We have systematic overdetermination in our movements

The causal exclusion argument requires us to deny that there is systematic overdetermination between mental and physical causes.

But it is interesting to note that in the real world there is systematic overdetermination of physical movements. Suppose I raise my arm. My muscle contraction is caused by a bunch of electrons moving in the nerves between the brain and the muscle. Suppose there are N electrons involved in the electrical flow, for some large number N. But now note that except in extremely rare marginal cases, any N − 1 of the electrons are sufficient to produce the same muscle contraction. Thus, my muscle contraction is overdetermined by at least N groups of electrons. Each of these groups differs from the original N electron group by omitting one of the electrons. And each group is sufficient to produce the effect.

One might try to defend the no-systematic-overdetermination view by saying that what doesn’t happen is systematic overdetermination by non-overlapping causes. There are two problems with this approach. First, it is not empirically clear that there isn’t systematic overdetermination by non-overlapping causes. It could turn out that typically twice as many electrons are involved in nerve impulses as are needed, in which case there are two non-overlapping groups each of which is sufficient. Second, the anti-physicalist can just say that there is overlap between the mental cause and the physical cause—the mental cause is not entirely physical, but is partially so.

Alternately, one might say that there may be systematic overdetermination of physical events by physical events, but not of physical events by physical and mental events. This would need an argument.

Epiphenomenalism and epistemic changes wrought by experiences

Epiphenomenalists think that there are non-physical qualia that are causally inert: all causes are physical. The main reason epiphenomenalists have for supposing the existence of non-physical qualia is Jackson’s famous black-and-white Mary thought experiment. Mary is brought up in a black-and-white room, learns all physical truths about the world, and one day is shown a red tomato. It is alleged that before she is shown the red tomato, Mary doesn’t know what it’s like to see red, but of course once she’s been shown it, she knows it, like we all do. Since she didn’t know it before and yet knew all physical truths, it follows that the the fact about what it’s like to see red goes beyond physical reality.

Now, let’s fill out the thought experiment. After she has been shown the tomato, Mary is put back in the black-and-white room, and never again has any experiences of red. It seems clear that at this point, Mary still knows what it’s like to see red, just as we know what it’s like to see red when we are not occurrently experiencing red.

So, what happened to Mary must have changed her in some way: she now knows what it’s like to see red, but didn’t know it before.

But given epiphenomenalism, this change is problematic. For it seems that it isn’t the quale of red that has changed Mary, since qualia are causally inert. It seems that Mary was changed by the physical correlate of the experience of red, rather than by the experience of red itself.

However, if this is right, then imagine Mary’s twin Martha, who has almost exactly the same things happen to her. Martha is brought up in an exactly similar black-and-white room, then shown a red tomato, and then brought back to the room. There is, however, one curious difference. During the short period of time during which Martha is presented the tomato, a supernatural being turns her into a redness-zombie, by preventing her from having any phenomenal experiences of red, without affecting any of her physical states. Since on epiphenomenalism, the experience of red is causally inert, this makes no difference to Martha’s future intrinsic states. In particular, Martha thinks she knows what it’s like to see red, just as Mary does.

But it seems that epiphenomenalist who relies on the Mary thought experiment for the existence of qualia cannot afford to say that Martha knows what it’s like to see red. For Martha is a redness-zombie in the one crucial moment of her life when there is something red for her to see. If Martha can know what it’s like to see red, so can a permanent redness-zombie. And that doesn’t seem to fit with the intuitions of those who find the Mary thought experiment compelling.

The epiphenomenalist will thus say that after the tomato incident, Mary and Martha are exactly alike physically, and both think they know what it’s like to see red, but only Mary knows. Does Martha have a true opinion, but not knowledge? That can’t be right either, since someone who has true opinion but not knowledge can gain knowledge by being told by an epistemic authority that their opinion is true, and surely mere words won’t turn Martha into a knower of what it’s like to see red. The alleged difference between Martha and Mary is very puzzling.

There is a possible story the epiphenomenalist can tell. The epiphenomenalist could say that the physical correlates of her experience of red have caused Mary to have the ability to imagine red and have visual memories of red, and this ability makes Mary into a knower of what it’s like to see red. Since Martha had the same physical correlate, she also has the same imaginative and memory abilities, and hence knows what it’s like to see red. It may initially seem threatening to the epiphenomenalist that Martha has gained the knowledge of what it’s like to see red without an experience of red, but if she has gained this by becoming able to self-induce such experiences, this is perhaps not threatening.

