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(Routledge Library Editions - Philosophy of Mind Volume 3) Sayre, Kenneth M. - Cybernetics and The Philosophy of Mind-Routledge (2015)
(Routledge Library Editions - Philosophy of Mind Volume 3) Sayre, Kenneth M. - Cybernetics and The Philosophy of Mind-Routledge (2015)
PHILOSOPHY OF MIND
Volume 3
KENNETH M. SAYRE
First published in 1976
This edition first published in 2015
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© 1976 Kenneth M. Sayre
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trace.
Cybernetics and
tbe Pbilosoph) of Mind
Kenneth M. Sayre
Professor of Philosophy
University of Notre Dame, Indiana
Preface xi
I Introduction 3
1 The Scientific Side of the Mind-Bo4J Problem 3
2 Protoscience 6
3 Traditional Approaches to the Mind-Bo4J Problem 8
4 The Cybernetic Approach 14
5 Relative Advantages of the Cybernetic Approach 16
Notes 17
II Information 21
I Historical Background 21
2 'Information' Defined 22
3 Entropy and Mutual Information 26
4 Information Storage and Processing 30
Notes 34
III Entropy 36
I Communication Theory and Thermo4Jnamics 36
2 Thermo4Jnamic Entropy Defined 37
3 The Two Entropies Related 40
4 Maxwell's Demon 44
Notes 45
vii
Contents
IV Feedback 48
I The Priority of Information over Feedback 48
2 Positive and Negative Feedback 49
3 Homeostatic Feedback 52
4 Heterotelic Feedback 54
5 Sentient and Anticipatory Feedback 56
6 Feedback as Information Processing 59
Notes 6I
V Causation 65
I The Need for a Cybernetic Model of Causation 65
2 Criteria for an Adeqtlate Model 67
3 Reichenbach's Model 69
4 The Cybernetic Model 73
5 The Causal Model in Biological Explanation 76
Notes 81
VI Life 87
I Distinguishing Life from the Nonliving 87
2 Characteristics of Life 89
3 Life's Molecular Basis 93
4 Teleonomic Development 99
Notes 10 3
VII Evolution 10 5
I Evolution, Conditioning and ConIciousness as Feedback
Processes 10 5
2 Evolution and Natural Selection 106
3 Conjectured Life Origins III
4 Evolutionary Progress 115
Notes 1I9
X Society 16 5
I Society and OrganisnJ 16 5
2. Negentropic Advantages of Social Grouping 168
; Intention as a Basis for Social Adaptation 17 2
4 Moral and Prudential Values 177
5 Social Adaptation 182
Notes 18 3
XI Language 18 7
I The Problem of Origins 18 7
2. Limitations of Innate Symbolic Structures 18 9
3 Conjectured Development of Human Language 19 2
4 The Origin and Nature of the Meaning Relation 196
5 The Role of Syntax 2.01
Notes 2.06
Bibliography 253
Index 261
x
PREFACE
xiii
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PART ONE
THE MIND-BODY
PROBLEM
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I
INTRODUCTION
2. PROTO SCIENCE
NOTES
I For example, see Skinner (1969), ch. 7; Russell (1958, 1959, 1961, 1962);
14
and Dunn (1971).
2 This anomaly may be traceable in part to the relative neglect of this theory
by professional linguists themselves. Chomsky, for example, after a
rather routine exploration (Miller and Chomsky, 1963) of some of
Shannon's early insights into the communication theoretic properties of
language, gives up communication theory as unprofitable for the study
of language (Chomsky, 1968). This regrettable attitude is typical of con-
temporary linguists.
3 For a historical account, see Roller and Roller (1954).
4 The term 'cybernetics' stems from the Greek kybernetu, meaning 'steers-
man' in the sense of one who guides or controls. It was coined by Norbert
14
The Mind-Body Problem
Wiener as a name for the common interests of a rather disparate group of
mathematicians, engineers and physiologists who had joined forces to
study various problems of communication and control systems. The
nature of this original collaboration is described by Wiener in the Intro-
duction of his Cybernetics, or Control and Communication in the Animal and
the Machine. Despite the extensive public notice the name has received
since Wiener's book was published in 1947, its reference remains vague.
There is no unified body of theory mastery of which would qualify one
for the title 'cybernetician', and no group of specialists who would prefer
to be known by that title in preference to 'biologist', 'computer specialist'
or 'electrical engineer'. Nor are all specialized studies of communication
and control systems of a sort likely to be classified as cybernetic (consider
the radio and push-button switching). In public fancy, at least, 'cyber-
netics' suggests the simulation of human data-processing and regulative
functions, in a digital computer or other suitable machine. In the present
context, the term is used to designate the study of communication and
control functions of living organisms, particularly human beings, in
view of their possible simulation in mechanical systems. For a definition
of 'simulation' in this use, see Sayre (1965), ch. I.
5 For the latter claim, see Smart (1963), ch. ;; and Armstrong (1968), ch. 4.
6 The term comes from FeigI (1958), p. 456.
7 For a forceful argument to this effect, see Rorty (1965).
8 The negative character of typical arguments for materialism is evident
in Smart (196;), ch. 5, and in Armstrong (I968), p. 85. The scientific
implausibility of materialism is argued in Sayre (1969), ch. 8, and Sayre
(197 2 ).
9 The standard view in Russellian scholarship is that Russell did not
become a neutral monist until after his 'The Relation of Sense-Data to
Physics' in 19I4. This view is supported by his distinction there between
sense-data and sensations, the latter but not the former including sub-
jective awareness. As Russell himself points out (1917, p. I 5I), however,
his position in this paper is compatible with monism and might have
been reached from such a viewpoint. Since Russell's theory of sensibilia
is easier to expound in relevant respects than the later expressly monistic
position, I have taken the liberty of representing this theory as a version
of neutral monism.
18
PART TWO
FUNDAMENTALS
CP~I-B
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II
INFORM A TION
1 HISTORICAL BACKGROUND
2 'INFORMATION' DEFINED
14
Information
as separate occurrences. The measure proposed by Hartley in
solution to the first difficulty handles the second as well. Instead
of IjP(e) as the quantification of the information present in the
occurrence of e, the logarithm of that quantity turns out to be the
most appropriate measure.
The quantity by which information is measured in communica-
tion theory is thus established as log IjP(e). What is measured by
this quantity is an increase in probability of the event in question.
It is important to note that the quantity log IjP(e) is not iden-
tical with the information itself. That quantity rather is the mea-
sure of the information, much as meter is a measure of length and
degree a measure of heat. The information measured by this
quantity is a feature of the world at large, insofar as this world is
comprised by events that occur with distinct prior probabilities.
The quantity log I fP( e) admits further specification, since
logarithms may be based on any positive number. Three different
bases have been used in the literature. When the base chosen is
ten, the quantity log 10 I fP( e) is the unit of information, named
'Hartley' in honor of the originator of the logarithmic measure.
Natural logarithms also are occasionally used, with a unit called
the 'nat', for 'natural unit'. Most commonly, however, logarithms
to the base two are employed, with a unit called the 'bit' (for
'binary unit' as suggested by Shannon (1949, p. 4». One advan-
tage of logarithms to the base two is their convenient application
to problems in the design of digital computers. Another is the
intuitive understanding they provide of information content: the
number of bits of information represented in the occurrence of a
given event is the number of times its initial probability must be
doubled to equal unity.4 Base two logarithms will be assumed in
the remainder of this discussion.
The probability of an event that has occurred is equal to unity.
But information content is not restricted to past and present
occurrences. Like physics, chemistry, astronomy, and any other
predictive discipline, communication theory is concerned with
events that are possible as well as those that actually occur. And
events that are merely possible may have information content as
well, for they may be characterized under different circumstances
by different probabilities of occurrence. An example is the change
in probability that the first ball drawn from an urn will be white,
resulting from doubling the number of white balls in the urn. By
Z5
Fllndamentals
altering the ratio of white to black balls, the probabilities attach-
ing to each member of a possible series of draws will be altered
before the series actually begins. Another example reflects the
statistical interactions among letters in the written English alpha-
bet, according to which U is more likely to follow Q than any
other letter. The probability of U being written next in a series
of letters increases greatly if Q has just been written. Thus the
information content of the next number in the sequence is
altered before its occurrence, independently of whether it actually
occurs at all.
Like other mathematical characteristics, information content
may be an attribute of possible as well as of actual events. Thus
the description of the information content of an event as the
number of times its initial probability must be doubled to equal
unity, offered above, should not be understood to imply that the
event must actually occur in order to possess a determinate
information content.
NOTES
1 Caution was first issued by Hartley himself, in the very article in which
the term 'information' was first given technical employment (Hartley,
1928, p. 538). See also Shannon and Weaver (1949, p. 3) and Bar-Hillel
and Carnap (1953).
2 Within a decade after the publication of Shannon's article in book form
(Shannon and Weaver, 1949) possible applications of communication
theory to an impressive variety of other disciplines were explored. Notable
illustrations are Attneave (1959), Quastler (ed.) (1953), Bar-Hillel and
Carnap (1953) and Hiller and Isaacson (1959). A sense of the diversity of
these early approaches may be gathered from the bibliographies of the
later works, Garner (1962), Luce (ed.) (1960), and Luce, Bush and
Galanter (eds) (1963).
B
FIJndafllcnta/s
3 Hartley (1928), pp. 538-4°. My development of the problem is not in-
tended as a faithful reproduction of Hartley's discussion.
4 See Sayre (1965), p. 232, for a discussion of this feature.
5 Many treatments of communication theory are available, for the tech-
nical and for the general reader. A clear and comprehensive technical
treatment is Abramson (1963). Less technical discussions may be found in
Weaver's contribution to Shannon and Weaver (1949), and in Bar-Hillel
(1964), ch. 16. Readers favoring something in between may wish to
refer to Sayre (1965), ch. II, or Sayre (1969), ch. 7.
6 A perspicuous representation of an information channel thus is afforded
by the following matrix, where P(bj/ai) is the probability of bJ given ai
at the input:
Outputs
b1 b2 bm
al P(b1/al) P(b2/al) ... P(bm/al)
a2 P(bl/a2) P(b2/a2) ... P(bm/a2)
Inputs
34
Inforll1ation
InjortJlation
a1 ";2 1
b, 8f bl
~ 1
~ 8:t
% b:J '3
1
3/,0 1
32 b4 84 b2
1',0 1
b6 85
1 1
33 bee
b 8& b3
ii
(i) ii
(ii)
35
35
III
ENTROPY
4 MAXWELL'S DEMON
NOTES
45
Fundamentals
occurred. Apart from the obvious metaphor in this expression, however,
application of the Second Law to 'the universe as a whole' remains hope-
lessly obscure. The universe cannot coherently be conceived as a closed
system, since there is no coherent concept of what it could be closed to.
4 A basic assumption of statistical mechanics is that the individual micro-
states of a system have equal a priori probability. See Bent (1965), p. 147.
6 Boltzmann's constant is the gas constant divided by Avogadro's number,
evaluated k = I.38 X 10-16 ergs per degree centigrade. Planck claimed
in his Scientific Autobiography, however, that Boltzmann did not introduce
this constant himself, and probably did not investigate its numerical
value (as quoted in H. A. Bent, 1965, p. 14z). This may account for the
fact that some authors refer to the equation above as the 'Boltzmann-
Planck formula,' e.g. Brillouin (196z), p. lZ0.
6 The First and Second Laws of Thermodynamics together imply that
some forms of energy are not spontaneously convertible into other forms;
only so, given the constancy of energy in a closed physical system, could
the system tend to lose its capacity for useful work. Mechanical or
electrical energy can spontaneously degrade into chemical or thermal
energy, and chemical into thermal, but transformations in the opposite
direction are very unlikely to occur. The statement that removal of
thermal energy constitutes a decrease in entropy is sometimes referred to
as the Third Law of Thermodynamics (see Bent, 1965, p. 39).
