Showing posts with label Chalmers. David Chalmers. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Chalmers. David Chalmers. Show all posts

19 Feb 2013

Andy Clark. Momento’s Revenge: The Extended Mind, Extended, summary


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Corry Shores
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Andy Clark

Momento’s Revenge:
The Extended Mind, Extended
 

Brief Summary:

The debate over Clark and Chalmer’s extended mind hypothesis indicates certain misunderstandings of their basic premises and also how little consensus there is over what qualifies as mental.



Summary

Clark recalls the premise of the movie Memento. The main character, Leonard, has “anterograde amnesia,” which means he can no longer record new memories. But he wants to find his wife’s killer despite this limitation. To find the killer, he needs “to build up a stock of new beliefs”, and so he uses notes, annotated photos, and body tattoos to serve a function that biological memory would have served. Another character tells Leonard that he does not know anything and will forget this very conversation in ten minutes. But Leonard believes that he does come to know things each day with his photos, tattoos and other techniques. (43)


Clark’s and Chalmer’s “The Extended Mind” deals with matters of this nature: can mental processes extend into external systems? [Menary discusses the article and its argumentation here.]

Is the mind contained (always? sometimes? never?) in the head? Or does the notion of thought allow mental processes (including believings) to inhere in extended systems of body, brain, and aspects of the local environment? The answer, we claimed, was that mental states, including states of believing, could be grounded in physical traces that remained firmly outside the head. (43, boldface mine)

 

In this article Clark will defend extended mind against various critiques. (43-44)


First he will review the argument from the paper.


1. Tetris and Otto


One example in the Clark & Chalmers essay “Extended Mind” is tetris. A player can rotate pieces [1] with their mind, [2] with a button, or [3] with something like a computer chip implant. [1] is clearly mental, [2] is clearly external, [3] is hard to classify, but consider example [4] a Martian with natural “biotechnological machinery’ that does what [3] can do, and in that case we would consider it mental.


The Parity Principle:

If, as we confront some task, a part of the world functions as a process which, were it to go on in the head, we would have no hesitation in accepting as part of the cognitive process, then that part of the world is (for that time) part of the cognitive process. (44)


The parity principle says that all the different cases are on par, even though there are noted differences, as [2] involves perception. But Clark is not concerned so much with whether the rotation tool is external or not but how available it is for use, as in [2] it is limited to the tetris console but in [3] and [4] it is carried around along with the user. (44)


Clark & Chalmer’s paper then gave the example of Otto and Inga to illustrate how beliefs can be found in external systems.


Inga remembers the Museum of Modern Art is on 32nd street, then heads there. Otto has Alzheimer’s, so before going to MOMA, he must first consult the notebook he always carries, where he stores such information. Both Inga and Otto believed MOMA was on 32nd street, only Otto’s long-term belief was recorded in his trusty notebook rather than his head. So the two memory/belief systems are on par. (45)


Also in the paper, C&C argued that their externalism is not like the Putnam/Burge passive, reference-based externalism. (45)


The authors also allowed that the external parts of cognitive systems might not be conscious, however they can still be part of the cognitive system. (45-46)


The also offered criteria for the reliability of the external part of the cognitive system. (quoting:)

1. That the resource be reliably available and typically invoked. (Otto always carries the notebook and won’t answer that he “doesn’t know” until after he has consulted it).

2. That any information thus retrieved be more or less automatically endorsed. It should not usually be subject to critical scrutiny (unlike the opinions of other people, for example). It should be deemed about as trustworthy as something retrieved clearly from biological memory.

3. That information contained in the resource should be easily accessible as and when required. (46)



So a book in a library would not fulfill these conditions, but the brain implant would. And while mobile access to google would fail criterion [2], Otto’s notebook satisfies all criteria. (46)


Clark address the ‘Otto two-step’ critique, which says there are two beliefs and not one: the first belief is that the information about MOMA is in the notebook, leading to a second belief, that MOMA is on 32nd street. (46)


But couldn’t the same be said of Inga’s process of info retrieval? (46)


The difference might be that for Inga, the extra step would add unnecessary complexity to the description of the process. So her biological memory storage is transparent to her. But it is transparent for Otto too. And also, in both cases this account adds unnecessary complexity. (46-47)


Thus

Inga’s biological memory systems, working together, govern her behaviors in the functional ways distinctive of believing. Otto’s biotechnological matrix (the organism and the notebook) governs his behavior in the same sort of way. So the explanatory apparatus of mental state ascription gets an equal grip in each case, and what looks at first like Otto’s action (looking up the notebook) emerges as part of Otto’s thought. Mind, we conclude, is congenitally predisposed to seep out into the world. (47, boldface mine)


2. Intrinsic Content


Clark then addresses Adams and Aizawa’s [A&A] criticisms of extended mind. They call C&C’s extended mind hypothesis a ‘transcranial’ position, “the view that ‘cognitive processes extend in the physical world beyond the bounds of the brain and the body’ (Adams and Aizawa 2001, p. 43).” [47] They think that while it is logically possible and also conceivable for alien species, it is false for humans, and instead take the position of ‘contingent intracranialism about the cognitive.’


A&A think that Otto’s notebook depends on derived content, but inner symbols in the mind have intrinsic content. Clark quoting A&A:

strings of symbols on the printed page mean what they do in virtue of conventional associations. . . . The representational capacity of orthography is in this way derived from the representational capacities of cognitive agents. By contrast, the cognitive states in normal cognitive agents do not derive their meanings from conventions or social practices. (Ibid., p. 48)

And later on:

Whatever is responsible for non-derived representations seems to find a place only in brains. (Ibid., p. 63) [47]

 

Clark is disinclined to think that neural representations have intrinsic contents not found in external inscriptions. But for the sake of argument he will suppose this, and will examine the “fundamental distinction between inscriptions whose meaning is conventionally determined and states of affairs (e.g., neural states) whose meaning-bearing features are thus not parasitic.” (48) Clark does not see the reason to think that all aspects of our mental processing are composed of intrinsic contents. (48)


Clark gives the example of imagining Venn diagrams when solving a problem. Here the contents are a matter of convention. (48)


A&A might object that the Venn diagram image in the head triggers mental processes using intrinsic contents, and that is where the understanding consists. However, Otto’s notebook does the same for his head. A&A might also say that Inga’s stored memory has continuously intrinsic content. (48)


To answer, Clark offers this thought experiment. Consider Martians recalling from their heads bitmapped images of words stored there, like how those with photographic memories first imagine the page then secondly read from that image. (48)


In light of this we see that Otto’s use of the notebook uses no less intrinsic content. (48-49)


In fact, A&A even concede that it is unclear to what extent cognitive processes use non-derived content. (49)


3. Scientific Kinds and Functional Similarity


A&A think that there can be no unified science of the extended mind, because the causal processes involved in external and internal cognitive systems is too dissimilar for science to lump together in their analyses of cognition. (49)


Consider how in the tetris example the external system uses electrons firing on a cathode ray tube and muscular activity to press the button. Similarly, Otto’s notebook system uses cognitive motor processing not found in Inga’s system. There are not a lot of similarities between different external memory systems, and also transcranial systems probably do not have interesting scientific law-like regularities, but neurological systems do. (49-50)


But complexity theory explains a wide range of phenomena. (50)


So there could some day be a systematic description for transcranial systems. (50)


The problem in A&A’s argument lies in their assertion that the cognitive must be discriminated on the basis of underlying causal processes. (50) But A&A have not proven this impossible for extended mind. They also have not shown the necessity for all cognitive processes to exhibit the same law-like behavior.


In fact, inner cognitive processes might be heterogeneous.

It is quite possible, after all, that the inner goings-on that Adams and Aizawa take to be paradigmatically cognitive themselves will turn out to be a motley crew, as far as detailed causal mechanisms go, with not even a family resemblance (at the level of actual mechanism) to hold them together. It is arguable, for example, that conscious seeing and nonconscious uses of visual input to guide fi ne-grained action involve radically different kinds of computational operation and representational form (Goodale and Milner 1992 ; Milner and Goodale 1996) [51, emphasis mine]


For example, watching sports involves motor elements, but imagining a lake does not. (51)

Thus

In the light of all this, my own suspicion is that the differences between external-looping (putatively cognitive) processes and purely inner ones will be no greater than those between the inner ones themselves. But insofar as they all form parts of a flexible and information-sensitive control system for a being capable of reasoning, of feeling, and of experiencing the world (a “sentient informavore,” if you will) the motley crew of mechanisms have something important in common. It may be far less than we would require of any natural or scientific kind. (51, boldface mine)


So the argument from scientific kinds is doubly flawed: [1] it has a limited conception of what makes a proper scientific enterprise and [2] it wrongly thinks there cannot be some higher-level unification of extended cognitive systems. (51)


In fact such a unifying science has been developing for a while now. Consider for example HCI (human-computer interaction) and also HCC (human-centered computing). (52)


A&A create a false dilemma: either [a] C&C are mistaken about the causal facts of cognition (since they equate two causally-different systems), or (more likely) [b] they are closet behaviorists (because they say that the cognitions between Inga and Otto are the same on account of the fact that their outward behaviors [of going to MOMA] are the same.) [52]


But C&C are not saying that Otto’s and Inga’s cognitive processes are identical, in fact, they are very dissimilar in many respects. And they are not behaviorists, but rather functionalists, because what is important is the way that information guides reasoning. (52)


Dartnall objects that the Otto example uses an outdated model of memory as being static. (52-53)


The problem with this objection is that it regards the notebook itself as a cognitive system rather than a part of a greater dynamic process. (53)


Clark suggests another example, rote learning, which is a lot like a ‘static’ component of one’s memory system. (53)


The functional similarity of Otto’s notebook and Inga’s biological memory is apparent in the role the retrieved info plays in guiding current behavior. (54)


Information obtained from the notebook guides Otto’s current behavior the same way biological memory does. (54)


So even if the information is false, it still guides Otto’s behavior. (54)


Also, back when there was the text and rule based image of human cognition, no one thought that humans were not cognizers. (54)


But the bigger issue is the problem of extending the notion of cognition beyond the normal human expression of it. C&C say that our cognition can extend to external systems. (54-55)


4. On Control


Keith Butler says that computational and cognitive control lie in the head, and this lacks in external systems. (55)


So the brain has the final say, even if there are external aids in its functioning. (55)


There are two issues here: [1] neural computation is the locus of computational and cognitive control and [2] the neural processes at issue here are quite distinct from their external counterparts. (55)


But what if only one part of the brain, like the frontal lobes, has the final say. Does that limit cognition just to that part? (55-56)


And also, we should not divorce the control part of cognition from the stored memory part, because the stored memory part influences our beliefs and it shapes our behaviors. (56)


So the argument from ultimate control does not touch upon the mark of the mental or upon the source of the self. (56)


5. Perception and Development


Another problem is that Otto needs to use perception to ‘read in’ the information. (56)


So Butler says that because Otto must perceive the world rather than just introspect like Inga, that means the two systems are too dissimilar to group together. (56)


But in C&C’s view, Otto’s whole system includes the notebook, thus making his perception of it internal to the system.

But from our point of view, Otto’s inner processes and the notebook constitute a single, extended cognitive system. Relative to this system, the flow of information is wholly internal and functionally akin to introspection. (57, boldface mine)


Davies says that Otto can misperceive the notebook information. But Inga can likewise misremember her info. (57)


Davies also notes that perception is of things in public access, but memory just personal access. (57)


Clark also notes that Otto has a special relationship to his notebook, because he automatically endorses what is written in it. (57)


But what if in the future technology allows someone else to tap into your memories? Does that then make them any less your own? (57)


Chrisley observes that as a child we do not regard our memories as objects or resources, because we do not encounter or memories perceptually. “Might it be this special developmental role that decides what is to count as part of the agent and what is to count as part of the (wider) world?” (58)


But a child also perceives its body parts as objects in the world. (58)


If we doubt that the child experiences her hands as external but rather as internal, then we can also imagine that one would experience their eyeglasses the same way (58).


