Freedom and Consciousness

O. J. Purvis

Part 1

Defining ‘I’

'I' am my consciousness.

Non-conscious aspects of my organism (particularly the unconscious mind, brain, nervous and hormone systems), while essential for the creation and modification of consciousness, are not in themselves the conscious experience. Remove some part of the body, alter the function of the unconscious mind - provided consciousness has not been destroyed by the changes there will remain an experience of self: this is the essential 'I'.
When the 'I' refers to itself using the term 'I', it is referring to an experience that cannot by definition be had by another. If another could experience the totality of my 'I' it would become identical with it; having become 'I', it would no longer be another. Destroy the 'I' and it no longer exists to refer to itself. The term 'I' therefore has important semantic significance. When I hear another use the term I make an assumption that there is a similar consciousness 'inside', although I cannot be certain of this. Supposing my consciousness was to suddenly disappear but my body somehow continued to operate as before, living my life with no apparent changes (a so-called 'philosophical zombie'); lacking any behavioural or physiological clues to the absence of consciousness my friends and family would have no reason to suspect that the mindless automaton before them no longer possessed the conscious 'I' assumed to have been there all along. The zombie's usage of the word 'I' would elicit identical responses as before but semantically the word would be empty (for the zombie) - with no conscious 'I' to which it would refer it would be merely one more noise among the many comprising the language, a system of rules blindly applied in complex interactions emulating those of a conscious being.
'I' am my consciousness.

Consciousness experiences itself as a continuous process. Even a seemingly static conscious experience - the attention fully absorbed by a particular thing with no disturbances from external sources - is constantly changing. There is always a sense of time passing, of the present state of awareness being subsequent to those preceding it. States of consciousness can be defined somewhat arbitrarily to last for various lengths of time, but they must have some duration. A momentary consciousness with an infinitesimally short duration is logically impossible - without duration such a hypothetical state must be considered to begin and end at precisely the same instant i.e. it could not be considered to have occurred at all.
A consecutive series of arbitrarily divided conscious states may be represented as follows:
C1 - C2 - C3 - C4 - C5
Generally, I do not feel surprised at new thoughts as they arise. I feel a sense of ownership over successive conscious states, particularly when actively pursuing a train of thought or deliberating intently over some choice. The process feels intentional; C1 leads to C2 in accordance with my will. For this to be the case successive conscious states must be in some way formulated in those preceding them (otherwise they would seem to spring into existence from nothing). C1 must therefore contain the germ of C2 in order for C2 to follow as intended:C1(C2) - C2(C3) - C3(C4) - C4(C5) - C5(C6) etc.
Conscious states are determined by multiple factors: psychologically, by the preceding conscious states and the action of the unconscious mind; neurologically, by the complex functioning of the brain and nervous system; physiologically, by the action of somatic and hormonal influences on the nervous system; externally, by the influence of environmental and social factors on the organism; physically, by the blind, chaotic behaviour of the substances, chemicals, atoms etc. of which the organism is composed. These factors are in a state of flux, their continuous changes influencing and being influenced by the others. Successive conscious states are non-identical.
However closely approximated, (C2) is not C2. In any case, (C2) exists as part of the C1(C2) complex - C1(C2) certainly is not C2(C3).
If it was possible to achieve perfect correspondence between (C2) and C2 there would be no need to treat them as separate entities - (C2) would contain the totality of C2 which in turn would contain (C3), C3, (C4), C4 etc. The series of conscious states would be contained within a single state: C12345….. (or simply ‘C’). Anything short of perfect omniscience (simultaneous experience of all states transcending the notion of time) or perfect prescience (all states predetermined but latent until consciously actualised) must involve a division of the conscious experience i.e. a succession of states contingent upon prior and contemporary factors and therefore unknowable before the moment of their realisation. Consciousness, including all thoughts, feelings and perceptions of the subjective ‘I’, is not produced or influenced by a controlling ‘will’; the ‘will’ itself, as part of the conscious experience, is a product of the processes underpinning other aspects of conscious states. Rather than considering consciousness to be a process governed - in whole or in part - by intentionality, it should be considered a process of continual revelation.

