why do we enjoy poetry From the perspective of neuroscience?

[Alan V]

I live in hope!

Though perhaps less than yesterday.

I claimed scientists were addressing the mind/brain problem, and in some detail. You may or may not think their approach is promising, especially if you are concerned with philosophical thought experiments. I'm not sure I even follow the scientific thinking of the book, though I understand the approach to some extent. I left certain points out of my summary because of this, and I do plan to reread the book again later, and perhaps other books mentioned as well.

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Alright, I have lurked this thread long enough. The question posed is"why do we enjoy poetry From the perspective of neuroscience?".

Implicit in the question is an unwarranted assumption.

I don't enjoy poetry at all, mostly I ignore it as irrelevant fluff.

The notion that "we" enjoy poetry as a global truth is utter bollocks. One only has to say the words "iambic pentameter" and I instantly teleport to a different universe.

The claim that poetry has universal appeal is flat out wrong.

Yeah, I thought the same thing.  I just transposed the question to other fields I do enjoy, like music or painting.

[Belacqua]

No, a computer is not a semiotic system, because it has its code imposed from without.

I guess I don't understand what you mean by the term, then. Semiotics is just the study of signs and meaning. A semiotic system would be, I thought, a system with signs and meanings. Whether this was self-made or not. But if there's a special sense involved here, I'm willing to go with it. 

If you think evolution could program p-zombies from scratch, I would have to ask why they should prefer living over dying.  If you say dying is painful or against such creatures' self-interest, you have already conceded the necessity for internal states.  

Well, the point of thinking about p-zombies is just to differentiate between a functioning thingy with interior experiences (qualia) and one without. I haven't considered whether such a thing could come about by natural selection or not. 

I guess evolution would select for p-zombies the way it does for anything else -- if it reproduces in the environment, it survives. If it doesn't, it doesn't. The thingy's preference here may not be relevant. If it behaves in such a way as to survive, its feelings about surviving, if any, aren't a part of the equation. Therefore, a well-functioning p-zombie, however it had come about, would survive without preferences or the qualia of pain or pleasure. 

This is if we're strict about the word "preference." I mean, we all use it metaphorically, probably. As in, "my car prefers not to start on cold mornings." That's not really preference in the sense that conscious creatures have it.

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Alright, I have lurked this thread long enough. The question posed is"why do we enjoy poetry From the perspective of neuroscience?".

Implicit in the question is an unwarranted assumption.

I don't enjoy poetry at all, mostly I ignore it as irrelevant fluff.

The notion that "we" enjoy poetry as a global truth is utter bollocks. One only has to say the words "iambic pentameter" and I instantly teleport to a different universe.

The claim that poetry has universal appeal is flat out wrong.

Isn't there some kind of "law" about this? Something like "90% of everything is garbage"? I agree that with poetry, it's likely a higher percentage. 

[edit] I found it. Thank you Mr. Google:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sturgeon%27s_law

The good stuff, though, I find worth the effort. 

But I think we could express the question in different ways. "Is it possible to study non-scientific fields with scientific means?" "Does brain science tell us anything useful about aesthetic questions?" Things like that. 

If nothing beautiful seems interesting to you, I suspect you are a p-zombie.

[bennyboy]

But I think we could express the question in different ways. "Is it possible to study non-scientific fields with scientific means?" "Does brain science tell us anything useful about aesthetic questions?" Things like that. 

I'd answer that yes, it definitely does tell us useful things. I'm of the camp that thinks quick scanners will eventually be able to track ideas in real-time. With large enough statistical samples and clever enough algorithms, we might have a better understanding of how people respond to poetry than individuals can express, precisely because feelings can't be expressed well with words.

That being said-- I cannot fathom how the mind/matter bridge will ever be bridged. I suppose cybernetics might be the key-- brain implants that augment experience could give us the ability to subjectively experience information in new ways, for example.

[Belacqua]

I'd answer that yes, it definitely does tell us useful things.  I'm of the camp that thinks quick scanners will eventually be able to track ideas in real-time.  With large enough statistical samples and clever enough algorithms, we might have a better understanding of how people respond to poetry than individuals can express, precisely because feelings can't be expressed well with words.

Interesting to get back to the thread topic!

I certainly agree that there is every indication that brain tech will continue to improve, and to tell us more and more about what's going on in there. What I don't see is how any of that will help us understand, or tell us anything non-trivial, about a work of art. And why not is a very interesting question. It calls into question what exactly happens when we experience a symphony or a great painting, etc. And where, exactly, the aesthetic experience occurs. Not in the sense of "what part of the brain," but in the sense of "is it ideas, feelings, some combination; is it subconscious, conscious; is the observable felt response of any real interest?" There is some way in which a work of art lives and operates outside of the individual mind, as a cultural artifact, as a Popperian World Three object, as a touchpoint throughout one's life. 

