Mid-morning. Owen and Brennan just left for soccer. It is drizzling so
the game for Brennan and coaching practice for Owen might be called off. You
were helping to clean up, Carol is finishing. Earlier, upon request, you drove
to Schneider's for cookies and doughnuts for the boys. Carol made the big
breakfast and they took snacks to tide them over to a pizza lunch. - Amorella
0926 hours. I assume soccer will be called off. Lots of thunder storms
last night and it is mist and fog this morning. Here is further commentary on
consciousness by the neuroscientist Michael S. A. Graziano on his relatively
new book. This is more concise and easier for me to read and gain/reinforce my
understanding.
** **
What Is Consciousness?
Neuroscientist May Have Answer to the Big Question
Science
has failed to pinpoint the actual brain processes behind our awareness.
November
18, 2015
The
following is an excerpt from the new book Consciousness
and the Social Brain by Michael S. A. Graziano (Oxford
University Press, 2015):
I was in
the audience watching a magic show. Per protocol a lady was standing in a tall
wooden box, her smiling head sticking out of the top, while the magician
stabbed swords through the middle.
A man
sitting next to me whispered to his son, “Jimmy, how do you think they do
that?”
The boy
must have been about six or seven. Refusing to be impressed, he hissed back,
“It’s obvious, Dad.”
“Really?”
his father said. “You figured it out? What’s the trick?”
“The
magician makes it happen that way,” the boy said.
The
magician makes it happen. That explanation, as charmingly vacuous as it sounds,
could stand as a fair summary of almost every theory, religious or scientific,
that has been put forward to explain human consciousness.
What is
consciousness? What is the essence of awareness, the spark that makes us us?
Something lovely apparently buried inside us is aware of ourselves and of our
world. Without that awareness, zombie-like, we would presumably have no basis
for curiosity, no realization that there is a world about which to be curious,
no impetus to seek insight, whether emotional, artistic, religious, or
scientific. Consciousness is the window through which we understand.
The human
brain contains about one hundred billion interacting neurons. Neuroscientists
know, at least in general, how that network of neurons can compute information.
But how does a brain become aware of information? What is sentience itself?
The first
known scientific account relating consciousness to the brain dates back to
Hippocrates in the fifth century b.c. At that time, there was no formal
science as it is recognized today. Hippocrates was nonetheless an acute medical
observer and noticed that people with brain damage tended to lose their mental
abilities. He realized that mind is something created by the brain and that it
dies piece by piece as the brain dies. A passage attributed to him summarizes
his view elegantly:
"Men
ought to know that from the brain, and from the brain only, arise our
pleasures, joys, laughter and jests, as well as our sorrows, pains, griefs and
tears. Through it, in particular, we think, see, hear, and distinguish the ugly
from the beautiful, the bad from the good, the pleasant from the
unpleasant."
The
importance of Hippocrates’s insight that the brain is the source of the mind
cannot be overstated. It launched two and a half thousand years of
neuroscience. As a specific explanation of consciousness, however, one has to
admit that the Hippocratic account is not very helpful. Rather than explain
consciousness, the account merely points to a magician. The brain makes it
happen. How the brain does it, and what exactly consciousness may be,
Hippocrates left unaddressed. Such questions went beyond the scope of his
medical observations.
Two
thousand years after Hippocrates, in 1641, Descartes proposed a second
influential view of the brain basis of consciousness. In Descartes’s view, the
mind was made out of an ethereal substance, a fluid, that was stored in a
receptacle in the brain. He called the fluid rescogitans. Mental substance.
When he dissected the brain looking for the receptacle of the soul, he noticed
that almost every brain structure came in pairs, one on each side. In his view,
the human soul was a single, unified entity, and therefore it could not
possibly be divided up and stored in two places. In the end he found a small
single lump at the center of the brain, the pineal body, and deduced that it
must be the house of the soul. The pineal body is now known to be a gland that
produces melatonin and has nothing whatsoever to do with a soul.
