Thursday 15 September 2016

Kenan Malik's Extended Mind




This is a commentary on the ‘Extended Mind’ chapter of Kenan Malik’s book Man, Beast and Zombie. (Read an account of this book here.)

Kenan Malik offers us a basic argument; which I’ve simplified using his own words:

i) The “human mind is structured by language”.
ii) “Language is public.”
iii) Therefore: “The mind is itself is public.”

Malik characterises “computational theory” (and quoting Hilary Putnam) as one that

“suggests that everything that is necessary for the use of language is stored in each individual mind”.

Here we must make a distinction between necessary and sufficient conditions “for the use of language”. It may indeed be the case that “everything that is necessary for the use of language is stored in each individual mind”. Yet it may also be the case that such things aren’t sufficient for the use of a language. In other words, the mechanics for language use are (as it were) internal; though what follows from that is not. And what follows from the (brain and computational) mechanics of language is, of course, the use of language itself (i.e., in “everyday contexts”).

Kenan Malik

Thus Malik’s quote from the American philosopher Hilary Putnam (1926–2016) (that “‘no actual language works like that [because] language is a form of cooperative activity, not an essentially individualistic activity’”) may not be to the point here. Indeed I find it hard to see what a non-cooperative and individualistic language would be like — even in principle. That must surely imply that Malik (if not Putnam) has mischaracterised Fodor’s position. Another way to put this is to say that Jerry Fodor (1935–2017) was as much an anti-Cartesian and Wittgensteinian as anyone else. The Language of Thought idea and “computational theory” generally aren’t entirely individualist (i.e., in the philosophy of mind sense) when we take them beyond their physical and non-conscious reality. How could they be?

There’s an analogy here between this and the relation between DNA and its phenotypes (as understood in very basic terms). Clearly DNA is required for phenotypes. However, DNA and phenotypes aren’t the same thing. In addition, environments (not only DNA) also determine the nature of the phenotypic expression.

As I hinted at earlier, Malik’s position hints at a debate which has involved Jerry Fodor, Hilary Putnam and Noam Chomsky.

Malik rejects Fodor’s internalism (or individualism); as already stated. It was said that Fodor believed that something must predate language use. So let Fodor explain his own position. Thus:

“My view is that you can’t learn a language unless you already know one.”

Fodor means something very specific by the clause “unless you already know one”. As he put it:

“It isn’t that you can’t learn a language unless you’ve already learned one. The latter claim leads to infinite regress, but the former doesn’t.”

In other words, the Language of Thought isn’t learned. It’s genetically passed on from previous generations. It’s built into the brains of new-born Homo sapien babies.

Hilary Putnam gives a more technical exposition of Fodor’s position. He wrote:

“[Fodor] contends that such a computer, if it ‘learns’ at all, must have an innate ‘programme’ for making generalisations in its built-in computer language.”

Secondly, Putnam tackled Fodor’s rationalist — or even platonic — position in which he argued for innate concepts. Putnam continued:

“[Fodor] concludes that every predicate that a brain could learn to use must have a translation into the computer language of that brain. So no ‘new’ concepts can be acquired: all concepts are innate.”

Meanings Ain’t in the Head

Because Malik argues that references to natural phenomena are an externalist affair (as well as sometimes scientific), it may follow that non-scientific individuals may not know the full meanings of the words, meanings or concepts they use. As Putnam famously put it: “Meaning just ain’t in the head.”

Malik gives the example of the words “ash” and “elm”. Ash and elm trees are natural phenomena. In addition, their nature is determined — — and perhaps defined — by their scientific nature. In other words, the reference-relation isn’t determined by the appearances of elm and ash trees. This results in a seemingly counterintuitive conclusion. Malik writes:

“Many Westerners have a distinct representation of ‘ash’ and ‘elm’ in their heads, but they have no idea how to distinguish ash and elm in the real world.”

I said earlier that references to ash and elm trees can’t be fully determined by appearances. However, they can be fully distinguished by appearances. But that distinction wouldn’t be enough to determine a reference-relation. The scientific nature of ash and elm trees must also be taken into account. Thus when it comes to the reference-relation to what philosophers call “natural kinds” and other natural phenomena, the

“knowledge of gardeners, botanists, of molecular biologists, and so on, all play a crucial role in helping me refer to [in this instance] a rose, even though I do not possess their knowledge”.

