Some Comments On Representationalism

If a subject is having a phenomenally conscious experience, there is something that it is like to be them. The subjective qualities that characterize phenomenally conscious experiences are what philosophers refer to as phenomenal character. What is the nature of phenomenal character? According to some philosophers, the phenomenal character of an experience can be explained in terms of “qualia”. Qualia, these philosophers claim, are intrinsic, non-intentional features of experience that we can become aware of via introspection. What an experience is like, on this view, can be understood in terms of its qualia.

However, qualia realism (the view that qualia exist), faces a powerful objection on the basis of the “transparent” character of experience. Michael Tye formulates one version of the argument from transparency against qualia realism as follows:

1. If one is aware of one’s visual experience or any of its qualities when one introspects, then in normal cases one can attend to one or more of those items directly on the basis of that awareness.

2. But one cannot so attend

3. So, one is not aware of one’s visual experience and/or its qualities when one introspects in normal cases.

4. So, qualia realism is false. (https://www.academia.edu/26902720/Transparency_Qualia_Realism_and_Representationalism)

When we introspect, the only features that we are able to attend to are external properties of our environment such as size, shape, color, smell, and sound. We cannot shift our attention from these features to intrinsic, qualitative properties. Consequently, qualia are not among the features that we are aware of when we introspect. This entails that qualia realism is false. 

If we reject qualia realism, how should we understand the phenomenal character of our experiences? The most straightforward hypothesis is that the phenomenal qualities of an experience are one and the same as the worldly properties that the experience presents to us. The phenomenal character of an experience, on this view, is a complex of worldly properties that is related to us by our conscious state. If two experiences differ in their phenomenal character, this simply amounts to a difference in the worldly properties that those experiences present. 

This proposal, if it is endorsed, provides strong support for “strong representationalism” about phenomenal character. According to strong representationalism, the phenomenal character of an experience is identical to the complex of properties that the experience represents. Why should we endorse this view? Consider two characteristic features of experience: First, experiences have accuracy conditions. In other words, an experience can be more or less accurate in its presentation of reality. Second, experiences provide us with cognitively significant information about our environment. When we experience certain environmental features, we are in a position to learn about and respond to those features on the basis of our experience. Representationalism provides a simple and compelling explanation for both of these aspects of experience. 

Furthermore, we already know that our brains contain representations of our environment. It is plausible to suppose that, whenever we experience some worldly property, that property is represented by some state in our brain. If the only properties that experiences present to us are properties that are represented by our brain states, the best explanation for this fact is that experiences themselves are representations. Therefore, we should conclude that the phenomenal character of an experience is the same as the complex of properties that the experience represents (for further arguments in favor of representationalism, see the following: https://plato.stanford.edu/entries/consciousness-representational/ )

If strong representationalism is true, what explains why an experience represents some properties rather than others? Historically, the most popular explanation among representationalists has appealed to causal tracking under normal conditions. On this sort of account, an experience represents some property X iff the experience causally tracks the presence of X in normal conditions. Depending on the philosopher in question, what qualify as “normal conditions” is explained in terms of statistical frequency or evolutionary history. However, in either case, what ultimately account for the representational content of an experience are the properties that the experience causally tracks. 

Despite its widespread appeal, however, this account of representational content faces serious difficulties. The most powerful objection to causal-tracking versions of strong representationalism is what has been called the “internal-dependence argument”. The internal-dependence argument is an empirical objection to externalist forms of strong representationalism that appeals to two discoveries: First, there is a bad correlation between the structure of our sensory experiences and the structure of the properties that those experiences track. Second, there is a good correlation between the structure of our conscious experiences and the structure of our internal, neural states. According to causal-tracking versions of strong representationalism, if two experiences phenomenally resemble one another in some respect, that similarity must be correlated with some similarity in the properties that those experiences causally track under normal conditions. However, when we investigate the properties tracked by our experiences of sensory properties such as color, sound, and smell, we find no such correlation. On the  contrary, sensory experiences that involve similar colors, sounds, and smells are often correlated with vastly different environmental properties. Consequently, it is reasonable to conclude that the phenomenal character of our experiences cannot be explained in terms of the properties that those experiences causally track under normal conditions. 

