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Philosophy

Philosophical books and papers relevant to quantum consciousness: Philosophy categories 1-3 include summaries and reviews relating to Kuhn, Popper, Grush, Churchland, John Searle, Laura Weed, Barbara Montero and Carl Craver

1.) Kuhn vs. Popper - Steve Fuller - Explores problems flowing from the heirarchical structure of modern science

2.) Agentive phenomenal intentionality and the limits of introspection - Terry Horgan - Suggests that modern discussions of mental determinism may be slanted.

3.) The sense of self in the phenomenology of agencies and perception - Hohwy, J.

4.) Gaps in Penrose's Toilings - Rick Grush & Patricia Churchland

5.) Reply to Grush & Garland - Roger Penrose & Stuart Hameroff

6.) Brainshy - Patricia Churchland - philosophical attack on Penrose

7.) More Neural than Thou - Stuart Hameroff - Reply to Churchland's Brainshy

8.) Emergence and the mind body problem - Silberstein, M. - Relates consciousness to unified physics

1.)

Kuhn vs. Popper

Steve Fuller

Icon Books (2003) ISBN 1 84046 468 2

This book highlights the divergence between two philosophies of science, emphasising dissent from the popular views of Thomas Kuhn, by those who dislike his argument for predominant paradigms, and who prefer the approach of Karl Popper. The latter considered that we could always do better in terms of scientific enquiry, as opposed to the Kuhnian approach of relying on the predominant paradigm. Popper favoured a process of scientists challenging what the majority of both the public and scientists thought, regardless of unpopularity.

Modern epistemology, the theory of knowledge, is seen by Popper, as a face-saving exercise to support official expertise. Present day students of epistemology seem to be concerned with the question of who they should believe. The answer to this question appears to be a reinforcement of the natural aristocracy of the scientific establishment. Popper saw official scientific bodies and the scientific establishment as to some extent a corruption of the scientific ideal. He related to the ideal of a critical and rational approach to all aspects of life and study, as it had come down to us from the ancient Greeks via the Enlightenment. Kuhn regarded the scientific ideal as being whatever the dominant paradigm happened to be. The author views this approach as being an abnegation of intellectual responsibility. Kuhn had a rather narrower view of science as a knowledge enterprise, and those who followed Popper were disturbed by Kuhn’s support for an authoritarian tendency in science.

For Kuhn, science begins with the adoption of a paradigm, based initially on exemplary research that comes to form a blueprint for future research. This involves common patterns of work and common standards for deciding disputes. What Kuhn refers to as ‘normal science’ is merely a process of fleshing out the dominant paradigm, or as Kuhn himself calls it, ‘puzzle solving’. This deliberately emphasises the constrained nature of normal science. The image of the heroic individual scientist, promoted by accounts of well known individuals, such as Galileo and Einstein, is exposed as a myth. Most scientists are narrow specialists working within a dominant paradigm. Only when a large weight of anomalies accumulates against the paradigm does a paradigm crisis occur. Scientist are seen as lacking a regular procedure for changing their paradigm. Moreover, after a paradigm shift occurs, history is rewritten to make the new paradigm look like the logical out growth of all previous research.

With Kuhn the idea of timelessly true propositions is replaced by historically entrenched practise and paradigms. Kuhn saw the dominant paradigm as monopolising the means of intellectual reproduction, and especially the way in which the new generation learnt about the state of knowledge. Kuhn himself compared this to the Ministry of Truth in Orwell’s ‘Nineteen Eighty-Four’. New paradigms eventually succeed because they are taught to a new generation, and students who support them are promoted to positions of authority. However, within any one generation, scientists are not taught to be intellectually flexible. Scientific arguments are seen as being more likely to sway the views of interested lay people, or newly arrived students than established scientists.

The elite and the paradigm are viewed as having important social/political consequences. The scientific elite has proprietary rights over a segment of reality. A minority has exclusive access to information that relates to everyone. What is universally true is not universally known to be true. Scientific knowledge thus becomes an instrument for concentrating power. Kuhn and Popper agreed that at any given time particular paradigms would dominate particular areas of knowledge, but whereas Kuhn regarded this as the basis of stability, Popper saw it as something to be overcome, with scientists ideally producing a proliferation of theories. Kuhn’s view is seen by the author as backward looking, basing views on established authority, while Popper’s is more forward looking towards a continual improvement in knowledge.

