The
following article is based on a presentation made during the Second International
Conference on Integral Psychology, held at Pondicherry (India), 4-7 January
2001. The text has been published in:
Cornelissen, Matthijs (Ed.) (2001) Consciousness and Its Transformation,
Pondicherry: SAICE
A map of consciousness
studies*
Max Velmans
In ordinary life,
first-person accounts of our mental life and actions in terms of what
we think, desire, feel, believe, and experience with our senses provide
useful explanations of what is going on. Indeed, for most everyday purposes,
such accounts are more useful than the more theoretically driven accounts
offered by cognitive psychology, neuropsychology and other sciences of
the mind. They also provide an initial point of departure for a science
of consciousness. In themselves, however, they no more exhaust the
scope of a science of consciousness than everyday descriptions of the
physical world exhaust the scope of physics. As in physics, a science
of consciousness aims for more precise knowledge, deeper understanding,
and to discover general truths that can be applied to individual situations
(thereby providing a measure of prediction and control). As
in any communal science this requires the development of a systematic
investigative methodology.
How can one investigate
phenomenal consciousness? One cannot do so simply by investigating something other than phenomenal consciousness—even
something that relates as closely to it as its neural causes and correlates.
As in other areas of science, causes and correlates are not ontological
identities.1 That said,
there is nothing to prevent a systematic enquiry into how phenomenal consciousness
relates to brain
processes and to the embedding physical and social world.
This enables one to
create a form of “consciousness science” that is already well known and
well accepted in psychological research. Psychophysics for example has
traditionally investigated how changes in simple dimensions of external
physical stimuli (such as intensity and frequency) are translated by perceptual
systems into changes in experience. Cognitive psychology investigates
the ways in which mental processes operate and how some of these processes
(selective attention, working memory, and so on) relate to and support
current experience. Neuropsychology tracks the changes in the brain that
cause or correlate with normal and disordered forms of experience (see
Farthing, 1992, and readings in Velmans, 1996a; Cohen & Schooler,
1997).
Overall this provides
a two-pronged approach to consciousness studies in which traditional third-person
methods for investigating the brain and physical world are combined with
first-person methods for investigating subjective experience with the
aim of finding “bridging laws” which relate such first- and third-person
data to each other. These traditional routes to the investigation of experience
require no a priori commitment to philosophical reductionism (of first-
to third-person data). On the contrary, first-person approaches provide
data that cannot be obtained from a third-person perspective—for example
what it is like to have a given conscious experience or to be in a given
conscious state. And third-person approaches provide data that cannot
be obtained from a first-person perspective—for example data about what
is going on in the brain while one is having a given experience. As I
have argued in Velmans (1991a) “first-person and third-person perspectives
are complementary and mutually irreducible. A complete psychology requires
both.”
There are of course
many different ways in which first- and third-person investigations can
complement each other. In some situations the relation of first- to third-person
data may be very precise. Ordinary conscious states are always of something, so it is plausible to suppose that both
they and their neural correlates are representational states. It is also
plausible to suppose that given conscious states and their neural correlates
encode identical information (about what they represent) although this
information may be formatted in very different ways. Consequently, at
the interface of consciousness with its neural correlates it may be possible
to specify the relation of first- to third-person information with mathematical
precision; for example, it may be possible to specify the topology of
phenomenal space, the topology of correlated neural representational space,
and the mapping of one on to the other.2
First- and third-person
investigations can also be “complementary” in a more general sense. The
aetiology of conscious mental states can be investigated both in first-person
terms and via third-person methods such as the use of non-invasive imaging
techniques that provide real-time information about operations of the
brain that correlate with given experiences. First- and third-person approaches
can also be mutually supportive in the discovery of unconscious mental states. In other situations the complementary
use of first- and third-person information pits interpretations based
on first-person data against that
obtained via third-person techniques. Here the aim is to find interpretations
that most fully account for all the data.
Sometimes, third-person data can show first-person theories about the
mental states that cause behaviour to be wrong (as in the celebrated studies
of folk-psychological beliefs by Nisbett and Wilson, 1977). Conversely,
Solms (2000), demonstrates how first-person psychoanalytic investigation
of right hemisphere syndrome (a combination of anosognosia, neglect, and
defective spatial cognition), can reveal flaws in standard third-person,
neurophysiological accounts.
Difficulties in the
development of more sophisticated first-person methods
In the study of consciousness,
both first- and third-person methods clearly have a role to play. However,
given the traditional commitment to “objective” third-person methods in
Western science, it is not surprising that these have become far more
sophisticated than the so-called “introspective” techniques. Neural imaging
studies illustrate this point nicely in that they typically employ impressive
machinery with multicoloured displays producing data that can only be
analysed with sophisticated statistical techniques. By contrast, the conscious
activities and reports required of subjects in neural imaging studies
are usually very simple. For example, in studies that investigate the
transition from a preconscious to a conscious visual state, subjects might
be asked to attend to a simple visual stimulus and to report whether or
not they see it. In studies that investigate the processes supporting
visual imagery, subjects might be asked to report when they have a visual
image (of some object) and so on. In such situations, subjects are asked
to enter into or are placed into a given mental state, but the investigation
of that state is largely up to the experimenter (using entirely third-person
techniques) rather than the subject.