While the bad external correlation between sensory experiences and environmental properties undermines causal-tracking representationalism, it does not undermine representationalism as such. In light of the good correlation between sensory experiences and internal, neural states, we should instead opt for an internalist version of strong representationalism which claims that representational content depends, at least in part, on the internal character of our neural states. On this sort of view, if two experiences have the same representational content, they must also resemble one another in terms of some internal characteristics (for more on internal-dependence and internalist representationalism, see the following: https://www.academia.edu/41692787/How_Can_Brains_in_Vats_Experience_a_Spatial_World_A_Puzzle_for_Internalists )

However, internalist versions of representationalism face an explanatory challenge that is not faced by externalist versions: If representational content is determined by the internal character of our neural states, rather than by causal-tracking relations, why do experiences represent properties that they casually track in so many cases? When someone has an experience of something square, this is normally caused by the presence of something that is, in fact, square. The same goes for many other non-sensory properties that we experience such as size and distance. But how can this be anything other than an unbelievably lucky coincidence if internalist representationalism is true? What is it about the internal character of our neural states that ensures some degree of similarity between many properties that those states track and the properties that they represent?

In order to identify a solution to this puzzle, consider Bertrand Russell’s account of the relationship between spatial experience and the account of space provided by fundamental physics:

 “The ‘real’ shape is a shape in physical space, which has no more resemblance to visual shape than light-waves have to colour. Shape as [we perceive it] is in just the same position as colour. I suggest that the apparent shape “corresponds” as a rule to a real shape, due to relations having similar logical properties. But it is a case of correspondence, not identity, just as in the case of colours and their physical correlates” (Russell, 1913) 

On Russell’s view, visual experiences of shape are able to help us navigate in the real world because there is a sort of structural correspondence between visual space and the “real” space described by physics. Without endorsing Russell’s views on the natures of visual and “real” space, I would like to suggest that his notion of a structural correspondence between experience and reality provides the key to a viable internalist representationalism.

I believe that the most promising solution to the problem posed above is to hold that the contents of our experiences are determined by our neural states in virtue of a structural matching relation between the elements of those states and the properties that our experiences represent. For example, phenomenal representations of size and shape will depend upon some sort of structural match between the sizes and shapes of worldly entities and some elements of our neural states. Furthermore, representations of sensory properties such as color and sound will depend on elements of neural states that share similar structural relations to those properties as well. (Crucially, this structural matching relation can obtain even if some sensory properties are not actually instantiated in the real world.)

This account provides a straightforward explanation of the tie between, for instance, the spatial properties that our experiences causally track and the spatial properties that they represent: In order for us to remain in touch with our environment, we must have neural states that track and map practically relevant features of our environment such as size and shape. As Russell recognized, this requires those states to stand in structural relations that roughly match the structural relations of size and shape properties. Therefore, on the view under consideration, the conditions that must be met for states to causally track size and shape will guarantee that those states accurately represent size and shape as well. In summary, explaining the representational content of experience in terms of a structural matching relation between neural states and represented properties enables us to explain why experiences accurately represent many properties that they causally track while also allowing for representations of sensory properties in the absence of any causal tracking relation.  

In conclusion, considerations such as the transparency of experience along with its accuracy conditions and informativeness provide an abductive case for strong representationalism about phenomenal character. In light of the empirical evidence for internal dependence, we should reject causal-tracking forms of strong representationalism in favor of internalist representationalism. Finally, in order to account for the correlations between represented and causally tracked properties such as size and shape, we should hold that the representational content of experience is determined by a structural matching relation between the elements of internal states and represented properties.

Brief Outline Of An Account Of Knowledge, Justification, And Reasons

 

In a minimal sense, believing that P for some reason R can be understood in terms of a rational transition from one conceptual state to another. A rational transition is one that a subject can self-consciously represent in terms of their reasons for believing that P. When one conceptual state rationally guides the formation of another, the content of the former state provides the reason for the formation of the latter. In this minimal sense, reasons for belief are non-factive. Even if conceptual state does not accurately or truly represent reality, its content can still serve as a reason for beliefs. 

Justified beliefs are beliefs formed for good reasons that are provided by the contents of justifying conceptual states. Even if one believes that Socrates is mortal because all men are mortal and Socrates is a man, unless one justifiably believes that all men are mortal and Socrates is a man, the resulting judgment will not be justified. Furthermore, if one forms a belief for bad reasons, it will not be justified even if one justifiably believes those reasons. 

Good reasons for belief are reasons that, if they are factive, ensure the truth of the resulting judgment. Justifying conceptual states are states that are or yield knowledge when things go well. When one believes P for good reasons that one knows to be true, one’s belief is explained by the facts that one knows. These facts ensure that the resulting belief is also knowledge. 

In summary: 

Reasons for belief can be understood in terms of rational transitions between conceptual states. One’s reasons are provided by the contents of the conceptual states that lead to one’s judgment.

