The Missing Ingredient

[CENTER]the Missing Ingredient[/CENTER]


[CENTER]Whoever[/CENTER]


[CENTER]With Apologies to Whom it May Concern[/CENTER]




[CENTER]Episode I[/CENTER]


[CENTER]A Puzzle in the Paper [/CENTER]


It is a late autumn Sunday morning. At 221B Baker Street Mrs. Hudson has lit the fire and cleared away the breakfast things. Holmes and Watson are comfortably settled in their armchairs reading the papers.

"I say Holmes, have you seen this piece in the Times about consciousness?"

Holmes folds his paper and lays it on the table at his side, exchanging it for his pipe. Leaning forward he knocks the pipe out on the grate. Once yesterday's ashes have been dislodged he sits back and reaches for his tobacco.

"About whose consciousness?"

"Well, I don't know. Yours and mine I suppose."

"There's an article about our consciousness in the Times, Watson? This is a clear breach of privacy.

"No, no, Holmes. Not our consciousness. The consciousness we all have in common. Everybody's consciousness."

Holmes holds a match to the first pipe of day. He draws on it a few times, pulling the flame down into the strong black tobacco. The pipe securely lit and the match thrown into the fire, he settles back in his chair.

"Then there is only one thing for it, old chap, we must bring a class action."

"No, no, Holmes, why must you play these games. It's not about our own consciousness, our own private thoughts and dreams and so forth. You know very well what I mean. It's about human consciousness, the consciousness we all have."

"Well now," Holmes pauses to pull on his pipe, considering his next move, "if everybody has this same consciousness then it's not yours and mine after all. First you say one thing and then another."

"Holmes, you are impossible sometimes. I'll say no more about it." Watson sits back huffily and makes a drama of re-opening his paper. Holmes relents.

"I'm sorry Watson. Our enforced idleness makes me irritable. Not a decent case for months. The criminal fraternity seems to have lost the ability to outwit the police. A sorry state of affairs. Please do carry on. What is interesting about this article of yours?"

"What is interesting about it, Holmes, is that the author says that consciousness is the most baffling problem in the science of the mind."

Holmes is quiet for minute or two. It is as if he has lost interest in the conversation. Watson knows better than to interrupt his friend's calculations.

"I should have thought," Holmes replies eventually, without shifting his gaze from the the flames dancing around the coals in the fire, "that it is the only problem in the science of the mind."

"Well, that may be so Holmes. I wouldn't know. Anyway, he says it cannot be solved."

"A preposterous idea, Watson. No problem cannot be solved. If it doesn't have a solution then it is not a problem but a misunderstanding. But this article begins to interest me. Who is the writer?"

"Some philosopher chap. Mostly quotes other people. Says that however we try to explain consciousness we keep finding a missing ingredient in the explanation. Well, no, the ingredient isn't in the explanation, it's not in the explanation, that's the problem. Every explanation of consciousness they can think of has a gap in it. Without an extra ingredient they're stumped."

"Ah, my friend, how often have we faced this problem?"

"We have?"

"Most certainly. Are we not often consulted when our conscientious officers of the law have identified all the suspects for a crime but cannot work out which one of them committed it?"

"I suppose we are, yes. I remember a number of such cases. There was the time we first tangled with that chap Athelney Jones."

"That would be an example, yes. In such cases the police find they cannot explain the crime by assuming that any of their suspects committed it. Yet a certain doggedness makes them keener to prove one of them guilty than make the obvious but inconvenient inference. In such cases there is usually a suspect missing from the list in whose absence the crime is inexplicable."

"By Jove, Holmes, I see what you're getting at. In all of the explanations they can think of there is a missing suspect, so they cannot solve the case.'

"I'd prefer to say that all of their explanations are wrong and this is why they are missing an ingredient, but it comes to same thing. Consider the Sholto case. From the evidence I was able to infer that none of the police suspects could have committed the crime. By eliminating them one by one from our enquiry we proved that either there was a suspect missing from their list or the crime could not have been committed. Of course, there never was a missing ingredient. Poor chap had clearly been murdered and someone must have done it. Our detective friend Jones made an assumption and didn't want to change it. How often have I said to you over the years, old friend, that when you have eliminated the impossible what remains, however improbable, must be the truth?'

