Minds, Memes, and MultiplesJournal article by Stephen R.L. Clark
Copyright © 1996 by The Johns Hopkins University Press. All
rights reserved. This work may be used, with this header included, for
noncommercial purposes within a subscribed institution. No copies of this
work may be distributed electronically outside of the subscribed
institution, in whole or in part, without express written permission from
the JHU Press. This revolutionary publishing model depends on mutual
trust between user and publisher.
Philosophy, Psychiatry, & Psychology 3.1 (1996) 21-28
Abstract: Multiple Personality Disorder is sometimes interpreted as
evidence for a radically pluralistic theory of the human mind, judged
to be at odds with an older, monistic theory. Older philosophy, on the
contrary, suggests that the mind is both plural (in its sub-systems or
personalities) and unitary (in that there is only one light over all
those lesser parts). Talk of gods and demons has been a way of
arranging elements of human mind and motivation. The one light, or
center, is something which requires mental discipline to discover
rather than being immediately obvious. This indeed is what even
Descartes (sometimes blamed for introducing the notion of a simple,
transparent self) really intended. Discovering or uncovering the Self
is a psychotherapeutic as well as a philosophical imperative.
Keywords: consciousness, gods, Multiple Personality Disorder,
passivity, thought alienation.
Multiple Personality 1
The phenomena popularly identified as evidence of "multiple
personality disorder" are strangely attractive. The stories suggest
that those who provide, who are, the evidence for this disorder are
usually in acute distress, but those who wish to believe in it find
the idea almost exhilarating. Most of us would rather wish to think
that we had undeveloped possibilities, that it would be exciting to be
a married academic today, a celibate bus-driver tomorrow and a teenage
hooligan on Sundays. The impulse to put aside our duties, or our
habits, can be a powerful one, and only the sober thought that we
would not, after all, succeed in keeping our lives separate keeps us
single. The notion that there are people who take the risk, that our
bodies could house a multitude, is one we would wish to believe. At
the same time, we wish to remember that such divisions bring their own
problems, and as easily suspect that those who apparently succeed in
dividing themselves up must have suffered serious trauma in the past,
and be plagued by missed appointments and self-hatred in the present.
Some of us believe that "multiple personality" reveals a truth about
us all, that none of us is actually the simple, heroic self that we
pretend: "the self" is only an occasionally concordant swarm of
impulses, easily divided. Others of us suspect that it is a wish to
avoid responsibility, and guilt, that causes some of us to pretend not
to be the selves that actually we are (see Rycroft 1987).
On earlier occasions (notably Clark 1991b), I have myself expressed
some doubt about reports of Multiple Personality Disorder, and
suggested that they should be seen as fictions or dramatic
representations (whether by the patient or the reporter) which should
not be judged as "true" or "false," but rather as "interesting" or
"pernicious." Stephen Braude, in a recent excellent book, seems at
first to side with the true believers: it is absurd, he suggests, not
to believe the many reports of fugue, discordance and fully developed
multiples (Braude 1991; see also Wilkes 1984, [End Page 21] Brennan
1990). Maybe a few such reports are over-credulous: it would not be
surprising that the occasional clever criminal successfully pretended
not to know what an alien other did with his body. But there are, he
says, too many independent records to disbelieve, and not only the
distant stories of Miss Beauchamp (Prince 1908) or Eve (Thigpen &
Cleckley 1954, 1957). Since the 1970s the number of reported cases has
been rising again. It may be that some, many, or all the cases are
artifacts, in the sense that the doctor's expectations helped to
produce or develop the varied personalities: "when a client walks into
the therapist's office and sits down, the expectation framework of the
therapist immediately comes into play" (Crabtree 1985, 211; see also
Hawthorn 1983). But the evidence is also compatible with the thought
that psychotherapeutic fashion now allows the therapist to notice,
rather than invent, the phenomena. Multiples often wish to conceal
their condition, it is said, and only observers alerted to the
possibility will notice them. Conscious or half-conscious
role-playing, which would perhaps be less philosophically interesting,
cannot explain more than a few of the cruder cases.
