You know, something clicked last night as I was falling asleep, and I realized why you’re right and where my confusion has been. But thanks for giving me something specific to work from! :-D
I think my argument can be summarized like so:
All data comes through P.
Therefore, all data about P comes through P.
All theories about P must be verified through data about P.
This means P is required to explain P.
Therefore, it doesn’t seem like there can be an explanation about P.
That last step is nuts. Here’s an analogy:
All (visual) data is seen.
Therefore, all (visual) data about how we see is seen.
All theories of vision must be verified through data about vision. (Let’s say we count only visual data. So we can use charts, but not the way an optic nerve feels to the touch.)
This means vision is required to explain vision.
Therefore, it doesn’t seem like there can be an explanation of vision.
The glaring problem is that explaining vision doesn’t render it retroactively useless for data-collection.
Thanks for giving me time to wrestle with this dumbth. Wrongness acknowledged. :-)
I’m not sure how these two sentences are connected. Obviously, a perfect brain scan shouldn’t indicate that you’re mentally rehearsing Mozart when you are not, in fact, mentally rehearsing Mozart. But such a brain scan will work on anyone, not just you, so I’m not sure what you’re driving at.
What I was driving at is that there’s no evidence that it corresponds to mentally rehearsing Mozart for anyone until I look at my own brain scan. All we can correlate the brain scans with is people’s reports of what they were doing. For instance, if my brain scan said I was rehearsing Mozart but I wasn’t, and yet I was inclined to report that I was, that would give me reason for concern.
The confusion here comes down to a point that I still think is true, but only because I think it’s tautological: From my point of view, my point of view is special. But I’m not sure what it would mean for this to be false, so I’m not sure there’s any additional information in this point—aside from maybe an emotional one (e.g., there’s a kind of emotional shift that occurs when I make the empathic shift and realize what something feels like from another person’s perspective rather than just my own).
What I meant was that, since our theory of Q explains everything, we gain nothing (intellectually speaking) by postulating hat P and Q are different. Doing so would be similar to saying, “sure, the theory of gravity fully explains why the Earth doesn’t fall into the Sun, but there must also be invisible gnomes constantly pushing the Earth away to prevent that from happening”. Sure, the gnomes could exist, but there are lots of things that could exist...
Well, I do know that P exists, and I know that from my point of view P is extremely special. That’s not invisible gnomes; it’s just true. But saying “from my point of view P is extremely special” is tautological since P is my perspective. When something is a tautology, there’s nothing to explain. That’s why it’s hard to come up with an explanation for it. :-P
If you agree with the first part, what are your reasons for disagreeing with the second ? To me, this sounds like saying, “sure, we can explain electricity with the same theory we use to explain magnetism, but that doesn’t mean that we can just equate electricity and magnetism”.
I agree with you now.
Maybe we disagree because of this:
Because if you were dreaming, your idea of Occam’s Razor would be contained within the dream.
Oh, no no no! I didn’t mean to make a particularly big deal out of the possibility that we’re dreaming. I was trying to point out an analogous situation. There’s no plausible way to gather data in favor of the hypothesis that we’re not dreaming because the epistemology itself is entirely contained within the dream. I figured that might be easier to see than the point I was trying to make, which was the bit of balderdash that there’s no way to gather evidence in favor of P arising from something else because that evidence has to come through P. The arguments are somewhat analogous, only the one for dreaming works and the one for P doesn’t.
I personally don’t see any issues to tackle. Sure, I could be dreaming. I could also be insane, or a simulation, or a brain in a jar, or an infinite number of other things. But why should I care about these possibilities—not just “most of the time”, but at all ?
Two and a half points:
Again, this was meant to be an analogy. I wasn’t trying to argue that we can’t trust our data-collection process because we could be dreaming. I meant to offer a situation about dreaming that seemed analogous to the situation with consciousness. I was hoping to illustrate where the “hard” part of the hard problem of consciousness is by pointing out where the “hard” part in what I suppose we could call the “hard problem of dreaming” is.
