A Fan Tail/Tale

My Adversary!

Just an interlude from my usual bollocks. In today's post, I'm going to eschew the esoteric science and philosophical trains of thought and derail into the mundane daily life of the Flaxen household.

Let me introduce my readers to a native bird of New Zealand, the Fantail (Rhipidura fuliginosa). Tis a small bird bedecked with bright, colourful plumage, and as the name suggests, once perched, the cheeky chappy has the habit of displaying its rear plumage in an engaging peacock-like manner. Whilst strolling/patrolling the boundaries of my estate, I'm often followed by said critter. They swoop, cavort and tumble akimbo as if bowing to my very presence. Sadly and prosaically, I've subsequently learned that their behaviour is just a response to my stirring up the insects as I walk. In other words, I provide an easy lunch for these delightful and alluring birds. 

Although undoubtedly harmless, fantails are not without annoying habits. They are often keen to enter our habitats, especially if they have easy access. Thus, garages, with their large open doors, are an obvious attraction. My shed has a large 'roller deck' door that I often leave fully open to take advantage of the clement Wairarapa weather. As I work within the shed, fantails visit on a regular basis. They dart about for several minutes, alighting and perching briefly upon the beams before buggering off. 

The Maoris hereabouts have a superstition about these rather captivating birds. If they enter your abode, they are considered an omen of impending doom. In particular, they are viewed as a messenger foretelling the news of imminent death. Does a garage and shed count? I know not. Anyway, the other day, as I was working away in the shed, carefully applying feather fletching to a wooden arrow shaft, the aforementioned portend of doom came to visit. It chirped merrily as it flew from beam to beam. Initially, I ignored the interloper and carried on with the task at hand, occasionally taking a sip of a fine cold ale. Usually, fantails depart after a few scant minutes. However, today, my diminutive feathered visitor decided to tarry a while longer, and after about 20 minutes, I decided to stop work and shoo my unwanted guest out of the shed. Now, you may ask, why bother? They are cute, inquisitive little birds without a hint of malice. And indeed, this is the truth. But I have a quirk. I have a pathological distaste for bird poop (scat begone!). Therefore, it was time to persuade the overstayer to seek solace in my insect-bestrewn garden. Usually, a quick blast from the Makita blower induces departure, but not on this occasion. After a while, I changed tactics. I embraced the power of a long wooden stick and tapped on each of the rafters upon which the fantail settled. I was hoping that the bird would get the hint. Not this fantail. I had to give him/her credit for endurance as I sent the bird flying between the beams. After a while, I realised I needed reinforcements and decided to recruit the formidable resources of the indomitable Mrs Saxon. Together, we reeled about the shed, driving the poor bird before us in a concerted effort to convince the creature to leave. In the end, we had to admit defeat and accept that this small but noble bird had gained ascendance and would no doubt leave when good and ready. In total, I/we had spent a good hour trying to remove one small bird. 

As time was drawing late, I decided to leave, and so I doffed my hat to the lone fantail, raised my glass and drank a toast to its fortitude. The bird, in turn, acknowledged my homage by promptly releasing a stream of poo. I left the door and front entrance fully ajar, leaving my guest to egress without duress and on its own good time.   

I returned an hour later to find a shed bereft of fantail.    

I was so moved by the fantail's intransigence that I decided to write a poem in commemoration. As I began to write, 'The Muse' enveloped me with its canopy of lyricistic (not a real word) opulence. Please forgive my pretension to write in a late Elizabethan style. I write as the Muse directs and also I have run out of my meds. Read and weep.

Ode to Rhioidura fuliginosa 

In yonder shed, where shadows dance in glee,

A fantail visits, a sprite of airy grace.

Its feathers, like ferret's fur, light and free,

Yet bound by fate within this humble place.

 

A man of fair countenance toils within,

An ancient soul, here upon a quest.

His aged hand doth unfurl, finger point to one siskin,*

A stout staff a goad, for the winged one, no rest!

 

With wings of dusk, it flutters to and fro,

A captive of its own enchanting whim.

Though whispers beckon from the wild below,

It stays, entranced by shadows growing dim.

 

For here, amidst the rafters, it finds rest,

In corners where the light doth softly fade.

A chirping sentinel, a feathered guest, unbidden,

In solitude, its company is made.

 

No tempest fierce nor luring song's refrain

Can coax it from its chosen sanctuary.

For here, it finds its solace, free from pain,

A creature of the shadows, solitary.

 

Oh, gentle fantail, why dost thou remain,

Within this shed, where dreams are bound to rust?

Yet who are we to question thy domain,

In shadows deep, where mysteries entrust?

 

So let it be, this feathered denizen,

A symbol of the beauty in constraint.

For in its choice, it finds its own sweet ken,

And in its flight, a tale of strength innate.

Tis here in coarse domain, the fantail tarries,

Tis here, his perch, his home within.

No longer the staff goads and harries,

A place on a beam for brave urchin.

* Please note: Siskin refers to a small European finch that bears no relation to the fantail- call it poetic licence; call it a banana. Arse

Consciousness: Part I

Prove It

The problem of consciousness is fundamental to our personal experience, and the nature of consciousness is indeed a highly fraught topic that has no clear consensus between contemporary scientists and philosophers. It is in this murky pool that I have decided to dabble/paddle. Initially, and prior to diving a little deeper, I had fairly clear ideas concerning the problem. After a little research and reading, I'm not so cocksure. The subject of 'Consciousness' is a difficult pond in which to splash, and the waves are high. In blog format, I've decided to break up the topic into bite-size, blog-friendly pieces. Therefore, this first post is introductory. There is much to say, and, again, using the pool analogy, I might be in deep, dark waters that are way over my head.

