50-year period. Begun at Harvard and then carried on in Scotland and
Australia, the experiment demonstrated that rats increased their
rate of learning more than tenfold. This was a huge effect - not some
marginal statistically significant result. This improved rate of
learning in identical learning situations occurred in these three
separate locations and in all rats of the breed, not just in rats
descended from trained parents.
There are other examples of the spontaneous spread of new habits in
animals and birds which provide at least circumstantial evidence for
the theory of morphic resonance. The best documented of these is the
behavior of bluetits, a rather small bird with a blue head, that is
common throughout Britain. Fresh milk is still delivered to the door
each morning in Britain. Until about the 1950s, the caps on the milk
bottles were made of cardboard. In 1921 in Southampton, a strange
phenomenon was observed. When people came out in the morning to get
their milk bottles, they found little shreds of cardboard all around
the bottom of the bottle, and the cream from the top of the bottle
had disappeared. Close observation revealed that this was being done
by bluetits, who sat on top of the bottle, pulled off the cardboard
with their beaks, and then drank the cream. Several tragic cases
were found in which bluetits were discovered drowned head first in
the milk!
This incident caused considerable interest; then the event turned up
somewhere else in Britain, about 50 miles away, and then somewhere
about 100 miles away. Whenever the bluetit phenomenon turned up, it
started spreading locally, presumably by imitation. However,
bluetits are very home-loving creatures, and they don’t normally
travel more than four or five miles. Therefore, the dissemination of
the behavior over large distances could only be accounted for in
terms of an independent discovery of the habit. The bluetit habit
was mapped throughout Britain until 1947, by which time it had
become more or less universal. The people who did the study came to
the conclusion that it must have been "invented" independently at
least 50 times. Moreover, the rate of spread of the habit
accelerated as time went on. In other parts of Europe where milk
bottles are delivered to doorsteps, such as Scandinavia and
Holland,
the habit also cropped up during the 1930s and spread in a similar
manner. Here is an example of a pattern of behavior which was spread
in a way which seemed to speed up with time, and which might provide
an example of morphic resonance.
But there is still stronger evidence for morphic resonance. Because
of the German occupation of Holland, milk delivery ceased during
1939-40. Milk deliveries did not resume until 1948. Since bluetits
usually live only two to three years, there probably were no
bluetits alive in 1948 who had been alive when milk was last
delivered. Yet when milk deliveries resumed in 1948, the opening of
milk bottles by bluetits sprang up rapidly in quite separate places
in Holland and spread extremely rapidly until, within a year or two,
it was once again universal. The behavior spread much more rapidly
and cropped up independently much more frequently the second time
round than the first time. This example demonstrates the
evolutionary spread of a new habit which is probably not genetic but
rather depends on a kind of collective memory due to morphic
resonance.
I am suggesting that heredity depends not only on DNA, which enables
organisms to build the right chemical building blocks-the
proteins-but also on morphic resonance. Heredity thus has two
aspects: one a genetic heredity, which accounts for the inheritance
of proteins through DNA’s control of protein synthesis; the second a
form of heredity based on morphic fields and morphic resonance,
which is nongenetic and which is inherited directly from past
members of the species. This latter form of heredity deals with the
organization of form and behavior.
THE ALLEGORY OF THE TELEVISION SET
The differences and connections between these two forms of heredity
become easier to understand if we consider an analogy to television.
Think of the pictures on the screen as the form that we are
interested in. If you didn’t know how the form arose, the most
obvious explanation would be that there were little people inside
the set whose shadows you were seeing on the screen. Children
sometimes think in this manner. If you take the back off the set,
however, and look inside, you find that there are no little people.
Then you might get more subtle and speculate that the little people
are microscopic and are actually inside the wires of the TV set. But
if you look at the wires through a microscope, you can’t find any
little people there either.
You might get still more subtle and propose that the little people
on the screen actually arise through "complex interactions among the
parts of the set which are not yet fully understood." You might
think this theory was proved if you chopped out a few transistors
from the set. The people would disappear. If you put the transistors
back, they would reappear. This might provide convincing evidence
that they arose from within the set entirely on the basis of
internal interaction.