Justification is the result of appropriate transitions between conceptual states. These transitions are appropriate because, in good conditions, they yield knowledge. 

Rational judgment is a capacity to know what is the case on the basis of facts that establish the truth of one’s beliefs. 

-The Account Applied To Perceptual Knowledge

In order to form justified perceptual beliefs, one’s perceptual judgments must be the result of rational transitions from justifying conceptual states. Since our perceptual judgments are guided by our perceptual experiences, perceptual experiences must therefore be conceptual states. 

If a perceptual experience represents some fact P, that experience, in the absence of defeaters, enables one to justifiably believe what it represents. In normal cases, if the experience is veridical, it enables one to know that P on the basis of the fact that P. Because the evidence provided by veridical perception, in normal cases, guarantees the truth of one’s perceptual judgments, these judgments are incompatible with the possibility of error.

Physicalist Q&A

 Q: Why can we conceive of the mind being separate from the body? 

A: Co-referring concepts are not always applied on the basis of the same evidence. For instance, even though water is composed of H20, the evidence that leads us to apply our ‘water’ concept (the presence of watery stuff) is not the evidence that leads us to apply our ‘H20’ concept. That is why further scientific investigation is required in order for us to conclude that what fills our lakes and rivers is, in fact, H20. 

When co-referring concepts are not applied on the basis of the same evidence, it can seem conceivable for the referent of one concept to be present in the absence of the other. This is why some people have thought that they could conceive of a world where water was not actually composed of H20. However, in most cases, this apparent possibility can be understood as a world where the evidence that leads us to apply one concept is present in the absence of the other concept’s referent. Thus, when it seems conceivable that water could be present without H20, what we are actually conceiving of is a world where watery stuff is present in the absence of H20. 

Once we understand that watery stuff is only contingently associated with water, we can recognize that the world we are conceiving of is not a world where water is present in the absence of H20 after all. Instead, it is a world where the watery stuff that fills lakes and rivers is a different kind of liquid altogether. 

However, in the case of the mind and body, it does not seem possible to explain their apparent distinctness in this way. This is because, unlike the evidence that leads us to apply our ‘water’ concept, our evidence for consciousness (our direct acquaintance with phenomenal properties) is not contingently associated with the actual presence of consciousness. Rather, when our evidence for phenomenal consciousness is present, this evidence entails that consciousness is present as well. Consequently, if it is possible for our evidence for consciousness to be present in the absence of the body, it is possible for consciousness to be present in the absence of the body too. In this sense, the appearance of mind-body distinctness is robust in a way that the appearance of water-H20 distinctness is not. 

The apparent conceivability of the mind being separate from the body raises two questions that physicalists must answer: First, why do the mind and body appear to be distinct? Second, why is this appearance of distinctness robust? The answer to the first question is that the mind and body appear distinct because we do not apply our mental and physical concepts on the basis of the same evidence. The answer to the second is that this appearance is robust because the evidence that leads us to apply our mental concepts is necessarily associated with the actual presence of consciousness. 

These answers provide the physicalist with grounds for denying the link between the robust conceivability of mind-body distinctness and metaphysical possibility: Co-referring concepts are not always applied on the basis of the same evidence and it is possible for one co-referring concept, but not the other, to be applied on the basis of evidence that is necessarily associated with its referent. Since these conditions can give rise to a robust, but misleading appearance of distinctness, there is no link between robust appearances of distinctness and metaphysical possibility. Although conceivability can provide defeasible support for an inference to possibility, this support can be overcome by a posteriori evidence for metaphysical necessities. The physicalist can appeal to our scientific discoveries about the brain as sufficient evidence of this sort. 

Q: If it is possible to robustly conceive of metaphysical impossibilities, how can conceivability be evidence for possibility?

A: The evidential status of conceivability can be understood in simple, bayesian terms. Robust conceivability requires two distinct concepts that are not applied on the basis of the same qualitative evidence. If I am thinking of two distinct things, I must have two distinct concepts that, in almost all cases, will not be applied on the basis of the same evidence. By contrast, thinking of one thing is possible without having two distinct concepts. Consequently, the fact that I can robustly conceive of one thing in the absence of the other is more readily predicted by the hypothesis that I really am conceiving of two distinct things. So even though we can robustly conceive of metaphysical impossibilities, that does not stop conceivability from providing defeasible evidence of possibility. 

Q: If consciousness is physical, why does there seem to be an explanatory gap regarding the emergence of consciousness in nature? 

