Rating: 
Summary: Have I read this before?
Review: Here it is; another book about the soul. Do I sound enthusiastic? I wish I could be. I like Owen Flanagan a lot; "Consciousness reconsidered" and "Self-Expressions" are masterworks in the philosophy of mind and ethics. This book, despite being well written and more thought-stirring than most... well... it's simply another book trying to get rid of the soul. So as not to beat around any philosophical bush, it suceeds if you don't believe in a soul, it fails if you do. First, Flanagan's perspective is probably a bit different than most; he is a buddhist with some fairly unconventional - albeit penetrating - insights. For instance, he has no use for the concept of unified consciousness (or the feeling that your consciousness is a distinct 'entity-like' thing). Rather, upon introspection, we (or, he) notice(s) that it feels more like a stream of seperate thought-trains that occasionally coverge (generally, when we are paying attention to something). Similarly, Flanagan revives the often overlooked (suprisingly) concept of the stream of consiousness. The mind doesn't start and stop as many philosophers of mind lose track of. Rather, it continues when we are not at all paying attention and is quite random at these times. The long and short of this is that Flanagan starts his book with introspection on how the mind is, not how (like Dennett does) he'd like it to be. It is messy, larger than life, confusing and contradictory at times, but any workable philosophy of mind must start with as true a reflection as possible. From here, we go down hill. Flanagan spends an unnecessary large chapter protesting that the battle between free will and determinism doesn't exist; in its place is a great mixture of both. He tells it to us like we've not heard it before and despite my efforts to do otherwise, I couldn't make beleive that this was at all new to me or anyone else. The last few chapters see Flanagan coming back to his attempt to sketch out a naturalized concept of the human being without a 'soul' and the last chapter tries to construct a viable ethic from this 'new found' human ecology. I for one, share his distaste for soul and soul-like speculation. Still, I can't shake the feeling (and I'm sure you won't be able to either) that we've read too many of these arguments before.
Rating: 
Summary: Thought-provoking, enjoyable.
Review: I truly enjoyed this book. One can always find something to carp about in a philosophy text, but this book does an excellent job discussing a number of BIG questions - mind, free will, the self, ethics, the meaning of life. If you have read widely, you will have seen many of the arguments presented here, but Flanagan does a wonderful job of weaving them together. I especially enjoyed his approach to ethics as a normative science (!) describing human ecologies. Flanagan's exposition will almost certainly challenge some of your ideas, but the objective here is not to find some final set of answers, but rather, to refine our questions. In that, the author succeeds brilliantly.
Rating:
Summary: "Do I Dare Disturb the Universe?" Dare I Not?
Review: I was going to grad school in philosophy before I read this book--I think--but I was worried about whether or not I would ever get to work on the things that really matter. I'm not worried anymore. Although I am wondering if I'll have to do all the other work Flanagan has done before I get the nerve to publish anything. Cognitive neuroscience, psychology, literature (with minor side interests in sociology and religion)--it's a wonder that I can understand anything the man says. But I found this book to be one of the clearest, most enjoyable things I ever read. The Problem of the Soul is an amazing synthesis in which ethics meets the scientifically savvy 21st century--it's the book Nietzsche would have written if he had been interested in being understood. No other single text has had such an impact on the way I think, and I am in awe of the man who can build so much of the argument from scratch while getting so much right. Flanagan does indeed have the hands of a surgeon: there's no flinching here, and it's a light touch the whole way through. Whatever pain might be involved in the excision is masked by this surgeon's crooked grin; good humor is a great palliative. This book is for people who want to enjoy reading something that will challenge how they think. It's an amazing primer for academic philosophy (frightening how much I learned without even realizing it--I can't tell you how much I wish I'd read it before I took all those stupid courses), and it reads like a novel. I can honestly say that I've never before had the experience of having to make myself put down a philosophy text in order to get some work done. It was a beautiful thing. Written for a general audience, The Problem of the Soul comes across as a late-night conversation with a really exciting person you just met at the local pub or coffeehouse. It's written with style and personality, and you truly feel as if you get to know this guy. Which turns out to be a good thing--he's a really great person. I don't want to give the impression that I'm all for everything that Flanagan says. Actually, I'm the president of the group responsible for promoting interfaith dialogue on campus at Duke University, and I have something of a vested interest in refuting many of his arguments about matters of faith. I wish I could. I do believe there are some valid responses to most of the things he says, but I also believe that all those responses involve some serious re-evaluations. One thing I'm certain of is that all religious people have an undeniable obligation to read this book (to themselves, to their faiths). I applaud Flanagan for the effort he puts into opening up a genuine dialogue: he shows extreme sensitivity in treating people of faith as fellow creatures worthy of dignity and respect (even as he challenges the very beliefs that are generally thought to provide the foundation for that faith). Reading this book refreshed my vision and rekindled my passion for philosophy. If I had to recommend just one philosophy book for each and every person to read, this would be it. Do yourself a favor and buy it. For those with slightly more specialized interests, you might want to check out Flanagan's other works. Varieties of Moral Personality and Dreaming Souls have become my new favorites; I'm going after the philosophy of mind stuff next. But none of them beats The Problem of the Soul, so make sure you get that one first.
