Some philosophers of mind, notably Australian cognitive scientist David Chalmers, wonder about what they refer to as “the hard problem of consciousness.” Basically, as I understand it (and frankly, I don’t really), this is the puzzle of how human beings (and perhaps other sentient creatures) have subjective experience, how, in other words it is that we experience phenomena in terms of sensory perceptions like taste, smell, sight, sound and touch.
The science fiction writer, Terry Bisson, captured this idea in a humorous piece he wrote years ago entitled “They’re Made Out of Meat” in which a couple of disembodied consciousnesses are confounded (and somewhat disgusted by) the existence of humanoids, who, although made out of meat, manage to have mental states.
And it is confounding (and probably a bit disgusting, too) that sacks of meat like us are conscious and experience the physical world in terms of non-physical mental experiences; we taste, smell, see, hear, and are touched—all of that from the inside of our minds.
But it’s phenomenal, in the normative sense of the term, because otherwise, how could we get to overload our senses with the phenomenon of another annual Slip n’ Slide Ride whose sights, sounds, smells (sorta), and, (new addition) tastes! touched all who had the good fortune to experience it.
The “easy problem of consciousness,” in Chalmers' terms, is to explain the mechanisms by which our senses work. It’s no big deal to specify, for instance, how our eyes render the image of five score humans bedecked in multi-colored glowsticks and phosphorescent paint hurling themselves down a giant plastic sheet or grappling in a kiddie pool filled with jellied goo, or to scientifically determine the way our tastebuds work when we consume grain alcohol mixed with cranberry juice or homemade tacos served up by subsequent generations.
What this leaves out, though, is what it’s like: the delightful, joyful, and totally unexplainable experience that makes being a day-glow sack of meat so phenomenal.
The science fiction writer, Terry Bisson, captured this idea in a humorous piece he wrote years ago entitled “They’re Made Out of Meat” in which a couple of disembodied consciousnesses are confounded (and somewhat disgusted by) the existence of humanoids, who, although made out of meat, manage to have mental states.
And it is confounding (and probably a bit disgusting, too) that sacks of meat like us are conscious and experience the physical world in terms of non-physical mental experiences; we taste, smell, see, hear, and are touched—all of that from the inside of our minds.
But it’s phenomenal, in the normative sense of the term, because otherwise, how could we get to overload our senses with the phenomenon of another annual Slip n’ Slide Ride whose sights, sounds, smells (sorta), and, (new addition) tastes! touched all who had the good fortune to experience it.
The “easy problem of consciousness,” in Chalmers' terms, is to explain the mechanisms by which our senses work. It’s no big deal to specify, for instance, how our eyes render the image of five score humans bedecked in multi-colored glowsticks and phosphorescent paint hurling themselves down a giant plastic sheet or grappling in a kiddie pool filled with jellied goo, or to scientifically determine the way our tastebuds work when we consume grain alcohol mixed with cranberry juice or homemade tacos served up by subsequent generations.
What this leaves out, though, is what it’s like: the delightful, joyful, and totally unexplainable experience that makes being a day-glow sack of meat so phenomenal.
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