A Story About John Searle

In 1984 John Searle gave the Reith lectures in England. This was a big deal and quite an honor. I was asked by the BBC to join a small panel commenting on these lectures. After the program was recorded, we went to a boozy lunch set up by the Beeb. It was, shall we say, pretty lively. It culminated in John standing on his chair to make his point more emphatically. This is the kind of behavior I approve of (I was with George Soros once in St Barts at a restaurant in which we all stood on the chairs and table at the end of the night to dance, him included). How things have changed. I also had a brief correspondence with Sir Peter Strawson on the best use of the word “fuck” in literature (I cited a passage from Martin Amis). Those were the good old days. He also said to me once at an academic gathering in Oxford, “There are people here I wouldn’t mind talking to, but none I want to talk to”. He also said of Putnam, then visiting Oxford, “Hilary Putnam is a very sweet man, as he would be the first to agree”.

Attention and Knowledge

In chapter XI (“Attention”) of The Principles of Psychology William James makes the point that the empiricists completely omit the contribution of attention in the generation knowledge. The reason is that attention possesses “a degree of reactive spontaneity” that breaks through the “circle of pure receptivity which constitutes ‘experience’” (402). Instead, he says, “My experience is what I agree to attend to” (his italics). Evidently, this is a good point: we only form knowledge in the normal course of events if we attend selectively to the object known about. We don’t acquire knowledge of things to which we pay no attention. Attending is a necessary condition of knowing. But attention doesn’t come from the world but from the knowing subject. It isn’t an “idea” deriving from an “impression”, still less a facet of the external object: it isn’t a stimulus. It is endogenous not exogenous. Presumably it is innate: the organism is innately primed to attend to some things and not others—the things that matter to its survival. Consciousness focalizes, concentrates, highlights. It doesn’t just passively reflect whatever impinges on the organism’s senses, indiscriminately. No attention, no knowledge, or very little. Attention is what provides cognitive uptake. A better version of empiricism would assert that all human knowledge derives from attention to the data of sense, and thus depends on innate features of the organism. It is therefore not a pure empiricism: the mind is not a blank slate but a self-generated spotlight focused on the objects of sense. Knowledge depends on the mind actively reaching out not just passively receiving imprints from outside. The theory might better be called “perceptual attentionalism”.[1]

The point carries over to the analysis of knowledge, as distinct from its origins. If to know is to perceive[2], then we must add that the perceiving must be attentive perceiving not merely peripheral or unconscious perceiving. That is, the primary knowledge we have is attentional perceptual knowledge; anything else is secondary. The paradigm of knowledge is attending selectively to a sensory object. Not true justified belief in a proposition, whatever that amounts to, but attention to a perceived stimulus—then we really know (“acquaintance”). This is the foundation of all genuine knowledge, the sine qua non. We are not seeing or hearing in an unfocused or distracted manner, but are focused and concentrated—drinking it all in, as we say. To that degree knowledge is a voluntary act: the act of knowing is the act of attending. You can try to know the object better by focusing on it longer or harder. Epistemology must not neglect this aspect of knowledge by focusing (!) on belief and justification. Seeing and attending are the basic epistemic operations. Knowing creatures can do these things even when belief and justification are beyond them. Strictly, then, we shouldn’t speak of the perceptual theory of knowledge but of the perceptual-attentive theory. Knowledge is the upshot of sensation and attention working together.

How does rationalism deal with attention? It is as silent as classical empiricism (James says nothing about rationalist epistemology). Tacitly, however, it helps itself to the faculty of attention: for attention is how innate information (for want of a better word) becomes conscious knowledge (as in Plato’s Meno). The learner attends to what is innate and thereby converts it to conscious knowledge. So, the rationalist theory of the origin of knowledge is really a combination of innate “ideas” and acts of inward attention. Attention is necessary in order that rational a priori knowledge should exist. Without attention the innate endowment would remain unconscious, merely latent. The acquisition of mathematical knowledge, for example, depends on the ability to attend selectively—to focus. It doesn’t arise from the innate material alone. Both a priori and a posteriori knowledge therefore require an active attentional faculty, not mere “experience” and “innate ideas”. The classical theories need to be enriched with this element. Attention is the medium (midwife) of knowledge; experience and innate information provide only the raw material. Without attention we would know nothing worth knowing. It may well be that our superior state of knowledge, compared to other animals, is the result of greater powers of concentration, i.e., selective attention. Attention is what actively and essentially mediates between the senses and knowledge proper. This is why the teacher exhorts his students to “Pay attention!”, because without attention knowledge cannot be formed. And we all know that what we don’t attend to doesn’t make it into memory. It is true that the passive imprint model is hard to discard, but we need a more active internalist conception of knowledge—its origins and nature. Knowledge doesn’t just happen to us; we make it happen.

But attention is quite puzzling. What is it exactly? We can study it experimentally, we can examine its neural correlates and behavioral expression, but we have little to say about it directly beyond metaphors (searchlight, spotlight). It is a touch mysterious, is it not? This is not surprising given its close connection with consciousness. Perhaps that is why theorists have been reluctant to invoke it in their theories. But nobody doubts its existence or importance, so it might profitably figure in our theories. This seems to be the situation: attention is integral to knowledge, but we don’t know much about it.[3]

[1] No one has ever explicitly espoused this theory to my knowledge.

[2] See my “Perceptual Knowledge”.

[3] Could we define attention as “the faculty of knowledge acquisition”? Is that its evolutionary function? It evolved to facilitate the retention of information. What came first is not belief or even knowledge but attention—the means by which knowledge is acquired. Organisms went from unfocused primitive awareness to focused cognitive pick-up. This is the right evolutionary epistemology. It may also characterize the development of knowledge in the child’s mind. The ability to attend is what defines what we call intelligence. We could establish a new school: attention-based epistemology. Educationally, we need to find ways to encourage and improve pupil attentiveness. It would therefore be nice to know more about it (“attention science”).

Block on Searle

Ned Block says: “Searle was a pugilistic philosopher, much more interested in winning than in truth”. This is a nasty comment, coming so soon after Searle’s death. It isn’t so much the imputation of a desire to win as the suggestion that this was more Searle’s interest than the truth. The clear implication is that he would intentionally sacrifice the truth for the sake of a win. I think this is false and verges on the defamatory. He wanted to win because of what he took to be the truth—not in spite of it. Often, he was quite right in his judgment of the truth. No doubt some competitive ego was involved, but who isn’t guilty of that? It is the suggestion that he liked to win irrespective of truth, or that he preferred victory to truth, that is offensive. I myself had several intellectual run-ins with him, which were quite lively, but I never thought that he was trying to win no matter what the truth may be. And it is a calumny to claim that his writings were merely pugilistic; he wrote many books and articles in which he was transparently trying to find out the truth (and often did). He may have been pugilistic at times, but he wasn’t only pugilistic and unconcerned with truth. To say of a dead philosopher that he wasn’t concerned with the truth is a great insult, and in this case quite unjustified. He was certainly an effective critic of other philosophers’ views, but that is not to say he was merely pugilistic. This is all Block had to say about Searle as a philosopher and a man, and it is demonstrably untrue (as well as nasty). Is this the state that philosophy has reached?