Popper saw this as a process of indoctrination, and Kuhn as a fellow traveller of religious and political indoctrination. While Kuhn is seen as supporting the idea of an elite preserving its paradigm, Popper, viewed this as a moral failing, and wished for science to be more publicly accountable, hence his principle of falsifiability, which defined a theory as unscientific, if there was no experiment that could falsify it. Thus the claim that the bones of dinosaurs were placed in the fossil record by the Devil is unscientific, unless one can suggest an experiment that could falsify such a claim. This is a somewhat counter intuitive conclusion, meaning that it is the very capacity to be proved untrue that renders a theory scientific. Popper saw the logical process of deduction as a tool for compelling scientists to test general claims in particular circumstances, notably the circumstances of experiments or observations. This is the falsifiability principle in action. At any stage, the general claim might be falsified, or at least put in question, by a particular experiment. Popper regarded this as the core of the scientific ethic. The opposite side of this coin was that any proposal was scientific, if it was capable of being falsified, however objectionable it might be to the prevailing paradigm. Popper saw science as too important to be left to the discretion of scientists, particularly as science was becoming more important for society as a whole. The involvement of science in society increased the risk of science becoming corrupt. It is suggested that the importance of science in relation to public policy and economic development may be degrading it as a form of intellectual inquiry.

By contrast, Kuhn regarded the hallmark of a science as something in which the community of enquirers set its own standards for recruitment and evaluation of research. Popper criticised this system for lacking constitutional safeguards. There was insufficient emphasis on falsification of theories. There is a suggestion that in a dominant paradigm system, experiments are biased towards the dominant theory, and that there is a greater burden of proof on the less dominant view.

The paradigm approach may not only bias experiments, but may prevent examination of the direction of research relative to its goal. Research programmes may continue by default, because of vested interests, rather than because they are the best line of enquiry. The peer review process is a principle way of enforcing the paradigm, and filtering out inquiries that go beyond the paradigm, with the ‘peers’ tending to form an inner elite.

Popper conceived of science in terms of a dialectical engagement with one hypothesis pitted against another, while Kuhn’s paradigm approach discouraged criticism except when the paradigm had reached a state of crisis. Popper’s supporters take Ptolemaic astronomy as an example of a paradigm that was allowed to stand on the basis of authority despite contradictions that arose from it. The author views the present ascendancy of paradigms as a reversion to the less questioning nature of pre-modern science, concerned only with making science work in narrow areas, and cordoning scientists off from foundational matters.

The author goes on to criticise the role of modern philosophers relative to science. He sees modern philosophers as under-labourers for scientists. Philosophers such as Popper promoted an ideal of science, against which they could measure what scientists were actually doing. More recently, philosophers’ only function has been to clarify the concepts of the dominant paradigm, and to defend them from any criticism. Kuhn is seen as being the crucial figure in the philosopher’s transition from critic to under-labourer. It is now not seen as a philosopher’s role to question the direction or aims of science.

Popper regarded scientific enquiry and democratic politics as twin aspects of what he referred to as the ‘open society’. His most famous book was entitled ‘The Open Society and Its Enemies’, and harkens back to the democratic experiment in ancient Athens. At its best, this society regarded openness to criticism and change as a personal ethic and civic duty. The villain of this particular scenario is Plato, whose main view of progress was said to be one of irreversible steps towards a certain outcome, referred to as historicism, as opposed to an open and reversible process of trial and error. Kuhn is sometimes seen as endorsing historicism as part of normal scientific training, in which students absorb a view of the past as an inevitable progression towards the present.

Popper viewed these two approaches to science and knowledge from a sociological point of view. Many organised religions and also Plato stand accused of stratifying society according to degrees of knowledge, while in contrast an open society attempts to break through the various layers of myth and institutional dogma. Popper paid a great deal of attention to the nature of Athenian democracy. He put to one side the modern criticism that this democracy only involved a part of the male population, and instead concentrated on what he views as its positive aspect. This was that the citizens were in a position that what they said would not rebound on their financial position. This contrasts rather painfully with the position in modern science, where promotion, funding, publication in peer-reviewed journals and achieving tenure all tend to be linked to not stepping out-of-line. Popper considered that rationality and free enquiry requires specific social and material conditions, which do not appear consistent with career pressures to stay within a particular paradigm.

This problem is highlighted in Lee Smolin's 'The Trouble with Physics: The rise of string theory, the fall of science and what comes next'. In this Smolin criticises the ability of string theorists to monopolise promotions and funding in physics, to the exclusion of alternatives, despite the increasingly problematic nature of the theory's propositions.

Kuhn’s view is seen as having come to predominate in science and philosophy of science during the last generation, with most of those involved in science uninterested in criticisms of the now predominant view. The evils of Kuhn’s consolidation of the position of the dominant paradigm might be argued to be all around us in modern science, with consciousness studies notable as a prime victim of the paradigm. It could be argued that because a Newtonian paradigm continues to dominate science outside of physics, and especially philosophy of science, consciousness studies has failed to make any sensible progress, because it has proved impossible to describe consciousness in terms of Newtonian science. The particular hostility directed towards quantum approaches to consciousness can be seen as a mere hounding and ridiculing of something outside, or on the edge of, the paradigm, without however, there being much attempt to marshal serious arguments against the proposition. More worrying for the future vitality of science might be evidence that this hounding is not confined to admittedly speculative ideas such as quantum consciousness, but can target quite mundane propositions in areas such as medicine.

