In his 1970 book Chance and Necessity, the French biologist Jacques Monod stated what he took to be the central lesson of molecular biology with characteristic bluntness:
“The universe was not pregnant with life, nor the biosphere with man… Man at last knows that he is alone in the unfeeling immensity of the universe, out of which he emerged only by chance.”
This is the default assumption of modern scientific culture — what might be called neo-Darwinian materialism. Mind is the late arrival: matter comes first, life appears almost as an accident, and consciousness gradually emerges over aeons. It is always derivative, a product rather than a principle.
The philosopher Thomas Nagel, in Mind and Cosmos (2012), identified the structural problem with this picture. The physical sciences were defined from the outset by a crucial limiting step: the deliberate exclusion of everything mental — consciousness, meaning, intention, purpose — from their picture of nature. As Nagel put it, the physical sciences can describe organisms as parts of the objective spatio-temporal order, but cannot describe the subjective experiences of such organisms or how the world appears from their particular points of view. The objective account is not wrong; it is structurally incomplete.
This essay proposes that the mainstream account has the order of explanation inverted. Drawing on the phenomenological biology of Hans Jonas and the enactivism of Evan Thompson, it argues that consciousness is not what life eventually produces — it is what life, from the very beginning, already is.
The Phenomenon of Life
Hans Jonas, in The Phenomenon of Life (1966), traces a profound historical inversion. For ancient and pre-modern humanity, life was the norm and death the mystery. The question was not how life arose from inert matter, but how death — that strange negation of the natural order — was possible at all.
With the Copernican revolution and the rise of modern science, this picture was completely inverted. The vastness of cosmic space, almost entirely devoid of life, became the frame of reference. Nature was progressively stripped of vital features until what remained was pure matter, measurable and mathematical. As Jonas observes, life became ludibrium materiae — a subtle hoax of matter — and our thinking came to operate under what he calls “the ontological dominance of death.”
The Ontological Surprise
Jonas argues that in living things, nature springs what he calls an ontological surprise. For any non-living aggregate — a stone, a crystal, a drop of water — whatever unity it possesses is borrowed from our perception or from temporary physical forces. Nothing matters to a boulder. It does nothing to preserve itself.
But in living things something categorically different appears: systems that are unities for their own sake, sustained in existence by themselves. Form here is not the result of material organisation — it is its cause. The organism doesn’t simply have a form; it enacts form against entropy. Its existence is its own continuous achievement.
From this Jonas derives the concept of needful freedom — the organism’s dialectical relation to matter. It needs matter to exist but maintains an identity independent of any particular collection of matter, riding the wave of material change like the crest of a wave. And this active self-maintenance is the most primitive form of what Jonas calls concern — the bare structure of something mattering, of there being an inside from which existence makes a difference.
Life Knows Life
But how could we know whether primitive organisms have any inwardness at all? Evan Thompson’s answer in Mind in Life is simple and profound: life can only be known by life. As he writes, drawing on Jonas: “This inwardness or interiority is disclosable to us because we ourselves are living beings who experience our own bodily selfhood firsthand.”
We don’t infer inwardness in other creatures from behaviour alone, as we might infer dark matter from gravitational disturbance. We recognise it — because we share something with what we are observing.
Echoes of Aristotle
This recognition is not new. As Thompson observes, it was Descartes who drove a wedge between consciousness and life — conceptualising mind as inner experience and life as external mechanism. Before that rupture, in the Aristotelian tradition, life and mind belonged together under a single heading: soul — not as an immaterial substance, but as the formative principle of the living body. Soul and body are two sides of one single process of living.
Embodied cognition — the school of thought of which Thompson was a founding member — is in many ways a recovery of precisely this Aristotelian insight.
Conclusion
Life and mind are not separate substances inhabiting the same body. They are the formative principles of the body — the inside of which the physical organism is the outside. The mistake of physicalism is not that it describes the physical accurately, but that it takes that description as complete — when it has, by methodological necessity, excluded the subjective dimension from consideration at the outset.
And if this sounds like animism — well, look at the word. It shares its root with animal and animated. And living things are animated. Perhaps animism was not the credulous fantasy that modernity took it to be, but a recognition, from within the horizon of living experience, that life and mind are fundamental — as much cause as consequence.
The full essay, with footnotes and references, is published in Philosophy Today: [link]