But this story has one serious problem: it doesn’t work if both Mary and Martha are total color aphantasiacs, unable to imagine or visually imagine colors (either at all, or other than black and white). Could the epiphenomenalist say that a color aphantasiac doesn’t know what it’s like to see red when not having an occurrent experience of red? That could be claimed, but it seems implausible. (And it goes against The Shadow’s first-person testimony that they are an aphantasiac and yet know what it’s like to see green.)

Perhaps the epiphenomenalist’s best move would be to say that no one knows what it’s like to see red when not having an occurrent experience of red. But this does not seem intuitive. Moreover, the physicalist could then respond that the epiphenomenalist is confusing knowledge with occurrent experience.

All in all, I think it’s really hard for the epiphenomenalist to explain how Mary’s knowledge changed as a result of the tomato incident.

Perfect nomic correlations

Here is an interesting special case of Ockham’s Razor:

1. If we find that of nomic necessity whenever A occurs, so does B, then it is reasonable to assume that B is not distinct from A.

Here are three examples.

1. We learn from Newton and Einstein that inertial mass and gravitational mass always have the same value. So by (1) we should suppose them to be one property, rather than two properties that are nomically correlated.

2. In a Newtonian context consider the hypothesis of a gravitational field. Because the gravitational field values at any point are fully determined by the positions and masses of material objects, (1) tells us that it’s reasonable to assume the gravitational field isn’t some additional entity beyond the positions and masses of material objects.

3. Suppose that we find that mental states supervene on physical states: that there is no difference in mental states without a corresponding difference in physical states. Then by (1) it’s reasonable to expect that mental states are not distinct from physical states. (This is of course more controversial than (A) and (B).)

But now consider that in a deterministic theory, future states occur of nomic necessity given past states. Thus, (1) makes it reasonable to reduce future states to past states: What it is for the universe to be in state S₇ at time t₇ is nothing but the universe’s being in state S₀ at time t₀ and the pair (S₇,t₇) having such-and-such a mathematical relationship to the pair (S₀,t₀). Similarly, entities that don’t exist at the beginning of the universe can be reduced to the initial state of the universe—we are thus reducible. This consequence of (1) will seem rather absurd to many people.

What should we do? One move is to embrace the consequence and conclude that indeed if we find good evidence for determinism, it will be reasonable to reduce the present to the past. I find this implausible.

Another move is to take the above argument as evidence against determinism.

Yet another move is to restrict (1) to cases where B occurs at the same time as A. This restriction is problematic in a relativistic context, since simultaneity is relative. Probably the better version of the move is to restrict (1) to cases where B occurs at the same time and place as A. Interestingly, this will undercut the gravitational field example (B). Moreover, because it is not clear that mental states have a location in space, this may undercut application (C) to mental staes.

A final move is either to reject (1) or, more modestly, to claim that the the evidence provided by nomic coincidence is pretty weak and defeasible on the basis of intuitions, such as our intuition that the present does not reduce to the past. In either case, application (C) is in question.

In any case, it is interesting to note that thinking about determinism gives us some reason to be suspicious of (1), and hence of the argument for mental reduction in (C).

The explanation of our reliability is not physical

1. All facts completely reducible to physics are first-order facts.

2. All facts completely explained by first-order facts are themselves completely reducible to first-order facts.

3. Facts about our epistemic reliability are facts about truth.

4. Facts about truth are not completely reducible to first-order facts.

5. Therefore, no complete explanation of our epistemic reliability is completely reducible to physics.

This is a variant on Plantinga’s evolutionary argument against naturalism.

Premise (4) follows from Tarski’s Indefinability of Truth Theorem.

The one premise in the argument that I am not confident of (2). But it sounds right.

A version of computationalism

I’ve been thinking how best to define computationalism about the mind, while remaining fairly agnostic about how the brain computes. Here is my best attempt to formulate computationalism:

• If a Turing machine with sufficiently large memory simulates the functioning of a normal adult human being with sufficient accuracy, then given an appropriate mapping of inputs and outputs but without any ontological addition of a nonphysical property or part, (a) the simulated body dispositionally will behave like the simulated one at the level of macroscopic observation, and (b) the simulation will exhibit mental states analogous to those the simulated human would have.