This issue actually does become extremely pragmatic as soon as you start trying to practice lucid dreaming. The mind seems to default to assuming that whatever is being experienced is being experienced in a wakeful state, at least for most people. You have to challenge that to get to lucid dreaming. There have been many times where I’ve been totally sure I’m awake after asking myself if I’m dreaming, and have even done dream-tests like trying to read text and trying to fly, only to discover that all my testing and certainty was ultimately irrelevant because once I wake up, I can know with absurdly high probability that I was in fact dreaming.
Closely related to that second point is the fact that you know you dream regularly. In fact, there’s quite a bit of evidence to suggest that pretty much everyone dreams several times every night. Most people aren’t crazy, or discover that they’re brains in a jar, or whatever every day. So if there’s a way that everything you know could be completely wrong, the possibility that you’re dreaming is much, much higher on the list of hypotheses than that, say, you have amnesia and are on the Star Trek holodeck. So picking out dreaming as a particular issue to be concerned about over the other possibilities isn’t really committing the fallacy of privileging the hypothesis. If we’re going to go with “You’re hallucinating everything you know,” the “You’re dreaming” hypothesis is a pretty darn good one to start with!
Again, though, I’m not trying to argue that we could be dreaming and therefore we can’t trust what we know. I was trying to point out an analogy which, upon reflection, doesn’t actually work.
All right, so it seems like we mostly agree now—cool !
I meant to offer a situation about dreaming that seemed analogous to the situation with consciousness.
Ok, I get it now, but I would still argue that we should assume we’re awake, until we have some evidence to the contrary; thus, the “hard problem of dreaming” is a non-issue. It looks like you might agree with me, somewhat:
This issue actually does become extremely pragmatic as soon as you start trying to practice lucid dreaming. The mind seems to default to assuming that whatever is being experienced is being experienced in a wakeful state, at least for most people. You have to challenge that to get to lucid dreaming.
In this situation, we assume that we’re awake a priori, and we are then deliberately trying to induce dreaming (which should be lucid, a well). So, we need a test that tells us whether we’ve succeeded or not. Thus, we need to develop some evidence-collecting techniques that work even when we’re asleep. This seems perfectly reasonable to me, but the setup is not analogous to your previous one—since we start out with the a priori assumption that we’re currently in the awake state; that we could transition to the dream state when we choose; and that there exists some evidence that will tell us which state we’re in. By contrast, the “hard problem of dreaming” scenario assumes that we don’t know which state we’re in, and that there’s no way to collect any relevant evidence at all.
All right, so it seems like we mostly agree now—cool !
Yep!
Rationality training: helping minds change since 2002. :-D
Ok, I get it now, but I would still argue that we should assume we’re awake, until we have some evidence to the contrary; thus, the “hard problem of dreaming” is a non-issue.
You’re coming at it from a philosophical angle, I think. I’m coming at it from a purely pragmatic one. Let’s say you’re dreaming right now. If you start with the assumption that you’re awake and then look for evidence to the contrary, typically the dream will accomodate your assumption and let you conclude you’re really awake. Even if your empirical tests conclusively show that you’re dreaming, dreams have a way of screwing with your reasoning process so that early assumptions don’t update on evidence.
For instance, a typical dream test is jumping up in the air and trying to stay there a bit longer than physics would allow. The goal, usually, is flight. I commonly find that if I jump into the air and then hang there for just a little itty bitty bit longer than physics would allow, I think something like, “Oh, that was barely longer than possible. So I must not be quite dreaming.” That makes absolutely no sense at all, but it’s worth bearing in mind that you typically don’t have your whole mind available to you when you’re trying to become lucid. (You might once you are lucid, but that’s not terribly useful, is it?)
