HT Bill Meacham,
original post HERE. (credit to Bill Meacham,
Philosophy for Real Life blog - retrieved March 27th, 2012. All rights reserved and credited to the author)
In Defense of Panpsychism
by Bill Meacham on March 2nd, 2012
Panpsychism, the idea that everything has an aspect of psyche or
mind to it, seems nutty to most people. In our everyday experience some
things are alive and some aren’t, and the difference is obvious even if
there are some grey areas. Living things have minds. At least we
ourselves do, as we know from direct experience, and it is not too much
of a stretch to say that all living things do. But what sense does it
make to say that dead things have minds?
I have written about panpsychism a couple of times before (see
“Dead or Alive?” and
“Mental Causation”),
and some readers have asked for a more rigorous defense of the theory
than I have given in those articles. It is all very well to say that
Panpsychism is a more coherent metaphysics than others, but what does
that actually mean? OK, here goes. This is a bit more technical than
usual, and longer, so please bear with me.
First, some context. This is all about the mind-body problem. Mental
objects, such as thoughts and feelings, have no extension in space and
are directly perceivable only by the person thinking or feeling them.
Physical (bodily) objects have extension in space and are perceivable by
more than one person. The question is, how are they related?
Here is the argument in its bare logical form as adapted from contemporary philosopher Galen Strawson:(1)
| 0. |
Reality is made of only one type of stuff. There is only one
ultimate category that applies to everything. We call this view Monism. |
assumption |
| 1. |
Everything real has a material aspect. That is, every instance of
the one type of stuff of which reality is made is observable from an
external, publicly-available point of view. |
premise |
| 2. |
Our own experience, directly observable only from the point of view of the one who is having it, is indisputably real. |
premise |
| 3. |
Hence, at least some of reality has an experiential aspect as well as a material aspect. |
lemma (1,2) (A lemma is a conclusion that is then used as a premise in a further chain of argument.) |
| 4. |
There is no radical emergence of experience from non-experiential
stuff. The experiential aspect of something does not radically emerge
from the material aspect. (By “radical” I mean strong, as opposed to
weak, emergence. See discussion below.) |
premise |
| 5. |
Hence, experience is as fundamental to reality as matter. |
conclusion (3,4) |
|
|
|
| 5. |
Experience is fundamental to reality. |
lemma |
| 6. |
What is real is ultimately made up of very tiny elements; these are its fundamental constituents. |
premise |
| 7. |
Hence, at least some fundamental constituents of reality are
intrinsically and irreducibly experiential as well as material in
nature. For short, we call this idea “micropsychism.” |
conclusion (5,6) |
|
|
|
| 7. |
Micropsychism is true. |
lemma |
| 8. |
The assertion that all fundamental constituents of reality are
experiential as well as material is simpler than and preferable to the
assertion some are and some are not. |
premise |
| 9. |
Hence, all fundamental constituents of reality are intrinsically and
irreducibly experiential in nature as well as material. For short, we
call this “panpsychism.” |
conclusion (7,8) |
Well that is terse, but it shows the logical structure of the
argument. As in all logical arguments, the final conclusion is
demonstrated to be true only if the logic is sound and all the premises
are true. There is a surprisingly large body of recent work on this
subject examining each of the premises in detail. I am certainly not
going to reproduce it all, but I will go over the premises and give some
reasons why I think each of them makes sense.
We start off by assuming monism, the view that everything is
made of the same kind of stuff. Depending on whom you ask, that might
be matter (wholly non-experiential), the view known as materialism; mind
(wholly non-material), the view known as idealism; or something in
between that takes on aspects of both matter and mind. The alternative
is dualism, which says that matter and mind are two entirely distinct
kinds of stuff. The problem with dualism, of course, is how to explain
the interaction between the two. I take it that monism is not a
controversial assumption.
The first premise says that everything has a material, or physical,
aspect; so the argument starts off agreeing with the materialists. I am
giving an operational definition of “material”: what is material is
detectable or observable by more than one person. The first premise says
that what is real is objectively there, and can be discerned by anyone
with suitable training and instruments.
You would think that the second premise, that our own experience is
indisputably real, would be equally uncontroversial, but that is not the
case. Surprisingly, some people say that experience isn’t really real.
Most notoriously, Daniel Dennett, a materialist, makes the following
assertion, where “phenomenology” means the various items in conscious
experience:(2) “There seems to be phenomenology. That is a fact …. But it does not follow … that there really is phenomenology.”(3)
As Strawson points out, seeming itself is a type of experience, so the argument fails on the face of it.(4)
Dennett’s claim is not so absurd as it sounds, because Dennett is
arguing that what is really real is the brain activity that creates our
experience. He says, for instance, that our experience seems smooth and
continuous, but the physiology behind it is discontinuous and full of
gaps. Hence, our experience is not really continuous at all.(5)
But that just begs the question. In order to know anything about brain
activity we have to see readings on dials, squiggles on paper, etc., and
seeing is a kind of experience. The one thing we cannot doubt, when we
are experiencing something, is that experience is going on. We can find
out that we are mistaken about the objects of our experience, as when we
see a hallucination or an optical illusion, but that we are
experiencing is the bedrock of everything.