Thus

The developmental point, though interesting, is thus not conceptually crucial. It points only to a complex of contingent facts about human cognition. What counts in the end, though, is the resource’s current role in guiding reasoning and behavior, not its historical positioning in a developmental nexus. (58)


6. Perception, Deception, and Contested Space


Sterelny’s critique is that our external cognitive resources operate in a common and often contested space, that is, a shared space apt for sabotage and deception by other agents.” (58) Also, the development and functional poise of the perceptual systems involved in extended systems are radically different from that of biologically internal channels of info flow. (59)


But Sterelny does accept that external epistemic artifacts aid our cognition. He just denies that the external parts reduce the brain’s load and also he denies we can couple with them to produce a larger system. (59)


Sterelny thinks that within our biological cognitive systems, information flows within a community of cooperative and coadaptive parts. These systems evolved such that signals became clearer, less noisy, and more reliable. But information gained from the public sphere involves working with unreliable sources, as others can sabotage our information through deception. (59)


To deal with deceptions in the world we perceive, we often use caution or “tools of folk logic.” (59-60)


But we do not always treat our perceptions so cautiously, and when we do not, this is where extended mind seems to have a place. (60)


Magician’s illusions tell us that our minds are extending into the world, because we are relying on the external scene as being a stable and reliable substitute for our internally stored memories. We consider the possibility of being tricked low enough that we are willing still to rely on external factors for our cognitions. (60)


If Otto began to mistrust his notebook, then it would cease to be a part of his cognitive system. (60d)


Thus Sterelny’s critique really in the end supports extended mind.

To decide, in any given case, whether the channel is acting more like one of perception or more like one of internal information flow, look (in part) to the larger functional economy of defenses against deception. The lower the defenses, the closer we approximate to an internal flow. (61)

 

But Sterelny might respond by emphasizing not our guarding against deception and more our vulnerability to it. Yet we could conceive of an alien magician who instead of tricking our perceptions messes with our synapses to get us to believe a falsehood. So we can be internally vulnerable too. There is something like a threshold of tolerance for reliability; Otto thinks the risk of someone messing with his notebook is low enough that he can rely on it. (61)


Clark does admit that publically stored beliefs are quite different from internally stored ones; however, there is still not adequate reason to discount the external beliefs from ones own dispositional beliefs. (62)


What is essential for the functional poise of stored information to count as the individual’s stock of dispositional beliefs is that

the information be typically trusted and that it guide gross choice, reason, and behavior in roughly the usual ways. To unpack this just a tiny bit further, we can say that it should guide behavior, reason, and choice in ways that would not cause constant misunderstandings and upsets if the agent were somehow able to join with, or communicate with, a human community. (62)


7. An Alternative Ending?


We recall Clark’s response to A&A’s criticism that inner and outer cognitive systems are too dissimilar for a unified scientific analysis of them both as one system. Clark now wonders if maybe this means that “the realm of the mental is itself too disunified to count as a scientific kind”. (62)


Clark and Prinz had abandoned a paper where they explored this possibility. They were going to argue that there is no unified and coherent understanding of the idea of ‘mind’ that is used in various philosophical and scientific projects. (62-63)


They noted how mental predicates have been assigned to a wide variety of cases, spanning from thermostats to language-less animals to computers. Hence there is no consensus on where mentality is located. (63)


The concept of mind is now understood as being both rooted in conscious experience and occurrent thoughts and as well in its extension into the realm of non-conscious processes and long-term stored knowledge. (63) Those who stress occurrent processes shrink the mind too small (because it might even rule out parts of the brain) but those who don’t like extended mind probably find it expands the mental too large. Clark wonders if we can eliminate the concept of the mind. (63)


But he does not think so.

For as I noted in section 3, despite the mechanistic | motley, we may still aspire to a science of the mind. Granted, this will be a science of varied, multiplex, interlocking, and criss-crossing causal mechanisms, whose sole point of intersection may consist in their role in informing processes of conscious reflection and choice. It will be a science that needs to cover a wide variety of mechanistic bases, reaching out to biological brains, and to the wider social and technological milieus that (I claim) participate in thought and reason. It will have to be that accommodating, since that very mix is what is most characteristic of us as a thinking species (see Clark 2003 ). If we are lucky, there will be a few key laws and regularities to be defined even over such unruly coalitions. But there need not be. The science of the mind, in short, won’t be as unified as physics. But what is? (63-64, emphases mine)

 

In sum, I am not ready to give up on the idea of minds, mentality, and cognition any day soon. The extended mind argument stands not as a reductio but as originally conceived: a demonstration of the biotechnological openness of the very ideas of mind and reason. (64, emphases mind)


Conclusions


Those who reject extended mind think the mind is merely the activity of the brain. Those who accept might be ones who “identify the mind with an essentially socially and environmentally embedded principle of informed agency (i.e., the fans of situated cognition).” (64) Clark thinks we have not hit bottom with this debate. There are still matters to explore like the role of emotions and the body in cognition. It is still unclear what qualifies as mental. (64)


Thus the matter is not settled enough to determine with certainty if Leonard from Memento increases his stock of beliefs with every new tatoo. (65a)



Andy Clark. “Memento’s Revenge” in (ed.) Richard Menary The Extended Mind, Cambridge/London: MIT Press, 2010.



15 Feb 2013

Menary’s ‘Introduction [to The Extended Mind]: The Extended Mind in Focus’


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Richard Menary


Introduction [to The Extended Mind]:

The Extended Mind in Focus


Brief Summary:

Andy Clark and David Chalmers’ article “Extended Mind” hypothesizes that our minds as cognitive systems extend into external components coupled to our mental processes. It is an externalist functionalist theory that makes use of a concept of mutual causality. Some have found flaws with the theory, but in all the criticisms are not strong enough to diminish the extended mind hypothesis.



Summary



Menary will give an overview of

Clark’s and Chalmer’s seminal article on extend mind and of the positions taken in the rest of this book.


1. Active Externalism


Clark and Chalmers (C&C) propose active externalism in response to the question ‘Where does the mind stop and the rest of the world begin?’ Active externalism is not like traditional externalism (of for example Putnam and Burge), because it “concerns the active role of the environment in driving cognitive processes.” (1) There are two interpretations of this, but C&C intend just one of them. [1] The trivial interpretation: “causally active | features of the environment influence cognitive processing in the brain” (1-2). [2] The robust reading, and the one C&C take: “some cognitive processing is constituted by active features of the environment.” (2)


Humans and external entities form coupled systems that are cognitive systems. “The coupled system constitutes the a cognitive system. It is not simply that the external features, to which the organism is interactively linked, have a causal influence on the cognitive processing of the organism; rather, the interactive link is the cognitive processing.” (2b, emphasis mine)


We must distinguish active and passive forms of externalism. [First consider Putnam’s Twin Earth thought experiment. There is a twin to our earth where all things are the same except for water. Twin water has all the same properties as our water, except it is has a different chemical composition; it is XYZ rather than H2O. Someone hundreds of years ago would not know chemical compositions. On Earth one’s concept of water refers to one thing, and on Twin Earth it refers to something else. Nonetheless, the mental states of the people thinking ‘water’ on either planet is the same. So internal factors alone are not enough to explain the semantic reference to water. Rather, external factors, the different compositions of the waters, help determine the semantic reference relation involved in thinking water. The external features are ‘distal’ because they are outside our body, and they are historical, because there was a causal chain of events (in our interacting with the world) that led to the particular reference relation.] C&C note that with regard to Putnam’s Twin Earth thought experiment, if we teleport to Twin Earth, we still are thinking H2O and not XYZ, because of the historical chain causing us to have that reference. Thus the external factors are not interactive in the present. This is then a passive sort of externalism. C&C’s externalism, however the external factors co-constituting our cognition have a synchronic effect on us, so it is an active externalism. (2-3)


2. Causal Coupling


Humans and external entities form coupled cognitive systems when the human organism and the external entity are linked in a two-way interaction. There are criteria for this cognitive coupling.

[1] All the system’s components play active causal roles.

[2] Jointly the system’s components govern behavior in the same way that uncoupled cognition normally does.

[3] Removal of the external component causes the system’s behavior competence to drop, just like when removing a part of the brain.

[4] Thus, such coupled processes are no less cognitive than normal uncoupled cognitive processes, even though they may not be entirely in the head. (3)

For C&C, external features are just as causally relevant as our brain’s internal features are. We will examine two interpretations of this causal coupling. [1] Asymmetric influence [external features can causally influence our cognition without being a part of it]: “environmental features have a causal influence over inner processes. It may still be the case that we can change the external environment and that affects competence and behavior of the subject.” (3d) If someone takes our diary, that eliminates a cause for our recollections, but it does not remove a part of our memory. (3d) [2] Symmetric influence [internal and external features causally interact in a mutual way]: “the inner and outer features have a mutually constraining causal influence on one another that unfolds over time.” (4a) So the diary not merely causes us to recall something. There is the external process of checking the diary and the internal process of recollection in our brain. Those two processes are concurrent and they “jointly govern my future behavior.” (4) Menary calls this cognitive integration.


Clark elaborates these coupled processes in his book Being There, where he explains continuous reciprocal causation, continuous mutually modulatory influences linking brain, body and world (Clark 163; Menary 4) So we consider two systems, system S and system O. There is continuous reciprocal causation between these systems when each one is both affecting the other while simultaneously also being affected by the other. We already  know that parts of the brain work in this continuously coupled way. Clark also gives the example of the dancer. First consider the continuous reciprocal causation between the dancer’s neural-states and her body orientation. The neural states influence how the dancer poses all while those poses influence her neural states. Concurrently, this dancer’s movements both affect and are affected by her dance partner’s movements (which themselves are mutually affected by neural states). [This is like Deleuze’s notion of rhythm in Spinoza’s affection, see the end of section 6 of my paper “Body and World in Merleau-Ponty and Deleuze”:

Our active self-affection and adaptive interaction with the world around us is what Deleuze here calls "rhythm." He also offers the example of swimming through a powerful wave. When we collide with the wave, its affection begins to decompose our body. Yet, by self-affectively altering the arrangements of our own body's parts, we may swim in conjunction with the wave and together form a larger composite body. Deleuze suggests another illustration to explain more clearly how affective rhythm involves couplings of continuous affective variations. He has us consider a dual improvisation of a violin and a piano. On the one hand, each one needs to improvisationally choose its own development. Yet, the musicians' decisions will influence how the other plays in concord with it. So, in order for both instruments to maintain their differential co-composition, they must make self-modifications that are differentially compatible with those of the other player. (Shores 203)

]


So are such coupled systems one system or two? And also, are there not coupled systems which are not involved in cognitive behaviors?

Although we can identify the relevant components, and factorize them into internal and external components, the nature of reciprocal coupling makes it difficult to study the components as separate systems because they are continuously influencing and responding to one another. They are coordinating with one another to produce behavior. Insofar as brain, body, and world can be shown to be reciprocally coupled in this way, we can consider them to be a coupled system. However, we are still not in a position to definitively say when a coupled system is a cognitive system, because there might be coupled systems that are noncognitive. (4d emphasis mine)

The parity principle is supposed to help make this distinction.


3. The Parity Principle


So we have process at work in our head that we consider cognitive. We also have processes in the world. Many of those processes function to accomplish certain things. Some might accomplish the same things that processes in our head accomplish. So although these systems are not limited to confines of the head, because they accomplish what cognitive processes in the head accomplish, we likewise call them cognitive processes. Thus the two processes have parity with each other. Hence we see the functionalism at work in extended mind theory:

As long as a process has a cognitive function then it does not matter where it is located. If it plays the right sort of role and is causally integrated with other cognitive processes, then it is part of the system of processes that constitute a person’s completion of a cognitive task. (5)

[In this entry I discuss Putnam’s functionism. I quote from it:

For Hilary Putnam, isomorphism is a criterion for artificial intelligence. Yet, we must first expand our notion of function. Putnam still means it as an assignment relation between isomorphic systems, but the ‘systems’ in this case are not static like sets of numerals, but instead are sequences of successive states, as though one necessarily brings-forth the next. To illustrate, consider when we enter ‘2’ ‘+’ ‘2’ into an electric digital calculator and then press ‘=.’ After doing so, ‘4’ displays on its screen. Likewise, when we move two abacus-beads, then two more, the result is four beads grouped together. Here we might say that there are two sorts of functions: trans-systemic functions and intra-systemic functions. Trans-systemic functions are the ones that assign states in one system with states in another (4 displayed on the calculator screen; four abacus beads). Intra-systemic functions are ones that assign within the same system an ‘output’ state to an ‘input’ state, if you will (we assign the resulting four beads to the movement of two sets of two).

