[A]t the most primitive level of our grasp of things, there is a contact which straddles the gap between “subject” and “object,” and which shows these terms to be ultimately out of place. Footnote 1
Introduction
There is an ongoing conversation in bioethics regarding the nature of suffering. This conversation revolves around the following question: what kind of thing, exactly, is suffering? Specifically, is suffering a subjective phenomenon—intrinsically linked to personhood, personal values, feelings, and lived experience—or an objective affair, amenable to impersonal criteria and existing as an independent feature of the natural world? Notably, the implications of this determination are significant. If suffering is subjective, and therefore defined as an agent-dependent, first-person experience (potentially comparable to experiences like guilt or humiliation, which have both affective and cognitive dimensions) the kinds of creatures who can suffer are delimited. For example, worms probably cannot suffer, and neither can people who are sedated or in a coma. In addition, if suffering is subjective, no one can tell a person that they are suffering, or have special knowledge about the suffering of another individual. Indeed, within the subjective frame, challenges to first-person reports of suffering do not make sense, since the buck of suffering stops with the experience of suffering (and attendant claims) itself. However, if suffering is an objective reality, and therefore not essentially tied to first-person experience or feelings, it changes the dynamic. If suffering is objective, then individuals can be deceived about their own suffering, just like someone can be deceived that they have a serious illness, are being slighted by a friend, or are the best painter in the art school. In addition, if suffering is objective, the proper modes of measurement and response to suffering change. If objective, suffering does not “resist articulation” as Arthur Frank has claimed.Footnote 2 In the objective frame, suffering is out “in the world.” Hence, objective suffering could, ostensibly, be studied empirically and addressed directly in the same way that a broken bone can be directly examined and fixed, a starving animal directly fed, or an unjust housing policy directly studied and remediated.Footnote 3
In what follows I will begin to outline a method for constructing a holistic theory of suffering, a theory that harmonizes the objective and subjective dimensions of human life. Along the way, I will review the complicated history of the concept of “objectivity,” and discuss why the idea of pure subjective suffering is, I believe, fundamentally incoherent (and highlight other sources that argue this point at length). Then, I will attempt to show why any viable theory of suffering must move beyond the confining dichotomy of objectivity and subjectivity. This dichotomy is confining insofar as it perpetuates a form of alienation between people who are suffering and the world in which sufferers live, breathe, and have their being. In addition, it builds a problematic mind–body and mind-world dualism into any theory of suffering.Footnote 4 This problem is revealed—as I will explore—in Eric Cassell’s dominant theory of suffering, a theory that has consumed nearly all discussions of suffering in Western medicine and bioethics for the past 40 years.Footnote 5
Objectivity and self-effacement
In the historians of science Lorraine Daston’s and Peter Galisons’ remarkable tome Objectivity, the authors make a series of startling claims: objectivity has a history, there have been numerous forms of objectivity since the 17th century, and the current scientific-cultural understanding of objectivity is relative to a particularly modern view of what a self is and what a self can confidently know about the world.Footnote 6 These insights bear on the construction of a theory of objective suffering.
What does it mean to say that suffering is objective? To answer this question, a prior question must first be answered: what does it mean for a phenomenon to be objective at all? According to Daston’s and Galison’s (D&G) analysis, the answer to this question is not straightforward. Objectivity has evolved. Indeed, prior to the 17th century, the meanings of “subjective” and “objective” were actually flipped, with the predicate “objective” referring to things as they are presented to consciousness, (i.e., in the mind’s eye), whereas “subjective” referred to things that existed “in themselves” out in the external world.Footnote 7 Clearly, this is a far cry from the modern sense of “objective reality” which denotes “anything that exists as it is independent of any conscious awareness of it (via perception, thought, etc.).”Footnote 8
As D&G read it, the history of the idea of objectivity, somewhat surprisingly, is not a chronicle of humankind’s ability to know the world as it really is (vs. how it appears to be). Nor is it a history of humanity’s belief in its ability to grasp the “real world” (e.g., through the methods of photography, pure mathematics, or random sampling). Rather, it is a history of the self. Or, put more accurately, it is a history of the scientific self, which is the view that any scientific culture has regarding the degree to which a subjective self contributes to scientific observation and experimentation. This revelation bears both on how suffering is conceptualized today in bioethics, as well as the attendant subjective-objective debate.
