Moral Realism and the Evolutionary Challenge

(by Joe)

Right, we're still sticking to the chimps, but this time I'm going to go out on a bit of a limb. I've been reading Primates and Philosophers as research for a paper that I'm planning to submit to Durham's Philosophical Writings, and I'd like to try and flesh out a few ideas here. Partly this is just a convenient way for me to get something solid written down, although I'd appreciate your thoughts and opinions as well.

In Primates and Philosophers (and elsewhere), Frans de Waal argues for the falsity of what he calls "veneer theory", the idea that morality is a "thin veneer" on top of an essential immoral nature. Instead, he argues, we should see morality as an essential element of human nature, something that can be explained in terms of evolution and, as such, is to some degree continuous with our ancestors and relatives (such as chimpanzees).

As Jonny discusses here, the degree to which morality is found in non-human animals is itself a contentious issue. What I'm interested in is something slightly different, namely what de Waal's argument might mean for what I'm going to call traditional moral realism. Whilst de Waal's characterisation of Veneer Theory is somewhat contentious, I think it does identify something that has traditionally been seen as an important aspect of morality: the concept of moral choice or agency. It's fairly intuitive to think that you can only be held (morally) responsible for doing something if you could have chosen to do otherwise. It hardly seems fair to blame somebody for an action that they did not consciously choose to commit. 

Both de Waal and his commentators in Primates and Philosophers seem to agree that to some extent what sets human morality apart from animal morality (supposing such a thing exists) is rationality. Whilst chimpanzees and other social animals might seem to behave altruistically, they do so because this happens to be their proximate desire (if not necessarily their long-term, evolutionary 'goal'). De Waal's proposed alternative to Veneer Theory is a naturalistic, evolutionary explanation of moral behaviour. I emphasise explanation, because that's precisely what I think it is. De Waal is able to explain how altruistic behaviour and morality more generally might have evolved, but I don't think that this is the same thing as giving an evolutionary account of moral realism. If I only behave morally because I am genetically predisposed to (under certain circumstances), then can I truly be called a moral agent?

I'm not sure. The responders to de Waal (in Primates and Philosophers) for the most part seem to think so, but I find it hard to agree. Peter Singer, for example, is comfortable with the idea that "automatic, emotional responses [...] constitute a large part of our morality" (P&P: 149). Certainly, such evolved responses might make the world a 'better' place, in the utilitarian sense of maximising well-being, but I don't think they constitute real moral agency, which is required for what I'm calling traditional moral realism. So I can't help but feel that evolutionary accounts of apparently moral behaviour tend to undermine traditional moral realism. It's not that I think such accounts are false - quite the contrary, in fact - but rather that if we are going to take them seriously, we will also need to consider their implications for moral realism.

One possibility that I've been considering is what we might call 'pragmatic moral irrealism'. Something of this kind is suggested by Tamler Sommers (2007), who gives a convincing evolutionary account of how the illusion of moral agency might arise, and why it might be beneficial for us to maintain it. I'm about to read The Myth of Morality, by Richard Joyce, which I think might express some similar thoughts. My rough plan for this paper, if I ever get round to writing it, is to demonstrate how 'traditional moral realism' is undermined by evolutionary accounts (which I take to be largely true), before sketching out a possible moral irrealism. I'd be interested to hear about anything similar or relevant to this, as well as any comments anyone has.

de Waal, F. 2006. "Morality Evolved: Primate Social Instincts, Human Morality, and the Rise and Fall of 'Veneer Theory'." In Primates and Philosophers, eds. Stephen Macedo, and Josiah Ober. Princeton University Press: Princeton.

Joyce, R. 2001. The Myth of Morality. Cambridge: Press Syndicate of the University of Cambridge.

Singer, P. 2006. "Morality, Reason and the Rights of Animals." In Primates and Philosophers, eds. Stephen Macedo, and Josiah Ober. Princeton University Press: Princeton.

Sommers, T. 2007. "The Illusion of Freedom Evolves." In Distributed Cognition and the Will, eds. Ross et al. MA: MIT Press.

