Scientific Metaphysics

SCIENTIFIC

METAPHYSICS

On the Nature of Experience in Particular and the Status of Philosophy as a

Scientific Discipline in General

René Janssen

Utrecht University

Written under the supervision of Menno Lievers

2008

August 2008

This thesis is submitted in partial fulfilment of the requirements for the degree of

Master of Science in History and Philosophy of Science at Utrecht University, The

Netherlands.

First supervisor: Menno Lievers

Second reader: Bert Theunissen

© 2008, the author

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced without the written

permission of the copyright holder.

ABSTRACT

In his Critique of Pure Reason, Kant proposed the Kantian Thesis. This we interpret

as the claim that space is a necessary condition for objective experience. In his 1959

Individuals, Strawson reviewed Kant’s thesis and concluded, based on a famous

auditory world thought experiment, that the Kantian Thesis is warranted. In a 1980

review of Strawson’s auditory universe, Evans proposed an alternative defence of the

Kantian Thesis.

We review Kant’s, Strawson’s and Evans’ arguments and conclude that,

taking relevant neuroscientific research into account, the Kantian Thesis cannot be

upheld. For this we offer four main arguments, directed against all three philosophers.

First, we show that it is not clear why the auditory world thought experiments by

Strawson and Evans, or in fact any pure thought experiment, would provide us with

information about the conceptual make-up of our universe. Secondly, we argue that it

is possible to perceive objective particulars in a non-spatial fashion. Thirdly, we show

that it is possible to form a non-spatial concept of objective experience. We make

those last two claims by drawing on a case study involving a being with a cognitive

ailment, Balint’s Syndrome. Fourthly and lastly, we argue that our approach, based on

empirical data, is better warranted than Kant’s transcendental reflections on the

matter, due to his own adherence to what has become known as the principle of

significance. This principle holds that all concepts or intuitions, even a priori ones,

ought to have empirical import if they are to have any validity at all.

Having established the status of the Kantian Thesis based on modern scientific

insights, we take this as a case study to argue that the discipline of philosophy is

confined to increasingly narrow boundaries due to advancements in various scientific

disciplines. As such, we conclude by claiming that one of the key philosophical

problems in the 21st century will be the determination of the status of philosophy as a

scientific discipline, if it deserves such a status at all.

„All modern thinkers are children of Kant, whether they are happy or bitter about their paternity‟.

(Guyer and Wood in the introduction of their new translation of Critique of Pure Reason

Kant 1998, p. 31)

v

Table of Contents

Introduction ........................................................................................................................... vii Analytic Table of Contents ............................................................................................ viii

Chapter 1 – Strawson, Metaphysics, and Kant................................................................... 11

1.1 - Metaphysics ............................................................................................................... 11

1.2 - Kant’s Critique of Pure Reason ................................................................................ 12

1.3 - Strawson’s Metaphysics ........................................................................................... 17

1.4 - Strawson’s Auditory World ..................................................................................... 20

Chapter 2 – Evans, Objectivity, and Beyond ...................................................................... 25

2.1 - The Kantian Thesis ................................................................................................... 25

2.2 - Things Without the Mind ......................................................................................... 27 The Kantian Thesis: Refuted .......................................................................................... 28

The Kantian Thesis: Reinstated ...................................................................................... 33

The Causal Ground Argument ........................................................................................ 34

The Simultaneity Argument............................................................................................ 36

2.3 - Beyond Hero’s Auditory Universe .......................................................................... 38

Chapter 3 – Space, Audition, and the World (I) ................................................................. 41

3.1 – Strawson and Kant and the Human Auditory Sense ............................................ 41 Kant’s Sensibility and Understanding Reviewed ........................................................... 43

3.2 – Non-Spatial Reidentification and Existence Unperceived .................................... 45 Hero versus Rem ............................................................................................................. 46

Rem’s World Extended: Balint’s Syndrome .................................................................. 48

Non-Spatial Experience in Our World ............................................................................ 50

3.3 - Strawson’s and Evans’ Methodology ...................................................................... 53 The Status of Auditory Worlds and the Use of Thought Experiments ........................... 54

Chapter 4 – Space, Audition, and the World (II) ............................................................... 60

4.1 - Campbell’s Berkelian Thought Experiment .......................................................... 60

4.2 - Evans’ Causality and Simultaneity Arguments Revisited..................................... 63

4.3 - Objectivity ................................................................................................................. 65

4.4 - Non-Spatial Objectivity ............................................................................................ 68

Chapter 5 – Kantian Thesis, Science, and Philosophy ....................................................... 72

5.1 - The Kantian Thesis ................................................................................................... 72 Cognitive Ailments and Thought Experiments .............................................................. 72

The Principle of Significance ......................................................................................... 75

The Bounds of Sense ...................................................................................................... 76

Argumentative Remarks ................................................................................................. 78

5.2 - Descriptive Metaphysics ........................................................................................... 80

5.3 - The Next Problem ..................................................................................................... 82

APPENDIX A - The Nature of Sound ................................................................................. 87

The Nature of Sound ......................................................................................................... 87

Hearing ............................................................................................................................... 91

Neural Auditory Processing ............................................................................................. 95

APPENDIX B – Balint’s Syndrome ..................................................................................... 99

Balint’s Syndrome ............................................................................................................. 99

Patient R.M. ..................................................................................................................... 100

Figures .................................................................................................................................. 102

Bibliography......................................................................................................................... 104

vi – Scientific Metaphysics

Acknowledgements

I am indebted to many people who have supported me, both directly and indirectly,

with or throughout the writing of this thesis. Before naming a few of them explicitly, I

wish to extend my gratitude to Floris van der Burg. Although he was not involved in

the writing of the current project, he kindly offered an individual seminar a couple of

years ago. My work with him there and then has aroused my enthusiasm for the type

of research undertaken in this thesis.

Next, I wish to thank Janneke van Lith for her encouragement in taking up this

research, and Bert Theunissen for volunteering to be my second reader at a relatively

late moment. However, I especially would like to thank Menno Lievers for his

insightful and enthusiastic supervision of this project. The fact that he read multiple

full drafts of my work in progress and his valuable comments and suggestions have

certainly improved the final result considerably. Needless to say, all remaining errors

are entirely mine.

Lastly, I would like to thank Laura Hamerslag for her editorial skills that have

definitely made this thesis a more enjoyable read. Moreover, I should thank her for

the continuous support and unwavering conviction that I would finish this project

successfully and in a timely fashion.

August 2008,

R.J.

Introduction - vii

Introduction

“All apprehended change of place is due to a movement either of the observed

object or of the observer, or to differences in movements that are occurring

simultaneously in both. For if the observed object and the observer are

moving in the same direction with equal velocity, no motion will be detected.

Now it is from the earth that we visually apprehend the revolution of the

heavens. If, then, any movement is ascribed to the earth, that motion will

generate the appearance of itself in all things which are external to it, though

as occurring in the opposite direction, as if everything were passing across the

earth. This will be especially true of the daily revolution. For it seems to seize

upon the whole universe, and indeed upon everything that is around the earth,

though not the earth itself… As the heavens, which contain and cover

everything, are the common locus of things, it is not at all evident why it

should be to the containing rather than to the contained, to the located rather

than to the locating, that motion is ascribed.” (Copernicus 1543, 1:5).

Thus spoke Nicolaus Copernicus, in his 1543 De Revolutionibus Orbium Coelestium,

On the Revolution of the Heavenly Spheres. With the notion that not the heavens, but

the earth might be rotating, he upset most of the contemporary theological and

scientific1 beliefs and started what is nowadays regarded as the Scientific Revolution,

the period in which the basis of modern science is laid.2

The 18th

-century Prussian thinker Immanuel Kant claimed to have caused such

a revolutionary turnaround in thinking as well with his 1781 Critique of Pure Reason.

In rethinking the manner in which metaphysics had traditionally been carried out Kant

argued that, traditionally, the way humans perceive objects has to conform to the

object. However, he believed that it is possible to have a priori knowledge of objects.

Moreover, he maintained that it is not possible to have a priori knowledge of objects,

if our experience has to conform itself to the objects. Now, he argued revolutionary, if

an object conforms to, loosely speaking, our perception of the object, then it is very

well possible to have a priori knowledge of the object. Thus, instead of having the

perception of objects depend on the objects, Kant argued that an object conforms to

our perception of it. This turnaround in the manner in which we deal with perception,

Kant claims, ‘would be just like the first thoughts of Copernicus’ (BXVI).3

Based on this Copernican conceptual shift of perspective Kant sets out in the

section of the Critique of Pure Reason called Transcendental Analytic to investigate

what the limiting features of any intelligible notion of experience are. Among these

limiting features, he claims that space is a necessary condition for objective

experience, thus that everything we perceive is perceived in a spatial manner.

1 ‘Scientific’ is here used in the modern meaning of the term. The word scientist as we currently

understand it was coined by William Whewell in his 1833 Bridgewater Treatise Astronomy and

General Physics Considered with Reference to Natural Theology. 2 Although that view is currently being disputed again. See, for instance, for a good overview of

contemporary thoughts on the scientific revolution Hellyer 2003. 3 The first edition of The Critique of Pure Reason was published in 1781, the second in 1787. The latter

version contained various deviations from the first version. Throughout this essay, we will use the

traditional A and B notation to refer to the first and second edition of the work, respectively. All the

quotes in this essay are taken from the translation by Guyer and Wood, published in 1998.

viii – Scientific Metaphysics

Moreover, he argues that this is necessarily so. Kant offers two transcendental

reflections to back this claim up.

Almost two centuries later does the British Philosopher Sir Peter F. Strawson

re-investigate the notion that experience is necessarily spatial. In the second chapter

of his famous 1959 work called Individuals he tries to establish whether or not it is

possible to have experience of objective particulars in a non-spatial manner. In a time

in which Kantian thoughts have lost some of their appeal to modern philosophers,

Strawson reinvigorates Kantian studies in this manner.

In this thesis, we review Strawson’s defence, and Strawson’s student Gareth

Evans’ reformulation, of Kant’s notion that space is a necessary condition for

objective experience. In doing so, we will enter auditory universes and review the

concepts of identification, reidentification and existence unperceived. Moreover, we

will compare the transcendent with the transcendental realm, juxtapose the concept of

objective experience with that of perception and review the usefulness of thought

experiments. All this will allow us to review Kant’s idea about space using modern

insights in perception. Ultimately, we will take this investigation into the nature of

experience as a case study to review the status of philosophy as a scientific discipline

in the 21st century, much in the same manner as in which Kant used it to investigate

the possibility of metaphysics in his Critique of Pure Reason. Before embarking on

this project, however, let us first give a more in-depth overview of the manner our

investigation which it is structured and carried out.

Analytic Table of Contents

In the first chapter, we proceed as if working our way through a funnel. We start

broadly, by introducing the discipline of metaphysics and touching upon its stature in

the twentieth century (section 1.1). Next (section 1.2), we limit ourselves to Kant’s

metaphysics by means of a survey of the relevant parts of his grand work on

metaphysics, the Critique of Pure Reason. This we contrast with Strawson’s

metaphysics, notably that outlined in his Individuals and The Bounds of Sense (section

1.3). Finally, narrowing ourselves down even further, we introduce Strawson’s

auditory world thought experiment (section 1.4). In this thought experiment, Strawson

was interested in investigating whether or not it is possible to have a scheme of

experience that is non-spatial.

In the second chapter, we review Strawson’s auditory world through Evans’

eyes by focusing on a review of Strawson’s auditory world that Evans wrote in 1980.

After having rejected Strawson’s initial defence of what we will introduce as the

Kantian Thesis, the notion that space is a necessary condition for objective experience

(section 2.1), Evans proceeds by offering an alternative defence of the Kantian Thesis

on the basis of a reformulation of Strawson’s auditory universe derived from a

proposal by Jonathan Bennett. Next, we review, with Evans, the relation between

sensory experience and a potential objective reality based on materials from his

renewed version of Strawson’s auditory universe (section 2.2). Having now reviewed

two auditory world thought experiments, Strawson’s initial one and Evans’

reformulation thereof, we will take a step back, and wonder what all these auditory

thought experiments have taught us (section 2.3).

In the third chapter, we start our own investigation based on the materials that

were introduced in the first two chapters. We commence by looking at the manner in

which the auditory sense functions in human beings, based on a review thereof in

Introduction - ix

appendix A. On this basis, we review some of Strawson’s basic assumptions and

Kant’s distinction between sensibility and understanding (section 3.1). Next, we

propose our own version of an auditory world based on empirical data on the

physiological and neurological functioning of the human auditory sense to contrast

Strawson’s and Evans’ worlds with. Based on this, we will review whether or not the

defence of the Kantian Thesis mounted by Strawson and Evans holds (section 3.2). To

conclude this chapter, we review the applicability of thought experiments for

philosophical investigation (section 3.3). On the whole, thus, in the third chapter we

reject Strawson’s and Evans’ lines of reasoning on two levels: we both rebut the

detailed arguments they presented for their defence of the Kantian Thesis, and we

reject their entire methodology at the same time.

In the fourth chapter, we commence by looking at a thought experiment by

Campbell, based on work by Berkeley, regarding existence unperceived. This shows

us that it is possible to conjecture a theory of experience in which the notion of

objectivity can be obtained in a non-spatial fashion (section 4.1). However, as we do

not wish to argue for a specific theory of experience, Campbell’s relational view in

this case, we try to conjecture an argument that shows that we are able to obtain the

notion of objective existence independently of a strict framework of how experience

functions (section 4.3). To show that we are able to achieve the concept of objective

experience in a non-spatial manner, we invoke our being Rem (section 4.4). Along the

way, we review Evans’ causality and simultaneity arguments that were presented in

section 2.2. We see that the conclusions that Evans reached cannot be used in

investigating the conceptual framework of experience in our world, as his

argumentative methodology does not live up to the requirements for thought

experiments as put forth in section 3.3 (section 4.2).

In chapter five, we have finally collected enough materials to review the

Kantian Thesis itself. Based on Strawson’s and Evans’ defence of the Kantian Thesis

and our review of their argumentation in the first four chapters, we will be able to

come to a conclusion on this matter (section 5.2). Before being able to do so, there are

four issues we need to tackle. These regard methodological issues and argumentative

principles we have applied throughout our writings (section 5.1). To conclude this

chapter but also our study as a whole we return to Kant’s initial aim of investigating

the possibility of metaphysics. Taking the review of the Kantian Thesis as a case

study, we rephrase this matter as the 21st-century problem of the possibility of

philosophy as a scientific discipline (section 5.3). This concludes our main

investigation. To live up to our own conclusions about the way philosophy has to

operate two appendices are added.

A fair share of the arguments presented in the above deal with sound or

Baltint’s Syndrome. We have tried, especially in the third and fourth chapter, to see

what the perception of sound particulars means for the framework of experience, or in

more detail, the Kantian Thesis. For some arguments we invoked a being suffering

from Balint’s Syndrome. Doing so within the bounds of a relevant scientific theory

means that we must be aware of how sound operates, and Balint’s Syndrome

functions, in nature. Moreover, we must know how sound stimuli are analysed and

processed by the human mind in normal and abnormal cases. Accordingly in appendix

A we review the workings of the human auditory sense in detail, after having looked

into the nature of sound itself. In Appendix B we do the same with Balint’s

Syndrome.

Whereas it may seem that some of the biological or physical details given in

both appendices are too extensive for the requirements of arguments presented in the

x – Scientific Metaphysics

main analysis, we firmly believe that a thorough understanding of how sound and

auditory perception functions is a prerequisite for a philosophical theory which takes

this as its starting point. Especially our conclusions about the use of thought

experiments in a philosophical line of reasoning, section 3.3, warrants the level of

description and detail reached in both appendices.

Let us now proceed as announced.

Strawson, Metaphysics, and Kant - 11

Chapter 1 – Strawson, Metaphysics, and Kant

In this first chapter, we start broadly and narrow ourselves down as we proceed. We

commence by introducing the discipline of metaphysics, and touch upon its stature in

the twentieth century. Next, we limit ourselves to Kant’s metaphysics by means of a

survey of the relevant parts of his grand work on metaphysics, the Critique of Pure

Reason (1781). This we contrast with Strawson’s metaphysics, notably that outlined

in his Individuals (1959) and The Bounds of Sense (1966). Finally, confining

ourselves even further, we introduce Strawson’s auditory world thought experiment.

Strawson’s famous thought experiment is put forth in chapter two of his

Individuals. For him, this mental tour-de-force was introduced to review some of the

claims of Kant’s metaphysics. Notably, Strawson was interested in whether or not it is

possible to have a scheme of experience that is non-spatial. For us, it serves as a basis

for the investigation into the nature of experience in the chapters to come. Moreover,

we use it as a case study for our review of the discipline of metaphysics as a whole in

the final chapter.

1.1 - Metaphysics

Historically speaking, epochs of grand metaphysical system building are followed by

periods in which such systems are demurred (Hacker 2003). This, Hacker claims, is a

recurring trend. And indeed, looking at some recent examples, the seventeenth and

eighteenth-century era of metaphysical system building was followed by Hume’s

damnation thereof, and by Kant’s attempt to restrict the scope of the discipline

considerably (idem, p. 43). In the nineteenth century, the pattern repeats itself: great

systems, for instance those by the post-Kantian idealists, were deplored by the

nineteenth century positivists, only to be revived and renewed by later metaphysicians

such as Bergson, McTaggart and Heidegger.

In the twentieth century, contemporary philosophers generally frowned upon

these and more ancient metaphysical systems again. Initially this was mostly done

under the influence of the logical positivists of the Vienna Circle. Its leading

proponent, the German-born philosopher Rudolph Carnap, who became a naturalised

American citizen shortly after the outbreak of the Second World War, claimed that

metaphysical arguments are bogus, since they fail to live up to verification

procedures. Moreover, Carnap, among other leading logical positivists such as Moritz

Schlick and Otto Neurath in the German-speaking world and Alfred Jules Ayer in the

English philosophical circles, argued that a metaphysical system is nothing but

language, that fails to relate to anything real in this world.4 In short, as Hacker (idem,

p. 45) puts it: according to logical positivists, ‘metaphysicians produce sentences that

fail to conform to the conditions under which alone a sentence can be literally

significant’. As such, we are speaking early twentieth century now: metaphysics is

once again on its way out; analytic philosophy is on the rise.

4 Note that Carnap, in line with philosophers such as Frege and Russell, considered the philosophy of

language as being prior to the philosophy of mind. Moreover, Carnap deemed the formation of a formal

language a requirement for the philosophical analysis of concepts employed by human beings (Carnap

1928, 1932). Later philosophers, notably Gareth Evans (1982, 1985) who will be discussed later,

reversed this priority of philosophy of language over philosophy of mind.

12 – Scientific Metaphysics

However, in 1959, the Oxford philosopher Sir Peter Frederick Strawson

published his now renowned book Individuals. This work, according to its subtitle, is

‘an essay in descriptive metaphysics’. In Individuals, Strawson distinguishes

descriptive from revisionary metaphysics, the former being ‘content to describe the

actual structure of our thought about the world’, whereas the latter ‘is concerned to

produce a better structure’ (Strawson 1959, p. 9). Strawson places himself in the

former tradition and aims at providing a new formulation of descriptive metaphysics –

more on this later –, a discipline in which Aristotle and notably Kant have earned

their marks as well.

Beyond doubt, the Prussian thinker Immanuel Kant influenced Strawson to a

considerable extent in his metaphysical thinking. As Strawson puts it himself:

[...In Kant’s] Critique of Pure Reason I found a depth, a range, a boldness, and

a power unlike anything I had previous encountered. […H]aving been subtly

and in part consciously influenced by it in my own independent thinking on

metaphysics … (in Individuals), I decided I must try to get to grips with the

work as a whole […something that] ultimately [resulted] in the publication of

The Bounds of Sense.5 (2003, p. 8)

Moreover, in the introduction to the 2003 book on and called Strawson and Kant, the

editor Hans-Johann Glock puts Kant’s influence on Strawson, but also Strawson’s

importance in reviving metaphysical thinking in a period that was characterised by

analytic philosophy, as follows:

Peter Strawson [is] the leading proponent of analytic Kantianism. [His]

seminal Individuals rehabilitated metaphysics as a respectable enterprise

within analytic philosophy. It also inaugurated a distinctly Kantian project –

descriptive metaphysics. (Glock 2003a, p. 1)

Considering this profound influence that Kant had on Strawson, let us continue by

reviewing the relevant parts from Kant’s metaphysics in his Critique of Pure Reason,

and then contrast Strawson’s – early – work with it.

1.2 - Kant’s Critique of Pure Reason

In the Critique of Pure Reason (1781), the first of Kant’s three famous Critiques,

Kant poses in the introduction the metaphilosophical question ‘how is metaphysics

possible as a science?’ (B22). Contrary to what some contemporary scholars of Kant

have argued (cf. Glock 2003b, p. 22), at the highest level of generality the Critique of

Pure Reason is not concerned with metaphysics itself. Instead, ‘the Critique was

intended to discuss the very possibility of metaphysics’, as Kant wrote in the

Prolegomena (1783, app), one of his shorter works that is aimed at clarifying some of

the notions in his Critique of Pure Reason.

5 References are to the aforementioned Individuals (1959) and The Bounds of Sense (1966). In the latter

book, Strawson reviews and, where and if he deems it necessary, updates the main arguments of Kant’s

Critique of Pure Reason.


To be able to discuss the possibility of metaphysics fruitfully, Kant first

required a proper understanding of the contemporary status of the discipline.6 To

review the developments in philosophy in general, and to be able to say which of

these dealt with the metaphysical realm, Kant introduced two famous dichotomies.

First, he makes a difference between a priori knowledge, which is independent of

experience, and a posteriori knowledge, which is based on sensory experience. Kant

argues that knowledge is a priori if and only if it can be validated by means

independent of experience, and a posteriori if invoking sensory experience can

validate it. In distinguishing between a priori and a posteriori, Kant does not regard

the origin of the knowledge as relevant, but its validity (B1-3). How some knowledge

has originated is not relevant in distinguishing between the two forms.

Kant’s second dichotomy concerns analytic and synthetic judgements. He

writes:

In all judgments in which the relation of a subject to the predicate is thought

(if I consider only affirmative judgments, since the application to negative

ones is easy), this relation is possible in two different ways. Either the

predicate B belongs to the subject A as something that is (covertly) contained

in this concept A; or B lies entirely outside the concept A, though to be sure it

stands in connection with it. In the first case I call the judgment analytic, in the

second synthetic (A6-7 / B10).7

Kant’s original, but now classic examples are ‘all bodies are extended’ and ‘all bodies

are heavy’ (A7 / B11). The former is an analytic judgment, since the concept ‘body’

already contains, Kant argues, the fact that it is extended. The latter statement Kant

regards as synthetic, since the predicate ‘heavy’ is not already contained in the

concept ‘body’. The former concept stands entirely outside the latter, it is however

related to it.8

Combining these two dichotomies, one ends up with four types of

propositions. Analytic a priori propositions are non-problematic (B11), since their

truth-value is based on the relation of the relevant concepts. An example of this type

of proposition would be ‘all bachelors are unmarried’. Synthetic a posteriori

propositions, then, are uncontroversial as well, since we can simply refer to

experience to affirm them. An example of a synthetic a posteriori proposition would

be ‘grass is green’. Analytic a posteriori propositions, thirdly, do not arise, since it is

not a realistic option to turn to experience to determine the truth-value of a

proposition that is already contained within the proposition itself.9

6 This interpretation of the argumentative structure of the first part of Kant’s Critique of Pure Reason is

based on the review by Glock 2003b, pp. 21ff. 7 As Glock (2003b, p. 26, n. 18) identifies, one of the reasons that Kant’s first Critique is so

challenging, is that he ‘disregard[s] terminological coherence’, coupled to ‘his propensity for

contradicting himself’. A clear example of that is indeed the introduction of the difference between

analytic and synthetic judgments in the same and between different versions of the Critique of Pure

Reason, as exemplified by comparing the explanation of the difference given in the first edition (A6-8)

to the one in the second edition (B10 and B12). 8 Note that many present-day scholars believe that Kant did not apply the distinction between analytic

and synthetic propositions consistently throughout his writings. Moreover, they claim that he did not

have a clear definition of this distinction in mind, beyond the examples just quoted. This is a matter

that we will return to in section 2.1 while defining the term ‘Kantian Thesis’. For a first understanding

of Kant’s metaphysics, as is the aim of this chapter, the distinction as given thus far is sufficient. 9 That is, in Kant’s interpretation of analytic a posteriori propositions (A7 / B11-2). Kripke (1972, pp.

102-5) argues that, for instance, propositions in the form of identity claims such as ‘water is H2O’ or,


A problem arises with synthetic a priori judgments. To wit, in order to

determine their truth-value we would have to see how concepts are related in a non-

experiential manner. However, these concepts are, contrary to analytic propositions,

not contained in each other either. Whereas many of his predecessors had argued that

synthetic a priori knowledge is not possible, Kant maintained that it in fact does

provide valuable knowledge. First, he claims that mathematical and geometrical

knowledge is synthetic a priori (B14-17). Moreover, Kant argues that if metaphysical

knowledge is possible, and note that that was the question with which he started off,

then it must be synthetic a priori as well. Else, Kant concludes, metaphysical

knowledge would either be unjustifiable, or just not informative (B18).

As such, and contrary to what many commentators believed (Glock 2003b, p.

24), the subject matter of Kant’s metaphysics is not experience per se. Instead, Kant

links his overall problem of the Critique of Pure Reason, the possibility of

metaphysics, to how synthetic a priori knowledge is possible. For if metaphysics is

possible, then synthetic a priori propositions must be possible. Thus, investigating the

possibility of metaphysics can be related to the investigation of the possibility of

synthetic a priori statements.

The possibility of these latter statements Kant intents to investigate by looking

at the necessary conditions for someone to have experience: ‘the conditions of the

possibility of experience in general are at the same time conditions of the possibility

of the objects of experience, and on this account have objective validity in a synthetic

judgment a priori’ (A158 / B197). The latter is, however, a second order issue. Thus,

since metaphysical judgments express the required pre-conditions or framework for

the possibility of experience, they are synthetic a priori, and hence this necessary

framework for experience is what Kant sets out to investigate.

Commencing his investigation of the framework in which experience functions, Kant

makes the distinction between the sensibility of our mind, and understanding. The

former is a receptive faculty through which humans have intuitions, or gain general

awareness of particular instances of general concepts.10

Understanding, in contrast, is

an active faculty. It thinks of the intuitions or perceptions of particulars as

experienced by the faculty of sensibility, or reproduces them. Kant says famously:

‘Without sensibility no object would be given to us, and without understanding none

would be thought. Thoughts without content are empty, intuitions without concepts

are blind’ (A51 / B75).

Phrasing it more simply, Kant maintains that understanding only thinks. It

processes representations perceived by the faculty of sensibility or it connects them.

Sensibility, on the other hand, simply provides these representations in a purely

passive fashion. ‘Neither of these [faculties] is to be preferred to the other … Further,

these two faculties or capacities cannot exchange their functions. Only from their

unification can cognition arise’ (A51 / B75-76). We will come back to this distinction

and the applicability of it to the human mind in section 3.1.

using his own example, ‘Hesperus is Phosphorus’, fall in the category of analytic a posteriori

propositions, among others. Contra Kant, thus, Kripke and with him various other contemporary

philosophers do not regard the category of analytic a posteriori propositions as empty. 10

‘Faculty’ is the standard translation of the German noun ‘Vermögen’. However, for pedagogical

purposes, one may understand it as ‘the mental ability to’. As such, the receptive faculty is the

receptive ability of one’s mind, or in this case, more simply put, the passive ability to experience.


From this distinction between sensibility and understanding, Kant draws a

number of conclusions about the nature of experience.11

First, he establishes that

(1) The outer sense is passive, as the faculty of sensibility provides

representations in a purely passive manner;

(2) Sensations are caused by something external to humans.

From this, two conclusions can be drawn about the functioning of sensibility and

understanding

(3) Sensibility, as it is a purely passive faculty, cannot combine or represent

any number of sensations;

(4) Understanding alone cannot provide sensations, as they are caused by

something external and only sensibility has access to them.

Thus, Kant concludes pre-emptively

(5) Understanding can only interrelate experiences perceived by the faculty of

sensibility.

Now taking the propositions (1)-(5) together, let us note that a combination of

sensations by the faculty of sensibility is necessary to have perceptions of objects and

to base cognitive, perceptual, judgments on, by the faculty of understanding. Now, if

sensibility only provides spatial-temporal sensations, and intuition tells us that it does,

Kant claims, then

(6) Any experience that humans have is due to mind-independent objects,

given to us through our senses in a spatial-temporal fashion.

As such, Kant postulates, space and time are a way of perceiving, and for our

receptive faculty, the way of perceiving.

Before being able to review the above line of reasoning, we must note that Kant

distinguishes three kinds of reflections (A260-263 / B316-319). The first type is

‘empirical reflection’, which Kant deems as not philosophical in nature. He regards it

as a more or less Humean type of introspection, which we may disregard for our

purposes, as it will not reveal the relevant human cognitive capacities (Westphal

2007, p. 17). The second type of reflection is logical, and it deals with the logical

interrelation and clarification of concepts. Reflections of this nature can consist of

analytical and logical arguments. The third type of reflection is what Kant calls

‘transcendental reflection’. This kind of reflection regards representations in the

human faculties sensibility and understanding, which we introduced in the above.

With respect to it, Kant argues that ‘this transcendental reflection is a duty from

which no one can escape if he would judge anything about things a priori’ (A263 /

B319).

This third kind of reflection is, as we saw, the way Kant investigates the

faculties of sensibility and understanding. Since these two faculties deal with

11

The argument that follows can be represented in a number of ways; the manner in which it is

represented is taken from Westphal 2003, p. 129.


experience, this type of argument forms the basis for many lines of reasoning dealing

with the a priori in the Critique of Pure Reason. This also sheds more light on the line

of reasoning as presented by (1)-(6) in the above; as we must note that the subject

matter of the argumentation pattern that ultimately yields (6), is not, at least for Kant,

strictly empirical.12

It deals with the nature of experience, not with something of

which experience is had.13

The type of reflection that Kant deems appropriate, then, is

transcendental.

Transcendental reasoning or reflection is often overlooked in modern-day

philosophy, since contemporary philosophers generally put more emphasis on

empirical or logical reflections or arguments compared to transcendental ones

(Westphal 2004, pp. 130ff). For a proper understanding of Kant, and especially for the

work by Kant that we are treating here, i.e. his metaphysical enquiry into the nature of

experience, an understanding of transcendental reasoning is of the utmost importance,

as we will see below (idem).

Let us return to the subject matter at hand, Kant’s investigation into the nature of

experience. Kant puts forth two more arguments, in the form of two thought

experiments, in favour of the thesis he arrived at in (6). Both may be regarded as

transcendental arguments, based on the interpretation of this type of argument as

given in the above.

In the first thought experiment, Kant asks the reader to take the concept of

straight lines and the number two in mind. From these, the reader should try to derive

the notion that two straight lines cannot fully enclose something. Similarly, one could

take the concept of straight lines and the number three, and derive from it that a

figure, for instance a triangle, is possible with these.

All attempts at succeeding in any of these two cognitive derivations, however,

will be futile. Try as you might, Kant claims, ‘all of your effort is in vain, and you see

yourself forced to take refuge in intuition’ (A47-48 / B65). Now this intuition can be

either empirical, thus a posteriori, or a priori, Kant continues. However, if it were

empirical, then it cannot be always and universally valid, since empirical intuitions do

not supply this kind of knowledge. However, geometry, from which the two thought

experiments are derived, requires the intuition to be universally valid.14

Accordingly,

Kant concludes, the required intuition is a priori. That what is needed to conclude that

two straight lines cannot fully enclose something, or that three straight lines can

constitute a triangle, is the notion of space. Thus the intuition one has in this thought

experiment is space. We have already seen that the intuition has to be a priori, and

thus, according to Kant, space must be an a priori intuition (A49 / B66). This is

confirmed once more by reflecting, transcendentally that is, on the fact that we cannot

12

We will review this claim in section 5.1. For the moment, however, it has pedagogical value to

accept Kant’s claim and to look at the manner in which he investigates in the metaphysical realm. 13

We will see later that Kant distinguishes three realms: the empirical, the transcendental and the

transcendent. For now it suffices to note that the manner in which experience functions is for Kant a

so-called transcendental issue. We will return to this in section 5.1. 14

Note that Kant’s world was one in which Euclid’s geometry is universally valid, and where

Newton’s laws ruled with an iron fist. In our world ruled by relativity theory, Kant’s argument is no

longer valid in its current form, as the hidden premise is that (Euclid’s) geometry must be universally

valid. However, relativity theory does not automatically refute the argument, it can be reworked in such

a way that Kant’s original line of thought can be upheld.


imagine that there would be no space, although it can easily be imagined that there

would be a space with nothing in it, a void.15

The second transcendental reflection employed, aimed at showing that, like

space, the notion of time is a priori, is relatively similar. It comes down to the concept

of simultaneity and succession, which every human being has experienced. Kant

claims that it is only possible for objects to exist at different times, successively, or at

one and the same time, simultaneously, if the notion of time is presupposed. Thus the

notion of time is a priori much in the same fashion in which it was concluded that

space must be a priori. Note that this argument also needs some reworking in light of

relativity theory. It can, however, not trivially be disregarded.

Thus, Kant claims, we have established claim (6), space and time are an a

priori manner of experiencing. Hence they are in us, in our cognitive faculties. Since

the content of our experience is external - we saw in (2) that sensations are caused by

something external from the perceiver -, something in the natural world, human

experience is that of a world in which objects present themselves to us in a spatial-

temporal fashion.

However, as experience comes to us in the space-and-time-manner that is

employed by our faculty of sensibility, there is no way for human beings to make a

difference between the appearance of an object and the object in itself, or in Kant’s

words das Ding an sich. As such, the objects of experience, i.e. the cognitive – and

only humanly perceivable – representation of physical objects must, in this Kantian

framework, conform to the constitution of the human mind.16

This, relating it back to

Kant’s overall project in his Critique of Pure Reason, is a synthetic a priori

proposition. It gives a priori knowledge about the nature of perceiving objects.