In the early psychological
laboratories of Wundt, Titchener and their followers, it was hoped that
first-person methods could be developed that are, in their own way, as
sophisticated as third-person methods. Although the history of psychological
science has shown that this is not easy to achieve, this project was never
entirely abandoned, even during the behaviourist years. With the re-emergence
of consciousness studies the development of better first-person methods
has once again become serious scientific business.3
What are the residual
problems? There is more than one map that can be drawn of the consciousness
studies terrain—depending on one’s direction of approach and the depth
and breadth of one’s focus. Given this, it is not surprising that both
the analysis of problems and the suggested solutions differ. Tart (2000),
for example, approaches the problems of consciousness from the perspective
of an investigator of altered conscious states. Consequently, he focuses
on the need to enter
into a given conscious state
in order to understand it fully, which opens up the possibility that investigators
of consciousness may need to develop a series of “state-specific sciences.”
Taking a multidisciplinary approach, Wilber & Walsh (2000) draw a
map of the consciousness studies terrain that is as large as the cosmos
itself, including its evolution, its microcosm and macrocosm, its individual
and social (relational) aspects, and its inner and outer manifestations.
This map includes all that we are or can be conscious of. As they make
clear, consciousness studies may be divided into distinct domains. Ultimately,
all domains support each other (being parts of the whole), but investigative
techniques, and the methods of attaining agreement and settling disagreement
need to be tailored to the given domain that one wishes to explore. One
must choose the map that is most useful for one’s purposes for oneself.
My own tentative map approaches the terrain with the traditional concerns
of an experimental psychologist. Viewed this way, what are the difficulties
that first-person methods face? The problems are of three kinds:
1. Epistemological problems: How can one obtain public, objective
knowledge about private, subjective experiences?
2. Methodological problems: Given that one cannot attach measuring
instruments directly up to experiences, what psychological “instruments”
and procedures are appropriate to their study?
3. The relation of the observer to the observed: The more closely coupled an observer is with an observed,
the greater the potential influence of the act of observation on the nature
of the observed (“observer effects”). Given this, how can one develop
intro–spective and phenomenological methods where the observer is the
observed?
Figure 1
Epistemological problems4
Although the private,
subjective nature of conscious experience is widely thought to preclude
its scientific investigation. I will argue that this is not where the
real problems lie. Rather, the epistemological problems posed by the study
of subjective experience are largely artefactual, arising from a misconceived,
dualist, splitting of the world which we have inherited from Descartes.
This implicit dualism is clearly shown in the model of perception shown
in Figure 1. In fact there are two splits in this model: (1) the observer (on the right
of the diagram is clearly separate from the observed (the light on the
left of the diagram) and (2) public, objective “physical phenomena” in
the external world or in the brain (in the lower part of the diagram)
are clearly separated from private, subjective psychological phenomena
“in the mind” (represented by the cloud in the upper part of the diagram).
How we make sense of
this in conventional studies of perception
Following usual procedures,
a subject (S) is asked to focus on the light and report on or respond
to what she experiences, while the experimenter (E) controls the stimulus
and tries to observe what is going on in the subject’s brain. E has observational
access to the stimulus and to S’s brain states, but has no access to what
S experiences. In principle, other experimenters can also observe the
stimulus and S’s brain states. Consequently, what E has access to is thought
of as “public” and “objective.” However, E does not have access to S’s
experiences, making them “private” and “subjective” and a problem for
science. This apparently radical difference in the epistemic status of the data accessible to E and S is enshrined in
the words commonly used to describe what they perceive. That is, E makes
observations, whereas S merely has subjective experiences.
Although this way of
looking at things is adequate as a working model for many studies it actually
misdescribes the phenomenology
of conscious experience—and, consequently misconstrues the problems a
study of conscious experience must face. A more accurate model of the
way events in the world are experienced by subjects is shown in the reflexive
model of perception in Figure 2.
Figure 2
This reflexive model
accepts conventional wisdom about the physical and neurophysiological
causes of perception—for example, that there really is a physical stimulus
in the room that our experience of it represents.
But it gives a different account of the nature of the resulting experience.
According to this non-dualist view, when S attends to the light in a room
she does not have an experience of a light “in
her head or brain,” with its attendant problems for science. She just
sees a light in a room. Indeed, what the subject experiences is very similar
to what the experimenter experiences when he gazes at the light (she just
sees the light from a different angle)—in spite of the different terms
they use to describe what they perceive (a “physical stimulus” versus
a “sensation of light”). If so, there can be no actual difference in the
subjective versus objective status of the light phenomenology
“experienced” by S and “observed” by E. I have developed the case for
this and analysed its consequences elsewhere (Velmans, 1993a, 1996b, 2000).
However, one can easily grasp the essential similarities between S’s “experiences”
and E’s “observations” from the fact that the roles of S and E are interchangeable.
A thought experiment—“changing
places”
What makes one human
being a “subject” and another an “experimenter”? Their different roles
are defined largely by differences in their interests in the experiment, reflected in differences in what they are required to
do. The subject is required to focus only on her own experiences (of the light), which she needs to respond
to or report on in an appropriate way. The experimenter is interested
primarily in the subject’s experiences,
and in how these depend on the light stimulus or brain states that he
can “observe.”
