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Kathleen V. Wilkes
Introduction
Two intriguing facts. First, the terms 'mind' and 'conscious(ness)' are
notoriously difficult to translate into some other languages. Second, in
English (and other European languages) one of these terms'conscious'
and its cognatesis in its present range of senses scarcely three cen
turies old. Yet, apparently, these terms are central to contemporary
psychology: is not psychology the study of the mind (even though some
might add 'and behaviour'), and is not its greatest unsolved problem the
understanding of consciousness? For some, no doubt, this suggests a
failure in those other languages and in European self-understanding
before the seventeenth century. For the sceptic, it suggests a hard look at
the contemporary English terms.
A word on the strategy. It is important to emphasize that the transla
tion problem, and the relative youth (in English) of one of the terms in
question, only suggest such an investigation. For the linguistic data
must be inconclusive, in two respects at least. The first is that, after all,
it is boringly and trivially true that every language contains and lacks
terms that other languages lack or contain,- every language has terms
that are more or less hard to translate; and every language enriches itself
by acquiring new terms throughout its history. I accept this fully.
Language differences of this sort become significant only when the
terms in question are (purportedly) those that pick out explananda
which are central for scientific investigation. We would surely be
sceptical about a theory in physics that lacked the notions of 'force',
'energy', or 'mass'; is the notion of 'conscious(ness)' anything like these?
To put it mildly, the problem of whether 'conscious(ness)'and, albeit
to a lesser extent, 'mind' must be central to present and future theory
deserves discussion; i.e. whether either picks out genuine or central
explananda for the science. It is therefore prima facie interesting that
other languages, and English before the seventeenth century, appear to
lack either or both of these terms, or anything that corresponds more
1 Greek I know reasonably well, the other two scarcely at all, but I have been welladvised by native speakers (and ignorance has some advantages, since the native sp
have to work harder to explain where the problems lie). My particular thanks to Qiu
Renzong, Zhang Liping, Xiao Xiaoxin, Sran Lelas, Nenad Mievi, Ivo Mitnica, an
Matja Potr. Incidentally, what is suggested about Croatian probably applies equal
Serbian and Slovenian. But my advisors were (almost) all Croatian, so it seemed wis
restrict the claims.
Earlier than that, the middle-English term 'inwit' had some overlap
with today's term 'consciousness' too. But the use of the term 'con
scious' itself, with a recognizably modem meaning, awaited the first
quarter of the seventeenth century. The term 'consciousness' did not
appear until 1678; 'self-consciousness' not until 1690. (To the extent
that the appropriate French and German terms are indeed, equivalent,
they appeared at roughly the same times, in French perhaps a few years
later.)
In the next section I discuss ancient Greek, but then sketch briefly the
we find all the capacities characterizing lower levels of the pyramid, but
also a rational faculty, for practical and theoretical reason. So 'what it is
to be' a human rather than any other animal requires essential reference
to his unique faculties for reason; but all the other capacities are
presupposed, and there is constant feedback between all levels of this
pyramid. The 'matter' of every animal, which the psyche in-forms, is
flesh and bones, which is the physical realization of the psyche.
We shall return to the psyche. But first let us look at our second
concept: what about the Greek 'failure' to have any term that systemati
cally translates 'conscious(ness)'? Several authors note this, and are
unhappy about it; vide Hamlyn (1968; p. xiii):
... there is almost total neglect of any problem arising from psycho-physical
dualism and the facts of consciousness. Such problems do not seem to arise for
[Aristotle]. The reason appears to be that concepts like that of consciousness do
not figure in his conceptual scheme at all; they play no part in his analysis of
perception, thought etc. (Nor do they play any significant role in Greek thought
in general.) It is this perhaps that gives his definition of the soul itself a certain
inadequacy for the modem reader.
mind that he sensibly goes on to note that we usually also perceive that
we are walking. Another 'omission' is of experiences of seeing, hearing,
etc: phenomenal sensations, qualia, sense data. Some might deny that
he omits these entirelyfor, given that (a) he allows that we often
perceive that we perceive, and (b) he does describe the aisthemata of
dreams, is he not getting close to acknowledging something like 'phe
nomenal qualities'? That too would be a misleading inference: no term
in Greek translates 'sense data', 'qualia', or 'raw feels', and Aristotle
never talks about sensory experiences in the plural. (The plural form
aisthemata occurs only in his treatment of dreaming, never in con
nection with the senses.) Certainly Aristotle does not consider any
'phenomenal qualities' of vision or hearing to be explananda as such.
