Hmm. I think I don't understand the distinction you're making between intelligence and consciousness. In the world outside the book -- that is, in this world -- what would be an example of a creature which is intelligent but not conscious? An elephant?

(No, I haven't read the book.)

I'll try to put up a post on it tomorrow. I very much enjoyed it, though I need to re-read the ending. It was late, I was tired, we had no electricity, and I kept reading thinking, "Wait, what? Who now? I'm confused."

I finally managed to post my response to your question - it's not an answer, really, but more of an exercise in free-association. (I pulled a quote from this post, too - I hope that's okay.)

On this planet, there isn't an example of an animal that is intelligent but not conscious--which is one of the ways Watts is trying to make the aliens alien. As opposed to giant ants with laser guns and a grudge.

But if you think about the blindsight example--where people have vision but are not aware of having vision--that is the difference between intelligence and consciousness.

In the book, the person with blindsight was able to catch an object thrown at him, but he was not consciuosly aware of the object or of sight at all. And this is something that happens in the real world too. A person with blindsight will not be able to tell you anything about what they see, because the "I" in their head doesn't see at all, isn't aware of vision. But their eyes work, the vision-processing centre in their brain works, and if you ask them to guess where the clock is--or the bike, or the book--they will.

So a person with blindsight can see in all the ways that matter. They take in visual input and respond to it. But the "I" in their head is completely unaware of the whole thing. That being the case, what good does the "I" do?

Imagine if the "I" in your head disappeared tomorrow, but nothign else in your life changed. You got up. You took care of your kids. you worked, you ate, you walked, you didn't walk into walls, you functioned in every way as an intelligent person, but you didn't have that interior story-making function that told you what you were doing and why and what it meant. The two aren't actually connected.

The other experiment he mentioned in the book was where the scientists hooked people up to electromagnetic machines and stimulated their brains in particular ways to make them do particular things--lift an arm, flick a finger, shake their head, whatever. In every case it was the machine that made the subjects do it. In every case, every subject believed they had moved under their own volition and had a reason for wanting to do so.

So not only is the "I" in our heads unnecessary--since we can see and use sight without being aware of seeing--but it is often WRONG. It makes up stories about what we've done and why that are factually incorrect.

So what's the point? What does it do? It lets us appreciate sunsets, but I can't see natural selection caring about our innate subjective experience of the good life.

I don't know if that helped. It's probably something that's easier to grasp after spending a few hundred pages reading about an alien that is alive and incredibly intelligent but acts like a machine--processing input and deciding actions and responses on the basis of internal algorithms without the interference of consciousness or awareness.

Yesterday I was angry all day. I kept bursting into song to keep myself from screaming at my kids. What was wrong? Nothing. I mean, nothing that doesn't happen every other day. It was hormones making me so angry... Whenever I think about dualism, I think about it from that perspective: about that tricky relationship between "I" and my body. It seems clear to me that "I" can't exist without my body. I never thought about my body going on without me!

Hmmm, now I have to read this as it's intrigued me... So I have nothing sailent to offer to the discussion as I've not read the book yet, other than it is, perhaps, time I started reading something that made me think other than reading things to help me escape thought, which was what my summer reading was all about...

Also, I was instructed to read Ways of Seeing way back in my first degree attempt from my delighfully eccentric Arts of the Opera prof, who took a simple course on Operas and made it into one of the deepest, most philosophical courses I've ever taken. And I've not thought of the book since...

I hate that this discussion has started when I'm at my peak stress time -- grant proposal due at work in 3 days...

So, I will not be as thoughtful and articulate as I'd like here, but I didn't want to miss this discussion entirely.

One of the most moving parts of the book for me was when Suri was describing his response to his ex-girlfriend's desperate call to him from her deathbed. For her, she seemed to have a determined sense that contrary to his protestations, he really did feel love for her and maybe even empathy. And she desperately wanted to connect with that. Suri claims that he just couldn't call her back because he had no idea how to respond to her. He WANTED to, he didn't just feel he "should", he actually wanted to, but he couldn't find the right algorithm to apply to the situation. That scene touches on the tricky business that you raised about empathy, Andrea.

I think that if he really felt he WANTED to call her, he DID feel some empathy. Why else would he feel so conflicted and recount the story to the "reader"? So it's almost impossible, I think, to think of an entity without thinking of that "I". It's what makes us who we are.

So, one possibility is Watts' proposition that perhaps consciousness is just an epiphenomenon -- an aside that grew alongside our other, more necessary evolutionary adaptations. And that can be absolutely true, but now it feels so absolutely necessary for how we experience our lives. So... even though consciousness may have not begun as an "essential" adaptation, now it may be the foundation from which we evolve much more dramatic attributes (Gould and others call this something that I can't remember now... anyone?).