Having established all this, Kant continues by introducing twelve categories,

which are pure, a priori, non-empirical concepts. All twelve categories are related to a

posteriori experiences of objects by means of schemata. The exact architectonics of

this system is not relevant for our purposes, however. We have outlined the most

characteristic and relevant features of Kant’s work now, thus let us continue by

reviewing Strawson’s metaphysics in this light.

1.3 - Strawson’s Metaphysics

Strawson struggled, in his own words (Strawson 2003, p. 8), with the Critique of Pure

Reason both as an undergraduate and as a college tutor. In the latter position, he

decided that he should come to grips with the work and in 1959 he both started to re-

study it and to lecture on it. The result of this series of lectures was the book The

Bounds of Sense, which was published in 1966.17

In this work he reviews Kant’s first

Critique, showing the overall argument as well as rejecting parts from it. Next to this,

Strawson also reworks parts of Kant’s argument to ‘be made more acceptable’

(Strawson 1966, p. 11).

Seven years prior to the publication of The Bounds of Sense, Strawson laid,

what may be regarded, the basis for the latter work. In Individuals (1959), Strawson

published his descriptive metaphysics, which he distinguished from revolutionary

15

A24 / B39. This kind of statement implies that Kant was a follower of the Newtonian worldview in

which an empty, fixed space is possible. 16

This statement is the core of Kant’s Copernican revolution that we discussed in the Introduction. 17

The Bounds of Sense is a title that Kant originally considered for what he came to call the Critique of

Pure Reason (Strawson 1966, p. 11).


metaphysics by arguing that the former ‘is content to describe the actual structure of

our thought about the world’, whereas the latter ‘is concerned to produce a better

structure’ (p. 9). This project clearly is on par with Kant’s second-order metaphysical

project in the Critique of Pure Reason that we addressed in the previous section. As

we touched upon in section 1.1, Strawson was influenced to a considerable degree by

Kant, and Strawson’s metaphysical endeavour in Individuals is accordingly heavily

dependent on the latter author’s thinking.

Individuals is divided in two parts. In the first part, Strawson discusses the

status of material bodies and persons, and argues that particulars of these two

categories are to be regarded as the basic or fundamental categories. The second and

closely related part discusses the relation between the notion of a particular in general

and an object that is perceived in particular (idem, pp. 11-2). Clearly, the latter is

closely related and in fact, as we see below, dependent on the Kantian investigation of

the bounds of sense or the nature of experience.

There are scholars who argue that Kant’s project was fairly distinct from

Strawson’s. This would not only be with respect to the overall aims of both

philosophers, but, for instance, also with respect to the relation to scepticism, the

general methodology and the understanding of the concept of a priori expressed or

employed in the respective works (Bird 2003). Whereas it must be acknowledged that

convincing arguments may be made for those cases, we shall not discuss them here.

The most important reason for not doing so is that Strawson only took the parts he

found relevant from Kant, but also disregarded whatever he did not deem correct or

applicable. Kant and Strawson may, indeed, use concepts that, among others, Bird

refers to (2003, p. 67) in a slightly different fashion. However, Strawson’s

philosophical project is ultimately different from Kant’s. The former incorporates

Kantian ideas, but does not take them for granted. As such, the differences between

the two philosophers may be of an academic interest, but they are not relevant for our

purposes. It is doubtful whether trying to trace all of Strawson’s ideas back to Kant

will produce more than a Whiggish history of philosophy. Certainly, it will not bring

us closer to our overall goal. Whereas Kant profoundly influenced Strawson, the latter

definitely did not take the former’s work for granted, as he acknowledges himself

(Strawson 1966, pp. 11-2).

Now, acknowledging that Strawson is, at least partially, indebted to Kant, let us

continue by taking a closer look at Strawson’s metaphysics in Individuals. In the

process, we will encounter many parallels with Kant’s work.

Strawson commences his 1959 work by introducing the notion of a particular.

As a starting point, he takes those to be things in the world. Material objects, people,

shadows, etc., are particulars. On the other hand, qualities or properties of them are

not (Strawson 1959, p. 15). Having introduced particulars, a next step is being able to

identify them. This issue is what Strawson is concerned with next. Note that he does

not use the term ‘identify’ in a strict sense. An identifying reference to a particular is

made, following Strawson, if a speaker introduces an expression to refer to a

particular, such as ‘that book’. This does not automatically imply, obviously, that the

hearer identifies the particular that is the subject of the speaker’s utterance correctly.

However looking at the level of understanding that is reached in everyday

communication it seems that generally speaking the speaker and the hearer are able to

identify the same particular when an identifying reference is made to some particular

in some utterance.


However, ‘generally’ seems not to be a proper basis for an argument.

Accordingly, Strawson wonders how to set criteria for the hearer’s identification

(idem, p. 18). Leaving aside issues like the identification of fictional objects and the

like,18

a requirement may be that the hearer is able to sense or experience the

particular to which some speaker is referring in his world picture, quite literally by

seeing, smelling, hearing, tasting or feeling it. This is a sufficient condition for

identification, called ‘demonstrative identification’, since the hearer is able to directly

experience, and identify in the loose sense as applied by Strawson so far, the

particular that is being referred to.

However, in many instances this type of demonstrative identification is not

available, for instance when the two individuals that are trying to communicate are

not near each other.19

In these cases, descriptions or names can be used. For instance,

the phrase ‘a long-deceased philosopher that lived in Köningsberg’ may describe a

person that can also be referred to by the name ‘Immanuel Kant’. However, names are

not always available or simply known, and a description may not be unique. For

instance, there may be multiple cities called Köningsberg, all of which were

hometown to a philosopher at some day, etc. Now one can claim that it is possible to

make the description sufficiently elaborate by adding more and more elements to it to

ensure that the speaker and hearer identify the same particular. However, regardless

of the elaborateness of the description, it can never be guaranteed that the hearer and

speaker each think that the particular that is being referred to is the same as the one he

takes the other to be referring to.20

As such, Strawson ventures to find a theoretical solution to this issue. An

answer seems to lie in introducing a single system of relations in which every

particular can be uniquely identified. Such a system actually exists, we experience it

in everyday life and Kant already introduced it to us as well. It is one in which we

ourselves, all particulars, indeed basically everything that we are aware of has a

unique spot, namely the spatial-temporal system. As Strawson puts it: ‘the system of

spatial-temporal relations has a peculiar comprehensiveness and pervasiveness, which

qualifies it uniquely to serve as the framework within which we can organize our

individuating thought about particulars’ (idem, p. 25).

Although we might theoretically conceive of a different system in which all

particulars could find a unique position as well, the spatial-temporal system has the

advantage of being comprehensive and pervasive, and every particular has its own

trivial place in it. Moreover, we cannot even think of particulars that fall outside this

spatial-temporal framework. As Strawson argues, something that has no spatial

position, nor a time associated to is, is deemed not to exist at all (idem, p. 29). As

18

Assume that A starts a story: ‘A philosopher is trying to make sense of a theory of a long-deceased

philosopher’, and continues, ‘The long-deceased philosopher had throughout the course of his life

never left Köningsberg’. Although a hearer B is able to identify the long-deceased philosopher as the

one from the start of the story, B, not aware of any history of philosophy, is unable to identify the

philosopher outside the scope of the story. Interesting as these relative types of identification might be,

we will leave them aside for the moment. For more information on this particular issue, see Strawson

(1959, p. 18). 19

Let us leave aside here practical matters, such as blurriness of the scene, very alike or confusing

elements, etc. In general, however, when applicable, demonstrative identification ensures that a proper

speaker-hearer particular identification can take place. 20

Note that much more can be said about descriptions or demonstrative reference in particular, or

referencing in general. See for a far more general and influential work on reference for instance Gareth

Evans’, to whom we will return in chapter 2, 1982 The Varieties of Reference. However, at present we

are merely following the line of reasoning that Strawson employed to embark on his voyage through

his auditory world, see section 1.4. The outline of the issue given in the above suffices for this purpose.


such, the spatial-temporal framework is a system we can use to uniquely identify all

particulars.

Accordingly, Strawson has introduced a framework for the identification of

particulars, which are still the relatively undefined material bodies he started off with.

Having established this scheme for the identification of particulars, Strawson wonders

about the re-identification of them. How can one identify an object that one perceives

on the stove now, as the same object that one bought in some store yesterday

morning?

To be able to try and answer this question, let us introduce the difference

between numerical and qualitative identity. To get a grasp of the difference between

the two, we may wonder what the difference is between saying: ‘the key on my

keyboard that I used to type this a and this a is the same’, and ‘this a and this a are the

same’. In the first instance, we have, using Strawson’s terminology (idem, pp. 33-4)

numerical identity, whereas in the latter instance we have qualitative identity. Let us

take a brief look at the difference between the two.

Taking the spatial-temporal framework as a starting point, there is a clear

difference between numerical and qualitative identity. For one, there is a continuous

spatial and temporal relation between the key on my keyboard pressed to type the first

a, and the key pressed to type the second a, since it the very same particular. Although

in between typing both a’s I did not experience the key – I do not look at my

keyboard while typing, and there was no tactile contact between my finger and the

key either in between the two strokes – one can theoretically trace the key-particular

continuously in space and time between both uses. This obviously does not hold in the

second example, in which two spatially and temporally distinct a’s are involved. In

this case we have merely the same character or type, an ‘a’, but two distinct

particulars. As such, a condition for reidentification of particulars could be that the

particular has to be continuously spatially and temporally traceable in the spatial-

temporal framework between both instances of identification.

As such, Strawson has established a possible basis for a framework for

identification and reidentification of particulars in our world, or a framework for

experience. He continues by discussing some theoretical and practical issues related

to the spatial-temporal framework and the nature of material bodies. For our purposes,

these issues can be left aside, since the basic idea of Strawson’s framework in which

experience plays a role has been established. Namely, in order to be able to identify

and reidentify particulars in our world we need an all-pervasive spatial-temporal

framework in which experience plays its role. Albeit in a different argumentative

manner, this is the same conclusion that we saw Kant arriving at in the previous

section. Strawson, however, is not content with having the intuition that our

framework of experience must necessarily be spatial and he goes further in putting it

to the test. Let us review in the next section how he tries to show that it is impossible

to form the concept of an objective particular in a non-spatial manner.

1.4 - Strawson’s Auditory World

In the second chapter of Individuals, Strawson tries to put his scheme dealing with the

manner in which we experience to the test. He wonders about the possibility of a

conceptual scheme in which material bodies are not the most basic particulars, but in

which there still is the possibility of identification and reidentification.


As we saw in the previous section, Strawson argues that material particulars

and a spatial-temporal scheme are intricately related. Accordingly, he tries to shed

light on the question whether or not it is possible to have a scheme in which material

bodies are not the most basic particulars by means of a thought experiment in which a

spatial-temporal scheme does not play a central role. He then tries to see what the role

of particulars would be in such a non-spatial world. Accordingly, he phrases his main

question: ‘Could there be a scheme, providing for a system of objective particulars,

which was wholly non-spatial?’ (Strawson 1959, p. 62). In this, Strawson defines the

concept of ‘objective particulars’ as particulars that can be ‘distinguished by the

thinker from himself and from his own experiences or states of mind, and regard as

actual or possible objects of those experiences’ (idem, p. 61). This Strawsonian

meaning of ‘objective particular’ is the sense in which we use the term particular or

objective particular throughout, unless explicitly stated otherwise. See also note 75.

In order to make sense of a no-space world, Strawson imagines a world in

which only auditory sensations play a role. His argument for doing so is, that,

disregarding smell and taste, since the lack of these two senses would not seem to

instigate a conceptual change in experience, and the tactile and visual sense, as they

are inherently spatial, the auditory sense is the only one remaining. Moreover, he

claims that the auditory sense is not inherently spatial. The reason why we might

think it to be spatial, ‘I heard a sound coming from the left’, is according to Strawson,

twofold. In the first place, we have experiences in other modalities that are inherently

spatial, notably vision. Secondly, some of the inherent qualities of sounds such as the

gradation or amplitude might make them appear to be spatial to us (idem, pp. 65-6).

However, Strawson argues, in a purely auditory world the auditory sense is essentially

non-spatial.21

Now, let us enter Strawson’s no-space auditory world, and try to see whether a

conceptual scheme providing for objective particulars is possible there. In doing so,

Strawson proposes to break his initial question, quoted above, into two sub-questions.

He wonders

(1) Whether or not in a purely auditory world there is room for the concept of

a reidentifiable particular;

(2) Whether or not a non-solipsistic consciousness is possible in such a

world.22

Let us now see how Strawson tries to answer these questions.

With Strawson (idem, p. 67) imagine two auditory beings listening to some

performance that is simultaneously played in two different concert halls. Both beings

would, roughly simultaneously, hear the same sound. However, although the same

performance is played in both halls, and thus the same chords and melodies are

experienced, different sound particulars are perceived by the two beings. In the

terminology introduced in the previous section: there is a qualitative identity, but not

a numerical one.

21

For the sake of the argument, let us accept this for now. We will review this claim in section 3.1. 22

Note that a non-solipsistic consciousness has, in Strawson’s use of the concept, not the intuitive

meaning one might expect it to have. He defines it as: ‘the consciousness of a being who has a use for

the distinction between himself and his states on the one hand, and something not of himself or a state

of himself, of which he has experience, on the other’ (Strawson 1959, p. 69). Conversely, a solipsistic

consciousness is a consciousness that does not have use for such a distinction.


Strawson argues, while considering question (1), that purely auditory listeners

would hear the same sound universal, but different sound particulars. The sources of

the sound, i.e. the two orchestras in the two concert halls, are different. However, the

piece that is played and perceived is the same. By analogy, let us now have an

auditory being in this auditory world perceive a certain sound , and after a short time

interval again this sound . Our auditory being, let us call him Hero in anticipation of

the review of this thought experiment in the next chapter, would in his purely auditory

universe not be able to say whether he hears the same particular or not. As such, the

notion of reidentifiable particulars does not seem to be sensible in a no-space

universe.

However, as some kind of an analogue to a spatial scheme, in which the

reidentification of particulars was possible, as we saw in the previous section,

Strawson proposes to introduce the notion of a master-sound (idem, pp. 75-6). The

master-sound is a sound that Hero and his fellow no-space-landers hear continuously

– or simply perceive, since hearing and perceiving are identical in a purely auditory

universe. The master-sound is constant in loudness and timbre but that can differ in

pitch.23

Since pitch can be measured on a gradual scale, one could attribute some

notion of distance to differences in pitch-level of the master sound. In this manner, the

master sound resembles some kind of spatial scheme in Strawson’s auditory world.

These variations in pitch, Strawson proposes, are related to variations in other

sounds. As such, one may imagine that the gradual increase of the pitch-level

corresponds to the decrease in loudness of some other sound, until it is no longer

audible. Alternatively, one might hear different sounds at different pitch-levels of the

master-sound, in much the same manner as in which, when one turns the tuning knob

on a radio, a different channel is heard if one goes along the band. In this manner, it

seems possible to reidentify certain sound particulars. Hero might hear a sound S1 at

pitch-level L1. Then the pitch-level is decreased to L2 and another sound particular is

perceived. Ultimately, the pitch-level is increased back to L1 again, and Hero

perceives S1. Following Strawson’s more elaborate argument, in this manner it seems

possible to reidentify sound particulars, such as S1 in this particular case, although it

is not possible to be completely sure that the same sound particular is heard after the

pitch is tuned back to its original level.

This master-sound, now, is used by Strawson to compare the auditory world to

the normal world with its spatial-temporal, Kantian, conceptual scheme. The different

sound particulars at different pitch-levels of the master-sound can be identified and

reidentified independently. As such, an auditory analogy to distance is introduced:

different sound particulars ‘occupy’ a position along the pitch-dimension in the no-

space auditory world.

Strawson acknowledges that this is merely an analogy and that it is not

entirely convincing in all aspects. For instance, if we look at relations in visually

perceived space, particulars that are above or under each other are experienced all at

once, whereas sound particulars at different pitch-levels cannot be perceived

simultaneously. As such, Strawson concludes that his auditory thought experiment

and the possible analogy to space by means of the master-sound is not necessarily

conclusive with respect to the first question that was posed: whether or not there is

room for the notion of reidentifiable particulars in a non-spatial, purely auditory

world. However, Strawson claims that the analogy has at least taught us something

23

We shall adhere to Strawson’s terminology here. In the more technical discussion of sound given in

appendix A, the concept of timbre will be referred to as the ‘quality of sound’.


about the manner in which concepts like space, distance, reidentification and

objective particulars are related. However, he acknowledges (idem, pp. 84-5) that it

depends on the strength of the analogy between the master-sound and the concept of

distance in our world how much we have learned about our own conceptual scheme.24

Question (2), whether or not there is room for a non-solipsistic consciousness in an

auditory world, depends partly on question (1), as discussed in the above. Namely, if

there is room for the notion of reidentifiable particulars, there must be a distinction

between being observed – or heard –, and not being observed, for how can it

otherwise be possible to re-identify a certain particular? However, this distinction

does not seem to be sensible without the idea of a distinction between an observer and

the observed. Strawson wonders rhetorically: ‘must not the being with the purely

auditory experience similarly think of himself as ‘at’ different places in auditory

space’ (idem, p. 82), when a certain sound particular is observed ‘at’ a certain pitch-

level of the master-sound?

However, Strawson deems this analogy of pitch-level to a spatial world too

straightforward and too attractive. This auditory world can, in fact, be described in

terms of sounds Sx and pitch-levels Lx as ‘S1 was observed at L1, then S2 was

observed at L2, etc.’. This would imply that there is no need for the distinction

between the observer and the observed, since the description denotes all there is:

specific sound particulars at certain pitch-levels of the master-sound. However, if the

auditory world is in any way like the ordinary world, Hero does not only passively

undergo changes of his reference frame, i.e. of the master-sound’s pitch-level, but he

is also able to manipulate this actively. Moreover, if two auditory beings ought to be

able to communicate, then we might propose something like auditory space: if two

beings ‘are’ at similar pitch-levels of their master-sounds, then the sound particulars

they perceive might be heard by both beings as well, and, extending this notion

beyond the scope of Strawson’s thought experiment, this might be their way of

communication.

Evidently, Strawson acknowledges that features of a hypothetical auditory

world, such as communication between auditory beings, are merely proposals of

common features that he wishes to reproduce in the auditory world. The reason for

attributing features like the ones proposed – space, reidentification, communication,

but many others are conceivable – to this world is not at all clear. Moreover, the

translation of some ordinary feature into an auditory variant thereof can also happen

in a variety of ways.25

However, Strawson concludes, if Hero is capable of anything

more than passively perceiving a changing pitch-level of the master-sound,

accompanied by specific sound particulars, then the notion of a non-solipsistic

consciousness in a purely auditory being seems, indeed, sensible. And with that

Strawson answers his second question, and leaves his conceptual tour-de-force

through the hypothetical, auditory no-space world for what it is.

24

In section 3.3 we will review the use of thought experiments like Strawson’s auditory world in much

more depth. 25

To give just one example: Strawson incorporated the notion of space in the auditory world by means

of the master-sound. In section 2.2, we will see that Evans rejects this proposal and introduces the

notion of space in a different manner. Whereas both authors have their own reasons to favour one over

the other, it remains unclear what this tells us about the conceptual scheme of our or the auditory

world, for that matter.


Let us recap the aims with which Strawson entered his auditory space. His primary

aim was to find out whether or not there can be a scheme of experience, in which one

can identify and reidentify particulars, that is non-spatial. This obviously Kantian

question has not been answered unequivocally, since the concepts of reidentification

and a non-solipsistic consciousness seem to have made sense in Strawson’s non-

spatial world, but only when some kind of spatial analogy in the form of a master-

sound was introduced. However, one might argue that this analogy was something

that is only conveniently introduced by Strawson, since in this manner Kant’s, but

also his own metaphysics that involves a spatial-temporal scheme that is synthetic a

priori can be upheld. With this in the back of our minds, let us subject Strawson’s no-

space auditory world to a thorough analysis in the next chapter.

Evans, Objectivity, and Beyond - 25

Chapter 2 – Evans, Objectivity, and Beyond

One of Strawson’s most promising pupils was the late Oxford philosopher Gareth

Evans. Apart from his most influential work on reference, which we referred to earlier

(see note 4, 20), Evans wrote a review of Strawson’s auditory world thought

experiment. According to Strawson himself it is a review whose ‘argument is strong

and subtle’, and ‘the issues raised are many, complex, and deep’ (1980, p. 273).26

In this second chapter, we review Strawson’s auditory world through Evans’

eyes. We see that Evans rejects Strawson’s defence of what we will come to call the

Kantian Thesis. However, Evans proceeds by offering an alternative defence of it on

the basis of a reformulation of Strawson’s auditory universe derived from a proposal

by Jonathan Bennett. Next, we review, with Evans, the relation between sensory

experience and a potential objective reality based on materials from his renewed

version of Strawson’s auditory universe. Having done so, we will take a step back,

and wonder what all these auditory thought experiments have taught us. With this, we

lay the basis for the research carried out in the next two chapters. Before proceeding

as announced, however, let us come to grips with what we mean exactly with the term

‘Kantian Thesis’ that we have just introduced.

2.1 - The Kantian Thesis

As we saw in the previous chapter, Strawson is indebted to Kantian thoughts about

the concept of space. However, Strawson is also critical of various parts of Kant’s

metaphysics. Relevant for our discussion, as is exemplified by our stress on the

auditory world thought experiment in section 1.4, in which Strawson tries to put

Kant’s ideas about the nature of space to the test, are the former’s thoughts on Kant’s

conception of the relation between experience and spatiality.

Following Grant (1968) in a review of Strawson’s 1966 The Bounds of Sense,

to which we referred earlier, Strawson employed two important arguments that

exemplify his interpretation of ‘the Kantian Thesis’, or Kant’s theorem about space.

First, Strawson accepts, and deems as especially important (Grant 1968, p. 85), Kant’s

principle of significance. Strawson paraphrases this principle as follows: ‘there can be

no legitimate, or even meaningful, employment of ideas or concepts which does not

relate them to empirical or experiential conditions of their application’ (Strawson

1966, p. 16).27

Secondly, Strawson observes that ‘Kant nowhere gives an even moderately

satisfactory theoretical account of the dichotomy between analytic and synthetic a

priori propositions’ (idem, p. 43). This we already touched upon in the previous

chapter while introducing the dichotomy, see note 8. Moreover, however, a clear

notion of the distinction between the two types of propositions cannot be

26

Evans’ review, called ‘Things Without the Mind’ first appeared in the volume Philosophical

Subjects: Essays Presented to P.F. Strawson (Van Straaten 1980, pp. 76-116) that was published in

honour of Strawson’s 60th

birthday in 1980. Strawson also published, in the same volume, a response to

every article. This is where the praise of Evans’ essay we just quoted is taken from. 27

Or as Kant phrases it in a sentence that is ‘typical of dozens in the Critique’ (Strawson 1966, p. 16,

n. 1): ‘All concepts, and with them all principles, even such as are possible a priori relate to empirical

intuitions, that is, to the data for a possible experience. Apart from this relation they have no objective

validity’ (B195). We will discuss the principle of significance in greater detail in section 5.1.


reconstructed from the manner in which Kant applies the two concepts of analytic

versus synthetic to various propositions in the Critique of Pure Reason either.

Namely, Strawson continues, focusing on a priori propositions for the moment,

philosophers over the past centuries have managed to agree on a subclass of a priori

propositions to which the term analytic can be applied fruitfully. However, from the

publication of the Critique up until the present, Strawson claims in 1966, a

satisfactory notion of what it is for a proposition to be synthetic has not been

provided. It does not simply follow that all a priori propositions that do not fall into

the category analytic can automatically be regarded as synthetic. Thus, apart from the

problem that readers of Kant had with the dichotomy between analytic and synthetic

propositions, it cannot be shown that Kant had, even for himself, some kind of

coherent idea of to what subset of propositions the classification ‘synthetic a priori’

should apply.28

As such, we may conclude with Strawson: ‘Kant really had no clear

and general conception of the synthetic a priori at all’ (idem).

Now accepting, with Strawson, the stress that Kant places on the principle of

significance, and the fact that it is unclear what is meant with the phrase ‘synthetic a

priori propositions’, Strawson continues by reviewing how he, then, may regard the

synthetic a priori concept of space.29

He argues for a ‘relatively austere’ (idem, p. 65)

interpretation of the a priori. This he exemplifies by claiming that holding that ‘the

unity of space and time was in this [austere] sense a priori would be to hold that it

was an essential element in any coherent conception of experience that we could

form’ (idem). This seems to agree with the manner in which Kant looked at the

matter.

Let us try to relate this to Strawson’s adherence to Kant’s principle of

significance. If we take Strawson to hold, with Kant, that the concept of space is

essential in any coherent notion of experience (idem), then this is a proposition that

must live up to the principle of significance. Now, using Strawson’s own

interpretation of this principle, the proposition must be related to empirical conditions

detailing its application (idem, p. 16). Thus, if the concept of space is essential in any

notion of experience, then this is a proposition that must have empirical import in the

sense that some ‘empirical conditions’ (idem) that can be empirically experienced are

the result of the proposition being true.30

For if there are no empirical conditions

related to the truth of the proposition, then the principle of significance would not be

adhered to, and the proposition would be meaningless. Making this tangible for the

claim that the concept of space is necessary in any coherent notion of experience: it

ought not to be possible to have an experience, or construct a notion of experience,

which is non-spatial.

This we will regard as the version of the Kantian Thesis that Strawson aims at

defending in the first part of Individuals. This is also in agreement with Evans’

interpretation of Strawson’s Kantian Thesis, which is ‘the thesis that space is a

necessary condition for objective experience’ (Evans 1980, p. 77). Thus when, in

28

Saul Kripke’s 1972 Naming and Necessity, see also note 9, has provided a clear account of this

dichotomy that is generally accepted by contemporary philosophers. However this publication

appeared only after Strawson published his Individuals and The Bounds of Sense in 1959 and 1966,

respectively. For our purposes, we are merely interested in how Kant introduced, and Strawson

interpreted the matter. 29

Note that especially the second point may be disputed from a contemporary point of view – see the

previous note. However, this is not relevant for our purposes as we are merely interested in how

Strawson, historically speaking thus, interpreted the Kantian Thesis. 30

This way of applying the principle of significance is something that we will argue for in more depth

in section 5.1.


what is to come, we use the phrase ‘Kantian Thesis’, it may be read as a substitute for

the entire phrase ‘the thesis that space… etc.’.

Now that we have gotten our terminology straight, let us continue with what

we set out to do in this chapter by reviewing Evans’ interpretation of Strawson’s

thought experiment. This, first, points us towards some internal flaws in the

Strawson’s line of reasoning, although Evans’ own argument is not flawless either as

we see in both the current and in the next two chapters. Secondly, Evans’ review of

Strawson allows us to deal with some methodological issues of Strawson’s and

Evans’ lines of reasoning in section 3.3.

2.2 - Things Without the Mind

Evans’ ‘Things Without the Mind’ is divided in four parts. In the first, he wonders

whether Strawson successfully defends the Kantian Thesis, in the interpretation as

given in the previous section. Evans shows that Strawson’s main line of reasoning is

not successful in upholding the Kantian Thesis. In the second part, Evans continues

by proposing a different argument that yet again would constitute a defence of the

Kantian Thesis, based on an altered version of Strawson’s auditory world. In the

remaining two parts, Evans offers two reasons for whether or not an auditory being

could conceive of an independent reality. These arguments are dubbed ‘the causal

ground argument’ and ‘the simultaneity argument, respectively’.

Before reviewing Evans’ arguments, however, let us recapitulate the two

questions that Strawson used to define his research in the auditory world. As we saw

in section 1.3, Strawson wondered (1959, p. 69), (1) whether in a purely auditory

world there is room for the concept of a re-identifiable particular. In (2), he

questioned whether or not a non-solipsistic consciousness is possible in such a world,

in which a non-solipsistic consciousness is defined in the way as elaborated upon in

note 22.

Strawson’s definition of ‘solipsism’, in which he differentiates between an

individual himself or his states, and ‘something not himself or a state of himself, of

which he has experience’ (idem, italics added) distinctly shows the Kantian influence

on Strawson. That is, the individual only has experiences of things outer to himself,

but no direct access to things itself. As Evans puts it: ‘there may be no question of

[Strawson’s] subjects experiencing the reality which is constituted by the truths that

do not belong in his biography’ (Evans 1980, p. 78). Evans goes a bit further than

Strawson would, by offering two arguments in favour of the claim that an auditory

being cannot conceive of an independent reality.31

For our purposes, as exemplified

by our discussion in chapter four, these arguments are of interest, hence let us

continue by reviewing Evans’ entire commentary in depth.

31

This seems characteristic of Evans. In a 1987 review of Evans’ Collected Papers (1985), the

reviewer, Chris Hookway, wrote: ‘Evans is never simply content to challenge … positions. On each

occasion, an insightful critical discussion serves as a stimulus for a development of themes which go

far beyond those directly involved in the views being criticized. … This approach has dangers,

however, and it is not clear that Evans always escapes them. It is easy to lose sight of the deeper

philosophical differences with the philosophers he discusses; and his constructive ambitions sometimes

lead him to critical arguments which his opponents perceive as question-begging’ (p. 281).


The Kantian Thesis: Refuted

Evans commences his review of Strawson’s defence of the Kantian Thesis by

pointing out what he regards as the relevant steps in such a defence. Following Evans,

first ‘it has to be shown that the idea of reidentifiable objects is implicit in the idea of

objectivity’, and, second, ‘it has to be shown that the criteria of reidentification … can

only be framed in a spatial (or quasi spatial) world’ (idem, p. 79).32

With respect to the first stage of the argument, we have seen in our review of

the auditory world thought experiment that Strawson introduces his first research

question, whether or not there is room for reidentifiable objects in a purely auditory

world, since a conceptual scheme in which Hero can reidentify items is a conceptual

scheme in which there is a difference between himself and his states and something

that does not fall in the former category (Strawson 1959, p. 72). As such, Evans grants

Strawson the first stage of his defence of the Kantian thesis, namely that the notion of

reidentification is implicit in the idea of objectivity.

The second stage, then, is argued for by the introduction of the master-sound.

As we saw in the last chapter, their relation to, or ‘location at’, the master-sound (Lx)

can distinguish qualitatively identical sounds (Sx):

S1 is experienced at L1

S1` is experienced at L2

S1 S1`

In the above, the –sign refers to numerical identity. Seeing that the notion of identity

is here employed in terms of the relations between particulars, this seems to complete

the defence of the Kantian thesis. Namely, the criteria of (re-)identification are framed

in spatial terms, especially so in the weak sense as employed by Evans and Strawson.

Yet, with Evans (1980, p. 80) one can claim that no real distinction between

qualitative and numerical identity has been provided. This distinction, however, is

something that is required for a theory of reidentification as only numerical identity

can be a basis for reidentification of particulars. Moreover, and more importantly,

Evans argues that Hero does not use the dimensionality33

of the master-sound for

(re-)identification. Therefore, he does not need the spatial analogy of the master-

sound for the concept of reidentification. In fact, Evans claims, an unordered series of

sounds acting as a master-sound would do the same trick as a master-sound that is

organised neatly, in a weak spatial fashion, by increasing pitch-level.34

32

In a footnote, Evans proposes to drop the qualification ‘spatial or quasi spatial’ and to use spatial to

refer to both these terms. Since Strawson (1980, p. 274, n. 2) follows Evans in this convention, we shall

use spatial in this weak sense as well. 33

There are various definitions of dimensionality. However, at the very least dimensionality implies

that there is some kind of order involved, which an un-ordered master-sound does, by definition, not

have. 34

This argument seems correct as long as we assume that Hero has a sufficiently advanced memory to

remember the sequence of the master-sound, or determine when he has ‘returned to some position at’

the master-sound. If this requirement is met, then an unordered master-sound would fulfil the same

purpose as an ordered version. Assuming that Hero can make sense of the sequence of an unordered

master-sound, however, seems to beg the question of Evans’ next step in his line of reasoning: that an

unordered master-sound does not have dimensionality, in the manner as it is interpreted in the previous

note. A purely unordered version of the master-sound, however, does not seem to live up to role of

reidentification it plays in the auditory world: if Hero cannot tell when he has ‘returned’ to a certain

‘location at’ the master-sound, he would yet again be unable to reidentify sounds. And that was the sole


Evans (idem, p. 80, n. 7) follows Strawson in the idea that any analogy of

space has as a necessary, but not as a sufficient condition that it ‘would allow us to

speak of something being to a great or lesser degree removed from … the point at

which we are’ (Strawson 1959, p. 75). This means that it has dimensionality, and an

unordered version of the master-sound does not live up to this criterion, or so Evans

claims, see note 34. However, since an un-ordered version of the master-sound does

serve the same purpose for Hero’s attempt at the (re-)identification of particulars in

his auditory universe as an ordered one, it must be concluded that the second stage of

Strawson’s defence has not been fulfilled. To wit, it seems possible to frame the

notion of reidentification in a non-spatial manner. And if it is possible to frame the

notion of reidentification in a non-spatial manner, then the requirement that it can

only be framed in a spatial manner has not been met.

Next to the above argument, Evans has a phenomenalistic argument against

applying Strawson’s master-sound as a notion of space (1980, p. 81). Namely,

Strawson’s master-sound is the equivalent of an absolute space, and not, like for

instance the Minkowski space we human beings live in, a relational framework of

items in that space. As such, it is vulnerable to all kinds of phenomenalistic

reductionist attacks. For instance, statements like ‘the theme of European

Championship 2008 is heard at position Lx’ would be equivalent to ‘if position Lx

were heard, the theme of the European Championship 2008 would be heard’. This is

clearly a long cry from any conception of space in which items are related, but also

move, and change.

Based on the two considerations given in the above, Evans deems the master-

sound to have failed as an illustration or analogy of space in the auditory world.

Hence, the two steps that he argued to be required for a proper defence of the Kantian

Thesis have not been fulfilled. Accordingly, and as announced before, he continues by

proposing a different manner in which the thesis can, hopefully, be defended properly.

