Tuesday, February 09, 2010

Introspection - An Article and a New Entry at the Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy

By ahadjem, introspection

Finally, introspection is getting a little more attention. Most neuroscientists and philosophers don't take it very seriously, however.

A new article from Conscious Entities looks at the topic and introduces a new article at the Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy on introspection. I would encourage those interested in how to conduct research into introspective truth to look at Ken Wilber's The Marriage of Sense and Soul: Integrating Science and Religion, a great introduction into how to conduct empirical research into subjective states of consciousness.

This article from CE is a little dismissive of introspection - seeing it as extremely limited.

Picture: Socrates looking at himself.

Introspection, the direct examination of the contents of our own minds, seems itself to be in many minds at the moment. The latest issue of the Journal of Consciousness Studies was devoted to papers on introspection, marking the tenth anniversary of the publication of The View from Within, by Francisco Varela and Jonathan Shear (which was itself a special edition of the JCS); and now Eric Schwitzgebel has produced a new entry for the Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy.

The two accounts are of course quite different in some respects. The encyclopaedia entry is a careful, scholarly account, neutral and comprehensive; the JCS issue is openly a rallying-cry in support of a programme flowing from Varela’s work. This, it seems, called for an end to the ban on examination of lived experience; the JCS gives the impression that it was something of a milestone, though Schwitzgebel’s piece does not mention it (he does cite an earlier paper by Varela, once again in the JCS).

What’s all this about a ban? Well, back in the nineteenth century, psychologists had no fears about using introspective evidence; it was thought that a proper scientific effort would lead to an objectively verifiable kind of phenomenology. We should be able to classify the elements of mental experience and clarify how they worked together, just by examining what went on in our own heads. A great deal of work was done on all this (It was a great disappointments for me to discover, on first opening Brentano’s Psychology from an Empirical Standpoint, that it consisted almost entirely of this kind of thing, and that the only passage about intentional inexistence, the interesting issue, was the couple of paragraphs which I had already read as quotes in several other books.). There was a gradual refinement of the methods involved, leading on to the great heyday of introspectionism, with Wundt and Titchener in the lead. Unfortunately, it became clear that the rival schools of introspectionism had begun to come up with results which in some respects were radically different and incompatible, and since our own introspections are by their nature private and unverifiable, all they could really do by way of settling the issues was to shout at each other.

This embarrassing impasse led to a reaction away from introspection and to the rise of behaviourism, which not only denied the usefulness of examining our inner experience, but actually went to the extreme of denying that there was any such thing as inner experience. Behaviourism in its turn fell out of favour, but according to Varela there remained an instinctive distrust of introspection which continued to put people off it as an avenue of research. This is the ‘ban’ he wanted to see overturned.

Was there, is there, really a ban? Not exactly. Apart from the most dogmatic of the behaviourists, no-one has ever tried to exclude introspection altogether. In recent times, introspective evidence has been widely accepted – the problem of qualia, thought by some to be the problem of consciousness, depends entirely on introspection. I think the real problem arises when we adopt special methods. In order to obtain consistent results, the old introspectionists thought extensive training was necessary. It wasn’t enough to sit and think for a bit; you had to have mastered certain skills of discrimination and perception. The methodological dangers involved in teaching your researchers what kind of thing they could legitimately look for are clear.
Read the whole entry.

So here is the much more lengthy and inclusive entry (and balanced) just recently posted at the SEP.

Introspection

First published Tue Feb 2, 2010

Introspection, as the term is used in contemporary philosophy of mind, is a means of learning about one's own currently ongoing, or perhaps very recently past, mental states or processes. You can, of course, learn about your own mind in the same way you learn about others' minds—by reading psychology texts, by observing facial expressions (in a mirror), by examining readouts of brain activity, by noting patterns of past behavior—but it's generally thought that you can also learn about your mind introspectively, in a way that no one else can. But what exactly is introspection? No simple characterization is widely accepted. Although introspection must be a process that yields knowledge only of one's own current mental states, more than one type of process fits this characterization.

Introspection is a key concept in epistemology, since introspective knowledge is often thought to be particularly secure, maybe even immune to skeptical doubt. Introspective knowledge is also often held to be more immediate or direct than sensory knowledge. Both of these putative features of introspection have been cited in support of the idea that introspective knowledge can serve as a ground or foundation for other sorts of knowledge.

Introspection is also central to philosophy of mind, both as a process worth study in its own right and as a court of appeal for other claims about the mind. Philosophers of mind offer a variety of theories of the nature of introspection; and philosophical claims about consciousness, emotion, free will, personal identity, thought, belief, imagery, perception, and other mental phenomena are often thought to have introspective consequences or to be susceptible to introspective verification. For similar reasons, empirical psychologists too have discussed the accuracy of introspective judgments and the role of introspection in the science of the mind.


1. General Features of Introspection

1.1 Necessary Features of an Introspective Process

Introspection is generally regarded as a process by means of which we learn about our own currently ongoing, or very recently past, mental states or processes. Not all such processes are introspective, however: Few would say that you have introspected if you learn that you're angry by seeing your facial expression in the mirror. However, it's unclear and contentious exactly what more is required for a process to qualify as introspective. A relatively restrictive account of introspection might require the process to be of a type that can only yield knowledge of one's own currently ongoing mental states via attention to and direct detection of those states; but many philosophers think attention to or direct detection of mental states is impossible or at least not present in many paradigmatic instances of introspection.

For a process to qualify as “introspective” as the term is ordinarily used in contemporary philosophy of mind, it must minimally meet the following three conditions:

  1. The mentality condition: Introspection is a process that generates, or is aimed at generating, knowledge, judgments, or beliefs about mental events, states, or processes, and not about affairs outside one's mind. In this respect, it is different from sensory processes that normally deliver information about outward events or about the non-mental aspects of the individual's body. Of course, knowledge of one's mental life might enable or subserve conclusions about matters beyond the mind. Knowledge that you are visually experiencing redness at the center of your visual field might ground the conclusion that there is a red object directly in front of you (whether a philosopher regards this sort of inference as a strange case or as the way perception normally works depends on her take on indirect realism about perception; see the discussion of indirect realism and phenomenalism in the entry on the problem of perception.) The border between introspective and non-introspective knowledge can begin to seem blurry with respect to bodily self-knowledge such as proprioceptive knowledge about the position of one's limbs or nociceptive knowledge about one's pains. But perhaps in principle the introspective part of such processes, pertaining to judgments about one's mind—e.g., that one has the feeling as though one's arms were crossed or of toe-ishly located pain—can be distinguished from the non-introspective judgment that one's arms are in fact crossed or one's toe is being pinched.

  2. The first-person condition: Introspection is a process that generates, or is aimed at generating, knowledge, judgments, or beliefs about one's own mind only and no one else's, at least not directly. Any process that generates knowledge equally of one's own and others' minds is by that token not an introspective process. Of course, introspective self-knowledge may sometimes serve as a basis of knowledge of other minds. For example, if I learn introspectively that I am angry, I might on that basis conclude that others are angry too. If a certain version of simulation theory (see the entry on folk psychology as mental simulation) is right, much of our knowledge of others' minds depends on first determining what our own reactions, attitudes, or other mental states are or would be, then drawing an implicit or explicit parallel between them and ourselves (Goldman 1989; though see Gordon 1995 for a different take on simulation theory). However, when I arrive at conclusions about others in this way, the introspective contribution to those conclusions is at most in the discovery of my own anger; the extension to others is probably best regarded as non-introspective. Some philosophers have contemplated peculiar or science fiction cases in which we might introspect the contents of others' minds directly—for example in telepathy or when two individuals' brains are directly wired together—but the proper interpretation of such cases is disputable (see Gertler 2000).