According to D&G, the story of the emergence and reification of objectivity is a story of how the modern age has understood and coped with, the 18th-century Kantian insight that the self shapes the world. In the wake of Kant, it became incontrovertible that the self (via the mind) contributes foundational structures to experience that no scientist can get “underneath” or “behind.”Footnote 9 Kant inserted a wedge between subject and object and fated humanity to understand its experience of reality as occurring through a glass darkly, never face to face. This realization created epistemic anxiety in the hearts of scientists and philosophers, an anxiety that was relieved by the novel, world-gripping concept of objectivity.Footnote 10 For D&G, objectivity represents, tout court, the evolving attempt to recognize and suppress the subjective contribution of the self to the known world, to the world as it is known.Footnote 11 It follows that objectivity is essentially about epistemology. It is in this context that the power of D&G’s radical claim becomes apparent: “[o]bjectivity and subjectivity are as inseparable as concave and convex; one defines the other.”Footnote 12
D&G’s argument is convincing. Through meticulous documentation and analysis of scientific atlas design and production across the 18th–21st centuries, D&G displays the range of meanings of “objective.” They also demonstrate how these meanings are linked to particular historically specific scientific practices, and how each set of practices aims to both account for and bridle the spurious effects of self. For example, they show how, due to the “discovery” of the power of the will to transform so-called neutral observations, the structure and purpose of the scientific lab journal were recast in the 19th century. Originally viewed as a creative space for synthesis, the lab journal became, normatively, a ledger of pure observations, since the job of the observing scientist was to “forget all reasoning and only register.”Footnote 13 A difficult task, to be certain.
So how do these reflections and insights bear on the problem of suffering? Do they help clarify if suffering is fundamentally subjective vs objective? The chief insight is, I believe, that to speak of suffering as specifically subjective or objective is to say very little about the phenomenon of suffering itself. Rather, in claiming that suffering is objective, we reveal more about ourselves and join the chorus of scientists aiming to be freed from distorting feelings and artifacts injected by the mind.Footnote 14 However, as with all human inquiry, there is no view from nowhere.Footnote 15 To speak about suffering is always to speak from a situated history and perspective (i.e., a subjectivity). And yet—the world still exists! Indeed, I believe that we all believe that (1) the world exerts some form of accountability on our speech and concepts and that (2) in conversation with others, we can wander closer to or further from the truth of things (whether regarding suffering, love, or justice, etc.) —otherwise, we would just stop talking.Footnote 16 Therefore, to articulate a coherent and viable theory of suffering, the subjectivity (self) and objectivity (external world) of suffering must be married. A holistic account of suffering is the goal. But is this possible? For the remainder of this paper, I will consider that question.
Subjective suffering and Eric Cassell
To begin, I will briefly examine subjective suffering. An examination of subjective suffering is helpful in that it can reveal the problems a holistic theory of suffering must solve. To that end, Eric Cassell’s theory provides an exemplary account.
For Cassell, suffering is the “severe distress induced by the loss of integrity, intactness, cohesiveness, or wholeness of the person, or by a threat that the person believes will result in the dissolution of his or her integrity.”Footnote 17 The Cassellian concepts of distress, intactness, and personhood are complex, but what weaves them together into a form of subjectivity is their dependence on interpretation and meaning. Indeed, for Cassell, meaning (which is a function of the mind) is the crux of suffering, and the attribution of meaning to things is a function of persons.Footnote 18 Persons have minds, durable identities, a central purpose, and a coherent sense of self. Persons are not bodies, not Turing meat machines. Persons are non-fungible and therefore suffering is non-fungible.
It follows that suffering is never meaningless, and any creature incapable of recognizing and reflecting on its distress cannot actually suffer: it merely feels pain (or some other basic emotion) in response to its environment.Footnote 19 Notably, this framing excludes the possibility of personhood, and therefore of suffering, for many children, as well as anyone with serious intellectual disability, dementia, or altered levels of consciousness.
