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Intentionality and
the Phenomenology
of Action
What is an action, and what is it like to perform an action? We will argue that John
Searle’s brilliant account of the logic and phenomenology of action in Intentionally/1
substantially advances our understanding, but that it prematurely forecloses some
important philosophical options.
We will begin by arguing that Davidson’s account of action (as bodily motion
caused by reasons) has trouble accounting for two features of the phenomenology of
action, the fact that actions feel different than nonvoluntary bodily motions, and the
fact that we sometimes know directly and without observation what we are doing.
We will then summarize Searle’s solution to these puzzles via his concept of an
“intention in action,” a representation of the goal of one’s action that both causes
the action and is directly experienced as causing the action. Next, we will challenge
the generality of Searle’s account by suggesting that the experience of an intention
in action causing one’s action does not appear to occur in many spontaneous,
habitual, skillful, and otherwise nondeliberate actions. (While no term seems quite
right, we will use “nondeliberate” to refer to all the sorts of actions we describe
below in which there is no representation of the goal.) We will outline an alternative
account of such actions, inspired by certain strands of the Continental tradition of
phenomenological description. Finally, we will consider potential Searlian replies to
OUT counterexamples.
Three things that happen in a typical action are: (l) one’s body moves; (2) the
movement is due to one’s own muscular activity, and not to some external force
acting upon one’s body; and (3) the movement serves some purpose of the person
acting. However, these conditions by themselves fail to capture either what an
action is or what it is like to act. For example, a reflex can satisfy all these conditions
Without being an action. Suppose the doctor strikes one’s knee with a mallet. The
260 Jerome ll’a'kq/ield and Hubert Drag/its
leg moves; it moves not because the doctor lifts it, but due to the organized
contractions of one’s own muscles; and that movement may be precisely what one
wants the leg to do in order to provide evidence of health. Yet the reflexive raising of
the leg is not an action. Moreover, the leg’s motion is not experienced as an action.
The leg feels like it moves of its own accord, it does not feel like one is moving it
Analogous to the reflex case are instances of “Penfield motion,” with which
Searle is much concerned, in which the subject’s bodily motion — including
organized muscular activity such as hand motion or vocalization — is caused by the
firing of an electrode implanted in the subject’s brain. Penfield motions are not
actions. Moreover, their phenomenology is not the phenomenology of action. The
subjects in Penfield’s experiments immediately reported to Penfield, “You did
that,” and their reports seem to have been based upon their experiences and not on
observations of the inappropriateness of the motion to the situation, or knowledge of
Penfield’s experimental manipulation. We may assume that even if the subjects had
been thirsty and their hands had been made to move toward a nearby glass of water
just as they wanted it to do, the motion would still not have been experienced by the
subjects as their own action.2
The Penfield and reflex cases establish that an action is not like one’s body simply
moving, even in a desired and useful manner. Some logical element in the concept
of action, and some corresponding phenomenological characteristic of action, are
lacking in these motions. The missing logical and phenomenological features have We r.
to be specified in order to have a viable account of action as opposed to other bodily Davi<
motion. . After
Donald Davidson’s account of the logic of “action” explains why the reflex and accor'
Penfield motions do not meet the logical criteria for being actions, but Davidson’s is tru
account fails to address the phenomenological issue. Davidson’s view is that an Se:
action is a bodily motion that is caused (in the right way) by the psychological state criter
which constitutes the reason for that action.3 Davidson’s account explains why Inotit
reflexes and Penfield cases are not actions, namely, because the relevant bodily
motions are not caused by reasons. But what of the phenomenological puzzle? Why
is it that reflexes and Penfield motions do no feel like actions? There is nothing
within the Davidsonian framework to answer this question. So far as the
Davidsonian account goes, the phenomenology of bodily motion could be exactly
the same in motions that happen to be caused by reflexes or electrode firings as it is
in cases of motions that happen to be caused by reasons.