2.)

Agentive phenomenal intentionality and the limits of introspection

Terry Horgan
Dept. of Philosophy
Univerity of Arizona

The article discusses whether the experience of being an agent is compatible with determinism.

Horgan remarks on tension between four acceptable claims relative to subjective experience.

1.) Phenomenal or subjective experience is narrow.

2.) The phenomenal or subjective character of experience is nearly always intentional, i.e. it is about something.

3.) Subjective experience contains the most fundamental type of mental intentionality.

4.) Introspection does not reliably generate answers to questions about phenomenal content.

It is suggested at the beginning that experience is narrow, in the sense that it does not depend on anything outside the head of the experiencer. Phenomenal experience is intentional in that, it is about how the world is. Mental intentionality is constituted by its phenomenal or subjective character.

Phenomenal character, described as ‘what-it-is-likeness’, is directly present in the mind. However, it is not possible to answer philosophical questions about the nature of subjective experience by means of introspection. The author also addresses the nature of the ‘agentive experience’ or sense of agency, that is the experience of ‘what-it-is-likeness’ in doing something, or in taking an action. The author asks, whether or not such a sense of agency is compatible with the scientific orthodoxy that human actions are deterministic.

Horgan opposes ‘externalism’, which is the view that all mental intentionality is based on connections, which may be historical or social, between the agent and its environment. His view is that phenomenal consciousness constitutes those aspects of mental life that ‘it is something-it-is-like’ to experience. Phenomenal consciousness, in his view, is not really dependent on anything outside itself.

Phenomenal intentionality, firstly, includes the ‘what-it-is-likeness’ of being perceptually involved in a world of objects, having a range of properties and relations, this including one’s own body. Secondly, there is the phenomenology of agency, the ‘what-it-is-likeness’ of controlling one’s own body, as it interacts with its environment. Thirdly, there is cognitive phenomenology, the ‘what-it-is-likeness’, of consciously as distinct from unconsciously, having attitudes, wishes and thoughts.

The concept of mental intentionality rests on mental reference to properties and relations, such as shape and size, constituted by phenomenal experience alone. The author also refers to judgmental intentionality, ‘what-it-is-likeness’ as referring to more sophisticated or organised thinking. Horgan suggests that it is important to give greater attention to the ‘something-it-is-likeness’ of the experience of action with a self in a body. He goes on to discuss the ‘satisfaction conditions’, i.e. what is required of the environment, the body and the self, for a sense of agency to arise. He notes that this question, and indeed phenomenology of agency as a whole, has received little attention in recent philosophy.

Horgan looks at basic forms of behaviour, for instance, raising your hand. He points out that this experience is not just a passive matter of seeing your hand being raised, but is the experience of this motion being your own action. The hypothetical alternative experience of your arm acting of its own accord would be very alien. Nor does normal experience constitute simply willing something, and then passively experiencing the action. Instead, it is the experience of the ‘what-it-is-likeness’ of the self as a source of motion.

There is also often purposiveness, a ‘what-it-is-likeness’ to act on purpose. With more deliberative or considered action there is also the ‘what-it-likeness’ of considering an action. Even where there is no deliberation, such as in the process of opening one’s own front door, there is still a sense of purposiveness. In some cases, the action is not fully conscious, but is still accessible to consciousness. In still further cases, such as in fast-action sports, the action may not even be accessible to consciousness.

Another feature of the phenomenology of doing something on purpose is the sense of voluntariness, the awareness of it being up to you to perform an action, or of having the option to perform the action in some other way. Horgan remarks that this experience of freedom of choice receives less attention than it deserves in the philosophical literature. He notes that academic attention is often focused on ‘effort of will’, although he himself sees this as only a small part of voluntariness. Horgan also discusses motivation for action. Reasons are experienced as inclining one to an action, but not necessitating it.

Agentive phenomenology is seen as presentational, i.e. like perception, rather than judgmental, i.e. like thought. Horgan asks what the ‘satisfaction conditions’ of agentive phenomenology are, and whether they are compatible with determinism in human behaviour. The idea that human behaviour is deterministic gives rise to what Horgan refers to as the ‘agent-exclusion’ problem, i.e. the idea that it is not possible for the subjectively perceived agent to have any influence on the physical world. This idea assumes that people are not agents of the sort they appear to be.

Horgan argues that introspection cannot deal with the question of whether agentive experience is, or is not, deterministic. He regards this lack of accessibility as a central feature of the agent exclusion problem. He claims that there are facts about neural mechanisms that cannot be introspected, because they are not the object of any subjective experience. The answer cannot be introspected, because it depends on non-introspected facts, i.e. the neural mechanisms. Thus Horgan takes the view that it is impossible to decide the question of determinism in human behaviour by means of introspection, and further cautions that the types of reasoning that have been applied to the question unduly slant the odds against the possibility that behaviour is not deterministic.

