What
is the argument for panpsychism? Is it this? -
Since
there is consciousness in the complex parts of the world, and
the complex is only a sum of simple parts, it must follow that
there must also be consciousness in the simple parts of the world.
Premises
i and ii seem intuitively true. However, is iii a correct conclusion to premises i and ii? Is it, in fact, true?
There
is indeed “consciousness in the complex parts of the world”. For
instance, in the brains of human beings (if ‘in’ is the correct word here). And many people agree that consciousness is a result of some level
of complexity.
How
complex must something be in order to bring about consciousness?
Human beings, for example, have billions of neurons in their brains.
Ants have, say, tens - or hundreds - of thousands of neurons in their brains. Is this enough to
bring about consciousness? Or is there more to this story than simply
counting how many neurons a creature has? If a creature had trillions
of neurons, would it be ultra-conscious (or have ultra-consciousness)? And need that complexity only be the complexity of
neurons and other aspects of the human brain?
What
if we connected a thousand computers up together and programmed them to work
as one? If that could be done, then would that large-scale and complex integration automatically bring about consciousness? Alternatively, is it an a priori truth that something
simple (like an earthworm or even a pencil) can’t be conscious?
As
for premise ii). Yes, it would seem to be the case that “the
complex is only a sum of simple parts”. (Indeed the complexmust be
a sum of simple parts otherwise it wouldn’t be, well, complex.) However, what about the word “only” - as in “only the sum”?
Perhaps there's more to a complex machine, creature or thing than
simply the addition of simple parts to one another in order to create
a complex whole. Perhaps something emerges from the addition
of simple parts. Is
a nation state, for example, only the sum of its parts? Is a
class or set only the sum of its members? Is mind or
consciousness only the sum of the parts of the brain (as well
as, perhaps, other physical things)?
So one may now ask how can such concepts be useful if the entities they refer to don’t in fact exist or have any reality. In other words, doesn’t the usefulness of such concepts depend on — or presuppose — the existence or reality of what it is they refer to? (Wittgenstein specifically wrote about Sigmund Freud’s “subconscious thoughts”and Georg Cantor’s “different infinities”.)
So does “use” rely — or depend — on reality?
[It can be seen in the quote above — from Philosophical Grammar — that Wittgenstein never believed that this issue was only about “use”.]
Isn’t it the case that, say, the concepts ROUND SQUARE and FLAT NUMBER aren’t much use if the entities they refer to don’t exist or aren’t real?
[The word “refer” as just been used. It’s usually words or terms which are said to refer, rather than concepts. Concepts are said to have extensions instead.]
Possible worlds may not be real, However, they have proved to be useful and fruitful when it comes to formalising and clarifying our modal notions. Thus the concepts PHILOSOPHICAL DONKEY and GOLDEN MOUNTAIN may prove useful in some respects. That said, these two examples aren’t exactly equivalent to the concepts ROUND SQUARE and FLAT NUMBER. That’s primarily because there are mountains, there is gold, there are donkeys and there is the phenomenon of being philosophical. And gold and mountain can be juxtaposed without contradiction. So too with donkey and being philosophical. However, roundness and squareness, as well as flatness and number, can’t likewise be juxtaposed.
The American philosopherW.V.O. Quine’s position on (abstract) numbers wasn’t so distant from Wittgenstein’s position on the introduction of new concepts. Quine basically believed that numbers have instrumental use value. Quine also believed that it’s dishonest to deny the existence or reality of numbers when during one’s practice (i.e., in mathematics and physics) one effectively assumes that they do in fact exist or are real. (See ‘Quine–Putnam indispensability’.)
So is it the case that because numbers have instrumental value, then they must also exist or be real?
Why use the concept (to use Wittgenstein’s own example) SUBCONSCIOUS THOUGHTS (or plain SUBCONCIOUS) in our grammar if there are no such things as subconscious thoughts? What possible use could such a concept have if that usage doesn’t depend on the reality or existence of subconscious thoughts?
[Unconscious or non-conscious mental activities shouldn’t be confused with Freud’s and other theorists’ subconscious thoughts.]