"True enough, Holmes, true enough. You've said it many times. Said it at the time if I remember right. Police were dumbfounded. All quite obvious to us of course."

Holmes takes a few moments to tamp down his tobacco and puff it back into life.

"Quite so, Watson. Quite so. They had all the suspects under lock and key. All that remained was to prove which one was the culprit. Elementary mistake. I expect this is what your philosopher chap is talking about when he says there is an ingredient missing from his explanation."

"Well, yes, no doubt you're right, Holmes. Usually are. Don't know how you do it. Damn tricky business. Couldn't follow the whole thing myself. Why don't you read it?"

He starts to fold the paper. Holmes makes no move to take it.

"Does your philosopher say how many ingredients there ought to be in his explanation?"

"I think he says they've found two but there should be three. Doesn't say what the third is, just says it's missing."

"Only three? Well then, he just hasn't looked everywhere. No doubt it will turn up. Our scientists have only recently turned their attention to human consciousness. No doubt a century from now his missing ingredient problem will seem trivial."

"But that's the thing, Holmes. He says the ingredient will never turn up. Something to do with metaphysics."

"Ah, that accursed game of chess with the devil. But never turn up? This seems unlikely. Which two ingredients are not missing?"

"I can't answer all these questions, Holmes, you must read it yourself. Chap talks a lot about mind and matter so perhaps it's them." Watson opens his paper and scans the page. "Quotes a fellow called David Chalmers somewhere. Yes, here it is."

We have seen that there are systematic reasons why the usual methods of cognitive science and neuroscience fail to account for consciousness experience. These are simply the wrong sort of methods: nothing that they give to us can yield an explanation. To account for conscious experience, we need an extra ingredient in the explanation. This makes for a challenge to those who are serious about the hard problem of consciousness: What is your extra ingredient, and why should that account for conscious experience?

Holmes rises from his chair and walks to the window. Clasping his hands behind his back he stands and observes the people passing by in the street. The middle aged man, not wealthy, but secure enough on a major's pension. The girl, a maid on an errand. A young couple holding hands, out for some air, married a few months. The older couple with children walking over to spend the afternoon with relatives. The occasional cab clatters past, but with the weather turning colder the street, the city, is a quiet as it has been for many months. He returns to the fire, gives it it a few pokes with the poker to cheer it up and settes back into his armchair.

"You know, old friend, your article interests me. Philosophy is an impractical activity. Still, if our criminals have lost their imagination and we have no private clients in immediate need of our services then we must somehow pass the time. Why don't you read me some more."

"Can you not read it yourself, Holmes? I can't read you the whole thing from beginning to end. It's too long, and I shan't know which bits you want to hear and which bits you don't. Haven't finished it myself yet."

"No, Watson, if you don't mind I'd prefer to sit and listen. Start where you like. Choose whichever passage you care to. We will see what this fellow's problem is about, and whether it is worthy of our attention."

"I hardly think that even you, Holmes, given your neglect of philosophy, would be able to solve a philosophical problem that the experts say nobody can solve. Damn it man, this is the Times. They wouldn't have published the article if the chap didn't know what he was talking about."

"I didn't hear him say that the problem cannot be solved, Watson. And philosophy it is not about expertise, it is about thinking clearly and methodically. This I feel capable of doing, as you know. As for your expert, he has a problem he cannot solve. In this case we can be no worse at solving it than he is. If he is an expert and knows what he is talking about then this problem is not a trivial one, and it may even present a challenge. Perhaps, old friend, it is a problem that can only be solved by Holmes and Watson. It wouldn't be the first."

"I say, I see what you mean. Like beating the police at their own game, eh."

"In a way, yes, but the situation is not quite equivalent. The game of philosophy is not owned by anyone. On the contrary, it is a game nobody can avoid playing. We can only play it more or less enthusiastically. Why don't you read the passage that first made you think I'd be interested in this problem. Where precisely did it first occur to you that I might want to read the article."

"Well, yes, that's it. There was a place. About half-way through. Struck me straight away."

Watson straightens the paper and searches for the passage. "Lost it now. Quotes another philosopher talking about the same thing."

