The origin of consciousness in the breakdown of the bicameral mind, a 1976 book by Julian Jaynes, is probably one of the most intriguing and contentious works in the already unusually controversial field of consciousness studies. This book proposed bicameralism, the hypothesis that the human mind once operated in a state in which cognitive functions were divided between one half of the brain, which appears to be speaking, and another half which listens and follows instructions. Julian Jaynes’ central claim is that consciousness in humans, in the form that is familiar to us today, is a relatively recent phenomenon, whose development followed the invention of writing, the evolution of complex societies and the collapse of bicameralism. According to Jaynes, in the bicameral eras, humans attributed the origin of the inner voices (which we presumably all hear) not to themselves, but to gods. Human behavior was, therefore, not conscious but automatic. Actions followed from strict obedience to these inner voices, which represented orders from a personal god, themselves conditioned by social and cultural norms.
In Jaynes view, consciousness is strongly connected with human language (an assertion hard to refute but possibly an insufficiently general description) and results, in large part, from our ability to introspect, and to hold conversations and dialogues with ourselves. The change in human’s perception of these voices, a process which, according to Jaynes, took place over a time span that lasted only a couple of millennia, during the Babylonian, Assyrian, Greek and Egyptian civilizations (the ones he studied) led to the creation of consciousness as we know it today. This implies that human consciousness, as it exists today, is a brand new phenomenon, in the evolutionary timescale.
Taken at face value, this theory goes totally against the very ingrained belief that humans have been fully conscious for hundreds of thousands or even millions of years, if we consider other species of hominids and other primates. It is certainly strange to think that consciousness, as we know it, is a phenomenon with only a few millennia.
And yet, Jaynes’ arguments are everything but naive. They are, in fact, very sophisticated and based on extensive analyses of historical evidence. The problem with the theory is not that it is simplistic or that there is a lack of presented evidence. The problem I have with this theory is that the evidence presented comes mostly from a very subjective and argumentative analysis of historical artifacts (books, texts, vases, ruins), which are interpreted, in a very intelligent way, to support Jaynes’ main points.
To give an example, which plays an important role in the argument, let’s consider the Iliad. In this text, which predates, according to Jaynes, conscious behavior, and has its origins in bicameral times, all human actions derive, directly, from the clear and audible instructions received from gods. In the Iliad, there is no space for reflection, autonomy, cogitations, hesitations or doubts. Heroes and plain humans act on the voices of gods, and that’s it. The Odyssey and posterior texts are progressively more elaborate on human thought and motivation and (according to Jaynes) the works of Solon are the first that can be viewed as modern, consistent with our current views of human will and human consciousness. Most significant of all, to Jaynes, is the Bible, in particular the Old Testament, which he sees as the ultimate record of the progressive evolution of men from bicameralism to subjective, conscious, behavior. Analysis of these texts and of other evidence of the evolution of consciousness in Mesopotamia, Assyria, Greece, and Egypt, are exhaustively presented, and should not be taken lightly. At the least, Jaynes may have a point in that consciousness, today, is not the same thing as consciousness, five millennia ago. This may well be true, and it is hard for us to understand human thought from that time.
An yet, I remained unconvinced of Jaynes’ main point. True, the interpretation he makes of the historical evidence is from someone who has studied the materials deeply and I am certainly unable to counter-argue with someone who is so familiar with the topics. But, to me, the many facts (thousands, probably) that he brings to bear on his argument can all be the result of many other factors. Maybe the writers of the Iliad wanted to use god’s voices for stylistic effect, maybe the empty throne of the Assyrian king Tukulti-Ninurta depicted in a famous scene is not due to the disappearance and silence of the gods (as he argues) but to some other reasons. Jaynes proposes many interesting and ingenious interpretations of historical data, but in the end I was not convinced that these interpretations are sufficient to support his main thesis.
Despite missing his main objective, however, the book makes for a great read, presenting an interpretation of ancient history that is gripping and enlightening, if not fully convincing.