In Part 3, I've been putting forth the idea that individuals coming from a Nonrepresentational perspective tend to ask questions that are fundamentally different from those asked by Representationalists. I've looked closely at what I called HOW questions, examining how people come to think, believe, and understand things about the outside world. For easier reference, here’s a condensed overview of the differences I described in the ways the two camps address these types of questions:
Representationalist View
What is being caused (what people are trying to explain):
Context-independent, free-standing capacities that many people may have in common (e.g., the ability to understand abstract concepts or to think or reason about nonexistent objects)
What counts as a cause:
Enduring mental entities (states, objects, or characteristics) — that is, discrete realities that somehow retain their essential character or properties over a period of time (e.g., concepts, mental representations, etc.)
What accounts for similarities in experiences and behaviors over time, for a single individual and between different individuals?
Similarity of mental entities
Non-representationalist View
What is being caused (what people are trying to explain):
Specific behaviors and experiences that occur, in real time, in response to particular internal or external stimuli (particular things people say, do, and experience within a given context)
What counts as a cause:
Ongoing, not-exclusively-mental processes that evolve and change over periods of time (including contextual details from the immediate situation or from the person’s past experiences)
What accounts for similarities in experiences and behaviors over time, for a single individual and between different individuals?
Similarity of basic human anatomy and physiology (including neuroanatomy and neurophysiology), coupled with countless similarities and predictable regularities in social, physical, and cultural environments (ways of life)
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Part 3c. … well, from Earth, actually
This post is a continuation of the previous one — taking a broad look at the differences in the way representationalists and non-representationalists tend to explain how we come to think, believe, and understand things about the outside world. Part 3b addressed how the two types of accounts differ with regard to what is being caused; here I'll explain how they differ with regard to what counts as a cause.
What counts as a cause:
In Representationalist accounts: enduring mental entities (states, objects, or characteristics) — that is, discrete realities that somehow retain their essential character or properties over a period of time. Examples include beliefs, desires, intentional states, concepts, representations, information-bearing vehicles, and so on. The basic idea is that pinning down these things (e.g., locating particular patterns of neural activation that correspond to certain beliefs) will help explain the general capacities Representationalists are so interested in (see Part 3b).
In Non-representationalist accounts: ongoing, not-exclusively-mental processes that evolve and change over periods of time. These may include (a) processes immediately preceding and/or accompanying specific behaviors and experiences, and/or (b) any number of processes that have taken place in the past.
An Example
Question: How can a person recognize a dog as a dog?
In Representationalist accounts: The answer will address a general capacity, rather than a specific instance of recognition. Possible explanations include: the person has a concept dog, or a mental representation of a dog; there is a certain pattern of activation in the person’s brain that corresponds to the idea dog; etc.
In Non-representationalist accounts: The answer will look at specific instances of recognition. Therefore, relevant factors may include (a) numerous contextual details from the immediate situation (e.g., auditory stimuli of barking, visual stimuli of a fast-moving furry, four-legged animal, etc.) and (b) any number of details from the person’s past experiences (e.g., the person’s lifetime history of interacting with dogs and other animals, talking about dogs and other animals, etc.).
And a related issue: What accounts for similarities in experiences and behaviors over time, for a single individual and between different individuals? (E.g., one person can recognize dogs in a wide variety of different contexts and reason about abstract concepts such as justice in a wide variety of ways; many different individuals can recognize dogs, and many different individuals can reason about justice.)
In Representationalist accounts (R): Similarity of mental entities. For a single individual, the same underlying mental entity can play a causal role in a variety of different experiences and behaviors. In addition, multiple individuals may share the same basic type of mental entity.
In Non-representationalist accounts (N): Similarity of basic human anatomy and physiology (including neuroanatomy and neurophysiology), coupled with countless similarities and predictable regularities in social, physical, and cultural environments (ways of life). These factors alone — without reference to similar mental entities — can account for the full range of parallels and consistencies within and among individuals.
