The following constitutes a brief paper on Speaking for Ourselves (Humphrey and Dennett,

1989), in fulfillment of the requirements for assignment #2.

James Cunningham
2019-10-08

Introduction
Consider the case of Mary, whose persistent abuse at the hands of her stepfather led to
dissociation as a coping mechanism. Later in life her dissociation presents as multiple distinct
personalities, each seeming to represent an exaggerated manner of behaving toward the world,
each with their own separate memories, each with their own continuing inner life. In an instant
Mary would be gone, replaced from within by the flirtatious Sally or angry Hatey -- and when
Mary returned she would have no recollection of her actions while in that other personality
state.
Although now relatively mainstream, the disorder from which Mary suffers, dissociative
identity disorder (DID), only rose out of obscurity within the past fifty years. Thirty years ago, in
the early stages of exponentially increasing popularity for this still highly controversial
diagnosis, Dennett and Humphrey wrote Speaking for Ourselves. I wish to draw attention to
that span of time because it gives necessary context for understanding that work.
Most obviously, they use a now-outmoded clinical term (althoug accurate at the time),
multiple personality disorder. They offer statistics that are no longer relevant, and point to
evidence that may be misleading (such as differences in skin capacitance between personality
states). But the core of the paper attempts to demonstrate the possibility of DID -- an endeavor
that may be less relevant today, as the debate has shifted to whether DID is too frequently
diagnosed rather than whether it is possible at all. Regardless, this demonstration of possibility
forms the most interesting portion of the paper.

Possibility of DID

How do they demonstrate possibility? They take aim at three facets of the diagnosis,
none of which I find conclusively argued:

1. Is DID compatible with the self?

The authors here make use of the idea of the "self as a center of narrative gravity"
(Dennett 1992). The self is only an explanatory fiction, a set of biographical events and
tendencies; the self exists only as a useful abstraction (like a physical center of gravity). The
mind seems to have a "ghostly supervisor" because systems of sufficient complexity can give
rise to the appearance of unity. The uniting principle in this case is the Head of Mind -- like a
nation's Head of State, it symbolically represents the person to the outside world. And like a
Head of State the Head of Mind is elected, unconsciously chosen from a roster of narrative
selves. DID might arise, then, when the selves are so equally balanced that "there are snap
elections [...] all the time".
I have little to say about this conception of the self, though I am unsure that the
metaphor to center of gravity fits. The center of gravity (mass) of a compound object results
formulaically from the centers of mass of its constituent parts. In Dennett's conception my mind
is clearly a compound object; do its parts have their own centers of narrative gravity? Can a
stable Head of Mind be identified if the center of gravity changes with each change in
composition?

2. Is selective amnesia possible?

A facet of idealized cases of DID is selective amnesia as to what occurs when an "alter"
takes the reins. This clearly occurs (or is purported to occur) for some sufferers of DID, though it
is not necessary to meet the diagnostic criteria. The authors have surprisingly little to say here,
using a metaphor to the way a computer might have "mutually inaccessible 'directories' of
stored information". This leaves out any discussion as to how a narrative center of gravity --
chosen by snap election -- could be associated with their own protected "directories".

3. How do Alters Have Different Value Systems?

Different personalities for a sufferer of DID may have radically different value systems,
different emotional styles, and different behavioral tendencies. The authors point to the
possibility that different Heads of Mind may activate or inhibit neural pathways that rely on
different neurotransmitters. But this seems highly reductive. Serotonin levels may cause me to
be depressed; dopamine may impact my perception of emotional salience. But even radical
changes in neurotramsitter levels can't suddenly and drastically make me flirtatious instead of
shy, commanding instead of withdrawn, or risk-taking instead of risk-averse, and then just as
suddenly shift me back the way I was.

Implications

If Humphrey and Dennett succeed in showing that DID is possible, there remains the
question as to whether it does in fact exist. They walk through a few possible objections -- do
sufferers belive in what they're saying? Are they persuasive outside of the therapist's office?
Are there real differences between the selves? -- but their answers are not particularly
elucidative given the age of the article. That aside, I am left with a few questions about the
implications DID's existence might have to our conception of self.

1. Is integration nearly as bad as ordinary murder? Treatment guidelines for DID involve
integration of various personalities into a cohesive whole. This integration does not *need* to
involve fusing all personalities into a single personality or discarding alters in favor of the
primary, but fusion can be a goal (and might be the optimal goal, see Kluft 1993). From the
perspective of a Parfitian psychological theory of personhood, *what matters* for survival is
some variety of psychological continuity and connectedness. The alters for a sufferer of DID
satisfy this criterion -- are they distinct persons? Would blocking them from continued
existence be as bad as death?
2. Do we ever have a stable self? Taken to an extreme the Head of Mind / center of narrative
gravity conception of the self would imply a constant changing of self. Add a bit of mass here,
remove it there, and the centroid of the entire edifice shifts. Are we continually wobbling back
and forth between entirely distinct selves? The distinction between a DID sufferer and anyone
else would seem to be a matter of degree.

3. How fundamental are changes in self due to mental illness? DID is a particularly clear
example, and others such as borderline personality disorder can result in distortions in sense of
self. But mental illness in general can result in massive changes in a person's behavior, memory,
and values. Throughout this class I have been confronted with questions about the degree to
which identity persists through changes in the underlying human being. Is a bout of depression
enough to make me into a different person, and if so, what happens to this person when I
improve my outlook through medication or therapy?

Conclusion

Whether DID *exists* may be a less interesting question than whether it's *possible*.
Given my skepticism about the self as center of narrative gravity I would like to offer an
alternative that kept room for the possibility of DID, but I am unsure as yet what that would
look like.

Citations

Humphrey, N. and D. Dennett (1998). Speaking for Ourselves: An assessment of multiple

personality disorder, in Dennett, D., Brainchildren: Essays on designing minds. MIT Press.

Kluft, R. P. (1993). Clinical approaches to the integration of personalities. In R. P. Kluft & C. G.

Fine (Eds.), Clinical perspectives on multiple personality disorder (pp. 101–133).
Washington, DC: American Psychiatric Press.