The apparent fact that each of us coincides with a thinking animal looks like a strong argument for our being animals (animalism). Some critics, however, claim that this sort of reasoning actually undermines animalism. According to them, the apparent fact that each human animal coincides with a thinking body that is not an animal is an equally strong argument for our not being animals. I argue that the critics' case fails for reasons that do not affect the case (...) for animalism. (shrink)

We are material things of a specific sort: animals of the primate species Homo sapiens. This is the view known as animalism. The most common reason for rejecting animalism is that it is has unattractive consequences about what it takes for philosophers to persist through time. If human animals are animals essentially, then our being animals implies that we are animals essentially. If they are animals accidentally, then animalism implies that we are animals only accidentally. Aristotelians say (...) that an animal is a compound of matter and form. Animalists accept the indisputable fact that we have important features not shared by any nonhuman organisms that we know of: the capacity for sophisticated rational thought, for instance, and to speak a language with a complex grammatical structure. Since animals are bodies, it follows that people are not animals. Animals, even human animals, cannot have life after death. (shrink)

In special cases of partial twinning, two heads, each supporting a more-orless normal human mental life, emerge from a single torso. It is often argued that there must be two people in such a case, even if there is only one biological organism. That would pose a problem for ‘animalism’, the view that people are organisms. The paper argues that it is very hard to say what sort of non-organisms the people in such cases would be. Reflection on partial (...) twinning is no more comfortable for those who think we’re not organisms than for those who think we are. We may have to accept that a single person could have two separate mental lives. (shrink)

Animalism is the view that you and I are animals. That is, we are animals in the straightforward sense of having the property of being an animal, or in that each of us is identical to an animal-not merely in the derivative sense of having animal bodies, or of being "constituted by" animals. And by 'animal' I mean an organism of the animal kingdom." Sensible though it may appear, animalism is highly contentious. The most common objection is that (...) it conflicts with widespread and deep beliefs about our identity over time. These beliefs are brought out in reactions to fictional cases. Suppose, for instance, that your brain is transplanted into my head. The being who ends up with that organ, everyone assumes, will remember your life and not mine. More generally, he will have your beliefs, preferences, plans, and other mental properties, for the most part at least. Who would he be-you, me, or someone else? (shrink)

A very clear and powerfully argued defence of a most important and surprisingly neglected view."--Derek Parfit, All Souls College, Oxford. "If Dr. Olson is right, we are living animals and what goes on in our minds is wholly irrelevant to questions about our persistence through time....[Should] transform philosophical thinking about personal identity."--Peter van Inwagen, University of Notre Dame.

The article discusses Lynne Rudder Baker's view in Persons and Bodies and how it relates to animalism.

In The Human Animal I argued that we are animals, and that those animals do not persist by virtue of any sort of psychological continuity. Rather, personal identity in this sense consists in having the same biological life. And I said that a human life requires a functioning brainstem. Rina Tzinman takes this and other remarks to imply that personal identity consists in the continued functioning of the brainstem, which looks clearly false. I say it doesn’t follow. But Alan Shewmon (...) appears to have refuted my claim about the brainstem. (shrink)

This chapter examines animalism, the view that we are biological organisms. It is based on the claim that human organisms think just as we do. This implies that if I am not an organism, I am one of at least two thinkers of my thoughts, making it hard to see how I could know that I am the nonanimal thinker: the thinking-animal problem. Some proposed solutions are critically examined, notably Shoemaker's claim that human organisms cannot think and Noonan's account (...) of how we might know that we are not the animals thinking our thoughts. Familiar objections to animalism are then reviewed, such as its implication that personal identity does not consist in psychological continuity. It is argued that these objections are weak and that more serious worries lie elsewhere. (shrink)

This chapter proposes that animalism, the temporal‐parts view, and nihilism are the best accounts of what we are. It then takes up metaphysical objections to animalism hinted at earlier. It is proposed that animalists answer them by endorsing a sparse ontology of material objects. It is then argued that we can work out what we are by discovering when composition occurs: if composition is universal, we are temporal parts of animals; if there is no composition, we do not (...) exist; and intermediate theories of composition lead almost inevitably to animalism. Finally, the view that there is no theory of composition‐‐that composition is brute‐‐is claimed to rule out any good account of what we are. (shrink)

In this paper I shall explore a novel alternative to these familiar views. In his recent book Sub ects of Ex erience, E. J. Lowe argues, as many others have done before, that you and I are not animals. It follows from this, he says, that we must be simple substances without parts. That may sound like Cartesian dualism. But Lowe is no Cartesian. He argues from premises that many present-day materialists accept. And he claims that our being mereologically simple (...) is consistent with our having such paradigmatically physical properties as being six feet tall and weighing 160 pounds. You and I, he claims, are mereological atoms shaped like human beings. (shrink)