"Take your time, old chap. Shall I ask Mrs. Hudson to bring up a fresh pot of tea?"

"Jolly good idea. I shall have a cigar. Ah, here it is. Now where's the name. Oh yes, Colin McGinn."

Maybe the reason we are having so much trouble solving the mind-body problem is that reality contains an ingredient that we cannot know. We have only a very partial grip on both mind and brain, but if we could remedy this ignorance the solution to the problem would be immediate and uncontroversial. It's like one of those detective stories in which the detective has only limited information and cannot for the life of him see how to solve the mystery - the crime looks quite impossible to explain in his current state of information - but then he lights upon the crucial missing clue and everything falls into place. But with the case of the mind-body problem, I surmised, the clue is not going to come to light, which explains why we have been mystified by it for centuries. It might come to light, I thought, but it would have to be very different from anything considered so far; it would certainly not be some minor tinkering with one of the theories currently around. And in my bones I felt that there was some deep-seated obstacle in our intellectual makeup that prevents us from understanding the missing clue.

Watson lowers the paper and looks up. Holmes has been listening with eyes closed but now opens them. Elbows resting on the arms of the chair, he brings his fingertips together.

"There are points about this case that promise to make it a fascinating one, Watson. Well done for spotting it." He is silent for a moment, tapping his fingers, reviewing the facts. He continues more slowly.

"As you would expect, old friend, I am unwilling to accept that there is a deep-seated obstacle in my intellectual makeup. Neverthless, I cannot counter this charge unless and until I have found McGinn's crucial missing clue. This is indeed a challenge." He continues to tap his fingers together but says no more. Watson waits until quite sure that Holmes has no more to say.

"What about that tea, Holmes?"

"Ah, yes. Quite so. Must get our priorities right." He pulls himself out of his armchair. "But once you have your tea poured and your cigar lit we must continue. Our intellect has been disparaged in print and we must set about defending it. We must see whether this chap's feeling in his bones is anything more than that."

"What about some biscuits?"

Holmes bows ceremoniously, elegant in his old blue dressing-gown over pyjamas.

"I shall see to it immediately." He starts for the door. Watson stands and stretches.


[CENTER]*** [/CENTER]


[CENTER]Episode II [/CENTER]

[CENTER]Some Facts are Examined [/CENTER]


Half an hour later Mrs Hudson has delivered tea and biscuits and seen to the fire. Holmes and Watson are resettled in their armchairs, one clipping a cigar and the other sipping tea. Holmes lowers his cup and saucer.

"Now, Watson, where were we? It is a strange affair. We have a missing ingredient in our theories of mind and matter, a missing clue that is not going to come to light, a crime that looks quite impossible to explain, a problem that has mystified us for centuries and a deep-seated obstacle in our intellectual makeup. We must consider where best to start."

"You should read the article."

"And why should I do this?"

"Because it explains what the problem is and why it cannot be solved."

"But my dear chap, the problem could not be more clear. For a complete mind-matter theory a third ingredient is required, or, at least, a new idea which would have to be very different from anything considered so far, certainly not some minor tinkering with one of the theories currently around."

"But you can't be sure of that, Holmes. Perhaps these fellows have made a mistake. You might be able to prove that another ingredient is not required, or that some minor tinkering would do the trick after all. It's not like you to put so much trust in someone else's reasoning."

"An excellent point, Watson, and I have considered it. But in this instance I think it highly unlikely that a mistake has been made. No, we must take the experts at their word. If there were even a slight chance that some other solution to this problem might be found, a solution requiring neither an extra ingredient nor a radical new idea, then these philosophers would not be suggesting otherwise in print. It would be to offer too great a hostage to fortune. If tomorrow morning one of their students stumbled across a different solution they would be made to look foolish and competent philosophers do not take such risks. No, these chaps are confident that nobody can refute their suggestions. If they say there is no solution for this mind-matter problem other than to suppose there is a missing ingredient in our theories, or, as you say, not in them, or else to come up with a radical new idea, or perhaps even both, then we must presume that this is one of the facts of the case."

Anticipating the next question Watson looks back to the paper.

"I'm not sure what the author means by mind. I suppose he means whatever we think with."

