How a nervous system operates without giving rise to an experience

In our bodies, if our knee is lightly tapped, our leg moves automatically (with no intention on our part) and independently of the experience of the tap that we sense.  The information that originates in our knee, with the tap, splits up and moves through two separate pathways: one path goes to our brain through the spinal cord, where it is processed to produce the corresponding experience; the other path involves a different circuit, going through the spinal cord to the muscles that operate the leg, without ever reaching the brain. In the second path, the information takes a much shorter direct route to enable our body to react quickly to the stimulus (‘reflex arc’). There is a good reason why this dual mechanism exists. There are cases where some part of the body will be endangered by a slow reaction to an external threat. If we had to think about moving because of pain, rather than responding automatically, we might not act quickly enough to avoid harm.

What is relevant here is that the information transmitted through this ‘reflex arc’ is never experienced because it is never processed by a central nervous system. The non-centralized nervous systems of some animals operate just as reflex arcs do. Information is transmitted from the cells receiving certain stimuli to other cells which must be activated, without any involvement of subjective experience. In these cases, there is a merely mechanical transmission of information. Such reactions are not an indication of sentience.

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No binding, no suffering

Plants don’t suffer. Their fictitious misery should not be used to justify the real misery of our nonhuman animal victims. “But how do you know plants don’t suffer?!” says the meat-eater, affecting a touching concern for the well-being vegetables. “Science proves plants feel pain!”

But no. Suppose that consciousness is fundamental in Nature, or at least to individual cells. Plant cells are encased in thick cellulose cell walls. So they aren’t phenomenally-bound subjects of experience. Organisms such as plants without the capacity for rapid self-propelled motion haven’t evolved the energetically expensive nervous-systems needed to support phenomenal binding. No binding = no suffering.

A lot of computer scientists and natural scientists are implicitly epiphenomenalists – though they probably wouldn’t use the term. But epiphenomena don’t have the causal power to inspire discussions on their existence.

Even so, might consciousness be a spandrel? What’s consciousness evolutionarily “for” – other than inspiring useless philosophical discussions? Well, imagine if we were just 86 billion odd classical neurons, as textbook neuroscience suggests. Phenomenal binding would be impossible. So we wouldn’t be able to experience individual perceptual objects. There would be no unity of perception nor unity of the self. We couldn’t run phenomenal world-simulations. Indeed, a micro-experiential zombie would soon starve or get eaten.

Yet how is phenomenal binding possible?

— David Pearce

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Epiphenomenalism cannot be true

In brief, epiphenomenalism cannot be true. Qualia, it turns out, must have a causally relevant role in forward-propelled organisms, for otherwise natural selection would have had no way of recruiting it. I propose that the reason why consciousness was recruited by natural selection is found in the tremendous computational power that it afforded to the real-time world simulations it instantiates through the use of the nervous system. More so, the specific computational horse-power of consciousness is phenomenal binding –the ontological union of disparate pieces of information by becoming part of a unitary conscious experience that synchronically embeds spaciotemporal structure. While phenomenal binding is regarded as a mere epiphenomenon (or even as a totally unreal non-happening) by some, one needs only look at cases where phenomenal binding (partially) breaks down to see its role in determining animal behavior.

Once we recognize the computational role of consciousness, and the causal network that links it to behavior, a new era will begin.

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Can someone debunk Solipsism?

We live as we dream – alone.”
(Joseph Conrad, ‘Heart of Darkness’ (1899))

The sceptical Problem Of Other Minds will be solved by biotechnology. Compare people born without a corpus callosum to connect their cerebral hemispheres, or “split brain” patients who’ve had their corpus callosum surgically severed to treat epilepsy. If one hemisphere entertains doubts whether the other hemisphere is really conscious (aka the Problem Of Other Hemispheres), then currently the sceptical hemisphere can’t prove the sentience of its twin. However, advanced biotech promises corpora callosa grown to order, laying sceptical doubts to rest. More radically, artificially-grown corpora callosa and reversible thalamic bridges will let neurotypical humans partially “mind-meld” like the conjoined Hogan sisters today. So yes, solipsism can, in principle, be scientifically disproved.

Mind-melding won’t be technically easy. Are there other objective tests of consciousness?