In the same year in which Strawson’s The Bounds of Sense saw the light, the British

philosopher Jonathan Bennett published Kant‟s Analytic. In this latter work Bennett

tries to come to grips with the part of Kant’s metaphysics that is put forth in the first

half of the Critique of Pure Reason.35

In the third chapter of Kant‟s Analytic, Bennett

discusses and elaborates upon Strawson’s auditory universe, which he uses as a tool

to discuss the premise that ‘outer experience must pertain to things in space’ (Bennett

1966, p. 33). In the course of this discussion, which we can disregard for the purpose

of this essay, Bennett silences the master-sound temporarily. In doing so, he abandons

Strawson’s proposal of Hero’s equivalent to spatial relations, since they depend on the

master-sound.36

As an alternative, Bennett argues: ‘In Strawson’s account, the spatial

betweenness of non-master-sounds is defined out of pitch-relations amongst master-

purpose for which the master-sound was introduced. For the sake of the argument, however, let us go

along with Evans’ line of reasoning. 35

This is also the part of the Critique from which almost everything that we discussed about Kant and

his metaphysics in the first two sections of the previous chapter has been taken. Bennett discusses the

second part of the Critique of Pure Reason in a later work, Kant‟s Dialectic (1974). This follows the

division Kant made himself in his work as well (AXXIII). 36

Bennett’s reasons for rejecting the master-sound are different than the ones Evans put forth to reject

it, as just discussed. Namely, the former accepts Strawson’s use of the master-sound, contra Evans, but

silences it temporarily to show that there may be more ways to introduce the notion of space in an

auditory world. If this can be done spatially, and only spatially, this would obviously satisfy Evans’

second step of a defence of the Kantian Thesis as well.


sounds; in my proposed revision it is defined instead out of ordinary temporal

relations’ (idem, p. 37). In Bennett’s version of the auditory world, then, the sounds

Hero experiences are no longer related to the pitch of, or have their location at, the

master-sound. Instead, they are ‘travel-related’ to other sounds with which Hero is

already familiar.

This is the proposal that Evans turns to after having dismissed the master-

sound. In this new version of Hero’s auditory world, provided that the experiences in

it are regular, Hero can ‘distil from its changing course a more or less detailed map of

his world, with an object of kind K between (in a ‘travel-based’ sense of the word)

objects of the kind K` and K``’ (Evans 1980, p. 82). In this world, the same kind of the

reidentification-relations hold as in Strawson’s version of the auditory world with the

master-sound. However, importantly, the two objections that Evans voiced against the

master-sound do not apply. First, the dimensionality cannot be un-ordered, since the

dimensionality is not absolute, but dependent on Hero’s experiences in the world.

With respect to the second objection, Evans argues that this revised version of the

auditory world is holistic in the sense that Hero simultaneously deals with the way the

world is organised and his own route through it (idem).37

This implies that it is

immune to phenomenalistic reduction. Thus, as Evans puts it himself:

This way of introducing a spatial order into an auditory world seems to

provide a much better illustration of the themes of Strawson’s argument.

Distinct but qualitatively indistinguishable sounds can now be distinguished

by their positions in the ‘travel-based’ ordering … Furthermore … we run no

risk of dimensionless parallels. To construct a travel-based space is

necessarily to construct an ordering of the objects … In view of these

considerations, let us suppose that Strawson would accept this as a better

illustration of his argument (idem, pp. 82-3).38

Having dealt with internal issues in Strawson’s argumentation and replaced

Strawson’s version of the auditory universe by something that he regards as more

acceptable, Evans still has problems with Strawson’s defence of the Kantian Thesis

(idem, pp. 83-6). More specifically, he has a problem with the relation Strawson

proposes between (re-)identification and objectivity. He voices this in a long and

subtle argument, the outline of which is as follows:

(1) The concept of (re-)identification plays no relevant role in the auditory world;

If this is so, then there are two alternatives:

(2) The concept of identity can be replaced by continuity, or particulars can be

substituted for processes;

37

Note that this is simultaneity in the sense that Hero experiences one sound at the time, and relates

this to memories of sounds he has experienced previously. Thus, this new proposal does explicitly not

involve the simultaneous perception of sounds, something that Evans argues against later in his essay

and we encounter below. 38

And, in fact, in his immediate response to Evans’ essay (see note 26) Strawson accepts Evans’

Bennett-based proposal ‘with only minor qualifications’ (Strawson 1980, p. 274) that do not regard the

content of the new proposal. Instead, these qualifications deal with some remarks Evans made along

the way, but we can disregard these for our purposes.


However,

(3) The cost of replacing particulars by processes is too high;

And moreover,

(4) Replacing identification by continuity begs the question against a non-spatial

world.

Thus, Evans concludes, after having argued for all four steps, the defence of the

Kantian Thesis cannot be found in the notion of (re-)identification in an auditory

world. However, the thesis can be defended based on ingredients found in the

auditory world, which is what Evans sets out to do next. We review this in the next

section. However, let us first look in more depth at the argument Evans makes against

Strawson’s defence of the Kantian Thesis based on the concept of (re-)identification

of sound particulars.

Strawson’s defence of the Kantian Thesis involves the idea that items can be

reidentified. This presupposes the independent reality of the world, since objects need

to be perceived and re-perceived to be reidentified. Accordingly, they need to exist

unperceived in between both moments at which they are observed to be able to be

reidentified, at least in the case of numerical reidentification which Strawson is,

ultimately, after. Evans is willing to grant Strawson this. Thus, in the latter world,

Strawson’s Hero can think of having (had) experiences of auditory particulars, which

continue to exist unobserved, and that may be reidentified at a later stage.

Now, Evans counters, the notion of continuity, for instance the idea that a

song continues to play when one falls asleep, is prior to the notion of a single song.

Accordingly, (idem, p. 83-4), the notion of continuity can be introduced to an auditory

being while preserving the ontology of his world. Then, more complicated concepts

such as the quantification and (re-)identification of particulars are not required

anymore. Moreover, especially in view of the manner in which Strawson has

discussed auditory experiences so far, Hero seemed on various occasions not to think

of experiencing an auditory item that continues to exist through time. Rather he

seemed to be thinking, for instance while experiencing a temporally extended sound

or a song, of an auditory process that extended through time. Thus, in Evans words,

arguing for claim (1), ‘identify is … a double irrelevance’ (idem, p. 85), since in fact

Hero has been trying to (re-)identify objects while he should have regarded them as

processes. A potential solution could thus be to try and replace Hero’s objects by

processes. An alternative track to pursue is due to the fact that the notion of continuity

is considerably easier to introduce than the notion of identification, since, following

Evans (idem, p. 84), the former is more intuitive. In all, there are multiple potential

solutions, as announced in claim (2), to deal with the conclusion of claim (1). For

instance, introducing the notion of processes instead of things can alter the concept of

identification. Alternatively, the concept of continuity may be introduced.

Looking at the first alternative to start with, Evans continues, a notion of

(re-)identification can be used in the case of processes. However, this would require

Strawson to replace all auditory things by auditory processes, something that, at least,

overthrows the ontology of the auditory scheme, something which would require

Strawson to re-do the analysis of the auditory world we reviewed in section 1.4.

Moreover, this replacement severs the analogy between the auditory universe and our


universe. As such, claim (3), the cost of replacing all things with processes is too high

to bear only to keep the concept of (re-)identification. After all, it seems as if the latter

concept can quite simply be restated in terms of continuity. Accordingly, this is what

Evans sets out to do.

Looking more closely at the matter at hand, if we introduce the notion of

continuity, Hero must be able to make a difference between a -ing stage that is

continuous with an earlier –ing stage, and one that is not. In order words, Hero must

be able to distinguish a continuous –ing stage that is temporarily not perceived from

two perceptions of –ing that merely appear identical, but are in fact different. This is

the exact distinction between numerical and qualitative identity that Strawson tried to

introduce in his version of the auditory universe as well.

However, following Evans, making this distinction is begging the question of

a no-space universe, claim (4). Namely, in a ‘normal’ universe, a numerical identity

needs to be traceable through space and time; there needs to be a spatial-temporal

continuity.39

In a purely temporal, non-spatial universe, however, just temporal

continuity is required: did it at all time between the time Hero perceived the –ing

first and last?

Let us assume now, with Evans, that we live in a simple auditory universe: it

either ’s or it does not. However, when it ’s in this world, this is all the -ing that

the universe can support. In this universe, contrary to a spatial-temporal one, there is

no room for distinct but simultaneous instances of the same universal. Hence there is

no room for the distinction between a qualitative and numerical identity, and, in the

end, there is no need for space either. Thus, by introducing the distinction between a

numerical and a qualitative identity Strawson smuggled a notion of space in, Evans

argues. Now, Evans blames Strawson, the latter cannot first claim that a universe

needs this distinction, then put it in along with the attached, though implicit, notion of

space; and then ultimately proudly announce to find the notion of space in this

auditory universe, a notion which he smuggled in himself in the first place.

Rephrasing the matter, the space that Strawson thus found in this auditory

universe, got there by focussing on both the notion of (re-)identification, and, having

replaced this by the notion of continuity, by assuming that the universe would cater

for multiple simultaneous instances of the same universal in the sense in which this is

at least allowed for by stressing the distinction between numerical and qualitative

identity. Now, it might be that not assuming the universe to be able to cater for this

distinction is an unnecessarily strict requirement. However, if the universe can do so,

Evans claims, it has to be shown. Now, if it can be shown, the spatial nature of Hero’s

world can be established directly and Strawson’s tour can be shortened considerably.

Thus, Evans concludes the first section of his review: Strawson’s own version

of the auditory universe thought experiment, even altered in a Bennettian manner, did

not manage to defend the Kantian Thesis. However, ‘it is possible to find in

Strawson’s chapter materials for another line of defence of the Kantian Thesis’ (idem,

p. 87). This alternative defence is what we discuss in the next section.

39

This we elaborated upon while introducing the notion of a qualitative versus numerical identity in

section 1.3.


The Kantian Thesis: Reinstated

We, inhabitants of the ‘normal world’ are used to experiencing sounds. We are also

perfectly capable of making sense of the idea of sounds unperceived by us. There may

be many reasons for not experiencing these sounds: it may be due to ourselves, for

instance when one is deaf, or asleep. Moreover, sounds can be drowned by sounds

that are considerably louder.40

Alternatively, we may not be positioned at the location

at which a sound is made. Me, for instance, being on top of the Empire State

Building, will not be able to hear the Big Bang signal midnight. According to

Strawson, the latter reason, a spatial one, namely separation, is ‘the most familiar and

easily understood sense in which there exist sounds which I do not now hear’ (1959,

p. 74). But does this automatically imply that this is also the reason why sounds may

go unperceived in our auditory universe? Evans sets out to review this claim by

investigating in what way Hero, in his purely auditory universe, can make sense, if at

all, of sounds unperceived by him.

Now let us suppose, with Evans (1980, pp. 88-9), that Hero has had the

experience of some sound-pattern, say , and that he had related that to the thought or

utterance ‘it’s -ing’. Now let us detach -ing slightly from experience, in the sense

that the thought ‘it’s -ing’ may be true dependent on the experience of some

condition. This can for instance be the being experienced of the sound-pattern we

referred to earlier, which may or may not be satisfied at some moment. However,

other conditions may theoretically apply as well.

Assuming that Hero has sufficient mental capabilities of telling whether or not

the condition ‘it’s -ing’ has been satisfied at some moment allows Hero to make

sense of the notion of existence unperceived. Namely, if he regards ‘it’s -ing’ as

true, then he actually experiences , and if he regards ‘it’s -ing’ as not true, he does

not experience -ing. Thus, this connection with experience ‘allows Hero to give

empirical content to the supposition that it is now -ing, irrespective of whether or not

he currently perceives … it’ (idem). As such, assuming that Hero has some mental

capabilities, he is able to make sense of the notion of existence unperceived.

However, are we, with Strawson, to claim that the most straightforward manner to

embed this notion is in a spatial universe?

Evans considers three alternatives to a spatial solution. First, he toys with the

idea that sounds may go unperceived due to them being drowned in other sounds.

However, the above theory about sounds unperceived does hold irrespective of

whether or not there is another sound present. As such, although it is possible that

sounds go unperceived due to drowning on some occasions, this does not yield a

satisfying theory in general.

Secondly, Evans notes, factors that are causally necessary for the experience

of some sound particular may be absent. However, look at the difference between a

table that is unperceived as it is dark, or a rainbow that is not perceived in the dark. In

the former case, one can make sense of the notion that the table existed in the dark

although it was not perceived, due to the absence of causally relevant factors.

However, for the rainbow this is not possible, as the availability of light is a

requirement for the existence of the rainbow itself, let alone its perception (idem, p.

90). Thus, Evans claims, for sensory objects, such as the sounds inhabiting Hero’s

40

As we see in appendix A, sounds that have an amplitude that is approximately 40 dB louder than

simultaneous sounds will, for the human perceiver, mask or drown the softer sounds completely.


world, and as opposed to the material objects in our world, it is not possible to exist

while going unperceived on grounds of the absence of causally required conditions.41

The third alternative Evans discusses is the unreceptivity of the perceiver.

‘Perhaps, [Hero thinks], there are sounds of which I do not now hear, because I am

unreceptive; if I was to become receptive, I would be able to hear them’ (idem). This

alternative manner for a non-spatial notion of existence unperceived may appear

plausible. One can pose the question, however, with Strawson, how Hero can be in

any way certain it is his receptivity failing to experience a sound. For all he knows,

there may not be any sound to perceive. Involving only auditory cues, it seems

impossible for Hero to distinguish between the two cases. However, if one tries to

flesh this argument out, Evans claims, one seems to run into a circularity as one

cannot explain the notion of existence unperceived in terms of unreceptivity, since the

whole idea of unreceptivity is based on existence unperceived.

However, according to Evans this circularity can, nor has to be avoided.

Namely, he asks rhetorically, if we just think about the world as we know it, it cannot

be logically proven that we are changing our position in the world, ‘rather than the

world changing’ (idem, p. 93). Comparing this to the notion of receptivity, Hero

cannot establish conclusively that a sound particular went unperceived by him, as

opposed to there being no sound particular at all.

Now, ‘only a spatial theory can satisfy the demand that the factor accounting

for the presence or absence of perception of perceptible phenomena should be at once

a priori connected with the propositions about the world’ (idem, p. 94). In other

words: whereas the third alternative Evans offered seemed to be related to the

receptivity of the observer and not to a potential spatiality of the world, he believes

that the distinction between not perceiving something and something not being

present at all can only be made on spatial grounds. And with that, without detailing

the argument further, Evans reinstates the defence of the Kantian thesis, after having

abandoned Strawson’s manner of doing so along the way.42

In the remaining two sections of his essay, Evans gives two arguments against

the idea that a notion of an objective world can be based on purely auditory

experiences. Strawson (1980, p. 275) dubbed these ‘the causal ground argument’ and

‘the simultaneity argument’, respectively. Below, we review them in the same order.

The Causal Ground Argument

The ancient Greek philosopher Democritus was the first to make a distinction

between primary and secondary qualities. This distinction was taken up and followed

by, among others, Galileo, Descartes and Newton (Flew and Priest 2002, p. 327). The

classical formulation comes from John Locke in his 1690 Essay Concerning Human

Understanding:

41

Note that it can be argued that Evans throws this option out too fast, there is at least a little more that

may be said. This we indeed will do in section 3.2. We are at the moment merely interested in outlining

Evans’ theory, for sake of the clarity of the structure of the argument. 42

One may consider this argument weak, and although it can be elaborated upon a bit further, present-

day commentators still regard this second section of Evans’ ‘Things Without the Mind’ as one in which

‘the weaknesses are obvious’ (De Gaynesford 2008). Cassam (2005), in a recent commentary of Evans’

overall work, has something to say about this as well. For our purposes, however, it is sufficient to note

that Evans rebutted Strawson’s defence of the Kantian Thesis, and offers his own version thereof. This

latter version of argument, however, does not go unchallenged either, as we will see in section 3.2.


Qualities which in truth are nothing in the objects themselves, but powers to

produce various sensations in us by their primary qualities, i.e. by the bulk,

figure, texture, and motion of their insensible parts as colour, sounds and taste,

&c. these I call secondary qualities (1828, p. 120).

Evans appeals to this distinction and stresses that the important difference is in how

these qualities relate to experience. Primary properties are independent of observers,

and do not relate to experience directly. On the other hand, it is possible to have direct

experience of secondary qualities. Primary qualities, in fact, relate to experience by

means of a theory about these latter properties. Following Evans here (1980, pp. 95-

6), one must, for instance, learn about the conservation of matter, identity of matter

when it is perceived from different angles, etc., before one is able to perceive primary

qualities such as the shape or, even more intricate, hardness of an object.43

Hero’s

world is a sensory one, since the only occupants of his world are, apart from Hero

himself, sound phenomena. These are sensory and hence secondary in nature: they

produce sensations in the observer, Hero in this case.

In the travel-based auditory world that was argued for in the previous section,

the only way to verify a conditional of the form ‘if one is to go to X, one would have

auditory experience ’, is to actually go to X, and see whether or not is indeed

experienced. This means that Hero’s experiences are causally dependent on his

position. Now, with Michael Dummett, of whom Evans was a student, Evans claims

that there are two grounds on which the truth of a conditional may be decided (idem,

pp. 101-2). The first is generalisation: if every time that Hero has gone to X he has

experienced , then the conditional ‘if one would go to X, then one would perceive ’

may be true based on the generalisation of his past experience.

The second ground for determining the truth of a conditional is, according to

Evans following Dummett once more, a causal explanation of the event, based on a

property of the object that the conditional regards, say X, combined with the

antecedent of the conditional, in our example ‘if one would go to X’. Thus, in this

example, determining the truth of the conditional by means of a causal explanation

would come down to Hero being aware of one or more characteristics of X that would

causally determine the experience of Y by some observer every time it was visited.

However, since Hero’s world simply consists of experiences of sounds at certain

places he has nothing at his disposal to have these places causally determine a sound

experience. Accordingly, this second Dummettian ground for determining the truth of

a conditional is not at Hero’s disposal. Thus, what do we have in Hero’s travel-based

auditory world:

Places have powers that cannot be identified with anything continuously

occupying them, so that going to a place is just a basic, causally relevant factor

in the explanation of the course of his experience. [Now], if this is the

situation, can we continue to suppose that Hero has a coherent theory, which

43

Secondary properties cause sensations in observers, whereas primary qualities do not do so directly.

The latter, however, can be regarded as sensible or observable, stressing the requirement of some kind

of knowledge, training or experience before being able to perceive (of) them. Evans remarks (1980, p.

98, n. 27) that the distinction between primary and secondary qualities has already received ample

attention in both ancient and contemporary literature, hence that it does not need extensive arguing in

favour of it. We will follow him in this.


incorporates the idea that he has experience of an objective world? (idem, p.

103).

As we have seen, especially when discussing the notion of numerical versus

qualitative identity in section 1.3 and in the above, the notion of objectivity involves a

duality between that of which some subject has an experience, and the experience that

some subject has of something. As we have just seen, the only way in which Hero

might get to some true conditionals about his world is by means of generalisations

over his past experiences. Moreover, of the two sides of the objectivity-coin he only

has access to one: he has experience, but no access whatsoever to that of which he has

experience. Namely, since Hero lacks the notion of primary qualities he has no access

to the primary properties of an object. Thus, he cannot distinguish between a thing

existing un-experienced and a thing not existing at all.

According to Evans, the difference with our world, then, is that we can think

of sounds as perceptible phenomena. This holds even if we do not perceive them,

since we, on Dummett’s second ground, can think of an object whose make-up causes

a sound that we would perceive had we been in the right position to do so. In other

words, the sensory phenomena, sounds in this case, are properties of things that have

primary qualities as well. We, human beings in our spatial world, can perceive of

these things with primary qualities as causing or producing sounds, at a certain

moment, or not. Hence we can make a distinction between a thing existing but not

making a sound, and the thing not existing at all. For instance, we can visually or

haptically perceive a radio that is turned off and hence does not emit any sound, and a

radio that is not present at all and hence cannot be experienced either. Hero cannot

make this distinction since he has no access to the radio other than via its sound that

he might experience.44

From this, Evans concludes, Hero’s experiences do only allow for sensory

properties, not for primary properties, or, to put it bluntly, matter. Accordingly Hero

cannot form, based on his auditory experiences alone, a coherent notion of an external

reality. Having established this, Evans continues by pointing out a second doubt about

the objectivity of Strawson’s auditory ‘universe’ (idem, p. 107). This argument, that

Strawson calls the simultaneity argument, we review next.

The Simultaneity Argument

The second argument Evans presents against the possibility of Hero having a notion

of an objective world can be represented in a fairly short fashion. It hitches on the

difference between serial and simultaneous spatial concepts. The former type of

spatial concepts deals with sequentially presented things, perceptions, etc. The latter

type regards multiple experiences or things that are perceived at once, simultaneously.

The difference is exemplified easily, but by no means explicitly defined, by the

difference in for instance the haptic versus the visual perception of an object.

Visually, a chair can be identified at once; all its parts are simultaneously presented to

the observer. Conversely, someone who is haptically trying to identify a chair will

44

This is something which Strawson notes in Individuals as well: ‘It helps us to think of unheard parts

of some particular M being drowned or submerged … But now we have only to think of the reasons,

the evidence, we have for thinking something like this real life – the visible but inaudible scrapings of

the street violinist as the street band marches by – and then we lose interest in the suggested criterion of

the case of the purely auditory world’ (Strawson 1959, p. 71).


perceive its various parts sequentially, while going over it with his hands. This

process yields temporally sequential perceptions that afterwards may be combined

into the single notion of a chair. Note that the ultimately perceived concept of a chair

may, or may not, be different for an observer using solely haptic means compared to

one using the visual sense. However, the spatial manner in which the process of

perception took place is different: sequentially in the haptic case, simultaneously in

case of the visual one.45

In his auditory universe, Hero has been provided with serial spatial concepts.

In Strawson’s version including the master-sound, only by going from pitch-level L1,

via L2, to L3, Hero could experience a sound at pitch-level L3. Sounds at distinct

pitch-levels could not be experienced at once, simultaneously. Since the master-sound

was Strawson’s analogy of space, the spatial concepts employed by Hero in his world

were serial as well. In Bennett’s travel-based world, which Evans employed to

supplant Strawson’s master-sound with, the story is similar. Hero could perceive a

sound as being between and . Thus, to perceive he had to travel via or ,

respectively. Moreover, the three sounds could only be perceived one at the time,

after one another, or serially, but not simultaneously.

However, Evans wonders (idem, p. 111), is it at all possible for an auditory

being to have simultaneous spatial concepts, as opposed to the serial ones that have

been employed in the auditory worlds so far reviewed? According to Strawson, this is

not possible. He explicitly puts in Individuals: ‘relations between elements in respect

of the auditory analogue of the spatial dimension cannot be presented simultaneously’

(1959, p. 79).

However, Evans argues, if Hero cannot work with simultaneous spatial

concepts, then what is left of the travel-based maps that Hero was using in his

auditory universe? Remember, these implied that if Hero was ‘at’ , other sounds

were still present but not perceived by him. They would only be perceived if Hero

would travel from , to, say, . However, this type of reasoning implies the use of

simultaneity relations: and would be simultaneously present, but only one of them

would be unperceived. This being so, Evans questions: ‘Why may it not be that [ ]

springs into existence when I come to have experience of it?’ (1980, p. 113). Thus: is

really simultaneously present with when Hero does not have experience of ? Or

does come into existence when it is being arrived at? Is only Hero’s memory of the

experience of simultaneous with the perception of some other sound, say ?

This suggestion cannot simply be rejected based on the ingredients that the

auditory universe has been equipped with.46

As such, Evans concludes that in order to

equip Hero with the notion of an objective world a necessary, though potentially not

sufficient, requirement is the notion of simultaneity. However, that is not available in

the auditory universe. Thus, Evans claims once again and on different grounds than in

the causal grounds argument that we discussed previously, that in the auditory

universe Hero has no room for the notion of objective reality.

45

Note that Evans’, nor our goal is to define the concepts of serial and simultaneous concepts in a

detailed fashion, nor to make an exact distinction, applicable in all possible cases, between the two. For

all practical purposes, however, the above discussion makes clear that the difference exists, and what it

amounts to. 46

Note that serial concepts do not supply us with a way out, since, contrary to simultaneously existing

objects, serial spatial concepts deal with objects that are perceived seriatim, hence never more than one

at the same time. As such, ‘they are not obviously concepts of relations between (independently

existing) objects at all’ (Evans 1980, p. 114).


2.3 - Beyond Hero’s Auditory Universe

Let us take a step back for a moment and recapitulate what we have seen so far. We

started with Kant and introduced the thesis he defends in the Critique of Pure Reason.

We paraphrased the Kantian Thesis as the claim that space is a product of experience

and that it is a necessary condition for objective experience. Strawson takes this thesis

and defends it by means of a thought experiment in which he places a being, we

called him Hero, in a purely auditory, non-spatial world. By looking at the notions of

identification and reidentification of particulars Strawson argues that the notion of

space is required for Hero, and he defends the Kantian Thesis accordingly.

Gareth Evans scrutinises Strawson’s thought experiment, rebuts Strawson’s

original defence of the Kantian thesis but replaces it by a different view of an auditory

world. This new interpretation is partially borrowed from Jonathan Bennett, and

reinvigorates the defence of the Kantian Thesis. Next Evans shows, however, that

solely auditory experiences do not allow an auditory being to form the conception of

an objective reality.

Obviously, the story does not stop there. Strawson’s thought experiment but

also Evans’ Things Without the Mind have generated considerable work, and their

interpretations are still heavily debated. Along with both Evans’ (1980, p. 116) and

Strawson’s (1980, p. 282) closing remarks, however, let us remind ourselves that

Hero ought not to take on a life of his own, but that he is merely a device to look at

the conceptual structure of our world. Let us review what the exact function of such a

device can be.

The American philosopher James van Cleve (2006) wrote a recent article reviewing

philosophical thought experiments about beings without the full human sensory

capacities. Among less famous ones he considers Molyneux’s question, in which

Locke wonders whether a man born blind can distinguish two objects by sight that he,

on a tactile basis, knew to be a globe and a cube.47

Moreover, he reviews the

experiment of the 18th

century Scottish philosopher Thomas Reid, whether a blind

man could form the notion of extension based on his tactile sensations alone; and,

ultimately, Strawson’s auditory world thought experiment. Van Cleve’s purpose of all

this is, in his own words, reviewing ‘how the [thought experiments] ought to be

construed’ (2006, p. 162) in a broader sense, or how the results of the thought

experiments ought to be interpreted.48

Van Cleve commences his survey of Strawson’s auditory world thought

experiment by guiding his reader through it in much the same manner in which we did

so in the first chapter. He makes a few remarks along the way, partially based on

Evans’ review of the matter. We may disregard these for our purposes, however.

Having gone through most of the experiment, Van Cleve asks us to ‘step back

and ask just what is at issue. Are we debating woulds, coulds, or shoulds?’ (idem, p.

172). In other words, and as hinted at by the closing remarks of Strawson and

47

This question was posed by William Molyneux in a letter to Locke, and dealt with by the latter in his

Essay Concerning Human Understanding (1690, p. 132). Evans has also reviewed this thought

experiment in an essay that was only published posthumously in his Collected Papers (1985, pp. 364-

99). 48

For our purposes, we will only look at Van Cleve’s interpretation of Strawson’s auditory world

thought experiment, but the author reaches similar conclusions about the other thought experiments

that he reviews.


Evans;49

let us not delve too deeply in Hero’s universe. We must take some distance,

and wonder what it is that is being done and what the purpose of the experiment is.

First, and evidently, it is not about Hero himself, or about what any inhabitant

of the auditory universe would do. This, namely, would be rather uninteresting, for

who cares about the imaginary being Hero and his personal whereabouts. Moreover, it

would be quite un-philosophical, and, lastly, an empirical question about what a

random being would do under certain circumstances. Ultimately, this type of question

would not be answerable a priori, and reviewing the potential synthetic a priori nature

of space was exactly the Kantian basis on which Strawson’s argument was based.

Second, sticking to Van Cleve’s framework, it is not about what Hero could

do either. Namely, this modal question could fall apart into two different questions,

either asking what is possible for Hero do to, or what is necessary for him to do. The

answer to the first sub-question would be, dependent on the exact ingredients the

auditory world has been supplied with, ‘almost everything’. The answer to the second

question would be ‘almost nothing’, since it would be very hard to require some kind

of behaviour or responses from our protagonist (idem, p. 173). However, on a positive

note, this type of question could be answered in an a priori manner. But, on the whole,

based on the breath of the answers that could be given, it would be a fairly

uninteresting question to pose.

Thus, with this in his mind, Van Cleve argues that the Strawsonian thought

experiment is about what should happen in an auditory universe. As such, based on

the – conceptual – ingredients that the universe has been supplied with, the goal of the

experiment is to shed light on the relations between certain concepts, and how they

should interact under the given circumstances. By placing these concepts in an

imaginary world with a high manipulability, they should reveal how they are related.

Moreover, this also ensures that the potential answers obtained from the auditory

universe deal with synthetic a priori issues, as was Strawson’s initial purpose.

Admittedly, this brief construal of Strawson’s experiment teaches us nothing new.

However, as one may get carried away by the intricacies of Hero’s universe, Van

Cleve’s construal does re-focus our mind on what was the basis of the experiment all

along: the relations of various central concepts in philosophy, or, in this particular

case, those dealing with the nature of (sensory) experience.

In this sense, the auditory tour-de-forces by Strawson and Evans have

definitely taught us something. For one, Strawson and Evans both came to the

conclusion that space is an a priori concept that is required in any coherent notion of

objective experience. However, whether one may carry this conclusion over from the

auditory world to our everyday world, something that both authors presupposed, is

something that has not yet been established. The same holds for Evans’ conclusions

that a purely auditory world is insufficient for establishing the notion of an objective

reality, and that one needs spatial concepts, especially simultaneity, to be able to do

so. This latter issue is one we will take up in chapter four.

For now, one may wonder, however, whether or not some other concept or

concepts that were not present in the auditory world but are available in our world

may bridge the gap between the sensory states and the objective reality, or whether a

spatial scheme is really the only way to account for the (re-)identification of

49

Note that the exact same reasoning that in the following is applied to Strawson’s auditory universe

may in similar vein be applied to Evans’ travel-based auditory universe and the conclusions he

attempts to draw from it. As such, wherever in the remainder of this section is referred to Strawson’s

thought experiment, it may be considered as having ‘or Evans’ version thereof’ added to it.


particulars. These questions we surely still have to deal with. They are taken up in

section 3.3.

However, before continuing by discussing the value of the types of arguments

put forth by Strawson and Evans, there are still some internal issues of their thought

experiments that need to be dealt with. Let us not, however, keep trying to ‘repair’

gaps in their arguments in the way that Evans did for Strawson’s version of the

auditory universe. Instead, let us repeat the auditory world thought experiment based

on auditory and sensory concepts in our own world, and try to see whether a defence

of the Kantian Thesis can be upheld in this manner. In all this, meta-goal, next to our

immediate goal of reviewing the Kantian Thesis, is to see whether the philosophical,

arm-chair if we may, investigations of Strawson and Evans have been able to shed

some actual light on the concepts that are applied in our universe and the way our

world is – conceptually – made up. In short we are ultimately interested in the

possibility of metaphysics, like Kant was in his Critique of Pure Reason, and the

status of philosophy as a scientific discipline.

Space, Audition, and the World (I) - 41

Chapter 3 – Space, Audition, and the World (I)

In the first two chapters, we have introduced and outlined Strawson’s auditory

universe, followed by a review by Evans thereof. In this chapter, we start our own

investigation based on these materials.

We commence by looking at the manner in which the auditory sense functions

in human beings. Based on this, we review some of Strawson’s basic assumptions,

and Kant’s distinction between sensibility and understanding. Next, we propose our

own version of an auditory world based on empirical data about the physiological and

neurological functioning of the human auditory sense to contrast Strawson’s and

Evans’ worlds with. Based on this, we review whether or not the defence of the

Kantian Thesis mounted by Strawson and Evans holds. To conclude this chapter, we

review the applicability of thought experiments for philosophical investigation. On

the whole, we reject Strawson’s and Evans’ lines of reasoning on two levels: we rebut

both the detailed arguments they presented for their defence of the Kantian Thesis,

and we reject their entire methodology at the same time.

3.1 – Strawson and Kant and the Human Auditory Sense

Let us commence by going back to what Strawson initially had in mind when he

embarked upon his voyage through the auditory world. Strawson’s main aim in the

second chapter of Individuals was to find out whether or not there could be ‘a scheme,

providing for a system of objective particulars, which was wholly non-spatial’

(Strawson 1959, p. 62). To make this tangible, Strawson wondered whether or not,

and if so how, a scheme could be conceived of as being non-spatial. After having

rejected the visual and tactile senses, since Strawson deemed them inherently spatial,

and smell and taste, as these did not seem to be related to the perception of objective

particulars in a straightforward manner, Strawson opted for a purely auditory world as

the setting for his non-spatial world. Strawson acknowledged that an auditory scheme

might seem spatial in nature to a casual observer. However, Strawson claimed that

this was only due to the interference with experiences obtained by the visual or tactile

senses, but that the auditory sense was inherently non-spatial.

Here, already, we have to object to the manner in which the Strawsonian

thought experiment was carried out. As can be learned from studying the auditory

sense in depth, see appendix A, the auditory sense is not non-spatial.50

In fact, almost

as soon as our auditory sense completes the mechanical analysis of the sound stimuli

and commences the neural processing of the incoming stimuli, the input from both

ears is combined. This takes place in the superior olivary complex (SOC). Here, the

differences in amplitude and arrival time of the sound stimuli at both ears are

calculated, which leads to the computation of the ITD and ILD. With this information,

the sound source can, albeit roughly, be located in space by the observer.

Accordingly, the perception of sound must be regarded as spatial at this point already.

50

The technical terms that are used throughout this section are introduced and explained in appendix A.

To keep the argument presented in this section readable, we will not introduce them anew, and assume

a working knowledge of the theory outlined in appendix A.


Only later in the auditory processing stream,51

potentially in the inferior colliculus

(IC), but definitely in the medial geniculate body (MGB),52

the auditory sensory

information is combined with input from other senses. As such, Strawson’s claim that

the auditory sense is principally non-spatial is simply not true when looking at the

neural make-up of the auditory sense. This was, admittedly however, not yet known

in sufficient detail at the time of the publication of Strawson’s Individuals.

