The Soul and the Cells.
Living beings are alive because the very substance in them is living.
Life belongs to this substance exactly as materiality belongs to matter.
As living substance can exist only in the form of living individuals, all
living beings fall outside the limitations of time and possess individual
immortality without exception. _The cell, therefore, is as immortal as
man._ But if this is the case, the fact that the duration of the earthly
life of man is different from that of the cell must now at last appear
in its full significance. During man’s life a series of cell-generations
have lived, acted and disappeared, although the phenomenon here, as in
the body of society, passes comparatively unnoticed because the cell
is invisible to the naked eye. Of course we observe a daily growth
of nails, hair and of the whole outer skin. This outer layer consists
exclusively of dead cells, which daily scale off by the millions through
wear, washing or otherwise, and are replaced by other dying cells from
the inner living tissues. The same process of dying and renewal takes
place in the organs of the cell. As man’s lifetime often depends on the
trade he has chosen, so it is with the cells in his organism. Those
that perform heavy work, as for instance glandular cells, often die in
the moment their mission is filled. This process commences even in the
individual’s embryonic state. With lower animals, whose generation takes
place outside the mother-body, we can often observe with the naked eye
how whole organs normally die and disappear.
If the cells as well as men are immortal beings, the question naturally
arises: what becomes of these incessantly dying cell generations? The
answer must necessarily be apparent if we can show, First, _that the tie
between the soul and the cells is indissoluble so that man’s organism, i.
e., his spiritual body, consists of the same cell-individuals in a future
life as here in time_; Second, _that the cells at the same time are
self-existent and so independent of the soul, that in a future existence
also, as here in time, they can and must build up man’s organism
independently_.
In such case no reason can be advanced that would prevent the dying
cell-generations from immediately arising to a new and higher evolution,
which, as we will endeavor to prove, must be identical with the
upbuilding of the higher, transfigured body which man shall possess in a
future life. This form of resurrection must be common to all organisms
because they are all built according to the same general plan and are
consequently subject to the same general process of evolution. Men are
themselves the cells in another higher organism, humanity, which entity
cannot rise to a richer life in another world otherwise than through its
upbuilding by the dying human generations under the new conditions that
exist over there.
As a preliminary experiment in order to find out if the soul is
indispensable to the life of the organism, or if the cells possibly
might do without the soul, we may appropriately remove the latter from
an organism and thus directly observe the importance of the soul for the
cells.
But how can this be done, or at least, how may we deprive the organism
of all influence from the soul? The physiologists have proved the
possibility of such an experiment. It is fully established that the soul
communicates with the body through the brain proper, or the cerebrum,
and experience shows that this important organ may be removed and yet
the body continue to live. We will here give briefly the results of such
experiments made with animals.
If the brain be removed from a dove or a hen, the bird often recovers
from the radical operation and may remain alive for months and even
years. But the dove has become an entirely different being. Immobile she
sits on the same place. If she were not heard to breathe she might be
taken for a stuffed bird. She lacks ability to judge her position and
resembles a living machine that breathes, and swallows the food brought
into her bill. The higher qualities of the dove are entirely lost. She
shows no signs of fear and is incapable of initiative. She remains
sitting in the same place and will not even fly down from small heights.
If thrown into the air, she flies until her wings are tired or until she
strikes an obstacle that she makes no effort to avoid. From the first
day she must be fed artificially, but she digests her food as usual. The
heart, the circulation of the blood, the respiration, in short, all the
vegetative functions of life continue regularly. Such a state has been
characterized by Flourens as a continuous sleep without dreams.
The same observations have been made with regard to dogs that have been
deprived of a large part of the brain.
With lowered head and dead eyes, such a dog moves about indifferent to
everything taking place around him. He shows no signs of fear, envy or
joy. Neither threats nor friendly speech impress him. He never partakes
in the barking of other dogs and is, as a rule, mute. Only should he be
hungry he might set up a howl. Although indifferent to the strongest
light or sound, he is not entirely blind or deaf. At the stronger sounds
he might move his head slightly. All higher life is lost, but he digests
his food and all vegetative functions continue _just as_ regularly as if
he were in normal condition.
Observation of the effect of certain accidents and diseases intimates
that man forms no exception but that the same results would probably be
obtained from similar experiments with him. Though such experiments are
out of the question, we can, however, in many different ways ascertain
that the soul of man is also inactive in the vegetative functions of his
organism. In earliest childhood this is perfectly evident. To possess
a soul that has no functions is, as far as the result is concerned,
identical with possessing no soul.