In short, I find myself persuaded by the evidence that Braude adduces
for hypnotic trance, fugue and multiple personality disorder over the
last century and a half. Some of the episodes, as Braude remarks,
"demonstrate standards of experimentation on human subjects which many
today would find ethically suspect" (as a good many people did then):
Hippolyte Bernheim of Nancy (18401891), for example, drives pins into
a servant girl's eye, pinches, and sexually assaults her. After
bringing her out of trance, he encourages her to recall what had
happened, and to be "ashamed." Unfortunately, she neither hit nor sued
him. Sally, as Braude does not note, accused Prince--justly--of
treating her like hell (Prince 1908, 560): of treating her, indeed, as
a demon to be exorcised. It is not altogether easy to trust such
researchers: if they are scoundrels, may they not also be liars? On
the other hand, people who were willing to take apparent evidence for
possession seriously (whatever explanation or interpretation they
offered) could more easily notice "multiple personalities." Again, a
large majority of MPD patients report a history of sexual abuse,
especially incestuous: therapists willing to take those histories
seriously, as fact, may also be sympathetic to the patient's
self-dissociation from those histories, rather than suspecting them of
lying on both points. It will not do, of course, to infer that
everyone "suffering" from MPD, has such a history of abuse: even
without such extreme traumas, it may be that people find an
alternation of personality and memory useful in their everyday
affairs. In Midgley's words, "some of us have to hold a meeting every
time we want to do something only slightly difficult, in order to find
the self [that is, the personality] who is capable of undertaking it"
(Midgley 1984, 123)! If almost all MPD victims are seen to be
traumatized and unhappy, it may be because these are the unsuccessful
cases, and that there are better organized multiples who never reach
the doctor's surgery. Part of our inclination to admit or to reject
the apparent evidence for MPD will rest on our experience of
apparently similar conditions outside the surgery.
Can anything outside the surgery really compare with the extreme
descriptions? Alters, it is said, may "vary with regard to voice
quality, handedness, color blindness, the need for eyeglass
prescriptions, tolerance to drugs or medication, and allergic
responses." This does, if true, seem to go beyond "mere role-playing"
or the task of bracing oneself for action--except that what it
demonstrates is that beliefs and desires affect our bodies to a
surprising degree. How much do the roles we play affect us ordinary
citizens? We do not need to suppose that we are constructed out of
those pre-existent roles or personalities, even if, as in the extreme
cases, they begin, as it seems, to quarrel with each other. Recent
literature on the subject speaks little of "primary personalities":
there is no good reason to think that either the presently best-known
alter, or the oldest, is "primary" in any deep sense. As Braude points
out, we should not assume that any of the many alters "existed" before
their emergence ("the principle of compositional reversibility"), any
more than the fragments of a broken plate reveal the parts from which
the [End Page 22] plate was made, or even any pre-existing
fault-lines. The soul, as Aristotle said, can be divided in infinitely
many ways: it is not therefore constructed from infinitely many parts.
So the "colonial" view of the self is not supported by the evidence:
rather the reverse, as different alters may employ many of the same
capacities and memories, and cannot be equated with simple subsystems,
let alone different areas of the brain. It seems that, in the end,
Braude suspects that in mediumship, possession, multiple personality
disorder alike it is more likely that there is one self with many
strategies of coping rather than any fashionably diverse set of
selves, though there may be "indexically and autobiographically
discontinuous apperceptive centers." And that conclusion, though I
shall approach it rather differently, and perhaps to slightly
different effect, seems to me to be correct (except that I shall
reserve the title "center" for the Self itself).
For maybe all this is more familiar to the philosophical
tradition--and more helpfully described--than we commonly suppose.
Descartes may have supposed that the mind was simple and transparent
(though I doubt it): his predecessors didn't.
