The question of subjectivity has always been central to philosophy, but with the advent of digital technologies, new frameworks for understanding the self have emerged. One particularly intriguing challenge comes from gaming perspectives: can a second-person perspective exist within a video game? This is not merely a technical or artistic question; it is a deep philosophical problem concerning self-awareness, agency, and the nature of observation. Traditional gaming perspectives fall into first-person, where the player experiences the world directly through a character’s eyes, or third-person, where they observe the character from an external viewpoint. The second-person perspective, by contrast, presents a paradox. In linguistics, the second person refers to “you,” implying direct address and interaction, but when translated into gaming, this creates an epistemological and ontological tension: who is the observer, and who is being observed? This paper argues that a sustained second-person perspective in gaming is impossible, not merely for technical reasons but because it contradicts the fundamental structures of human subjectivity.

This small research project also functions as a supplementary exploration alongside my MA thesis on human embodiment, which is why I find Varela, Husserl, and Merleau-Ponty particularly compelling in their examination of this subject.

1. Second-Person Perspective in Video Games

The exploration of subjectivity in interactive media offers a fascinating avenue to reassess the nature of perspective, an epistemological and aesthetic construct that has long preoccupied philosophy and literature. Two recent examinations of second-person perspectives in video games, presented in video essays by the YouTubers Action Button and Jacob Geller, challenge the conventional classifications of first-person and third-person viewpoints. These analyses not only reconsider the conceptual architecture of gaming narratives but also engage with broader ontological and phenomenological concerns regarding self-awareness, agency, and embodiment.

1.1 A Neglected Epistemology in Gaming

Traditionally, video game perspectives are understood as either first-person, wherein the player experiences the game world directly through the eyes of the agent, or third-person, where the agent is observed from an external vantage point. The question posed by Action Button in their discussion of Driver: San Francisco disrupts this binary: What might a truly second-person game look like? This inquiry unveils a critical gap in gaming terminology—one that mirrors the conceptual lacunae in philosophical discussions of selfhood and alterity.

A case study emerges in the form of Driver: San Francisco, particularly its mission titled “The Target.” The protagonist, John Tanner, possesses the uncanny ability to shift into other characters’ bodies, a conceit that effectively constructs a second-person viewpoint. In this mission, Tanner inhabits the body of Ordell, a henchman assigned to capture none other than Tanner himself. This paradoxical scenario positions the player as subject and object, controller and controlled. The player navigates the world through Ordell, yet their true self, as Tanner, remains a separate entity being pursued. This inversion of conventional gaming mechanics evokes a profound, almost uncanny, sense of out-of-body awareness, challenging the player’s conception of identity and control.

This moment of self-alienation resonates with philosophical theories of double consciousness, where the self is both observer and observed. If, as Descartes postulated, subjectivity is founded on an indivisible cogito, Driver: San Francisco offers a counterpoint wherein the self is split between actor and acted-upon, interrogating the stability of the gaming subject.

Beyond the immediate epistemological conundrum, the game’s structural affordances allow for an emergent deviation from the intended narrative arc. Action Button recounts their own experience of subverting the game’s intended linearity, venturing into the open world beyond the mission’s prescribed boundaries. This divergence from predetermined objectives underscores an implicit tension between game design as control and player agency as resistance. Such unexpected transgressions within the game world mirror broader discourses in philosophy and literary theory regarding the tension between structure and freedom. Kant’s delineation of reason’s limits in the Critique of Pure Reason finds an analogue here—structured narratives provide order, yet the subjective impulse seeks transcendence beyond imposed constraints.

1.2 The Phenomenology of Second-Person Gaming

Jacob Geller’s analysis expands upon this conceptual terrain, foregrounding the linguistic and cinematographic genealogy of second-person perspectives. Drawing upon film theory, the video examines how certain cinematic techniques approximate a second-person perspective, though such an approach remains largely underdeveloped in gaming discourse.

A particularly illuminating experiment described in Geller’s analysis involves an NPC equipped with a camera that follows the player, generating an unsettling sensation of being watched. This dynamic complicates the notion of perspectival authority: in most games, the player controls the gaze, yet here, an externalized perspective exerts control over the player’s experience. This inversion invites existential anxieties akin to Sartrean notions of the gaze, wherein the realization of being observed disrupts one’s assumed autonomy.

