Things that are (probably) magic

There are some philosophical questions that seem utterly unanswerable from within a naturalistic framework. These are questions that science just doesn't appear to have the capacity to investigate. These are things that, at least from where we're currently standing, appear to be magic.

1. Consciousness: Why is there anything at all that it feels like to be a person, or a dog, or a bat? Where does subjectivity fit into the naturalistic framework?
2. Free Will: Naturalism commonly assumes a causally deterministic universe (or at best, a quantum undeterministic universe, which is hardly an improvement). How then can we freely choose to act?
3. Morality: How can anything possess inherent value? What does it mean for something to be right or wrong if all that exists is the physical world?

There's an obvious sense in which all three of these "magic things" are linked. Moral action, at least under most systems, requires a degree of free will, and free will would seem to require a degree of conscious awareness. So maybe we should say that there's just one magic thing, perhaps a transcendent soul of some description.

This is all a bit tongue-in-cheek, although there's a serious point to it as well. Rather than just discarding these as "magic things" that naturalistic philosophy cannot investigate, it might be better to simply regard them as ill-formed questions. In fact, scientific progress is being made on the subject of consciousness, but only by breaking it up into a number of smaller, related questions about attention, perception, and so on. Similarly, questions about the cognitive implementation of agency are tractable, even if the fundamental nature of free will is not. And whilst we might not be able to determine why something is right or wrong, we can ask more practical questions about how ethical principles should be applied in the world.

So maybe we should just accept that, at least for the time being, some things appear to be magic, and get on with answering the questions that we can answer.

Gilbert Ryle's Concept of Mind

I'd call this a book review, but I haven't finished the book yet. I am enjoying it though, so I thought I'd write a few words about some of the more relevant themes.

Just chilling, no doubt reading some Wittgenstein

As I mentioned last time, it was Gilbert Ryle who coined the term "ghost in the machine" to refer to the disembodied mind that cognitive science seems intuitively drawn towards. The Concept of Mind is to a large extent aimed at dispelling this intuition, but along the way it also touches upon a number of other fascinating topics. Below is a list of ideas that Ryle either introduces, expands upon, or pre-empts:

• "Knowing How and Knowing That": This is the title of a whole chapter, wherein he draws a conceptual distinction between the two kinds of knowing. In brief, the first is the skilful execution of an action, the second the reliable recollection of a fact. The "intellectualist legend", according to Ryle, makes the former subordinate to the latter, in that all activities are reduced to the knowledge of certain rules (32). That this reduction is false is fundamental to his broader point - there is no isolated realm of the mental, and all cognitive activity must be expressed through action (or at least the potential for action).
• Embodied cognition and the extended mind: In the same chapter, he devotes a few pages to the common notion that thinking is done "in the head" (36-40). This notion, he argues, is no more than a linguistic artefact, stemming from the way we experience sights and sounds. Unlike tactile sensations, sights and sounds occur at some distance from our body, and so when we imagine or remember them, it makes sense to highlight this distinction by saying that they occur 'in the head'. By extension thought, which Ryle conceives of as internalised speech,¹ is also said to occur 'in the head'. However this idiomatic phrase is just metaphorical, and there is no reason that thinking should (or could) occur exclusively in the head.
• "The Will": Another chapter, this time de-constructing our understanding of volition and action. Suffice to say, Ryle thinks we've got ourselves into a terrible mess, in particular in supposing that to do something voluntarily requires some additional para-causal spark. Rather, to describe an action as voluntary is simply to say something about the manner in which, and circumstances under, it is performed. Free will, under this reading, is something to do with the kind of causal mechanism involved, rather than anything 'spooky' or non-physical.² Personally I've never found this kind of account particularly convincing, but it is nonetheless influential to this day.
• Higher-order thought as a theory of consciousness: Although he never explicitly puts it this way, there is a passage where Ryle describes how some "traditional accounts" claim that what is essential for consciousness is the "contemplation or inspection" of the thought process that one is conscious of (131). This is very similar to contemporary 'higher-order' theories of consciousness (see Carruthers 2011). Ryle doesn't exactly approve, dismissing such theories as "misdescribing" what is involved in "taking heed" of one's actions or thoughts.

So there you have it: Gilbert Ryle, largely forgotten but by no means irrelevant. As you may have noticed, a lot of his ideas influenced Daniel Dennett, which isn't surprising, seeing as Dennett studied under Ryle at Oxford.