Next to the reasonably straightforward computations of the ITL and ILD in the

SOC that are refined in the IC and MGN, the auditory map that is used in the primary

auditory cortex (PAC) for the determination of relatively simple information about the

sound such as its pitch, amplitude and quality, as well as being the basis for the more

complex analysis in the higher cortical areas, is clearly spatial as well. To wit, the

map is organised in such a manner that the details of the sound, i.e. the amplitude and

the pitch, collectively yielding the quality, are provided at once with the rough

location of the sound. This implies that a full, spatial auditory map of one’s

surroundings has been obtained by, in principle, purely auditory means in the primary

auditory cortex. Only at a relatively late stage, that is, at least beyond the SOC,

auditory data is combined with data from other senses. Thus, on the one hand, spatial

information has already been computed prior to this point. On the other hand, whereas

the purely auditory spatial data is refined by the input from other senses in the IC and

MGN, this combination is not necessarily required from auditory position-

determination. Thus, Strawson’s claim that the auditory sense is non-spatial cannot be

maintained.

Seemingly, another argument can be made to show that the auditory sense is

not non-spatial, as Strawson assumed. As we saw in appendix A, in the inner ear

incoming sound stimuli are analysed mechanically by the basilar membrane. The

latter’s tonotopic organisation, based on pitch-level, which is maintained throughout

the entire cognitive auditory faculty, is based on the pitch analysis in the cochlea.

Clearly, in this tonotopic organisation is already some kind of dimensionality

involved, especially as defined in the weak sense as we did while reviewing Evans’

‘Things Without the Mind’, see note 33.

However, the fact that there is some organisation in the basilar membrane’s

analysis does not yield that it is spatial as well. If the sound would enter the auditory

sense, or ear, in a tonotopically-organised fashion, then one could argue that there was

some spatiality to it. However, the auditory input humans receive is, especially

looking at pitch-level now, unordered. Simply the fact that in the cochlea this input is

recoded in such a manner that in higher processing steps the organisation is tonotopic

does not make the input of sound itself have dimensionality, or be spatial. Claiming

this would be similar to arguing that there is some inherent spatiality in a pile of

pebbles since they can, theoretically, be ordered by weight, or surface area.

As such, taking all this together, the human auditory sense is not non-spatial,

as Strawson claimed. On the contrary, it is spatial, and this spatiality comes in at the

level of the SOC and higher processing steps, prior to the combination of the auditory

sensory data with data from other senses.

51

As elaborated on in the last section of appendix A, the term ‘stream’ is too simplistic as it disregards

all the feedback and retrograde loops that are required for almost all cognitive processes. Here, using

the term does not weaken the argument since the computation of the ITL and ITD precedes the

combination with retrograde data from the IC or MGN. 52

Data for the human auditory sense is still ambiguous, though studies involving barn owls seem to

imply that visual and auditory input are combined as early as in the IC, cf. appendix A.


One may wonder, however, whether or not it would be possible to create a

setting in which the human auditory sense is non-spatial. It seems certainly possible to

let someone perceive sounds only after headphones, that the being is wearing, have

interfered them with. Let us assume that these headphones work in such a way that

they collect all incoming sounds and transmit them again from a central point, say

right in front of the being’s ear, all with equal loudness. Now the being’s auditory

stimuli will be deprived of the intensity- and arrival-time differences required to

compute the ITD and ILD.

Let us not dispute that this can be done, as current-day technology seems

sufficiently advanced to alter incoming sound stimuli in the manner as proposed.

However, this proposal can be countered in the same manner in which we dispute the

entire methodology of Strawson’s and Evans’ thought experiment in the last section

of this chapter. Ridding auditory stimuli of some of the characteristics they have in

our everyday life would alter the conceptual framework in terms of which we think

about our world in such a manner that knowledge gained might not be applicable to

our world anymore. However, let us let this issue rest for now, as it is taken up in

more depth in section 3.3.

Kant’s Sensibility and Understanding Reviewed

Next to the above issue regarding the manner in which Strawson laid down his

thought experiment, there is something else which can already be concluded, purely

by looking at the manner in which the auditory sense functions in practice.

As we have seen in section 1.2, Kant makes a distinction between two

faculties that are involved in human perception. On the one hand, we have the passive

faculty of sensibility, and on the other hand there is the faculty of understanding. The

former is a receptive faculty through which humans have sensations. The latter is the

active faculty, which integrates or connects sensibility’s intuitions. As we have

already elaborated upon, Kant claims that our intuitions as they are perceived by

sensibility are spatial-temporal.

Now that we, as opposed to Kant, have knowledge of the layout and workings

of the human auditory sense, we may wonder if, and if so how, we could make a

distinction between the sensibility and understanding. There seem to be two manners

in which that can sensibly be done.

First, one can regard the passive part of the auditory sense that part that could

function without input from other parts of the auditory system. In this, let us take

input to be either in the form of energy or of data/information in the form of a

feedback loop. If this were the case, then the part of the auditory sense from the

middle ear, the tympanum, up until the inner ear, via the ossicles into to the cochlea to

the basilar membrane can be regarded the passive part. Namely, see note 115, up until

the basilar membrane the mechanical energy, i.e. the movements of the molecules

carrying the sound, is used to set the tympanum, the ossicles, the basilar membrane

and the attached stereocilia in motion.

In principle, there is no need for the human body to add energy to this process.

However, as soon as the mechanical energy needs to be converted into chemical and

electrical energy, the incoming mechanical energy is no longer sufficient. To wit, the

depolarisation of the hair cells needs to be countered by an equally large polarisation

effect, next to the outgoing neural activity. The depolarisation effect caused by the

mechanical energy of the moving stereocilia can at most balance the countering


polarisation effect.53

Thus, the additional energy required for the neural activity has to

be added by the body itself. This means that energy has to be added to the system in

order for it to function properly. Accordingly, if we would distinguish between the

passive and the active part of the human auditory sense in that the passive part ought

to be able to function autonomously, the passive part of the auditory sense, sensibility

in Kant’s terminology, is just the part of the ear up until the hair cells, and the active

part, understanding, commences there where they are connected to the eighth cranial

nerve. However, one could argue that we make too much of the distinction between

active and passive that Kant introduced. Let us, then, couple this to something we

already addressed in section 1.2. We saw that the functions of sensibility and

understanding are strictly distinct, and not interchangeable (A51 / B75-76). This

means that the sensibility does not and cannot combine intuitions, as soon as more

than one intuition is regarded, we are dealing with the faculty of understanding.

Based on this we may make another distinction between the active and the

passive part of the auditory sense. As we have seen, Kant regards the active part,

understanding, as the faculty in which, among other things, sensations obtained by the

sensibility are combined. Up until the cochlea, we can regard the auditory processing

as singular. The sensations that are received are simply processed towards higher

cognitive processing centres. Now, the first relay station of the subcortical processing

stream, the cochlear nucleus (CN), is still largely ipsilateral,54

i.e. the neural signals

are still just the recoded sensations that have been received by the respective ears. The

next relay station, the one to which the CN largely projects, the SOC, is distinctly

non-ipsilateral. In fact, the sound-data perceived by the two ears is combined in both

SOC’s. As such, if we take Kant’s criterion of the combination of experiences to be

the distinctive factor in distinguishing between sensibility and understanding, then all

the features of the auditory sense from the SOC ‘upwards’ can be regarded as part of

the active faculty of understanding. In contrast, everything from the CN ‘downwards’

is to be regarded as part of the passive faculty of sensibility.

As is elaborated on in appendix A, but also touched upon in the above

argument dealing with Strawson’s claim that the auditory sense is non-spatial, in the

SOC the ITD and the ILD are computed. This gives the auditory sense its, first and

still fairly rough, sense of space, but also of time. Now we may choose any of the two

distinctions between the passive and active faculty, or sensibility and understanding,

to resemble the human auditory sense closest. In both cases, however, the SOC, in

which the first spatial information is extracted from the sensory input, is in the active

faculty. However, we have already seen in the first chapter that Kant regards our

intuitions, as experienced by sensibility, to be spatial-temporal, since that is the way

in which anything is perceived at all.

Now, what does this show us? It does not teach us anything yet about the

concept of space itself. In fact, even if we are to do away with the distinction between

sensibility and understanding, the Kantian Thesis itself may still be upheld. What it

does show us, however, is that the manner in which Kant distinguishes between

sensibility and understanding does not straightforwardly make sense when looking at

the manner in which the human auditory sense actually functions on biological or

neurological grounds.55

53

This would already assume that the system is not losing energy anywhere, which is highly unlikely. 54

There is some evidence that both CN’s project to each other, but that has not been confirmed yet. As

such, for the sake of the argument, let us assume that the processing in both CN’s is purely ipsilateral. 55

One may point out here that Kant himself might not have made a real, but only a conceptual

difference between the faculty of sensibility and understanding, which, moreover, should only be


We have to concede that Kant says much more about the respective functions

of and differences between sensibility and understanding than we have addressed in

the above. As such, the argument presented ought not to be regarded as conclusive,

especially not when the provisions made in note 55 are lived up to. Ultimately, Kant’s

distinction between understanding and sensibility may potentially be upheld if we

would look into the issue with sufficient depth. However, what we have tried to show

is that the philosophical description Kant gives of a functional distinction in the make-

up of a human modality is not easily found when looking at the physical, or cognitive,

basis of this modality.

Now, let us refrain from placing the burden of proof that his distinction

between sensibility and understanding is sensible on Kant, as for our purposes the

distinction is not too important. However, let us take the discrepancy between the

philosophical and physical description of how the human auditory sense functions as

the upshot for our discussion of the status of philosophy as a scientific discipline in

chapter five. For now, let us return to the issues we have been addressing in the first

two chapters, and review whether or not it is possible to make sense of the notion of

reidentification or existence unperceived in non-spatial terms.

3.2 – Non-Spatial Reidentification and Existence Unperceived

We have seen that the human auditory sense is spatial, contra Strawson’s claim.

Moreover, we just argued that its design is not, at least trivially, along Kantian lines.

As said, this does not yet prove or disprove the Kantian Thesis as interpreted in

section 2.1 in itself. It only says something about the manner in which Kant and

Strawson argued for it. Can we, based on the above, already say something about the

Kantian Thesis? O’Connor and Hermelin, in a study on the relationship between

‘perceptual and cognitive processes’ especially when dealing with concepts such as

space and time (1978, p. 4), think not: ‘[The Kantian Thesis] is hardly testable, as it

would need an organism entirely devout of empirical knowledge to test it’ (idem, p.

48).

However, if it were possible to identify and then reidentify an object without

invoking spatiality then it would surely be a blow to the Kantian Thesis. In the times

of Kant, Strawson, but also the abovementioned O’Connor and Hermelin, hardly

anything was known empirically about the manner in which our mind deals with

space. Science has, especially in these areas, made tremendous progress in the past

decades, however. Accordingly, let us try to see whether or not modern insights about

the physiological and neurological make-up of the auditory sense can in fact help us

shed light on the Kantian Thesis. In doing so, we will draw on both appendices A and

B.

discussed transcendentally and not empirically. This being so, then, next to the critique presented in the

above, also the methodological issues regarding both the applicability of transcendental reasoning, as

discussed in section 5.1, as well as Kant’s acclaimed adherence to the principle of significance, as

touched upon in section 2.1 and elaborated upon in 5.1 can be brought to bear. As such, one ought to

read the critique of Kant’s distinction between sensibility and understanding as presented in the above

with our interpretation of the principle of significance and the transcendental realm in mind.


Hero versus Rem

Let us assume that some being, let us call her Rem, perceives some sound particular

. What this implies, is that a certain pattern of vibrations is picked up by Rem’s

outer auditory sense. This pattern has a certain, variable if you like, frequency and

amplitude. The amplitude of the sound stimulus is determined mechanically, see

appendix A, by Rem’s basilar membrane. The pitch of is determined by vibrations

in the basilar membrane that are in accordance with the pitch levels present in the

original sound particular . The amplitude of causes proportional amplitude

patterns in the basilar membrane’s vibration pattern for all relevant pitch levels of .56

This information is recoded a couple of times and transferred, in separate bundles, all

the way up to the auditory cortex. In the PAC this information, i.e. the firing patterns

of all the relevant neurons, are combined in an auditory map from which the pitch

level, determined by which neurons are firing, the amplitude, determined by the firing

rates of the relevant neurons, and the quality of the sound, determined by the relation

between the two aforementioned factors, are combined. This is the neural version of

the sound . We may regard the sound that was perceived by the tympanum-basilar

membrane part of the auditory sense as cognitively identified as , as soon as the

relevant neural pattern in the primary auditory cortex has been obtained. If the sound

particular was what we would regard as a sound pattern, i.e. not as a singular pure

tone, then the sounds identified by the primary auditory cortex are combined into

something like a melody or rhythm in the secondary auditory cortex.57

Now suppose that some other sound is perceived by Rem. Let us call this

sound particular d. The entire cognitive perception and identification sequence

outlined in the above is repeated again. Assuming that d is sufficiently different from

, by which is meant that the activation pattern in the primary auditory cortex’

cognitive map for d is sufficiently distinct from the one of for Rem to regard d

and as different, Rem will be able to distinguish between the two different sound

particulars she identified, and d.

Suppose now that is perceived again. Would Rem be able to identify this

second version of , let us call this 2, as being qualitatively the same as the first ,

1, and as such qualitatively reidentify 1? As is outlined in appendix A, the

identification of a sound is nothing more than the determination of its pitch level,

amplitude, and the integration thereof.

Zatorre (2003) has, among various others, shown that humans can obtain what

is called an absolute pitch. Upon hearing a certain sound particular the individual can

identify the pitch of this tone exactly. There is no reason to assume that Rem,

potentially after training, should not be able to do this. Taken this fact, which does not

seem to place any kind of odd constraints on the cognitive capabilities of Rem, now

note that there is a relation between amplitude and pitch.58

As such, if we take Rem’s

56

And sound is made up of a basic pitch-level together with multiples thereof, the so-called formants. 57

With melody or rhythm we mean nothing more complicated than a sound particular that could be

divided in distinct sounds that, in themselves, could also be regarded a sound particular. This is not the

case for singular pure tones. 58

In appendix A we describe two relations: first, that the human ear is more sensitive, i.e. has a lower

amplitude threshold, for sounds of a certain frequency, see figure 5. Moreover, we described that when

the human ear perceives a tone of, say, 2,000 Hz and its amplitude is increased slowly, that then the

human observer perceives the tone to increase in pitch slightly as well. It is this second effect we are

referring to here.


absolute pitch as given, she ought to be able to perceive the amplitude as exact as

well, since due to the relation between the two concepts it would not be possible to

have absolute pitch for a being that is unable to determine the amplitude of the sound

with, at least, equal precision.

Now, let us assume that the above reasoning is correct in the case of Rem, and

there is no reason why our Rem, potentially after sufficient training, should not be

able to reach the required level of sound-determination. Then it follows that she is

able to reidentify 2 as 1. However, with Evans, see section 2.2, we must conclude

that no matter how exact the cognitive auditive skills of Rem are, this type of

reidentification regards qualitative reidentification only. Numerical reidentification is

yet again another matter.

But as we saw in the previous chapter as well, Evans showed us that if we

were now to insist on introducing the distinction between qualitative and numerical

identity in Rem’s auditory world we would smuggle the concept of space in

ourselves. To wit, the distinction as put forth by Strawson between numerical and

qualitative identity is defined, see section 1.3, by means of invoking a spatial-

temporal framework. Thus, if we were to insist on this distinction, we would be

begging the question of whether or not numerical reidentification can occur in a non-

spatial fashion.

Evans, as we saw, did not necessarily wish to show how reidentification could

take place in an auditory world. The same holds for Strawson, although the latter

believed that showing how the concept of reidentification could apply in an auditory

world would be a manner to defend the Kantian Thesis. Evans, indeed, sought to

defend the Kantian Thesis as well. However, he rephrased this as being interested in

whether or not experiencing objective particulars was possibility in an auditory, and

in his mind, non-spatial world.

In this light, Evans abandoned, see section 2.2, Strawson’s quest for non-

spatial reidentification in favour of investigating whether or not the concept of

existence unperceived was accessible to Hero in a non-spatial fashion. Three

arguments were offered for which something could exist unperceived in Hero’s

conceptual framework. Two of these were rejected, drowning and the absence of

causally necessary factors. The third, an account of unreceptivity of the observer, was

shown to have an inherent link to a spatial theory and was accepted as the reason for

which existence could go unperceived. In this manner Evans reinstated the Kantian

Thesis.

Looking at the matter more closely, we can accept the first argument Evans

gives for why a particular could exist unperceived in Hero’s auditory universe.

Namely, see appendix A, sounds that are more than forty decibel louder than other

sounds drown the latter. As such, they simply go unperceived.

However, this does not seem a generic reason for why sounds may go

unperceived. We can, with Evans, conceive of sounds that go unperceived, at least

theoretically, even if there are no other sound particulars present. The other two

arguments Evans gives, however, the absence of causally relevant factors and

unreceptivity on the part of the observer, we must reject. At the very least we must

reject them in the manner as put forth, and the conclusions drawn from them, by

Evans.

Let us look at the last argument first. Evans argues that, putting it in terms of

the auditory world that we have introduced in the above, Rem cannot logically

distinguish between a sound particular that is unperceived by her, but that still would

be present, and there not being a sound particular at all to perceive. The only way in


which Rem can distinguish between the two cases, Evans argues, is if she would

employ some form of spatial theory. However, it seems that there is another manner

in which there can be accounted for the concept of existence unperceived as opposed

to there being no particular at all, a ground which Evans rejected too easily. This

would be his own second argument, or the unavailability of factors causally necessary

for the experience of a particular. We will draw on an analogy from studies on visual

perception in cognitive psychology to illustrate this point.

Rem’s World Extended: Balint’s Syndrome59

In 1909, the Austro-Hungarian physician Rezsö Bálint published a case study in

which he described a patient with lesions in the occipital-parietal lobes of both

hemispheres.60

This patient had a severe loss of spatial knowledge (Balint 1909).61

The clinical symptoms of this syndrome, that after the person that first published

about it came to be called Balint’s Syndrome, are threefold:

1) Simultanagnosia: the inability to perceive multiple objects at once;

2) Optic ataxia: the inability to reach in the correct direction of a perceived

object;

3) Optic apraxia: a fixation of gaze (‘staring’) without impairments related to eye

movement.

A study of Humphreys and Riddoch (1992) dealing with patients displaying the

abovementioned symptoms brings out the deficit clearly. Subjects diagnosed with

Balint’s Syndrome were presented with an array filled with small dots, half of which

were green, the other half of which were red. When asked which colours they

perceived, the subjects reported perceiving red dots or green dots, but not both

colours, as, clearly, the correct answer would have been. However, after a while, up to

tens of seconds, some subjects suddenly reported seeing the other colour. In these

cases, however, they no longer reported perceiving the first colour they had

experienced. Thus, they saw either a green dot or a red one, but never both at the

same time.

The conclusion that Balint had already drawn almost a century earlier was

confirmed: the subjects perceived only one object at the time, in this case either a red

or a green circle. This single object did, for the patient, not stand in any relation to

59

Appendix B provides more and background information on Balint’s Syndrome. 60

The exact area in which the patient needs to have lesions in order to suffer form Balint’s Syndrome

are not yet fully known. However, the patients discussed below had at least damages in Brodmann’s

areas 7 and 39, along with some smaller lesions found in the adjacent areas. For Balint’s (1909) and

Holmes’ (1919) patients, this was obviously discovered post-mortem since in vivo imaging techniques

were not yet available early in the twentieth century. As such, the patients may have suffered from

lesions later in their lives in a manner not related to Balint’s Syndrome. However, Robertson’s (1997,

2004) and Gillen and Dutton’s (2003) patients were subjected to fMRI. Their scans revealed that,

indeed, lesions around Brodmann’s areas 7 and 39 are the cause of Balint’s Syndrome. The exact

cognitive functionalities of these areas are still under investigation, although it is certain that they have

something to do with spatial mapping and the integration of spatial input from multiple modalities. 61

As Balint’s Syndrome is often related to dementia it is generally hard to distinguish between the

result of the general dementia and the specific impairments caused by the lesions. Holmes and Horax

(1919) and Holmes (1919) were the first to explicitly link the cognitive deficits described by Balint to

the abovementioned lesions.


anything else, be it in spatial manner or differently. A single object was simply

everything that the patient suffering from Balint’s Syndrome perceived. After a while

of perceiving a single object the patient’s perception may or may not jump to another

object, which then becomes all that is perceived. Even in these cases, the subject is

unable to report any kind of relationship to the previously perceived object. To put it

in Lynn Robertson’s words, a cognitive psychologist that has widely researched

space-related cognitive deficits over the past decades: ‘There is no there there’ (2004,

p. 6). The perceived object ‘is not mislocated. Instead it seems to have no position at

all’ (idem, p. 108).

The hypothesis that the subjects only perceived one object at the time was

strengthened when the subjects were presented with a slightly altered array of red and

green circles as used in the previous setup. In this second version of the experiment,

however, every green dot was linked to a red dot by a thin line. As such, the array had

been changed in such a manner that there were now half as many objects presents.

However, each single object was larger than it was before, since each object now

consisted of a green circular dot linked to a red one.

In this new setup, subjects reported perceiving both colours red and green,

apparently since the green dot, connected to the red dot, now formed a single object

that was perceived at once. As such, this second version of the experiment confirmed

the clinical conditions simultanagnosia and optic apraxia in patients suffering from

Balint’s Syndrome. Optic ataxia has not been revealed in this part of the study, as a

different set-up is needed to do so. However, for our purposes it is not required to go

deeply into optic ataxia.

One of the best-known and most extensively tested patients with Balint’s

Syndrome is generally referred to as RM. When he was in his fifties, RM suffered

from two consecutive strokes that struck him a couple of months apart. These strokes

resulted in occipital-parietal lesions in both hemispheres. The symptoms he showed

were classic for patients suffering from Balint’s Syndrome. Robertson describes him

as:

Single objects popped in and out of view in RM’s everyday life …

however, the spatial location of the object or part he perceived at any given

moment was unknown to him. … Despite an intact body-centred frame of

reference, he was dismal at determining where items were that were placed

in front of him even when they remained in full view. This problem could

not be attributed to confusion or comprehension difficulties, as RM’s

language, memory, and judgment were within normal limits … He

remembered details of each testing sessions, where and when they

happened; and he was able to recognize and recall the names and faces of

the many students and colleagues who had examined him, sometimes when

returned 2 to 3 years later.62

62

This quotation is taken from a description of RM’s daily life suffering, by Roberts (2004, p. 158),

who has been involved in testing RM extensively. A full history, including many test details as well as

descriptions of RM’s functioning over time are to be found in Robertson et al. 1997. See also

Appendix B. RM seems to be a typical case since other patients diagnosed with Balint’s Syndrome,

also children, show very similar symptoms. See, for instance, Gillen and Dutton (2003) for a report of

how Balint’s Syndrome was detected and dealt with in the case of a 10-year-old schoolboy.


Obviously, in this state RM was unable to function independently. Fortunately for

him, he recovered somewhat over the course of a couple of years, and was able to

lead a semi-independent life after.

Although it has been tested far less extensively than his visual capacities, a

study looking at the influence of Balint’s Syndrome on RM’s auditive capacities

revealed that his ability to localise sounds was also affected considerably, although

less severely than his visual impairment (Phan et al. 2000). If nothing else, this seems

to be a separate confirmation that the auditory sense is spatial in itself, as argued for

in the previous section along with appendix A, and not just in combination with other

modalities, since a total impairment in localising objects visually does not lead to the

same impairment when the patient is subjected to auditory stimuli.

Non-Spatial Experience in Our World

What does all this teach us? If nothing else, at least we have seen that the visual sense,

although it is generally regarded as being spatial, can function, not only theoretically

but also in vivo, in a non-spatial manner. This is exemplified by the fact that RM was

able to visually perceive objects, but that he did not have any information about the

spatial relations in which the objects or individuals he perceived stood to each other,

if at all. Moreover, he was even able to identify and reidentify these objects - maybe

not in a strict numerical sense of the word, but he did remember and recognise

individuals he had met years before -, but, again, he was to unable attribute any kind

of spatial relations to them.

However, there is more to be gained from this case study. Let us assume that

Rem, the auditory being we introduced earlier this chapter, does not only have an

auditory sense, but does have a visual sense as well. However, let us assume that

Rem, unfortunately for her, suffers from Balint’s Syndrome. Admittedly, this might

sound farfetched. Accordingly, let us point out two issues before continuing our line

of reasoning.

First, note that our auditory being Rem resembles a real human being better

than the auditory being Hero that was introduced by Strawson and taken up by Evans.

Rem is at least multi-modal as opposed to being a purely auditory being. In fact, we

might ascribe taste, smell and haptic perception to Rem as well, since this does not

seem to alter our case as long as we assume that they are not used actively. The fact

that Rem suffers from Balint’s Syndrome makes her, still, considerably more human

than Hero was without suffering from cognitive ailments. Namely, the latter simply

lacked the cognitive capacities that we now ascribe to Rem, albeit in limited form, at

all.

Secondly, one might argue that we explicitly stated that we wanted Rem to

resemble a normal human being, at least as far as the auditory sense was concerned,

but that we seem to overthrow this requirement by now equipping Rem with a visual

sense that is considerably weaker than the visual apparatus of the average human

being. This point has to be conceded. However, we hope and trust that the results and

conclusions argued for below will not be impaired by this fact, notably since, as

already touched upon, Rem is considerably more human that Hero might ever have

hoped to be.63

63

Moreover, in light of the discussion of the applicability of thought experiments in matters dealing

with metaphysical concepts in our world, our being Rem, in a world that resembles our own world


Now, with Rem and her newly acquired visual sense in the back of our minds,

let us go back to the ways in which Evans proposed that an auditory being might

make sense of the concept of existence unperceived. The first manner, drowning, we

have already dealt with. Incidentally, we agree with Evans’ conclusions so we need

not look at this matter again. Going about Evans’ two other proposals in reverse

order, then, the third reason Evans could fathom for an auditory being to make sense

of existence unperceived was due to unreceptivity on the part of the observer. Instead

of Hero, let us look at Rem in this case.

Evidently, unreceptivity on the part of the observer is a possibility. Imagine

that Rem perceives, visually, a radio. Suppose that she is familiar with the apparatus.

She understands, based on some past experience, that when the large black knob is

pointed towards the ‘off’ sign, the radio does not play, and when the knob points

towards ‘on’, the radio is playing. Accordingly, let us assume that when she perceives

the radio visually, she does not, in line with her impairments, perceive anything else

visually. She does not have a clue about the spatial relation in which the radio might,

or might not, stand with respect to other objects which she may perceive at other

moments. Especially if one were to assume, which we may for the sake of the

argument, that Rem was born with Balint’s Syndrome, the notion that items stand in

some kind of spatial relation to one another is likely to be alien to her.

Suppose now that at a certain moment, Rem visually perceives the radio with

the knob signalling ‘on’. However, as opposed to all her previous experiences, she

does not have the auditive experience of a playing radio. This means that she does not

perceive any sound particulars. We may be able to come up with various reasons why

this is the case. However, one thing is important here: Rem has had the past

experience of hearing a sound particular whenever the radio knob was turned towards

‘on’. Now she does not. Accordingly, assuming normal cognitive reasoning skills that

Strawson and Evans ascribe to Hero as well, she will be able to deduce that there

ought to be a sound, which she now, for some reason, does not perceive. This is

logically different from the situation in which the knob on the radio is turned to ‘off’.

In the latter case, namely, there is no sound to be experienced at all.

Clearly, it might be that there is, in our example, no sound to be experienced

either. The radio may malfunction, there may be no electricity, the knob may be

broken, etc. However, what is important here is that Rem can make the cognitive

difference between a sound that is not there (the radio is turned off) and a sound that

should be there, but is not perceived by her, for whatever reason.64

The cognitive

difference between a particular that is unperceived but is present, and a particular that

is not present at all, can be made by Rem is this manner, assuming, once again,

normal reasoning skills. Moreover, contra Evans, this distinction Rem has been able

to make on non-spatial grounds, as both her visual perception as well as her auditory

perception have in no way supplied her with a notion of spatiality, or any dimension

in which the unperceived sound particular may be ‘hiding’.

closer than Hero and his world, might actually turn out to provide more usual information as well. We

will get back to this issue in more detail in section 3.3, and will touch on the validity of thought

experiments dealing with cognitive ailments in section 5.1. For now, let us continue our argument. 64

Note the similarity here to Strawson’s own example that we already addressed in chapter two, see

note 44, of the invisible scrapings of a violinist when a marching band walked by. We assumed that the

violist still produced a sound, which is simply drowned out. Theoretically, it would clearly be possible

that the violist did stop making a sound as soon as the marching band arrived, although all the visual

cues are still present. In analogy with the argument here presented, the first line of reasoning is

considerably more compelling than the second.


As such, the defence of the Kantian Thesis that Evans has built upon the idea

that Hero is only able to make a difference between existence unperceived and there

being nothing to perceive at all in a spatial manner, seems severely weakened. In fact,

without having a notion of spatiality, one can, albeit by invoking a non-spatial notion

of auditive and visual perception based on real cognitive conditions that can be found

in human beings with an ailment, arrive at this distinction. As such, at the very least,

Evans’ defence of the Kantian Thesis seems, for now, weakened.

Finally, then, Evans offered a second manner in which his Hero could,

theoretically, make sense of existence unperceived. His argument is that Hero could

do so based on the absence of causally necessary factors for the perception of a

particular. As an example Evans refers to a table, which is not visible in the dark due

to the absence of light. Incidentally, light is something that is causally required for a

being to perceive the table. Evans continues this line of reasoning by comparing

sound particulars, which are all there is in Hero’s world, to a rainbow, which is not

only not visible in the dark due to the absence of causally required factors, but is,

moreover, not even there since a rainbow only exists in virtue of the fact that there is

light.

Multiple authors have already rejected this line of reasoning.65

Especially if

we now take a step back and look at why Evans presents this argument we do not reed

to reiterate any rejections. Namely, looking at the structure of Evans’ argument, we

must note that Evans provided three reasons he could think of by which Hero could

make sense of existence unperceived. Two of these he rejected, as we saw. The only

manner to make sense of existence unperceived was his third argument, Evans

claimed. This entails invoking the notion of space to account for unreceptivity of the

perceiver. Accordingly, Evans claimed, the only way to make sense of existence

unperceived is by invoking spatiality. Now, since we need existence unperceived to

be able to experience objective particulars, the Kantian Thesis has been defended,

Evans concludes.

However, in the above we have shown by means of our case study involving

Rem that existence unperceived can also be accounted for on non-spatial grounds.

This already frees us from dealing with Evans’ rejection of the absence-of-causally-

required-factors argument: if it can be shown that there is room for existence

unperceived on non-spatial grounds, then he does not need to rule out any other

argument anymore. Namely, the Kantian Thesis is no longer defended, even if we

were to show that the absence of causally relevant factors could account for the notion

of existence unperceived.

As such, so far we have seen that Evans’ reinstatement of Strawson’s defence

of the Kantian Thesis does not live up to the empirical test, if we may characterise our

experiment with Rem as such. However, this does not yet say anything about the

nature of the Kantian Thesis itself, as there may be other manners to defend it. Let us

go back to the original question posed by Strawson and see whether or not we are able

to shed light on it based on what we have seen in the above. Although we may have to

postpone a definite verdict on the Kantian Thesis until a later chapter, we can, at least,

already say something about the manner or methodology in which Strawson and

Evans aimed at defending it.

65

Cf. Cassam (2005), or in a more general review of Evans’ papers De Gaynesford (2008).


3.3 - Strawson’s and Evans’ Methodology

‘Could there be a scheme, providing for a system of objective particulars, which was

wholly non-spatial’, Strawson asked (1959, p. 62). If not, than a case in favour of the

Kantian Thesis has been made.

In order to investigate this, Strawson proposed to ‘confine ourselves

imaginatively to what is not spatial; and then see what conceptual consequences

follow’ (idem, p. 63).66

Strawson imagined an auditory world, which he thought to be

non-spatial. He argued that only by the introduction of some analogy to space, in his

case a master-sound, the notion of reidentification could be introduced. This notion,

for Strawson, was required to make sense of the unperceived existence of a particular.

This is yet again required to make sense of objective particulars.

Evans (1980) rejected Strawson’s line of reasoning, arguing that the notion of

reidentification is secondary with respect to the notion of existence unperceived.

Accordingly, while still confining himself to the auditory world, Evans argued in

favour of a travel-based auditory world. In this revised version of Strawson’s auditory

universe sense could only be made of existence unperceived, required to make sense

of objective particulars, by invoking some kind of spatiality. In this manner Evans

rejected Strawson’s defence of the Kantian Thesis, and substituted it by his own. All

this we saw in the first two chapters. In the first part of the present chapter, we have

built upon this basis by trying to make the following three points:

1) The auditory sense is not non-spatial, as is argued for or assumed by Strawson

and Evans;

2) The human auditory sense cannot be divided in sensibility and understanding

in the manner as proposed by Kant;

3) By invoking a non-spatial variant of vision, which is apparent in humans

suffering from Balint’s Syndrome, it is possible to make sense of the notion of

reidentification or existence unperceived without invoking spatiality.

In the next chapter, we review Strawson’s second question, regarding the possibility

of a non-solipsistic consciousness, as introduced in section 1.3. In doing so, we also

discuss the two arguments that Evans provided about an objective world, as discussed

in section 2.2. In the fifth and final chapter we review what the implications of the

above and the analysis in the next chapter are for the defence of the Kantian Thesis.

To wit, the fact that we have shown that two lines of defence of the Kantian

Thesis – Strawson’s original one and Evans’ revised version thereof – are flawed does

not immediately say anything about the status of the thesis itself. However, contra

Strawson and Evans, our own thought experiment involving Rem has shown that it

seems possible to have experiences, resembling experiences in our world, in a non-

spatial fashion. As such, various thought experiments seem to result in various

conclusions. Accordingly, before using the various auditory world thought

experiments to say something about concepts in our world, let us review what kind of

knowledge may be gained by applying the kind of thought experiments used by

Strawson, Evans, and ourselves in this chapter.

