If you get lost, just follow your heart.
It is lost as well, and blind on top,
But at least this way
No matter where
You’ll always have
Your heart.
Second stanza,
adding some
much needed
irony.
Ich habe, und ich sage das vorerst ohne Wertung, in den vier Tagen der Konferenz bislang noch keinen einzigen Kurzvortrag gehört und kaum Poster gesehen. Ich war bei den Buchhändlern, aber nur, um ein Buch mit Konferenzrabatt zu kaufen, das ich sowieso wollte, und ich habe mir viele der Grossvorträge angesehen, im Raum mit den 10 Grossleinwänden, vorgetragen von einer Ameise am Horizont. Heute zum Beispiel ging es um Spiegelneurone, die entdeckt wurden, als ein verkabelter Affenkopf nicht nur knisterte, wenn er sich selber was in den Mund schob, sondern auch, wenn der Versuchsleiter dem Affen das Leckerli wegfrass. Dieselbe Zelle reagierte auf “Nahrung in den Mund stecken”, egal, wers tat. Man staunte.
Mittlerweile kennt man viele Sorten dieser Neuronen, und die interessanteste Seite dieser, äh, vielschichtigen Medaille ist, dass dieses Spiegelsystem bei Autisten offenbar versagt. Sieht ein Autist jemand anderen etwas tun, fühlt sich das kein bisschen so an, als täte er das, und weil diese Neuronen auch Absichten und Gefühle spiegeln – was sich natürlich bei gegenseitigem Feedback dann ganz schön hochspiegeln kann -, sind für den Autisten dann andere Leute nichts als Zombies. Or so the story goes.
Mit anderen Worten: die Mirrorneuronen in meinem eigenen Kopf sind der Grund dafür, dass Ihr alle keine Zombies seid. Eat that, Philosophie.
As I straddle my folded bike on the swaying train
Gliding over the Passaic and into Newark’s Penn
I read about someone in a hut in Corte Madera,
That I drove to over different waters on a different day
And where I was awarded the license to go forth and drive,
And reading that that someone in that hut
Thinks he is Buddha, and smiles and is content,
I look up and see the skyline of Manhattan,
Far and faint over the glittering, murky waters
And I smile
And I am content
Wenn jede Symmetrie eines Systems gekoppelt ist mit einer Erhaltungsgrösse, das heisst: wenn jeder Transformationsinvarianz seiner Zustandsgleichungen ein Unveränderliches entspricht, ein harter Kern, ein solides Fundament, eine Wand, auf der die Graffiti der Ereignisse nicht haftet; ist dann im Umkehrschluss jede Asymmetrie das Korrelat einer Instabilität und ein Zeichen dafür, dass etwas verlorengeht?
I found this a somewhat strange book. The central neuroscientific idea put forth is a fascinating one. When we separate feeling from emotion by declaring the former to be the inner state and the latter to be the outward expression of that state, we find complex interactions between the two, and a convincing argument can be made, that feeling in essence is a mapping of internal body states, and that the sinking feeling int he gut, the racing heart, the tenseness in the chest, aren’t side effects of feelings, they are in a sense what feelings are. They are their substance.
Even more interesting is Damasios suggestion that we can turn these insights into practical advice, by uncoupling the stimuli that would generate negative feelings from those feelings, so that we can register the stimulus without the turmoil and detriment that is often so detrimental even to solving the situation that caused it.
All this I found highly interesting. The parallel attempt to introduce me to Spinoza’s life and work, however, I must consider a failure. While I find it interesting that Spinoza would have suggested similar notions such a long time ago, I didn’t really see the relevance of any of it and have to admit to skipping over parts of Spinoza’s life story. It felt like two books, only one of which I actually wanted to read. But that one turned out quite good.
“You have been sick, but now your well again and there is work to do.” This is one of the repetive mantras Vonnegut uses as a shield against the futility of being, and the certainty of destruction and decay. In a touching and hilarious collection of ramblings and biographical fragments, he explores the frailty of the human spirit, and it’s extraordinary strength in finding the good among the evil. “We’re here to help each other through whatever this is.” Indeed.
