Actual
Consciousness by Ted Honderich Review discussion by Alastair Hannay in the journal Philosophy, April 2015
Whether or not deliberately, Honderich’s title suggests that here at
last we have a work on consciousness that really deals with its topic. As it
happens that is not entirely off the mark. A large part of the book is devoted
to forging a path to a result, actual consciousness, that the more salient
writers have either failed to reach or not attempted to do so. For various
reasons of focus, their eyes have been averted from what is in plain view to
all, namely consciousness ‘in the ordinary primary ordinary sense’. Being ‘actual’ is Honderich’s key-word in the unwrapping of what it is to be conscious in this sense, nailing the nature of this ordinary consciousness from an openly phenomenal (i.e. experiential) and at the same time in, among others, an everyday sense, a physical beginning.
One aim of Actual
Consciousness is to do
justice to consciousness as we have it, to ordinary consciousness, the kind at
the root of our watching buses approach, getting on them -- or even perhaps
that most physical thing of all being run over and possibly killed by one.
Physical? Yes of course, the causes of my death or injury are a matter of
objective biology and more basically physics; but then, let’s face it, all we
know in any immediate sense as physical is phenomenally so; that much we must
give to Bishop Berkeley. And so long as they last, the phenomena in question
occur at or with me, me alone. So whatever the physics here, it has a
‘subjective’ aspect, very much so. Physics is in some still not fully explained
way a thoroughly basic constituent in ordinary consciousness. This I take to be
a rough summary of one part of Honderich’s project. Another part concerns the
centrality of the project itself. On the choice of topic the Introduction says that
some will agree that it is central, others not. As for the author, he is
‘confident that the subject of consciousness as picked out by our ordinary and
primary idea of it is no mistake’ (p. 15); thus picked out, the topic of
consciousness is the right one with regard to explaining consciousness in
general. Confidence in this view is something that the book as a whole aims to
impart to its readers. The conclusion to be shared is, in effect, that, in
whatever way we analyse perceptual experience, taking account both of its
objective physical dependencies and of its subjective phenomenal aspects, the
red bus ‘trundling down Muswell Hill Road’ (p. 1) is out there in the only way
anything in the relevant sense of ‘out there’ can be. The bus, or the room we are in, or the table
we are writing on, are as the publisher’s press release conveniently has it,
‘constitutive’ of my perceptual consciousness at the moment of perception. Actual Consciousness slices consciousness into
three broad categories on the latter two of which the first depends (any
reverse dependency, though in any ordinary context surely not unthinkable, is
not on Honderich's agenda). Besides perception our ordinary consciousness
embraces both reflective or cognitive and affective consciousness: ‘thinking
about what you see isn’t the same as seeing itself’ (p. 1), and ‘you can in
some way be subject to want and desire or to things into which want or desire
enters’ (p. 3). All three involve what can be called, in so far only a
figurative sense, ‘there being something actual’. The way in which something
actual occurs in the latter two categories of ordinary consciousness differs
from that in perception. What is actual in perception can be, in a central kind
of case, the room in which you now find yourself, while what is actual in
‘cognitive consciousness’ is a representation or sequence of such. That might
be some thought of the room itself or of something in it but almost anything
that comes to mind, for instance what the room lacks, while the room remains
there in some less focused way. What is actual in ‘affective’ consciousness is
again representation. Subjectively physical, like the two others, it is related
to valuing rather than truth. The long-term aim is to move from
these figurative uses of ‘there being something actual’ to ‘literal and
explicit answers’ to two ‘main’ questions: ‘what is actual [in consciousness]?’
and ‘what is it [for it] to be actual?’ From the combined answers we are
promised ‘a theory of the nature of consciousness’ (p. 150; cf. p. xiii). Honderich’s confessedly colloquial style (p. xv)
teeters on the edge of academic correctness, but hardly more so than if he were
conducting a Socratic seminar with colleagues (i.e. readers) understandably
resistant to the demolition of cherished considerations that stand in the way
of his theory. The case is argued with the force necessary for defending a view
against ‘adversaries’ who are ‘not only mistaken but also ‘acute’ (p. 368). The
latter is an accolade also conferred on his persistently questioning travelling
companion (p. 341). The book is ‘in part a tour of the philosophy and science
of consciousness’ (p. xiv) with Honderich our ‘guide’. We are given a
multi-referenced map of the recent landscape with a critical but fairly focused
‘bird’s eye view of the more established theories of consciousness’ (p. 138;
cf. p. 146). Naturally enough, the highlights on the landscape are theories
that bear on our guide’s goal and completeness is not claimed even there. As
the Introduction modestly but prudently notes, this inquiry ‘is not near to
doing general justice to other inquiries and inquirers’ (p. xiv). Most of these theories have been concerned with
the status of secondary qualities, the privacy of experience, having
‘intentionality’ reach the outside world, whether or not to ignore raw feels,
and the like, most of it against the
background of well-advertised developments in cognitive and neuroscience.