If we were to try to construct within the Davidsonian perspective an explanation
of how Penfield’s subjects or the person experiencing a reflex manage to judge
correctly on the basis of their own experience that the respective bodily motions are
not actions, the best account might be the following. In the case of an action, the
agent would be aware of his or her reasons for the action before the bodily motion
occurs, and from the relation between the content of the reasons and the nature of
the action, the person could infer that the reasons likely caused the bodily motion.
In the reflex and Penfield cases, however, at the time of the motion the subject
would not be aware of having an appropriate reason for the motion, and thus would
infer that the motion is not caused by a reason and is therefore not an action. This
Z
i i“
inferential account does not depend on the person’s direct awareness of any
phenomenological feature of the action itself. Rather, it suggests that the conclusion
that one is performing an action results from a special kind of “third-person”
Phenomenalogv ofA(firm 261
interpretive inquiry into the causes of one’s own action, using as evidence the
memory of one’s antecedent representations, the observation of one’s motion, and a
variety of background information.
The inferential account seems to ignore the fact, emphasized by Searle, that we
know what we are dom'g directly from the experience we have of acting, and not via
some causal inference. Moreover, as stated earlier, in either the reflex case or the
Penfield case, the subject might indeed be entertaining representations of the sort
which would constitute appropriate reasons for the movement (e.g., wanting the leg
to move to verify health, wanting the hand to move toward the glass of water). If we
accept as a phenomenological fact that even under such conditions the movement
need not feel like an action, then it is hard to see how the inferential account can be
made satisfactory.
In sum, Davidson’s approach to action fails to explain two salient facts about the
phenomenology of action. First, how do we know that we are acting rather than
moving involuntarily? Second, how do we know what we are doing when we are
acting?
include a direct experience of the causal relation between the intention in action
and the bodily motion. If, when acting, the agent is directly aware of the causal
connection between his intention and his motion, this links the phenomenology to
plausible criteria for ascription of actions and thus provides for a unique explanation
of first-person access to one’s own actions. This sort of linkage of linguistic analysis
and phenomenology is distinctively Searlian.
According to Searle, an action is generally caused by a prior intention to perform
the action, although there exist cases of spontaneous action that do not involve a
.
prior intention. But the action itself, whether caused by a prior intention or not,
» i 4 ..
consists of a bodily motion and an intention in action, where the intention in action
continues to cause the bodily motion during the entire duration of the motion. The
fact that consciously acting agents continuously experience themselves as acting is
‘hli‘g mhl—w
.1
explained on Searle’s account by the fact that the intention in action continues
._
throughout an action.
Searle elaborates the Intentional content, or conditions of satisfaction, of the
prior intention to raise one’s arm as follows: “This prior intention causes an
intention in action which is a presentation of my arm going up, and which causes my
arm to go up” (Intentz'onalz'zy, p. 93). That is, the prior intention is a representation
that has as its conditions of satisfaction that it cause an intention in action which in
turn has as its conditions of satisfaction that it cause the relevant bodily motion.
Note that in this passage the intention in action is equated with the presentation of
one’s arm going up. This means that Searle’s phrase, “presentation of one’s arm
going up,” is not meant to refer simply to a kinesthetic perceptual presentation of
the arm rising and the associated muscular effort, for that presentation occurs in the
Penfield and reflex cases. The phrase “presentation of my arm going up” is meant
by Searle to capture the presentation that constitutes the experience of the arm
intentionally being raised, that is, the experience of acting. Now, elsewhere, Searle
states that “the experience of acting just is the intention in action” (ibid., p. 91; see
also the chart on p. 97). Since the intention in action causes the bodily movement, it
is also true that “the experience [of acting] causes the [bodily] movement” (ibid.,
chart, p. 91). In sum, the intention in action to raise one’s arm, the experience of
acting in raising one’s arm, and the presentation of one’s arm going up (in Searle’s
sense of this phrase), are all identical, are all the cause of one’s arm going up, and
are all experienced as the cause of one’s arm going up. Note that the experience of
acting, which is an experience of one’s intention causing one’s bodily movement,
comes pretty close to capturing what would be traditionally called an experience of
volition or an experience of willing.