A: Normally, we can explain some natural phenomenon by discovering what sort of thing it is and describing how that sort of thing is realized by more basic physical facts. This is possible because the sorts of things that science usually explains can be essentially characterized in causal-structural terms. For instance, we can give a scientific account of water by first discovering that it is a kind of liquid that has certain characteristic causes and effects. We can then describe the lower level physical phenomena that come together to realize those characteristics. This allows us to understand what empirical facts are responsible for the presence of water and why they are sufficient. 

But in the case of consciousness, we cannot arrive at any substantial characterization of what sort of thing it is by appealing to causal-structural characteristics. Such a characterization is not a conceptual truth associated with our concept of consciousness. Furthermore, we cannot directly arrive at one through empirical investigation because we apply our mental concepts on the basis of our direct acquaintance with phenomenal consciousness itself. Since our direct acquaintance with experiences does not lead us to any conclusions about it’s potential causal-structural characteristics, we can only arrive them via an a posteriori identification of consciousness with some physical phenomenon. 

However, if such an identification is made, then once we have provided an explanation of the identified physical phenomenon, no further explanation of consciousness is required. This simply follows from the fact that, when two things are identical, an explanation of one is an explanation of the other. What makes the case of consciousness unique is that an a posteriori identification is required in order for an explanation to proceed. 

Q: Suppose Mary lives in a black and white room where she learns every physical fact relevant to the experience of color. Upon leaving the room and seeing the color red for the first time, it seems like she will come to learn something new. But if facts about consciousness are physical facts, how could this be possible? 

A: When Mary leaves her room and sees the color red , she is directly acquainted with the color red for the first time. On this basis, she learns that “*this* is what it is like to see red”. This is a new belief about a fact that she already knew in her room via a different thought. Her new belief involves the use of a new demonstrative concept that is applied on the basis of her direct acquaintance with the property that it refers to. She could not have formed this belief in her room because it involves a demonstrative that is specifically used to refer to the color red on the basis of her direct acquaintance. If she had used a demonstrative concept to refer to the color red while she was inside of her room, the concept would have had a distinct kind of originating use. Since concepts are individuated by their originating uses, her new knowledge could only be acquired by actually having an experience of red. 

Reflections On The Story Of Babel

In Genesis 11, we are told that the peoples of the earth once possessed a common language and used the same words to speak of things. Migrating westward, this unified human community arrives at a plain where they decide to build a city containing a tower that could reach the heavens. Upon witnessing their pursuit of this project, it is said that God decided to confuse their speech and dissolve their shared linguistic bond. He then scattered the people across the earth, leaving the unfinished remains of a city henceforth known as “Babel”. 

It is sometimes suggested that the story of the tower of Babel serves as an etiology that provides a mythic explanation for the origin of linguistic diversity across human communities. According to such an account, it may seem as though God’s decision to confuse the languages of humanity was simply a response to the construction of Babel. Had the people never decided to build their tower to the heavens, one might suppose that they would have never lost the unified language that they all shared.  

However, this supposition fails to adequately account for the intimate connection between humanity’s common language and their project at Babel described in Genesis 11. According to the story, the construction of Babel is not simply enabled by a common human language. Rather, it plays an essential role in the ongoing preservation of that language. Only by building the city and its tower, the people claim, can they avoid being “scattered abroad across the face of the whole earth”. In other words, their shared language and the construction of Babel are both necessary, mutually dependent elements of humanity’s attempt to seize control of their own fate. 

In what sense can the shared human project at Babel be said to prevent their being scattered across the world? How can it be a necessary condition for their common language? The unity of a common language is shaped by the form of life that its speakers share with one another. In the absence of a shared project that characterizes their form of life, the lives of the various peoples at Babel, along with the languages that suit their ways of living, will have nothing to hold them together as one. As their forms of life diverge in accordance with their different projects, so will the languages that reflect those forms. Rather than being a project made possible by their common language, the peoples of Genesis 11 share a language only insofar as they also share the common goal of constructing the city and its tower. Their lives as builders of the city is where their language finds its proper home. 

If a shared form of life is essential to the possibility and preservation of a universal human language, what is the form of life that the peoples of Genesis 11 actually share? Why does it lead God to intervene in their affairs? Unlike the subsequent circumstances that unite the various people groups that God scatters across the earth, the lives of the people at Babel are engaged in a unique project of spiritual resistance. Specifically, they are not united by their place within a world  provided by God. Rather, they aim to create a world that ignores their dependence on the divine. With the creation of Babel’s great tower, they intend to overcome the separation between earth and Heaven that characterizes the distinction between humanity and God and subject the world to their own wills. By placing themselves above all of creation and forgetting their dependence on God, the people at Babel have become idolatrous. It is this idolatry that leads God to act against their ambitions and confuse their speech.

