The anti-dualist principle specifically addresses metaphysical claims, not other sorts of claims. It has plenty of empirical refutations , from physics, neuroscience, brain damage, and so on.
But the clearest argument is the one highlighted above: Suppose there were a separate mind stuff apart from the physical world. Does it interact with the physical world? If yes, then it's not really extra-physical. In my view, interactionist dualism is not really dualism but just a bad neuroscience hypothesis.
If no, then why do we see such an exquisite correspondence between material operations in the world e. One explanation of this correspondence is occasionalism or parallelism , the idea that God or the universe has preordained these two systems to run in perfect synchrony despite not having causal contact.
They would be like two clocks that both told the same time because they had been started at the same position even though neither had influence on the other. Needless to say, this violates Occam's razor in a big way. And if we try to invent other hypotheses besides occasionalism to explain the non-physical correspondence, we end up introducing extra machinery of some sort that again is not the simplest explanation.
Cartesian dualism is probably the form that most lay people tend to assume, but among modern philosophers, there's a lot of currency behind a different brand: property dualism , which suggests that mind and matter are both made of the same stuff, but minds have special "mental properties" that are not reducible to physics. Again we have the same fundamental problem of dualism, this time in the realm of properties rather than in the realm of substance. If metaphysically epiphenomenal properties aren't doing anything, there's an entirely separate explanation within physics for why you feel these properties exist, and so postulating that they actually exist explains nothing and merely complicates your theory.
Yudkowsky elaborates on this in an amusing diatribe: " Zombies! The extension of this argument to belief in non-interacting spirits and deities is sufficiently straightforward so as not to need further elaboration. Of course, physical spirits and deities are not ruled out. Dualism fails because there's no need for the extra-physical stuff.
The physical stuff is sufficient, and it's just a quirk of the human brain that it can't place physical operations into the category of mental experience.
The same phenomenon happens with free will: It feels like a computer algorithmically selecting among possible future actions does not contain the same libertarian choice that we imagine free will to be. Somehow it feels better, in the minds of certain philosophers, to have a mysterious freedom property that we don't place in the same category as material operations.
Of course, if we do have such a property, either it influences our actions in a deterministic way, in which case it's not libertarian freedom, or it influences our actions in a random way, in which case "we" are not really making a free choice either. Compatibilism on free will is very much like reductionism on consciousness: In both cases, people have strong intuitions that the materialist picture is missing something, and in both cases, we can see logically that the physical operations alone are doing all the needed work.
We do in fact have free will, just like we do in fact have consciousness. It's just not a ghost-like force the way we naively envision it.
Note: In this section I'm speaking loosely about a common layperson understanding of moral realism, rather than about specific philosophical understandings of the term. Some moral realists don't want to acknowledge that moral feelings are mechanical impulses of material organisms and so postulate some additional "objective truth" property of the universe that somehow bears on morality.
Like with a dualistic soul, this objective moral truth violates Occam's razor, and beyond that, it's unexplained why we would want to care about what the objective truth was.
What if the objective truth commanded us to kick squirrels just to cause them pain? In general, philosophical "properties"—whether the property of consciousness or the property of rightness—are red flags. They suggest a platonic confusion, as if there's some separate ontological realm of property labels that exists apart from the material world.
Just as people say "This action has the property of being moral" in metaphysical Moral Realism , I could equally say "This song has the property of being music" and thereby assert Music Realism, or that "This collection of wood parts has the property of being a table" and assert Table Realism. Or for that matter, assert that "This shape with three sides has the property of being a triangle" and assert Triangle Realism.
For more on philosophy of mathematics, see the next section. There are perfectly sensible meanings of moral realism, such as the suggestion that certain norms tend to be convergent across human societies due to the evolutionary fitness landscape, or that certain attractors in moral meme-space are converged upon more often than others.
Our moral views are certainly modified by the environment, selection pressures, and our cognitive architectures. But sometimes this alone isn't satisfactory for realists, and they seek "something more," perhaps in a metaphysically separate realm of eternal truths. The latter is the stance against which the anti-dualism principle has force. One reader compared my view to Mackie's argument from queerness. I largely agree with Mackie, but it's not just about moral entities being strange; it's that they violate Occam's razor by adding complexity without explaining anything.
Non-interacting things don't explain why you feel moral truth exists, so there must be a separate physical reason why you feel this way. People might say, "But I just know moral truth exists; this is all the proof required. Replace "moral truth" with "God," and many of the arguments look roughly the same.
