Chapter 9.

PHILOSOPHY OF MIND

What is the Mind?

Since antiquity philosophers have theorized about the nature and essence of the mind. Socrates and Plato
conceptualized the mind as a “spiritual substance” (or soul) that can live without the body and is independent
of the body. This is a fairly typical religious view. One’s soul (--God given or otherwise--) enters the body at
birth and then is relocated to a different realm or plane of existence at death. Classical Hindu philosophy
espouses similar views. This “theological view” of the mind has persisted over time into the present era. Other
philosophers and scientists, however, have a difficult time with such a view and argue, instead, that the mind is
part of the body. We are material / physical beings and the mind must be understood in these (materialistic)
terms. For such philosophers, the mind is understood as a part of (or as a function of) the body. In antiquity
“thinking” was located in the “heart.” In the Modern and contemporary periods, the mind is, typically,
associated with “the brain.” On this view, mental-states are understood in terms of “behavior” or “brain-
states.” Within the last twenty-five years, Philosophy of mind has become the most popular branch of
philosophy within the English speaking world. Every major philosophy department within the Anglo world
dedicates a significant amount of its energy and resources to Philosophy of Mind. One of the marquee
questions within the discipline is the “mind-body” problem.

Many philosophers and laypersons tend to believe that there are two very different kinds of “facts” about
human beings. For one thing, there seems to be “physical facts:” For example, someone may be one hundred
and fifty pounds, have green eyes, two kidneys, two arms, and a torso. These are physical facts. On the other
hand, there seems to be “mental facts”: For example, a person’s having ideas, perceptions, knowledge, and
desires/emotions. These would be mental facts. The fundamental problem, from a philosophical point of view,
is to explain the nature of mental facts and their relation to physical facts. Necessitated in this discussion
would be an analysis of the causal relationship between “the physical” and “the mental.”

Mind-Body Dualism

In classical antiquity, Socrates (469-399 B.C.) and Plato (429-347 B.C.) both favored a theory called “Mind-
Body Dualism.” In the Modern Period, this view was given an entirely new footing by Rene Descartes (1596-
1650 A.D.) and his followers. Such a view is also articulated within Classical Hindu philosophy. Many of the
world’s religions today also champion this type of view. According to this view, the mind is a “spiritual” entity
that leaves the body upon death in order to travel to another plane of existence (or to enter into another body).
Such views depend upon Dualistic metaphysics. Descartes gave the theory it’s most vigorous philosophical
articulation during the Modern Period (--roughly (1550 A.D.-1804 A.D.).

Descartes argues that body and the mind/soul are two fundamentally different kinds ofsubstances. Descartes
argues in his Medications that “body” is a physical/material substance that operates in concert with the laws of
nature (physics, etc.). The “body” is incapable of mental acts, such as having thoughts or feelings. The
mind/soul, on the other hand, is an “immaterial substance.” The notion of “Immaterial Substance” is quite
elusive, as it presumably has no spatial extension, no volume, no mass, no atoms, no sub-atomic structure, no
location, no density, and so on. It is non-spatial. It has no physical properties of any type, and lays outside of
all known science. The “mind” is coextensive with (or synonymous with) immaterial substance. For this
reason, it can be called “mental substance.” The idea of mental substance has profound implications in respect
to “mental” objects (such as feelings, desires, and beliefs). Mental objects are non-spatial. This can be noted by
considering the following: It makes no sense to ask: “What is the size and shape of your desire for tacos?” Or,
“Is your thinking of San Francesco ‘rectangular’ or ‘triangular’?”

The position known as “Mind-Body Dualism” holds that the mind and the body are two differentkinds of
substances; the body is physical, while the mind is nonphysical. Physical facts are facts about the body, while
mental facts are facts about the mind / soul. According to Descartes’ views, as expounded in
his Discourses and Meditations, the following holds true of bodies and minds:

Bodies:

 Physical (--they obey the laws of nature as we know them, have atomic or sub-atomic aspects /
energy, etc.)
 Spatial (--they have: extension in space: location, size, shape, dimension, volume, mass, etc.)
 Have Material Qualities (--for example, they are: hard, soft, sweet, bitter, white, red, etc.)
 Public (--they are available to all knowers and nobody has “special” access to them--)

Souls / Minds:

 Non-material (--they have no physical aspects whatsoever, do not obey science, etc.--)
 Non-Spatial (--they have no special extent, i.e., they do not take up any place or space, and they
have no location--)
 Private (--mental entities are not accessible to anyone other than the agent/mind who has them--)
 Distinctly Mental Qualities (…their modes / qualities pertain to conscious experience and are
nothing like the “qualities” of material objects—in fact, they seem unlike the qualities of any conceivable
material object--)
 Qualia (--Mental substance has “qualia,” which designates the first person subject conscious
experience of what it is like to be in X-mental state--)
 Mental States are not the same as Physical States

Argument For Dualism: Privileged Accesses Argument

Descartes offers several “arguments” for Substance Dualism. One of his arguments pertains to a unique aspect
of the mental, namely each mind has “privileged access” to its own contents. Consider “physical facts” about
one’s self. Physical facts, such as one’s height, weight, eye color, skin pigment, blood sugar level, and so on
are not “known” in any unique or special way. Each physical fact can be observed by anyone who is properly
situated to do so. The agent in question may be unaware of certain physical fasts about her self—such as the
growth of a “mole” on her back, or the condition of her pancreas. A medical physician is usually positioned
better to “know” such anatomical physical facts. This is one reason, for example, why we go to a medical
professional for a physical or for specific medical advice. While one agent may be unaware of a new “growth”
forming on the back of one’s neck, someone else who is appropriately positioned may be in an excellent
position to investigate such physical facts. Physical facts are publicly available in the sense that, in
principle,anyone could come to know them just as you know them. Consider someone’s weight. This is
determined by stepping on a scale. One learns one’s weight by looking at the scale. That is, through physical
observation of an instrument. However, in principle, anyone could do the same—anyone could learn and
“know” the person’s weight by also looking at (and observing) the same instrument (i.e., scale). In many cases,
others may know more about one’s body than one’s self. Someone may notice a suspicious “spot” on the back
of one’s neck—a spot of which one is totally unaware. A physiologist may know that your heart has a slight
murmur, even if you are totally ignorant of this fact. Your doctor may know that your blood has a higher-than-
normal sugar content, a fact about which you are totally unaware.