3.)

The sense of self in the phenomenology of agencies and perception

Jakob Hohwy
Dept. of Philosophy
Monash University

April 2007

When modern philosophy tries to deal with consciousness and the related issues of agency and the self, it can often seem that while there may be some valid discussion, the essential point as to what consciousness is, and how it arises, is missed.

Hohwy’s paper is very much a case in point. In discussing the self, Hohwy distinguishes the ‘minimal’ self, which is defined as the feeling that there is a ‘me’ or ‘mineness’ that is experiencing an event, from the ‘narrative self’, which is the record of memories going back to early childhood that gives a sense of continuity to the self.

Hohwy uncontroversially points out that the sense of self includes or produces an ability to distinguish the results of our own actions from other events in our environment. Similarly in planning actions, the sense of self may help to distinguish between things that may be impacted by our actions, and things that won’t. In terms of perception of objects and events, it is relevant to distinguish, as distinct from the mind, those things that are outside the body, and have for practical purposes a real external existence. This perceptual experience also needs to be seen as relevant to the same self that executes actions within the perceived environment. The self can be seen as an anchor, without which we would lose track of our body, and the distinction between external objects and the mind. Although not mentioned by the author, it is notable that in states of altered consciousness this distinction between the mind and the external world can indeed be lost.

The self is also seen as being related to a comparison between motor commands for actions and the actual outcome of those actions. These actions are distinguished from third party or inanimate activity in the environment. The self that is involved in bodily actions is not necessarily connected to the much more enduring narrative self. The actions are suggested to be produced as a result of cognitive predictions of the likely outcome of a choice of possible actions. This also involves the self being projected into anticipations of the future. At this point, the paper touches on the question of preference for particular actions, the conscious emotional impulse that can decide between two or more courses of action, all of which may have varying rational arguments in their favour. This might seem to be leading us towards the key issues of the self and consciousness, and the inter-connected role of choice, emotion and consciousness, but disappointingly, Hohwy veers away from these central topics.

Recent brain scanning studies lead to the suggestion that the medial prefrontal and parietal areas of the brain are important with respect to the generation of a sense of self. These areas are relatively deactivated during the type of task that is described as ‘absorbing’. It is further suggested that this absorption may militate against looking at a new hypothesis, once an initial one has been formed.

In his summary, Hohwy admits that that the sense of self is hard to make explicit, and he also admits that while classical computers are capable of making the kind of predictive calculations, as to the likely outcomes of actions, that he talks about, they are nevertheless, not considered to be conscious. He concludes his paper by merely saying that in systems that are otherwise conscious, predictive models might provide a basis for the narrative self and the sense of ‘mineness’ in immediate experience. This is not, in itself, implausible, but after sixteen pages of fairly dense material, it is frustrating to find that there is no underlying theory of consciousness, and that we are left in Hohwy’s words with ‘a system that is otherwise conscious’. This despite early references to a reductionist approach that allow us to expect that the author is going to come up with a reductive explanation of the self and consciousness.

4.)

Gaps in Penrose's Toilings

Rick Grush & Patricia Churchland

Philosophy Dept., University of California, San Diego

Journal of Consciousness Studies, 2, No. 1, 1995, pp. 10-29

The core part of this article is the Grush and Churchland’s discussion of the soundness of the processes by which mathematical truth is ascertained. The authors say that for convenience they will grant Penrose’s claims that human mathematicians are not using a knowable sound algorithm in exercising mathematical understanding, and thus arriving at ascertainible or unassailable mathematical truths. hey also go along with his claim that there is no sound but unknowable algorithm. Instead they concentrate their discussion on the soundness of the brain procedures involved. They basically argue against the soundness of such procedures. They point out, and Penrose agrees with them in saying, that mathematicians sometimes make errors. The authors admit that anyone can make an error while applying a fundamentally sound procedure but they argue that the complexities of mathematics make it hard to distinguish an error of application from an unsound procedure. Therefore they claim that Penrose can only substantiate his claim by specifying procedures that are short enough for it to be easily checked that the application of procedures has been correct.

The authors point to the case of the famous 19^th century mathematician, Cauchy, who denied the possibility of the existence of infinite sets. The existence of such sets is now a basic part of mathematics as taught to students. The authors argue from this that there are no sound procedures, but only procedures that are usually reliable, or which are useful on a trial and error basis. P Penrose replied to Grush and Churchland in the next volume of the Journal of Consciousness Studies. In his reply, he decides to concentrate the argument on the question of Pi 1 sentences, which assert that particular computations, such as Goldbach’s conjecture and the Lagrange theorem do not halt. He considers that these sentences are in principle accessible by human reasoning and insight. In contrast to Grush/Churchlands contention that mathematicians use trial and error and general reliability, Penrose claims that mathematical understanding is more precise than anything in science or philosophy. Penrose accepts that individual mathematicians make errors, but says the point is that there is an argument to be found which gives access to the mathematical truth.