In this case, you have to be really, insanely careful not to jump to the conclusion that you’re awake. If you think you’re awake, you have to pause and ask yourself, “Well, is there any way I could be mistaken?” Otherwise your stupid dreaming self will just go along with the plot and ignore the floating pink elephants passing through your living room walls. This means that when you’re working on lucid dreaming, it usually pays to recognize that you could be dreaming and can never actually prove conclusively that you’re awake.
But I agree with you in all cases where lucid dreaming isn’t of interest. :-)
You’re coming at it from a philosophical angle, I think. I’m coming at it from a purely pragmatic one.
That’s funny, I was about to say the same thing, only about yourself instead of me. But I think I see where you’re coming from:
If you start with the assumption that you’re awake and then look for evidence to the contrary, typically the dream will accomodate your assumption and let you conclude you’re really awake… it’s worth bearing in mind that you typically don’t have your whole mind available to you when you’re trying to become lucid.
So, your primary goal (in this specific case) is not to gain any new insights about epistemology or consciousness or whatever, but to develop a useful skill: lucid dreaming. In this case, yes, your assumptions make perfect sense, since you must correct for an incredibly strong built-in bias that only surfaces while you’re dreaming. That makes sense.
You know, something clicked last night as I was falling asleep, and I realized why you’re right and where my confusion has been. But thanks for giving me something specific to work from! :-D
I think my argument can be summarized like so:
All data comes through P.
Therefore, all data about P comes through P.
All theories about P must be verified through data about P.
This means P is required to explain P.
Therefore, it doesn’t seem like there can be an explanation about P.
That last step is nuts. Here’s an analogy:
All (visual) data is seen.
Therefore, all (visual) data about how we see is seen.
All theories of vision must be verified through data about vision. (Let’s say we count only visual data. So we can use charts, but not the way an optic nerve feels to the touch.)
This means vision is required to explain vision.
Therefore, it doesn’t seem like there can be an explanation of vision.
The glaring problem is that explaining vision doesn’t render it retroactively useless for data-collection.
Thanks for giving me time to wrestle with this dumbth. Wrongness acknowledged. :-)
What I was driving at is that there’s no evidence that it corresponds to mentally rehearsing Mozart for anyone until I look at my own brain scan. All we can correlate the brain scans with is people’s reports of what they were doing. For instance, if my brain scan said I was rehearsing Mozart but I wasn’t, and yet I was inclined to report that I was, that would give me reason for concern.
The confusion here comes down to a point that I still think is true, but only because I think it’s tautological: From my point of view, my point of view is special. But I’m not sure what it would mean for this to be false, so I’m not sure there’s any additional information in this point—aside from maybe an emotional one (e.g., there’s a kind of emotional shift that occurs when I make the empathic shift and realize what something feels like from another person’s perspective rather than just my own).
Well, I do know that P exists, and I know that from my point of view P is extremely special. That’s not invisible gnomes; it’s just true. But saying “from my point of view P is extremely special” is tautological since P is my perspective. When something is a tautology, there’s nothing to explain. That’s why it’s hard to come up with an explanation for it. :-P
I agree with you now.
Oh, no no no! I didn’t mean to make a particularly big deal out of the possibility that we’re dreaming. I was trying to point out an analogous situation. There’s no plausible way to gather data in favor of the hypothesis that we’re not dreaming because the epistemology itself is entirely contained within the dream. I figured that might be easier to see than the point I was trying to make, which was the bit of balderdash that there’s no way to gather evidence in favor of P arising from something else because that evidence has to come through P. The arguments are somewhat analogous, only the one for dreaming works and the one for P doesn’t.
Two and a half points:
Again, this was meant to be an analogy. I wasn’t trying to argue that we can’t trust our data-collection process because we could be dreaming. I meant to offer a situation about dreaming that seemed analogous to the situation with consciousness. I was hoping to illustrate where the “hard” part of the hard problem of consciousness is by pointing out where the “hard” part in what I suppose we could call the “hard problem of dreaming” is.