To exchange roles, S and E merely have to turn their heads, so that E focuses exclusively on the light and describes
what he experiences, while S focuses her attention not just on the light
(which she now thinks of as a “stimulus”) but also on events she can observe
in E’s brain, and on E’s reports of what he experiences. In this –situation,
E becomes the “subject” and S becomes the “experimenter.” Following current
conventions, S would now be entitled to think of her observations (of
the light and E’s brain) as “public and objective” and to regard E’s experiences
of the light as “private and subjective.”
Notice that this outcome,
where the epistemic status of the experienced light switches from “subjective”
to “objective” as S switches from being a “subject” to an “experimenter”
is absurd, as the phenomenology of the light remains the same, viewed
from the perspective of either S or E, whether it is thought of an “observed stimulus” or an “experience.” Nothing
has changed in the character of the light that E and S can observe other
than the focus of their interest. That is, in terms of phenomenology there is no difference between “observed phenomena”
and “experiences.” This raises a fundamental question: If the phenomenology
of the light remains the same whether it is thought of a “physical stimulus”
or an “experience,” is the phenomenon private and subjective
or is it public and objective?
All experiences are
private and subjective.
I do not have direct
access to your experiences and you do not have direct access to mine.
For example I cannot experience your pain, your thoughts, your colour
qualia, the way your body feels to you, the way the sky looks to you,
the way I look to you, etc. I can only have my own experiences (however
well I empathise). The privacy and subjectivity of each individual’s experience
is well accepted in philosophy of mind. It seems to be a fundamental given
of how we are situated in the world.
In dualism, “experiences”
are private and subjective, while “physical phenomena” are public and
objective as noted above. However, according to the reflexive model there
is no phenomenal difference between physical phenomena and our experiences
of them. When we turn our attention
to the external world, physical phenomena just are what we experience. If so, there is a sense in which
physical phenomena are “private and subjective” just like the other things
we experience. For example, I cannot experience your phenomenal mountain
or your phenomenal tree. I only have access to my own phenomenal mountain
and tree. Similarly, I only have access to my own phenomenal light stimulus
and my own observations of its physical properties (in terms of meter
readings of its intensity, frequency, and so on). That is, we each live in our own private, phenomenal
world. Few, I suspect, would
disagree.
Public access to observed
entities and events; public phenomena in the sense of similar, shared,
private experiences
What are the implications
of this for science? If we each live in our own private, phenomenal world
then each “observation” is, in a sense, private. This was evident to the
father of operationalism, the physicist P.W. Bridgman (1936), who concluded
that, in the final analysis, “science is only my private science”. However,
this is clearly not the whole story. When an entity or event is placed
beyond the body surface (as the entities and events studied by Physics
usually are) it can be perceived by any member of the public suitably
located in space and time. Under these circumstances such entities or
events are “public” in the sense that there is public access to the observed
entity or event itself.
This distinction between
the phenomenon
perceived by a given observer
and the entity or event itself is important.
In the reflexive model, perceived phenomena represent things-themselves, but are not identical to them.
The light perceived by E and S, for example, can be described in terms
of its perceived brightness and colour. But, in terms of physics, the
stimulus is better described as electromagnetism with a given mix of energies
and frequencies. As with all visually observed phenomena, the phenomenal
light only becomes a phenomenal light once the stimulus interacts with
an appropriately structured visual system—and the result of this observed—observer
interaction is a light as-experienced which is private to the observer
in the way described above. However, if the stimulus itself is beyond
the body surface and has an independent existence, it remains there to be observed whether it is observed (at a given moment)
or not. That is why the stimulus itself is publicly accessible in spite of the fact that each observation/experience
of it is private to a given observer.
To the extent that observed
entities and events are subject to similar perceptual and cognitive processing
in different human beings, it is also reasonable to assume a degree of
commonality in the way such things are experienced. While each
experience remains private, it may be a private experience that others
share. For example, unless observers are suffering from red/green colour
blindness, we normally take it for granted that they perceive electromagnetic
stimuli with wavelength 700 nanometers (nm) as red and those of 500 nm
as green. Given the privacy of light phenomenology there is no way to
be certain that others experience “red” and “green” as we do ourselves
(the classical problem of “other minds”). But in normal life, and in the
practice of science, we adopt the working assumption that the same stimulus,
observed by similar observers, will produce similar observations or experiences.
Thus, while experienced entities and events (phenomena) remain private
to each observer, if their perceptual, cognitive and other observing apparatus
is similar, we assume that their experiences (of a given stimulus) are
similar. Consequently, experienced phenomena may be “public” in the special
sense that other observers have similar or shared experiences.
Being clear about what
is private and what is public
The consequences of
this non-dualist analysis can be summarised as follows:
— There is only private access to individual observed or experienced phenomena.
— There can be public access to the entities and events which serve as the
stimuli for such phenomena (the entities and events which the phenomena
represent). This applies, for example, to the entities and events studied
by physics.
— If the perceptual, cognitive and other observing
apparatus of different observers is similar, we assume that their experiences
(of a given stimulus) are similar. In this special sense, experienced
phenomena may be public in so
far as they are similar or shared private experiences.
