An elephant and a tractor may seem worlds apart, but fundamentally, both are collections of matter – protons, neutrons, electrons – arranged in highly specific ways and engaged in complex processes. If these particles were organized differently, they could form entirely different entities: a mountain, a star, a whale, an oak tree, or a worm. It’s not the particles themselves that define an object, but the patterns and processes they exhibit. The essence of anything lies in its structure and functions.
Now, consider your own body. You’ll realize that many of your parts can
be replaced, as long as the new parts fulfill the functions of the originals. But what about the brain? Losing a leg and replacing it isn’t such a big deal, but the notion of a brain transplant gives us pause – and for good reason. Evidence suggests that the brain is where our sense of self resides; it’s where our life experiences unfold. Yet, the brain is made up of the same components as everything else around me. What truly matters is not the particles or molecules but the unique way the brain is organized and operates. Consequently, any matter, organic or inorganic, could, in principle, become an exact copy of you, indistinguishable from the original. In a sense, both would be you.
If we define the brain by its functions, what happens if we replicate those functions bit by bit? There’s little reason to believe that a copied brain wouldn’t be just as alive or self-conscious as the original. But how would we ever know? If two brains produce the same responses, how can we determine if one is conscious and the other is not? In fact, how do you know anyone besides yourself is conscious? You don’t – you simply assume others are, based on their behavior. It’s a reasonable assumption but not definitive proof. While brains weren’t designed for easy duplication, there’s nothing mystical about them; they operate under the same physical laws as airplanes, icebergs, tropical storms, and slot machines.
This brings us to the question of free will. We often feel that we control our actions – but do we really? The brain, as a highly complex entity, raises the possibility that our sense of control is merely an illusion, comforting us with the idea of agency. Are our life choices truly the product of free will, or merely the consequence of circumstances beyond our control? And when someone commits a heinous act, can we truly label them as “evil” without considering the deeper causes? Were they born predisposed to such actions, shaped by circumstances, or was it actually
a matter of free choice? As Schopenhauer poignantly observed, “A man can
do what he wills, but he cannot will what he wills.”
Lennart Grebelius, 1998, revised 2024