66

This approach is what we in the second chapter referred to as ‘Strawson’s methodology’.


The Status of Auditory Worlds and the Use of Thought Experiments

In our review in section 2.3 of Van Cleve’s interpretation of Strawson’s thought

experiment we already concluded that the thought experiment ought to be regarded as

normative. This implies that the thought experiment deals with what Hero should do,

or ‘what concepts … would be rational, obligatory or permitted [to form] in response

to certain experiences’ (Van Cleve 2006, p. 179-80). However, establishing that the

proper construal of the thought experiment is normative is not the end of the story. In

fact, if, maybe as the answer to a normative question, a better notion of some concept

is acquired, potentially due to certain experiences by an auditory being in an auditory

world, then it seems no more than rational to require that there is some kind of natural

relation between the experience and the concept. Van Cleve regards the issue what

that relation between concepts is like as the ‘question that must be answered next’

(idem, p. 180). In this vein, in this section we will try to shed light on the explanatory

value of the auditory world thought experiment as proposed by Strawson.

Strawson introduced Hero, a being with purely auditory perception in his

auditory universe. Hero may be regarded as a conceptual tool to shed light on the

concept of objective particulars. He wondered whether or not it would be possible to

envisage them in a non-spatial world. To deal with the notion of an objective

particular, he introduced the concept of a reidentifiable particular and the concept of a

particular that exists unperceived. According to Strawson (1959, pp. 71-3), these latter

two concepts entail each other. A particular that is to be reidentified ought to be able

to exist unperceived. Conversely, a particular that exists while not being perceived

can be identified and, later, reidentified.

The concept of an objective particular needs to fit in as well, somehow. For

Strawson, the concept of existence unperceived entails the concept of an objective

particular. However, this relation is not necessary, but only contingent, in the other

direction. Thus, the notion of an objective particular does not necessarily entail the

notion of existence unperceived. Following Locke (1961) in a review of Strawson’s

auditory universe, we have

RIp = EUp

EUp Op

In this, we denoted the concept of an objective particular as ‘Op’, the concept of a

reidentifiable particular as ‘RIp’ and the concept of a particular that exists

unperceived as ‘EUp’. Moreover, the arrow means entails, and the =-sign may be read

as a double-headed arrow (Locke 1961, pp. 520-1).67

Note that these are relations

between concepts that Strawson derived from the conceptual scheme in which we

think about the world in which we live, i.e. from our world. As such, by establishing

these relations Strawson is doing descriptive metaphysics, in our everyday world.

With the basic concepts laid out, Strawson lets Hero enter his auditory

universe and lets him perceive sound particulars. As we have seen in the first chapter,

he tries to show that Hero can make sense, solely on the basis of his auditory

experiences, of the concept of a reidentifiable particular. By looking at the above

scheme, Strawson argues that this implies that Hero can make sense of the concept of

67

Note that Locke (1961) goes a lot further in detailing Strawson’s relations between Op, RIp and

EUp. Apart from that, the former also rejects some of the inferences that Strawson makes. However

interesting these matters are, reviewing them is not necessary for our purposes.


an objective particular. Since, however, the only manner in which Hero can make

sense of the concept of a reidentifiable particular, and thus of an objective particular,

is by invoking the master-sound acting as a spatial device, the only way for Hero to

make sense of the objective particulars is to have some sense of spatiality. Now

remember Van Cleve’s (2006) claim that the relation of concepts obtained in such a

manner must have some basis in the form of a natural relation, or a relation that can

be elaborated upon in non-normative terms, between the concepts. Accordingly, we

may wonder whether Strawson can provide us with such a relation between the

respective concepts, in this case the concept of an objective particular and that of

space.

The answer to that question is actually a fairly straightforward ‘no’. In fact,

Strawson has invoked the spatial analogy in the form of the master-sound along with

the claim that this was the only manner in which he could conceive of Hero making

sense of the concept of reidentifiable particulars. He did not supply worked out

arguments for this claim. Reviewing Strawson’s line of reasoning through Evans’

eyes in section 2.2, we saw that Evans, albeit for different reasons, agreed with

Strawson in that the only manner to make sense of existence unperceived is by means

of some spatial analogy. Interestingly, however, in the review of the thought

experiment based on the case study of Rem earlier in this chapter, it seemed to be

possible to make sense of the concept of existence unperceived without requiring

some analogy of space. Now what does this show us?

We have claimed a couple of times before that light has not yet been shed on

the status of space on in our conceptual framework, without going into details why

that might be so. With Locke (1961), we may actually be able to give an argument for

why Strawson’s, Evans’, nor our analogy of an auditory world thought experiment

have been able to illuminate this matter.

Strawson sets out in his Individuals to do descriptive metaphysics. As opposed

to revisionary metaphysics, descriptive metaphysics is ‘content to describe the actual

structure of thought about the world’ (1959, p. 9). In this light, the discussion of how

concepts like existence unperceived, objective particulars, reidentifiable particulars,

space, etc., stand to each other, is relevant and sensible. However, what Strawson is

doing with the auditory universe, Locke claims, is more like something we may call

‘comparative metaphysics, which deals with alternative schemes in different worlds in

order to cast light upon our own scheme and our own world’ (1961, p. 518). That this

is what Strawson is, indeed, doing, seems undeniable. Moreover, the difference with

descriptive metaphysics is clear, since Strawson seems in chapter two of Individuals

in fact concerned not with the actual structure of thought, but with a possible structure

of thoughts, not in the world, but in possible worlds.

This difference in endeavour, however, may also result in different findings.

Namely, ‘something may be perfectly true of our own conceptual scheme, and so an

important and essential point for descriptive metaphysics, and yet not at all true of all

possible conceptual schemes’ (idem, pp. 518-9), or vice versa. Let us try to clarify

this statement by means of an example.

In our world it is perfectly true that sources can be assigned to sound

particulars.68

However, in Hero’s universe there seems to be no way in which our

68

Obviously, we may not be able to assign a source to every instance of a perceived sound particular,

but the conversation ‘Did you hear that sound? What was that?’ – ‘I heard it, but I think it is nothing,

the sound just came into being and then disappeared again’ would in our world be regarded as

nonsensical, whereas for Hero it seems to be perfectly acceptable. As such, when discussing the


protagonist may ever come to such a conclusion. Moreover, seeing that auditory

experiences are all that Hero has at his disposal, he might not even consider the

possibility of sound particulars having sources. In Rem’s universe, which seems to be

closer to our universe than Hero’s is, the fact that sounds have sources is something

that Rem may determine, but could, on the other hand, never find out. This example

does not imply that a conceptual scheme in which sound particulars have sources is

impossible in Hero’s or Rem’s world. However, it simply does not seem likely that

such a conceptual scheme would be adopted in their worlds, especially in the case of

Hero. Accordingly, in the conceptual scheme in which we think about our world it

may be perfectly true that sounds have sources, but this need not be the case in all

conceptual schemes.

Now, Strawson’s invention of the auditory universe may seem a place in

which relations between concepts can be investigated more easily than in our complex

world, which is inhabited by considerably more concepts and experiences. However,

one can wonder why Strawson assumes that the use of the auditory universe, and the

manner in which concepts may be related in that universe, does throw light upon the

conceptual framework in which we think about our world.

As the example involving sound sources in our world, Hero’s world and

Rem’s world already showed, it seems that the closer the imaginary world is to our

world, the more light seems to be shed on the relations of concepts in that world when

compared to our world. However, when with ‘the closer the imaginary world is to our

world’ is meant that we have carried over more concepts and experiences from our

world to that imaginary world than we have to a world that is ‘less close to our

world’, then it seems that we have gotten an answer to the question to what extent

knowledge gained in an imaginary universe is applicable in or to our universe. An

imaginary world that is very much like our own may teach us much about concepts

and the relations between them in our world. Conversely, the more distinct the

imaginary world is from our world, the harder it becomes to draw conclusions from

this world. Thus, the harder it is to see why we would be able to infer anything from

that world.

Hero’s auditory world was to some extent quite like our own world. However,

as we have already exemplified by looking at the manner in which the auditory sense

actually functions in our world, it is not quite like it. As such, the features that

appeared in the auditory world can act, at most, as an indicator of how these features

are in our world. For we never know how, and if so to what extent, the differences in

concepts or experiences in both worlds influence the interaction between them. Thus,

to speak with Locke once more: ‘it is not at all clear what light [Strawson’s auditory

universe] throws upon the way our present conceptual scheme is used to describe our

experience, or how and why this sort of scheme was originally developed’ (idem, p.

532).

The Oxford philosopher Kathleen Wilkes doubts the use of philosophical

thought experiments as well. Wilkes (1988, pp. 8-9) claims that, in principle, thought

experiments are like real experiments. If all the relevant background conditions and

phenomena are established correctly, then it is easy to make the jump from the data in

the experiment, to the theory one is aiming at. However, she argues, the problem is

exactly establishing all relevant conditions and phenomena.

structure of our world, as opposed to Hero’s world, we may claim that to every sound particular a

source can be assigned.


To exemplify this, Wilkes discusses a thought experiment in philosophy aimed

at investigating what it is like to be a person. Her example proceeds along the lines of

imagining that one can split oneself in the manner in which amoebae do so. The

central question is then what one could, or would, regard as personal identity after

such a split has been made.

It seems hard to come up with an answer. However, Wilkes argues, any

answer that we manage to come up with may be regarded as fictional only: ‘in a

world where we split like amoebae, everything else is going to be so unimaginably

different that we do not know what concepts would remain ‘fixed’, part of the

background; we have not filled out the relevant details of this ‘possible world’, except

that we know that it cannot be much like ours’ (idem, p. 12). We could, she continues,

however, in fact never establish all the relevant details of this world, since the world

is very different from ours. How are we, in such a different world, able to fill out the

details in a sensible manner? Thus, Wilkes concludes, ‘we cannot … derive

conclusions from the thought experiment’ (idem).

Next to the above, Wilkes identifies another difficulty in the usability of

thought experiments in philosophy. This difficulty regards intuitions. Wilkes claims

that potential conclusions drawn from thought experiments are always based on some

intuition a philosopher has. One is trying to answer the question, bearing Van Cleve

(2006) in mind, what should happen under certain, imaginary circumstances.

However, exactly because these circumstances are imaginary, our only access to a

potential answer or conclusion is, maybe an educated, intuition. However, ‘when is

intuition reliable?’ (idem, p. 16), we may wonder with Wilkes. For the history of

science has produced ample examples of intuitions that utterly failed us when new

discoveries were made. One only needs to remind oneself of Copernicus’

contemporaries’ rejection of his heliocentric worldview, based on their intuition that

the earth could not be but in the centre of the universe. Or, remember the initial

rejection of Darwin’s theory of evolution: how could species evolve, get extinguished

or converge, for God himself surely created them? Clearly, intuitions are fallible.

Now, Wilkes claims (1988, p. 21), we imagine many things, worlds,

experimental set-ups, etc. Moreover, we even may conjecture conclusions to issues in

these imagined situations that are based on nothing more than intuitions about what

would happen in certain circumstances. However, merely intuition seems not to be a

solid basis upon which to build a theory about what would happen, if only since we

do not even believe that it could happen.69

Now, Wilkes has given her two primary reasons for rejecting thought

experiments. To summarise, first, exactly because we are dealing with thought

experiments, it is impossible to establish all the details, the background, or the

conceptual framework in which the experiment is set. This may very well have an

influence on the outcome of the thought experiment. Secondly, the only manner to

reach conclusions in thought experiments is by applying intuitions. However, we can

never be certain about the applicability of these intuitions. For one, it can even be

argued that we may be less certain about our intuitions in imaginary, thought

experimental intuitions, as we are applying our everyday-world intuitions to situations

that they have never been dealing with before. No one can guarantee that this is

warranted.

69

This statement hints at the difference between ‘thought experiments’ and ‘merely thought

experiments’ (Wilkes, 1988 p. 3). We will get back to this distinction below. At the moment, we are

only interested in the former category.


However, before rejecting thought experiments outright, Wilkes makes a

distinction between two types of thought experiments. With Brown (1986), she first

identifies ‘merely thought experiments’ (idem, p. 3). These are experiments that may

be carried out, but have in fact not been. The most famous example of this is Galileo’s

thought experiment in which he conjectured that a heavy and a smaller weight were

dropped from the Tower of Pisa. Contra Aristotle’s well-established and adhered to

theory, he claimed that both weights would hit the ground at the same time. If the

history of science is correct, Galileo never conducted this experiment, for him it was

merely a thought experiment. However, the experiment could be carried out and the

conclusions could be verified.

Distinguished from this are thought experiments that are, similarly to the

above, not carried out, but that could not be carried out either, for their setting is

entirely imaginary. This latter type of thought experiment, Wilkes argues, is open to

the kind of arguments as given in the above.70

Accordingly, Wilkes proposes to ban

them altogether from philosophical investigations, since knowledge gained on the

basis of this second type of thought experiments can never be regarded as conclusive.

Moreover, we still have plenty of real-world puzzles, and merely thought experiments

to busy ourselves with for years. Speaking with Wilkes once more:

‘These fulfil the same function of stretching [a] concept … to its limits and

beyond … They are ready to hand – waiting only to be dug out of

psychological, neuropsychological, medical, psychoanalytic, and

anthropological literature. One of the few everyday proverbs that seems to me

broadly correct is that truth is, almost invariably, stranger than fiction …

Basing our arguments on actual cases allows us to check our imagination

against the facts, and our intuitions get strengthened and rendered more

trustworthy’ (idem, p. 48).

If we think back to the thought experiments of Strawson and Evans as presented in the

two previous chapters, Wilkes’ arguments are on a par with our own observations

about the use of these experiments earlier in this section. Moreover, our case

involving Rem was one, indeed, waiting to be dug from cognitive psychology’s

literature. As we will argue in more depth in section 5.1, Rem’s case is one that may

be regarded as merely a thought experiment, if the categorisation of thought

experiment is applicable at all instead of simply a case study.

To be frank, we should not rule out all value of philosophical thought

experiments on the basis of the two arguments presented in the above. At the very

least, there is a little more to be said and critics of Wilkes’ – and our – interpretation

of thought experiments should have their say as well. However, it seems as if

protagonists of making arguments based on these type of experiments still have a lot

of work in explaining why we should accept the conclusions drawn from their

imaginary settings in our world.71

Moreover, we have a perfectly acceptable

70

Note that Wilkes in fact distinguishes two more types of thought experiments: scientific thought

experiments and thought experiments that ‘take place in thought’ (1988, p. 3). An example of the latter

is determining whether a sentence, for instance ‘small yellow submarines die young’ is grammatically

correct. Wilkes has no problems with these two types of thought experiments. However, as we will not

encounter them in our investigation we will not discuss them further. 71

Doing justice to all the relevant arguments in the debate about thought experiments will not be

possible. However, a recent publication about the matter by Williamson (2007, pp. 179-207) is worth

touching upon, as the author argues in favour of the view that sees thought experiments ‘as an


alternative in hand: there are plenty of puzzles or actual case studies that fulfil the

same purpose of philosophical thought experiments in stretching one’s concepts to the

limits. Only, one occasionally has to look beyond the boundaries of one’s discipline,

philosophy in this case, to encounter them.72

The results of doing this, however, we

have hopefully shown, are conclusions that have a considerably stronger basis than

drawing conclusions from merely conjecturing imaginary worlds and trying to

deduce, intuitively, what should happen there.

Let us take our conclusions about the use of thought experiments at heart.

Accordingly, in the next chapter we investigate to what an extent Evans’ arguments,

reviewed in section 2.2, about attaining the notion of an objective particular are

applicable when approached from a less imaginary prospective than Evans did. This

means that Rem will once more be used as a conceptual tool to study the conceptual

framework in which we think about our world. In the fifth and final chapter we will

combine all the knowledge gained so far, and discuss the status of the Kantian Thesis

in particular, and that of descriptive metaphysics in general.

application of quite ordinary ways of thinking’ (p. 180), which would overthrow the relevance of the

distinction between ‘thought experiments’ and ‘merely thought experiments’ we have just argued for.

By invoking a famous thought experiment by Gettier (1963), Williamson argues that the formal

argumentative structure of a thought experiment is nothing more than counterfactuals which are used in

naturalistic research as well on a regular basis. The problem with this view, although it would require

too much space to go into all the details here, is that the determination of the truth-conditions of these

counterfactuals continues to depend on intuition when the setting of the counterfactual is imaginary.

Accordingly, it seems that the arguments presented in the above, based on Wilkes (1988), about the

problems related to arguing based on intuition are still relevant. Now, regardless of the reformulation

of thought experiments as counterfactuals, it seems that this problem is not straightforwardly solved,

and that, accordingly, Williamson’s reinterpretation of thought experiments has not shown why they

are warranted. Although we might be in partial error with respect to this interpretation of Williamson’s

defence of thought experiments, the alternative, using a psychological case, or ‘merely a thought

experiment’ is still available, and that is surely a safe, or at least safer, route to pursue. 72

This is a matter we will touch upon in much greater detail in chapter 5, sections 2 and 3.


Chapter 4 – Space, Audition, and the World (II)

In this chapter, we continue the line of reasoning of the previous chapter. This allows

us to review the status of the Kantian Thesis, as defined in section 2.1, in the next

chapter.

We commence by looking at a thought experiment by Campbell, based on

work by Berkeley, regarding existence unperceived. This shows us that it is possible

to conjecture a theory of experience in which the notion of objectivity can be obtained

in a non-spatial fashion. However, as we do not wish to argue for a specific theory of

experience, Campbell’s relational view in this case, we try to conjecture an argument

that shows that we are able to obtain the notion of existence unperceived non-

spatially, and independently of a strict framework of how experience functions. To do

so, we invoke our being Rem once again.

Along the way, we review Evans’ causality and simultaneity arguments that

we presented in section 2.2. We see that the conclusions that Evans reached cannot be

used in investigating the conceptual framework of experience in our world, as Evans’

argumentative methodology does not live up to the requirements for thought

experiments as put forth in the last section of the previous chapter.

4.1 - Campbell’s Berkelian Thought Experiment

One of the best-known philosophers that has discussed the notion of existence

unperceived extensively was the Irish Bishop George Berkeley. In his A Treatise

Concerning the Principles of Human Knowledge, Part I, published in 1710, he

famously wrote

Surely there [is] nothing easier than to image trees, for instance, in a park, or

books existing in a closet, and nobody by to perceive them. I answer, you may

so, there is no difficulty in it: but what is all this, I beseech you, more than

framing in your mind certain ideas which you call books and trees, and at the

same time omitting to frame the idea of anyone that may perceive them. But

do you not yourself perceive or think of them all the while? This therefore …

only [shows] you have the power of imagining or forming ideas in your mind;

but it does not [show] that you conceive it possible, the objects of your

thought may exist without the mind; to make out this, it is necessary that you

conceive them existing unconceived or unthought of.73

The standard objection to this line of thought is claiming that Berkeley confused the

notions of imagining and conceiving. From this, it is argued that Berkeley is, at most,

allowed to claim is that he cannot imagine existence unperceived, in the sense in

which image means ‘visually imagine’ or ‘imagine seeing’ (Campbell 2002, p. 128).

However, being unable to imagine existence unperceived in this sense does not

73

Berkeley 1949, p. 40. Berkeley never published the Part II of the A Treatise Concerning the

Principles of Human Knowledge that he announced in the title of Part I.

Space, Audition, and the World (II) - 61

automatically lead to the conclusion that one is unable to conceive of an unperceived

object.74

Intuitively, this objection seems warranted.

John Campbell argues that we need to review this standard objection against

the Berkelian claim that one cannot conceive of existence unperceived, as he regards

the objection as ‘extremely superficial’ (idem, p. 128). Looking at Berkeley’s writing

once more in detail, Campbell suggests that ‘the puzzle that Berkeley is addressing is

that it is hard to see how our concepts of mind-independent objects could have been

made available by experience of them’ (idem). When elaborating on this matter,

Campbell argues, Berkeley puts forth two claims. If these two are accepted, they

collectively yield the conclusion that one cannot form the concept of an objective

object solely on the basis of experience.75

The first of Berkeley’s two premises, or the ‘major premise’ (Van Cleve 2006,

p. 174),76

holds that all concepts possessed by us are given to us by experience. Next

to this, we have Berkeley’s ‘minor premise’ (idem), which states that experience

cannot give us concepts of objective objects. And indeed, these two premises, if

correct, undeniably lead to the conclusion that experience cannot give us the concept

of objective particulars. Campbell, however, does not accept this conclusion. Since he

accepts the major premise, he sets out to reject the minor one. Now, to argue that

experience can in fact, contra Berkeley, give us concepts of objective objects,

Campbell introduces his own theory of experience, which he dubs ‘the relational view

of experience’.

This theory is a complicated type of a group of philosophical theories

regarding perception, that collectively are commonly referred to as ‘disjunctivism’

(Hinton 1966, 1973). The name of the theory, disjunctivism, refers to the fact that the

adherents of the theory claim that there is a disjunction between a veridical

experience, or a perception caused by a proper cause, and hallucination, in which a

perception of an object takes place without an external cause.77

74

See, for instance, Gallois 1974, pp. 58-9. Another claim that is often made is that Berkeley did not

distinguish between thinking or conceiving of and thinking or conceiving that. The detailed objections

are of no particular relevance for our purposes, however. 75

Both Strawson and Evans use the term ‘objective’ to denote what Campbell and Van Cleve call

‘mind-independent’. Strawson (1959, p. 61) says, as we already quoted in section 1.4: ‘I shall

henceforth use the phrase ‘objective particulars’ as an abbreviation of the entire phrase ‘particulars

distinguished by the thinker [from himself and from his own experiences or states of mind, and

regarded as actual or possible objects of those experiences]’. Linking this to the issue of non-solipsistic

consciousness, Strawson, and Evans with him, regard an objective particular as a particular that can be

distinguished by the thinker from the thinker, or his states, himself, i.e. it is mind-independent. For

consistency’s sake, we will adhere to the terminology we applied in chapter one and two, and use

‘objective’ where Campbell and others use mind-independent. Note, that the part of the passage we just

quoted from Strawson, ‘by the thinker’, shows that the particulars identified as objective in this manner

are not necessarily the kind of real particulars over which realism/anti-realism debates rage, since we

are only dealing with the manner in which some thinker distinguishes them from himself and other

particulars in his scheme of thought. Accordingly, it is philosophy of mind we are currently involved

in. 76

James van Cleve, to whom we alluded previously, discusses Campbell’s interpretation of Berkeley’s

line of reasoning next to his review of Strawson’s auditory world thought experiment that we already

reviewed (2006). Moreover, Van Cleve draws an interesting parallel, upon we touch later in this

section, between Strawson’s and Campbell’s investigations. 77

Let us illuminate this complex terminology with an example. The perception of an eggplant that is

sitting on the shelves of a supermarket is a veridical experience, whereas the perception of an oasis in

some desert when there is, in fact, just bare and hot sand from horizon to horizon is of the type

hallucination. Disjunctivists claim that the only common ground between the two experiences is that

the subject cannot, by introspection alone, tell the difference between the two. Apart from that, they

argue that the two types of experience are utterly distinct. The most important difference between


In Campbell’s relational view of disjunctivism the proper cause of perception

is taken to be an object. In this view, the perception of an eggplant is due to the

worldly presence and perception of an eggplant. This is very close to realism. Now,

Campbell believes that the experience of an object involves an objective particular, as

we elaborated upon in note 77. Moreover, he claims that this way of interpreting

experience is exactly what we need in order to be able to explain how experience is

able to give us the concepts of objective, mind-independent objects.78

Campbell advances two claims aimed at outlining how experience can make

this happen. First, following Van Cleve’s analysis of Campbell’s argumentative

structure here (2006, p 178), the latter argues that one’s experiences tell one what the

object is that is being referred to by means of a perceptual demonstrative. Secondly,

Campbell argues that what criterion of object-identity needs to be invoked for a

specific object depends on the object that is being referred to. Accordingly, Campbell

believes that experience tells which criterion for the reidentification of an object is

correct. Once one is able to reidentify particulars that are, at least in Campbell’s

relational view of experience, mind-independent, then we have obtained a conceptual,

mind-independent notion of the particular in question. Note that we, in this manner,

have not – necessarily – obtained a notion of the concept the particular in question

falls under. This may be problematic for Campbell’s theory, but as we are at the

moment merely interested in obtaining a general notion of objective particulars, we

can let this issue rest.79

All that we ought to bear in mind is that, following

Campbell’s relational view of experience at least, it is possible to obtain the concept

of objective particulars solely on the basis of experience. He thereby rejects

Berkeley’s minor premise, and thus the latter’s overall argument as outlined above.

Let us now take a step back and review what we have learnt from Campbell’s claims.

First, we can draw an interesting analogy between the line of reasoning as put forth by

Campbell and the sound experiences in auditory universes that we have been

considering in the previous chapters.

For the sake of the argument, let us assume that Campbell’s theory is correct.80

Next, we may note that Campbell’s argument did not depend on a specific modality,

and that Campbell did not restrict his use of ‘experiencing a particular’ in any way.

Admittedly, Campbell took his example from visual perception. However, his claims

did never depend on the notion that experiences were visual. So, provided that the

sounds in the auditory universes were mind-independent, then simply by having an

experience of them the concept of mind-independentness, or of objective particulars

has been obtained by the perceiver.81

Thus if Campbell’s claims are correct, then any

experience, be it in any modality whatsoever, would give rise to the concept of

objective particulars. Now, if on top of all this the claim that we advanced in the

them, as we have seen, is that in the case of the second example, involving the oasis, there is no sense

data on which the experience supervenes. In the case in the first example involving an eggplant the

experience is in fact supervening on sense data. 78

Note that ‘the concepts of objective objects’, in which ‘objective’ is interpreted as in note 75, is

different form ‘the concept of objective particulars’ or ‘the concept of objective experience’. Below,

we shall touch upon this distinction more explicitly, but it is important to bear in mind. 79

Campbell himself cannot let this issue rest in putting forth his relational theory of experience, and he

invokes some claims to deal with this issue. See Campbell 2002, pp. 137-43 80

We owe the argument or possible interpretation of Campbell’s line of reasoning that is to follow to

Van Cleve (2006, p. 178). 81

The antecedent of this proposition is something that still has to be argued if we wish to pursue the

argument as put forth.


previous chapter is correct, i.e. that it is possible to have experience of particulars in a

non-spatial fashion, then it seems that it is possible to form the concept of objective

particulars in a non-spatial fashion as well. This would certainly be a blow to the

Kantian Thesis.

Note, secondly, the similarity of Campbell’s analysis to the second issue

Strawson set out to investigate, as introduced in section 1.3. The latter wondered

whether or not a non-solipsistic consciousness, i.e. ‘the consciousness of a being who

has a use for the distinction between himself and his states on the one hand, and

something not of himself or a state of himself, of which he has experience, on the

other’ is possible in such a world (Strawson 1959, p. 69). ‘Such a world’ refers to a

non-spatial world, and if we take the sketchy analysis of the last paragraph to be

correct than we may regard the issue as answered.

Jumping to this conclusion, and thereby considering the second of Strawson’s

investigations completed would, however, be premature. For one, there are still gaps

in the sketchy argument that has been presented for the relational view of experience

so far. Secondly, regardless of whether or not it may intuitively be so and has been

assumed by Strawson, Evans and ourselves throughout, we have never formally

argued for the notion that sound particulars can, in our world, indeed be regarded as

mind-independent phenomena.

What we have established thus far, is that it at least seems possible to achieve

the notion of objective experience in a non-spatial fashion. However, in the second

chapter we saw that Evans reached an opposite conclusion. With the above in the

back of our minds, let us now go back to Evans’ causality and simultaneity

arguments, as presented in section 2.2. In doing so, let us try to see, with Van Cleve’s

(2006) and Wilkes’ (1988) interpretation of thought experiments in mind, why Evans

arrived at an opposite conclusion compared to the conclusion we have just obtained

by following Campbell’s line of reasoning. In the final two sections of this chapter,

then, we will come back to the issue for which Campbell has laid the groundwork:

whether or not it is possible to obtain the notion of objective experience in a space-

independent fashion.

4.2 - Evans’ Causality and Simultaneity Arguments Revisited

In section 2.2, we reviewed two arguments put forth by Evans (1985) with which he

argues that the concept of objective experience does not make sense in a purely

auditory universe. The first argument, that was dubbed the causal ground argument by

Strawson (1985), can be outlined in two steps. From the three premises

(PR1) Hero’s world consists of sensory properties only;

(PR2) There are two manners in which to get to true, objective conditionals

about the world: generalisation and a causal explanation of an event;

(PR3) Since Hero’s lives in a sensory universe, he has nothing at his disposal

to causally explain an event;

the conclusion can be deduced that

(C`) The only manner in which Hero might get to objective knowledge

about his world is due to generalisations over his past experiences.


Now taking conclusion C` and premise PR1 once more, and combining that with

another premise,

(PR4) The notion of objectivity involves a duality between experiences and

that-of-which-experience-is-had;

Evans concludes his causal ground argument by claiming

(C) Hero has no notion of objectivity.

The same kind of analysis may be performed for the simultaneity argument, which is

in argumentative style even simpler:

(PRA) Hero only has access to serially presented experiences;

(PRB) Hero does not have simultaneous spatial concepts;

(PRC) A notion of simultaneity is necessary for the concept of objectivity;

and, from this again, Evans ends up with the same conclusion

(C) Hero has no notion of objectivity.

If we compare this analysis to the argument presented by Campbell, we easily see

where the two philosophers differ. With respect to the second line of reasoning,

Campbell would reject PRC, as a notion of objectivity is, according to him, gained by

just having an experience. Nowhere in his argument is there any dependence on the

notion of simultaneity.

With respect to the first line of reasoning, Campbell would reject PR4. To wit,

the relational theory of experience that Campbell is propagating holds, as we saw in

the previous section, that the concept of objectivity can be achieved by merely having

an experience. As such, the notion of objectivity itself does not involve the duality as

proposed by Evans in PR4. Admittedly, the type of disjunctivism that forms the core

of Campbell’s relational theory of experience assumes mind-independent objects, of

which experience is had. However, a duality between the latter two is not required for

forming a notion of objectivity. Accordingly, Campbell rejects the overall conclusion

C, argued for in two independent manners, by rejecting PR4 and PRC. However, what

does all this teach us?

Since we have not explicitly argued in favour of Campbell’s relational view of

experience and his attached notion of objectivity, the fact that he comes to different

conclusions when compared to Evans does not show us much. It merely hints at the

fact that it is possible to conjecture notions of experience and objectivity that do not

depend on explicit notions of reidentification and simultaneity. However, Campbell

was able to reach his conclusion by looking at how experience functions in our

everyday world. The conclusion that Evans draws from both the causality and the

simultaneity argument is that Hero, in his specific auditory world, cannot form the

idea of an objective world.

With Wilkes (1988), see section 3.3, we may wonder to what an extent this

latter conclusion is applicable in our universe. Namely, contra the auditory world, in

our world the notion of simultaneity is perfectly accessible. Moreover, we seem to

have at least multi-modal access to objects of which we have experience.

Accordingly, what does the idea that Hero in his specific auditory universe cannot


make sense of the notion of objectivity teach us? If anything, it shows that Hero’s

universe is distinctly different from our universe, and that, thus, conclusions drawn

from the relation of concepts in that universe may not automatically be carried over to

our universe – at least not without arguing explicitly why the analogy would be

warranted. However, this is something that Strawson, nor Evans, does.

Accordingly, although it seems possible to attack Evans’ causality and

simultaneity arguments on different and more internal grounds as well, they actually

seem superfluous with respect to the overall aim of reviewing and discussing the

status of the Kantian Thesis. Namely, the sole fact that in Hero’s auditory universe

there is no place for the notion of objectivity does not to tell us much about our

universe. As such, it does not seem to advance an analysis of the conceptual

framework in which we think of our world greatly, which was Strawson’s and Evans’

ultimate goal. Although we may gain some knowledge about the way concepts may

be interpreted, we are not straightforwardly warranted to carry this knowledge over to

our world. As such, knowledge gained about any conceptual structure dealing with

the make-up of other universes may, but also may not, yield knowledge about the

conceptual structure with which we think of our universe. Maybe a project of

‘comparative metaphysics’ (Locke 1961, p. 518), as we reviewed in section 3.3, that

is interested in the differences in the conceptual structure of thinking about our versus

a hypothetical auditory universe would be served by these purposes, but that is not at

stake here.

As such, we have ended up in a position in which we also found ourselves in

the previous chapter at the end of section 3.2. There, we had determined that the

defences of the Kantian Thesis as put forth by Strawson and Evans can be countered.

However, this does not yet say anything about the Kantian Thesis itself. Up until now,

we have seen that the arguments Evans gave against the conception of objectivity in

an auditory world cannot be brought to bear in our conceptual scheme. However, the

argument pro the concept of objectivity, as sketched based on works by Campbell,

does not quite seem to do the job of conclusively arguing the case in favour of it, at

least not yet. Let us, now, propose a manner in which a being can make sense of the

notion of objective particulars in our scheme. If it can be shown that this is possible in

a non-spatial manner, we have collected all the materials required to review the status

of the Kantian Thesis in the fifth and final chapter.

4.3 - Objectivity

Strawson argued that a necessary condition for Hero to make sense of objective

particulars was being able to identify and reidentify particulars. With an intricate

argument that we reviewed in section 2.2, Evans rejected this claim and argued that

Hero ought to be able to make sense of existence unperceived in order to be able to

form the notion of objective particulars. The notion of existence unperceived we

showed, in the previous chapter, to be sensible in a non-spatial universe as well,

contrary to what Evans had argued. This we exemplified by the thought experiment

involving Rem.

What this tells us about the nature of the Kantian Thesis is the subject matter

of the first part of the next chapter. In the remainder of this chapter we review what

our findings about existence unperceived mean for the notion of objectivity. In the

current section, we argue, in a manner analogous to what we saw Campbell do in

section 4.3, that it is possible to achieve the notion of objectivity simply by having –


appropriate – experiences. In the final section, we try to show that the argument

presented for this does not depend on space, i.e. that it is possible to achieve the

notion of objective experience in a non-spatial manner. For practicality’s sake we try

to limit ourselves to the materials that we have used to discuss experience so far.