This chapter considers the view that we are literally brains. It argues that the view is best supported by the claim that brains are the primary subjects of mental properties, giving a “thinking‐brain problem” analogous to the thinking‐animal problem that supports animalism. The brain view is shown to have implausible consequences about our identity through time, and to presuppose that something is a part of a thinking being if and only if it is directly involved in that being's mental (...) processes. It is then argued that the notion of direct involvement is too interest‐relative to give this principle any useful content, and that the principle is in any case unfounded. (shrink)

According to Eric Olson, the Thinking Animal Argument (TAA) is the best reason to accept animalism, the view that we are identical to animals. A novel criticism has been advanced against TAA, suggesting that it implicitly employs a dubious epistemological principle. I will argue that other epistemological principles can do the trick of saving the TAA, principles that appeal to recent issues regarding disagreement with peers and experts. I conclude with some remarks about the consequence of accepting (...) these modified principles, drawing out some general morals in defending animalism. (shrink)

In this dissertation, I defend an answer to the following question in the diachronic personal identity debate: what are the necessary and sufficient conditions for our persistence over time? Two popular approaches to answering this question are the psychological and the somatic approach. On the former approach, we persist in virtue of some sort of psychological continuity. So, some proponents of the psychological approach think that we cease to exist if we lose certain features of our psychology such as our (...) memories, beliefs, and rationality. On the latter approach, we persist in virtue of some sort of physical continuity. Eric Olson defends a version of the somatic approach called animalism. On his view, we are numerically identical to biological organisms and we persist if and only if the organisms we are persist. Although Olson’s animalism has some benefits, it also faces some challenges. For example, many people would say that we go wherever our brains go (if we go anywhere at all) because our brains (more specifically, our cerebra) realize the aspects of our psychology traditionally associated with persons, such as memories, beliefs, rationality, and self-awareness. But on Olson’s animalism, our psychology has nothing to do with our persistence and we go wherever our bodies go rather than our cerebra. Following Aristotle and Aquinas, I lay out an animalist view of our persistence called hylomorphic animalism. On this view, we are numerically identical to rational animals, which are living bodies composed of prime matter and a rational soul. Furthermore, we persist if and only if the composite of matter and rational soul persists. I claim that hylomorphic animalism makes better sense of certain contemporary personal identity thought experiments than Olson’s animalism. For example, contra Olson, I argue that our psychology does have something to do with our persistence and that we go wherever our brains go. (shrink)

Eric Olson distinguishes his animalistic account of transtemporal personal identity from the apparently similar Bodily Criterion, among other things, by accusing the latter of being contaminated with Cartesian implications owing to its usage of the term ‚body‘. In contrast, Olson argues, Animalism is able to avoid these implications by substituting the concept of body for the concept of organism, which makes Animalism not only a distinct position, but also the better alternative to the Bodily Criterion. (...) The paper critically reconstructs Olson’s charge of Cartesianism against the Bodily Criterion, thereby differentiating between several variants of it. This eventually adds up to an evaluation of how suitable these criticisms are for defending Animalism at the expense of the Bodily Criterion. (shrink)

In the Second Meditation, Descartes famously asks at one point, ‘But what then am I?’ – to which his immediate answer is ‘A thing that thinks.’ It is this question, or rather the plural version of it, that Eric Olson examines in this excellent book. He thinks that it is – today, at least – a rather neglected question. He points out that it is wrong to confuse the question with the much more frequently examined question of what (...) personal identity consists in. In fact, he thinks that possible answers to the two questions, even if not entirely independent of one other, constrain each other only to a rather limited extent. It is important to appreciate that Olson is not inquiring into what persons in general are, but only into what we human persons are. Olson explores all the major, and some of the less well-known, answers that have been offered to this question. He begins with the answer that he himself has defended in an earlier book, The Human Animal – the answer that we are human animals, that is, biological organisms of a certain kind. Indeed, Olson is, along with Peter van Inwagen, one of the best known ‘animalists’ – although he admits to being a little more tentative in his endorsement of this position now, for reasons that we shall come to later. The other views that he considers are these: that we are entities that are ‘constituted’ by, but not identical with, human animals (the view of Lynne Rudder …. (shrink)