"'Know Yourself' is said to those who because of their selves'
multiplicity have the business of counting themselves up and learning
that they do not know all the numbers and kinds of things they are, or
do not know any one of them, nor what their ruling principle is, or by
what they are themselves" (Plotinus, Ennead VI 7. 41, 22f). Those who
seek to follow the Delphic instruction--so Hesychios was to say--find
themselves, as it were, gazing into a mirror and sighting the dark
faces of the demons peering over their shoulders (Palmer, Sherrard,
Ware 1979, 123). Descartes left us with the impression that
self-knowledge was our normal and necessary condition: the earlier
tradition makes it clear that such knowledge is difficult, and our
"single-heartedness" a distant, luminous goal. We are the conduit for
gods, the battleground of competing spirits, the multiply refracted,
broken images of a single soul. The art of meditation in many
different traditions is to learn to distinguish oneself from the
ordinary objects and the ordinary affects that afflict us. "It is not
one and the same Goodness that alwaies acts the Faculties of a Wicked
man; but as many several images and pictures of Goodness as a quick
and working Fancy can represent to him; which so divide his
affections, that he is no One thing within himself, but tossed hither
and thither by the most independent Principels and Imaginations that
may be." 2
So though I am persuaded by the evidence that Braude cites that there
is a real condition, MPD, I am not altogether persuaded that we need
to abandon the tradition. In one sense, Sidis and Goodhart are correct
that "multiple consciousness is not the exception, but the law. For
mind is synthesis of many systems, of many moments of consciousness"
(1909, 364). So what could be less surprising than the discovery that
"I who address you am only one among several selves or Egos which my
organism, my person, comprises. I am only the dominant member of a
society, an association of similar members" (McDougall 1926, 546f), or
an occasionally symphonic chorus of ordered parts? Most of the
thoughts that float across the sphere of my attention are
disconnected, or loosely associated, fragments. More powerful
thought-complexes emerge periodically, Egos as well as Archetypes, and
distract us from other thoughts or thought-complexes. Anyone who
doubts this should attempt the simple task of trying to think of one
simple thing for the space of ten seconds--or the still more difficult
task of not thinking of some named object for that length of time. Our
attention--which I shall characterize as light--can sometimes control,
constrain and discipline those thoughts to remain present for
examination, but only with great difficulty. It is an important step
in self-knowledge to be made to realize (most easily perhaps at three
in the morning) just how fluid and uncontrolled our ordinary thinking
is. "Whence came the soul, whither will it go, how long will it be our
mate and comrade? Can we tell its essential nature? . . . Even now in
this life, we are the ruled rather than the rulers, known rather than
knowing. . . . Is my mind my own possession? That parent of false
conjectures, that purveyor of delusion, the delirious, the fatuous,
and in frenzy or senility proved to be the very negation of mind." 3
And again: "it [End Page 23] is a hard matter to bring to a standstill
the soul's changing movements. Their irresistible stream is such that
we could sooner stem the rush of a torrent, for thoughts after
thoughts in countless numbers pour on like a huge breaker and drive
and whirl and upset its whole being with their violence. . . . A man's
thoughts are sometimes not due to himself but come without his will."
4 What we cannot control is not our own: even my mind is not my own
(Sangarakshita 1987, 196f), or at any rate no more mine than are the
involuntary motions of my body. In distinguishing myself from the
body, as was customary long before Descartes, I also distinguish
myself from my mind!
Multiplicity is the norm. So also is passivity. It may be exceptional
for people to suppose that the thoughts they find themselves thinking
are not really "theirs," that these have been put into their heads by
Martians, demons or the government. 5 Thinking that one's thoughts, or
one's bodily movements, all belong to "someone else" is easily
supposed a symptom of insanity. But maybe those who are thus diagnosed
have simply noticed, and melodramatically described, what really is,
for most of us, the case. They are "our" thoughts in that we are
immediately aware of them, but not ours, because we do not actually
think them, in the sense that they would vanish if we chose to stop
(see Stephens & Graham 1994). The passivity of "schizophrenic"
patients, I concede, is not the same as MPD. Though we can easily
imagine an invasive voice that takes on greater character and at last
assumes control of the victim's body as a full-fledged alter, I don't
know if that progression has been observed. Even if it hasn't, both
passivity and MPD are closer to our ordinary consciousness than we
commonly suppose.
So the discovery that there are people who are afflicted by several
quarrelsome personalities is close enough to our everyday condition to
be, in principle, believable. But the same experiences which make the
stories credible suggest that those stories need not be interpreted as
evidence of radically different selves in the one body. 6 Maybe even
that is a possibility, but the stories rather suggest that there is
one self only, preoccupied or occupied by many different
personalities--and perhaps that Sally, so far from being a demon, was
Miss Beauchamp's very self.
