What It Is Like To Experience X One thing that always bothers me about 'what it is like to experience X' questions is the assumption - at least it seems to me like an assumption - that the thing in question (X) is already-individuated or 'picked out'. Like, if we take something less generic than 'red', and substitute my cat, 'Tabby', the question becomes far more ambigious.
Is there an experience of Tabby? And what does that mean? An experience of the weave of colors that is Tabby? The textures of her fur and the glossiness of her eyes? Or is there an experience of Tabby's movement as she knocks over the vase? What about her warmth? Do I experience Tabby-the-animal? Tabby-my-loved-cat? Do I 'experience' something named Tabby at all (does one experience a 'named' thing? - what difference does a name make?). Is my 'experience of Tabby' an aggregate of all these? Some but not others? In some situations but not others?
So I tend to find questions about 'what it is like to experience red?' to be a kind of cheat: it doesn't ask an interesting question. It takes for granted a certain 'how' of experience, it 'fixes' - in the sense of nailing down - the 'object' of experinece in a completely artificial way. It's a bad question. Everything interesting about 'what it is like to experience X' happens outside, beyond this question.
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Merleau-Ponty has some beautiful passages trying to get at this:
"We must first understand that this red under my eyes is not, as is always said, a quale, a pellicle of being without thickness, a message at the same time indecipherable and evident, which one has or has not received, but of which, if one has received it, one knows all there is to know, and of which in the end there is nothing to say. ...
[Instead], Its precise form is bound up with a certain wooly, metallic, or porous configuration or texture, and the quale itself counts for very little compared with these participations. ... The color is yet a variant in another dimension of variation, that of its relations with the surroundings: this red is what it is only by connecting up from its place with other reds about it, with which it forms a constellation, or with other colors it dominates or that dominate it, that it attracts or that attract it, that it repels or that repel it. In short, it is a certain node in the woof of the simultaneous and the successive. It is a concretion of visibility, it is not an atom.
If we took all these participations into account, we would recognize that a naked color, and in general a visible, is not a chunk of absolutely hard, indivisible being, offered all naked to a vision which could be only total or null, but is rather a sort of straits between exterior horizons and interior horizons ever gaping open, something that comes to touch lightly and makes diverse regions of the colored or visible world resound at the distances, a certain differentiation, an ephemeral modulation of this world— less a color or a thing, therefore, than a difference between things and colors, a momentary crystallization of colored being or of visibility." (The Visible and the Invisible)