Suppose that someone suggested that the pictures of little people
come from outside the set, and the set picks up the pictures as a
result of invisible vibrations to which the set is attuned. This
would probably sound like a very occult and mystical explanation.
You might deny that anything is coming into the set. You could even
"prove it" by weighing the set switched off and switched on; it
would weigh the same. Therefore, you could conclude that nothing is
coming into the set.
I think that is the position of modern biology, trying to explain
everything in terms of what happens inside. The more explanations
for form are looked for inside, the more elusive the explanations
prove to be, and the more they are ascribed to ever more subtle and
complex interactions, which always elude investigation. As I am
suggesting, the forms and patterns of behavior are actually being
tuned into by invisible connections arising outside the organism.
The development of form is a result of both the internal
organization of the organism and the interaction of the morphic
fields to which it is tuned.
Genetic mutations can affect this development. Again think of the TV
set. If we mutate a transistor or a condenser inside the set, you
may get distorted pictures or sound. But this does not prove that
the pictures and sound are programmed by these components. Nor does
it prove that form and behavior are programmed by genes, if we find
there are alterations in form and behavior as a result of genetic
mutation.
There is another kind of mutation which is particularly interesting.
Imagine a mutation in the tuning circuit of your set, such that it
alters the resonant frequency of the tuning circuit. Tuning your TV
depends on a resonant phenomenon; the tuner resonates at the same
frequency as the frequency of the signal transmitted by the
different stations. Thus tuning dials are measured in hertz, which
is a measure of frequency. Imagine a mutation in the tuning system
such that you tune to one channel and a different channel actually
appears. You might trace this back to a single condenser or a single
resistor which had undergone a mutation. But it would not be valid
to conclude that the new programs you are seeing, the different
people, the different films and advertisements, are programmed
inside the component that has changed. Nor does it prove that form
and behavior are programmed in the DNA when genetic mutations lead
to changes in form and behavior. The usual assumption is that if you
can show something alters as a result of a mutation, then that must
be programmed by, or controlled by, or determined by, the gene. I
hope this TV analogy makes it clear that that is not the only
conclusion. It could be that it is simply affecting the tuning
system.
A NEW THEORY OF EVOLUTION
A great deal of work is being done in contemporary biological
research on such "tuning" mutations (formally called homoeotic
mutations). The animal most used in the investigations is
Drosophila, the fruitfly. A whole range of these mutations have been
found which produce various monstrosities. One kind, called
antennapedia, leads to the antennae being transformed into legs. The
unfortunate flies, which contain just one altered gene, produce legs
instead of antennae growing out of their heads. There is another
mutation which leads to the second of the three pairs of legs in the
Drosophila being transformed into antennae. Normally flies have one
pair of wings and, on the segment behind the wings, are small
balancing organs called halteres. Still another mutation leads to
the transformation of the segment normally bearing the halteres into
a duplicate of the first segment, so that these flies have four
wings instead of two. These are called bithorax mutants.
All of these mutations depend on single genes. I propose that
somehow these single gene mutations are changing the tuning of a
part of the embryonic tissue, such that it tunes into a different
morphic field than it normally does, and so a different set of
structures arise, just like tuning into a different channel on TV.
One can see from these analogies how both genetics and morphic
resonance are involved in heredity. Of course, a new theory of
heredity leads to a new theory of evolution. Present-day
evolutionary theory is based on the assumption that virtually all
heredity is genetic. Sociobiology and neo-Darwinism in all their
various forms are based on gene selection, gene frequencies, and so
forth. The theory of morphic resonance leads to a much broader view
which allows one of the great heresies of biology once more to be
taken seriously: namely, the idea of the inheritance of acquired
characteristics. Behaviors which organisms learn, or forms which
they develop, can be inherited by others even if they are not
descended from the original organisms - by morphic resonance.
