Intelligence is the ability to solve problems, and consciousness is the ability to feel things and have subjective experiences — Yuval Noah Harari
A dreary summer afternoon, and there is absolute stillness all around. Not a single leaf on the trees outside is fluttering.
A while back, when I stepped out onto the screened porch for a minute, all I could hear was the buzzing sound of cicadas and flies. It feels as though I am the only one around here, living on some frontier outpost of humanity, waiting for the next supply ship to arrive and bring some cheery news from the Earth.
There is not much else to do here except watch flies scuttle around busily or think about philosophical questions like what consciousness is and what it might have been its origins.
There is an effervescent beauty in philosophical musings. They are also a bottomless source of questions to keep my mind engaged and keep soul sucking boredom at bay.
It is fun to ponder over the origin stories of common objects that are around me — why something is what it is? Do things owe their origin merely to chance accidents or there is some inevitability to their existence?
Why do I have physiological mechanisms for sensing the environment, or for that matter, is there a reason that I have five senses and not six? Are there plausible explanations for observable facts around me?
Philosophical musings, although may not have practical utility, they keep my mind engaged and help me feel connected to something larger than myself. They allow me to transcend the narrow confines of my ego.
So, what could be origins of my consciousness and the reason that I am aware of a fly buzzing around, and when it lands on the cup of muddy coffee I am drinking, it makes me react with annoyance.
There are two origin stories for consciousness. One perspective posits that consciousness is an entity of its own. It is separate from the physical brain, which receives sensory input and seems like an integral and a crucial component for my awareness. This view, known as dualism, suggests that a non-physical substance or property constitutes consciousness.
The alternative view posits that consciousness is a construct of the physical brain’s myriads of activities. This notion argues that consciousness is an acquired capacity and hinges on the workings of the brain. Along the evolutionary path, the capacity for consciousness evolved to give biological organisms an edge in the race to acquire finite resources, thereby increasing their chances of survival and reproduction.
It is easy to comprehend that all biological organisms require a mechanism to (a) sense their surroundings, (b) interpret the sensory input, and © make an inference from the input received and react accordingly. These are the three basic functions of the brain. If I did not have these traits, I might as well be a rock.
Starting from that premise, it is not difficult to envision that as brain functions and structure acquired more complexity to coordinate increasing specialization of different organs, a nascent capacity for proto-consciousness (e.g., a capacity to remember what happened in the past few minutes ago) may have evolved.
Once the capacity to consciousize was there, it gave an enormous edge in the race for survival and reproduction. Shaped by the hands of natural selection, the nascent capacity for proto-consciousness continued to get better and better.
Neuroscience and cognitive science are advancing the understanding of the physical basis of consciousness. The biological foundations for memory already exist and are connected with the concept of synaptic plasticity.
With a neurological basis for memory in place, cognitive science can build on that foundation to develop macro-level explanations for the hallmarks of consciousness such as perception, attention, language, reasoning and problem-solving, flow of time, and metacognition (the ability of consciousness probing itself). These are the traits that are used to define the capacity (or can serve as markers) for consciousness.
This pathway for evolving a capacity for consciousness is a plausible narrative.
A corollary to the possibility above also comes to mind that once the capacity for memory is there, and I am aware of the past, an awareness for the future has to come in. I cannot imagine a world where an awareness of the past without an awareness of the future, and vice versa, can exist.
Plausible as it may be, there are lots of unanswered questions that are associated with the notion for a physical basis for consciousness though:
· Why is there such a big gap in the capacity for consciousness between me and countless biological organisms that exist around me? How and when did this quantum leap happen?
· A more fundamental question, however, is how to measure consciousness to begin with? It is only when I can do that that I can ask if the capacity for consciousness falls on a continuum.
· How consciousness relates to the subjectivity of experience? Is it because of the different physiological structures of the brain? Is it because synapses differ from person to person and (with age for a person) and synapses are what makes us.
· How does capacity for consciousness evolved subsequent to my birth — am I as conscious on the day I was born vs. when I was twenty vs. when I am at 66 now vs. when my current cognitive abilities will decline with age?
· What role the brain as an interpreter of sensory input plays in what ‘consciousness is?’ Does the biological, chemical, and electrical activity in the of brain the seat of consciousness or it is a two-way street?
· Does consciousness and IQ have a connection? Does someone who can speak 58 languages has higher level of consciousness than me who has difficulty keeping track of one.
· Does consciousness…
…and the list of questions can go on and on and is long enough to keep me gainfully occupied for the rest of my living days.
For now, the buzzing fly just could not resist committing hara-kiri and dived into the cup of stale coffee. Time to get up and make a fresh cup of tea.
Once again, the world of living trumps the work of thinking. Thankfully, it always does.
Ciao and thanks for reading.
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