I think the following article (cut and pasted from elsewhere) answers,
or at least clarifies, this argument very well and is also in accord
with the Wolffian view.... I wouldn't post something here that wasn't
relevant, so please accept that this is just an attempt to help
clarify this murky subject! It's quite long, but well worth a read...
The Nature of the Physical World, by Douglas Harding
Science -- or rather, science misunderstood and gone haywire -- has
come up with a great deal of unscientific nonsense in its time. And
the most prevalent, the most silly, the most absurd piece of pseudo-
scientific nonsense is the dogma that consciousness is a by-product of
matter -- a kind of incidental and accidental effluvium or subtle
radiation that matter gives off when it gets sufficiently complex, as
in human brains. The one thing led to the other, as if brains happened
to grow a bump of consciousness in addition to the other bumps! As if
the protuberance on the top of the head of images of the Buddha were
the bump of that superconsciouness which he called enlightenment! In
the beginning was a lot of stuff, and in the course of time it got
around to noticing itself! Clever stuff! Wonder of wonders, object
gives birth to subject. Are we astounded at such a maculate Conception
and Nativity? Not at all. We take it in our stride. The primacy of
matter over spirit is simply taken for granted. It is among the least
challenged of the myths we live by.
That things should produce awareness of things -- and by chance, at
that -- is, when you think of it, quite weird. It's like supposing
that the movie-projector is operated by one of the actors on the
screen. Equally odd is the notion that the subject can be examined
from outside as if it were some kind of object. How can the subject be
discovered except from within, by subjectivity itself? In any case
there's not a particle of evidence of material things giving rise to
consciousness. No one has ever observed it happen, or explained what
to look for. In fact, the very idea is nonsensical.
What is a material object, according to science itself? It is a
collection of phenomena (from the Greek phainein, to show), a set of
regional appearances/pictures/readings which the scientist picks ups
and pieces together as he hovers round the "thing" he's surveying from
various angles, at various distances, with the help of various
instruments. What these regional appearances are appearances of, what
nestles at their center, is hidden from him. However close he gets to
that thing so-called, he remains too far off to say what it really is,
intrinsically, at no distance from itself. The scientist, as such, is
an outsider.
But he does have two clues to what's inside:
His first clue is that the nearer he gets to the thing the less
"thingy" and the more empty it becomes. Progressively stripping it of
assets, he comes to regions where all that remains of that seemingly
solid object is space haunted by twists of energy, so to speak. Beauty
and ugliness, utility, life, color, opacity, shape, even precise
location -- all are left behind by the approaching observer. There's
not a quality or function that will stand up to close inspection. It
is distance that lends these enchantments. Go up to anything and you
lose it.
But just a minute! Who goes up to that thing and loses it? Who
registers the dismantling and disappearance of the object and its
reduction to virtual emptiness? Why, the scientist himself, of course,
as consciousness. He leaves all behind except awareness. You could say
he takes it with him wherever he goes, because that is what he is.
It's impossible for him to explore the physical world of cells and
molecules and atoms and particles and leave it merely physical: his
active presence there infects it through and through and at every
level with spirit. As for the space that underlies all, how could his
awareness of it be separated from that space? Just as there's no way
of entering an empty house, so there's no way of contemplating
mindless space. No wonder subatomic physics is forced by the facts to
bring the observer into the picture. In fact, while the picture fades
on ever closer examination, the consciousness that illuminates it
shines all the more brightly. Matter dissolves in favor of spirit.
Let me put it in another -- and I think better -- way. Things can be
moved and carried around. Not so consciousness of things. It isn't a
torch which the scientist takes along with him to shine on things, or
an air freshener he sprays them with, or a laser beam he directs at
them. Wherever he goes it's already there, inseparable from the very
nature of those things. If for the word consciousness or spirit I read
God (and there are many worse names for It) then I can say with the
Psalmist:
Whither shall I go from thy spirit, or whither shall I flee from thy
presence?
If I ascend up into heaven, thou are there: if I make my bed in hell,
behold thou art there.
If I take the wings of the morning, and dwell in the uttermost parts
of the sea,
Even there shall thy hand lead me, and thy right hand shall hold me.
In short, spirit or consciousness underlies all, and there is no such
thing as the merely physical. A phenomenon or regional appearance by
itself, without a central reality of which it is an appearance -- what
sort of nonsense is that, for heaven's sake?
There exist two distinct kinds of things (so-called) which are
available for the scientist's inspection -- the observed thing and the
observing thing. That is to say, other bodies, and his own body. We
have just seen to what conclusions his examination of other bodies
leads. Now let us find out whether they are confirmed by his
examination of his own body, the specimen he carries around with him
all the while.
