Post by Admin on Sept 18, 2021 8:14:11 GMT
On Dualism and Other Dead Ends
medium.com/@t.dec99/on-dualism-and-other-dead-ends-6cc091341458
Among other things this brief essay argues against the notion of dualism, that is, the idea that mental and physical processes are entirely different.
It’s easy to understand how this notion arose. Dualism is intuitive. Consciousness does seem to be something unto itself. Awareness seems wispy and insubstantial, while the physical world seems heavy and solid. It’s only a small step to conclude the two things are fundamentally different.
While most scientists reject this idea, it has a long history among other folks. The notion of some kind of soul separate from the body is of course central to several religions, and religion continues to be the primary source of dualistic thinking in modern life. But this is far from only a religious matter.
Ever since Descartes unveiled his version of dualism nearly four centuries ago, the discussion has been continued by a long line of philosophers. More recently, and most famously, the philosopher David Chalmers introduced his notion of “the hard problem of consciousness”.
By this he referred to our profound inability to explain, or even imagine, how subjective experience — a seemingly nonphysical essence — could ever possibly emerge from a purely physical system. How could such a system ever yield, to invoke a common example, the subjective experience of redness?
Since we have so far failed to solve this conundrum, some philosophers suggest we must retreat to dualism. Others recommend embracing some other alternative. And probably the best known of such alternatives is panpsychism.
This perspective has a long intellectual history and is, among some, now back in vogue. It asserts that some level of consciousness is ubiquitous. That awareness pervades all matter, right down to the subatomic level, at least in some rudimentary sense. Consciousness does not need to emerge from the physical because it is already within it, intrinsically.
Dualism, physicalism, panpsychism. There are different paradigms here, and all have limitations. Some more than others.
First, dualism. What do we find when we look inside the skull? We find the same thing we find everywhere else in the universe: energy, including the temporary versions of it we call matter. Do what you will, surgery, EEGs, fMRIs, MEGs, this is all we discover. If consciousness is some other kind of basic reality, we haven’t been able to find it.
Furthermore, if the mind and the physical world are indeed basically different, they certainly seem to have an extremely close relationship. A tiny electrical current applied to one site on the brain might bring forth, say, a particular sensation. But the ingestion of a psychedelic substance, affecting many areas of the brain, will bring forth considerably more than that: a radical change in the entire spectrum of experience. Conversely, the biological changes of sleep only reduce awareness, while the end of biological processes — that is, death — eliminates awareness entirely.
Dualism would have us believe that even though consciousness seems to occur only in nervous systems, and furthermore that it reliably changes when those systems change, still it is not a function of those systems. It is instead a completely different, mysterious kind of reality that just happens to accompany those systems.
Panpsychism is seen by some as a simpler, more coherent explanation. And supporters point out that the modern version is largely consistent with physicalism. For example, it accepts that all physical phenomena are forms of energy. It simply offers a different hypothesis about the ultimate, intrinsic nature of that energy, proposing that it includes rudimentary consciousness.
Of course no one has been able to demonstrate that some kind of consciousness is somehow intrinsic to all things. No one has been able to discern how that might be attempted. Like dualism, the paradigm has not been particularly useful for research.
Furthermore, the theory does not seem to offer any increase in explanatory power. It leaves entirely unexplained, for example, how the supposed rudimentary consciousness of tiny particles could somehow combine to generate a more complex awareness. In other words, the simplicity of the position is illusory: it has its own version of unexplained emergence. Not to mention why that emergence seems to occur in elephants, for example, but not in boulders.
Admittedly, in meditative states I (occasionally) resonate with something akin to a panpsychic sensibility. (See “Make Me One With Everything”, another of my essays on this site.) But as a day to day working paradigm my own perspective is like that of neuroscientists: a garden variety physicalism or materialism. That is, I view all known varieties of consciousness as emerging in nervous systems as a result of physical processes.
Now as noted previously, at present there is no detailed explanation for how this might happen. So clearly physicalism has not yet solved the problem. But the paradigm is at least consistent with available evidence, and of course it has proven valuable as a framework for research. It is likely to be the reigning paradigm for some time, and with good reason.
Some critics of the perspective compare materialist models of consciousness to the old joke about the drunk. He loses his keys one night and searches for them under a streetlamp. But he knows he did not lose them there. He’s only looking there because the light is better.
As a metaphor for physicalism this has an element of truth, but it is also a distortion. When it comes to subjective experience we are in fact not sure where we lost the keys. We’re looking under the streetlamp not only because we can, but because they might be there, and if so we might eventually find them. The dualist alternative is to declare them as definitely in the dark, and abandon the search. As Daniel Dennett has rightly observed, “dualism is giving up.”
Although I have reasonable confidence in the physicalist paradigm, it’s wise to be epistemically modest. After all it might well be true, as the position called “mysterianism” suggests, that as a species we are not capable of ever truly understanding consciousness. But I doubt it.
What I do not doubt is that even when we come to understand it abstractly, that will not be enough. Even when the biology and chemistry of consciousness are comprehensively detailed, we will still feel disappointed.
Abstract explanations will never seem to capture our experience, and always the narrative will be unsatisfying. Intuitively, at least, the hand will never be able to grasp itself.
Even coming upon good abstract explanations will be difficult enough, given the staggering complexity of the subject matter. A human brain has about 86 billion neurons; it may also have 100 trillion synapses, and perhaps several times that many. We’ve made considerable progress in our understanding, but still we have our work cut out for us.