Malik backs up his anti-individualistic theory of language and mind by offering an account of reference which owes much to Kripke and Putnam — certainly to Putnam.

Prima facie, it may seem that reference is at least partly individualistic (or internalist). That is, what determines our words is some kind of relation between it (as it is the mind), and that which it refers to (or represents). This means that reference isn’t only a matter of the individual mind and the object-of-reference.

Malik, instead, offers what can be seen as a scientific account of reference.

Take his example of the (as he puts it) “mental representation” of DNA. (Does Malik mean word word/initials “DNA” here?) The reference-relation between “DNA” and DNA isn’t only a question of what goes on in a mind (or in collective minds). Indeed

“your mental representation of DNA (or mine) is insufficient to ‘hook on to’ DNA as an object in the world”.

There’s not enough (as it were) meat to make a sufficient reference-relation between “DNA” and DNA in individual minds alone. Instead the scientific nature of DNA determines reference for all of us — even if we don’t know the science.

Malik quotes Putnam again here.

The reference for the word/initials “DNA” is

“socially fixed and not determined simply by conditions of the brain of an individual”.

Of course something that’s scientifically fixed is also “socially fixed”. DNA may be a natural phenomenon; though the fixing of the reference between the word “DNA” to DNA is a social and scientific matter.

References

Fodor, Jerry. (1975) ‘How There Could Be a Private Language and What It Must Be Like’, in (1992) The Philosophy of Mind: Classical Problems, Contemporary Issues.

Putnam, Hilary. (1980) ‘ What Is Innate and Why: Comments on the Debate’, in (1992) The Philosophy of Mind: Classical Problems, Contemporary Issues.

[I can be found on Twitter here.]

Wednesday 20 April 2016

Scraps of Kant (1)


Prolegomena to Any Future Metaphysics (German edition).jpg
 
The Unexperienced Soul

In a sense, Kant is quite at one with Hume in that he believes that we never actually experience the self; or, in Kant’s terms, the “soul” (or the “substance of our thinking being”). This is because the soul is the mode through which we experience and is not, therefore, an object of experience. Perhaps it would be like a dog trying to catch its own tail. We can, of course, experience the “cognitions” of the soul; though we can’t experience the soul which has the cognitions. Like all other substances, including the substances of objects, the “substantial itself remains unknown” (978). We can, however, prove “the actuality of the soul” through the “appearances of the internal sense”. This is a proof of the soul, however, not an experience of it.

The Antinomies and Experience

What are the “antinomies”? They are subjects of philosophical dispute that have “equally clear, evident, and irresistible proof”(982) on both sides of the argument. That is, a proposition and its negation are both equally believable and acceptable in terms of rational inquiry.


Kant gives an example of such an argument with two equally weighty sides. One is whether or not the world had a beginning or as existed for eternity. The other is whether or not “matter is infinitely divisible or consists of simple parts” (982). What unites these arguments is that none of them can be solved with the help of experience. In a sense, this is an argument of an empiricist. In addition, according to the empiricism of the logical positivists, these arguments would have been considered non-arguments precisely because they can't be settled or solved by experience. As Kant puts it, such “concepts cannot be given in any experience” (982). It follows that such issues are transcendent to us.

Kant goes into further detail about experience-transcendent (or even evidence-transcendent) facts or possibilities. We can't know, through experience, whether or not the “world” (i.e., the universe) is infinite or finite in magnitude. Similarly, infinite time can't “be contained in experience” (983). Kant also talks about the intelligibility of talking about space beyond universal space or time before universal time. If there were a time before time it would not actually be a time “before” time because time is continuous. And if there were a space beyond universal space, it wouldn’t be “beyond” universal space because there can be no space beyond space itself.

Kant also questions the validity of the notion of “empty time”. That is, time without space and objects within space. This is because he thinks that time, space and objects in space are interconnected. Perhaps Kant believed that time wouldn't pass without objects to, as it were, measure the elapsing of time (through disintegration and growth). Similarly, space without time would be nonsensical, on Kant’s cosmology.

The Unperceived Tree in Space and Time

This is very much like Berkeley’s argument.


Thus, when we imagine a tree unperceived, we are, in fact, imagining it as it is perceived; though perceived by some kind of disembodied mind. Or, as Kant puts it, to represent “to ourselves that experience actually exists apart from experience or prior to it” (983). Thus when we imagine the objects of the senses existing in a “self-subsisting” manner, we are, in fact, imagining them as they would be as they are experienced. That isn't surprising because there's no other way to imagine the objects of the senses.