Let's Begin

The Problem of Consciousness has occupied philosophers for over 2,000 years. Recently, scientists have had the temerity and audacity to enter the arena that was once the preoccupation of idle gentlemen. The study went from thinking very hard about the problem, as assigned to pure thought dynamics, to scientists applying the wretched 'Scientific Method'. And this has been the case for the last two hundred years or so. Regardless of methodology, the question remains: What do we mean by the term 'Consciousness', and can we understand consciousness wholly in terms of the physical? Or do we need to separate the physical world from the mind and conscious realm? Thus, we seem to have two intellectual approaches to the problem.

The majority of neuroscients fall into the 'physical camp'. The claim is that the brain is the sole/soul seat of the mind. Without a brain, a human, or any cognitive creature for that matter, cannot experience the world, and consciousness disappears along with the loss of the pineal gland. Consciousness is due to the action of neurotransmitters and neuronal connections, multivarious. At the fundamental reductionist level, consciousness is a consequence of ions passing between 'gates' present in neural tissue. However, there are those whose physical austerity is unyielding who propose that, ultimately, the mind is best understood at the quantum level. They may have a point. Knowing what we know concerning the unpredictability of the 'Quantum World', there may well be an explanation as to why my car keys keep vanishing from the last place I left them.

Philosophers, at least since Descartes, focus on the subjective experience of 'Consciousness'. We can only know our own subjective experience and infer that similar processes happen in others. However, there can be no certainty with this approach. Perhaps those around us are automatons without consciousness of any sort. Their actions are automatic and not driven by cognition. As the spectator, we interpret their actions as evidence of volition. But we observe a correlation which is interpreted as causation. Also, there is the brain in the vat problem. All before us could be an illusion, although a very persistent one. We observe and, apparently, 'feel' phantasms of our own mind, perhaps; certitude eludes us, it seems. As Descartes invariably and rightly noted using his method of Cartesian doubt, the one thing we can be absolutely certain of is our own mind. From that base, he built up the tangible world, at least to his own satisfaction. If we push this idea too far, we invite the spectre of solipsism. Intellectually, solipsism represents a philosophical dead end. It stands irrefutable, sterile and utterly outlandish.

The ancient Greeks invented the mind/body problem or duality, in which physical things were different from mental things. This idea persists today, especially among philosophers. Descartes believed that the pineal gland mediated a connection between the body and mind. He chose this small, unassuming gland in the brain as the 'connecter' for obscure and silly reasons. Even great men can have a bad 'intellect day'.

Today's philosophers and a minority of neurobiologists reject the physical hypothesis, the idea that consciousness resides completely within our neural tissue. Physical reductionists believe that eventually, given enough time and analysis, we will be able to discover how consciousness arises from the myriad of electrical connections within the brain. Dr Julia Mossbridge, a bona fide neuroscientist, believes that consciousness is not derived from physical matter at all. She considers that consciousness is primary and all else inferred. In other words, consciousness causes materialism. I can't help thinking that Julia has left the world of science and is now dabbling in mysticism; she admits that she is a little 'woo-woo'.

Dr David Chalmers holds qualifications in mathematics, science, and philosophy and showed precocious savant behaviour at the age of ten. The point is that David is appropriately educated and undoubtedly a very smart man. He has a theory (Panpsychism) that consciousness is a fundamental property like mass and gravity. He argues that reductionist physicality can never get to the heart of the problem. While it is true we can observe neural networks in the brain firing in concert with a specific conscious behaviour, these two events represent correlation. And even more damning: while eventually, we may be able to assign all brain activity to specific behaviours, it still doesn't explain the subjective experience of consciousness. The subjective character of experience defies reductive analysis. It could be argued that automata infused with an electronic analogue human brain could perform all the movements and behaviours of a human but feel nothing. This is the view of the philosopher Thomas Nagel in his 1974 paper: 'What is it like to be a bat'. I invite my readers to seek out this learned piece; tis a riveting read. After reading Nagel's work I do confess that the man has a point.

Due to my training, I have always considered consciousness in terms of the scientific reductionist hypothesis. Any talk of body/mind dualism seemed nothing more than an extension of Plato's discredited sophistry. Grudgingly, however, I have been forced to think anew due to the complexity and subtly of the problem. I have not yet abandoned my previous stance, but I'm certainly open to plausible alternatives. Dr Christof Koch takes 'Panpsychism' and extends the property to all matter, living or not. Consciousness pervades all. However, it is not equally divided in all. For instance, humans are endowed with the highest degree of consciousness, while a mouse has a lot less. This even extends to the quantum level, where atoms receive a very small amount of consciousness. The wheels of the train of rationality have long since fallen off, along with the train of thought. Frankly, I'm not convinced of Koch's vision of reality. The likes of David Chalmers have a less radical thesis and one that I'm willing to contemplate. I keep an open mind on the topic and await further enlightenment that I suspect will never come.

As mentioned, this post is only an introduction to a difficult and dense subject. In the next post, I would like to explore why and how consciousness evolved in animals. Nuff said for now.

Bugger, did anyone notice the dozy mistake in the last paragraph? Updated and rectified, akimbo!