To be rewritten.
A more accurate title here would be “Consciousness Explained Away,” as greater wits than I have pointed out. This re-titling itself gives the gist of the work's true project, which is to see just how far the explaining-away of our first-person starting point as conscious existents can proceed before self-contradiction ensues. A big part of the problem is Dennett's disingenuous attempt to masquerade explaining-away for explanation which makes it difficult to assess the true value of his contribution to the problem. A more minor annoyance was Dennett's penchant for rhetorical pyrotechnic displays, through which he expresses his sustained assurance that, should the reader fail to accept the terms of his reductive mode of explanation, it must simply be because s/he is a rank, blinkered dogmatist given to retrograde mythifying! Yet it turns out that, like a photo negative, even an attempt to explain-away can indirectly illumine the object. When Dennett's angle of approach leads him to self-contradiction, or else to smuggle in ever subtler computational and mechanomorphic anthropomorphisms in order to fill the explanatory gaps that are (inevitably) left over, we can discern the areas in which his eliminative materialist starting point fails us and where we need to pay the phenomenology of lived experience its dues.
Introspection reveals a distinction between two ways that a thing can be a locus in the world: perspective and physical location. Whereas the latter can be defined geometrically, as a point held in a web of relations in space and time, the latter, as a qualitative locus, seems to leave us with an unexplained phenomenal remainder when we consider it from a purely physicalist framework. The criteria by which we conceive the identity of our first-person being and those that we use to conceive the identity of physical objects thus seem to diverge at this point, hence the so-called hard-problem of consciousness.
Dennett's is an effort to explain in purely third-person terms the most characteristic features of our conscious life, most notably, the persistent conviction we have of being selves, loci of perspective, and unitary ontic centers in our own right. This is the persisting intuition we have of the irreducibility of our first-person stance, which discloses the world as experience. Unfortunately, explanation by third-person principles falls short of describing the integrity and consistency of the phenomenal domain, and Dennett is left throughout trying to (rather awkwardly) explain away all the phenomena that can't fit on the procrustean bed of his eliminativist methodology. In the process, reified computational metaphors are smuggled in to fill the explanatory void left once reference to the phenomena themselves has been suppressed.
The central thesis in Dennett's work is that the self, far from being some ultimate ontological reference point, as it has been since at least the Cogito, is an epiphenomenal construct. To understand the significance of this move, you have to consider the foundational function the notion of the substantival self has played in philosophy. Now, we infer a substantial, ontic center to the psyche, much as we once inferred an ontic center to the natural order, via the concept of God. The reasoning in both cases is the same: if there's an orderly web (to borrow Dennett's own image) to be seen, there must be a center to the web, whether that web be experience or the cosmos itself. Losing reference to that center, we lose our last basis for grounding explanation itself in some kind of reality, even the restricted reality of the self, to which Kant clung for rational grounding.
The placeholder for the center in an ontology is the sign of signs, because it is the organizer of all other signs. The self is perhaps the last refuge of substance ontology in the post-Kantian worldview. Phenomenology has since replaced ontology as rational grounding, and as substance was evacuated from the cosmos, it was pushed inwards, into the domain of “lived experience.” Now we find the last remainder of substance ontology in the notion of the supposed irreduibility of the “qualia” characterizing the first person stance.
Kant posited the empirically unknowable central subject as a necessary presupposition for explaining the order and regularity that emerge in our otherwise scattered stream of experience. The Kantian transcendental argument for postulating a unitary subject that underlies and grounds the systematicity of experience can be summed up as follows: “If there is no central self, then there can be no regularity in experience. If there is no regularity in experience, then no explanation is possible, scientific or otherwise. But scientific explanation is, manifestly, possible. So there must be a unitary self grounding the experience from which scientific explanations are gleaned.” Dennett's radical claim, against Kant, is that we can have regularity, and therefore explanation, without postulating a substantial, central self stocked with qualia. Such a postulate, to him, is merely a reified abstraction from underlying, neural-computational processes.
Dennett clearly takes an impish delight in his self-promotion as myth-buster extraordinaire. He takes great pains to show how the higher order unities of aesthetic enjoyment, responsible ethical agency and rational understanding that structure our experience at its highest are nothing more than the by-products of the collective behaviour of “stupid machines” in the brain. According to his multiple-drafts theory of consciousness, the sense of our being grounded in a unitary center of subjectivity at any given time – that feeling that underlies all experience, that we can give words to and call “I here, now” - is a mere abstraction edited out of a confluence of “parallel, multitrack processes of interpretation and elaboration” that are inaccessible to introspection. The “I” that seems attached to every datum of my experience, making it “mine,” turns out to be a linguistically reified narrative construct. It represents the draft that momentarily trumps all others, the one that best streamlines the cacophony of parallel inner processes of endless revision into some kind of provisionally coordinated, working whole. There is no “central meaner” that corresponds to the linguistic sign, “I,” nor anything remotely akin to a causal agent in the brain. Unitary, centralized consciousness is a pragmatic “user illusion.” “Consciousness Imagined,” indeed. If anybody thought that the last vestige of Substance ontology that we find in the Kantian Transcendental Subject could hide here, in the fictive “Cartesian Theater” of phenomenology, Dennett would disabuse us of this notion.