So let's do an easy example. Here is a poem from Blake's Songs of Innocence: 

Little Lamb who made thee 
         Dost thou know who made thee 
Gave thee life & bid thee feed. 
By the stream & o'er the mead; 
Gave thee clothing of delight, 
Softest clothing wooly bright; 
Gave thee such a tender voice, 
Making all the vales rejoice! 
         Little Lamb who made thee 
         Dost thou know who made thee 

         Little Lamb I'll tell thee, 
         Little Lamb I'll tell thee!
He is called by thy name, 
For he calls himself a Lamb: 
He is meek & he is mild, 
He became a little child: 
I a child & thou a lamb, 
We are called by his name. 
         Little Lamb God bless thee. 
         Little Lamb God bless thee.

Now, what could we discover by observing the brain of someone reading this? I suspect that depending on the individual, there would be some mixture of boredom, or agreement, or disagreement -- perhaps revulsion by people who post here, who dislike this kind of sentiment. Quantifying that would not be of interest, though. 

What is good to know is that the poem is intentionally naive, boring, and wrong. The Songs of Innocence are not about innocence, they are spoken by innocence. So this is not Blake's opinion being spoken, it is the opinion of someone who is naive, boring, and wrong. It is to be contrasted with its counterpart in The Songs of Experience, the more famous Tiger poem, which expresses the opinion of someone who knows that little lambs are killed for veal. Or I shouldn't say it's the opinion of experience, because the Tiger poem is all questions. How could God, who is supposed to be good, do this? 

Depending on a person's level of experience, education, religious faith, and attention, the reading of the two poems can develop over years. 

So serious, non-snarky question: what can going into an MRI machine add to our understanding, in regard to this poem?

Another example: I grew up in a small town with no art. I had books from the library though, and I loved to look at pictures of paintings by van Eyck. When I was 17 I went to London and saw a van Eyck painting (the Arnolfini wedding portrait) in the flesh for the first time. This was absolutely thrilling for me -- the painting is almost supernaturally beautiful, in that it is more subtle and richer than any mass produced item has ever been. It's this experience, and this added hands-on knowledge, that makes the painting meaningful. Not to get all Platonic, but the beauty points to higher things. Remember what Stendhal said: beauty is the promise of happiness. Not happiness, but the promise of it. 

These infinite and ongoing connections are, for me, what any art is about. And again, in a totally non-snarky way, I just don't see what a brain scientist is going to do for me.

[Alan V]

So serious, non-snarky question: what can going into an MRI machine add to our understanding, in regard to this poem?

Another example: I grew up in a small town with no art. I had books from the library though, and I loved to look at pictures of paintings by van Eyck. When I was 17 I went to London and saw a van Eyck painting (the Arnolfini wedding portrait) in the flesh for the first time. This was absolutely thrilling for me -- the painting is almost supernaturally beautiful, in that it is more subtle and richer than any mass produced item has ever been. It's this experience, and this added hands-on knowledge, that makes the painting meaningful. Not to get all Platonic, but the beauty points to higher things. Remember what Stendhal said: beauty is the promise of happiness. Not happiness, but the promise of it. 

These infinite and ongoing connections are, for me, what any art is about. And again, in a totally non-snarky way, I just don't see what a brain scientist is going to do for me.

An MRI machine would likely show a difference in brain activation between the people who enjoyed such works of art and those who don't. It might even show a greater activation of the right hemisphere in interpreting an artistic experience, or perhaps show how certain modules of the brain are involved. It wouldn't add to or subtract from our appreciation, most likely, but could tell us more about how our brains work.

Art appreciation happens on the level of complex symbolic interpretation, and might look like a firework show in the brains of those who enjoy such things, at least until they were habituated.

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I would like to add that my long book report was not just a series of assertions drawn out of thin air, but a series of conclusions or speculations based on careful scientific observations over many years. Explaining what we actually observe, which is what scientists do slowly over time, is not the same kind of activity as some philosophers who tend to question even carefully collected observations until they are adequately explained.

[bennyboy]

I would like to add that my long book report was not just a series of assertions drawn out of thin air, but a series of conclusions or speculations based on careful scientific observations over many years.  Explaining what we actually observe, which is what scientists do slowly over time, is not the same kind of activity as some philosophers who tend to question even carefully collected observations until they are adequately explained.

Let me clarify. I'm all about brain science, and very interested in the effects of drugs on the brain, in special-state experiences like the "zone," and so on. So I don't want you to think I'm anti-science.

However, there's a real philosophical divide between the essence of subjectivism and objectivism that I think doesn't lend well to a monistic conflation-- i.e., just saying mind is brain function doesn't really satisfy someone who wants to know how a material system can experience, when the capacity for experience is almost never considered in making physical observations of material systems.

[Alan V]

Consciousness of such a self is further down the road, and is a relatively simple matter of perceiving an already existing self.

Oh dear. This is where the red lights come on.

To say it's "a relatively simple matter of perceiving" something is not self-evident to me. Because the whole thing we're working on is how we perceive things in consciousness. 

There are unexpectedly difficult questions here. E.g. what is a self? 

Yes, perhaps I overstated what the book said here. The point is that the hard problem of consciousness may not be with the emergence of consciousness so much as with the emergence of life. Life represents the self-organization of information systems which have arbitrary rules, rather than being governed strictly by the laws of physics. The author speculates how this may relate to the property of complimentarity in quantum physics. It's kind of like how scientists are speculating about how the big bang may have started with a quantum fluctuation. The point is that the strict determinism of Laplace is no longer the reigning view in physics, and we should therefore adjust our ideas about what is possible with materialism accordingly.