Mental Microbes
That we are easily infected by ideas, by what Pearsall Smith called
"mental microbes," and Dawkins has christened "memes," is a fact of
life. 7 But there are still selves to infect which are not memes.
Memes are transferable ideas: "tunes, ideas, catch-phrases, clothes
fashions, ways of making pots or building arches . . . (which)
propagate themselves in the meme pool by leaping from brain to brain"
(Dawkins 1976, 206). There are obvious difficulties with the analogy
between memes and genes: notably that memes, unlike genes, do not
occur at loci, and cannot be identified with any biochemical units
whatsoever. Nor is it possible, as it is with genes, to distinguish
between genotype and phenotype: genes issue in quite different
phenotypical characteristics in different conditions, while memes just
are those phenotypes (see Bowker 1995). But the story is not
unhelpful: that ideas spread like living things, that they may even be
living things (called demons) is an idea familiar to the ancients (see
Carpenter 1916, 214; Clark 1991a, 85f). But rational souls can mount
some resistance by becoming aware of themselves as something other
than the invading microbes.
But can we isolate the Self, apart from the thoughts it suffers? David
Hume, notoriously, denied that we could, asserting that all he ever
found were more impressions and ideas, and never any "subject." This
too is an ancient thought: what we take to be ourselves are often,
almost always, fictions, "the web of discourses" that compose a self
(Dennett 1991, 416). We tell ourselves the story of our lives,
complete with our commitments and professions. What counts as Me will
vary with my context, and with what I can bear to acknowledge. Was it
Me that had that dreadful thought just now? That did that dreadful
thing some years ago that surfaces in the dull hours of the night? Is
my costume me? Is there a "fact of the matter" here, or are
"identities" as conventional as any "moral truths"? Good moderns take
it for granted that "we" now realize how shifting, foggy and
deconstructible are the boundaries of the self; "we" know that our own
motives, feelings and intentions constantly escape us; "I" names only
the [End Page 24] current speaker, or the momentarily dominant self
among many fluid identities. "To ask what a person is, in abstraction
from his or her self-interpretations, is to ask a fundamentally
misguided question, one to which there couldn't in principle be an
answer" (Taylor 1989, 34). I know myself as the one that ought to be
faithful to this woman, serve this Queen and country, pay these debts.
If there are no real obligations it is hardly surprising that there
are no real selves.
One answer may be the flat assertion that there are real obligations,
and real selves. But there is something to be gained by following the
other track awhile. Suppose that the narrative self (or selves) is
fiction. So fractured memories, discordant motives, concealed causes
are not anomalies: they are the ordinary human condition, and only the
saint, hero or philosopher has tamed and transformed the squalling
horde of impulses so far as to "know herself" as single. The rest of
us do not know why we do things, are not "the same" from one foolish
moment to the next and constantly misidentify even our most "present"
and "immediate" feelings. It does not follow that there is no single
self to be uncovered. The Self is not identical with the monologue by
which it is absorbed so often.
As I have already suggested, other people than Zen nuns (whose
theories Dennett considers), or psychiatric patients, might reasonably
doubt that it is they who think, or that all the thoughts that cross
their minds are really theirs. That there are many distinguishable
thought-lines, moods and memories need not lead us to believe that
there are many different selves, nor that there are none. I can move
between thought-lines, moods and memories, and even assess some such
strands with something like Sally's impatient objectivity (normally
characterized as her "childishness"), without admitting to being
merely "multiple." MPD is a philosophical theory, not simply a report.
It is not--or need not be--that alters notice that there are thoughts
and acts that "really belong" to some other alter: rather the enduring
self (if there is one) decides not to stand aside from each and all
such thoughts, but rather to "identify" with one thought-line or
another. Those who feel themselves possessed identify continuously
with one thought-line, and experience extraneous thoughts as "not
their own." Multiples change their minds. The most enlightened of us,
maybe, identify with no such state of mind, and to call that condition
"dissociated" is just another prejudice.
Gods and the Soul
I remarked that we are, on ancient testimony, the conduit for gods.
