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SHPRT
SHPRT
i. Cartesian dualism
iii. Functionalism
Conclusions
Introduction
What
is
it
to
have
a
mind?
We’re
certain
that
anyone
reading
this
handout
has
a
mind.
But
what
are
the
special
properties
we
consider
‘minded’
beings
to
have,
and
are
these
properties
shared
by
other
animals,
or
even
infants?
In
this
lecture
I
introduce
some
of
the
approaches
contemporary
philosophers
have
taken
to
the
question
of
what
it
is
to
have
a
mind.
Some
terminology:
I
will
use
the
term
‘mental
state’
to
refer
to
any
mental
phenomenon,
e.g.
thoughts,
emotions,
sensations.
So
the
thought
that
beaver
dams
are
cool,
and
the
joy
I
feel
when
I
see
beavers
building
a
dam
are
examples
of
mental
states
that
I
can
have.
Further reading
Clark, A. (2001). Mindware. Oxford University Press. (Introduction and chapter 1)
Material substances
Immaterial substances
1
Dr.
J.S.Lavelle,
University
of
Edinburgh
MOOC
–
Introduction
to
the
Philosophy
of
Mind
(January
2013)
According
to
Cartesian
dualism,
minds
are
made
of
immaterial
‘thinking’
substance
which
does
not
occupy
a
place
in
space.
The
part
of
me
that
thinks
exists
independently
of
the
body.
>> To find out more about how Descartes argued for this position, see Appendix 1.
Princess
Elizabeth
of
Bohemia
was
one
of
Descartes
pupils.
She
pointed
out
that
physical
things
can
only
be
changed
by
interaction
with
other
physical
things.
If
the
mind
is
immaterial
(i.e.
not
physical)
then
how
can
it
instigate
changes
in
the
body,
which
are
physical?
It
is
clear
that
minds
cause
behaviours
–it
is
my
desire
for
juice
that
causes
me
to
walk
to
the
fridge
–
but
how
can
this
be
on
Descartes’
position?
She
challenged
Descartes
to…
[…Explain]
how
the
mind
of
a
human
being,
being
only
a
thinking
substance,
can
determine
the
bodily
spirits
in
producing
bodily
actions.
For
it
appears
that
all
determination
of
movement
is
produced
by
the
pushing
of
the
thing
being
moved,
by
the
manner
in
which
it
is
pushed
by
that
which
moves
it,
or
else
by
the
qualification
and
figure
of
the
surface
of
the
latter.
Contact
is
required
for
the
first
two
conditions,
and
extension
for
the
third.
[But]
you
entirely
exclude
the
latter
from
the
notion
you
have
of
the
soul,
and
the
former
seems
incompatible
with
an
immaterial
thing.
Princess Elizabeth of Bohemia, 1643. Cited Kim (2006, 41 -‐2)
Descartes
faces
the
problem
of
explaining
how
minds
can
cause
bodies
to
move
if
they
are
made
of
substances
which
do
not
occupy
a
place
in
space.
Similarly,
he
will
also
need
to
explain
how
physical
substances
that
we
ingest
can
affect
our
minds,
as
is
the
case
with
hallucinogens.
Further reading
Physicalism
is
the
view
that
all
that
exists
is
physical
stuff,
that
is,
stuff
which
has
extension.
Therefore,
whatever
our
explanation
of
mental
phenomena
is,
it
can’t
go
around
citing
immaterial
stuff!
This
gets
around
the
problem
of
causation,
because
if
mental
phenomena
consist
in
physical
stuff,
just
like
our
bodies,
then
they
can
interact
with
our
bodies
to
cause
various
behaviours.
On
one
view
of
physicalism
mental
phenomena,
like
thoughts
and
emotions
etc.,
are
identical
with
certain
physical
phenomena,
e.g.
a
cocktail
of
chemicals
in
our
heads.
This
is
known
as
the
identity
theory.
The
identity
theory
of
physicalism
with
regards
to
mental
states
claims
that
having
a
mental
state
consists
in
being
in
a
particular
physical
state.
For
example,
being
in
pain
is
identical
to
your
C-‐fibres
firing
and
there
is
nothing
else
to
it
than
that.