For this to be an 'omission', though, we must establish that there are
indeed such things as qualia. This should not be assumed (see Dennett
1988, this volume); a little later we shall have further reason to question
the integrity of the postulate of qualia. Aristotle certainly has the
linguistic resources for expressing 'X thinks that he sees O'; this is
significant, since many today would argue that the content of 'X has a
sense datum of O' is exhausted by 'X seems to see (thinks he sees) O', a
locution that avoids the count-noun terms 'quale' or 'sense datum'. The
burden of proof, again, rests on the other sideto say just why 'visual
experience' cannot be fully examined without postulating 'visual
experiences'. (For further discussion, see Matson 1966.)
So it is at least unclear where, or if, Aristotle is at fault. But to see why
his position might even be superior, we must move on.
For now we can link all this to the English terms 'mind' and 'con
sciousness'. Aristotle's psychobiological term psychewith its 'neg
lect' of 'the facts of consciousness'was overthrown by Descartes in
his Discourse on the Method of 1637 (published in French), although the:
revolution is most clearly seen in the second of his Meditations (pub
lished in Latin in 1641, in French in 1642). As Descartes' line of
argument in the Meditations makes clear, the psyche had stood the test
of time up to that point2; even though the Church Fathers, needing to
inject into Aristotle's monism a dualistic psyche-substance which
would survive bodily death, had added something Descartes called 'a
wind, a flame, or an ether ... spread throughout my grosser parts'. We
see Descartes in a mere two pages making the transition from psyche to
mind:
2 I am not of course suggesting that Descartes' revolution just appeared out of the
Foreshadowing of some strands can easily be seen in the work of earlier writers (e.g
Augustine, and some Hellenistic or Stoic writers). It seems clear, though, that Desca
was the father of the Cartesian revolution in the sense that he brought the various s
together and argued explicitly for them and explicitly against more traditional view
In the first place, then, I considered myself as having a face, hands, arms, and all
that system of members composed of bones and flesh as seen in a corpse which I
designated by the name of body. In addition to this I considered that I was
nourished, that I walked, that I felt, and that I thought, and I referred all these
actions to the soul: but I did not stop to consider what the soul was, or if I did
stop, I imagined that it was something extremely rare and subtle like a wind, a
flame, or an ether, which was spread throughout my grosser parts (Haldane and
Ross 1967, Vol. I, p. 151).
This is almost pure Aristotle, listing first the 'matter' (body), and then
the various psyche-capacities in correct hierarchical order. Only
'almost', though, because of the extra etherial soul-stuff, and because
Descartes has forgotten the imagination. But by the time we have turned
one page:
But what then am I? A thing which thinks. What is a thing which thinks? It is a
thing which doubts, understands, [conceives], affirms, denies, wills, refuses,
which also imagines and feels (Haldane and Ross 1967, Vol. I, p. 153.).
(The French texts usually run 'avoir connaissance de [mes penses]', and
the Latin 'esse conscius} both are standardly translated as 'to be
conscious'.)
Here we see very explicitly both the birth of the 'conscious mind' and
its dramatic separation from anything bodily. Yet, as Rorty (most clearly
in 1970, but see also 1980) has shown, epistemological considerations
3
Note that 'sensation', explicitly thrown out by Descartes' observation that if he has no
body he cannot be seeing anything, is smuggled back in by the argument that even if he is
deceived that he is seeing, he cannot be deceived that he seems to see; and this, he claims,
is 'the proper sense' of sensation words. So, welcome to sense data, qualia, sensory
experiences (note the plural); it is no accident that ancient Greek has no terms to translate
any of these smoothly. We have a transformed sense of 'see', which is emphatically not the
everyday use: it has been equated with 'think I see'. (Note too that Aristotle could ask
Descartes to put 'locomotion' back by precisely the same argument: I can be wrong about
whether I am walking, but not about whether I seem to walk.)