Those gods, for my present [End Page 25] purposes, are meme-complexes,
ideals, compelling emotions which reside in and often dominate our
mortal minds. In earlier days, people devised stories, structures,
that could perhaps accommodate those differing ideals. The wicked,
remember, have no one goal before them. Moral improvement is a process
of prioritizing goals and making most subordinate to good order. The
Titans are imprisoned or reborn within the Olympian family, constantly
itching to have things their own way, and constantly caught back to
serve the proper order of things. The question for us is: what is that
order?
Our problem, it can be argued, is that our present society is unusual
in human history in that none of us can easily suppose that there is
only one career or life available to us. We are confronted by choices,
or the mirage of choices, that our ancestors did not need to trouble
with. Long ago and far away most people were (are) born into their
destinies, and could live single, simple lives. We internalize,
imagine all the possibilities (even the spurious possibilities), and
somehow have to create our own single lives from chaos. Not
surprisingly, we often fail, and so may either intuit a selfhood
different from any particular ideal, or else imagine that the many
different ideals are really different selves. The truth is probably
that this has always been our fate: there are no actual human
societies where there really are no choices, any more than there are
actual societies where choice is not constricted. Olympian religion is
a fabric of stories that provided the Greeks with ways to organize
their lives. Metis, who is crafty wisdom, must be reborn as Athena;
Aphrodite, daughter of Ouranos, must be reborn as the daughter of Zeus
and Dione. The same decree is found in Christianity: all angels must
acknowledge the authority of the one Word of God, who is Jesus the
Savior. And in Islam: Iblis fell because he would not worship the
primordial Adam, the completeness within which all such gods take
shape.
In its original form Olympianism probably identified the "right
eternal order," justice, with knowing one's proper place out there in
the world. In its sophisticated, Platonizing form, it rather suggests
that the powers, the moods that weave the world, are Titans, who must
be brought together under Cronos (by being swallowed) or under Zeus
(by being reborn). Cronos or Zeus, variously, turn out to stand for
"Nous": which is to say, for the conscious self itself. One possible
interpretation of Platonizing remarks about Nous is that the term
identifies our "intellect," our capacity to recognize mathematical or
other ideal truths. In concentrating on such objects I distance myself
from ordinary, worldly cares, and need no longer be troubled by bodily
pains or social reputation. But there is another interpretation in
line with the thesis I have been propounding. Nous is that which has
itself for object, which becomes aware of itself in contemplating
other things, and which may, at its closest to the divine, be aware of
nothing but itself. 9
That notion of an Unmoved Mover or a Pure Intellect, which thinks of
nothing but itself, has earned a good deal of mockery. But it is only
by becoming aware of oneself as something separate from the mental
microbes, or the physical and social body, that we can learn to judge
"oneself." "I am conscious of the presence and criticism of a part of
me which, as it were, is not a part of me, but a spectator, sharing no
experience but taking note of it, and that is no more than I or you"
(Thoreau 1910, 119; see Clark 1990). Thoreau there suggests what
others in the tradition have also wondered: whether the Self that
becomes aware of itself in me, in this life here, might not really be
the very Self that becomes aware of itself in you as well. The Self
that is the same through time, confronted by very different ideas,
microbes, emotions, may also be the same even at a time, in many
different bodies, although it easily forgets its own identity. It is
enough for my present purposes, however, simply to suggest that the
individual Self, or Nous, can become aware of itself precisely by
distinguishing itself from gods, from memes, from personalities.
Putting it another way, we can attend to the quality of our own
attention, and thereby become immediately aware that we are not
identical with the many voices that compete for that attention. What
contemplates in me is conscience, or what Sliker calls the Center
(1992, 77ff).
Meditative practice is a way of becoming aware of the light which
illumines all these fields of memory, precisely by becoming aware how
little we can ordinarily control those fields, even if we can, by
practice, find our way around in them. So may analytical endeavor be.