Space and time, on the other hand, are “modes” through which we represent external objects of the senses. As Bertrand Russell put it, we wear spatial and temporal glasses through which we perceive the world. If we take the glasses off, then, quite simply, space and time would simply disappear. They have no actuality apart from our minds. Appearances must be given up to us in the containers we call “space and time”. Space and time are the vehicles of our experiences of the objects of the senses. In a sense, it seems like a pretty banal truism to say that “objects of the senses therefore exist only in experience” because quite evidently there are no experiences without the senses and our senses themselves determine those experiences.

 
Freedom and Causal Necessity

“…if natural necessity is referred merely to appearances and freedom merely to things in themselves…” [984]

This position unites Kant with Hume, who also thought that necessity is something that we impose on the world. That is, necessity only belongs to appearances, not to things-in-themselves. This could also be deemed a forerunner of the logical positivist idea that necessity is a result (or product) of our conventions, not of the world itself. Of course, just as conventions belong to minds, so too do appearances belong to minds. Freedom, that is independence from causal necessity, is only found in things-in-themselves. That is, the substance of the mind is also a thing in itself; therefore the mind too is free from causal necessitation. The only things that are subject to causal necessitation are the objects of experience. Things-in- themselves (noumena) are free.

Thus Kant manages to solve a very difficult problem: the problem of determinism. That is, “nature and freedom” can exist together. Nature is not free. However, things-in-themselves (including the mind’s substance) are free. The same things can “be attributed to the very same thing”. That is, human beings are beings of experience and also beings-in-themselves. The experiential side of human nature is therefore subject to causal laws; whereas the mind transcends causal necessitation. We are, therefore, partly free and partly unfree.

Kant has a particular way of expressing what he calls “the causality of reason”. Because reason is free, its cognitions and acts of will can be seen as examples of “first beginnings” (986). A single cognition or act of will is a “first cause”. It's not one of the links in a causal chain. If they were links in such a possibly infinite causal chain, then there would be no true freedom. First beginnings guarantee us freedom of the will and self-generated (or self-caused) cognitions. In contemporary literature, such “first beginnings” are called “originations” and what a strange notion it is! What does it mean to say that something just happens ex nihilo? Would such originations therefore be arbitrary or even chaotic – sudden jolts in the dark of our minds? They would be like the quantum fluctuations in which particles suddenly appear out of the void. Why would such things guarantee us freedom rather than make us the victims of chance?


Knowledge of Things-in-Themselves

Kant both says that we can't know anything about things in themselves, yet he also says that “we are not at liberty to abstain entirely from inquiring into them” (989). So which one is it to be? Can we have knowledge of things-in-themselves or not? Perhaps Kant means that although we can indeed inquire into things in themselves, nevertheless it will be a fruitless endeavour. Or perhaps it's the psychological need to inquire because “experience never satisfies reason fully” (989). Alternatively, though our inquiries into things-in-themselves won't give us knowledge, we can still offer, nevertheless, conjectures or suppositions about such things. That is, we can speculate about the true nature of things-in-themselves; though we'll never have knowledge (in the strict sense) of them.

There are questions that will press upon us despite the fact that answers to them may never be forthcoming. Kant, again, gives his earlier examples of evidence- or experience-transcendent issues such as “the duration and magnitude of the world, of freedom or of natural necessity” (989). However, experience lets us down on these issues. Reason shows us, according to Kant, “the insufficiency of all physical modes of explanation” (989). Can reason truly offer us more?
Again, Kant tells us that we can't be satisfied by the appearances. The


chain of appearances…has…no subsistence by itself…and consequently must point to that which contains the basis of these appearances”. [990].

Of course it's reason itself which will “hope to satisfy its desire for completeness” (990). However, it's not clear whether or not reason can satisfy our yearnings by given us knowledge of things-in-themselves. Yet “we can never cognise these beings of understanding” but “must assume them”. It is reason that “connects them” (991) with the sensible world (and vice versa). It must follow, therefore, that although “we can never cognise these beings of understanding” there must be some alternative way of understanding them. Which way is that?

                                     ******************************************************
*) All the notes above are readings of Kant's Prolegomena to Any Future Metaphysics.