The rest of the Grush/Churchland article is a disappointment relative to the reasonably coherent discussion of mathematical truth. As philosophers, they are more plausible in terms of arguments relative to logic and maths than in physics or neuroscience, where Penrose and Hameroff are better placed in terms of scientific knowledge. They appear to waste a lot of time on the proposition attributed to Penrose that quasicrystals are evidence of non-algorithmic physical processes. In fact, Penrose suggested that their relationship might be non-local, rather than non-algorithmic. More to the point, even if there was nothing unusual about the quasi crystals it is not apparent why this would by itself falsify the OR form of quantum wave reduction proposed by Penrose.

The attack on Hameroff’s proposals for microtubules as the basis of quantum activity in the brain contains factual errors. Grush/Garland claim physiological evidence that consciousness can occur without microtubules. This turns out to be based on two claims relating to the drug colchicine used in the treatment of gout. Colchicine depolymerises microtubules without patients losing consciousness.

However, Penrose/Hameroff point out that the blood/brain barrier prevents most of the drug from reaching the brain. It was further claimed that when colchicine was delivered direct to the brains of animals they also did not lose consciousness. The Penrose/Hameroff reply is that brain microtubules are more stable than microtubules in the rest of the body, not having polymerisation cycles, nor the exposed beta plus ends found in body microtubules.

Grush/Garland also come up with the rather strange objection that the microtubules do not extend the full length of the axons to the actual synapse. The answer is that the connection is made by other elements of the cytoskeleton without which the microtubules could not even perform their known function of transporting neurotransmitter and other molecules to the synapses. This answer also applies to their connection with the cell membrane and the dendritic spines.

There was a further argument about anaesthetics. G&C claiming ion channels are the main target for anaesthetic gases. P&H do not deny the importance of these, but argue that the same changes that happen in hydrophobic pockets in membrane proteins also happen in microtubules, with the action on the latter ablating consciousness.

G&C reasonably ask how quantum activity in microtubules in individual neurons could be extended across the wider brain. In this article, Hameroff has suggested communication via gap junctions. While this is also very controversial it does provide a structure to fill the apparent gap pointed out by G&G.

The Grush & Garland article, published in 1995, have begun to look a bit dated. There are references to ‘promising research programmes’ presumably in the area of mainstream ideas about consciousness, whereas there is sadly little sign now that we are any closer to a a mainstream theory of consciousness, and this nowadays beginning to be openly acknowledged by mainstream science. Instead, recent papers suggest a much greater caution as to the timescale needed to establish nature of consciousness on the part of both neuroscientists and some AI experts. In contrast, Hameroff can at least point to the correlation of cytoskeletal activity and synaptic function, which G&C claimed to be unconnected plus some evidence for the existence of quantum coherence in the brain.

In particular, G&G also give a large amount of space in their article to neural net computers. These were very much in vogue in the 1990’s because they used or at least simulated the parallel processing of data seen to be used by the brain. There seem to have been hopes that neural nets would break the log jam in AI and robotics. As late as the turn of the century, Max Tegmark suggested that the promise of neural net computers leading to an understanding of consciousness, suggested that there was little need to look to the quantum level for an explanation. Little now seems to be heard about neural nets, suggesting that this route to imitating the brain has not proved very fruitful. P&H merely point out that whatever the merits of neural nets, they are certainly based on a sequence of algorithms and have no bearing on mathematical understanding relative to Gödel.

Despite the many shortcoming of the Grush and Garland article it is often referred to a definitive refutation of the whole of the Penrose/Hameroff model, without even a reference to the existence of a reply by Penrose and Hameroff.

5.)

Reply to Grush & Churchland

Roger Penrose & Stuart Hameroff

Journal of Consciousness Studies, 1995, 2, (2), pp. 99-112

One interesting thing about this reply is that exists at all. Commentators on quantum consciousness are apt to quote The Grush & Churchland article as a comprehensive dismissal of the Penrose/Hameroff model, without even mentioning that there was a reply, let alone bothering to discuss any of the points raised.

Penrose and Hammeroff claim that Grush & Churchland’s (G&C) arguments are misleading and that with respect to the physiological evidence of the brain they are factually incorrect. With respect to Penrose and non-computability, their main argument is said to hinge on the statement that mathematical thinking can contain errors. Penrose says that he does not deny this, but does not see it as invalidating the Gödel argument. Penrose also say that G&C claim that he said that in some and perhaps in all instances human thought was sound but non-algorithmic. He states that this is incorrect, and that he never denied that human thought and even rigorous mathematical thinking could be in error.