To do justice to these important issues and to have any chance of making sense to people who don't already understand what I'm talking about, I need to give more concrete examples that flesh out the ideas given here. That will be my task for the next major section of this blog.
What counts as a cause:
In Representationalist accounts: enduring mental entities (states, objects, or characteristics) — that is, discrete realities that somehow retain their essential character or properties over a period of time. Examples include beliefs, desires, intentional states, concepts, representations, information-bearing vehicles, and so on. The basic idea is that pinning down these things (e.g., locating particular patterns of neural activation that correspond to certain beliefs) will help explain the general capacities Representationalists are so interested in (see Part 3b).
In Non-representationalist accounts: ongoing, not-exclusively-mental processes that evolve and change over periods of time. These may include (a) processes immediately preceding and/or accompanying specific behaviors and experiences, and/or (b) any number of processes that have taken place in the past.
An Example
Question: How can a person recognize a dog as a dog?
In Representationalist accounts: The answer will address a general capacity, rather than a specific instance of recognition. Possible explanations include: the person has a concept dog, or a mental representation of a dog; there is a certain pattern of activation in the person’s brain that corresponds to the idea dog; etc.
In Non-representationalist accounts: The answer will look at specific instances of recognition. Therefore, relevant factors may include (a) numerous contextual details from the immediate situation (e.g., auditory stimuli of barking, visual stimuli of a fast-moving furry, four-legged animal, etc.) and (b) any number of details from the person’s past experiences (e.g., the person’s lifetime history of interacting with dogs and other animals, talking about dogs and other animals, etc.).
And a related issue: What accounts for similarities in experiences and behaviors over time, for a single individual and between different individuals? (E.g., one person can recognize dogs in a wide variety of different contexts and reason about abstract concepts such as justice in a wide variety of ways; many different individuals can recognize dogs, and many different individuals can reason about justice.)
In Representationalist accounts (R): Similarity of mental entities. For a single individual, the same underlying mental entity can play a causal role in a variety of different experiences and behaviors. In addition, multiple individuals may share the same basic type of mental entity.
In Non-representationalist accounts (N): Similarity of basic human anatomy and physiology (including neuroanatomy and neurophysiology), coupled with countless similarities and predictable regularities in social, physical, and cultural environments (ways of life). These factors alone — without reference to similar mental entities — can account for the full range of parallels and consistencies within and among individuals.
To do justice to these important issues and to have any chance of making sense to people who don't already understand what I'm talking about, I need to give more concrete examples that flesh out the ideas given here. That will be my task for the next major section of this blog.
Monday, August 10, 2009
Part 3b. Non-representationalists Are From…
In Part 3a, I mentioned that both representationalists and non-representationalists address HOW questions about our mental life. Both give causal explanations for how we come to think, believe, and understand things about the outside world. And when they’re feeling ambitious, they’ll also both try to explain how feelings, sensations, and other conscious experiences come about. But there are distinct differences in the way the two groups answer those questions. What follows is a broad, somewhat stereotyped overview of these differences. In this post I'll explain how the two accounts differ with regard to what is being caused; in the next one I'll explain how they differ with regard to what counts as a cause.
Note that here I’m just generalizing; in Part 4 I’ll get into a lot more specific detail to back up what I’m saying. I’ll be sure to include examples of what Andy Clark calls “representation-hungry problems” — specifically, “cases that involve reasoning about absent, nonexistent, or counterfactual states of affairs” (Being There, page 167). For now I'm steering clear of feelings and sensations… apologies to qualiaphiles for that. I promise I'll get there eventually.