Furthermore, Geller problematizes the linguistic application of “first-person,” “second-person,” and “third-person” to gaming perspectives. While these terms are borrowed from grammatical structures, their translation to visual and interactive mediums remains imperfect. This linguistic interrogation aligns with post-structuralist concerns regarding the inadequacy of language to encapsulate embodied experience fully.

These explorations ultimately invite a re-evaluation of how we conceive perspective in interactive media. The second-person perspective, elusive in traditional gaming discourse, presents an avenue for further theoretical exploration. It compels a reconsideration of the self as both perceiver and perceived, challenging notions of player subjectivity and agency. Moreover, the cultural reception of second-person games, such as the ongoing campaign to restore Driver: San Francisco to digital storefronts, reveals an emergent communal engagement with the preservation of experimental and transgressive game design. This discourse echoes broader efforts to maintain access to formative works within digital culture, underscoring the cultural significance of interactive media as an evolving artistic form.

1.3 Conclusion

The second-person perspective in gaming, though rarely articulated in mainstream discourse, reveals latent philosophical and artistic potentials. As gaming technology and storytelling evolve, so too does the capacity for more nuanced explorations of identity, agency, and perception. The analyses provided by Action Button and Jacob Geller serve as a critical intervention, bridging gaming criticism with philosophical inquiry and media theory. Just as literature and film have historically expanded the boundaries of human self-understanding, video games now offer a new frontier for engaging with the complexities of subjectivity and perspective.

2. Gaming as a Metaphor for Subjectivity

The phenomenon offers a powerful metaphor for philosophical discussions on subjectivity. The existentialist notion of selfhood, particularly as developed by Sartre, is built upon the tension between being-for-itself (the conscious, free agent) and being-for-others (the objectified self in the eyes of another). Sartre famously describes the gaze as the experience of suddenly becoming aware that one is being observed, transforming the subject into an object. This shift from first-person immediacy to third-person objectification is precisely what games struggle with when attempting a second-person mode. If we consider gaming as an analogy for existential subjectivity, then the impossibility of a second-person game mirrors the impossibility of truly seeing oneself from the outside without dissolving into external observation.

This discussion also recalls Kant’s transcendental unity of apperception, which asserts that self-awareness is not a passive reflection but an active synthesis:

“The ‘I think’ must accompany all my representations.” ¹

This implies that consciousness is fundamentally structured as a first-person experience. Even when we attempt to perceive ourselves from the outside, we do so through internalized frameworks that remain anchored in our own subjectivity. This aligns with the first-person and third-person perspectives in gaming but makes a sustained second-person viewpoint structurally incoherent.

Plato’s Republic provides another perspective on this issue. His concept of the divided soul suggests that selfhood already contains an inherent duality—one part of the self is the rational observer, while another part is the agent of action and desire. This aligns with the paradox we encounter in gaming: while a player may momentarily take the position of an external observer, they remain tied to the agency of their in-game avatar. Even in an environment where the player’s character is being directly addressed by another entity, the experience never fully shifts into a second-person mode because the player’s cognition remains rooted in their own subjectivity.

3. The Role of Media in Shaping Subjectivity

These questions raise further issues about the relationship between media and self-awareness. Did filmography and gaming transform our sense of introspection, or were these media forms created precisely because we already understood subjectivity in these terms? Sartre’s idea that “God is dead” takes on a new form here, not in Nietzsche’s proclamation of divine absence but in the realization that the observer traditionally represented by God has moved inside our own consciousness:

“Thus, there is no human nature, because there is no God to conceive it. Man is nothing else but what he makes of himself.” ²

We no longer experience an external, divine watchful presence but instead internalize an ever-present introspective observer. Gaming, film, and digital media may not have created this internal observer, but they have certainly externalized and formalized it, allowing us to manipulate and experience it in new ways.

Francisco Varela’s neurophenomenology further supports this analysis. Varela emphasizes that cognition is not an internal computational process but an embodied and enactive experience. This aligns with the difficulty of sustaining a second-person perspective in gaming. If subjectivity arises through embodied interaction with the world, then attempting to position the player simultaneously as self and other disrupts this cognitive framework. Driver: San Francisco provides an accidental case study in this regard—by making the player control a character who is observing themselves, the game momentarily fractures the embodied flow of action, creating an uncanny and disorienting effect.