Saturday 19 March 2016

John Heil on the Mind-Body Problem



John Heil | Proceedings of the Aristotelian Society | Philosophy in London Since 1880

Colin McGinn is known for arguing that the problem of consciousness may well be insoluble in principle. He once wrote the following:

It could turn out that the human mind is constitutionally unable to understand itself.” [756]


We can ask how McGinn (or anyone else for that matter) could know that. Perhaps he's arguing that it could be the case that we are constitutionally incapable of understanding mind and consciousness: not that we actually are.


Take this case. If mind-brains are "formal systems", it may be the case that they couldn't have complete knowledge of themselves. John Heil writes:


Gödel showed us that formal systems rich enough to generate the truths of elementary arithmetic were, if consistent, in principle incomplete. (A system is incomplete if there are truths expressible in and implied by the system that cannot be proven true in the system.) The incompleteness of mathematics reflects an established fact about the make-up of formal systems generally. Now, imagine that we finite human beings are, as we surely are, constitutionally limited as to the kinds of thought we could entertain. Imagine, further, that our cognitive limitations were such that we could not so much as entertain the deep truth about our own minds.” [756]


Intuitively, the idea that we're constitutionally and cognitively limited in many - or some - ways is easy to accept. And if we accept this, then McGinn’s arguments seem acceptable, if not palatable. But are mind-brains formal systems? Is it right to compare the mind to an arithmetical formal system, as Heil does? (The argument is similar to the ‘what-is-it-like-to-be-a-bat/an x’ argument. In that case, we're constitutionally unable to imagine what it is like to be a bat (e.g., to have its sonar abilities).)

It is indeed quite wrong to simply assume that the "deep truth" (or truths) of mind will some day be available to us (as many scientists may imagine). Heil writes:


“Indeed, we should be hard put to establish in advance that the deep truth about anything at all – including the material world – is cognitively available to us. To think that it must be is to exhibit an unwarranted degree of confidence in our finite capacities, what the ancients called hubris.” [756]


Doesn’t the (C.S.) Peircian notion of the “scientific convergence on the truth” assume that, at some point in the future, we will know everything about both the mind and the world? Don’t many scientists daily display such an example of scientific hubris? However, on the other side of the argument, deep pessimism may also be unwarranted. Heil writes:

“… we cannot positively prove that we are cut off from a deep understanding of mental phenomena.” [756]


Just as many scientists and philosophers display positivism on this issue, so many philosophers (such as McGinn, Nagel, etc.) display a deep pessimism; which is often disguised under the clothing of modesty or humility. Perhaps the problem of consciousness isn't one of insolubilia; but one of incompletability.


Reference

Tuesday 23 February 2016

Consciousness: Sapience & Sentience


David Chalmers makes a terminological distinction between sentience and sapience:

       sentience = phenomenal consciousness
       sapience = psychological consciousness


What does this distinction amount to?

For a start, a conscious creature “senses and feels”. That is, it is sentient. This is Chalmers ‘hard problem’:

Chalmers points out that psychology and neuroscience have made significant progress toward increasing our understanding of sapience – psychological consciousness… In contrast, we seem to have made little or no progress in understanding sentience. What understanding we do have consists mainly in the discovery of brute correlation between conscious episodes and neurological events. The identification of correlation represents at most a starting point for explanation, however, not a settled goal. Unlike the case of sapience, where it is reasonable to expect incremental progress, it is hard to see what we could do to move ahead in our understanding of the basis of consciousness.” - John Heil

 
One way we can appreciate our progress with sapience is with the fantastic growth of the cognitive sciences (as well as cognitive psychology). The language of thought hypothesis (LOT) is also an example of this; along with neuro-computationalism and connectionism. All are concerned with sapience – or psychological consciousness. But what about sentience? Where are the research projects in sentience? Could there even be such things as research projects in sentience?

Chalmers is correct to argue that the discovery of brute correlations (or connections) between conscious states and physical states is only the beginning of the story – or, at the least, a different story to the story of sentience altogether. Chalmers last point is very telling, if not overtly pessimistic. He writes that

it is hard to see what we could do to move ahead in our understanding of the basis of consciousness”.

Perhaps this word ‘basis’ is incorrectly used here. We do indeed partly know the basis of consciousness. What we don’t know is the why-of-consciousness. What we can't explain is why a conscious state should arise out of such a physical basis in the brain. The correlates are known; though not why they are correlated.