In fact, moral realism is similar to theism in many ways. Like religious devotion or nationalism in the modern era, moral realism is a motivational force that induces people to sacrifice for the "greater good"—whether that be God, the nation, or "moral rightness" in the abstract. These are emotional feelings that glue societies together and perpetuate norms of fair play and non-selfishness.
In that sense, they arguably all served useful functions in the past and perhaps continue to do so for many people in the present. Alas, all of these forms of ingroup loyalty typically also come with outgroup hostility—against those who believe in the wrong God, fight for the wrong country, or advance the wrong moral values. When you believe you are "right," it opens the door to believing others are "wrong. Like religion, moral realism is a very persuasive meme, and perhaps it even taps into similar brain circuits.
In the case of divine-command theory, we even see the two concepts blending. It's much more persuasive to tell someone, "Do X because God says so" or "Do X because it's the moral truth" rather than "Do X because I'd like it if you did X, and doing X would be consistent with social norms that in the long run would lead our tribe to be mostly better off.
Stephen Hawking asked the famous question:. Even if there is only one possible unified theory, it is just a set of rules and equations. What is it that breathes fire into the equations and makes a universe for them to describe?
The usual approach of science of constructing a mathematical model cannot answer the questions of why there should be a universe for the model to describe. Why does the universe go to all the bother of existing? Relatedly, why is there such an exquisite correspondence between material stuff and the realm of math? This could be seen as resembling the paradox of occasionalism: There's a universe, and then there's this separate realm of eternal mathematical truths, and why are the two operating in perfect synchrony if they're not interacting?
Max Tegmark's answer is the former: There is no separate universe stuff; there is only math. Yudkowsky seems to agree :. Back when the Greek philosophers were debating what this "real world" thingy might be made of, there were many positions.
Heraclitus said, "All is fire. I incline more toward throwing out mathematical idealism rather than physics. What does it mean to say "the universe is made of math"? That seems to reify math as some sort of platonic domain. I may prefer instead to say something like the following: There is universe-stuff out there, and empirically when we apply certain axioms and logic manipulations, we can predict how it will behave. Math then is seen as a tool that our brains use, just like vision or language or a baking recipe.
It's partly learned through experience and partly hard-wired into our neural processing by evolution. Working with mathematical symbols in particular ways allows us to organize and quantify relationships we observe.
Pure mathematics then consists in applying these symbol manipulations in further realms, much like fiction writing consists in using words that refer to concrete objects in the world to create novel combinations that exist in our imaginations. There is an argument, which has roots in Descartes Meditation VI , which is a modal argument for dualism. One might put it as follows:. The rationale of the argument is a move from imaginability to real possibility.
I include 2 because the notion of conceivability has one foot in the psychological camp, like imaginability, and one in the camp of pure logical possibility and therefore helps in the transition from one to the other.
See, for example, Chalmers , 94—9. This latter argument, if sound, would show that conscious states were something over and above physical states. It is a different argument because the hypothesis that the unaltered body could exist without the mind is not the same as the suggestion that the mind might continue to exist without the body, nor are they trivially equivalent. The zombie argument establishes only property dualism and a property dualist might think disembodied existence inconceivable — for example, if he thought the identity of a mind through time depended on its relation to a body e.
When philosophers generally believed in contingent identity, that move seemed to them invalid. But nowadays that inference is generally accepted and the issue concerns the relation between imaginability and possibility. No-one would nowadays identify the two except, perhaps, for certain quasi-realists and anti-realists , but the view that imaginability is a solid test for possibility has been strongly defended.
There seem to be good arguments that time-travel is incoherent, but every episode of Star-Trek or Doctor Who shows how one can imagine what it might be like were it possible. It is worth relating the appeal to possibility in this argument to that involved in the more modest, anti-physicalist, zombie argument.
The possibility of this hypothesis is also challenged, but all that is necessary for a zombie to be possible is that all and only the things that the physical sciences say about the body be true of such a creature. As the concepts involved in such sciences — e. There is no parallel clear, uncontroversial and regimented account of mental concepts as a whole that fails to invoke, explicitly or implicitly, physical e.
For an analytical behaviourist the appeal to imaginability made in the argument fails, not because imagination is not a reliable guide to possibility, but because we cannot imagine such a thing, as it is a priori impossible. The impossibility of disembodiment is rather like that of time travel, because it is demonstrable a priori, though only by arguments that are controversial.