If we observe a child during the very earliest period of its life we
will find that it behaves essentially just as the animals referred to
above. Even the child remains in the position it is given and is unable
to comprehend what happens around him. The child would likewise starve to
death unless food were brought to his mouth, but he swallows and digests
the nourishment normally. The movements of the heart, the circulation of
the blood and respiration all take place as normally as with the fully
developed man during sleep when his soul also ceases to function.
The fact that the vegetative processes of the organism are not governed
and controlled by the soul may be observed by anyone also during his
conscious state. In regard to respiration we may repress it only for a
few minutes. A command is soon given by certain cells in the central
nerve-system which _against_ the soul’s will brings the organ in question
into action. Experience tells us that strong agitations generally disturb
the vegetative processes. Sudden fear, for instance, accelerates the
heart’s motion. Therefore these processes take place more evenly with
animals deprived of their brain just because disturbing influences from
the soul are then impossible.
Thus it is certain beyond doubt that the cells not only execute but
regulate and control through the central nerve-system a multitude of
functions in which the soul does not take part. But just as certain it
is that there are many functions which the cells could not perform
without the co-operation of the soul. Vision, hearing, smelling, tasting
and feeling would be entirely meaningless to the cells without the aid
of the soul. The same is the case in a high degree with the motions of
the body which also require such a higher guidance. The dove could fly,
the dog walk, and so forth, but the motions were relatively purposeless.
The predetermined plan was lacking. The cells could assimilate the food,
when brought into the body, but they could not search it in nature. Such
action requires a power of combination that exceeds their measure of
intelligence.
We see consequently that the cells may do without the soul in such
functions as are not related to the exterior world comprehensible
through our senses. Here they need the guidance of a higher, more
developed intelligence. In the outside world with its more complicated
relations, the soul is to the cells very nearly what we mean by the word
_Providence_. The soul performs, in the interest of the cells, such a
higher, regulating and guiding function.
The organism, then, is divided into two sections, separated by a sharply
defined boundary. As independent and autocratic as the cells are in one
of them, is the soul in the other. This bisection in two widely separated
spheres is in itself remarkable, but may be explained, if we remember
that the organism is an individual composed of lower individuals. As
different as these classes of individuals are in their nature and
faculties, equally incongruous are also the realms in which they dwell.
The cells move in the atomic and molecular world. To them the molecules
and atoms appear with a clearness comparable to the plainness with which
the exterior world reveals itself to us. It is natural then that the
cells attend to the vegetative functions of the organism which just fall
within their sphere of life, a sphere of which the soul can obtain
knowledge only indirectly by way of deductions. Equally obvious it is
that only the soul can employ the organs of the body, the functions of
which fall within the visible world.
We have now endeavored to obtain an understanding of the importance of
the soul to the cells by depriving the latter of the direct influence
of the former. This resulted from the removal of the brain, the organ
by which the soul more directly expresses itself. But the soul is not
actually removed from the body. It still remains in the whole cell-mass.
The brain itself consists of cells, in which the soul is not present
except as in all the other cells. The difference is only that the
brain-cells are developed for the functions of thought, whereas the cells
in the other organs are intended for their specific purposes. In order to
remove the soul from the body we must remove the life from every cell.
The soul, as we intend to show, is inseparably connected with every
particular cell-individual. But in order to understand how the cells may
be at once independent of, and yet intimately united with the soul, we
must first know what an organism really is. Its nature and fundamental
idea is the only thing that can explain this remarkable relationship. But
it is just here as to the essential qualities of an organism that the
conceptions are generally very dim and vague.
Commonly the organism is thought of as a very complicated mechanism whose
members and organs mutually depend upon each other. The organism is what
the word implies, a tool. But every tool is intended for somebody’s
use. Who this one is, is not said, simply because it is considered
self-evident. If it be a human organism, it is obviously the man who uses
it; if it be an animal organism, it is the animal, and so on. That this
is a truth, cannot be denied; but still it expresses only half the truth
and scarcely that. Every organic body is used directly by the individuals
that form its building material. The human organism is a society of
cells, and it is these latter that first of all use the body’s organs for
their purposes. But so dominating are the old ideas about the body, that
even the cytologists themselves have not been able to shake them off. The
cells are continually studied from man’s point of view, but _what man may
be from the cell’s point of view is never thought of_.
We do not hereby deny all justification to the old conception. The body
is also an organ for the soul. The latter, as experience shows, uses
the body for its own specific purposes. But this takes place only to
a somewhat limited extent. The incomparably larger part of the soul’s
work, cares, and endeavors, is devoted to finding means to satisfy bodily
wants. But so far as the soul provides for the necessities of the body,
it acts as organ for the cells. When man believes that he is running his
own errands, he is in reality carrying out the missions of those beings
that compose his body. These latter demand for their purposes, if not
all, yet at least the largest part of all the work the soul performs in
this world.