4
Squires (1971) entertainingly brings out the literal incoherence of our idioms de
ing the mind.
'the unconscious' had not been needed; it was taken for granted that
human psychology had unexplored chasmsthat the Heraclitean
search into the psyche, and the Greek injunction to 'know thyselfwere
lifelong and difficult ambitions, not given free by infallible conscious
introspection. No 'conscious/non-conscious' distinction had seemed
necessary. But once 'consciousness' had been highlighed as the defining
characteristic of mind, then the goal-posts were shifted: anyone want
ing to combat the Cartesian revolution by stressing the role of nonconscious factors had to devise his own vocabulary. And so, reacting to
the post-Cartesian stress on consciousness, we find the term 'unconscious(ness)' appearing: in English first in 1751, although rarely until
the early nineteenth century; as 'unbewusstsein' and 'bewusstlos' in
German in 1776; and as 'inconscient' in French in 1850and then
primarily in translations of German texts. (A cautionary note is needed
here. Today, talk of 'the unconscious' tends to lead the unwary or casual
reader to think of the Freudian unconscious. For clarity, therefore
having pointed out the relatively late, but pre-Freudian, date of the
introduction of the terms, I shall in future talk not of 'unconscious' but
of 'non-conscious' mental phenomena.5
I am claiming that the 'Cartesian catastrophe' had two main effects.
First, it forced a schism between 'conscious' and 'non-conscious', com
pelling virtually everyone thereafter to assess the role of each, and to
cast their own theories in terms dictated by the dichotomy. Second,
psychology and philosophy were now stuck with two separate realms;
and the task for centuries was how to relate them, how to bring them
back together again. 'The mind', in other words, was hived-off from the
body. We can see the loss this entails by contrasting 'mind' once again
with the supplanted term psyche.
The clearest merit of the psyche lies in its denial of a mind-body
dichotomy6: in its insistence upon the unity of the biological sciences
(where 'biology' includes 'psychology'). This is highly significant. Sig
nificant, because it takes for granted that the study of 'sensation',
'emotion', 'desire', etcjust like the study of 'digestion', and for the
same reasonspresupposes reference to the bodily 'matter' of these
5
Anyone who inclines to believe that Freud invented the non-conscious mind would
find Whyte ( 1960) a useful corrective.
*It is of course notorious that Aristotle is not an unqualified 'monist', whatever I seem
to suggest here. There is the puzzling discussion of the separable 'active intellect' in De
Anima III, ch. 5 (Hamlyn 1968, p. 60), which I do not pretend to understandand I am not
sure that anyone else does either. Still, two comments are worth making. First, it is not a
'separation' of anything like a mind; the active intellect is something which stands to
thinking as light stands to seeing: a most mysterious metaphysical notion. Second, this
passage seems to me to link up with his equally puzzling comments here and there about
the prime mover as being 'pure actuality'; and where semi-theological reverberations
appear, they help explain (albeit they do not excuse) many philosophical inconsistencies.
jects (for a discussion, see Gunderson 1985). Instead of asking how two
levelsmental and physicalinterrelate and interact, there is, in
creasingly, the admission that there are dozens of levels: from abstract
ratiocination to cell membranes and beyond. This is of course unsur
prising. 'The' mental or psychological distinction seemed fairly clear
(intuitively) when it was fixed by the Cartesian criteria of incorrigibility
and conscious introspective access. When the non-conscious was re
admitted into the mind, then these intuitive considerations were
supplemented by 'intentionality' (roughly, the idea that mental states
are 'about' things or states of affairs which might or might not exist or
obtain). No conjunctive or disjunctive deployment of these two
highly dissimilarproperties of 'the mind' has ever satisfied those
looking for a principled basis for the mind-body, mental-physical
dichotomy.
Consider next a second very obvious merit of the psyche. It directs
attention to the natural (indeed, natural-kind) capacities of organisms.