Rating: 
Summary: Sloppy
Review: I've done a bit of reading in contemporary phiosophy of mind (Churchland, Dennett, Fodor, Kim, Searle, Papineau, Stich, etc...), and I bought this book with high hopes. What I discovered was a wordy (and at times entirely superficial) introduction to a contemporary naturalistic (i.e., the natural, material world is all there is) approach to some of the core issues in analytic philosophy; namely, human agency, the nature of the mental life, personal identity, and the nature of morality. Flanagan's premise is that there is no good reason to believe in non-physical or supernatural entities like God, the soul, or the like, and science can (or will) inevitably give us as good an explanation of all aspects of reality as we're ever going to get. Strictly speaking, there is no "problem of the soul" because the soul doesn't exist. The remaining 'problem' for the naturalist, then, is to come up with an account of personal identity, human agency, moral responsibility, and the like in a way that is compatible with the modern, naturalistic view but accords with enough of our pre-philosophical intuitions about these topics to count as an adequate explanation thereof. This book represents Flanagan's attempt at solving the latter sort of problem. So there's the summary. Now for my all-too-brief critique: to his credit, Flanagan states up-front and in no uncertain terms what his beliefs are. There is very little of what John Searle calls the "give it a name" view going on here. However, after reading The Problem of the Soul, I was left wondering whether Flanagan had taken the time to read anything published in the last 30 years by any theistic philosopher writing in analytic philosophy of religion (e.g., Richard Swinburne, Alvin Plantinga, William Alston, Keith Yandell, or Robert Adams, among others). Ditto with action theory, except drop the theistic part (Robert Kane, Carl Ginet, Tim O'Connor, Stewart Goetz, Randolph Clarke...) Simply put, Flanagan nowhere interacts in any detail with arguments against his views, nor does he give much in the way of a detailed version of his own views. His treatment of the various topics mentioned in The Problem of the Soul repeatedly amounts to, "this is what people used to think about God, human freedom, etc. but here's the correct view about these things." I also thought it odd that he repeatedly mentioned (ridiculed, actually) a quote by Roderick Chisholm on libertarian freedom, but did not refer to, much less interact with, any of the libertarians mentioned above. Similarly, it is exceedingly difficult to discern what kind of compatibilist Flanagan is. If he is a causal theorist, he does not give us any explanation of how to handle causally deviant cases, our awareness of our actions as we act, and the like. Rather, Flanagan appears to assume that these things are not a problem, and thus continues on his merry way. However, given the frequency with which some of his other works are cited in various books and journal articles, I cannot bring myself to believe (no comments about doxastic voluntarism, please = P ) that he is unaware of these kinds of issues. Why then, does Flannagan not interact with them in his book? An odd phenomenon, to say the least. The oddity is not limited to God and agency either- it continues throughout his discussion of the mind and morality as well. To cite one particularly egregious example of what I'm talking about, consider Flanagan's explanation of how physical structures like brains come to possess (or produce) certain qualitative feels. On page 87-88, (repeated again on page 224), he writes, "...it is easy to explain why certain brain events are uniquely experienced by you subjectively. Only you are properly hooked up to your own nervous system to have your own experiences." To anyone who's done even a modicum of reading about qualia and how difficult it is to explain in a materialist ontology, this "solution" seems at best disingenuous, if not an outright joke. The substance dualist, the property dualist, the functionalist, and the type-identity theorist can all say "amen" to Flanagan's statement here, even though their views are mutually exclusive! The crux of the matter is that