God’s defeat of the idolatry at Babel is not motivated by a superficial desire to reserve power for himself alone. Depicting God as a sort of Zeus for the Ancient Near East fails to reveal the true essence of idolatry and its importance for humanity. When faced with the idolatry at Babel, we must first ask why it is contrary to God’s will for His creation. Idolatry is not a danger because humanity is mistaken about what they can accomplish. As God Himself acknowledges in the story, the people at Babel really are on their way to being able to overcome any obstacle they encounter. (11:6) But by subjecting God’s creation to their own ends, the people at Babel are no longer allowing God’s creation to flourish in accordance with its own essence. Instead of shouldering their responsibility as shepherds of the things that God created, they have chosen to do violence to the world as it was originally intended to be. Crucially, this is not simply limited to the created world around them. By subjecting the world to their own purposes, humans no longer live in accordance with their own essential role as shepherds. Human nature itself, along with rest of the world, is distorted by the violence of idolatry. 

In the time before the construction of Babel, the wickedness of humanity had led God to blot out every living thing from the face of the earth. In the aftermath, God made a covenant with Noah to never again flood the earth and destroy the life He had created. With humanity’s renewed defiance at Babel, Genesis presents God’s adherence to his covenant and a new approach to the corruption of nature. Instead of punishing humanity for their idolatry by destroying them, God decides to save them in spite of their wickedness. Confusing the language of the people at Babel serves as the first step of God’s new solution to human evil. This solution continues with the story of Abraham, where God promises that He will make Abraham’s name great. This commitment stands in stark contrast the people at Babel who attempt to make their own name great (11:4), without faith in God. 

Taken together, the stories of Babel and Abraham present the nature of human wickedness and God’s solution to it: Human wickedness consists in the idolatrous desire to make one’s own name great. Human redemption lies in a life of faith that trusts in God’s will for what He has created. This faith does not require humans to abandon their freedom and power. On the contrary, it is only through the life of faith that humanity and God’s creation can truly flourish at all. The story of Babel presents human beings in the grip of idolatry. This idolatry is not made possible by their shared language. It is reflected in their language itself along with the common project that accompanies it. By confusing their language and scattering them across the earth, God frees the people of Babel from the grip of evil and opens the door to future redemption.

By recognizing that the common language at Babel is an essential manifestation of idolatry, rather than an enabling condition of it, we can see that the story is not merely intended as an explanation of linguistic diversity. Because the shared language is itself a reflection of an idolatrous form of life, the confusion of language plays an essential role in God’s solution to human evil. Presenting the nature of human wickedness and its solution is the primary goal of the story, not describing a mythic origin for human languages. The latter element is simply a result of the form that God’s solution takes. Acknowledging this key point of emphasis is crucial for understanding the role of Babel within the overarching narrative of Genesis as a whole. 

One Possible Case For Illusionism

Broadly construed, illusionism is a thesis about awareness of phenomenal character. It is the claim that any awareness of phenomenal character is non-veridical. On the face of it, illusionism seems patently absurd. If I seem to be aware of a bent stick, it’s certainly possible that no bent stick is actually present. But if I *seem* to be aware of the qualitative features presented by my experience, it appears that this is totally sufficient for *actually* being aware of such features. When it comes to phenomenal character, it is hard to deny that appearance simply is reality. 

Why do we think that phenomenal character is unique in this way? One plausible answer is that, in experience, the essence of phenomenal character is completely revealed to us. When I am aware of some phenomenal character, this is enough for me to completely grasp the nature of that phenomenal character. Consequently, I cannot be mistaken about what I am aware of because I have complete knowledge of what it is to be that phenomenal character. Since I have this knowledge, I know that being aware of something like *that* (where ‘that’ refers to what I am aware of), is the same as being aware of the relevant phenomenal character. 

If experience does, in fact, reveal the essence of phenomenal character to us in this way, how could illusionism possibly be true? One possibility is that, although experience completely reveals the nature of phenomenal character to us, the relevant phenomenal character is never actually instantiated. In other words, when we are aware of a certain phenomenal character, this does not entail the instantiation of any phenomenal character that we are aware of.

