Preface to the Quantum Theory of Consciousness

This theory was first proposed by physicist and mathematician Sir Roger Penrose in his book Shadows of the Mind. My familiarity with it is only from reading secondary literature related to philosophy of mind, so I figured I should read his book in order to write on it. Since Shadows of the Mind is Penrose’s second book, I wanted to read The Emperor’s New Mind beforehand to get a better sense of where he’s coming from. Now that I have finished it, I thought I would provide a bit of context here, prior to discussing the Quantum Theory of Consciousness. I haven’t begun reading Shadows yet but plan to start soon, and considering how long it takes me to read and write anything now that I’m working full time, I decided an intermediate post would be a good idea.

The Emperor’s New Mind is somewhat underwhelming, given what its title suggests. It’s an odd book because it’s primarily about mathematics and physics, with some half-hearted conclusions about the mind at the end. Given its title, you’d expect the conclusions of this book to be somewhat revolutionary and counterintuitive, but they really aren’t. Maybe for 1989 they might have been, but Penrose’s suggestions aren’t claimed with certainty; his opinions come across as suggestions rather than conclusions. Essentially, it argues that the mind probably doesn’t result from some kind of algorithm because mathematical insights tend to simply appear from intuitive origins, rather than the result of following some kind of procedure. Although I found myself in agreement with Penrose throughout, his way of appealing to math and physics to draw conclusions about consciousness felt a bit inappropriate. As in, I did not find the premises to his conclusions all that insightful because physics isn’t directly related to the mind. Minds are the result of biology, and considering the degree of complexity introduced by biochemistry, it’s a bit of a stretch to try to apply principles from physics to draw conclusions about the mind. Anyway, the most compelling point he makes is that when we look at brain activity, the left hemisphere is generally responsible for algorithmic thinking, and that since some of the most interesting developments in mathematics arise from intuition rather than from following procedures, maybe consciousness isn’t all that algorithmic after all. For anyone familiar with McGilchrist’s work, this is an easy idea to accept.

The beginning opens with a discussion on computers and mathematics, specifically the Turing Test and whether computers could someday be considered conscious entities. He postulates that if the mind is the result of some kind of algorithm, a commonly-held belief at the time, that it might make sense to claim that AIs could be conscious. His ultimate conclusion is that the mind does not work like an algorithm, given the way mathematical insights seem to just appear out of the blue. Prior to reaching this conclusion, however, he goes on a whirlwind tour of significant developments and theories in mathematics and physics, providing the reader with a thorough education in these domains. I enjoyed the parts about mathematics because I like math, but admittedly skimmed through the portions on physics. Not only are they somewhat tangential to his thesis, I don’t have much of a physics background because it’s just not that interesting to me. Just like how some people aren’t all that interested in the specific techniques for perfecting a serve in tennis or how small the crumbs of butter should be for the most optimal pie crust. I’m open to learning more about physics but only if it’s required for something specific, like a theory of consciousness or a pie crust recipe. In this book, however, that’s not the case. The amount of depth and discussion he goes into about various concepts and historical developments within math and physics isn’t really related to anything, you can tell he just likes to write about it. Which, I mean, that’s cool and all, but I’m not really that compelled to read it.

The idea that the mind is algorithmic is a strange one, considering that an algorithm is just a procedure for doing something. The concept of an algorithm belongs to the domain of epistemology, rather than ontology. In nature, there is only cause and effect, and any characterization of this relationship is necessarily created by an agent. For example, hot water softens pasta, and the procedure for cooking pasta was developed by people with minds. The notion that evolution or biological developments could have selected for a mind that is algorithmic in nature is a very anthropomorphic position. Selective pressures only target causal patterns, and it is the observer who classifies something as an algorithm. Penrose’s suggestion that consciousness must involve more than just algorithmic thinking is good, but it isn’t all that revolutionary. Maybe at the time it was, but today it’s not that controversial. Thankfully, phenomenology has become more widely accepted since then, along with an understanding of animal consciousness. Actually, this book is an exemplar for McGilchrist’s thesis of The Master and his Emissary, namely that Western perspectives have been overly influenced by the left hemisphere and its specialization in parts rather than wholes, certainty rather than ambiguity. Anyway, I can see where Penrose’s motivation is coming from, and given the computationalist and cognitivist perspectives that were prevalent during the latter half of the 20th century, it makes sense. Since then, however, embodiment as a concept has grown in popularity, making phenomenology more widely accepted as a result. In a nutshell, embodiment views the physical body and its various processes as the foundation from which high-level thinking results, the kind of thinking that is involved in the creation of algorithms. Though one can characterize aspects of physiology as an algorithm, this ultimately results from human minds rather than natural cause-effect relationships. The fact that x causes y is salient to humans and animals because it informs us about how the world works; without these minds, it just is.

From Cuisinier Royal (1693), uploaded by Jpbrigand