Some philosophers seem to offer a way out of this impasse that is, quite frankly, little more than a cop-out. In general terms, they “hope that sentience [will be] reducible to sapience” [601]. Surely this couldn’t be the case.

This is the position on offer:


"… all there is to being conscious is acting and interacting intelligently in a complex environment (see e.g. Dennet 1991)."

Acting thus and so is to be conscious. What of feelings and other sensuous states? These are species of sapient state. Functionalists, for instance, may hold that, to be in pain is to be in a state with the right sorts of cause and effect. Pains are caused by tissue damage and result in aversive behaviour (including the formation of various beliefs and desires).

This is indeed a reductive explanation of consciousness. It seems, to me, to be obviously false and even disingenuous in nature. How could anyone really believe that consciousness is our acting and interacting in a complex environment? How could anyone believe that acting thus and so is to be conscious? No. Consciousness comes along with interacting intelligently. Consciousness comes along with functional roles as well. Pain, on the functionalist picture, is indeed caused by tissue damage. And it's true that pain results in the right sorts of aversive behaviour (including the formation of various beliefs and desires about pain and ways of escaping pain). But all these causes and effects are accompanied by consciousness. They aren't examples of consciousness. They may even be the necessary accompaniments of consciousness; though they aren't sufficient for it. It's is incredible, again, that any philosophy could uphold these reductive (or functionalist) explanations of consciousness. And yet they do!

Friday 19 February 2016

Frank Jackson’s ‘Epiphenomenal Qualia’ (1982)


i) Introduction
ii) The Modal Argument Against Physicalism
iii) What is it like...?
iv) The Bogey of Epiphenomenalism

Firstly, Frank Jackson introduces us to Fred. Fred can see two colours in a given area; whereas we can see only one. The problem is that he's unsuccessful when it comes to teaching the rest of us the difference between red-1 and red-2. We can't make that distinction. Fred, therefore, concludes that “the rest of the world is red-1/red-2 colour-blind”. The point is that Fred has a different phenomenal experience to the rest of us. He has the “ability” to distinguish two shades of red which we can't distinguish.

Jackson concludes that it won't help us to understand the difference between red-1 and red-2 even if we were to know everything there is to know, physically, about both red-1 and red-2. There must therefore be a phenomenal gap between the physical and either red-1 or red-2 (perhaps both). Either one or both must run free (as it were) of any physical underpinning.

Despite all that, researchers do find a physical explanation as to why Fred can distinguish between red-1 and red-2. In this hypothetical situation we

find out that Fred’s cones respond differentially to certain light waves in the red section of the spectrum that make no difference to ours (or perhaps he has an extra cone) and that this leads in Fred to a wider range of those brain states responsible for visual discriminatory behaviour”.

Yes, you guessed it, this imaginary state of physical affairs doesn't have the slightest impact on Jackson’s argument. It's indeed the case that red-2 has its own physical underpinning. It's also the case that we have full physical knowledge as to why Fred can distinguish between red-1 and red-2; though we still can't distinguish red-1 from red-2. We still can't read-off the extra colour from the new physical information we've acquired of Fred’s brain, eyes, etc. And nor can we infer or deduce what red-2 is like from these physical facts. There's still a gap between our knowledge of the physical and our knowledge (or lack of knowledge) of the phenomenal (i.e., if we can call phenomenal knowledge, knowledge at all).

The Modal Argument Against Physicalism

Jackson then brings on board a modal argument; as well as giving attention to the possibility of zombies. In fact the zombie possibility starts off with a logical argument - or at least with a statement about the limits of logical entailment.

Mary may well have all the physical information about red (or about red’s physical underpinnings). Similarly, we may have all the physical information about what seems to be another person. Jackson argues that

no amount of physical information about another logically entails that he or she is conscious or feels anything at all”.

This is an incredible conclusion. It's not only about the possibility of zombies: it also applies to all our fellow human beings. Perhaps it's a new take on the “problem of other minds” in that Jackson argues that a complete physical picture won't tell us whether or not another being is conscious or feels anything at all. As with other-minds arguments, we inductively infer that other people have minds and feel pain because of their behaviour and what they say (although verbal expressions are a form of behaviour). Though, again, we can't say that behaviour alone logically entails consciousness or pain. However, we have good reasons to believe that other people do suffer pain, etc. (though that’s another story). In the case of zombies, we can say that a zombie is physically and behaviourally identical to us, yet he won't be conscious and he won't feel pain. More technically, he may have the same “functional states” too. Jackson concludes by asking us a very telling and simple question:

But then what is it that we have and they lack?”