Of course we can now debate the concept EXISTENCE itself; which has been used — or hinted at — a couple of times above. However, that’s doesn’t seem to be the point that Wittgenstein was making. In his view, we could introduce just about any concept into our grammar if we deem it useful to do so.
In a sense Wittgenstein was absolutely right.
The concept SUBCONSCIOUS THOUGHTS no doubt does have its uses. In other words, that concept explains many mental and behavioural phenomena.
For example, why does subject S behave in such a self-contradictory manner? It can be supposed that he does so because his subconscious thoughts are having some kind of effect on his conscious mental life and behaviour…
… Yet is it actually the case that S has such subconscious thoughts?
After all, there may be many other explanations of S’s behaviour which don’t include references to subconscious thoughts or to the subconscious generally.
Perhaps Wittgenstein might have responded: Then why not introduce new concepts into your grammar instead?
The only thing that matters, according to this reading of Wittgenstein, is whether or not these new concepts work within the overall domain of our grammar (or within a particular language-game).
Additionally, if old concepts no longer work, then get rid of them.
Some will argue, however, that certain old concepts didn’t work precisely because they had no basis in reality (e.g., PHLOGISTON, ETHER, etc.). That said, the characters and events in works of fiction aren’t actual or real; though they nevertheless prove to be (if in a loose sense) useful. They’re useful in that they display to readers, say, general kinds of situation and general kinds of character. That said, fictional events and characters are often (or always) parasitical on events and characters in the real (or actual) world. Thus such works of fiction work precisely because they indirectly refer (in the minds of the readers) to existents. Indeed even the most extreme works of fictional irrealism must depend on these kinds of indirect reference otherwise their readers wouldn’t relate to the works or even be able to make sense of them.
If we return to Wittgenstein’s general thesis.
Wouldn’t such a fast-and-loose attitude to concept-formation result in a multiplicity of contradictory concepts?
Relativism, Rules and Laws
If practices, customs, “forms of life” (see Wittgenstein’s position here) or language-games are truly autonomous, then perhaps the notion of conceptual contradiction doesn’t really have much purchase. That’s primarily because it presumes the existence of a correct (or true) language-game(or even a meta-practice) which somehow stands above all other language-games to pass its supreme judgement on them.
So if we take Wittgenstein’s (possible) position to its extreme limit, then any group can formulate any concept it wishes. That is, there will be no meta-language-game (or meta-practice) to tell them what concepts they can or can’t formulate. Thus everything everybody says would make sense in the context of the language-game it’s embedded in.
Again, Wittgenstein’s position automatically rules out any meta-language (or meta-language-game) which would try to make sense of the conceptual flux and chaos around it. Thus we would simply need to accept that it’s literally the case that anything goes. And that would primarily bebecause each individual language-game would be formulating its own rules.
In any case and according to the late Wittgenstein, such rules aren’t (as Ray Monk puts Wittgenstein’s early position) “fixed by immutable laws of logical form”. They are, instead, fixed by custom, practice or forms of life. Therefore, on this reading, rules couldn’t possibly be laws (certainly not “immutable laws”). That’s because laws are (usually) deemed to be universally applicable — i.e., applicable across the board. The rules of a language-game, on the other hand, may only apply to two individual (as it were) players.
Rules are therefore simply contingent conveniences instigated to serve the particular purpose at hand. Indeed they can be disregarded (or amended) according to new situations or purposes.
In may even be the case that — at least some — laws are laws even though they simply and only abide by arbitrary and contingent rules which are themselves custom- or practice-relative. Thus on this reading such laws are custom-built entities which have often (or usually) come to be seen as belonging to something beyond the station of mere rules. In other words, at least some laws are taken to be universal. However, such laws may be no more universal than poached eggs or flared trousers.
Mental
events and states were traditionally deemed to be private. Public
language, on the other hand, is intersubjective.
Yet we use a public language to communicate purportedly private
mental events, items or states. If mental events, items or states
were genuinely private, then how would we know that other people were
referring to the same things we refer to? To us (if not them), other
people’s private mental items, states and events would be like
possible “beetles
in a box”.