For, as we have seen, Aristotelian forms (the psyche among them)
highlight 'what it is to be' an axe, a cat, or a human: systematic
characteristic properties. Emphasis on the mind, especially the con
scious mind, tends by contrast to highlight events, or qualia, or 'ideas'
countable thingsrather than capacities; to highlight the individual
items that introspection purportedly catches, illuminated on the inner
stage of the mental theatre. Psychologists (although maybe not philos
ophers) are today returning to study capacities rather than events or
mental items} but we need only remember Titchener ( 1898, p. 7) : 'Mind,
then, as the sum of thoughts and feelings and the rest, is a sum of
(processes. The objects of the "science of mind" are the processes of
mind; the objects of "mental science" are mental processes'; and '[t]hese
simple processes are called mental elements. They are very numerous:
there are probably some 50,000 of them' (p. 21). Further, the long and
remarkable history of associationist psychology, initiated by Hume but
pursued vigorously well into this century, shows how long it took to
shift the focus from mental items to mental capacities.
Chinese
Let us look next at Chinese. Since our term 'mind' has today reverted to
something much broader and woollier than the Cartesian conscious
mind, the translator has few problems with this (although he would
have had problems with the Cartesian mind). He can offer Xin (liter-
Shn (note the accents here: this second 'Shen' is a different character
from the first). We should be happy enough with this. Certainly both
'heart' and 'spirit/God' have connotations 'mind' lacks, and vice versa.
But it seemed to mebecause of the comparative ease of translation
that the vagueness of the contemporary English term is adequately
enough reflected by the equally unspecific Chinese term(s). Indeed, in
English too we occasionally find 'spirit' or 'soul' as acceptable substi
tutes for 'mind', and not only in religious writings; and our idioms often
put the seat of mental functioning where Aristotle thought it was, in the
heart. We have already seen that what counts as 'the' spiritual, intellec
tual, or mental side of dualism varies considerably throughout ages and
across cultures.
The term 'conscious(ness)' presents greater difficulty. 'Yishi' comes
closest. Its two components, 'yi' and 'shi', originally had much the same
meaning: knowing, or remembering. Furthermore, in ancient Chinese,
'yi' seems to have been closer to tacit, implicit knowledge than to
'conscious', front-of-mind knowledge. Qiu (1984, p. 2) gives an
intriguing example:
In one of the Chinese classics Da Dai Li it was said that 'Wu Wang (the Military
King) asked if the Tao of Huang Di and Zhuang Xu existed in yi, or could be
seen?'
Obviously the Tao of ruling the country by Huang Di and Zhuang Xu was
supposed to be a kind of tacit, implicit knowledge.
Croatian
Here we find the other side of the coin. 'Svijest' and its derivatives will
do for 'consciousness' and its collateral terms. The problem arises with
'mind'. 'Um' was a popula/ candidate. One defender, a professional
psychologist, was certain that this was really an exact translation, and
hence that 'uman' translated as 'mental'. But two philosophers preferred
'duh', while conceding that 'duh' was not really all that close; and
'duevni' as the adjective. Opposition to 'um' stemmed from the fact
that it seemed too intellectual, focusing rather on rationality, wisdom,
controlled emotions. It is not exclusively 'rational': 'razum' is the direct
translation for analytical reason, and 'um' is a bit more synthetic than
that, with a suggestion of a value judgment; but 'um' is still closer to the
Greek sophia than to the English 'mind'. Thus, no more than sophia, it
cannot readily serve to capture the irrational, uncontrolled, irrespon
sible thoughts and feelings that 'mind' allows for. 'Duh', however,
smacked rather too much of 'spiritual' to translate the term 'mind'
smoothly. Interestingly, a (Slovenian) psychology textbook of 1924
(Veber 1924) freely employed derivatives of both terms: an alternative to
'psihologija' (psychology) was 'dueslovje', and 'telo in dua' was the
phrase used to express the contrast of mind with body ('telo'); but it
equally talked of the 'psihologija umskega doivljanja'.