Identity
theory
is
a
reductive
account
of
mental
states:
it
is
reducing
them
to
physical
processes.
There
are
two
ways
of
spelling
out
the
identity
theory,
which
rely
on
the
token/type
distinction.
2
Dr.
J.S.Lavelle,
University
of
Edinburgh
MOOC
–
Introduction
to
the
Philosophy
of
Mind
(January
2013)
This
question
could
be
interpreted
in
two
ways.
The
questioner
might
be
asking
about
how
many
types
of
dogs
(i.e.
breeds)
were
at
Crufts
last
year,
and
the
answer
would
be
‘around
300’.
Alternatively,
she
could
be
asking
about
how
many
individual
dogs
were
at
Crufts
last
year,
in
which
case
the
answer
would
be
‘around
3,000’.
In
the
second
case,
philosophers
would
say
she
is
asking
about
how
many
dog
‘tokens’
there
were
at
Crufts.
If
I
were
looking
at
two
Bassett
hounds,
we
would
say
that
I
was
looking
at
two
tokens
of
the
same
type:
I
am
looking
at
one
type
of
dog
(namely,
the
Bassett
hound
type)
and
two
instances
of
that
type,
referred
to
as
‘tokens’.
This
matters
for
our
discussion
because
when
an
identity
theorist
says
that
mental
phenomena
are
identical
with
physical
phenomena,
we
want
to
know
whether
she
thinks:
a) That
types
of
mental
phenomena
(e.g.
the
type
‘feeling
sad’,
or
the
type
‘feeling
happy’)
are
identical
with
types
of
physical
phenomena
(e.g.
that
‘feeling
sad’
can
be
reduced
a
particular
chemical
cocktail).
This
is
known
as
type-‐
identity
theory.
1
Or
b) That
instances,
or
tokens,
of
mental
phenomena
are
identical
with
physical
phenomena.
On
this
view,
you
can
just
claim
that
the
happy
feeling
I
had
yesterday
at
15:10
was
identical
with
a
physical
state.
This
is
known
as
token-‐
identity
theory.
Type-‐
identity
theory
claims
that
for
every
type
of
mental
phenomenon
(feeling
sad;
feeling
happy;
wanting
something
or
hating
something)
there
is
a
corresponding
physical
state.
So
pains
are
identical
with
C-‐fibre
activation2:
my
pain
is
identical
with
my
C-‐fibres
activation,
and
your
pain
is
identical
with
your
C-‐fibres
activation;
my
pain
now
is
identical
with
C-‐fibre
activation
and
my
pain
yesterday
lunch
time
was
also
identical
with
the
activity
of
my
C-‐fibres.
By
contrast,
token-‐identity
theorists
say
that
my
pain
yesterday
was
definitely
identical
with
a
physical
state.
And
my
pain
today
is
definitely
identical
with
a
physical
state.
And
your
pain
is
identical
with
a
physical
state.
But
these
physical
states
might
all
be
different:
the
first
might
be
neuron
24
firing,
whilst
the
second
is
neuron
408
firing.
All
the
token-‐identity
theorist
is
committed
to
is
that
every
mental
phenomenon
is
identical
with
some
physical
phenomenon.
Type-‐
identity
theory
offers
a
stronger
research
program.
It
says
that
types
of
physical
states,
e.g.
a
surge
in
endorphins,
are
identical
with
types
of
mental
state,
e.g.
feeling
happy,
and
that
this
is
the
case
for
all
humans.
1
Strictly
speaking
‘type-‐type’
identity
theory
because
it
says
types
of
mental
phenomena
are
identical
with
types
of
physical
phenomena.
2
Philosophers
love
to
talk
about
C-‐fibres
as
being
identical
with
pain.
But,
really,
we
know
that
the
neural
correlates
of
pain
are
much
more
complicated.
We
also
like
discussing
pain
a
lot,
which
gives
a
worrying
insight
into
the
profession.
3
Dr.
J.S.Lavelle,
University
of
Edinburgh
MOOC
–
Introduction
to
the
Philosophy
of
Mind
(January
2013)
Hilary
Putnam,
in
his
1967
paper
‘The
Nature
of
Mental
States’
raised
the
following
objection
to
type-‐identity
theory,
arguing
that
it
is
too
narrow.