This is a contentious issue. On standard materialist assumptions, i.e. the formalism of quantum field theory describes fields of insentience, there is no scientific touchstone of consciousness. If physicists and chemists are correct about the fundamental properties of energy and matter, then we should all be p-zombies. First-person facts shouldn’t exist. One’s own mind is the anomaly. Eliminative materialists bite the bullet and claim that humans are p-zombies – although eliminativists disbelieve in their own minds, too, so they aren’t solipsists. Here let’s assume that science should be empirically adequate; most of us struggle to feign anaesthesia. A monistic materialist ontology – as distinct from monistic physicalist ontology – can’t be reconciled with the empirical evidence, i.e. one’s own experience. Dualism and mysterianism lead nowhere. By contrast, non-materialist physicalism is not just empirically adequate, but also has explanatory and predictive power. I don’t know whether non-materialist physicalism is true – it feels absurd. But speculatively, futuristic cerebroscopes could use molecular matter-wave interferometry to demonstrate the insentience of silicon robots and the sentience of biological nervous systems. On this story, scrambled phase coherence is the hallmark of the zombie. The non-classical interference signature diagnostic of phenomenally-bound minds will disclose a perfect structural match between minds and the formalism of physics. Or rather, I predict a perfect structural match. It’s easy to delude oneself. Yet dualism is crazy too.

Will mind-melding technologies or futuristic neuroscanning (eventually) vindicate common sense?

Not entirely, IMO. Solipsism, i.e. the conjecture one is the only sentient being, should be distinguished from the theory that one inhabits a virtual world populated by zombies. Perceptual direct realists conflate these two theories, so the distinction needs elaboration.

Everyone you meet when you’re dreaming is a zombie. Ascribing consciousness to other organisms on the basis of their similar behaviour is systematically misleading; the argument from analogy fails in dreamworlds. Unless you’re having a lucid dream, you are deceived by phantoms. Dreaming is evolutionarily ancient, so life on Earth supports countless zombie-ridden virtual dreamworlds. What’s more controversial is the nature of waking worlds. The perceptual direct realist believes that waking consciousness confers an ability directly to perceive the local environment, including other people’s bodies – and occasionally their exposed brains, too, in a surgical operating theatre. According to the perceptual direct realist, the observable bodies of other organisms are brute facts about our public macroscopic world; only the consciousness of other organisms in this shared arena is a challenge to prove. By contrast, the inferential realist about the external world believes that awake and dreaming world-simulations alike are populated by zombies. The difference between dreaming and perceptual consciousness is that during waking life the zombies of one’s acquaintance are the avatars of sentient beings whose existence one may infer on theoretical grounds, together with the rest of the cosmos. So the argument from analogy may be invoked with justification, but only to hypothesise other zombie-ridden world-simulations run by minds akin to one’s own, not to anthropomorphise the zombies populating one’s own mind. Kant said as much, though he didn’t talk about zombies. The inferred external world sculpts and partly selects the waking world-simulations run by one’s skull-bound mind. Yet even the seemingly faraway horizon is an intrinsic property of the neocortical matter and energy within one’s transcendental skull. Whereas dreamworlds are autonomous, waking up from sleep reboots one’s world-simulation and brings world-making under tight external control via peripheral nerve inputs. Yet the skull is a windowless prison. “Waking up” doesn’t allow feats of remote viewing or confer any other kinds of psi power. In other words, the solipsist is right to believe that his perceived reality is autobiographical; but he’s wrong to believe he is special. Disposable world-simulations in the guise of external reality are an adaptation of animal life.

Does this diagnosis matter?
Typically, the waking psychosis of perceptual direct realism is better for one’s mental health than inferential realism. In common with e.g. Roko’s Basilisk, the Simulation Argument, Bolzmann Brains and Everettian Quantum Mechanics, the world-simulation model of the human predicament is a meme-hazard. In everyday life, perceptual realism is a healthy psychosis to be encouraged in everyone but the most psychologically robust.