What is being caused:
In Representationalist accounts (R): context-independent, free-standing capacities that many people may have in common
Examples:
In Non-representationalist accounts (N): specific behaviors and experiences that actually occur, in real time, in response to particular internal or external stimuli
Examples:
Now, at first glance, the distinction outlined above may seem to be trivial. If so, I encourage you to pause and give it some more serious thought. Can you think of ways in which an analysis that attempts to explain general capacities (as in R) might tend to proceed differently from one that limits its focus strictly to specific behaviors and experiences (as in N)? I hope everyone can agree that in the end, a satisfactory account of our mental life need only explain specific things that actually happen. That is, if we came upon an analysis that could explain the full range of human experiences and behaviors (and I mean the FULL range, with no omissions), there’s nothing further we could ask of it. To take one isolated piece, imagine that someone came up with an exhaustive causal analysis explaining every single dog-related behavior and experience — all possible talk about dogs, thoughts about dogs, interactions with dogs and pictures of dogs, etc. Everyone agreed that there was no dog-related experience or behavior that was unaccounted for. If that analysis did not include any references to concepts, would anyone be entitled to complain, “Well, sure you explained everything I could ever do or say or feel related to dogs — including everything I could say or think about ‘dog’ being a concept — but you still haven’t explained how I have the concept DOG!” I think not. If you think so, please argue with me here, because this is a critical issue to resolve.
More likely, I think, is that people are making two assumptions:
Note that here I’m just generalizing; in Part 4 I’ll get into a lot more specific detail to back up what I’m saying. I’ll be sure to include examples of what Andy Clark calls “representation-hungry problems” — specifically, “cases that involve reasoning about absent, nonexistent, or counterfactual states of affairs” (Being There, page 167). For now I'm steering clear of feelings and sensations… apologies to qualiaphiles for that. I promise I'll get there eventually.
What is being caused:
In Representationalist accounts (R): context-independent, free-standing capacities that many people may have in common
Examples:
- Knowing (or understanding) that a robin is a type of bird (note that I can know this whether or not a robin is right in front of me, and many different individuals may share this same piece of knowledge)
- Thinking about a party that has not happened yet
- Believing that there is milk in the refrigerator
And, moving toward the more generalized, abstract end of the spectrum: - Having the concept “dog”
- Reasoning about absent (or nonexistent or counterfactual) states of affairs
In Non-representationalist accounts (N): specific behaviors and experiences that actually occur, in real time, in response to particular internal or external stimuli
Examples:
- Upon being asked the question “What type of animal is a robin?” answering “A bird”; upon seeing a bird with a red chest, pointing to it and saying “Oh, look — a robin”; and so forth
- Upon being asked, “What are you doing next Saturday,” answering “Going to my friend’s birthday party”; in the process of writing a to-do list, having the thought (i.e., internally hearing the words) “I should get a present for Karen,” then writing down “Karen present” on the list; and so forth
- In the process of writing a grocery list based on a cookbook recipe, seeing “1 cup milk” in the ingredients and not writing “milk” on the grocery list; after pouring a bowl of cereal, opening the refrigerator door, moving items around, experiencing a sense of surprise and irritation, and then asking one’s spouse, “Didn’t we have some milk in here?”
- All one’s behaviors (including verbal behaviors) that relate to dogs, including using and responding to the word “dog,” pointing to dogs, talking about specific breeds of dogs, and so forth. (I might also mention here what does not happen; e.g., upon being told “Jim and I just adopted a dog,” one does not respond, “You adopted a what? What’s that?”)
- An enormous range of specific behaviors and experiences, the great majority involving verbal behavior — either external (in speech) or internal (in thoughts).
Now, at first glance, the distinction outlined above may seem to be trivial. If so, I encourage you to pause and give it some more serious thought. Can you think of ways in which an analysis that attempts to explain general capacities (as in R) might tend to proceed differently from one that limits its focus strictly to specific behaviors and experiences (as in N)? I hope everyone can agree that in the end, a satisfactory account of our mental life need only explain specific things that actually happen. That is, if we came upon an analysis that could explain the full range of human experiences and behaviors (and I mean the FULL range, with no omissions), there’s nothing further we could ask of it. To take one isolated piece, imagine that someone came up with an exhaustive causal analysis explaining every single dog-related behavior and experience — all possible talk about dogs, thoughts about dogs, interactions with dogs and pictures of dogs, etc. Everyone agreed that there was no dog-related experience or behavior that was unaccounted for. If that analysis did not include any references to concepts, would anyone be entitled to complain, “Well, sure you explained everything I could ever do or say or feel related to dogs — including everything I could say or think about ‘dog’ being a concept — but you still haven’t explained how I have the concept DOG!” I think not. If you think so, please argue with me here, because this is a critical issue to resolve.