The failure of second-person gaming thus becomes a crucial point in understanding how perception operates. If gaming perspectives reflect structures of selfhood, then this limitation reveals something fundamental about consciousness: we are either subjects or objects, never both simultaneously. The experimentations in gaming may hint at the liminal spaces between these modes, but they ultimately reaffirm the traditional philosophical view that subjectivity is anchored in the first-person perspective.

4. Future Philosophical Questions

The impossibility of second-person gaming opens new avenues for philosophical inquiry. If technology advances further, particularly in AI and virtual reality, could we one day construct an experience that truly places the player in a second-person position? Would this require a reconfiguration of cognitive perception itself? Furthermore, does gaming reveal something new about self-awareness, or does it simply externalize pre-existing mental structures? These are not just theoretical concerns but questions that will shape the future of human interaction with digital media. A more radical question emerges when considering media evolution: has gaming, like film before it, shaped the way we perceive ourselves? Or was the framework of subjectivity already present, merely waiting for these media forms to materialize? The philosophical stakes are high because they touch upon the very way in which human beings experience existence. If we are forever trapped in the first-person perspective, then attempts to simulate the second-person view only highlight the impossibility of escaping our own subjectivity.

5. Conclusion

The idea of a second-person gaming perspective is not just an interesting design challenge; it is a philosophical impossibility rooted in the nature of consciousness. As Sartre, Kant, Husserl, and Plato each suggest in different ways, self-awareness requires a fundamental unity of subjectivity that cannot be split into both observer and observed at the same time. Gaming perspectives, far from breaking new ground in this regard, only reaffirm these insights by demonstrating that any attempt to sustain a second-person mode collapses back into first- or third-person frameworks.

This impossibility does not indicate a failure of gaming but rather points to a deeper truth about the structure of experience itself. Whether media has reshaped our introspective observer or merely revealed it remains an open question, but what is certain is that the self remains an enduring mystery that neither gaming nor philosophy has yet fully unraveled.

Link to footnotes and Bibliography

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In his speech on the dream of life, Alan Watts narrates of life as a self-created dream, an exploration what it means to exist. Imagine, he says, that you could dream any life you wanted. At first, you would fill this dream with endless pleasures and satisfaction, creating a world of your deepest desires. But over time, the predictability of such perfection would wear thin. You would begin to wish for challenges, risks, and unknowns—anything to give your dream more meaning, depth, and richness. Eventually, you would dream your way into the life you are living now—a life full of uncertainties, struggles, and joys. This life, with all its imperfections, is not an accident but the result of a deeper will to explore, learn, and uncover who you are through experience. In this way, life itself is both the dreamer and the dream, unfolding through each act of creation and discovery.

This can be seen as an allegory for AI, which is like a dream of data, where endless possibilities are programmed but lack true consequences. In the dream of life, we wish for things without knowing their outcomes. By acting and experiencing, we gather knowledge and learn something about ourselves. This is like data collection in real life—we gain information from living and acting and call it knowledge about things. For this reason, we might say there are no fixed rules in the game of life. AI, on the other hand, interacts with Big Data—a representation of life rather than a lived experience.

Once, I listened to Alan Watts’ speech on the dream of life and felt its profound metaphorical connection to life itself. While immersed in my exploration of AI, his words resurfaced in my mind, provoked by the resemblance I noticed in the AI-generated images I created. At first, these images appeared blurry and dreamlike, which stirred my curiosity and drew me back to the ideas in his speech. In this paper, I aim to compare the functionalities of humans and AI to gain a deeper understanding of their distinctions and intersections. I will explore the following question:

“How does comparing human and AI decision-making deepen our understanding of human consciousness?”