7 This analogy was suggested by one used by Tribus (1961b, p. 145) for
similar purposes, which derives in turn from H. Blum (1955, pp. 17-19).
8 (1 96z, p. 161)
Brillouin (196z, 16 I) criticizes Shannon for treating the two quantities
as equivalent, citing other authors in support of his own view of the
matter. But Tribus (1961b, pp. 141-Z) maintains the same attitude as
Shannon, expressing entropy in both contexts by the same formulation.
9 Alternatively, we might begin by conceiving the range of all possible
energy levels (macrostates) of the system, and setting each in corres-
pondence with the proportion of different quantum configurations
(microstates) that would yield that energy level according to theory.
These configurations will be appropriately quantized to assure that the
proportions take the form of fractions with determinate arguments (the
same stipulation also applies to the approach in the text above). An
arrangement of these levels in order of decreasing energy available for
work then will be equivalent to the order of increasing entropy.
10 The relationship among these two forms of communication theoretic
entropy and the other various quantities related to entropy discussed in
the preceding section can be depicted against the background of the bar
graph below, in which macrostates are ordered according to the num-
ber of associated microstates. Given this ordering of macrostates, the
temporal direction of a system's processes can be represented as the
direction of greater probability in the state flow diagram following, where
Pj > (1 - Pj). The tendency of the various quantities in question then
can be represented as vectors indicating increase in value. As H(Aj) and
S increase in value, for example, H(A) and energy for work decrease.
46
Entropy
~
.g
0
~
...
II>
>
II>
c:
~
i;i
t>::::J
::::J
~
S
:I:
SallllS0JOIW JO Jaqwnu
g
Co
>
c
II>
Cl
c
Q)
-0
......
II>
E
c:
gj
c:
0
.~
~
c:
II>
::::J
c:
~ (J)d:I (.)
:I:
Ii
.
...
.a
...'"
c
os
... .§~
co E
;
...
a::
C.
::0
Co
~
~
0
CII
I
...5
II>
II>
II See Brillouin (1962, p. 153) for this use of 'negentropy'. Note, however, M
47
IV
FEEDBACK
3 HOMEOSTATIC FEEDBACK
°
above thus can be conceived as a cascade of information channels,
(i) to S, (ii) S to E, and (iii) E to S, respectively.3 Homeostasis
thus may be conceived in terms of communication theory. But let
us attempt to devise a less perfunctory characterization.
The cascade of channels S to E to S can be collapsed concep-
tually into the reflexive channel S to S, appropriately conceived
as a first-order Markov source (see chapter II). And first-order
Markov sources can be formulated with homeostatic character-
istics. 4 Such sources, however, do not constitute feedback systems
of the sort we have been considering, since they contain no
representation of the operating environment 0.
The set 0, by definition, comprises all and only environmental
states capable of influencing S. We assume, however, that not all
changes in S occur consequently to changes in 0; otherwise the
°
system would lack recovery powers and not be homeostatic.
We assume also that is not influenced by S in turn; otherwise
the system would not be merely homeostatic, but would exhibit
feedback of a sort we have yet to discuss. The system thus
characterized may be conceived as a Markov source with homeo-
static capacities, driven into disequilibrium intermittently by
an input signal of environmental origin. All these features can
be represented as probabilistic functions. 5 Hence this system
can be characterized formally in terms of communication
theory.
Since a homeostatic system of this sort maintains its structure
through change, its physical realization would exhibit a continu-
ing low level of thermodynamic entropy. This structural negen-
tropy would be purchased at the expense of information arriving
53
Fundamentals
through the system's sensors, and of energy channeled through
the effectors that maintain homeostasis.
4 HETEROTELIC FEEDBACK
6 FEEDBACK AS INFORMATION
PROCESSING
NOTES
E E
a b c d
a Y'5 % 0 0
b 15 % Y5 0
C 0 % 15 Ys
d 0 0 '% Ys
E E EE
In this depiction the delay-functor (<5) represents the shift in S from state
st, at time tt to the successive state at t1+1. The node between 0 and S is
occupied by a mechanism imposing the conditions that 0 will provide dis-
62
Feedback
ruptive input to S only intermittently and that S operates homeostatically
when there is no input from o. These conditions may be expressed form-
ally as P(S~'/Ot,) + P(S!'/Stt-l) = 1, and P(S;'/StH) > 0, where Sd
E
is a state of S representing disruption from homeostatically protected
E
conditions (state a, c and d if S is characterized by the matrix in the foot-
note above), and Se a state that is homeostatically protected (b in the
matrix above). It may be noted that the homeostatic powers of the system
will be overcome if P(Sd/O) increases beyond a certain cutoff value.
6 Heterotelic feedback, which clearly is not restricted to living organisms,
is typical of that type of goal-directed behavior proposed by Rosen-
bleuth and Wiener (1950) as models of purposiveness. This proposal
has been effectively rebutted by several authors. My own views are ex-
plained in Sayre (1969), ch. 3, where I suggest that negative feedback of
the sorts we have been discussing here may be considered examples of
activity 'for a purpose', but certainly not as models of behavior per-
formed 'on purpose' by human beings. It is much too early in our ex-
position of the cybernetic framework to start looking for analogues of
human purposiveness.
7 The simplest schematic depiction of heterotelic feedback is
62 62
62
62 62 62 62
62
where (i) is indicated by the delay-function (0), (ii) by the arrow directed
from 0 to the hyphenated complex at the upper right of the schema,
(iv) by the place of S' in the feedback loop between 0 and E, with the
understanding (iii) that S (which by definition contains all system vari-
ables requiring homeostatic protection) is not directly affected by the
condition of S'. Thus understood, the schema above represents the basic
operations of sentient feedback.
9 Experimental evidence of such development in certain organisms is cited
in chapter VIII.
E
62
Fundamentals
10 Anticipatory feedback may be schematized
62
62
62 62 62 62
62
wherein the delay-functor in the upper left sector represents the temporal
lag between 0' and O. The double remove of S from 0 is apparent in the
diagram.
62
v
CAUSATION
66
Causation
z CRITERIA FOR AN ADEQUATE MODEL
67
Fundamentals
question then the corresponding function f(-t) in negative time
is a solution also, and vice versa. Although Newton's laws of
motion, for example, are generally conceded to be deterministic,
in the sense that they uniquely determine a system's subsequent
states once its initial state is given, there is nothing in these laws
themselves that specifies determination in the forward temporal
direction. Our interpretation of these equations as representing
processes with a particular temporal direction thus relies upon a
conceptual resource beyond the theory itself, namely our con-
ception of the causal relation. In so far as relativity theory
(Reichenbach, 1956, p. 42.) and quantum mechanics (Ford, 1963,
p. 2.01) also are time-symmetrical, it does not constitute a causal
explanation of any physical process merely to refer it to the
equations of one of these theories. To conceive one process or
event as occurring because of another it is necessary to con-
ceive them as temporally ordered in a functional relationship, and
to establish that relationship is a role of our causal model. In
brief, although values of functionally related variables are deter-
mined by equations of the relevant explanatory theory, the func-
tional order among the processes to be explained is established
with reference to a model of the causal relation.
An adequate model of the caul>al relation must meet these two
criteria. First, it must enable us to distinguish sequences of events
that show promise of yielding to scientific explanation within the
broader class of uniformly associated events. And second, it must
establish a functional order by which events may be conceived
as causally related when conforming to the equations of scientific
theory. The first has to do with the genesis of an explanation of a
particular type of occurrence, the second with the interpretation
of the theoretical equations in terms of which the explanation is
finally accomplished.
Quite apart from the inadequacy of both the Humean and the
entailment models in application to the mind-body problem, we
may note that each displays a more general deficiency with respect
to one of the criteria above. The Humean model is unable to
explicate the difference between the mere regular association
between the storm and the falling barometer and the causal
relatedness of the storm to changing atmospheric conditions.
Since both the falling barometer and the change in air pressure
are proximate to (in any relevant sense) and precede the storm,
68
Causation
the difference is not a matter of contiguity or of temporal order.
Nor can the difference lie merely in our anticipating the effect
upon observing its antecedents, since a falling barometer turns
our thoughts to an impending storm as readily as other signs of
atmospheric disturbance. Both falling barometer and changing
air pressure must be considered causes under the Humean model,
which accordingly fails by the first criterion. The entailment
model fails by the second criterion. For entailment, in any intel-
ligible conception, is an atemporal relation, and hence unable to
establish the temporal ordering by which events in nature are
functionally related. 2
Although the Humean model itself is inadequate, we should
follow Hume's lead in attempting to provide a model of the
causal relation which relies only on concepts that can be clearly
explicated. There is no room in an adequate model of causation
for mysterious forces or productive influences. Adhering at least
to the spirit of the entailment model, we should be content with a
model expressed in purely mathematical terms.
3 REICHENBACH'S MODEL
There are three general ways in which the output may be related
to the input of an information channel. One is that of the deter-
ministic channel, noted above, in which the equivocation of the
output with respect to the input is zero for all assignments of
probabilities to the input. In such a channel, since H(B / A) = 0,
I(A;B) = H(B). Another is the noiseless channel, in which
76
Causation
I(A;B) = H(A) under the same conditions. In such a channel,
since the equivocation of the input with respect to the output
is zero, the output provides a perfectly reliable indicator of
all input events. The third way, of course, is that of a channel
that is neither noiseless nor deterministic, representing a
mode of association more common by far among natural
occurrences.
What makes the noiseless channel particularly interesting in
the present context is that, in every theoretical respect, it consti-
tutes a deterministic channel in reverse. Inasmuch as the deter-
ministic channel models the deterministic causal sequence in the
manner discussed above, the question arises whether the noise-
less channel in like manner models processes actually found in
nature. The question may be sharpened in terms of the concept of
necessary conditionality. In the deterministic channel, every
occurrence of an input event is associated with the occurrence of
a unique output event, which consequently is a necessary condi-
tion of its occurring. A natural causal process represented by a
deterministic channel, accordingly, is one in which temporally
later events are necessary for the occurrence of prior events; the
earlier would not occur unless the later occurred also. A process
represented by a noiseless channel, correspondingly, would be
one in which prior events are necessary for the occurrence of later
events. The question is whether there exist in nature processes
in which certain states of affairs could not occur without certain
other states occurring previously.
Put in these terms, our question admits a ready answer. The
growth and development of living organisms are processes in
which earlier states are necessary for the occurrence of later
states: for no oak has grown that was not first a sapling, and no
hen ever lived that was not first a chick. Moreover, whereas
deterministic processes like explosions generally lead to states of
increased thermodynamic entropy, processes of growth and
development generally result in locally decreased entropy. In
exactly the same respects considered above in which the deter-
ministic channel corresponds to deterministic processes in nature,
the noiseless channel corresponds to processes typical of living
organisms. These facts are incontrovertible. The problem is how
to interpret them.
One interpretation not open to us is that time 'runs backwards'
77
Fundamentals
in biological contexts. Although the increase in communication-
theoretic entropy characteristic of a noiseless channel has been
taken as a formal representation of reverse temporality for pur-
poses of introducing a time dimension into our model of causal
relatedness, there is no suggestion that processes corresponding to
the model in this particular form actually occur in 'backward
time.'
Another proscribed interpretation is that there are causal influ-
ences in biological systems that somehow operate in a reverse
temporal direction. The notion of causal influences, whether
backward or forward, has no place whatever in the communica-
tion-theoretic model. There is no room here for the confused
conception that posterior causes somehow operate before their
time to bring about anterior effects.
The proper interpretation of the correspondence between the
model of the noiseless channel and certain processes in living
systems is indicated by the role of causal models generally in
establishing functional relationships among variables in scientific
theory. To establish C as causally related to E, in the context of
the communication-theoretic model, is to establish C as the class
of variables with respect to which states of E are to be explained
according to relevant scientific principles. To establish in addition
that C is lower than E in communication-theoretic entropy is to
establish that C is subsequent to E in positive time. The noiseless
channel thus is a model of natural processes in which earlier are
explained as functions of later events.