At this point about all we say with confidence is that research will continue. And that with any luck, perhaps consciousness may yet reveal some of its mysteries.
medium.com/@t.dec99/on-dualism-and-other-dead-ends-6cc091341458
Among other things this brief essay argues against the notion of dualism, that is, the idea that mental and physical processes are entirely different.
It’s easy to understand how this notion arose. Dualism is intuitive. Consciousness does seem to be something unto itself. Awareness seems wispy and insubstantial, while the physical world seems heavy and solid. It’s only a small step to conclude the two things are fundamentally different.
While most scientists reject this idea, it has a long history among other folks. The notion of some kind of soul separate from the body is of course central to several religions, and religion continues to be the primary source of dualistic thinking in modern life. But this is far from only a religious matter.
Ever since Descartes unveiled his version of dualism nearly four centuries ago, the discussion has been continued by a long line of philosophers. More recently, and most famously, the philosopher David Chalmers introduced his notion of “the hard problem of consciousness”.
By this he referred to our profound inability to explain, or even imagine, how subjective experience — a seemingly nonphysical essence — could ever possibly emerge from a purely physical system. How could such a system ever yield, to invoke a common example, the subjective experience of redness?
Since we have so far failed to solve this conundrum, some philosophers suggest we must retreat to dualism. Others recommend embracing some other alternative. And probably the best known of such alternatives is panpsychism.
This perspective has a long intellectual history and is, among some, now back in vogue. It asserts that some level of consciousness is ubiquitous. That awareness pervades all matter, right down to the subatomic level, at least in some rudimentary sense. Consciousness does not need to emerge from the physical because it is already within it, intrinsically.
Dualism, physicalism, panpsychism. There are different paradigms here, and all have limitations. Some more than others.
First, dualism. What do we find when we look inside the skull? We find the same thing we find everywhere else in the universe: energy, including the temporary versions of it we call matter. Do what you will, surgery, EEGs, fMRIs, MEGs, this is all we discover. If consciousness is some other kind of basic reality, we haven’t been able to find it.
Furthermore, if the mind and the physical world are indeed basically different, they certainly seem to have an extremely close relationship. A tiny electrical current applied to one site on the brain might bring forth, say, a particular sensation. But the ingestion of a psychedelic substance, affecting many areas of the brain, will bring forth considerably more than that: a radical change in the entire spectrum of experience. Conversely, the biological changes of sleep only reduce awareness, while the end of biological processes — that is, death — eliminates awareness entirely.
Dualism would have us believe that even though consciousness seems to occur only in nervous systems, and furthermore that it reliably changes when those systems change, still it is not a function of those systems. It is instead a completely different, mysterious kind of reality that just happens to accompany those systems.
Panpsychism is seen by some as a simpler, more coherent explanation. And supporters point out that the modern version is largely consistent with physicalism. For example, it accepts that all physical phenomena are forms of energy. It simply offers a different hypothesis about the ultimate, intrinsic nature of that energy, proposing that it includes rudimentary consciousness.
Of course no one has been able to demonstrate that some kind of consciousness is somehow intrinsic to all things. No one has been able to discern how that might be attempted. Like dualism, the paradigm has not been particularly useful for research.
Furthermore, the theory does not seem to offer any increase in explanatory power. It leaves entirely unexplained, for example, how the supposed rudimentary consciousness of tiny particles could somehow combine to generate a more complex awareness. In other words, the simplicity of the position is illusory: it has its own version of unexplained emergence. Not to mention why that emergence seems to occur in elephants, for example, but not in boulders.
Admittedly, in meditative states I (occasionally) resonate with something akin to a panpsychic sensibility. (See “Make Me One With Everything”, another of my essays on this site.) But as a day to day working paradigm my own perspective is like that of neuroscientists: a garden variety physicalism or materialism. That is, I view all known varieties of consciousness as emerging in nervous systems as a result of physical processes.
Now as noted previously, at present there is no detailed explanation for how this might happen. So clearly physicalism has not yet solved the problem. But the paradigm is at least consistent with available evidence, and of course it has proven valuable as a framework for research. It is likely to be the reigning paradigm for some time, and with good reason.
Some critics of the perspective compare materialist models of consciousness to the old joke about the drunk. He loses his keys one night and searches for them under a streetlamp. But he knows he did not lose them there. He’s only looking there because the light is better.
As a metaphor for physicalism this has an element of truth, but it is also a distortion. When it comes to subjective experience we are in fact not sure where we lost the keys. We’re looking under the streetlamp not only because we can, but because they might be there, and if so we might eventually find them. The dualist alternative is to declare them as definitely in the dark, and abandon the search. As Daniel Dennett has rightly observed, “dualism is giving up.”
Although I have reasonable confidence in the physicalist paradigm, it’s wise to be epistemically modest. After all it might well be true, as the position called “mysterianism” suggests, that as a species we are not capable of ever truly understanding consciousness. But I doubt it.
What I do not doubt is that even when we come to understand it abstractly, that will not be enough. Even when the biology and chemistry of consciousness are comprehensively detailed, we will still feel disappointed.
Abstract explanations will never seem to capture our experience, and always the narrative will be unsatisfying. Intuitively, at least, the hand will never be able to grasp itself.
Even coming upon good abstract explanations will be difficult enough, given the staggering complexity of the subject matter. A human brain has about 86 billion neurons; it may also have 100 trillion synapses, and perhaps several times that many. We’ve made considerable progress in our understanding, but still we have our work cut out for us.
At this point about all we say with confidence is that research will continue. And that with any luck, perhaps consciousness may yet reveal some of its mysteries.