Consider, on the other hand, “mental facts.” Here, the situation is quite different. Mental states are
“private” in that they are inaccessible to others. You know that you are thinking of, say, Mickey Mouse,
simply because you are aware of having those thoughts. Other people, however, have no way of knowing what
you are thinking unless you tell them. Each individual has “privileged accesses”—through introspection—to
his or her own mental content. Through introspection, an agent knows (immediately and directly) her own
thoughts, feelings, emotions, as well as the qualia of each experience. No matter how hard a neurologist stares
at your gorgeous countenance, she cannot “determine” the “inner” content of your thoughts. She can take MRI
scans and tell you all about the structures in your brain (--which is physical and material--), but she cannot tell
you a single thing about what you are thinkingabout, feeling, emoting, desiring, wishing, and so on. Nor can
anyone else. The “mental” is utterly “private,” inaccessible, and known only to the mind that his “having” a
mental experience. Moreover, and quite significantly, nobody can “know” what it is like for you to have a
certain mental experience. The qualia of your experiences are yours and yours alone. Individuals can
“compare” experiences, but only you know what it is like to have an experience of, say, walking through a
blossoming garden on a sunny day.

Argument For Dualism: The “Mind/Soul” is Unimaginable / Not Image-able / Not Picture-able

One of Descartes’ main “proofs” for Substance Dualism involves a “proof” that Immaterial Substance
is not imaginable. In his Second Meditation, Descartes tells us that only “corporal” things can be imaged. The
mind/soul, however, cannot be imaged. In order to understand this argument, consider the following: Descartes
thinks of the faculty of the “imagination”—one of our most important cognitive faculties—in terms of a
“picturing” devise. Let us think of the faculty of the imagination as “like” a white-board or chalkboard. If one
is asked to draw a picture of any “bodily” thing, the task should be accomplished quite easily. When one is
asked to draw a “tree,” than one draws a dog; if asked to draw a “person” then a body with limbs, torso, head,
etc. is drawn on the board. Descartes thinks that any material body can be “imagined” / “imaged” / “pictured.”
Anything that has a corporeal form, shape, size, dimensions, etc. can be drawn.

However, the situation is totally different if one is asked to “draw” (or “imagine” or “image”) “the mind /
soul.” There is nothing that would appear on the board because the mind/soul is immaterial and, therefore,
lacks any corporeal characteristics. The “soul/mind” has no material or physical aspects. No spatial extent, no
size, no dimensions, etc. From this argument, Descartes thinks that he has given a solid “proof” that there is a
real and definite distinction between “the mind” and “the body.” That is, between Material
Substanceand Immaterial Substance. Therefore, he concludes that Substance-Dualism is true.

Argument in Favor of Dualism: Infallibility/Transparency Argument: Each Person is infallible With

Respect To His or Her Own Mental States

The ‘Privilege Access’ Argument is supposed to show us that our relationship to Physical / Material facts
about ourselves is quite different than our relationship to “Mental” facts about ourselves. In respect to physical
facts, we do not stand in any special relationship to them. In fact we might be mistaken. For example, a man
might believe that he is five-foot ten, but careful measurements reveal that he is actually five-foot eight. One
might believe that she has no moles on her back now, nor has she ever had any moles. However, suppose that
she forgot about an early childhood visit to a dermatologist who removed five moles from her back.

The situation, however, is quite different when it comes to “mental-facts.” According to Descartes, one cannot
be mistaken about the contents of one’s own mind. Each of us, uponintrospection, has immediate and infallible
cognitive access to the contents of our own minds. If you think that you have a stomachache, then you are in
fact having a stomachache, even if you do not have a body and are a dis-embodied thought in the mind of an
Evil Genius. If the Evil Genius is “toying” with your mental content—making you think false thoughts—it
does not matter, as you are directly aware of the manipulation. You cannot be mistaken, not even in principle.
Since you have immediate, direct, and infallible access to the contents of your own mind, you not only have
privilege access to mental facts, but transparentaccess.

Each agent’s mind is transparent to herself. Descartes believes that, in regards to one’s own mental states, such
knowledge was incorrigible: your thoughts about your current states of mind cannot be false (--even if the
content of your own mind is being manipulated; you would be infallibly aware of the “manipulated” content--).
The contents of your own mind are transparent to you. In consequence, if you are in a particular state of mind,
then you knowthat you are in that state; and if you believe that you are in a particular state of mind, then you
are in that state. Minds are “private.” Mental-states are “directly observable”only by the person having
them. Other people can only observe bodies and make inferences about what is “going on” in the person’s
mind. Even a neuroscientist can only observeneurological activity, not the mental content that the agent is
experiencing, such as pain. The “pain”—which is a mental-state—is unobservable, private, and infallible to the
agent.

Critical Problems For, And Objections To, Mind-Body Dualism:

Descartes made a living by tutoring princesses in Europe. One of his brightest students, Elizabeth of Bohemia
(1618-1680), wrote a series of letters to Descartes in 1642 proposing significant challenges to Descartes’
Dualism. Princess Elizabeth formulated many objections, two of which are utterly crucial: (1) The causal-
interaction puzzle; and (2) the indistinguishability of “Mental Substance” from “The Nothing.” (3) Dualism is
outside of the scope of science. The causal-interaction puzzle has always been considered the indefensible
downfall of Dualism.

Causal-Interaction Puzzle: Souls and Modern Science

Immaterial substance theories are not accepted by contemporary philosophy or contemporary science. The fact
that they are outside of the possible scope of scientific analysis is sufficient to rule them out as plausible
theories. The most pervasive problems with immaterial substance theories, as expressed by philosophers from
the seventeenth century onward, can be stated as follows: (1) Immaterial Substance is mostly characterized by
what it isn’t, and is quite elusive when trying to characterize it in non-negative terms. It is, in a nontrivial
sense, incomprehensible. This bodes poorly for any theory, particularly a theory of the mind. (2) Infamously,
how is it possible for two radically different types of things—one being “material” and the other being
“immaterial”—to causally interact? This is called “The Causal Interaction Puzzle.” (3) If immaterial
substance theory is outside the scope of science by definition and in principle, is it a legitimate theory for
twenty-first century thinkers? It was surely acceptable in the Dark Ages, where superstition reigned and
science was forbidden. But is it plausible in a civilization premised upon science?

Immaterial Substance is characterized mostly in negative terms as “not” having any material or physical
aspects. It has no extension, no size, no shape, no mass, no volume, no weight, no density, no
location, no position in space and time, no atoms, no photons, no elections, etc. This is quite peculiar since
everything in the universe is essentially characterized in such scientific terms (--even “dark matter” and “dark
energy--). Thus, it is totally and completely mysterious as to “what” Immaterial Substance is supposed to be.
We know a bit about what it isn’t, but virtually nothing about what it is. Elizabeth of Bohemia, wrote a letter to
Descartes claiming that his conception of “Immaterial Substance” was essentially a conception of
“nothingness.” How is Immaterial Substance different from Nothingness? Descartes, essentially, has no
answer. He says a bit about what it does, namely thinks, perceives, and has volition. But this might be even
more problematic, as it gives rise to the causal-interaction puzzle.