('Um', and 'duh', seemed to be the only serious contenders; but it
illustrates well the chaos of the English term to note that in a medium
Natural kinds
What does science describe and explain? One standard answer here is
that science studies 'natural kinds': the joints into which Nature is
carved. Natural kinds, in short, are systematically fruitful explananda
and explanantia, where the members of the kind are held together and
governed by law(s) (and sometimes by symmetry principles, or descrip
tions of structural isomorphism; but for simplicity I shall ignore these in
what follows). Thus 'gold', but not 'briefcases'; 'tigers', but not 'fences';
9
That 'memory' is not now regarded as a likely candidate for natural-kind statu
probably does not need stressing; the number of distinctions people have seen fit to
(short-term, long-term, and 'working' memory; procedural vs. declarative; semantic
episodic, iconic, non-cognitive, somatic, etc.) illustrate the diversity of the phenome
Alternatively one could consider the bewildering variety of types of amnesia, to ma
same point. Amnesia can be anterograde, retrograde, or both; some amnesics can re
ber skills (like the Tower of Hanoi puzzle) while being unable to remember any fact
such as the fact that this puzzle has been seen before; some memory failures seem d
an inability to store information, others to a failure to retrieve it; some diseases (e.g.
Korsakoff syndrome) might spare some remote memories, whereas others (Hunting
Alzheimer's) do not; the list could continue long (see Butters and Miliotis 1985.)
the subclasses,- or, even if this is not so, the laws that concern the
subclasses may have significant structural analogy or isomorphism.10
(Evidently we shall need to say something about what makes a
scientifically interesting law.)
Thus whenever we ask whether we have a scientific explanandum,
there will be two intertwined issues: (a) whether the term in question
e.g. 'learning' or 'intelligence'picks out a natural kind at all, and, if
so, what redefinition and modification the everyday term will need; and
(b) the extent to which, if it is a natural kind, it is unitary or cluster.
Before returning to consciousness, it may be helpful to illustrate the
point with slightly easier examples.
Consider learning. Dickinson (1980), for example, thinks (contra
many other learning theorists) that it is at least possible that there is a
'general learning process'; in my terminology, he would regard at least
some kinds of learning as forming a fairly unitary natural kind. The
matter, though, is far from clear. Many others regard 'learning' as a label
that groups sets of species-, task-, or niche-specific abilities; compare
Kling ( 1971, p. 553), who suggests that we should consider 'learning' as 'a
heading for a set of chapters in a textbook'a classificatory term for a
range of interrelated psychological and physiological issues, where
presumably the most interesting laws would be species- or task-specific.
If Kling is right, 'learning' might either be no natural kind at all, or it
might be a cluster kind.
Then look at 'recognition':
I believe in fact that there is no single faculty of 'recognition' but that the term
covers the totality of all the associations aroused by any object. Phrased another
way, we 'manifest recognition' by responding appropriately; to the extent that
any appropriate response occurs, we have shown 'recognition'. But this view
abolishes the notion of a unitary step of 'recognition'; instead, there are multiple
parallel processes of appropriate response to a stimulus (Geschwind 1974,
p. 167).
am grateful to Barbara von Eckardt for suggesting this way of putting the point.
folk taxonomy is probably not completely mistaken ... to say that questions
about animal intelligence are 'outdated' or 'scientifically useless' would be
short-sighted.
This last quotation highlights all the points I want to make. First,
Menzel and Juno reinforce the point that science adopts everyday terms
but then has to adapt them for scientific purposes. Common sense ('folk
taxonomy') may point to a genuine natural kind; but not all such terms
prove in the end to point reliably: not all, that is, are suitable for either
adoption or adaptation. Second, they stress the legitimacy of asking to
what degree 'intelligence' is a natural kind at all; and, if it is, to what
extent it is what I have termed 'unitary' or 'cluster'. (With this example,
of course, one answer seems just obvious: whether or not 'intelligence'
picks out a natural kind, it will not pick out a unitary one: there is
certainly no 'essence' to it.)
Returning to 'consciousness', we can ask: is it a natural kind, suitable
for 'adaptation' after its 'adoption' from the everyday language? If it is,
thenlike most terms in psychologyit is likely to be closer to the
'cluster' end of the spectrum. I have discussed this (in different terms) in
a recent paper (Wilkes 1984), from which it should be clear that I regard
'conscious phenomena' rather as a set than as a ('cluster') kind. I shall
not therefore spend more than a paragraph or two summarizing the
discussion of the four disparate bunches of phenomena that I think
'conscious(ness)' includes.