In short, conceived as a causal model the noiseless channel
represents an order of explanatory relevance and not a temporal
order in nature between cause and effect. The question remains
how reference to certain states of living organisms can help us
understand other states that precede them in time. A general
answer to this question has already been indicated in our earlier
discussion of negative feedback mechanisms, by which current
processes are regulated according to subsequent goal states. This
answer is further elaborated in the following chapter, when we
turn to consider specific feedback procedures in biological
systems.
At this point, however, someone wise in the ways of entropy
may pose a fundamental problem regarding the nature of scien-
tific explanation. The noiseless channel has been recommended as
78
Cat/sation
a model of 'temporally backward' explanation, he will remind us,
at least partly on the basis of a characteristic decrease in thermo-
dynamic entropy in certain life processes, in contrast with the
increase in entropy typical of most physical systems. But it is
generally recognized that the growth and development of living
organisms provides no exception to the Second Law of Thermo-
dynamics, for the entropy dispersed as part of the life process is
matched by entropy increases within the supporting environ-
ment. If life forms are conceived as only parts of more complex
physical systems, comprising the living environment as well as
the organism itself, then life processes still may be understood in
light of the deterministic model with no need arising for models
of different temporal cast.
Furthermore, the objector may continue, complete physical
knowledge about the circumstances of life processes might even
eliminate the need for explanatory principles of a special biologi-
cal sort. To be sure, there are stages in the development of an oak
tree, for example, such as the acorn sprouting and the shoot
growing leaves, that are not currently explainable by other than
biological principles. But if we knew everything there is to know
about how the acorn germinates in fertile soil, how the sapling
responds to favorable conditions of light and moisture, and how
the plant will be protected from disease and predators during its
tender years, then we would be able to understand its growth in
the same fashion as we understand the explosion of gunpowder.
Full reliance on the deterministic model, he may insist in short,
depends only upon full knowledge of contributing conditions.
The objection is that laws might exist that are entirely deter-
ministic in application, and yet that cover all details of behavior
in organic systems.
The response to this variant of the Laplacean ideal5 is that it is
based on a supposition ruled out by the plight of Maxwell's
demon. An important lesson to be learned from this fanciful
thought experiment (see chapter III) is that energy cannot be
converted into information without a resulting gain in entropy.
In this particular context, the information available to the demon
for his operation upon the individual molecules is always less
than the energy expended in making that information available. 6
A corollary is that the amount of energy needed to provide com-
plete information regarding the details of a closed system's
79
Fundamentals
operation is greater than can be supplied within the system itself.
Thus, far from favoring a completely deterministic conception
of the behavior of organisms, the Second Law of Thermody-
namics actually rules out the possibility of deterministic expla-
nation to the extent that such would rely on complete knowledge
of microstates. To suppose that we elm know the state of every
component in a complete operating system at a given time is to
suppose that there is more energy in the system than is provided
by the states of its constituent elements. This type of determinism
is as incoherent in itself as the request for a complete audit of one's
financial resources at the cost of a cent-and-one-half per penny.
The significance of this result should be carefully construed.
There is nothing in these considerations to rule out the logical
possibility that all events in nature are completely determined in
their occurrence. What is ruled out by these considerations is the
possibility that all events in nature can be provided a completely
deterministic explanation. This follows from the character of
energy exchanges in nature itself, rather than from the character
of human knowledge or from the limitations of scientific meas-
uring techniques. Given that deterministic explanation is not
available for all natural events, however, it is unclear what
interest might remain in the bare possibility that all events
nonetheless are completely determined.
In the present context, the major significance of this result is to
discredit what seems to me to be the only prima facie plausible
argument for the thesis that all mental events are subject to
deterministic explanation. Since this thesis is supported neither
by common sense nor by scientific accomplishment, the only
credible way to establish it would be to establish the general
premise that all events whatever are subject to deterministic
explanation, and then to reach the claim about mental events by
inference from universal to particular. What has been shown is
that the general premise, for physical reasons, is necessarily
untrue.
This chapter has provided a model of the causal relation that is
applicable to all sequences of interacting events, without respect
to their physical or mental character. It has shown also that
scientific discussion about the causal interaction between physical
and mental events as such cannot be ruled out on the basis that a
full scientific explanation of mental events would show them all
80
Causation
to be completely determined and hence without features requiring
special accounting, But very little has been said about the features
of mental events that enable them to participate in causal relations.
To pursue this topic requires an examination of the life process
itself, and a consideration of how the various forms of human
mentality might have evolved from inanimate nature.
NOTES
I Although Newton employed the term 'cause' in his Principia, for instance
in the Definitions, none of his discussion there depends upon a specific
conception of the causal nexus. If it were otherwise philosophers such as
Hume during the modern period could not have pursued their own
puzzlement about the causal relation without challenging the authority
of Newtonian mechanics.
2 An attempt might be made to defend the entailment model by distinguish-
ing physical processes, which obviously are not logically related, from
propositions describing them, which might be related by logical entail-
ment, and by building appropriate temporal reference into propositions
representing causally associated events. For example, given the premise
'When, but only when, dry tinder is exposed to open flame in the presence
of oxygen, the tinder burns immediately thereafter,' and the stipulation
'Time tl immediately follows time to,' the proposition (C) 'Dry tinder is
exposed to open flame in the presence of oxygen at to' entails the pro-
position (E) 'The tinder burns at tI.' However, I do not believe this tactic
will remove the difficulty, for the relation of entailment between (C) and
(E) remains atemporal despite temporal references in the propositions
themselves. The significance of this may be seen in the following con-
sideration. Exactly the same entailment relation holds between the
propositions (C') 'Dry tinder is burning at tI' and (E/) 'Oxygen was
present at to.' That is, although the temporal relation between (C /) and
(E/) is exactly the opposite as that between (C) and (E), the same relation
of entailment holds in either case. Indeed, this attempt to impart tempor-
ality to the entailment relation is as misguided as attempting to render it
spatial by citing (E") 'Moline is west of Chicago' as entailed by (C")
'Chicago is east of Moline.'
3 In a deterministic channel, I(A;B) = H(B). Since
I(A;B) = H(A) - H(A/B),
for the deterministic channel
H(A/B) = H(A) - H(B).
But in a deterministic channel that is not also noiseless, H(AjB) > o.
Hence in such a channel, H(B) < H(A).
4 The screening-off model and the communication-theoretic model are
not equivalent formulations of the causal relation. One difference is that
the former model is defined in terms of temporal relations, while the
81
Fllnda'JlClIta/s
latter enables a definition of temporal order within its own resources. A
more subtle difference has to do with an important distinction between the
screening-off relation and the masking relation on which the models are
respectively based. The classes of events in terms of which the screening-
off relation is defined are composed each of different occurrences of the
'same' event. The class C of low atmospheric pressure conditions em-
ployed as illustration in the discussion above has as members only occur-
rences of such conditions, to the exclusion of moderate, average or high
pressure states. Thus the relationship between high atmospheric pressure
and clear days must be represented as a causal interaction distinct from
that between low pressure and stormy weather. In the context of the
masking relation, on the other hand, the statistical relationship in ques-
tion is between (to continue the example) atmospheric conditions and
states of the weather in general. Equivocation, by which the masking
relation is defined, is a feature of communication channels in which both
input and output are capable of issuing repeated occurrences of several
distinguishably different states. This emphasis upon classes of causally
associated events with diverse membership is entirely natural, since we
would not consider a drop in atmospheric pressure of a given degree the
cause of a storm unless changes in atmospheric pressure were correlated
generally with changes in weather. We should note that in one special
case there is a direct relationship between the screening-off and the
masking relations. In a deterministic channel, in which the input masks
all other events with respect to the output, the input also screens off all
other events in the same respect.
6 In Laplace's words: 'We must consider the present state of the universe
as the effect of its former state and as the cause of the state which will
follow it. An intelligence which for a given moment knew all the forces
controlling nature, and in addition, the relative situations of all the
entities of which nature is composed-if it were great enough to carry
out the mathematical analysis of these data-would hold, in the same
formula, the motions of the largest bodies of the universe and those of
the lightest atom: nothing would be uncertain for this intelligence, and
the future as well as the past would be present to its eyes.' This is the
translation from Laplace's Essai philosophique sur les probabilites cited by
Reichenbach (1956, p. 10).
6 An informal proof follows. Consider M the energy (negentropy) of the
radiation source in that thought experiment, N the information (negen-
tropy) on which the (by assumption, perfectly efficient) demon bases his
selective activity, and M' the energy (negentropy) resulting from his
activity. The demon thus is the agency of selection by which N is con-
verted to M', after originating in M, and the conversion is conceived to
be maximumly efficient. Since the system is closed, M'.;;; M by the
Second Law of Thermodynamics. The proof proceeds by assuming
M <: N, from which reductio ad absurdum results. Since the demon is per-
fectlyefficient, N = M'. Thus M.;;; M'. ButifM = M', then the demon's
operations are reversible, contrary to the hypothesis of selective activity
in one direction only. And M < M' is contrary to the Second Law.
82
Causation
Hence it is false that M <: M', and false accordingly that M < N. A
formal derivation of this result is in Brillouin, 196z, pp. 168-76. In
Brillouin's terms, this shows that 'every physical measurement requires
a corresponding entropy increase' (ibid., p. 168).
OPII_ 83
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PART THREE
ORGANISM AND
ENVIRONMENT
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VI
LIFE
2 CHARACTERISTICS OF LIFE
4 TELEONOMIC DEVELOPMENT
104
VII
EVOLUTION
IIO
Evolution
3 CONJECTURED LIFE ORIGINS
The question how it all began is not one for scientific discussion:
in science the story begins at a less ultimate stage. Nor does
science at the present offer more than tenuous hypotheses about
the origin of stellar bodies from hydrogen gas, or about the
generation of elements when these stars exploded. For our pur-
poses there is no reason to examine such hypotheses in detail. But
it is pertinent to conjecture about the early appearance of certain
feedback mechanisms which may have sponsored the develop-
ment of elementary life forms.
Recent calculations by astrophysicists indicate that hydrogen
is by far the most abundant element in the known universe,
roughly 70 per cent of its total by weight, with helium next at 28
per cent. Within the remaining 2 per cent, oxygen, carbon and
nitrogen are most common, and the heavier elements increasingly
rare (see Greenstein, 1961, pp. 450-2). Matter is collected largely
in stars like our sun, with 10 per cent or less in the form of
interstellar gas.
But stars themselves undergo evolution, beginning with the
collection of hydrogen masses by gravitational forces. As the
gravitational mass builds up, the protostar contracts and becomes
increasingly hot, beginning to generate nuclear energy at core
temperatures approaching about a million degrees. The internal
heat then increases more rapidly until the energy released is
balanced by radiation into space from the surface, the surface
held constant in turn as radiation pressure from the center
balances gravitational force (ibid., p. 454). The star exists in this
stable configuration for most of its life, controlled by negative
feedback interactions between thermal, radiational and gravita-
tional energy. When the internal supply of hydrogen becomes
insufficient to maintain the mass in this stable condition, the star
enters its stage of final destruction, perhaps by gradual decay into
a 'red giant' (approximately 5 X 108 degrees) and into very high-
density 'white dwarfs' (ibid., p. 461). A more spectacular end
occurs in some larger stars where loss of energy by radiation from
the surface is exceedingly rapid, as a result of which the exhaus-
tion of further hydrogen fuel leads to a correspondingly rapid
loss of internal radiation pressure, and the collapse of the star
due to sheer gravitational weight.