So, Putnam defines functional isomorphism in general as “a correspondence between the states of one and the states of the other that preserves functional relations.” (This correspondence between states is a trans-systemic function; the preserved functional relations are intra-systemic functions). Thus, if “state A is always followed by state B” in one system, there will be corresponding states in its isomorphic counterpart: the digitally displayed

correlates to the abacus’

,

because both follow unique states that themselves correspond with one another.[vi] We might also apply the more common usage for the term function, and note that these devices function equivalently – but not identically – insofar as both are capable of the same calculations.

Putnam notes that these devices are physically realized in utterly different ways; for, the calculator’s integrated circuit bears little resemblance to a rack of beads. Hence his provocative conclusion: “so a computer made of electrical components can be isomorphic to one made of cogs and wheels or to human clerks using paper and pencil;” for, humans too can begin in an equivalent state A (receiving the mathematical problem ‘2 + 2’) and result in an equivalent state B (writing the number ‘4’). Hence, if a machine, software-program, alien life-form, or any other such alternately physically-realized operation-system were functionally isomorphic to the human brain, then we may conclude, says Putnam, that it shares a mind like ours.[vii]

Endnotes:

[vi] We know he must be speaking of both trans-systemic and intra-systemic assignment functions, because he writes, “To start with computing machine examples, if the functional relations are just sequence relations, e.g. state A is always followed by state B, then, for F to be a functional isomorphism, it must be the case that state A is followed by state B in system 1 if and only if state F(A) is followed by state F(B) in system 2. If the functional relations are, say, data or print-out relations, e.g. when print p is printed on the tape, system 1 goes into state A, these must be preserved. When print p is printed on the tape, system 2 goes into state F(A), if F is a functional isomorphism between system 1 and system 2.” Here we see that the functional relations are the “sequence relations” within one system, and the functional isomorphism F is the correlation-relation between both machines. Hilary Putnam, “Philosophy and Our Mental Life,” Mind, Language, and Reality, (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1975), p.292.

[vii] Putnam, p.293.

So brain cognitive processes can be functionally isomorphic to brain-external system, despite being realized in physically different ways, thus coupled systems can be cognitive.]

Some critics take issue with the parity principle. They think that it is based on the assumption that externalized cognitive processes are so similar to strictly internal ones that we may consider them both as cognitive.


Menary thinks that critics miss the point that coupled cognitive systems are functionally similar even if drastically dissimilar in many other ways (6).


Some critics, for example, point out the biological memory is susceptible to such factors as recency, interference, and chunking, while non-biological memories stored in notebooks are not. We need to use two different explanatory approaches to explain the workings of biological and non-biological memories, thus they are not similar enough to both classify as the same sort of cognitive process.


Yet, some show how internal and external memories compliment one another.


4. Portability, Reliability, and the Linguistic Surround


Another objection has to do with the portability and reliability of coupled systems. Our biological cognitive systems remain whole even as they move from place to place, and the conjunction of its parts is reliable. However, external coupled cognitive systems do not reliably go along with us wherever we go.


But the brain can be damaged and thus its integrity is not completely reliable. It is conceivable that externalized systems can be just a reliably available to us as parts of our brain are.


In fact, C&C note, our biological systems have evolved so that they often use reliably available parts of the external world; for example, our vision is often aided by visual ‘clues’ in the external world.


Consider also the linguistic environment we are immersed in. We are coupled to it, our brains and it are reciprocally causally coupled. So we should already see the externality of mind in the lingual systems that are a part of how we think and communicate and that are reliably there for our usage.


5. From Cognition to Mind


So we see how extended mind theory deals with the way cognition can extend into the external world. C&C also think the mind extends as well. So consider if features of the external world help constitute our beliefs by playing the right role in driving our cognitive processes. In that case, C&C will argue, our minds extend into the world. (8)


The make this argument with their Otto and Inga example. Inga hears about an exhibition at the Museum of Modern Art (MOMA). She recalls from her biological memory that it is on 53rd street. Otto has Alzheimer’s, so he depends on a notebook to retrieve such information. He always carries it. He consults it, and sees that MOMA is on 53rd street. (8-9)


The notebook serves the same role as Inga’s biological memory, so they are on par.

C&C’s argument calls on their commitment to functionalism: as long as information plays the relevant role it is a belief, regardless of location. Hence, the mind extends into the world. (9)

Yet it is debatable whether "Otto and his notebook display the same causal profile as Inga and her biological memory”. (9)


6. Criticisms of the Extended Mind and Responses


Extended Beliefs


One objection is that there are two steps, two beliefs [in Inga’s case there is just one, so they are not on par]: [1] Otto believes the information is in the notebook, and [2] Otto believes the knowledge he finds in it. (9-10)


Clark thinks this objection does not work because the notebook is transparent equipment. But Clark’s response forgets this difference: Inga merely remembers the info, Otto must remember that the notebook remembers the info. (10)

John Preston objects that there is no parity, because Otto does not have ‘first-person authority’ over his beliefs: he must consult his beliefs before he knows what they are. (10)


Preston also objects that normally we do not credit our external tools with achieving the cognitive tasks they helped us accomplish. We do not give the calculator equal credit for doing math. (10-11)


However, we do sometimes need to consult external sources (like diaries, beer mats, etc.) to know what our beliefs are.


The Coupling-Constitution Fallacy (Fallacy)


The coupling-constitution fallacy, according to Adams and Aizawa, is saying that the external object or process coupled with the cognitive agent is part of the agent’s cognitive apparatus.

The fallacy is based in the distinction between causal relations and constitutive relations and “the fact that object or process X is coupled to object or process Y does not entail that X is part of Y ” (ibid., p. 68). [11]

[…]

The second line of attack is closely allied to the first: because we need to ask which processes are candidates for inclusion in the “kind” cognitive. Schematically the argument strategy runs like this: 13 neuronal (and therefore cognitive) processes have property X; nonneuronal processes do not have property X ; therefore nonneuronal properties are not cognitive. [12a]


Menary replies that the correct formulation should be:

X is the manipulation of the notebook reciprocally coupled to Y — bodily processes, including neuronal ones — which together constitute Z, the process of remembering. Once we have this picture, it is easy to see that Adams and Aizawa have distorted the aim of the extended mind. The aim is not to show that artifacts get to be part of cognition just because they are causally coupled to a preexisting cognitive agent, but to explain why X and Y are so coordinated that they together function as Z, which causes further behavior. (12)


Clark responds in a similar manner by saying that we are trying to explain how some object that is not normally thought of as cognitive becomes a part of a cognitive system. (12)


Adams and Aizawa might be committing the fallacy of composition, which is saying that the parts of a system must have the properties of the whole. (13)


Hurley and also Ross and Ladyman note the misuse of the causal-constitutive distinction. And criticisms are based on containment, meaning that properties are explained by the properties on the lower level, however wetness is an emergent property. (13)


This containment metaphor does not belong in cognitive science. (13)


Fleeting versus Persistent Cognitive Systems


Rupert notes that Otto is only intermittently coupled to his notebook, thus the system they form is fleeting, and there would be no stable and persisting individual to study. (13-14) Rupert thinks the coupling is unreliable; however, supervenience has been based on such a reliance, for example, “Mental properties are dependent on neuronal properties in an especially clear way; therefore the brain instantiates mental properties.” (14)


Just because the system’s parts are external does not mean they have an unreliability that should disqualify them as system parts. For example, a spider relies on its web for eating.

spiders are clearly dependent on their spider webs to catch prey—the spider’s prey-catching system consists of both spider and web (and spider’s webs are fleeting systems if anything is). The organismic process extends beyond the boundary of the body of the organism in this case. Similarly, the caddis fly larva collects small stones and shell fragments from the riverbed and binds them together with a kind of secreted cement (Dawkins 1982). The caddis fly larva then lives in and carries this new home around with it on the riverbed for its larval period. Humans with their linguistic surround, speech and writing, are in a similar situation. They must create and maintain delicate and intricate linguistic webs as part of their cognitive processing. [14, boldface mine]


Rupert’s problem is that cognitive systems have their capacities only for the fleeting period when the extended systems are coupled to them. (14-15)


Perhaps the response to Rubert is that we have long-standing dispositional capacities. So although Otto might lose his notebook, he is still able to make a new one. (15)


Derived and Underived Content, or The Mark of the Cognitive


Adams and Aizawa also object that external parts of the system cannot be cognitive, because cognitive states involve intrinsic, non-derived content. “They do, however, draw a fundamental distinction between vehicles with conventionally determined (derived) content and vehicles with naturalistically determined (nonderived) content”.(15d)


In response Clark notes that the overlapping parts of Venn diagrams have conventional content and yet are still part of cognitive processes (15-16)


Adams and Aizawa object that things like words and signs get their meaning through a social convention, but mental representations do not. (16)


They then “reject the derivation of the content of the image from the external Venn diagram, the social convention governing the intersection of Venn diagrams is ‘not a fact about the constitution of the content of a mental image of the intersections of [Venn diagrams]’ (ibid., p. 72).” [16]


And they note that cognitive content cannot be determined by social convention (we cannot change the meaning of neuronal states like we can do for the word “cool”). (16)


Menary notes in response to Adams and Aizawa that the image of a car does not automatically through naturalistic means give us the concept of the car, because that concept requires such conventions as what the car is used for an so forth. (17)


Clark responds to them by reminding that it is not a matter of whether Otto’s notebook is cognitive but rather if it and Otto form a cognitive system. So it does not matter if the notebook lacks intrinsic contents, because the notebook itself is not a cognitive system. (17)


Proponents of extended mind should provide empirical examples rather than imaginary ones. (18)


Scientific Kinds


Extended mind uses causal processes, but psychology has not shown lawlike regularities of intercranial processes, only intracranial ones. (18)


The processes involving externalized memory are so different from purely internal ones. (18)


Clark, Sutton, and Menary think these differences do not matter provided that the external and internal processes are sufficiently complementary and integrated. (18) But critics might demand for scientific accounts of the lawlike regularity of complementary and integrated systems. (18)


Clark also suggests that  “cognitive is as cognitive does,” so we should not say something is cognitive on account of its causes but rather on the basis of its effects.

Hence, we should not look for a distinctly unified set of similar causal properties that give rise to causal regularities, but instead expect to see a “motley” crew of internal and external resources that produce regular effects because of a looser coordination “poised” in such a way that characteristically cognitive behavior is produced (cf. Otto and his notebook). (19a, emphases mine)


Hurley provides a taxonomy of externalisms, and distinguishes “what” and “how” varieties.


“What” explanations explain mental states in terms of their personal-level content types or phenomenal quality types. “How” explanations explain the workings of the processes and mechanisms that enable mental states (that are of a content or quality type). “What” versions of externalism are familiar as the standard content externalism of Putnam and Burge, although less so in the “what” phenomenal sense. However, “how” externalism is the newer and more radical version of externalism, in that it is committed to enabling mechanisms, processes, and vehicles being external. In one obvious sense the extended mind falls within the “how” externalist camp, because it identifies external processes and vehicles as enabling cognitive processes and mental states. (19)


Hurley further distinguishes cultural and noncultural cases of extension.

In the cultural cases, an external artifact enables mental states or cognitive processes (Otto’s notebook being the test case for C&C), whereas in noncultural cases extended sensorimotor dynamics extend enabling processes. This goes some way to answering Adams and Aizawa’s charge that the extended mind creates an unscientific motley. (19)


Then “The remaining essays in the volume provide a variety of ways in which the extended mind project can be pursued.” (19)


7. The Second Wave of Extended Mind Arguments

 

The articles toward the end of the book look for new directions to take extended mind. (19-20)


Wilson thinks we need to look at essences rather than intentionality to see if activities are cognitive. (20)


Sutton distinguishes first and second wave arguments for extended mind. The first wave is based on the parity principle, where external processes function in the same manner as cognitive processes in the head. Second wave arguments are based on the complementary principle. They say that external processes and vehicles can be radically unlike external ones. (20)


Menary (in his article later in the book) says that there are

two ways in which extension, or integration, can happen: one involves integration through sensorimotor activity, the other through the manipulation of external representations. What Menary adds to the discussion is the importance of normativity for any account of extension/integration, whether it is primarily biological or biocultural. (21)


Wheeler says that extended mind is an extended functionalism.