In his chapter, “The Reality of Selves,” he describes the self as a narrative and pragmatic “principle of organization.” It is not much of a stretch to say that, according to his theory, we story ourselves into existence, much as we are storied by others. “Our fundamental tactic of self-protection, self-control, and self-definition is not spinning webs or building dams, but telling stories, and more particularly connecting and controlling the story we tell others - and ourselves - about who we are.”
He describes how making a self has to do with boundary creation, first via biological, then via cultural means. Boundary production starts with fencing off one's turf in physical space, as a cell forms a semi-permeable lipid membrane around itself. It culminates with fencing off one's turf in symbolic-linguistic space via the narrative identity-kits with which we shape our experience into a whole that bears the mark of our historic, cultural, and social backgrounds. Our narratives are thus our most powerful tools, as a species. The way that a spider spins webs to gain power over its environment in shaping it, so do humans gain control by reshaping their cultural environment via their posited narratives. Remember, consciousness to Dennett -just is- the epiphenomenal glow that attends a powerful, winning narrative structure. Persistent identity is persistent narrative. The boundaries of consciousness are the boundaries supplied by given patterns of narrative formation. Enter Foucault's analysis of the relation between narrative patterns and entrenched power structures.
“And where is the thing your self-representation is about? It is wherever you are. And what is this thing? It is nothing more than, and nothing less than, your center of narrative gravity.” Far from being a necessary ontological postulate of reason, a “thing” or a “place” where you find your standing in the world, consciousness turns out to be a fiction that is successively neurally re-instantiated according to variable cultural patterns of stimulus-selection. The only “center” that we in fact have is an imaginative construct, a “center of narrative gravity.” There is no agency, no you, involved in this ceaseless editorial process. “You” are quite simply storied into being by your brain's underlying computational processes. The core schema of “you” emerges as a means of simplifying the discordant mess of neural processes so as to produce a coherent map of reality that your brain can use to orient itself in the world.
So how do you get rational integration and unified conscious experience out of the collective behaviour of irreducibly plural interpretive strands of neuro-computation? To explain that, Dennett introduces the metaphorical device of a piece of neural “software” that, much like a serial computer, creates a step-by-step narrative thread out of the multiplex cacophony of conflicting reality-takes. Whether and how reason can mysteriously emerge from such a clamour of “stupid” computational “processes” is unclear. The metaphor does all the argumentative work here by painting a picture, and assures us that somehow, it just all hangs together like-so.
Mental imagery is where we'd be most tempted to posit some kind of substance to experience, in the form of qualia. It is precisely this domain that he surveys at some length, although from what I've read elsewhere (Evan Thompson's Mind in Life has a great chapter surveying the current state of imagery research), the imagery research so critical to his philosophical argument is far from being conclusive. Mental images, he argues, are what most supply us with the illusion that there is what he calls “figment” or “plenitude” to experience. Above all, it is images that give the feeling of continuity. But it's computation all the way down, if you look at experience (of colour, for instance) from a neural processing perspective. Because he characterizes experience as a “theoretical, narrative construct,” there is no “hard problem of consciousness” for him to contend with. The problem, he hopes, vanishes through redescription via the reigning computational metaphor.
And what about our nagging sense that experience comes as a sort of system, a perceptibly integrated whole, in short? “What we actually experience is the product of many processes of interpretation – editorial processes in effect.” In Dennett's view, it is this ongoing selectivity, simplification and editing out of surplus information so that it comes to fit a manageable pattern that can guide the organism's responses at the time. Moreover, “paradoxically, our sense of continuity comes from our marvelous insensitivity to most kinds of changes rather than from any genuine perceptiveness.” The “unity” that we take to be the measure of conscious realization is thus, ironically, a measure of blindness. This abstractive process of simplification that gives the semblance of consistency, integrity and texture to our stream of consciousness exists because of its great adaptive value, helping reduce noise in favour of survival-relevant information. Underlying the official editorial revision that glosses unity, our experience is, in fact, a cacophonous din.
Nor is there any canonical version of experience that you could poke a stick at and claim to be the real, true, “authentic” version of your experience. There is only an endless proliferation of versions, of drafts, of angles and perspectival takes. This is not only too bad for the poor self striving for autonomy, but also for the whole endeavour of philosophy and science to produce a complete explanation of anything. A Kantian quest for monolithic, universal principles of perspective-taking (which could provide the basis for explanation) was a neurally unrealizable fantasy. There just is no rationally unified perspective in the brain.