Thus, we restrict ourselves as far as possible to auditory experience in discussing the

possibility of objective experience.

Suppose one is watching a European Championship football match from the upper

ring of some large stadium. A penalty kick is being taken at the opposite end of the

pitch, some 150 meters from where our spectator is seated. At the moment that the

player’s shoe is perceived, visually, to make contact with the ball, one does not hear

anything but the other spectators yelling. Only a small period of time later,

approximately half a second, the kick with which the player hit the ball is perceived

audibly.

This phenomenon is even more clearly illustrated when one is approaching a

construction site. From afar, a large pile driver may be perceived to be driving piles

into the ground. The way this works, is that the pile driver slams a heavy weight down

on the top of a long, concrete pile. By repeating this movement a pile driver is able to

hammer piles into the soil, sinking the latter by a couple of centimetres each blow.

These serve as the foundation for construction work. As pile drivers are large

machines and piles may, dependent on the soil, be up to tens of meters long, they can

be seen from a large distance.

Now suppose that one is at a construction site at which a pile driver is active.

One visually perceives that the weight comes down on a pile, which, indeed, sinks a

couple of centimetres into the soil. Immediately the weight is lifted again, and the

process repeats itself until the pile has been sunk sufficiently deep into the soil in

order for it to be able to carry the weight of the building that will be positioned on top

of it.

At the moment that the weight hits the pile, a loud slamming sound is

perceived audibly. If one now distances oneself slowly from the pile driver, one will

experience that the visual and auditive perception of the weight hitting the pile will

become asynchronous. When the distance has become 50 meters, the time difference

between the visual and auditive cues is approximately 140 milliseconds;82

when the

distance has increased to 500 meters, the time difference has linearly increased to

almost 1,5 seconds. Now a human being, with normal cognitive capacities, even

without being aware of the physical details of the speed of light or sound through a

medium, will note that the sound that was, when being close to the pile driver, heard

simultaneously with the slamming down of the weight, is perceived only after the

weight has come down if he has distanced himself from the pile driver. By travelling

back and forth a number of times, he will notice that this relation between his visual

and auditive perception is regular. In effect, this means that the delay is equal at equal

distances from the pile driver, and that the delay increases or decreases regularly, or

linearly, with the distance from it.

What can our observer learn from these experiences? By travelling back and

forth to and from the pile driver and using common sense, we may assume that the

observer comes to understand that the sound originates from the weight slamming

down on the pile. This is something he can verify empirically: a sound is perceived

whenever some object hits another object, and dependent on the weight – and material

82

As we have seen in appendix A, this is already perceptible by the human auditive modality.


– of both objects a more or less loud sound is perceived with a certain quality. Now if

the observer distances himself from the pile driver, he sees the weight coming down

on the pile, but only hears this slightly later. Whatever he conjectures to be the reason

for this, there is no indication that the causal reason for the sound, i.e. the hitting of

the pile by the weight, has altered. Any observer with normal cognitive capacities will

still assume that the sound originates from the blow of the weight hitting the pile.

However, since our observer perceives, visually, the hitting of the pile to occur

prior to perceiving the sound, he seems to have no choice but to assume that there is

some kind of delay in the auditive perception of the blow, when compared to the

visual. However, since the source of these two experiences are one and the same, and

there is no reason for the observer to assume that any change in that situation has

occurred due to the fact that he has distanced himself from the place of action, the

observer is forced to conclude that the sound experience takes some time to be

perceived. Conversely, the visual experience is perceived immediately.83

Now, since

both perceptions have the same causal origin – the blow of the weight –, there are two

conclusions that can be drawn from this experiment.

First, it can be deduced that the sound particular resulting from the blow of the

weight exists independently of the observer, as it in fact exists unperceived for some

time. Namely, the origin of the sound experience coincides with the origin of the

visual experience – i.e. the moment that the weight hits the top of the pile –, but the

sound is only perceived after the visual experience has been perceived already.

Accordingly, the sound must have existed in between the time that the visual

experience and the sound experience were had by the observer, during which time,

accordingly, the sound, or the sound particular, must have existed independently.

Secondly, and intimately related, it can be concluded that the sound existed prior the

observer’s experience thereof. Clearly, one may assume that the sound came only into

being when it was perceived. However, our observer was able to detect a regular

asynchrony between the visual and auditive perception of the blow, as we saw above.

Bearing this in mind, it seems considerably more reasonable, at least for a moderately

intelligent observer, to assume that the sound came into existence at the same moment

that the weight hit the pile. Accepting this, the sound existed, though unperceived,

until a small period of time later, the magnitude of which is dependent on the distance

from the pile driver, when it was heard. In this manner, thus, an observer in our world

can make sense of existence unperceived. This is the concept that Evans and Strawson

both regarded as a necessary and sufficient criterion to form the concept of an

objective reality and, in Campbell’s words, the notion of mind-independent objects.

What this establishes is that at least in our universe the notion of objectivity is

something that can be achieved, something which both Strawson and Evans were

unable to construct in their auditory universes. This argument also seems to go to the

heart of the standard objection against Berkeley’s argument about the possibility of

imagining existence unperceived, which we touched upon in section 4.1. We can,

deducing from the above example, conceive of the idea that a sound that has not yet

been perceived by us does exist unperceived, somewhere between the source of the

sound and the observer. We may, on the other hand, in the spirit of Campbell (2006,

pp. 127-8), not be able to imagine the sound without imagining the sound being

conceived of. However, from this it ‘hardly follows’ (idem) that we cannot conceive

of a sound that is not being perceived.

83

Technically, there is no reason to assume that the visual experience is not delayed either. This is,

however, irrelevant for our argument, the only relevant point is that there is a difference between the

perceptions of the two stimuli.


If we now compare our line of reasoning to the argumentative structure of Evans as

reviewed in the previous section, we see that we have disregarded both PR3 and PRB

in our argumentation. When looking at Evans’ causal ground argument, in which PR3

plays a role, the observer was able to arrive at the notion of existence unperceived due

the fact that he was able to causally explain the experience. Related to the

simultaneity argument, in which PRB is relevant, the observer was able to deduce the

notion of existence unperceived due the fact that he could make use of the concept of

simultaneity. Namely, the visual and auditive experiences had the same source,

commenced simultaneously, but were only perceived seriatim.

Accordingly, the causality and simultaneity arguments by Evans, about the

applicability of the notion of objectivity in an auditory universe, depended heavily on

differences between our universe and an auditory one. On the one hand, this

strengthens the conclusion we drew at the end of the previous section that in order to

do descriptive metaphysics in our universe, Evans’ two arguments are not of too

much relevance. Next to reaffirming that conclusion, however, we have in the above

been able to reach the same conclusion that Campbell reached in the first section of

this chapter. Namely, we saw that it is possible to obtain the concept of objectivity

purely on the basis of experience and normal cognitive capacities. To what extent, if

any, this conclusion is open to the objections as presented in section 3.3 against

thought experiments, we discuss in section 5.1.

What is interesting for the remainder of our discussion, however, is that the

argument presented in the current section depends on the notion of space: we

imagined that someone would regularly distance himself from the pile driver. As we

saw previously, Campbell’s explanation for a conceived notion of objectivity is

independent of space. In anticipation of our discussion of the Kantian Thesis in the

next and last chapter, let us try to rephrase the argument for the conception of the

notion of objective particulars in non-spatial terms as well. Note that, in analogy to

what we did in the previous chapter, we are not interested in defending a particular

theory of experience,84

we are merely interested in showing that it is possible to

conceive of the notion of objective particulars in a non-spatial fashion.

4.4 - Non-Spatial Objectivity

Evans argued that the notion of objectivity is to be regarded as a duality between an

experience and an object of which the experience is had. As we saw in section 2.2, he

claimed that an auditory being would, having only experience of secondary qualities,

have access to the first half of the duality, and as such would not reasonably form the

notion of objectivity.

In the second chapter, we already alluded to the difference between primary

and secondary qualities, as traditionally made by Locke. The distinction we have

made between both types of qualities was that primary qualities were in the objects

themselves, i.e. bulk, texture, shape, etc., whereas the secondary qualities were not in

the objects themselves but, quoting Locke here, ‘powers to produce various sensations

84

This is also why we will not pursue the track laid down by Campbell: we are interested in the fact

that it is possible to make sense of the notion of objectivity in a non-spatial fashion, and believe that we

do not need to argue for a detailed theory of experience to do so. In line with the argumentative

remarks as put forth in section 5.1, we try to investigate the conceptual framework in which we can

discuss experience here simply by looking at the way experience functions in our everyday world.


in us’ (1828, p. 120). The sounds, which made up Hero’s universe, were deemed by

Evans to be purely secondary qualities. However, this being so, how would we

describe the example with the pile driver that we elaborated on in the previous

section?

If the sound produced by the weight slamming down on the pile is to be

regarded as a secondary quality, then why ought we to construe the visual image of

this event differently? And if it is not different, then how has the notion of objectivity

been obtained, as all access to the phenomena was via secondary qualities? Physically

speaking, the vibrations due to the pile and weight colliding cause the sensation of

sound, which is a vibration in the transmitting medium, i.e. the air. However, the

visual image of an active pile driver is as much a vibration that is transmitted through

the air, albeit quicker and with a different amplitude and wavelength. Moreover, from

a physical perspective, different particulars are involved: molecules that make up our

atmosphere (O2, N2, O3, CO2, etc.) in the case of sound, and photons ( ) in the case of

light. Whether or not these vibrating molecules are the sound is something that cannot

be answered straightforwardly, but, at least, there does not seem to be any reason to

regard the visual and the auditive perceptions differently.

Physically speaking, the two types of experience do not seem to be

intrinsically different, especially not if we limit ourselves to the tangible example of

the visual and auditory experience of a pile driver hammering piles into the soil. And

yet in this example we could easily achieve the concept of objective particulars,

whereas that did not seem possible in a purely auditory universe, in which only the

auditory sensations were available. The only difference seems to be that the notion of

space is available in our universe whereas it was not in the auditory variant.

However, in the previous chapter we have shown that it is possible to make

sense of the notion of existence unperceived in a non-spatial fashion. Extending this

further, in this section we show that we can also make sense of the notion of

objectivity in a non-spatial fashion.

Let us revisit our poor Rem, who is unfortunately still suffering from Balint’s

Syndrome. We have seen how she, assuming a regular level of cognitive capacities,

could conceive of the notion of existence unperceived by looking at the example

involving the radio. Let us now have her perceive the pile driver we invoked in the

above example. She will hear a regular series of sounds, signalling the pile being

hammered into the soil. Visually, she will perceive some individual object. This could

be the weight, maybe it is the pile, but it might equally well be some brick that is

laying on the construction site, the foreman who is giving orders or some daisy that is

standing in the grass.

We have seen, while describing the symptoms of Balint’s Syndrome and in

appendix B, that Rem will only visually perceive one object at a time. However, if

something that we would characteristically regard as two objects is linked by some

kind of intermediary, the two objects might become one from Rem’s point of view.

Then, she will perceive this combination at once, while being able to distinguish

different parts in that singular visual image. Moreover, we have seen that sufferers

from Balint’s Syndrome sometimes suddenly swift their visual focus to other objects.

Taking all this as given, let us see what happens if we let Rem perceive a pile

driver hammer a pile in the ground. Supposing that she is let to perceive the system

for a sufficiently long period of time, at some point she will shift her attention from

whatever she perceived visually to the combination of weight and pile. This

combination, when the former hits the latter, constitutes a single object from her


visual perception’s point of view. Now whenever this system comes into her visual

perception, this will be accompanied by a loud sound: the weight hitting the pile. The

sound is necessarily heard at the exact same moment at which the combined pile-

weight system comes into perception. It cannot have come into perception prior, since

the objects were still distinct then and would never have collectively formed a single

visual experience in Rem. The same argumentation holds for why the sound cannot

precede the visual experience.85

Now, since the cognitive skills of Rem are unimpaired, she will be able to

deduce the causal ground of the sound from the three distinct visual imagines she has

encountered: a pile, a weight, and a weight-pile combination. As Rem does not have

control over her visual experience, she will also have a host of other visual

experiences apart from the ones involving the abovementioned objects. While she

experiences these, however, she will continue to perceive the sound produced by the

weight slamming down the pile. As she has managed to deduce a causal ground for

this sound, i.e. the interaction of the pile and the weight – note that for the sake of the

argument it is irrelevant whether or not Rem is able to recognise the three relevant

visual images as pile, weight, or combination thereof –, she must conclude that these

objects do not simply disappear when her visual experience of them ceases. This we

also established in section 3.2.

Accordingly, Rem has retained the notion of existence unperceived, but next

to this she has also gained the relevant concept to make sense of the notion of

objectivity. Namely, the sensory sound experience, which we, with Evans, can claim

to be a secondary quality, she has been able to link to one or more objects. These

objects, now, have primary qualities and as we have seen with Locke, the power of

producing secondary qualities. Since Rem continues to experience the secondary

qualities even when she is not in fact able to voluntarily experience the primary

qualities, she can still deduce them to be there, as they are the causally necessary

factors for the production of the sound particular she experiences. If we now for once

make use of Evans’ causal ground argument, we can conclude that Rem is able to

form the concept of objective particulars by being able to link some perception to its

causal ground, even when she does not continuously perceive this causal ground.

Note that we have not made use of any kind of spatial concepts that Rem

might have throughout this argument. In the initial introduction of the experiment

with the pile driver in the previous section, we implied that an observer would

distance himself from the construction site. However, in the above description of Rem

it was not necessary to invoke anything of the like, as simply being allowed to

perceive the pile driver in action for a sufficiently long period of time would allow

Rem to achieve the concept of objective experience in the manner as outlined in the

above. The only assumption we made was that Rem has sufficiently advanced

cognitive skills. However, it does not seem that we are stretching these beyond

reasonable, i.e. normal human, limits by the requirements we put on her in the above.

Accordingly, it seems possible for a being to achieve the notion of objective

85

One might argue here that the machinery of a pile driver is too complicated for our experiment, i.e.

that it would be an over-exaggeration to claim that Rem could perceive either the pile or the weight

individually as distinct objects or as a single object, due to the intricacy of the machinery. This point is

well taken and conceded, however it does not counter the essence of the argument: a simple nail being

hammered into a piece of wood could technically do the same job, assuming that the nail and hammer

are sufficiently big and the sound loud enough to be perceived at some distance. However, since in the

argument it is assumed that the visual and auditive perceptions coincide, this distance is not too large,

and, accordingly, a system consisting of a nail and a hammer might actually do.


particulars independent of the notion of space. This is something that Evans and

Strawson were unable to obtain in their respective auditory universes.

One may counter here that Rem needs some kind of concept of space, or else

she would not be able to function in life. To a certain extent, this point must be

conceded. However, as becomes apparent from Robertson’s (1997) description of

R.M., especially right after having suffered a stroke R.M. was not able to function

normally or independently. Especially as far as his experiences go, he did not have

any sense of spatiality. Now, looking at the requirements that we put on Rem in the

above experiment, a notion of space, even if it was implicitly present, does not seem

to influence the experiment in any way, and disregarding it would not alter the

experiment.86

That being said, let us take a step back and recapitulate what this

chapter has thought us.

We commenced by looking at Campbell’s interpretation of Berkeley. By stretching

the former’s line of reasoning somewhat, based on an interpretation by Van Cleve

(2006), we concluded that it ought to be possible to form the concept of objective

experience in a non-spatial fashion. However, if we were to go along with this line of

reasoning, we had to become adherents to Campbell’s relational view of experience.

Wishing to limit ourselves to an investigation of the conceptual framework of

experience, we did not pursue this track. Instead, we returned to the arguments that

Evans presented regarding the possibility of achieving the notion of objectivity,

contra Campbell, as reviewed in section 2.2. We noted, however, based on our review

of the use of thought experiments in section 3.3, that the analysis by Evans, although

it is interesting for its own sake, does not teach us anything about the conceptual

framework in which human beings have experience. Thus, we returned to our being

Rem once more.

Trying to put Rem in an, as much as possible, real-life situation, we saw that it

was possible for her to obtain the concept of objective experience in a non-spatial

fashion. This surely tells us something about the conceptual framework in which

experience functions in our world. What exactly this tells us is the subject matter of

the next chapter. We there review some of the methodology we have applied

throughout our writings, before being able to come to a closure with respect to the

status of the Kantian Thesis. We conclude the next and last chapter by taking what we

have learnt about the nature of experience and the status of the Kantian Thesis as a

case study for the status of philosophy on the whole.

86

We will go into the use of experiments involving beings with cognitive ailments in more depth in

section 5.1.


Chapter 5 – Kantian Thesis, Science, and Philosophy

We have finally collected enough materials to review the Kantian Thesis itself. Based

on Strawson’s and Evans’ defences of the Kantian Thesis and our review of their

argumentation in the first four chapters will we be able to come to a conclusion on

this matter. Before being able to do so, there are four issues we need to tackle. These

regard methodological issues and argumentative principles that have been applied

throughout our writings. To conclude this chapter but also our study as a whole we

return to Kant’s initial aim of investigating the possibility of metaphysics. Taking the

review of the Kantian Thesis as a case study, we rephrase this matter as the 21st-

century problem of the possibility of philosophy as a scientific discipline.

5.1 - The Kantian Thesis

The most important argument made in the third chapter is that it is possible to form

the concept of existence unperceived in a non-spatial manner. The most important

finding from the previous chapter is that it is possible to gain the notion of objective

experience in a non-spatial fashion as well.

Clearly, these findings stand in sharp contrast with the defence of the Kantian

Thesis as mounted by Strawson (1959) and Evans (1980). The Kantian Thesis, which,

as reviewed in section 2.1, Evans explicitly and Strawson implicitly regarded as the

thesis that ‘space is a necessary condition for objective experience’ (Evans 1980, p.

77), seems severely weakened by this thesis’ findings. However, before jumping to

that conclusion there are three issues that need reviewing:

1. What can an experiment basing itself on the notion of a cognitive ailment

teach us about the workings of a cognitive function?

2. Are we not putting too much emphasis on Kant’s principle of significance?

3. Can we empirically say something about the bounds of sense, or about a

limiting framework of experience?

Furthermore, it is worthwhile to review a final issue. Although it is an interpretive

question regarding Kant’s potential view on our investigation, looking at the

following issue allows us to deal with some methodological matters.

4. Would Kant accept the line of reasoning as employed thus far?

Let us review these issues one by one.

Cognitive Ailments and Thought Experiments

Based on work by Van Cleve (2006), we have argued in section 2.3 for the conclusion

that we ought to regard the type of thought experiment as applied in a threefold

manner in the above as normative.87

This means that knowledge gained by the

87

That is Strawson’s auditory universe involving a master-sound, Evans’ Bennettian travel-based

auditory universe and our own case study involving being Rem.

Kantian Thesis, Science, and Philosophy - 73

experiment shows how a being, put in imaginary circumstances, should behave, what

kind of concepts should be acquired, what knowledge should be gained, etc. In the

fourth chapter, we linked Van Cleve’s interpretation of the thought experiments to the

auditory worlds as put forth by Strawson and Evans. Moreover, we reviewed, based

on Wilkes (1988), the value of thought experiments in argumentative discourse and

what they could teach us.

On the whole, we have argued that, although Strawson’s and Evans’ auditory

worlds may be of interest, they do not supply us with knowledge of how concepts are

related in, or how the concepts investigated in an auditory world are related to, our

world. The reason for this is that the make-up of the auditory worlds is too different

from ours to be able to simply carry over the results obtained in these worlds. On the

basis of auditory world thought experiments, we could do descriptive metaphysics of

an auditory world or comparative metaphysics regarding the conceptual framework in

which we think about an auditory versus our own world. However, since the setting of

Hero is purely imaginary, i.e. it is a pure thought experiment, we cannot use the

knowledge gained in his auditory world to do descriptive metaphysics of our own

universe. If we would want to do so, we need at the very least a solid argument why it

would be warranted to transfer any auditory world knowledge to the everyday world.

In this respect, the thought experiment involving Rem is different. Using

Wilkes’ terminology once more, based on work by Brown (1986), the thought

experiment involving Rem can be characterised as ‘merely a thought experiment’

(Wilkes 1988, p. 3). This implies that the experiment we proposed as a thought

experiment could, at least in principle, be carried out. Namely, the being Rem is

positioned in our world; only some of the cognitive capabilities she has have been

altered with respect to what we may regard as a ‘normal’ human being. In essence, the

only stress we have put on Rem is that she is suffering from Balint’s Syndrome; she

may be regarded as having all the other modalities in place.88

As Balint’s Syndrome is

something from which actual individuals are suffering, the circumstances we put Rem

in could be put to the test. To a certain extent, this has been done, see, for instance

Robertson et al. (1997).

One might argue, however, even while conceding that our experiments with

Rem are not pure thought experiments, that our approach involving Rem is not

appropriate to investigate the nature of experience, or the bounds of sense. One could

question why a being that has limited sensory capacities is able to teach us something

abut the manner in which experience functions. To a certain extent, this seems a valid

worry about our approach. However, if one, speaking with Kant, is to investigate the

limits of sensory experience, one has to try to travel up to the boundaries of sense, and

potentially to try and go beyond them. Only in this manner is it possible to discuss the

limits of our experiential capacities fruitfully. Both Strawson and Evans agree with

this.

Now, especially if one is investigating a specific claim, for instance that

objective experience is only possible in a spatial setting, one has to deal with the fact

that the experience humans have in everyday life is generally regarded as essentially

spatial. This implies that the everyday setting is biased with respect to the

investigation of the question whether or not it is a necessary feature of any concept of

experience that it involves spatiality, or whether this is merely contingently so. Thus,

88

Thus far, we have not involved the tactile sense, nor smell or taste. However, the nature of the

experiments we let Rem partake in are not dependent on the potential involvement of the three

abovementioned modalities. This we also touched upon while introducing Rem, see section 3.2.


common-day experience cannot automatically be regarded as evidence for the claim

that objective experience necessarily involves the concept of space.

There are a couple of ways in which one can try to avoid or minimise the

aforementioned bias. Placing a being in a purely imaginary world, as we have argued,

does not do the trick. It might be that the only manner to have objective experience in

that imaginary world is in a spatial manner, without that being the case in our world

as well. Accordingly and in line with what we argued in section 3.3, the most

appropriate setting to review whether or not a being can have experience in a non-

spatial fashion is one involving as much as possible the conceptual framework in

which we think about our own world. However, as we just saw, the perfectly normal,

everyday setting is not the best option either as this is biased.

Now, a viable alternative incorporating the best of both approaches would be

to use our world without the everyday, common sensical spatial experience that

normal beings have, since this may impair our investigation of whether or not the

spatial setting is necessary or contingent. Since the non-spatial type of experience89

is

very limited in our world, we invoked a being with Balint’s Syndrome. It must be

noted that although the circumstances in which we placed our Rem are imaginary, the

ailment itself is very real and many of the claims that have been put forward in the

above could, or have been, verified empirically (cf. Gillen & Dutton 2003; Phan et al.

2004; Robertson 1997, 2004, etc.). Note that this approach seems to overcome both

problems we described in the last paragraphs.

Now, the ailment, Balint’s Syndrome, cannot just be regarded as a conceptual

tool used to investigate the nature of experience, something which the auditory

universe can arguably be said to be. In modern-day neuroscience, patients with

cognitive ailments are one of the most important keys to understanding how our brain

functions. What a patient can and cannot do after having suffered from some

cognitive impairment supplies us with an insight in the functioning of the brain that

can hardly be obtained from mere observation of healthy individuals.

As such, the fact that the patient R.M. suffered from Balint’s Syndrome can be

regarded as a personal disaster. However, R.M. has been a rich source of information

for scientific understanding of the nature of spatial thinking, since, as Robertson so

aptly put it: for R.M., there was simply ‘no there there’ (2004, p. 6). Accordingly,

R.M. was not simply transferred into a mere conceptual tool that we coined Rem.

Instead, much more useful, R.M.’s actual experiences in everyday life were the

experiences we could supply Rem with, in order to investigate the manner in which

beings in our world, in our conceptual framework, have experiences. Balint’s

Syndrome, accordingly, did not limit the experience that Rem could have, but simply

excluded the common sensical spatial experience that could, potentially, cloud our

judgment of the subject matter at hand, i.e. the review of the Kantian Thesis.

The only drawback that we can conceive of for taking Rem as a case study is,

first and foremost, that we have not been able to empirically verify all the conclusions

that we based on her in the above. However, by submitting our study and its results in

the above manner they are open to any attempt to falsify them. In fact, something that

is ‘merely a thought experiment’ now, may become an empirical study later.

Another problem that may be identified with our investigation is that R.M., on

whom Rem is based, started to suffer from Balint’s Syndrome later in life. As such,

he may have formed concepts while still being healthy that interfered with his

89

Or at least experience that appears thus, for exactly the question that we are interested in is whether

or not this experience indeed functions non-spatially or only appears to do so.


functioning later in life. This may, in a positive or negative fashion, have impeded our

transfer of these experiences to Rem. To rule out these influences, one has to study a

being that has suffered from Balint’s Syndrome from birth onwards. Unfortunately for

science, however, such an individual has not been identified or at least not been

studied as thoroughly as R.M. has. However, we believe, but can admittedly not

conclusively prove, that the conclusions drawn from the above analysis of R.M.’s /

Rem’s functioning under certain, specific circumstances are not invalidated by this. In

line with what we will argue in section 5.3, however, only time and future research

will show whether our trust in this approach has been warranted.

The Principle of Significance

According to Kant, ‘all concepts, and with them all principles, even such as are

possible a priori, relate to empirical intuitions, that is, to the data for a possible

experience. Apart from this relation they have no objective validity’ (A239 / B298).

This principle, which we already touched upon in section 3.1, is what later came to be

called ‘the principle of significance’ (Strawson 1966, p. 16). Using this principle,

which is expressed in a variety of manners throughout the Critique of Pure Reason

(cf. idem, p. 16, n. 1), Kant rejects all forms of transcendent philosophy, including

transcendent metaphysics, as we touched upon above.90

Still, as we saw in section 1.2,

Kant argues that there is room for a kind of scientific metaphysics, dealing with the

conceptual framework in which experience plays its role.

In the above, we explicitly touched upon the principle of significance when

establishing what Strawson took to be the Kantian Thesis in section 2.1. However, it

has in fact been implicit throughout all of our writings. As such, it has been no

problem to be sympathetic towards this principle that is of primary importance for

Kant as well. However, one should warrant against reading too much in it on

contemporary grounds, as Kant’s use or interpretation of it may implicitly have been

more limited than ours. As such, let us enquire what Kant’s phrase ‘relate to empirical

intuitions’ (A239 / B298) means.

Strawson, in his The Bounds of Sense, was concerned with the same question

(1966, pp. 15ff). He argued that the principle was, by Kant, initially only meant to

draw a negative conclusion. To wit, Kant applied the principle to repudiate entire

areas of philosophy, the transcendent, in which he claimed philosophers to be

providing information about reality in itself, as opposed to limiting themselves to how

it appears to us based on the use of our senses and our cognitive capabilities (idem,

pp. 16-7). According to Kant, this kind of information or theories can be nothing but

speculation.

However, the principle of significance could also be put to positive use. In

fact, by repudiating transcendent philosophy, it has become possible to establish a

boundary between what is purely speculation or transcendent metaphysics, and that of

which it is possible to have empirical experience. Separating the two from one

another is a ‘limiting framework of ideas and principles the use of which are essential

to empirical knowledge, and which are implicit in any coherent conception of

experience which we can form’ (idem, p. 18). The principle of significance itself

90

In Kant’s terminology, transcendent philosophy or metaphysics is different from transcendental

philosophy or metaphysics, and the two ought not to be confused. We will come back to this issue

below, under the heading „Argumentative Remarks‟.


establishes that framework: the concepts or principles that relate to empirical

conditions belong to it; everything that does not live up to this criterion may be

disregarded.

The Kantian Thesis in the form that we have discussed it thus far, that space is

a necessary condition for us in order to have objective experience, forms for Kant a

part of this overall framework of experience. It is, in fact, one of its primary

constituents. Accordingly, it is subject to the principle of significance, thus to the

condition that it ought to ‘relate to empirical conditions’ (A239 / B298).

Now, let us try to flesh out what this means. The relevant empirical condition

for the statement that space is a necessary condition for objective experience is that it

is impossible to have something like objective experience of something, without it, in

some way, being spatial. If one has experience of an objective particular in a spatial

manner, but it is impossible to become aware of that, then the proposition can be

disregarded as not living up to the principle of significance, as there is no empirical

import. Thus, it must at least be empirically verifiable that every objective particular

that is being perceived is being perceived in a spatial fashion. In other words, it must

be possible to distinguish, at the very least purely theoretically, between experiences

that are had in a spatial fashion and experiences that are had in a non-spatial fashion.

Note that this does not imply that it must be possible for a being to have

objective experience in both a spatial and in a non-spatial manner. In fact, that would

be begging the question against the Kantian Thesis. Instead, the claim is that there

must be theoretical grounds on which the two can be distinguished. Moreover, in the

above it is not necessarily implied that an individual being can determine whether or

not the Kantian Thesis has empirical import in his individual case. That also became

apparent when studying Rem.

What the claim that the Kantian Thesis does live up to principle of

significance means, however, is that in an empirical investigation in which a being is

put in the right circumstances, a sufficiently well-equipped investigator should be able

to determine whether or not the principle is lived up to. That this is very complicated

to do in everyday life and that we had to invoke a being with a cognitive ailment to do

so, hints at the fact that the investigation that we are pursuing in a Kantian spirit is

one involving the very limits of experience itself. The fact that the manner in which

we perceive is through experience makes the investigation of the limits of experience,

which involves trying to experience these limits, a very subtle practice. However,

exactly the subtleness of the investigation underscores the importance of the principle

of significance, since, as Kant readily acknowledged, it distinguishes a valuable

investigation in the transcendental from mere speculation about matters transcendent.

By invoking the principle of significance as argued for in the above, this can be

prevented.

Accordingly, if we now return to the question which we set out to answer in

this section, the principle of significance as interpreted in the manner as we have done

throughout our writings has allowed us to keep our investigation meaningful and far

from transcendent speculations. Moreover, we have limited ourselves to an

interpretation of the principle of significance that seems warranted when looking at

Kant’s formulation of the applicability of the principle of significance to a priori

propositions, as quoted at the beginning of this sub-section (A 239 / B298).


The Bounds of Sense

As we saw in section 1.2, Kant regarded the Kantian Thesis as a synthetic a priori

proposition. As we argued previously, however, ‘Kant really had no clear and general

conception of the synthetic a priori at all’ (Strawson 1966, p. 43). Nevertheless, how

Kant exactly envisioned the category of synthetic a priori propositions is less

important for our purposes than the fact that Kant explicitly stated that ‘even such

[judgments] as are possible a priori’ fall under the reign of the principle of

significance (B195). This may be exemplified by Kant’s own primary example of a

synthetic a priori proposition: ‘all bodies are extended’ (A7/B11). To this the

principle of significance is clearly applicable in the sense as argued for in the previous

section. Namely, the proposition that all bodies are extended ‘relates to empirical

conditions’ (B195): it says something about the way we perceive our world. Namely,

if Kant’s statement about all bodies were different, i.e. if all bodies are not necessarily

extended, then the world would be experienced differently, at least to a certain extent.

Accordingly, the same must hold for Kant’s synthetic a priori claim that space

is the manner in which we perceive, or, in his terminology, that space is the outer

sense. This implies that we, based on the interpretation of the principle of significance

as given above, should be able to distinguish between experience that does and does

not live up to the claim that all experience, or that everything that is perceived, is

perceived in a spatial fashion.

Now, if it is possible to investigate the framework of experience by means of

experience, then it is possible that insights more modern than Kant’s yield a

framework that differs slightly or considerably from the one proposed by Kant. To

wit, as Kant already pointed out, many philosophers have constructed transcendent

frameworks about the nature of reality that lacked all empirical import, but that were

accordingly non-refutable either. However, the sole fact that Kant insists on the

principle of significance implies that potentially new manners in which we can

empirically investigate the framework in which experience functions may give us

more knowledge about the latter framework. In the next sub-section we will review

Kant’s transcendental approach to this matter; however, an empirical investigation

such as the way involving Rem is a viable option to investigate the bounds of sense as

well, even if the Kantian Thesis can be, with Kant, regarded as a synthetic a priori

matter.

Now, let us get back to the question we started this section off with, number

(3). Yes, it is in fact possible to make claims about the nature of experience, or the

bounds of sense, in a manner that makes these claims live up to empirical scrutiny,

even if these are matters that we ought to interpret as synthetic a priori. Kant already

demanded this by his insistence on the principle of significance, as we saw in the

above.

If, with respect to the kind of experience that is possible or impossible or the

manner in which it is gained, some theory or framework is constructed, such as

Kant’s, then a deeper or better knowledge of how our brain deals with experience can

potentially replace this framework with a structure that deals with or describes the

nature of experience in an even better fashion. This may include the concepts

involved in the framework of experience, especially since these are also required to

live up to the principle of significance. A better understanding of how humans have

objective experience in real life, which can be approached as an empirical question,

can shed more light on how the concepts involved in experience interact, or how they

are to be understood. Accordingly, it is quite possible to review the bounds of sense


empirically. Let us now review what additional gains a transcendental approach to the

matter might have, if any.

Argumentative Remarks

There is one final matter we need to address before being able to finally come to some

conclusion with respect to the Kantian Thesis in particular in the next section. Let us

approach this via an issue that we have touched upon already a number of times in the

above. Time has come to make it explicit.

Kant makes the distinction between transcendent and transcendental

knowledge. Transcendent, for Kant, is ‘all affected knowledge that is aimed at

trespassing the bounds of human experience’.91

Examples of transcendent knowledge

are knowledge of God, heaven, or the soul. As we saw previously, Kant regards all

transcendent knowledge as mere speculation and he tries to ban it from philosophy.