Penrose says that he wishes to restrict the argument to Pi 1 sentences, which are sentences that assert that a particular computation does not halt. An example of a Pi 1 sentence is the Goldbach conjecture, which states that ‘every even number greater than 2 is the sum of two prime numbers. It is an assertion that the computation does not halt in the sense that it says that a programme looking for an even number that was not the sum of two primes would never find it and would therefore never come to a halt. Penrose says the issue is as to how accessible to human reason Pi 1 sentences are. P G&C also claimed that there was no evidence that non-computability was involved in quantum gravity. Penrose replied that there was some evidence. This relates to the work of Geroch and Hartle, which showed that there was no algorithm for certain problems related to the superposition of four dimensional space-time, which is in turn closely related to Penrose’s version of quantum gravity.

The latter part of the reply is devoted to G&C’s criticisms relative to the physiology of the brain. They claimed that a drug called colchicine, which is used for the treatment of gout, acts by depolymerising microtubules, but does not result in the loss of consciousness. In reply, Hameroff says that this argument fails to take account of differences between microtubules in the body and microtubules in the brain. The brain microtubules are much more stable. In its medical use colchicine does not penetrate to the brain, being excluded by the blood-brain barrier, but in animal experiments, where it has been administered to the brain, it is shown that brain microtubules do not depolymerise.

Grush & Churchland argue that if microtubules were responsible for consciousness, consciousness would be distributed through out the body, because there are microtubules in all cells. Against this, Hameroff stresses the substantial differences between body cell microtubules and neuron microtubules, the latter being in much denser networks, particularly in the dendrites.

G&C also queried how microtubules communicated with the cell membrane and in particular with the synapses, since axons stop some way short of the synapses. Hameroff answers that the connections are made by smaller cytoskeletal proteins and some incoming communication is via second messengers. P They also question how microtubules encode information. Hameroff points the suitability of the cyclical lattice for information, although more complex arguments for amino acid structures and quantum tunnelling appear in later papers. He also quotes Vassilev (1985) for evidence of signal transmission. Here again, there seems to have been some more recent data for signalling since the Penrose/Hameroff reply was published.

The difference between Churchland’s noise in the night and theories of consciousness is that we are not as ignorant about biology and physics as we are in the case of the noise in the night. We know enough about these to determine the type of things that are possible with them. A system of algorithms instantiated in neurons could in principle drive other neurons to perform brain processes, such as motor control, learning and memory, the precise mechanism of which is as yet unknown, but we know enough about the components of the brain, to know that they do not produce a property not detected in the rest of the universe, and consciousness falls into this category.

The last part of Churchland’s paper deals with the Penrose/Hameroff model. Churchland remarks with truth that the details of the Penrose/Hameroff theory are highly technical. This seems too much for her, and she decides to skate round the main issues, but still attempts to refute the theory. Penrose did invoke the Platonic idea of mathematical truth, but in terms of the theory as a whole, this concept could be seen as only an image for what Penrose is proposing. Churchland, however, makes it look like the centrepiece. P Her approach to the core of Penrose’s argument about consciousness, that it requires something that is not based on algorithms that can only be found at the quantum level, is garbled. She states that Penrose requires operations at the quantum level, but does not state why. This has the effect of making the whole thing sound improbable, without her having to engage with Penrose’s arguments. Penrose developed a detailed argument for how quantum gravity might be involved, but instead of trying to refute this, Churchland treats us to throw away lines such as ‘quantum gravity were it to exist’ and ‘no adequate theory of quantum gravity exists.’ Of course, scientific knowledge could never progress at all if every hypothesis was treated like this. Meanwhile Churchland offers no reasoned or detailed refutation of Penrose. We are also told that ‘mathematical logicians generally disagree with Penrose’, but their arguments are not presented, so we have no chance to judge.

Churchland attempts to disparage the microtubule part of the Penrose/Hameroff theory. She points out correctly that anaesthetic molecules bind to protein receptors in the cell membrane. However, the evidence appears to suggest that these molecules permeate down to other cell proteins including microtubules, so she has hardly made the case against microtubular consciousness on this basis.

Strangely she misses the strongest argument against the theory which is the tendency to rapid quantum decoherence in the conditions of the brain. She make think she is referring to this when she mentions the possibility of coherence being swamped by ‘millivolt signalling’. However, the problem is not signalling as such, but the overall activity of the environment. In fact, since this paper was written, microtubules have been shown to be involved in signalling.

Subsequent to this the tone of the article sinks to a rather unprofessional level. Any proposal made by Hameroff is ridiculed for being only a ‘might’, a possibility, but how can science develop without ‘might’ proposals. Churchland also seems to think that the microtubule proposal did not explain how it linked to consciousness. This is factually incorrect, with regard to the detailed work of Penrose and Hameroff.

