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How does consciousness work? A radical theory has mind-blowing answers

The Feeling of Life Itself by Christof Koch charts a radical theory about consciousness that shows the survival advantages for humans, and why computers can never be conscious
meditation
Can those who meditate achieve a deep conscious state known as the void?
Marcus Rose/Panos

Christof Koch

MIT Press

THE nature of consciousness is notoriously hard to crack and there are so many speculative ideas about it that it is hard to keep track of them. Another book on the subject may seem one too many, but Christof Koch’s deep synthesis of a profound theory of consciousness and the latest neuroscience is an exception.

At last, we have a theory of consciousness that makes clear and testable predictions, many wholly unexpected. It says even the cleverest computers can never be conscious, while many more species of animal than we thought have sparks of consciousness.

More exotically, it implies that it may be possible to experience the great void – the deep meditative state that mystics seek – and for lovers to meld minds. But perhaps most important of all, the theory suggests that consciousness has a function and thus why it evolved.

Koch, who runs the Allen Institute for Brain Science in Seattle, spent decades working with the late Nobel laureate Francis Crick searching for the parts of the brain closely involved in generating consciousness. Koch’s knowledge of neuroscience complements the idea at the heart of The Feeling of Life Itself.

That idea, writes Koch, “is the singular intellectual creation of Giulio Tononi, a brilliant, sometimes cryptic, polyglot and polymath renaissance scholar”.

Tononi is a professor at the University of Wisconsin with whom Koch now works closely. He devised the integrated information theory of consciousness, which drew public attention for its “consciousness meter”, a method of searching for awareness in people thought to be in vegetative states. But this is the first book to try to explain the theory to a general audience.

Tononi’s approach doesn’t start in the brain or in philosophy, as you might expect, but by asking a simple question: what is conscious experience like?

Its essence can be captured in five properties, Koch believes. First and foremost, consciousness is “intrinsic”, a private experience. I know that I am conscious and have experiences but can’t observe your consciousness or be certain that you feel anything. Consciousness exists for itself.

Experience is also “structured”, containing many different things. For example, someone sits in front of you on the bus, traffic passes by, your neighbour’s headphones leak bass and so on.

And each conscious experience is “informative”, it differs from every other one. It is “integrated” into one whole picture, and it is “definite” in that you only have one conscious experience at a time, which can’t be reduced into parts without losing something.

The five properties need some thought but Koch explains them well and lets you attempt to negate them to prove that they “cannot be doubted”. Let’s agree and follow Koch with a leap from these five properties of experience to five matching principles that must be obeyed for a physical system to generate consciousness.

This is Tononi’s great achievement. He proposes five principles (intrinsic existence, composition, information, integration and exclusion) that make it possible to see whether any set of mechanisms, be they neurons or electronic networks, can generate experience. If a system doesn’t produce intrinsic experience, it isn’t conscious, if the whole can be reduced to parts, it isn’t conscious, and so on.

“At last we have a theory of consciousness that makes clear, testable predictions, many wholly unexpected”

Tononi’s big leap is to go from experience to a defining physical theory of consciousness, without dabbling with the brain. That is truly radical.

Koch provides a metaphor to help show how the theory deals with “intrinsic existence”, the private nature of consciousness. He goes back 2400 years to Plato’s dialogue with the “stranger from Elea”, who argues that for something to be said to exist, it must affect something else, or be affected by something else. But consciousness seems to be an exception. We feel sure it exists but can give no evidence of it “causing” anything, nor can anyone else observe it.

The way out is to say that consciousness must have an internal cause-and-effect structure that gives it causal power over itself. This may sound odd, but “causal power” can be precisely defined mathematically and makes sense of an old intuition from neuroscience: that sustained feedback in the brain, called recurrent or re-entry processing, is essential for consciousness.

And, as Koch explains, it fits perfectly with his search for consciousness in the brain. Circuits in a zone of the posterior cerebral cortex, a part of the brain that research shows is essential for consciousness, contain elements that can interact tightly with one another and have high causal power. Brain areas like the cerebellum have more neurons than the cortex but don’t have this structure and aren’t able to generate consciousness.

By now, I hope you are both intrigued and puzzled, because then I will have conveyed how I felt reading Koch. The theory is profound and you need time to think it through. But its promise that it can examine any system to see if it generates consciousness leads to surprising predictions.

Can computers be conscious? Absolutely not. Their circuitry is of the wrong type; they have no intrinsic causal power and form no whole. Bad news for those seeking digital immortality by uploading their brains.

Are animals conscious? The answer isn’t a straightforward yes or no, for some animals may have a tiny glow of experience, while others like humans have a brighter light. Honeybees, for example, have brain areas that heavily reconnect to themselves. So being a bee may well feel like something.

Then there is the more exotic prediction for lovers who dream of merging their consciousnesses. If we could completely connect one brain to another, the theory says merging is possible. But beware: you wouldn’t feel like one part of a dual consciousness but would be lost in a single, strange, new mind.

Tononi’s idea also explains how meditation might lead to a profound sense of the void. You might think quietening nervous activity would simply lead to unconsciousness. But Tononi’s theory shows a key difference between the absence of presence and the presence of absence. One leads to unconsciousness, the other to “pure consciousness” without sensation or memory.

For me, the icing on the cake is a function for consciousness. This part of Tonini’s theory builds on research using artificial, non-biological creatures dubbed “animats”. In simulations where they learned to navigate mazes and the most successful passed on their characteristics to new generations, very skilled animats evolved. Their tiny brains were the ones that best integrated information. This shows that, in essence, organisms with the internal cause-and-effect structure most efficiently pack into their brains distinctions about the world around them. The resulting survival advantages may explain why consciousness evolved.

Koch’s mind-stretching book provides a rich feast, leaving me with a desire to understand more about this often difficult theory.

That said, there is a sense in which the theory is also simple, for it extends familiar physics to the inner view. “Textbook physics deals with the interaction of objects with each other, dictated by extrinsic causal powers. My and your experiences are the way brains with irreducible intrinsic causal powers feel like from the inside,” Koch writes. “Causal powers of two different kinds is the only sort of stuff needed to explain everything in the universe. These constitute ultimate reality.” Now there’s a grand statement.

Topics: Books / Brain / Consciousness / Meditation