Me, Them, & You, Part 1: Speaking of Things

““Philosophy” is an almost impossibly broad category, denoting a vast collection of ideas, theories, methods, intuitions, hopes, and doubts from basically every human culture that has any written record (and probably all the ones without one as well). Thus, we must be careful when we talk about “what philosophers do” or “the current views in philosophy”. If we do speak this way, it is almost certain that what we really mean is “what this particular kind of philosopher, who publishes in my native tongue, is doing” or “the current views of the kind of philosophy I happen to have read recently and tend to like”. We should not confuse such limited surveys of a tiny sliver of philosophy for philosophy in toto.

“And yet, we do often engage in such an error—certainly, many philosophers do! I remember speaking to a philosophy professor who specialized in analytic philosophy of mind. I mentioned the work of Martin Buber, and how great an impact he had had on my thinking. She responded rather breezily, “oh, I think I read him during my undergrad work. These days, I really only read philosophers.” I was taken aback—she seemed to think that Martin Buber, one of the most famous and influential philosophers of the 20th century—didn’t qualify as a philosopher at all, presumably because he wasn’t an analytic philosopher, but rather a member of that amorphous and threatening mass known as continental philosophy (queue the Imperial Death March on your headphones).

“And, to be frank, it is very often analytic philosophers (at least in my experience!) that tend to draw the fence of philosophy in this hyper-narrow and exclusive way.1 Analytic philosophy—basically, post-Kantian English language philosophy that focuses on producing sets of indubitable propositions and relies on a strict forms of propositional logic to do so—has barely existed for 2 centuries.2 And yet many analytic philosophers seem to think that doing philosophy correctly basically means only reading other analytic philosophers and employing its methods, to the exclusion of just about every other philosophical school or method (excepting occassional references to big names from the past like Aristotle or Hume). Other contemporary approaches to philosophy, whether from the broad continental and phenomenological tradition, or the pragmatic/pragmaticist tradition (to speak nothing of Indic, Chinese, or other non-Western philosophical methods), are generally either ignored or explicitly attacked as insufficiently philosophical. It is, gentle reader, not a recipe for truly critical engagement with the world.

Continue reading on Substack: https://open.substack.com/pub/phenomenologyeastandwest/p/me-them-and-you-part-1-speaking-of

Consciousness is not a Phenomenon, Part 2: Other People’s Windows

Last week, we saw that phenomenal consciousness, which is the “stage” upon which the world reveals itself to us as phenomena, is itself not a phenomenon, which makes any account of it—especially in material(ist) terms—exceedingly difficult. But to see just how serious the issue is, we need to move from a consideration of our own consciousness to how we might learn about the phenomenality of other people.

Red things just appear red to me, of course. But let’s say that we set up a little experiment. We find a hallway with a 90° turn. I sit at the corner itself and look down one leg of the hallway. I put a paint swatch at the other end of the hall, but I don’t tell you what color it is. You sit in the other leg of the hallway and look at me. I stare at the paint swatch, focusing on its color (spoiler warning: it’s green).

But what do you see? You see my head, and you see me staring intently. Within my brain, complex neurological activity is happening, which involves information processing that allows my brain-body complex to recognize the color green (understood as a specific hertz value of the electromagnetic radiation that struck my retina). This involves my eyes, the optic nerves, and probably many different sections of my brain. This is complicated, but not fundamentally mysterious. We can describe the process, beginning with the light bouncing off the swatch and ending with a brain state of “seeing green”, and we can describe it in purely mathematical terms. Meanwhile, also, this same process (somehow) results in my consciousness hosting the appearance of the quality of greenness (among many other things).

But where does the quality of greenness occur? Let’s say we isolate the part of my brain that actually process visual information and does the green-seeing. If we were able to install a little transparent window on the side of my head, would we expect to see that part of my brain glowing green?

Continue reading at: https://open.substack.com/pub/phenomenologyeastandwest/p/consciousness-is-not-a-phenomenon-f8a

Consciousness is not a Phenomenon, Part 1: Forgetting Our Window

The question of what consciousness is has long interested—and perplexed—philosophers. Plato’s dialogue in the Phaedo, for example, is (in part) an effort to work out what consciousness might be. But the quest for an understanding of consciousness intensified in the latter part of the 20th century, at least within English-language philosophy. Contemporary Philosophy of mind developed in order to make sense of consciousness, to explain how consciousness could be fitted into the materialist ontology which had, by that time, become unquestionably dominant within most of academic philosophy.

However, after many decades of earnest work, the effort to arrive at a decisive answer to the question of how consciousness might arise from the brain seems no closer to success today than it did in 1950; indeed, in many ways, the pendulum seems to have shifted. More and more philosophers seem dubious that any materialist explanation of consciousness will be forthcoming.1

Now, there is much to say about all of this, both in making sense of the materialist strategies in philosophy of mind (eliminativism, epiphenomenalism, and “constitutivism”) as well as in the premises, assumptions, and biases that informed those efforts, and the fact that non-materialist or semi-materialist efforts to develop a philosophy of mind have not necessarily been any more successful (at least, so far). Philosophy of mind is an extremely complex and confusing group of discourses. I intend to write about it plenty in this space, but I will have to make sure I only bite off as much as I can chew each week.

So today I want to offer a general remark about a fundamental confusion that I see in much of philosophy of mind discourse—materialist or otherwise. It’s a confusion that I think helps to explain why so much of the writing on this subject is so often so fruitless and opaque.

Continue reading at: https://open.substack.com/pub/phenomenologyeastandwest/p/consciousness-is-not-a-phenomenon