The argument can only get under way for those philosophers who accept that the issue cannot be settled a priori, so the possibility of the disembodiment that we can imagine is still prima facie open. A major rationale of those who think that imagination is not a safe indication of possibility, even when such possibility is not eliminable a priori, is that we can imagine that a posteriori necessities might be false — for example, that Hesperus might not be identical to Phosphorus.
But if Kripke is correct, that is not a real possibility. Another way of putting this point is that there are many epistemic possibilities which are imaginable because they are epistemic possibilities, but which are not real possibilities. Richard Swinburne , New Appendix C , whilst accepting this argument in general, has interesting reasons for thinking that it cannot apply in the mind-body case.
In the case of our experience of ourselves this is not true. Now it is true that the essence of Hesperus cannot be discovered by a mere thought experiment. That is because what makes Hesperus Hesperus is not the stereotype, but what underlies it. But it does not follow that no one can ever have access to the essence of a substance, but must always rely for identification on a fallible stereotype.
One might think that for the person him or herself, while what makes that person that person underlies what is observable to others, it does not underlie what is experienceable by that person, but is given directly in their own self-awareness.
This is a very appealing Cartesian intuition: my identity as the thinking thing that I am is revealed to me in consciousness, it is not something beyond the veil of consciousness. Now it could be replied to this that though I do access myself as a conscious subject, so classifying myself is rather like considering myself qua cyclist. Just as I might never have been a cyclist, I might never have been conscious, if things had gone wrong in my very early life.
I am the organism, the animal, which might not have developed to the point of consciousness, and that essence as animal is not revealed to me just by introspection. But there are vital differences between these cases. A cyclist is explicitly presented as a human being or creature of some other animal species cycling: there is no temptation to think of a cyclist as a basic kind of thing in its own right.
Consciousness is not presented as a property of something, but as the subject itself. Yet, even if we are not referring primarily to a substrate, but to what is revealed in consciousness, could it not still be the case that there is a necessity stronger than causal connecting this consciousness to something physical? To consider this further we must investigate what the limits are of the possible analogy between cases of the water-H 2 O kind, and the mind-body relation.
We start from the analogy between the water stereotype — how water presents itself — and how consciousness is given first-personally to the subject. It is plausible to claim that something like water could exist without being H 2 O, but hardly that it could exist without some underlying nature.
There is, however, no reason to deny that this underlying nature could be homogenous with its manifest nature: that is, it would seem to be possible that there is a world in which the water-like stuff is an element, as the ancients thought, and is water-like all the way down.
The claim of the proponents of the dualist argument is that this latter kind of situation can be known to be true a priori in the case of the mind: that is, one can tell by introspection that it is not more-than-causally dependent on something of a radically different nature, such as a brain or body. What grounds might one have for thinking that one could tell that a priori? The only general argument that seem to be available for this would be the principle that, for any two levels of discourse, A and B , they are more-than-causally connected only if one entails the other a priori.
And the argument for accepting this principle would be that the relatively uncontroversial cases of a posteriori necessary connections are in fact cases in which one can argue a priori from facts about the microstructure to the manifest facts.
In the case of water, for example, it would be claimed that it follows a priori that if there were something with the properties attributed to H 2 O by chemistry on a micro level, then that thing would possess waterish properties on a macro level.
What is established a posteriori is that it is in fact H 2 O that underlies and explains the waterish properties round here, not something else: the sufficiency of the base — were it to obtain — to explain the phenomena, can be deduced a priori from the supposed nature of the base.
This is, in effect, the argument that Chalmers uses to defend the zombie hypothesis. The suggestion is that the whole category of a posteriori more-than-causally necessary connections often identified as a separate category of metaphysical necessity comes to no more than this. If we accept that this is the correct account of a posteriori necessities, and also deny the analytically reductionist theories that would be necessary for a priori connections between mind and body, as conceived, for example, by the behaviourist or the functionalist, does it follow that we can tell a priori that consciousness is not more-than-causally dependent on the body?
Though we shall see later, in 5. The conceivability argument creates a prima facie case for thinking that mind has no more than causal ontological dependence on the body. Let us assume that one rejects analytical behaviourist or functionalist accounts of mental predicates.