No Monkeying Around: Taking Animal Welfare Seriously

(by Jonny)

I've been interested in animal welfare issues about as long as I've been interested in philosophy of mind. Though hardly unanimous within their respective fields, I've long respected a tradition sometimes found in both, a tradition of seriousness and consistency. On the one hand you have the likes of the Peter Singer who sincerely argues for equal consideration of animal welfare based on a logic of non-arbitrariness, accusing those who oppose of “speciesism”. On the other hand you have the likes of Daniel Dennett who argues for a sophisticated empirically informed theory of consciousness and the mind more generally. The two approaches have not always gotten along (see Dennett, 1995). Yet, I'm wondering if there exists a worthwhile position which borrows from both; a position which acknowledges that we cannot simply assume, without further analyses, certain facts about an entity's mental life, particularly conscious experiences (whatever they are exactly), but at the same time demands that where we find good reason for certain assumptions about minds in other creatures, we take them as ethically serious as possible. If we decide that, say a cow's stress in an abattoir is equivalent to a sheep is a equivalent to a human infant, then all other things being equal we ought to treat all parties in the same situation with equal consideration. When deciding how to respond to fellow animals we should not assume a given organism experiences the world just as humans do, nor should we assume all animals are mindless robots- what is required is an empirically informed approach that takes whatever results we do find ethically seriously. This is an admittedly crude position that requires greater development that can be done justice in one post, but I'll lay out some of my thoughts on the matter.

In a Sunday times article from a few years back John Webster writes that,

“People have assumed that intelligence is linked to the ability to suffer and that because animals have smaller brains they suffer less than humans. That is a pathetic piece of logic, sentient animals have the capacity to experience pleasure and are motivated to seek it, you only have to watch how cows and lambs both seek and enjoy pleasure when they lie with their heads raised to the sun on a perfect English summer's day.” (quoted in the Sunday Times, 27 February 2005)

I appreciate what I think is Webster's sentiment. Cows and lambs display behaviour we typically take to signal pleasure and pain, and their dramatically reduced cognitive abilities do not seem to make such inferences void. Yet I think Webster is wrong in claiming that linking intelligence to suffering is pathetic logic. Intelligence is a weasel word, but such associated faculties of memory, conceptualisation and emotional engagement seem to me responsible for a great deal of both pleasure and suffering (I will avoid the awkward discussion about the differences between pain and suffering for now); though importantly it does not imply that all suffering and pleasure depend on a human-level development of each.

I take it that Webster would not find it uncontroversial that bacteria do not require the same level of consideration dogs do when we poke them with sticks. I take it he would admit that fruit flies are not capable of the same emotional turmoil chimpanzees may regularly undergo within their highly social worlds.

I believe the these intuitive differences are the result of cognitive differences between subjects, and that such differences must be respected across species where we have good reason to assume them. Alarm bells will be ringing for some animal ethicists who will already be predicting that I propose some hierarchy of worth. However I am not proposing that there exist degrees of intrinsic value in species relative to their cognitive complexity- rather that certain cognitive complexity just does produce certain kinds and degrees of suffering (and pleasure) that likewise would not be available; and if we are to sensibly respond the relative demands of an organism’s psychology, we must take these relative capacities into account.

Much of the suffering humans seem capable of experiencing is the result of prediction of the future, memory of the past, association between events, a sense of self, an enduring sense of self, varied and unpredictable emotional needs and empathy. In each of these cases it seems that what allows for these experiences are contingent cognitive abilities and cognitive organization (and of course there is no obvious reason not to imagine the possibility of a species capable of experiencing pleasures and pains in ways humans do not, to degrees humans do not.)

Enduring 149 minutes of Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen fortunately does not result in the same experience for most animals as it does for all normal human beings. Neither does sitting through three hours of Bach. Even experiences that do not require much developed intelligence, being stroked, raising young, hunting, can intuitively produce very different grades and kinds of experience between species, even individual organisms. The same goes for painful experiences. Bereavement, stress, even “raw pain” itself seems relative to the existence of particular contingent mental capacities. In short, I suggest that we should not assume that all animals must experience the same mental states when treated the same way. We must approach every situation with an open mind and ready to be informed by research. It is not a given that chickens appreciate the taste of food as much as chimpanzees, it is not a given that cows feel as much stress in a slaughterhouse as a human would, nor each case it is a priori obvious that they do not- each example requires careful examination.

It is important that this approach is not disrespectful towards other species. Quite the opposite. It takes a serious and mature empirically informed approach. It does not assume that all animals are little humans. It does not assume that an animal's needs and wants are the same as ours. Its picture of animal mentality and how we should respond does not depend on the imagination of human dreamers on either side of the ethics debate. A cow in a slaughterhouse is not necessarily enduring the experience like a mute, hairy four-legged human would. Neither is necessarily a zombie robot without a care in the world. What it is depends on the contingent state of its cognitive organization, and how we come to know anything about that depends on sober investigation.