6.)

Brainshy

Patricia Churchland

In this paper Churchland seeks to refute the consciousness approaches of Chalmers and Penrose.

With reference to Chalmers, who famously characterised consciousness as the ‘hard problem’, Churchland wishes to show that consciousness is no harder than many other outstanding problems in neuroscience, such as motor control, learning or memory. Churchland seems to mock the idea that consciousness may be a different type of problem from these other neuroscience problems.

However, with these other problems there is general agreement that however hard these problems may be, they could in principle be solved by a system of algorithms for manipulating energy, protein and other brain materials. What would emerge is a dynamic not in principle different from other aspects of organisms or even inanimate matter. It is less easy to do with consciousness, because what we know about electricity, about protein and about other brain molecules does not allow for them producing a new property not seen elsewhere in the universe.

Churchland further attacks the zombie notion, which is essentially the argument that the brain functions of receiving, processing and responding to data could be achieved without the help of consciousness, and without giving rise to consciousness. Consciousness is indeed absent from the standard neuroscience description of the brain, which is causally closed.

Churchland tries to evade this by saying that because we can conceive of such a brain does not necessarily mean that it could exist, and therefore we shouldn’t base anything on this argument. It is certainly true that we don’t know enough about consciousness, to say whether or not humans could have evolved without it. But that does not get us away from the fact that brain processes, as described by current neuroscience, do not have a requirement for consciousness, and do not produce it. Subsequent discoveries may show that the brain processes do require consciousness, but that is not the current state of neuroscience. It is somewhat ironic that the mainstream, which does everything it can to belittle consciousness and still more freewill, rushes to its defence when it is suggested that a sophisticated brain might operate without consciousness.

Like other mainstream writers, Churchland seeks to fudge the question of qualia. She admits briefly that there are ‘prototypical’ qualia such as pain or blueness, as in the blueness of the sky, but then dives off into discussing grey areas such as thought or experience of limb positions. She asks whether these qualify as qualia. This proves to be rather a sleight of hand, because she now doubles back on the ‘prototypical’ qualia, and claims that they are only a starting point for investigation and not a full characterisation of their class. In this way, she manages to chip away at the qualia problem by introducing categories that might not be qualia, and thus might lead themselves to easier explanation. Even if this approach was successful in the grey areas, it would still leave the ‘prototypical’ qualia of pain and the blueness of blue unexplained, so really Churchland hasn’t progressed at all, although her readers may be left with the impression that she has.

Churchland goes on to give us a bit of a lecture on philosophy, and in particular the fallacy of argument from ignorance. Basically she is saying that ignorance about something does not allow one to draw any conclusions about it. One can only draw a conclusion about oneself, to the effect that one is ignorant about the property under discussion. In particular, it is wrong to draw the conclusion that (1) we can never explain the property, (2) that science can never deepen our knowledge of the property, or (3) that the property can never be explained.

Only a few modern thinkers such as Colin McGinn support something like the (1) and (2) positions, so the question is really as to whether the third position stands up. In justifying her stance, Churchland targets some straw men, for instance that because we don’t know the cause of a noise in the night, we are not justified in supposing a supernatural or alien origin, rather than gettinging to grips with the possibility of explaining consciousness from existing science.

The difference between Churchland’s noise in the night and theories of consciousness is that we are not as ignorant about biology and physics as we are in the case of the noise in the night. We know enough about these to determine the type of things that are possible with them. A system of algorithms instantiated in neurons could in principle drive other neurons to perform brain processes, such as motor control, learning and memory, the precise mechanism of which is as yet unknown, but we know enough about the components of the brain, to know that they do not produce a property not detected in the rest of the universe, and consciousness falls into this category.

The last part of Churchland’s paper deals with the Penrose/Hameroff model. Churchland remarks with truth that the details of the Penrose/Hameroff theory are highly technical. This seems too much for her, and she decides to skate round the main issues, but still attempts to refute the theory. Penrose did invoke the Platonic idea of mathematical truth, but in terms of the theory as a whole, this concept could be seen as only an image for what Penrose is proposing. Churchland, however, makes it look like the centrepiece.

Her approach to the core of Penrose’s argument about consciousness, that it requires something that is not based on algorithms that can only be found at the quantum level, is garbled. She states that Penrose requires operations at the quantum level, but does not state why. This has the effect of making the whole thing sound improbable, without her having to engage with Penrose’s arguments. Penrose developed a detailed argument for how quantum gravity might be involved, but instead of trying to refute this, Churchland treats us to throw away lines such as ‘quantum gravity were it to exist’ and ‘no adequate theory of quantum gravity exists.’ Of course, scientific knowledge could never progress at all if every hypothesis was treated like this. Meanwhile Churchland offers no reasoned or detailed refutation of Penrose. We are also told that ‘mathematical logicians generally disagree with Penrose’, but their arguments are not presented, so we have no chance to judge.

