Religion

ALL SCIENCE LEADS BACK TO FAITH:

Consciousness Researchers Are Tripping: Michael Pollan’s journey into the mind (Kit Wilson, May 26, 2026, Commonweal)

Hurlburt claims that, in fifty years of experience sampling, his most important finding is simply how little we’re actually aware of the details of our inner experiences. Pollan supplements this with an elegant passage on William James’s magnificent lecture “The Stream of Thought,” in which James attempts to draw attention to the strange, swirling, constantly half-forming and half-dissolving nature of our conscious experiences: the both-there-and-not sensation of trying to remember a forgotten name; the protolinguistic feeling of intending to say something before you do; the “auras,” “halos,” “accentuations,” “associations,” “suffusions,” “feelings of tendency,” “premonitions,” and “psychic overtones” that accompany all our more code-like, sentence-friendly, and determinate thoughts. Pollan writes:

To read James’s heroic attempt to limn the stream of consciousness in all its nuance, strangeness, and paradox is to realize how much violence is done to the experience in the name of consciousness science…. How could we ever accept the idea that consciousness is reducible to information, to computable bits or pixels? How could the concept of information ever capture or convey something like the aura or halo of a thought, or its familiarity, or the “fringe of unarticulated affinities” linking two thoughts, or the afterglow of a thought and its coloring of a thought to come?

Indeed. All of this is reinforced by Kalina Christoff Hadjiilieva, a Bulgarian-born psychologist who specializes in “spontaneous thought”: mind-wandering, daydreaming, creative thinking, and the mysterious thoughts that seem to come to us from nowhere. As she points out, almost all consciousness science is focused only on our most explicitly conscious thoughts. But these are rare, discrete moments extracted from a vast, nebulous background—like tiny raindrops condensing inside a huge amorphous cloud of vapor. This background, Christoff Hadjiilieva estimates, accounts for something like half of what the mind is doing at any one moment. This highlights the absurdity of trying to produce thinking machines by focusing only on surface material like language and perception.

Everything then culminates in a kind of psychedelic punchline. Pollan meets Christof Koch, an American cognitive scientist and one of the true giants in the world of consciousness research, most famous for espousing integrated information theory—which posits, rather abstrusely, that consciousness arises in any physical system sufficiently interconnected and recursive. Back in 1998, Koch famously bet the philosopher David Chalmers that scientists would find neural correlates of consciousness within twenty-five years. In 2023, Koch graciously conceded, and gave Chalmers, the man who coined the phrase “the hard problem of consciousness,” his promised case of Madeira.

In the years since, Koch has become increasingly suspicious of purely physical accounts of consciousness, his skepticism reinforced by recent experiments with psychedelics. Pollan quotes from a conversation with Koch after his return from an ayahuasca retreat in Brazil: “It was extraordinary…. I accessed this universal mind…. It was what Aldous Huxley described in The Doors of Perception. There was no self. There was Mind at Large.”

Koch is not the only scientist Pollan talks with who admits to a drug-induced revelation. A little earlier, the neuroscientist Kingson Man describes his experiences with a psychedelic called 5-MeO-DMT:

I disappeared, fell out of time, and then came back with the realization that everything in the world is love. I know, ridiculous! As a scientist, there’s no reasoning about it. But I understood for the first time that everything is connected by the same substance, and that substance is love…. And I realized there’s more going on in consciousness than I can hope to build with my dinky little machine. A robot can act like it’s in love, but it’s still a puppet being pulled by strings.

Of course, there’s something funny about these drug-induced breakthroughs, and it should all be taken with a hefty pinch of salt. Nonetheless, I found it striking that what these trips offer scientists—setting aside the wilder flights of fancy—are often simple reminders of something that was always there. In an email to Pollan, Koch likens his experience to a famous philosophical thought experiment in which someone who is colorblind is able to see color for the first time. A reductionist explanation involving photons and receptors wouldn’t be enough. “Wouldn’t you go around for the rest of your life with the certainty that you had experienced something utterly real that demanded an explanation? So it is with me and my mystical experience.”

Even Kingson Man’s more stereotypically hippie-style revelation could be seen as a reminder of something we forget only because it’s ever-present: love really is real, and irreducible to any physical mechanism. This is particularly easy to forget when you’re professionally trained to filter out the familiar—but remarkable and mysterious—experiences we have every second of our waking lives, and to think only in terms of the theoretical grids we place on top of them.