The “Causal Interaction Puzzle” is probably the most problematic aspect of Descartes’Substance Dualism.
This problem renders his theory of the mind utterly unacceptable, as well as his theory of the mind. The puzzle
asks a fundamental (but quintessential) question: How is it possible for two totally and completely dissimilar
kinds of things, one material and the other immaterial, to casually interact? All causal interaction known to
human knowledge and science involves two material things interacting. Interaction between the material world
and some mysterious “Immaterial” what-not (--whatever exactly it is--) plays no role in science.

Take any two “things” in the universe that “interact” and the story (via science) will always be about two
material things interacting according to the laws of physics. Suppose someone’s “hand” picks up a “bottle of
water.” Both the hand and the bottle are material, physical things. The interaction between the two will be fully
analyzable in scientific terms (--gravity, velocity, weight, size, volume, etc.--). Let us consider another
example, “the mind.” According to contemporary neuroscience the “mind” is (at least) associated with the
brain. The brain is 100% material and physical (--according to science--). A “mental-state,” such as “being-in-
pain,” is analyzed in terms of “brain-states.” That is, the explanation will involve a story about neurons firing,
electrical charges, and chemical interactions. Explaining “what is causing the pain” will involve an analysis
that is totally and completely material and physical. On Descartes’ view, however, the “mind” is not the brain.
Hence, explaining a “mental-state” would not involve any description of the physical happenings in the brain.
For Descartes, mental-states are not brain-states. Descartes insists that the mind is not the brain, nor the body,
nor chemicals in one’s head. The mind is immaterial, and thus all brain-states and states of consciousness are
totally and completely immaterial. Somehow the immaterial causes “pain” sensations. How this happens is a
mystery of unfathomable proportions.

The problems, as we have analyzed them, involve a fundamental problem—namely “Immaterial Substance” is
incompatible with our best scientific theories. When building a philosophical theory, it is “standard practice” to
have a theory that is compatible with current scientific understanding. Since Immaterial Substance is outside
the scope of science and human understanding, it stands upon very shaky ground. Few philosophers
contemporaneous with Descartes accepted Substance Dualism. It is considered a degenerate theory and an
unpromising line of research.

If Dualism is not true, then Monism must be true. Monism asserts that only one type of substance exists in the
Universe. However, there are two different versions of Monism. One could be an “Idealist”—asserting that
only Minds exist. Or, one could be a “Materialist”—asserting that only material / physical things exist. The
former theory has had very few advocates over the years. The latter theory, Materialism, has been the dominate
mode of research since the eighteenth century. In contemporary philosophy, virtually all philosophers of mind
are materialists. However, we shall explore “Idealism” before turning to Materialism.

Idealism

A monist who holds that only the mind exists is an idealist. This view is not at all commonsensical and is, in
fact, seemingly absurd. Few philosophers venture down this trail. On this view, Descartes’ category of “Mind”
or “immaterial Substance” is the only thing in existence. No material or physical things exist at all. This view
denies the existence of a mind-independent world and holds that the mind and its contents are all that exists.
All events and happenings are mental episodes (--non-mental events do not exist--). Causality is between to
similar things, two “mental” things. The “interaction” puzzle does not arise for idealism. What is thrown into a
cloud of darkness is basic questions about commonsense and reality. Is it really conceivable or possible
that only minds exist and material substances is some type of illusion? This view is plagued by vagueness,
mystery, and overall strangeness. There is only one type of thing in existence, the mind and its
contents (mental events). George Berkeley (1685-1753) strongly advocated this view in the Modern Period, but
had few followers. (It is important not to confuse Kant’s “Transcendental Idealism” with a monist type of
“Idealism.” The two theories are not at all similar.)
According to Berkeley (--the main proponent of Idealism--), the “order” and “regularity” found in experiences
is due to either (a) the intrinsic qualities of minds themselves, or(2) God’s superimposing order in our given
experience. (Berkeley was a highly religious Bishop, so he has no problem blending speculative theology into
his academic philosophy—a practice that is not deemed appropriate in the contemporary period.) God, on his
view, “guarantees” that our ideas occur in orderly, predictable, patterns.

The idealist argues that if the world actually had a mind-independent reality with “material objects,” they
would “appear” the same as they do in an ontology that only postulates minds and mental events. To explain
this idea, the idealist will point to dreams wherein the mind displays seemingly “material” objects that have
shape, size, location, spatial extent, solidity, and so on. Yet, dreams are entirely mental. We would have the
same “experience” should either possibility obtain—that is, if the world were entirely mental or entirely
material. Our experiences would be the same in either case.

Let us suppose that someone sets out to disprove idealism by conducting “experiments” designed to establish
the existence of mind-independent material bodies. Dr. Johnson, a contemporary of Berkeley, famously kicked
a rock, proclaiming: “Thus I refute Berkeley.” To see how idealism handles such a case consider two scenarios:
First consider a case in which a person dreams (with full vivaciousness) of an experience of kicking a rock.
Suppose that in the dream the “rock” actually “hurts” one’s foot. One even limps in the dream while
screaming: “I just refuted Berkeley!” Now suppose that an external world with real material bodies exists.
Suppose someone has the exact same experience of “kicking a rock.” What would be the difference between
the two experiences? Both involve the experience of a foot kicking a rock and subsequent pain felt in the foot
by the kicking of the rock. The two experiences would be qualitatively identical. Consider an even more
“troubling” case—science. Suppose that Dr. Johnson decides to “prove” that matter exists by looking through
an electron microscope, viewing atoms and then subatomic particles, the alleged building blocks of a mind-
independent reality. Now consider a case in which the entire experimental process was mental, such as when
Dr. Johnson dreams of looking through an electron microscope, viewing atoms and subatomic particles. Both
are experiences. Both are sense-driven observations. In both cases, the experience would be identical.

The idealist will not feel threatened by such “experiments” or tests. Experimentation is just a matter of making
observations and having experiences. Kicking a stone provides observational evidence of a certain kind.
However, observations are just conscious experiences that do not carry us outside of the mind. And every
“scientific” experiment that you might propose is also just a certain kind of experience. Sophisticated
observations are made by looking through telescopes or equipment. What would make the idealist think that
she has escaped the confines of her mind to actually reach a mind-independent world? What we discover is
that a stone or particle looks and feels a certain way under certain conditions, etc. But looks, feels, and sounds,
are nothing more than sensory states and, thus, are entirely mental, that is, mind-dependent. While idealism is
utterly non-commonsensical and even bizarre, it is quite difficult to disprove—sort of like radical external
world skepticism. The position is not subject to the causal-interaction puzzle, as all interaction is between
minds. Idealism, as odd as it may sound, is consistent with any and all possible observational “evidence.”
Some may say that idealism is an “elegant” theory in that it postulates nothing more than minds and their
contents and explains all the phenomena by appeals to these without needing to resort to messy questions about
extra mental objects and events. Typically, a theorist responds to idealism by way of outrage, pointing out that
idealism relies upon the insulting, counter-intuitive idea that the external world does not exist (or that our
experiences can never reach it). One interpretation of idealism is to analyze it as a weasel-like attempt to avoid
the central problems with philosophy of mind, such as the problem of reconciling minds and the material
world. The idealist just “gives up” and places the material world inside the mind; this is interpreted as a dirty
trick. The problem is that it is very difficult to refute directly. Many philosophers shy away from idealism and
turn towards other models that “seem” more intellectually plausible, such as materialism. Lastly, it should be
mentioned that idealism seems to lead to an even more radical position known as “solipsism.” The solipsist
says that all that exists is one’s own mind. It denies, for good reason, the existence of other minds. Since all
experiences are from the 1st person point of view, the theory runs with that fact to the logical conclusion that
nothing exists but one’s own mind and one’s own mental content. This threat is viewed as more daunting that
typical versions of idealism.