The intention in action resolves the two fundamental phenomenological puzzles
about action mentioned earlier. First, why are some bodily motions experienced as
actions while others are not? Searle’s answer is that only those bodily motions
experienced as caused by an intention in action are experienced as actions. Second,
how is it that we always know without observation what it is that we are doing? This
is just another way of asking for an explanation of what has traditionally been called
“first-person access” to our actions. Searle’s answer is that the very experience of
acting contains within itself a representation of the goal of the action, which means
the experience of acting is in part an experience of what it is that we are trying to
do. This explains “the fact that at any point in a man’s conscious life he knows
without observation the answer to the question, ‘What are you now doing?” This
Phenomenology of. ’lm'on 263
Lm‘m‘ledge of what one is doing “characteristically den‘ves from the fact that a
conscious c_\pen'ence of acting involves a consciousness of the conditions of
satisia‘cn'on of that expen‘ence“ (p. 90).
In this section, we will attempt to construct a plausible case, largely through the use
of examples an-d analogjes, that actions can occur without being continuously
caused by a simultan'eous intention in action.5
Searle’s account of the mitention in action explains how it is that we lmow what we
are doing, and it identifies the special- experience of action that is missing in the
Penfield cases, thus explaining what differentiates experiences of actions from
experiences of motions that are not actions. Despite these advantages, the claim that
the intention m' action is a universal feature of action goes against phenomenological
m’tuitions. Some actions, especially those actions that are unfamiliar and therefore
deh'berate, surely do have the structure described by Searle. However, Searle
ignores the Contm'ental tradition of phenomenolooig'cal description, which suggests
that many actions do not have this structure. From the perspective of this tradi—
tion, by reqm'nn'g that an m'tention 1n' action exist throughout an action Searle has
created too strong a criterion which "overrepresentationalizes” action. .Many
actions appear to take place without this kind of representational “monitoring,” or
so we \nll' argue.
Phenomenological examination strongly suggests that in a wide variety of
situations human beings relate to the world in an organized purposeful manner
without the constant accompanun'ent of representational states which specify what
the action is aimed at accomplishing. Possible examples are skll'lful activity, like
wale’g or playm‘g the piano or slm"ng; habitual activity, like driving to the office or
brushm'g one’s teeth; casual unthinkm'g activity, h'ke rolling over in bed or making
gestures whil'e one is speaking; and spontaneous and emotionally laden activity,
such as jumping up and pacing during a heated discussion or fidgetin'g and
drummm'g one’s fingers anxiously during a dull lecture. In all these cases of action it
is possible to be without any representation of the near- or long—term goal of the
action as one performs the action. Indeed, at times one is actually surprised when
the action is' accomplished, as when one’s thoughts are m'terrupted by one’s arrival
at the office. These unthinking actions seem to be at least as typical of the activities
m' a normal day as their opposite. In fact, they provide the non-salient background
of activity that makes it possible deliberately to focus on what is unusual or important
or difficult.
Often, perception of one’s body’s situation is critical to action, and one responds
to such perceptions with exquisite refinement, resolving the set of tensions which
they produce. For example, when spontaneously rolling over in bed, one responds
to the moment-to-moment tensions distributed over the surface of the body,
moving until an acceptable equilibrium is reached. In this and similar cases, one
does not actually represent to oneself where one is headm'g or what one is dom'g.