If "the mind" is a complex of swarming memes and meme-complexes, then
we need another expression (say "the Self," or Nous) for the light or
space within which these complexes take shape. The Self is not
identical with "that parent of false conjecture," or swarming
congregation. "Learn therefore, O Sisters, to distinguish the Eternal
Human that walks among the stones of fire in bliss and woe alternate,
from those States or Worlds in which the Spirit travels." 10
Techniques for doing so differ: ranging from the "sudden
enlightenment" of Ch'an Buddhism to the prayerful devotion of
Christian monks or the rational inquiry of Platonists. One way of
understanding the Cogito itself is as a record of a real experience,
the revelation of one's self as something more than any of the
thoughts that pass our view. When Bertrand Russell contended that
Descartes should only "really" have asserted that "there is a
thought," and not that there was a thinker, he was formally correct,
but actually blind to the real experience that Descartes was trying to
identify and elicit. Of course, "a thought occurs" is often a better
description of what happens than "I think": it does not follow that
there is no thinker, no abiding Self.
The point is not "merely philosophical." Philosophy here meets with
psychotherapy. One way of coping with the apparent onset of MPD, or
even with accusing voices, is to draw the victim's attention not to
other thoughts or regions of the mind, but to the Self, the Center. By
redescribing what she is enduring, by not being trapped into
allegiance to one thought-chain or submission to another, she may
become aware of her original selfhood (not, I repeat, the personality
or mind she had or displayed "before"). Conversely, the point is not
"merely psychotherapeutic." One of the best proofs that Descartes and
his predecessors were correct to identify themselves with the self,
the light, the center is that such willed identification may help to
release MPD patients from their real distress. But without some
assurance that the theory itself is coherent that "proof" might be no
better than pragmatic, and the theory just another fiction. I doubt
that its truth can ever be entirely demonstrated: it is at least not
disproved by modern or postmodern commentary, and is compatible with
the stories told about both MPD, passivity and our ordinary lives.
"Every man is double, one of him is a sort of compound being and one
of him is himself." 11 Jung's recollections of his childhood include
the thought that he was, as it were, two persons: the ordinary self
and its predelictions, and the other in me was the timeless
imperishable stone" (Jung 1967, 59). One truth expressible in those
terms is simply this: we are, on the one hand, compound, complex
beings; on the other, there is one light only which illumines all the
different characters we play. Rediscovering the light is at once a
philosophical and a psychotherapeutic imperative. Without some sense
that the Self is a substance, a real being, we shall be reduced to
thinking ourselves mere aggregates of squabbling Titans, occasionally
subdued by an overmastering passion. Without a real experience of
Selfhood, we shall no doubt continue to misinterpret poor Descartes.
Stephen R. L. Clark, Department of Philosophy, University of
Liverpool, Liverpool L69 3BX, United Kingdom.
Notes
1. Versions of this paper have been read to a meeting of the
Philosophygroup of the Royal College of Psychiatrists (UK), to Warwick
Univerity Philosophy Society, and to the philosophy departments both
of Durham and of Edinburgh University. I owe thanks especially to K.
W. M. Fulford, Roger Trigg, Jonathan Lowe, Man Jung, Timothy Sprigge
and Dory Scaltsas. I must also acknowledge the influence of Ornstein
1986.
2. John Smith (161852): Patrides 1969, 172. A similar interpretation of
MPD is made by Boden 1994.
3. Philo, On Cherubim, 114f: 1929, vol.II, 77.
4. Philo, Mut. 239f: 1929, vol. V, 265f.
5. The fantasy is given an alarming plausibility by the science
fictionwriter Peter Hamilton, in Hamilton 1994.
6. Of the kind imagined by Wyman Guin, in Guin 1973.
7. "How is one to keep free from those mental microbes that
worm-eat people's brains--those Theories and Diets and Enthusiasms and
infectious Doctrines that we catch from what seem the most innocuous
contacts? People go about laden with germs; they breath creeds and
convictions on you whenever they open their mouths. Books and
newspapers are simply creeping with them--the monthly Reviews seem to
have room for little else." (Pearsall Smith 1933, 47)
8. Plotinus, Enneads IV.7.10.10, 3132, 4447; see also I.1.12.1217.
9. See Aristotle, Metaphysics 12. 1072b13f.
10. W. Blake, Jerusalem 49.72f: 1966, 680.
11. Plotinus, Enneads II.3.9, 31ff.
References
Armstrong, A. H. 1988. Tr. Plotinus' Enneads. London & New York:
Heinemann, Loeb Classical Library.