Flanagan doesn't say what he means by 'you' here. That is, he does not say what, precisely, is the subject of the phenomenological experience. Is it a soul? Surely not, for Flanagan is a materialist! Is it a certain region of the brain? Is it a certain pattern of neural firings? Flanagan does not say. And why is it that certain neural stimulations (e.g., those that cause a tickle or a pain) feel like *that*? Why do certain neural stimulations feel like (or cause us to feel like) anything at all? Again, Flanagan remains silent. In sum, The Problem of the Soul is of benefit to those who want a readable but superficial look at a dominant trend in modern analytic philosophy, and this is why it gets two stars instead of one. But for those who are already familiar with the issues, their money is better spent elsewhere. When it comes to a robust defense of physicalism (or even a serious dualism), as the saying goes, "the devil is in the details" and unfortunately, in this work Flanagan does not enlighten us as to what those details are.
Rating:
Summary: Sloppy
Review: I've done a bit of reading in contemporary phiosophy of mind (Churchland, Dennett, Fodor, Kim, Searle, Papineau, Stich, etc...), and I bought this book with high hopes. What I discovered was a wordy (and at times entirely superficial) introduction to a contemporary naturalistic (i.e., the natural, material world is all there is) approach to some of the core issues in analytic philosophy; namely, human agency, the nature of the mental life, personal identity, and the nature of morality. Flanagan's premise is that there is no good reason to believe in non-physical or supernatural entities like God, the soul, or the like, and science can (or will) inevitably give us as good an explanation of all aspects of reality as we're ever going to get. Strictly speaking, there is no "problem of the soul" because the soul doesn't exist. The remaining 'problem' for the naturalist, then, is to come up with an account of personal identity, human agency, moral responsibility, and the like in a way that is compatible with the modern, naturalistic view but accords with enough of our pre-philosophical intuitions about these topics to count as an adequate explanation thereof. This book represents Flanagan's attempt at solving the latter sort of problem. So there's the summary. Now for my all-too-brief critique: to his credit, Flanagan states up-front and in no uncertain terms what his beliefs are. There is very little of what John Searle calls the "give it a name" view going on here. However, after reading The Problem of the Soul, I was left wondering whether Flanagan had taken the time to read anything published in the last 30 years by any theistic philosopher writing in analytic philosophy of religion (e.g., Richard Swinburne, Alvin Plantinga, William Alston, Keith Yandell, or Robert Adams, among others). Ditto with action theory, except drop the theistic part (Robert Kane, Carl Ginet, Tim O'Connor, Stewart Goetz, Randolph Clarke...) Simply put, Flanagan nowhere interacts in any detail with arguments against his views, nor does he give much in the way of a detailed version of his own views. His treatment of the various topics mentioned in The Problem of the Soul repeatedly amounts to, "this is what people used to think about God, human freedom, etc. but here's the correct view about these things." I also thought it odd that he repeatedly mentioned (ridiculed, actually) a quote by Roderick Chisholm on libertarian freedom, but did not refer to, much less interact with, any of the libertarians mentioned above. Similarly, it is exceedingly difficult to discern what kind of compatibilist Flanagan is. If he is a causal theorist, he does not give us any explanation of how to handle causally deviant cases, our awareness of our actions as we act, and the like. Rather, Flanagan appears to assume that these things are not a problem, and thus continues on his merry way. However, given the frequency with which some of his other works are cited in various books and journal articles, I cannot bring myself to believe (no comments about doxastic voluntarism, please = P ) that he is unaware of these kinds of issues. Why then, does Flannagan not