Materialist Theories

A human being is a vast collection of atoms and subatomic particles, organized in a complicated way, obeying
the laws of physics, chemistry, and biology. Materialism claims that this is all we are—our bodies have no
ghostly, nonphysical parts. Materialism is, of course, a controversial doctrine, and the debate over materialism
is often taken to be a debate about “religion.” Here, however, the issue is not religion but the true nature of
mental facts. Materialist theories of the mind are theories that attempt to explain “mental facts” purely in
physical terms. As materialist theories developed in the contemporary period, philosophers proceed in one of
two ways: A materialist theory could focus on what we can directly observe about people from a 3rd person
perspective—namely, speech and behavior: This leads to “Behaviorism.” On the other hand, the theory could
focus upon what is “going on” inside of the person—namely, occurrences in an agent’s brain: This leads
to Mind-Brain Identity Theory. Let us begin with the former.

Behaviorism

It might seem unusual to explain thoughts and feelings purely in terms of behavior. Normally, in everyday
discourse, the direction of explanation is the other way around: We explain behavior by reference to thoughts
and feelings. When someone cries, we say it is because she is “sad” or “upset;” when someone drinks water,
we say it is because she is thirsty. Academic Behaviorism, which dominated academic psychology in the first
part of the twentieth century, argues that such “mental terms” are inappropriate, as a scientist can only observe
behavior. Hence, psychologists like Watson (1878-1958) and B.F. Skinner (1904-1990) lead the charge in
developing psychological behaviorism, which claimed to be the first trulyscientific theory of the mind.

Psychological Behaviorism
Science only deals with what is “publicly observable.” Thus, “private” “inner” states-of-mind do not qualify, in
principle, as items of scientific concern. One cannot observe the private “inner” mental-state of “sadness.” One
can only observe and study “sad behavior.” So, rather than saying: “Sara cried because she was sad,”
behaviorists would focus on Sara’s situation and the events that triggered her crying. She cried, for example,
because she was being fired from work and undergoing financial hardships.

According to Watson and Skinner, the science of psychology looks for patterns of stimulus and response—
physical responses (--such as crying--) to physical stimuli (being fired, financial hardship)—and
formulates general laws about how behavior is shaped by physical inputs.Private mental episodes have no
place in such an analysis.

Watson and Skinner were methodological behaviorists. They did not deny that private mental states exist; they
said only that such states are irrelevant to science. Internal mental states play no part in causing behavior, and
so for scientific purposes they can be ignored. It is not that the being fired and undergoing financial difficulties
caused Sara to be sad and being sad caused her to cry. Instead, the firing and financial hardship caused her to
cry, and that’s all there is to an explanation.

Analytical Behaviorism: Gilbert Ryle (1900-1976)

A different take on Behaviorism developed in certain philosophical schools. The highly influential philosopher
Gilbert Ryle published The Concept of Mind (1949), denying that “private mental states” exist. On his view,
the “so-called” mental states are nothing but behavior. This position takes Behaviorism to its logical
conclusion. We are to analyze “mental-states” in terms of, and strictly in terms of, patterns of current behavior:
To be sad is to be depressed, to cry, to talk softly, to be alone, to act passive, etc... (Thus, there is a wide range
of behavior associated with sadness, rather than one specific behavior.)

Other “mental states” consist in a disposition-to-behave in ways and in patterns suitable to a given occasion.
You may want a donut, for example, even though you are currently doing nothing about it. Nonetheless, if you
want it, you must be disposed to seek it when it is available and to smile when you get it. Similarly, to be afraid
of something is to be disposed to tremble and flee. Thus, Sara’s being sad does not cause her to cry; rather, her
being sad consists in her crying-behavior. Analytical Behaviorism eliminates “private mental states” altogether
in hopes of forming an even more “scientific” picture with absolutely nothing in the theory that is not available
to scientific observation and analysis.

Behaviorism: Objections, Problems, and New Theories

Behaviorism does not face any of the problems associated with Substance Dualism. The highly problematic
category of immaterial substance is utterly absent from the theory. Thus, the causal interaction puzzle is
eliminated too. Causal interactions are between human bodies and the environment/world. Concepts such as
“privileged access” and “infallibility” are also eliminated. Early twentieth century Behavorists boasted of their
“scientific theory,” which enjoyed wide popularity. But the theory would not last in either mainstream
psychology or philosophy. Within psychology cognitivist projects developed. Within philosophy many
objections to Behaviorism developed. The first wave of criticism focused upon its extreme limitations; the
second wave of criticism was mostly driven by advances in neuroscience, computer science, and broad
conceptual issues.

The “Analytical Behaviorist” seems to expound a radically inadequate theory from the get go. To deny all
private mental events seems absurd at best. At any given moment, each of us is aware of having perceptions,
thoughts, desires, and so on, even if no specific pattern of “typical behavior” is occurring. Consider The
Following: As Smith sits at her desk, many types of mental experiences occur. She sees a beautiful beach and
garden out her window. She feels the desk and keyboard with her fingertips. She contemplates the stars and the
predicted eclipse that will happen within the hour. Is it really plausible to say that all “mental activity” is
nothing but behavior or dispositions to behave? What about her consciousness and conscious experiences as
they occur to her, independent of behavior or an observer’s claims about such behavior?

An outstanding problem with Behaviorism is that not every “mental-state” can be understood as (or
associated with) a typical pattern of behavior or a typical disposition to behave in a certain way. The theory
seems to work ok if the only type of mental phenomena to be explained involves examples such of extreme
emotion (such as fear or sadness), or extreme pain (such as an intense stomachache). These seem to be
associated with typical patterns of behavior. However, think about the vast types of mental phenomena and the
“typical” patterns of behavior. For example, suppose Smith is craving Korean Barbeque for lunch, but is also
considering dim sum. What “typical” pattern of behavior is associated with Smith’s contemplation? Further,
consider a related example. The taste of Korean Barbeque is different than the taste of dim sum. Each is a
different mental experience. However, what is the associated pattern of behavior “associated” with the former?
How is it different from “behavior” associated with the latter? The idea of trying to “explain” the difference
between such experiences by reference to different behavior is extraordinary vacuous, far-fetched, and silly.
However, such examples could go on and on exposing just how limited “Behaviorism” is when attempting to
explain mental phenomena. For these reasons and many others, such as the development of neuroscience,
Behaviorism faded away. Out of neuroscience arose Mind-Brain Identity theory.