"Possibly. We shall see. I'm more concerned at the moment with what he means by consciousness."

"Ah, that's an easy one. He says it is what it is like."

"Like what?"

"No, it's not like anything. He says that what it is like is what it is."

"Surely he means that what it is like is like what it is."

"Er, no, I'm quite sure he says what is like is the same as what it is, such that what it is is what it is like."

"My dear fellow, a sausage is what it is like. Everything is what it is like as far as you and I will ever know. How could it be otherwise? We might as well say that what it is like is what it is like, and that what it is is what it is. A definition needs to do more than restate Aristotle's law of identity."

"Don't blame me, Holmes. It's not my definition."

"Quite so.My apologies. So, consciousness is is what consciousness is like?"

"Yes. No. Well, it was something like that."

"But you've only just read it, Watson, you can hardly have forgotten already."

"Well, no. But you're confusing me. He says that consciousness is what it is like to have an experience. In fact I think he says that consciousness is experience."

"Ah, that is a little more clear." Holmes considers for a moment. "Or perhaps not. It is a most ingenious definition, I must say. But it hardly seems sufficient for a scientific theory. And he says that it is the existence of this 'what it is like' that we cannot explain?"

"That's it, yes."

"I wonder why he avoids concluding that 'what it is like' is the missing ingredient in our mind-matter theories."

"Can't be that simple old chap."

"Presumably not. But then, we cannot start by presuming anything. The difficulty of a problem is a poor guide to the complexity of its solution, and we cannot rule out such a solution because it is simple. Ar any rate, we must remember to return to this idea later and examine why these philosophers dismiss it. Well, we have the essential facts. Now we must take a little time to put them in order."

"My dear Holmes!" Watson starts to object. Holmes raises his hand.

"Yes, Watson, there are no doubt many more facts to be considered. Nevertheless, we have as many as we can manage for now."

"Hardly seems a fact in sight to me. All hypothesis and conjecture. Nothing like evidence to go on."

"A lack of evidence is not our problem, Watson, far from it. The principle difficulty for philosophical problems is that there is far too much evidence. What is vital is often overlaid and hidden by what is irrelevant, and it is no simple matter to decide which is which. No, in philosophy we must, as far as possible, build theories from as little evidence as possible, albeit that it should be of the highest quality."

"Surely not, Holmes. How many times have you told me that we should do no such thing? Time and again you've said we must fully acquaint ourselves with all of the available evidence before we start to construct theories."

"Quite right, Watson, quite right, and I have not changed my mind. Nevertheless, to construct a cosmological theory all we would need to acquaint ourselves with is one piece of evidence, for we can infer all the principle facts about the universe from this, or all that can be inferred."

"Holmes, that is a ridiculous statement."

"How so?"

"You mean to say that you could deduce the explanation of the universe from any single fact, whatever it is?"

"This I do not know. The evidence indicates that it would be impossible to infer the entire explanation of the universe from one or even many facts. It certainly cannot be an easy thing to do else your two philosophers would not be speaking of missing ingredients and ancient mysteries, and there would be such a thing as progress in our theology and metaphysics. But as far as it is possible, then any single fact would do for a starting place, and ideally we would use no more than this."

"But this can't be right, Holmes. Surely with more facts to go on we'd, well, we'd have more facts to go on."

"One would think so, and in a way it is true. As we build our theory we must continually test it against the evidence to ensure we remain on the right track, and for this the more evidence the better. But the ideal philosophical theory would be derived from a single fact. It is much the safest way to proceed. Have you not read Descartes? I have him here somewhere." Holmes pulls himself out of his chair and walks across to a cabinet in the corner. "I believe it's rule number nine of his 'Rules for the Direction of Mind' that I'm after, if I remember correctly. Ah." Selecting a book he returns to his chair and searches for the relevant page. "Yes, here we are. He says this about facts. I have no doubt it is good advice."


We ought to give the whole of our attention to the most insignificant and most easily mastered facts, and remain a long time in contemplation of them until we are accustomed to behold the truth clearly and distinctly.


"Sounds like something you might have said yourself."

"I would certainly concur."

"But he doesn't say that we should start with just one fact."

"No, but the implication is clear. If we are to give the whole of our attention to the most easily mastered facts and remain a long time in contemplation of them then the fewer the better."