Transcendental, on the other hand, needs to be firmly distinguished from

transcendent. To wit, transcendental knowledge regards ‘a priori knowledge, i.e.

knowledge that is independent of all experience’.92

However, contra transcendent,

transcendental knowledge is interested in the possibility of a priori knowledge of

objects, not in the objects themselves. As Kant puts it, transcendental knowledge ‘is

occupied not so much with objects but rather with the mode of cognition of objects

insofar that is to be possible a priori’ (A11-12 / B25).93

As such, Kant’s investigation

of the framework of experience is transcendental, as Kant is interested in the

necessary, a priori, features of experience and the concepts involved therein.

To argue in favour of the Kantian Thesis, which, as part of Kant’s

transcendental metaphysics, deals with the transcendental realm, we saw in section

1.2 that Kant offered two transcendental reflections. In the first, he tried to derive the

concept of a triangle from the concept of a straight line and the number three. In the

second, he tried to derive the idea that two lines cannot fully enclose something from

the concept of a straight line, and the number two only. The argument or reflection

was that the required conclusion cannot be drawn just from the concept of a number

and a straight line. Instead, something else is required, and this is the concept of

space.

This type of argument is obviously very different from the type of argument

that has been presented so far by us. What we have offered is an argument based on

relevant parts of modern neuroscience and the physical workings of sound. In fact,

our case study involving Rem can be regarded as one elaborate argument of this

nature. The kind of argument, however, is of the type that Kant would regard as

empirical, which he deemed fit for the empirical realm only. The transcendental

realm, on the other hand, he regards as being accesible by transcendental reflections

only.

91

Duintjer 1966, p. 90: ‘Transcendent noemt Kant alle voorgewende kennis die er op uit is de grenzen

van de menselijke ervaring te overschrijden’. 92

Duintjer 1966, p. 84: Transcendentale kennis is ‘apriorische kennis, d.w.z. kennis die onafhankelijk

van alle ervaring gefundeerd is in de reine Vernuft‟. 93

Clearly, the short introduction in the above is not sufficient to completely elaborate on the details of

what Kant regards as transcendental, and how he differs from other authors on this topic. For our

purposes, this introduction suffices however. For more information on Kant and the transcendental,

see, for instance, Duintjer 1966, chapter III.


However, in the above we have shown that the principle of significance makes

sense only if arguments can be brought to bear in favour of or against concepts on

which the principle is of relevance. Moreover, Kant only wishes to deal with concepts

that live up to it. For the empirical realm, and everything transcendent, the issue is

clear: in the former, the principle of significance applies, and in the latter it does not,

as transcendent knowledge is nothing more than an illusion of reality answering to

metaphysical ideas (Strawson 1966, p. 17).

Transcendental metaphysics, however, is an entirely different subject matter

for Kant. It deals with gaining transcendental knowledge, ‘which is occupied not so

much with objects as with our mode of cognition of objects’ (A11-12 / B25).

However, even our mode of cognition, or a theory outlining the manner in which we

experience, is, much in line with what we argued in the previous chapter, ultimately

up to the test. That is, at least if it is required to live up to the principle of

significance. Accordingly, we find ourselves in the situation that we either require

transcendental knowledge not to live up to the principle of significance. This would

make it fall in the realm of the transcendent and, as such, yield knowledge that is only

delusional. Alternatively, and this is what Kant is aiming at, transcendental

knowledge is subject to the principle of significance as well. However, this would

mean that the subject matter of transcendental knowledge is something that must have

empirical import. In other words, and in line with what we argued in the above,

concepts or propositions relating to the manner in which we experience, such as the

Kantian Thesis, have empirical import in the sense that it must be possible to either

show them right or wrong. This certainly makes the transcendental realm closer to the

empirical than to the transcendent one.

In fact, the difference between empirical knowledge and transcendental

knowledge seems to become increasingly small. Between the two, only the subject

matter, the empirical realm versus the transcendental realm, still seems to differ, as

the former deals with that what we have experience of, and the latter with how that

happens. However, as we have shown previously with respect to the structure of both

realms, empirical arguments can be brought to bear on the bounds of sense. The

functioning of experience, or of how we perceive, is something that can be

investigated in an empirical manner, or to which at least empirical arguments may be

applied.94

Thus, apart from the subject matter of the transcendental versus the

empirical, there is not much difference between the two realms. This especially holds

with respect to the type of arguments that can be proposed for either one. That is,

clearly, if we require that they live up to the principle of significance as interpreted in

the foregoing, at least. And this is something that we already showed Kant to insist on

time and again.

Accordingly, the transcendental arguments as put forth by Kant are still of

interest. However, they have to allow more empirical arguments in their traditional

domain as well. And these latter types of arguments seem at the very least to become

increasingly numerous and convincing in light of the science pursued in our era. This

can be made apparent already by comparing the two transcendental reflections that

Kant offered in favour of the Kantian thesis, see section 1.2, compared to the

numerous empirical arguments that we have offered on related matters throughout our

writings. This is not meant in any way to downplay the genius of Kant. However, it

must be borne in mind that at the time Kant was writing his first Critique, the late 18th

94

Note that we are not saying anything here about the status or nature of transcendental arguments, the

only point that is made is that for consistency’s sake empirical arguments must be allowed as well.


century, the scientific world, especially when it comes to the functioning of the brain,

was nowhere near as advanced as it nowadays is.

Let us return to the question we set out to answer in this section, number (4) of

the above list. We note the line of reasoning that we have pursued throughout our

writings is different from the one as put forth by Kant. However, the transcendental

realm, especially when regarded as dealing with how human beings perceive, has by

modern science also slowly, but consistently moved into the empirical realm. This

conclusion is in line with what we will argue about the relation between philosophy

and science in section 5.3. Now seeing that Kant referred to his metaphysical project

in the Critique of Pure Reason by the term ‘scientific metaphysics’ and that he

insisted on the principle of significance, let us make use of the arguments that in this

light seem most applicable. Let us continue by reviewing the Kantian Thesis on these

grounds.

5.2 - Descriptive Metaphysics

What does all this teach us about the project of descriptive metaphysics that Kant

embarked upon well over two centuries ago, and that is still of philosophical

importance nowadays?

First, we have seen that the defence of the Kantian Thesis that Strawson

mounted and Evans strengthened could not be upheld. With respect to this, we have,

first of all, shown that the arguments both philosophers presented in favour of the

thesis that in order to have objective experience space is a necessary requirement, can

be countered. Secondly, we have shown that the type of argument they presented, a

thought experiment involving an auditory world, does not necessarily yield

knowledge that is also applicable in our world. As such, even if their conclusion had

not been countered, we would not have gained knowledge about our universe without

further ado.

Next, we have shown that it is possible to reidentify particulars and to form

the notion of existence unperceived in a non-spatial fashion. As both Evans and

Strawson claimed that these notions were sufficient requirements to make sense of the

notion of the experience of objective particulars, we have shown that one can have

experience of objective particulars in our universe in a non-spatial fashion. Thirdly

and intimately related to his, we have shown that it is possible to form the notion of

objectivity, thus of mind-independentness in the manner in which we defined

objectivity, in a non-spatial fashion.

Taking these last two points together, we have shown that on empirical or

scientific grounds the Kantian Thesis cannot be upheld. We concede that most of our

experience takes place in a spatial fashion, but as it is possible to have objective

experience in a non-spatial fashion the thesis that objective experience necessarily

takes place in a spatial manner has been refuted.

The grounds on which we made these arguments are, arguably, different from

the type of argument that Kant proposed to defend his thesis. However, we have

shown that the type of project that Kant embarked upon, i.e. establishing the

boundaries of sensory experience, is a project that in his time may well have been

perceived as philosophical. However, bearing in mind the advance of science and the

increased understanding of the nature of perception, the investigation of the

boundaries of experience has become something, if not entirely explainable yet by

science, that has to operate within certain empirical, scientific boundaries. In


establishing these boundaries in a scientific manner we have shown that the Kantian

Thesis as it was proposed well over two centuries ago can no longer be upheld.

This brings us, however, also to a different matter. The enterprise that Kant embarked

upon was a transcendental undertaking that was fleshed out as an investigation into

the necessary framework of experience that has, due the increase in scientific research

and methodology, been drawn into the scientific realm. The study of how experience

functions, what can be experienced, what cannot and why not, etc., has become the

subject matter of a scientific field called ‘neuroscience’.

Kant claimed that in order to establish the boundaries of sense one needs to

look at both sides of these boundaries. However, he also argued that the non-empirical

side of the border only revealed illusory knowledge. Accordingly, approaching the

border from only one side is the best that can reasonably be done. And this is exactly

the approach that modern science is taking. The frontiers of understanding are pushed

ever further. Balint’s Syndrome, which we took as an important case study in our

research was something that was not at all well understood when it was first

discovered, almost a century ago. Publications in the past decades have given us a

better understanding of this cognitive impairment, and some insight in the detailed

physiological side of the ailment. Without doubt, a couple of decades ahead we will

have a much fuller theory linking both aspects of the disease even better together.

With time, we might actually be able to fully explain and potentially cure Balint’s

Syndrome.

The nature of experience is in that sense no different. We already understand

the functioning of, for instance, the auditory sense increasingly better. As we saw in

appendix A, fifty years ago, a Nobel Prize was awarded to a physician who was able

to explain the mechanical analysis that the inner ear performed. Nowadays, we have a

thorough understanding of the physiological and sub-cortical analyses of sound

stimuli, and we are coming to grips with the cortical regions. This type of

investigation pushes our knowledge of the bounds of sense considerably further.

When we have a full understanding of our human faculties, Kant’s philosophical

distinction between sensibility and understanding might be replaced by a distinction,

if that is applicable, that reflects the exact physiological and cognitive aspects of the

human senses.

The project that Kant undertook, scientific metaphysics interpreted as wishing

to explain the boundaries of experience, has in this light become a project that would

nowadays, albeit in a much more specialised and fragmented fashion, be carried out in

laboratories as opposed to in an armchair. This is not meant to diminish the

importance of what Kant has done. The Critique of Pure Reason has pointed us

towards areas of investigation and has proposed solutions to problems of which many

were not even aware that they existed. However, the branch of logic has already made

way for mathematics; philosophy of language has become intertwined with linguistics

and philosophy of mind and neuroscience also cannot be viewed as seperate anymore.

In similar vein, Kant’s scientific metaphysics is a subject matter on which, more and

more, modern physics, biology and neuroscience will start to shed their lights.

Accordingly, the overall meta-problem of Kant’s first Critique, which we in

section 1.2 established as reviewing the possibility of metaphysics, seems of renewed

importance nowadays. In fact, we might even take a step further and wonder about the

possibility of philosophy, or the status of this as a scientific discipline, on the whole.

In true Kantian spirit, let us take the case of the investigation into the bounds of sense

to review this matter in the next, and final section.


5.3 - The Next Problem

Many philosophers have argued that philosophy of mind ought to be independent of

neurological inquiries. One of the most prominent defenders of this point of view is

the Austrian philosopher Ludwig Wittgenstein.

Wittgenstein had a number of reasons to argue in favour of the independence

of philosophy of mind from neurology (Pears 1988, p. 510). His most important

reason was that he deemed both disciplines to be answering entirely different

questions. For example, Wittgenstein claimed that a philosopher might answer to the

inquiry why an individual behaved in a certain manner by saying that ‘he did so,

because he was in love’. A neurologist, on the other hand, might argue that ‘he did so,

because neurons so-and-so fired’. Clearly, Wittgenstein argues, both answers are

making an entirely different point. What concerns him, however, is not necessarily

that both answers are addressing a different point, since it is evidently possible to

approach or explain the situation from different angles. What concerns him is that

many people fail to appreciate the difference between the two. Or, ‘their tendency to

treat them as the same without realizing that they are doing so’ is what is most

worrying (idem, p. 512).

The crux, according to Wittgenstein, is that people often suppose that

neurological and psychological descriptions of a mental phenomenon ought to have

the same structure. When a neurologist describes mental states or processes on the

basis of neural firing, he might go on to describe this in terms of the properties these

neurons have. But there his description necessarily stops. Philosophically, on the

other hand, a mental state or process can be described in psychological terms – but

there the story also stops.

However, as we now have two descriptions that both terminate at some point,

might we not try to correlate both and see whether or not their termini are related in

such a manner that the neural structure underlying the first description can be made

congruent with the structure underlying the philosophical one? Now, following

Wittgenstein, having found this symmetry between mental and brain states, people try

to look for a necessary connection between the two. However, Wittgenstein argues,

there need not be any structural relation between the two. Moreover, looking into this

matter would not even be interesting from a philosophical point of view: ‘we transfer

the ghost … of explanation from mind to brain’ (idem, p. 513).

Now, Pears acknowledges that this line of reasoning by Wittgenstein ‘leaves

many people dissatisfied’ (idem). He gives a couple of reasons for why this might be

so. Three of these reasons Pears blames on the fact that the real aims of

Wittgenstein’s philosophy are not well understood. However, the fourth and final

reason Pears can conceive of for individuals to be dissatisfied with the line of

reasoning as outlined in the above is that ‘[w]e may doubt whether [Wittgenstein] can

really succeed in maintaining the purity of the subject as he conceives it’ (idem).

The subject, in this case, is philosophy, and the purity Pears refers to relates to

the fact that Wittgenstein applied a relatively limited perspective of philosophy

throughout his writings. Although how Wittgenstein ought to be interpreted is still

debated among contemporary philosophers, Wittgenstein says the following on the

subject manner in one of his two major works, the 1921 Tractatus Logico-

Philosophicus:

Philosophy is not one of the natural sciences.

Philosophy aims at the logical clarification of thoughts.


Philosophy is not a body of doctrine but an activity.

Philosophy does not result in ‘philosophical propositions’, but rather in the

clarification of propositions.

Without philosophy, thoughts are, as it were, cloudy and indistinct: its task is

to make them clear and give them sharp boundaries.95

In his second major work, the Philosophical Investigations, Wittgenstein is more

explicit:

It was true to say that our considerations could not be scientific ones. It was

not of any possible interest to us to find out empirically ‘that contrary to our

preconceived ideas, it is possible to think such-and-such’ – whatever that may

mean. … And we may not advance any kind of theory. There must not be

anything hypothetic in our considerations. We must do away with all

explanation, and description alone must take its place.96

Based on this approach to philosophy, Wittgenstein’s strict distinction between

philosophy of mind and neurology, and even the rejection of the latter, is put in a

much clearer perspective. First of all, Wittgenstein argues that the respective aims of

philosophy and the natural sciences, of which neuroscience forms a part, are vastly

different. Secondly, Wittgenstein claims that in philosophy mere description, as

opposed to explanation, is at stake. Anyone who is trying to explain is going beyond

the borders of the discipline.

However, with Pears, we may wonder whether the strict delineation of the

discipline of philosophy as Wittgenstein perceives of it is attainable. Let us take the

arguments we have presented for our review of the Kantian Thesis as a case study for

this matter. It will allow us to say something about the status of philosophy among

other scientific disciplines.

First, then, we must note that the enterprise that Kant embarked on, his descriptive

metaphysics, has to be regarded as a philosophical one. However, Kant’s philosophy

clearly did not live up to the constraints as put on philosophy by Wittgenstein. In the

Kantian philosophy, indeed, ‘description took its place’, to use the Wittgensteinian

phrase once more. However, based on descriptions or observations, combined with

reason, Kant tried to build a theory; namely a coherent and necessary framework of

experience, which may definitely be regarded as being of an explanatory nature.

This approach may remind us of the approach one of the greatest scientists of

all time, Charles Darwin, took. What Darwin did, especially in coming to grips with

the theory of natural selection, was collecting a host of materials over period up to

twenty years. Most of these materials were – as we would nowadays conceive of them

95

§4.111-2. The Tractatus is Wittgenstein’s only work that was published during his lifetime: the

original version was published in 1921; the English translation in 1922. All other works were published

posthumously. 96

Part I, §109. It is interesting to see that a number of Wittgenstein’s commentators have claimed that

if you really get down to the core of Wittgenstein’s work he does not live up to his own criteria of what

philosophy should be like. This is something that Wittgenstein acknowledges himself in the Tractatus

as well: ‘My propositions are elucidatory in this way: he who understands me finally recognizes them

as senseless’ (§6.54). As such, his work, and especially the Tractatus, may be regarded as an ironic

work in philosophy. Needless to say, the Tractatus has been an enormously influential work in the

early twentieth century. It, ironically, served as Wittgenstein’s doctoral thesis that he was required to

submit before he could be offered the position of fellow at Trinity College, Cambridge.


– biological. However, he also collected geological, mineralogical and medicinal data

(Darwin 1959, p. VIIIff). Clearly, we must concede, with Wittgenstein, that the

purposes of all these disciplines are vastly different. Moreover, the questions they ask

and the way in which they try to answer them are different as well.

However, Darwin showed us that without combining data from different

disciplines he would never have been able to come up with his theory of natural

selection.97

Just his biological specimens would have taught him something about the

interrelation between the different species. However, only by combining this with the

geological works of Charles Lyell that Darwin had read on his voyage on the Beagle,

made him place this in a sufficiently broad perspective with respect to the

development of the earth itself. This allowed him, eventually, to deduce a theory of

natural selection that requires a time-span that was unconceivable for most of his

deeply religious contemporaries, had it not been for the advances in a vastly different

field with an entirely different purpose, geology, in this case.98

What we try to show with this example is that the mere collection of facts or

descriptions does not automatically have value. Only by putting them in some kind of

framework Darwin, and Kant, were able to make them scientifically relevant.

However, whereas Darwin’s theory of natural selection is in essence a biological

theory, it needed, among others, a modern theory of geology in the form of the

abovementioned works by Lyell to set some boundaries and to fill some conceptual

gaps (cf. Vermij 2005, pp. 210-1).

Let us assume, now, contra Wittgenstein, that a philosophical system such as

Kant’s may be conceived of. The ironic idea that Wittgenstein’s own philosophy did

not live up to his own requirements hints at the fact that it may. Then the realisation

that philosophy of mind and neurology ask different questions and, more importantly,

have different views of what an explanation should be like, should not be emphasised

as being of too much importance. In fact, as we have seen in the Darwinian example,

the discipline of geology, although internally aimed at different issues compared to

biology, did provide the framework in which the theory of natural selection could

make sense. By direct analogy, some knowledge gained in cognitive neuroscience

over the past decades may not immediately be useful to the philosophy of mind in

97

See, for instance, Stamos 2007, chapter five on this issue. 98

Interestingly, in his early life Darwin had also been interested in metaphysical issues as well. Early in

1838, Darwin started notebooks M and N, which later became known as the Metaphysics Notebooks

(Barrett 1974). In these two notebooks, Darwin jotted down his thoughts on human evolution, trying to

come to grips with the question of why mankind invokes spiritual forces to explain many phenomena

such as, but not limited to, the notion that humans have thoughts. This did not fit with his idea that

humans had come into existence as the result of evolution of lower organisms acted upon by natural

selection, i.e. by a process governed by physical laws. In dealing with this issue, Darwin read and

speculated widely on the functioning of the human brain. At one point Darwin even noted for himself

that he should ‘get a dictionary & make a list of every word expressing a mental quality etc. etc.’ (N

88, idem p. 86), probably, seen from the thoughts between which it is found in Notebook N, to come to

grips with the conceptual status of these mental qualities in the grander framework of the mind, and,

accordingly, to see if, and if so how, these concepts may have evolved. Although there is no evidence

that Darwin ever compiled such a list, the thinking shows to what an extent Darwin was involved in

figuring out if, and to what an extent, the cognitive capabilities of the homo sapiens sapiens fit into his

overall evolutionary scheme. Although it is for our interest not required to go through the detailed

arguments of Darwin’s M & N notebooks, it is interesting to see that in 1840, slightly over two years

after commencing them, Darwin closed his metaphysical notebooks. As Barrett, the historian of science

that published and transcribed all of Darwin’s notebooks, puts it: ‘he had become convinced that

spiritual forces had no role in evolution’ (idem, p. XXIII), and, thus, the human cognitive faculty ought,

according to Darwin, to be explained in his materialistic theory of evolution as well.


explaining how our mind deals with concepts related to experience. However, it

certainly constitutes a framework for some investigation, or it might rule out a

number of answers.99

For instance, the originally mostly philosophical idea that the

human mind can be conceived of as modular has been disproved by progress in the

neurosciences.100

This is exactly the manner in which we have applied the neuroscientific data

in our arguments against the Kantian Thesis. By incorporating in an originally

Kantian theory, in our case, neuroscientific findings, we have been able to constitute a

framework in which a theory dealing with experience must function. In the process,

we have been able to disprove the Kantian Thesis, as it would not fit the scientific

facts. This does not mean, however, that we do not acknowledge the essence of the

argument Wittgenstein makes against combining philosophy and natural science, as

introduced above. One must bear in mind that some of the aims of the disciplines may

be different, and that, as such, answers to questions may not generically be

transferable across disciplines. However, especially in our case study, the gains seem

higher than the losses: we have been able to review the status of the Kantian Thesis,

without, at least as far as we can judge, invalidly comparing philosophical and

neurological descriptions. Thus, provided that one keeps the pitfall Wittgenstein

pointed out and we reviewed in the above in mind, combining multiple disciplines

may be a worthwhile effort.

From this, however, there is one final step that we can take. For that, let us assume

that one accepts the reasoning in the above and that one combines this with the

realisation that increasingly more data is becoming available in most of the

sciences.101

Taking this for granted, one is drawn to the conclusion that the framework

wherein any theory, be it philosophical or not, can be constituted if the relevant

relation with neighbouring disciplines is borne in mind, becomes increasingly narrow.

The consequences of this have already been touched upon earlier in this chapter in a

number of examples. We have seen that the mathematical framework in which the

philosophical theory of logic operates has become so narrow that the difference

between philosophical logic and mathematics can hardly be made precise anymore. In

fact, we may regard logic as a sub-discipline of mathematics. The same may be

argued for philosophy of mind and neuroscience, philosophy of language and

linguistics, etc.

However, this increasing scientific base of knowledge is not something that

only affects individual philosophical disciplines. It also applies to scientific

disciplines on the whole. For instance, some hundred years ago it was quite possible

to do chemistry while having only an elementary grasp of, say, physics. Nowadays,

on the contrary, cutting-edge chemical developments are hardly possible without a

sound physical basis. The same holds for biology and chemistry, neuroscience and

biology, but also for psychology or sociology and (mathematical) statistics, etc.

Philosophy, whether we regard it as a scientific discipline or not, deals with

subject matters to which more and diverse scientific fields are related. We have

already mentioned a couple of examples, but throughout our study of the Kantian

Thesis we have seen that even on a discipline which may be regarded as quite pure

99

Note that the reverse influence is also present. See, for instance, Churchland 1986, pp. 1-12 on this

matter. 100

See, for instance, Woodward and Cowie, 2007. 101

Let us, in a true Kuhnian fashion (Kuhn 1962), not equate the increase of information with a sense

of progress, here.


and philosophical in nature, metaphysics, scientific influences can hardly be denied

anymore. As such, the next problem in philosophy might, ironically enough, be the

same problem that Kant identified in the late 17th

century for metaphysics. We refer

here to the meta-problem we started off with in chapter one: Kant’s possibility of

metaphysics, rephrased and modernised as ‘how to deal with philosophy while

science is closing in on it’. We saw that Wittgenstein’s solution was to define

philosophy in such a manner that it is immune from scientific influences. However,

we also saw that that cannot be regarded a proper solution. How to deal with

philosophy, however, and whether or not there is in fact any room left for a separate

scientific discipline called philosophy, that might be the real philosophical problem

for the 21st century.

APPENDIX – The Nature of Sound - 87

APPENDIX A - The Nature of Sound

One of the conclusions that we drew in the last chapter is that philosophy has to

operate within the bounds of relevant scientific disciplines. Instead of just arriving at

that conclusion, we have throughout this essay tried to live up to the constraints that

this puts on any, and our, philosophical work as well.

A fair share of the arguments presented in the above deal with sound.

Moreover, we tried, especially in the third and fourth chapter, to see what the

perception of sound particulars means for a framework of experience, or in more

detail, the Kantian Thesis. Doing so within the bounds of a relevant scientific theory

means that we must be aware of how sound operates in nature. Moreover, we must

know how sound stimuli are analysed and processed by the human mind.

Accordingly, in this appendix, we review the workings of the human auditory

sense in detail, after having looked into the nature of sound itself. Whereas it may

seem that some of the biological or physical details given in this appendix are too

extensive for the arguments presented in the foregoing analysis, we firmly believe that

a thorough understanding of how sound and auditory perception function is a

prerequisite for a philosophical theory that takes this as its starting point. This having

been said, the outline below may indeed be too detailed at some point, but this is at all

times to be preferred over leaving details out that alter or influence the philosophical

arguments that are drawn from or based on them considerably. This is exemplified by

our review of thought experiments in section 3.3. Based on Wilkes (1988), we argued

that any setting that does not get its background correct can only yield conclusions

that are merely fictional. Accordingly, let us proceed by reviewing the nature of sound

and the perception thereof, and thereby make the framework to which the theory

outlined in the above five chapters is confined explicit.

The Nature of Sound

The ancient Greek philosopher Pythagoras, living in the sixth century B.C., already

knew that if one plucked a string, it started to produce a sound.102

Well over two

millennia later, in 1660 A.D. to be exact, the Irish natural philosopher Robert Boyle

showed that sound needs a medium to travel (Rodenburg 1995, p. 11). He put a bell in

an air pump, rang it, and showed that the sound became fainter when the air was

pumped out of the vessel. When the vessel had been depleted of almost all air, one

could only very faintly hear the sound, showing that, apparently, the air between the

source and the observer of the sound is required for transmission.103

As becomes apparent from these two examples, movement generates sound. A

quickly resonating string, the forks of a tuning fork after having been struck by a

hammer or the vibrations of one’s vocal cords: creating sound is setting some source

in quick motion. These movements are then transferred to the surrounding medium,

generally the air, which also starts to move. The vibrations travel from the origin or

source through space in what are called sound waves. This is illustrated in figure 1. A

102

It is probable that Pythagoras obtained part of his knowledge from the Egyptians, who might, yet

again, have learnt it from even more ancient sources. Cf. Helmholtz (1877, pp. 1-2). 103

For a lucid description of Boyle’s experiments, but also for a great general overview of the way

natural scientists worked in the seventeenth century, see Shapin and Shaffer, 1986.


general way of depicting sound graphically is by drawing these sound waves. On the

horizontal axis one generally finds either the elapsed time or the position in space; on

the vertical axis the displacement of an air particle or the air pressure is shown.104

This results in a graph such as the one in figure 2, in which a sound wave of a pure

tone is depicted.

Having dealt with the basic physical characteristics of a sound, let us move on

to the more phenomenological characteristics. If one hears a number of sounds, that

is, a couple of tones, there are three manners in which they can differ. First, one tone

can be louder than another: if one strikes a tuning forks softly, an almost identical

tone is heard compared to when one strikes the tuning fork with more force. The only

difference is the loudness of the tone. Secondly, compare what is heard if one plays

the central c on a piano, compared to the c above it.105

In this case, the tones are in

principle equally loud,106

but the latter sound appears to be higher than the former, i.e.

it has a different pitch. Lastly, the third manner in which two sounds can differ from

one another is in what is called the quality of the tone. If a certain note is played on a

piano and the same note is played, with the same loudness, on a violin, the sounds

will not be exactly the same as the sounds produced by a violin are simply different

from those produced by a piano, although the pitch and loudness may be equal.

These three differences, loudness, pitch and quality, are the three ways in

which sounds can differ from one another, and, conversely, if one hears a certain tone,

it can be described in terms of these three characteristics. As such, if we wish to

provide a model of how the auditory sense deals with sound, it needs to be able to

deal with the loudness, pitch and quality of a sound. Before, however, going into the

physiology of hearing, let us look at these three characteristics slightly more in-

depth.107

Loudness

The physics of the loudness of sounds is fairly straightforward. As we already noted,

a tuning fork that is struck hard produces a louder sound compared to a tuning fork hit

gently. The former tuning fork will, as a result of the hard blow, vibrate harder,

resulting in more forceful motions. This results in air particles that resonate around

their resting points with greater amplitude. This greater amplitude, or a greater

104

Note that it does not matter for the shape of the wave whether the distance travelled by the sound

wave or the time elapsed since its onset is given on the horizontal axis. This difference is purely

conceptual, as for the shape of the overall sound wave it does not matter whether we look at one air

particle (in which case the distance travelled would be given), or at multiple particles, in which case the

elapsed time would be on the horizontal axis. The same holds for the vertical axis: from a graphical

perspective of the wave the air pressure (with respect to the normal pressure) or the deviation from a

rest point are interchangeable. 105

A tone which is exactly one octave higher than another, i.e. the two c’s in our example, is generally

denoted as c’. A c which is yet again one octave higher, and thus two octaves when compared to our

base tone, is depicted as c’’. We will follow this convention. 106

This is not necessarily true as the perception of loudness and pitch are related. When discussing

pitch below, we will qualify this remark further. 107

Unless indicated otherwise, what is to follow on the nature of loudness, pitch and quality is based on

the second, third and sixth chapter from Ladefoged’s 1996 version of Elements of Acoustic Phonetics.

Ladefoged was a world-famous linguist in the second half of the twentieth century. Apart from doing a

lot of scholarly work on linguistics and the preservation of rare languages in, notably, Africa, he

coached Rex Harrison, the lead character in the 1964 movie version of My Fair Lady, to act like a

proper phonetician.


displacement of air particles with respect to their resting position, which is depicted

by the horizontal axis in figure 2, is what we perceive as sounds being louder. Note

that greater amplitude does not automatically imply that a single wave lasts longer:

greater amplitude simply implies that an air particle (or the source, for that matter)

vibrates more forcefully. This means that it travels a greater distance in the same

amount of time. This is illustrated in figure 3, in which three sounds are depicted. All

three sounds make the same number of vibrations, or full cycles, in this figure and

thus in equal time, but their amplitudes differ.

The manner in which sound levels are measured is not quite straightforward,

since the human ear is sensitive to a wide range of sound levels. Sound (intensity)

levels are expressed in decibels (dB), named after the inventor of the phone,

Alexander Graham Bell. The system is such that a reference sound level has been

chosen, which is set at the average minimum threshold of human hearing of a sound

with a frequency of 1,000 Hertz.108

This is set to be 0 dB. From this, a logarithmic

scale is built up:109

a sound that is ten times as loud as another sound, goes up 10 dB

in intensity. This means that a sound that is twice a loud as another sound is

approximately 3 dB louder. To get a feeling for the wide range of intensities that the

human ear is sensitive to: a person that whispers produces approximately 20 dB of

sound. Busy, nearby street traffic can be as loud as 70 dB, or 50 dB louder. This

involves a sound, however, which is 105 or 100,000 times as loud as the whisper!

However, over the full range of sensitivity, the loudest sound that we can perceive

without it causing physical pain is about 1012

, or 1,000,000,000,000, or a thousand

billion times as intense as the softest sound we can still perceive.

Pitch

Let us now compare two different tuning forks; say a big one and a small one, which

are struck equally hard. It will be noted that the latter produces a sound with a higher

pitch compared to the sound produced by the bigger one. If we were to look at the

way in which the individual forks vibrated, we would note that the ends of both

tuning forks were, assuming they were hit with the same force, vibrating with equal

amplitude, i.e. they would sound equally loud. However, the small, higher-pitched

tuning fork would be vibrating more often than the larger, and lower-pitched one in

equal time. This number of vibrations per unit time is called the frequency, and it is

denoted in Hertz (Hz), after the German physicist and radio pioneer that lived in the

second half of the twentieth century, Rudolph Heinrich Hertz. In figure 4 two waves

with equal amplitude, but with a different pitch are depicted.110

Described in this manner, it seems as if pitch and loudness are unrelated, as

they each refer to distinct physical concepts, i.e. the amplitude and the frequency of a

108

The concept of Hertz will be introduced shortly, in our discussion of pitch. The reference intensity,

generally denoted by I0, is set at 10-12

W/m2, or Watt per squared meter, which refers to the energy

radiated by the sound per squared meter. For technical details, see for instance Young and Freedman

(2000, p. 653ff). 109

A logarithmic scale is one in which the distance between 1 and 10 is equal to the distance between

10 and 100, 100 and 1000, etc. It is generally used to be able to draw exponential functions as straight

lines, as the values on the logarithmic axis run as 101, 10

2, 10

3, …, 10

n. Note that the scala for loudness

is in decibels as opposed to Bells, with 1 dB = 0.1 B. 110

Note that the difference between pitch and frequency is merely conceptual. Frequency refers to the

physical number of vibrations that some sound produces per second. A higher number of vibrations is

perceived by the human ear as a higher tone, and that we refer to as a tone with a higher pitch.


sound wave. From a purely physical perspective this may be the case. However, as we

already remarked, see note 106, there is a relation between pitch and loudness.

Namely, if we take a sound with a fundamental frequency of over 1,500 Hz and we

increase its amplitude, then the sound is perceived to increase in pitch as well.

Conversely, if we take a sound below 1,500 Hz and the amplitude is increased, then

the pitch will be regarded as lower by a human perceiver. The detailed reasons for this

are not important for our study, especially since the effects are relativity small, but it

is important to note that frequency and loudness are not completely independent with

respect to human perception.

Next to the above relation, however, there is a second manner in which

frequency and amplitude are related from a human perspective. Namely, our ear is

most sensitive to sound with a frequency of around 3,500 Hz. This means that at the

latter frequency relatively soft sounds are still audible, whereas for a considerably

higher or lower frequency the threshold for perception is much higher. This is

depicted in figure 5, in which also the pain threshold is visible: sounds with sound

levels over approximately 130 dB cause physical discomfort or pain. Our discussion

in the above of the arbitrary manner in which 0 dB is defined also shows why our

sensitivity at 3,000 – 5,000 Hz drops below the 0 dB line.

Quality

The third characteristic of sound is called the quality of sound. This is, for instance,

the manner in which tones of 440 Hz and 40 dB that are played on a piano or a violin

still differ from each other, or, for that manner, on a multi-million dollar Stradivarius

violin compared to a more mundane one.

Up until now, we have only seen graphs of sound waves as pure tones, such as

the ones produced by a tuning fork. In such cases, the sounds take a neat sinusoidal or

sine shape. However, hardly any of the sounds one perceives in everyday life take the

form of pure tones. Look, for instance, at the waveforms of various vowels spoken

aloud in figure 6. We note that, in all three cases, the full cycle lasts approximately

0.01 seconds, hence we are dealing with a fundamental frequency of 100 Hz.

