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Here we review the philosophical implications of the theory presented in previous chapters, and its consequences for future research. This leads us to demarcate the current theory from classical positions such as dualism, materialism, and functionalism. We discuss dualist arguments such as the case of philosophical 'zombies'. However, while these seem conceivable, they are argued not to be realizable: the construction of neural machinery appropriate for zombies would inevitably give rise to consciousness. Following a discussion of Jackson’s argument on “Mary the Color Scientist”, the reality of phenomenal experience is acknowledged as much as the reality of neural levels of processing, placing the theory away from eliminative materialism and classic functionalism. This characterizes the theory as a non-reductive, multilevel, neurobiological form of representationalism ('neurorepresentationalism'). Although representationalists have not been typically concerned with the problem of how neural aggregates give rise to consciousness, the “externalist” stream in this school is much more distant from the current view than the “narrow” stream emphasizing that representations are generated in and by the brain. Finally, we discuss consciousness in animals and in human-made inventions such as computers and robots, and on future treatment of disorders of consciousness.

Works its way through a variety of different accounts of phenomenal consciousness, looking at the strengths and weaknesses of each. At the heart of the chapter is an extended critical examination of first-order representational (FOR) theories, of the sort espoused by Dretske and Tye, arguing that they are inferior to higher-order representational (HOR) accounts. Acknowledges as a problem for HOR theories that they might withhold phenomenal consciousness from most other species of animal, but claims that this problem should not be regarded as a serious obstacle to the acceptance of some such theory. Different versions of HOR theory are discussed, and the author’s own account (dual-content theory, here called dispositional higher-order thought theory) is briefly elaborated and defended.

This chapter is motivated by the following questions: What sorts of information do animals use to make decisions, and what mechanisms underpin the actions of different animal species in different contexts? Can they act now to secure an outcome with value in the future, even if it has limited value in the present? Can they integrate disparate sources of information, and recognize when they do not have enough information to make a good choice? To what extent do these decisions result from deliberation, as opposed to the sculpting effect of consequences, either over the course of evolution or the life history, and how can we tell the difference from studying animal brains and behavior? Although answers to these questions will vary for different species in different contexts, comparative study enables us to extract common evolutionary and psychological principles. Impressive progress toward answering these questions has been made in the past decades within several disciplines, but substantial disagreements about how to interpret findings persist, and there is plenty still to learn. This chapter outlines the state of the art, clarifies points of disagreement, and suggests avenues for future research.

The term ‘beast machines’ denies that non-human animals have souls, minds, or, in contemporary language, ‘consciousness’. This view fuelled a debate, which is often said to relate to ‘the question of animal consciousness’, but naturally it comprises many questions. For example: What, in this context, is meant by ‘consciousness’? Why is the question of animal consciousness a focus of such broad interest? Can it be addressed through scientific studies of animal behaviour? What has been shown by scientific studies that appear to address the question of animal consciousness? This chapter examines these questions, focusing on the claim that animal consciousness is subject to scientific investigation.

Shows that even if the mental states of non-human animals lack phenomenal properties, as some accounts of mental-state consciousness imply, this need not prevent those states from being appropriate objects of sympathy and moral concern. Argues that the most basic form of mental (as opposed to biological) harm lies in the existence of thwarted agency, or thwarted desire, rather than in anything phenomenological. So, provided that animals are capable of desire, and of sometimes believing, of the objects desired, that they have not been achieved, then sympathy for their situation can be entirely appropriate.

This chapter interrogates whether the existence of conscious awareness is really as untestable as it is usually made out to be. In other words, it tries to question whether the distinction between private (supposedly untestable) consciousness and public (testable) behaviour that we have kept to so far, is as hard and fast as it seems. It then draws conclusions about what is the central concern of this book – the existence and significance of animal consciousness. For many scientists, there are two kinds of questions: those that can be hoped to find answers to and those that one can never hope to answer. Consciousness is almost alone of all the phenomena of our world in being placed in the second category.

This chapter opens with a conceptual investigation of suffering and distinguishes broad and narrow conceptions. The section that follows argues that if we bracket radical skepticism about animal consciousness (a position addressed later), there is ample empirical evidence that many animals, and not only mammals, are capable of suffering in this restricted sense. But insofar as the broader conception of suffering proves fundamental for moral purposes, the chapter takes up the question of what sorts of creatures can suffer in this sense. After a substantial empirical case is sketched for the thesis that animals from a wide array of species (at least mammals, birds, reptiles, amphibians, and some fish) are capable of suffering in the relevant sense, a radical skeptical challenge is presented and rebutted. A brief coda considers implications for bioethics.

This chapter begins with a discussion of the heart of the problem of consciousness: qualia. It explores animal consciousness and shows that animals, mammals in particular, have qualia, which rules out the need to take seriously suggestions that consciousness began with the Greeks or requires human language or that its survival value (by way of sexual selection) lies in its contribution to specifically human intelligence or artistic sensitivity. The chapter then considers the possibility that consciousness actually has no real function: that it is an epiphenomenon.