Of course he answers his own question thus:

Not anything physical…”

Jackson's self-questioning concludes with the statement that “[c]onsequently there is more to us than the purely physical”. Thus: “Thus Physicalism is false.”

As it stands, this seems to assume that the phenomenal - by definition - must be nonphysical. Many philosophers reject this. Indeed, according to certain physicalists (such as David Lewis), they do think that the phenomenal is something over and above the physical – or, at the least, above the physical as we currently describe it. (The point, however, is that we can't have new knowledge of an experience of red, etc.) Jackson tells us that certain philosophers

sincerely deny that there cannot be physical replicas of us in other possible worlds which nevertheless lack consciousness”.

Perhaps we can say here that such beings couldn't exist according to the physical laws of our world. Aren’t philosophers usually talking to us about the possibility of zombies in our world? Or, at the least, about zombies at a possible world which still nevertheless shares our laws of nature? However, isn’t it logically possible that zombies could exist not only at other possible worlds; but also in our own? Isn't this scenario metaphysically possible?

What is it like to be...?

Thomas Nagel offered us something very special to this general debate when he published his paper, ‘What is it like to be a Bat?’. Very generally, S can't tell us what it is like “from a bat’s point of view”. The bat’s point of view is “not our point of view”. In addition, the bat’s point of view

is not something captureable in physical terms which are essentially terms understandable equally from many points of view”.

David Hume (according to Jackson) offered an argument that goes against the general position (at this time). Hume argued that

from knowledge of some shades of blue we can work out what it would be like to see other shades of blue”.

So did Hume believe that we could deduce (or infer) what a new shade of blue is like simply by studying the physical basis of the given shades of blue? Or did Hume mean that we could work out a new shade of blue from the shades of blue we've already seen (i.e., not from the physical substructure of our known shades of blue)? These two claims are quite different.

For example, we could work out the physical substructure of another shade of blue by examining it. Though we still couldn't imagine another shade of blue. As for inferring another shade of blue simply from our previous experiences of known shades of blue: this is equally contestable and probably untrue. Indeed both hypotheses seem untrue, at least prima facie.

The Bogey of Epiphenomenalism

Jackson now introduces epiphenomenalism into the debate.

What is epiphenomenalism?

Well, for a start, epiphenomenalists don't deny qualia. However, they do

countenance the idea that qualia are causally impotent with respect to the physical world”.

Again, believers in epiphenomenalism don't necessarily deny that there are qualia. Instead they believe (or some of them do) that it's “possible to hold that certain properties of certain mental states” can indeed be seen as qualia. However, “their possession or absence makes no difference to the physical world”. They are "causally impotent".

Perhaps, however, an epiphenomenalist can accept that the

instantiation of qualia makes a difference to other mental states though not to anything physical”.

One can immediately ask here whether or not it's coherent to deny qualia causal efficacy at the same time as allowing that they may well make a difference to other mental states (regardless of their effect on anything purely physical).

There are good reasons for holding that qualia are indeed causally inefficacious.

For example, “a quale like the hurtfulness of pain must be causally efficacious in the physical world”. A pain is a phenomenal process that can cause us, for example, to remove our hand from a fire. This is a causal relation (or link) between phenomenal pain and the physical movement of a hand. Surely this causal link is real. However, there's a Humean argument against believing this which makes use of a general position which is taken from Hume’s well-known stance on causality. Jackson writes:

"No matter how often B follows A, and no matter how initially obvious the causality of the connection seems, the hypothesis that A causes B can be overturned by an overarching theory which shows the two as distinct effects of a common underlying causal process.”

We can rewrite the passage above by making it germane to our current debate. Thus:

No matter how often the removing of one’s hands follows one's experience of intense heat, and no matter how initially obvious the causality of that connection seems, the hypothesis that the intense heat causes the removal of one's hand can be overturned by an overarching theory which shows the two as distinct effects of a common underlying causal process.

In that case, what would that common underlying causal process actually be? Why augment entities at all by positing yet another causal process to account for the feeling of heat and the removal of the hand? The epiphenomenalist argument would of course be that instead of the feeling of intense heat being itself a cause of the moving of the hand, there will be a causal process which subserves the feeling of intense heat. It would be that underlying cause that prompts the sudden movement of the hand. The feeling of pain (or the quale) simply “rides on the top” of this so far undiscovered underlying causal process.