Neuroscience explains in a particularly dramatic way that “events” “in the brain” cause“mental experiences.”
As a matter of excellent science, this can be experimentally confirmed in various ways. In the early 1930’s,
Wilder Penfield, made some startling discoveries. Penfield was a Canadian physician who developed
techniques for operating on the brain while the patent was conscious. This is necessary for certain brain
operations. Penfield’s area of expertise and focus pertained to intractable epilepsy. Epileptic seizures, he
thought, must be triggered by events in a diseased part of the brain. Therefore, if he could surgically excise the
precise bit of the brain that is causing the seizures, he might be able to stop intractable seizures. In order to
discover the diseased bit of brain-matter Penfield stimulating the brains’ of patents during surgical procedures.
He used an electrode that, when pressed against the brain, triggered a wide variety of experiences in patients.
Some reported auditory, tactile, visual, and osmatic experiences. Penfield’s purpose was not to support any
particular theory about the relationship between mind and brain; but his results inevitably strengthened the
conviction, already common among scientifically inclined thinkers, that in some important sense the
mind is the brain.

Since Penfield’s day, it is strikingly obvious that mental-states are to be associated with brain-states. The
mind is (for most purposes) to be identified with the Brain. Exactly how “literal” we should take the
identification is debated by philosophers. Some take it quite literally: Mental events are not mysterious, nor are
they to be analyzed simply as patterns of behavior. Alternatively, they are neurological in nature, meaning
that an agent’s mental-states correspond to neurons firing in the brain, along with other electro-chemical
reactions. Mental-states are Brain-states.

In the philosophical world, the theory was developed and promulgated by U.T. Place, J.J. C. Smart, David
Armstrong, and David Lewis. They would have us consider an example like “pain.” Pain is an excellent
illustration of a mental-state. It feels a certain way; it has certainqualia, is directly present to our minds without
any type of mediation. In virtue of being consciously aware, each of us knows what it is like to feel pain that
we are immediately and directly experiencing. Philosophically, one can ask: What is pain?

The Behaviorist, one might argue, can offer a certain limited type of explanation of pain: A definitive
connection between pain and behavior is certainly observable. If someone is in pain, she will be disposed to
flinch, tighten her muscles, wince, cry out, and take action to stop the pain. She will also be disposed to say
things like “That hurts” or to respond affirmatively when asked if it hurts. If someone has no inclination to
behave in any of these ways, then it seems to follow that the person is probably not in pain. Therefore, “being
in pain” may be defined as the state of the person which causes the behaviors thus mentioned. However, one
can still ask: What, exactly, causes that sort of behavior? At this point a neurologist can be asserted into the
conversation and explain that such behavior is caused by particular neurological events (c-fibers firing). From
this one case, it seems quite natural to believe that other “mental-states” are to be understood as “brain-states”
that neurological analysis could study.

A Mind-Brain Identity theory has definitive advantages over all rival theories thus far stated. It is a clear
advance over both Mind-Body Dualism, Idealism, and Behaviorism. First, the Mind-Brain Identity Theory
explained the nature of mental facts without any reference to mysterious “souls” or “immaterial” entities that
fall outside the scope of science. Mental-facts are facts about the brain. The causal-interaction puzzle
does not arise, as all explanations are about the material, physical world; mental events are occurrences in the
brain, therefore, all causal interactions are interactions between physical things. Lastly, the theory can explain
how thought occurs without any “necessary” associated “pattern of behavior.” As neurons fire in the brain,
along with chemical reactions, etc., thoughts can occur without any “necessary” behavior (or any particular
behavior); the agent may even be asleep.

Consider the following: How does a Behaviorist explain a very complex mental phenomena, such as being
chased by a lion when one is totally asleep and displaying no behavior whatsoever?The mind-brain identity
theorist has no problem in such a case. Whether one is awake or dreaming, the brain is “active” and in a
particular type of state. A mental state (--such as being scared and afraid of a lion--) is the result of
“happenings” in the brain, thereby resulting in a certain brain-states.

Lastly, the Mind-Brain Identity Theory helps us understand how introspection works. If mental events are
occurrences in the brain, then introspection—which, after all, is just another mental event—is also an
occurrence in the brain. Introspection is an “inner” process because its neural firings are not connected with
inputs from the senses. Instead, they are connected internally with the brain-events that constitute the thoughts
being introspected. As a result, introspection gives us a special kind of access to our own mental states. For all
of these reasons, the Mind-Brain Identity Theory seems like a scientifically respectable position. Like any
theory, however, it too suffers from various objections.

One type of argument that is made against some types of Mind-Brain Identity Theoristspertains to qualia—
the quality, as it is immediately felt or perceived in experience. Qualiais the introspectible, phenomenal
character of a mental-state or event. Examples would include the specific feel of pain, the smell of coffee, the
taste of a pineapple. These areprivate in the sense that they cannot be experienced by more than one person—
i.e., the agenthaving the experience. Qualia is the subjective first-person experience of what it is like to have
a certain experience. The argument is that simply identifying mental-states with brain-states does not capture
qualia, which some argue is the most important aspect of a mental experience, as it pertains to the feel and
character of the actual experience from the subjective phenomenal point of view. A mere description of
neurons firing in the brain does not seem to capture the actual experience from a first person point of view.
That is, it does not capture the qualia of experience. The vivid distinctness of a real, genuine experience seems
quite different than a clinical neurological description of neurons firing and chemicals gushing in one’s head.
Mental-states, as experienced, do not seem like “brain states.” Being in pain, listening to Beethoven, or
thinking about a romantic trip to Veniceseems to be quite different than a description of neurons firing.

For Example, consider the following: Imagine being on a sunny beach in Aruba, about to swim with the
dolphins. You have a visual experience of watching an incredible oceanic view. You hear the waves gently
caress the powdery white sand and turquoise waters. Gently you place your foot into the warm water as you
see a multicolored fish swim by gracefully. The qualitative experience, the phenomenal character of your
mental-states as your consciousnesshas such an experience is particular, distinctive, vivid and memorable.
Could anyone seriously think that, were a neurologist to open your skull and observe the operations of your
brain, even while you were undergoing such an experience, such observations could evercapture the qualitative
aspects of phenomenal experience? If this is implausible, why should we suppose that such an experience
is nothing more than a process of neurons firing in the brain?