Once you get a self, a discrete biological life form, awareness of the internal life of that self may be a forgone conclusion at a certain level of complexity in evolution. After all, our brains are connected to our internal structures but not connected directly to the external world. We each have our own little, discrete internal world.

Further, the fact that modules abstract information automatically, without our consciousness seeing the processes involved, means we live in a simulated reality in our brains. This is less a problem than if we thought we somehow perceived the external world directly. Our consciousness is not illusory but rather simulated.

[Alan V]

No, a computer is not a semiotic system, because it has its code imposed from without.

I guess I don't understand what you mean by the term, then. Semiotics is just the study of signs and meaning. A semiotic system would be, I thought, a system with signs and meanings. Whether this was self-made or not. But if there's a special sense involved here, I'm willing to go with it.

You are right. My apologies for my mistake. I believe that only in biosemiotics is the code linking signs and meanings created within the organism, but even then I am going by what I just read. Several of the concepts are new to me, so I will no doubt have to read more to understand them properly.

That's why I am looking forward to your own interpretations of the book.

[bennyboy]

Further, the fact that modules abstract information automatically, without our consciousness seeing the processes involved, means we live in a simulated reality in our brains.  This is less a problem than if we thought we somehow perceived the external world directly.  Our consciousness is not illusory but rather simulated.

Okay, let's examine this. We know for sure, under any model, that what we perceive is not as we perceive it. We symbolize greatly-- for example, we see a collection of QM particles as a flat desk, when there's no real flatness in wave functions.

But given this, what would be the difference between say a materialistic monism and an idealistic monism? How would you differentiate between them? How would you determine exactly WHAT our consciousness is simulating?

[Alan V]

I would like to add that my long book report was not just a series of assertions drawn out of thin air, but a series of conclusions or speculations based on careful scientific observations over many years.  Explaining what we actually observe, which is what scientists do slowly over time, is not the same kind of activity as some philosophers who tend to question even carefully collected observations until they are adequately explained.

Let me clarify.  I'm all about brain science, and very interested in the effects of drugs on the brain, in special-state experiences like the "zone," and so on.  So I don't want you to think I'm anti-science.

However, there's a real philosophical divide between the essence of subjectivism and objectivism that I think doesn't lend well to a monistic conflation-- i.e., just saying mind is brain function doesn't really satisfy someone who wants to know how a material system can experience, when the capacity for experience is almost never considered in making physical observations of material systems.

Since you have continued to respond to me (and since I peaked at your posts, just in case), I took you off ignore.  I'm sorry if I was rude, but I would be even more inconsiderate if I ignored your comments.

Your questions are among those addressed in the book, and I'm afraid I don't understand either biosemiotic systems or quantum mechanics well enough to translate what I read accurately.  There was even a point when I was writing my 10 pages of notes when I just wrote down "(GAP)".  Perhaps Belaqua will help me out when he has finished reading the book.

Further, the fact that modules abstract information automatically, without our consciousness seeing the processes involved, means we live in a simulated reality in our brains.  This is less a problem than if we thought we somehow perceived the external world directly.  Our consciousness is not illusory but rather simulated.

Okay, let's examine this.  We know for sure, under any model, that what we perceive is not as we perceive it.  We symbolize greatly-- for example, we see a collection of QM particles as a flat desk, when there's no real flatness in wave functions.

But given this, what would be the difference between say a materialistic monism and an idealistic monism?  How would you differentiate between them?  How would you determine exactly WHAT our consciousness is simulating?

How do we determine what consciousness is simulating?  Through science and logic.  If we could see external realities directly and understand them correctly, I assume there would be no additional use for either.  However, we know enough about human psychology to understand that we really see abstractions and interpretations.

As for your other question, "What would be the difference between say a materialistic monism and an idealistic monism?" --  I will have to give you my personal answer.

I experimented with lucid dreaming for many years, and discovered in the process of doing so that dream content responds to suggestions in a way similar to hypnosis.  In other words, if I wanted to find a specific object, say a refrigerator, I expected to find that object when I turned a corner, and was often pleased to find exactly the object I wanted.  And I wasn't doing such experimentation alone.  My now wife and our common friend Ruth were both doing similar experiments, suggesting new experiments to each other, and getting similar results.  My wife and I even wrote a book about what we found out through such experimentation, and what lucid dreaming implied for dream theory.

We also found certain aspects of dreaming which could not be changed, which are pertinent to answering your question.  Instability and inconsistency are intractable in dreaming.  You can use them to create suggested imagry (and other sensations), but such imagery doesn't last long.  This is why we theorized that while dreaming must employ the brain's abilities to reconstruct external realities, without those realities really being there, there was nothing to keep them consistent.  In other words, any one mind is inadequate to create either the stable details or the consistency of realities.  This, to me, is an answer to your question.  External realities most likely really exist, and are necessary to stabilize waking perceptions.