However, intellectually speaking, the conceptual framework of perceptual realism also leads to unfathomable mysteries such as (1) the Hard Problem of consciousness, i.e. how does a lump of neural porridge generate first-person facts? (2) the phenomenal Binding Problem in neuroscience, i.e. why aren’t we micro-experiential zombies composed of membrane-bound pixels of “mind-dust”? and (3) the Measurement Problem in quantum mechanics, i.e. why does the otherwise universally valid superposition principle of QM break down on measurement to yield definite outcomes in accordance with the Born rule? Such mysteries proliferate: they are unanswerable within the conceptual framework of perceptual realism. In my view, scientists should trust the formalism of unmodified and unsupplemented (i.e. unitary-only) quantum mechanics, not folk-realism about perception. Our minds exemplify the superposition principle, not its breakdown. In fairness, this is a controversial position. But when saying anything about consciousness, what isn’t?

Ethically speaking, whether we adopt the conceptual framework of inferential realism or common sense perceptual realism wouldn’t matter if natural selection had optimised our waking world-simulations to mirror things as they are. In some ways, the world-simulations run by scientific rationalists are faithful to the structural-relational properties of inferred extra-cranial reality; hence technological civilisation. In other respects, our world-simulations are egocentric cartoons. Some dark Darwinian minds are probably best left entombed in their skulls. Yet in my view, the reason we should favour the development of mind-melding technologies to breach our solipsistic island-universes isn’t their potential to banish philosophical doubt, or even to overcome semantic solipsism. Rather, the tools of inter-personal and cross-species mind-melding will bring about a revolution in both ethics and decision-theoretic rationality – an artificial distinction born of the skull-bound prison of Darwinian life.

The evilness of suffering

“I believe that most of us tend to underrate the evilness of suffering. The reason is that it is difficult for us, when not actually suffering, to recollect what suffering really is. We employ numerous psychological mechanisms to conceal from our consciousness the true nature or meaning of suffering, to falsify and deny it. We do this without renouncing the word, however. The word comes to designate, in our minds, only a faint copy or superficial image of the real thing; but having forgotten what the original is, we mistake it in the copy. We ascribe to “suffering” a certain gravity of evil; but it is slight compared to what we would ascribe to suffering itself, if we could only recall its true meaning.

[…]

The falsification of suffering is everywhere — in movies, in poetry, in novels, on the nightly news. Accounts of disaster routinely veer from a discussion of the agony and plight of the victims (which quickly becomes tiresome) to the description of some moving act of kindness or bravery. Often it is these descriptions that affect us the most and that provoke the greatest outburst of emotion. These are the images we often take away and that become our image of “suffering.” Suffering comes to be closely associated with stirring images of hope in adversity, acts of moral heroism and touching kindness, gestures of human dignity, sentiments of noble sympathy and tremulous concern, the comfort and consolation of tears. It turns into something beautiful. It becomes poetry. People begin to refer to “sublime suffering.” Suffering, in other words, becomes just exactly what it is not.”

– “Suffering and Moral Responsiblity” by Jamie Mayerfeld.

Source: Qualia Computing

An overview of wagers for reducing future suffering

Pascal’s wager is a famous argument for why one should believe in God. If God exists, then eternal life in heaven or hell is at stake, but if God doesn’t exist, one’s belief does not matter much – so one should wager on the former. (The validity of this argument has been discussed at length.)

More generally, whenever we consider two hypotheses H1 and H2 about the world, the stakes may be higher in one of the two cases – say, if H1 is true. This is a reason to act as if H1 is true, even if it is not most likely. For instance, the precautionary principle emphasises caution towards potentially harmful innovations (e.g. a new medicine) as long as we have substantial uncertainty.

In this post, I will consider wagers that are relevant to effective altruism – that is, hypotheses that would allow us to have a particularly large impact. I’m most interested in reducing future suffering, but many of these wagers also apply to other goals.”

Richard Dawkins about suffering in nature

“The total amount of suffering per year in the natural world is beyond all decent contemplation. During the minute it takes me to compose this sentence, thousands of animals are being eaten alive; others are running for their lives, whimpering with fear; others are being slowly devoured from within by rasping parasites; thousands of all kinds are dying of starvation, thirst and disease.”

Richard Dawkins

Is sentience evolutionarily useful or physically inevitable?

It is very intuitive to believe that sentience motivates us to make (better) decisions (“better”, from an evolutionary point of view).