Imagine
that
we
find
the
cocktail
of
chemicals
which
we
are
certain
is
type-‐identical
to
the
mental
state
of
feeling
pain.
Putnam
says
that
all
we’ve
done
is
find
out
the
identity
relation
between
pain
and
its
physical
realisation
in
humans.
Let’s
say,
for
the
sake
of
argument,
that
octopus
brains
are
made
up
of
totally
different
chemicals
to
human
brains,
but
that
we
have
good
reason
to
believe
that
these
critters
feel
pain,
e.g.
they
withdraw
from
hot
stimuli,
they
engage
in
avoidance
behaviour
around
those
stimuli,
we
see
a
spike
in
their
brain
activity
when
they
touch
hot
things.
Do
we
want
to
deny
them
pain
because
their
brains
are
made
up
of
different
stuff
to
ours?
Of
course
not,
says
Putnam.
Multiple realisability
The
key
point
for
Putnam
is
that
mental
states
are
multiply
realisable.
This
just
means
that
any
mental
state,
e.g.
the
mental
state
of
wanting
a
pet
beaver,
can
be
instantiated
in
a
variety
of
different
physical
systems.
It
could
be
in
a
physical
system
made
out
of
H2O
and
other
chemicals
(like
us)
or
a
system
made
out
of
something
totally
different,
like
the
chemicals
in
an
octopus
brain.
To
take
a
different
example:
in
our
society,
money
is
made
of
bits
of
paper
and
metal.
But
in
other
societies
shells
are
used
to
trade
with,
and
the
value
of
various
things
is
measured
in
terms
of
how
many
shells
they
are
worth.
In
other
societies
still
livestock
serve
the
function
that
metal
and
paper
serve
in
our
society.
But
cows,
shells
and
bits
of
paper
and
metal
are
all
recognisable
as
currency
in
virtue
of
them
all
playing
a
particular
role
(being
traded
for
other
objects,
and
being
a
unit
of
value).
Currency
is
thus
multiply
realisable:
there
are
lots
of
different
things
that
are
currency
in
different
cultures,
but
they
all
share
a
common
role.
iii. Functionalism
Putnam’s
insight
had
a
considerable
impact
on
contemporary
philosophy
of
mind.
He
was
saying
that
rather
than
thinking
about
mental
phenomena
in
terms
of
what
they
might
be
made
of
physically
(because
this
leads
to
all
sorts
of
problems
when
it
comes
to
non-‐humans)
we
should
be
thinking
about
them
in
terms
of
what
they
do.
This
led
to
the
functionalist
account
of
mental
states.
Functionalists
claim
that
trying
to
give
an
account
of
mental
states
in
terms
of
what
they’re
made
of
is
like
trying
to
explain
what
a
chair
is
in
terms
of
what
it’s
made
of.
What
makes
something
a
chair
is
whether
that
thing
can
function
as
a
chair:
can
it
support
you
sitting
on
it;
does
it
have
support
for
your
back;
does
it
raise
your
sitting
position
up
from
the
ground?
Chairs
can
be
made
of
lots
of
different
things,
and
look
completely
different,
but
what
makes
them
identifiable
as
chairs
is
the
job
that
they
do.
Putnam’s
big
claim
was
that
we
should
identify
mental
states
not
by
what
they’re
made
of,
but
by
what
they
do.
And
what
mental
states
do
is
they
are
caused
by
sensory
stimuli
and
current
mental
states
and
cause
behaviour
and
new
mental
states.
4
Dr.
J.S.Lavelle,
University
of
Edinburgh
MOOC
–
Introduction
to
the
Philosophy
of
Mind
(January
2013)
The
belief
that
tigers
are
dangerous
is
distinct
from
the
desire
to
hug
a
tiger
in
virtue
of
what
that
belief
does.
The
desire
to
hug
a
tiger
would
cause
me
to
rush
towards
the
tiger
with
open
arms,
and
it
might
be
caused
by
the
belief
that
tigers
are
harmless
human-‐loving
creatures.