However, in the upper two cases we see some variation consisting of three more tops

in one full cycle, which seems to imply an additional frequency around 300 Hz. In the

latter case, the [i], there are very many additional cycles in one full cycle, implying a

frequency of roughly 2,700 Hz, as we can count approximately 27 tiny cycles within

each 0.01 second fundamental cycle.111

There are various technical details involved in describing the exact patterns of

a sound wave. Most of these are relevant for phoneticians, but are beyond the scope of

our purposes. However, there are three issues to bear in mind. First and foremost, in

the above we assume something like a fundamental frequency: the largest unit of

repetition in a certain sound-pattern. In practise, no two cycles of a sound are fully

alike, so occasionally it is very hard to establish this frequency. However, most

analyses assume that some fundamental frequency can be identified. Secondly, the

additional frequencies, or formants, that are found in a complex sounds are always

multiples of the fundamental frequencies. In the above example involving vowels we

found them to be 300 and 2,700 Hz, which are, indeed, multiples of the fundamental

111

For a detailed description of the production of vowels and their waveforms, see Ladefoged 2005,

chapter 4.


frequency of 100 Hz. Thirdly and lastly, in any complex wave there may, in principle,

be an infinite number of components adding to the total wave. However, generally

one can identify a couple of formants that, together with the fundamental frequency,

make up the majority of the intensity of the wave. Moreover, any formant with an

intensity more than 40 dB lower than that of the fundamental frequency, thus 104 or

10,000 times less intense, may be regarded as unidentifiable or masked by the more

dominant formants. In effect, thus, a fundamental frequency, a couple of formants,

and their respective amplitudes characterise most sounds.

What this shows is that sounds we perceive in everyday life are generally

combinations of what we could refer to as pure tones, i.e. sounds with a regular sound

wave of a specific frequency. Adding several of these tones together with their

respective ratios of amplitudes, however, is what gives a sound its specific quality.

The physiological function of the ear, as we will see below, is to analyse a complex

sound wave such as the one in figure 6, and to try and find its basic frequencies and

the corresponding amplitudes. Let us try and describe this process.

Hearing

The human ear can be divided in three anatomically and functionally distinct parts:

the outer ear, the middle ear and the inner ear. The outer ear consists of the visible,

shell-shaped auricle or pinna and the external auditory canal. Its function is to capture

the mechanical energy of sound waves travelling through the air and to transport them

to the middle ear (figure 7, drawing 1).112

The middle ear is a pouch of air that is connected to the pharynx by the

Eustachian tube. Viewed from the perspective of the outer ear, it commences at the

tympanum, or eardrum, which vibrates as a result of differences in air pressure due to

incoming sound waves. These vibrations are transported through the middle ear to the

inner ear by the trinity of the malleus, incus and stapes.113

The flattened end of the

stapes, called the footplate, is inserted in the oval window of the cochlea, which is a

part of the inner ear (figure 7, drawing 2).

The cochlea, named due to its snail-shell-like shape after the Greek word

cochlos, or snail, forms together with the semicircular canals and the vestibule the

inner ear. These last two parts constitute men’s balance organ. The cochlea is

involved in auditory frequency analysis. It consists of three tubes that make almost

three coils of an increasingly smaller diameter (figure 7, drawing 3). These are filled

with a fluid called endolymph. The fluid in the uppermost tube, called the scala

vestibuli, is connected to the stapes’ footprint through the oval window. The

uppermost, relatively large tube is separated from the considerably smaller middle

tube, aptly named the scala media, by the tectorial membrane. The lowest tube, which

112

All the anatomical and functional details of the auditory sensory organ and taken from Kandel et al.

(2000), unless indicated otherwise. 113

More commonly, these are referred to as the hammer, anvil and stirrup. The latter two are nowadays

argued to be relics from the past, since their ancestors seem to have been parts of ancient reptile jaws.

However, Helmholtz (1877, pp. 134-5) seems to imply that the anatomy involving the three levers is

part of the ear’s solution to the problem of transforming ‘a motion of great amplitude and little force,

such as impinges on the [eardrum], into a motion of small amplitude and great force, such as had to be

communicated to the fluid in the [cochlea]’. True as this may be, from a Darwinian perspective the

system with three levers is, indeed, likely a relic inherent in the system of natural selection.

Collectively, the malleus, incus and stapes may be referred to as (the) ossicles.


is yet again large, is called the scala tympani. In between the scala media and scala

tympani the Organ of Corti is located, the organ that contains the approximately

16,000 hair cells114

that convert the mechanical energy of the sound waves into neural

activity (figure 7, drawing 4).115

At the apex of the cochlear coil, called the

helicotrema, the scala vestibuli and the scala tympani are connected. In essence, thus,

one could regard both large tubes collectively as a single, folded one, with a smaller

one, the scala media, in between. Thin membranes and the Organ of Corti separate

them from one another.

The Functional Anatomy of the Cochlea

When a sound wave hits the tympanum, it starts to vibrate and the vibrations are

transferred to the malleus, incus and stapes. As we have seen, the stapes’ footplate is

inserted in the oval window, and as such it is in direct contact with the endolymph in

the scala vestibuli. Thus, an incoming sound wave is transferred from the stapes to the

endolymph and it travels down the scala vestibuli to the helicotrema. From there, it

travels back on the other side of the tectorial membrane – Corti’s Organ – basilar

membrane complex via the scala tympani (figure 8).

The key to understanding how this travelling wave, or a variety thereof, is

translated into neural signals is in understanding that the basilar membrane has non-

uniform characteristics. It increases in width as the diameter of the cochlear coils

decreases. The closer it comes to the helicotrema, the thinner it becomes. As such, the

basilar membrane does not just function as a string vibrating along with the vibrations

in the endolymph that are induced by the stapes. In fact, it makes a complex

movement in which each part of the membrane reacts differently to incoming stimuli.

The net result is that of a travelling wave, which reaches its maximal amplitude at

some point of the basilar membrane that is related to the frequency of the incoming

wave.116

This turns out to be an important feature, necessary to characterise the

incoming sound.

The relation between the frequency of the sound wave and the maximum

amplitude is logarithmic. The basilar membrane at the apex responds best to waves of

approximately 20 Hz, which is thereby the lowest frequency distinguishable by the

114

In each cochlea, that is. As such, the human ear contains about 32,000 hair cells in the cochlea, next

to a vastly larger number in the semicircular canals. 115

Strictly speaking, the mechanical energy is converted into chemical energy by the hair cells in the

cochlea as the mechanical energy opens channels through which positive K+ ions can flow into the

cells. This depolarisation leads to the opening of Ca2+

channels that augments the depolarization. This

increased depolarisation effect results in a synaptic transmission from the hair cell to the ends of the

cochlear nerve, altering the firing rate. As such chemical energy is converted into neural firing.

Simultaneously, the efflux of K+ is stimulated, which returns the hair cell to its resting potential. For a

detailed review of neuronal signalling and the related processes, see Gazzaniga et al. (2000, pp. 23-62). 116

The Hungarian biophysicist Georg von Békésy (1899 – 1972) received the 1961 Nobel Prize in

Physiology or Medicine for his research on the waves travelling through the cochlea. In the

presentation speech his findings are concisely summarized: ‘Von Békésy succeeded in unveiling the

features of the vibration pattern [of the basilar membrane]. He found that movements of the stirrup

footplate evoke a wave complex in the basilar membrane, which travels from the stiffer basal part to

the more flexible part in the apex of the cochlea. The crest of the largest wave first increases, thereafter

quickly decreases. The position of the maximal amplitude was found to be dependent on the frequency

of the stimulating sound waves in such a way that the highest crest of the travelling wave appears near

the apex of the cochlea at low-frequency tones and near its base at high frequencies.’ (Nobel Lectures

Physiology or Medicine 1942 – 1962, p. 720)


human ear. At the other end of the membrane, the response is best to sounds of

around 20,000 Hz. This is, as we saw previously, the upper limit of human hearing. In

between, at intervals of about one-thirds, the response is best to sound of

approximately 200 Hz and 2000 Hz. This shows the logarithmic division of the

frequency-sensitivity of the basilar membrane, see note 109.

The relation between frequency of the wave and the location on the membrane

is called a tonotopic map (figure 9). The discovery of all this in the mid-nineteenth

century confirmed what Hermann von Helmholtz had assumed some 80 years earlier.

In his 1877 Sensations of Tone he wrote ‘the ear must be said (…) to decompose

every waveform into simpler elements according to a definite law. It then receives a

sensation from each of these simpler elements as from a harmonious tone’ (p. 128).

The sounds humans perceive hardly ever consist of pure sounds (cf. figure 6).

In fact, sounds in everyday life are often constituted of a variety of tones with various

frequencies and amplitudes. If one looks at the vibrations of the tympanum or the

ossicles this notion is maintained. Their vibrations appear chaotic and tones are not

easily distinguishable from one another. However, at the level of the basilar

membrane the chaos is diminished considerably. Loosely speaking, the locations on

the membrane that show the highest amplitude correspond to the frequencies or tones

that constitute the sound. Thus the formants can be identified. The amplitude itself is

related to the intensity of the sound. As such, Von Helmholtz turned out to be right:

the basilar membrane acts as a frequency and intensity analyser along its length.117

The Hair Cells

So far, we have seen that incoming sound waves are transferred as mechanical

vibrations from the tympanum to the fluid in the cochlea. This results in a

tonotopically organised vibration pattern in the basilar membrane. When the latter

membrane vibrates, the Organ of Corti and the tectorial membrane are dragged along.

However, the tectorial membrane and the basilar membrane rotate around different

anchor points. As a result of this, both membranes get transferred longitudinally with

respect to one another upon undergoing a vibration (figure 10).118

In between the tectorial and basilar membrane the Organ of Corti is located. It

extends over the full length of these membranes and consists of hair cells,

approximately 16,000 per cochlea, and support cells.119

The body of a hair cell is flask

shaped. At its upper edge, a hair bundle extends from the cell. These hairs, called

stereocilia, are cylindrically shaped tubes with lengths between 1 and 100 mm. They

have a considerably smaller diameter at their base than higher up on the cylinders,

such that they can pivot around their bases and do not bent. Each hair cell contains

stereocilia of different lengths, arranged from smallest to longest on the cuticular

plate, the uppermost part of the cell body of the hair cell (figure 11).

117

Note that this is an interesting difference between, for instance, the eye and the ear. The ear

performs part of the required analysis on the incoming stimuli itself by mechanical means, whereas the

eye simply receives and collects incoming stimuli and all the analysis is done neurally, barring the

difference in sensitivity between rods and cones. 118

Definite evidence that this is the manner in which the vibrations are transferred to the hair cells has

not yet been obtained. However, a geometrical analysis of the Organ of Corti and the movements of the

tectorial and basilar membrane give the above description a high probability of being correct. 119

The functions of many types of cells in the Organ of Corti are still unclear.


Upon stimulation by an incoming wave, the complex consisting of the

tectorial membrane, the Organ of Corti and the basilar membrane starts to vibrate. At

a single point, this boils down to an up-and-down movement, orthogonal to the

longitudinal direction. The hair cells, with their bodies embedded in the Organ of

Corti, which is attached to the basilar membrane, move along with the movements of

the latter. However, the tips of the stereocilia are attached to the tectorial membrane,

and, as we have already seen, the latter membrane shifts longitudinally with respect to

the basilar membrane upon vibration. As such, under a vibration, the tips of the hair

cells are no longer at rest, or positioned above the hair cell’s body, but they are

transferred to either side as they pivot around their base (figure 10).

The tips of stereocilia contain ion channels. These are linked to ion channels

in the sides of their larger neighbouring stereocilia, by – probably – a pair of

molecular strands, thereby ceiling off the ion gates. When the stereocilia are pulled in

the direction of the larger part (‘to the right’ in figure 11), then the distance between

the tip of one stereocilia to the ion channel in the side of its neighbour is increased.

When this happens, the molecule strands closing the ion channels are pulled away,

and the ion channels open. This results in an influx of positively charged K+ and Ca

2+

ions.120

This process with the gated strings shows that hair cells are only sensitive to

vibrations in the longitudinal directions; movements in the orthogonal direction do not

alter the distance between various parts of the stereocilia and no extra ion gates are

opened or closed (figure 12).

The influx of K+ and Ca

2+ ions results in depolarisation of the hair cells. Their

resting potential of approximately -60 millivolt (mV) is raised with tens of mV’s to

approximately -40 mV. The response of a hair cell is graded: a displacement of the

tips of the stereocilia of only 100 nm already accounts for 90% of the (de)polarisation

response of the cell. The (de)polarisation of the hair cell results in a potential picked

up by one of the 30,000, tonotopically organized nerve fibres that are attached to the

hair cells in each cochlea and is transferred via the eighth cranial fibre to the auditory

cortex. Simultaneously, if the stimulus level decreases, polarisation-sensitive

molecules pump the excess of positive ions out the cell again, returning the hair cell

to its resting potential of approximately -60 mV.

From Mechanical to Neural Analysis

As we have seen, the nerve fibres collect information from the hair cells. On average,

each hair cell transfers its information to ten nerve fibres, each of whom collect

information from only one hair cell.121

This means that the tonotopic organisation that

commenced in the cochlea is maintained in the first steps of the neural processing.

120

At rest, approximately 15% of the ion channels in the hair cells are open. A positive stimulus (‘to

the right’) opens more channels, and thereby depolarizes the cell. A negative stimulus (‘to the left’)

closes the 15% of the channels that are open at rest, and thereby the cell gets hyperpolarized. See also

note 115. 121

Technically, we ought to have made a distinction between inner and outer hair cells. The inner hair

cells (of which a human being has approximately 3,500, that form a single row down the entire length

of the Organ of Corti), show the behaviour that has been described in the above. The outer hair cells, of

which we have approximately 12,000 and which are laid down in three rows down the length of the

Organ of Corti, have only evolved in mammals and seem to have increased our frequency selectivity

by amplifying the vibrations that are then picked up by the inner air cells again, without increasing the

range of frequencies we are sensitive to. As such, the outer hair cells are occasionally referred to as the

cochlear amplifier. Research in the last 25 years has indicated that damage to the outer hair cells is


The vibrations in the basilar membrane are tonotopically organised and as a

result the stimulation of the hair cells along this membrane is tonotopically organised

as well. This does not imply that hair cells respond to one specific frequency only:

they respond to other, relatively nearby frequencies as well, as long as the intensity is

sufficiently high. The amplitude or intensity of the sound is captured by the hair cells

as well. The higher the amplitude of the wave, and as such the intensity or loudness of

the sound, the higher the firing frequency of the nerve commencing at the respective

hair cell will be. The nerve endings on the hair cells in the cochlea are bundled in the

eighth cranial nerve. This bundle of nerves transports the auditory sensory

information in the form of a tonotopically organised set of firing nerves to the

auditory cortex.

Neural Auditory Processing

Having dealt with the mechanical part of auditory processing and having found the

mechanical analyser of frequency and amplitude, the cochlea, the more cognitive

auditory processing steps can be divided in two parts: subcortical processing and

cortical processing. Cortical processing takes place in the cerebral cortex, which is the

part of the brain that only pertains to vertebrates. In the latter cortex the so-called

higher functions such as consciousness, awareness, attention, etc. are supposed to be

carried out. In contrast, the subcortical area is the ‘lower’ part of the brain that is also

part of brains of non-vertebrates.

Subcortical Processing

As we saw, from the cochlea, the cochlear nerve122

conveys the tonotopically

organised firing of the hair cells to the (primary) auditory cortex. Between the former

and the latter, there are four major neural processing centres (Patterson and

Johnsrude, 2008). These are the cochlear nucleus (CN), the superior olivary complex

(SOC), the inferior colliculus (IC) and the medial geniculate body (MGB). In at least

two of these four centres, the IC and the MGB, neural recoding of the signal takes

place. This becomes apparent from the drop of the maximum rate of firing from 5000

Hz before the IC, approximately 500 Hz between the IC and the MGB and 50 Hz

between the MGB and the primary auditory cortex (PAC).

The CN is the first relay station in the auditory cognitive processing. It is the

last stage at which the input is purely ipsilateral,123

although there is some evidence

that there are connections between both cochlear nuclei. Both CN’s project to both the

mostly responsible for hearing loss. See, for example, Zenner (1997). This is interesting as the fact that

each hair cell outputs to approximately ten nerve fibres only holds for inner hair cells. Conversely, the

output from approximately five to ten outer hair cells is collected by one nerve fibre. As such,

approximately 90% of the neural auditory information is obtained from the inner hair cells, only 10% is

obtained from the outer hair cells. What the exact nature of the relation between the inner and outer

hair cells is and what the exact importance of the amplification of the outer hair cells is for hearing is

something that further research has yet to identify. 122

The cochlear nerve is also referred to as auditory nerve and is part of the VIII cranial nerve, one of

the twelve nerve bundles that enter the brain stem. 123

Ipsilateral means on the same side of the body, and its opposite is contralateral. In neural

terminology it often refers to processing centres that lie in the same (ipsi) or other (contra) hemisphere

compared with the source of the incoming stimuli.


ipsi- and the contralateral SOC and IC. The stellate or chopper cells and the bushy

cells perform the two most important functions of the CN. The former strengthen the

frequency encoding of the stimuli by firing at very regular rates irrespective of slight

variations in the stimulus frequency, due to their innate characteristic frequency. The

latter respond only to the onset of a sound, and thereby provide accurate information

about the timing of sounds. This information is useful for the processing that takes

place in the SOC (Kandel 2000, pp. 604ff).

Namely, the main function of the superior olivary complex is to make the

comparison between the input of both ears. The temporal part of this comparison and

the difference in incoming sound levels between both ears allows for an estimation of

the direction of the source of the sound, and to some extent the distance the sound

source is located from the perceiver. The former notion is generally referred to as the

interaural time difference or ITD, the latter as interaural level difference or ILD. Note

that making an accurate estimate of the vertical position of the sound is considerably

more complicated than making a horizontal position estimate.124

One of the reasons

that the subcortical processing of the auditory sense is more complicated than the

subcortical processing of other senses,125

is probably at least partly due to the

importance of temporal precision (Patterson et al. 1999).

The inferior colliculus receives input from the ipsi- and contralateral CN,

SOC, from the contralateral IC and feedback from the auditory cortex. Most of its

output is, next to the aforementioned connections between both IC’s, to the MGB.

The exact functional role of the IC is still uncertain. There is evidence from studies on

barn owls that in this relay station the horizontal localisation data from the SOC are

integrated with some kind of vertical localisation analysis that is performed in the CN

(Knudsen and Mazakusa, 1978). This would make it the sound localization centre in

the brain. However, it has not (yet) been possible to fully show this functionality in

the human brain as well. Another function of the IC seems to be the integration of

auditory sensory data and somatosensory (haptic) input. The exact nature of this

integration is currently still under investigation, as well as its role in the combination

of visual and auditory cues and ocular reflexes.126

124

The reason for this becomes immediately obvious if one considers how the ITD and ILD are

determined. A source emits sound with some sound level in the form of sound waves that travel at the

speed of roughly 343 meters per second – in air. Through a surface, such as the head, sound travels

somewhat slower. After emission form some source, sound waves travel through space and reach one

ear at a slightly different moment than the other ear, since the ears are at a different location in the

horizontal plane. However, the sound level decreases with distance as well, with m-2

in air to be exact,

slightly more while travelling through a body such as the head. As such, at the ear that is nearer to the

sound source the sound waves arrive both slightly earlier and with a slightly higher sound level than at

the ear that is further from the source. The exact difference in arrival time of sound waves at both ears

– and hence of its neural correlates at both SOCs, where the determination takes place – and in sound

level can be used to calculate the horizontal azimuth angle of the source, or the difference from some

fixed north which is generally taken to be defined with respect to the body, or right in front of

someone. Since the ears are, however, at the same level in the vertical place, a vertical determination of

the position of the source is considerably more complicated to make and also depends on the reflection

of sound waves from nearby objects – and the same holds for the distance to the sound source. 125

As we have seen, the auditory subcortical processing seems to involve at least four stations: the CN,

SOC, IC and MGB. In contrast, for instance the visual subcortical system involves only one system:

the lateral geniculate nucleus (LGN). 126

There are a lot of relations between the different senses, most if which are still not understood. The

best-known example of this is the so-called McGurk effect (McGurk and MacDonald, 1976) in which,

among similar illusory effects, participants claim to hear the sound ‘da’ when presented with the visual

stimulus of a person pronouncing ‘ga’ dubbed to a heard stimulus ‘ba’. For a recent review article on


The last subcortical processing step in the auditory stream is the medial

geniculate nucleus or MGN. Auditory input is mainly received from the IC and

returned from the auditory cortex, but also visual and somatosensory input is relayed

to the MGN. Up until this point, thus throughout all the previous described steps,

relay stations and recoding processes, the auditory data is still organised

tonotopically. The main function of the MGN seems to be the collection of frequency

and pitch data, transferred in the form of a bundle of neurons all with their own

characteristics frequencies and their firing patterns. Moreover, it collects and

integrates the interaural ITD and ILD data. There is one final step of recoding taking

place in the MGN before the stimuli travel from the subcortical area into the cortical

area, or the primary auditory cortex (PAC or A1).

Cortical Processing

The auditory cortex consists of three parts: the primary, secondary and tertiary

auditory cortex. The PAC is located in the centre of the auditory cortex and the SAC

and TAC are located around it in a circular fashion. The primary auditory cortex

receives input from the subcortical auditory processing stream. As we have seen, it

also provides input to these processing steps. It consists roughly of Brodmann area’s

41 and 42.127

The function of the three auditory cortices is far from clear. It has been shown

that the processing in the three auditory cortices is of increasing complexity (cf.

Kandel 2000, pp. 609ff). The primary auditory cortex is involved in the simple

analysis of sounds, such as the location, pitch, and amplitude, and, by integrating the

latter two, the quality of sound. In the secondary auditory cortex various sounds are

integrated and the analysis is on the level of harmonic, melodic or rhythmic patterns.

The tertiary auditory cortex, then, is believed to integrate all previously collected data

and to deal with issues like music (see Abbott 2002 for an overview article), speech

(see Moore et al. 2008 for an overview article), etc.

The processing steps in the secondary and tertiary auditory cortices are still

the topic of ongoing research and the exact nature of, for instance, speech perception

is still far from understood. For the purposes of our auditory model, i.e. constituting a

framework in which the auditory worlds and sound particulars featuring throughout

this essay can play their part, we need to be concerned with the reception of sounds

only. As such, we can leave the discussion of the secondary and tertiary auditory

cortex aside and only, and lastly, deal with the processing steps of the primary

auditory cortex here.

Before doing so, however, there is one issue that requires further attention. Up

until now, the auditory model has been presented mostly as a bottom-up model:

sensory input is received by the outer ear, conveyed to and through the middle ear to

the inner ear where a mechanical analysis is carried out. In the middle ear’s cochlea it

is also translated into neural signals that are processed a couple of times in the

the relation between the processing of auditive and visual input, especially for speech, see Campbell

(2008). 127

The German neurologist Korbinian Brodmann devised in the first decade of the twentieth century a

system in which the brain could be divided in 52 distinct areas according to their cellular make-up, or

histology (Brodmann 1909). Although the cytoarchitectonic map that Brodmann devised is currently

regarded as corresponding to neither the functional nor the anatomical layout of the brain, his

numbered brain parts are still often used to point out a specific part of the brain.


subcortical auditory system, after which they are analysed in the auditory cortex.

Although we have made mention of them a couple of times, it is important to note that

the flow of information is not just bottom-up, there are various feedback or

retrograde-loops in the system in which information from a higher step in the

processing stream is conveyed to some lower mechanism.

Up until the early 1990s, all models of sensory processing assumed a more or

less bottom-up approach. However, in 1994 Patricia Churchland, together with two

colleagues, published the article called ‘The Critique of Pure Vision’, in which they

showed, by appealing to a fair number of empirical phenomena such as the

aforementioned McGurk effect (see note 126), but most notably the interaction

between vision and attention, that the bottom-up picture of visual processing yields a

caricature of what the actual processing boils down to. Moreover, they argue, it has to

be combined with a top-down model to account for the complicated way in which

humans deal with vision in everyday life.

Slaney (1997) has shown that for auditory processing the argument for

combining bottom-up and top-down approaches is at least as compelling as for visual

processing. However, only limited research has gone into this issue up until the

present day. As such in the above I have only been able to hint at ‘feedback loops’,

without being able to describe their functionality or workings. However, it is

important in trying to understand the way in which auditory information is processed

in our brains that the auditory sense should not just be viewed as a black box in which

on one side sensory sound data finds its way in, and on the other side a properly

analysed sound perception comes out. There is much complicated and integrated two-

way processing that goes on in between.

Let us return to the last step in the auditory process that we will discuss. The

primary auditory cortex is still organised completely tonotopically. Orthogonal to the

frequency mapping which is conveyed from the MNG, the PAC consists of a striped

arrangement with differing binaural properties. There are strips that receive input

from one ear only, and strips that receive binaural input. As the firing rate of the

neurons in the tonotopic direction yield the amplitude of the tone, from this two-

dimensional mapping the frequency, amplitude and quality of sounds can be read off,

together with the sound localisation. As such, this auditory map in the PAC yields the

basic properties of sound processing.

Providing the auditory, neural map and allowing for it to be ‘read off’ by

higher cortical processes is the main function of the primary auditory cortex.

However, it has probably many more, currently not quite understood functions (cf.

Purves et al. 2004, chapter 12). Animal studies have, for instance, shown that neurons

in the PAC may be combination-sensitive, i.e. that they respond to a specific

combination of frequencies, amplitudes or IDL / ITL. As such, certain sound

characteristics may be captured, such as the movement of a sound source, the increase

or decrease in pitch or amplitude, or more complex, intraspecific sound relations. The

more complex and also more specifically human types of auditory processing,

however, seem to be carried out in the higher auditory cortices.

APPENDIX – Balint‟s Syndrome - 99

APPENDIX B – Balint’s Syndrome

This second appendix has been added with the same purpose as the previous one. If

we wish to live up to the promise that the case study involving Rem is, as Wilkes

(1988, p. 3) calls it, ‘merely’ a thought experiment, not a real one, and as such worth

of philosophical investigation, then the conditions in which Rem is put must be

realistic, and at least potentially testable.

The most stringent constraint that we have put on Rem is that she is suffering

from Balint’s Syndrome. We have, in section 3.2, already dealt with Balint’s

Syndrome in considerable detail. However, in this appendix we give some more data

that puts the syndrome in a broader perspective. Let us note that Balint’s Syndrome is

still far from understood. Data on it are scarce, and reliable conclusions drawn from

these data even more so. If anything, this appendix should show that as far as current

research into this ailment is concerned, we have lived up to our own requirement of

putting Rem, or any philosophical theory, within the relevant boundaries as set forth

by any applicable scientific theory.

Balint’s Syndrome

The Austrian-Hungarian physicist Rezsõ Bálint identified the syndrome that was

named after him in 1909. The primary cause of Balint’s Syndrome is generally one or

more strokes in Brodmann areas 19 and 39, see note 127, or the dorsal occipital and

angular gyrus. However, since fortunately not many patients are suffering from

Balint’s Syndrome, and strokes do not confine themselves to specific areas, there is

still some controversy as to which brain areas are exactly responsible for the cognitive

deficit (Robertson 2004, p. 220).

In principle there is no cure for the syndrome. However, some of the worst

symptoms of Balint’s Syndrome tend to wear off over time (Robertson 1997), as we

will also see below. Especially in the case of younger individuals suffering from

Balint’s Syndrome, it is generally possible to work around the deficit with a so-called

adaptive functional approach (Gillen and Dutton 2003).

The three main symptoms of Balint’s Syndrome are optic ataxia, optic apraxia

and simultanagnosia. Optic ataxia is the inability, for a suffering patient, to reach in

the direction in which he has perceived an object. It has been reported that patients

trying to reach for an object make random hand movements until they, accidently,

find the object that they had perceived (Robertson 2004, p. 158). This problem is

generally described as a problem with binding perception to action, which hints at the

fact that at least the conscious access to spatial data is lost for the person (idem). In

other words, patients suffering from optic ataxia still perceive objects, although

generally in a diminished manner due to their optic apraxia or simultanagnosia.

However, they have no conscious idea about the spatial relation this object stands in

with respect to other objects they might perceive, or themselves for that matter.

Optic apraxia, the second main symptom of Balint’s Syndrome, becomes

apparent as patients suffering from it tend to have their gaze fixed. They keep staring

at a single point, without there being any deficits related to eye movements (idem, p.

6). Balint himself called this symptom pseudoparalysis of gaze, and this is

occasionally used as equivalent to the term optic apraxia. Interesting is that even

when patients are asked or made to move their heads, their eyeballs tend to make an


equal but opposite movement in their sockets. This ensures that their gaze remains

fixed at the point they were staring at before the eye and head movement.

Thirdly, then, simultanagnosia is the inability to perceive more than a single

object at one time. After a certain moment of time, another object might, or might not,

pop into the patient’s view, upon which the perception of the originally perceived

object disappears (idem, p. 156). As optic ataxia and simultanagnosia tend to go

together, patients generally have no idea in what spatial relation the perceived objects

stand to one another or themselves. Regardless of this, patients with normal cognitive

skills – and Balint’s Syndrome is not known to impair IQ or general intelligence –

normally have no problem reporting the identity of or recognising objects or persons

that pop in and out of their view.

Judging from the above, it seems as if Balint’s Syndrome merely affects one’s

spatial perception in relation to the haptic and visual modality. Although not many

studies have been carried out with patients suffering from Balint’s Syndrome that

looked at other modalities, a recent study by Phan et al. (2004) has tried to compare

the visual and auditory spatial deficits in patients suffering from Balint’s Syndrome.

Their results indicated that, although the auditive impairment was slightly less severe

than the visual, object localisation was both in the auditory and visual modality

severely impaired when compared to age-matched controls.

An important problem in describing a cognitive ailment such as Balint’s

Syndrome is that not many patients have been identified with that syndrome that are

not suffering from some other or further form of dementia, i.e. that can be tested

normally. Accordingly, as strokes do generally not tend to confine themselves to a

specific area, it is fairly hard to find out exactly what deficits are due to Balint’s

Syndrome, and which other problems a patient might be suffering from. Accordingly,

having now looked at the general characteristics that seem to be related to Balint’s

Syndrome, let us focus on and describe one of the patients that has been most

extensively tested, and who has been our source and inspiration to model our Rem

after: RM.

Patient R.M.

RM suffered a first stroke in June 1991 and a second slightly over half a year later, in

March 1992. MRI scans in 1994 showed that he had almost symmetrical lesions in his

parieto-occipital regions, primarily in Brodmann areas 7 and 39, and possibly some in

5 and 19. As far as can be deduced, all visual cortices were intact, as were his

somatosensory and motor cortices.128

Shortly after his second stroke, in the spring of 1992, RM was first examined

neurologically. All the classic symptoms of Balint’s Syndrome, as described in the

above, were present. All normal cognitive, motor or sensory functions were intact,

and RM seemed to be at his normal level of intelligence. However, RM tended to get

lost even in his own home, and was totally disoriented. He had to be escorted to

almost every place he wished to attend. He generally only perceived one object at the

time. Occasionally, he reported perceiving both, but this only happened slowly and

seemed to be more sequentially than simultaneously, at least to the extent that is was

testable. When perceiving a single object, RM could not judge its distance, nor tell

which of two, if perceiving two, was closer to him, or to either side of the other.

128

All data in this description is taken from Robertson et al. 1997, unless indicated otherwise.

APPENDIX – Balint‟s Syndrome - 101

Interestingly, if RM was shown a word like ‘no’, he was, when his condition was

worst, as likely to report seeing ‘no’ as ‘on’. RM never reported perceiving more than

two objects, even not when he had been made aware that there were more than two

present.

Next to suffering from this form of simultanagnosia, RM also suffered from a

severe case of optic ataxia. Not only was he unable to accurately grasp objects, he was

also unable to draw something in a designated area if a drawing utensil was put in his

hand. Optic apraxia was also present. RM generally just gazed straight ahead. If he

was asked to move his eyes he was able to comply, but normally he just gazed, or,

incidentally, his eyes followed the most slowly moving object in his visual field.

Neurological investigations into the workings of his visual system revealed that there

were no cognitive impairments there.

After approximately a year of being able to live under constant supervision

and with continuous assistance, due to the abovementioned conditions, RM started to

improve again halfway through 1993. By mid-1995, RM was able to live semi-

independently, though on a call’s distant from his family who had to assist him on a

regular basis. He was able to find his way in his own house again, and could make

short walks through his neighbourhood independently. However, he performed all

these activities on a slower-than-normal pace. Then, in 1995, a haematoma, or

internal bleeding, struck RM. All the symptoms of Balint’s Syndrome returned in full

force again. His spatial abilities were, like they were in 1993 shortly after his second

stroke, virtually non-existent. His performance in experiments testing for spatial

ability was yet again at chance-level. His recovery from this setback was only slow

and gradual.

RM was put through a whole variety of tests, both after his second stroke in

1993 and throughout 1994, and after he suffered the haematoma in 1995. Discussing

all of them here would be far too elaborate, especially since many of them are

relatively subtle. Moreover, the implications of the results from these tests are often

far from understood. What is clear is that RM was unable to experience any kind of

spatiality immediately after being hit by the stroke or the haematoma, respectively.

This manifested itself in a variety of manners, some of which are touched upon in the

above.

Discussing any more symptoms that may be applicable in general will be

difficult. As touched upon in the above, it remains hard to distinguish between what

may be regarded as real symptoms of Balint’s Syndrome, and what can be regarded as

collateral damage due to the strokes or haematoma. In our case study, in which Rem

was modelled after RM, we have tried to make use only of the generic symptoms of

RM, albeit at his, admittedly, worst moments, right after the second stroke or

haematoma. Although it is not to be hoped for when thinking about the individuals

involved, but only some more testable patients will allow us to come to grips with the

details of Balint’s Syndrome. Until then, Robertson’s team’s detailed 1997

description of RM’s suffering and many of the cognitive tests that he has been put

through will remain the richest, albeit relatively one-sided, account of the syndrome.

Figures

Figures

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