From subjectivity to
intersubjectivity
This reanalysis of
private versus public phenomena also provides a natural way to think about
the relation between subjectivity
and intersubjectivity. Each (private) observation or experience is necessarily
subjective, in that it is always
the observation or experience of a given observer, viewed and described from his or her individual
perspective. However, once that experience is shared with another observer
it can become inter-subjective.
That is, through the sharing of a similar experience, subjective views
and descriptions of that experience potentially converge, enabling intersubjective
agreement about what has been experienced.
How different observers establish
intersubjectivity through negotiating agreed descriptions of shared experiences
is a complex –process that involves far more than shared experience. One
also needs a shared language, shared cognitive structures, a shared world-view
or scientific paradigm, shared training and expertise and so on. In the
process of establishing intersubjectivity, interacting observers can also
influence each other’s experience and shared understanding of experience
in more subtle, interpersonal and social ways to create a shared perspective.
This adoption of a shared perspective, from which we see each other and the world is sometimes referred
to as “the second person perspective” (see for example, Wilber & Walsh,
2000). We return to this briefly below (in the discussion of “observer
effects”). All we need to note for now is that, to the extent that an
experience or observation can be generally shared
(by a community of observers), it can form part of the database of a communal
science.
Different meanings of
the term “objective” that are used in science
According to the analysis
above, phenomena in science can be “objective” in the sense of intersubjective.
Note, however, that intersubjectivity requires the presence of subjectivity
rather than its absence. Observation statements (descriptions of observations)
can also be “objective” in the sense of being dispassionate, accurate,
truthful, and so on. Scientific method can also be “objective” in the
sense that it follows well-specified, repeatable procedures (perhaps using
standard measuring instruments). However, if the analysis above is correct,
one cannot make observations without engaging the experiences and cognitions
of a conscious subject (unobserved meter readings are not “observations”).
If so, science cannot be “objective” in the sense of being observer-free.
Intra-subjective and
inter-subjective repeatability
According to the reflexive
model, there is no phenomenal difference between observations and experiences.
Each observation results from an interaction of an observer with an observed.
Consequently, each observation is observer-dependent and unique. This applies even to
observations made by the same observer, of the same entity or event, under
the same observation conditions, at different times—although, under these circumstances, the observer may have no doubt that
he/she is making repeated observations
of the same entity or event.
If the conditions of
observation are sufficiently standardised an observation may be repeatable within a community of (suitably trained) observers,
in which case intersubjectivity can be established by collective agreement. Once again, though, it is important to note that
different observers cannot have an identical experience.
Even if they observe the same event, at the same location, at the same
time, they each have their own, unique experience. Intersubjective repeatability resembles intrasubjective repeatability in that it merely requires
observations to be sufficiently similar to be taken for “tokens” of the
same “type.” This applies particularly to observations in science, where
repeatability typically requires intersubjective agreement amongst scientists
observing similar events at different times
and in different geographical locations.
Consequences of the
above analysis for a science of consciousness
The above provides
an account of the empirical method, i.e. of what scientists actually do
when they test their theories, establish intersubjectivity, repeatability and so on which
accepts that observed, physical phenomena just are the entities and events that scientists experience.
Although I have focused on physical events, this analysis applies also
to the investigation of events that are usually thought of as “mental”
or “psychological.” Although the methodologies
appropriate to the study of physical and mental phenomena may be very
different, the same epistemic criteria
can be applied to their scientific investigation. Physical phenomena and
mental (psychological) phenomena are just different kinds of phenomena
which observers experience (whether they are experimenters or subjects).
S1 to n might, for example, all report that a given increase
in light intensity produces a just noticeable difference in brightness,
an experience/observation that is intersubjective and repeatable. Alternatively,
S1 to n might all report that a given anaesthetic removes pain
or, if they stare at a red light spot, that a green after-image appears,
making such phenomena similarly public, intersubjective, and repeatable.
Figure 3
This closure of psychological
with physical phenomena is self-evident in situations where the same phenomenon
can be thought of as either “physical” or “psychological” depending on
one’s interest in it. At first glance, for example, a visual illusion
of the kind shown in Figure 3, might seem to present difficulties, for
the reason that physical and psychological descriptions of this phenomenon
conflict.
Physically, the figure
consists entirely of squares, joined in straight lines, while subjectively,
most of the central lines in the figure seem to be bent. However, the
physical and psychological descriptions result from two different observation
procedures. To obtain the physical description, an experimenter E typically
places a straight edge against each line, thereby obscuring the cues responsible
for the illusion and providing a fixed reference against which the curvature
of each line can be judged. To confirm that the lines are actually straight,
other experimenters (E1 to n) can repeat this procedure. In
so far as they each observe the line to be straight under these conditions,
their observations are public, intersubjective and repeatable.
But, the fact that the
lines appear to be bent (once the
straight edge is removed) is similarly public, intersubjective and repeatable
(amongst subjects S1 to n). Consequently, the illusion can
be investigated using relatively conventional scientific procedures, in
spite of the fact that the illusion is
unambiguously mental. One
can, for example, simply move the straight edge outside the figure making
it seem parallel to the bent central lines—thereby obtaining a measure
of the angle of the illusion.
The empirical method
In short, once the
empirical method is stripped of its dualist trappings, it applies
as much to the science of consciousness as it does to the science of physics,
and it applies both to Western phenomeno–logical methods, focused on ordinary
conscious states and to methods for investigating altered states, such
as those developed in the East. It also applies to the evaluation of processes
for changing experience.