Qualia, for instance, come into the picture as an embarrassing but necessary
afterthought following scientifically inspired explanations of everything about
consciousness except its phenomenality. Although the press hand-out tells us
that Actual Consciousness is ‘perhaps
more respectful of science than philosophy’, in practice greater emphasis is
placed on ‘the ordinary logic of intelligence’ (pp. xiv, 13) – on ‘clarity’ (about what is being asked),
‘consistency and validity’, and also ‘completeness’ (p. 13). What counts at the
start, rather than any theory, is the ‘hold’ each of us has on our own
consciousness (pp. xv, 5--7). As regards
the disputational sequel, Honderich’s ‘hope’ is the Humean one expressed less
tentatively by Hume himself, that ‘if the premises of the inquiry are accepted,
the elaborated conclusion of theory or analysis cannot be avoided’ (p. xiv; cf.
p. 150), maybe this even if, as in a later quotation from Hume, the conclusion
‘be a most violent paradox, extravagant and ridiculous, and needs to overcome
the inveterate prejudices of mankind’ (p. 150). ‘[L]ike the rest of philosophy’, that of mind
‘commonly aspires to a condition higher than it can achieve.’ By its ‘several
means’ it aims at ‘proof’ when all it can obtain is ‘persuasive or sound
argument’ (p. 40). With these less ambitious means, but with their more
visceral appeal to the ‘hold’ they may have on us, the strengths and weaknesses
of five ‘leading ideas’ informing recent and current literature are brought
into the open (chapter 2). The resulting distillation forms an ‘initial
clarification’ (p. 52) that provides ‘data’ on which actualism is based, giving
it a certain scientific aspect. Belonging as it does to ‘mainstream philosophy’
(p. xiv; cf. p. 13), the argument is, on the other hand, initially free of the
antecedent scientific assumptions that form premises for much recent work on
consciousness. Moreover the data are such that scientific as well as
philosophical accounts of consciousness will have to account for them. The
book’s use of traditional terms from both philosophy and science in their
tackling of this topic is thus freed from constraints that might force the
theory prematurely into one or other pre-existing ‘ -ism’. This is an important
point, since given the theory’s ready recognition of the ‘subjective’ and even
‘individual’ aspects of consciousness, actualism’s claim to ‘make consciousness
physical in a fully defined way’ is the book’s most provocative claim. One test
for those challenged by this will be its ability to impart the hold its
arguments have on its author for just that conclusion. But a part of that test
will also be their willingness to go along with what will have to count as
‘physical’. For these an encouraging start will be found in a
premise of the actualism project. It is that whatever is special about
consciousness cannot be supposed to take it beyond the bounds of nature: ‘an
irresistible criterion of an adequate theory of the nature of consciousness …
is that while consciousness is a natural thing, it is also different from other natural things.’ (pp. 137--138, original
emphasis). Here actualism is in league with biological naturalism. But current
such naturalism, like Searle’s, by identifying consciousness without further
ado as a higher-order state of the brain, comes to a halt at the point where it
ought to begin were it out to explain consciousness in the primary sense.
Accounts of this kind remain programmatic (compare Carruthers’ self-revelatory
catch-all summary of his own hard-won result in this genre: ‘A disposition to
get higher makes consciousness phenomenal’).[1]
‘Might he not have taken [property-dualism in his wholly defensible sense]
further?’ asks Honderich of Searle (p. 137). There are other naturalisms, for
instance eliminative materialism. This has no reason to raise the question of
consciousness in the primary sense, since by requiring us to go deeper than the
neural correlates of conscious episodes it ensures that the consciousness of
which it is a theory is not ‘explicitly the consciousness that is something’s
being actual’ (p. 141). Similarly with logical behaviourisms and Clark’s
‘extended-mind externalism’. These are about ‘what it is to have a mind’ (p.