  3. The temporal proximity condition: Introspection is a process that generates knowledge, beliefs, or judgments about one's currently ongoing mental life only; or, alternatively (or perhaps in addition) immediately past (or even future) mental life, within a certain narrow temporal window (sometimes called the specious present (see the entry on the experience and perception of time). You may know that you were thinking about Montaigne yesterday during your morning walk, but you cannot know that fact by current introspection alone—though perhaps you can know introspectively that you currently have a vivid memory of having thought about Montaigne. Likewise, you cannot know by introspection alone that you will feel depressed if your favored candidate loses the election in November—though perhaps you can know introspectively what your current attitude is toward the election or what emotion starts to rise in you when you consider the possible outcomes. Whether the target of introspection is best thought of as one's current mental life or one's immediately past mental life may depend on one's model of introspection: On self-detection models of introspection, according to which introspection is a causal process involving the detection of a mental state (see Section 2.2 below), it's natural to suppose that a brief lapse of time will transpire between the occurrence of the mental state that is the introspective target and the final introspective judgment about that state, which invites (but does not strictly imply) the idea that introspective judgments generally pertain to immediately past states. On self-shaping and self-fulfillment models of introspection, according to which introspective judgments create or embed the very state introspected (see Sections 2.3.1 and 2.3.2 below), it seems more natural to think that the target of introspection is one's current mental life or perhaps even (though few philosophers explicitly go so far) the immediate future.

Very few contemporary philosophers of mind would call a process “introspective” if it does not meet some version of the three conditions above, though in ordinary language the temporal proximity condition may sometimes be violated. (For example, in ordinary speech we might describe as “introspective” a process of thinking about why you abandoned a relationship last month or whether you're really as kind to your children as you think you are.) However, many philosophers of mind will resist calling a process that meets these three conditions “introspective” unless it also meets some or all of the following three conditions:

  1. The directness condition: Introspection yields judgments or knowledge about one's own current mental processes relatively directly or immediately. It's difficult to articulate exactly what directness or immediacy involves in the present context, but some examples should make the import of this condition relatively clear. Gathering sensory information about the world and then drawing theoretical conclusions based on that information should not, according to this condition, count as introspective, even if the process meets the three conditions above. Seeing that a car is twenty feet in front of you and then inferring from that fact about the external world that you are having a visual experience of a certain sort does not, by this condition, count as introspective. However, as we will see in Section 2.3.4 below, those who embrace transparency theories of introspection may reject at least strong formulations of this condition.

  2. The detection condition: Introspection involves some sort of attunement to or detection of a pre-existing mental state or event, where the introspective judgment or knowledge is (when all goes well) causally but not ontologically dependent on the target mental state. For example, a process that involved creating the state of mind that one attributes to oneself would not be introspective, according to this condition. Suppose I say to myself in silent inner speech, “I am saying to myself in silent inner speech, ‘haecceities of applesauce’”, without any idea ahead of time how I plan to complete the embedded quotation. Now, what I say may be true, and I may know it to be true, and I may know its truth (in some sense) directly, by a means by which I could not know the truth of anyone else's mind. That is, it may meet all the four conditions above and yet we may resist calling such a self-attribution introspective. Self-shaping (Section 2.3.2 below), expressivist (Section 2.3.3 below), and transparency (Section 2.3.4 below) accounts of self-knowledge emphasize the extent to which our self-knowledge often does not involve the detection of pre-existing mental states; and because something like the detection condition is implicitly or explicitly accepted by many philosophers, some philosophers (including some but not all of those who endorse self-shaping, expressivist, and/or transparency views) would regard it as inappropriate to regard such accounts of self-knowledge as accounts of introspection proper.

  3. The effort condition: Introspection is not constant, effortless, and automatic. We are not every minute of the day introspecting. Introspection involves some sort of special reflection on one's own mental life that differs from the ordinary un-self-reflective flow of thought and action. The mind may monitor itself regularly and constantly without requiring any special act of reflection by the thinker—for example, at a non-conscious level certain parts of the brain or certain functional systems may monitor the goings-on of other parts of the brain and other functional systems, and this monitoring may meet all five conditions above—but this sort of thing is not what philosophers generally have in mind when they talk of introspection. However, this condition, like the directness and detection conditions, is not universally accepted. For example, philosophers who think that conscious experience requires some sort of introspective monitoring of the mind and who think of conscious experience as a more or less constant feature of our lives may reject the effort condition (Armstrong 1968; Armstrong 1999; Lycan 1996).

Though not all philosophical accounts that are put forward by their authors as accounts of “introspection” meet all of conditions 4–6, most meet at least two of those. Because of differences in the importance accorded to conditions 4–6, it is not unusual for authors with otherwise similar accounts of self-knowledge to differ in their willingness to describe their accounts as accounts of “introspection”.
Read the whole entry if you are interested.


FORA.tv - Michael Pollan on Food Rules: An Eater's Manual

Very cool - Pollan reads from his new book, Food Rules: An Eater's Manual, a book that seems as though it should be required reading for everyone. By the way, the link goes to Amazon, where they are selling the book for only $5.00.
Summary

Michael Pollan, one of the best-known names in food-related issues, offers a guide about health and food. Food Rules: An Eater's Manual is a set of memorable ideas for eating wisely. Many of them are drawn from a variety of ethnic or cultural traditions. Whether at the supermarket or an all-you-can-eat buffet, this handy, pocket-size resource is for people who would like to become more mindful of what they are eating.

Pollan is the author of In Defense of Food: An Eater's Manifesto, The Omnivore's Dilemma and The Botany of Desire.





Jason Mattingley - What can neuroscience tell us about the nature of consciousness?

Another great two-part video from Slow TV (at Blip.tv).
What can neuroscience tell us about the nature of consciousness? Professor Jason Mattingley is a neuroscientist and neuropsychologist from the Queensland Brain Institute and the School of Psychology at the University of Queensland. In this lecture he looks at the nature of consciousness. Is it simply when we are fully awake? Is it the mental process that underpins thinking and learning? What happens when we are rendered unconscious? Mattingley looks at the different understandings of consciousness and what the field of neuroscience can add to our collective understanding of how the mind works. La Trobe University, October 2009
Part one:


Part two:



All in the Mind - Stem cells and brain tales

Neurogenesis is a hot topic in neuroscience research, and it has been for a few years now. Yet there are still people, in our field, who know nothing about it (including a teacher I had last year). This is a good introduction for those who may want to know more about this emerging element of brain science.

Stem cells and brain tales

Acclaimed neuroscientist Fred Gage is a serial trailblazer. Decades of dogma were overturned when his team confirmed the adult brain continues to make new brain cells. Incredibly, now scientists can even turn skin cells into brain cells with a chemical push! But, if their potential to treat brain diseases or damage is to be realised, transplanted cells need to be able to call your brain home. Stanford biologist James Weimann has a major advance.