One just does it, responding to the moment-to-moment local forces acting upon
one. The moment-to-moment response may be “aimed” in a functional sense at
achievm'g some larger purpose, just as the activity of rolling over in bed is aimed at
'l
have of carelinllv reconsidering our options and reorienting ourselves. There are
unquestionably certain forms of problem—sol\-'ing which require representing tu‘ture
circutnst.-mces and thus cannot be accomplished merely through reactions to
immediate perceptions, no matter how contextually sensitive. Representa-tionally
nonnu‘diated behavior is often limited in intelligence, and then mainly consists of
overlearned responses. Nonetheless, it is remarkable how “intelligent” our actions
can be even when they are not mediated by representations of intentions. For
example, consider gestures of emphasis made while speaking. One generally does
not think ahead and figure out how one is going to gesture in order to emphasize
one’s point, nor does one normally representationally regulate one’s gesture while
performing it, yet the gesture adjusts itself finely to the nuances of the situation and
the meanings of the words being spoken. Or consider Boston Celtic basketball
player Larry Bird’s description of the experience of the complex act of passing the
ball in the midst ofa game: “[A lot of the] things I do on the court are just reactions
to situations . . . I don’t think about some of the things I’m trying to do . . . A lot of
times, I’ve passed the basketball and not realized I’ve passed it until a moment or so
later.”6 Such phenomena are not limited to strictly muscular responses, but exist in
all areas of skillful functioning, including intellectual functioning. For example,
some instances of apparently complex problem-solving which seem to be imple-
menting a long-range strategy, as in making a move in chess, may be best under—
stood as direct responses to familiar perceptual gestalts.7 Here, the “tension” model
must be taken not in the literal sense of muscular tension, but as a metaphor for
other kinds of deformations from gestalt equilibrium and for the tendency to return
to equilibrium.8 Mustn’t such adaptive behavior require an explicit and continuous
representation of what is wanted, in order to regulate the performance? Apparently
not; indeed, the overregulation of such performances by explicit representations
may well interfere with the smoothness of the performance (the “centipede syn—
drome”). The feeling of deviating from some optimal gestalt and responding so as
to conform with the gestalt may occur without a representation of the gestalt end-
point of the action.
If our description of nondeliberate action is correct, it implies that we can
sometimes consciously experience ourselves as acting (as opposed to not acting) but
at the very same time not be explicitly aware of what we are trying to do. That is,
one can have the feeling of one’s musculature purposefully adjusting to one’s
perceptions and the resulting “tensions” without being aware at the same moment
of the gestalt that determines the sense of tension (or the sense of rightness) of the
body—world relationship. Spontaneously gesturing for emphasis while talking might
be a good example of this. In this regard it seems that our description is in conflict
with Searle’s intuitions, for he asserts that the experience of acting contains within it
a representation of What we are trying to do, the intention in action, so that to
experience oneself consciously as acting must, on his account, involve a conscious
awareness of what one is trying to do.
What we are saying about action is not such a radical departure from what Searle
himself says about background skills. Searle holds that an intention in action can
“reach down” and organize the body’s skillful activity in a way that helps to achieve
the intended action, but as long as the context does not change and there is no
breakdown, there need be no additional intention in action at the level of the skill.
For example, one might m'tentionally ski downhill, during which time one might
266 Jerome lVakfle‘e/d and Iiulk’rt Drtjjru‘s
Several questions arise about the type of nondeliberate activity we have described
above, once it is accepted that no intention in action is experienced during such
activity. First, can Searle simply argue that our examples are all cases of
unconscious intentions in action, so that there is an intention in action, albeit
unexperienced, involved in all of them after all? Second, if no intention in action is
involved, and perhaps no prior intention is involved either, what is the justification
for calling such activity “intentional”? Third, what of Searle’s central point that an
intention in action is required to explain how we can always say what we are doing?
Fourth, how does our account manage to avoid the phenomenological problem with
Davidson’s account that Searle’s intention in action resolved, that is, how do we
explain the fact that even those actions lacking an intention in action are
experienced as actions, rather than in the way that reflexes and Penfield motions
are experienced?
First, then, how would Searle account for some of the phenomenological facts
cited above, where it appears that there is no experience of an intention in action? It
seems likely that if he accepted the phenomenological claims, he would argue that
the intentions in action do exist in the cited cases, but that they are simply
unconscious. The intentions in action would not necessarily be unconscious in
the Freudian dynamic sense, but they might just be unattended to or otherwise
unnoticed. If this move is possible for Searle, then Searle’s View is trivially
compatible with any phenomenological facts that could be cited.