Then the above arguments show that any necessary dependence of mind on body does not follow the model that applies in other scientific cases. This does not show that there may not be other reasons for believing in such dependence, for so many of the concepts in the area are still contested. For example, it might be argued that identity through time requires the kind of spatial existence that only body can give: or that the causal continuity required by a stream of consciousness cannot be a property of mere phenomena.
All these might be put forward as ways of filling out those aspects of our understanding of the self that are only obliquely, not transparently, presented in self-awareness. The dualist must respond to any claim as it arises: the conceivability argument does not pre-empt them. All the arguments so far in this section have been either arguments for property dualism only, or neutral between property and substance dualism.
In this subsection, and in section 4. The ones in this section can be regarded as preliminaries to that in 4. He famously expresses his theory as follows. Nevertheless, in the Appendix of the same work he expressed dissatisfaction with this account.
Somewhat surprisingly, it is not very clear just what his worry was, but it is expressed as follows:. This Berkeleian view is expressed in more modern terms by John Foster.
There is a clash of intuitions here between which it is difficult to arbitrate. There is an argument that is meant to favour the need for a subject, as claimed by Berkeley and Foster.
To say that, according to the bundle theory, the identity conditions of individual mental states must be independent of the identity of the person who possesses them, is to say that their identity is independent of the bundle to which they belong.
Perhaps the identity of a mental event is bound up with the complex to which it belongs. That this is impossible certainly needs further argument. Hume seems, however, in the main text to unconsciously make a concession to the opposing view, namely the view that there must be something more than the items in the bundle to make up a mind.
He says:. Talk of the mind as a theatre is, of course, normally associated with the Cartesian picture, and the invocation of any necessary medium, arena or even a field hypostasize some kind of entity which binds the different contents together and without which they would not be a single mind.
Modern Humeans — such as Parfit ; or Dainton — replace the theatre with a co-consciousness relation. So the bundle theorist is perhaps not as restricted as Hume thought. The bundle consists of the objects of awareness and the co-consciousness relation or relations that hold between them , and I think that the modern bundle theorist would want to say that it is the nexus of co-consciousness relations that constitutes our sense of the subject and of the act of awareness of the object.
The Humean point then becomes that we mistake the nexus of relations for a kind of entity, in a way similar to that in which, Hume claims,we mistake the regular succession of similar impressions for an entity called an enduring physical object. Whether this really makes sense in the end is another matter.
I think that it is dubious whether it can accommodate the subject as agent , but it does mean that simple introspection probably cannot refute a sophisticated bundle theory in the way that Lowe and Foster want. The rejection of bundle dualism, therefore, requires more than an appeal to our intuitive awareness of ourselves as subjects.
We will see in the next section how arguments that defend the simplicity of the self attempt to undercut the bundle theory. There is a long tradition, dating at least from Reid , for arguing that the identity of persons over time is not a matter of convention or degree in the way that the identity of other complex substances is and that this shows that the self is a different kind of entity from any physical body.
Criticism of these arguments and of the intuitions on which they rest, running from Hume to Parfit , have left us with an inconclusive clash of intuitions.
The argument under consideration and which, possibly, has its first statement in Madell , does not concern identity through time, but the consequences for identity of certain counterfactuals concerning origin. It can, perhaps, therefore, break the stalemate which faces the debate over diachronic identity. The claim is that the broadly conventionalist ways which are used to deal with problem cases through time for both persons and material objects, and which can also be employed in cases of counterfactuals concerning origin for bodies, cannot be used for similar counterfactuals concerning persons or minds.
Concerning ordinary physical objects, it is easy to imagine counterfactual cases where questions of identity become problematic. Take the example of a particular table.
We can scale counterfactual suggestions as follows:. The first suggestion would normally be rejected as clearly false, but there will come a point along the spectrum illustrated by i and iii and towards iii where the question of whether the hypothesised table would be the same as the one that actually exists have no obvious answer.
There will thus be a penumbra of counterfactual cases where the question of whether two things would be the same is not a matter of fact. Let us now apply this thought to conscious subjects. Suppose that a given human individual had had origins different from those which he in fact had such that whether that difference affected who he was was not obvious to intuition.
What would count as such a case might be a matter of controversy, but there must be one. Some philosophers might regard it as obvious that sameness of sperm is essential to the identity of a human body and to personal identity.