Show Transcript | Hide Transcript

Transcripts are available Wednesday after broadcast. Streaming and downloadable audio on Saturdays.

Guests

Fred (Rusty) H Gage
Professor
Laboratory of Genetics
Salk Institute for Biological Studies
San Diego
http://www.salk.edu/faculty/gage.html

Dr James Weimann
Senior Researcher
Department of Neurology
Stanford Medical School
Stanford University
http://neurology.stanford.edu/

Further Information

All in the Mind blog with Natasha Mitchell - for your comments and discussion
Or you can now add comments direct on the page here (above) - we always love to hear your thoughts and responses. Note all online message boards are moderated according to the ABC Online Conditions of Use.

The 13th Kenneth Myer Lecture, Florey Neurosciences Institutes
Professor Fred Gage was the guest lecturer in December 2009, on "Brain regeneration: How the brain can regrow and repair".

Publications

Title: Murine Embryonic Stem Cell-Derived Pyramidal Neurons Integrate into the Cerebral Cortex and Appropriately Project Axons to Subcortical Targets
Author: Makoto Ideguchi,Theo D. Palmer,Lawrence D. Recht,and James M. Weimann
Publisher: The Journal of Neuroscience January 20, 2010, 30(3):894-904
URL: http://www.jneurosci.org/cgi/content/abstract/30/3/894

Title: Computational Influence of Adult Neurogenesis on Memory Encoding
Author: James B. Aimone, Janet Wiles and Fred H. Gage
Publisher: Neuron, Volume 61, Issue 2, 187-202, 29 January 2009
URL: http://www.cell.com/neuron/abstract/S0896-6273(08)01019-2

Title: A Functional Role for Adult Hippocampal Neurogenesis in Spatial Pattern Separation
Author: C. D. Clelland, M Choi, C Romberg, G D Clemenson Jr, A Fragniere, P. Tyers, S Jessberger, L M Saksida, R A Barker,F H Gage,T J Bussey
Publisher: Science, July 2009
URL: http://www.sciencemag.org/cgi/content/abstract/325/5937/210

Title: Signaling in Adult Neurogenesis
Author: Hoonkyo Suh, Wei Deng, and Fred H. Gage
Publisher: Annual Review of Cell and Developmental Biology, Vol. 25: 253-275 ( November 2009)
URL: http://arjournals.annualreviews.org/doi/abs/10.1146/annurev.cellbio.042308.113256?cookieSet=1&journalCode=cellbio

Presenter

Natasha Mitchell


Monday, February 08, 2010

ShrinkWrapped - Empathy and AI (five parts)

I think the development of AI (artificial intelligence) is great, I just don't think it will EVER be competitive with human consciousness in any at all. The single greatest reason this is true is that a computer will never have a fully flesh and blood human body, and consciousness is not a mere by-product of brain function but, rather, a construct of body (including the brain), culture, and the subjective intersection of the two. So much of what we experience as subjectivity is a result of the senses and perceptions of the body.

Anyway, even though I hold that view, I find discussions about the possibility of AI to be interesting. And this is the first time I have seen the issue of empathy addressed in an AI context.

From ShrinkWrapped:

Empathy and AI: Part V

In Empathy and AI: Part I I discussed the possibility of coding for empathy in our imagined AI offspring.

In Empathy and AI: Part II I wondered about how to perform the mirroring function for an AI. Most AI researchers believe that the AI's mind will evolve rather than spring into being fully formed. As such, encoding for empathy becomes a significant issue.

In Empathy and AI: Part III I briefly described some of the factors involved in the development of a coherent sense of self and how such development depends upon an empathic connection to another's mind.

In Empathy and AI: Part IV I speculated on how the development of a self in an AI could go awry analogous to disorders of the self in humans.

In this final post in the series I want to discuss the higher order functions that a healthy mind must contain and my concern the there may be a relative neglect of such higher order functions in the field of AI.

Fortuitously, J Stoors Hall, who blogs on AI at the Foresight Institute, wrote today about the father of AI, Marvin Minsky, whose ideas have been somewhat neglected in the field but are germane to the discussion. Minsky was speculating about the organization of a mature AI mind:

The first AI blog

The first AI blog was written by a major, highly respected figure in the field. It consisted, as a blog should, of a series of short essays on various subjects relating to the central topic. It appeared in the mid-80s, just as the ARPAnet was transforming over into the internet.

The only little thing I forgot to mention was that it didn’t actually appear in blog form, which of course hadn’t been invented. The WWW didn’t appear until the next decade. It appeared in book form, albeit a somewhat unusual one since it was, as mentioned, a series of short essays, one to a page. It was, of course, Marvin Minsky’s Society of Mind.

Of course, you’re reading a blog about AI right now. The difference is that that was Minsky, and this is merely me. If you haven’t read SOM, put down your computer and go read it now.

Good. You’re back. Here’s why SoM is relevant to our subject of whether and how soon AI is possible:

It remains a curious fact that the AI community has, for the most part, not pursued Society of Mind-like theories. It is likely that that Minsky’s framework was simply ahead of its time, in the sense that in the 1980s and 1990s, there were few AI researchers who could comfortably conceive of the full scope of issues Minsky discussed—including learning, reasoning, language, perception, action, representation, and so forth. Instead the field has shattered into dozens of subfields populated by researchers with very different goals and who speak very different technical languages. But as the field matures, the population of AI researchers with broad perspectives will surely increase, and we hope that they will choose to revisit the Society of Mind theory with a fresh eye. (Push Singh — further quotes from the same source)

In other words, here’s a comprehensive theory of what an AI architecture ought to look like that is the summary of the lifework of one of the founders and leaders of the field, and yet no one has seriously tried to implement it. (When I say serious, I mean put as much effort into it as has gone into, say, Grand Theft Auto.) (There has been a serious effort to implement the theoretical approach of the CMU wing of classical AI, namely SOAR.)

Part of the reason for this is that SoM is in some sense only half a theory:

Minsky sees the mind as a vast diversity of cognitive processes each specialized to perform some type of function, such as expecting, predicting, repairing, remembering, revising, debugging, acting, comparing, generalizing, exemplifying, analogizing, simplifying, and many other such ‘ways of thinking’. There is nothing especially common or uniform about these functions; each agent can be based on a different type of process with its own distinct kinds of purposes, languages for describing things, ways of representing knowledge, methods for producing inferences, and so forth.

To get a handle on this diversity, Minsky adopts a language that is rather neutral about the internal composition of cognitive processes. He introduces the term ‘agent’ to describe any component of a cognitive process that is simple enough to understand, and the term ‘agency’ to describe societies of such agents that together performs functions more complex than any single agent could.

J. Storrs Hall focuses on how the field has focused at most on discrete elements (agents) of Minsky's fractionated mind model and points out that Minsky avoided discussing the actual internal composition of such agents. Neuroscience has increasingly supported the notion that our minds, despite our subjective experience of its unitary character, are composed of many unique modules, analogous to agents, that operate somewhat independently. This fits nicely with the psychoanalytic theory of mind, ie that our minds contain multiple desires, wishes, prohibitions, inhibitions which conflict with each other in myriad ways. In Psychoanalysis we explicitly focus on increasing the capacity of our patients to first identify and then integrate and synthesize the various conflicting strands within their minds. In other words the various competing outputs of the various modules of the mind must be summed, integrated with each other, in order to produce an outcome acceptable to the executive apparatus, ego/self/mind. The most effective minds have the highest capacity for synthesis, as well, taking old conflicts or contents and reworking them to produce novel, more adaptive, outcomes.