This might sound strange at first, but it is very similar to a phenomenon that we are all familiar with: Suppose that someone is thinking about a unicorn. Even though, in such a case, it is true that someone is thinking about a unicorn, this does not entail that there is any unicorn that someone is thinking about. If it did, we could simply infer that unicorns exist from the fact that people can think about them. But this inference is blocked in such a context. The cases in which this sort of inference is blocked are known as “intensional contexts”. Thinking is such a context and it is open to the illusionist to claim that awareness is such a context as well. If this were the case, the fact that someone is aware of a certain phenomenal character is not, on its own, sufficient to conclude that any phenomenal character is actually present. If one is aware of some phenomenal character that is not actually instantiated, such awareness is non-veridical. In this sense, such awareness is illusory. 

So, perhaps realists about phenomenal character are correct about revelation. In experience, the nature of phenomenal character is wholly revealed to us. But the illusionist might nevertheless hold that they are wrong insofar as they hold that phenomenal character is actually instantiated in the world. But why would anyone think this? On the face of it, experience seems to at least provide defeasible evidence for believing that phenomenal character is present just like it does for anything else we seem to be aware of. If we think that phenomenal character is illusory, why not think that the ordinary objects of our environment are illusory as well? Why not think that everything we seem to experience is an illusion? The illusionist owes us some reason for thinking that phenomenal character is illusory that does not also apply to everything else that we perceive. Otherwise, they undermine the very sorts of scientific evidence that led them to propose illusionism in the first place.

One reason of this sort that the illusionist can give takes the form of a debunking argument against our knowledge of phenomenal character. Specifically, they can argue that our beliefs about the presence of phenomenal character are “accidental” in a problematic sense that is incompatible with such beliefs counting as knowledge. 

In what sense might our beliefs about phenomenal character be accidental? In order to count as knowledge, one plausible requirement is that the things that our beliefs are about must play some role in explaining why we form reliably true beliefs about them. For instance, suppose someone takes a pill that causes them to develop a completely random disposition to form beliefs about when it is going to rain. Suppose that, as a matter of sheer coincidence, they happen to form a disposition to believe it is going to rain when it is dark and cloudy, the weatherman says it’s going to rain, etc. In such a case, the person would have reliably true beliefs about rain that were formed on the basis of good reasons for thinking it is going to going to rain. Nevertheless, because their disposition was a completely random result of the pill that they took, it is accidental. Consequently, it reasonable to suppose that their beliefs still fail to count as knowledge.

If this sort of “non-accidental” constraint is accepted, it can also be applied in the case of phenomenal character. Suppose it is granted that, when we have phenomenally conscious experiences, we reliably form true beliefs that are caused by the appropriate sorts of phenomenally conscious experiences. Nevertheless, the illusionist might claim that the reason we form reliably true beliefs on the basis of those experiences has nothing to do with the phenomenal character that those experiences actually have. For example, according to many panpsychists, the same causal-structural properties described by physics could be realized by quiddities that lacked phenomenal consciousness. In this sense, although phenomenally conscious experiences do, in fact, cause us to form true beliefs about them, their phenomenal character plays no role in an explanation of why we form the beliefs that we do. That sort of explanation might only appeal to the causal-structural features that are only contingently associated with the quiddities responsible for phenomenal consciousness. If this is so, our beliefs about phenomenal character might be accidental and, thus, fail to count as knowledge *even if* they are actually caused by phenomenally conscious experiences. 

By appealing to the requirement that our doxastic dispositions must be non-accidental, illusionists can argue that our beliefs about phenomenal character do not count as knowledge without ruling out our knowledge of other objects and properties in our environment. On this basis, they can defend a form of physicalism that does not countenance phenomenal character and hold that experiences of such properties are non-veridical. Furthermore, they can also explain our apparent certainty that such properties are instantiated by appealing to the revelatory character of our experiences. Since experience might reveal the essence of phenomenal character without phenomenal character actually being instantiated, revelation alone cannot undermine illusionism. 

The above considerations strike me as a plausible line that illusionists might take in response to realism about phenomenal character. While I do not personally accept the illusionist thesis, it does strike me as being more plausible than any realist proposal that demands a radical transformation of physics in light of phenomenal consciousness.

Names And Propositions

A proposition can occur in discourse with or without being asserted (Geach, “Assertion”). For example, if I assert “If P then Q”, Q occurs without being asserted (though, of course, I certainly could assert it). However, we have to distinguish between two sets of cases. First, there are cases where a proposition occurs in an assertion without itself being asserted. Second, there are cases where it appears as though a proposition occurs without being asserted when, in fact, what occurs is merely a name. 

The first sorts of cases occur when logical operations are applied to form new propositions such as “P v ~P” or “If P, Then Q”. These propositions do not add any descriptive content over and above what is described by the simple, unasserted propositions that they contain. Instead, they simply depend for their truth/falsehood upon the logical relations that hold between the states of affairs that the simple propositions describe. 