1. This, perhaps, is one source of Dennett's fable about the origins of consciousness (1991).
2. Again, this is reminiscent of Dennett (2003).
 

References

• Carruthers, P. "Higher-order theories of consciousness." Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy. Retrieved from http://plato.stanford.edu/archives/fall2011/entries/consciousness-higher [21.12.2012]
• Dennett, D. 1991. Consciousness Explained. Little, Brown & Company.   
• Dennett, D. 2003. Freedom Evolved. Little, Brown & Company.   
• Ryle, G. 1949. The Concept of Mind. Hutchinson. 

Free Will: No Means No

(by Joe)

When it comes to free will, no means no. Not no, except for really important decisions. Not no, except for choosing to not do something. Not no, except for the internal attitudes that shape our actions. No free will means no free will.

Yet all too often writers for whom I otherwise have a lot of respect fall into this trap. They present a solid argument against free will, or express a concern about someone else's suspect use of free will, then turn right around and commit one of above fallacies. They are fallacious because they make an exception solely in order to support a particular point. These exceptions are never supported, or even acknowledged - they just sit there, spoiling an otherwise good argument.

Most recently I caught Susan Blackmore doing this, when at the end of The Meme Machine she turns round and advocates a kind of meditative practice in order to cope with the vertiginous feeling that comes when you realise that you probably don't have any free will (1999: 242). In general I've got a lot of sympathy for such practice, and I broadly agree with her analysis of the illusory nature of the self that precedes it (ibid: 219-34). But as an answer, or at least a coping strategy, to the free will problem, it is distinctly inadequate. She can't expect me to choose to pursue such a meditative lifestyle, can she? Of course she might simply be hoping to nudge my psycho-memetic systems into behaving in the way that she advocates, which is all well and good, but the simple point remains that it is entirely inconsistent to on the one hand deny freedom of the will, and on the other tell your reader what they should do about it.

Daniel Dennett seems to me to make the same mistake when, in Freedom Evolves and elsewhere, he argues that whilst 'we' don't have any direct volitional control, we are somehow able to choose not to act on the volitions that emerge from our multiple drafts of consciousness. It's been a while since I read Freedom Evolves, and I haven't got a copy handy (so forgive the lack of references), but I recall that something like this formed the centre of his compatiblist account of determinism and free will. In any case, I certainly didn't find his account convincing, for much the same reason that I have yet to find any (physicalist) account of free will convincing - none of them take determinism seriously enough. There's no such thing as partial determinism, unless you introduce randomness, and anybody who denies free will but then tells you how best to cope with this denial is simply being inconsistent.

In fact, without free will the very concept of any course of action being 'best' begins to lose a lot of its worth. How can I have any obligation to act one way rather than another, either morally or rationally, if I'm not able to meaningfully make that decision? Both conventional, rules-based moral philosophy and alternative approaches that emphasise "moral imagination" (Nussbaum 1985: 516) or "ethical attention" (Bowden 1998) suffer from this contradiction. In the first instance agency is removed when we are told that there is only one right answer to a dilemma - we no longer have any meaningful moral choice to make. On the latter view, to be moral is to live in a certain way, to be the kind of person who makes moral decisions - whatever those decisions may be. Here, again, we seem to lack ethical agency - either I am this kind of person or I am not, and when it comes to moral dilemmas I no longer have any choice, I simply act in the way that I must. Yet when I made this point in an essay, the marker insisted that "imagination is in part agential" - in which case, surely, the alternative approach simply collapses into the conventional, only with the critical choice being made prior to a dilemma, when an agent exercises their imagination. In my opinion he had fallen into a version of the trap that I outlined above, denying that morality was about freely willed decisions, but then simply reintroducing those decisions in another guise.

Of course, it is not anyone's fault when they make these mistakes, for they could not have chosen to do otherwise - could they?

• Blackmore, S. 1999. The Meme Machine. Oxford: OUP.
• Bowden, P. 1998. "Ethical Attention: Accumulating Understandings." European Journal of Philosophy 6/1: 59-77.
• Dennett, D. 2003. Freedom Evolves. Viking Books.
• Nussbaum, M. 1985. "'Finely Aware and Richly Responsible': Moral Attention and the Moral Task of Literature." Journal of Philosopy 82: 516-29.

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.

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.

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.