Consciousness-as-Revelation

The idea of consciousness-as-revelation seems counterintuitive at first, but with reflection and self-observation seems undeniable. The obvious objection stems from the lack of surprise (usually) felt at the continual creation of the conscious experience. However, the quality of surprise - or indifference - is part of the experience. There is no pre-existing ‘I’ to which the conscious experience happens, and to which the ‘I’ will react (with surprise or otherwise). The ‘I’ is the experience, including all the affective and sensory qualities revealed therein (It may be argued that sensory perceptions - which refer often to things beyond the organism - are not part of the ‘I’. However, perceptions are not the perceived things in themselves: they are representations, qualia - my qualia and therefore part of my personal conscious experience). Perhaps there exist individuals who do experience a continuous feeling of surprise at their changing consciousness, but it is difficult to imagine how such a permanently introspective condition could confer any evolutionary advantage.

‘Unexpected’ Thoughts

Most of the time my consciousness progresses without involving a reflection upon the continual revelation of developing states and the passing away of prior ones, but there are frequent occasions when I do experience surprise at the process. An unbidden thought; a long forgotten memory triggered by some sensory experience or arising with apparent spontaneity, perhaps giving rise to further associated memories; the sudden perceptual shift induced by an illusion or magic trick. These kinds of conscious events feel different to the typical conscious experience - a kind of cognitive non sequitur.
I am walking along thinking about something when a completely unconnected and unanticipated thought springs to mind; later, I say of this experience ‘...it occurred to me that…’ The term ‘occurred’ is apposite - it simply happened (I use the colloquial phrasing although this does retain the implication that there was a separate ‘I’ to whom the thought occurred. Rather than ‘it occurred to me’ a more appropriate wording would be ‘the thought occurred’). In addition to its specific content the thought included the usual qualities identifying it as my thought; even though ‘I’ did not intend to have it, it felt as though it originated in my mind, for my mind; I retained a sense of ownership, of responsibility over it; it was mine. This quality of ownership characterises all my conscious states; loss of ownership gives rise to valid but pathological experiences (e.g. the schizophrenic who ‘hears voices’).
‘Unexpected’ thoughts are occasions when the phenomenon of consciousness-as-revelation is noticed consciously (the experience of noticing itself being part of the revelatory experience). The nature of consciousness-as-revelation means that all other conscious states also simply occur. The occurrence of the typical conscious process is distinguished from ‘unexpected’ consciousness in that it is not noticed.
‘I’ am my consciousness. ‘I’ occur.

‘Intentional’ Thoughts

When I engage in a process of deliberate thought - when my attention is purposely directed towards the analysis of a problem, making a decision, recollection of specific facts etc. - I am not surprised by the thoughts that arise. They occur (so it seems) because I caused them to occur; they feel like products of my will. It is counterintuitive to consider these thoughts as simply ‘occurring’ in the same manner as ‘unexpected’ or ‘passive’ aspects of the conscious experience, and yet this must be so given that they are part of the conscious experience: consciousness-as-revelation. In a similar way in which ‘unexpected’ thoughts arise containing a conscious sense of surprise, ‘intentional’ thoughts carry a sense of intentionality.
Suppose I have an ‘intentional’ thought e.g. I make a choice between two options, A and B. I decide to choose A, experiencing a thought amounting to ‘I choose A’ (this is obviously a description of the meaning of the thought, the experience being non-verbal). Call this thought ‘Z’. I feel as though I had Z; I take ownership of it; I made the decision. For this to be true - to avoid the possibility that the thought simply sprang into being from external sources (or from ‘nowhere’) I must have intended to choose A - I must have had a thought amounting to ‘I intend to choose A’ (I.e. ‘I intend Z’) Call this thought Y. Z follows Y in accordance with my will. But for this to be true - for me to avoid once again the possibility that Y has simply ‘occurred’ - I must have intended Y i.e. had a prior thought, X, amounting to ‘I intend Y’. And so on, X requiring W, W requiring V…... True ownership of consciousness would involve an impossible infinite regress for every conscious state. At some stage the conscious experience must ‘occur’. The feeling of ownership, of choice, of intentionality, is strongest when experiencing intentional thoughts because this is what identifies them as such. This feeling is itself a quality of consciousness-as-revelation.