The integrative and synthetic functions of the mind are among the most sophisticated, probably the most recent evolutionary advances, and the most sensitive to disruption. I suspect our computer scientists will have great success in developing the various agents that Minsky mentions. Their energies will be devoted to making those agents as powerful as possible. The greatest and last test for our ability to determine the friendliness of our AIs will lie in how such agents are integrated and whether or not they are able to contain or develop a synthesizing functionality, balancing the various agents in such a way as to enable the kind of conscience that would foster friendliness. J Storrs Hall implies that the current work on AI does not include particular attention to integrating and synthesizing the various discrete agents being worked on; this does not seem promising as it neglects what may well be the most important determinants of the future friendliness of our offspring.

Daniel Siegel - We feel, therefore we learn: The neuroscience of social emotion

Awesome lecture, from the Slow TV collection of videos, which is featuring the Mind and its Potential conference lectures. Found this awesome collection through Neuroanthropology - a great blog if you have not seen it before.

Interpersonal neurobiology is the cutting edge of a new integral psychology, combing the material/biological with the interpersonal/intersubjective to generate the intrapersonal/psychologiucal realm of consciousness and experience. I will be looking at this more closely in the suggestions for a post-integral integral theory.

We feel, therefore we learn: The neuroscience of social emotion. Daniel Siegel

Presenting at the Mind and its Potential conference, Dr Daniel Siegel MD speaks about Interpersonal Neurobiology, an interdisciplinary view of life experience that draws on over a dozen branches of science to create a framework for understanding of our subjective and interpersonal lives. Daniel Siegel completed his medical degree from Harvard Medical School and his post-graduate medical education at UCLA. He was the recipient of the UCLA psychiatry department's teaching award and several honorary fellowships for his work as director of UCLA's training program in child psychiatry and the Infant and Preschool Service at UCLA.

Sydney, December 2009

Source:

Mind and its Potential conference





Kurt Andersen - Is Democracy Killing Democracy?

Uh . . . . yes? Although it really is not democracy so much as corporatocracy - democracy has been dead for as least 40 years now, likely longer.

Is Democracy Killing Democracy?

The founding fathers saw this coming, but the walls they erected to contain the mob may no longer hold.

By Kurt Andersen
Published Feb 5, 2010

Illustration by Mark Nerys

The tea-party movement takes its name from the mob of angry people in Boston who, in 1773, committed a zany criminal stunt as a protest against taxes and the distant, out-of-touch government that imposed them. Two years later, the revolution was under way and—voilà!—democracy was born out of a wild moment of populist insurrection.

Except not, because in 1787 several dozen coolheaded members of the American Establishment had to meet and debate and horse-trade for four months to do the real work of creating an apparatus to make self-government practicable—that is, to write the Constitution. And what those thoughtful, educated, well-off, well-regarded gentlemen did was invent a democracy sufficiently undemocratic to function and endure. They wanted a government run by an American elite like themselves, as James Madison wrote, “whose wisdom may best discern the true interest of their country and whose patriotism and love of justice will be least likely to sacrifice it to temporary or partial considerations.” They wanted to make sure the mass of ordinary citizens, too easily “stimulated by some irregular passion … or misled by the artful misrepresentations” and thus prone to hysteria—like, say, the rabble who’d run amok in Boston Harbor—be kept in check. That’s why they created a Senate and a Supreme Court and didn’t allow voters to elect senators or presidents directly. By the people and for the people, definitely; of the people, not so much.

So now we have a country absolutely teeming with irregular passions and artful misrepresentations, whipped up to an unprecedented pitch and volume by the fundamentally new means of 24/7 cable and the hyperdemocratic web. And instead of a calm club of like-minded wise men (and women) in Washington compromising and legislating, we have a Republican Establishment almost entirely unwilling to defy or at least gracefully ignore its angriest, most intemperate and frenzied faction—the way Reagan did with his right wing in the eighties and the way Obama is doing with his unhappy left wing now. Glenn Beck, Sean Hannity, Rush Limbaugh, and their compatriots are ideologues who default to uncivil, unbudging, sky-is-falling recalcitrance, as Keith Olbermann does on the left. Fine; in free-speech America, that’s the way we roll. But the tea-party citizens are under the misapprehension that democratic governing is supposed to be the same as democratic discourse, that elected officials are virtuous to the extent that they too default to unbudging, sky-is-falling recalcitrance and refusal. And the elected officials, as never before, are indulging that populist fantasy.

Just as the founders feared, American democracy has gotten way too democratic.

This new la-la-la-la-la-la refusenik approach to politics is especially wrong in the Senate, which was created to be the “temperate and respectable body of citizens” that could, owing to its more gentlemanly size and longer terms, ride above populist political hysteria. And it’s ironic that the most effective tool on behalf of tea-party purity, the cloture-proof filibuster, is a crudely undemocratic maneuver, permitting a minority of 41 to defeat a majority of 59. (How fitting that “filibuster” and “tea party” both derive from maritime criminality—to filibuster is to freeboot, or hijack debate like a pirate.) Senate filibusters used to be rare, a monkey wrench used only in cases of emergency, meant to allow debate to continue unimpeded and to protect minority opinion from being ignored. In the sixties, the decade of civil rights and the Great Society and Vietnam, there were never more than seven filibusters during one Senate term; in 2007–2008, scores of Republican filibuster threats resulted in cloture motions. The Democrats aren’t innocent in this downward spiral of truculence: Under Bush, they regularly filibustered to stop the confirmation of judicial nominees.

On health care, even though the Senate bill isn’t remotely radical, the Republicans’ refusal to play along at least follows the contours of principle. But on the issue supposedly animating the post-Bush GOP and the tea-partiers, the massive deficit, a bi-partisan Senate bill to establish a bi-partisan commission to rein in future budgets was just defeated with 23 of 40 Republicans voting no—including a half-dozen of the bill’s original co-sponsors.

The framers worried about democratic government working in a country as large as this one, and it’s possible that we’ve finally reached the unmanageable tipping point they feared: Maybe our republic’s constitutional operating system simply can’t scale up to deal satisfactorily with a heterogeneous population of 310 million. When the Constitution was written and the Senate created, there were around 4 million people in America, or about one senator for every 150,000 people. For Congress to be as representative as it was in 1789, we’d need to elect 2,000 senators and 5,000 House members. And so I wonder, as I watch Senate leaders irresponsibly playing to the noisiest, angriest parts of the peanut gallery, if the current, possibly suicidal spectacle of anti-government “populism” in Washington isn’t connected to our bloated people-to-Congresspeople ratios. As the institution grows ever more unrepresentative, more numerically elite, members of Congress may feel irresistible pressure to act like wild and crazy small-d democrats.


Illustration by Mark Nerys

Decadent, powerful elites have been the bogeyman for two centuries of American populists. The Jeffersonians’ elite antagonists were the merchant class. (Never mind that Jefferson was America’s first great free-spending, radicchio-growing, cheese-and-wine-importing, European-architecture-loving liberal.) The elite loathed by Jacksonians was the same one the populist right loves to hate 180 years later: the federal bank, urban cosmopolites, wimpy intellectuals.