So in terms of what's this consciousness good for, I totally agree with you, ANdrea, that it has something to do with empathy or the ability to feel compassion. And that seems almost as trivial as the appreciation of art for some people, except for those in the "contemplative" sciences or religions/spiritual paths. Buddhists and other meditators insist that by recognizing that there is no fundamental "I", that it's transitory and illusory, that all the suffering and yearning that we do could be alleviated by letting go of this sense of "I", that by clinging to this hard ego we miss out on feeling a deep sense of peace, power and love.

But my question is, if it's so darn good to give up this sense of "I", why is it such a fundamental part of our development? WHy do we all develop something that we supposedly should work to demolish later? If you watch an 18 month old, you clearly see the burgeoning sense of "I-ness". Words like "mine" and "no" come in full force for most kids that age. THey work so hard to enforce their independence. And it's so hard to teach kids to share and care less about how much better, stronger, bigger they are then the next person...

Anyway, no answers, just more questions, and inarticulate ones at that. Sorry for rambling and the lack of time to edit...

That is a really good point re: meditation and "I"ness. Why would we develop something in the first place if later we need to get rid of it? Which reminds me of my own fundamental objection to buddhism (for me, not in general). I might have to write a post about that.

I thought the girlfriend stories were all very powerful. She was so essentially human, in all the ways we usually associate with that, and it seemed to be what he loved about her even if he was often an asshole about it. Like when she was crying and he was trying to explain to her the algorithms behind her behaviour that she was unaware of, and how much that hurt her.

And then at the end, when he finally was what most of us would consider fully human, he didn't want to give that up either--even if it would be just going back to what he was before (supposedly--you make a good point that he never really was what he claimed).

I do wonder if "I"ness, for us at least, isn't the foundation of what allowed us to develop societies. It's easy enough to imagine or find kinship equations underlying the societies of other animals which are truly based on kin (or where hormonal processes meant to support kin relationships end up being triggered by a non-kin relationship), and there's still a lot of that in human societies too of course. But it seems like altruism (or being able to imagine someone else's "I") is required if you're going to go beyond that. What's the algorithm from natural selection that would cause an intelligent being to die for someone they are not related to, where no one they are related to will ever benefit?

Is conscioiusness a way of editing algorithms, then?

Hmmm... lots to chew on. BTW, for what it's worth, I've never been able to get a regular meditation practice going. But I really like the IDEA of it (and buddhism). I'd like to hear more about your take on it when you get the chance.

About when Suri was being an "asshole" about his girlfriend's emotionality or bids for affection/connection or whatever: I actually think those were so brilliantly laid out because I found it hard to disagree with his logic. So often we are bullshitting in our lives about how we feel or what we want: we aren't honest about our emotional states with most people, oftentimes least of all ourselves. We know we "use" people for this or that need, but we often don't like to admit it to ourselves. We ask our spouse if we look good in this dress or if they're listening to our emotional outburst and we know, if we really took a second, that we're just playing out an algorithm. We often don't really want the truth and our partner damn well knows it. What was paradoxical is that Suri was often acting like the most emotionally open, honest character of the two of them. Suri's crime was calling her on it.

I LOVED the ending of the book, but I don't want to spoil it entirely for those who haven't read it yet...

I don't know if you need real consciousness, the kind we call "human", to build societies. I'd be interested to know where in the primate chain societies are NOT found. Do chimps have a similar "I-ness" and if not, then how do their colonies or whatever they're called differ from ours (apart from the obvious text and elaborate language and such)...

Ah! There's another issue: language. There's such cool explorations of language in the book and to what degree you have to have consciousness to have intelligent language communication.

Anyway, I think this kind of discussion would be great over a glass of wine. My head hurts trying to write this all out linearly.

I don't think natural selection says that only what is necessary remains, generation after generation. I think natural selection says that only what is harmful goes. So consciousness could have developed in humans accidentally, not caused any trouble for them, and reappeared in succeeding generations.

If it's consciousness that causes us to modify this planet so that it's no longer habitable for us, well then, consciousness is proven harmful and people go extinct...

Jennifer--true; but in evolutionary terms, anything that devours a lot of calories without any advantage IS harmful, and consciousness requires so much brain mass which, in turn, requires so much energy proportionally that if it isn't good for something, it is most definitely harmful. It would be like having a third arm you can't use--or a peacock's tail. It's so big and takes so much energy/effort to maintain that it has to be good for something.

Bella, see, I think Suri completely missed (or chose to miss the point): yes, it's all based on algorithms and yes, sometimes we know it. But that doesn't make the experience or the feelings any less real, you know? And I think whenever a human being is sobbing on the floor at your feet, "See you're actually trying to manipulate me, this is all an evolutionary paradigm; but that's ok, I'm not angry at you, you can't help it!" is never a helpful or loving thing to say.

Yeah, the language thing is fascinating too. Susan et. al and their communication skills and focus, and the idea of the Chinese box was great. Though I'm too tired and foggy to say much interesting about it right now.