by Katie Givens Kime

The following post is part of a special series emerging from Contemporary Issues in Neuroethics, a graduate-level course out of Emory University’s Center for Ethics. Katie Givens Kime is a doctoral student in Religion, with foci in practical theology, psychoanalysis, and neuroethics, and her research investigates the religious and spiritual aspects of addiction recovery methods.  

A few years ago, a highly respected and accomplished philosopher at Duke University, Owen Flanagan, surprised everyone when he stood up to speak at Society for Philosophy and Psychology.  A garden-variety academic presentation it was not.  In “What Is It Like to Be An Addict?” Flanagan revealed to 150 of his esteemed colleagues that he had been addicted to various narcotics and to alcohol for many, many years.  Not so long ago, every gruesome morning looked like this:

by Keenan Davis

The following post is part of a special series emerging from Contemporary Issues in Neuroethics, a graduate-level course out of Emory University’s Center for Ethics. Keenan is a graduate student in Bioethics, whose work focuses on the use of virtue ethics and natural law to evaluate novel biotechnologies. He will be pursuing a PhD in the Graduate Division of Religion in the fall.

What should I be doing with my life? Many approach this timeless question by considering first another: Who am I? For a wide range thinkers from Plato to Dr. Phil, we can only know what to do with ourselves when we truly know ourselves. Who we are determines and constrains how we ought to behave. For example, because my parents caused me to exist, I should behave towards them with a level of gratitude and love. Perhaps through a cause-and-effect dynamic, as a result of being their son, I should treat them respectfully. We will return to this example at the conclusion of our exploration.

Historically, the question of selfhood was assessed in terms of an afterlife, seeking to resolve what happens to us when we die. If, as Plato claimed, a person is nothing more than his soul, "a thing immortal," then he will survive physical death. Indeed, perhaps one should look forward to the separation of the soul from material constraints. How we ought to behave then is for the sake of existence after and beyond this world, a position shared by many adherents to Abrahamic religion. On the other hand, if we are no more than our bodies, then we do not persist after death and have no reason to orient our behavior toward post-mortem expectations. Such is the position of Lucretius and the Epicureans who conclude that our practical task is instead to flourish within a strictly material context. Our behavior should be for the sake of this world. For both Lucretius and Plato, the metaphysical substance of self is what mattered foremost.

John Locke

As part of the 17th century Enlightenment, John Locke changed the focus from the substance of self and more explicitly addressed the issue of selfhood with an eye to its normative consequences. For instance, he believed the self to be based entirely on memory and consciousness, regardless of the relationship between body and soul. By defining personhood as continuous self-identification through memory, Locke aimed to establish psychological criteria for moral agency and responsibility. Only if one is responsible for particular actions ought he be liable for judgment, reward, or punishment. Despite his emphasis on the psychological, as opposed to the biological or spiritual, Locke's definition of self still follows the cause-and-effect pattern of is then ought: who I am determines how I should behave.



Using thought experiments like the famous Ship of Theseus conundrum, philosopher Trenton Merricks of the University of Virginia undermines this line of thought by suggesting that there is no metaphysical answer to the question of who we are. There simply are no necessary and sufficient criteria—psychological, bodily, or otherwise—of identity over time for any object. Lest we take this conclusion too far, Merricks explains that it does not mean that persons and objects lack essential properties or evade description: "Among my essential properties are, I think, being a person and failing to be a cat or hatbox." His assessment just means that not all explanations or identifications involving characteristics need to be stated in terms of absolute proof. Allowing a modest concession to unavoidable skepticism, we need not (nor do we ever) demonstrate infallibly that "the tree in my yard today is the same tree that was in my yard yesterday" to warrant that belief. We can still be warranted in our beliefs regarding who we are without proving them absolutely certain.

by Shaunesse' Jacobs

The following post is part of a special series emerging from Contemporary Issues in Neuroethics, a graduate-level course out of Emory University’s Center for Ethics. Shaunesse' is a dual masters student in Theological Studies and Bioethics at Emory and her research interests lie in end-of-life care and religious practices surrounding death and dying.