Without independent motivation, the “unconscious intentionality” reply would
obviously be a questionable way for Searle to deal with apparent counterexamples to
his phenomenological account. Moreover, the very logic of Searle’s position seems
Phenomenolog' QfActimI 267
to preclude any such motivation and makes this reply extremely problematic. On
Searle‘s account, the experience that one is acting directly depends upon an
mperima’ of the causal connection between the intention in action and the bodily
motion. If the intention in action is unconscious, then the causal connection
between it and the motion cannot be conscious, and it would seem that there can be
no experience of acting. It would thus seem to follow from Searle’s account that,
whenever an in'tention in action is unconscious, the actor would not feel that he or
she is actm'g, and would experience his or her bodily motions much as did Penfield’s
subjects. This is exactly the position of some of Freud’shysterical patients whose
“symptoms,” which do not feel like actions, are really unconsciously motivated
actions. As Freud remarks conceming one of his patients: “If she is executing the
jerks and movements constituting her ‘fit,’ she does not even consciously represent
to herself the intended actions, and she may perceive those actions with the
detached feelings of an onlooker.”9 But the cases we have discussed are cases
where we fully experience ourselves as acting, and not as moving involuntarily as in
a fit, or as having a reflex response, or as being manipulated by an experimenter,
and so on. Consequently, these cases cannot be dismissed by Searle as cases of
unconscious intentions in action.
Second: I,f at a given moment, no Intentional states are actively involved as
m'tentions which guide the action, why should the activity be considered intentional
action? (We follow Searle’s convention here of using “Intentional” with a capital I to
refer to directedness of mental states in general, and “intentional” to refer to a
specific property of voluntary actions.) Now, Intentionality is initially defined by
Searle and others as a form of intrinsic directedness. Searle, along with the vast
majority of writers on the topic, then identifies that directedness with representa-
tionality, on the traditional and seemingly plausible assumption that the only way a
brain state could be intrinsically directed at some state of affairs outside of itself is
if it realized a representation of that state of affairs. However, it should not be
forgotten that representationality is just a theory of how the initially identified
phenomenon, Intentional directedness, can work. It is by far the dominant theory,
so that representationality and Intentionality may seem to be virtually synonymous,
but in fact the Continental tradition of philosophy has explored other possible
options for the nature of Intentional directedness. In particular, as suggested
earlier, a plausible account of another kind of Intentional element in intentional
action might be framed in terms of a sense of deformation from and return to an
optimal form or gestalt of the body—world relationship. We cannot present here a
full analysis of such nonrepresentational Intentionality. Instead, we are simply
suggesting that such an approach is possible and seems to fit the phenomenology of
some instances of intentional action better than Searle’s representational account,
so that such an alternative should be taken seriously.
If we are right, then Scarle’s identification of Intentionality with representa—
tionality is problematic because it prematurely excludes potential nonrepresenta-
tional approaches from discussion. Thus, rather than excluding nondeliberate
action of the sort we have described from the realm of intentional behavior, we
would suggest rethinking the limits of both Intentionality and intentionality in
view of the actual nature of the phenomena described earlier. For convenience,
we will call the representational form of Intentionality described by Searle “R-
Intentionality,” and the Intentional directedness which consists in the tendency
268 Jerome VVa/cqfield and Hubert Drcjj'hs
response to one’s sense of the environment and one’s internal state. Searle is
correct that one feels differently than Penfield’s subjects because one experiences
the connection between one’s bodily motions and a cause of the motion. But no
intention in action is necessary to explain such as experience. One can simply be
experiencing the causal connection between one’s motion and one’s perception of
one’s body’s situation in the world. Part of that experience is a sense that one’s
situation deviates from some optimal body—environment relationship, and that
one’s motion takes one closer to that optimal form and thereby relieves the
“tension” of the deviation.