That's partly why Ludwig
Wittgenstein
concluded that our language for sensations isn't only public: it must
also refer to public items. (This is all part of Wittgenstein's
Private
Language argument.)
For
example, when someone says, “I'm in pain”, he's not describing a
private pain-state. The utterance
is (as
it were) the pain state. Our behaviour (including linguistic
behaviour) is literally
everything.
If someone were to refer to something only they had seen, then we
wouldn’t get the whole import of their reference. Thus when we use
a language for pain, we must be referring to essentially public
items. We can't therefore believe that pain-words refer to private
pain-things. This is the case with other names or words too. They
refer to entities which are essentially publicly accessible.
Pain-words
must refer to things which are publicly accessible: not private. Thus
pain can't be a beetle in a permanently-closed box. If pain is in any
kind of box, then it's in an open and publicly-accessible one. The
named object, if private, must “drop
out of consideration as irrelevant”.
Other people can't and don't see private mental states or events.
Public items are needed for a public language. Language is a shared
phenomenon primarily because there are shared words and the shared
objects of these words. Without the shared objects of our names and
words, there'd be no shared language. The shared objects largely
determine the shared language.
If
a language isn't public (or shared), then it's not, in fact, a
language. If we were just communicating with ourselves, then perhaps
we wouldn’t need a descriptive language at all. We would simply
know that we are in pain and, therefore, pain-descriptions wouldn't
be necessary.
It
follows that if there are private mental states, events or items in
S's
mind, and S
were to name these items, then he'd have to introduce his own names
or words rather than use names or words he'd acquired from other
people. After all, how could public names refer to truly private
items? There couldn’t be a public (or intersubjective) ostensive
definition
of S’s
private mental items, states or events. Indeed it was Wittgenstein’s
argument that there couldn’t even be a private ostensive definition
of one’s own private mental items, states or events. How would S
know that he was describing (or defining) a mental item, state or
event correctly or incorrectly? The correctness or otherwise of an
ostensibly private ostensive definition would depend on a third party
determining whether or not such an attribution is correct or
incorrect. As Wittgenstein put it (to paraphrase):
If
S
doesn’t know if he’s going right, then how would he know that
he’s going wrong (in his self-attributions)?
“Yes,
but what about pain itself?”
Despite
all the above, there must still be a sense that certain mental items,
states or events are indeed private - such as pain. This seems to be
self-evident.
For
example, if I don't communicate my pain with either linguistic or
physical behaviour, then no one else would know that I'm in pain. But
I am
in pain. Only I know that I'm in pain. Therefore my pain is private.
It's
true that if I were to express my pain (either in a language or even
by physical behaviour), then, yes, I would be using a public
language. And even if I use such words to
talk to myself
about my own pain, then I'd still be using public words and public
expressions. Thus we could say that the epistemic status of the
belief (how it's known or the way it's known) depends on the external
world and public language.
However,
there's more to a pain than our knowledge of it. It has both an
ontological and an experiential status. We can also accept the fact
that any ontological and experiential status the pain does have will
itself be coloured by public language. (For one, those parts of
public language which have given us the tools and concepts to think
about a pain’s ontological and experiential status!) Though, yet
again, there's still something
about
pain that's above and beyond its epistemic position and its
ontological and experiential status. There's a state - a pain -
that's the subject of all these public expressions. These public
expressions are about something other than themselves. They're about
pain.
Even
though the very concept PAIN is a public concept, what the concept
itself is about is more than a concept: it's about something which
falls under the concept PAIN (or under the word “pain”). Thus
even if it's the case that everything we say (or even think) about a
pain is somehow polluted by public language, there'd still be
something
about the pain that has nothing to do with public discourse. More to
the point, there's something about a pain that's indeed private.
The
problem is that (as Wittgenstein himself argued) as soon as we say
anything about this private something, it becomes (for other persons
and even for oneself) a public something. What's said about this
something (its experiential nature, etc.) is public. Though what all
this public talk is about is something private. We can’t, however,
get to this private something without polluting it with public
language. And even when we get to it ourselves, it's still thus
polluted. The private pain, then, is like a Kantian
“thing-in-itself”. Its true reality or status can never be known
if such a status is deemed to be how the pain is regardless of public
language.