Whereas
the
belief
that
tigers
are
dangerous
is
caused
by
my
previous
knowledge
that
tigers
eat
people
and
that
creatures
with
big
teeth
are
dangerous,
and
causes
running
away
behaviour
as
well
as
new
mental
states
such
as
the
dislike
of
the
person
who
let
the
tiger
into
the
room
in
the
first
place.
To
make
the
contrast
with
type-‐identity
clearer:
on
a
type-‐identity
view
what
makes
the
belief
that
tigers
are
dangerous
distinct
from
the
desire
to
hug
a
tiger
is
the
different
chemical
cocktails
which
those
states
consist
in.
But
functionalists
say
that
this
is
wrong:
what
makes
each
of
these
states
distinct
is
their
different
functional
roles.
They
might
also
be
made
of
different
chemicals,
but
that’s
by-‐the-‐by.
The
interesting
difference
lies
in
what
causes
them
and
what
they
do.
Functionalism
provides
the
segue
to
the
next
aspect
of
this
lecture,
namely,
that
it
has
become
very
popular
to
think
about
the
mind
as
analogous
to
a
computer.
Computers
are
information
processing
machines:
they
take
information
of
one
kind,
e.g.
an
electrical
pulse
caused
by
the
depression
of
a
key,
and
turn
it
into
information
of
another
kind,
e.g.
displaying
a
number
on
a
screen.
And
one
could
argue
that
minds
are
also
information
processing
machines:
they
take
information
provided
by
our
senses
and
other
mental
states
which
we
have,
process
it
and
produce
new
behaviours
and
mental
states.
We
individuate
mental
states
by
the
processes
that
they
can
engage
in,
processes
which
require
certain
starting
conditions
(particular
mental
states
and
sensations)
and
result
in
end
conditions
in
the
form
of
new
mental
states
and
behaviours.
The
similarity
goes
further:
what
allows
us
to
identify
something
as
a
computer
or
a
mind
is
what
that
thing
does,
and
not
what
it
is
made
of.
In
this
next
part
of
the
lecture,
we’ll
look
at
some
of
the
consequences
of
the
view
that
minds
are
computers.
Computers
come
in
varying
degrees
of
complexity.
There
is
a
computer
in
my
washing-‐
machine
which
controls
the
various
cycles.
There
are
also
computers
which
can
generate
complex
probabilistic
models
which
we
use
to
predict
all
kinds
of
phenomena:
weather
cycles,
biological
degradation,
wave
formations
etc.
If
minds
are
computing
machines,
then
how
complex
does
an
information-‐processing
system
need
to
be
before
it
counts
as
a
mind?
In
his
landmark
paper
‘Computing
Machinery
and
Intelligence’
(1950)
Alan
Turing
(1912
–
1954)
proposed
the
following
thought
experiment
as
a
response
to
this
question.
5
Dr.
J.S.Lavelle,
University
of
Edinburgh
MOOC
–
Introduction
to
the
Philosophy
of
Mind
(January
2013)
Turing
asks
us
to
imagine
three
people,
a
questioner
and
two
respondents,
a
man
and
a
woman.
The
questioner
is
in
a
different
room
to
the
respondents,
and
can
communicate
with
them
via
an
‘instant
messenger’
style
set-‐up:
the
questioner
types
questions
which
appear
on
screens
in
front
of
the
responding
man
and
woman,
who
in
turn
can
type
messages
back.
The
task
set
to
the
questioner
is
to
determine
which
of
the
respondents,
labelled
only
as
X
and
Y,
is
the
man,
and
which
is
the
woman.
The
man’s
task
is
to
mislead
the
questioner
into
believing
that
he
is
the
woman,
and
the
woman’s
task
is
to
help
the
questioner.
The
next
stage
of
the
game
is
very
similar,
except
that
the
man
is
replaced
by
a
computer,
and
the
questioner’s
task
is
to
determine
which
of
the
respondents
is
the
human,
and
which
is
the
computer.
As
before,
the
computer’s
task
is
to
mislead
the
questioner
into
believing
it
is
the
human,
and
the
human-‐respondent’s
task
is
to
help
the
questioner.
Turing’s
hypothesis
was
this:
if
a
computer
can
consistently
fool
the
interrogator
into
believing
that
it
is
a
human,
then
the
computer
has
reached
the
level
of
functional
complexity
required
for
having
a
mind.