Vor ein paar Jahren, bei einer Lesung in einer Tübinger Buchhandlung, geschah etwas in meinem Kopf. Es mag ein Drogenflashback gewesen sein, denn damals probierte ich so verschiedenes aus, vielleicht war es eine Kombination von Müdigkeit und Hunger, vielleicht eine exotische Migräneaura: sekundenlang zerfiel meine visuelle Welt in Einzelteile. Statt der Pulikumsköpfe vor einer Bücherwand sah ich nichts als farbige Flecken, ein strukturloses Chaos, unter dem ich zwar noch die physikalische Wirklichkeit erahnte, aber ich bezweifle stark, dass das lange angehalten hätte. Ohne das komplex regelhafte Sortierwerk in unseren Köpfen gibt wenig von dem, was uns als vermeintliche Information erreicht, Sinn.
Vor ein paar Wochen kauften wir Fische, einen Tetra und drei Tigerbarben, und setzten sie ins Aquarium, das seit zwei Wochen auf neue Bewohner wartete, nachdem die Goldfische unerklärlich gestorben waren. Den Fischen gefiels, wir kümmerten uns um anderes, zeigten besuchenden Freunden stolz die Geschöpfe, nur um buchstäblich Sekunden nach dem Abschied der Beobachter auch selbst mal hinzugucken. Alle vier Fische waren grau angelaufen, die Schleimschicht über den Augen verdickt und trüb. Wir rätselten über die Ursache, entschieden schliesslich auf Stress, und akzeptierten achselzuckend, dass ohnehin nichts getan werden konnte. Gingen ins Kino, und fanden tote Fische vor. Am nächsten Tag und mittels eines Wassertestkits klärte sich das Unglück, der pH-Wert des Wassers war ins Essigsaure abgestürzt, wir hatten lebende Fische in saurer Lake eingelegt. Noch auf dem Weg ins Kino hatte ich Zweifel gehabt, ob ein Wasserwechsel eher schaden oder nützen würde und mich für Untätigkeit entschieden.
Heute nun fand ich meinen Freund Ken Loach verendet unterm Nachbarsschreibtisch. Er hat sich wohl in der Nacht über die Aquariumskante in den trockenen Tod gestürzt. Das Aquarium, ein kleines Acrylding mit Plastikdeckel, war zwar verschlossen, der Deckel aber sass nicht fest, weil der Plastikschlauch, aus dem sich der Sprudelstein speiste, sonst eingeklemmt worden wäre. Der Fisch muss den schweren, aber nur lose sitzenden Deckel bei einem Sprung angehoben und sich durch die Ritze gezwängt haben. Mehrfach schon hatte ich ihn springen sehen, Teil entweder seines Verhaltens, oder Anzeichen dafür, dass ihm das Becken zu klein wurde, und mehrfach hatte ich mich besorgt gefragt, ob der Deckel auch fest genug schliesse.
Erkenne ich ein Muster? Das überlege ich mir morgen.
I came across this book on one of the shelving carts in the main UC Berkeley library while searching for a completely different one that had gone missing (and sadly hasn’t been located since). Its author, briefness and subject matter immediately commanded my attention, and after having read it, I’m happy I stumbled upon it. This brief treatment of Hegel’s work is a small miracle, capturing his theory of history, dialectics and the master/slave dichotomy rising from his theory of Selbstbewusstsein, and in turn giving rise later to Marx’ alienated labor. A wonderful introduction, and a solid argument for libraries where books are accessible rather than being ordered from closed stacks through a catalogue.
I’ll try and sum up yesterdays insane rant on the counter-materialism arguments from philosophy of mind a bit more neatly and readably.
There are other things wrong with the individual arguments, and I’ve pointed out a few of the fallacies in that post, but the main thread linking them all, is the technique of using a though experiment to prove a point on the mind. This, of course, is in a long philosophical tradition, and presumes that introspection is the best way to investigate the mind. Not so.
The arguments all run thusly: “Assume the mind is only X. Now imagine Y. See how in your imagination, the mind cannot be X? Case closed.” I believe all the arguments follow this scheme.
Imagine you know all about colour, now imagine seeing it for the first time, see how you didn’t imagine having that experience? Imagine knowing all about bats. See how that doesn’t make you imagine feeling like one?
Imagine working through an algorithm creating behaviour that seems to indicate understanding. See how you don’t imagine understanding what you’re doing?
Imagine the mind is physics. Now imagine the universe as it is, but without mind. See how that’s possible, showing that the mind is more than physical?