III
Organism and Environment
Although lighter elements such as helium and perhaps oxygen
form in the star's center before this final collapse, the sub-
sequent explosion (a supernova) generates temperatures of several
billion degrees, producing all other elements capable of existing
under such extreme conditions (ibid., p. 461). In some fashion
such as this, oxygen, carbon, nitrogen, sulfur, and other
elements appearing in basic life forms, were introduced
into space to find their way eventually into separate solar
systems. 7
In its lifeless beginning, the major part of the earth's surface
was covered by water, with an atmosphere of ammonia, methane
and lots of free hydrogen. The water was hot and frequently
turbulent from volcanic activity, while the atmosphere was
energized by electrical discharges and by intense ultraviolet
radiation from the unshielded sun.
It was demonstrated under laboratory conditions scarcely
twenty years ago that a mixture of water vapor, hydrogen,
ammonia and methane circulated in the presence of an electrical
discharge will produce several amino acids similar to those essen-
tial for life. A similar mixture exposed to high-energy electron
bombardment a few years later yielded not only amino acids, but
also sugars, fatty acids, urea, and several nucleic acid bases. 8 In
the primeval atmosphere, including such elements as sulfur,
phosphorus and sodium, yet other molecules typical of life could
eventually form. Since these new substances were heavier than
atmospheric gases, they settled on the seas and lakes below.
After some billion years had passed, the lakes and ponds became
hot dilute 'broths,' containing most of the organic substances
from which life would form.
Energy is required to link amino acids into protein-like com-
pounds. This could be provided by lightning flashes and con-
tinuing volcanic activity. The process would be abetted by con-
centration of the materials due to evaporation, and to the pre-
sence of clay-like substances for which proteins have a known
affinity. At this early stage organic substances could persevere in
the 'broth' indefinitely, with no bacteria to reduce them back to
their basic elements.
As yet no living form has entered the picture. There are no
stable structures to preserve themselves while interchanging
matter with their environment. And there is no reproduction. In
lIZ
Evolution
short, there is no negative feedback by which matter can be
maintained under stress in a state of high improbability.
Imagine these organic materials to be in the process of genera-
tion for another billion years, shifted from place to place by
evaporation and surface upheaval, but collecting time and again
in rivers and lakes. Volcanic gases contribute hydrogen sulfide
and carbon dioxide. Energy-rich molecules develop that are
capable of supplying energy for protein synthesis in the absence
of volcanic activity. Metallic catalysts in various combinations
become concentrated in the ponds and lakes. Autocatalytic pro-
cesses occur that cause one locale to specialize in one sort of
reaction, others in another, until each separate pond develops its
own unique type of chemical activity. Chemical products now
can be formed in days that before required millions of years in
production.
At this point, some two billion years into the story, collections
of molecules called coacervates begin to play a dominant role.
Coacervates can be obtained under laboratory conditions by
mixing certain substances of high molecular weight into a solu-
tion at ordinary temperatures. 9 Whereas the molecules are ini-
tially dispersed equally throughout the liquid, they come soon
to unite with each other in dumps or droplets that separate
themselves out of solution and grow until they reach a certain
size. At the end of this process, the coacervate globules contain
practically all the molecules of the substance in question that
originally had been mixed within the liquid. Proteins are among
several substances that share this property of coacervate formation.
Coacervates, moreover, can form out of several different sub-
stances together, and may contain enzymes which continue their
catalytic activities within the droplet.
The shape, size, and stability of a given coacervate globule will
depend upon its surface tension, which in turn depends upon the
materials with which the globule is surrounded. In protein
coacervates there may be a migration of substances to the sur-
face that endow the droplet with specific mechanical properties.
The surface thus becomes a membrane that can absorb particular
substances from the surrounding solution, or can pass certain
molecules in one direction but not the other.
Assume a coacervate droplet in the 'primeval broth,' with a
surface membrane capable of passing small molecules, but not
113
Organism and Environment
large, in either direction. The droplet thus may absorb molecules
of amino adds, nucleic acid bases, carbohydrates, hydrogen
sulfide, and carbon dioxide, which in the presence of catalysts may
be transformed into larger molecules of protein and carbohy-
drate that hence will be retained within the globule. As new
'supplies' are passed through the surface, the droplet grows, and
may even 'excrete' smaller by-products through its selective
membrane. The coacervate as we now conceive it has the be-
ginnings of a simple metabolism.
Continued growth, however, is dependent also upon the pro-
duction of more membrane substance by the internal chemical
reactions. If not enough membrane material is produced, the
droplet will become glutted and perhaps explode. If too much is
produced, its surface may become too thick and shut off the
droplet from further supplies. A 'successfully growing' coacer-
vate will be one that admits less new material when its membrane
tends to become too thick, thus cutting back on the production
of new membrane material, and that admits greater amounts as the
membrane becomes excessively thin. By whatever chemical pro-
cesses this stability is achieved, such a droplet will continue to
grow, continuing to exchange materials with its host environ-
ment. The coacervate has achieved a basic homeostasis, by which
it maintains and increases its special structure at the expense of
material and energy from its surrounding medium. The form of
negative feedback typical of life has finally entered the picture.
Reproduction is accomplished for the first time as a particularly
large (hence particularly 'successful') globule breaks up under
extreme agitation, to reform in smaller globules with the same
basic chemical makeup.
A coacervate is a pond contained within itself, hence free to
migrate without chemical change into the open ocean. Here the
supply of fresh materials will be more sparse, and those systems
unable to find the molecules their metabolism now requires, or
unable to adjust otherwise to the new environment, will even-
tually disperse and release their materials for others to feed on.
Those capable of sustaining their growth in the more rigorous
environment, on the other hand, will multiply at the expense of
their less hearty cohabitants.
Conceive now that several hundred millions of years have
passed since coacervate structures began to develop, and mi-
114
Evolution
grated in many forms into the seas of the earth. Those relatively
few forms that have developed capacities for self-preservation
and for reproduction of their kind will have had these capacities
'tuned' by the exigencies of an unsympathetic environment.
Whereas at the beginning of their ocean existence these self-
sustaining 'bags of chemicals' had only the barren oceans to
contend with, the time arrives when the more prolific forms in
isolated locales begin to vie among themselves. Those that win
out over their competitors in one place will tend to spread out in
increasing numbers to contest the dominance of those that have
learned to flourish in neighboring locales. Strains will begin to
develop that specialize in sustaining themselves upon varying
diets, sometimes including the contents of smaller globules. The
struggle for dominance spreads throughout increasingly larger
locales.
Early products of this evolution among organic forms are
structures capable of preserving themselves effectively under
changing environmental conditions. A particularly effective
technique would be that of maintaining a self-contained environ-
ment in which material could be stored for later use by a central
metabolism. Another would be a symbiotic association between
systems that could protect each other against hostile influences in
a shared environment. Either arrangement could evolve into a
cell-like structure, with a 'nucleus' specializing in regenerative
activities and a 'cytoplasm' specializing in the gathering of raw
materials. 10
At some stage in this process, occurring between two and three
billion years ago, these remarkable 'bags of chemicals' evolved
into what we would consider a primitive organism. Life as we
know it had begun on earth.
The feedback processes by which young stars were held in
balance between gravitation and radiation are mirrored more than
symbolically in the feedback processes by which living cells
impose their structure upon an indifferent environment.
4 EVOLUTIONARY PROGRESS
In comparison with the two to three billion years required for the
evolution of basic life forms, and the additional approximately
CP1i-B 115
Organism and Environment
two billion years for the appearance of animals capable of leaving
a fossil record, mammals emerged less than one hundred million
years ago, and man only within the last hundred thousand years. l l
Viewed from this perspective, nature seems to be in a rush to
develop organisms of increasing complexity. Even from view-
points less dramatically staged, there appears to be a marked
directionality in evolutionary development. What significance
might this have for our understanding of man?
A question often debated by students of biological science is
whether any sense can be attached to the notion of evolutionary
progress. An answer is available within the cybernetic context.
The mark of success of an organic form in the evolutionary
experiment is the ability of its members to achieve stability within
their environment which they can maintain until reproduction
occurs.12 This amounts, in the picturesque terminology of
Schrodinger (1967, p. 76), to persisting ability on the part of the
organism to feed upon the negentropy of its immediate environ-
ment. The more capable it becomes of exploiting the energy and
structure of its environment for its growth and stability, the
higher its chances of populating the environment with more of its
kind. The overall tendency of natural selection is to single out
life forms that excel in maintaining a favorable balance of negen-
tropic exchange.
Both structure and energy are forms of negentropy (chapter
III). Hence it is possible to formulate a meaningful ratio of an
organism's degree of structural complexity divided by the average
energy input (nutrition and sensory information) required to
maintain this structure through normal variations of its living
environment.l3 This ratio may appear at first to provide a quanti-
tative measure of evolutionary success. A given species might be
reckoned more successful than another if its typical mature
members were characterized by a higher ratio of structure to
energy. Evolutionary progress would be marked by increasingly
higher ratios.
However, the mistake in this approach is easy to recognize.
The evolutionary parameter measured by the ratio of structure to
energy is not progress but specialization. And species that become
highly specialized are not well seeded in the competition for group
survival. Thus the herbivorous brontosaurus maintained its
considerable bulk at the expense of nutrients relatively low in
II6
Evolution
energy and structure, but was limited thereby to lush and solid
ground. The negentropic superiority we want to characterize
is exemplified better by men and roaches, both of proven ability
to exist within wide ranges of environmental contingencies.
The parameter we want to measure is flexibility.
Aristotle drew a basic biological distinction between organisms
capable of absorbing nutrients only in a fixed location and those
able to move about in search of food. This distinction is basic to
the cybernetic account also, for mobility is an important factor in
the development of organisms with flexibility in the assimilation
of negentropy. In speaking of flexibility in the assimilation of
negentropy I refer to the capacity of an organism to establish
efficient couplings with its environment, under a range of dif-
ferent conditions, through which negentropy can be obtained
to support its growth and metabolism and to control its response
to environmental contingencies. Among such couplings are
channels of nutrition in all living organisms, mechanisms of
heliotropism in many flora, and perceptual channels in mobile
animals. Let us name this capacity 'negentropic flexibility'.
Mobility supports the development of negentropic flexibility
in at least two respects. For one, an organism threatened in a given
location often can save itself and hence its progeny simply by
moving to a more hospitable locale. Individuals with superior
mobility thus will tend to replace others within their reproductive
group, thereby strengthening the genetic factors that make
mobility possible. Among such factors, however, is perceptual
sensitivity (argued in chapter IX), which contributes directly to
the organism's capacity to acquire negentropy in the form of
information. Second, species whose members move in a variety of
habitats will tend to develop genetic characteristics that support
successful negentropic couplings in each domain. The mechanism
which accomplishes this most directly is sexual reproduction,
which enables genetic structures successful within different
locales to merge within the genes of derivative organisms. By this
means also, individuals able to relate successfully to different
habitats will tend to mate more widely within a group that is dis-
persed geographically and hence to produce more progeny than
their less flexible fellows.
Groups with greater negentropic flexibility, in turn, are more
likely than others to survive the hazards of natural selection. A
II7
Organism and Environment
basic lesson of evolution theory is that groups specially adapted
to particular living conditions are likely to decrease in number
when these conditions are altered, perhaps to be replaced by
others more adaptable to the new environment. But groups with
a higher degree of negentropic flexibility are more likely to per-
sist through environmental change.
Survival through major environmental change, moreover, often
results in the development of further capacities for efficient
negentropic coupling, perhaps new modes of sensitivity or more
nutritional diets.1 4 And these new capacities in turn provide
greater mobility.
This positive feedback interaction between mobility and negen-
tropic flexibility portends the development of a successful new
species, with members more adept than those before them in the
acquisition of energy and information. In matters of evolu-
tionary development, nothing fosters success more than success
itself; no species show more promise of survival through new
environmental crises than those with negentropic flexibility
gained by coping with past contingencies.