More likely, I think, is that people are making two assumptions:
- Once we have adequate representationalist accounts, explaining more general capacities, those accounts will serve to explain all the relevant specific behaviors and experiences.
- Any account that explains all the relevant specific behaviors and experiences will of necessity include references to mental representations.
Sunday, August 9, 2009
This Means You Too, Andy Clark...
Having just finished rereading Andy Clark's Being There, I want to take time out to clarify where I stand with regard to his position.
[Note that I'm focusing mostly on Being There (1997) because it goes into a little more detail about representation than the more recent Supersizing the Mind (2008). I also personally prefer the previous book. The major claims of the two publications do not seem to differ substantially, at least insofar as they are relevant to the points being made in this blog.]
These days, plenty of cognitive scientists will acknowledge the limitations of old-school philosophical thinking about representations, the idea that abstract symbols inside our heads are manipulated through something resembling deductive reasoning or formal logic. (Fodor's "Language of Thought" is the classic example.) Clark points out that the way internal representation is conceptualized in contemporary neuroscience "constitutes an image of the representing brain that is far, far removed from the old idea of a single, symbolic inner code." (Being There, pages 141-2). I want to be absolutely clear that my arguments apply equally well to the new and improved, partially embodied view of representation that Clark endorses. The following types of statements from Being There are subject to the same fatal flaws as anything Fodor ever claimed:
In "cases that involve reasoning about absent, nonexistent, or counterfactual states of affairs… it is hard to avoid the conclusion that successful reasoning involves creating some kind of prior and identifiable stand-ins for the absent phenomena." (page 167)
"…the common feature is the need to generate an additional internal state whose information-processing adaptive role is to guide behavior despite the effective unfriendliness of the ambient environmental signals… In these representation-hungry cases, the system must, it seems, create some kind of inner item, pattern, or process whose role is to stand in for the elusive state of affiars." (page 168)
Clark has done an admirable job in demonstrating the need to take the whole body and environment into account in order to understand many aspects of human behavior and cognition. His popularization and defense of embodied cognition has opened up useful debates and helped to clear up some pervasive misconceptions about how human beings actually work. Nonetheless, I believe that any true proponent of radical embodied cognitive science must give Clark a Stephen Colbert–style Wag of the Finger, for two reasons:
1 - He ought to know better. It's not a far leap from some of the examples and reasoning he gives in service of embodied cognition to others that clearly support a more radical stance — making it all the more frustrating when in the end he misses the point.
2 - His arguments actively draw attention away from a more radical stance. It's not just that Clark criticizes this stance — for instance, in Chapter 8 of Being There, where he spends a fair bit of time critiquing all the arguments he can think of for radicalism. (Note that this blog relies on none of those.) This I don't have a problem with, since it helps spur debate and keep everyone on their toes. It's not even that Clark pooh-poohs the radical stance. ("The thesis of Radical Embodied Cognition is thus, it seems, a genuinely held view," he says. In other words, "Apparently some otherwise sane people actually believe this crazy idea.")
Much more damaging, I believe, is the way Clark's arguments help to limit the terms of the embodied cognition debate. Although I agree with the major claim he's making (that some resources outside the brain may best be considered part of the extended circuitry of the mind), it is 1) quite limited, compared to a full-fledged radical stance, and 2) essentially a matter of opinion and definition. (I'll discuss that second point in more depth when I address empty questions.) Apparently this limited stance is still quite contentious — in Supersizing the Mind, he puts a lot of effort into defending it. But even if Clark were completely persuasive and everyone came to agree with him, people would be no closer to understanding or embracing the more radical viewpoint. Moreover, I don't think Clark can be completely persuasive (in matters of opinions/definition, that tends not to happen), so this argument could easily go on and on indefinitely; energy that could otherwise be spent considering substantive issues about how aspects of mental life come about will be channeled into debating an empty question.