This chapter points out how ordinary people for ages have believed in the soul and explains why the author think this is the case. It then discusses the nature of the soul with a focus on those properties that will be important for the consideration of animalism. Next, it briefly considers the nature of the dialectic between persons like Eric Olson and the author. While Olson is right to point out that the contemporary academic establishment (he (...) mentions philosophers) is firmly opposed to the existence of the soul, it is nevertheless the case that belief in the soul is daily bread and butter for ordinary people. There is a kind of dualism that locates the soul in space. Indeed, this was the orthodox species of dualism up until the time of Rene Descartes. The chapter closes with some brief thoughts about a belief in the soul's existence as opposed to a belief in animalism. (shrink)

This entry sketches the theory of personal identity that has come to be known as animalism. Animalism’s hallmark claim is that each of us is identical with a human animal. Moreover, animalists typically claim that we could not exist except as animals, and that the (biological) conditions of our persistence derive from our status as animals. Prominent advocates of this view include Michael Ayers, Eric Olson, Paul Snowdon, Peter van Inwagen, and David Wiggins.

According to one argument for Animalism about personal identity, animal , but not person , is a Wigginsian substance concept—a concept that tells us what we are essentially. Person supposedly fails to be a substance concept because it is a functional concept that answers the question “what do we do?” without telling us what we are. Since person is not a substance concept, it cannot provide the criteria for our coming into or going out of existence; animal , on (...) the other hand, can provide such criteria. This argument has been defended by Eric Olson, among others. I argue that this line of reasoning fails to show Animalism to be superior to the Psychological Approach, for the following two reasons: (1) human animal , animal , and organism are all functional concepts, and (2) the distinction between what something is and what it does is illegitimate on the reading that the argument needs. (shrink)

The neuroscience revolution has led many scientists to posit “expansive” or “thinking” brains that instantiate rich psychological properties. As a result, some scientists now even claim you are identical to such a brain. However, Eric Olson has offered new arguments that thinking brains cannot exist due to their intuitively “abominable” implications. After situating the commitment to thinking brains in the wider scientific discussions in which they are posited, I then critically assess Olson's arguments against such entities. Although (...) highlighting an important insight, I show that Olson's objections to the existence of thinking brains fail and that a wider discussion engaging our new empirical findings is actually required in order to resolve the deeper issues. (shrink)

We consider one of Eric Olson's chief arguments for animalism about personal identity: the view that we are each identical to a human animal. The argument was originally given in Olson's book The Human Animal . Olson's argument presupposes an epistemological premise which we examine in detail. We argue that the premise is implausible and that Olson's defense of animalism is therefore in trouble.

I argue that ensouled animalism—the view that we are identical to animals that have immaterial souls as parts—has a pair of advantages over its two nearest rivals, materialistic animalism and pure dualism. Contra pure dualism, ensouled animalism can explain how physical predications can be literally true of us. Contra materialistic animalism, ensouled animalism can explain how animals can survive death. Furthermore, ensouled animalism has these advantages without creating any problems beyond those already faced by (...) animalism and by belief in souls. However, some animalists, including Eric Olson, think that animals cannot have immaterial parts. I present a sufficient condition for animal parthood that implies animals can have immaterial parts. Ensouled animalism is not only possible, but also doubly attractive. (shrink)

Animalists accuse the advocates of psychological approaches of identity of having to suffer a Problem of Too Many Thinkers. Eric Olson, for instance, is an animalist who maintains that if the person is spatially coincident but numerically distinct from the animal, then provided that the person can use its brain to think, so too can the physically indistinguishable animal. However, not all defenders of psychological views of identity assume the spatial coincidence of the person and the animal. Jeff (...) McMahan and lately Derek Parfit claim we are roughly brain-size, composed of just those parts of the human animal that directly produce thought. They claim to avoid the Problem of Too Many Thinkers because it is the brain-sized person who truly thinks, while the animal thinks only in a derivative sense in virtue of having a thinking proper part. Waiting in the wings are some dualists who claim that all materialist accounts fail to avoid the Problem of Too Many Thinkers. One such dualist, Dean Zimmerman, insists that wherever there is an ordinary material thing like a brain, there is also a mass with distinct persistence conditions and thus the threat of two material thinkers. Zimmerman contends that only positing an immaterial thinker can avoid the problem. (shrink)