The “analogous” in (b) allows the computationalist at least two difference between the mental states of the simulation and the mental states of the simulated. First, we might allow for the possibility that the qualitative features of mental states—the qualia—depend on the exact type of embodiment, so in vivo and in silico versions of the human will have different qualitative states when faced with analogous sensory inputs. Second, we probably should allow for some modest semantic externalism.

The “without any ontological addition” is relevant if one thinks that the laws of nature, or divine dispositions, are such that if a simulation were made, it would gain a soul or some other nonphysical addition. In other words, the qualifier helps to ensure that the simulation would think in virtue of its computational features, rather than in virtue of something being added.

Note that computationalism so defined is not entailed by standard reductive physicalism. For while the standard reductive physicalist is going to accept that a sufficiently accurate simulation will yield (a), they can think that real thought depends on physical features that are not had by the simulation (we could imagine, for instance, that to have qualia you need to have carbon, and merely simulated carbon is not good enough).

Moreover, computationalism so defined is compatible with some nonreductive physicalisms, say ones on which there are biological laws that do not reduce to laws of physics, as long as these biological laws are simulable, and the appropriate simulation will have the right mental states.

In fact, computationalism so defined is compatible with substance dualism, as long as the functioning of the soul is simulable, and the simulation would have the right mental states without itself having to have a soul added to it.

Computationalism defined as above is not the same as functionalism. Functionalism requires a notion of a proper function (even if statistically defined, as in Lewis). No such notion is needed above. Furthermore, the computationalism is not a thesis about every possible mind, but only about human minds. It seems pretty plausible that (perhaps in a world with different laws of nature than ours) it is possible to have a mind whose computational resources exceed those of a Turing machine.

Representation and truth

For a while, I’ve been thinking of a teleological/normative account of representation. The basic idea is that:

1. State S represents reality being such that r if and only if one’s teleology specifies that one should be in state S only if r.

But I’ve also been worried that this makes representation much too common in the world. If a bacterium’s nature says that some behavior that should only be triggered under some circumstances, then on this account, the bacterium’s behavior represents the occurrence of these circumstances.

I am kind of willing to bite that bullet. But perhaps I don’t need to.

For a long time I’ve been sensitive to the difference between a proposition p and the second-order proposition that p is true, but this sensitivity has largely been a matter of nitpicking. But today I realized that this distinction may help save the teleological account of normativity with a very small tweak:

2. State S represents a proposition p if and only if one’s teleology specifies that one should be in state S only if p is true.

It is plausible that only higher organisms have a teleology that makes reference to truth as such.

Remark 1: If we want, we can have both (1) and (2) by distinguishing between “simple representation” and “alethic representation”. Alethic representation is then related to simple representation as follows:

3. State S alethically represents reality being such that r if and only if S simply represents reality being such that it is true that r.

Remark 2: Given Leon Porter’s argument that truth is not a physical property, it is interesting to note that on the alethic version, representation requires a being that has normative properties that make reference to something nonphysical. In particular, this kind of normativity cannot be grounded in evolution.

Do you and I see colors the same way?

Suppose that Mary and Twin Mary live almost exactly duplicate lives in an almost black-and-white environment. The exception to the duplication of the lives and to the black-and-white character of the environment is that on their 18th birthday, each sees a colored square for a minute. Mary sees a green square and Twin Mary sees a blue square.

Intuitively, Mary and Twin Mary have different phenomenal experiences on their 18th birthday. But while I acknowledge that this is intuitive, I think it is also deniable. We might suppose that they simply have a “new color” experience on their 18th birthday, but it is qualitatively the same “new color” experience. Maybe what determines the qualitative character of a color experience is not the physical color that is perceived, but the relationship of this color to the whole body of our experience. Given that green and blue have the same relationship to the other (i.e., monochromatic) color experiences of Mary and Twin-Mary, it may be that they appear the same way.

If this kind of relationalism is correct, then it is very likely that when you and I look at the same blue sky, our experiences are qualitatively different. Your phenomenal experience is defined by its position in the network of your experiences and mine is defined by its position in the network of my experiences. Since these networks are different, the experiences are different. Somehow I find this idea somewhat plausible. It is even more plausible some experiences other than colors. Take tastes and smells. It’s not unlikely that fried cabbage tastes differently to me because in the network of my experiences it has connections to experiences of my grandmother’s cooking that it does not have in your network.