It is with regard to flexibility of this sort, I suggest, that we
are justified in speaking of evolutionary progress. A group is
more or less advanced on the evolutionary scale according to its
members' ability to maintain a stable relationship with a variety
of environmental circumstances, and thereby to assimilate suffi-
cient negentropy for their growth to maturity and eventual
propagation.l5
Negentropic flexibility recommends itself as a mark of evolu-
tionary progress not because it places man in the vanguard of the
process, nor because of intuitions we may have about natural
excellence. Indeed, it is not clear prima facie that man deserves
that singular honor, for there exist other life forms (cockroach,
opossum, ginko tree) whose proof of flexibility reaches back to
periods far more ancient than man ever remembered. Negen-
tropic flexibility is a mark of evolutionary progress simply be-
cause it indicates the direction in which evolution by its very
nature is bound to develop. It is simply a fact that life forms
capable of assimilating structure and energy under a wide variety
of circumstances tend to surpass others with less diversification.
And when successful innovations occur in these particular capa-
cities they generally tend to encourage more of the same. The
!I8
Evolution
organism showing more extensive effects of evolution and natural
selection thus is the one capable of maintaining stability in a wider
variety of environmental circumstances, whereby it assimilates
negentropy essential for its eventual reproduction. In short, the
organism that is more advanced in the order of evolutionary
progress is that with the higher degree of negentropic flexibility.
But what of man's status in comparison with the omnivorous
cockroach? We must recall that food is not the only form of
negentropy yielded by the supporting environment. In addition
there is structure, including patterns of individual adaptive
behavior, and information received through perceptual channels.
To complete the case for man we must turn to these other
capacities, the topics respectively of the following two chapters.
NOTES
II9
Organism and Environment
only about once out of a million replications. Lorenz (1965, p. 103) esti-
mates that the chances of a successful mutation are of the order of one
to 10 8•
7 According to some versions of the favored 'big-bang' hypothesis, all
elements were formed within minutes of the 'beginning' of the universe.
At worst this consequence would deprive us of a few primordial ex-
amples of negative feedback. That the schematic account above is also
compatible with the 'big-bang' hypothesis may be seen in Schramm
(1974), pp. 69-7 2.
8 A lucid discussion of these experiments may be found in Wooldridge
(1966), ch. 5. I am indebted to this book for much of the material in this
section. Other important sources are Oparin (1961 and 1964).
9 This brief discussion of coacervates depends heavily upon Oparin (1961),
pp. 69-71. I must take responsibility, however, for all speculative remarks
about early forms of negative feedback.
10 As Oparin sees it (1961, p. 71), from a physico-chemical point of view,
protoplasm is a very complex form of coacervate.
II These estimates come from Dobzhansky (1955), ch. I. If we think of the
time from the beginning of the earth to the present as a twenty-four-hour
period, we should think of man as present only during the final second.
It is noteworthy that the acceleration in energy use by life forms so
apparent in our current 'population explosion' actually began with the
first appearance of life on earth and has held roughly constant ever since.
In light of estimates that mankind will consume as much energy and
other natural resources within the next ten to twenty years as consumed
between now and the beginning of human life, it appears that we might
be in the final stages of that accelerative process.
12 It is compatible with this remark that certain species, such as dandelion
and ragweed among the plants, are adapted to 'colonize' disturbed
ecosystems and accordingly are poor competitors within stable environ-
ments. Because of their short life cycles and generally high reproduction
rates, groups of such organisms are able to maintain the environmental
adjustment necessary for species propagation, even though their en-
vironment itself is in process of change. Stability of an organism to the
point of reproduction does not necessarily require a stable environment.
13 A rough characterization of structural complexity in communication-
theoretic terms is the following: the arrangement of a set of elements is
structurally complex in proportion to the number of elements in the set
and the degree of average mutual information between subsets randomly
selected in mutually exclusive and exhaustive pairs. This measure of
structural complexity over average energy intake is similar to the cri-
terion of ecosystem maturity suggested by Margalef(1968, p. 44), namely
'the ratio of information preserved per unit energy flow.' Odum (1971,
p. 39) remarks, apropos of Margalef's criterion, that one 'of the theoreti-
cal questions now under debate is whether nature maximizes the ratio of
structure to maintenance metabolism . . . or whether it is energy flow
itself that is maximized.' I propose in the text following that the factor
maximized is the ability of organisms to exploit the energy resources of
120
Evolution
their environment, from which it follows as an unfortunate consequence
that energy expended in the maintenance of life forms also will be
maximized.
14 A critically important phase in the development of man as a tool-making
creature occurred when his ancient precursors learned to rely upon meat
instead of vegetation for their primary food source, hence to find leisure
time between feedings to develop weapons and tools. With weapons, in
tum, acquiring food became increasingly easy, allowing progressively
more time for the perfection of art and industry. This and other break-
throughs in means of energy acquisition are discussed in Beadle and
Beadle (1966), ch. 6.
1 S It is not clear that negentropic flexibility provides a scale along which all
organic forms, living and dead, can be related in order of evolutionary
progress. Moreover, it should be emphasized that superior negentropic
flexibility does not assure superior longevity, for which specialization is
more auspicious in persistently stable environments. The respect in which
increasing negentropic flexibility is associated with evolutionary progress
is indicated in the following quotation from Herrick (1946): 'Progressive
organic evolution may be defined as change in the direction of increase
in the range and variety of adjustments of the organism to its environ-
ment. This involves increase in the complexity of structure, ensuring
sensitivity to greater variety of environing energies and more refined
sensory analysis .•• .' I am indebted to Gary Monnard for helpful criti-
cism in regard to the conception of negentropic flexibility, and in other
matters also.
121
VIII
LEARNING
NOTES
137
Organism and Environment
Since Ar follows the joint occurrence of Ed and E c, P(Ed,E c) increases by
P(Ed,Ec)
postulate (I"). P(Ec/Ed) increases accordingly (see footnote 3 above).
But P(Ed/S d) is high initially. Hence P(EcIS d ) assumes a high value.
1I In order of occurrence, the relevant factors are:
Sc ~Ac-~Ec - Ec-Ec-Ec
Su~Au~Eu
Ar
The (momentarily) simultaneous occurrence of Eu and Eo is followed by
A r, whereupon P(Eu,Ec) increases, and with it P(Eu/Ec} (see footnote 3
above). By the normal relationship between So and Eo, P(Eo/S o} is high
initially. It follows that P(Eu/S c) correspondingly increases.
13 8
IX
CONSCIOUSNESS
1I CONSCIOUSNESS AS A FORM OF
ADAPTATION
2 INFORMATIONAL CHARACTERISTICS OF
BASIC DETECTOR MECHANISMS
144
Consciousness
3 THE POSTULATE OF PERCEPTUAL
EFFICIENCY
4 INFORMATIONAL REALISM
NOTES
159
Organism and Environment
4 In the MIT studies cited above, subjects were immobilized and fitted
with electrodes. For observations on the full behavioral response of the
frog to a flying insect, see Barlow (1961), p. 220.
5 A mechanism capable of edge tracing and curvature differentiation has
been developed in the course of the pattern-recognition project under-
taken at Notre Dame, and is described in Sayre (1973). Conjectural
models pertaining to the accomplishment of such procedures in physio-
logical nerve nets are discussed in von Foerster (1968).
6 The capacity of an information channel is defined as its maximum value
of mutual information under variation of input probabilities. Calculation
of this quantity in actual systems is complicated save in rather special
circumstances (see Abramson, 1963, pp. 131-5), and is out of the question
when channel characteristics are not known. Crude estimations of the
total information in bits that can be managed by various segments of the
human afferent system have been attempted by several researchers (see
von Neumann, 1958, pp. 63-4, and Wooldridge, 1963, pp. 188-92). The
drift of such calculations with regard to the human visual system indicates
something in the neighborhood of 10 8 bits of information representable
at the input, with considerable attenuation in the amount present at the
output of the system. Note that the postulate expressed above is based
on the assumption that an organism's information-processing capacity is
not infinite. Although this is perhaps evident in itself, for concurrence
see Broadbent (1965), p. 458.
7 Sensory information is redundant for a given organism at a given time
if it is potentially relevant to the guidance of the organism's current
activity but is unnecessary for that purpose because of duplication and
hence could be eliminated without impairment of control. Thus what is
redundant within an organism's information structures cannot be deter-
mined independently of its current behavior. A consequence is that
processes for the elimination of redundancy can be studied neither by
techniques that require anaesthetizing (or otherwise restraining) the
organism, nor by observation solely of its motor behavior. The study of
procedures for the elimination of redundancy requires access to some
juncture in the processing of sensory information at which this pro-
cessing reflects the variations of environmental contingencies. The only
access we seem to have at present that meets this requirement is the quite
ordinary (although not unproblematic) awareness of changing structures
within the observer's own perceptual field. In discussing procedures for
the reduction of sensory information we must rely upon phenomena that
in an obvious sense are subjective in nature. Our present concern, how-
ever, is limited to what they reveal about the processes of consciousness;
examination of their subjective character is reserved for a later chapter.
S A striking demonstration of the effects of averaging out momentary ex-
tremes of motion is available in looking at a series of still photographs of
a runner in action, in which his legs will be seen to reach a higher position
in beginning a stride than one is likely to have anticipated. Similar
blanking out of extreme excursions of the legs takes place in viewing a
walking figure. A multiple exposure photograph of a walking man
160
Consciousness
displayed in the Chicago Museum of Science and Industry is accompanied
by the surprising commentary that before the development of this
photographic technique the leg motions involved in walking were never
known in detail.
9 The proper object of veridical perception is identified in much the same
way that Armstrong (1968, p. 139) recommends we identify the 'end' of
purposive activity. According to Armstrong, purposive activity is
'initiated and sustained by a mental state, and controlled from beginning
to end by perception acting as a feedback cause on the mental state'
(ibid.). The 'end' of such activity is 'the state of affairs such that percep-
tion that it has been reached feeds back to the sustaining causal state and
stops the causal state operating' (ibid.). Similarly, by the present account,
the object of perception is the source of the information upon which (or
with respect to which) the organism operates in maintaining its be-
havioral equilibrium (either in action or in readiness to act) under
perceptual control.
10 I have argued on a priori grounds (Sayre, 1969, pp. 146-7) that no evi-
dence is available contrary to the thesis that perceptual consciousness is
a form of patterned awareness. Briefly, such evidence would show that
one is sometimes present without the other, and it is inconceivable that
such evidence should be forthcoming. The presence of perceptual con-
sciousness cannot be evident without patterned awareness, since being
perceptually conscious at all is to be conscious of something, which in
turn is to be subject to patterned awareness. On the other hand, evidence
of patterned awareness in perception without perceptual consciousness
would come either in a person's self-awareness or in his experience of
another person. But such evidence cannot come in a person's experience
of himself, since to be aware of patterns in one's own experience is
necessarily to be perceptually conscious. And it cannot come in one's
experience of another, since to be aware of such patterned awareness in
another person would require knowledge of cortical activity which
could be identified as the type in question only on the basis of observ-
able behavior of a sort we would interpret as exhibiting perceptual
consciousness. This line of argument, if sound, shows that the thesis
above cannot be shown conclusively false. But to show that it is true
requires more positive evidence.
I I An amusing illustration is related by Lashley (Teuber, 1966, p. 193), in
connection with recurring scotoma associated with migraine headache.
While seated opposite a companion during lunch at the Harvard Faculty
Club, Lashley reported having 'cut off' this other man's head by bringing
it within his area of localized blindness. The resulting view across the
table, however, was not of a scene with an unoccupied gap. What Lashley
saw instead was a headless man against a normal expanse of patterned
wallpaper. The distinctive pattern of the wallpaper behind his dining
companion was completed without interruption across the area where
the head should have appeared.
