self-consistent. But this viewpoint ignores the subjective viewpoint. It can deal with a person’s reporting of subjective experience, and it can relate reports of subjective experiences not only to outward behavior but to patterns of neural firings as well. And if I think about it, my knowledge of the subjective experience of anyone aside from myself is no different (to me) than the rest of my objective knowledge. I don’t experience other people’s subjective experiences; I just hear about them. So the only subjective experience this school of thought ignores is my own (that is, after all, what the term subjective experience means). And, hey, I’m only one person among billions of humans, trillions of potentially conscious organisms; all of whom, with just one exception, are not me.
But the failure to explain my subjective experience is a serious one. It does not explain the distinction between 0.000075 centimeter electromagnetic radiation and my experience of redness. I could learn how color perception works, how the human brain processes light, how it processes combinations of light, even what patterns of neural firings this all provokes, but it still fails to explain the essence of my experience.
I Think, Therefore I Am
The early Wittgenstein and the logical positivists that he inspired are often thought to have their roots in the philosophical investigations of René Descartes. 9 Descartes’s famous dictum “I think, therefore I am” has often been cited as emblematic of Western rationalism. This view interprets Descartes to mean “I think, that is, I can manipulate logic and symbols, therefore I am worthwhile.” But in my view, Descartes was not intending to extol the virtues of rational thought. He was troubled by what has become known as the mind-body problem, the paradox of how mind can arise from nonmind, how thoughts and feelings can arise from the ordinary matter of the brain. Pushing rational skepticism to its limits, his statement really means “I think, that is, there is an undeniable mental phenomenon, some awareness, occurring, therefore all we know for sure is that something—let’s call it I—exists.” Viewed in this way, there is less of a gap than is commonly thought between Descartes and Buddhist notions of consciousness as the primary reality.
Before 2030, we will have machines proclaiming. Descartes’s dictum. And it won’t seem like a programmed response. The machines will be earnest and convincing. Should we believe them when they claim to be conscious entities with their own volition?
The “Consciousness Is a Different Kind of Stuff” School
The issue of consciousness and free will has been, of course, a major preoccupation of religious thought. Here we encounter a panoply of phenomena, ranging from the elegance of Buddhist notions of consciousness to ornate pantheons of souls, angels, and gods. In a similar category are theories by contemporary philosophers that regard consciousness as yet another fundamental phenomenon in the world, like basic particles and forces. I call this the “consciousness is a different kind of stuff” school. To the extent that this school implies an interference by consciousness in the physical world that runs afoul of scientific experiment, science is bound to win because of its ability to verify its insights. To the extent that this view stays aloof from the material world, it often creates a level of complex mysticism that cannot be verified and is subject to disagreement. To the extent that it keeps its mysticism simple, it offers limited objective insight, although subjective insight is another matter (I do have to admit a fondness for simple mysticism).
The “We’re Too Stupid” School
Another approach is to declare that human beings just aren’t capable of understanding the answer. Artificial intelligence researcher Douglas Hofstadter muses that “it could be simply an accident of fate that our brains are too weak to
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