And on and on. These arguments can indeed show us the structure of our intuitions about the mind, which indeed is dualistic. But this intuition is but a small part of our actual minds, and not close to the most interesting. Moreover, to generalise the arguments to apply to all of the mind implies the assumption that our intiuitions about our own minds are always correct. Not only is there no logical reason to assume that, neuropsychology tells us that it is actually false. We are wrong about our minds all the time. Independent of their other shortcomings, none of the logical arguments against materialism works for this reason alone.
I consider this a great book, not so much because I agree with what Searle says in it. In fact, I don’t agree with hardly anything he says. But it does provide a nice, comprehensive introduction into the philosophy of mind, and it lists several recent major arguments in the field. Searle’s deliberately naive style, calling whole schools of thoughts “complete desasters”, is fun to read, and invites counterarguments. The downside might be that it encourages half baked criticism and opinionation much like what I’m putting down here. Did I say downside? Upside, I meant. So let’s start ranting.
The main thrust of his book is to provide an alternative to materialism and dualism, both of which Searle perceives as having failed to explain the mind. In the case of dualism, the arguments are hardly worth repeating, I’ll restrict myself to the main one, which is: if there is something that is distinct from the physical, how can it work as a causal agent or indeed, interact with the physical at all? Let’s leave it at that, dualism is a straw mean not worth beating on.
Much more interesting are the arguments against materialsm, in other words, the notion that the mental is nothing but the physical and identical with it. Cowardly shirking the technical arguments about type-identity and token-identity, for I admit a certain shakyness on the terminology, I find the rest of the bunch entirely unconvincing. Be it Mary the color scientist, the hapless bat whose experience we will never have, the Zombie arguments, the argument of history-without-mind, Searle’s own chinese room. All are designed to bring out an apparent contradiction, in effect saying: look, I assumed that the mental is the physical, and I arrive at an absurd or impossible conclusion, therefore it can’t be so.
For example, to pick one: assume we know everything there is to know about bat’s brains. Then we still don’t know what it’s like to be one, i.e. there is something about being a bat that all our knowledge doesn’t reveal to us. On a brief glance I see three things wrong with the argument. First, it’s not at all clear to me that it is possible to know everything there is to know about a bat’s brain. It might just turn out to be too complex a process to hold in a human mind. Second, I don’t see any evidence one way or the other that would allow me to conclude that knowing all there is to know about the bat would or would not allow me to have the experience. I think it’s unlikely, but as long as we don’t know what experiences are, arguing with hypothetical situations and claiming to know what experiences would and would not arise seems premature. Third, and most importantly, I’m pretty sure wanting to have the experience of being a bat is confusion. In a physical analogue, if I know everything there is to know about hydrodynamics and the physics of waves, will I physically be like a wave? More to the point, will the fact that I will not be physically like a wave prove there is something in addition to the physical about a wave? Some wavy-ness not capturable by any physical theory? Of course the answer is no, and the question is the result of a mixup: the theory is not the object.
Back to the bat: even if I could know all there is to know, and even if that didn’t give me access to everyhting it means to be feeling like a bat myself, all that says is that the actual object of my theory, the experience, exists independent of the theory. And it’s just silly shamanism to demand that we obtain properties of the described by describing it. The confusion arises because in the case of experiences the theory and its object seem to both be mental processes, but that is not relevant. The experience of the bat is a state of the bat’s brain, and of course I can’t be in that state. I’m not a bat’s brain, silly.
None of the other arguments work any better, they all are a mix of unfounded assumptions and unwarranted conclusions. The Chinese Room for example slyly axiomatically uses the common sense notion that following a bunch of cards will not produce understanding, and then, Heureka!, concludes triumphantly that algorithms can’t produce understanding. True, if you put it in as an assumption. Assume that they do, and suddenly the ficticious Searle in his room will shuffle cards and understand what he’s doing, whatever that means.
The main reason all these arguments have to be fallacious is that they try to deduce an empirical fact from first principles. Whether or not the mind is physical, algorithmical or reducible is an empirical question for neuroscience, and all the counterarguments tell us more about the internal structure of our minds, the things we take for granted and the things we can think than they do about these empirical facts. Searle sees this for some of the issues, but is blind to it whenever his own beliefs are concerned.
So his eternal mantra that the syntacic can’t cause the semantic, and his argument for freedom of will, based mostly on his hunch that nature wouldn’t have made us think we have freedom of choice if we didn’t, share their weaknesses with those of the strawmen of materialism criticism his naive realism originally set out to burn.