Such a relationalism could help explain the wide variation in sensory preferences. We normally suppose that people disagree on which tastes they like and dislike. But what if they don’t? What if instead the phenomenal tastes are different? What if banana muffins, which I dislike, taste differently to me than they do to most people, because they have a place in a different network of experiences, and if banana muffins tasted to me like they do to you, I would like them just as much?

In his original Mary thought experiment, Jackson says that monochrome Mary upon experiencing red for the first time learns what experience other people were having when they saw a red tomato. If the above hypothesis is right, she doesn’t learn that at all. Other people’s experiences of a red tomato would be very different from Mary’s, because Mary’s monochrome upbringing would place the red tomato in a very different network of experiences from that which it has in other people’s networks of experiences. (I don’t think this does much damage to the thought experiment as an argument against physicalism. Mary still seems to learn something—what it is to have an experience occupying such-and-such a spot in her network of experiences.)

More fun with monochrome Mary

Here’s a fun variant of the black-and-white Mary thought experiment. Mary has been brought up in a black-and-white environment, but knows all the microphysics of the universe from a big book. One day she sees a flash of green light. She gains the phenomenal concept α that applies to the specific look of that flash. But does Mary know what green light looks like?

You might think she knows because her microphysics book will inform her that on such-and-such a day, there was a flash of green light in her room, and so she now knows that a flash of green light has appearance α. But that is not quite right. A microphysics book will not tell Mary that there was a flash of green light in her room. It will tell her that there was a flash of green light in a room with such-and-such physical properties. Whether she can deduce from these properties and her observations that this was her room depends on what the rest of the universe is like. If the universe contains Twin Mary who lives in a room with exactly the same monochromatically observable properties as Mary’s room, but where at the analogous time there is a flash of blue light, then Mary will have no way to resolve the question of whether she is the woman in the room with the green flash or in the room with the blue flash. And so, even though Mary knows all the microphysical facts about the world, Mary doesn’t know whether it is a green flash or a blue flash that has appearance α.

This version of the Mary thought experiment seems to show that there is something very clear, specific and even verbalizable (since Mary can stipulate a term in her language to express the concept α, though if Wittgenstein is right about the private language argument, we might require a community of people living in Mary’s predicament) that can remain unknown even when one knows all the microphysical facts and has all the relevant concepts and has had the relevant experiences: Whether it is green or blue light that has appearance α?

This seems to do quite a bit of damage to physicalism, by showing that the correlation between phenomenal appearances and physical facts is a fact about the world going beyond microphysics.

But now suppose Joan lives on Earth in a universe which contains both Earth and Twin Earth. The denizens of both planets are prescientific, and at their prescientific level of observation, everything is exactly alike between Earth and Twin Earth. Finer-grained observation, however, would reveal that Earth’s predominant surface liquid is H₂O while Twin Earth’s is XYZ, but currently there is no difference. Now, Joan reads a book that tells her in full detail all the microphysical structure of the universe.

Having read the book, Joan wonders: Is water H₂O or is it XYZ? Just by reading the book, she can’t know! The reason she doesn’t know it is because her prescientific observations combined with the contents of the book are insufficient to inform her whether she lives on Earth or on Twin Earth, whether she is Joan or Twin Joan, and hence are insufficient to inform her whether the liquid she refers to as “water” is H₂O or XYZ.

But surely this shouldn’t make us abandon physicalism about water!

Now Joan and Twin Joan both have concepts that they verbalize as “water”. The difference between these concepts is entirely external to Joan and Twin Joan—the difference comes entirely from the identity of the liquid interaction with which gave rise to the respective concepts. The concepts are essentially ostensive in their differences. In other words, Joan’s ignorance of whether water is H₂O or XYZ is basically an ignorance of self-locating fact: is she in the vicinity of H₂O or in the vicinity of XYZ.

Is this true for Mary and Twin Mary? Can we say that Mary’s ignorance of whether it is a green or a blue flash that has appearance α is essentially an ignorance of self-locating facts? Can we say that the difference between Mary’s phenomenal concept formed from the green flash and Twin Mary’s phenomenal concept formed from the blue flash is an external difference?

Intuitively, the answer to both questions is negative. But the point is not all that clear to me. It could turn out that both Mary and Twin Mary have a purely comparative recognitive concept of “the same phenomenal appearance as that flash”, together with an ability to recognize that similarity, and with the two concepts being internally exactly alike. If so, then the argument is unconvincing as an argument against physicalism.