And what of this framing? When considering Cassell’s agenda-setting influence on the conceptualization of suffering in medicine and bioethics, I am reminded of Ludwig Wittgenstein’s remark about representational epistemology that “A picture held us captive, and we could not get outside it, for it lay in our language and language seemed to repeat it to us inexorably.”Footnote 20 Cassell’s subjectivism links suffering directly, and exhaustively, to identity and meaning. The Cassellian picture imagines that all suffering experiences must be felt and experienced by and in the mind, as the mind is the location of meaning.Footnote 21 Suffering is never experienced non-mentally as “merely” an affliction, process, or cross to bear.Footnote 22 But this view has implications. By subjectivizing suffering, Cassell dislocates suffering from its traditional connections to injustice and structural inequality and thereby delegitimizes the important category of social suffering (by pitching suffering as something that is “principally psychological or medical and, therefore, individual.”)Footnote 23 The lamination of suffering to meanings and central purpose (which Cassell sees as the unique essence of a self) also prevents suffering from being viewed as an opportunity for personal growth and change (an either/or kind of perspective) and fails to account for human self-deception and lack of insight.Footnote 24 Finally, Cassellian suffering flouts ordinary language and is therefore oddly incapable of characterizing the suffering of most animals or any human lacking a durable sense of identity and self.Footnote 25
Taken all together, I am convinced that if suffering is not held accountable to some form of natural, observable, and public criteria—for instance oppression, severe bodily impairment, or the absence of well-being—it inevitably becomes thin and idiosyncratic, or indistinguishable from emotions or mood disorders like anxiety or depression.Footnote 26 A better theory of suffering must be formulated.
Suffering and the world at large
Brent Kious has noted the possibility that suffering is inherently pluralistic.Footnote 27 There is wisdom in this claim. However, I am unwilling to give up on the idea that there are ties that bind the various meanings of suffering together, a union of subjectivity and objectivity into a singular theory of human suffering.
But what could such a theory look like? My hypothesis is that suffering emerges as a name given to an act of coproduction between intentional subject and world.Footnote 28 So framed, suffering necessarily involves both nature and culture, since subjects only know the world as it is mediated to them (for example, as children learning a language and adapting moral notions and norms) through a culture. Suffering, like all concepts (e.g., love and justice), is not an idea that people concoct on their own in isolation. It is not a meaning in the mind which may or may not coincide with a distant cause.Footnote 29 Rather, at the highest level, it is something co-produced by the subject and world, a type or form of reality generated through the interaction between the two. As a joint production, any description of suffering is fundamentally structured (like a hand in glove) by contact between the embodied mind and the world; taken further, an accurate grasp of suffering is determined by contact as well as interaction, an interaction that quite literally cannot be described (i.e., it becomes nonsense) while just talking about agents in isolation.Footnote 30
Human beings are material things. They are part of nature, parts of the cosmos, like graphite and magnolia trees, like candle wax or sewing machines. However, because they are alive and have language they can know and articulate aspects of their world in a way that exceeds other material things.Footnote 31 Yet these articulations are not limitless but rather are constrained by both historical and cultural parameters, and natural features of their bodies and environments (humans can think and believe a lot of things, but they cannot think and believe anything, at least not in good faith and without flouting basic requirements of reason).Footnote 32 Suffering is one such articulation. Like justice, or love properly understood, human suffering is a real feature of the human world, an objective (in an interpretive, holistic sense) description of how individuals, communities, or populations are configured in relation to themselves, to others, and to the world.Footnote 33 And what of this view? If a holistic position is correct, I believe, suffering studies has barely begun.Footnote 34 To understand the how and why of human suffering, an interlocking theory of (1) human (bio-psycho-spiritual) nature, (2) human culture, and (3) the process by which culture interprets nature (i.e., presses upon nature certain forms, fears, aspirations, and norms) to beget a believable suffering claim, must be generated.Footnote 35 Without such a theory of suffering, I suspect, a fragmentary pluralism is as good as it gets.Footnote 36