So why the quale or the feeling at all? What point does it serve? Why not simply do without it? Why not give a fully physical and behaviourist account of what happens? And if there is such an account, then what point is pain from an evolutionary point of view? Jackson alights on this last point. He asks:

We may assume that qualia evolved over time… and so we should expect qualia to be conducive to survival. The objection is that they could hardly help us to survive if they do nothing to the physical world.”

The assumption here is that everything about the human body and mind has its evolutionary value in the precise sense that it helps us survive in some shape or form. This is wrong... according to Darwinians.

Take the well-known case of a coat being both warm and heavy, which Jackson cites. A warm coat was clearly once conducive to survival for all kinds of animal (including human beings). The problem is that warm coats are also heavy coats. The coat’s heaviness was not conducive to survival (for obvious reasons). However, this example of both pro and con is adequately explained by evolutionists and indeed by Jackson. He writes:

Having a heavy coat is an unavoidable concomitant of having a warm coat… and the advantages for survival of having a warm coat outweighed the disadvantages of having a heavy one.”

What has this to do with the qualia debate? The epiphenomenalist argues that qualia

are a by-product of certain brain processes that are highly conducive to survival”.

As is often the case in many debates in the philosophy of mind, the problem of other minds also raises its head. In terms of qualia, we can ask the following question:

[H]ow can a person’s behaviour provide any reason for believing he has qualia like mine, or indeed any qualia at all, unless this behaviour can be regarded as the outcome of the qualia?”

Clearly another person’s physical behaviour doesn't point directly - or even indirectly - to the existence of qualia (like or unlike our own). So what's the point of qualia? Even if that question was answered a moment ago, can’t we still see this lack of behavioural evidence for qualia - as well as their very existence - as pointing us to the conclusion that behaviour must indeed be the outcome of qualia? Clearly an epiphenomenalist can't accept this conclusion.

Jackson then reiterates the basic epiphenomenalist position on qualia. He writes:

Now the epiphenomenalist allows that qualia are effects of what goes on in the brain. Qualia cause nothing physical but are caused by something physical.”

We know this position by now. However, the epiphenomenalist can still give a physical or behaviourist account of qualia. He does so in the following way:

Hence the epiphenomenalist can argue from the behaviour of others to the qualia of others by arguing from the behaviour of others back to its causes in the brains of others and out again to their qualia.”

The epiphenomenalist has already accepted qualia and he gives a physical account of them. Thus if the epiphenomenalist accepts that he indeed has qualia, he must make sense of this in terms of the behaviour of other people. If other people behave like him, and he admits to his own qualia, then he can happily accept that because others behave like him, then they (probably?) also have their own qualia. And because he's already argued that qualia are caused by the brain, then the brains of other people must cause their qualia too. Thus qualia are given a physical or behaviourist explanation, even if qualia are still seen as being inefficacious physically.

Many, if not all, epiphenomenalists argue that the supposed causal impotence of qualia is a godsend for die-hard (neo) dualists. They merely “sooth” their “intuitions”. The fact remains, however, that they are an "excrescence":

They do nothing, they explain nothing…”

At least they do nothing and explain nothing if one accepts the general epiphenomenalist position; which many philosophers of mind don't!

We talked earlier about the relevance of evolutionary theory on the qualia debate.

So what about an evolutionary account of our knowledge - or lack thereof - in regards to the reality of qualia? Perhaps our lack of knowledge of qualia can also be explained in evolutionary terms. Jackson states that

it is very likely that there is a part of the whole scheme of things, maybe a big part, which no amount of evolution will ever bring us near to knowledge about or understanding of”.

The simple reason for this is that “such knowledge and understanding is irrelevant to survival”. This may account for this epistemological dearth on our part. Similarly, it's been argued (by, for example, Donald Davidson) that certain false beliefs are quite helpful for survival in certain contexts! In addition, Jackson’s position is a little like Colin McGinn’s in that he talks in terms of “cognitive closure”. That is, we are (or we may be) cognitively incapable of acquiring a complete knowledge of consciousness (or of qualia).

Perhaps McGinn’s own position can also be given an evolutionary explanation.

References

Jackson, Frank. (1982) 'Epiphenomenal Qualia'.