Augustine. 1923. Confessions. Tr. T. Matthew, ed. R. Huddleston.
London: Burns & Oates.
Berkeley, G. 1948. Complete Works. Ed. A. A. Luce and T. E. Jessop.
Edinburgh: Thomas Nelson.
Blake, W. 1966. Complete Writings. Ed. G. Keynes. London: Oxford
University Press.
Boden, M. 1994. Multiple personality and computational models. In
Philosophy, Psychology and Psychiatry, ed. A. Phillips Griffiths.
Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. 10314.
Bowker, J. 1995. Is God a Virus? London: SCM Press.
Braude, S. E. 1991. First Person Plural: Multiple Personality and the
Philosophy of Mind. London: Routledge.
Brennan, A. 1990. Fragmented Selves and the Problem of Ownership.
Proceedings of the Aristotelian Society 90, 14358.
Carpenter, E. 1916. The Art of Creation. London: Allen & Unwin.
Clark, S. R. L. 1990. A Parliament of Souls. Oxford: Clarendon Press.
Clark, S. R. L. 1991a. God's World and the Great Awakening. Oxford:
Clarendon Press.
Clark, S. R. L. 1991b. How many Selves make me? In Human Beings, ed.
D. Cockburn. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. 21333.
Crabtree, A. 1985. Multiple Man. Eastbourne: Holt, Rinehart and
Winston.
Dawkins, R. 1976. The Selfish Gene. Oxford: Oxford University Press.
Dennett, D. 1991. Consciousness Explained. London: Allen Lane.
Guin, W. 1973. Beyond Bedlam. In Beyond Bedlam. 1951. London: Sphere
Books. 150204.
Hamilton, P. F. 1994. A Quantum Murder. London: Pan Books.
Hawthorn, J. 1983. Multiple Personality and the Disintegration of
Literary Character. London: Edward Arnold.
Hopkins, G. M. 1976. Poems. Eds. W. H. Gardner and N. H. Mackenzie.
London: Oxford University Press.
Jung, C. 1967. Memories Dreams Reflections. Tr. R. and A. C. Winston.
London: Fontana.
McDougall, W. 1926. Outline of Abnormal Psychology. London: Methuen.
Midgley, M. 1984. Wickedness. London: Routledge & Kegan Paul.
Ornstein, R. 1986. Multimind. New York: Houghton Mifflin.
Palmer, G. E. H., P. Sherrard, and K. Ware, eds. 1979. Philokalia.
London: Faber.
Patrides, C. A., ed. 1969. The Cambridge Platonists. Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press.
Pearsall Smith, L. 1933. All Trivia. London: Constable & Co.
Philo of Alexandria. 1929. Collected Works. Tr. F. H. Colson, G. H.
Whitaker et al. London: Heinemann, Loeb Classical Library.
Prince, M. 1908. The Dissociation of a Personality. New York:
Longmans, Greene & Co.
Rycroft, C. 1987. Dissociation of the personality. In Oxford Companion
to the Mind, ed. by R. L. Gregory. Oxford: Oxford University Press.
19798.
Sangarakshita. 1987. Survey of Buddhism. London: Tharpa Publications,
6th ed.
Sidis, B. and S. P. Goodhart. 1909. Multiple Personality. New York:
Appleton.
Sliker, G. 1992. Multiple mind: Healing the split in psyche and world.
Boston: Shambhala.
Stephens, G. Lynn and G. Graham. 1994. Self-consciousness, mental
agency and the clinical psychopathology of thought-insertion.
Philosophy, Psychiatry and Psychology 1, no.1, 110.
Taylor, C. 1989. Sources of the Self. Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press.
Thigpen, C. and H. M. Cleckley. 1954. A case of multiple personality.
Journal of Abnormal and Social Psychology 49: 13551.
Thigpen, C. and H. M. Cleckley. 1957. The Three Faces of Eve. London:
Secker & Warburg.
Thoreau, H. D. 1910. Walden. London: J. M. Dent.
Wilkes, K. 1984. Real People. Oxford: Clarendon Press.
![]()
|