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The Value of Cognitivism in Thinking about Extended Cognition
It is mere prejudice to suppose that cognitive processes occur within the brain. There is
simply no principled, non-question-begging, reason to think that cognition only occurs within the
confines of the brain or central nervous system. Such is a common charge in the extended
cognition literature.1 But, in truth, a principled basis for thinking that today cognitive processes
occur only within the brain, or central nervous system, is in plain view. It lies in the familiar
cognitivist view that cognition involves certain sorts of manipulations of non-derived
representations. One might plausibly say that cognitive processes typically take place in the
brain, because that is where representational manipulations of the sort that constitute cognition
typically happen to be. This is no kind of logical or conceptual truth. It is merely a contingent
feature of the way the actual world happens to be organized in the early Twenty-First century.2
A central theme of Adams and Aizawa (2001, 2008) presses the foregoing point. The
advocates of extended cognition need to address the ability of cognitivism to demarcate the
regions of the world that contain cognitive processes versus those that do not. Indeed, advocates
of extended cognition need to come to grips with some of the other virtues of cognitivism.
Cognitivism does more than provide a non-question-begging reason to think that the mind is in
the brain or central nervous system. For one thing, cognitivism helps us avoid the most common
fallacy in the extended cognition literature, namely, the “Coupling-Constitution Fallacy.”3 Too
easily the advocates of extended cognition succumb to the belief that if a cognitive agent
1
See, for example, Clark and Chalmers (1998), Haugeland (1999), and Rowlands (1999).
It is, of course, true that many advocates of extended cognition reject cognitivism. See, for example, Haugeland,
(1999), Thompson, (2007), Wallace, (2007), and Gomila and Calvo, (2008). Yet, the fact that there is this
disagreement does not mean that an appeal to cognitivism in making a case against extended cognition begs the
question against extended cognition. One begs the question when one assumes, without argument, what one is
trying to prove. But, cognitivism isn’t assumed without argument. The case for cognitivism lies in its success in
explaining various features of cognition. Were the mere existence of different views of P sufficient to guarantee
that one side or the other is begging the question, then every debate would have to involve begging the question.
3
For discussion of this, see Adams and Aizawa, (2001, 2008, 2009), and Aizawa, (forthcoming).
2
2
causally interacts with some object in the external world in some “important” way—if that agent
is coupled to an object—then that agent’s cognitive processing is constituted by processes
extending into that object. Yet, causal interactions do not always change the types of processes
involved. Take a burning match to a piece of paper and the combustion process will extend into
the paper, but take the same match to a steel wrecking ball and it will not extend into the ball.
What will extend and what will not depends on what is coupled. With the cognitivist theory of
cognition in hand, one can ask of any specific case whether coupling the cognitive process to the
bodily or environmental process will lead to the cognitive process extending. Will the extended
portion of the process involve the requisite types of manipulations of representations? There are
probably other theories of cognitive processes that could do as much as cognitivism does to help
avoid the Coupling-Constitution Fallacy, but cognitivism still deserves credit for doing this.
A second virtue of cognitivism for the extended cognition debate is that it helps us define
a field of scientific investigation. It offers us a relatively well-defined subject for a field of
cognitive science to study. It is the study of some, but only some, of the ways in which some
organisms transform information, ways it might be possible to recreate in computers or robots.
By contrast, the advocates of extended cognition have not reached consensus on what they might
pursue as an extended cognitive science. If one thought that extended cognitive processes
involved certain sorts of transformations of certain sorts of mental representations, one could be
a cognitivist about larger regions of spacetime than has been traditional.4 Some advocates of
extended cognition, however, have suggested that cognitive processes are dynamical systems
processes.5 Of course, presumably not just any dynamical systems processes will do, since the
pendulum in a grandfather clock is a dynamical system, but presumably not a cognitive system.
4
5
This seems to be the kind of extended cognition that Hutchins (1995a, 1995b), pursues.
For example, van Gelder (1995, 1998).
3
Maybe when the dynamical systems approach is fleshed out, it will turn out that only a
dynamical system that also meets the requirements of cognitivism would work. Or maybe some
form of ecological psychology or phenomenology will do. Or maybe we do not even need a
science.6
Despite these virtues that cognitivism enjoys, not to mention the ways in which it
supports and makes sense of various empirical findings, Richard Menary (2006), and Andy Clark
(2005, 2007, 2008, forthcoming) take exception to the case we have made on behalf of
cognitivism. They resist Adams and Aizawa’s appeal to the hypothesis that cognition involves
non-derived representations.7 They persist in succumbing to the Coupling-Constitution Fallacy.