It seems that third-person observation does not capture first-person experience. Suppose for the moment that
the Mind-Brain Identity Theory is correct: States of mind are merely brain-states. Is undergoing an experience
of, say, a sunny day on an Aruban oasis just (ormerely) a matter of your brain undergoing a complex sequence
of neurological happenings. Now imagine that a scientist is observing your brain undergoing this sequence of
processes. Presumably the scientist’s conscious experiences of your brain are, themselves, nothing more than a
complex sequence of processes in the scientist’s brain.
Here is our Problem: On the Mind-Brain Identity Theory, the quality of your phenomenal experience (i.e.,
subjective first-person experience) should be identical to the scientist’s experience. Your conscious
phenomenal experience should be the same as an observer studying it. What “goes on” in your brain will
be qualitatively the same in kind as whatqualitatively “goes on” when an observer looks at your brain-states.
But this does not seem true at all: The person having an experience of Aruba is qualitatively different than an
experience in which a scientist merely observes grey brain-matter gushing electricity and chemicals. The two
seem qualitatively different, even unrelated. To put the point simply: How can a scientist’s looking in your
brain experience Aruba, the sun on your shoulders, and the vision of the multicolored fish? The scientist, at
most, experiences a skull, a knife, electrodes, etc.… It seems like experiential qualities differ in kind
fromneurological qualities.

Neuroscience, of course, has a strong rebuttal: It is common in science to discover that a familiar kind of thing
actually consists in something surprising and unfamiliar. Water, for example, is H2O; lightning is an electrical
discharge; and heat is molecular motion. In each case, science tells us that a familiar kind of thing is really
something quite different than it appears.

Functionalism

If there is a “leading” theory of the mind today, it is definitely some version ofFunctionalism. Recall the main
thesis of the Mind-Brain Identity Theory: The mind is the brain. A mental event is nothing but a particular
pattern of neurological activity. Each of a person’s mental-states is identical with the firing of particular
neurons in the brain. The infamous Harvard professor Hilary Putnam published a paper in 1967 called
“Psychological Predicates.” In this paper Putnam formulates a deep conceptual concern inherent in identifying
Minds with Brains. Putnam has us imagine that there exists beings (--aliens, extraterrestrials, angels, etc...--)
with minds that have minds capable of the entire spectrum of human mental-activity. Such (alien) minds will:
Love, Desire, Feel, Perceive, Contemplate, Think, Remember, and so on. But let us also suppose that such
beings do nothave “brains” as we do—they do not have six inches of grey matter “in their sculls.”
Nevertheless, they have “pain” just like we do; but they do not have, say, C-Fibers firing. Perhaps they have a
totally different physical system altogether. This is a genuine possibility. A “minded” being does not have to
have the same physical system as we humans. Therefore, we should not associate a mind with the brain per
say or as such. We should associate the mind with a system that functions in such a way as
to produce or causemental-states.

Functionalism does not identify the mind with neurological activity per say. Instead, Functionalism
understands the mind as a system of functioning, like a computer. The mind, in effect, is a computer. It has
hardware and software. Considering the history of computational devises is helpful in understanding
Functionalism. Charles Babbage (1792-1871) is usually credited with designing the first “modern”
programmable computing machine. Babbage’s design called for a huge machine made of hand-crafted gears,
cylinders, rods, levers, and assorted mechanical gizmos. Fully assembled, this mechanical marvel, would have
been the size of a locomotive, and would have cost more than one-hundred locomotives. This machine was
never completed, due to its extreme costs. In fact, the unfathomable expenses landed Babbage in debtor’s
prison. Babbage actually designed three different machines. None were completed during his life. In the 1990’s
the British government finished his machines, just as he intended. Miraculously, each machine did exactly as
Babbage imagined. His machines are capable of performing a variety of computational functions. All three
“Differential Engines” are on display in a museum in London.

Where Babbage’s computational device used gears, machine-made parts, and cylinders, early computing
machines from the 1950’s and 1960’s used of vacuum tubes, then transistor chips. Today computers use an
array of millions of minuscule transistors embedded in silvers of silicon. Functionalism says the mind is a
computational device. Computational devises can be made of a variety of materials (hardware). We can think
of a computing machine as a device that operates in a way that allows us to describe it as performing
computations over symbols. Such a device could be made of any number of materials organized in any number
of ways. Functionalism says that a mind is a computational device capable of performing particular sorts of
operations. Mental-states resemble computational-states, at least to the extent that they are shareable, in
principle, by any number of material systems. To talk of “minds” and “mental operations” is to abstract from
whatever actualizes them; it is to talk at a “higher” (or “meta”) level. Minds bear a relation to their material
embodiments analogous to the relation computer programs bear to devices on which they run. Every program
is “embodied” in some material device or other. But the very same program can run on very different sorts of
material devices.

Thinking in this way, one might argue that minds have some type of embodiment, although minds may have
extraordinarily different kinds of material embodiments. In the case of human beings, our brains constitute the
hardware on which our mental software runs. Extraterrestrials, in contrast, might share our psychology and our
mental software, yet they might have very different hardware, perhaps non-carbon-based hardware. But having
human psychology is certainly not a necessary condition for mindedness as such. We could suppose that such
aliens have very different software but still have minds.

Considering the human situation: our psychology is our software; our brain is our hardware. A neurologist
studies the hardware—and a psychologist studies the software. Functionalism became widely popular with the
advent of computing machines. It has been the dominate theory in Philosophy of Mind since the 1970’s, if not
earlier. We distinguish programs and computations from the hardware on which they run. Functionalists argue
that we can use the same distinction in analyzing “minds.” Minds, on this view, are devices that “run” software
on complex pieces of hardware. Human “hardware” is the brain. Just as computational operations are realized
by processes in the hardware of a computing machine without being identical with those processes, so states of
mind are realized by brain-states without being identical with those states.

Thinking Machines, The Turing Test, and The Chinese Room Argument

The question of whether or not machines could be capable of genuine thought and consciousness goes back to
at least Descartes, who in 1637 asked this very question. He ultimately did not believe that machines could
ever “think” or “have minds,” but he did think that such sophisticated “automatons” could be created and
could mimic minded beings. The sign of intelligence, he said, is the ability to understand language, but
machines could never manage that feat. He wrote:

“It is indeed conceivable that a machine could be made so that it would utter words, and even words
appropriate to the presence of physical acts or objects which cause some change in its organs; as, for example,
if it was touched in some spot that it would ask what you wanted to say to it; if in another, that it would cry that
it was hurt, and so on for similar things. But it could never modify its phrases to reply to the sense of whatever
was said in its presence as even the most stupid men can do.”