The populist impulse isn’t always or altogether bad. Two decades after the 1890s People’s Party proposed a progressive income tax and the direct election of senators, the Constitution was amended accordingly.

But the powerful fuels of populism are the sorts of violent passions the framers sought to contain. In the sixties, the Republicans, sensing the resentments of post-civil-rights whites, saw their opening to supplant the Democrats as America’s populist party. Yet as the conservative social historian Christopher Lasch wrote in 1991, in order to achieve its oxymoronic modern form—the populist pro-big-business party—the GOP “needed to stir up resentment of elites without stirring up the old populist resentment of capitalists.” And so for nearly half a century, the Republicans have depended on populist pandering to the resentments of put-upon working-class whites—to fear and loathing of liberals’ lah-de-dah attitudes about crime and abortion, of gays, of science, of immigrants. To make their national comeback, the Democrats had to do their own oxymoronic reinvention, becoming less populist economically (balanced federal budgets, less welfare, free trade) but more populist superficially (Elvis-loving, Big Mac–gobbling, horn-dogging, Sister Souljah–disapproving Bill Clinton).

While the tea-party movement is not populist in a coherent economic sense, it has all of populism’s worst historical features—not just the conspiracist paranoia about malign elites but also the desperately nostalgic sense of dispossession, the anti-immigrant anger, the anti-intellectualism. Notwithstanding the racist signs at tea-party rallies, let’s stipulate that most tea-partiers aren’t racist. Yet according to a new poll by Research 2000 commissioned by Daily Kos, 36 percent of Republicans think President Obama wasn’t born here and another 22 percent aren’t sure. If Obama were white and his father had been, say, Norwegian, there wouldn’t be much of a “birther” movement. As an unabashedly elitist African-American, Obama has an unprecedentedly synergistic super-badness in the right-wing populist demonology.

In only one economic realm do modern populism and Republicanism neatly coincide: The less taxes, the better. But the Republicans would be unelectable if they also pushed for cuts in Social Security and Medicare, the populist-socialist benefit programs everyone loves. So 30 years ago they abandoned their core principle of prudent budgets, becoming the don’t-tax-but-do-spend party of fiscal cynics and/or magical thinkers.

California is a big canary in this mine. Because the state makes it so easy to put policy initiatives on the ballot—a legacy of turn-of-the-century populism—the passage of the property-tax-limiting Proposition 13 in 1978 put the state on the road to fiscal ruin. And the fact that passing budgets in the California Legislature requires a two-thirds supermajority means the state has become almost ungovernable, especially since the recession. Reactionary, monomaniacally anti-tax populism—that is, too much democracy and too little elite wisdom—has crippled California.

One certainly understands why populist anger is roiling America. But the crazy contradictions at the heart of today’s Bizarro World populism—TV millionaires calling for insurrection, capitalists slagging the underprivileged—was evident at the moment of the tea-party movement’s genesis a year ago. That was the morning when CNBC’s Rick Santelli, a former trader, got a mob of financial-industry guys at the Chicago Mercantile Exchange to loudly revile, on live TV, those poor suckers who took on too much of the financial industry’s too-easy debt.

“How about this, president and new administration?” said Santelli. “Why don’t you put up a website to have people vote on the Internet as a referendum to see if we really want to subsidize the losers’ mortgages?”

Traders around him cheered.

“You know,” Santelli continued, “Cuba used to have mansions and a relatively decent economy. They moved from the individual to the collective … We’re thinking of having a Chicago tea party in July. All you capitalists … I’m gonna start organizing.”

It was just amazing, like a scene from some 21st-century remake of A Face in the Crowd, the 1957 Elia Kazan film about a charismatic populist hayseed who gets his own hugely successful TV show, then becomes a pawn of corporate tycoons and an adviser to a conservative presidential candidate. “Hey, Rick?” one CNBC anchor said, “can you do that one more time, just get the mob behind you again?

Read the rest of the article.


Ray Williams - How Can Putting Feelings Into Words Help You?

Cool article from Ray Williams writing at National Post on the benefits of talking about our feelings, which is the foundation of the "talking cure" of psychotherapy.

Posted: February 07, 2010

By Ray B. Williams

Why does putting our feelings into words--such as talking with a therapist, counselor or coach, or even writing in a journal--help you feel better? A new brain imaging study by UCLA psychologists, as reported in Psychological Science, may give us the answer. This research combines modern neuroscience with ancient Buddhist teachings, which focus on what is known as "mindfulness" or the ability to live in the present moment without distraction.

The researchers found that when people see a photograph of an angry or fearful face, increased activity in the amygdala region of the brain occurs, which activates a series of biological systems to protect you. This process occurs at lighting speed.

What's interesting is that calling or labelling the angry face changes your brain response, according to the research study. When that happens, another region of the brain, the ventrolateral prefrontal cortex, an area associated with inhibiting behavior and processing emotions, becomes active. The researchers concluded that the simple process of thinking in words about your emotions (labeling) has a significant benefit by decreasing the activity of the amygdala.

These findings match ancient wisdom. Mindfulness meditation, originating in Southeast Asia over 2,700 years ago, is a process by which you pay attention to present emotions, thoughts and body sensations, such as breathing, without passing judgment or reacting.

One method of practicing mindfulness meditation is to pay attention to labeling your emotions (eg: "I'm feeling angry/anxious/sad/fearful"). Doing this turns down the amygdala alarm center response that triggers negative feelings. Previous studies have shown that mindfulness meditation is effective in reducing a variety of chronic pain conditions, skin disease and stress related health conditions.

Now, neurological research supports what Buddhists teachings have described for over 2,500 years--that mindful meditation on your emotions has a significant beneficial impact on your emotional and physical well-being.

Ray B. Williams is Co-Founder of Success IQ University and President of Ray Williams Associates, companies located in Phoenix and Vancouver, providing leadership training, personal growth and executive coaching services. www.successiqu.com


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The Sakyong, Jamgon Mipham Rinpoche - How to Work with Obstacles

Cool teaching for the month from the head of Shambhala International - The Sakyong, Jamgon Mipham Rinpoche.

February 2010

How to Work with Obstacles


Whatever our level of practice, there will always be obstacles. The Tibetan word for obstacle, parche, means “what cuts our progress.” In fact, sometimes the more we are engaged in practice, the greater the obstacles become. If we understand that obstacles are part of the spiritual path, we can learn from them. Obstacles can be messages. We need to wake up and look at what is going on. On a deeper, more profound level, we can include obstacles in our journey. This is a more challenging approach.

There are outer, inner, and secret obstacles. An outer obstacle is anything in the external world that distracts us from our development as a practitioner. For example, being busy becomes an obstacle to practice. Being overly involved with our own family can keep us from practicing. Entertainment can be an obstacle: a hobby takes over our life and suddenly we are not practicing. On a more subtle level, if our mind is continuously looking for a quality of entertainment, that is definitely an obstacle.

Obstacles on the inner level have to do with our practice. The most common inner obstacle is concept. Conceptuality might manifest as fixation on one particular idea, which begins to sway us from the path. Another way it manifests is a heavy level of discursiveness that keeps us from focusing on the object of our meditation; when our mind is constantly wandering off, our energy is scattered. Another inner obstacle is heavy emotion. If we become possessed by anger, vindictiveness, jealousy, ambition, or desire, our progress will be hindered.