Determinism and Free Will

One of the major philosophical problems is that of determinism versus free will. Essentially: if the universe is deterministic i.e. if all matter, energy and forces in the universe operate according to causal physical laws such that the states of any and all physical systems are the inevitable consequences of prior states, and if consciousness is produced by the brain (a physical system), free will cannot exist.
Whether or not the universe is deterministic has not been established with certainty (subatomic quantum processes cannot yet be described in deterministic terms). However, it has been pointed out that in a non-deterministic universe free will may not be possible since on some level it would consist of entirely random, acausal phenomena i.e. it would be the consequence of randomness rather than free self-determination. Various arguments have been put forward both supporting and refuting the idea that determinism and free will are contradictory (incompatibilism versus compatibilism).
Whether consciousness is entirely a product of the brain has not been established with certainty, although there is an ever increasing abundance of evidence to support the idea. The study of injuries to the brain has for centuries helped to identify specific areas vital for the performance of various cognitive functions. Modern scanning techniques have furthered the mapping of the brain, correlating psychological activities with specific patterns of neurological activity. Nevertheless, idealistic theories persist (both religious and secular varieties) in which consciousness has its own distinct being, existing independently from matter (even if the two forms of existence sometimes interact closely in the form of organic intelligence).
The point is this: whether or not the universe is deterministic; whether the basis of consciousness is materialistic or idealistic - ‘I’ am my consciousness-as-revelation.

The implication of the above statement is that as far as psychological ‘freedom’ may be spoken of with regards to the deterministic/indeterministic nature of the universe, the fact of consciousness-as-revelation ensures that I am almost as free as it is possible to be. I say almost since I undoubtedly perform certain habitual behaviours which are within my power to identify and eliminate e.g. repeatedly performing a physical task in an typical, routine fashion or responding to social stimuli in a predictably characteristic manner. While these behaviours remain habitual they arguably reduce my effective ‘freedom’ although I am always ‘free’ to identify and change them (this does not apply if I have chosen to retain the habitual behaviour e.g. allowing myself to carry out an accustomed task ‘automatically’ for the sake of convenience, thereby enabling my attention to be occupied by a more worthwhile subject).
The threat of indeterminism as a source of randomness is assuaged by the fact that consciousness-as-revelation is experienced by and in the form of a knowing subject - the ‘I’ in ‘I am my consciousness’. However variable or even contradictory this ‘I’ might seem, consciousness occurs as revelation for it alone, consistent throughout all its inconsistencies. ‘I’ am one; ‘I’ am not now this one and now another one, for ‘I’ cannot possibly be another. Throughout all experience involving ‘I’ there must persist the irreducible experience of ‘I’, however much this ‘I’ may seem to change. Otherwise the whole experience would be no more than a series of disconnected phenomena occurring for no ‘one’.
The threat of determinism to the concept of freedom cannot be entirely avoided, but the problem can be approached from different angles. The fact of consciousness-as-revelation means that even if the universe is entirely deterministic, ‘I’ can never experience myself as such. Perhaps every aspect of my being is purely the inevitable consequence of the preceding state, every thought and action part of the ongoing causal chain of events comprising the entire universe. Perhaps; but without consciousness there would be no ‘I’ to comprehend such an idea, an ‘I’ experiencing itself always as revelation and therefore unknowable to itself in advance. ‘I’ may not be free, but my experience is unavoidably one of freedom.