"Is this the chap who said he thinks therefore he is?"

"That's him, yes.. Taking cogito to be a fact he attempts to construct a grand philosophical theory, just as one might grow an oak from an acorn. His project fails in the execution but the plan is sound. When we are called in to assist in a criminal investigation we can usually take it for granted that the crime has been committed. This is the singular fact which we must explain. Given this singular fact, we can then proceed to gather whatever evidence may be available to us and derive from this an explanation of how this fact came to be a fact. In philosophy, however, and no doubt most unfortunately, life is not so simple. Here we must first establish that a crime has been committed and exactly what kind of crime it is. Descartes chose cogito as his crime, we might say, as his axiomatic explandum, because it seemed clear to him that this crime had been committed. It seemed to be an undeniable fact from which it would be safe to extraplolate to an explanation of an extended universe containing beings capable of being aware that they think."

Holmes returns his gaze to the fire and puffs lazily on his old briar pipe.

"You know, Watson, I've often wondered whether the true meaning of his cogito was 'I am conscious' rather than 'I am thinking'. I understand he wrote his argument in French before he translated it into Latin, or at least that he published in French before he did so in Latin, and I cannot believe that je pense could have the meaning 'I am conscious'. Nevertheless, it is interesting to wonder how Descartes' gambit might have proceeded if I had been right about the meaning of cogito."

"I'm not following you, Holmes. You seem to be saying that one fact is as good as another as a starting point for a cosmological theory, which doesn't seem very likely to me, and I thought you didn't take much interest in philosophy, yet here you are giving me a lecture."

"Forgive me, Watson, I was thinking out loud. And yes, it is true that I have not devoted much time to philosophical matters. Indeed, I recall that soon after we met you assessed my knowledge of philosophy at nil. Yet I am not ignorant of the main issues."

"I must apologise again, Holmes. Hoped you'd forgotten."

"Quite alright, old fellow. But you might have surmised at the time that my methods of deduction could hardly have been developed without reference to Aristotle, and I discuss the matter presently at hand in the first of my published articles which you did me the honour of reading."

"You did? I did? Surely not."

"Do you not recall 'The Book of Life?'"

"The title is familiar."

"In it I said that from a drop of water a logician could infer the possibility of an Atlantic or a Niagara whithout having seen or heard of one or the other, and that all life is a great chain, the nature of which is known whenever we are shown a single link of it."

"Ah. I do remember you saying something like that."

"You were sceptical at the time but perhaps you have changed your mind since. I am only reiterating the same point. The ideal reasoner, once he or she has been shown a single fact in all its bearings, would deduce from it not only all the chain of events which led up to it, but also all the results which would follow from it. As Cuvier could correctly describe a whole animal by the contemplation of a single bone, so the observer who has thoroughly understood one link in a series of incidents should be able to accurately state all the other ones, both before and after."

"Well, I have certainly learnt, thanks to you Holmes, that with imagination a great deal may sometimes be deduced from a single piece of evidence. But this is not the same as saying that everything about the universe may be learnt from any single piece of evidence."

"No, this is not what I'm suggesting. We cannot learn how the stock market is faring from the examination of a drop of water. But if we are after metaphysical truths, like your chaps in the paper, then a drop of water is as good a place to start as any."

"I don't get this, Holmes. Descartes' approach I can understand. But a drop of water?"

"Choose any fact you like then, and we shall see what can be done with it."

Watson rests his cigar in the ashtray and picks up his tea. He sips while he thinks.

"Alright then. I will choose the fact that my shoes are a little tight."

"Oh, very good Watson, very good. Well now. Do you think this is a fact?"

"Without a doubt."

"Then you think, and if you were Descartes you would immediately conclude you exist and proceed accordingly. Do you see? From the fact that you think your shoes are too tight the rest of his philosophical scheme follows. Or, at least, would follow if his reasoning is correct."

"Ah, but you said his attempt to deduce everything from cogito fails. Why would your attempt to do deduce it from the tightness of my shoes not also fail?"

"I dare say it would. My point is only that it would be as likely to succeed as Descartes' attempt. We see from this silliness about shoes the general principle. Even the most trivial fact allows one to infer cogito. No doubt this is why Descartes chose it as an axiom."