Descartes was right about the machines with which he was familiar. No assembly of levers, cogs, and pulleys
could chat with a person about things like sports or fashion. Modern computers, however, present another
challenge: As computational power increases, it seems just a matter of time until a contemporary computer will
be able to “modify its phrases” to chat with you about fashions or whatever one desires. For this reason, the
issue of artificial intelligence and “thinking” machines has been discussed in ever greater detail and
sophistication since the rise of functionalism. Hollywood films and television shows have followed this trend.
Our culture is filled with discussions of artificial intelligence. If computers could respond, in an intelligent
way, to any question that one asked—would the computer really be “thinking” (--would it have a mind?--)—or
would it be just a clever feat of programming? The intelligent robots in science-fiction stories and movies can
talk fluently. Should we think of them as conscious beings, with an inner mental-life of thoughts and feelings?
Or, should we think of them only as mechanical contrivances that mimic human sounds and movements? Such
questions might seem far-fetched and abstract. In order to “bring” them into focus in a more human way, a
famous thought-experiment is often used. Consider the following.

Suppose that one day you wake up unable to see. Frightened and afraid of this stunning turn of events, you go
to the doctor who then sends you to a specialist. The specialist informs you that, unfortunately, a small bit of
matter in your brain has become diseased, and as a result you have lost your sight for life. There is no “hope”
for a recovery. However, the specialist explains that she has devised a medical technique that can “restore”
your sight. In fact, the procedure will improve your sight greatly. However, you must undergo a surgical
treatment in which the diseased brain-matter is removed and an extremely small silicon chip will be implanted.
The risks are minimal and the computer chip will give you back your (highly improved) sight. Would you
undergo the procedure? Suppose the surgeon does not make mistakes and that everything will turn out exactly
as the scientist has described. Let us say that you undergo the process. Hooray. Your sight is restored.

Unfortunately, however, a new problem develops. You are having a horrible time with your memory. All of a
sudden your short-term and long-term memory is awful. Scared, you go back to the specialist who runs various
tests. Once again, she has bad news: your brain has a few areas of disease and degeneration. But, once again,
she has a solution: She can insert a few silicon chips into your brain and you will be as good as new. In fact
your memory will be much better than before. Let us say that you go ahead with the procedure and that you are
cured! Your memory is better than it was before. Now, let us suppose that this story continues, on and on for a
few years. By this time, your brain has been mostly replaced, piece-by-piece, with silicon chips. At each step in
the process, you can detect no difference from before, except that the “problem” has been corrected and your
abilities are vastly improved. If this goes on long enough, however, your brain will be, for the most part, a pile
of silicon chips. Instead of six inches of grey matter between your ears, you have a patchwork of silicon chips
that function in exactly the same way as an organic brain (but greatly improved). What to make of such a
possibility? Some argue that this demonstrates not only that a machine could think, but that you could be that
machine. If you doubt this, go back to the first step in the argument. Suppose you really did go blind, and
scientists really did offer to restore your sight by implanting a device that would replace the diseased brain-
matter with a computer.

Would you refuse the procedure? On what grounds? Would you prefer to remain blind? Most of us would
jump at the chance to have our sight restored in this way. But once the process of piecemeal replacement has
begun, there is no point at which we may “draw” a line and say: “Ok, At this point, your “real” conscious mind
is gone. Sorry.” The Functionalist would argue that your real consciousness has not been extinguished. Nor is
it correct that your consciousness has been extinguished a little bit at a time. The Functionalist would argue
that you are functioning the same now as you did before the procedure (--with some improvements--). The
“brain” is just hardware that can be replaced. When a computer part goes bad, we replace it. The same should
be true of the “hardware” that is the “brain.” If the replacement brain can do everything the original can do,
and there is no point at which you feel “different,” then we must conclude that the “artificial brain” is
sustaining the same mental life as the original. You function exactly the same!

Descartes, in his original objections, explains that machines can only do what they are programed to do,
regardless of how sophisticated the programming. A familiar objection is always raised at this
juncture: Computers, it will be said, can do only what they are programmed to do. They can never go beyond
their programs or display any genuine creativity. They are not conscious beings, but machines. A chess-
playing computer, for example, is just making moves mechanically, according to its program, without
understanding anything about chess. Indeed, when we say it is “playing” chess, we are speaking
metaphorically—it is really just a mechanical contrivance that, when supplied with certain physical inputs,
gives back certain physical outputs. It has no awareness of what is happening or of its significance for chess.
And if your brain were replaced by a computer that (among other things) could play chess, you would be no
better off. Present day computers are limited; but artificial intelligence does not seem impossible. Most
researchers in the field of AI believe that, if they could program a computer to do everything that a human
could do, they would be creating a conscious machine. Any further insistence on human “uniqueness” would
be empty metaphysics, of no interest to science. This belief was expressed by Allen Turing.

In 1936, Alan Turing—a 24-year-old British mathematician—published a paper in The Proceedings of the
London Mathematical Society. The purpose of the paper was to solve a problem in mathematical logic, but in
the course of doing so Turing described, for the first time, the idea of a digital, stored-program, general-
purpose computer. At that time no such machine existed, but Turing conceived, in mathematical terms, what
they would be like and how they would work. His devises are infamously known as “Turing Machines.” We
would simply call them “computers.”
When WWII broke out, Turing joined the team of code breakers at Bletchley Park, outside London, where he
played a key part in deciphering German codes. In the early months of the war, when the outcome was in
doubt, the work at Bletchley was critical. Without it, ships bringing supplies from America could not evade
German subs. To help crack the codes, one of the first electronic computers, the Colossus, was built.

Years later, Turing realized that the development of the computer raised a new philosophical question—or at
least, it posed an old question in a new, more urgent way. In 1950, he published a paper called “Computing
Machinery and intelligence” in the Philosophical journalMind. It began with the words “I propose to consider
the question, Can machines think?” At that time, the question struck most philosophers as absurd, but Turing
predicted that by the end of the century computers would have developed to the point where their “thinking”
would no longer seem out of the question.

Turing believed the question “Can machines think?” was too vague for a direct answer, so he proposed to come
at it obliquely by considering how we might test whether a machine was thinking. How could we tell if a
machine was thinking? The basic idea of the Truing Test is this: Take three humans and a computer and put
each of them in different rooms, allowing them to communicate with one another only by typing messages.
One of the humans—the interrogator—will ask questions of the others, trying to figure out from their
responses which is the person and which is the “computer.” The interrogator can ask anything; she can initiate
discussions of poetry, religion, love, or the latest fashions. She can try to trip up the computer any way she can
conceive. The computer, meanwhile, will deny it is a machine, and it will not deliberately say anything to give
itself away.

Turing imagines the following exchange:

Q: Please write me a sonnet on the subject of the Forth Bridge.

A: Count me out on this one. I could never write poetry.

Q: Add 3457 to 70764.

A: 105621

Q: Do you play chess?