The first part of human's quest for consciousness in other species is to look at what is now known about their behaviour and to see whether this can be dismissed as simply the workings of unthinking, unfeeling automata, blindly going through a set series of actions with no hint of a mind to guide them or whether what they do is complex enough and unpredictable enough that it suggests the possibility – even a remote one – that somewhere a spark of consciousness has come alight. A stumbling block that many people have when they look at animals is that they see their behaviour as being the opposite of clever and complex. In fact, they see animals as essentially stupid.

This chapter discusses the implications of the account proposed in this book for the question of whether nonhuman animals possess self-consciousness. It discusses empirical studies of mirror self-recognition, mindreading, and metacognition in nonhuman animals and considers whether and to what extend the abilities demonstrated in these studies are indicative of self-consciousness. It argues that, while remaining somewhat inconclusive, the evidence to date suggests that some animals (in particular chimpanzees and dolphins) possess some basic forms of self-awareness, similar to those found in human infants.

This chapter studies the behaviors of various animal species, as well as animal consciousness. It argues for the significance of such studies, for these indicate that they, the animals, share the property of consciousness with human beings. The chapter contends that animals are perfectly capable of language (and thus of thought), both vocal and signed. It is up to the humans then to undertake the challenge of deciphering these. To illustrate these points, the chapter looks at research done on various species of animals, from cats and dogs to dolphins and even insects. In so doing, this chapter it draws awareness to the fact that brains do not have to be built like that of humans to possess consciousness.

This book defends and develops the metapsychological reductive representational theory of consciousness and attempts to apply it to several importantly related problems, including concept acquisition and animal consciousness. The text maintains a higher-order thought (HOT) theory of consciousness, which states that a mental state’s consciousness is dependent upon a suitable higher-order thought directed reflexively. HOTs are mental states directed at other mental states, and, therefore, are metapsychological or metacognitive states that are concerned with explaining how conscious mental states differ from unconscious ones. In addition to a defense of HOT theory, this book aims to solve a larger underlying paradox referred to here as the Consciousness Paradox. This paradox and its underlying theses are explained further in the succeeding chapters.

This chapter describes a preliminary exploration in search of criteria for consciousness in the biological and physical world beyond the human skull, including dolphins, octopuses, parrots, bees, and computers. It argues that assessing the complexity of behavior and measuring the size of the brain may not provide a reliable estimate in animals. Likewise, it explains why some artificial systems, such as such as feed-forward deep learning networks, that are composed by many elements and that perform incredible feats, may not be conscious. Finally, it suggests that in the future precise empirical measurements of information integration may offer a valid tool to infer on the capacity of consciousness in non-human entities.

In general, seventeenth-century philosophers assume that intentionality is an essential characteristic of our mental life. Malebranche is perhaps the only philosopher in the period who stands out against the orthodoxy. This chapter argues that attention to this fact makes it possible to mount at least a partial defence of his notorious doctrine of the rainbow-coloured soul; Malebranche’s doctrine is a striking anticipation of modern adverbial theories of sensation. In opposition to the Radners it is further argued that Malebranche has the resources to offer an interesting theory of animal consciousness. His continuing subscription to Descartes’ beast-machine doctrine rests largely on his acceptance of arguments from divine justice.

In discussions of the mind-body problem, there are two separate issues on which attention is commonly focused: ‘How is it that a material object (a brain) can actually evoke consciousness?’; and, conversely; ‘How is it that a consciousness, by the action of its will, can actually influence the (apparently physically determined) motion of material objects?’ These are the passive and active aspects of the mind-body problem. It appears that we have, in ‘mind’ (or, rather, in ‘consciousness’), a non-material ‘thing’ that is, on the one hand, evoked by the material world and, on the other, can influence it. However, I shall prefer, in my preliminary discussions in this last chapter, to consider a somewhat different and perhaps more scientific question - which has relevance to both the active and passive problems - in the hope that our attempts at an answer may move us a little way towards an improved understanding of these age-old fundamental conundrums of philosophy. My question is: ‘What selective advantage does a consciousness confer on those who actually possess it?’ There are several implicit assumptions involved in phrasing the question in this way. First, there is the belief that consciousness is actually a scientifically describable ‘thing’. There is the assumption that this ‘thing’ actually ‘does something’ - and, moreover, that what it does is helpful to the creature possessing it, so that an otherwise equivalent creature, but without consciousness, would behave in some less effective way. On the other hand, one might believe that consciousness is merely a passive concomitant of the possession of a sufficiently elaborate control system and does not, in itself, actually ‘do’ anything. (This last would presumably be the view of the strong-AI supporters, for example.) Alternatively, perhaps there is some divine or mysterious purpose for the phenomenon of consciousness - possibly a teleological one not yet revealed to us - and any discussion of this phenomenon in terms merely of the ideas of natural selection would miss this ‘purpose’ completely.