The conclusion from the first two premises is that experience is an
undeniable aspect of whatever the universe is made of. And so is matter,
of course. Now the question is, what is the relationship between
experience and matter? A common claim is that experience emerges from
non-experiential matter when matter reaches a certain degree of
complexity. Premise 4 denies this claim.
The basic idea of emergence is that new properties arise in systems as a result of interactions at an elemental level.(6)
A case in point is liquidity. A single molecule of water is not liquid,
nor are its constituent atoms. But when you put several molecules of
water together, you have a liquid (at certain temperatures). Liquidity
is an emergent property, specifically a form of “weak” emergence: the
emergent quality is directly traceable to characteristics of the
system’s components. Water molecules do not bind together in a tight
lattice but slide past each other; that’s just part of their physical
make-up.
Some say that consciousness is an emergent property as well, that it
arises when constituent parts – neurons, sense organs and the like – are
organized with sufficient complexity. If so, the emergence of
consciousness would be a “strong” emergence. The new quality,
consciousness, would not be reducible to the system’s constituent parts;
the whole would be greater than the sum of its parts.
Strawson denies the possibility of such strong emergence. He says
“there must be something about the nature of the emerged-from (and
nothing else) in virtue of which the emerger emerges as it does and is
what it is. You can get liquidity from non-liquid molecules as easily as
you can get a cricket team from eleven things that are not cricket
teams.”(7) We can do so because in those cases “we move wholly within a completely conceptually homogeneous … set of notions.”(8)
But there is nothing about the nature of inert, non-experiential matter
that would lead to the emergence of conscious experience. The two
notions are not homogenous, but radically different. So consciousness
does not emerge from non-conscious matter.
That, at least, is the argument in favor of premise 4. If you want to
dispute it (and philosophers certainly have done so), you know where to
take aim. But if we assume that it is true, then conclusion 5 follows:
Experience is as fundamental to reality as matter; it is not something
additional that emerges from what is primitive or more fundamental. In
Strawson’s argument this is a stopping place; the rest is elaboration.
The next premise, 6, is that the ultimate constituents of reality are
quite tiny: electrons, protons, quarks, muons and the like. This
reflects the current findings of the physical sciences, and there is no
reason to doubt it.
Hence (conclusion 7), at least some fundamental constituents of
reality are intrinsically and irreducibly experiential in nature as well
as material. For short, we call this idea “micropsychism.”
Micropsychism should make the idea of panpsychism a bit more
palatable. The theory does not assert that inert substances such as
rocks and concrete walls are conscious or have any kind of experience.
It does assert that the ultimate components of such materials do have a
kind of experience, some way of taking into account of their
surroundings in a manner that, were it expanded and amplified quite a
bit, would be like our waking consciousness of our world.
Premise 8 is an application of Occam’s Razor, which advises us to
adopt the simplest theory that adequately explains all the
facts. Conclusion 7 says we have reason to think that at least some
elemental parts of reality are experiential as well as material. We have
no positive reason not to think that they all are. So it makes the
theory simpler and more elegant to apply it to everything. Hence we end
up with full-blown panpsychism (conclusion 9): all fundamental
constituents of reality are intrinsically and irreducibly experiential,
as well as material, in nature.
There is no way to tell for sure, of course. We cannot perform a
scientific experiment to demonstrate that tiny particles or waves or
whatever they are have some kind of experience of their surroundings.
Physics tells us, with mathematical precision, how they interact, but
physics tells us nothing of their internality. It’s just that it makes a
more coherent and refined theory to assume that every element, rather
than only some of them, has some sort of experience. As I like to say,
everything has an inside and an outside, the inside being the world as
experienced by the entity itself and the outside being the way that the
entity is experienced by other entities.
That’s the argument in a nutshell. The whole thing hinges on premise
4, the denial of strong emergence. Materialism requires strong emergence
to account for human consciousness. Panpsychism requires emergence as
well, but only of a weak sort. If the fundamental units of reality are
experiential as well as material, then it makes sense in principle that
elaborate combinations of them would result in the vivid consciousness
that we all enjoy while awake. But what is the nature of that
combination? Without an account of that, panpsychism has little more
explanatory plausibility than materialism.
If everything has both an inside, as panpsychism suggests, and an
outside, as both panpsychism and materialism agree, then the
organization of the outside should have some bearing on the richness of
the inside. Let’s go back to the initial conundrum, the difference
between what is living and what is not. Is there something unique about
how matter is organized in living beings that would account for the
emergence of the complex and vivid form of experience that we know as
waking consciousness? The answer is yes; it is what persists through
time. The physical matter of non-living things persists through time,
and their form changes through the impact of external forces. Living
beings are the opposite: their physical matter is constantly changing
through time, and only their form persists.