In that case imagine a counterpart sperm in which some of the molecules in the sperm are different; would that be the same sperm? If one pursues the matter far enough there will be indeterminacy which will infect that of the resulting body. There must therefore be some difference such that neither natural language nor intuition tells us whether the difference alters the identity of the human body; a point, that is, where the question of whether we have the same body is not a matter of fact. How one is to describe these cases is, in some respects, a matter of controversy.
Some philosophers think one can talk of vague identity or partial identity. Others think that such expressions are nonsensical. There is no space to discuss this issue here. It is enough to assume, however, that questions of how one is allowed to use the concept of identity effect only the care with which one should characterize these cases, not any substantive matter of fact.
If there were, then there would have to be a haecceitas or thisness belonging to and individuating each complex physical object, and this I am assuming to be implausible if not unintelligible. More about the conditions under which haecceitas can make sense will be found below. One might plausibly claim that no similar overlap of constitution can be applied to the counterfactual identity of minds.
Why is this so? Can we say, as we would for an object with no consciousness, that the story something the same, something different is the whole story: that overlap of constitution is all there is to it?
For the Jones body as such, this approach would do as well as for any other physical object. The creature who would have existed would have had a kind of overlap of psychic constitution with me. The third answer parallels the response we would give in the case of bodies.
But as an account of the subjective situation, it is arguable that this makes no sense. Clearly, the notion of overlap of numerically identical psychic parts cannot be applied in the way that overlap of actual bodily part constitution quite unproblematically can. This might make one try the second answer. It is difficult to see why it does not. Suppose Jones found out that he had originally been one of twins, in the sense that the zygote from which he developed had divided, but that the other half had died soon afterwards.
He can entertain the thought that if it had been his half that had died, he would never have existed as a conscious being, though someone would whose life, both inner and outer, might have been very similar to his. He might feel rather guiltily grateful that it was the other half that died. It would be strange to think that Jones is wrong to think that there is a matter of fact about this. If the reasoning above is correct, one is left with only the first option.
If so, there has to be an absolute matter of fact from the subjective point of view. But the physical examples we have considered show that when something is essentially complex, this cannot be the case. When there is constitution, degree and overlap of constitution are inevitably possible. So the mind must be simple, and this is possible only if it is something like a Cartesian substance. His worries concerned the cramping effect that matter would have on the range of objects that intellect could accommodate.
Parallel modern concerns centre on the restriction that matter would impose on the range of rational processes that we could exhibit. Some of these concerns are of a technical kind. But there are other less technical and easier to appreciate issues. I will mention four ways in which physicalist theories of thought seem vulnerable to attack by the dualist. There has been a rise or revival of a belief in what is now called cognitive phenomenology , that is, the belief that thoughts, of whatever kind — beliefs, desires, and the whole range of propositional attitude state — are conscious in a more than behavioural functional sense.
The issue is whether, under this constraint, one can give an account for meaningful communication and understanding at all.
This is clearly expounded in Dennett ; see also the entry on the frame problem. Numbers, it would seem, are abstract objects, yet our intellects operate with them all the time. How does a physical brain interact with an abstract entity? A similar problem could be raised for concepts in general; they are abstract, general entities, not physical particulars, yet they are the meat and drink of thinking.
For a dualist about intellect there does not appear to be the same problem. The immaterial intellect is precisely the sort of thing that can grasp abstract objects, such as numbers and universals — in the Aristotelian context, the immaterial intellect is the home of forms. There is still the issue of how this intellectual capacity of the immaterial mind relates to sensory consciousness. According to Aristotle, perception is a wholly embodied process, but for modern dualists, sensory consciousness is not material.
In order to unify the perceptual and intellectual functions of the mind, traditional empiricists tended to be imagists, in their theory of thought, in order to assimilate the intellectual to the sensory, but this assimilation is rejected by those who believe in a distinct cognitive phenomenology, as mentioned in a above.
The issue of how these two functions of mind are related in dualism is, it seems to me, insufficiently investigated. Armstrong in his is a striking exception to this, accepting an in re theory of universals. I will not discuss a further, as it is discussed in section 5 of the entry on phenomenal intentionality , An immaterialist response to d can be found in Robinson Both b and c seem to draw out the claim that a material system lacks understanding.
Searle imagines himself in a room with a letter box through which strings of symbols are posted in, and, following a book of rules, he puts out symbols which the rules dictate, given the strings he is receiving. In fact, Searle says, he has been conducting a conversation in Chinese, because the symbols are Chinese script, and the rules those on which a Chinese computer might work, but he has not understood a word.