 The Holistic Human Experience

In my previous papers on philosophical anthropology, I describe human experience as a system shaped by three interwoven dimensions: the physical, mental, and emotional bodies. Drawing from Jungian psychology, I see these bodies as working together, constantly influencing and transforming each other. This integration creates our unique sense of self and connects us to the world. The physical body (1)  roots us in sensory reality, allowing direct interaction with the external world and grounding our presence. The mental body (2) is the realm of thought, reason, and consciousness, where we construct meaning and engage with abstract ideas, framing our experiences in coherent narratives. Finally, the emotional body (3) encompasses the subtleties of feeling, intuition, and relational awareness, infusing our experiences with depth and fostering empathy.

In essence: 1) My physical body feels the need to drink, signaling 2) my mental body to think of water. The mental body, drawing on past experiences of thirst (retrieving information from memory), triggers 3) an emotional response—discomfort or even despair—which ultimately leads back to 1) a physical action of pouring water.

These bodies don’t act in a fixed order but as a connected whole. In moments of extreme affect, the mental body might even be bypassed, leaving only survival instincts. I believe we often rely too much on the mental body and overlook the physical body’s deeper, instinctual wisdom, but that is another topic.

Let me summarize and verify my conclusions through the lens of cognitive psychology and neuroscience to ensure clarity and avoid potential misconceptions. The act of pouring water begins with the body’s innate signals. When dehydrated, receptors in the hypothalamus detect an imbalance and trigger thirst. This physical alert signals the brain, initiating a cascade of processes to resolve the need. The brain’s sensory systems focus attention on the discomfort, while the mental body identifies the problem and searches for a solution, drawing on past experiences stored in the hippocampus. The prefrontal cortex evaluates options, while the amygdala adds emotional urgency to prioritize action. Emotion amplifies motivation, engaging the limbic system and basal ganglia to drive the physical act. Signals from the prefrontal cortex guide the motor cortex and cerebellum to execute precise movements, translating intention into action. As water is consumed, the hypothalamus detects restored hydration, and the brain’s reward pathways release dopamine, reinforcing the behavior. This sequence illustrates the seamless interplay of the physical, mental, and emotional bodies, working together as a holistic system where signals, memory, and intention converge to resolve needs and shape future actions.

Will, Energy, Intention, and Intuition

Human consciousness does not end at this simple need-satisfaction cycle. Human decision-making is similar to observing the behavior of photons—it depends on intent and context. Photons exist as both waves and particles, with their behavior depending entirely on the moment the observer chooses to look. Instead of simply giving AI an impulse with precise instructions to generate a stunning image of a beautiful landscape (Phenomenologically and within the framework of continental philosophy), as Kant suggests, we are intuiting the very essence of our reality in each moment. A decision’s value as a “wave” or “particle” only emerges after the will and intention have been directed into precise action.

I see here three necessary components:

1. Will is the driving force, the raw power that connects a person to the universe.
2. Intention shapes and directs that force, turning it into purposeful action.
3. Energy is the resource that sustains both will and intention, enabling one to perceive and act with clarity and power.

For example, deciding to start a new project involves the will to overcome hesitation, the energy to plan and execute, and the intention to focus these efforts on achieving a specific goal. Together, they form the foundation of purposeful and effective decision-making.

Husserl’s intentionality inherently connects to will and intention, as it reflects the directed nature of human consciousness. Will emerges as the force driving our focus, while intention shapes and directs this force toward purposeful action. Together, they align the mind’s “aboutness” with meaningful outcomes, grounding decisions in context, values, and purpose. Unlike AI, which operates without true intention or will, human actions arise from a conscious engagement with the world, where decisions are not just responses but deliberate expressions of inner purpose.

Intuition occupies a special and distinct place in the philosophical exploration of human cognition and existence. It represents a profound ability to grasp knowledge or make decisions instinctively, bypassing conscious reasoning. Rooted in the subconscious, intuition draws from accumulated experiences, emotions, and patterns, offering immediate insights that often feel inherently “true.” Philosophically, it embodies a bridge between the rational and the ineffable, allowing access to layers of understanding beyond logic or analysis.

Intuition holds particular importance in creativity, ethical decision-making, and moments of existential clarity. By engaging the emotional and subconscious dimensions of the human mind, it provides a unique way of navigating the world, complementing logical thought while transcending its limitations. This makes intuition not just a cognitive tool but a vital philosophical concept, illuminating the deeper, interconnected aspects of human experience.