Dennett D (1995) “Animal consciousness: what matters and why. (In the Company of Animals)” Social Research, 62 n3 p691(20)

Consciousness is in the business of producing illusions.

(by Joe)

Gary Williams, whose blog Minds and Brains I enjoy very much (although don't always agree with), has just written a post on the possibility of partial epiphenomenalism. The idea seems to be that the "feeling of consciousness" could be an epiphenomenal 'illusion' without consciousness itself being epiphenomenal. For one thing, this would solve the problem raised by the Libet experiments (which I mentioned briefly here) by allowing the apparently epiphenomenal experience of volition to be preceded by a casually active conscious decision, just one that has yet to be experienced. There's some similarity here with Dennett's interpretation of Libet in Consciousness Explained (1991: 154-67), where he argues for something like the distribution of consciousness into different 'strands'.

I need to give it a bit more thought, but I'm quite tempted by the idea of divorcing the epiphenomenal experience of consciousness from the functional process of consciousness itself. I particularly liked Williams' suggestion that we might want to say that "consciousness is in the business of producing illusions". That is to say, part of what consciousness does is make extremely convincing illusions of, for example, free will, moral agency, or self hood.

Anyway, just some quick thoughts on a post I found interesting. Proper post coming up soon, so watch this space!

Dennett, D. 1991. Consciousness Explained. Little, Brown and Company.

Justified anthropomorphism

(by Joe)

This is interesting, particularly in the context of our recent posts about Franz de Waal. As I've mentioned previously, de Waal is open about his tendency to treat chimpanzee psychology as being very similar to human psychology, and this research would seem to vindicate that approach. The paper discussed in the BBC article (Weiss et al, 2012) uses new data analysis techniques to compensate for any unjustified anthropomorphication in our attributions of personality traits to chimpanzees and orang-utans. They found that even after making these adjustments, the personality traits were consistent with judgments made by human observers. They conclude that "personality similarities between humans and great apes are best explained by genetic and phylogenetic affinity and not by anthropomorphic artefacts". In lay terms, when we look at chimpanzees and orang-utans and ascribe them human personalities, it's not just wishful thinking. Personality has a shared ancestry, going back at least as far as the point at which humans, orang-utan, and chimpanzee evolution diverged.

I haven't read the entire paper yet, so I may expand this post with a few more thoughts in a couple of days. Also, two of the authors are based at my department here at Edinburgh - maybe I should try and pay a little bit more attention to what's going on around me?


Weiss, A., Inoue-Murayama, M., King, J., Adams, M. & Matsuzawa, T. 2012. "All too human? Chimpanzee and orang-utan personalities are not anthropomorphic projections." Animal Behaviour (in press, available online)

Broadly Speaking: In Praise of (a particular) Functionalism

(by Jonny)

In “Philosophy and Flesh” (1996) George Lakoff and Mark Johnson give a clear and lucid introduction to the notion of the embodied mind, and what they see as its major implications. The book is very readable, let a little down by its claim to paradigm shattering originality and tendency toward over-generalisation. One particular point on which I found the authors to be a little confused was in their objection to 'functionalism'. The authors' basic point seems to be that the functionalism is misled in believing mind can be studied in terms of its cognitive functions whilst ignoring the role the body and brain has to play in those functions (75). For them functionalism is “essentially disembodied”,  a view where the mind “can be studied fully independently of any knowledge of the body and brain, simply by looking at functional relations among concepts represented symbolically” (78).

I think Lakoff and Johnson are too quick to jump the gun, too quick to dismiss a strong principle in their eagerness to overthrow the shackles of traditional “Anglo-American” assumptions (75). From my view, responsible functionalism never ignores anything which might reasonably thought of as contributing to the ultimate function of a mental state, and this must include the body and brain. Perhaps functionlism has a tendency to slip into to the impractically abstract, ignoring the very stuff that must be studied in order to understand function- but this is not necessarily so. The authors quote Ned Block saying, “The key notions of functionalism...are representation and computation. Psychological states are seen as systematically representing the world via a language of thought, and psychological processes are seen as computations involving these representations” (257). Yet to be functionalists we don't have to accept a Fodorian language of thought as the underlying force which must define a mental state's function, though even if we do, this will not and should not stop us ignoring the real world inputs and outputs dependent on the brain and body.