A NEW CONCEPT OF MEMORY
When we consider memory, this hypothesis leads to a very different
approach from the traditional one. The key concept of morphic
resonance is that similar things influence similar things across
both space and time. The amount of influence depends on the degree
of similarity. Most organisms are more similar to themselves in the
past than they are to any other organism. I am more like me five
minutes ago than I am like any of you; all of us are more like
ourselves in the past than like anyone else. The same is true of any
organism. This self-resonance with past states of the same organism
in the realm of form helps to stabilize the morphogenetic fields, to
stabilize the form of the organism, even though the chemical
constituents in the cells are turning over and changing. Habitual
patterns of behavior are also tuned into by the self-resonance
process. If I start riding a bicycle, for example, the pattern of
activity of my nervous system and my muscles, in response to
balancing on the bicycle, immediately tunes me in by similarity to
all the previous occasions on which I have ridden a bicycle. The
experience of bicycle riding is given by cumulative morphic
resonance to all those past occasions. It is not a verbal or
intellectual memory; it is a body memory of riding a bicycle.
This would also apply to my memory of actual events: what I did
yesterday in Los Angeles or last year in England. When, I think of
these particular events, I am tuning into the occasions on which
these events happened. There is a direct causal connection through a
tuning process. If this hypothesis is correct, it is not necessary
to assume that memories are stored inside the brain.
THE MYSTERY OF MIND
All of us have been brought up on the idea that memories are stored
in the brain; we use the word brain interchangeably with mind or
memory. I am suggesting that the brain is more like a tuning system
than a memory storage device. One of the main arguments for the
localization of memory in the brain is the fact that certain kinds
of brain damage can lead to loss of memory. If the brain is damaged
in a car accident and someone loses memory, then the obvious
assumption is that memory tissue must have been destroyed.
But this
is not necessarily so.
Consider the TV analogy again. If I damaged your TV set so that you
were unable to receive certain channels, or if I made the TV set
aphasic by destroying the part of it concerned with the production
of sound so that you could still get the pictures but could not get
the sound, this would not prove that the sound or the pictures were
stored inside the TV set. It would merely show that I had affected
the tuning system so you could not pick up the correct signal any
longer. No more does memory loss due to brain damage prove that
memory is stored inside the brain. In fact, most memory loss is
temporary: amnesia following concussion, for example, is often
temporary. This recovery of memory is very difficult to explain in
terms of conventional theories: if the memories have been destroyed
because the memory tissue has been destroyed, they ought not to come
back again; yet they often do.
Another argument for the localization of memory inside the brain is
suggested by the experiments on electrical stimulation of the brain
by Wilder Penfield and others. Penfield stimulated the temporal
lobes of the brains of epileptic patients and found that some of
these stimuli could elicit vivid responses, which the patients
interpreted as memories of things they had done in the past.
Penfield assumed that he was actually stimulating memories which
were stored in the cortex. Again returning to the TV analogy, if I
stimulated the tuning circuit of your TV set and it jumped onto
another channel, this wouldn’t prove the information was stored
inside the tuning circuit. It is interesting that, in his last book,
The Mystery of the Mind, Penfield himself abandoned the idea that
the experiments proved that memory was inside the brain. He came to
the conclusion that memory was not stored inside the cortex at all.
There have been many attempts to locate memory traces within the
brain, the best known of which were by Karl Lashley, the great
American neurophysiologist. He trained rats to learn tricks, then
chopped bits of their brains out to determine whether the rats could
still do the tricks. To his amazement, he found that he could remove
over fifty percent of the brain - any 50% - and there would be virtually
no effect on the retention of this learning. When he removed all the
brain, the rats could no longer perform the tricks, so he concluded
that the brain was necessary in some way to the performance of the
task - which is hardly a very surprising conclusion. What was
surprising was how much of the brain he could remove without
affecting the memory.
Similar results have been found by other investigators, even with
invertebrates such as the octopus. This led one experimenter to
speculate that memory was both everywhere and nowhere in particular.
Lashley himself concluded that memories are stored in a distributed
manner throughout the brain, since he could not find the memory
traces which classical theory required. His student, Karl Pribram,
extended this idea with the holographic theory of memory storage:
memory is like a holographic image, stored as an interference
pattern throughout the brain.
