--> How exactly did consciousness become a problem? And why, after years off the table, is it a hot research subject now?
EXCERPT: [...] Yet, as some philosophers of the early 20th century began to point out, physicalism contains a logical flaw. If consciousness is a secondary byproduct of physical laws, and if those laws are causally closed – meaning that everything in the world is explained by them (as physicalists claim) – then consciousness becomes truly irrelevant. Physicalism further allows us to imagine a world without consciousness, a ‘zombie world’ that looks exactly like our own, peopled with beings who act exactly like us but aren’t conscious. Such zombies have no feelings, emotions or subjective experience; they live lives without qualia. As Chalmers has noted, there is literally nothing it is like to be zombie. And if zombies can exist in the physicalist account of the world, then, according to Chalmers, that account can’t be a complete description of our world, where feelings do exist [...]
Medieval theologians did not sit around debating the ontological status of zombies. They knew for a fact that humans are conscious and built a system of control and punishment around this principle. [...] Torture was a method of mind control premised on a worldview in which conscious minds are morally accountable. Zombies, by contrast, have no real minds and no moral compass: they are neither good nor bad. Since they don’t feel pain in any meaningful sense, torturing a zombie would be pointless. What makes them such formidable foes on screen is that zombies are beyond the limits of subjectivity. We don’t feel for them because they don’t feel. Robots belong to the same order of being. Only when we think bots are developing consciousness (as in Blade Runner and Ex Machina) does our treatment of them become an issue.
[...] Although full-blown materialism (an early variant of physicalism), wasn’t articulated until the 18th century, its shadow was already hovering in Galileo’s 17th-century distinction between objective and subjective qualities. In his book "The Assayer" (1623), Galileo wrote: ‘If ears, tongues, and noses were removed, I am of the opinion that shape, quantity and motion would remain, but there would be an end of smells, tastes, and sounds.’ Shape, quantity and motion – these were not only the objects of science, they were the primary reality. [...] Galileo wrestled with the question of what a new science could be and what aspects of reality such a science could describe. [...] In The Assayer, he wrote: ‘Concerning sensation and things that pertain to it, I claim to understand but little. Therefore I leave it unsaid.’
For most of the history of modern science, subjectivity has been left unsaid – a topic hovering beyond the reach of equations and test-tubes. Why then has it now sprung so strongly to the forefront of scientific thinking? Physicists and chemists might not have been thinking much about subjectivity during the 18th and 19th centuries, however lots of other people were. [...]
But perhaps most surprisingly, just when the ‘stream of consciousness’ was entering our lexicon, physicists began to realise that consciousness might after all be critical to their own descriptions of the world. With the advent of quantum mechanics they found that, in order to make sense of what their theories were saying about the subatomic world, they had to posit that the scientist-observer was actively involved in constructing reality. [...]
Such a view appalled many physicists, who fought desperately to find a way out, and for much of the 20th century it still seemed possible to imagine that, somehow, subjectivity could be squeezed out of the frame, leaving a purely objective description of the world. Albert Einstein was in this camp, but his position hasn’t panned out. Forty years ago, the American theoretical physicist John Wheeler proposed a series of thought experiments to test if an observer could affect whether light behaved as a particle or a wave and, in 2007, the French physicist Alain Aspect proved that they could. Just this April, Nature Physics reported on a set of experiments showing a similar effect using helium atoms. Andrew Truscott, the Australian scientist who spearheaded the helium work, noted in Physics Today that ‘99.999 per cent of physicists would say that the measurement… brings the observable into reality’. In other words, human subjectivity is drawing forth the world.
Not all physicists are willing to go down this path, however, and there is indeed now a growing backlash against subjectivity. That has brought into being the so-called ‘many worlds interpretation’ (MWI) of quantum theory. According to this interpretation, every time a subatomic particle is confronted with options – does it do X, or does it do Y? – the Universe splits into two identical copies of itself, in one of which the particle does X and in the other it does Y. Given that physicists estimate that there are around 10^80 subatomic particles in our Universe, and most of them are confronted with options many times a second, it means that, according to MWI, gazillions of copies of our universe are sprouting off one another every nanosecond.