It is a thesis that takes the bodily manipulation of external vehicles as constitutive of cognitive processes. Wheeler argues that this commits us to a functionalist account of cognition, where cognitive processes and vehicles are multiply realizable, insofar as the stuff in which the processes are realized allows for the function to be discharged. Wheeler argues that such multiple realization of functions is often found in nature, in which case, contra Adams and Aizawa, extended functionalist minds may turn out to be actual. He then goes on to argue that certain objections to the extended mind can be dealt with by providing a high-level liberal grain of functional analysis—such as that raised by Rupert (2004) and Sprevak (forthcoming). [21]



Thus Wheeler focuses on the functionalist aspect of extended mind. (21-22)


Rowlands argues for an extended account of intentional conscious states. (22)


For Rowlands, intentional acts disclose or reveal the world.

this form of disclosing activity does not supervene exclusively on what is inside the head. Rowlands goes on to argue that it follows from this that consciousness is extended into the world via disclosing and revealing activities that are intentional acts. (22)


Wilson’s, Menary’s, and Sutton’s focus on cognition as an activity goes with Rowland’s extended account of intentional consciousness. (22)


Cowley and Spurrett look at how language develops on account of extended mentality. (22-23)


Cowley and Spurrett give the example of infant-caregiver dyads to illustrate extended cognition at work in language. (23)


Menary concludes that this book contains essays in support and in critique of extended mind, contributing to a debate that will continue for many years to come. (23)






Menary, Richard. “Introduction: The Extended Mind in Focus” in (ed.) Richard Menary The Extended Mind, Cambridge/London: MIT Press, 2010.


Shores, Corry. “Body and World in Merleau-Ponty and Deleuze” in Sudia Phaenomenologica, vol.12, 2012, pp.181-209.

https://cdn.anonfiles.com/1360747598945.pdf

 

21 Nov 2012

Andy Clark. Natural-Born Cyborgs. Ch2 Pt1 ‘Heavy Metal’


summary by Corry Shores
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Andy Clark

Natural-Born Cyborgs:
Minds, Technologies, and the Future of Human Intelligence

Chapter 2:
Technologies to Bond With

Part  1:
Heavy Metal


Brief Summary:

There are certain tools and technologies that we have incorporated so much into our behaviors that we cease noticing them. They have become so much a part of our operations and functioning that they no longer seem like external objects, but instead seem internal to our biological workings and structure. Other technologies that have not integrated so well are opaque, because they are noticeably exterior to ourselves. Our body can extend itself into the transparent technologies that we have assimilated with.



Summary

 

Clark recounts a visit to Los Alamos National Laboratory in New Mexico. Its underground facilities were sturdily built for the heavier machinery of older technology, like giant mainframe computers, but is now sparsely populated with laptops. There is also stores of old pieces of equipment arranged in compartments like in a hardware store. “What we have here is an elephant’s graveyard of Un-transparent, In-Your-Face Technology.” (Clark 36) What is remarkable about the computing equipment is how foreign it seems to human biology: “Heavy, enormous, almost maximally resistant to easy human use, such technologies ran little risk of blurring the boundaries between machine and human, between biological user and technological tool.” (36)


Clark then goes on to distinguish two types of technology: transparent and opaque technologies.

Opaque technology:

a) An opaque technology “is one that keeps tripping the user up, requires skills and capacities that do not come naturally to the biological organism, and thus remains the focus of attention even during routine problem-solving activity.” (37)
b) ‘Opaque’ does not here mean ‘hard to understand’; rather it means more ‘highly visible in use.’ We may not understand how our hippocampus works, but its workings are transparent to us. However, we can know exactly how our computer works, and still “it keeps crashing and getting in the way of what I want to do.” (37)

c) There is a sharp distinction between user and tool in opaque technologies. And “The user’s ongoing problem is to successfully deploy and control the tool.” (37)


Transparent technology:

a) A transparent technology is “so well fitted to, and integrated with, our own lives, biological capacities, and projects as to become […] almost invisible in use.” (37)

b) There is no sharp contrast between user and tool in transparent technologies.

By contrast, once a technology is transparent, the conscious agent literally | sees through the tool and directly confronts the real problem at hand. The accomplished writer, armed with pen and paper, usually pays no heed to the pen and paper tools while attempting to create an essay or a poem. They have become transparent equipment, tools whose use and functioning have become so deeply dovetailed to the biological system that there is a very real sense in which—while they are up and running—the problemsolving system just is the composite of the biological system and these nonbiological tools. The artist’s sketch pad and the blind person’s cane can come to function as transparent equipment, as may certain well-used and well-integrated items of higher technology, a teenager’s cell phone perhaps. Sports equipment and musical instruments often fall into the same broad category. (37-38, emphases mine)

Although it is not always obvious when a tool has become transparent, certain items are better candidates for opacity or transparency than other are. (38)



Further Discussion:
Merleau-Ponty and the Blind Man’s Cane


Merleau-Ponty also uses the example of the blind man integrating the cane into his motor behaviors. We raise this parallel, because we are interested in the nature of the synthesis involved in extended mind / extended embodiment. For Merleau-Ponty, this is an example of the “extension of the bodily synthesis.” (Merleau-Ponty 176) There is an “organic relationship between subject and world” (176).

The blind man’s stick has ceased to be an object for him, and is no longer perceived for itself; its point has become an area of sensitivity, extending the scope and active radius of touch, and providing a parallel to sight. (165)

To get used to a hat, a car or a stick is to be transplanted into them, or conversely, to incorporate them into the bulk of our own body. (166)

The pressures on the hand and the stick are no longer given; the stick is no longer an object perceived by the blind man, but an instrument with which he perceives. It is a bodily auxiliary, an extension of the bodily synthesis.  (176)

[…] the organic relationship between subject and world, the active transcendence of consciousness, the momentum which carries it into a thing and into a world by means of its organs and instruments. (176)

Recall also Clark’s and Chalmer’s discussion of vision when discussing extended couplings of our perceptual systems.

Our visual systems have evolved to rely on their environment in various ways: they exploit contingent facts about the structure of natural scenes (e.g. Ullman and Richards 1984), for example, and they take advantage of the computational shortcuts afforded by bodily motion and locomotion (e.g. Blake and Yuille, 1992). (Clark and Chalmers 9, boldface mine)

Merleau-Ponty speaks in a similar way. But in this case our vision is like the extension that lets us feel the surfaces of world through seeing.

In the gaze we have at our disposal a natural instrument analogous to the blind man’s stick. The gaze gets more or less from things according to the way in which it questions them, ranges over or dwells on them. To learn to see colours it is to acquire a certain style of seeing, a new use of one’s own body: it is to enrich and recast the body image. (177)

For Merleau-Ponty, the blind man’s use of the stick is an instance not only of him extending his tactile perceptions outside its normal limitations of the perimeter of his body, but it is also what extends him into the world around him. This is a matter both of integrating with the tool, and thereby integrating with the world. This is an assimilative and integrational synthesis. [See this entry for a comparison with Deleuze’s non-assimilative, non-integrational sense of the body.] It seems as well that for Clark (and for Clark’s and Chalmer’s extended mind hypothesis) the process of a tool becoming transparent is a matter of it assimilating into our bodily and cognitive functioning (in the case of thinking tools like calculators). The question we pose is, what is more interesting for an analysis of body-extending enhancement technologies, the process of assimilation where the tool becomes transparent, or instead the initial moment of contact where opacity is at its greatest? Now, why might the latter case be more interesting? Because this is where the body-enhancing extensions originate, in a mechanically operative contact of the greatest synthetic disjunction.




Below are larger selections from the Merleau-Ponty quotes:


The acquisition of habit as a rearrangement and renewal of the corporeal schema presents great difficulties to traditional philosophies, which are always inclined to conceive synthesis as intellectual synthesis. It is quite true that what brings together, in habit, component actions, reactions and ‘stimuli’ is not some external process of association. [ft104] Any mechanistic theory runs up against the fact that the learning process is systematic; the subject does not weld together individual movements and individual stimuli but acquires the power to respond with a certain type of solution to situations of a certain general form. The situations may differ widely from case to case, and the response movements may be entrusted sometimes to one operative organ, [p.164 | p.165] sometimes to another, both situations and responses in the various cases having in common not so much a partial identity of elements as a shared meaning. Must we then see the origin of habit in an act of understanding which organizes the elements only to withdraw subsequently? [ft.105] For example, is it not the case that forming the habit of dancing is discovering, by analysis, the formula of the movement in question, and then reconstructing it on the basis of the ideal outline by the use of previously acquired movements, those of walking and running? But before the formula of the new dance can incorporate certain elements of general motility, it must first have had, as it were, the stamp of movement set upon it. As has often been said, it is the body which ‘catches’ (kapiert) and ‘comprehends’ movement. The acquisition of a habit is indeed the grasping of a significance, but it is the motor grasping of a motor significance. Now what precisely does this mean? A woman may, without any calculation, keep a safe distance between the feather in her hat and things which might break it off. She feels where the feather is just as we feel where our hand is. [ft.106] If I am in the habit of driving a car, I enter a narrow opening and see that I can ‘get through’ without comparing the width of the opening with that of the wings, just as I go through a doorway without checking the width of the doorway against that of my body. [ft.107] The hat and the car have ceased to be objects with a size and volume which is established by comparison with other objects. They have become potentialities of volume, the demand for a certain amount of free space. In the same way the iron gate to the Underground platform, and the road, have become restrictive potentialities and immediately appear passable or impassable for my body with its adjuncts. The blind man’s stick has ceased to be an object for him, and is no longer perceived for itself; its point has become an area of sensitivity, extending the scope and active radius of touch, and providing a parallel to sight. In the exploration of things, the length of the stick does not enter expressly as a middle term: the blind man is rather aware of it through the position of objects [p.165 | p.166] than of the position of objects through it. The position of things is immediately given through the extent of the reach which carries him to it, which comprises besides the arm’s own reach the stick’s range of action. If I want to get used to a stick, I try it by touching a few things with it, and eventually I have it ‘well in hand’, I can see what things are ‘within reach’ or out of reach of my stick. There is no question here of any quick estimate or any comparison between the objective length of the stick and the objective distance away of the goal to be reached. The points in space do not stand out as objective positions in relation to the objective position occupied by our body; they mark, in our vicinity, the varying range of our aims and our gestures. To get used to a hat, a car or a stick is to be transplanted into them, or conversely, to incorporate them into the bulk of our own body. Habit expresses our power of dilating our being-in-the-world, or changing our existence by appropriating fresh instruments. [ft.108] It is possible to know how to type without being able to say where the letters which make the words are to be found on the banks of keys. To know how to type is not, then, to know the place of each letter among the keys, nor even to have acquired a conditioned reflex for each one, which is set in motion by the letter as it comes before our eye. If habit is neither a form of knowledge nor an involuntary action, what then is it? It is knowledge in the hands, which is forthcoming only when bodily effort is made, and cannot be formulated in detachment from that effort. The subject knows where the letters are on the typewriter as we know where one of our limbs is, through a knowledge bred of familiarity which does not give us a position in objective space. The movement of her fingers is not presented to the typist as a path through space which can be described, but merely as a certain adjustment of motility, physiognomically distinguishable from any other. The question is often framed as if the perception of a letter written on paper aroused the representation of the same letter which in turn aroused the representation of the movement needed to strike it on the machine. But [p. 166 | p.167] this is mythological language. When I run my eyes over the text set before me, there do not occur perceptions which stir up representations, but patterns are formed as I look, and these are endowed with a typical or familiar physiognomy. When I sit at my typewriter, a motor space opens up beneath my hands, in which I am about to ‘play’ what I have read. The reading of the word is a modulation of visible space, the performance of the movement is a modulation of manual space, and the whole question is how a cretin physiognomy of ‘visual’ patterns can evoke a certain type of motor response, how each ‘visual’ structure eventually provides itself with its mobile essence without there being any need to spell the word or specify the movement in detail in order to translate one into the other. But this power of habit is no different from the general one which we exercise over our body: if I am ordered to touch my ear or my knee, I move my hand to my ear or my knee by the shortest route, without having to think of the initial position of my hand, or that of my ear, or the path between them. We said earlier that it is the body which ‘understands’ in the acquisition of habit. This way of putting it will appear absurd, if understanding is subsuming a sensedatum under an idea, and if the body is an object. But the phenomenon of habit is just what prompts us to revise our notion of ‘understand’ and our notion of the body. To understand is to experience the harmony between what we aim at and what is given, between the intention and the performance—and the body is our anchorage in a world. When I put my hand to my knee, I experience at every stage of the movement the fulfilment of an intention which was not directed at my knee as an idea or even as an object, but as a present and real part of my living body, that is, finally, as a stage in my perpetual movement towards a world. When the typist performs the necessary movements on the typewriter, these movements are governed by an intention, but the intention does not posit the keys as objective locations. It is literally true that the subject who learns to type incorporates the key-bank space into his bodily space. (164-167)

