This is a long review, but it is my attempt to digest some ideas which I believe are worth the digestion. So please bear with my digestive noises.
The “flip” in question refers to the radical change of perspective reported by a number of individuals who at some point in their life underwent unexpected, anomalous and unexplainable experiences. Neurosurgeon Eben Alexander, for example, found himself in a world of beatific consciousness, a 'place' he believed existed quite separate from his physical brain. Author, journalist and political activist Barbara Ehrenreich relates an epiphany of the burning aliveness of the material world, a vision so disconnected from ordinary life that it was decades before she wrote about it. Neuroanatomist Jill Bolte Taylor experienced a profound connection to the energy connecting all living beings, even as she knew she was undergoing a massive brain haemorrhage. Then there is Mark Twain’s precognition of his brother’s fatal accident. Even atheist and arch-sceptic Michael Shermer gets a mention.
All of these and the others Kripal writes about were level headed individuals well acquainted with how the physical and material world works. They were neither gullible, nor delusional, nor frauds, yet their experiences are regarded as completely 'real'. (Real just for them? Well, that’s a central question.) Their experiences were also intensely meaningful, even life changing. So Kripal’s initial purpose is to show that it’s not just crackpots or the delusional who report these things.
Kripal's more ambitious goal, however, is to bring these stories to the academic table as serious resources for exploring the nature of reality, in particular, the relationship of mind and matter. “What these stories suggest” writes Kripal, “is that (mind) is fundamental to the cosmos, not some tangential, accidental, or recent emergent property of matter”. They might even suggest that matter is “an expression of some kind of cosmic Mind". Moreover, Kripal’s book is an appeal to those working in the humanities (philosophy, theology and religious studies, literature, etc.) to take these kind of phenomena seriously; that they try and fathom, with all the resources at their disposal, what all this could possibly mean. Because it would appear that science alone is not equipped to make sense of it.
The curious thing is that I quite resonated with Kripal’s intention (in his prologue), before I even got to the individual stories. In fact, I worried that they would spoil the book. After all, why cheapen a valid philosophical worldview with tabloid tales of the supernatural? As it turns out, I still feel this way to some extent. All the same, the paranormal stories do play a central role in Kripal’s case for 'flipping' the dominant materialist paradigm. With this in mind, there are some stand out features.
First, it’s clear that the events and experiences did not, in and of themselves, have a fixed meaning. None of the experiencers were flipped out of a science-based understanding of the world. Nor were they flipped into religion. The flip can occur, writes Kripal “without surrendering an iota of our remarkable scientific and medical knowledge about the material world and the human body.” On the other hand “all were convinced that the phenomena are real and deserve major attention, but none construed them in traditional or religious ways”. So the flip represents a third way beyond scientific and religious dogmatism. Acknowledging this is what Kripal calls the double move of paranormal criticism: “It is time to affirm the historical reality of these events without signing our names to any particular mythological or religious framing of them”.
So far, there is nothing in any of this to disturb the standard materialist account of reality. People report weird coincidences, have strange dreams, and do drugs all the time. The brain can throw absolute curve balls at our sense of reality, especially if you poke, tamper with, or damage it. But what’s at stake here is the claim that these experiences were not only internal and subjective but also represent something in the external world, that is, something that is mind-independent, and not just 'in your head'.
But if that’s the case, why can’t these experiences be replicated in controlled laboratory experiments? Why can’t they be empirically tested or falsified? Kripal responds by way of the “traumatic secret”, one of the take-aways of the book for me. In the controlled setting, “there is no trauma, love, or loss there. No one is in danger or dying. Your house is not on fire. Your little child is not sleeping on the train tracks.” Many of the anomalous experiences reported over the ages have arisen in extreme, even traumatic, situations. By definition, a near death experience is traumatic, but so are psychedelics which enact a kind of temporary trauma on the brain. But even apart from trauma, more often than not, the experiences were deeply personal and meaningful, something that mattered to that person only, at that time and place. The safe, sterile and neutral environment of the laboratory is generally not one of those places.
(As an aside, Kripal mentions in a podcast that life for most people before anesthesia was, at some point in their lives, traumatic. Is it any wonder that past ages are replete with stories of such inexplicable experiences? Maybe they weren’t just ignorant and superstitious back then.)
There is a related claim to all this, perhaps even more controversial, and it relates to the question of meaning. If the anomalous experiences were deeply meaningful, yet objectively real in some sense, might this not mean that “meaning is real” as one of the subjects asserts? Or as Kripal ventures to suggest, that meaning might be “embedded in the foundation of the world”. This is a reactionary claim by today’s intellectual standards. For in the reigning scientific paradigm, there is no meaning in the physical world, only the meaning we choose to give it, which of course changes from culture to culture. And within the halls of postmodernism, there is also no meaning on the earth below or heavens above, since meaning is entirely locked up in the world of the text.
Such thinking is a travesty for Kripal. What are the humanities for, if not exploring the big questions of meaning? The humanities should therefore be imagined as “the study of consciousness coded in culture” and not just “candy sprinkles on the cake of science” (love that). In pursuing this, symbol, myth and the imagination play a key role. For if there are purported aspects of existence that science (with its neutral, objective and ‘third person’ way of knowing) fails to detect, this does not mean these aspects exist only in our minds. There are some things ‘out there’ whose existence only becomes known ‘in here’, that is, through a first person perspective. Such a way of knowing is almost always symbolic, shaped by individual personality and the broader culture. The imagination, far from just ‘making things up’ may be the only medium through which some truths or realities can ever reach our conscious awareness or be expressed intelligibly. Hence the need to draw deeply from the well of hermeneutics that the humanities have dug over the centuries. One specific area Kripal recommends is the vast body of mystical literature across the religious traditions: “I suggest we go there if we are really serious about plumbing the depths of consciousness and cosmos, of mind and matter”. He has some good recommendations here too.
There was one other take away from The Flip which I keep thinking about, one that I first read about in Aldous Huxley’s The Doors of Perception, and it was this: Drop Acid. No, just kidding. Rather, it was the filter or transmission theory of consciousness. This analogy likens the brain to a radio which does not produce the radio signals as much as receive them, before converting those signals to words and music. Just as the circuitry of the radio does not create the radio waves, but picks them up from afar, so too the brain may not create the mind, but functions as the physical organ which picks up and transmits "mind at large”. The beauty of this speculation is that not a single element of neuroscience needs to be sacrificed to make it work. This is for the very good reason that there is as yet no viable theory of how thoughts, subjectivity and awareness emerge from the physical, chemical and electrical matter of the brain. So the one theory is as good as the other. And as Kripal notes, the transmission theory is both symmetrical and intellectually generous, admitting the findings of both sciences and the humanities.
A decade ago I was studying the French philosopher Paul Ricoeur for a PhD thesis which I never completed. It seems to me that The Flip is an iteration of some of Ricoeur’s thinking about the way symbolism brings hidden elements of reality to our awareness. Ricoeur wrote: “In our time we have not finished doing away with idols and we have barely begun to listen to symbols”. If the ‘idols’ here are taken as the reigning materialist and postmodern orthodoxies, with 'symbols' standing for those meanings “embedded in the foundation of the world”, then Kripal and Ricoeur appear to be on the same page.