The epistemic gap and causal closure

In the philosophical literature, the main objection to physicalism about consciousness is the epistemic gap: the alleged fact that full knowledge of the physical does not yield full knowledge of the mental. And one of the main objections to nonphysicalism about consciousness is causal closure: the alleged fact that physical events, like our actions, have causes that are entirely physical.

There is a simple way to craft a theory that avoids both objections. Simply suppose that mental states have two parts: a physical and a non-physical part. The physical part of the mental state is responsible for the mental state’s causal influence on physical reality. The non-physical part explains the epistemic gap: full knowledge of the physical world yields full knowledge of the physical part of the mental state, but not full knowledge of the mental state.

Yet another tweak of the knowledge argument against physicalism

Here is a variant on the knowledge argument:

1. All empirical facts a priori follow from the fundamental facts.

2. The existence of consciousness does not a priori follow from the fundamental physical facts.

3. The existence of consciousness is an empirical fact.

4. Thus, there are fundamental facts that are not fundamental physical facts.

In support of 2, note that we wouldn’t be able to tell which things are conscious by knowing their physical constitution without some a posteriori data like “When I say ‘ouch’, I am conscious.”

Physicalism and "pain"

Assuming physicalism, plausibly there are a number of fairly natural physical properties that occur when and only when I am having a phenomenal experience of pain, all of which stand in the same causal relations to other relevant properties of me. For instance:

1. having a brain in neural state N

2. having a human brain in neural state N

3. having a primate brain in neural state N

4. having a mammalian brain in neural state N

5. having a brain in functional state F

6. having a human brain in functional state F

7. having a primate brain in functional state F

8. having a mammalian brain in functional state F

9. having a central control system in functional state F.

Suppose that one of these is in fact identical with the phenomenal experience of pain. But which one? The question is substantive and ethically important. If, for instance, the answer is (c), then cats and computers in principle couldn’t feel pain but chimpanzees could. If the answer is (i), then cats and computers and chimpanzees could all feel pain.

It is plausible on physicalism (e.g., Loar’s version) that my concept of pain refers to a physical property by ostension—I am ostending to the state that occurs in me in all and only the cases where I am in pain, and which has the right kind of causal connection to my pain behaviors. But there are many such states, as we saw above.

We might try to break the tie by saying that by reference magnetism I am ostending to the simplest physical state that has the above role, and the simplest one is probably (i). I don’t think this is plausible. Assuming naturalism, when multiple properties of a comparable degree of naturalness play a given role, ostension via the role is likely to be ambiguous, with ambiguity needing to be broken by a speaker or community decision. At some point in the history of biology, we had to decide whether to use “fish” at a coarse-grained functional level and include dolphins and whales as fish, or at a finer-grained level and get the current biological concept. One option might be a little more natural than the other, but neither is decisively more natural (any fish concept that has a close connection to ordinary language is going to have to be paraphyletic), and so a decision was needed. And even if (i) is somewhat simpler than (a)–(h), it is not decisively more natural.

This yields an interesting variant of the knowledge argument against physicalism.

1. If “pain” refers to a physical property, it is a “merely semantic” question, one settled by linguistic decision, whether “pain” could apply to an appropriately programmed computer.

2. It is not a “merely semantic” question, one settled by languistic decision, whether “pain” could apply to an appropriately programmed computer.

3. Thus, “pain” does not refer to a physical property.

Supervenience and counterfactuals

On typical functionalist views of mind, what mental states a physical system has depends on counterfactual connections between physical properties in that system. But we can have two worlds that are exactly the same physically—have exactly the same tapestry of physical objects, properties and relations—but differ in what counterfactual connections hold between the physical properties. To see that, just imagine that one of the two worlds is purely physical, and in that world, w₁, striking a certain match causes a fire, and:

1. Were that match not struck, there would have been no fire.

But now imagine another world, w₂, which is physically exactly the same, but there is a nonphysical spirit who wants the fire to happen, and who will miraculously cause the fire if the match is not struck. But since the match is struck, the spirit does nothing. In w₂, the counterfactual (1) is false. (This is of course just a Frankfurt case.)

Thus physicalist theories where counterfactual connections are essential are incompatible with supervenience of the mental upon the physical.

I suppose one could insist that the supervenience base has to include counterfactual facts, and not just physical facts. But this is problematic. Even in purely physical worlds, counterfactual facts are not grounded in physical facts, but in physical facts combined with the absence of spirits, ghosts, etc. And in worlds that are only partly physical, counterfactual connections between physical facts may be grounded in the dispositions of non-physical entities.