Finally, they have not provided a plausible successor to the idea that cognitive science is about
some of the ways in which some organisms manipulate some representations. They do not have
a plausible account of what cognitive science is a science of. This paper will elaborate on these
issues. Section 1 will defend the hypothesis that cognition involves non-derived content, Section
2 will show how both Clark and Menary fail to avoid the Coupling-Constitution Fallacy, and,
finally, Section 3 will turn to the idea that a “brain-tool science,” even construed as a science of
what complements the brain, is a motley undisciplined subject for a would-be science. A word
of caution before we begin: this discussion is not for the faint of heart, as it is the n-th move in a
protracted debate. It will presuppose some familiarity with a debate in progress.
1. Intrinsic Content
Sutton (2004), proposes “an integrated framework within which different memory-related phenomena might be
understood” (p. 188). Such an integrated framework may or may not be a science.
7
In a review of Clark, (2008), Fodor, (2009), also appeals to non-derived content in challenging the hypothesis of
extended cognition.
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4
In keeping with the principle that the best defense is a good offense, Menary and Clark
defend extended cognition by challenging one component of our version of cognitivism, the idea
that it involves intrinsic, or non-derived, representations.8 So, suppose we concede that there is
no such thing as intrinsic or non-derived representation. This, of course, leaves untouched the
idea that part of what distinguishes cognitive processes from non-cognitive processes is the way
in which cognitive processes transform or manipulate mental representations. Cognitive
processing is not just any old type of symbol manipulation or information processing.9 Like
most cognitivists, we hypothesize that cognitive processing involves specific sorts of information
processing not generally present in the familiar interactions humans have with tools in their
environments. The differences in the ways digital video recorders and human visual systems
process the information in light separates consumer electronics from vision science. This is part
of the reason that cognitivism gives us some means of drawing a principled distinction between
what goes on inside the brain and what goes on in the brain, body, and environment.
Clark and Menary’s challenge to non-derived content also leaves untouched the idea that
cognition involves representations, even if they are not non-derived representations and even if
the derived/non-derived distinction were to prove untenable or ill-founded. The weaker
hypothesis that cognition involves representations is sufficient to challenge at least some of the
purported instances of extended cognitive processing. One instance is Clark and Chalmers’s
discussion of the play of Tetris. In this game, blocks descend from the top of a computer screen
and are to be fit into a rising wall of blocks. Aside from differences in the way in which
Some philosophers have been worried by our term “intrinsic representations.” How, they ask, can anything be
intrinsically a representation? But, in this context, “intrinsic” means only that the representation does not get its
content from any prior existing content. In other words, for us, it means just the same thing as “non-derived
representations.” We do not draw any theoretical differences between “intrinsic representations” and “non-derived
representations.”
9
This point is made in Adams and Aizawa, (2008), but also in Aizawa, (forthcoming), in reply to Rowlands, (2009).
8
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information is processed, there are different roles for representations between playing this game
by using mental rotation and by pressing a game controller button. In mental rotation, one is
manipulating representations of the falling zoids. In pressing the game button, one is
manipulating the falling zoids themselves. The zoids on the screen are not representations.10 A
similar point applies to Robert Gibbs’s (1999) idea that a windsurfer’s interactions with board
and sail create extended intentions. The fact that nothing in the board or the sail is a
representation gives us one reason to think that it does not involve extended intentions or
extended cognition. So, even the weakened theory of the mark of the cognitive is not entirely
ineffectual in resisting some purported cases of extended cognition.
Now that we see the scope of Clark’s and Menary’s challenge, we can turn to the
hypothesis of intrinsic content per se. Here, two preliminary points will aid us in meeting
Clark’s and Menary’s objections. The first thing to observe about the derived/non-derived
distinction is that it concerns the conditions in virtue of which an object bears a particular
content. A thought might bear the content that the cat is hungry in virtue of satisfying some
conditions on non-derived content, whereas a particular inscription on a piece of paper might
bear that same content by satisfying some other conditions on derived content. To put the matter
another way, there are two questions one might ask of a representation. The first is what content
that representation bears; the second is what conditions make it the case that it bears that content.