12 The context was the taped sentence 'The state governors met with their
respective legislatures convening in the capital city.' The experiment was
161
Organism and Environment
prepared by cutting the first's' in 'legislatures' phonetically out of the
tape, and substituting a cough of the same duration. Contrary to expecta-
tion, the subjects uniformly reported hearing the cough at various
points throughout the sentence, but never as replacing the missing
phoneme. The missing's' instead was heard as clearly as any other sound
in the sentence.
13 So dependent is the human perceptual process upon preestablished pat-
terns that when stimulation is received in configurations that are totally
unfamiliar the subject may literally be unable to see the objects in ques-
tion. A classic case is Darwin's report of how the Fuegians watched his
rowboat in wonder when he first set ashore, but failed to notice the
Beagle anchored a short distance off. In light of the present account, it
seems likely that the Fuegians did not simply 'overlook' the larger ship,
but that the presence of such a large object in their harbor was so novel
that they had no perceptual patterns with which to accommodate it.
Since their attention would have been riveted upon the landing party, no
priority would be given the establishment of novel patterns.
162
PART FOUR
MENTALITY
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x
SOCIETY
The term 'value' has many senses, most of which are not germane
to the present discussion. Any commodity has value if it com-
mands a price, whether in time, labor or monetary exchange. In
another sense, value has to do with preference or taste, or more
generally with attitudes of a favorable nature. A third sense of
value pertains to the worth of an object, as distinct from its cost
and preference rating. Worth is a character by which we deem
something desirable, a feature by which an object warrants
positive appraisal.
It would be inaccurate to say that values of these various sorts
are irrelevant to the state of a given society. The worth of iron
and fossil fuel, for example, is dependent upon a society's stage
of industrialization, and the widespread preference for private
transportation has caused major problems in modern techno-
logical society.
More directly implicated in a society's character, however, are
177
Mentality
values in the sense of norms and priorities, guides for the comport-
ment of our personal lives. In this further sense of the term, we
may conceive values as principles for the ordering of personal
intentions, and for selection among alternatives when conflict
arises. 14 Thus one individual's behavior may be governed by
values of wealth and influence, while another's is guided by
principles of social justice. The disposition of such values within
a group of persons directly influences the character of their social
life.
A distinction may be made between types of ordering principle
according to types of behavior regulated. One pertains to an
individual's personal behavior, the other to his relationships with
other people. Although the distinction is significant for other
reasons in moral theory,15 our concern will be limited to the dif-
ferent roles values of these two types play in the adaptation of
social groups to changing living conditions.
Values of the first type generally are prudential in nature. Some
seem to be present in all societies, as for example self-preservation
and the husbanding of resources. Others, like fertility or the
ownership of property, change with living conditions across
geographical boundaries. Yet others may vary with individual
circumstances, frugality (for the poor) and self-reliance (for the
privileged) being notable examples. The distinctive mark of such
principles is that they are not universal. Thus, while self-preserva-
tion may be a personal value in all societies, it is commonly over-
ridden in the interests of patriotism. Again, while it may be impor-
tant in an agrarian society to encourage fertility, technological
change can reverse this value within a relatively short period.
By contrast, values of the sort governing interpersonal rela-
tionships normally are inviolable in a healthy society. Examples
are honesty, duty and the norms of conscience, which are the basis
for mutual trust in any group activity. Values of this second sort
generally are moral in character, comprising what we conceive
to be the moral virtues. Thus, whereas it may be prudent to pro-
tect oneself or care for one's property, we do not think of these
concerns as being morally excellent. On the other hand, although
honesty and duty are among the canons of virtue, following such
principles on occasion can be distinctly imprudent.
A major difference between moral and prudential values arises
with their function in the control of social behavior. Prudential
17 8
Society
values such as wealth and self-preservation provide goals to be
realized by any means available, and thus constitute purposes for
positive action. But values such as honesty influence behavior
in a negative fashion, imposing restrictions on actions by which
goals may be realized. Thus honesty does not motivate truth-
telling in any manner available (to tell a truth is not a goal in
itself), but rather confines the pursuit of positive goals to means
not involving deception and cheating. In sum, whereas prudential
values pertain to general purposes by which means are marshalled
toward particular goals, moral values restrict such goals to par-
ticular means of accomplishment insofar as their pursuit affects
the interests of others.
This difference has major consequences for the adaptation of
society. For a social system to adapt to changing living conditions
is for it to undergo numerous variations in interpersonal rela-
tionships, some of which prove mutually beneficial to various
groups of its members. Because of the advantages of these new
associations, the values they represent become reinforced in the
persons involved and come to replace other values in their
individual behavior. As these individuals become more successful
in their undertakings, they also become more prominent within
society and their values become more attractive to other members.
In this fashion the adaptation of a society to changing living
conditions, although perhaps involving changes in technology
and geographical location, occurs primarily as changes in the
social values by which members govern their personal and
cooperative activities.l6
The significance of the distinction between prudential and moral
values pertains to their degree of involvement in social change.
Prudential values change more easily, and hence more frequently,
and thus respond more readily to changing living conditions.
This readiness to change follows from the nature of prudential
values as purposes to be realized by available means. Since avail-
able means are limited both by moral and by material influences,
prudential goals generally are served by only a small set of
alternative actions. Thus a change in the prudential goals by
which a group is motivated may involve relatively minor changes
in group activity, and encounter relatively little resistance from
social tradition.
Changes in moral values, on the other hand, have more
CPM-O 179
Mentality
pervasive consequences with respect to group activity. Since the
value of honesty is primarily restrictive or negative in influence,
it rules out lying in the indefinitely numerous forms in which this
mode of deception might possibly be exercised. Hence a change
in force of the value of honesty might involve extensive changes in
interpersonal activity that are not readily made in a stable society.
When changes in moral values occur, moreover, they more
likely will be with respect to application than with respect to the
values themselves. Recent American cultural history, for example,
has shown a shift from a principle demanding honesty for all
members of society to a norm exempting political and industrial
leaders. In a parallel example, the process of extending social
justice from native whites to all members of the nation has been
accompanied by considerable social and political turmoil. Moral
values thus exert a conservative influence, and change usually
only in association with conditions of group instability.
In providing both moral and prudential values for directing
the behavior of its members, society thus makes available both
'broad' and 'fine tuning' controls by which the social group can
adapt to its changing environment. Changes in prudential or
'fine' controlling values occur with relative ease as society adjusts
to local conditions, and may cause only minor perturbations in
interpersonal relationships. Changes in moral values, on the
other hand, occur much less readily, and with their occurrence
bring major realignments in relationships among individual
members.
Such remarks regarding the variability of moral values will
elicit complaints of 'ethical relativism,' a notion many people find
intensely disturbing. This fact itself is noteworthy, for it suggests
that one condition for the effective guidance of social interactions
by moral values is that these values themselves be considered
invariable. To be sure, a soldier in combat cannot be allowed to
think of his enemy as a potential customer in post-war commerce.
In general, when a moral principle imposes unpleasant restric-
tions upon an individual, he cannot be expected to comply in an
exemplary fashion if he thinks the principle might be abrogated
under different social conditions. In light of such considerations,
the suggestion that moral values might change with social con-
tingencies might be taken as a pernicious consequence of the
cybernetic analysis.
180
Society
In my estimation, exactly the opposite response is warranted, as
may be seen in a review of the claims above. It has been claimed
that moral principles are subject to change in their range of
applicability from culture to culture. That this is so is a fact of
cultural history not open to refutation by ethical theory. As any
competent theorist will recognize, however, a change in the
applicability of a general principle is not equivalent to a change in
the principle itself. On the other hand, it has also been claimed
that there are certain conditions regarding the interaction among
individuals within a society that must be met if the society is even
to exist. The function of the several moral values discussed above
is to assure that these necessary conditions are realized. From the
cybernetic point of view, accordingly, values similar to those of
honesty and duty are essential to the maintenance of the social
fabric. Thus, rather than threaten the so-called 'objectivity' of
values, the cybernetic approach indicates a general explanation of
why such principles are necessary.
For example, one necessary condition of social well-being is
that individuals in roles of communication, including messengers
and scouts as well as leaders and teachers, must perform these
roles so as to keep the communication channels in which they
communicate relatively free of noise. Since deception is noise in
interpersonal communication, this requirement translates into the
virtue of honesty. There is an important lesson here for govern-
ment leaders who believe they can best serve the interests of
government by policies of falsehood and dissimulation.
Consider further that as society becomes more complex and
roles diversify, the individual becomes dependent upon an
increasing number of other persons. In such a context, ostracism
from the group is tantamount to execution, and social acceptance
becomes essential to individual survival. Moreover, faithful
performance of one's own role becomes increasingly important
for group approval. A chronically unsuccessful hunter, for ex-
ample, will lose the spear-makers' favor and will not receive
proper weapons for future opportunities, while the spear-makers
disfavored by the successful hunters will not be fed amply after
the kill. Subject to pressures of this sort, the average member of
society will learn to respond to the expectations of others and
soon will develop the virtue of duty.
An individual strongly motivated by the approval of others,
lSI
Mentality
however, would soon come to distinguish subtle signs of favor
and disfavor, and in the course of learning to control his behavior
by these indications would learn to distinguish what others
thought he did and what he had actually done. This added
dimension of sensitivity opens up a vast range for cheating, whe-
ther with respect to partners prohibited by sexual mores or pri-
vate kills hidden from one's hungry fellows. A group of people
with sufficient sophistication to fool each other frequently in
matters of shared interest would not long remain as a social
entity. Further social controls must come into play; and since the
danger is private conniving against common interests, the control
itself must be commensurately private. Perhaps it will first appear
as an unpleasant feeling, similar to the emotion of regret or shame.
Whatever its subjective character, however, this control must act
as a personal regulator, the precursor of modern man's sense of
conscience)7
73 SOCIAL ADAPTATION
NOTES
18 3
Mentality
could not be further from the truth' (Sahlins, 1968, p. IIZ). Sahlins's
view is supported by White (1959, pp. 64, 67, 78,84).
4 As pointed out by Dunn (1971, p. 78), 'Just as man learned to amplify
his biological effectors through joint action, he learned to amplify his
biological receptors. Through shared perception (e.g., the use of scouts
in a hunting or collecting party) he acquired the power to inspect or
encompass a broader range of experience.'
5 I argue in the chapters following that both language and reason consti-
tute extensions of perceptual consciousness, and hence represent further
increases in flexibility of neuronal organization. The remark above sug-
gests only that the growth of flexible social structures is a necessary
condition of these further developments. Yet this seems to be the case
with language only its more highly developed forms, since a rudimentary
language in turn is necessary for the development of human society.
Whether language or society is ultimately more basic is a fruitless ques-
tion, since neither could exist as we know it without the other. If such
considerations were the only pertinent factor, the order of this and the
following chapter could be reversed.
6 The classic and still most insightful analysis of performative discourse is
in Austin (19620). A more regimented analysis may be found in Searle
(1969).
7 Other examples from primitive cultures mentioned by Kuhn (1963, p. 2. I 6)
pertain to disease, growth, death, and the origins of the world.
8 As Kuhn sees it (196;, p. 152.), 'a language itself contains a tremendous
amount of information, and merely to learn it acquaints us with much
accumulated knowledge. To learn a language is to learn the meaning of
its words, and one cannot learn the meaning of such words as ship,
eclipse, lever, jury, Arctic, noun, price, or organization without learning
important things about his environment.'
9 In Havelock's terms (196;, p. 149), 'The requirements of memory are
met in a fundamental fashion through practising a strict economy of
possible combinations of reflexes. There are a million things you cannot
say at all in metrical speech and it will follow that you will not think
them either.'
10 In Consciousness, chapter ;, I argued against Rosenbleuth and Wiener's
(1950) use of the goal-seeking missile as a model of human purposive-
ness, on the grounds partially that such mechanisms are dependent for
their operation upon features of their immediate environment, while
human purposive behavior may be directed with respect to an absent
goal. Campbell and Rosenberg (197;, pp. 550-1) criticize this argument
on the basis that not all negative feedback requires a physically present
goal. The existence of anticipatory feedback corroborates this empirical
claim. Nonetheless the criticism misses the point, for I was arguing
against a specific feedback model in which a physically present goal is in
fact required.