Descartes’
idea, though refreshingly clever for the time, and though influential in
philosophy and theology, did not advance the scientific understanding of
consciousness. Instead of proposing an explanation of consciousness, he
attributed consciousness to a magic fluid. By what mechanism a fluid substance
can cause the experience of consciousness, or where the fluid itself comes
from, Descartes left unexplained— truly a case of pointing to a magician
instead of explaining the trick.
One of
the foundation bricks of modern science, especially modern psychology, is a
brilliant treatise so heft y that it is literally rather brick-like, Kant’s A
Critique of Pure Reason, published in 1781. In Kant’s account, the mind
relies on what he termed “a priori forms,” abilities and ideas within us that
are present first before all explanations and from which everything else
follows. On the subject of consciousness, therefore, Kant had a clear answer:
there is no explaining the magic. It is simply supplied to us by divine act.
Quite literally, the magician did it.
Hippocrates,
Descartes, and Kant represent only three particularly prominent accounts of the
mind from the history of science. I could go on describing one famous account
after the next and yet get no closer to insight. Even if we fast-forward to
modern neuroscience and examine the many proposed theories of consciousness,
almost all of them suffer from the same limitation. They are not truly
explanatory theories. They point to a magician but do not explain the magic.
One of the
first, groundbreaking neurobiological theories of consciousness was proposed in
1990 by the scientists Francis Crick (the co-discoverer of the structure of
DNA) and Christof Koch. They suggested that when the electrical signals
in the brain oscillate they cause consciousness. The idea goes something like
this: the brain is composed of neurons that pass information among each other.
Information is more efficiently linked from one neuron to another, and more
efficiently maintained over short periods of time, if the electrical signals of
neurons oscillate in synchrony. Therefore, consciousness might be caused by the
electrical activity of many neurons oscillating together.
This
theory has some plausibility. Maybe neuronal oscillations are a precondition for
consciousness. But note that, once again, the hypothesis is not truly an
explanation of consciousness. It identifies a magician. Like the Hippocratic
account, “The brain does it” (which is probably true), or like Descartes’s
account, “The magic fluid inside the brain does it” (which is probably false),
this modern theory stipulates that “the oscillations in the brain do it.” We
still don’t know how. Suppose that neuronal oscillations do actually enhance
the reliability of information processing. That is impressive and on recent
evidence apparently likely to be true. But by what logic does that
enhanced information processing cause the inner experience? Why an inner
feeling? Why should information in the brain—no matter how much its signal
strength is boosted, improved, maintained, or integrated from brain site to
brain site—become associated with any subjective experience at all? Why is it
not just information without the add-on of awareness?
For this
type of reason, many thinkers are pessimistic about ever finding an explanation
of consciousness. The philosopher Chalmers, in 1995, put it in a way that has
become particularly popular. He suggested that the challenge of explaining
consciousness can be divided into two problems. One, the easy problem, is to explain
how the brain computes and stores information. Calling this problem easy is, of
course, a euphemism. What is meant is something more like the technically
possible problem given a lot of scientific work. In contrast, the hard problem
is to explain how we become aware of all that stuff going on in the brain.
Awareness itself, the essence of awareness, because it is presumed to be
nonphysical, because it is by definition private, seems to be scientifically
unapproachable. Again, calling it the hard problem is a euphemism; it is the
impossible problem. We have no choice but to accept it as a mystery. In the
hard-problem view, rather than try to explain consciousness, we should marvel
at its insolubility.
The
hard-problem view has a pinch of defeatism in it. I suspect that for some
people it also has a pinch of religiosity. It is a keep-your-
scientific-hands-off-my-mystery perspective. One conceptual difficulty with the
hard-problem view is that it argues against any explanation of consciousness
without knowing what explanations might arise. It is difficult to make a cogent
argument against the unknown. Perhaps an explanation exists such that, once we
see what it is, once we understand it, we will find that it makes sense and
accounts for consciousness.