Something Mary doesn't know

Here is something our old friend Mary, raised in a black and white world, cannot know simply by knowing all of physics:

1. What are the necessary and sufficient physical conditions for two individuals to be in exactly the same phenomenal state?

Of course, her being raised in a black and white world is a red herring. I think nobody can know the answer to (2) simply by knowing all of physics.

Some remarks:

• Knowledge of the answer to (1) is clearly factual descriptive knowledge. So responses to the standard knowledge argument for dualism that distinguish kinds of knowledge have no effect here.

• The answer to (1) could presumably be formulated entirely in the language of physics.

• Question (1) has a presupposition, namely that there are necessary and sufficient physical conditions, but the physicalist can’t deny that.

• A sufficient conditions is easy given physicalism: the individuals have the exact same physical state.

• Dennettian RoboMary-style simulation does not solve the question. One might hope that if you rewrite your software, you can check if you have the same qualia before and after the rewrite. But the problem is that you can only really do exact comparisons of qualia that you see in a unified way, and there is insufficient unification of your state across the software rewrite.

The hand and the moon

Suppose Alice tells me: “My right hand is identical with the moon.”

My first reaction will be to suppose that Alice is employing some sort of metaphor, or is using language in some unusual way. But suppose that further conversation rules out any such hypotheses. Alice is not claiming some deep pantheistic connection between things in the universe, or holding that her hand accompanies her like the moon accompanies the earth, or anything like that. She is literally claiming of the object that the typical person will identify as “Alice’s hand” that it is the very same entity as the typical person will identify as “the moon”.

I think I would be a little stymied at this point. Suppose I expressed this puzzlement to Alice, and she said: “An oracle told me that over the next decade my hand will swell to enormous proportions, and will turn hard and rocky, the exact size and shape of the moon. Then aliens will amputate the hand, put it in a giant time machine, send it back 4.5 billion years, so that it will orbit the earth for billions of years. So, you see, my hand literally is the moon.”

If Alice isn’t pulling my leg, she is insane to think this. But now I can make some sense of her communication. Yes, she really is using words in the ordinary and literal sense.

Now, to some dualist philosophers the claim that a mental state of feeling sourness is an electrochemical process in the brain is about as weird as the claim that Alice’s hand is the moon. I’ve never found this “obvious difference” argument very plausible, despite being a dualist. Thinking through my Alice story makes me a little more sympathetic to the idea that there is something incredible about the mental-physical identity claim. But I think there is an obvious difference between the hand = moon and quale = brain-state claims. The hand and the moon obviously have incompatible properties: the colors are different, the shapes are different, etc. Some sort of an explanation is needed how that can happen despite identity—say, time-travel.

The analogue would be something like this: the quale doesn’t have a shape, while the brain process does. But it doesn’t seem at all clear to me that the quale positively doesn’t have a shape. It’s just that it is not the case that it positively seems to have a shape. Imagine that qualia turned out to be nonphysical but spatially extended entities spread through regions of the brain, kind of like a ghost is a nonphysical but spatially extended entity. There is nothing obvious about the falsity of this hypothesis. And on this hypothesis, qualia would have shape.

To be honest, I suspect that even if qualia don’t have a shape, God could give them the additional properties (say, the right relation to points of space) that would give them shape.

Our sharp existence

This argument is fairly well trodden, but I still have to say that I find it quite compelling:

1. If physicalism is true, then there was no sharp time at which I came into existence.

2. There was a sharp time at which I came into existence.

3. So, physicalism is false.

Why think (1) is true? Well, if physicalism is true, there is nothing more to me than an arrangement of particles. And which exact arrangements count as sufficient for my existence seems quite vague. And why think (2) is true? Well, if there is no sharp time at which I came into existence, then there will be worlds where it is vague whether I ever exist at all. For instance, if it is vague whether I already existed by time t₁, then imagine a world just like ours up to t₁, but where immediately thereafter everything is annihilated. If it is vague whether I existed by time t₁ in our world, then it that world it will be vague whether I ever exist. But it can’t be vague whether I ever exist—vague existence is an impossibility.

Objection 1: There are many entities very much like me, each of which comes into existence at a sharp time, sharing most of their particles, and I am one of them. None of these entities is privileged, but as it happens I am only one of them. The entities differ in fine details of persistence and existence conditions.