Perhaps my biggest gripe is that as long as Andy Clark is the most prominent advocate of an embodied viewpoint, it can seem as though his non-radical perspective is a major breakthrough against traditional conceptions, as though the hard work of rethinking is all behind us — when in fact he still leaves the problematic core of representationalist assumptions untouched.
[Note that I'm focusing mostly on Being There (1997) because it goes into a little more detail about representation than the more recent Supersizing the Mind (2008). I also personally prefer the previous book. The major claims of the two publications do not seem to differ substantially, at least insofar as they are relevant to the points being made in this blog.]
These days, plenty of cognitive scientists will acknowledge the limitations of old-school philosophical thinking about representations, the idea that abstract symbols inside our heads are manipulated through something resembling deductive reasoning or formal logic. (Fodor's "Language of Thought" is the classic example.) Clark points out that the way internal representation is conceptualized in contemporary neuroscience "constitutes an image of the representing brain that is far, far removed from the old idea of a single, symbolic inner code." (Being There, pages 141-2). I want to be absolutely clear that my arguments apply equally well to the new and improved, partially embodied view of representation that Clark endorses. The following types of statements from Being There are subject to the same fatal flaws as anything Fodor ever claimed:
In "cases that involve reasoning about absent, nonexistent, or counterfactual states of affairs… it is hard to avoid the conclusion that successful reasoning involves creating some kind of prior and identifiable stand-ins for the absent phenomena." (page 167)
"…the common feature is the need to generate an additional internal state whose information-processing adaptive role is to guide behavior despite the effective unfriendliness of the ambient environmental signals… In these representation-hungry cases, the system must, it seems, create some kind of inner item, pattern, or process whose role is to stand in for the elusive state of affiars." (page 168)
Clark has done an admirable job in demonstrating the need to take the whole body and environment into account in order to understand many aspects of human behavior and cognition. His popularization and defense of embodied cognition has opened up useful debates and helped to clear up some pervasive misconceptions about how human beings actually work. Nonetheless, I believe that any true proponent of radical embodied cognitive science must give Clark a Stephen Colbert–style Wag of the Finger, for two reasons:
1 - He ought to know better. It's not a far leap from some of the examples and reasoning he gives in service of embodied cognition to others that clearly support a more radical stance — making it all the more frustrating when in the end he misses the point.
2 - His arguments actively draw attention away from a more radical stance. It's not just that Clark criticizes this stance — for instance, in Chapter 8 of Being There, where he spends a fair bit of time critiquing all the arguments he can think of for radicalism. (Note that this blog relies on none of those.) This I don't have a problem with, since it helps spur debate and keep everyone on their toes. It's not even that Clark pooh-poohs the radical stance. ("The thesis of Radical Embodied Cognition is thus, it seems, a genuinely held view," he says. In other words, "Apparently some otherwise sane people actually believe this crazy idea.")
Much more damaging, I believe, is the way Clark's arguments help to limit the terms of the embodied cognition debate. Although I agree with the major claim he's making (that some resources outside the brain may best be considered part of the extended circuitry of the mind), it is 1) quite limited, compared to a full-fledged radical stance, and 2) essentially a matter of opinion and definition. (I'll discuss that second point in more depth when I address empty questions.) Apparently this limited stance is still quite contentious — in Supersizing the Mind, he puts a lot of effort into defending it. But even if Clark were completely persuasive and everyone came to agree with him, people would be no closer to understanding or embracing the more radical viewpoint. Moreover, I don't think Clark can be completely persuasive (in matters of opinions/definition, that tends not to happen), so this argument could easily go on and on indefinitely; energy that could otherwise be spent considering substantive issues about how aspects of mental life come about will be channeled into debating an empty question.