But we can also consider that it is possible that we are sentient robots, but without will, that we simply do what we have been programmed for, even though we have the feeling that we make free decisions, so that sentience really does not play any role in the evolution in form of motivation.

If there is no will, then the apparent motivation produced by sentience would also be an illusion. Sentience would be a byproduct of certain physical conditions, or something ubiquitous (Panpsychism). Sentience would appear to be evolutionarily useful, and yet what would be evolutionarily useful would be such physical conditions.

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On theories of sentience: a talk with Magnus Vinding

Magnus Vinding is a philosopher focused on reducing suffering. In his works, he has covered topics such as effective altruism, anti-speciesism, suffering-focused ethics (about which he was writing a book at the time of this interview), and issues of personal identity and ontology, such as open individualism and physicalism. He has a degree in mathematics and is the author of the books: Why We Should Go Vegan, Why “Happy Meat” Is Always Wrong, Speciesism: Why It Is Wrong and the Implications of Rejecting It, Reflections on Intelligence, You Are Them, and Effective Altruism: How Can We Best Help Others?

[Puedes leer esta entrevista en español aquí]

Manu Herrán: Let’s start with the very beginning. I’ll use the word sentience for experiences of suffering and enjoyment, and consciousness for subjective experiences in general. Not only pain and pleasure but, for instance, to perceive. Does it match your terminology?

Magnus Vinding: Yes.

Manu Herrán: Some researchers consider that in general non human animals have a lack of consciousness. Does it implies that they deserve less (or even none) moral consideration?

Magnus Vinding: “Consciousness” is sometimes understood as “self-knowledge”, which one may seek to operationalize and measure in various ways, yet one obvious way is to ask whether an individual is able to pass the mirror test. Many non-human animals are evidently conscious in this sense. But beyond that, it’s certainly possible for, let’s say, an invertebrate or a developing human child to feel pain without a very clear idea of what’s happening, without having any self-model. But that doesn’t diminish the moral relevance of the suffering itself, if it exists. Sentience, I submit, is ultimately what matters, or at any rate what matters most.

Manu Herrán: Sentience is the only thing that matters?

Magnus Vinding: Philosophers disagree about this. Though it seems most do agree that, to the extent anything matters, sentience is at least among what matters.

Manu Herrán: Other people consider beauty, complexity or life. Or knowledge.

Magnus Vinding: One can argue that knowledge, especially if construed broadly such that it includes epistemic values, has a special status. If we zoom out a bit, we may think in terms of epistemic values on the one hand (e.g. consistency, parsimony, “seeming reasonable/plausible”, etc.) and moral values on the other (e.g. reducing suffering, living kindly, never lying, etc.).

The relationship between these two classes of values is interesting, I think. For example, we must depend on certain epistemic values to reach any set of moral values, yet we may then in turn decide, based on our moral values, to change certain epistemic values we initially held, such as if we think excess curiosity and exploration might cause more suffering in the future. And this might have a cost of closing off certain knowledge that might actually change our moral values further. The question of how to best balance such values against each other is a deep one; after all, which values should one rest on here? This is deep philosophy.

In relation to the notion that beauty, complexity or life are good (or bad for that matter), my own view is that they only have instrumental value. That is, they are good or bad to the extent there is someone whose experience is impacted positively of negatively by them.

The same can be said about knowledge, if we disregard the more fundamental issue mentioned above: on my view of ethics, knowledge is good to the extent it can help us avoid extreme suffering (which is not to say we should necessarily think about knowledge in such instrumental terms; that may not be useful in most cases).

Manu Herrán: You are in contact with the main researchers and organizations that aim to reduce suffering. Would you say that you share a common understanding of sentience, what it is, and where it comes from?

Magnus Vinding: In some aspects yes, but not in others. It would take a very long time to explain it all properly, but the main distinction is that between realists and non-realists about consciousness.

Non-realists, or eliminativists, hold that consciousness does not really exist. This view has been defended by Brian Tomasik, and it seems to have inspired many people concerned about reducing suffering (Brian has in turn been inspired by Daniel Dennett and Eliezer Yudkowsky).