145). Then there is abstract functionalism, essentially a revival of Cartesian
dualism (see pp. 98-105). In taking what is actual to be or include relations
to other things, functionalists in general seem to be avoiding the real issue
(p. 211). In their nevertheless pointing in the direction of
what [not sure what this refers to] these and other theories fail to deliver,
the discussion of those five ‘leading ideas’ allows the positive account to
begin. These are ‘qualia’, ‘something that it’s like to be that thing’,
‘subjectivity’, ‘intentionality’, and ‘phenomenality’. Although each fails to
arrive at what is actual, they do succeed separately and severally in capturing
recognizable aspects of what it is to be ordinarily conscious. But each leading
idea, as the following chapter 3 goes on to say, also implies something more,
namely that in ordinary consciousness something is ‘somehow being had’ (p. 52).
For instance, what the focus on qualia loses sight of is that what we ‘have’ in
consciousness is not the experience, or consciousness itself but some thing.
Similarly with Brentano’s ‘content’ (or Husserl’s noema for that matter) along
with those alleged (noetic) acts involved in the various cognitive or affective
modes of consciousness. Whatever roles may be found for these, they are not ‘had’.
The same is true of any self identified as the supposed source of such acts. In
talk of ‘mental paint’ we hear an echo of Gilbert Ryle’s 1949 disposal of the
‘mental screen’; the paint is out there on the wall (p. 195), the room is what
my perceptual consciousness amounts to in the moment of perception. A synoptic
way of looking at the theory might be to see it as interposing non-fugitive
macroscopic matter between the twin options offered by views that make qualia
the way things ‘seem to us’ (p. 17) and that even tend to equate qualia with
consciousness (p. 18). Things, on views of that kind, motivated by causal
theories where seeing (etc.) is a final link in a causal chain beginning in
what cannot be seen (etc.), exist somehow ‘in themselves’ out of reach of
Block’s ‘raw feels’, McGinn’s ‘technicolour phenomenology’ (p. 19), and what
Sherrington once referred to as the ‘visual field “in all its distances, its
colours and chiaroscuro’’’.[2]
Actualism, with its more generous taxonomy, admits a ‘subjective physical
world’, a world dependent in a law-like manner on an objective physical world,
with the two forming the physical world as such. What does actualism say if asked whether the red
of the paint is on the wall enduringly? I suspect its reply would be that
doesn’t really matter. In detailing the properties of subjective physical
worlds, Honderich says their existence is ‘the fact of objective physical things of the ordinary or macroscopic kind being
perceived -- as we ordinarily and
unreflectively speak of their being’ (p. 231, second emphasis added). What
we unreflectively take to be actual in the case of the bus trundling down
Muswell Hill Road is a means of public transport, something any of us can
board. It is a ‘thing’ that remains red even when the wavelengths it irradiates
meet no suitably turned-on neural system. For the unreflective majority the red
of the bus is not just a passing episode in a purely private seat of sensation;
nor is the bus itself something in an ‘unperceived microcosmic objective
physical world’ (ibid.). What then is the relation of actualism to naïve
realism? At one point Honderich wonders challengingly
whether we readers are the kind who incline to believe that the desktop is not
green because it depends as much on us as on it (p. 236). One response might be
this: Well, certainly anything I would call a desk must have a top, if not
clear glass then of some colour; but that is because I realize that if I am
being asked to describe something shorn of all that normal brains provide to
its identity there would be no desk to describe in any aspect. To talk of the
desk at all, I must talk of something with a top. In fact I must speak out of
two things: (1) the habitual realism that, with the help of Humean association,
lets me get off with my untutored belief that the table as it appears keeps its
appearances even when no conscious brain is tuned into it, and (2) the
reflection that what we mean by its being a table is unavailable in a world
denuded of all that a spatially situated and perceptually sensitive brain adds
to such a world. If, on this basis, actualism seems to us no more
than the naïve realism that we need science and philosophy to correct, its
plausible enough rejoinder could be that it is at least a way of grasping reality
that science can easily explain. Further, it is one that science may even
justify in its own terms by pointing to its ‘naturalness’ and thus its counting
towards the smooth running of life. The scruple seems, however, to be one which
actualism either takes in its stride or is at least ready or eager to
accommodate (see pp. 235--238). In one place Honderich identifies naïve realism
as ‘the previous and most natural and defensible theory of perceptual
consciousness’ (p. 334). But although it and actualism have ‘a couple of things
in common’, unlike naïve realism ‘[a]ctualism … is a theory about an adequately
clarified subject’ (p. 359). Would it be unfair to say that the principal way
in which actualism differs from naïve realism is that it is not naïve and it
casts its net wider (cf. pp. 359--60)? That the green of the table should literally
depend on ‘me’ is a laughable suggestion but Honderich gives the colloquialism
some rein as in this usefully summative passage: Being perceptually conscious consists in the existence of a subjective
physical world as defined, a world out there in space and with other
characteristics of physicality, but not independent of the perceiver. My
subjective physical world now has a dependency on me. (p. 340) Earlier the idea that the dependency is on me
personally has been quickly dismissed (p. 237) The dependency is on any particular location of that mobile
piece of nature, the perceiver, this latter being an entity out of which any
genuine reference for the ‘I’ has still if possible to be fashioned. And yet,
if location in general is in this way a defining feature of subjective physical
worlds, nevertheless with regard to actual locations, that is to say to
locations at some particular time in a particular place, a dependency on ‘me’
is not out of the question. Of the ‘myriad’ subjective physical worlds (as many
as there are ‘sets of perceivings of single perceivers’ [p. 192]) Honderich
allows that of any one of these we can ‘without too much strain’ say that it is
‘a world in being a life-place’ (p.