Just as we saw earlier that motor habit threw light on the particular nature of bodily space, so here habit in general enables us to understand the general synthesis of one’s own body. And, just as the analysis of bodily spatiality foreshadowed that of the unity of one’s own body, so we may extend to all habits what we have said about motor ones. In fact every habit is both motor and perceptual, because it lies, as we have said, between explicit perception and actual movement, in the basic function which sets boundaries to our field of vision and our field of action. Learning to find one’s way among things with a stick, which we gave a little earlier as an example of motor habit, is equally an example of perceptual habit. Once the stick has become a familiar instrument, [p.175 | p.176] the world of feelable things recedes and now begins, not at the outer skin of the hand, but at the end of the stick. One is tempted to say that through the sensations produced by the pressure of the stick on the hand, the blind man builds up the stick along with its various positions, and that the latter then mediate a second order object, the external thing. It would appear in this case that perception is always a reading off from the same sensory data, but constantly accelerated, and operating with ever more attenuated signals. But habit does not consist in interpreting the pressures of the stick on the hand as indications of certain positions of the stick, and these as signs of an external object, since it relieves us of the necessity of doing so. The pressures on the hand and the stick are no longer given; the stick is no longer an object perceived by the blind man, but an instrument with which he perceives. It is a bodily auxiliary, an extension of the bodily synthesis. Correspondingly, the external object is not the geometrized projection or invariant of a set of perspectives, but something towards which the stick leads us and the perspectives of which, according to perceptual evidence are not signs, but aspects. Intellectualism cannot conceive any passage from the perspective to the thing itself, or from sign to significance otherwise than as an interpretation, an apperception, a cognitive intention. According to this view sensory data and perspectives are at each level contents grasped as (aufgefasst als) manifestations of one and the same intelligible core. [ft.9] But this analysis distorts both the sign and the meaning: it separates out, by a process of objectification of both, the sensecontent, which is already ‘pregnant’ with a meaning, and the invariant core, which is not a law but a thing; it conceals the organic relationship between subject and world, the active transcendence of consciousness, the momentum which carries it into a thing and into a world by means of its organs and instruments. The analysis of motor habit as an extension of existence leads on, then, to an analysis of perceptual habit as the coming into possession of a world. Conversely, every perceptual habit [p.176 | p.177] is still a motor habit and here equally the process of grasping a meaning is performed by the body. When a child grows accustomed to distinguishing blue from red, it is observed, that the habit cultivated in relation to these two colours helps with the rest. [ft.10] Is it, then, the case that through the pair blue-red the child has perceived the meaning; ‘colour’? Is the crucial moment of habit-formation in that coming to awareness that arrival at a ‘point of view of colour’, that intellectual analysis which subsumes the data under one category? But for the child to be able to perceive blue and red under the category of colour, the category must be rooted in the data, otherwise no subsumption could recognize it in them. It is necessary that, on the ‘blue’ and ‘red’ panels presented to him the particular kind of vibration and impression on the eye known as blue and red should be represented. In the gaze we have at our disposal a natural instrument analogous to the blind man’s stick. The gaze gets more or less from things according to the way in which it questions them, ranges over or dwells on them. To learn to see colours it is to acquire a certain style of seeing, a new use of one’s own body: it is to enrich and recast the body image. Whether a system of motor or perceptual powers, our body is not an object for an ‘I think’, it is a grouping of lived-through meanings which moves towards its equilibrium. Sometimes a new cluster of meanings is formed; our former movements are integrated into a fresh motor entity, the first visual data into a fresh sensory entity, our natural powers suddenly come together in a richer meaning, which hitherto has been merely foreshadowed in our perceptual or practical field, and which has made itself felt in our experience by no more than a certain lack, and which by its coming suddenly reshuffles the elements of our equilibrium and fulfils our blind expectation. (175-177)

In the action of the hand which is raised towards an object is contained a reference to the object, not as an object represented, but as that highly specific thing towards which we project ourselves, near which we are, in anticipation, and which we haunt. [ft.94] Consciousness is [p.159 | p.160] being-towards-the-thing through the intermediary of the body. A movement is learned when the body has understood it, that is, when it has incorporated it into its ‘world’, and to move one’s body is to aim at [p.160 | p.161] things through it; it is to allow oneself to respond to their call, which is made upon it independently of any representation. Motility, then, is not, as it were, a handmaid of consciousness, transporting the body to that point in space of which we have formed a representation beforehand. In order that we may be able to move our body towards an object, the object must first exist for it, our body must not belong to the realm of the ‘in-itself’. (159-161)




Clark, Andy. Natural-Born Cyborgs: Minds, Technologies, and the Future of Human Intelligence. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003.


Merleau-Ponty, Maurice. Phenomenology of Perception. Transl. Colin Smith. London/New York: Routledge, 1958.


Clark and Chalmers:

Based on the pdf version available at:
http://www.philosophy.ed.ac.uk/people/clark/pubs/TheExtendedMind.pdf

Clark, Andy and David Chalmers. “The Extended Mind.”
The pdf lists the following publication information:

"The Extended Mind" (with Dave Chalmers) ANALYSIS 58: 1: 1998 p.7-19
Reprinted in THE PHILOSOPHER'S ANNUAL vol XXI-1998 (Ridgeview, 2000) p.59-74
Reprinted in D. Chalmers (ed) PHILOSOPHY OF MIND:CLASSICAL AND CONTEMPORARY READINGS (Oxford University Press, 2002)

Clark & Chalmer’s Extended Mind, Summary


summary by Corry Shores
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Andy Clark and David Chalmers

“Extended Mind”

Summary


Brief summary:
Our cognitive processes often extend outside the confines of our own body, as for example when we use a calculator to perform complicated mathematical operations. But also we can say that our very mind itself, in fact our very own self itself, extends into external systems that we are coupled into. Our mental state of belief can be externalized, for example, when we depend on a notebook to ‘remember’ information for us: we believe in the truth of the information we inscribed there, even though that information was not retained inside our own heads. Here, without the external aid, we would not believe in the facts that the aid would be carrying, because we would be unable to bring them to mind.

I. Introduction

The authors explain they will advocate “an active externalism, based on the active role of the environment in driving cognitive processes.” (2) [Cited pages accord with the online pdf]

II. Extended Cognition

The authors have us consider three cases:
(1) A person sits behind a computer screen displaying geometrical shapes and she must mentally rotate them to see which sockets they fit into.
(2) The person in same situation can now either press a button to rotate the shapes or just use her imagination, although the button probably speeds the operation.
(3) A future person with a neural implant can rotate the image as fast as the computer in the previous case. The person still must decide whether to use her own mind or the implant, as each option makes a different demand on her attention and on other brain activities at that time.

The authors ask: How much cognition is involved in these cases? All three are similar. They say cases 1 and 3 are on par [perhaps because the authors regard the computational operation and the mental operation to involve the same amount of information processing.] Case 2 and 3 perform relatively the same computational operation, although in 2 the computational structure is distributed across agent and computer rather than being within the agent. The authors ask, what makes case 3, when it is cognitive, different from 2? The authors will be challenging the idea that there is a difference between computational structures either (a)  merely in the agent or (b) across the agent and external implements.

This conjunction of agent and external implement is commonplace. We use pencil and paper to perform long multiplication, for example, and we use “the general paraphernalia of language, books, diagrams, and culture.” (3)

In all these cases the individual brain performs some operations, while others are delegated to manipulations of external media. (3)

III. Active  Externalism

The authors state their thesis:

In these cases, the human organism is linked with an external entity in a two-way interaction, creating a coupled system that can be seen as a cognitive system in its own right. All the components in the system play an active causal role, and they jointly govern behavior in the same sort of way that cognition usually does. If we remove the external component the system's behavioral competence will drop, just as it would if we removed part of its brain. Our thesis is that this sort of coupled process counts equally well as a cognitive process, whether or not it is wholly in the head. (4, emphases mine)

The authors then distinguish their own active externalism from the passive externalism of Putnam and Burge.

In the cases we describe, by contrast, the relevant external features are active, playing a crucial role in the here-and-now. Because they are coupled with the human organism, they have a direct impact on the organism and on its behavior. In these cases, the relevant parts of the world are in the loop, not dangling at the other end of a long causal chain. Concentrating on this sort of coupling leads us to an active externalism, as opposed to the passive externalism of Putnam and Burge. (5, boldface mine, italics theirs)

The authors’ view is reflected in a growing body of scientific investigations. Thus their hypothesis is more than a terminological distinction. Rather,

it makes a significant difference to the methodology of scientific investigation. In effect, explanatory methods that might once have been thought appropriate only for the analysis of "inner" processes are now being adapted for the study of the outer, and there is promise that our understanding of cognition will become richer for it. (6)

Those who are not warm to the extended mind hypothesis perhaps think all cognitive processes are conscious.

But not every cognitive process, at least on standard usage, is a conscious process. It is widely accepted that all sorts of processes beyond the borders of consciousness play a crucial role in cognitive processing: in the retrieval of memories, linguistic processes, and skill acquisition, for example. So the mere fact that external processes are external where consciousness is internal is no reason to deny that those processes are cognitive.(7)

Others might object to extended mind because they think that if the cognitive process requires external things that might not be carriable or carried with the person, then they are not inherently part of a cognitive process. Yet the authors note, in the future we might be able to plug the tools into our brains. Also, counting on our fingers is admitted as part of the cognitive process of counting. It is really more a matter of reliable coupling. (8)

Our cognitive and perceptual systems often make use of the environment:

Our visual systems have evolved to rely on their environment in various ways: they exploit contingent facts about the structure of natural scenes (e.g. Ullman and Richards 1984), for example, and they take advantage of the computational shortcuts afforded by bodily motion and locomotion (e.g. Blake and Yuille, 1992). (9, boldface mine)

Language also allows externalized cognition through actively coupled systems (consider people brainstorming around a table). (9)

Also, the child’s brain might develop in accordance to how it adapts to external computational resources: “the brain develops in a way that complements the external structures, and learns to play its role within a unified, densely coupled system”. (9)

The authors then draw an analogy: a fish uses available and self-created vortices in the water to help it swim more efficiently:

The extraordinary efficiency of the fish as a swimming device is partly due, it now seems, to an evolved capacity to couple its swimming behaviors to the pools of external kinetic energy found as swirls, eddies and vortices in its watery environment (see Triantafyllou and G. Triantafyllou 1995). These vortices include both naturally occurring ones (e.g., where water hits a rock) and self-induced ones (created by well-timed tail flaps). The fish swims by building these externally occurring processes into the very heart of its locomotion routines. The fish and surrounding vortices together constitute a unified and remarkably efficient swimming machine. (10, boldface mine)

The authors then write of language metaphorically as being like a sea, and we as using it like fish use water.

Where the fish flaps its tail to set up the eddies and vortices it subsequently exploits, we intervene in multiple linguistic media, creating local structures and disturbances whose reliable presence drives our ongoing internal processes. Words and external symbols are thus paramount among the cognitive vortices which help constitute human thought. (10)
 

IV. From Cognition to Mind


Some might agree that cognitive processes can involve external components, but not that the mind itself can thereby be externalized. (10)

The authors argue that there are types of mental states

in which external factors make a significant contribution. In particular, we will argue that beliefs can be constituted partly by features of the environment, when those features play the right sort of role in driving cognitive processes. If so, the mind extends into the world. (11)

The authors first have us consider “a normal case of belief embedded in memory”. (11)


Case 1. Normal case of belief imbedded in memory: Inga’s memory recall

Inga hears from her friend that there is an art exhibit at the Museum of Modern Art, and she decides to go view it. She remembers that MOMA is on 53rd Street.
(a) Clearly Inga believes that MOMA is on 53rd Street.
(b) She believed this even before consulting her memory.
The belief was “sitting somewhere in memory, waiting to be accessed.” (11)


Case 2. Alzheimer patient using notebook: Otto’s external memory bank

Otto has Alzheimer’s and so he “relies on information in the environment to help structure his life.” (11) For example, he writes new information he encounters in a notebook that he carries with him everywhere he goes. If he needs any old information, he looks for it in his notebook. Thus the notebook plays the role normally played by biological memory. Today he hears that there is an exhibition at MOMA, and decides he will go see it. He checks his notebook and reads that the museum is on 53rd Street. He then walks to 53rd Street and enters the museum.
(a) Clearly Otto believes that MOMA is on 53rd Street, for otherwise he would not have walked there with the intention of visiting the museum.
(b) Otto, like Inga, also believed that MOMA is on 53rd Street even before it came explicitly to mind (for Inga it came to mind through recall, and in Otto’s case, through checking his notebook). For, Otto always consults his notebook under the assumption it has reliable information just as Inga consults her memory, and so before checking the MOMA address, he already believed in the truth of address it recorded. The notebook functions just the same as Inga’s memory, with the only exception being that the notebook lies outside Otto’s body.