A: Yes

Q: I have Kat my K1, and no other pieces. You have only K at K6 and R at R1. It is your move. What do you
play?

A: R-R8 mate.
Is the responder a human or a machine? To make the test fair, we must repeat the experiment several times,
with different people involved. After each session the interrogator guesses which responder is the computer. If
no more than 50% of the guesses are correct (the number that random guessing would produce), then we may
conclude that humans cannot tell the difference between the computer’s responses and those of another person.

Turing argued that if a machine passes this test—if we cannot tell the difference between its performance and
the performance of another person—then the machine must have the mental properties of a person. After all,
you take what I say as proof that I am conscious and intelligent. To be consistent, mustn’t you also say that a
computer giving the same verbal performance is equally conscious and intelligent? Of course, the machine
does not look like a person, and it is made of different stuff. But so what?

When Turing wrote “Computing Machinery and Intelligence,” there were only four primitive computers in
existence—two in England and two in the United States. Of course none of them could pass his test. Today, the
Turing Test remains out of reach. Despite the ubiquity and power of present day computers, none can come
close to passing Turing’s Test. Indeed, after a half-century of research in artificial intelligence, it is clearer than
ever how difficult it would be to create and program a machine that would match human intelligence. But what
if a machine did pass the Turing Test? Should we all agree that it was a “thinking thing?” An entity with a
mind?

Many believe that the Turing Test is not a valid criterion of mentality. Firstly, it is an application of
Behaviorism, which is a discredited theory of the mind. Behavior is an expression of mental states, but it is not
identical with them. Thought can occur without behavior and vice versa. Thus, it is possible for a “zombie” to
behave like a person but be mindless. David Chalmers is synonymous with the idea of a (philosophical)
“Zombie.” The notion of a “Zombie” in philosophy is the notion of a being that acts and behaves as if it as a
mind; it says all of the things that its human equivalent would say. It seems to meet every criteria for
mindedness. However, there is one difference: It has no mind at all.There is nothing going on “upstairs” if you
will. It has no thinking consciousness. It simply behaves as if it does. Would Turning’s “machine” be a
“Zombie?”

In one of the most famous responses to both Alan Turing and to Functionalism, John Searle, one of the most
famous late 20th century American philosophers, invokes a famous example:The Chinese Room Argument.
The example goes like this:

A man is locked in a room filled with books. It is a very large room with a great many books. In the door is a
slot through which slips of paper may be passed. Occasionally a piece of paper will come through the slot and
it will have marks on it, but the marks mean nothing to the man. As far as he is concerned, they are
meaningless squiggles on paper. However, he has been told that, each time a slip of paper arrives, he must send
back another slip of paper with different markings on it. The books will tell him what marks to make. The
books contain elaborate instructions that say this: Whenever you see a squiggle of such-and-such shape, draw a
different squiggle of such-and-such shape. The man does this hour after hour.
Meanwhile, outside the door a woman from Beijing is writing messages in Chinese and passing them through
the slot. Each time she does this, there is a pause, after which she receives a response in Chinese. The
responses make perfect sense, and in this way she carries on a conversation, ranging over a variety of subjects,
for several hours. Naturally she believes that there is someone on the other side of the door, who understands
Chinese, but she is wrong—there is only the man following the instructions in the books.

The man in the room does not understand Chinese. He manipulates symbols according to the instructions he
has been given, but he has no way of attaching meaning to those symbols. This seems to show that the Turing
Test is ill-founded. After all, the man in the room passes the Turing Test for understanding Chinese, yet he
does not understand Chinese.

Notice that the elements of the Chinese Room correspond to the main parts of a computer: The man is the
central processing unit (CPU), the instructions in the books are the program, and the slips of paper are the
inputs and outputs. The whole system is doing just what a computer would be doing if a program could be
written to converse in Chinese. The Turing Test says that a computer running such a program would have
mental sates, including understanding its own words. The Chinese Room Argument seems to show that this is
false. This is an argument against Functionalism, as well as the Turing Test.

Critics of the Chinese Room Argument say that there is nothing else that is needed. If we could create a
machine like the ones in the science-fiction stories—a machine that was indistinguishable in its speech and
behavior from human beings—what more could you possibly want? Searle Says: The Machine would
lack Consciousness; this is the problem; we don’t understand consciousness—which is the missing ingredient.

Conclusion: What is Consciousness?

David Chalmers famously lists a number of problems that he thinks are urgent and imperative for Philosophy
of Mind. However, there is one problem—the central problem within Philosophy of Mind—that he
names “The Hard Problem”—namely, giving an accurate a full description of the true nature of
Consciousness. In other words, the “Hard Problem” is to give an adequate theory of Consciousness. Chalmers
thinks that this puzzle is so daunting that it may never be solved. He thinks that it is the most fundamental
question within all of science and human thinking; he also thinks that it is the hardest problem to solve. In an
extraordinary unusually proposal, Chalmers argues that physics needs to be “updated” to include one more law
—the law of “Consciousness.” On his view, Consciousness is a fundamental force or happening or law or
event within physics itself. While a few famous and respectable theorists agree with Chalmers, he has a never-
ending line of dissenters. Most find his view absurd. However, most of the other cutting-edge theories today
are, for the most part, equally baffling.

Paul and Patricia Churchland argue, repeatedly, that there is no real problem at all and that our science is in an
infantile stage. As soon as we “really” understand physics, then the “problems” will disappear. Hence, what we
should do, and where we should focus our real efforts, is simply in advancing science. Other theorists, such as
Roger Penrose, argue that quantum mechanics can account for non-algorithmic processes in the brain. And that
it is non-algorithmic processes that is the mark of consciousness. The Churchlands,’ mockingly, call his
proposal “Pixy Dust In The Synapses.”

Yet, another group of contemporary theorists, such as Colin McGinn, claim that the “problem” is a total
mystery that could never be solved. He identifies himself as a “mysterian.” This view has few takers, but is
hardly less perplexing than the views of Chalmers and Stawson. Yet again, other thinkers who strongly draw
upon the phenomenal aspects of consciousness and its qualia do not think that consciousness can be reduced to
“material terms.” Both Frank Jackson and Tom Nagel invoke some type of modified “Cartesian Dualism” in
order to address the issue of consciousness. Evolutionary theorist take a different approach and argues that
consciousness is a “spandrel,” a feature of something that just happened to evolve and come along for the
evolutionary ride. The color of blood, for example, was not “selected for” but is rather a random spandrel. If
consciousness is a spandrel, then what we think of as so characteristic of our inner human selves (i.e.,
Consciousness) is just an evolutionary accident. As should be apparent, the twenty-first century has not made
the “hard problem” of consciousness any clearer or easier. If anything, the radically different approaches to
explaining consciousness demonstrates just how little we understand the true nature of the mind—i.e., the true
nature of consciousness.