Think of walking along a familiar path, absorbed in thought. There is the dim
feeling of doing something, of walking, but that experience is not the experience of
a representation of the goal of walking causing the walking. The experience of
causality in such activities might be partitioned into two components. First, there is
an experienced causal connection between our perception of the environment’s
eliciting conditions and the exquisitely organized response of our body. The texture
of the ground, the slope of the path, and all the other contextual factors are in
constant interaction with our muscular dispositions so as to produce a complex
response. Second, there is a feeling that our motion “fits” or is “appropriate” to the
environmental context. We do not simply feel that our motion was caused by the
perceived conditions, but that it was caused in such a way that it is constrained to
reduce a sense of deviation from some satisfactory relationship, even though the
nature of that satisfactory relationship is by no means represented. Like our ability
to see that something is wrong with a picture without being able to identify what is
wrong, we can have a sense of the rightness or wrongness of our body’s relationship
to the world without at the same time being aware of the criterion which determines
our sense of the quality of that relationship. What we experience while walking
is just the smooth body-in-environment functioning constrained by that preset
disposition. The feeling of causal efficacy in action — and thus the basis for first-
person authority about whether we are acting — is simply the presentation of the
causal link between the perception of the inner and outer environment and the
musculature’s organized motion, as mediated by a set of muscular response
dispositions which function to produce a goal which need not be represented.
We began with the observation that contemporary analytic accounts of the nature of
action, such as Davidson’s, do not account for certain phenomenological features of
action, especially the experience of acting. We then outlined how Searle’s account
of action solves such problems in the case of deliberate action. In particular, Searle
maintains that the experience of acting is the experience of a causal connection
between an intention in action and a bodily motion. However, we argued that
Searle’s approach does not work in cases of nondeliberate action, where no
intention 1n' action is evident. Our own account attempts to solve the phenomeno—
logical problem for nondeliberate actions. We argue that the experience of acting in
cases where no intention in action exists is the experience of the causal connection
between our perceptions of our internal and external situation and our bodily
motion, along with an experience of the appropriateness of our motion to the
circumstances. If we are right, then, contrary to Searle’s account, the experience of
acting does not necessarily contain an experience of what we are trying to bring
about. Thus, Searle’s account supplemented by our account can explain the
270 Jerome Wa'kfieeld and Hubert Drcjfrils
intuitive distinction in experience between action and nonaction over the entire
spectrum of actions, from the most to the least deliberate.
NOTES
1 John Searle, Intentionality: An Essay in the Philosophy of .IMz'nd (Cambridge, University Press:
Cambridge, 1983). All page references to Searle’s writings will be to this work.
2 Of course, if the right brain state — namely, the one which corresponds to the experience of
acting.— were induced to fire by Penfield’s electrodes, then the patient would presumably
experience the motion like an action. We assume that the electrode is producing the motion
through stimulation of the neurons directly controlling muscular action, and that the electrodes
do not stimulate the more central processes involved in the experience of action.
See D. Davidson, “Actions, Reasons, and Causes,” reprinted in Essays on Actions and Events
(Clarendon Press: Oxford, 1980).
Exactly how this representation manages to regulate ongoing behavior is not addressed by
Searle, and we will not consider that thorny question here.
We are relying heavily in these suggestions upon an analysis of Merleau-Ponty’s gestalt
U1
claims about any given subject matter. Here, for example, is a theoretical claim:
The functioning of Intentionality cannot be Intentionalistic right down to the
gr‘ound, but rather this functioning must presuppose a set of capacities that are not
themselves representational. Indeed, this is the essential theoretical claim in my
thesis of the Background. I call these capacities collectively the Background. My
own view (and in this I think I do depart from Wittgenstein) is that ultimately our
explanations of these capacities will be biological. That is to say, the existence of
Intentional states is explained by the fact that we are creatures with the certain sort
of neurophysiological structure, and certain sorts of biological capacities.
who use it in ways quite unlike my own. The word does not occur essentially in my
account, since it can be completely dispensed with in favor of all of the notions that
are used to explain it. It is simply a device for coordinating those notions (I mean
here notions such as “propositional content,” “direction of fit,” “conditions of
san'sta‘cn'on,” “causal self—referentiality,” “Network,” etc.). But my use of the word
“representation” has naturally led people to suppose that I must be using it in a
sense that goes back several centuries in Continental philosophy.
Brian O’Shaughnessy