interact with them in his book? An odd phenomenon, to say the least. The oddity is not limited to God and agency either- it continues throughout his discussion of the mind and morality as well. To cite one particularly egregious example of what I'm talking about, consider Flanagan's explanation of how physical structures like brains come to possess (or produce) certain qualitative feels. On page 87-88, (repeated again on page 224), he writes, "...it is easy to explain why certain brain events are uniquely experienced by you subjectively. Only you are properly hooked up to your own nervous system to have your own experiences." To anyone who's done even a modicum of reading about qualia and how difficult it is to explain in a materialist ontology, this "solution" seems at best disingenuous, if not an outright joke. The substance dualist, the property dualist, the functionalist, and the type-identity theorist can all say "amen" to Flanagan's statement here, even though their views are mutually exclusive! The crux of the matter is that Flanagan doesn't say what he means by 'you' here. That is, he does not say what, precisely, is the subject of the phenomenological experience. Is it a soul? Surely not, for Flanagan is a materialist! Is it a certain region of the brain? Is it a certain pattern of neural firings? Flanagan does not say. And why is it that certain neural stimulations (e.g., those that cause a tickle or a pain) feel like *that*? Why do certain neural stimulations feel like (or cause us to feel like) anything at all? Again, Flanagan remains silent. In sum, The Problem of the Soul is of benefit to those who want a readable but superficial look at a dominant trend in modern analytic philosophy, and this is why it gets two stars instead of one. But for those who are already familiar with the issues, their money is better spent elsewhere. When it comes to a robust defense of physicalism (or even a serious dualism), as the saying goes, "the devil is in the details" and unfortunately, in this work Flanagan does not enlighten us as to what those details are.
Rating: 
Summary: Is freedom possible in a rule-governed universe?
Review: In the second installment of the "Matrix" films, "Neo" and the "Architect of the Matrix" debate the possibility of freedom in a rule-governed world. Professor Owen Flanagan, much more competently and interestingly, sets himself the task of answering this very question.
Do we need to choose between the scientific and humanistic "images of who we are"? Mr. Flanagan says that we do need to choose. He insists that we are entirely and exclusively animals; there is no free-will; there is no ghost in the machine; and the only truthful descriptions of persons are "causative" or "scientific" and, thus, "determinate." He nevertheless insists that we may still conclude that a person is a "conscious social animal that deliberates, reasons and chooses ... and that seeks to live morally and meaningfully." (p. xiii.) Despite Flanagan's dazzling effort here, I am not convinced.
In the absence of free-will, a person cannot "choose" in any meaningful sense of the word. Without freedom, for that matter, persons are no longer persons, no longer moral agents. They then become mere automatons, totally incapable of responsibility or of creating meaning in their lives.
The Kantian solution to these old problems says that we are indeed animals, living in the phenomenal world, but also free, deriving our freedom from the transcendental realm that manifests itself to our perceptions as empirical reality. Both EXPLANATIONS in terms of causes and effects, and JUSTIFICATIONS in terms of reasons for actions may be valid simultaneously, as aspects of a single protean reality.
Commenting on Kant's theory, Roger Scruton notes: "Suppose someone asks me why I struck an old man in the street. The answer: 'Because electrical impulses from my brain precipitated muscular contractions, and this resulted in my hand making contact with his head' would be absurd and impertinent, however accurate as a causal explanation. The answer: 'Because he annoyed me' may be inadequate [as an excuse] ... but it is not absurd."
As between Immanuel Kant and Owen Flanagan, I will stay with Kant.
