A pre-print of Paul Smart’s paper.
CognitionCognitive scienceExtended MindMindPaul Smartphilosophical psychologyPhilosophy of mindShaun GallagherSocial SciencesThe Web-extended mind
A pre-print of Paul Smart’s paper.
A pre-print of Paul Smart’s paper.
Here is the intro to Giandomenica Becchio’s paper:
In the Preface of The Sensory Order, Hayek stated that this book was based on his readings in psychology during 1919–1920, when he was still a young student in Vienna interested in both psychology and economics. Among many others, Hayek explicitly cited Mach’s influence on him. Hayek’s contacts with the lively Viennese milieu during the 1920s and 1930s had a fundamental role in the story of the use of Mach in Hayek’s book. As Hayek himself explained, Mach had a great influence on Viennese students and scholars until the 1930s, because he represented ‘‘the only source of arguments against a metaphysical and nebulous attitude’’ that was spreading among scientists (Blackmore, Itagaki, & Tanaka, 2001, p. 124). The use of Mach’s philosophy as a tool against any metaphysical attitude was particularly strong inside the Vienna Circle, where scholars like Otto Neurath and Rudolph Carnap had founded the Ernst Mach Society (Verein Ernst Mach, 1927) to support their movement and to link Mach’s empiricism to their philosophical approach,which they later named ‘‘logical positivism’’ (Blumberg & Feigl, 1931). Hayek strongly criticized the Vienna Circle’s philosophical approach: he mainly rejected Neurath’s physicalism (the belief that all science ultimately reduces to the laws of physics, Neurath, 1931; Caldwell, 2004), even if he showed some interest in Carnap’s logical system (Carnap, 1928). When Hayek introduced the system of multiple classification in The Sensory Order, he cited Carnap as the one who provided ‘‘a somewhat similar statement of the problems of the order of sensory qualities’’ (Hayek, 1952, p. 51). Nevertheless, in the mid-1930s, when Carnap officially subscribed to Neurath’s physicalism, it culminated in the project of the unification of science (Stadler, 2001).1 Hayek’s aversion arose: From the fact that we shall never be able to achieve more than an ‘explanation of the principle’ by which the order of mental events is determined, it also follows that we shall never achieve a complete ‘unification’ of all sciences in the sense that all phenomena of which it treats can be described in physical term. (Hayek, 1952, p. 191)
And in the following footnote he specifically named both Carnap and Neurath: their physical language, since it refers to the phenomenal or sensory qualities of the objects, is not ‘‘physical’’ at all. Their use of this term rather implies a metaphysical belief in the ‘‘ultimate reality’’ and constancy of the phenomenal world for which there is little justification. (ibid.) In this passage Hayek accused them of having dropped their original antimetaphysical attitude – mediated through Mach – to propose a new form a metaphysical belief, based on the reduction of any reality to the empirical realm. Hayek’s j’accuse is significant: for 30 years the philosophers of the Vienna Circle claimed Mach’s philosophy as one of the main sources of their aversion to metaphysics and a pillar of their philosophical approach based on a new form of positivism.2 In the International Encyclopedia of Unified Science, Joergensen explained the three common traits between ‘‘Mach’s positivism’’ and the Vienna Circle philosophy: the idea that ‘‘human knowledge is a biological phenomenon’’; the rejection of any form of ‘‘thing-in-itself’’ (and for that matter, of any form of Kantianism) and the overlap between physical reality and physical elements (Joergensen, 1951, p. 853). To explain the link between Mach and Hayek on the one hand and Hayek’s aversion to the logical positivism (apparently and ‘‘officially’’ rooted in Mach’s philosophy) on the other hand, we need to consider what Hayek meant when he mentioned Mach’s influence in The Sensory Order.
Just under a week until the CI2012 shindig – as it so happens I’m busy co-writing a paper and co-editing a themed issue of Cognitive Systems Research on a species of CI – surprise, surprise “stigmergy.”
Another of probably several Turing related posts in the run up to the summer commemorations of Turing’s birth and death (23 June 1912 – 7 June 1954) – the following from Science Magazine 13 April 2012: Vol. 336 no. 6078. I paste in a couple of paragraphs from each paper as a preview. Here is a Wired article based upon the articles below.
1. Beyond Turing’s Machines – Andrew Hodges
In marking Alan Turing’s centenary, it’s worth asking what was his most fundamental achievement and what he left for future science to take up when he took his own life in 1954. His success in World War II, as the chief scientific figure in the British cryptographic effort, with hands-on responsibility for the Atlantic naval conflict, had a great and immediate impact. But in its ever-growing influence since that time, the principle of the universal machine, which Turing published in 1937 (1), beats even this.