The second sorts of cases occur when a simple proposition seems to occur unasserted within a proposition that, unlike propositions of the first sort, *does* describe some further bit of reality. For example, “Q” seems to occur within “A believes that Q” even though the latter proposition apparently describes a further relation between “Q” and a subject. However, despite appearances, I think these can only be understood as cases where “Q” is a name that refers to some proposition that, correctly or incorrectly, describes reality. Among other things, this is why “A believes ‘Hesperus is a star’” does not entail “A believes ‘Phosphorus is a star’”. It also explains why “A believes ‘Unicorns have four legs’” does not entail “Unicorns have four legs” (since the former proposition does not describe a relation between A and whatever some proposition describes). 

If the above claims are true, a problem arises for inferences of the following form:

1. John believes that ‘P’

2. P

3. John believes truly that ‘P’ (or “John’s thought is true” or “‘P’ is true”, etc.) 

As discussed previously, ‘P’ occurs in the first premise as a name. Furthermore, John’s belief is true iff the proposition the ‘P’ names is true.  It may seem that this is precisely what the second premise affirms. However, despite appearances, the first and second premises have nothing in common with one another. In the first premise, ‘P’ is a name. In the second, “P” is a proposition (affirming the name ‘P’ makes no more sense than affirming the name ‘John’). Affirming “P” does not license us to infer that ‘P’ is true any more than it licenses us to infer that some arbitrary proposition named ‘A’ is true. As a matter of fact, ‘P’ names the very proposition that we affirm, so the conclusion is true, but there’s no logical reason why ‘P’ could not name a completely different proposition. As a matter of logical inference, concluding that John’s belief is true is totally unjustified. 

In order to avoid this problem, one might hold that genuine propositions can occur in intensional contexts without being asserted. However, one must then explain why such propositions have their unusual features that differ from those that result from ordinary logical operations. Alternatively, one might reject inferences of the sort presented above and explain their apparent legitimacy on other grounds. Finally, one might deny that intensional propositions describe relations between subjects and propositions at all. In this case, one must give an alternative account of what this form of discourse amounts to and why the relevant inferences are justified. In my opinion, this final option holds the most promise.

“That the propositional sign is a fact is concealed by the ordinary form of expression, written or printed. (For in the printed proposition, for example, the sign of a proposition does not appear essentially different from a word. Thus it was possible for Frege to call the proposition a compounded name.)” - Ludwig Wittgenstein

From Physicalism To Mysterianism

 In a previous post on this blog, I defended a broadly physicalist approach to the mind-body problem. Arguments from causal closure and scientific explanation led me to the think that the mind, like many other aspects of our “manifest image”, should be identified with physical phenomena on a posteriori grounds. 

Recently, I’ve come to think that this view is mistaken for an unexpected reason: It seems to me that we are not in a position to make any confident claims about whether the mind is or is not physical. To the extent that the question of mind-body identity can be meaningfully posed at all, I now lean towards a form of mysterianism. Here is a brief outline of my reasons:

A compelling way to frame the mind body problem is in terms of what has been called the “explanatory gap”. This highlights the intuitive sense in which, even if all the physical facts are explained, we’ll still be no closer to understanding how the physical “stuff” yields our technicolor phenomenal experiences. Why are those brain states like *this*!? Someone might ask. 

In one sense, the explanatory gap may seem to depend upon a confusion. Namely, identities aren’t really the sorts of things that can be explained at all. There’s no explanation for why I’m me or why Clark Kent is Superman. In each case, it’s the same person. If explanations ever come to an end, surely it must be with identity. Likewise, if we have good reasons for thinking that the mind is identical with the brain, we don’t require any further explanation for why they are, in fact identical. 

But the anti-physicalist has a more pressing version of this problem available to them: In normal cases of scientific identification, it seems possible to deduce all higher-order physical truths from the actual set of microphysical truths. To use a simple example, if I know all the facts about H20, it seems clear that I will be in a position to deduce all the facts about water on the basis of those truths. We know that water is whatever liquidy stuff plays the “water” role in our environment, so once we know that that role is filled by H20, we’ll know everything we need to know about water, right? If that’s the case, it seems like the obvious impossibility of deducing such truths about consciousness is good evidence against physicalism.

One of the most popular (and plausible, in my opinion) physicalist replies to this claim comes from what has been called “a posteriori physicalism”. According to a posteriori physicalism, microphysical truths alone do not put us in a position to deduce higher-order physical truths, even in humdrum cases such as water and H20. The key mistake that they point out is the assumption that we know, a priori, that water is the liquidy stuff that plays the water role in our environment. While this might seem completely obvious, keep in mind that what matters is whether that claim is a priori, not whether it is obvious. 