(For
a
cinematic
interpretation
of
the
Turing
Test,
take
a
look
at
Ridley
Scott’s
Bladerunner
).
There
are,
as
ever,
objections
to
the
hypothesis.
It
might
be
possible,
for
example,
that
a
machine
with
an
extremely
large
database
with
a
powerful
search
engine
passes
the
test.
Thus,
when
asked
what
84
–
13
is,
the
machine
whizzes
to
its
set
of
files
labelled
‘possible
subtraction
sums’,
pulls
out
the
file
labelled
’84
–
13’
(perhaps
it
is
nestled
between
the
files
labelled
‘84
–
14’
and
‘84
–
12’)
and
displays
whatever
it
finds
in
that
file.
And
it
does
the
same
for
questions
like
‘do
you
prefer
your
martinis
shaken
or
stirred’
or
‘what
are
your
views
on
Tarantino
films?’
We
would
be
reluctant
to
label
such
a
machine
a
‘thinking’
machine.
This
suggests
that
Turing’s
test
is
not
sufficient
for
finding
thinking
machines,
because
it
does
not
take
into
account
the
internal
structure
of
the
machine.
This
example
is
intended
to
show
that
the
internal
structure
of
a
processing
machine
matters
when
it
comes
to
determining
whether
it
is
minded.
In
addition
to
this
concern,
one
might
wonder
if
the
Turing
test
is
too
limited:
surely
there
might
be
beings
who
cannot
persuade
the
questioner
that
they
are
human
but
who
we
nevertheless
want
to
count
as
minded.
The
Turing
test
relies
on
language,
and
it
sets
very
narrow
criteria
for
minds,
namely,
that
they
must
be
like
human
minds.
But
it
is
not
a
very
big
stretch
of
the
imagination
to
conceive
of
aliens
who
appear
to
act
intelligently
but
who
would
not
be
able
to
pass
the
Turing
test.
Further reading
Turing,
A.
(1950).
Computing
Machinery
and
Intelligence.
Mind,
59,
433
–
460.
There
are
also
lots
of
free
versions
of
the
paper
available
on-‐line,
and
it
pops
up
in
lots
of
philosophy
of
mind
anthologies.
The
idea
that
the
mind
is
a
computing
machine
is
certainly
an
attractive
one.
However,
there
are
problems
with
the
view,
and
to
finish
I’d
like
to
point
to
some
of
these
using
John
Searle’s
Chinese
Room
thought
experiment
(1980).
Searle
asks
us
to
imagine
the
following
situation:
you
are
in
a
sealed
room
whose
walls
lined
with
books
containing
Chinese
symbols.
For
the
6
Dr.
J.S.Lavelle,
University
of
Edinburgh
MOOC
–
Introduction
to
the
Philosophy
of
Mind
(January
2013)
sake
of
the
experiment,
we
shall
assume
that
you
do
not
understand
any
Chinese
at
all,
in
fact,
you
are
so
ignorant
of
Chinese
that
you
do
not
even
know
that
the
patterns
in
the
book
are
linguistic
symbols.
There
is
a
slot
leading
into
the
room,
through
which
occasionally
come
pieces
of
paper
with
patterns
on.
You
have
a
‘code-‐book’
which
contains
a
set
of
rules
(written
in
English)
which
tells
you
what
to
do
when
particular
patterns
are
posted
through
the
slot;
usually
this
means
going
to
one
of
the
books
in
the
library,
opening
it
to
a
particular
page,
and
copying
the
pattern
you
see
there
onto
the
piece
of
paper
you
have
received,
and
posting
it
back
out
through
the
slot.
The
code-‐book
covers
all
possible
combinations
of
patterns
that
you
might
receive.
Now
let’s
suppose
that
outside
of
the
room
is
a
native
speaker
of
Chinese.
Unbeknownst
to
you,
she
is
posting
questions
in
Chinese
through
the
slot,
and
you
are
giving
her
coherent
answers
to
these
questions.
Although
believes
she
is
conversing
with
someone
who
understands
Chinese,
you
actually
do
not
understand
any
Chinese
at
all,
you
don’t
even
know
that
you
are
engaged
in
a
communicative
act!