When, in 1945, he used his wartime technological knowledge to design a first digital computer, it was to make a practical version of that universal machine (2). All computing has followed his lead. Defining a universal machine rests on one idea, essential to Turing’s mathematical proof in 1936, but quite counter-intuitive, and bearing no resemblance to the large practical calculators of the 1930s. It put logic, not arithmetic, in the driving seat. This central observation is that instructions are themselves a form of data. This vital idea was exploited by Turing immediately in his detailed plan of 1945. The computer he planned would allow instructions to operate on instructions to produce new instructions. The logic of software takes charge of computing. As Turing explained, all known processes could now be encoded, and all could be run on a single machine. The process of encodement could itself be automated and made user-friendly, using any logical language you liked. This approach went far beyond the vision of others at the time.
2. Dusting Off the Turing Test – Robert M. French
Hold up both hands and spread your fingers apart. Now put your palms together and fold your two middle fingers down till the knuckles on both fingers touch each other. While holding this position, one after the other, open and close each pair of opposing fingers by an inch or so. Notice anything? Of course you did. But could a computer without a body and without human experiences ever answer that question or a million others like it? And even if recent revolutionary advances in collecting, storing, retrieving, and analyzing data lead to such a computer, would this machine qualify as “intelligent”?
Just over 60 years ago, Alan Turing published a paper on a simple, operational test for machine intelligence that became one of the most highly cited papers ever written (1). Turing, whose 100th birthday is celebrated this year, made seminal contributions to the mathematics of automated computing, helped the Allies win World War II by breaking top-secret German codes, and built a forerunner of the modern computer (2). His test, today called the Turing test, was the first operational definition of machine intelligence. It posits putting a computer and a human in separate rooms and connecting them by teletype to an external interrogator, who is free to ask any imaginable questions of either entity. The computer aims to fool the interrogator into believing it is the human; the human must convince the interrogator that he/she is the human. If the interrogator cannot determine which is the real human, the computer will be judged to be intelligent.
Allan Bloom’s The Closing of the American Mind remains as important as ever, and as misunderstood, 25 years after the 1980s culture wars.
Conference page. Here is also one of Turing’s most famous papers:
I propose to consider the question, “Can machines think?” This should begin with definitions of the meaning of the terms “machine” and “think.” The definitions might be framed so as to reflect so far as possible the normal use of the words, but this attitude is dangerous, If the meaning of the words “machine” and “think” are to be found by examining how they are commonly used it is difficult to escape the conclusion that the meaning and the answer to the question, “Can machines think?” is to be sought in a statistical survey such as a Gallup poll. But this is absurd. Instead of attempting such a definition I shall replace the question by another, which is closely related to it and is expressed in relatively unambiguous words.

For those of you who haven’t heard Oakeshott here is a rare BBC recording. The transcript can be found here – and the audio is here. Since the topic is philosophy of history, here is the opening paragraph of Geoff Thomas’ essay for Paul and my Companion:
Omnis determinatio est negatio, says Spinoza: to specify the nature of anything is also illuminatingly to say what it is not. This remark, whatever its general force, applies exactly to Michael Oakeshott’s philosophy of history. Oakeshott is a polemicist, a prince of skeptics, throughout his writings on the nature of history. To be sure, his position can be characterized positively: he is a constructionist. He holds that the historical past is an inferential construction from present experience. So, clearly enough, here’s the first negative: Oakeshott rejects any idea of the reality of the past. The past does not exist; if it did, the historian would not need to construct it inferentially or in any other way. It would just be there, open to investigation.

Gloria Zúñiga y Postigo’s intro from her excellent paper.
Friedrich Hayek’s social theory is well known for his articulation of the paradigm of spontaneous orders that challenges the traditional distinction between what is natural and what is artificial. The problem that Hayek saw is that language and other social objects do not fall under either heading completely. Language is, for example, seen as natural since it was not designed by man. At the same time, man has imposed rules of grammar on natural languages as these became formalized and documented. From this perspective, language falls under the category of artificial too. This distinction thus fails in its application not only to language, but also to any other object that is, as Hayek puts it, the result of human action, but not of human design. The paradigm of spontaneous orders, which applies to all social objects, has thus become the hallmark of Hayek’s social theory.
Jonah Lehrer interviews Eric Kandel about his recently released book.
Gilbert Harman on Epistemology, Philosophy of Mind, and Ethics.