The
current scientific study of consciousness reminds me in many ways of the
scientific blind alleys in understanding biological evolution. Charles Darwin
published his book The Origin of Species in 1859, but long before
Darwin, naturalists had already suspected that one species of animal could
evolve into another and that different species might be related in a family
tree. The idea of a family tree was articulated a century before Darwin, by
Linnaeus, in 1758. What was missing, however, was the trick. How was it
done? How did various species change over time to become different from each
other and to become sophisticated at doing what they needed to do? Scholars
explored a few conceptual blind alleys, but a plausible explanation could not
be found. Since nobody could think of a mechanistic explanation, since a
mechanistic explanation was outside the realm of human imagination, since the
richness and complexity of life was obviously too magical for a mundane
account, a deity had to be responsible. The magician made it happen. One should
accept the grand mystery and not try too hard to explain it.
Then
Darwin discovered the trick. A living thing has many offspring; the offspring
vary randomly among each other; and the natural environment, being a harsh
place, allows only a select few of those offspring to procreate, passing on
their winning attributes to future generations. Over geological expanses of
time, increment by increment, species can undergo extreme changes. Evolution by
natural selection. Once you see the trick behind the magic, the insight is so
simple as to be either distressing or marvelous, depending on your mood. As
Huxley famously put it in a letter to Darwin, “How stupid of me not to have
thought of that!”
The
neuroscience of consciousness is, one could say, pre-Darwinian. We are pretty
sure the brain does it, but the trick is unknown. Will science find a workable
theory of the phenomenon of consciousness?
I propose
a theory of consciousness that I hope is unlike most previous theories. This
one does not merely point to a magician. It does not merely point to a brain
structure or to a brain process and claim without further explanation, ergo
consciousness. Although I do point to specific brain areas, and although I do
point to a specific category of information processed in a specific manner, I
also attempt to explain the trick itself. What I am trying to articulate is not
just, “Here’s the magician that does it,” but also, “Here’s how the magician
does it.”
For more
than twenty years I studied how vision and touch and hearing are combined in
the brain and how that information might be used to coordinate the movement of
the limbs. I summarized much of that work in a previous book, The Intelligent
Movement Machine, in 2008. These scientific issues may seem far from the
topic of consciousness, but over the years I began to realize that basic
insights about the brain, about sensory processing and movement control,
provided a potential answer to the question of consciousness.
The brain
does two things that are of particular importance to the present theory. First,
the brain uses a method that most neuroscientists call attention. Lacking the
resources to process everything at the same time, the brain focuses its
processing on a very few items at any one time. Attention is a data-handling
trick for deeply processing some information at the expense of most
information. Second, the brain uses internal data to construct simplified,
schematic models of objects and events in the world. Those models can be used
to make predictions, try out simulations, and plan actions.
What
happens when the brain inevitably combines those two talents? In theory,
awareness is the brain’s simplified, schematic model of the complicated,
data-handling process of attention. Moreover, a brain can use the construct of
awareness to model its own attentional state or to model someone else’s
attentional state. For example, Harry might be focusing his attention on a
coffee stain on his shirt. You look at him and understand that Harry is aware
of the stain. In the theory, much of the same machinery, the same brain regions
and computational processing that are used in a social context to attribute
awareness to someone else, are also used on a continuous basis to construct
your own awareness and attribute it to yourself. Social perception and
awareness share a substrate. The attention schema theory, as I eventually
called it, takes a shot at explaining consciousness in a scientifically
plausible manner without trivializing the problem.
The
theory took rough shape in my mind (in my consciousness, let’s say) over a
period of about 10 years.
A great
many reaction pieces were published by experts on the topic of mind and
consciousness and a great many more unpublished commentaries were communicated
to me. Many of the commentaries were enthusiastic, some were cautious, and a
few were in direct opposition. I am grateful for the feedback, which helped me
to further shape the ideas and their presentation. It is always difficult to
communicate a new idea. It can take years for the scientific community to
figure out what you are talking about, and just as many years for you to figure
out how best to articulate the idea.