Searle
is
pointing
to
a
fundamental
issue
facing
the
view
that
the
mind
is
a
computing
machine.
Computers
work
by
processing
symbols.
Symbols
have
syntactic
and
semantic
properties.
Their
syntactic
properties
are
their
physical
properties,
e.g.
shape.
Their
semantic
properties
are
what
the
symbol
means,
or
represents.
Thus,
if
I
were
to
say
“let
be
the
symbol
for
‘start
dancing’”,
then
its
syntactic
properties
are
that
it
has
four
right
angles
and
four
equilateral
sides,
and
its
semantic
property
is
that
it
represents
the
instruction
‘start
dancing’,
and
that
in
certain
contexts
when
we
perceive
this
symbol
we
should
start
to
dance.
Calculators,
computers,
etc.
are
symbol
manipulating
machines.
But
importantly,
they
are
only
sensitive
to
the
syntactic
properties
of
symbols.
We
program
machines
with
rules
that
operate
on
the
syntactic
structure
of
the
symbols
it
receives.
One
rule
might
be
If
input
‘A’
and
input
‘B’
produce
output
‘A&B’.
The
computer
can
do
this
operation
just
by
‘looking’
at
the
physical
structure
of
the
shapes.
The
problem
is
that
the
computer
does
not
‘know’
that
it
is
manipulating
symbols
that
have
semantic
content
any
more
than
the
person
inside
Searle’s
Chinese
room
knows
she
is
manipulating
Chinese
characters.
This
leads
to
a
fundamental
issue
with
the
claim
that
the
mind
is
a
computing
machine:
what
part
of
the
machine
understands
the
symbols
that
it
is
manipulating?
With
a
computer
it
doesn’t
matter
that
the
machine’s
processing
has
nothing
to
do
with
the
semantic
content
of
the
symbols,
because
it
is
the
humans
who
use
the
machine
that
have
this
information,
we
are
the
ones
who
give
meaning
to
those
symbols.
But
if
the
mind
is
just
a
processor
which
operates
on
the
syntactic
properties
of
symbols,
then
how
can
it
produce
a
being
who
can
understand
the
meaning
of
the
symbols?
How
can
a
mind
think
about
dogs,
when
all
it
recognises
are
the
syntactic
properties
of
that
symbol?
Where
is
the
‘programmer’
who
deciphers
the
meaning
of
all
the
symbols?
The
Chinese
Room
argument
throws
up
all
sorts
of
tricky
questions,
discussion
of
which
we
shall
have
to
leave
for
another
day.
I’ll
leave
you
with
one
last
puzzle.
7
Dr.
J.S.Lavelle,
University
of
Edinburgh
MOOC
–
Introduction
to
the
Philosophy
of
Mind
(January
2013)
What
makes
something
a
symbol
or
representation?
We
say
that
something
is
a
representation
or
symbol
if
it
functions
as
one.
When
I’m
at
the
pub,
I
might
use
beer-‐mugs
and
coasters
to
represent
a
particular
football
formation
on
the
table,
and
move
them
around
to
demonstrate
what
happened
in
a
game.
The
beer-‐mug
is
functioning
to
represent
me
on
the
football
pitch.
What
we
need
to
grasp
here
is
that
representation
(including
symbolic
representation)
is
a
three
way
relation:
X
represents
Y
to
Z;
the
beer-‐mug
represents
my
position
on
the
field
to
my
friends.
But
when
it
comes
to
minds,
it’s
not
clear
what
fills
the
place
of
Z:
this
neural
activity
represents
a
dog
to
???
Conclusions
The
aim
of
this
lecture
was
to
introduce
some
of
the
core
topics
in
contemporary
philosophy
of
mind.
We
began
by
looking
at
the
merits
of
physicalism
over
Cartesian
Dualism.
We
then
turned
to
how
the
physicalist
position
has
played
out,
first
through
identity
theories
and
then
through
functionalism.
Functionalist
was
the
catalyst
for
the
popular
move
to
start
thinking
of
minds
as
computers,
information
processing
machines
which
operate
on
the
syntactic
structures
of
symbols.