Someone might object that Otto does not always believe specifically that MOMA is on 53rd Street. He only believes that whatever is written is true, whatever that may be. He believes it is 53rd Street just while seeing it in the book, and then after forgetting it ceases to believe it is on this particular street. But that would be the same as saying Inga does not believe MOMA is on 53rd Street as soon as she is no longer explicitly conscious of this fact.

To say that the beliefs disappear when the notebook is filed away seems to miss the big picture in just the same way as saying that Inga's beliefs disappear as soon as she is no longer conscious of them. In both cases the information is reliably there when needed, available to consciousness and available to guide action, in just the way that we expect a belief to be. (12)


Case 3. Alzheimer’s patient with incorrect information in notebook: Otto’s Twin

Otto has a twin who is physically identical to Otto. The only difference is that Twin Otto has written in his notebook that MOMA is on 51st Street. 

Consequently, Twin Otto is best characterized as believing that the museum is on 51st Street, where Otto believes it is on 53rd. In these cases, a belief is simply not in the head. (13)

The moral is that when it comes to belief, there is nothing sacred about skull and skin. What makes some information count as a belief is the role it plays, and there is no reason why the relevant role can be played only from inside the body. (14)


Objections

Objection 1: Inga has more reliable access to the information.
Someone can take Otto’s notebook away, but Inga’s is kept safely in her head.
However:
Otto has reliable access to the notebook in the example, and Inga’s memory is not perfectly reliable: “A surgeon might tamper with her brain, or more mundanely, she might have too much to drink. The mere possibility of such tampering is not enough to deny her the belief.”


Objection 2: Sometimes Otto loses access to his notebook, for example, when he is showering.
Thus does this not mean that his belief comes and goes?
However:
Inga also has occasional temporary disconnections with the information, for example, when she is asleep or intoxicated. In these cases,

we do not say that her belief disappears. What really counts is that the information is easily available when the subject needs it, and this constraint is satisfied equally in the two cases. (15)


Objection 3: Inga has better access to the information
, because the connections between her conscious thinking and her memory are tighter than between Otto and his notebook.
However,
Consider Inga’s friend Lucy. Her consciousness-memory connections are not as efficient, perhaps because of brain damage. Still, the relevant information is accessible, and thus Lucy believes the museum is on 53rd Street. (15-16)


Objection 4: Inga has direct access to the information, but Otto can only access it by means of perception.

However,
[Perception would involve gathering information located outside the system. But] the authors are advocating a view which regards both Otto’s internal processes and his notebook as being a part of one single cognitive system. [And consider also how when we do recall some things, it is as if it were appearing to internally, seen by our mind’s ‘eye’.]

From the standpoint of this system, the flow of information between notebook and brain is not perceptual at all; it does not involve the impact of something outside the system. It is more akin to information flow within the brain. The only deep way in which the access is perceptual is that in Otto's case, there is a distinctly perceptual phenomenology associated with the retrieval of the information, whereas in Inga's case there is not. But why should the nature of an associated phenomenology make a difference to the status of a belief? Inga's memory may have some associated phenomenology, but it is still a belief. The phenomenology is not visual, to be sure. But for visual phenomenology consider the Terminator, from the Arnold Schwarzenegger movie of the same name. When he recalls some information from memory, it is "displayed" before him in his visual field (presumably he is conscious of it, as there are frequent shots depicting his point of view). The fact that standing memories are recalled in this unusual way surely makes little difference to their status as standing beliefs. (16)

Thus the differences between the cases of Otto and Inga are too shallow to be worth focusing on.

V. Beyond the Outer Limits

The authors do not have categorical answers to the following questions:

If the thesis is accepted, how far should we go? All sorts of puzzle cases spring to mind. What of the amnesic villagers in 100 Years of Solitude, who forget the names for everything and so hang labels everywhere? Does the information in my Filofax count as part of my memory? If Otto's notebook has been tampered with, does he believe the newly-installed information? Do I believe the contents of the page in front of me before I read it? Is my cognitive state somehow spread across the Internet? (17)

However, they write, “to help understand what is involved in ascriptions of extended belief, we can at least examine the features of our central case that make the notion so clearly applicable there.” (17)

1) The notebook is a constant in Otto’s life. He almost never takes action without consulting it, when its information is relevant for the decision. (17)

2) “The information in the notebook is directly available without difficulty.” (17-18)

3) “upon retrieving information from the notebook he automatically endorses it.” (18)

4) “the information in the notebook has been consciously endorsed at some point in the past, and indeed is there as a consequence of this endorsement.” (18)

If we stray too much from the above features, especially the first three, “the applicability of the notion of ‘belief’ gradually falls off.” (18) For example, if someone does not consistently consult some source of information like Otto does with his notebook, then “information in it counts less clearly as part of my belief system.” (18)

It is also possible that cognition can be socially extended.

In an unusually interdependent couple, it is entirely possible that one partner's beliefs will play the same sort of role for the other as the notebook plays for Otto. What is central is a high degree of trust, reliance, and accessibility. In other social relationships these criteria may not be so clearly fulfilled, but they might nevertheless be fulfilled in specific domains. For example, the waiter at my favorite restaurant might act as a repository of my beliefs about my favorite meals (this might even be construed as a case of extended desire). In other cases, one's beliefs might be embodied in one's secretary, one's accountant, or one's collaborator (18-19)

In these cases of socially extended mind, language is what couples the agents. “Language, thus construed, is not a mirror of our inner states but a complement to them. It serves as a tool whose role is to extend cognition in ways that on-board devices cannot.” (19)

Extended mind implies an extended self.

Most of us already accept that the self outstrips the boundaries of consciousness; my dispositional beliefs, for example, constitute in some deep sense part of who I am. If so, then these boundaries may also fall beyond the skin. The information in Otto's notebook, for example, is a central part of his identity as a cognitive agent. What this comes to is that Otto himself is best regarded as an extended system, a coupling of biological organism and external resources. To consistently resist this conclusion, we would have to shrink the self into a mere bundle of occurrent states, severely threatening its deep psychological continuity. Far better to take the broader view, and see agents themselves as spread into the world. (20)

If this is so, there are significant philosophical consequences for research not only in cognitive science but also in moral and social domains. For example,

in some cases interfering with someone's environment will have the same moral significance as interfering with their person. And if the view is taken seriously, certain forms of social activity might be reconceived as less akin to communication and action, and as more akin to thought. (20)



Based on the pdf version available at:
http://www.philosophy.ed.ac.uk/people/clark/pubs/TheExtendedMind.pdf



Clark, Andy and David Chalmers. “The Extended Mind.”
The pdf lists the following publication information:

"The Extended Mind" (with Dave Chalmers) ANALYSIS 58: 1: 1998 p.7-19
Reprinted in THE PHILOSOPHER'S ANNUAL vol XXI-1998 (Ridgeview, 2000) p.59-74
Reprinted in D. Chalmers (ed) PHILOSOPHY OF MIND:CLASSICAL AND CONTEMPORARY READINGS (Oxford University Press, 2002)



Text from the pdf at http://www.philosophy.ed.ac.uk/people/clark/pubs/TheExtendedMind.pdf:

"The Extended Mind" (with Dave Chalmers) ANALYSIS 58: 1: 1998 p.7-19
Reprinted in THE PHILOSOPHER'S ANNUAL vol XXI-1998 (Ridgeview, 2000) p.59-74
Reprinted in D. Chalmers (ed) PHILOSOPHY OF MIND:CLASSICAL AND CONTEMPORARY READINGS (Oxford University Press, 2002)
The Extended Mind
Andy Clark & David J. Chalmers [*]
Department of Philosophy
Washington University
St. Louis, MO 63130
Department of Philosophy
University of Arizona
Tucson, AZ 85721
andy@twinearth.wustl.edu
chalmers@arizona.edu
*[[Authors are listed in order of degree of belief in the central thesis.]]
[[Published in Analysis 58:10-23, 1998. Reprinted in (P. Grim, ed) The Philosopher's Annual, vol XXI, 1998.]]
1 Introduction
Where does the mind stop and the rest of the world begin? The question invites two standard replies. Some accept the demarcations of skin and skull, and say that what is outside the body is outside the mind. Others are impressed by arguments suggesting that the meaning of our words "just ain't in the head", and hold that this externalism about meaning carries over into an
externalism about mind. We propose to pursue a third position. We advocate a very different sort of externalism: an active externalism, based on the active role of the environment in driving cognitive processes.
2 Extended Cognition
Consider three cases of human problem-solving:
(1) A person sits in front of a computer screen which displays images of various two-dimensional geometric shapes and is asked to answer questions concerning the potential fit of such shapes into depicted "sockets". To assess fit, the person must mentally rotate the shapes to align them with the sockets.
(2) A person sits in front of a similar computer screen, but this time can choose either to physically rotate the image on the screen, by pressing a rotate button, or to mentally rotate the image as before. We can also suppose, not unrealistically, that some speed advantage accrues to the physical rotation operation.
(3) Sometime in the cyberpunk future, a person sits in front of a similar computer screen. This agent, however, has the benefit of a neural implant which can perform the rotation operation as fast as the computer in the previous example. The agent must still choose which internal resource to use (the implant or the good old fashioned mental rotation), as each resource makes different demands on attention and other concurrent brain activity.
How much cognition is present in these cases? We suggest that all three cases are similar. Case (3) with the neural implant seems clearly to be on a par with case (1). And case (2) with the rotation button displays the same sort of computational structure as case (3), although it is distributed across agent and computer instead of
internalized within the agent. If the rotation in case (3) is cognitive, by what right do we count case (2) as fundamentally different? We cannot simply point to the skin/skull boundary as justification, since the legitimacy of that boundary is precisely what is at issue. But nothing else seems different.
The kind of case just described is by no means as exotic as it may at first appear. It is not just the presence of advanced external computing resources which raises the issue, but rather the general tendency of human reasoners to lean heavily on environmental supports. Thus consider the use of pen and paper to perform long multiplication (McClelland et al 1986, Clark 1989), the use of physical re-arrangements of letter tiles to prompt word recall in Scrabble (Kirsh 1995), the use of instruments such as the nautical slide rule (Hutchins 1995), and the general paraphernalia of language, books, diagrams, and culture. In all these cases the individual brain performs some operations, while others are delegated to manipulations of external media. Had our brains been different, this distribution of tasks would doubtless have varied.
In fact, even the mental rotation cases described in scenarios (1) and (2) are real. The cases reflect options available to players of the computer game Tetris. In Tetris, falling geometric shapes must be rapidly directed into an appropriate slot in an emerging structure. A rotation button can be used. David Kirsh and Paul Maglio (1994) calculate that the physical rotation of a shape through 90 degrees takes about 100 milliseconds, plus about 200 milliseconds to select the button. To achieve the same result by mental rotation takes about 1000 milliseconds. Kirsh and Maglio go on to present compelling evidence that physical rotation is used not just to position a shape ready to fit a slot, but often to help determine whether the shape and the slot are compatible. The latter use constitutes a case of what Kirsh and Maglio call an `epistemic action'. Epistemic actions alter the world so as to aid and augment cognitive processes such as recognition and search. Merely
pragmatic actions, by contrast, alter the world because some physical change is desirable for its own sake (e.g., putting cement into a hole in a dam).
Epistemic action, we suggest, demands spread of epistemic credit. If, as we confront some task, a part of the world functions as a process which, were it done in the head, we would have no hesitation in recognizing as part of the cognitive process, then that part of the world is (so we claim) part of the cognitive process. Cognitive processes ain't (all) in the head!
3 Active Externalism
In these cases, the human organism is linked with an external entity in a two-way interaction, creating a coupled system that can be seen as a cognitive system in its own right. All the components in the system play an active causal role, and they jointly govern behavior in the same sort of way that cognition usually does. If we remove the external component the system's behavioral competence will drop, just as it would if we removed part of its brain. Our thesis is that this sort of coupled process counts equally well as a cognitive process, whether or not it is wholly in the head.
This externalism differs greatly from standard variety advocated by Putnam (1975) and Burge (1979). When I believe that water is wet and my twin believes that twin water is wet, the external features responsible for the difference in our beliefs are distal and historical, at the other end of a lengthy causal chain. Features of the present are not relevant: if I happen to be surrounded by XYZ right now (maybe I have teleported to Twin Earth), my beliefs still concern standard water, because of my history. In these cases, the relevant external features are passive. Because of their distal nature, they play no role in driving the cognitive process in the here-and-now. This is reflected by the fact that the actions
performed by me and my twin are physically indistinguishable, despite our external differences.
In the cases we describe, by contrast, the relevant external features are active, playing a crucial role in the here-and-now. Because they are coupled with the human organism, they have a direct impact on the organism and on its behavior. In these cases, the relevant parts of the world are in the loop, not dangling at the other end of a long causal chain. Concentrating on this sort of coupling leads us to an active externalism, as opposed to the passive externalism of Putnam and Burge.
Many have complained that even if Putnam and Burge are right about the externality of content, it is not clear that these external aspects play a causal or explanatory role in the generation of action. In counterfactual cases where internal structure is held constant but these external features are changed, behavior looks just the same; so internal structure seems to be doing the crucial work. We will not adjudicate that issue here, but we note that active externalism is not threatened by any such problem. The external features in a coupled system play an ineliminable role - if we retain internal structure but change the external features, behavior may change completely. The external features here are just as causally relevant as typical internal features of the brain.[*]
*[[Much of the appeal of externalism in the philosophy of mind may stem from the intuitive appeal of active externalism. Externalists often make analogies involving external features in coupled systems, and appeal to the arbitrariness of boundaries between brain and environment. But these intuitions sit uneasily with the letter of standard externalism. In most of the Putnam/Burge cases, the immediate environment is irrelevant; only the historical environment counts. Debate has focused on the question of whether mind must be in the head, but a more relevant question in assessing these examples might be: is mind in the present?]]
By embracing an active externalism, we allow a more natural explanation of all sorts of actions. One can explain my choice of words in Scrabble, for example, as the outcome of an extended cognitive process involving the rearrangement of tiles on my tray. Of course, one could always try to explain my action in terms of internal processes and a long series of "inputs" and "actions", but this explanation would be needlessly complex. If an isomorphic process were going on in the head, we would feel no urge to characterize it in this cumbersome way.[*] In a very real sense, the re-arrangement of tiles on the tray is not part of action; it is part of thought.
*[[Herbert Simon (1981) once suggested that we view internal memory as, in effect, an external resource upon which "real" inner processes operate. "Search in memory," he comments, "is not very different from search of the external environment." Simon's view at least has the virtue of treating internal and external processing with the parity they deserve, but we suspect that on his view the mind will shrink too small for most people's tastes. ]]
The view we advocate here is reflected by a growing body of research in cognitive science. In areas as diverse as the theory of situated cognition (Suchman 1987), studies of real-world-robotics (Beer 1989), dynamical approaches to child development (Thelen and Smith 1994), and research on the cognitive properties of collectives of agents (Hutchins 1995), cognition is often taken to be continuous with processes in the environment.[*] Thus, in seeing cognition as extended one is not merely making a terminological decision; it makes a significant difference to the methodology of scientific investigation. In effect, explanatory methods that might once have been thought appropriate only for the analysis of "inner" processes are now being adapted for the study of the outer, and there is promise that our understanding of cognition will become richer for it.
*[[Philosophical views of a similar spirit can be found in Haugeland 1995, McClamrock 1985, Varela et al 1991, and Wilson 1994..]]
Some find this sort of externalism unpalatable. One reason may be that many identify the cognitive with the conscious, and it seems far from plausible that consciousness extends outside the head in these cases. But not every cognitive process, at least on standard usage, is a conscious process. It is widely accepted that all sorts of processes beyond the borders of consciousness play a crucial role in cognitive processing: in the retrieval of memories, linguistic processes, and skill acquisition, for example. So the mere fact that external processes are external where consciousness is internal is no reason to deny that those processes are cognitive.
More interestingly, one might argue that what keeps real cognition processes in the head is the requirement that cognitive processes be portable. Here, we are moved by a vision of what might be called the Naked Mind: a package of resources and operations we can always bring to bear on a cognitive task, regardless of the local environment. On this view, the trouble with coupled systems is that they are too easily decoupled. The true cognitive processes are those that lie at the constant core of the system; anything else is an add-on extra.
There is something to this objection. The brain (or brain and body) comprises a package of basic, portable, cognitive resources that is of interest in its own right. These resources may incorporate bodily actions into cognitive processes, as when we use our fingers as working memory in a tricky calculation, but they will not encompass the more contingent aspects of our external environment, such as a pocket calculator. Still, mere contingency of coupling does not rule out cognitive status. In the distant future we may be able to plug various modules into our brain to help us out: a module for extra short-term memory when we need it, for
example. When a module is plugged in, the processes involving it are just as cognitive as if they had been there all along.[*]
*[[Or consider the following passage from a recent science fiction novel (McHugh 1992, p. 213): "I am taken to the system's department where I am attuned to the system. All I do is jack in and then a technician instructs the system to attune and it does. I jack out and query the time. 10:52. The information pops up. Always before I could only access information when I was jacked in, it gave me a sense that I knew what I thought and what the system told me, but now, how do I know what is system and what is Zhang?"]]
Even if one were to make the portability criterion pivotal, active externalism would not be undermined. Counting on our fingers has already been let in the door, for example, and it is easy to push things further. Think of the old image of the engineer with a slide rule hanging from his belt wherever he goes. What if people always carried a pocket calculator, or had them implanted? The real moral of the portability intuition is that for coupled systems to be relevant to the core of cognition, reliable coupling is required. It happens that most reliable coupling takes place within the brain, but there can easily be reliable coupling with the environment as well. If the resources of my calculator or my Filofax are always there when I need them, then they are coupled with me as reliably as we need. In effect, they are part of the basic package of cognitive resources that I bring to bear on the everyday world. These systems cannot be impugned simply on the basis of the danger of discrete damage, loss, or malfunction, or because of any occasional decoupling: the biological brain is in similar danger, and occasionally loses capacities temporarily in episodes of sleep, intoxication, and emotion. If the relevant capacities are generally there when they are required, this is coupling enough.
Moreover, it may be that the biological brain has in fact evolved and matured in ways which factor in the reliable presence of a manipulable external environment. It certainly seems that evolution has favored on-board capacities which are especially
geared to parasitizing the local environment so as to reduce memory load, and even to transform the nature of the computational problems themselves. Our visual systems have evolved to rely on their environment in various ways: they exploit contingent facts about the structure of natural scenes (e.g. Ullman and Richards 1984), for example, and they take advantage of the computational shortcuts afforded by bodily motion and locomotion (e.g. Blake and Yuille, 1992). Perhaps there are other cases where evolution has found it advantageous to exploit the possibility of the environment being in the cognitive loop. If so, then external coupling is part of the truly basic package of cognitive resources that we bring to bear on the world.
Language may be an example. Language appears to be a central means by which cognitive processes are extended into the world. Think of a group of people brainstorming around a table, or a philosopher who thinks best by writing, developing her ideas as she goes. It may be that language evolved, in part, to enable such extensions of our cognitive resources within actively coupled systems.
Within the lifetime of an organism, too, individual learning may have molded the brain in ways that rely on cognitive extensions that surrounded us as we learned. Language is again a central example here, as are the various physical and computational artifacts that are routinely used as cognitive extensions by children in schools and by trainees in numerous professions. In such cases the brain develops in a way that complements the external structures, and learns to play its role within a unified, densely coupled system. Once we recognize the crucial role of the environment in constraining the evolution and development of cognition, we see that extended cognition is a core cognitive process, not an add-on extra.
An analogy may be helpful. The extraordinary efficiency of the fish as a swimming device is partly due, it now seems, to an evolved capacity to couple its swimming behaviors to the pools of external kinetic energy found as swirls, eddies and vortices in its watery environment (see Triantafyllou and G. Triantafyllou 1995). These vortices include both naturally occurring ones (e.g., where water hits a rock) and self-induced ones (created by well-timed tail flaps). The fish swims by building these externally occurring processes into the very heart of its locomotion routines. The fish and surrounding vortices together constitute a unified and remarkably efficient swimming machine.
Now consider a reliable feature of the human environment, such as the sea of words. This linguistic surround envelopes us from birth. Under such conditions, the plastic human brain will surely come to treat such structures as a reliable resource to be factored into the shaping of on-board cognitive routines. Where the fish flaps its tail to set up the eddies and vortices it subsequently exploits, we intervene in multiple linguistic media, creating local structures and disturbances whose reliable presence drives our ongoing internal processes. Words and external symbols are thus paramount among the cognitive vortices which help constitute human thought.
4 From Cognition to Mind
So far we have spoken largely about "cognitive processing", and argued for its extension into the environment. Some might think that the conclusion has been bought too cheaply. Perhaps some processing takes place in the environment, but what of mind? Everything we have said so far is compatible with the view that truly mental states - experiences, beliefs, desires, emotions, and so on - are all determined by states of the brain. Perhaps what is truly mental is internal, after all?
We propose to take things a step further. While some mental states, such as experiences, may be determined internally, there are other cases in which external factors make a significant contribution. In particular, we will argue that beliefs can be constituted partly by features of the environment, when those features play the right sort of role in driving cognitive processes. If so, the mind extends into the world.
First, consider a normal case of belief embedded in memory. Inga hears from a friend that there is an exhibition at the Museum of Modern Art, and decides to go see it. She thinks for a moment and recalls that the museum is on 53rd Street, so she walks to 53rd Street and goes into the museum. It seems clear that Inga believes that the museum is on 53rd Street, and that she believed this even before she consulted her memory. It was not previously an occurrent belief, but then neither are most of our beliefs. The belief was sitting somewhere in memory, waiting to be accessed.