Perhaps my biggest gripe is that as long as Andy Clark is the most prominent advocate of an embodied viewpoint, it can seem as though his non-radical perspective is a major breakthrough against traditional conceptions, as though the hard work of rethinking is all behind us — when in fact he still leaves the problematic core of representationalist assumptions untouched.
Sunday, August 2, 2009
Brief Apology
I apologize for my rather sloppy, undifferentiated lumping together of representationalism and everything I’m vaguely referring to as “traditional” philosophy of mind. At a later point I’ll adjust my phrasing to be more precise and accurate. But for the moment, because it’s much easier, I’m remaining sloppy.
Part 3a. Representationalists Are From Mars…
"What we've got here is a failure to communicate."
— Luke, in Cool Hand Luke
I alluded earlier to the difficulties that can arise when a traditional, representationalist philosopher of mind talks with someone who has a non-representational viewpoint. [brief apology] In short, both can leave the discussion thinking the other is rather daft — or at least seriously deluded. I had that experience earlier today as I reread an explanation of Fodor’s representational theory of mind; I found myself frankly stunned that this could be considered relevant to contemporary cognitive science. At the same time, I know plenty of people have left discussions with me shaking their heads and marveling at my seeming inability to grasp the most basic of philosophical principles.
Here I’m going to explain what I believe is the primary reason for this. I’ll argue that the conflict goes deeper than a clash of opposing views, asking the big questions and coming up with fundamentally different answers. What’s really happening is that the two camps are asking fundamentally different questions. When people on one side of the debate try to answer the key questions posed by the other side, their answers are likely to sound irrelevant, blatantly wrong, or, at the very least, quite odd.
Categories of Questions
Let’s start by considering the various categories of questions that get asked about mental life and cognition. The standard journalistic breakdown works pretty well:
1. WHAT
What is a belief? What is intention? What is cognition? What is sensation? What is consciousness? etc.
These are the big ones — the deep, profound, make-your-head-hurt philosophical questions. (Of course, I’m assuming they’re being asked philosophically, not in the ordinary way in which children might ask for definitions of words they haven’t yet learned.) I’m leaving these for Part 6, where I’ll argue that these are essentially empty questions for which non-representationalists should not need to provide answers — at least, not answers that purport to state a global truth. Now, I wouldn’t dream of making that argument just yet because it would probably alienate nearly everyone, leaving nobody to continue reading Parts 4 and 5, much less Part 6. So kindly forget what you’ve just read, and let’s move on.
2. WHERE
Where is consciousness located? Where does cognition take place? etc.
This is the heart of the debate about extended cognition. There’s a close relationship between WHO questions and WHERE questions; your answers to the latter depend on whether you think consciousness (or cognition, or any other aspect of the mind) is the type of thing that could extend beyond the brain into the body, and/or out into the wider world. For that reason, I’m going to defer these questions to Part 6 as well. (However, in Part 4 I will start to examine how looking outside the brain naturally leads to a non-representationalist view, and vice versa.)
3. WHO
What types of beings can be conscious? Or feel pain? Or have thoughts or beliefs?
Again, these answers will depend on what you believe pain or belief or consciousness is. So again, I defer to Part 6.
4. WHY
Why is our mental life the way it is? Why do we think? Why are we conscious?
Nowadays, when these sorts of question get asked (outside a religious context), it tends to be in relationship to evolutionary biology or evolutionary psychology. While I find these fascinating and some of them are relevant to the discussion here, they’re a little tangential, so I’ll leave them to another time.
5. HOW
How does our mental life work? How do we come to think, believe, and understand things about the outside world? How do feelings and sensations and other conscious experiences come about?
Finally, some questions I’m going to address sooner rather than later. Both representational and non-representational accounts give a fair bit of attention to these types of questions — though in quite different ways. These are what I’m going to focus on in the remainder of this section (which I’ll continue in other posts; this one is pretty long already).