The physical matter of dead things just persists from moment to
moment without changing, or changing only through external forces. In
any given slice of time, the substance of a dead thing is the same as it
is in any other slice of time. The totality of what it is can be
encompassed in a single instant.
Living things are strikingly different. The physical matter that composes living things is constantly changing through metabolism,
the process by which matter is ingested, transformed and excreted. What
persists is not the matter itself but the form in which that matter is
organized. A single slice of time does not encompass the unity of the
living being at all. Only across time can we grasp its functional
wholeness. I follow Hans Jonas here.(9) The sense of being a
whole conscious entity emerges with metabolism, the ability of a simple
organism to maintain its structure through time by exchanging physical
matter with its environment. The physical matter changes, but the
organizational form doesn’t. (Or, it does, but it evolves so there is a
continuity.) The structure of the material aspect – a changing material
process that has a unity of form over time – gives rise to a unity of
experience over time, a macroexperience, which is of a higher order than
the microexperiences of the constituent elements.
Jonas’ insights map nicely to those of other panpsychists, the
process philosophers. Charles Hartshorne has made the distinction
between “compound” and “composite” individuals, which is roughly the
distinction between what is living and what is not.(10) A
compound individual is one which (or who), on a macro level, has a
“dominating unit,” an inclusive locus of experience, a single subject
that unifies the experiences of its components into a coherent whole.
Non-living things, although made up of actual ultimates that each have a
mental or experiential aspect, have no such unification of experience.
Hartshorne calls them “composite” rather than “compound.” David Ray
Griffin calls them “aggregate.”(11) In compound (living)
individuals the experiences of the components bind together and
reinforce each other, giving birth to a higher-level experience, a
dominant subjectivity among the micropsychic components, which is in
some ways superior to and capable of directing them. In composite (dead)
things, or aggregations, the experiences of all the component simple
individuals remain separate, and no higher-level inclusive experience
arises. It is the persistence of form in compound individuals that
enables the merging of the mentality of the micropsychic units into an
inclusive subjectivity that, in its most developed instantiation,
includes all the richness of human mental life, including a sense of
freedom and a knowledge of its own mortality.
————–
Notes
(1) Presented at a colloquium for the Department of Philosophy at the
University of Texas at Austin on 20 October 2011. I am paraphrasing
Strawson’s terminology. Strawson starts by agreeing with materialists
that concrete reality is entirely physical in nature and then argues for
a meaning of “physical” that includes both the material and the mental.
I prefer to use the term “physical” as most people do, to mean material
only.
(2) Dennett, Consciousness Explained, p. 45.
(3) Dennett, Ibid., p. 366.
(4) Strawson, “Realistic Monism,” p. 6, footnote 7.
(5) Dennett, Consciousness Explained, p. 356.
(6) Wikipedia, “Emergence.”
(7) Strawson, “Realistic Monism,” p. 15.
(8) Idem.
(9) Jonas, “Evolution and Freedom,” pp. 64-67. (Jonas, by the way, is
fascinating. A student under Heidegger, he is rooted in both
existential phenomenology and in biology, so his language is quite a bit
different from Strawson’s. He is germane because he takes seriously the
possibility that other beings besides the human have subjective
experience, what he, along with many existentialists and
phenomenologists, calls “interiority.” The germ of many aspects of human
interiority is found in the simplest of living beings: a sense of
freedom, of independence from the givenness of the material, along with a
sense of necessity, of dependence on the material for one’s existence; a
sense of Being, of life, in opposition to the ever-present possibility
of Non-being, of death; a sense of value, of the attractiveness of what
is nourishing and repulsiveness of what is dangerous; a sense of
selfhood, of inner identity that transcends the collective identity of
the always-changing components, and a sense of the world that is other
than oneself. Delicious stuff, but too much to cover in any depth in
this essay.)
(10) Hartshorne, “The Compound Individual,” pp. 215-217.
(11) Griffin, Whitehead’s Radically Different Postmodern Philosophy, pp. 58-61.
References
Dennett, Daniel C. Consciousness Explained. Boston: Little, Brown and Company, 1991.
Griffin, David Ray. Whitehead’s Radically Different Postmodern Philosophy. Albany: State University of New York Press, 2007.
Hartshorne, Charles. “The Compound Individual.” In Philosophical Essays for Alfred North Whitehead. New York: Longmans, Green and Co., 1936.
Jonas, Hans. “Evolution and Freedom: On the Continuity among Life-Forms.” In Mortality and Morality: A Search of the Good after Auschwitz, ed. Vogel, Lawrence. Evanston, IL: Northwestern University Press, 1996.
Strawson, Galen. “Real Naturalism”. Draft paper delivered at the University of Texas at Austin, 20 October 2011.
Strawson, Galen. “Realistic Monism” in Consciousness and its Place in Nature, ed. Freeman, Anthony. Charlottesville VA: Imprint Academic, 2006.