Obstacles on the secret level have to do with view. We have doubt about the path, lacking trust in the dharma. Obviously if our mind is seized by doubt it is difficult to practice; even when we meditate we are not going to make any progress. If we regard practice is secondary in our daily activity, our spiritual development becomes less and less relevant. Then the dharmic path is gone, and our way becomes more worldly. We lose our windhorse, sense of humor, and delight. Being certain in the view and clearing obstacles to the proper view is the secret aspect of working with ourselves.

Generally speaking, obstacles are connected with karma and conditions. Obstacles are particularly associated with the kind of environmental conditions we establish. These are related to habitual tendencies of body, speech, and mind, which are karmic. As far as actions of body goes, the worst-case scenario is killing or causing others harm. In terms of speech, being verbally abusive also creates negative conditions. Obstacles to mind occur when we create an unhealthy mental environment such as being overly desirous or unappreciative of others. From these nonvirtuous actions, obstacles tend to blossom. What we said or did creates an energy, a frequency, that attracts them.

What is the antidote to creating the conditions for obstacles to occur? On every level, the basic antidote is mindfulness. A practitioner who had been hit by a car once asked my father, the Vidyadhara Chögyam Trungpa Rinpoche, why that had happened. He was imagining that there was something karmic in his past that had caused the accident. To his surprise, my father told him that he had simply failed to be mindful.

It’s easy to be mindful on a practical level, such as looking both ways before crossing the street. But mindfulness extends to being appreciative and observant of our life. Speed is the enemy of mindfulness; we forget to look at what is happening. When we’re arrogant and cavalier, taking for granted the details of our body, speech, or mind, an obstacle arises. Then we wonder what happened. At whatever level we are practicing, we need to pay attention to our life and appreciate it.

The antidote to inner obstacles is practice. In peaceful abiding we use the present moment as a reference point for relating to our mind and overcoming its discursiveness. Returning our mind to the breath is how we learn to be mindful and aware. If we’re feeling obstructed by strong emotions, there are two approaches we can take. First, if we’ve developed our practice to the point where we can just breathe and let a strong emotion go, that’s what we should do. The other technique is to dismantle the emotion by contemplating it. We begin investigating the feeling: “Why am I jealous? What has made me feel this way?” In contemplating the reasons that our negative emotions have come together—and how they create pain, suffering, and anxiety—we can begin to take them apart. This technique creates more mindfulness and awareness.

Laziness is such an obstacle that it deserves special attention here. It can keep us from ever getting to our meditation seat. It can also manifest as busyness or—at the other end of the spectrum—feeling disheartened. Once we do sit down to meditate, it can keep us from relating properly to the practice technique. Although it occurs on every level, the obstacle of laziness is always connected with our view. The antidote to this obstacle is inspiration. We need to start over.

In order to have a fresh start, we can’t just think forward, we also have to think backward. What inspired us to practice in the first place? What does it mean to be a practitioner? Rekindling our inspiration might also mean reconnecting with our loving kindness—bodhichitta—the mind of enlightenment. As we touch in with loving kindness and compassion, we ground our sense of trust in meditation practice. As a result, we clarify our objective and commitment, which overcomes laziness. Then we can take the antidote to a deeper level by simply resting our mind in its ultimate nature.

Working with obstacles on an outer, inner, and secret level provides a way to learn from them. Applying the antidotes, we use them to deepen our practice and progress toward realization.

With mindfulness, awareness, and certainty in the view, we are able to have purpose in our practice and deep confidence in the path. These qualities bring a sense of happiness and satisfaction to whatever we are doing, which allows us to include everything in our practice—even our family and our work. If we are able to hold our mind to practice, the more worldly aspects of our life are no longer obstacles.

There have been renowned practitioners who have claimed that obstacles are their path. That is one aspect of the crazy wisdom teaching—delighting in the challenges and obstacles. Most of us must work on stabilizing our mind before we can say, “Bring on the obstacles!” We need to develop appreciation of our experiences and emotions before we can transcend them in this way.

Practicing regularly, cultivating peace and loving kindness, and renewing our inspiration are the key elements in working with obstacles. This step-by-step approach gradually builds equanimity. What are the signs of progress? Our body, speech, and mind become more gentle. At times we are able to bear difficulty without complaint. We might even begin to welcome obstacles as an opportunity to engage in virtuous activity: patience, generosity, discipline. meditation, exertion, and their binding factor, prajna—wisdom rooted in seeing things as they are. With practice and a change in attitude, whatever comes our way—good or bad—has less power to obstruct our journey.

Sunday, February 07, 2010

Post-Wilberian Intergalism - Foundations

I recently posted an article critiquing certain elements of Ken Wilber's Integral Theory, especially in regards to psychology and the self.

In the course of researching the next section I wanted to write, one book came up a few times, mostly because he was citing the same authors I have been somewhat randomly stumbling on myself. Wilber writes off Meyerhoff has sloppy criticism or some such nonsense (see the Wyatt Earp link below). I have been reading many of these authors and it's very often clear that Wilber either did not read them or chose to ignore them when they did not conform to his model. Which is to be expected - all theorists are interested in what supports their theory and shy away from that which might refute it.

So, if you are interested in a thorough critique of Wilber's Integral Theory (which Wilber has already rejected in his "Wyatt Earp" tantrum, 2006), check out the book below, published whole online at Integral World (2005). Somehow I never read this when it was first posted (but then I was looking more toward Buddhism by that point, so integral theory was fading in my interests).

This is a great foundation for a post-Wilberian integral model - and also be sure to look at the sources cited, many of whom are major names in their fields.

[Note of clarity - I disagree in some areas, but more often not - I am coming my criticisms of Wilber from a different perspective, so Meyerhoff and I are bound to have different opinions.]

Bald Ambition

A Critique of Ken Wilber's
Theory of Everything

Jeff Meyerhoff

Table of Contents (each chapter can be linked to and read individually)

A Note from the Publisher

Introduction

1. Holarchy

  1. 1A. Holons
  2. 1B. The 20 Tenets
  3. 1C. The Four Quadrants

2. Individual Consciousness

3. Vision-Logic

4. Mysticism

5. Social Evolution

6. Western History

7. Poststructuralism and Postmodernism

8. Methodology and Philosophy

9. A Different Path

10. Psychological Analysis of Wilber's Beliefs

11. Conclusion


Mistaken Identity - Multiple Personality Diagnosis in the 1980s

Mistaken Identity
Posted On: February 5, 2010

In the 1980s, Multiple Personality Disorder (MPD) suddenly became the talk of the town. Tens of thousands of Americans were diagnosed with an illness that was previously unheard of. A trigger for this sudden epidemic was the release of a film, “Sybil”. Telling the dramatic story of a woman diagnosed with Multiple Personality Disorder, the film was shown across America making Sybil a household name. Now, Sybil’s original diagnosis is being challenged. The psychiatric community is divided and people are asking whether MPD exists at all. Mistaken Identity is a documentary searching for answers.