Therefore neither does a computer understand, so we, understanding creatures, are not computers. A blow was struck against the computational theory of thought when, in , Fodor produced his The Mind Does Not Work That Way , in which he made clear his belief that the kind of computationalism that he had been describing and developing ever since the s only fits sub-personal informational processing, not conscious, problem solving thought.
One physicalist response to these challenges is to say that they apply only to the classical computing model, and are avoided by connectionist theories. Classical computing works on rules of inference like those of standard logic, but connectionism is rather a form of associationism, which is supposedly closer to the way in which the brain works.
See the entry on Connectionism. But Gary Marcus — see Other Internet Resources and others have pointed out the ways in which these impressive machines are quite different from human thought. We can learn things with very few trials because we latch on to abstract relationships, whereas the machine requires many — perhaps thousands or millions — of examples to try to catch extensionally what we get by the abstract or intensional relation.
The dualist might sum up the situation on thought in the following way. The case against physicalist theories of sensation is that it is unbelievable that what it feels like to be struck hard on the nose is itself either just a case of being disposed or caused to engage in certain behaviours, or that what it feels like is not fundamental to the way you do react.
Similarly, the dualist about thought will say, when you are, for example, engaged in a philosophical discussion, and you make a response to your interlocutor, it is obvious that you are intending to respond to what you thought he or she meant and are concentrating on what what you intend to say means.
It seems as bizarre to say that this is a bye-product of processes to which meaning is irrelevant, as it is to claim the same about sensory consciousness. You are, in other words, as fundamentally a semantically driven engine, as you are a sensorily consciously driven one. Perhaps, in the case of a sophisticated conversation, the fundamentality of meaning, and of conscious reflection, as a driver is even more obvious than in the case of sensation.
A dualist could, it seems, argue that Plato was right in claiming that intellect necessarily has an affinity with the realm of abstract entities, and Aristotle was right to think that no material or mechanical system could capture the flexibility built into genuine understanding.
We have already discussed the problem of interaction. In this section we shall consider two other facets of dualism that worry critics. Thus, I find myself siding with Smart. However, as I was reading these two pieces I began to ponder the role of religion in this discussion.
I would be interested to hear from peers with religious experiences to see if they believe their opinions on Dualism have been shaped by their religion. I do agree that my perspective on dualism has been shaped by religion, as I have been brought up to believe that my soul body and mind tend to exist in harmony.
However, I actually want to raise the issue of reductive materialism, and intertheoretitc reduction. At the end of the day all previous theories about the connection between mind and body can be explained by science in that the mind is almost entirely control of the body.
However, at the end of the day we also must recognize the fact that we do not entirely understand all aspects of the human mind. For example many foolishly believe that the human mind is capable of telekinesis, telepathy, and other superhuman feats, but since humans are not using their minds to their utmost potential, we are currently able to accomplish these amazing feats. In reality, the mind is not superhuman, but it is still not entirely understood.
One could theorize that it is these unexplored aspects of the human mind that is responsible for the degree of randomness in human experience. However, accepting either conclusion still results in the fact that our mind and bodies are indeed connected just in a way that we do not concretely understand. I completely agree with this argument.
I am somewhat religious, but despite that relation, I feel though there are some things that could possibly be attributed to being products of brain states, or brain states themselves, but there are other attributes to our mental lives that we do not completely understand. And I honestly think that is just fine. I feel like yes, you may see our neurons firing, but we would never be able to tell exactly what we are thinking and why because we cannot see that aspect of our mind.
I feel like even if this example is not precise and can be proved wrong, there are still many things we do not know about our mental experiences because we may be more complex than we give ourselves credit for. My opinion on dualism has been shaped by Christianity: every human has a soul, separate from the body. Download options PhilArchive copy. This entry has no external links. Add one. Setup an account with your affiliations in order to access resources via your University's proxy server Configure custom proxy use this if your affiliation does not provide a proxy.
Configure custom resolver. The Chinese Room Argument. David Cole - - Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy. Qualitative Attribution, Phenomenal Experience and Being. Mark Pharoah - - Biosemiotics 11 3 Crealectic Intelligence. Mind the Guff. Ted Honderich - - Journal of Consciousness Studies 8 4 Ted Honderich - unknown. Mind, Paranormal Experience, and the Inadequacy of Materialism.
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