The second thing to observe is that the content of one representation can be another
representation. There can be representations of representations. “+” represents the addition
function, where “the plus sign” represents the symbol “+.” A stop sign has the content of the
imperative “stop!,” but the expression “stop sign” is a representation of stop signs, which bear
Exactly the same point can be made about Robert Wilson’s (2004) example of playing a children’s board game
called “Rush Hour.”
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the imperative content. And the process can iterate. One might take a photograph of the
expression “the plus sign,” which would be a representation of the expression “the plus sign,”
which would be a representation of “+,” which represents a mathematical function. Keeping
these two observations clearly in mind takes us a long way toward steering clear of Clark’s and
Menary’s objections to intrinsic content.
1.1 Clark on Intrinsic Representation. Clark’s (2005) principal challenge to intrinsic
representations proceeds in two stages.11 In essence, the first stage begins with someone, say
Gary, thinking about the quasi-syllogism,
All men are mortal
Socrates is a man
Therefore, Socrates is mortal.
Gary thinks about this syllogism using the familiar apparatus of Venn diagrams drawn with
pencil and paper as shown in Figure 1. In checking for the validity of this syllogism, Gary relies
on numerous conventions, such as that circles represent sets, that one circle’s being inside of
another means that all the members of the first set are members of the second, and that an “X”
inside of a circle represents an individual being a member of the set. Now, however, suppose
that, instead of using pencil and paper to draw out the circles and “X,” Gary relies upon mental
imagery which we can depict in Figure 2 as a kind of fuzzy, low-resolution representation of
Figure 1. As Clark fully appreciates, this situation is no challenge to our view. The items in
Figure 1 can have their content in virtue of social conventions, hence be derived representations,
11
Clark (2005) lists three problems for intrinsic content. These are that it is unclear that it exists, that it is not
necessarily limited to brains, and that its existence would not compromise the case for extended cognition. Since
Clark does not argue for the first of these claims and since we do not think that intrinsic content is necessarily
limited to brain, we here limit ourselves to addressing Clark’s third claim beginning at Clark (2005) p. 5. For further
elaboration on these three points, see Adams & Aizawa (2008).
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where the items in Figure 2 can have their content in virtue of satisfying conditions on nonderived representations.12
The trap for our view is then supposed to be tripped in the second stage of Clark’s
argument. In this stage, we are invited to consider yet another thought experiment. Now instead
of a normal human being like Gary, we are invited to consider a Martian whose mental
representations ex hypothesi do not satisfy the conditions of any true theory of non-derived
representations. Instead, the Martian’s mental images are, say, mere bit maps of the sort created
by digital scanners. So, where representations in Gary’s version of Figure 2 have the content
they do in virtue of conditions on non-derived content, the representations in the Martian’s
version of Figure 2 have the content they do in virtue of conditions on derived content. But, in
this situation, Clark believes, we should unhesitatingly accept the view that this Martian does the
same cognitive processing as does Gary.
The tension here is supposed to be between the theory that cognition involves nonderived representations and, …, well, … what? Clark is not explicit about what he is pitting
against our theory, but it looks like mere pre-theoretical intuitions about what we would call
cognition. We do not put a lot of weight on thought experiments that use behavior to determine
whether some alien apparatus is alive or not, so we also do not put a lot of weight on thought
experiments that use behavior to determine whether some alien apparatus is thinking or not. For
scientific purposes, we ought to rely on deep theoretical similarities and differences, rather than
on superficial pedestrian responses. Only a logical behaviorist would maintain that behavioral
12
Clark apparently assumes that the items in Figure 2 represent the items in Figure 1. For present purposes, we can
abide by that assumption. Of course, it is also possible that Figure 2 does not represent Figure 1, but instead both
Figure 2 and Figure 1 have the same content, namely, the same social conventions. We can abide by that
assumption as well. Given our observations above that the derived/non-derived distinction is orthogonal to the
specific content an item bears, it is fine if both figures have the same content and that one has derived content and
the other non-derived content.
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similarity to bodily movements produced by genuine cognitive processes is sufficient for
attributing genuine cognitive processes. Since Clark is no behaviorist, he can't take behavioral
similarity of the Martian and Gary to be decisive. If, however, behavior is only evidence for
cognition, then whether there is genuine cognition in the Martian depends on how the behavior
(similar to Gary's) is being produced. Unless Clark gives us a genuine (and good) reason to
believe the internal mechanisms in the Martian are cognitive, Clark's efforts are not all that
threatening.