Stated formally, the
empirical method follows one, fundamental principle:
If observers
E1 to n (or subjects S1 to n
), carry out procedures
–P1 to n , under observation conditions O1 to n
, they should observe
(or experience) result R
(assuming that E1
to n and S1 to n have similar perceptual and cognitive
systems, that P1 to n are the procedures which specify the
nature of the experiment or investigation, and that O1 to n
includes all relevant background conditions, including those internal
to the observer, such as their attentiveness, the paradigm within which
they are trained to make observations and so on).
Or, informally:
If you carry
out these procedures you will observe or experience these results.5
Complicating factors:
symmetries and asymmetries of access.6
Investigations of
consciousness do, of course, face domain-specific problems, which are
different to those typically encountered in investigations of the external
world. These differences arise partly from differences in the questions
of interest, partly from differences amongst some of the phenomena studied
and partly from systematic differences in the typical access an observer
has to the observed.
For experimental purposes,
the entities and events studied by physics are located external to the observers. Placed this way, such entities
and events afford public access
(see above) and different observers establish intersubjectivity, repeatability
and so on by using similar exteroceptive systems and equipment to observe
them. E and S in Figure 2, for example, might observe the light via their
visual systems, supplemented by similar instruments that measure its intensity,
frequency and other physical properties. When S and E (and any other observer
suitably place in space and time) use similar means to access information
about a given entity or event we may say that they have symmetrical access to the observed (in this case, to the stimulus light
itself). If the event of interest is located on the surface of or within
S’s body, or within S’s brain, as would be the case in the study of physiology
or neurophysiology, it remains external to E. Thus placed, it can still
afford public, symmetrical access to a community of other, suitably placed
external observers (E1 to n ). Consequently, such events can
be investigated by the same “external” means employed in other areas of
natural science.
In the study of consciousness,
however, what the subject observes
or experiences is of primary interest and, if one compares the information
about S available to S with the information about S available to E (and other
external observers), various forms of asymmetry arise. If the event of interest is located on the
surface of or within S’s body, she may be able to observe or experience
that event through interoceptive as well as exteroceptive systems. For
example, if she stabs her finger with a pin she might not only be able
to see the pin go in, but also to experience a pain in her finger consequent
on skin damage. Under these circumstances, she has two sources of information
about the event taking place in her skin, while E retains only exteroceptive
(visual) information about this event, as before. Likewise, if one stimulates
S’s brain with a microelectrode, she might, like E, be able to observe
the electrical stimulation (with an “autocerebroscope”7 ).
But, in addition, she might be able to experience the effects of such
stimulation in the form of a consequent visual, auditory, tactile or other
experience. In such situations, observers E and S have asymmetrical access to the observed.
Crucially, E and S (and
any other observers) have asymmetrical
access to each other’s experiences of an observed (asymmetrical access to each other’s
observed phenomena). That is, they know what it is like to have their
own experiences, but they can only access the experiences of others indirectly
via their verbal descriptions or non-verbal behaviour. This applies to
all observed phenomena, for example, it applies even
if the observed is a simple physical stimulus, such as the light in Figure
2. As E does not have direct access to S’s experience of the light and
vice-versa, there is no way for E and S to be certain that
they have a similar experience (whatever they might claim). E might nevertheless
infer that S’s experience is
similar to his own on the assumption that S has similar perceptual apparatus,
operating under similar observation arrangements, and on the basis of
S’s similar observation reports. S normally makes similar assumptions
about E. It is important to note that this has not impeded the development
of physics and other natural sciences, which simply ignore the problem
of “other minds” (uncertainty about what other observers actually experience).
They just take it for granted that if observation reports are the same, then the corresponding observations are the same. The success of natural science testifies
to the pragmatic value of this approach.
Given
this, it seems justifiable to apply the same pragmatic criteria to the
observations of subjects in studies of consciousness (i.e. to their “subjective
reports”). If, given a standard stimulus and standardised observation
conditions, different subjects give similar reports of what they experience,
then (barring any evidence to the contrary) it is reasonable to assume
that they have similar experiences. Ironically, psychologists have often
agonised over the merits of observation reports when produced by subjects, although like other scientists,
they take them for granted when produced by experimenters, on the grounds that the observations
of subjects are “private and subjective,” while those of experimenters
are “public and objective.” As experimenters do not have access to each
other’s experiences any more than they have access to the experiences
of subjects, this is a fallacy, as we have seen. Provided that the observation
conditions are sufficiently standardised, the observations reported by
subjects can be made public, intersubjective, and repeatable amongst a
community of subjects in much the same way that observations can be made
public, intersubjective and repeatable amongst a community of experimenters.
This provides an epistemic basis for a science of consciousness that includes
its phenomenology.
In sum, asymmetries
of access complicate, but do not prevent the investigation of experience.
In Figure 2, E has access, in principle, to the events and processes in
S’s visual system, but not to S’s experience. While S focuses exclusively
on the light, she has access to her experience, but not to the antecedent
processing in her visual system. Under these circumstances, the information
available to S complements the information available to E. As noted earlier,
to obtain a complete account of visual perception one needs to utilise
both sources of information.