By
thinking
about
our
minds
containing
symbols
which
can
represent
states
of
affairs,
we
begin
to
address
one
of
the
fundamental
questions
in
the
philosophy
of
mind:
how
can
thoughts
be
about
things?
We
have
not
touched
on
how
a
symbol-‐crunching
machine
could
possess
consciousness.
Indeed,
we
have
side-‐stepped
the
issue
of
consciousness
altogether.
That
would
be
a
topic
for
another
day.
We
have
also
passed
over
the
intricacies
of
these
debates:
each
of
these
topics
would
be
discussed
over
two
or
three
weeks
in
our
undergraduate
classes!
Despite
this,
I
hope
the
MOOC
has
given
you
some
insight
into
some
of
the
puzzles
which
have
inspired,
and
continue
to
intrigue,
philosophers
of
mind.
Further
reading
Clark,
A.
(2001)
Mindware:
an
introduction
to
the
philosophy
of
cognitive
science
O.U.P.
D.
Hofstadter
and
D.
C.
Dennett
(Eds.)
The
Mind’s
I:
Fantasies
and
Reflections
on
Self
and
Soul
Basic
Books
8
Dr.
J.S.Lavelle,
University
of
Edinburgh
MOOC
–
Introduction
to
the
Philosophy
of
Mind
(January
2013)
There
are
several
arguments
which
Descartes
offers
for
his
dualistic
account
of
the
mind,
but
the
most
famous
is
the
argument
from
doubt
(Discourse,
second
meditation):
3. Therefore,
my
mind
must
be
made
of
something
fundamentally
different
from
everything
else
around
me.
Descartes
believed
that
this
argument
shows
that
the
mind
must
be
made
of
a
different
substance
to
his
body
and
other
things
found
in
the
physical
world.
This
is
because
it
has
a
property
which
physical
things
do
not:
its
existence
cannot
be
doubted.
To
put
it
another
way:
I
can
imagine
that
the
physical
world
does
not
exist,
but
it
is
impossible
for
me
to
imagine
that
I
don’t
exist
because
there
has
to
be
something
which
is
doing
the
imagining!
Hence
the
famous
Cogito:
‘I
think
therefore
I
am’.
In
order
to
think,
there
must
be
something
which
is
doing
the
thinking
(namely,
me).
There
are
significant
problems
with
this
argument.
Most
pressing,
as
pointed
out
by
Leibniz
(in
his
Philosophical
Papers)
and
Arnauld
(a
contemporary
of
Descartes)
the
argument
is
revealing
about
the
nature
of
the
imagination
(or
doubt),
but
not
necessarily
about
the
nature
of
the
mind.
‘Doubt’
is
such
that
we
cannot
apply
it
to
our
own
minds
but
this
does
not
tell
us
anything
about
the
nature
of
the
mind.
An
example
might
help
here.3
Let’s
imagine
that
I
am
unaware
that
Dr.
Jekyll
is
Mr.
Hyde.
I
can
imagine
a
scenario
where
Dr.
Jekyll
apprehends
Mr.
Hyde
and
leaves
him
in
the
custody
of
the
police,
going
home
to
a
warm
supper
whilst
Mr.
Hyde
languishes
in
the
cells
cursing
Jekyll.
Yet
this
imagining
does
not
inform
me
of
what
is
in
fact
possible.
Rather,
it
reveals
a
limitation
on
my
knowledge
which
cannot
be
appreciated
from
my
current
perspective.
It
is
perfectly
logical
to
state
that
if
two
things
have
different
properties
then
those
two
things
distinct.
But
this
doesn’t
hold
once
we
throw
psychological
terms
in
there:
‘If
I
believe
two
things
to
have
different
properties
then
they
are
distinct’.
This
is
because
my
belief
might
not
match
on
to
how
the
world
actually
is.
I
believe
that
Dr.
Jekyll
has
the
property
of
being
kind,
and
that
Mr.
Hyde
lacks
this
property
(being
a
murdering
psychopath),
and
I
infer
from
this
that
because
Dr
Jekyll
has
a
property
that
Mr.
Hyde
lacks,
they
must
be
distinct
people.
This
believing,
however,
does
not
preclude
the
possibility
that
they
are
identical.
3
My
thanks
to
Dr.
Paul
Sludds
who
thought
of
this
example!
9