Watson takes some time to respond.

"Alright. I suppose I must grant you that anything I think is a fact is a thought and so would imply cogito. But now you say that your attempt to deduce everything from the fact I gave you may fail. If so, then you have not made much it. Yet you said it ought to be possible to deduce all the significant facts about the universe from the tightness of my shoes."

"Not quite, Watson. I said that one fact would be as good as another, which is not to say that any of them would be good enough. Besides, I do not accept the tightness of your shoes as a fact."

"But I'm not making it up. They are too tight.
Damned uncomfortable."

"So you say, Watson, so you say. However, I do not know what it is like to be you so this is not a fact for me. It is just your report of what it's like to be in your shoes."

"I say, Holmes, that's just what this chap says. Says we can never know about other people's experiences or even know that they have any. Calls it the 'other minds' problem. Talks about how hard it would be to imagine what it's like to be a bat."

"Indeed. Yes. Or a ball."

"What? Oh very good. No, the flying kind."

"Or a human being."

"What?'

"No doubt it would be impossible to imagine what it is like to be a bat, although we might deduce a little from a study of its behaviour and sensory apparatus. But it strikes me that it may be no easier to imagine what it is like to be a human being."

"Doesn't seem very difficult to me, old chap."

"Are you quite sure, Watson? I wonder. Let us try an experiment. Close your eyes for a moment." Watson complies. "Now, do your best to imagine what it would be like to be a human being."

Watson re-opens his eyes.

"Humour me, Watson. Just try."

Watson closes his eyes. Thirty seconds pass.

"Do you see what I mean?" asks Holmes.

"I certainly do." Watson replies in a puzzled tone, eyes still closed. "I don't seem to be able to imagine how to even go about it."

"Now, try to imagine what it would be like to be bat."
Watson closes his eys again.

"Ah, that's a lot easier. No, wait a minute, it's impossible." Watson opens his eyes. "How odd. It's impossible to imagine what it's like being me or a bat. But wait a minute, I could imagine what it would be like to be some other human being than me. If this were not so then I'd be unable to empathise with human beings any better than with bats."

"It does seem that way, yes. Why not give it a try. Think of someone you know and imagine what it would be like to be them."

Watson closes his eyes.

"Alright," he replies a minute later, eyes still closed.

"I have a rough idea of what it would be like."

"No doubt you have a rough idea of what it is like to be imagining what it is like to be them, Watson, but how do you know your rough idea of what it is actually like to be them is even roughly correct?"



"That may be so, Watson, we can only speculate. Perhaps you are the only human being who has experiences. This is your 'other minds' problem. It does seem most likely that what it is like to be a human being is at least roughly similar for all of us but even so, it may be roughly similar in some ways and unimaginably different in others. God alone could know what it is like to be a plurality of beings, and thus what our experiences do and do not have in common."

"Let's not bring God into it, Holmes."

"You consider Him irrelevant to a Sunday morning discussion of human consciousness?"

"Well, no, I suppose not. Of course not. But religion is not a matter of deduction."

"On the contrary, Watson, there is nothing in which deduction is so necessary as in religion. It can be built up as an exact science by the reasoner."

"Well, honestly Holmes! I don't know what's come over you this morning, I've never heard you say such a thing before."

"I think you'll find that you have, my friend, for I happen to remember when I said it."

"When was that?"

"I was leaning against the shutters of a bedroom window, examining it for scratches."

"I have no memory of it."

"Do you not remember the case? The stolen naval treaty?

"I certainly remember the case. Oh yes, and now I do remember you saying something like it. You were admiring the rose by the window in the bedroom. I thought you were talking any old nonsense in order to disguise your actions."

"I am not so dim-witted that I must talk any old nonsense in order to disguise my actions, Watson, as you well know. It is true that I allowed a part of my mind to wander from the issue at hand. It was necessary to engage the audience in order to distract it. My mind wandered to the beauty of the rose by the window, and to the promise that such beauty holds for our hopes of God if we were to extraplolate from it to a theory of the universe. A drop of water, uncomfortable shoes, the beauty of a rose, a cosmology can be inferred from any observation, fact, perception, axiom or item of evidence. As for religion, would you not agree we would be foolhardy to adopt a religious belief, even if it is atheism, without first examing the issues with the full force of our intellect?"