***
None of us
knows for certain how the brain produces consciousness, but the attention
schema theory looks promising. It explains the main phenomena. It is logical,
conceptually simple, testable, and already has support from a range of previous
experiments. I do not put the theory in opposition to the three or four other
major neuroscientific views of consciousness. Rather, my approach fuses many
previous theories and lines of thought, building a single conceptual framework,
combining strengths. For all of these reasons, I am enthusiastic about the
theory as a biological explanation of the mind—of consciousness itself—and I am
eager to communicate the theory properly.
Selected
and edited from http://www.alternet dot
org/books/what-consciousness-neuroscientist-may-have-answer-big-question
** **
1000
hours. I love a new approach to science where headway is being made, first with
definitions and prerequisites. It is very exciting to be on the forefront of
learning new stuff -- the preliminaries anyway, of consciousness in this case.
It is pouring. They did not return from
soccer so it is your supposition that they are playing inside with the neighbor
boy (with parents) until lunch. Post. - Amorella
You just finished Seveneves first
chapter of 28 pages. - Amorella
1147 hours. So far, the book is more interesting than I thought it would
be. I like the tone and cadence. Neil Stephenson's demeanor strikes me that he
is a wordy Asimov. I like the Asimov part. It turns out they have been asking
what hit the moon and that, in turns out that question was a waste of time. So,
what should they have been doing? I assume it would have been to look at the
various plausibility of what will happen next, physics-wise. I assume that is
what is in Chapter Two, which I will read later.
Post. - Amorella
1344
hours. I completed Chapter Two, stopping at page 109, I think. It is getting
complicated but there are only a few characters at a time. The focus is on the
space station not earth, which is basically dead people walking. The events on
the station are not that unusual for hard science fiction. I want to care a bit
about the characters, but not enough -- as far as I am concerned so far they
are dead people walking too, only a little longer than those on earth. I'm not
imagining this calculus of people surviving for any length of time, but the
summary on Wikipedia shows that they do. I am not investing myself in the
characters like I did with Asimov's in the original Foundation Trilogy. I think
I am old, that is, in this context I have read too much when I could imagine a
future. I don't need to imagine a future any longer. I'll get there eventually,
or I won't. This present condition effects my view of science fiction. The
books is well written though. It took a lot of work, a lot of research. I'm
impressed. He obviously has/had a literary focus. I would be more interested in
his work if I were younger. It is a good book so far. I can see why Cathy is so
interested. I'm glad I'm reading the book. I would rather read on than stop.
Later, though, or tomorrow. I'll continue with one chapter at a time.
The
story has a standard set of sets. It does not yet have a thrill about it, one
that raises your soul to further thought and on to imagination as the
Foundation Trilogy did on your original reading. Post. - Amorella
After Kim and Paul called
from the airport the four of you played the card game "War". Brennan
won most times. You had leftovers for supper, still quite excellent from your
perspective -- brats and baked beans. Everyone else had chicken and fruit. The
boys and a neighbor played basketball on the driveway hoop, but as it is dusk
and cooler they are now inside playing iPad-like video games. The house doesn't
look worse for wear -- they are supposed to be home around eleven tonight. -
Amorella
1934 hours. The boys are to have their baths and be in bed in about an
hour. The days have been good so far. They are a far cry from being two and
four year olds. Good boys but during "War" Brennan caught Owen
cheating once. No one else saw the move anything more than brothers being
brothers during a card game. I tested Owen twice. The first time I put a card
onto the top of the deck and Owen said, "You can't do that, Papa."
Later, I drew from the bottom of the deck and Owen said, "That's cheating
Papa," and he made me redraw. He was polite but told me to follow the
rules. This is from a boy who during the first game praised me for gaining lots
of cards, like the object is to be the first with all the cards. Only later in
the game when Brennan went out first and won did I realize the ruse. Owen
grinned and said he was joking, but the joke was that he put something over on
me. Obviously, I wasn't paying that much attention. We had a good time -- the
clouds were gone and it warmed up, it was a fun time for the four of us to be
at the table surrounded by the screened in porch. (1946)
You
have been focusing on the clarity of language in Stephenson's Seveneves.
You consider Stevenson a craftsman, a word smith, where you did and do not
consider Asimov as such. Post. - Amorella