I I Purposeful activity as characterized above meets the criteria of purpose
developed in Consciousness, chapter ;. (1) Such activity qualifies as action,
in the sense of something someone does rather than something happening
18 4
Society
to the person in question (we ask 'why?' rather than 'what happened?'
or 'how did that occur ?'). Further, (z) the absence of such activity, as
noted above, is not an indication of malfunction in the behaving organism.
Finally, (3) such activity occurs in sequences of predictable behavior,
integrated with the organism's other activity in its behavioral context.
1 z Campbell and Rosenberg criticize my characterization of action on
purpose in Consciousness, chapter 3, on the grounds that my criteria of
purposeful action 'do not guarantee the existence of any intentions on
the agent's part' (1973, p. 553). According to my analysis of purpose,
intention enters only when purpose becomes conscious. Thus I cannot
accept the opinion on which this criticism is based, namely that in 'com-
mon parlance a person does something on purpose when he acts inten-
tionally, with a purpose, and contrary to someone's expectations or
wishes' (ibid., p. 5F). This opinion is faulted for independent reasons,
for surely purposeful action (obeying a command, for instance) is not
always contrary to someone's wishes.
13 To share an intention clearly is not to share literally the same conscious
cortical pattern. Yet there remains a sense in which intentions are shared
by members of a linguistic group who use certain linguistic symbols to
convey the same meaning, and whose activities are coordinated in the
same plan of action. Although the cortical patterns involved are ob-
viously different, the activities they control may be sufficiently congruous
from person to person to warrant speaking of motives as in some sense
the same. We return to this topic in chapter XI. It should be noted that
an intention cannot be identified merely by observing its resulting be-
havior, since the same general sequence of personal activity may be
motivated by different intentions. One's intention in operating a water
pump, for example, may be simply to exercise, or to take a drink, or to
fulfill a commitment to one's employer. Evaluation of the social status
of the action requires determination (through language) of the particular
intention by which the agent was guided.
14 Rescher (1969, p. 109) characterizes values as 'invariable instrumentalities
for reasoning about alternatives' (author's emphasis). This is close to the
sense of values specified above, although the emphasis upon reasoning
should not suggest that such values operate only in the course of explicit
deliberation. What makes values important principles of social cohesion
is that they contribute so effectively to the formation of personal habits.
The emphasis upon reasoning is understandable, however, in that values
also play an important role in the public justification of problematic
courses of action, where the relationship between the action and the
value supporting it must be understood commonly by all parties involved.
15 This distinction is closely parallel to one the ramifications of which for
moral theory are discussed in Strawson (1961).
16 To the extent that social adaptation comprises technological change, this
is likely to be a consequence of changes in social values that motivated
attempts to bring such material changes about. In the course of an in-
sightful analysis of the similarities between biological and social evolu-
tion, Dunn argues (1971, pp. 83-4) that, whereas the basic goal in the
18 5
Mentality
former is survival, and takes the form of an instinctive drive toward self-
maintenance and self-reproduction, in 'the social realm human beings
develop goals that go beyond the instinctive drives associated with
survival. The behavioral amplification associated with human creativity
and social action makes it possible to attach value to such things as levels
of productivity and levels of living.'
17 The classic parable here is that of Gyges' ring, in Plato's Republic 359D-
;60B. Indeed, this stage in the development of conscience may have been
reached in Greek culture at the end of the Homeric era, when epic poetry
was the main vehicle of moral formation. According to Havelock (196;,
p. 1Z), Plato's animus against poetry was that it indoctrinates the young
with the view that 'what is vital is not so much morality as social prestige
and material reward which may flow from a moral reputation whether or
not this is deserved.' Havelock observes also (ibid., p. 158) that the 'pull
between the pleasureful inclination to act in one way and the unpleasant
duty to act in another way was relatively unknown' during the Homeric
period, but that all 'this begins to change by the time the fourth century
was under way.' As this illustration indicates, the claim above is not that
moral virtues are present in society from its primitive beginning, but
rather that part of a society's development beyond a certain rudimentary
level is the development of an active set of moral values.
186
XI
LANGUAGE
3 CONJECTURED DEVELOPMENT OF
HUMAN LANGUAGE
NOTES
I Around the turn of the century the Linguistic Society of Paris barred
papers on the origins of language, on the grounds that widespread
speculation on this topic during the nineteenth century had produced no
conclusive results.
2 The pioneer work in this field is von Frisch (1965). For a short but
informative summary of recent work, see Esch (1967). Philosophers
should be familiar also with the discussion in Bennett (1964).
3 Thorpe (1966, p. 101) expresses the opinion that 'although no animal
appears to have a language which is propositional, syntactic and at the
same time clearly expressive of intention, yet all these features can be
found separately (to at least some degree) in the animal kingdom.'
4 This could happen in much the same fashion as someone's wavering in
vocalization between 'don't shout so loud' and 'don't yell so loud',
coming out with the hybrid 'don't shell so loud'. The example is Hockett's
(1960, p. 92).
5 In the words of Katz (1971, p. 90), it is 'just this freedom from stimulus
control that makes natural languages suitable for expressing the products
of creative thought.' This is discussed in the following chapter.
6 It was on the joint basis of conscious patterns being instantiations of
mathematically formalizable structures and of computing machinery
being capable of instantiating mathematical relationships that I argued
in Consciousness that such machines in principle are capable of conscious-
ness. Further elaboration of this possibility comes with application of
various formalisms of communication theory to indicate how certain
conscious processes might come about. The argument for the possibility
of machine consciousness, however, does not depend upon any such
application of these formalisms, as apparently assumed in the critical
remarks of Campbell and Rosenberg (1973, pp. 554-6).
7 Hockett (1953, p. 85) estimates that the use of human language at present
employs only about one-tenth of one per cent of the bandwidth of
acoustic frequencies. (See also Hockett, 1955, pp. 215-18.)
:g The information-carrying capacity of a 'language' consisting of heads
and tails of a coin as basic units is doubled if two coins of different colors
are introduced. Similarly, tht: capacity of a language based on phonetic
units is increased by a distinction between different categories of combina-
tion. For instance, the occurrence in grammatical context of the sound
Iledl conveys more information in a language containing both 'led'
(verb) and 'lead' (noun) than it could in a language without distinction
between grammatical forms.
9 'When analyzed linguistically, the rules of grammar prove to be elabor-
206
Language
ate cases of redundancy or predictiveness' (Osgood, 1968, p. 191). We
may wish to add, 'although not only this.'
10 Miller (1956, pp. 90-1) cites increase in number of dimensions as one of
the most important devices for increasing both the capacity of immediate
memory and the powers of perceptual discrimination.
JI Ill-fated use of the concept of the Markov source and related concepts
in attempts to account for human production of grammatical sentences
(where the categories clearly do not apply; they pertain to constraints,
not rules of formation) perhaps has dissuaded linguists from exploring
other aspects of language from the viewpoint of communication theory.
(For documentation, see Chomsky, 1968, and Lees, 1957.) If so, the
result is unfortunate, for if there is any formal system that promises
fruitful application in the exploration of human communication, it is
surely communication theory itself.
2. 0 7
XII
REASON
109
Mentality
2 LINGUISTIC DEVELOPMENTS PORTENDING
REASON
5 FORMAL REASONING
NOTES
2.2.7
Mentality
is with Armstrong's account of counterfactual inference. If inference
from q to p is a matter of one's belief in q causing belief in p, then such
inference could not occur in the absence of belief in q. Armstrong antici-
pates this problem and attempts to handle it by suggesting that in such a
case the cause is not belief in q simply but rather 'the entertaining of,
or considering, a certain proposition, p,' the effect of which is 'the
acquiring of a belief that ~f q is true, then a further proposition, p, is
true. This whole causal sequence is called "inferring p from q" , (p. 199,
author's emphasis). But this is radically out of kilter. If q is believed, the
causal sequence goes according to the principle 'if q, then po' But if q is
not believed, the causal sequence goes according to the principle 'if p,
then if q then p', and this not only is quite different from the former
principle but moreover construed logically is a sheer tautology. Any
account according to which principles of inference change according to
whether the inferrer believes the premises would render sound counter-
factual inference unintelligible, and hence undermine the hypothetical-
deductive method of science. (This account is modified in Armstrong,
197~, to require that the protasis in 'if q, then p' refer to causes that both
produce and sustain the referent of the apodosis, and that the complex of
causal relationships manifests a disposition on the part of the inferrer;
but neither of these further conditions appears to alleviate the difficulties
above.) It should be noted that an apparently similar account of inference
is suggested in Sellars (197~). Sellars, however, does not consider such
matters as contradiction and counterfactual inference in this context, and
it is not clear to me how the difficulties above could be dealt with on the
basis of his particular conception of inference.
6 This definition of content can be related to discussion in both Carnap
and Bar-Hillel (1952) and Hintikka (1970). Bar-Hillel and Carnap define
the content of a statement as 'the class of all state-descriptions excluded
by' the statement in question (Bar-Hillel, 1964, p. 299, italicized in
original). In my account, however, content pertains to concepts included
rather than statements excluded. According to Hintikka, a given state-
ment admits certain possibilities, excluding the rest, and the number of
possibilities the statement admits 'can be considered a measure of the
uncertainty it leaves us with. The more alternatives a statement admits of,
the more probable it also is in some purely logical sense of probability.
Conversely, it is the more informative the more narrowly it restricts the
range of those alternatives it still leaves open, i.e. the more alternatives
it excludes. Thus probability and this kind of information (call it semantic
information) are inversely related: the higher the information, the lower
the probability, and vice versa' (lac. cit., p. 264, author's emphases). Al-
though analogous, the present approach may be preferable to someone
who finds the notion of 'statement' too mysterious to understand how a
statement, in and by itself, can exclude anything at all.
7 Readers familiar with Miller, Galanter and Pribram (1960), will recognize
the relevance of the TOTE (Test-Operate-Test-Exit) hierarchy, that is of
'Plans that operate upon Plans, as well as Plans that operate upon in-
formation to guide motor behavior' (p. 98). A TOTE is a configuration
228
Reason
of activity with feedback characteristics, which according to the author's
'cybernetic hypothesis' represents 'the fundamental building block of the
nervous system •. .' (p. 26). Relevant to the concerns of this and the two
previous chapters is the suggestion that in 'man we have a unique capa-
city for creating and manipulating symbols, and when that versatility is
used to assign names to TOTE units, it becomes possible for him to use
language in order to rearrange the symbols and to form new Plans'
(p. 38). Moreover, 'because human Plans are so often verbal, they can be
communicated, a fact of crucial importance in the evolution of our social
adjustments to one another' (p. 38).
8 The 'populational' or 'intellectual ecological' analysis of scientific activity
and conceptual change in Toulmin (1972) is based on an understanding
of the function of reason compatible with the present approach. The
course of scientific development, as Toulmin sees it, is the history of
'conceptual populations' evolving in response to intellectual and more
broadly human problems of successive milieus. In this context, rationality
is to be judged with respect to procedures for changing conceptual
networks and beliefs under pressure of new and unfamiliar situations,
rather than with respect to some particular system of logical relationships
(op. cit., pp. 478, 486).
9 On the level of society generally, as Toulmin puts it (1972, p. 501), men
to some extent become able to 'bring their rational grasp of the current
situation to bear on their future expectations and patterns of life, in such
a way that they anticipated, and so were "rationally pre-adapted" to, the
novel problem-situations that would face them in the future.' Those
'whose rational procedures and innovations proved . . • to meet the
actual demands of history most adequately' would be rewarded in the
course of subsequent experience.