"I would certainly agree, yes."

"I had no doubt you would, Watson. To say that religion is not a matter of deduction is to say we are prepared to believe whatever happens to be agreeable to us, regardless of its truth or even whether it makes sense to us. Of course, this is not to say that our deductions will ever prove that there is such a thing as God, soul, an afterlife and suchlike, but we must at least attempt to distinguish between what seems quite likely to be true and what seems highly improbable. The beauty of a rose seems to me to affect the probabilities for the existence of some sort of God, though I doubt it could settle the matter."

Watson finishes his tea and pours himself another. Returning to his chair he lights a second cigar. Once lit, he reviews the discussion.

"I must say, Holmes, I feel quite unsettled by our experiments. I've begun to wonder whether my shoes really are too tight or whether I'm only imagining it. Still, at least we have proved that I'm not imagining being me. I cannot do it if I try. I see why Descartes chose cogito as his single fact. He could not be imagining he was thinking, and therefore he must exist."

"Ah, if only philosophy were so simple, Watson. We have certainly not proved that you are not imaging being you."

"But I can't imagine being me. I've tried to do it and I cannot."

"I wonder if that is really true. These are matters of some complexity and we can take nothing for granted. Close your eyes again for a moment, and for this experiment try to imagine that you are only imagining being a human being."

Watson is silent for a minute or two.

"This is most confusing, Holmes," he eventually reports, eyes still closed, "I'm not sure whether I'm imagining it or not."

"Now, Watson, you see the gravity of Descartes' problem. His deductive method is sound in principle, but it is inneffective if ones chosen starting point is a doubtful fact, and worse than useless if it is not a fact at all. Yet it is suprisingly difficult to find a fact that cannot be doubted. For philosophers it is one of the most difficult of all tasks. For myself, I do not believe Descartes succeeded in finding one, and as a consequence his project was foredoomed."

"But this is ridiculous, Holmes. Is it not at least a fact that I think?"

"This you must determine for yourself, old friend, I cannot do it for you."

Watson settles back into his chair and closes his eyes. Holmes ponders the issues while nibbling on one of Mrs. Hudson's home-made biscuits. After a few minutes he continues.

"It seems to me our discussion has at least thrown some light on the curious definition of consciousness favoured by your two writers."

Watson open his eyes.

"It has?"

"It leads me to the idea that the thing that thinks cannot be a thought. Or, to put it another way, and less than grammatically, if there is something what it is like to have your mind then 'what it is like' is not the same thing as your mind. These must be two phenomena, in appearance at least, the mind and its owner. To make them one phenomena we would have to say that there is something what it is like to be a mind, that minds do not have owners."

"Why not say just that."

"At this point, Watson, I do not know. It seems a vital issue. Yet it is clear that your two philosophers do not want to do this, for if they did then only two ingredients would be required for a fundamental mind-matter theory. At the same time, they do not conclude that 'what it is like' is distinct from mind, for this would give them their missing third ingredient. We must presume that there is a good reason for their reluctance to commit themselves to one view or the other. It seems that 'what it is like' must either be identical with mind or not, yet your philosophers find neither idea satisfactory. And yet, at the same time, if we eliminate these two possibilities we seem to face a paradox. Perhaps this should be our first task, Watson, to determine whether 'what it is like' is or is not the same phenomenon as mind."

"How on earth are we going to do that?"

"I fear it will take a little more time than that remaining before lunch, Watson, but I shall see what I can do. Why don't you finish reading the article while I consider the problem."

"Perhaps we could take a walk later and continue this discussion."

"Ah, Watson, you and your dratted fresh air. But perhaps we should do this. Some excercise would not go amiss."

"Despite what you have said, Holmes, I still don't see how we can hope to solve the mystery with so few facts before us."

"I have enough for now."

"You see some clues then?"

"You have furnised me with seven, but I must test them before I can pronounce on their value."

"You suspect there is a solution?"

"I suspect myself - "

"'What?"

"Of coming to conclusions too rapidly."


[CENTER]*** [/CENTER]