Here, I propose the addition of a fourth body: the transcendent body. It is the first-person space where intentions form before they manifest in physical, emotional, or mental acts. This transcendence is where human decision-making begins—beyond the realms of data and computation. The transcendent body can indeed be likened to the existential or spiritual aspects of human life, as it resides in the abstract realm where meaning, purpose, and being converge. It is the space of pre-decision, where intentions form before they manifest in thought or action. This dimension connects us to something beyond the physical, psychological or emotional, grounding our existence in a deeper reality that cannot be fully measured or explained. It is here that we encounter the ineffable—the essence of what it means to be human, to seek, to question, and to create. AI, by contrast, operates without such a transcendent dimension. It processes data and produces responses, but its decisions lack the deeper existential grounding of human will and intention. In Alan Watts’ words, the intuitive, unpredictable dream of human life against the predetermined “dream” of AI.

How does AI work?

AI’s decision-making and action follows a structured sequence rooted in data processing and algorithmic evaluation. It begins with input collection, where raw information is gathered through sensors, cameras, or connected systems. These inputs form the foundation of the process, ranging from visual data to environmental information or text streams.

AI processes data in a structured sequence. First, the data is cleaned and transformed into a usable format through preprocessing and feature extraction, identifying key patterns for analysis. The system then applies its trained model to evaluate these features, generating predictions or classifications that guide decision-making. Once a decision is made, it is executed either physically, via robotics, or virtually, through software systems. The process concludes with feedback and adjustment, as the system evaluates outcomes and refines its future performance in a continuous loop. This method ensures precision and efficiency, with data flowing through clear stages of analysis, action, and improvement.

Comparison

The comparison between human and AI functionalities highlights both similarities and key differences in how they process inputs, make decisions, and execute actions. While humans and AI gather inputs from their environments, humans translate needs into conscious awareness through sensory systems, whereas AI processes raw data without awareness or subjective understanding. AI relies entirely on human input. It processes human impulses but cannot generate its own. Can AI ever develop an impulse through data alone? This question circles back to the question of free will. How do humans decide on an impulse, and how does AI respond?

In phenomenology, Husserl’s concept of intentionality refers to the mind’s inherent “aboutness,” where consciousness is always directed toward something—a thought, object, or experience. This intentionality ties human decision-making to a deeper context, as actions are imbued with meaning, purpose, and an understanding of their relational significance. Humans not only act but comprehend the “why” and “for whom” of their choices, informed by lived experience and existential reflection. In contrast, AI lacks intentionality in this phenomenological sense; its actions are not “about” anything but are merely responses to data processed within predefined parameters. AI’s decisions, while functional, are devoid of the relational and existential depth that characterizes human intentionality and meaningful action.

Humans translate needs into conscious awareness, relying on a dynamic interplay of physical, mental, and emotional dimensions, where will, power, and intention create purposeful actions driven by intuition, emotions, and context. AI, however, processes raw data without awareness, relying on programmed objectives and optimization criteria. Human feedback fosters learning and growth, while AI’s feedback loops refine performance without experiential depth. Humans act as holistic systems, integrating creativity and ethics, while AI operates in linear, algorithmic stages, devoid of subjective experience.

Deterministic AI systems face profound ethical challenges in decision-making, particularly in reinforcing biases and operating without transparency. The IEEE’s Ethically Aligned Design points out that AI trained on biased data risks replicating systemic inequalities, especially in sensitive areas like hiring or law enforcement. Generative AI introduces further dilemmas, such as the creation of deepfakes and misinformation, threatening public trust and safety. These limitations emphasize the necessity of ethical oversight and human accountability to ensure AI serves society responsibly.

Personal reflection

It is intriguing that decision-making that I want to focus on emerges as a shared point of comparison between humans and AI in this exploration. However, I believe the deterministic nature of AI should not be fully trusted from an ethical standpoint.

When we turn to AI, we must recognize that true human likeness requires more than programming or computation; it demands a holistic, transcendental body—something beyond our mental, physical or emotional control or understanding.

