What is the Sound of One Hand Clapping?

This post requires participation.  It will be brief, and I promise you won't get hurt.  Ok.  Ready?  Look at your hand.  Make sure it's your left hand.  Close it into a fist.  Open your fist and clap your two hands together.  I am not kidding. Seriously, do it.

Now, what if I told you that the sound you just heard was a phantom that didn't actually happen, and that your arm has been paralyzed for five days now?  You would of course say, Travis, you're crazy!  Although I would be obliged to thank you for such a thoughtful diagnosis, I would nonetheless tell you that for some people, this is actually the case.

Anosognosia for hemiplegia (what a mouthful, here's a wiki link) is an ailment of the mind found in stroke patients who, after getting struck by a stroke, can only use one side of their body.  The strange thing about these patients after they recover from the initial injury is that they deny their condition. Even more odd is that, when asked to preform tasks such as the one you just did (my lovely audience of one billion), patients saw their hands clapping and heard the appropriate sound!

I'll leave you with this question: what is 2+2?

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Mind-Body Problem

I want to study the mind, but I keep bumping into a problem that seems somewhat comical at first glance.  What's the problem, you ask?  The problem is this: I don't know where the mind is located!  Perhaps I should explain myself in order to make things clear.

Most people agree that the mind is located somewhere inside the person; namely, behind the eyes.  Containing hundreds of billions of cells, the three-pound mass of jelly called the brain is considered the place within which the mind resides.

We should then be inclined to say that the mind is the brain.  But let me, with the permission of my good friend Kelvin, tell you a story that might challenge this notion.

If I were to take Kelvin's brain out of his head and put it on the table in front of him, he would be dead!  But instead, because I am a good friend, I will painstakingly attach each neuron through a system of special extension chords in such a way that allows me to place Kelvin's brain safely on the table in front of him without him dying.  (You're welcome buddy.)  I am the best surgeon alive in my hypothetical world, so I make sure Kelvin is still awake, ready to answer questions, and in no pain whatsoever after the operation. Where would we now say his mind is?  Where would he say it is?

Before going further, I need to introduce a term (real quick) in order to talk about this problem.  The term is qualia.  Qualia are those things a person experiences from their subjective point of view.  The young philosopher will ask the question, "How can we ever know the difference between the Red I see and the red you see?"  This very thoughtful question captures the enigma of qualia, for it is the stuff that we experience every moment of our conscious lives (even in dreams).  Yet nobody else can ever experience it, and we can never know for certain if other's are experiencing qualia of their own.

Each qualia is correlated with patterned firing of regionally specific neurons in the brain.  Put simply, when you smell apple pie in autumn, there are specific locations within your brain dedicated to processing olfactory (smell) inputs like the aroma of cinnamon.  The brain organizes and integrates the manifold of sensory experience from the outside world in order to make a cohesive, continuous experience within.  Even memories can (theoretically) be traced to patterns of neuronal firings and synaptic pathways within the brain, which is the basic premise of this Jim Carry film. (For the record, I did not cry seven times while watching this movie with my girlfriend and if anybody tells you this happened the're lying).

Ok, now we're ready to ask Kelvin some questions.

"Kelvin, where's your mind located? Is it on the table?"

"No, it's not on the table."

I laugh and say, "Yes it is, I can see it right there," pointing to the brain in front of him.

He pauses for a moment, pensively.  Then says, "No, no, no, Travis.  You've got it all wrong.  My brain is on the table, but my mind is all around me."

I laughed again at my friend's explanation.  But after meditating on this for a few days, I realize he might have a point.  According to him, qualia is the mind, where as brain is the body.  Thus, the mind is all that we experience at any given point in the day, and these experiences can be traced to a three pound sponge in our heads.  To him, the two are separate.  Though, I still don't think I quite understand, or perhaps I just don't want to.  Because, according to this train of reasoning, the conclusion that I'd come to concerning the nature of mind sounds more like a Zen koan than a scientific proposition: the mind is everywhere and yet, nowhere.

This problem is one of blazing concern in the philosophy of mind and there is no 'general consensus' among philosophers about how to tackle it, which makes it one of the most difficult and fascinating problems that humans have ever faced.

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