James Ensor, The Bad Doctors, 1892

A hysterically violent image of medical blunders and poor bedside manner, The Bad Doctors by James Ensor satirizes practitioners of medicinal “healing.” The helpless patient, or rather, victim, sits to the right of the painting on what appears to be a gaudy yellow and blue bed, mouth open in a howl of agony. He raises a single fist to the air, a gesture which typically denotes anger more than pain. Around his neck there seems to be a noose of some sort, which pulls him sharply off toward the right of the painting, and his guts hang out of various open wounds, likely made by the doctors in an attempt to “cure” him of his original ailment.

Meanwhile, the doctors tasked with his treatment argue amongst themselves, brandishing their tools like weapons and involving their assistants in the skirmish. However, some assistants appear more loyal than others. While the nurse to the right attempts to restrain his employer, the one on the left carefully snatches his physician’s pocket book. At some point in the brawl the three central participants became tangled in what appears to be the patient’s intestines, bringing them to an impasse as the bowels ensnare their legs and feet.

Only two of the figures in the painting appear uninvolved in the proceedings. The appalled physician on the right throws his hands up in indignation at his associates’ lack of concern for the patient, shouting in an attempt to calm the storm and redirect attention to the matter at hand. Directly opposite him stands the figure of Death. Death’s placement in the painting, as well as his white garments make him easy to overlook amongst the chaos of the rest of the work. He lifts a hand gently, as if in an attempt to interject an opinion through all the commotion, however he goes unnoticed by the other characters in the piece. While certainly a frightening symbol, he does not take an intimidating stance; instead he appears to feel out of place, as if his work may have been cut out for him.

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Jonathan Swift, Gulliver’s Travels

Do these miserable animals presume to think, that I am so degenerated as to defend my veracity? Yahoo as I am, it is well known through all Houyhnhnmland, that, by the instructions and example of my illustrious master, I was able in the compass of two years (although I confess with the utmost difficulty) to remove that infernal habit of lying, shuffling, deceiving, and equivocating, so deeply rooted in the very souls of all my species; especially the Europeans.

The emperor had a mind one day to entertain me with several of country shows, wherein they exceed all nations I have known, both for dexterity and magnificence. I was diverted with none so much as that of the rope-dancers, performed upon a slender white thread, extended about two feet, and twelve inches from the ground. Upon which I shall desire liberty, with the reader’s patience, to enlarge.

This diversion is only practised by those persons who are candidates for great employments, and high favour at court. They are trained in this art from their youth, and are not always of noble birth, or liberal education. When a great office is vacant, either by death or disgrace (which often happens,) five or six of those candidates petition the emperor to entertain his majesty and the court with a dance on the rope; and whoever jumps the highest, without falling, succeeds in the office. Very often the chief ministers themselves are commanded to show their skill, and to convince the emperor that they have not lost their faculty. Flimnap, the treasurer, is allowed to cut a caper on the straight rope, at least an inch higher than any other lord in the whole empire. I have seen him do the summerset several times together, upon a trencher fixed on a rope which is no thicker than a common packthread in England. My friend Reldresal, principal secretary for private affairs, is, in my opinion, if I am not partial, the second after the treasurer; the rest of the great officers are much upon a par.

These diversions are often attended with fatal accidents, whereof great numbers are on record. I myself have seen two or three candidates break a limb. But the danger is much greater, when the ministers themselves are commanded to show their dexterity; for, by contending to excel themselves and their fellows, they strain so far that there is hardly one of them who has not received a fall, and some of them two or three. I was assured that, a year or two before my arrival, Flimnap would infallibly have broke his neck, if one of the king’s cushions, that accidentally lay on the ground, had not weakened the force of his fall.

There is likewise another diversion, which is only shown before the emperor and empress, and first minister, upon particular occasions. The emperor lays on the table three fine silken threads of six inches long; one is blue, the other red, and the third green. These threads are proposed as prizes for those persons whom the emperor has a mind to distinguish by a peculiar mark of his favour. The ceremony is performed in his majesty’s great chamber of state, where the candidates are to undergo a trial of dexterity very different from the former, and such as I have not observed the least resemblance of in any other country of the new or old world. The emperor holds a stick in his hands, both ends parallel to the horizon, while the candidates advancing, one by one, sometimes leap over the stick, sometimes creep under it, backward and forward, several times, according as the stick is advanced or depressed. Sometimes the emperor holds one end of the stick, and his first minister the other; sometimes the minister has it entirely to himself. Whoever performs his part with most agility, and holds out the longest in leaping and creeping, is rewarded with the blue-coloured silk; the red is given to the next, and the green to the third, which they all wear girt twice round about the middle; and you see few great persons about this court who are not adorned with one of these girdles.

Philosophy of Mind – Classical and Contemporary Readings – David J. Chalmers

There has been much discussion of whether the mental can be reduced to the physical, where this is understood as requiring more than the mere truth of materialism. Jerry Fodor (chapter 18) argues that in general, one cannot expect that the theories of a high-level “special science” should be reducible to the theories of a low-level science such as physics. Because of the many ways in which a high-level kind can be realized at a low level, the general principles in a high-level science cannot be captured by a low-level science except in a very complex and arbitrary way. This applies especially to the science of psychology, suggesting that one cannot expect that psychology can be reducible to physics, or even to neuroscience. Instead, it will always have a degree of autonomy.