Churchland attempts to disparage the microtubule part of the Penrose/Hameroff theory. She points out correctly that anaesthetic molecules bind to protein receptors in the cell membrane. However, the evidence appears to suggest that these molecules permeate down to other cell proteins including microtubules, so she has hardly made the case against microtubular consciousness on this basis.

Strangely she misses the strongest argument against the theory which is the tendency to rapid quantum decoherence in the conditions of the brain. She make think she is referring to this when she mentions the possibility of coherence being swamped by ‘millivolt signalling’. However, the problem is not signalling as such, but the overall activity of the environment. In fact, since this paper was written, microtubules have been shown to be involved in signalling. P Subsequent to this the tone of the article sinks to a rather unprofessional level. Any proposal made by Hameroff is ridiculed for being only a ‘might’, a possibility, but how can science develop without ‘might’ proposals. Churchland also seems to think that the microtubule proposal did not explain how it linked to consciousness. This is factually incorrect, with regard to the detailed work of Penrose and Hameroff.

7.)

More Neural than Thou

Stuart Hameroff

In her ‘Brainshy’ paper in 1996, the philosopher, Patricia Churchland, attacked the Penrose/Hameroff model as well as the view points of Chalmers and Searle.

Hameroff’s reply in this paper criticises Churchland for ignoring a number of brain features thought relevant to consciousness, including the probabilistic element in the firing of synapses, the role of gap junctions and dendrite-to-dendrite exchanges in brain processing, glial cells and the role of the cytoskeleton. He particularly criticises the lack of mention of the role of the cytoskeleton in regulating the neuron and its synapses.

The latter parts of the paper seem to concentrate on redescribing parts of the Penrose/Hameroff model rather than specifically criticising Churchland. This discussion begins with the comment that Churchland is contemptous of Penrose’s Platonism. Hameroff counters by asking, ‘what is fundamental reality’. He remarks that as far back as 1971 Penrose tried to provide a description of the quantum mechanical geometry of space at the Planck scale by proposing quantum spin networks, which are suggested to encode the volumes and areas of physical space, but may also encode non-computational understanding and possibly the qualia.

Hameroff also covers the question of anesthetics and consciousness in this article, pointing to evidence that anesthetics act in hydrophobic pockets in protein, which are also seen as a possible site for quantum coherent.

8.)

Emergence and the mind body problem

Michael Silberstein

Journal of Consciousness Studies, 5, No. 4, 1998, pp. 464-82

Silberstein considers that none of the popular explanations of consciousness are of much value, and he is particularly dismissive of philosophical approaches to consciousness. Physicalism seeks to reduce consciousness to the purely physical, but stands accused of not explaining why this is so or how consciousness can arise from non conscious matter.

Silberstein distinguishes between reductive and non reductive forms of physicalism. The non-reductive type provides no explanation of how consciousness arises from the non-conscious. What he describes as reductive physicalism is otherwise known as identity theory, which seeks to say that certain brain systems are identical to consciousness in the way the H₂0 is identical to water. The author does not see this as a sufficient explanation for the observable phenomena of consciousness, presumably because we know enough about the components of water and their relationships to explain their behaviour, while what we know about biological matter does not provided a micro-explanation of the behaviour of consciousness.

At the same time, Silberstein attacks fundamentalist theories that suggest that consciousness is some form of fundamental property. His view is that consciousness cannot be reduced to or identified with non-consciousness, and presumably assuming that we reject dualism, then consciousness can only be explained as a fundamental given of the universe. He stresses that this is also a reductionist position, in the sense that all physical properties can ultimately be reduced to an explanation at the fundamental level. This is a useful reminder given the furious attacks on fundamentalist ideas by the mainstream reductionists. Silberstein feels that fundamentalism does not answer any questions either, and in particular he does not think it explains the connection between the brain and consciousness. He attacks fundamentalism as being just more materialism, just another way of seeing the world as an aggregation of particles. This might be considered rather too sweeping a criticism for all types of fundamental or quantum consciousness. Stapp for instance appears to suggest that consciousness is actually a separate property collapsing the wave function in the brain, while Penrose posits the idea of the geometry or possibly measurement of space time itself providing the essential element of consciousness, which goes somewhat beyond a mere aggregation of material particles.

Silberstein’s own explanation looks close to that suggested by Burns and Hagelin, that consciousness is related to unified physics. He sees spontaneous symmetry breaking as a form of emergence, with the four forces of nature emerging by means of symmetry breaking from the original unified force. The weakness of the article is mainly that Silberstein seems too taken up with establishing the actual principle of emergence, and does not discuss the mechanism by which we get from unified force and symmetry breaking near the beginning of time and to consciousness in the modern brain.