Now consider Otto. Otto suffers from Alzheimer's disease, and like many Alzheimer's patients, he relies on information in the environment to help structure his life. Otto carries a notebook around with him everywhere he goes. When he learns new information, he writes it down. When he needs some old information, he looks it up. For Otto, his notebook plays the role usually played by a biological memory. Today, Otto hears about the exhibition at the Museum of Modern Art, and decides to go see it. He consults the notebook, which says that the museum is on 53rd Street, so he walks to 53rd Street and goes into the museum.
Clearly, Otto walked to 53rd Street because he wanted to go to the museum and he believed the museum was on 53rd Street. And just as Inga had her belief even before she consulted her memory, it seems reasonable to say that Otto believed the museum was on 53rd Street even before consulting his notebook. For in relevant respects the cases are entirely analogous: the notebook plays for
Otto the same role that memory plays for Inga. The information in the notebook functions just like the information constituting an ordinary non-occurrent belief; it just happens that this information lies beyond the skin.
The alternative is to say that Otto has no belief about the matter until he consults his notebook; at best, he believes that the museum is located at the address in the notebook. But if we follow Otto around for a while, we will see how unnatural this way of speaking is. Otto is constantly using his notebook as a matter of course. It is central to his actions in all sorts of contexts, in the way that an ordinary memory is central in an ordinary life. The same information might come up again and again, perhaps being slightly modified on occasion, before retreating into the recesses of his artificial memory. To say that the beliefs disappear when the notebook is filed away seems to miss the big picture in just the same way as saying that Inga's beliefs disappear as soon as she is no longer conscious of them. In both cases the information is reliably there when needed, available to consciousness and available to guide action, in just the way that we expect a belief to be.
Certainly, insofar as beliefs and desires are characterized by their explanatory roles, Otto's and Inga's cases seem to be on a par: the essential causal dynamics of the two cases mirror each other precisely. We are happy to explain Inga's action in terms of her occurrent desire to go to the museum and her standing belief that the museum is on 53rd street, and we should be happy to explain Otto's action in the same way. The alternative is to explain Otto's action in terms of his occurrent desire to go to the museum, his standing belief that the Museum is on the location written in the notebook, and the accessible fact that the notebook says the Museum is on 53rd Street; but this complicates the explanation unnecessarily. If we must resort to explaining Otto's action this way, then we must also do so for the countless other actions in
which his notebook is involved; in each of the explanations, there will be an extra term involving the notebook. We submit that to explain things this way is to take one step too many. It is pointlessly complex, in the same way that it would be pointlessly complex to explain Inga's actions in terms of beliefs about her memory. The notebook is a constant for Otto, in the same way that memory is a constant for Inga; to point to it in every belief/desire explanation would be redundant. In an explanation, simplicity is power.
If this is right, we can even construct the case of Twin Otto, who is just like Otto except that a while ago he mistakenly wrote in his notebook that the Museum of Modern Art was on 51st Street. Today, Twin Otto is a physical duplicate of Otto from the skin in, but his notebook differs. Consequently, Twin Otto is best characterized as believing that the museum is on 51st Street, where Otto believes it is on 53rd. In these cases, a belief is simply not in the head.
This mirrors the conclusion of Putnam and Burge, but again there are important differences. In the Putnam/Burge cases, the external features constituting differences in belief are distal and historical, so that twins in these cases produce physically indistinguishable behavior. In the cases we are describing, the relevant external features play an active role in the here-and-now, and have a direct impact on behavior. Where Otto walks to 53rd Street, Twin Otto walks to 51st. There is no question of explanatory irrelevance for this sort of external belief content; it is introduced precisely because of the central explanatory role that it plays. Like the Putnam and Burge cases, these cases involve differences in reference and truth-conditions, but they also involve differences in the dynamics of cognition.[*]
*[[In the terminology of Chalmers' "The Components of Content" (forthcoming): the twins in the Putnam and Burge cases differ only in their relational content, but
Otto and his twin can be seen to differ in their notional content, which is the sort of content that governs cognition. Notional content is generally internal to a cognitive system, but in this case the cognitive system is itself effectively extended to include the notebook.]]
The moral is that when it comes to belief, there is nothing sacred about skull and skin. What makes some information count as a belief is the role it plays, and there is no reason why the relevant role can be played only from inside the body.
Some will resist this conclusion. An opponent might put her foot down and insist that as she uses the term "belief", or perhaps even according to standard usage, Otto simply does not qualify as believing that the museum is on 53rd Street. We do not intend to debate what is standard usage; our broader point is that the notion of belief ought to be used so that Otto qualifies as having the belief in question. In all important respects, Otto's case is similar to a standard case of (non-occurrent) belief. The differences between Otto's case and Inga's are striking, but they are superficial. By using the "belief" notion in a wider way, it picks out something more akin to a natural kind. The notion becomes deeper and more unified, and is more useful in explanation.
To provide substantial resistance, an opponent has to show that Otto's and Inga's cases differ in some important and relevant respect. But in what deep respect are the cases different? To make the case solely on the grounds that information is in the head in one case but not in the other would be to beg the question. If this difference is relevant to a difference in belief, it is surely not primitively relevant. To justify the different treatment, we must find some more basic underlying difference between the two.
It might be suggested that the cases are relevantly different in that Inga has more reliable access to the information. After all, someone might take away Otto's notebook at any time, but Inga's
memory is safer. It is not implausible that constancy is relevant: indeed, the fact that Otto always uses his notebook played some role in our justifying its cognitive status. If Otto were consulting a guidebook as a one-off, we would be much less likely to ascribe him a standing belief. But in the original case, Otto's access to the notebook is very reliable - not perfectly reliable, to be sure, but then neither is Inga's access to her memory. A surgeon might tamper with her brain, or more mundanely, she might have too much to drink. The mere possibility of such tampering is not enough to deny her the belief.
One might worry that Otto's access to his notebook in fact comes and goes. He showers without the notebook, for example, and he cannot read it when it is dark. Surely his belief cannot come and go so easily? We could get around this problem by redescribing the situation, but in any case an occasional temporary disconnection does not threaten our claim. After all, when Inga is asleep, or when she is intoxicated, we do not say that her belief disappears. What really counts is that the information is easily available when the subject needs it, and this constraint is satisfied equally in the two cases. If Otto's notebook were often unavailable to him at times when the information in it would be useful, there might be a problem, as the information would not be able to play the action-guiding role that is central to belief; but if it is easily available in most relevant situations, the belief is not endangered.
Perhaps a difference is that Inga has better access to the information than Otto does? Inga's "central" processes and her memory probably have a relatively high-bandwidth link between them, compared to the low-grade connection between Otto and his notebook. But this alone does not make a difference between believing and not believing. Consider Inga's museum-going friend Lucy, whose biological memory has only a low-grade link to her central systems, due to nonstandard biology or past misadventures. Processing in Lucy's case might be less efficient, but as long as the
relevant information is accessible, Lucy clearly believes that the museum is on 53rd Street. If the connection was too indirect - if Lucy had to struggle hard to retrieve the information with mixed results, or a psychotherapist's aid were needed - we might become more reluctant to ascribe the belief, but such cases are well beyond Otto's situation, in which the information is easily accessible.
Another suggestion could be that Otto has access to the relevant information only by perception, whereas Inga has more direct access -- by introspection, perhaps. In some ways, however, to put things this way is to beg the question. After all, we are in effect advocating a point of view on which Otto's internal processes and his notebook constitute a single cognitive system. From the standpoint of this system, the flow of information between notebook and brain is not perceptual at all; it does not involve the impact of something outside the system. It is more akin to information flow within the brain. The only deep way in which the access is perceptual is that in Otto's case, there is a distinctly perceptual phenomenology associated with the retrieval of the information, whereas in Inga's case there is not. But why should the nature of an associated phenomenology make a difference to the status of a belief? Inga's memory may have some associated phenomenology, but it is still a belief. The phenomenology is not visual, to be sure. But for visual phenomenology consider the Terminator, from the Arnold Schwarzenegger movie of the same name. When he recalls some information from memory, it is "displayed" before him in his visual field (presumably he is conscious of it, as there are frequent shots depicting his point of view). The fact that standing memories are recalled in this unusual way surely makes little difference to their status as standing beliefs.
These various small differences between Otto's and Inga's cases are all shallow differences. To focus on them would be to miss the
way in which for Otto, notebook entries play just the sort of role that beliefs play in guiding most people's lives.
Perhaps the intuition that Otto's is not a true belief comes from a residual feeling that the only true beliefs are occurrent beliefs. If we take this feeling seriously, Inga's belief will be ruled out too, as will many beliefs that we attribute in everyday life. This would be an extreme view, but it may be the most consistent way to deny Otto's belief. Upon even a slightly less extreme view - the view that a belief must be available for consciousness, for example - Otto's notebook entry seems to qualify just as well as Inga's memory. Once dispositional beliefs are let in the door, it is difficult to resist the conclusion that Otto's notebook has all the relevant dispositions.
5 Beyond the Outer Limits
If the thesis is accepted, how far should we go? All sorts of puzzle cases spring to mind. What of the amnesic villagers in 100 Years of Solitude, who forget the names for everything and so hang labels everywhere? Does the information in my Filofax count as part of my memory? If Otto's notebook has been tampered with, does he believe the newly-installed information? Do I believe the contents of the page in front of me before I read it? Is my cognitive state somehow spread across the Internet?
We do not think that there are categorical answers to all of these questions, and we will not give them. But to help understand what is involved in ascriptions of extended belief, we can at least examine the features of our central case that make the notion so clearly applicable there. First, the notebook is a constant in Otto's life - in cases where the information in the notebook would be relevant, he will rarely take action without consulting it. Second, the information in the notebook is directly available without
difficulty. Third, upon retrieving information from the notebook he automatically endorses it. Fourth, the information in the notebook has been consciously endorsed at some point in the past, and indeed is there as a consequence of this endorsement.[*] The status of the fourth feature as a criterion for belief is arguable (perhaps one can acquire beliefs through subliminal perception, or through memory tampering?), but the first three features certainly play a crucial role.
*[[The constancy and past-endorsement criteria may suggest that history is partly constitutive of belief. One might react to this by removing any historical component (giving a purely dispositional reading of the constancy criterion and eliminating the past-endorsement criterion, for example), or one might allow such a component as long as the main burden is carried by features of the present.]]
Insofar as increasingly exotic puzzle cases lack these features, the applicability of the notion of "belief" gradually falls off. If I rarely take relevant action without consulting my Filofax, for example, its status within my cognitive system will resemble that of the notebook in Otto's. But if I often act without consultation - for example, if I sometimes answer relevant questions with "I don't know" - then information in it counts less clearly as part of my belief system. The Internet is likely to fail on multiple counts, unless I am unusually computer-reliant, facile with the technology, and trusting, but information in certain files on my computer may qualify. In intermediate cases, the question of whether a belief is present may be indeterminate, or the answer may depend on the varying standards that are at play in various contexts in which the question might be asked. But any indeterminacy here does not mean that in the central cases, the answer is not clear.
What about socially extended cognition? Could my mental states be partly constituted by the states of other thinkers? We see no reason why not, in principle. In an unusually interdependent couple, it is entirely possible that one partner's beliefs will play the
same sort of role for the other as the notebook plays for Otto.[*] What is central is a high degree of trust, reliance, and accessibility. In other social relationships these criteria may not be so clearly fulfilled, but they might nevertheless be fulfilled in specific domains. For example, the waiter at my favorite restaurant might act as a repository of my beliefs about my favorite meals (this might even be construed as a case of extended desire). In other cases, one's beliefs might be embodied in one's secretary, one's accountant, or one's collaborator.[*]
*[[From the New York Times, March 30, 1995, p.B7, in an article on former UCLA basketball coach John Wooden: "Wooden and his wife attended 36 straight Final Fours, and she invariably served as his memory bank. Nell Wooden rarely forgot a name - her husband rarely remembered one - and in the standing-room-only Final Four lobbies, she would recognize people for him."]]
*[[Might this sort of reasoning also allow something like Burge's extended "arthritis" beliefs? After all, I might always defer to my doctor in taking relevant actions concerning my disease. Perhaps so, but there are some clear differences. For example, any extended beliefs would be grounded in an existing active relationship with the doctor, rather than in a historical relationship to a language community. And on the current analysis, my deference to the doctor would tend to yield something like a true belief that I have some other disease in my thigh, rather than the false belief that I have arthritis there. On the other hand, if I used medical experts solely as terminological consultants, the results of Burge's analysis might be mirrored.]]
In each of these cases, the major burden of the coupling between agents is carried by language. Without language, we might be much more akin to discrete Cartesian "inner" minds, in which high-level cognition relies largely on internal resources. But the advent of language has allowed us to spread this burden into the world. Language, thus construed, is not a mirror of our inner states but a complement to them. It serves as a tool whose role is to extend cognition in ways that on-board devices cannot. Indeed, it may be that the intellectual explosion in recent evolutionary time is
due as much to this linguistically-enabled extension of cognition as to any independent development in our inner cognitive resources.
What, finally, of the self? Does the extended mind imply an extended self? It seems so. Most of us already accept that the self outstrips the boundaries of consciousness; my dispositional beliefs, for example, constitute in some deep sense part of who I am. If so, then these boundaries may also fall beyond the skin. The information in Otto's notebook, for example, is a central part of his identity as a cognitive agent. What this comes to is that Otto himself is best regarded as an extended system, a coupling of biological organism and external resources. To consistently resist this conclusion, we would have to shrink the self into a mere bundle of occurrent states, severely threatening its deep psychological continuity. Far better to take the broader view, and see agents themselves as spread into the world.
As with any reconception of ourselves, this view will have significant consequences. There are obvious consequences for philosophical views of the mind and for the methodology of research in cognitive science, but there will also be effects in the moral and social domains. It may be, for example, that in some cases interfering with someone's environment will have the same moral significance as interfering with their person. And if the view is taken seriously, certain forms of social activity might be reconceived as less akin to communication and action, and as more akin to thought. In any case, once the hegemony of skin and skull is usurped, we may be able to see ourselves more truly as creatures of the world.
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