Eliminativism is also the view Sentience Institute tentatively subscribes to, though I say tentatively because Sentience Institute does not seem to actually hold that consciousness does not exist — e.g. Jacy Reese writes: “I am fully on board with, ‘I think, therefore I am,’ and the notion that you can have 100% confidence in your own first-person experience.” The sense in which Jacy denies the existence of consciousness is thus, as far as I can tell, more in the sense that consciousness is not a crisp category, just as, say, “music” is not a crisp, well-demarcated category. Yet this, I would argue, is not to deny the existence of consciousness in any substantive sense; after all, most realists would agree with the claim that consciousness — in the sense of a complex composite mind — is not a clearly delineated category.

I have tried, elsewhere, to draw an analogy to sound and music: just because “music” is a fuzzy category, and we may not be able to give a clear answer to whether a collection of sounds counts as music or not, this does not mean there are no truths about the nature of this collection of sounds (their volume, pitch, character, etc.). The same, I would argue, can be applied to consciousness: just because we may not be able to agree on what counts as a composite mind (which is often what the term “consciousness” connotes) does not mean there are no truths about the phenomenal state of a given mind-brain (in terms of intensity, its content, its character, etc.).

In contrast to the non-realists, you have explicit realists about consciousness. One of these is David Pearce, who views “consciousness” and “the physical” as one and the same phenomenon under different descriptions (I have tried to give a simple explanation of his view here). Pearce has put forth a daring hypothesis about consciousness in concrete physical terms which one can find here.

Other realists include Mike Johnson and Andrés Gómez Emilsson who have co-founded the Qualia Research Institute in order to explore the physical signatures of consciousness from a somewhat more agnostic position than Pearce’s (in terms of what the physical signatures might ultimately be).

Beyond that, there is a distinction to be drawn between functionalist and non-functionalist (or one may perhaps call them “concretist”) accounts of consciousness. Brian Tomasik is a functionalist, whereas someone like Mike Johnson is not — he used to be, yet he changed his mind and has written the following, in my mind, rather strong critique of functionalism. Pearce sometimes calls himself a “micro-functionalist”, meaning that if a mind-brain is reproduced down to the level of the finest “micro-physical” detail, in a concrete rather than an abstract sense, then it will have the same phenomenal properties as the original. But not otherwise, and hence he is not a functionalist in the traditional sense.

These views, in turn, have very different implications for what suffering is in particular and what we can do about it. For instance, David Pearce views suffering as a concrete phenomenon we will likely come to understand in great detail and ultimately phase out, whereas Brian Tomasik does not see suffering as something that can be crisply understood or phased out; on his view, suffering is, at least in one sense, more inherent to reality.

Manu Herrán: This is a very important difference, with very significant implications in the allocation of resources in a possible project to reduce suffering. Isn’t it? I’m thinking, for example, on the project of The Hedonistic Imperative.

Magnus Vinding: Yes, though exploring the full extent of the differences is beyond the scope of this conversation. It is also worth pointing out, however, that there are significant points of convergence, including that the boundaries we draw in relation to which beings can suffer are quite fuzzy from our current vantage point. Though from a realist perspective, they are fuzzy due to our ignorance, whereas they are fuzzy more or less by definition on the non-realist view. Thus, realism arguably implies more research on this question than does non-realism (which is not to say that one will necessarily ever find certain answers given realism).

Beyond that, it is worth noting that, regardless of their views of consciousness, people in Effective Altruism who try to reduce suffering pretty much all agree that we should seek to explore future risks with an open mind; that we should seek to engage with other people in friendly, cooperative ways; that we should expand the moral circle; that we should promote compassion and wise consequentialist thinking, etc.

Manu Herrán: How can Brian reconcile eliminativism and functionalism? I mean, if I understand correctly, Brian believes in eliminativism and functionalism at the same time.

Magnus Vinding: You would have to ask him, I guess. But I suspect he would say eliminativism is true objectively whereas (his) functionalism is the way he chooses, subjectively, to define consciousness and sentience.

Manu Herrán: Do you think that Brian and David have each just a single strong belief about their own (different) understandings on sentience, or do they honestly recognize that other theories may be true as well?