This issue actually does become extremely pragmatic as soon as you start trying to practice lucid dreaming. The mind seems to default to assuming that whatever is being experienced is being experienced in a wakeful state, at least for most people. You have to challenge that to get to lucid dreaming. There have been many times where I’ve been totally sure I’m awake after asking myself if I’m dreaming, and have even done dream-tests like trying to read text and trying to fly, only to discover that all my testing and certainty was ultimately irrelevant because once I wake up, I can know with absurdly high probability that I was in fact dreaming.
Closely related to that second point is the fact that you know you dream regularly. In fact, there’s quite a bit of evidence to suggest that pretty much everyone dreams several times every night. Most people aren’t crazy, or discover that they’re brains in a jar, or whatever every day. So if there’s a way that everything you know could be completely wrong, the possibility that you’re dreaming is much, much higher on the list of hypotheses than that, say, you have amnesia and are on the Star Trek holodeck. So picking out dreaming as a particular issue to be concerned about over the other possibilities isn’t really committing the fallacy of privileging the hypothesis. If we’re going to go with “You’re hallucinating everything you know,” the “You’re dreaming” hypothesis is a pretty darn good one to start with!
Again, though, I’m not trying to argue that we could be dreaming and therefore we can’t trust what we know. I was trying to point out an analogy which, upon reflection, doesn’t actually work.
All right, so it seems like we mostly agree now—cool !
Ok, I get it now, but I would still argue that we should assume we’re awake, until we have some evidence to the contrary; thus, the “hard problem of dreaming” is a non-issue. It looks like you might agree with me, somewhat:
In this situation, we assume that we’re awake a priori, and we are then deliberately trying to induce dreaming (which should be lucid, a well). So, we need a test that tells us whether we’ve succeeded or not. Thus, we need to develop some evidence-collecting techniques that work even when we’re asleep. This seems perfectly reasonable to me, but the setup is not analogous to your previous one—since we start out with the a priori assumption that we’re currently in the awake state; that we could transition to the dream state when we choose; and that there exists some evidence that will tell us which state we’re in. By contrast, the “hard problem of dreaming” scenario assumes that we don’t know which state we’re in, and that there’s no way to collect any relevant evidence at all.
Yep!
Rationality training: helping minds change since 2002. :-D
You’re coming at it from a philosophical angle, I think. I’m coming at it from a purely pragmatic one. Let’s say you’re dreaming right now. If you start with the assumption that you’re awake and then look for evidence to the contrary, typically the dream will accomodate your assumption and let you conclude you’re really awake. Even if your empirical tests conclusively show that you’re dreaming, dreams have a way of screwing with your reasoning process so that early assumptions don’t update on evidence.
For instance, a typical dream test is jumping up in the air and trying to stay there a bit longer than physics would allow. The goal, usually, is flight. I commonly find that if I jump into the air and then hang there for just a little itty bitty bit longer than physics would allow, I think something like, “Oh, that was barely longer than possible. So I must not be quite dreaming.” That makes absolutely no sense at all, but it’s worth bearing in mind that you typically don’t have your whole mind available to you when you’re trying to become lucid. (You might once you are lucid, but that’s not terribly useful, is it?)
In this case, you have to be really, insanely careful not to jump to the conclusion that you’re awake. If you think you’re awake, you have to pause and ask yourself, “Well, is there any way I could be mistaken?” Otherwise your stupid dreaming self will just go along with the plot and ignore the floating pink elephants passing through your living room walls. This means that when you’re working on lucid dreaming, it usually pays to recognize that you could be dreaming and can never actually prove conclusively that you’re awake.
But I agree with you in all cases where lucid dreaming isn’t of interest. :-)
That’s funny, I was about to say the same thing, only about yourself instead of me. But I think I see where you’re coming from:
So, your primary goal (in this specific case) is not to gain any new insights about epistemology or consciousness or whatever, but to develop a useful skill: lucid dreaming. In this case, yes, your assumptions make perfect sense, since you must correct for an incredibly strong built-in bias that only surfaces while you’re dreaming. That makes sense.