It is also curious how discussions about AI inevitably lead us to questions about ourselves. I wonder if this stems from an over-reliance on our intelligence, viewing it as superior, only to now feel unsettled as we measure ourselves against a tool designed to enhance it. Perhaps it is time to recognize that we are far more than our functionality, societal roles, or intelligence. AI, in a way, mirrors our current state—where we prioritize functioning over simply being. This is a stage we have become so accustomed to that unlearning it seems nearly impossible. I cannot say if this reflection will serve as a reminder for everyone, but I do know that whatever unsettles or frustrates me ultimately reveals something about myself. This reflection forces us to question what it means to truly know, decide, and create—and to acknowledge the enduring mysteries of human consciousness.

Conclusion

In conclusion, the exploration of human and AI functionalities reveals not just differences in processing, decision-making, and action, but also deeper insights into what defines us as humans. While AI operates with precision, relying on deterministic algorithms and external programming, it lacks the holistic integration of will, intention, and transcendence that shapes human experience.

AI mirrors our current state of prioritizing functionality over being, challenging us to confront our reliance on intelligence and efficiency. Yet, this comparison serves as a reminder that we are far more than our cognitive capacities or societal roles—we are beings of creativity, intuition, and interconnected dimensions. Reflecting on AI compels us to reexamine our own nature, urging us to balance our abilities to function with the deeper essence of simply existing.

As we create ever more sophisticated AI, we must also look inward, recognizing that what sets us apart is not just our ability to think or act, but our capacity to exist holistically—to dream, create, intuit, and transcend.

1. Heidegger, Martin. Being and Time. Translated by John Macquarrie and Edward Robinson. New York: Harper & Row, 1962.

2. Jung, Carl Gustav. The Archetypes and the Collective Unconscious. Translated by R. F. C. Hull. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1981.

3. Carter, Rita. 2019. The Human Brain Book: An Illustrated Guide to Its Structure, Function, and Disorders. London: DK.

4. Schopenhauer, Arthur. The World as Will and Representation. Translated by E. F. J. Payne. New York: Dover Publications, 1969.

5. Sartre, Jean-Paul. Being and Nothingness: An Essay in Phenomenological Ontology. Translated by Hazel E. Barnes. New York: Washington Square Press, 1992.

6. Floridi, Luciano. The Philosophy of Information. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011.

7. Husserl, Edmund. “Philosophy as Rigorous Science.” In Phenomenology and the Crisis of Philosophy, edited and translated by Quentin Lauer, 71–147. New York: Harper & Row, 1965.

8. Searle, John. “Minds, Brains, and Programs.” Behavioral and Brain Sciences 3, no. 3 (1980): 417–457. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0140525X00005756.

9. Bergson, Henri. “The Perception of Change.” In Creative Evolution, translated by Arthur Mitchell, 266–284. New York: Henry Holt, 1911.

10.“Ethical Considerations in Artificial Intelligence Systems.” IEEE White Paper. Accessed November 2024. https://standards.ieee.org.

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Philosophical anthropology examines the essence and distinctiveness of human beings by exploring complex facets of human existence, such as consciousness and societal constructs. This field merges insights from philosophy, psychology, and sociology to articulate a comprehensive view of what it means to be human. In my analysis, I focus on one aspect of our being—the mental body, alongside the physical, emotional, and archetypal dimensions. This paper specifically examines the mental body and the role of the ego, providing a nuanced perspective deeply influenced by Jung’s theories and phenomenology. My approach emphasizes that humans are complex systems embedded within a broader cosmic framework, which paradoxically originates from within. By exploring the mental body, we aim to understand the intricate interplay between the ego and our broader human experience, revealing how our perceptions and identities are shaped by this dynamic. My philosophical inquiry is deeply informed by my practical experiences in clinical therapy, supervision, and the analysis of various psychological conditions encountered in my role as an art therapist. Additionally, my cultural and linguistic background enriches my perspective, allowing me to approach the subject from multiple angles.

Argument

The mental body is linked to the cerebral processes of thought, through which consciousness crafts our perceived reality, utilizing thought as a mechanism of organization. Inevitably, the ego assumes the role of a conductor, orchestrating the analysis and structuring of our perceived world. However, it does not operate in isolation; it is nourished by the experiences derived from the physical body, which instruct the brain on what should be perceived as perilous or safe, thus establishing the foundational dualistic notion of good and evil. Over time, as an individual matures, the ego shapes a filter of habits through which experiences are interpreted. The ego is tethered to our comprehension of daily existence within the physical and material realm. Hence, we must not elevate the instrument of thought to the primary means for comprehending the internal and external realities of the human condition.