Sydney Shoemaker leads today’s “neo-Lockean” liberation of persons from the conservative animalist charge of “neo-Aristotelians” such as Eric Olson, according to whom persons are biological entities and who challenge all neo-Lockean views on grounds that abstracting from strictly physical, or bodily, criteria plays fast and loose with our identities. There is a fundamental mistake on both sides: a false dichotomy between bodily continuity versus psychological continuity theories of personal identity. Neo-Lockeans, like everyone else today who relies on Locke’s (...) analysis of personal identity, including Derek Parfit, have either completely distorted or not understood Locke’s actual view. Shoemaker’s defense, which uses a “package deal” definition that relies on internal relations of synchronic and diachronic unity and employs the Ramsey–Lewis account to define personal identity, leaves far less room for psychological continuity views than for my own view, which, independently of its radical implications, is that (a) consciousness makes personal identity, and (b) in consciousness alone personal identity consists—which happens to be also Locke’s actual view. Moreover, the ubiquitous Fregean conception of borders and the so-called “ambiguity of is” collapse in the light of what Hintikka has called the “Frege trichotomy.” The Ramsey–Lewis account, due to the problematic way Shoemaker tries to bind the variables, makes it impossible for the neo-Lockean ala Shoemaker to fulfill the uniqueness clause required by all such Lewis style definitions; such attempts avoid circularity only at the expense of mistaking isomorphism with identity. Contrary to what virtually all philosophers writing on the topic assume, fission does not destroy personal identity. A proper analysis of public versus perspectival identification, derived using actual case studies from neuropsychiatry, provides the scientific, mathematical and logical frameworks for a new theory of self-reference, wherein “consciousness,” “self-consciousness,” and the “I,” can be precisely defined in terms of the subject and the subject-in-itself. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:In and Out of MeGeorge Graham (bio)An important role in many recent philosophical analyses of personal well-being and psychological health has been played by a principle I call the "the principle of responsible innerness." This principle states that a person is psychologically healthy and well only if she or he acts in critical situations on preferences and desires that are responsibly in her or him rather than being merely (...) in her or him. Various analyses have been proposed of what it means for a desire or preference to be responsibly in a person—namely, that he or she identify with it or that the desire or preference be part of his or her wholehearted or decisive identity as a person. Harry Frankfurt (1988) has formulated a version of the principle in his accounts of personal caring and freedom of will. Charles Taylor (1976) has deployed a version of the principle in his account of self-assessment and personal redefinition. In this issue of Philosophy, Psychiatry, & Psychology, Mark Rego with deference to Frankfurt suggests how a responsible innerness principle (Rego does not name the principle as such, of course, because the neologism is my own) might be deployed in a therapeutic setting. In this brief commentary I explore an obvious commitment of the principle, namely that there is a difference between the responsible psychological inside of a person and both the mere (nonresponsible) inside and the outside. In connection with the presupposition I include some comments on Rego's thoughtful and suggestive paper.Individuating MeWhat individuates a person? What makes a person one person or individual as opposed to another person or individual?One hypothesis is that an individual person is individuated by their being a particular living human animal (see Olson 2003; Van Inwagen 1990). Mark Rego (the name) refers to one particular living human animal. George Graham (the name) refers to another. In my case an animalist (someone who holds that an individual human person is a particular living human animal) would say that I am nothing other than the six-foot tall living human animal whose photograph you would take if you were to take a picture of me writing this brief commentary. I am not an immaterial substance nor am I a composite made out of any such substance and this animal body (or some part of it). I am, instead, a biological being, made of biological parts—the organs, cells, and so forth of which living human animals are made.Although one might worry about just how animals themselves are individuated, it is not too hard to appreciate what philosophers (like Eric Olson and others) who favor animalism must be attracted to. The attraction of animalism is this: individuation requires limits or boundaries and, for animalism, whatever is in the animal as a proper part of its being alive therein is in the person, whereas whatever is outside of the animal therein is outside of the person. So, if I am a particular living human animal, and if something is in or out of me, this means it is inside or [End Page 323] outside, respectively, my living body. Various neurons are in me; the heavenly stars are out of me. Various information processes are in me; the athletic dispositions of the Boston Red Sox are out of me.Suppose animalism is true. Suppose I am nothing other than this particular six-foot tall living human animal. Suppose also that I have a mental health problem. Suppose I am a pathological gambler. Suppose, in addition, that I am under the care of a therapist. With her help I have learned various facts about my addiction: that it thrives on a variable ratio schedule of reinforcement, that it is strengthened by my quasi-prayerful invocations of a mythic figure I call "Lady Luck," and that it relieves albeit severely imprudently assorted stresses and strains in my professional career. Alas, though, such lessons notwithstanding, I gamble. I am in the grips of an addiction. My therapist tells me that I should avoid self-deception and acknowledge or own up to the fact that I am addicted. She claims, too, that I should disown or... (shrink)