What Lashley and Pribram (at least in some of his writing) do not
seem to have considered is the possibility that memories may not be
stored inside the brain at all. The idea that they are not stored
inside the brain is more consistent with the available data than
either the conventional theories or the holographic theory. Many
difficulties have arisen in trying to localize memory storage in the
brain, in part because the brain is much more dynamic than
previously thought. If the brain is to serve as a memory storehouse,
then the storage system would have to remain stable; yet it is now
known that nerve cells turn over much more rapidly than was
previously thought. All the chemicals in synapses and nerve
structures and molecules are turning over and changing all the time.
With a very dynamic brain, it is difficult to see how memories are
stored.
There is also a logical problem about conventional theories of
memory storage, which various philosophers have pointed out. All
conventional theories assume that memories are somehow coded and
located in a memory store in the brain. When they are needed they
are recovered by a retrieval system. This is called the coding,
storage, and retrieval model. However, for a retrieval system to
retrieve anything, it has to know what it wants to retrieve; a
memory retrieval system has to know what memory it is looking for.
It thus must be able to recognize the memory that it is trying to
retrieve. In order to recognize it, the retrieval system itself must
have some kind of memory. Therefore, the retrieval system must have
a sub-retrieval system to retrieve its memories from its store. This
leads to an infinite regress. Several philosophers argue that this
is a fatal, logical flaw in any conventional theory of memory
storage. However, on the whole, memory theoreticians are not very
interested in what philosophers say, so they do not bother to reply
to this argument. But it does seem to me quite a powerful one.
In considering the morphic resonance theory of memory, we might ask:
if we tune into our own memories, then why don’t we tune into
other
people’s as well? I think we do, and the whole basis of the approach
I am suggesting is that there is a collective memory to which we are
all tuned which forms a background against which our own experience
develops and against which our own individual memories develop. This
concept is very similar to the notion of the collective unconscious.
Jung thought of the collective unconscious as a collective memory,
the collective memory of humanity. He thought that people would be
more tuned into members of their own family and race and social and
cultural group, but that nevertheless there would be a background
resonance from all humanity: a pooled or averaged experience of
basic things that all people experience (e.g., maternal behavior and
various social patterns and structures of experience and thought).
It would not be a memory from particular persons in the past so much
as an average of the basic forms of memory structures; these are
the
archetypes. Jung’s notion of the collective unconscious makes
extremely good sense in the context of the general approach that I
am putting forward. Morphic resonance theory would lead to a radical
reaffirmation of Jung’s concept of the collective unconscious.
It needs reaffirmation because the current mechanistic context of
conventional biology, medicine, and psychology denies that there can
be any such thing as the collective unconscious; the concept of a
collective memory of a race or species has been excluded as even a
theoretical possibility. You cannot have any inheritance of acquired
characteristics according to conventional theory; you can only have
an inheritance of genetic mutations. Under the premises of
conventional biology, there would be no way that the experiences and
myths of, for example, African tribes, would have any influence on
the dreams of someone in Switzerland of non-African descent, which
is the sort of thing Jung thought did happen. That is quite
impossible from the conventional point of view, which is why most
biologists and others within mainstream science do not take the idea
of the collective unconscious seriously. It is considered a flaky,
fringe idea that may have some poetic value as a kind of metaphor,
but has no relevance to proper science because it is a completely
untenable concept from the point of view of normal biology.
The approach I am putting forward is very similar to Jung’s idea of
the collective unconscious. The main difference is that Jung’s idea
was applied primarily to human experience and human collective
memory. What I am suggesting is that a very similar principle
operates throughout the entire universe, not just in human beings.
If the kind of radical paradigm shift I am talking about goes on
within biology - if the hypothesis of morphic resonance is even
approximately correct - then Jung’s idea of the collective unconscious
would become a mainstream idea: Morphogenic fields and the concept
of the collective unconscious would completely change the context of
modern psychology.
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