First, someone awake is conscious, someone asleep is not. That may
seem clear enough, but note the many grey areas. We are not sure what
to say of someone dreaming, in a fugue, under hypnosis, undergoing
epileptic automatism. Second, consider bodily sensations: pains, itches,
butterflies in the stomach, pins and needles. There is a popular belief
that feeling pain (to take the paradigmatic example from this set) is a
way of being conscious; that there can be no such things as nonconscious pains. The strange behaviour of some patients under anal
gesics of the morphine group, or under hypnotic anaesthesia, make this
less clear than we might hope, though. Moreover, clear cases of pain
seem to be on a continuum, with the unnoticed strains and tensions that
lead uswaking and sleepingto shift head position, uncross our legs,
and so forth. Those insensitive to pain are also unable to make these
minute postural adjustments in response to minor muscular overwork;
this seems to me to suggest that such non-conscious stimuli might be
included, in a scientific taxonomy, under the general heading of 'pain'
even though they are not responses to consciously felt sensations: even
though their 'esse' is not 'percipi'.
My third category needs a little more introduction, for many (con)fuse
it with the sensations of the second: it is sensory experience, the
operation of sight, hearing, taste, smell, and touch. This was assimilated
to sensations like pain by the Cartesian revolution, since that revol
ution exploited mental items as the objects of incorrigible report. But
seeing and hearing are not prima facie entity-like, andif we remember
the hints from ancient Greekbefore Descartes there was no use and no
place for the plural of 'experience' in connection with the senses, and
hence no need either for philosophical terms of art like 'qualia', 'sensa',
or 'raw feels' to describe their operation. I have already mentioned that
many today want to get rid of count nouns like 'sense data', 'visual
sensations', or 'qualia' in favour of non-count terms like 'seeming to
see'. Quite apart from the fact that sensory experience is not 'jointed', as
pains and itches can be ('pain' is a genuine count noun, unlike 'seeing'),
there are other differences: it is rare that sense perception can per se be
called 'intense', 'pleasant/unpleasant', 'located', 'lasting five minutes',
'stabbing/throbbing', 'better than before', all of which apply readily and
easily to bodily sensations; and when such adjectives do apply to
sensory experience, the reasons for their application are very unlike the
reasons for applying them to sensations proper. Moreover, even though
the slogan esse est percipi ('to be is to be perceived') seems plausible to
some in connection with bodily sensations, it isas we shall see
much less so where the five senses (to which we should add kinaesthesia) are concerned. No doubt there is a continuum here, as the addition
of kinaesthesia suggests; but differences of degree can be substantial. I
have defended the distinction here more fully in my 1984 paper.
To resume, then, normal perception is usually called 'conscious', by
contrast to subliminal perception or 'blindsight'. Here again there are
grey areas: what should we say about the visual experience of the skilled
driver who puts his driving on 'automatic control' when engaging in
lively conversation, and who can remember practically nothing of the
road over which he drove, or the lorry he braked to avoid?11 What should
we say about Anton's syndromethe mirror-image of 'blindsight':
those with cortical blindness who none the less assert that they can see
(see Anton 1899; Benson and Greenberg 1969)?
And finally, fourth, there is the ascription of the propositional atti
tudesdeliberating, pondering, desiring, believing. (A subset of these
would include self-conscious states: when what one is thinking or
deliberating about is oneself or one's own mental states.) Some of these
seem clearly 'conscious', specifically occurrent thoughtsProustian
memory floods, or the thought in words running through the head: I'm
running out of toothpaste; must remember to buy some. Others seem
11 The question whether the car-driver driving smoothly while conversing was 'c
scious' or 'unconscious' divided psychologists at a recent conference in Bielefeld ap
imately fifty-fifty.
Acknowledgements
Earlier drafts of this paper were read at Bielefeld and Liverpool, and I am
particularly grateful to Peter Bieri, Barbara von Eckardt, Tim Shallice,
George Mandler, and Eckart Scheerer (albeit among others) for their
helpful comments. I have a large debt to Tony Marcel for his detailed
suggestions (at Bielefeld and subsequently). I am aware that I have
probably not converted the doubters with this revised version.
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