This fissiparous seething is one of the few ways to interpret quantum behaviour without awarding consciousness a central role, and when I was a physics student the MWI was widely seen as a fringe concept. Today, it is becoming mainstream, in large part because the pesky problem of consciousness simply hasn’t gone away.
Some physicists want to be rid of the problem of consciousness altogether, while others are attempting to treat it as a core material phenomenon. Max Tegmark, a theoretical physicist at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, for example, hopes that consciousness will turn out to be another state of matter, like a solid, liquid or gas, and he’s calling for physicists to begin exploring the ‘physical correlates of consciousness’. What, he asks, are the physical conditions that pertain when consciousness is present? There are parallel moves in neuroscience to determine the ‘neural correlates of consciousness’ (NCC) – the neurological signatures of awareness. [...]
This is all thrilling science, yet a question remains: will any of it explain subjective experience? Chalmers, the philosopher [formerly a scientist], claims that the problem of experience is not mechanistically reducible and he argues that it will ‘persist even when the performance of all the relevant functions is explained’. In other words, he says, no amount of detail about neuronal potentials and interconnection is going to get us to the essence of subjectivity.
Plenty of neuroscientists, physicists and philosophers disagree with him [...] Giulio Tononi’s book Phi (2012) asks the question: ‘How could mere matter generate mind?’ As a neuroscientist, Tononi says this is a mystery ‘stranger than immaculate conception… an impossibility that defie[s] belief’. Nonetheless, he offers us an explanation of consciousness grounded in information theory that has been admired by both Tegmark and Koch. He wants to do for psychic phenomena what Descartes, Galileo and their heirs did for physical phenomena: he wants to explain subjective experience by generalised empirical rules, and he tells us that such experiences have shapes in a multidimensional mathematical space.
Personally, I don’t have a problem with the idea that subjective experiences might have mathematical correlates any more than Father Coyne minds the notion of neural correlates. As an admirer of co-ordinate geometry, I like Tononi’s concept; at the same time, I don’t accept information theory as a bridge to subjectivity.
Neurological and informatic models of subjectivity will no doubt have their uses and values, as did mechanistic models of the world before them...
EXCERPT: [...] Yet, as some philosophers of the early 20th century began to point out, physicalism contains a logical flaw. If consciousness is a secondary byproduct of physical laws, and if those laws are causally closed – meaning that everything in the world is explained by them (as physicalists claim) – then consciousness becomes truly irrelevant. Physicalism further allows us to imagine a world without consciousness, a ‘zombie world’ that looks exactly like our own, peopled with beings who act exactly like us but aren’t conscious. Such zombies have no feelings, emotions or subjective experience; they live lives without qualia. As Chalmers has noted, there is literally nothing it is like to be zombie. And if zombies can exist in the physicalist account of the world, then, according to Chalmers, that account can’t be a complete description of our world, where feelings do exist [...]
Medieval theologians did not sit around debating the ontological status of zombies. They knew for a fact that humans are conscious and built a system of control and punishment around this principle. [...] Torture was a method of mind control premised on a worldview in which conscious minds are morally accountable. Zombies, by contrast, have no real minds and no moral compass: they are neither good nor bad. Since they don’t feel pain in any meaningful sense, torturing a zombie would be pointless. What makes them such formidable foes on screen is that zombies are beyond the limits of subjectivity. We don’t feel for them because they don’t feel. Robots belong to the same order of being. Only when we think bots are developing consciousness (as in Blade Runner and Ex Machina) does our treatment of them become an issue.
[...] Although full-blown materialism (an early variant of physicalism), wasn’t articulated until the 18th century, its shadow was already hovering in Galileo’s 17th-century distinction between objective and subjective qualities. In his book "The Assayer" (1623), Galileo wrote: ‘If ears, tongues, and noses were removed, I am of the opinion that shape, quantity and motion would remain, but there would be an end of smells, tastes, and sounds.’ Shape, quantity and motion – these were not only the objects of science, they were the primary reality. [...] Galileo wrestled with the question of what a new science could be and what aspects of reality such a science could describe. [...] In The Assayer, he wrote: ‘Concerning sensation and things that pertain to it, I claim to understand but little. Therefore I leave it unsaid.’