I think perhaps the authors of Philosophy and Flesh are conflating a narrow, abstract, empirically removed functionalism with a broad, scientifically informed version. Functionalism in the broader sense is simply the idea that what matters is what stuff does and as Dennett says functionalism construed this way “is so ubiquitous in science that it is tantamount to a reigning presumption of all science” (2006: 17). As he goes on to say, “The Law of Gravity says that it doesn't matter what stuff a thing is made of- only its mass matters...It is science's job to find the maximally general, maximally non-committal- hence minimal- characterization of whatever power or capacity is under consideration”(17-18). When it comes to the mind, functionalism makes the claim that it's not what the brain is made out of as such, but what that stuff does that matters. This does not ignore the stuff, it does not ignore the brain or body, but it does ask why the stuff matters. To quote Dennett one last time, “Neurochemistry matters because- and only because- we have discovered that the many different neuromodulators and other chemical messengers that diffuse through the brain have functional roles that make important differences” (19). In accepting the significance of the body in cognition, from the reliance of our particular sensori-motor apparatus to perception and conceptualisation to the importance of the body's interaction with its environment to reason, we do not need to reject broad, empirically responsible functionalism.

Dennett, D (2006) Sweet Dreams Philosophical Obstacles to a Science of Consciousness MIT Press: Cambridge (MA)

Lakoff, G., Johnson, M (1996) Philosophy of the Flesh: The Embodied Mind and Its challenge to Western Thought Basic Books

Chimpanzee Politics

(by Joe)

Following on from Jonny's post yesterday, here's a quick review of Frans de Waal's Chimpanzee Politics: Power and Sex Among Apes. I spent most of yesterday afternoon sitting in the sun reading it, having been inspired by Jonny to go and read all I could about de Waal's theories. (Quick disclaimer: I haven't quite finished the book.)

Chimpanzee Politics is de Waal's account of the complex social interactions between the chimpanzees at Arnhem Zoo in Holland. His intention is to illustrate how, contrary to what many at the time thought (the book was published in 1982), chimpanzees possess a complicated and subtle 'society', one which could certainly be described as "political". Already de Waal is beginning to draw parallels between chimpanzee and human culture and behaviour, something that he continued to work on throughout the nineties and to the present day.

De Waal writes with an appealing, almost narrative style, making the book feel more like a biography than an academic treatise. In the introduction he gives a short overview of chimpanzees in general, and the Arnhem colony specifically, before discussing his ethological approach to studying them. This straddles the laboratory experiments of animal psychologists and the naturalistic observations made in the field, by patiently making minute, detailed records of the day-to-day life of the colony. Doing so allowed de Waal and his assistants to develop an instinctive grasp of the relationships between the chimpanzees, whilst backing up these observations with quantifiable data that they later processed with computers.

De Waal admits that his descriptions of the chimpanzees behaviour tend towards anthropomorphism, using language such as "kissed" and "embraced" where more careful commentators might talk of "affinitive behaviour". He recognises that there is a risk of projecting human emotions on to the chimpanzees, in a distinctly unscientific way, but argues that going too far in the other direction is equally mistaken, arising from a fear of identifying too closely with what we would rather dismiss as brutish animals. This is an interesting point, and one which I think requires some careful consideration. Certainly some of de Waal's reports feel suspiciously anecdotal, but at the same time I agree that it is important to acknowledge the remarkable similarities between chimpanzees and ourselves.

The bulk of the book consists of the power struggles that took place in the colony between 1976 and 1978. The original alpha male, Yeroen, was eventually overthrown by a coalition between two other males, Luit and Nickie. However soon after Nickie switched sides, overthrowing Luit with the aid of Yeroen. The way in which the apes form and break coalitions is fascinating, as are the subtle, intricate structures that result from these coalitions. Being alpha male is not as simple as just being the strongest chimpanzee in the troupe, you also need a degree of cunning and political acumen. The females play an important role in these struggles too, being able to defeat a male who's acting up by mobbing him en mass.These are not the passive harems that many depictions of apes seem to tend towards.

In fact, one of my favourite passages in the book describes how a posturing male will pick up a stone or stick to use as a weapon, only to find it being prised out of his hand by a calm female. If he picks up another, she will patiently take it away from him again. Females will defuse conflict in other ways as well, pulling males apart and grooming or embracing them. Even more amusingly, distressed males will seek comfort from them, running off for a quick hug or kiss in the middle of a confrontation.