242, original emphasis). For, he asks, isn’t this ‘where your desires at least
mainly operate?’ and ‘where your pure thinking has one kind of ultimate test’?
Later, further in this direction, he says that were it not for the temptation
into ‘misunderstanding and feelingfulness’ that it places before others,
subjective physical worlds might have
been called ‘personal worlds’ (p. 334). What the ‘feelingfulness’ is that
should be avoided is not made clear but a little later there is a suggestion
that questions of personal identity and ‘the idea of the living of a life’ are associated with ‘tender-mindedness’, which
Honderich disputes. He allows that something still within range of
philosophical and scientific respectability may still be said for that idea as
a ‘counterpart’ to that of ‘unity over time’ (p. 342, original emphasis). These last few remarks bring the project’s
undercurrent to the surface. We are being ushered away from those philosophical
traditions that tend to make science a cultural variable. These would include
existentialism, certainly, or what Lukács, thinking perhaps of Paris in
particular, once called a ‘permanent carnival of fetishized inwardness’,[3]
but also the structuralisms that replaced it and make scientific discourse one
among others. Behind this concern with what is due to the mind are the
neo-Kantians, and Kant himself for that matter.[4]
Honderich says the history of philosophy is not his ‘forte’, but in the context
nor need it be. His sights are set firmly in the present on what is ‘external’,
and his concern is to assure us that we are right in thinking that it is
perceptibly so. Locating Honderich’s actualism within the history of philosophy
in a way that might surprise him would be to invoke a parallel in both
Descartes and Hegel, both of whom, in their respectively theistic and
pantheistic ways, have the deity bring us that assurance, one to which more
recently J. L. Austin thought a simpler way is to stay within the epistemic
safety net of ordinary manners of speech. Honderich’s puts his money on
ordinary intelligence and science. The promise lies in a more generous notion
of physicality, one that admits that physicality may not be just an objective matter. This would
mean that any hesitation we have about taking consciousness (in the primary
sense) being physical, even if ‘objective physicality cannot consist in or
include consciousness however conceived’ (p. 178), was unjustified (see pp. 182
and 186). Behind this lies a clearly stated faith in a scientific approach. In
referring, as he does, to ‘the’ method of science (p. 155) it seems Honderich
does not mean a particular scientific procedure (see pp. 352—353) but rather a
generally systematic approach employing definitions, observation, and hypotheses,
and sticking to time, space, law-like dependency and causality (see. 164--165).
His ‘Humean hope’ rests on the possibility of actualism-friendly developments
in what counts as physical (see pp. 156 ff. and 160), these possibly arising
from the ground-zero of Chomsky’s pessimism (pp. 156--157) about there being
anything at all called ‘physical’ to theorize with or about. A synopsis shorn
of the history might go as follows: instead of looking towards the world
through the lens of phenomenality,
making ‘out there’ problematic, and in any case corrupting a pure externality
of which we naïvely assume we have some experiential glimpse, actualism posits
the unquestionable physicality of what is objectively external and has it come
within range of ordinary consciousness, thus ‘mak[ing] consciousness physical in a fully-defined way’ (p.