Rating:
Summary: Modern philosophy at its best
Review: In this book, one of the world's most important and under-recognized philosophers addresses what is arguably the major cultural question of our times: Can the humanistic and even religious view of human nature be reconciled with science? Flanagan is a witty, entertaining writer, who eschews the jargon and abstractions that deaden the prose of the vast majority of academic philosophers. And unlike philosophers such as Daniel Dennett, Flanagan is less intent on demonstrating his cleverness than on presenting his thoughts as clearly as possible. Although he is steeped in knowledge-from Aristotle to the latest findings of cognitive science-Flanagan wears his learning lightly. His writings are rigorous enough for professionals-philosophers and scientists paid to ponder the mind-body problem and other enigmas-while remaining accessible for lay readers. And shouldn't philosophy be for everyone? Flanagan is basically a scientific materialist, who believes that the mind is a function of the brain and cannot exist independently of it. In The Problem of the Soul, he dismisses such supernatural concepts as God, the immortal soul, life after death, and even free will, defined as freedom from physical causality. But he argues convincingly that if we jettison a supernatural outlook, we are left not with an anything-goes nihilism but with an even more secure foundation for morality. Flanagan deftly draws upon his personal experience to explore certain questions-for example, what concept of a self makes sense, given all the changes we pass through in life? He reveals his family's history of alcoholism, his decision to stop drinking, his recent interest in Buddhism. In the hands of a lesser writer, this approach would seem self-indulgent, but Flanagan makes it poignant and compelling. There is a warmth suffusing his prose that counteracts the chill of his ideas, and even lends them a kind of tacit support: ultimately, it is simple human decency that will save us (if we can be saved) and not faith in some supernatural metaphysics. A book like this is bound to provoke-indeed invites-objections, and I have a couple. One is that the free will Flanagan attacks-a dualistic version that assumes absolute freedom from physical causality--is something of a straw man. I believe that science undermines any meaningful concept of human choice, including the one that Flanagan articulates. I also see a potential weakness in Flanagan's concept of an "ethical ecology." He suggests that, just as ecologists seek to understand the factors that contribute to a healthy ecosystem, so should our ethics aim at delineating conditions conducive to our "flourishing." The tenets of ecology-for example, the notion that diversity of species leads to ecological stability-are contentious, to say the least, and hence might not provide the kind of the secure foundation for human ethics that Flanagan envisions. But of course Flanagan wrote this book not to give us answers but to incite further reflection and dialogue. He succeeds splendidly. We need philosophers like him.
Rating:
Summary: owen flangan is naturalism at its finest
Review: owen flanagans the problem of the soul is a masterful naturalistic sketch to reconcile the scientific and humanistic image of our time. It leaves no room for illusion and though discomforting does away with the false perennial philosophic terms of free will, god, and the soul. His sketch leaves no room for scientism or the ignorance of the humanistic manifest image and shows its best to conceive of a naturalistic philosophy which ties both visions together in a logical and non harmful way.
Rating:
Summary: reductio ad absurdum
Review: The author does a gentle job with his attempt at desouling. There is no need to take alarm once the procedure has been performed, because as the book implies, consciousness is nothing more than an epiphenomenon of the underlying physiological processes of the material brain. The word soul is an abstract theoretical entity that modern science is well on the way of proving that it's non-existent.
Rating: 
Summary: A Very Poor Book, but the Packaging is Deceptive
Review: This book is extremely confusing, but the essential problem for the reader has to do with the extreme discrepancy between the packaging and design (and title) of the book and its contents. The publishers have gone to great lengths to make the book attractive and suggest that it's a true discussion of a fascinating topic, but it isn't - its a highly subjective diatribe that promotes an idiosyncratic view of reality. Flanagan is a committed materialist and atheist, and presents his perspective in rather crude terms. His understanding of religious faith is breathlessly condescending, and he never seriously addresses any other view point than his own; anything that might challenge his view is dismissed. For instance, his dismissal of near death experiences relies on data that has been disproved, and is about fifteen years out of date. In addition, his prose is poor, combining a flat and meandering style with a view of reality that suggests a writer living in a sealed-off bubble. All of this might not matter, except that the advertising and presentation of the book suggests precisely the opposite. I don't know if that is the author's responsibility or not. It certainly is the responsibility of the publishers. I wonder how many readers have been misled!?
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