Of
course many philosophers will deem the very idea of a pain-in-itself
suspect. Does that idea even make sense? Does it serve any purpose?
First things first. The technical terms used in this short andsimplified piece will be somewhat controversial. The main reason for this is that many philosophers tend to invent their own terms or use old terms in new ways. In addition, even a neologism can still be very closely related to previous words or concepts. Thus we have “sense”, “intension”, “reference”,“denotation”, etc. used in different ways by different philosophers. So it’s often merely — or at least partly — a case of (to use Derrida’s term) “sign-substitutions” in which the new “signs” hardly differ from the substituted ones — at least not in important ways. And then there’s always the (fairly) new kids on the block — such as David Chalmers’ “primary intension” and “secondary intension” (in his two-dimensional semantics).
That said, all these different terms do refer to different concepts or functions and there’s no claim in the following that they’re all (really) identical.
Intensions and Extensions
The German philosopher Rudolf Carnap (1891–1970) believed that an expression means what it means because it possesses both an extension and an intension(alternatively, a reference to a class and a sense). He believed that this approach would effectively bring the meanings of expressions down to earth and away from abstractaand/or “private” mental entities. Extensions are, after all, collections of concrete objects and intensions are the means to get at those extensions (or at the objects within those extensions). That means that concrete objects (or collections of such objects) are important when it comes to extracting the meanings from expressions.
In much of the traditional picture, it was either abstract objects or private mental entities which fundamentally determined the meanings of expressions. Of course Carnap still allowed for the existence and use of abstract intensions (that’s if if they are in fact abstract).
Expressions (or statements) have references for the parts and then for the whole; and also an intension for the parts and then for the whole. (In this manner, Carnap in many ways simply updated Gottlob Frege with new jargon or with his own sign-substitutions.)
So did Carnap see intensions as concepts, predicates or properties?
Carnap on Necessity
Carnap saw modality in terms of semantics. That effectively means that modal properties don’t belong to objects qua objects: they belong to statements qua statements. That is, statements have modal properties, not objects.
Take this statement:
“A is necessarily B."
Basically, traditionalists believed that this statement is about things; not about sentences or words. Thus Carnap — to paraphrase — offered this alternative:
“The expression ‘A is [necessarily] B’ states a semantic necessity.”
What’s necessary in the above isn’t the properties of things: it’s a property of the sentence itself(e.g., as is the case with analytic statements).
Thus the expression “A is B” implicitly (or elliptically) refers to prior expression which generate this further necessary statement. That means that necessity is either stipulated and/orconventional. In other words, it’s a property of the sentences and concepts we use (i.e., it isdedicto necessity): not the things we refer to with those sentences (i.e., de re necessity).
Thus, according to Carnap, modal logic is actually a branch of semantics. This means that necessity is generated by the meanings or concepts which are themselves properties of the sentences which are taken to assert certain necessities about things. So if necessity were really a property of things and their properties, then it would be ontology (rather than semantics) which deals with such properties.
Thus Carnap explained necessity by way of analyticity. That is, in
a = b
both a and b are “concepts of the same individual”; not variables which stand in for concrete objects. So perhaps we should write the above in this way instead:
[Ca] = [Cb]
Thus if a and b are concepts (C) of — or for - the same individual, then we can create an analytic statement.
For example, in the often-used example
“All bachelors are unmarried men.”
the words “bachelors” and “unmarried men” both refer to (or denote) different concepts of the same set of individuals (i.e., they have the same extension). Thus, according to Carnap, modal contexts were really “disguised quotational contexts”. In other words, the sentence
i) “Bachelors are unmarried men.”
is transformed into:
ii) “The sentence ‘Bachelors are unmarried men’ is analytic.”
Thus i) above is an example of de re necessity: it’s a statement about concrete objects: bachelors and unmarried men.) And ii) above is an example of de dicto necessity: it’s a statement about the words “bachelor” and “unmarried”.