Response: If none are privileged, then all these entities are persons. And so in my armchair there are many persons, and likewise wherever any human being is, there are many persons. Now, notice that there is more room for such “slight variation” when an individual is physically larger (i.e., has more particles). So it follows from the view that where there is a larger person, there are more persons. All the persons co-located with me have presumably the same experiences and the same rights (since none are privileged). So it follows that if you have a choice between benefiting a larger and a smaller person, you should benefit the larger. This sizeism is clearly absurd.

Objection 2: A Markosian-style view on which there are brute facts about composition can say that there is only entity where I am, and the other clouds of particles do not compose an entity.

Response: Yes, but while that counts as materialism, it doesn’t count as physicalism. It adds to the fundamental ontology something beyond what physical science talks about, namely entities that are brutely composed. Moreover, presumably persons are causes. So the story adds to physicalism additional causes.

Objection 3: Nobody can say that there was a sharp time at which I came into existence.

Response: It’s easy for the dualist to say it. I come into existence when my soul comes into existence, joined to some bit of matter. There is no vagueness as to when this happens, but of course the details are not empirically knowable.

Literature and science

I think we learn at least as much about ourselves as persons from literature as from science. This is surprising if physicalism is true.

Causing via a part

Assume this plausible principle:

1. If a part x of z causes w, then z causes w.

Add this controversial thesis:

2. For any x and y, there is a z that x and y are parts of.

Thesis (2) is a consequence of mereological universalism, for instance.

Finally, add this pretty plausible principle:

3. All the parts of a physical entity are physical.

Here is an interesting consequence of (1)–(3):

4. If there is any non-physical entity, any entity that has a cause has a cause that is not a physical entity.

For if w is an entity that has a cause x, and y is any non-physical entity, by (2) there is a z that x and y are both parts of. By (3), z is not physical. And by (1), z causes w.

In particular, given (1)–(3) and the obvious fact that some physical thing has a cause, we have an argument from causal closure (the thesis that no physical entity has a non-physical cause) to full-strength physicalism (the thesis that all entities are physical). Whatever we think of causal closure and physicalism, however, it does not seem that causal closure should entail full-strength physicalism.

Here is another curious line of thought. Strengthen (2) to another consequence of mereological universalism:

5. The cosmos exists, i.e., there is an entity c such that every entity is a part of c.

Then (1) and (5) yield the following holistic thesis:

6. Every item that has a cause is caused by the cosmos.

That sounds quite implausible.

We could take the above lines of thought to refute (1). But (1) sounds pretty plausible. A different move is to take the above lines of thought to refute (2) and (5), and thereby mereological universalism.

All in all, I suspect that (1) fits best with a view on which composition is quite limited.

Ways out of the closure argument for physicalism

One of the main arguments for physicalism is based on the closure principle:

1. Any physical event that has a cause has a physical cause.

It is widely thought that it follows from (1) that:

2. If a physical event has a nonphysical cause, the event is overdetermined.

And hence in the absence of systematic overdetermination, mental causes must be physical.

But (2) doesn’t follow from (1). There are at least three ways for an event E to have two sufficient causes A and B:

• overdetermination

• chaining: A causes B which causes E or B causes A which causes E

• parthood: A causes E by having B as a part which causes E, or B causes E by having a part A which causes E.

Let’s think a bit about how the chaining and parthood options might avoid physicalism in the case of mental causation and yet allow for closure.

Option I: Nonphysical-physical-physical chaining: A nonphysical event M causes a physical event P which causes a physical event E. This can’t be the whole story for how we respect closure. For by closure, P will need a physical cause P₂, and so it is looking like P is going to be overdetermined, by M and P₂. But that does not follow without further assumptions. For we could have the following scenario:

• E is caused by an infinite chain of physical causes which chain is causally preceded by M, namely: P ← P₂ ← P₃ ← ... ← M, with infinitely many physical events in the “…”.

This scenario requires the possibility of an infinite sequence of causal means, contrary to causal finitism, and hence is unacceptable to me. But those who are less worried about infinite chains of causes should take this option seriously. Note that this option is reminiscent of Kant’s view on which our noumenal selves collectively cause the physical universe as a whole.