Upon reflection, we can easily imagine cases in which that obvious fact turns out to be false. For instance, we could discover that water isn’t actually liquid at all and that we are being deceived by technologically advanced aliens about its nature. In such a case, knowing that H20 is a liquidy stuff wouldn’t be enough to know anything about water because water isn’t a liquidy stuff at all! We discovered, a posteriori, that it was very different than what we initially supposed. As far fetched as this may seem, this case and many others like it cannot be ruled out on a priori grounds. Consequently, we cannot deduce all physical truths, a priori, from microphysical truths alone.

However, while this reply may succeed as a reply to the a priori physicalist, it fails to address what I’ve come to think is a much deeper divide between the mind and other physical phenomena.

Consider any physical phenomena of the everyday world. Water, heat, plants, and anything else that science appears to explain. In normal cases, when we identify something like water with an empirical concept from a more developed theory such as H20, we are effectively concluding that truths about one of the identified terms (water) are systematically correlated with truths about the other term (Complex structures of H20 molecules). Even if we don’t make the exact same judgements about each, what matters is that judgements about one can be, in principle, replaced by judgements about the other (or some disjunctive set of such judgements). 

It doesn’t matter if we never reach a level of sophistication where this is actually possible. What matters is that, in ordinary cases, a necessary condition for a posteriori identity is the *in principle* dispensability of the higher-order theoretical vocabulary. In other words, it must be possible to replace our talk about water with talk about H20 without missing out on any significant truths about reality (excluding, of course, trivial cases such as the fact that we use the term “water”). Just like we can capture all the truths about the world by talking about Clark Kent alone, rather than Clark Kent and Superman, we should be able to talk about H20 instead of water and still say everything we said before. If they’re really the same thing, this much seems to me to be obvious. 

In light of the above considerations, we now have a new necessary conditions for a posteriori identification that can replace that of the a priori physicalist: If some empirical phenomenon X is identical with some empirical phenomenon Y, the vocabulary associated with “X” must be, in principle, capable of being replaced by the vocabulary associated with “Y” without any loss of expressive power with respect to the coarse grained empirical facts those terms were used to describe. (For a more sophisticated development of ideas along these lines, see Sellars 1965)

Now, if this condition is necessary for a posteriori identification, how does the mind fare? With respect to phenomenal consciousness, there is one simple reason why I believe this condition can never be satisfied: Unlike our ordinary empirical concepts, our sensory experiences do not merely serve to describe reality. They also play an essential epistemic role in justifying our empirical beliefs. Even if I am mistaken about what I perceive, I am always in a privileged epistemic position with respect to what seems to be the case. It is because we have such experiences that we can be in a position to form judgements about the world at all. Most importantly, such experiences put us in a position to form judgements about the brain. 

Because our judgements about the brain depend upon the epistemic function of our sensory experiences, we can never be in a position to replace judgements about phenomenal consciousness with judgements about brain states. Why not? Because judgements about brain states are empirical judgements. As such, they require us to recognize what we experience as what we experience in order for us to have justified beliefs about them at all. If we abandoned the vocabulary of conscious experience, we would undermine the very basis for identifying the mind with the brain in the first place. Since abandoning our mental vocabulary is self-refuting, we cannot be in a position to identify the mind with the brain. 

Does this conclusion entail anti-physicalism? Not quite. Recall the reason why the mind cannot be identified with the brain. It had nothing to do with the metaphysical nature of consciousness. Rather, the impossibility derived from the epistemic role that consciousness plays. This epistemic role, however, carries no implications for what the nature of consciousness actually is. On the contrary, because it plays an essential epistemic role for our empirical knowledge, our inability to identify consciousness with anything physical derives from factors that have nothing to do with what consciousness actually is. Whether consciousness is physical or non-physical, we are not in a position to identify it as such. And since this inability does not stem from the metaphysical nature of consciousness, it does not allow us to draw any metaphysical conclusions about consciousness for or against physicalism. In short, the epistemic role played by sensory consciousness prevents us from being in a position to reach any firm conclusion about whether it is a physical phenomenon. 

Taken alone, this thesis yields a novel form of mysterianism that appeals to the epistemic features of consciousness, rather than the conceptual limitations of our current scientific framework. I believe there is a further question to ask about whether this leaves any meaningful way to formulate the mind body problem at all, but for now I’ll end at that.