It is these kinds of observations, delivered in a witty, stimulating style, that make this book so engaging. I would strongly recommend it to anyone interested in de Waal's theories (discussed by Jonny in the post I linked to in the opening paragraph),  to anyone who would just like to learn a bit more about chimps, and even to anyone just looking for a bit of light reading for the holiday.


de Waal, F. 1982. Chimpanzee Politics: Power and Sex Among Apes. London: Unwin Paperbacks.

Rhesus-ons for Considering Primate Morality: Continuous Evolution and Self-awareness

(by Jonny)

What should we make of cases where rhesus monkeys will starve themselves for several days rather than receive food at the expense of electrocuting a fellow monkey? What do we make of a chimpanzee infant that consistently helps a human in reaching tasks without reward (Warneken and Tomasello, 2006)?
 

                                                                                                                                                                                   
Frans de Waal is famous for asking, “What is the difference about the way we act that makes us, and not any other species, moral beings?” (1996:11). What indeed. In “Primates and Philosophers” (2006), de Waal furthers his case for the continuous evolution of, and homologous relationship between, primate and human morality. After reading this great little title I am keen to begin penning some of my own thoughts on the subject of the origin and possibilities of morality in non-human animals.

“Can we consider other non-human animals ‘moral beings’?”; “Is human altruistic behaviour just a novel form of pre-existing capacities we share with our near relatives or an entirely unique capacity?” My own answers to such questions are inevitably motivated by several key assumptions: that what we regard as human moral behaviour is a natural development; that humans possess at least many of their social behaviours as the result of a continuous evolution from earlier social primates; that language in humans grants unique capacities for conceptualising, reasoning and self-awareness. Where do these assumptions lead me to in this debate?

The work of de Waal centres on the argument that we discover the foundations and aspects of our own morality in non-human primates and other animals. When we look at primates and discover their strategies for conflict resolution, cooperation, inequity aversion, and food-sharing, we discover much of what is important about human moral behaviour. This seemingly moral behaviour can become quite advanced.

Importantly for de Waal, humans are not selfish creatures hiding behind a veneer of fabricated rules for mutual benefit. There was never a time when humans were not cooperative, other concerning social creatures. We are inherently social, “moral beings” whose complex moral lives are nevertheless based on more primitive social capacities. There are no non-human animals capable of weaving the same conceptual richness that forms the fabric of human social interactions. Nevertheless, this richness is in an evolutionary continuum with capacities possessed by ancestors that we share with our near relatives. And for de Waal this actually extends beyond what we share with primates to other parts of Kingdom Animalia. His thoughts are best captured in his own words,

"I've argued that many of what philosophers call moral sentiments can be seen in other species. In chimpanzees and other animals, you see examples of sympathy, empathy, reciprocity, a willingness to follow social rules…” (quoted in Angier, 2001).

The obvious objection is that despite the fact we share certain social capacities with our near relatives, this should not distract from the fact that Homo sapiens retain other unique capacities, and it is these capacities that are required for morality. Sensible suggestions for unique capacities will include language ability, capacity for self-awareness and the ability for some sort of reasoned deliberation, though the extent to which these features are self-supporting will make specific claims about each difficult.

When pointing out these (potentially) unique human capacities we should be careful not construct a straw ape. I don’t believe there are many defending the view that the above abilities are not important to human morality. Even if we don’t have the right to say that it alone grants us the right to be called moral, language nevertheless turns the issue into a whole new ball game. I don’t think anyone is claiming chimpanzees have the same rich moral concepts that language grants us.

What is at stake then, is whether there is some capacity not found in any other animal, which is necessary for what we call morality, despite whatever social behaviours we share with them.

Responding to de Waal, Korsgaard argues that what our relatives seems to lack is some cognitive self-consciousness regarding the causes of one's own actions, Korsgaard attacks the assumption that “the morality of an action is a matter of content of the intention with which it is done” (2006:107) instead suggesting that what makes us moral beings is our “exercise of self-government” (112). This self-government amounts to the ability to be consciously aware of the reasons in which you intend to act, not merely as the objects of that act, but as reasons! To be aware of the object of one’s intended act one must not only be aware of the object as e.g. a desirable thing. Rather one must further be aware that you do desire that object. Humans are aware that they have grounds for acting, not merely of the grounds for which they act. This reason granting ability (112-113) allows humans to not only form beliefs about the intentions based on evidence but to be aware of the evidence and its connection to other states. They can deliberate, reconsider and alter. This autonomy makes us moral. Importantly Korsgaard stresses this in an entirely natural development and on a continuous scale of evolved intentionality. This continuity however, does not stop the fact that what is unique to humans is what makes us moral.