Methodological problems
It
goes without saying that the empirical method, formulated in this way,
provides only basic, epistemic conditions for the study of consciousness. One also
requires methodologies appropriate to the subject
matter—and the methodologies required to study conscious appearances are
generally very different from those used in physics. There are many ways
in which the phenomena we usually think of as physical or psychological
differ from each other and amongst themselves (in terms of their relative
permanence, stability, measurability, controllability, describability,
complexity, variability, dependence on the observational arrangements,
and so on). Even where the same phenomenon is the subject of both psychological and physical
investigation (as might be the case with the light in Figure 2 above)
the interests of psychologists and physicists differ, requiring different
investigative techniques. A physicist, for example, is typically interested
in the nature of the light as such, characterised for example in terms
of the quantum mechanical properties of its constituent photons. Psychologists
are more interested in how such physical energies are translated by the
visual system into phenomenal appearances, for example in the ability
of the visual system to translate changes in light intensity and frequency
into discriminable changes in brightness and colour. Unlike entities and
events themselves, one cannot hook measuring instruments up to conscious appearances. For
example, an instrument that measures the intensity of the light in Figure
2 (in lumens) cannot measure its experienced brightness. Given this, one
needs some method of systematising subjective judgements and consequent
reports, for example, by recording minimal, discriminable differences
in brightness, in the ways typically used in psychophysical experiments.
8
The need to translate
observations into observation reports also occurs, of course, in natural
science, although here, reports are often made precise through the use
of measuring instruments (which can be hooked up to the observed entities
and events themselves). In some cases, a mental phenomenon can also be
“measured”, in spite of the fact that the only observer with access to
that phenomenon is the subject. It is standard practice, for example,
to measure the size of a visual illusion by requiring subjects to adjust
the dimensions of an external, comparison stimulus so that it matches
the dimensions of the illusion (see, e.g., the discussion of the illusion
shown in Figure 3 above).
That said, not all phenomena
of interest to consciousness studies are easy to measure or even to communicate
in an unambiguous way. Some experiences are difficult to translate into
words, and therefore into subjective reports. Images, for example, generally
lack the clarity, vividness and relative permanence of events as experienced
out in the world, which may make them difficult to describe with accuracy
and precision. Consequently, indirect measures of imagery such as its
effects on memory, learning, perception and so on are common in imagery
research.9 Difficulties
may also arise because one does not have a vocabulary adequate to communicate
some experience unambiguously. Most human beings know what it is to love
or be angry, but the many nuances of such experience are more difficult
to describe (the differences in the feeling of the love of wild places,
love of one’s child, love of one’s lover, love of the truth, love of life,
compassionate love, and so on). Investigators typically deal with such
situations by developing new typologies and descriptive systems (as with
the typologies developed for the chemical sense modalities, taste and
smell). The way experiences are categorised into types and the extent
to which given categories are differentiated in ordinary language are
also, in part, culture-specific. English, for example, has a highly differentiated
colour terminology (consequent on the development of pigments and dyes)
whereas the language of the Dani tribesmen of New Guinea has only two
colour terms (“mola” for warm, light colours and “mili” for dark, cold
ones). In such situations, investigators can bypass linguistic differences
by using non-verbal responses—measuring, say, colour discrimination or
memory by requiring subjects to visually match target colours with comparison
colours on a colour chart.
These brief points about
methodological problems and some of the ways that they are commonly addressed
will be familiar to those trained in psychological research. Psychology
and its sister disciplines have developed many different methodologies
for investigating sensation, perception, emotion, thinking, and many other
areas that deal directly or indirectly with how phenomena are experienced.
However, as the chapters in this book demonstrate, there is much more
to be said about this subject and still much to be done.
The relation of the
observer to the observed.
Observations in science
or in ordinary life are, to varying degrees, dependent on the relation of the observer to the observed. The very act of
observation can affect the nature of the observed although the strength
of this effect depends on the strength of the observer/observed coupling.
As Norbert Wiener (the father of cybernetics) pointed out, in classical
physics the observer and the observed are, in general, “loosely coupled”
and the effects are relatively small (although one still has to take account
of the effect of one’s measuring equipment on what is being measured).
In psychology, when the observed is another human being, the observer
and observed are often “closely coupled” which can produce a range of
“experimenter effects.” In traditional experimental psychology, as in
physics, care is taken to control for such effects. Experimenters might
place themselves in a different room to the subject, take care to be non-invasive,
give non-leading instructions, and so on.
However, in consciousness
studies the effect of relationship on experience can itself be a topic
of considerable interest. By what process of mutual influence, for example,
do we make the transition from first- to second-person perspectives? How
does the private, subjective, phenomenal world (which “I” inhabit) become
the shared, intersubjective world (which “we” inhabit)? And how does the
intersubjective world of “we” have enduring effects on the private world
of “me.” Individual experience is also shaped by its broader social and
cultural context. This provides another rich field of study, as the full
effects of such embeddings are not well understood. Individual relationships
also vary in their “quality” with potentially potent effects on the participants.
Henry (2000), for example, reviews evidence that the quality of relationship
between therapist and client is a major determinant of change in clients’
experience. And, Richardson (2000) examines ways in which different forms
of intersubjectivity established in clinical practice contribute to a
“therapeutic relationship.” A detached versus an engaged clinician-client
relationship, for example, may have very different consequences for what
can be revealed or expressed in therapeutic encounters, which can have
powerful effects on health outcome and well being. But what determines the quality of relatedness? How, for example, can
one move from isolation to communication, intersubjectivity, empathy,
and intimacy?