In terms of necessity, it’s not necessary that the concrete objects unmarried men are bachelors. Yet in terms of stipulational/conventionalnecessity (which may sound like an oxymoron), it is necessary that the word “unmarried man” can be substituted (to use a term Quine used)salve veritate with the word “bachelor”.
Alternatively, we can used a conditional to get this point across:
(Uc ⊃ Bc)
However, that conditional above (in which ‘c’ means concept) doesn’t (really) capture the modal property necessity. Thus we can have a biconditional instead:
J.S. Mill believed that the
meanings of singular terms were their denotations. Denotations are
usually seen as objects of some description. Therefore any proposition which had a term whose meaning was its denotation would literally(?)
have an object within it.
Thus
Gottlob Frege argued that meanings can't be denotations. Instead of
objects being in propositions, Frege suggested that “different ways
of thinking” of an object are contained within propositions. Thus
if a belief (or desire) can't literally contain the object of that
belief (or desire), then it must contain “specific ways of thinking”
of that object. That is, we shouldn’t mix up the ontology of
objects with propositional structure and meaning. They belong to
different ontological worlds.
Similarly,
ways of thinking can't literally contain objects within them
and neither do minds generally. It followed, for Frege, that what he
called “sense” had to be distinguished from what many call
“reference” or “denotation”. (Fregean) senses therefore
determine references. They determine the ways in which the referents
are thought about. Thus senses are “modes of presentation” of
objects; not the objects themselves. Indeed we have no access to an
object other than via a mode of presentation or a sense.
Think
about what the contrary would entail.
It
would mean that the object itself would be in the proposition
or in its linguistic expression. That can't possibly be the case.
Propositions are abstract entities (according to Frege); whereas
objects are mainly concrete. An abstraction can't contain something
in concreto.
The Individuation of
Objects
In terms of the modes of presentation of an
object, it can also be said that a criterion of identity must come
along with a “principle of unity”. In addition, an object must
have some kind of temporal longevity if it's to be deemed an object
in the first place.
How
can an object have temporal longevity?
It
does so because it has a principle of unity. That principle
tells us that certain facts about that object unify it and they do so
because they tell us what things about that object must remain in
order for the object to remain as that very object. The unity of the
object is what makes it the thing it is over time.
Why
should an object have a single criterion of identity? Why not many
criteria?
It's
traditionally thought that an object’s “essence” will determine
what we take to be a criterion of identity for an object.
However, just as we had choices as to what could be criteria of
identity, so we may choices as to what constitutes the essence of a
single object.
This
is where we depart from Frege and from many other philosophers.
One
set of essential properties may work for one group of individuals (or
one set of situations) and another set may work for another group of
individuals (or set of situations). Why assume that there's one real
essence (which may contain a set of properties) of an object and no
more?
Perhaps
it all depends on the modes of presentation of that object.
Each
different mode of presentation may determine its own essence. For
example, under a mode of presentation that's supplied by physics, an object
may have an essence specified in terms of its molecular or atomic
structure. This would be a constitutional or inherent essence.
However, under the mode of presentation of people who relate to
- or use - the object under scrutiny, the essence may be specified in
terms of that object’s role or its relation to the scrutiniser.
Many
people will have different ways of individuating the very same
object. It will depend on how that object is seen - both literally
and metaphorically. It will depend on our particular relation to that
object. It will also depend on the cognitive baggage which we bring to
the object under scrutiny.
People
with different beliefs - or different agglomerations of knowledge - will
individuate the very same object in different ways. We could of
course have a God’s eye view of an object. Wouldn’t that view
involve an infinite conjunction of properties and relations which
belong to the scrutinised object? Alternatively, perhaps a God’s
eye view of an object would entail an infinite disjunction of properties instead.
That is, an infinite set of possible characterisations or
individuations of the object. Mortal individuaters can't of
course use infinite conjunctions or infinite disjunctions. Mere mortals can't
even comprehend them. Thus a God’s eye view of the object at hand
would only be of use to the person with God’s eye – viz., God
himself.