A Crisis of Consciousness, Part Two

Posted by yseult on Jan 25, 2007 in Philosophy, The Human Mind | 0 comments

This is part two of my critical analysis of Steven Pinker’s latest highly acclaimed article in TIME.

We have seen how Steven Pinker synthesizes the last decades of neurophysiological research and the theoretical problems philosophy has had with them.

While addressing the Hard problem of consciousness Pinker neglected to offer the side of John Searle who had addressed physical reduction conscious states to neuronal patterns for quite a while now. This is the underlying problem with Pinker’s article. He simply picks what he likes and leaves out 50% (read 90%) out of the picture.
I understand that everyone writing an article for a popular magazine needs to edit things and limit his scope to certain points. But – as I was taught when I was still working for a daily newspaper and then at University – there is no shame in telling your readers exactly that. “Sorry, limited space and all… I’ll keep to the basics.”
Instead Pinker offers the illusion of a clear picture of the actual and current state of research. Added to this is the fact that he very rarely criticizes the ideas offered by natural scientists. He rarely adds a possible doubt anywhere, or a even rises a possible objection to a dangerously short conclusion. I somehow feel betrayed. Steven Pinker is not doing his job. Or at least not the job I was taught to do, when I studied Philosophy. Let me offer an example:

Take the famous cognitive-dissonance experiments. When an experimenter got people to endure electric shocks in a sham experiment on learning, those who were given a good rationale (“It will help scientists understand learning”) rated the shocks as more painful than the ones given a feeble rationale (“We’re curious.”) Presumably, it’s because the second group would have felt foolish to have suffered for no good reason. Yet when these people were asked why they agreed to be shocked, they offered bogus reasons of their own in all sincerity, like “I used to mess around with radios and got used to electric shocks.”

What is wrong with this picture? The basis of this experiment is the following: I let a bunch of scientist physically abuse me. Even without a rationale, let alone a strong one like the advancement of science, it is clear that there is a moral problem wrapped up in the cognitive one. And Pinker – a philosopher – passes it by like a homeless person in the street: “Ignore it long enough and it will go away”. Is it possible that the people who did get the strong rationale for the experiment felt stronger because they knew that scientists (who are supposed to have higher morale standards) were inflicting them pain in order to advance their science? And would it be possible that the once with a feeble rationale simply felt that something was wrong being inflicted pain without any apparent reason? Once again, the experiment is the problem. Not just the execution. Without knowing it – I hope – the scientists were manipulating their own findings. And all of that because of an absence of moral consideration from their part. And why do we even pay ethical committees in universities?

Apart from the blatant ignoring of critical points in the physical theories he is synthesizing, there is something off in Pinker’s vocabulary.
While talking about consciousness for instance, he always seems to be referring to perception, as if perception was the only thing that made up our consciousness. In fact our consciousness is like a an ever changing picture that can be made up of various conscious states: remembering, reasoning, talking, intellection… thinking. None of them is a purely perceptive state in it’s proper sense, but they require consciousness in a very basic way (as in “I am awake”-conscious) and a more complex way where one conscious state triggers another one (as in “I see a blue car and it reminds me of my first car…”).
On a general basis it can be said that Steven Pinker in addition to ignoring conflicting attitudes to his favorite naturalistic explanations and having a vocabulary that is far from being precise, he also shows an impressively devious motivation. Yes, I dare call Steven Pinker a devious manipulator. Two elements push me towards such a harsh judgment. One is completely inherent to the field of current philosophy and the other is of a more general order. The two are nevertheless intricately linked.

The “I don’t see you, so you don’t see me…” style – The attentive reader will have had a doubt about this tactic from the moment I quoted John Searle’s book The Mystery of Consciousness in the first part of my article. Pinker chooses the same name for his article as one of the great books in the field of the Philosophy of Mind, but not once makes reference to it, probably because citing this book would contest some of his quick drawn conclusions. This tactic is repeated in enough places to just be a simple omission. For instance here:

Sure, you and I both call grass green, but perhaps you see grass as having the color that I would describe, if I were in your shoes, as purple. Or ponder whether there could be a true zombie–a being who acts just like you or me but in whom there is no self actually feeling anything. This was the crux of a Star Trek plot in which officials wanted to reverse-engineer Lieut. Commander Data, and a furious debate erupted as to whether this was merely dismantling a machine or snuffing out a sentient life.

The neat little pop-cultural reference cannot hide the fact that again he is staying quiet about half a library of literature on Zombies as an object of philosophical thought experiments. Since Thomas Nagel published several articles on the nature of philosophical zombies – the oldest dating back as far as 19701 (sic!) – there has been a line of texts treating Commander Data, Robots and what not as possible sources of explaining consciousness2. As for the “…what does is feel like…”, the same Thomas Nagel has started that discussion as well with his now famous article “What Is it Like to Be a Bat?”3 and the responses to it are numerous.

So the question at this stage is the following: Why? Cui bono? Where lies the reason for this style and the continuous omissions?
The answer is far more disappointing that anyone could have anticipated. Let me give you a little hint with Goethe: “… one feels the evil intent and feels displeased…”4

1. Thomas Nagel, “Armstrong on the Mind”, Philosophical Review, 79 (1970) , pp. 394-403
2. The latest in the line is Robert Kirk’s Zombies and Consciousness, Oxford University Press, 2006.
3. Thomas Nagel, “What Is it Like to Be a Bat?” in Philosophical Review LXXXIII, 4, (1974); pp. 435-50.
4. J.W. Goethe, Torquato Tasso.