Here, nearer than near, is his second clue to what things really are,
as distinct from what they look like at a distance. Here is his very
own sample lump of matter, always handy, requiring no laboratory or
instruments for its most searching examination, constantly reporting
on its true and intrinsic nature, transparent through and through to
his direct inspection. If (and it's a very big if) he takes seriously
this unique and precious sample -- if and when he dares to look at
what he's looking out of, inspecting it from inside that one thing on
which he is the final authority -- why then he finds it to be quite
empty, and in fact no kind of thing at all. A nothing keenly aware of
itself as just that. Such is the view of himself at no distance from
himself, provided he is honest and attentive enough. Which is to say,
truly scientific.
Notice how nicely these two clues confirm each other. Whether looked
at from outside or inside, bodies dissolve, matter vanishes, spirit
remains -- once we bother to go into the matter. "Spirit is the living
body seen from within, and the body is the outer manifestation of the
living spirit." Extend this statement by Carl Jung to all bodies from
electrons to galaxies, and you have the ultimate physics.
To understand the primacy of spirit is good. To realize it, to see it,
wordlessly to experience it, to be it without thinking about it --
this is incomparably better. And incomparably easier: in fact,
understanding must always be about its object, hovering round and
about it and never gaining admittance. That is why the rest of this
chapter is a heartfelt invitation to the reader to do one or two
little experiments, which will surely lead to this direct perception
of what would otherwise remain a mere set of lifeless concepts.
Observe this thing you are now holding. What in reality is this object
called "book"? I mean this actual wad of paper with printing. There it
is, a solid enough lump of stuff a few inches wide and long and less
than an inch thick, weighing rather less than a pound, covered with (I
trust) meaningful black marks on a white surface. Now where are these
meaningful patterns that you are currently taking in? Are they over
there, some 12 inches away, or are they where you are?
Well, let's put the matter to the test. Go right up to the page and
see. Apply your eye to this printing, as if you were putting on a
contact lens. Yes please, all the way. If you feel a bit ridiculous,
remember what's at stake. Namely Reality itself, and your status
within it. Go on ...
What did you see? I venture to say that what you found there was not
meaningful sentences, not loose words, not a string of letters, not
even fuzzy black marks on a white ground, but an illegible blur. And,
on contact, nothing at all. You lost everything, but you didn't lose
consciousness. It was the book, not you, that passed away. The nothing
you found wasn't just nothing at all -- whatever that monster could be
-- it was Nothing but Awareness. "There is a Light by which things are
see," says Ramana Maharshi, "and if divested of things the Light alone
remains."
So much for where these printed words are coming from. Where are they
going to? Who is reading them now, on present evidence? What is taking
them in? In your firsthand experience at this moment, is it a solid,
rounded, hairy thing with two peepholes in it? Only you -- you who are
your own closest inspector -- are in a position to say. Again, isn't
it true that what you go right up to you lose? You certainly go all
the way to you. So it's no wonder that you vanish, just as the page
did, leaving only awareness. Intrinsically, then, the Reader is the
same as the Read, and none other than Spirit which is indivisible. To
put it picturesquely, this page of printing is a letter from Spirit to
Spirit, a love-letter from You to You. And, of course, what's true of
this page is true of the other pages in this book when you come to
them, and of the hands that are now holding it, and of the furniture
in the room, and of all that's going on outside. They are views of
You, messages from You, displayed to You. At root, all you perceive is
Yourself, heavily disguised as someone else, for your entertainment
and refreshment.
It would be difficult to overstate the practical importance of this
discovery, its consequences for everyday living. All alienation, all
separation, the many-sided threat of hostile things and persons and
situations -- these are no more than bad dreams. All is You. How could
you fear Yourself? How could you despise, resent, be bored by
Yourself? How could you not love Yourself?
All this and more than this. Everything you see and hear and handle is
something you want to say to yourself, something well worth saying,
something significant -- even if it's only about an oncoming bus.
There can be no dreadful or garbled or meaningless messages from you
to You. News about You, read by You, is good news, however bad it may
sound to the hearer who is deaf to its Source and Destiny in himself
as Spirit. To him Ramana says: "The imperfection appears to you. God
is perfection. His work also is perfection. But you see it as
imperfection because of your wrong identification ... Find out if you
are physical."
In conclusion, then, the spirit which is one and the same in all
beings is the true nature of what we take to be the physical world.
Things as such have no substance and no reality and no power at all.
You could call them pictures of God held up by God for his own
inspection, and in themselves less than paper-thin. All you have to do
to live from this realization is to go on seeing who's doing it. And I
mean seeing, not understanding.