Support

Jung articulates a concept saying: “The ego is the subject of all successful attempts at adaptation so far as these are achieved by the will. The ego, therefore, is by no means identical with the self, but is merely its most highly developed and most highly conscious part, its leading end, which often tries to drag the self in its wake. It has the capacity to convert the sum of luminous perceptions of the outer world into stable ideas and concepts, and thus to build up the world of reason.” This suggests that it is through the act of thinking that the human brain transforms an experience into action.

Take, for instance, the amygdala: this region of the brain orchestrates the response to fear, essentially safeguarding the physical body from potential mortal threats. This response begins as a primal instinct. However, without this instinct being refined into an emotion and subsequently formulated into thought, an immediate reaction to the imminent threat of death does not occur. Studies using brain imaging techniques, such as fMRI (Functional Magnetic Resonance Imaging), have shown how different parts of the brain communicate when responding to threats. The amygdala detects danger and quickly sends signals to the prefrontal cortex, where the information is processed to decide on the action to take based on past experiences, current context, and predicted outcomes.

In psychiatric conditions such as anxiety disorders or post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), this pathway can become dysregulated. For instance, in PTSD, the amygdala is often hyperactive, leading to an exaggerated fear response to perceived threats. Treatment strategies, including cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT) and certain medications, aim to modify these responses by altering how the brain processes these fear signals.

The ego, through its incessant internal discourse, significantly influences the interpretation, response, and construction of external reality. Yet, this external reality is intrinsically linked and not distinct from the internal mechanisms, which I explore through a phenomenological lens. It acts as a filter, distorting the external reality and projecting it onto the inner membrane of the Jungian Self. Thus, it forms perceptions and opinions about the external world but fails to capture its true essence.

The writings of Edmund Husserl and Maurice Merleau-Ponty highlight the connection between perception and lived experience, asserting that all perception is shaped by the observer’s intentions and historical experiences. Merleau-Ponty posits that perception is fundamentally subjective, always filtered through the individual’s personal experiences and their physical interaction with the world.

Carl Jung proposed that the Self serves as a mediator bridging the conscious and unconscious realms of the psyche, and he highlighted how the ego can sometimes veil the profound insights that emerge from the unconscious. He explored the notion that archetypes and the collective unconscious shape our perceptions, which can be misinterpreted or skewed by the ego’s subjective lens: “The self is not only the center but also the whole circumference which embraces both conscious and unconscious; it is the center of this totality, just as the ego is the center of consciousness. […] It might equally be called the ‘self,’ inasmuch as the essential elements of the personality, the archetype, and the collective unconscious are united in it. However, since the ego is only the center of my field of consciousness, it is not identical to the totality of my psyche, being merely a complex among other complexes. Hence I discriminate between the ego and the self, since the ego is only the subject of my consciousness, whereas the self is the subject of my totality: hence it also includes the unconscious psyche. In this sense, the self would be an ideal completeness.”

Certainly, my discussion does not reduce the entirety of human essence to the ego. This paper merely serves as a fragment of a broader dissertation aiming to chart the full landscape of human nature. Philosophically, this raises a compelling question: if human beings are neither the mere product of their inner dialogues nor wholly encapsulated by these dialogues, what are they? To engage deeply with philosophical anthropology and to grasp the nuances of human existence, it is essential to transcend the egoic filters that have evolved as survival mechanisms within the Self. This detachment is vital for a purer exploration of what it means to be human, unencumbered by the biases of our constructed identities.

Counterpoints

The following statements are various philosophical perspectives that challenge the necessity of transcending egoic filters to fully understand human essence: Within the materialist framework, humans are often seen as integrations of biological and physical processes. According to this view, human consciousness and the ego are not veils obscuring some deeper essence but are rather products of evolutionary and genetic processes that aim at survival and reproduction- the habit ingrained in us over the course of human history. From this perspective, epitomized in Richard Dawkins’ “The Selfish Gene,” human behaviors are interpreted through the lens of evolutionary biology, where genetic survival supersedes psychological constructs. This approach suggests that transcending these ‘filters’ might overlook essential mechanisms that define human existence. Genes play a crucial role in human existence; however, I will address them in the context of the physical body rather than the ego in my subsequent essays.