6. WHEN
A few WHEN questions are tied in with the HOW questions. I won’t go into those now, other than to give a little Wittgensteinian teaser: “Compare: ‘When did your pains get less’ and ‘When did you stop understanding that word?’…Suppose it were asked: ‘When do you know how to play chess? All the time? or just while you are making a move?’” (footnote with section 151, Philosophical Investigations)
— Luke, in Cool Hand Luke
I alluded earlier to the difficulties that can arise when a traditional, representationalist philosopher of mind talks with someone who has a non-representational viewpoint. [brief apology] In short, both can leave the discussion thinking the other is rather daft — or at least seriously deluded. I had that experience earlier today as I reread an explanation of Fodor’s representational theory of mind; I found myself frankly stunned that this could be considered relevant to contemporary cognitive science. At the same time, I know plenty of people have left discussions with me shaking their heads and marveling at my seeming inability to grasp the most basic of philosophical principles.
Here I’m going to explain what I believe is the primary reason for this. I’ll argue that the conflict goes deeper than a clash of opposing views, asking the big questions and coming up with fundamentally different answers. What’s really happening is that the two camps are asking fundamentally different questions. When people on one side of the debate try to answer the key questions posed by the other side, their answers are likely to sound irrelevant, blatantly wrong, or, at the very least, quite odd.
Categories of Questions
Let’s start by considering the various categories of questions that get asked about mental life and cognition. The standard journalistic breakdown works pretty well:
1. WHAT
What is a belief? What is intention? What is cognition? What is sensation? What is consciousness? etc.
These are the big ones — the deep, profound, make-your-head-hurt philosophical questions. (Of course, I’m assuming they’re being asked philosophically, not in the ordinary way in which children might ask for definitions of words they haven’t yet learned.) I’m leaving these for Part 6, where I’ll argue that these are essentially empty questions for which non-representationalists should not need to provide answers — at least, not answers that purport to state a global truth. Now, I wouldn’t dream of making that argument just yet because it would probably alienate nearly everyone, leaving nobody to continue reading Parts 4 and 5, much less Part 6. So kindly forget what you’ve just read, and let’s move on.
2. WHERE
Where is consciousness located? Where does cognition take place? etc.
This is the heart of the debate about extended cognition. There’s a close relationship between WHO questions and WHERE questions; your answers to the latter depend on whether you think consciousness (or cognition, or any other aspect of the mind) is the type of thing that could extend beyond the brain into the body, and/or out into the wider world. For that reason, I’m going to defer these questions to Part 6 as well. (However, in Part 4 I will start to examine how looking outside the brain naturally leads to a non-representationalist view, and vice versa.)
3. WHO
What types of beings can be conscious? Or feel pain? Or have thoughts or beliefs?
Again, these answers will depend on what you believe pain or belief or consciousness is. So again, I defer to Part 6.
4. WHY
Why is our mental life the way it is? Why do we think? Why are we conscious?
Nowadays, when these sorts of question get asked (outside a religious context), it tends to be in relationship to evolutionary biology or evolutionary psychology. While I find these fascinating and some of them are relevant to the discussion here, they’re a little tangential, so I’ll leave them to another time.
5. HOW
How does our mental life work? How do we come to think, believe, and understand things about the outside world? How do feelings and sensations and other conscious experiences come about?
Finally, some questions I’m going to address sooner rather than later. Both representational and non-representational accounts give a fair bit of attention to these types of questions — though in quite different ways. These are what I’m going to focus on in the remainder of this section (which I’ll continue in other posts; this one is pretty long already).
6. WHEN
A few WHEN questions are tied in with the HOW questions. I won’t go into those now, other than to give a little Wittgensteinian teaser: “Compare: ‘When did your pains get less’ and ‘When did you stop understanding that word?’…Suppose it were asked: ‘When do you know how to play chess? All the time? or just while you are making a move?’” (footnote with section 151, Philosophical Investigations)
Comic Relief
I can't talk about these subjects without thinking about my favorite (Stephen) Fry and (Hugh) Laurie comedy sketch. I think anyone who's reading this blog will appreciate this:
The Subject of Language
The Subject of Language
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