Since the interpretive pattern that constitutes “consciousness” is configured according to parameters learnt via cultural indoctrination, “pure” phenomenology turns out to be an exercise in cultural description. Far from offering any privileged access to my mind, it turns out to offer no access at all, since all that swims up to the top from this preconscious swarm is cultural script. Dennett's ontological commitment to a mechanistic-computational metaphor ultimately compels him to devalue first person evidence by claiming its reducibility to a “heterophenomenological” approach that a priori assumes that verbal reports give us sufficient purchase on lived experience. Every dimension of experience that doesn't fit into the constraints of his methodological presuppositions falls through the cracks as so much fictive dross.
That experience is to a large extent a formal construct is an insight at least as old as Kant. However, what Kant and most of his successors had and what Dennett wants to do away with is the residual ontic substrate that was held to necessarily underlie the construct. Dennet would slice away even this and in its place substitute a free-floating tissue of narrative monologue, supported only by distributed parallel processing.
Dennett's overriding motive is, I think, at bottom noble. He is troubled by the proliferation, in past attempts to explain mind, of homuncular, anthropomorphic, perpetually-unopenable, and intuitively-pleasing black-boxes which are supposed to designate the terminus of explanation. Where scientific analysis fails, a suitable homuncular resting point – a pseudo-explanatory myth or fiction – can be inserted. However, his solution to the problem substitutes one mode of pseudo-explanation for another.
Terrence Deacon, in his “Incomplete Nature,” called the eliminativist pattern of pseudo-explanation a species of explanation by “golems.” “Golem” accounts are attempts to describe the phenomenon of mind by dissecting it into mechanistic/computational parts. Dennett's view of mind as an information-processing device constituted by the joint functioning of myriad mini “stupid machines” in the brain is clearly a golem. Deacon shows how attempts such as Dennett's to purge anthropomorphic black-boxes, or homunculi, out of scientific explanation only end up being forced to pay their dues to the qualitative loci for which homunculi are “place-holders” by bringing ever-more “cryptic homunculi” into the picture, usually in the form of “golems,” which are “fractionated homunculi.” Deacon offered an elegant argument showing that explanation by golems is a cure worse than the homunculus disease, because it proceeds by presupposing ever subtler homuncular properties (such as informational, representational, and functional properties) at lower levels, without explaining them. Thus, the impersonal computational machines projected into the brain are treated by Dennett as ultimate loci of representation and information, without explaining how these representational and informational relations emerge.
Deacon showed how such a view takes informational relations out of the larger dynamic context which makes them possible and which grounds their real-world reference. It relies on an abstract, engineering definition of information which presupposes extrinsically-imposed reference – a human interpreter who can fix the representational relationship, or specify what the information is about. In contrast, he shows how information in living organisms is intrinsically interpreted, by virtue of the role it plays in the self-organizing dynamics of life. Thus, Dennett's reductionist approach cannot explain end-directed phenomena such as information, and representation, even as it presupposes these by inserting them, as “cryptic computational homunculi,”to make its eliminativist explanation work.
I would agree with Deacon that Dennett's hand-waving pseudo-explanatory insertions, at crucial parts of his argument, of golem metaphors can't be seen, as Dennett claims, as just descriptive glosses to be replaced by the more complex neuro-computational explanation that is supposed to be forthcoming. Rather, they must be seen as the places at which efforts to explain away phenomenology break down.
Lastly, the Kantian challenge of grounding explanation without the postulate of a unitary self remains. What is the epistemic status of Dennett's theory, if correct? If correct, and multiple drafts are all there are, then Dennett undercuts his own theory's rational basis. The whole truth of the theory is predicated on Dennett's (and our) capacity to hold together a synoptic, rational perspective on our minds that is more than just a momentary coalescence of distributive parallelism and interpretive pluralism. Otherwise, truth claims – even Dennett's – would be merely pragmatic fictional simplifications which are also inescapably distortions of the facts. An empirical theory that “explains away” the unity of conscious experience as an epiphenomenon undercuts its own rational basis.
The theory, as such, can't even be coherently articulated. In articulating it, you refute it, because you presuppose the first-person unitary subject that you attempt to explain away. More troubling still, it doesn't seem to be capable of informing any possible perspective that we can take on the world.
An empirical, homunculus-free explanation of consciousness need not be a reductive golem. Such an account is provided by such thinkers as Damasio, Deacon, Thompson, and Lakoff, whose physicalist theories of mind are nonetheless developed in dialogue with first-person accounts of lived experience.
Ultimately, as Thompson points out, experience is, inescapably, our original guide, since the content of any of the concepts that frame a theory of mind can only come from our intuitive, first-person experience of our own minds:
“To deny the truth of our own experience in the scientific study of ourselves is not only unsatisfactory; it is to render the scientific study of ourselves without a subject matter. But to suppose that science cannot contribute to an understanding