I do not disagree with Korsgaard over humanity’s (probably) unique capacity for self-awareness, and the unique conceptions this grants us. I do not deny that humans are uniquely motivated by deliberating on what we “ought” to do, and this in turn plays an enormous role in our moral lives. What I have some doubts about is the requirement that we find this ability in an animal before we can talk about their moral capacities full stop.

Responding in “Primates and Philosophers” Peter Singer also argues that similarities aside, non-humans animals lack a crucial component for morality. What makes morality morality, what makes one a being capable of moral thinking, is the ability to universalise, the ability to take your considerations and impartially generalise them. Other animals consider and abide by rules concerning their kin and in-group but “It is only when we make these general, impartial judgements that we can really begin to speak of moral approval and disapproval” (Singer, 2006: 144). Singer rightly points out that only we humans have the reasoning capacity to think abstractly in this way.

I worry that both Korsgaard and Singer set the requirements for morality too high, or make the mistake of not allowing morality to be flexible and evolutionarily continuous enough. I think I am naturally sceptical of the value of strict necessary and sufficient conditions for definitions concerning complex cognitive phenomena. I worry further that Korsgaard and Singer are too influenced by formal Western philosophical traditions. Perhaps the whole debate is fixed within a particular cultural paradigm. Do all peoples have the same monolithic conception of “morality”?

Whilst we can see Korsgaard’s requirements for morality stem from the respectable Kantian tradition, as Ober and Macedo point out, it is not so clear that we believe “self-government” is required in what we take as everyday moral acts (2006: xviii). Imagine when I perceive someone inflicting an unnecessary harm on another, I perceive it as bad and consequently interfere; do I need to be aware of my perception of the harm inflicted as a cause? Perhaps we could say “not always”, but what matters is that we are capable of such reflection. But I’m not sure this requirement of higher reflection , important though it is, suddenly boosts us into the hitherto unexplored realm of the moral- “morality” refers to something far to ambiguous and complex for that. As for Singer, though again I see the importance universalizability plays in our formal moral conceptions, I worry that much of what we regard as moral in our lives doesn’t actually fit the bill. I will leave this point to another discussion however, as it requires much greater attention. For now it is worth asking ourselves how much of our “everyday morality” boils down to reciprocity, empathy, conflict aversion and relatively straightforward social rules?

I'm hesitant to use the cliché, but the debate might boil down to “semantics”. Singer seems to define morality as requiring impartial universalizability. At the same time de Waal says, “Moral systems are inherently biased towards the in-group” implying that morality, by definition, need not be impartial. If we can’t reasonably agree on what morality consists of to begin with, it is going to be hard to say when and where we find it. As Ober and Macedo say, it will become a case of comparing apples and oranges (xix).

Darwin believed “the difference in mind between man and the higher animals, great as it is, certainly is one of degree and not of kind”, but added that it was humanity’s unique “intelligence” that produced conscience, “the supreme judge and monitor” (1871, online). Though our social faculties are essentially no different in kind, our unique cognitive capacities produce a novel development.

Perhaps then it is pragmatic to distinguish between the “proto-moral” capacities we find in other species, and the “human-moral” capacities distinguished by something like what Korsgaard or Singer point out; as long as this does not detract from the fact that one has its origins, at least in part, in the capacity for the other. Elsewhere de Waal says, “Non-human primates may not be exactly moral beings, but they do show...key components or 'prerequisites' of morality recognizable in social animals...reciprocity, empathy, sympathy, and community concern” (2000:3).

And that's probably enough for one post! There's clearly a lot more to be said on the issues raised here, and I hope to return to develop my thoughts on them within the near future.