344, original emphasis). In a lecture on his website Honderich refers to the
objective physical world as a ‘single all-inclusive subset’ of the ‘single
all-inclusive world that there is, the
physical world [original emphasis], that totality of the things that there
are’.[5] The same place says that subjective worlds are ‘a
vast subset’. The earlier reference to what counts as the ‘existence’ of
subjective physical worlds occurs in the sixth item in the second of three
‘checklists’. Each list contains sixteen such items, these providing
Honderich’s wide-ranging discussion with a welcome home-base. This particular
list (pp. 230--232) details the characteristics of subjective physical worlds,
taking their physicality and subjectivity in turn. Among its items we are told
that they are ‘physical in being open to inquiry by way of the scientific
method’ and that they ‘occupy spaces and times … as clearly as do properties of
the objective physical world’ (p. 233). The properties of that world have
already been detailed in the first checklist (pp. 184--186). The third list (pp. 323-324) provides properties
of ‘subjective physical representations’. ‘A representation’, says Honderich,
‘is an aboutness. It stands for something, means something, has a content, is
semantic’ (p. 301). Suppose we stay within the room. Something can be ‘there’
that is not part of the vista before me. What is there and actual in this other
way is a representation of something. We all know that the history of the term
‘representation’ once led to what were called representations getting entirely
in the way of the world they supposedly represented. Today it is a frequent
occurrence in accounts of how the brain, or whatever else, produces meaningful
utterances and behaviour. These latter can never be ‘actual’ in Honderich’s
sense. In an ‘anticipation’ of where he is taking us (pp. 254--255), we are told in effect that
conscious representations differ from representations in general by being
‘actual representations’. It is only when we read a word in a dictionary
that it is actual. To be actual, a representation must be, well, let us say,
‘activated’. An example drawn from perceptual consciousness
might go like this. I am
standing close up to a huge billboard painted in black and white shapes. The
shapes are actual and objectively as well as subjectively physical in
Honderich’s sense. Retreating, I see the shapes forming letters, then words,
then a grammatically well-formed sentence, and finally a meaning I can grasp, a
message of some kind. Unlike the plain shapes, the letters they form, the
words, the sentence and the content are each in their way ‘representations’ by
virtue of being recognized as tokens of types or grasped as bearers of meaning.
Or does the requirement of being ‘semantic’ exclude all but the last? Well,
mere tokens, when seen as such, do after all represent their types. So perhaps
the property of being semantic can extend to single letters and numerals. But
if so, what about the room seen as such? Isn’t it too a token of a type? In
another place, a decade ago, in explaining the aboutness of an experience, in
that case one of trees, Honderich wrote ‘Part of what makes an experience an
experience of this rather than that is that it represents this rather than
that.’[6]
Applied to actualism, this would imply that the room that is ‘had’, assuming
this means that it is seen as such, is in ordinary consciousness ‘had’ in the
form of representation. It may be an implication Honderich would accept, and
being clearly physical in actualism’s terms it would seem to pose no problem.
In the case of cognitive and affective consciousness, though, the physicality
has to be further defended. In our example they are obviously in some sense
physical, just as when I am reading a novel I need to be picking out actual
sentences in an actual book. But much cognitive and affective consciousness has
no such objectively perceptual basis in the present. As I dream of other
places, try out solutions to a cross-word puzzle, anticipate, hope, and fear,
the room slips into the background.[7]
In each case there is something in mind that is not there while the medium of
my thought is in the present and is ‘actual’. Actualism
describes these as ‘subjective physical representations’, their claim to
physicality being summarized in terms of their belonging ‘in the inventory or
taxonomy of science’, ‘open to discovery and clarification by way of the
scientific method’, and ‘occupy[ing] spaces and times despite their spatiality
being only uncertainly actual’. They are in law-like connection with other such
representations, recent and past, of the same representer, and with ‘other
categories of things’ that have to do with the conscious subject and the
‘objective physical world’ (p. 323). They are not physical ‘in the sense of
being perceived in the ordinary sense’, but depend on subjective physical
worlds (p. 324). I take it that this latter dependency can be taken in both a
personal and a non-personal way. An actual representation can occur only in a
conscious being like myself although what particular representations occur can
depend in some sense on ‘who’ I am, or on what ‘I’ am up to. As indicated,
Honderich’s eye stays firmly on the former.