The relation of the
observer to the observed is most intimate, of course, in situations where
the observer is the observed, for example,
in the use of introspective and phenomenological methods where subjects
become the primary investigators of their own mental –pro–cesses and states.
In this situation “observer effects” seem to be unavoidable. The very
act of directing one’s attention to one’s own mental states affects those
states, for the simple reason that the direction and quality of attention
itself defines a state of mind. Once one adds the problems of self-description,
self-analysis, and self-interpretation (of mental states) it is little
wonder that some authors despair of ever developing a systematic, introspective
science.
However, other authors
suggest that it is possible for the mind to become sufficiently stable
to attain a deeper first-person knowledge of its own nature, uncovering
states and processes that can be confirmed by an appropriately trained
research community. Such investigative techniques often encourage a dispassionate,
focused but open attitude to whatever emerges in experience (noticing
whatever emerges without grasping, avoiding, judging, and so on). Depraz
et al. (2000), for example, give a detailed description of a first-person
investigative method that requires a “phase of suspension of habitual
thought and judgement”, a “phase of conversion of attention from the exterior
to the interior” and “phase of letting go or receptivity towards the experience.”
Various readings in The View From Within
(see note 3) illustrate how this method (augmented by other techniques)
can be applied in practice. For example, an investigation of intuition
by Petitmengen-Peugeot (1999) revealed the states of mind preparatory
to having creative insights in a sufficiently detailed form to provide
a basis for making predictions about how to facilitate such states. And
Varela (1999) demonstrates how a detailed phenomenological exploration
of the experience of time can provide first-person accounts that can be
related to sophisticated models of the brain’s temporal processing. Needless
to say, the application of such subtle introspective methods requires
careful training (a common situation in science)—in this instance, training
in how to enter into an appropriately receptive state of mind. This may
be an example of the “state-specific sciences” suggested by Tart, as only
those researchers who can enter into the appropriate states of mind can
confirm or disconfirm the findings. It is important to note however that
the utility and productiveness of such research methods can be assessed
in the normal way, in terms of whether they enable prediction, control,
provide a more integrated understanding of the phenomena under investigation,
and so on. For example, Petitmengen-Peugeot’s findings on states conducive
to creativity can be evaluated in terms of whether others trained to enter
into such states really do become more creative. And Varela’s findings
on the phenomenology of experienced time may be supported (or not) by
triangulating evidence about temporal processing in the brain.
It should be clear that
in the application of such phenomeno–logical methods, changing the state
of mind of the observer becomes an unavoidable part of the investigation.
Conversely, another traditional purpose of self-investigation is to effect change, for example in the therapeutic and clinical
situations reviewed by Henry (2000) and Richardson (2000). In discovering
its own nature, the mind changes its nature. This process too, may follow
discoverable, systematic principles—and it may be that in this, consciousness
studies in Western science has a good deal to learn from traditional first-person
investigative methodologies that have been developed over the millennia
with aim of inducing such changes, particularly in the East.
Conclusions
There are many maps
that can be drawn of consciousness studies. But from the perspective of
psychological science, the difficulties posed by the study of consciousness
may be categorised into epistemological problems, methodological problems,
and problems that follow from the potential effects of the observer on
the observed.
It has traditionally
been thought that one cannot make consciousness studies into an “objective”
science on the grounds that one cannot obtain public, objective knowledge
about private, subjective experiences. However, all science relies on
the experiences/observations of scientists. Scientists can be “objective”
in the sense of being dispassionate, employ procedures that are “objective”
in the sense of being well specified and repeatable, and develop “objective
knowledge” in the sense of intersubjective knowledge. But no observations in science are “objective” in the sense of
being observer-free. Nor does science require “observer-free
observations.” The heart of science is the empirical method which, simply put, is if you follow these
procedures you will observe or experience these results. This applies as much to a science of consciousness
as it does to physics.
No science of consciousness
can be complete without first-person methods. Although existing first-person
methods can be combined with third-person methods in a variety of useful,
co–m–––ple–mentary ways, there is a clear need to develop more sophisticated
first-person methods, particularly for those aspects of experience that
are relatively complex, impermanent, unstable, or variable, or are difficult
to describe, measure, or control. As with any area of investigation, the
investigative tools and procedures need to be tailored to the phenomena
under study. While there is a great deal of methodological development
to be done, particularly in less well-articulated domains of experience,
such development is standard practice in psychological science.
Within consciousness
studies, there are many situations where the very act of observation can
change the observed. These “observer effects” take two forms: The way
an external observer relates to an experiencing subject can alter his
or her experience (“experimenter effects”). With introspective methods
where the observer is the observed, the act of introspection already produces a change in the operations of the mind.
Depending on one’s purposes,
there are two basic ways of dealing with such effects: one can attempt
to minimise them, or study and harness them. Techniques for minimising observer effects
in the study of other people all hinge on “removing” the observer (in
some sense) from the observation—either literally, by placing the observer
in a separate room, or metaphorically, by being non-invasive, giving non-directive
instructions, etcetera. While self-observation techniques cannot remove
the observer, they often encourage a dispassionate, focused, but open
attitude to whatever emerges in experience (noticing whatever emerges
without grasping, avoiding, judging, and so on).