For most of the history of modern science, subjectivity has been left unsaid – a topic hovering beyond the reach of equations and test-tubes. Why then has it now sprung so strongly to the forefront of scientific thinking? Physicists and chemists might not have been thinking much about subjectivity during the 18th and 19th centuries, however lots of other people were. [...]
But perhaps most surprisingly, just when the ‘stream of consciousness’ was entering our lexicon, physicists began to realise that consciousness might after all be critical to their own descriptions of the world. With the advent of quantum mechanics they found that, in order to make sense of what their theories were saying about the subatomic world, they had to posit that the scientist-observer was actively involved in constructing reality. [...]
Such a view appalled many physicists, who fought desperately to find a way out, and for much of the 20th century it still seemed possible to imagine that, somehow, subjectivity could be squeezed out of the frame, leaving a purely objective description of the world. Albert Einstein was in this camp, but his position hasn’t panned out. Forty years ago, the American theoretical physicist John Wheeler proposed a series of thought experiments to test if an observer could affect whether light behaved as a particle or a wave and, in 2007, the French physicist Alain Aspect proved that they could. Just this April, Nature Physics reported on a set of experiments showing a similar effect using helium atoms. Andrew Truscott, the Australian scientist who spearheaded the helium work, noted in Physics Today that ‘99.999 per cent of physicists would say that the measurement… brings the observable into reality’. In other words, human subjectivity is drawing forth the world.
Not all physicists are willing to go down this path, however, and there is indeed now a growing backlash against subjectivity. That has brought into being the so-called ‘many worlds interpretation’ (MWI) of quantum theory. According to this interpretation, every time a subatomic particle is confronted with options – does it do X, or does it do Y? – the Universe splits into two identical copies of itself, in one of which the particle does X and in the other it does Y. Given that physicists estimate that there are around 10^80 subatomic particles in our Universe, and most of them are confronted with options many times a second, it means that, according to MWI, gazillions of copies of our universe are sprouting off one another every nanosecond.
This fissiparous seething is one of the few ways to interpret quantum behaviour without awarding consciousness a central role, and when I was a physics student the MWI was widely seen as a fringe concept. Today, it is becoming mainstream, in large part because the pesky problem of consciousness simply hasn’t gone away.
Some physicists want to be rid of the problem of consciousness altogether, while others are attempting to treat it as a core material phenomenon. Max Tegmark, a theoretical physicist at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, for example, hopes that consciousness will turn out to be another state of matter, like a solid, liquid or gas, and he’s calling for physicists to begin exploring the ‘physical correlates of consciousness’. What, he asks, are the physical conditions that pertain when consciousness is present? There are parallel moves in neuroscience to determine the ‘neural correlates of consciousness’ (NCC) – the neurological signatures of awareness. [...]
This is all thrilling science, yet a question remains: will any of it explain subjective experience? Chalmers, the philosopher [formerly a scientist], claims that the problem of experience is not mechanistically reducible and he argues that it will ‘persist even when the performance of all the relevant functions is explained’. In other words, he says, no amount of detail about neuronal potentials and interconnection is going to get us to the essence of subjectivity.
Plenty of neuroscientists, physicists and philosophers disagree with him [...] Giulio Tononi’s book Phi (2012) asks the question: ‘How could mere matter generate mind?’ As a neuroscientist, Tononi says this is a mystery ‘stranger than immaculate conception… an impossibility that defie[s] belief’. Nonetheless, he offers us an explanation of consciousness grounded in information theory that has been admired by both Tegmark and Koch. He wants to do for psychic phenomena what Descartes, Galileo and their heirs did for physical phenomena: he wants to explain subjective experience by generalised empirical rules, and he tells us that such experiences have shapes in a multidimensional mathematical space.
Personally, I don’t have a problem with the idea that subjective experiences might have mathematical correlates any more than Father Coyne minds the notion of neural correlates. As an admirer of co-ordinate geometry, I like Tononi’s concept; at the same time, I don’t accept information theory as a bridge to subjectivity.
Neurological and informatic models of subjectivity will no doubt have their uses and values, as did mechanistic models of the world before them...