Some Reflections On Post-Formal Thought - Helena Marchand

Very interesting article on the nature post-formal thought and cognition - a stage that Piaget never seriously accounted for in his cognitive model. One of the very interesting and important elements of post-formalism, as I believe and the theorists cited in this article seem to suggest, is its dialogical nature:
The postformal thought theorists furthermore questioned (1) the lack of parsimony and of empirical adequacy of the Piagetian tasks employed in the evaluation of adult subjects; (2) the separation of thought from the processes of the Self, of context, and of history; (3) the excessive value given, in the Piagetian conceptualization, to the structural dimension, to the detriment of the dialectical dimensions; and (4) the model of formal operations, which appealed excessively to the logic of the truth tables.
I agree with these criticisms and have recently made them myself in another article, Thoughts on a Post-Wilberian Integral Theory - Part 1 - Wilber's Integral Theory Is Less than Integral.

From The Genetic Epistemologist: Volume 29, Number 3, posted at DARE Association.

Some Reflections On PostFormal Thought

Helena Marchand

Faculty of Psychology and Education, University of Lisbon, Alameda da Universidade, 1649_013 Lisboa, Portugal. E_mail: helenamarchand@hotmail.com

Thirty years after the most important conceptualizations of postformal thought, there still remain various questions about the nature of such thought. The aims of this article are (1) to succinctly describe the emergence of these conceptualizations and the most important characteristics of this level of thought, (2) to put forth some considerations regarding these characteristics and (3) to analyze whether it is now possible to speak of a fifth stage of development, beyond formal operations.


Of all the phases of the life cycle, adult life is the longest and, until very recently, the most unknown. For decades the terms human development and psychological development were seen as related to childhood and adolescence, that is, to the first twenty years of life. Traditionally experts in developmental psychology analyzed the growth of the child and of the adolescent, holding that development ends before adult life begins.

One of the authors who defended this position was Piaget, when he wrote, referring to the stage of formal operations, "this general form of equilibrium should be understood as final, both in the sense that it will not change further during the rest of the lifetime, even if it is integrated into broader systems (multivalent logical systems), and in the sense that it unites into a single system groupings which until now were without operational connections among them" ( Inhelder & Piaget, 1955, pp. 294_295). He again expressed this view twenty-five years later, when he wrote, "(formal thought) constitutes a complex but coherent system, relatively different from the logic of the child: it constitutes the essence of the logic of educated adults, as well as the basis of the elementary forms of scientific thought" ( Piaget, 1970/72, p. 6). These comments, widely criticized, brought a group of authors to raise the hypothesis that there could be a stage (or stages) beyond the formal, which would better represent adult cognition.

With the objective of expanding the Piagetian view of formal thought, various theories arose (cf. Arlin, 1975; Basseches, 1980; Commons, Richards & Armon, 1984; Commons, Sinnott, Richards & Armon, 1989; Kramer, 1983, 1990; Pascual-Leone, 1984; Riegel, 1973; Sinnott 1981, 1984, 1989, among others) which were based on the assumption that the distinctive characteristic of adult thought was the acceptance and integration of various, and at times incompatible, truths which are highly dependent upon context and upon the way in which the subject perceives them without the subject needing, as the adolescent does, to look for and to find a single truth. Such theories provoked great enthusiasm in the scientific community. According to Sinnott (1993), we were in the presence of a "new area" of development, called "postformal".

Although the main criticism made of Piaget was directed at his affirmation that the stage of formal operations constituted the last stage of psychogenesis, the postformal thought theorists furthermore questioned (1) the lack of parsimony and of empirical adequacy of the Piagetian tasks employed in the evaluation of adult subjects; (2) the separation of thought from the processes of the Self, of context, and of history; (3) the excessive value given, in the Piagetian conceptualization, to the structural dimension, to the detriment of the dialectical dimensions; and (4) the model of formal operations, which appealed excessively to the logic of the truth tables.

To overcome such limitations, specific tasks were proposed to evaluate adult thought; descriptions of adult thought were made in which diverse dimensions (cognitive, subjective, intuitive, imaginative, interpersonal) ( Labouvie-Vief, 1992) were integrated; and alternate models of formal thought, different from the Piagetian one, were used. In the opinion of various authors, models existed which, better than the model of the logic of binary operations, could portray the complex, and at times contradictory, forms of thought which develop at the end of adolescence and during adult life: the dialectical model (cf. Basseches, 1984; Kramer, 1983; Riegel, 1973); the relativistic model (cf. Sinnott, 1984, 1991); moral philosophy (cf. Armon, 1984); the general theory of systems and Buddhism (cf. Koplowitz, 1984, 1990).

From among the models, which were alternatives to Piaget’s model of formal operations, the dialectical and the relativist models stand out, because of the influence they exerted on the bulk of the conceptualizations of postformal thought. Divulged by Klaus Riegel, Hegel’s dialectic philosophy had a great influence on the majority of the descriptions of postformal thought. Riegel (1973, 1975, 1976, 1978) was one of the first authors to criticize Inhelder and Piaget’s affirmation (1955) that formal operations constituted the level of final equilibrium. For Riegel, development consists of continuous and constant changes in which contradictions would be the motor of advances, there being --contrary to what Piaget postulated -- no stable levels of equilibrium. In his view, stability and equilibrium would occur if the task of development would one day be complete; but that never happens. According to Riegel (1973, 1975, 1976), the subject does not necessarily effect, such as was postulated by Piaget, an equilibration of conflicts. On the contrary, the dialectical thought, which characterizes maturity, consists in living with contradictions, accepting them as such. It is the dialectical interaction between equilibrium and disequilibrium that makes development possible. The influence which the dialectical model had on the majority of postformal authors is notorious (for example, Basseches and Kramer, who designate the last stage of development as the dialectical stage; among others.)

The relativistic model, based on axioms and properties of models from physics, exerted, just as the dialectical model did, a great influence on the majority of the conceptualizations of postformal thought. If Klaus Riegel was the great divulger of the dialectical model, Jan Sinnott (1981, 1984, 1989, 1993) is the author who most dedicated herself to the study of the properties of two models taken from physics (the pre-relativistic model, namely that of Newton, and the relativistic model of Einstein) and to the analysis of the repercussions that these models had in the diverse conceptualizations of human development in general, and of adult development, in particular. According to Sinnott, the concepts postulated in each of the two models reveal assumptions of differing natures regarding knowledge: absolutistic assumptions, in the case of Newton’s model; relativistic, in the case of the more recent models.

In the words of Sinnott (1993, p. 78), "one conclusion drawn from the new physics is that sometimes multiple contradictory views of truth are all 'true' simultaneously, although they appear contradictory at first, and that reality is therefore the view of truth to which we make a 'passionate commitment' (...)". This conclusion had a great impact on the diverse conceptualizations of adult cognition, in which it is postulated that different and incompatible truths are accepted and integrated by the subject without his feeling the need to seek and find a single truth. In her view, the Piagetian analysis of formal operational thought was inspired by the Newtonian perspective and, thus, would be insufficient to explain adult thought. For Sinnott (1984), the "soft", relativist model, by containing and coordinating the "strong" Newtonian logic in a broader system of relationships among elements, would be a more adequate model for representing postformal thought than the bivalent logic model of propositions.

Arlin defends a similar opinion (1984) when she affirms that the logical relativist model combines, or synthesizes, various INRC groups, and integrates hypothetico-deductive logic. This opinion is also supported by Labouvie-Vief (1984), who distinguishes a "hard" logic which, imposing limitations, shows itself insufficient to explain postformal thought, from a more "flexible" logic which, although containing the former, would be less restrictive and would better explain the complexity of adult thought. The "hard" logic, proper to formal thought, would be manifested in the exhaustive search for truth; in it reality is analyzed in terms of truths and logical falsities, the latter being rejected.