10 According to Dunn (1971, p. 81), the essence of culture is a 'more or less
integrated pool of acquired ideas and an associated set of behaviors
making these concepts manifest in action.' A similar point is expressed
even more strongly in Mead (1934, p. 78) by the claim that the social
process enables language not merely to symbolize an object or situation
existing independently, but moreover 'makes possible the existence or the
appearance of that situation or object, for it is part of the mechanism
whereby that situation or object is created.'
1I This characterization is reminiscent of Mead's remark (1934, p. 100) that
intelligence 'is essentially the ability to solve the problems of present
behavior in terms of its possible future consequences as implicated on the
basis of past experience-the ability, that is, to solve the problems of
present behavior in the light of, or by reference to, both the past and the
future; it involves both memory and foresight'. In his introduction
(Mead, 1934, p. xviii), Morris puts the point more forcefully,
saying that Mead gives an 'analysis of such reflection in terms of the self-
conditioning of the organism to future stimuli in virtue of being able to
indicate to itself through symbols the consequences of certain types of
response to such stimuli.'
12 One notable exception is Toulmin, who in discussing the so-called 'logic
229
Mentality
of discovery' emphasizes the problem of demonstrating 'not that the
rational procedures of scientific enquiry have, after all, a kind of "logic"
of their own,' but rather 'how the formal structures and relations of
propositional logic are put to work in the service of rational enterprises
at all' (Toulmin, 1972, p. 479). I endorse the following pronouncement
in Hintikka (1970, p. 289): 'CO D. Broad has called the unsolved logical
and philosophical problems concerning induction a scandal of philo-
sophy. IfI am allowed to exaggerate slightly-but only very slightly-I
should like to say that there is, in addition to the scandal of induction, a
closely related and equally disquieting scandal of deduction, viz. the
failure of philosophers and logicians to answer the question: How does
deductive reasoning add to our knowledge (information)?' The reason
philosophers have slighted this problem in recent years may be in part
the dogma of logical positivism that logical truths are analytic and hence
devoid of empirical content, coupled with the dogma that only proposi-
tions with empirical content are applicable toward a genuine increase in
knowledge. Both dogmas are rejected in the present approach.
13 Sellars, expressing reserved agreement with the view attributed through
Nagel to Blanshard that 'serious consequences for morals and the life of
reason follow from the denial that logical necessity is involved in causal
relations', says he believes 'this is a respectable position provided that
logical implication or entailment is not identified with the "subject-
matter neutral" implication which, until recently, has been the primary
object of attention by professional logicians' (Sellars, 1973, p. 179).
14 The dependency of the observational upon the conceptual in science was
fully appreciated by Kant and the British Idealists, and has been re-
emphasized with vigor by such contemporary philosophers as Hanson
(in Hanson, 1958, ch. I especially), Sellars (in Sellars, 196;, especially
'Phenomenalism'), and Toulmin (in Toulmin, 1972, chs I and II especi-
ally).
15 I am in sympathy with the attempt in Hintikka (1970, p. 289) to show
through his distinction between surface and depth information that the
former gives 'a measure of information that can be increased by logical
and mathematical reasoning.' The work of Hintikka in this regard is part
of an important new approach to inference relying on the resources of
communication theory. The volume Hintikka and Suppes (1970) provides
a good introduction to this approach, along with Dockx and Bernays
(19 65).
230
XIII
SUBJECTIVITY
4 INTENTIONALITY
5 SELF-AWARENESS
6 IMMATERIAL EXISTENCE
NOTES
1 Pickford remarks (Wyburn, 1964, p. 207) that 'since red, yellow, brown,
and green are important indicators of ripeness, overripeness and rotten-
ness in many edible fruits and meat, it is not unlikely that colour-blind
children or infants have been killed by food poisoning in primitive peoples
more often than among ourselves ••• .'
25°
SlIbjectivity
2 Geldard (1953, p. 54) mentions a color chart containing 7,000 different
samples. For these to be discriminable within the visual range of approxi-
mately 380 to 760 millimicrons would require about eighteen detectable
differences per unit wavelength. Experimental evidence indicates, how-
ever, that only about 150 such discriminations are accomplished by the
human visual apparatus over the entire spectral range (Geldard, 1953,
p. 51; Wyburn, 1964, p. 101).
3 Land, 1959. Among the few attempts by philosophers to accommodate
Land's results in their analysis of perception are Smart (1963) and Den-
nett (1969).
4 The ease with which we assign color descriptions to common objects,
despite the fact that perceptual objects produce many colors across their
surfaces (Pickford, in Wyburn, 1964, p. 99), is abetted by the phenomenon
of color constancy, accountable in terms of 'grain' stability through time.
Land observes (1959, p. 93) that color appearances result from wave-
length balance over the entire visual scene, and that the same balance may
occur under different circumstances. The differences marked by particular
color appearances are not limited to particular sets of perceptual conditions.
6 The fact that colors are subjective in this respect does not preclude their
having objective criteria. As Smart points out (1963, p. 80), 'the objective
criteria for the redness of an object ... are the discriminatory responses
of normal percipients,' available in different forms to both the blind and
the sighted.
6 We may endorse a non-topic-neutral version of Smart's account of after-
image (1963, p. 94): a yellow after-image is something going on in a
subject's information-processing system like what goes on when he is
perceiving a yellow object.
7 In his introduction to Mead (1934, p. xxxi), Morris remarks that
for Mead 'the aesthetic object brings the emotionally toned impulses into
a harmonious whole; the object capable of so stimulating and integrating
the impulses has aesthetic character or value.'
8 There is no need to follow Lorenz (1965, p. 75) in postulating a 'per-
fection-reinforcing mechanism.' The pleasure of skilled performance is
its own reward.
9 Brentano maintained that all mental presentations are intentional in
character: 'we can define mental phenomena by saying that they are such
phenomena as include an object intentionally within themselves' (Bren-
tano, 1960, pp. 50-I). Although counterexamples are certainly available
(malaise by definition is a feeling not focused upon any particular object),
phenomena of perception, want, hope, desire, love, hate, etc., are such
that they can be distinguished from others of their kind only with refer-
ence to the object upon which they are directed.
10 Some phenomenologists would object to speaking of mental states as
intentional instead of mental acts or presentations. Although I would
maintain that for every activity of an organism there is an organic state,
nothing hangs upon the distinction for present purposes. I do not attempt
here to give an adequate exposition of the role the concept of intention-
ality plays in phenomenology.
2.51
Mentality
I IIt is not inevitable in principle that objects appear structured in three-
dimensional space. If our information-processing systems were adapted
to treat time as a dimension in the same homogeneous continuum as
space (rather than as two distinct modes of dimensionality in a hetero-
geneous space-time continuum), then subject could be related to object
in a common framework, since self-awareness admits of temporality. As
matters stand, however, perceptual objects are presented as 'other' with
respect to a nonspatial reference point, a relationship we customarily
(but problematically) speak of in terms of 'outer' and 'inner'.
12 Armstrong provides the valuable service of suggesting a number of
requirements any adequate theory of mind should meet. The charac-
teristics of a 'completely satisfactory theory,' he says (1968, p. 36) are
that '(i) It should allow for the logical possibility of the disembodied
existence of a mind. (ii) It should treat mental happenings as things in-
capable of independent existence [from something having them]. (iii) It
should account for the unity of mind and body. (iv) It should provide a
principle of numerical difference for minds. (v) It should not be scientific-
ally implausible. (vi) It should allow for the causal interaction of mind and
body.' Further (ibid., p. 41), it 'must be able to give some account or
analysis of the intentionality of mental states... .' Although his first is
my last, with this final section my account becomes a plausible contender
by these criteria. It should be noted that criterion (i) is to allow for the
logical possibility of disembodied existence of the mind. My account
goes one step forward, providing also for its systematic intelligibility
(more than can be said for most dualistic theories). It does not, however,
constitute anything like a 'proof' of immaterial existence.
13 A careful mustering of philosophically important and distinct senses of
'materialism' is accomplished in the dissertation 'Cybernetics and
Materialism' by Kristin Shrader-Frechette. I am indebted to Dr Shrader-
Frechette for her critique of earlier versions of the present section, which
I hope has been altered sufficiently to meet her approval.
14 Compare the elements of Plato's 'dream theory' in Theaetetus 201D-
202C, and the simple objects of Wittgenstein's Trac/a/usTrae/a/us Logico-Philo-
Logieo-Philo-
sophicus (eg., 2.02, 3.221).
252
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259
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INDEX
2. 63
Index
Punishers, 12.6-31,135,137,241 f. appearance, 234, 236 fT.
Purpose, 63, 172-6, 179, 184 f., constancy, 156 f.
197 f., 210, 223, 243 property, 234, 236 fT.
Pythagoreans, 6 Shrader-Frechette, K., xiii, 252
Simpson, G., 107 fT., II9
Quantum physics, 16, 68, 72, 75 f. Skinner, B. F., 17, II9, 134, 137
Quastler, H., 34 Smart, J. J. c., 18, 2p
Spatiality, 65,238,245-50, 252
Spence, K. W., 135
Rapoport, A., 18;
Spinoza, B., 65
RatlifT, F., 159
Spirit, 248
Reason, 167, 184, 191, 208 f., 212.,
Steiner, R., 88, 103
21 4,220-6,229,2;2,247 f., 250
Stimulus control oflanguage, 196 f.,
Redundancy, 147, 203 f., 207, 210,
217, 222
214, 217, 220
Stimulus discrimination, 124, 134
Reichenbach, H., 68, 71 f., 75, 82
Strawson, P., 6, 185
Reinforcement, 12.5 fT., 129-32, 134-
Subject of awareness, 12, 232, 245-8
137,200,2;2,241 f.
Suppes, P., 230
Rescher, N., 185
Szilard, L., 44
Roller, D. E., 17
Roller, D. H. D., 17
Rorty, R., 18 Tait, P. G., 45
Rosenberg, A., 184 f., 206 Teleonomy, 90, 99, 101 f., 104
Rosenbleuth, A., 63, 104, 184 Teuber, H. L., In, 161
Russell, B., 6, 12 f., 16, 18, 67, 149, Thorpe, W. H., 133, 136 f., 168,
246 189 f., 206
Russell, W. M. S., 17, 1I9 Time, 13,67 f., 72, 74-9, 81, 247-5 0,
2F
Toulmin, S., 229 f.
Sahlins, M. D., 169, 183 f. Tribus, M., 39,43,45 f.
Salmon, W., 69 fT., 136
Sayre, K. M., 18, 34, 63, IF, 156,
160, 226 Uncertainty, 22 f., 171, 201
Schneirla, R., 166
Schramm, D. V., 120 Values, 22 f., 171, 201
Schr6ciinger, E., 89, 1I6 Veridical perception, 154, 161, 234,
Scott, J. P., 168 23 6
Searle, J., 184 von Foerster, H., 160
Second Law of Thermodynamics, von Frisch, K., 183, 206
37, 39,42,44 fT., 61, 74, 79 f., 82, von Neumann, J., 103, 160, 226
89
Self-awareness, 140, 23 I, 246 fT. Walker, V., xiii
Sellars, W., 228, 230 Wall, P. D., 131
Semantic information, 201 Walls, G. L., 140
Sentient feedback, 51 f., 63, 103, Walsh, M., 103
14 1, 159, 172 Warren, R. M., In
Shannon, C. E., 21, 25, 34, 46, 60, Warren, R. P., In
141,145,159, 20 5 Watson, J. D., 95
Shape, 149, 156 f., 234, 236 fT. Weaver, W., ;4,60,159
26 4
Index
Weiss, P., 143 Wooldridge, D. E., 61, 103, no,
White, L., 167, 184 140, 160
Wiener, N., 18,63,87,119, 184,249 Wyburn, G. M., 23S, 2S0 f.
Williams, G. c., 183
Wilson, v. J., 131 Yerkes, R. M., 140
Wittgenstein, L., 148, 2 S2 Young, L. B., 87 f.
2. 65