We note the ‘uncertainty’ Honderich attaches to
the spatial actuality of actual representations. This uncertainty might be that
of where to place ‘actual’ mental images, an uncertainty that led Dennett long
ago to wish them away.[8]
Or it might be the more general uncertainty of where to place meanings or
contents: on the page or in the head? By the same token, as in the light of a
recent remark, it might be worth inquiring into the spatial credentials of what
we see when we see trees out there, this room, that table, the bus coming down
the hill. Isn’t such an experience precisely a token of a type? It is at any
rate a token of the type that is the thought
that would find expression in the words with which you tell others, or
yourself, what it is you perceive. Thoughts are supposed to be inherently
sharable, in principle at least. Ask Frege. But it is possible that the
analytical philosopher’s focus on ‘logical’ content leaves much in experience
out of the reckoning. Honderich notes Searle’s suggestion of a ‘background of
practices and assumptions that are not representative states themselves’ (p.
289); they are ‘thematized’ only when disappointed, as in Searle’s example when
lifting a mug of beer ‘thought’ to be made of glass but which turns out to be
plastic.[9]
But ‘background’ is a leaky notion and might we not expect some infiltration
into the ‘what’ of experience? Indeed might not the ‘what’ be an abstraction from experience? [10]
Hubert Dreyfus has said we ordinarily spend our lives absorbed in situations in
a way that excludes representations, these occurring only when the flow of
routines deployed in everyday ‘coping’ is interrupted. Were actualism to
confine itself to cases of ‘thematizing’, we would have to conclude from this
that we are not ordinarily conscious when, say, crossing a street, though
ordinarily we would think this was a situation in which being ordinarily
conscious was quite vital. If there is no representation in such a case, then
there is much else, surely more than, say, the changing vista and some raw
feels. Extending actualism to less static scenarios
would, for good or ill, bring it within range of Dreyfus’s Heidegger. Thus
compare, in what Dreyfus calls a ‘more fancy Heideggerian terminology’ than his
own more accessible presentation of Heidegger’s thought, ‘Dasein is its world existingly’[11]
(keeping in mind that ‘Dasein’ is impersonal) with Honderich’s ‘there being the
world as it is for something’, offered as part of his project’s ‘database’ (p.
67). Honderich’s thought in Actual Consciousness is as always entirely accessible. It is also open in another way. An attraction as well as virtue of the book is that it
presents its theory as ‘unfinished’ and itself as a ‘workplace’ (p. 330). Where
current naturalisms about consciousness are programmatic on phenomenality, Actual Consciousness carries the
programme further into the difficulties faced by theories that take the
subjectivity of consciousness seriously. There are unresolved issues of
‘uncertain actuality’ regarding spatiality and so on, but it is liberating to
have these neatly placed on the in-trays of philosophy and science. For its
genre this is an unusual book, not least, though engagingly, for the virtually
‘actual’ presence of its author on every page. Honderich’s checklists and their
interrelations should provide themes for many seminars to come.
[1] Peter
Carruthers, Phenomenal Consciousness: a
Naturalistic Theory (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000), p. 329. [2] My reference here is from John. R. Smythies’ essay ‘The Experience and Description of the Human
Body’, Brain, Vol. 76, part 1, 1953,
p. 134. [3] Georg
Lukács, Existentialisme ou marxisme? (Paris:
Nagel, 1948), p. 84. [4] As argued
by Frederick A. Olafson, in The Dialectic
of Action: A Philosophical Interpretation of History and the Humanities
(Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1979). [5] Ted
Honderich, ’A Lecture’, 3 September 2014, http://www.homepages.ucl.ac.uk/~uctytho [6] Ted
Honderich, ’Seeing Things’, Synthese Vol.
98 (1994), No, 1, p. 55 [7] It is
worth recalling in this respect Jean-Paul Sartre’s L’imaginaire: Psychologie phénomenologique de l’imagination (Paris:
Gallimard, 29th ed. 1948). [8] D. C.
Dennett, Content and Consciousness (London:
Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1969), p. 132. [9] John R.
Searle, Intentionality: An Essay in the
Philosophy of Mind (Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 1983), p. 157, [10] See ‘The “What” in the
“How”’ in Alastair Hannay, Kierkegaard
and Philosophy: Selected Essays (London and New York: Routledge, 2003),
ch.8. [11] See Hubert L. Dreyfus, ’Responses’, in Mark
Wrathall and Jeff Malpas (eds.), Heidegger,
Authenticity, and Modernity: Essays in Honor of Hubert L. Dreyfus, Vol. 2
(Cambridge, MA: The MIT Press), p. 334. The quotation is from Martin Heidegger,
Being and Time, trans. John
Macquarrie and Edward Robinson (New York: Harper & Row, 1962), p. 416. |