Magnus Vinding: I know David struggles to understand Brian’s view, i.e. to understand what it even means. Brian, to my knowledge, mostly retains some uncertainty for Aumann reasons. But speaking more generally, I think both of them tend to acknowledge that we may well all be very wrong about the nature of reality, and that our human concepts may ultimately do a poor job of capturing what is really going on.

Manu Herrán: Which is your preferred view or views on consciousness? I mean, in the sense of “more probable hypothesis”.

Magnus Vinding: My view is physicalist and not functionalist in the macro sense, but only in the micro/”concretist” sense. In general, I think David Pearce is right that, as Mike Johnson sums up David’s view: “consciousness is ‘ontologically unitary’, and so only a physical property that implies ontological unity (such as quantum coherence) could physically instantiate consciousness.” (Principia Qualia, p. 73).

That is, I lean toward the view that my present conscious mind is an actual, unitary physical “thing”. After all, if experience is not physically unitary in this way, if it can emerge from something physically disconnected by a small distance, then why should it not be able to emerge from something separated by a large distance? Why should the physical state that mediates one particular aspect of my experience — say, sights — not be situated in another country, or indeed on another planet, from the physical states that mediate other aspects, such as sounds and emotions? (I draw a similar analogy to computers made of billard balls here). There must, I think, be some connection and integration in physical terms, and I suspect most people’s intuitions would agree.

And the relevant question is then in which systems such connection/integration obtains. Could it, for instance, ever obtain in systems such as present-day computers? I doubt it, and I think too many in our circles treat a positive answer to this question as a foregone conclusion, and consider doubts about it tantamount to supernaturalism and anthropocentrism. I just think this is wrong. Computers have not been designed to bring together a lot of sensory-information from their environments to act on for their survival, moment-to-moment. Biological brains have. This is a pretty significant difference. And saying that two highly abstract models of two different physical systems are in some sense isomorphic (say, some abstract model of a PC and of a brain respectively) in no way implies that every relevant property these physical systems have will be shared.

Manu Herrán: Is your physicalist view the same as David Pearce’s?

Magnus Vinding: In some ways. Yet as far as I can tell, I am much more agnostic about the nature of consciousness in physical terms. But at the level of the basics, I follow Pearce, and have indeed been greatly inspired by him. That is, like Pearce, I hold a monist view according to which there is just one world conforming to different descriptions.

This view may seem counter-intuitive, yet I think the analogy I drew above in relation to sound in general and music in particular can actually help dissolve some of our confusion and render it more intuitive. The problem is that we have this one word, consciousness, which covers far too much. Some vocabular refinement is called for (see the previous link for elaboration).

Another point of confusion is that we conflate epistemology and ontology — in a sense, we confuse our physical models of reality for reality itself, and we fail to realize when we speak about epistemological reduction versus ontological reduction, something I say more about in a recent post called Physics Is Also Qualia.

Manu Herrán: All the different theories sound complex, but your explanations are clarifying them a lot. Can we summarize that Brian, David and you have different views about sentience?

Magnus Vinding: Yes, that is quite safe to say. Although the difference between David and myself is not so large; we are close to each other relative to Brian (although, in some ways, Brian is also close, such as when he describes his view as a panpsychist view). The main difference between David’s view and my own is, as mentioned, that I am more agnostic concerning the physical “details”. Also, unlike David, I don’t think I have really said anything original; the things I have written about consciousness mostly clarify and defend aspects of David’s view.

Manu Herrán: Do you think we will be able to defeat suffering?

Magnus Vinding: I will give a functional answer that is useful for moral agents: I think moral agents aiming to reduce suffering should always spend a large fraction of their resources exploring how they can best reduce suffering in expectation, and this would be true even if suffering had been abolished.

Also, whether suffering can be abolished ultimately depends on one’s view of the nature of time and the universe at large, so it is not easy to give a straightforward answer.

Beyond that, I would also say that focusing on defeating suffering as one’s goal may actually be harmful. It is better, I think, to focus on reducing the most suffering in expectation (within the bounds of reasonable side-constraints), which in the best case will entail the “defeat of suffering” anyway.

Manu Herrán: Thanks Magnus. It has been a pleasure to have this talk.

Magnus Vinding: I can say the same thing. Good luck with your projects.