Semantics

The question of conscious freedom may be thought of as a purely semantic issue. Whatever the actual state of affairs is, it is. The universe was as it was, is as it is, will be as it will be irrespective of what any intelligent being might say about it. Confusion about whether or not I am ‘free’ might be put down to - as the semanticists would say - ‘confusion of orders of abstraction’. The universe, the world, exists at its basic level as raw ‘stuff’. From this ‘stuff’ emerges structure, form, life. Some of this life attains a level of intelligence capable of using language, abstract thought, introspection, etc. These beings turn their attention to the universe around and within them and attempt to make sense of what they observe. They do not, however, ever directly experience the raw ‘stuff’, the ‘things-in-themselves’. They experience only representations of these things, images constructed by their brains from patterns of neurological activity produced by the sense organs in response to physical stimuli. ‘I’ never really ‘see’ a tree; ‘I’ experience the representation of a tree produced by my brain according to the pattern of neurological activity induced by light bouncing off the tree and into my eyes. My experience - my representation - of the tree is already several orders of abstraction away from the raw ‘stuff’ of the tree itself. The tree - the world - is non-verbal. To assign a label to some part of the world is to abstract further. The ‘thing’ is not the word. Anything I say about any ‘thing’ involves a further abstraction, utilising words equally abstracted from the ideas they are supposed to represent with varying semantic values depending on their context, the structure of the proposition in which they are used, my subjective reactions to them, etc. As the semanticists would say, ‘the map is not the territory’ (for further information see Korzybski, Science and Sanity, 5th Edition, 1994).
The trouble with ‘freedom’ may therefore be a purely semantic issue. The idea of psychological freedom is generally taken for granted. It seems so obvious; even if you lock me up and take away all my physical freedoms I will always be free in my thoughts. This idea is so culturally ingrained that when philosophical inquiries bring us to the possibility that it may not be true the natural reaction is likely to be one of denial, depression or hostility. Such a reaction is understandable in the sense that a deeply held assumption is being threatened. It is less understandable when you consider the fact that the reality of what I ‘am’ is what it is, existing on the non-verbal level and utterly indifferent to any statements made about it. Rather than beginning with the assertion ‘I am free’ (and getting upset when this idea is challenged) I would be much better to ask ‘am I free?’ As with any question in the form ‘am I X’ the answer will depend on the definition of X. What is freedom? Once again I face semantic difficulties; words are defined using other words, each with their own semantic ambiguities. As I approach some form of definition I must take account of the world around me - I exist in and as a part of the universe; to be free is therefore to be free in and as a part of this universe. My definition must take account of the structure and nature of the universe, not least the question of whether it is deterministic. Logically, if the universe is deterministic - if it is absolutely, unquestionably deterministic - everything therein must be part of a complex network of causality and there can be no possibility of the type of freedom I seek. If the universe is to any extent non - deterministic, my philosophical enquiries will forever be plagued by the intrinsic randomness at some level of reality - in which case even if I succeed in making a case for ‘freedom’, ever more elusive will become the ‘I’ to which I wish to assign such a quality.
Such is the muddle of circular reasoning thrown up purely by associating the two under-defined terms ‘I’ and ‘free’. By simply recognising that the confusion lies in the structure of the question I can pull the rug from under the whole problem. Am ‘I’ ‘free’? Is ‘X’ ‘Y’? It depends how you define ‘X’ and ‘Y’. In this context not only are the definitions beyond my grasp (an exhaustive definition would require a more complete understanding of the universe than currently available) but the definition of ‘Y’ must be made in terms of ‘X’ (it is assumed that there exists a defined ‘I’ that is able to be ‘free’). The question may therefore be written off as either indeterminable or meaningless.
So much for freedom. What about consciousness? Is there any more success to be found asking ‘am I conscious?’ We have arrived at the point of departure. All systems have their foundations, the irreducible bases upon which the entire edifice is built. This work takes as its fundamental axiom the proposition ‘I’ am my consciousness. By definition, ‘I’ am conscious. ‘I’ am not just any consciousness, or consciousness in general: ‘I’ am specifically my consciousness, the immediate, irreducible, subjective experience of consciousness-as-revelation constituting my entire existence. I posit the existence of other conscious beings, but I have no proof of their existence. I cannot escape the possibility of solipsism, but at least - at the very least - ‘I’ cannot doubt the reality of my own consciousness. There is at least one conscious being in this universe. ‘I’ am my own validation.