Angier, N (2001). "Confessions of a Lonely Atheist". The New York Times Magazine. http://partners.nytimes.com/library/magazine/home/20010114mag-atheism.html. Retrieved 11th March 2011

Flack, J.C,. de Waal, F (2000) “ ‘Any animal whatever'. Darwinian building blocks of morality in monkeys and apes”. Journal of Consciousness Studies, 7, 1-2 pp. 1-29(29)

Korsgaard, C.M (2006) Morality and the Distinctiveness of Human Action in “Primates and Philosophers” Eds. Stephen Macedo, and Josiah Ober. Princeton University Press: Princeton

Singer, P (2006) Morality, Reason and the Rights of Animals in “Primates and Philosophers” Eds. Stephen Macedo, and Josiah Ober. Princeton University Press: Princeton

de Waal, F (1996) Good Natured: The Origins of Right and Wrong in Humans and Other Animals. Harvard University Press: Cambridge, MA

de Waal, F(2006) Morality Evolved: primate Social Instincts, Human morality, and the Rise and Fall of “Veneer Theory” in “Primates and Philosophers” Eds. Stephen Macedo, and Josiah Ober. Princeton University Press: Princeton

Warneken, F. (2006). Altruistic Helping in Human Infants and Young Chimpanzees Science, 311 (5765), 1301-1303 DOI: 10.1126/science.1121448

Lucid Dreaming and the Illusion of Control

(by Joe)

Lucid dreaming refers to the experience of being aware and in control of your dreams. The term was coined by Frederik van Eeden (1913), who discusses his own numerous experiences of such dreams. Snyder & Gackenbach (1988) report that only 20% of the population naturally experience regular lucid dreams, although it is also possible to induce them artificially. The precise neural mechanism behind them is not fully understood, but there appear to be distinct neurobiological differences between regular dreams and lucid dreams. In any case, lucid dreaming presents us with a number of intriguing philosophical puzzles, as well as potential insights into the nature of consciousness.

I am particularly interested in whether the experience a lucid dreamer has of being in control of their dream is genuine, or whether it is merely an experience. It seems quite possible that when a lucid dreamer reports being able to choose how their dream progresses, all they are actually reporting is the sensation of being in control. Studies into schizophrenia and related disorders such as alien hand syndrome suggest that 'being in control' and 'experiencing being in control' are distinct phenomena. So we should not necessarily take a lucid dreamer's word for it when they say that they are in control of their dreams – although it would be difficult to deny that they at least experience or recall being in control.

Stephen LaBerge has conducted extensive research into lucid dreaming, including systematising the use of eye-movements to establish contact between a lucid dreamer and an experimenter (see, for example, LaBerge 2000). The fact that a lucid dreamer can communicate in what appears to be a purposeful manner would seem to validate their claim of being in control of the dream. Kahan & LaBerge (1994) use such evidence to suggest that the traditional distinction between non-conscious dreaming and conscious wakefulness might be flawed. Whilst they take the control of lucid dreamers as a given, one might instead want to question the way in which conscious control is being classified in the first place.

In a famous series of experiments Benjamin Libet discovered that the conscious decision to press a button was reported to occur several hundred milliseconds after the neural activity that was associated with the action began (Libet et al, 1979). The experiments were widely reported to disprove free will, but Daniel Dennett has offered a more subtle explanation. We only have access to the subject's reported experience of initiating the button push, and it might be possible that their decision to push the button actually precedes their conscious experience of control (1991: 154-162). Of course this calls into question the very definition of consciousness, but that is Dennett's intention. Given that there's no homuncular 'centre' to the brain, it might be that decision making occurs separately to conscious awareness of decision making, or that we rapidly lose track of having consciously made a decision.

Similarly, experience of control as reported by lucid dreamers does not unambiguously equal actual control. Whilst Dennett is keen to retain the possibility of free will, others might not be so happy with the apparent detachment of conscious awareness from the actual initiation of actions. When a lucid dreamer tells us that they are able to control their dreams, it would be more accurate to say that they have experienced being in control of their dreams. Whether they actually have, and what that even means, is a much more difficult question to answer.

Dennett, D. 1991. Consciousness Explained. Little, Brown and Company.

Kahan, T. L., & LaBerge, S. 1994. “Lucid dreaming as metacognition: implications for cognitive science.” Consciousness and Cognition, 3/4: 246-264.

LaBerge, S. 2000. “Lucid dreaming: Evidence and methodology”. Behavioral and Brain Sciences, 23/6: 962-3.

Libet, B., Wright, E., Feinstein, B., and Pearl, D. 1979. “Subjective Referral of the Timing for a Conscious Sensory Experience.” Brain, 102: 193-224.

Snyder, T. & Gackenback, J. 1988. In J. Gackenbach & S. LaBerge (Eds.), Conscious Mind, Dreaming Brain: 221-259. New York: Plenum Press.