The proposition that the process of thought complicates our grasp of human essence does not detract from its centrality in material existence and conscious daily life. Thought serves as the fundamental gateway through which understanding is initiated. However, the manner in which we engage with thought often blurs the line between reality and our habitual perceptions of it—a habituation developed across generations and both prenatal and postnatal. Thus, the biological imperative for survival and reproduction is intricately programmed within the ego’s construct.

Existential thinkers offer a counterargument: the pursuit of an essence beyond immediate lived experience is inherently fruitless because essence is precisely that which is enacted through existence. Jean-Paul Sartre’s iconic assertion that “existence precedes essence” implies that humans define themselves through their actions, not through a pre-existing essence obscured by the ego. For Sartre, human identity is a construct of actions and choices, not an underlying essence awaiting discovery. I must concede that I find myself unable to align with this perspective, as it suggests that human identity is derived solely from actions rather than existence in itself. Does this imply that my existence ceases in the absence of the active ego function of choice? Or might my very existence encompass action and choice without being wholly defined by them? This premise compels us to distinguish between ‘human doing’ and ‘human essence.’

Perhaps it is feasible to acknowledge the active aspect of human essence within the broader schema, yet it would be erroneous to elevate it to a position of central importance. Phenomenologists like Maurice Merleau-Ponty argue against detaching from the ego, asserting that understanding human essence requires engaging with both personal and collective consciousness. Merleau-Ponty emphasizes embodied perception, revealing that human essence is accessible through active engagement with the world, mediated by our bodies and cognitive processes, including the ego. He suggests a profound connection between body, mind, and world in exploring the self. Consequently, I perceive an imperative to investigate all dimensions and manifestations of human existence to the fullest extent that our worldly cognitive capacities allow. This endeavor necessitates adopting a more expansive perspective and endeavoring to distance ourselves from the Ego—to which we are profoundly entwined—without becoming entirely detached. The act of centralization, in itself, tends to engender complications.

Conclusion

In exploring the mental body alongside the physical, emotional, and archetypal dimensions within this study, it becomes evident that human consciousness, while central, does not singularly define our existence. Our engagement with thought as the primary tool in philosophical inquiries into human nature, though profound, reveals limitations that necessitate a broader examination. This paper argues that understanding the full complexity of human beings requires transcending the centrality of the ego and embracing the paradoxical, beautiful, and complex entirety of human existence.

The ego, as articulated through Jung’s perspective, serves as a critical intermediary in our conscious interactions but does not encompass the whole of our psychological landscape. Recognizing this, the phenomenological approach allows us to explore the nuanced interplay between the ego and the deeper, often unconscious elements of the psyche. This exploration is crucial for appreciating how perceptions and identities are not merely products of isolated cerebral activities but are deeply influenced by a confluence of various existential forces. Moreover, the concept of the ego as a filter, which both shapes and distorts our engagement with the world, invites a reevaluation of how we define reality. The philosophical challenge then becomes one of integrating these diverse aspects of human experience—acknowledging that while the ego contributes to our survival by structuring our perceptions, it also potentially obscures the richer textures of existence that transcend immediate sensory experiences or psychological reactions.

Thus, philosophical anthropology, as it grapples with these intricate dimensions, does not merely seek to dissect human nature into comprehensible parts but strives to synthesize a holistic view that honors the inherent complexity and inherent beauty of being human. In doing so, it invites ongoing dialogue and inquiry into what it means to live fully aware of the myriad influences—both seen and unseen—that shape our thoughts, actions, and interactions. This inquiry into the mental body and its connections to broader existential questions does not reduce human essence to mere products of thought or biological imperatives. Instead, it underscores the importance of a more profound engagement with the philosophical underpinnings that consider the full spectrum of human experience. By transcending the limitations imposed by the ego, we open ourselves to a more authentic understanding of human nature, one that embraces the paradoxes and complexities that define our existence.

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