For other purposes,
the way that relationship changes experience is itself of primary interest.
The experiences of individual observers are embedded in interpersonal,
social and cultural contexts, requiring continuous re-negotiation of the
borders between the first-person space of “I” and the second-person space
of “we”. The transitions between subjectivity and intersubjectivity are
complex and not fully understood. The effects of different forms of self-investigation
on the contents of consciousness are similarly obscure. Such observer/observed
interactions become particularly important when the deeper purpose of
the investigation is to transform experience rather than to describe it,
analyse it or theorise about it. How different
forms of engagement with others or oneself might facilitate such change
is an important topic for research.
It has to be said that
the methodological problems are sometimes complex and the solutions sometimes
controversial, particularly in the use of introspective and phenomenological
methods where subjects become the primary investigators of themselves.
But this does not alter the fact that the phenomena of
consciousness provide data that are potentially public, intersubjective
and repeatable. Consequently, the need to use and develop methodologies
appropriate to the study of such phenomena does not place them beyond
science. Rather, it is part of science.
Notes
1 If consciousness
could be demonstrated to be nothing more than a state or function of the brain it would be possible
to study consciousness by studies of the brain alone. I have summarised
some of the fallacies of such reductionism in Velmans (1998) and reviewed
these in depth in Velmans (2000), so I will not repeat this analysis here.
2 Following this theoretical approach,
phenomenal and neural-state “spaces” are dual aspects of a form of mental
information, and their very different phenomenal and neural formats arise
from the different first- versus third-person perspectives from which
that information is viewed. In some respects (but not others) this is
analogous to wave-particle complementarity in quantum mechanics where
the wave- or particle-like nature of photons depends entirely on the measuring
arrangements, and where a complete description of photons requires both
wave and particle accounts. A more detailed analysis of such “psychological
complementarity”, is given in Velmans (1991a, section 9.3, 1991b, sections
8 and 9, 1993a, 1996c, and 2000, chapter 11). Some aspects of this position
have also been adopted by Chalmers (1995) and Maclennan (1996) (see the
commentary on Chalmers in Velmans, 1995).
3 See readings
in Pope & Singer (1978), the View From Within an entire issue of The Journal of Consciousness
Studies, 6, 2/3, 1999, and
the on-line course and discussions of “The Investigation of Conscious
Emotion: Combining first- and third-person methodologies.” Sponsored by
the University of Arizona at Tucson and the Journal of Consciousness Studies, February to March, 1999.
4 The following analysis of epistemological
problems is largely taken from Velmans (1999).
5 It is interesting to note that
Tart (2000), and Wilber & Walsh (2000) arrive at a very similar conclusion.
6 The following analysis is taken largely from Velmans (2000), chapter 8.
7 A hypothetical machine for viewing
activity in one’s own brain, e.g. via a T.V. monitor attached to sensors
which detect electrical, magnetic or other activity.
8 To clarify the epistemic issues,
I have so far focused only on very simple cases of conscious experience
(simple visual percepts, pains and so on) which are relatively easy to
study and control. Under normal conditions, for example, visual perception
appears to be so tightly guided by the information picked up by the retina
that the resulting experience gives every appearance of being a “direct
perception” of what is out-there in the world. Consequently, given similar
stimuli, presented under similar viewing conditions, with similar expectations,
experimental instructions and so on, different subjects are likely to
agree that they see the same thing. By contrast, experienced thoughts,
emotions and images are largely determined by endogenous factors, and
even when they are influenced by events in the external world, they generally
represent some inner response to external events, rather than representing the events
themselves. This makes them heavily dependent on individual differences
in heredity, personal history, momentary fluctuations in attention and
interest, and on other endogenous factors, making them less easy to reproduce
under controlled conditions. Other experiences may be rare or even unique
to the individuals involved. While these factors complicate investigation
they do not prevent it. Psychologists simply include such complicating
factors within their research—investigating the effects of heredity, learning,
and attention on thinking and emotion, making use of single case studies
where needed and so on. In some studies investigators harness subjects’
ability to control their own experience. A common method of studying imagery
for example is to ask subjects to generate a given image, and then to
perform some task that reveals something about its nature or use. When
a given experience is very difficult to reproduce at will, it can be investigated
when it occurs naturally, as in studies of dreaming during REM sleep.
As in natural science, the accuracy of reports can become suspect when
stimuli or experiences are near the limits of detectability, for example,
when a weak signal is embedded in noise—in which case estimation procedures
have to be developed, such as those suggested by signal detection theory.
One also has to be mindful of the well-known effects of the act of observation
on the nature of the observed. Such “experimenter effects” have been extensively
investigated in psychology (along with the means by which they can be
minimised), but they can be particularly powerful when the observer is the observed, for example,
when a subject studies (rather than simply reports on) her own conscious
experience. In such cases one either has to attempt to limit such influences
(cf Ericsson & Simon, 1984) or to harness them, for example in situations
where focused self-observation is intended to transform conscious states
rather than to describe them (see below).
9 A useful review of current methods
for investigating imagery is given by Richardson (1999).
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