What exactly is consciousness? This question stands as one of science’s most profound puzzles. One might anticipate that our inherent familiarity with it would provide an advantage in dissecting its mechanisms. Yet, this familiarity has, paradoxically, proven more of an impediment than an aid. Science inherently values objectivity. How, then, can one objectively investigate a phenomenon that also serves as the very instrument of that investigation?
This peculiar quandary forms the central theme of Michael Pollan’s most recent book, “A World Appears: A Journey into Consciousness.” Pollan’s earlier works, “The Omnivore’s Dilemma” and “How to Change Your Mind,” brought significant attention to the environmental and animal welfare implications of the American food system and reintroduced the public to the burgeoning field of psychedelic research, respectively. Both had a profound influence on my development as a young adult, ultimately guiding me toward a career in science journalism. Consequently, I eagerly awaited his perspective on consciousness.
Pollan tackles this subject with a genuine sense of curiosity. He adopts a contemplative rather than combative stance towards what is often termed the “hard problem” of consciousness: the question of how and why humans and other organisms experience subjectivity. The resulting exploration shares a resemblance with consciousness itself – captivating, yet at times, elusive.
Over a span of five years, Pollan undertook extensive research and writing for this book, delving into consciousness through a remarkably diverse array of disciplines, including artificial intelligence, plant biology, Victorian literature, and Buddhist philosophy, among others. Given the sheer breadth of consciousness as a subject and the limited understanding surrounding it, the task of weaving these disparate threads into a cohesive narrative must have presented a significant challenge. Nevertheless, Pollan invests considerable effort and largely achieves his goal, structuring the book into four distinct chapters, each progressively exploring a more complex dimension of consciousness.
Exploring the Dimensions of Consciousness
The initial chapter, focused on sentience, draws inspiration from a personal experience Pollan had while under the influence of psilocybin mushrooms. During this episode in his garden, he became convinced that the surrounding plants possessed sentience. This conviction spurred discussions with numerous researchers investigating this very phenomenon. Some of their discoveries are quite striking, such as the observed capacity of plant roots to navigate maze-like structures. Pollan himself expresses a degree of reservation in attributing consciousness to plants, at least for the present. He finds greater comfort in considering them sentient, a state he describes as a level below full consciousness.
The subsequent chapter shifts focus to feelings and emotion. I would characterize it as a thought-provoking, albeit unsettling, interlude in our investigation of consciousness. Here, we encounter a series of scientists dedicated to imbuing machines with consciousness. One notable researcher, for instance, developed a computer program designed to seek food, water, and rest within a simulated digital environment. The underlying premise is that these fundamental drives could eventually give rise to consciousness itself – a claim that initially troubled me. Could consciousness truly be reduced to a mere byproduct of biological needs like hunger? This concept proved difficult to accept. Perhaps it stems from a personal inclination towards a degree of enchantment, a trait Pollan suggests many scientists might dismiss as a detriment to objectivity. Nevertheless, I find it hard to relinquish the conviction that consciousness, the very awareness of existing, is immeasurably grander and more intricate than a mere computer algorithm.
At this juncture, I harbored some concern about completing the remaining 150 pages. The following two sections, dedicated to thought and self, largely steer away from the scientific community, much to my relief. Instead, they draw heavily from philosophers, writers, and artists who, as Pollan indicates, have pondered questions of consciousness for far longer periods than contemporary researchers. He examines how prevalent metaphors likening the mind to machinery have inadvertently restricted our thinking on the hard problem, leading us to assume that consciousness emerges from some specific material configuration, typically a network of neurons.
However, these materialistic perspectives sometimes diminish the inherent vibrancy and complexity of consciousness, a stark contrast to the nuanced understanding offered by the humanities. This leads Pollan to his ultimate conclusion: the materialistic approach to consciousness has reached an impasse. While not all individuals within the field may be immediate adherents to abandoning this perspective, he posits that doing so liberates us to explore concepts that might otherwise be dismissed as fanciful. Among these is the intriguing possibility that consciousness does not originate from the brain or the body at all, but is instead an intrinsic component of reality, akin to gravity. This idea is presented rather than extensively elaborated upon.
By the conclusion of his exploration, Pollan candidly admits to possessing less understanding of consciousness than when he commenced his inquiry, a sentiment I share after engaging with the book. Yet, as Christof Koch, a prominent consciousness researcher, conveys to him, this state of less knowing can, in a curious way, represent progress. Pollan quotes Koch: “Sometimes, not knowing opens us to possibilities that knowing, or trying to know, or thinking we already know closes off.” It may, therefore, prove more beneficial to approach consciousness as a practice, a state of fully engaging with our present moment, rather than a problem to be definitively solved. This conclusion resonates deeply with me.