It’s all just footnotes to Hume

EMPATHY IS A HOAX:

Introspection is an illusion created by the brain (Nick Chater, 2/13/26, IAI News)

Yet a synthesis of decades of research in psychology and neuroscience shows that the very idea of introspection is an illusion. And for a surprising reason. It is not merely that we find it difficult to accurately perceive our inner motives, beliefs, principles, and desires (or that these are repressed, as Freud suggested). The problem is more fundamental: there are no such stable beliefs and desires “inside” us that can be observed and reported. Instead, the human mind is a wonderfully fluent, but profoundly deceptive, improviser: spinning stories justifying our thoughts and actions as fast as we ask questions. And these invented explanations are vague, inconsistent, and often provably wrong.

You can’t even know yourself, nevermind an other.

WE ARE INCAPABLE OF EMPATHY:

The Fiction of Self-Knowledge: Good sociology listens to personal narratives without mistaking them for complete explanations of behavior. (C.D. Cunningham, May 12, 2026, Public Square)

Imagine you live in an apartment with roommates. One is a bit of a slob, struggles with school, and eventually stops doing the dishes altogether.

A sociologist is curious about what’s happening and comes to interview you and your roommate. The sociologist asks you why you think your roommate stopped doing the dishes. You tell the sociologist that your roommate is probably struggling in his broader life, doesn’t have a very clean personality, and might even be a bit lazy.

The sociologist then asks your roommate why. The roommate answers that it was because the rent was too high, school got busy, and you weren’t doing your fair share in other areas.

The sociologist then announces that you didn’t know why your roommate stopped doing the dishes.

Replicate this experiment across dozens of apartments, and suddenly the sociologist announces a trend: “roommates who do the dishes know the least about why people stop doing the dishes.”

The headline is absurd. We all know this intuitively.

People can’t truly be trusted to self-report their rationales. We barely understand our own rationales sometimes.

“FELL LIKE FIRE”:

One Man’s Quest for the End of the World Started on a Ranch in Texas: A Texas businessman believes he was divinely chosen to help usher in the Second Coming of Christ—by finding unblemished red heifers and getting them to Israel. (Andrew Logan, March 2026, Texas Monthly)

It was nearly Christmas, and Jerome Urbanosky was expecting unusual company. The easygoing 72-year-old rancher stood outside his redbrick home, watching as a dozen or so vehicles crunched along the gravel road that winds through the grassy plain of his 1,500-acre ranch northwest of Houston. The delegation that piled out into his driveway included high-ranking rabbis who’d flown straight from Israel, a U.S. documentary crew toting multiple cameras, and a Texas businessman named Byron Stinson.

Urbanosky was taken aback by the size of the crew—but that wasn’t the thing that startled him the most. Four men dressed in black tactical gear and carrying military rifles approached and told him they needed to sweep the property to make sure no “foreign agents” were present. “They were armed to the teeth,” Urbanosky remembered. He wasn’t inclined to stand in their way. His wife, Jane, who was in the kitchen preparing the weekly Sunday meal, stared saucer-eyed as the armed men entered her home.

Once the security team cleared the property, Urbanosky led the rabbis to a red barn, where two calves awaited. Urbanosky Ranch is home to a herd of more than 450 Santa Gertrudis cattle, a hardy breed that’s known to produce good beef and whose origins trace back to the King Ranch, in South Texas. But as Urbanosky knew, this delegation wasn’t here for a steak.

Santa Gertrudis cattle also have striking coats of deep rusty red, which is what had initially attracted Stinson’s attention. A seventy-year-old Glen Rose business owner who’s described himself as a “Jesus zealot,” Stinson had visited Urbanosky at his ranch once before and explained that he was in search of an unblemished, completely red heifer—a scratch or a single white hair, and it wouldn’t do. Such a heifer hadn’t been identified in two thousand years, but it was key to unlocking an ancient Jewish ritual described in the book of Numbers, a necessary precursor to constructing the Third Temple in Jerusalem and, ultimately, bringing about the Second Coming of Christ. It’s a fringe but nonetheless influential belief, and Stinson’s Israeli associate, Yitshak Mamo, had convinced Urbanosky that he, too, was essential to this journey.

Urbanosky, a Catholic who attends weekly Mass, had never heard of the Jewish ceremony. He was wary at first, but Stinson was tireless, and Mamo told Urbanosky that, just maybe, God had indeed chosen him to deliver the sacred heifer. “It has shaken my psyche,” he said. “I don’t have this superiority complex. I know that my wife doesn’t think I’m anything special.”