Option II: Physical-nonphysical-physical chaining: Here, the physical event P causes E by having a mental event as an intermediate cause. This option exploits a loophole in the closure principle as it is normally formulated: nothing in the closure principle says that the physical cause can’t operate by means of a nonphysical intermediary. Granted, that’s not how we normally think of physical causes as operating. But there is nothing incoherent about the story.

Option III: Physical parts of larger events: A physical event E is caused by a physical event P, and the physical event P is itself a part of a larger event M which is only partly physical. One might object that in this case it’s only P and not the larger event that counts as the cause. But that’s not right. If someone dies in the battle of Borodino, then at least three causes of death can be given: a shot being fired, the battle of Borodino, and the War of 1812. The shot is a part of the battle, and the battle is a part of the war. One particular way to have Option III is this: a quale Q is constituted by two components, a brain state B (say, a state of the visual cortex) and a soul state S of paying attention to the brain system that exhibits B, with B being the causally efficacious part of the Q. So a physical event—say, an agent’s making an exclamation at what they saw—counts as caused by the physical event B and the event Q which is not physical, or at least not completely physical.

One might object, however, that by “nonphysical”, one means entirely nonphysical, so Q’s having a nonphysical part S does not make Q nonphysical. If so, then we have one last option.

Option IV: Some or all physical causes cause their effects by having a nonphysical part that causes the event. That nonphysical part could, for instance, be an Aristotelian accidental or substantial form. Thus, here a physical event E is caused by a physical event by means of its nonphysical part M.

What if one objects that “physical” and “nonphysical” denote things that are purely physical and nonphysical, and neither can have a part that is the other? In that case, we have two difficulties. First, the closure principle is now stronger: it requires that a physical event that has a cause always has a purely physical cause. And we have a serious gap at the end of the argument. From closure at most we can conclude that a physical event doesn’t have a purely nonphysical cause. But what if it has a partly physical and partly nonphysical cause? That would be enough to contradict physicalism.

Physicalism and the progress of science

People sometimes use the progress of science to argue for physicalism about the mind. But it seems to me that Dostoevskii made more progress in understanding the human mind by existential reflection than anybody has by studying the brain directly. More generally, if we want to understand human minds, we should turn to literature and the spiritual masters rather than to neuroscience.

Thus, any argument for physicalism about the mind from the progress of science is seriously flawed. And perhaps we even have some evidence against physicalism. For it is a surprising fact that we learn more about the mind by the methods of the humanities than by study of the brain if the mind is the brain.

Failures of supervenience on Lewis's system

Start with the concept of “narrowly physical” for facts about the arrangement of physical entities and first-order physical properties such as “charge” and “mass”.

Here are two observations I have not seen made:

1. On Lewis-Ramsey accounts of laws, laws of nature concerning narrowly physical facts do not supervene on narrowly physical facts.

2. On Lewis’s account of causation, causal facts about narrowly physical events do not supervene on narrowly physical facts.

This means that in a Lewisian system we have at least four things we could mean by “physical”:

3. narrowly physical

4. grounded in the laws of narrowly physical facts and/or the narrowly physical facts themselves

5. grounded in the causal facts about narrowly physical events and/or the narrowly physical facts themeselves

6. grounded in the causal facts about narrowly physical events, the laws concerning narrowly physical facts and/or the narrowly physical facts themselves.

Here’s a corollary for the philosophy of mind:

7. On a Lewisian system, we should not even expect the mental properties of purely narrowly physical beings to supervene on narrowly physical facts.

Argument for (1): The laws are the optimal systematization of particular facts. But now imagine a possible world where there is just a coin that is tossed a trillion times, and with no discernible pattern lands heads about half the time. In the best systematization, we attribute a chance of 1/2 to the coin landing heads. But now imagine a possible world with the same narrowly physical facts, but where there is an angel that thought about ℵ₃ about a million times—each time, with a good prior mental explanation of the train of thought—and each of these times was a time just before the coin landed heads. Then the best systematization of the coin tosses will no longer make them simply have a chance of 1/2 of landing heads. Rather, they will have a chance 1/2 of landing heads when the angel didn’t just think about ℵ₃.

Argument for (2): Add to the world in the above argument some cats and suppose that on any day when the fattest cat in the world eats n mice, that leads the angel to think about ℵ_n, though there are other things that can get the angel to think about ℵ_n. We can set things up so that the fattest cat’s eating three mice in a day causes the coin to land heads on the Lewisian counterfactual account of causation, but if we subtract the angel from the story, this will no longer be the case.