The Ship of Theseus and the Question of Identity

Where does consciousness exist, and what is the reality of our soul if we question the basis of personal identity?

| November 2013

  • The Ship of Theseus was rebuilt over the centuries as wood rotted and broke, so at what point did it stop being the original, and when did it become something else?
    Photo By Fotolia/Netfalls
  • With "The Outer Limits of Reason," Noson S. Yanofsky discusses the limitations of computers, physics, logic, and our own sense of personal identity.
    Cover Courtesy The MIT Press

Within the span of seven years, every cell of your body will die and be replaced—you literally are not the same person you once were. If this is the case, where lies our identity and psyche? Should we be held accountable for the actions of another body, or another mind? These questions, and many more, are contemplated in The Outer Limits of Reason (The MIT Press, 2013). Noson S. Yanofsky considers what cannot be predicted, described, or known, and what will never be understood. In this excerpt from “Philosophical Conundrums,” Yanofsky references the Ship of Theseus before questioning the existence of personal identity.

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In ancient Greece, there was a legendary king named Theseus who supposedly founded the city of Athens. Since he fought many naval battles, the people of Athens dedicated a memorial in his honor by preserving his ship in the port. This “ship of Theseus” stayed there for hundreds of years. As time went on, some of the wooden planks of Theseus’ ship started rotting away. To keep the ship nice and complete, the rotting planks were replaced with new planks made of the same material. Here is the key question: If you replace one of the planks, is it still the same ship of Theseus? This question about a mythical ship is the poster child for one of the most interesting problems in all of philosophy, namely the problem of identity. What is a physical object? How do things stay the same even after they change? At what point does an object become different? When we talk about a certain object and say that “it changed,” what exactly is “it”?

What happens if you change two of the ship’s planks? Would that make it somehow less of the original ship than after one plank is changed? What if the ship consists of a hundred planks and forty-nine of the planks are changed? How about fifty-one changed planks? What about changing ninety-nine of the hundred planks? Is the single plank at the bottom of the ship enough to maintain the original lofty status of the ship? And what if all of the planks are changed? If the change is gradual, does the ship still maintain its status as the ship of Theseus? How gradual must the change be?

We are not answering these questions simply because there are no objective correct answers. Some maintain that changing one plank changes the ship and makes it no longer the ship of Theseus. Others claim that as long as there is at least one plank from the original, it is still the original. There are also those who maintain that the changed ship is always the same as the original ship because it has the form of the original. None of these different positions are wrong. However, there is no reason to say that any of them are correct either.

Let us continue asking more questions about our beleaguered boat. What happens if we switch the old wooden planks for more modern plastic planks? Then, as we change more and more of the planks, the ship will be made of a different material than the original. What happens if the people who replace the planks make mistakes in putting in the new planks and the ship has a slightly different form? Another question: Does it matter who is making all these changes to the ship—that is, whether one group of workers does it or another? If the ship is to be preserved for hundreds of years, then surely many different people will have to be making the changes. What if we make so many changes to the boat that it can no longer float out to sea? Can we still call it the ship of mighty Theseus if it cannot perform the same function as the original?

9/21/2018 7:28:38 PM

It makes me think of bands and how the name goes on even without the original players (none of them in some instances).

5/17/2018 4:06:30 PM

The ship in question has the same frame regardless of the plank changing; much like a human has the same skeleton. Cell regeneration has nothing to do with a being changing what and who it is. If a human were to make one change/improvement each and every day of it's life until it no longer acted or appeared the same, the human would of but found a more perfect mode of efficiency. Much like the ship, perhaps eventually the boards would technologically be replaced as to not have to be replaced; reducing maintenance, and preparing it for Eternity. As a Human must Prepare for Heaven.

5/17/2018 4:06:29 PM

The ship in question would have the same frame regardless of the plank replacing. Much like a human who has the same skeleton underneath the tissue. It is the same but improved. If you yourself improve each day, changing one flaw toward the better; then eventually you can achieve perfection. You have not changed your identity, but your original flawed self. Maintenance(and a more perfect way of operation) is all this conundrum is about.

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