Van Eeden, F. 1913. “A study of dreams.” Proceeding of the Society for Psychical Research, 26: 431-416.

Homeric Greece: Individualistic or Barely Conscious?

(by Joe)

In The Geography of Thought, a study of cross-cultural variation in cognition, Richard Nisbett asserts that the ancient Greeks had a “strong sense of individual identity [and] personal agency” (2003: 3). Almost thirty years earlier, in his notorious epic The Origin of Consciousness in the Breakdown of the Bicameral Mind, Julian Jaynes claims almost the exact opposite, that the Homeric Greeks were in fact barely conscious, unthinkingly following the orders of auditory verbal hallucinations whose origin was thought to be the gods (1976: 67-83). So who's correct?

Now, Jaynes is, to say the least, controversial, but his book has inspired many, including myself (albeit indirectly, through Daniel Dennett), and so I think we ought to give it at least some consideration. Recently there have been some attempts to revitalise Jaynes' theories, most notably by Gary Williams (2011; and on his blog). As far as I can tell, one aspect of this is to highlight the philosophically unorthodox way that Jaynes tended to use the word 'consciousness'. Williams accuses Ned Block of foisting “his conceptual schema and terminology onto Jaynes” and then critiquing him “for not making sense of his distinction between phenomenal consciousness and access consciousness” (blog). With that in mind, lets look at the contradictory elements of The Geography of Thought and The Origin of Consciousness a little more closely.

Nisbett writes:

there is no doubt that the Greeks viewed themselves as unique individuals, with distinctive attributes and goals […] This would have been true at least by the time of Homer in the eighth or ninth century B.C. Both gods and humans in the Odyssey and the Iliad have personalities that are fully formed and individuated. (2003: 3)

In vivid contrast, Jaynes writes:

The characters of the Iliad do not sit down and think out what to do. They have no conscious minds such as we say we have, and certainly no introspections. […] In fact, the gods take the place of consciousness. (1976: 72)

It's worth considering the context in which each of them are writing. Nisbett wants to establish a distinction in the cognitive processes of the individualistic west and the collectivist east, grounded partly in the differences between ancient Greek and Chinese philosophy. Jaynes is trying to trace the emergence of (access) consciousness in “the breakdown of the bicameral mind” - the moment when humankind realised that the voices they were hearing, the voices that guided their every action, were in fact their own internalised speech.

In fact, Jaynes identifies the period between the historical event of the Iliad and its first being written down as the era of the breakdown of the bicameral mind (1976: 82-3). It is this later, Homeric time that Nisbett is interested in, something that might help us reconcile the two accounts. In discussing other cultures, such as the Chinese Middle Kingdom or Europe in the Middle Ages, Nisbett tends to agree with some of Jaynes' conclusions, at least in regard to surface concepts of personal agency. However I doubt that Nisbett would want to say that European or Chinese peasants were actually devoid of agency, but rather that they were less philosophically aware of it than we are today.

So perhaps in Jaynes' defence we might want to say that some version of his theory of the bicarmel mind might have held at the time of the historic events depicted in the Iliad, but that by the time it came to be written down 300 years later the 'breakdown' had occurred. Jaynes writes that “Greek culture very quickly became a literature of consciousness” (1976: 83-4), and we might regard the supposedly non-conscious nature of the Iliadic heroes to be reflection of their own experiences, not those of the aoidos transcribing the story. This would allow us to retain both Nisbett's account of the Homeric Greeks as individualistic and Jaynes' account of the Iliadic Greeks as not even possessing conscious minds (at least in his particular sense of the word). 

Jaynes, J. 1976. The Origins of Consciousness in the Breakdown of the Bicarmel Mind.. Boston: Houghton Mifflin.

Nisbett, R. 2003. The Geography of Thought. London: Nicholas Brealey Publishing.

Williams, G. 2011. "What Is It Like to Be Nonconscious? A Defense of Julian Jaynes." Phenomenology and the Cognitive Sciences, 10/2: 217-239.

 

Going Mental

And so Meating of Minds joins the ever wild and unrestrained philosophy blog circuit. Written by two recent graduates, Jonny Lee and Joe Dewhurst, it will focus on philosophical issues in cognitive science, philosophy of mind and social cognition, with occasional forays into more general philosophy. The slightly off-putting name reflects our focus: a naturalistic approach that is committed to an embodied explanation of the mind.