Consequently, subjects can perform well in abstract, well defined tasks, but fail, however, in tasks which are more complex and less structured, in which it becomes necessary to take into consideration different and, at times, conflicting points of view. For Labouvie-Vief (1984), the reference to the Self and to others in more ample systems is only manifested in the higher levels of development (the intersystemic and autonomous levels) in which the expansion of logical absolutism (i.e., of the logic of truth, or "hard logic") gives way to logical relativism (i.e., to "flexible logic").

Most descriptions of postformal thought are based on a dialectical epistemology and on an epistemology of relativity. Such descriptions look to these two epistemologies for notions such as dialectical operations, the study of the subject through the life cycle, problem finding, logical relativism, contextualism, self-reference, and acceptance of contradiction.

The first references to the eventual existence of a stage beyond the formal were made by Bruner (1959). In Bruner’s opinion -- and, later, in the opinion of Gruber and Vonèche (1976) and of Commons & Richards (1984a, b) such a stage would not be universal, as only a few scientists would manifest such a level of thought. However, the majority of authors who postulate the existence of a fifth stage don’t hold to this view, and maintain that such a stage characterizes adult thought in general, and not just that of a small elite. Riegel (1973) was one of the first authors to postulate the existence of a fifth stage of development, characterized by dialectical operations. For him, dialectical operations, by their capacity to integrate contradictions into broader systems, can explain the creative dimension of adult thought. Following on Riegel, Arlin (1984), for one, proposes a fifth stage of development, that of problem finding, which is characterized by the progressive substitution of problem solving (the dominant activity, in his opinion, of adolescent thought) by the capacity for the discovery and formulation of questions about oneself and about life (an activity which is constant in, and distinctive to, adult thought). In the words of Arlin (1984), "the argument for a fifth stage is based on this definition of problem finding and on the observations that 'general questions' are uncommon in adolescent thought" (p. 265).

Labouvie-Vief (1984, 1992) holds the position that adult thought is characterized by logical relativism and by progressive reference to the Self. Kitchener et al. (cf. Kitchener & Brenner, 1990; Kitchener & King, 1981, 1990a,b) defend, in their reflective judgement model, that in the highest stages, knowledge is conceived of as relative, circumscribed, and resulting from a constant evolution, which is susceptible to being evaluated and reevaluated. For Kramer (1983) formal operational thought is dual and absolutist (i.e., it is very dependent upon a true/false logic), and it does not allow for mutually incompatible systems. Postformal thought, which is of a relativistic and dialectical nature, is more independent from bipolar logic (i.e., from the true/false dichotomy), allowing the subjects to become conscious of the existence of mutually incompatible systems arising from the subjective and arbitrary nature of knowledge ( Kramer, 1983, 1990). Commons and coworkers (cf. Commons, Richards & Kuhn, 1982; Richards & Commons, 1984, 1990) describe stages of development qualitatively distinct from and logically more complex than that of formal operations, which develop in sequence to this stage (the systematic stage, the metasystematic stage, the paradigmatic stage, the transparadigmatic stage). In these stages subjects become progressively capable of analyzing and of coordinating diverse systems, creating supersystems of a metatheoretical nature.

The great diversity of theories, and of methodologies (e.g., Basseches (1984), with the dialectical schemata interview; Commons and coworkers (1984a,b), with the four stories and, more recently (1995, 1998), with the balance beams task; Kitchener and King (1981, 1990a,b), with the reflective judgement interview; Kohlberg (Colby & Kohlberg, 1987), with the moral judgement interview; and Kramer (Kahlbaugh & Kramer, 1995), with the elaborated interview for the evaluation of the relativistic and dialectical levels of thought) presented by authors who postulate the existence of stages of development beyond the formal operations stage makes it difficult, if not impossible, to get a unified view of the characteristics of this level of thought. However, it is possible to identify in the diverse descriptions of postformal thought (cf. Kramer, 1983, 1989) some features which would be specific to this level: (1) the recognition and understanding of the relativistic, non-absolutist, nature of knowledge; (2) the acceptance of contradiction to the extent that it is part of reality; and (3) the integration of contradiction into comprehensive systems, i.e., into a dialectical whole ( Kramer, 1989).

Read the rest of the article - the next section is "The relativistic and non-absolutist nature of knowledge."


Ben Goertzel - The Phenomenal Self

This is good as far as it goes, but it does not go far enough.

The self is largely phenomenal, a "self-constructed dynamical phenomenon," but it is not a simple function of the brain. This is where all these transhumanist ideas go awry. Please follow this closely, it's important:

The self is a construct of the body (genetic, biologic, somatic), the brain/mind (genetic/epigenetic/neurologic, subjective, psychological), and the culture/society (family, friends, peer group, racial heritage, worldview, values, nation, society, political system, technology, environment, etc) in which that body/mind moves and lives, located in space and time.

The self we think of as "me" or "I" is that complex (in fact, probably more so) - and there is simply no way to transfer that complexity into a synthetic neural net.

The Phenomenal Self


Ben Goertzel
Ben Goertzel

Cosmist Manifesto

Posted: Feb 2, 2010

What is this thing called “self”—this inner image of “Ben Goertzel” that I carry around with me (that, in a sense, constitutes “me”), that I use to guide my actions and inferences and structure my memories?

It is nothing more or less than a habitual pattern of organization in the collection of patterns that is my mind, correlated with habitual patterns of organization in the collection of patterns that is the mind of the portion of society I habitually associate with.

imageMy “self” keeps telling itself that it is the mind associated with my body ... and in trying to make this story true, it usually succeeds to some degree of approximation (though rarely as high a degree as it thinks it does!) ... but ultimately it is not the mind associated with my body, it is just a portion of that mind which has some overall similarities to the whole.

Thomas Metzinger, in his wonderful “neurophilosophy” book Being No One, uses the term “phenomenal self” which I find to be a good one.

Seeing the self as the self-constructed dynamical phenomenon it is, is one of the main insights that commonly results from meditation practice or psychedelic drug use.

The attachment of primal awareness to self is part of what characterizes our deliberative, reflective consciousness.

Self wishes and acts to preserve itself—this is part of its nature ... connected with the fact that it continues to exist! ... and is also part of the drive some humans feel for immortality.

If the whole mind wants to be immortal, it will be partly satisfied by spawning children, writing books, and so forth—things that extend the patterns constituting it further through time.

If the self wants to be immortal, it doesn’t really care much about offspring or literary works—it wants to keep churning along as a self-creating, self-persisting dynamical subsystem of the mind.

It is unclear the extent to which transhuman minds will have “selves” in the sense that we humans do. Part of “human selfness” seems to be an absurd overestimation, on the part of the self, of the degree to which the self approximates the whole mind. If this overestimation were eliminated, it’s not clear how much of “human selfness” would be left. Some of us will likely find out ... (except the issue of whether it will be “us” that finds out, or some descendant of us, is precisely the question at hand!)

This brief article is part of the overall Cosmist Manifesto.

Ben Goertzel is a fellow of the IEET, and founder and CEO of two computer science firms Novamente and Biomind, and of the non-profit Artificial General Intelligence Research Institute (agiri.org).