1.2 Menary’s Follow up on Intrinsic Representations. Menary’s handling of the
hypothesis of intrinsic content begins with Clark’s example of Venn diagrams, but develops in
different ways. We will consider each of these in turn. To be fair to Menary, let us quote his
first objection in toto, then see how it goes wrong.
But one problem here is that the processes that apply to an image of a Euler circle
are not the same as the processes that apply to the Euler circle in virtue of its
conventionally determined meaning. Grant the internalist the point that the image of a
Euler circle gets in my head because of some causal linkage with external Euler circles.
The inferences that I make that involve Euler circles depend upon the conventions
governing the properties and uses of Euler circles, something that the image cannot
provide. So there are also mental representations of the conventions governing the
properties and uses of Euler circles, which get in my head because of some causal linkage
(asymmetric dependence say) with the outside world. But it is not the causal linkage that
determines the content of these representations: the content of each of these
representations is the convention. So, unless there are mental representations with
conventional content, there can be no cognitive processing of Euler circles. (Menary,
2006, p. 336).
The first sentence seems to be driving at the following. There are certain cognitive processes
that will apply to the mental image shown in Figure 2 when it is treated merely as an image with
circles and writing and there are other cognitive processes that apply to the mental image shown
in Figure 2 when it is treated as a mental image for evaluating quasi-syllogisms. In particular, as
Menary proposes in the third sentence, the cognitive processes in the second case presumably
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involve mental representations of certain conventions, such as that one circle being inside
another means that one set is a subset of another. Further, Menary supposes that, while the
image of the Euler circles shown in Figure 2 may get their meaning in virtue of some causal
theory of mental content (the second sentence), the mental representation of the conventions do
not get their content from the mental image in Figure 2 (per the last part of the third sentence).
So, in the fourth sentence, we come to the conclusion that there are mental representations of the
conventions, such as that one circle being inside another means that one set is a subset of the
other, and that these mental representations get their content via some causal theory of reference.
So far, so good. What remains is hard to interpret. The problem apparently finally arises in the
second to last sentence. The mental representations of the conventions cannot get their content
by causal linkages. Why? Because the content of the representations is the convention. So, the
problem is not with the mental representation illustrated in Figure 2, but with the mental
representations of the conventions, such as what it means for one circle to be contained within
another. From this, Menary gets his final point that unless there are mental representations with
conventional content, there can be no cognitive processing.
So, let us go back to the claim that the mental representations of the conventions cannot
get their content by causal linkages. Right away, we must emphasize, first, that, for purposes of
engaging the hypothesis of extended cognition, we are officially agnostic about what particular
conditions might confer non-derived content on mental representations. One might give a causal
theory of mental content, a picture theory, or some form of functional role semantics. Second,
even when we have entertained causal theories of mental content, we have never entertained the
idea that all mental representations get their content in virtue of some causal theory of mental
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content. Though this view is often attacked, it is not clear that any philosophers hold this view.13
Third, it is unclear that Menary has a compelling reason for this claim about the mental
representations of conventions. Why does the fact that the content of these representations is a
convention show that the causal theory does not apply? Why is it that the fact that follows the
colon support the claim that precedes the colon? After all, it just is the causal view that a
syntactic item “X” can mean X and be caused by X. So, why can we not have a syntactic item
“X” that means, say, circle containment means set theoretic containment and be caused by circle
containment meaning set theoretic containment? Menary owes us an argument here.
Perhaps the idea is that a convention is not the kind of thing to which a human being, or
another cognitive agent, could be causally linked, much in the way that an abstract object, such
as a number, is not the sort of thing to which a human being, or cognitive agent, could be
causally linked. But, even if the causal theorist concedes that it is (conceptually or
metaphysically) impossible for cognitive agents to be causally linked to conventions, the causal
theorist still has options. Many causal theorists believe that mental representations occur in a
language of thought, a system of syntactically and semantically combinatorial representations in
many respects like a first-order language. In such a language of thought, there will be
semantically atomic and semantically molecular representations. The causal theorist can,
therefore, first, maintain that mental representations of conventions are complex or molecular
mental representations that get their meanings by way of the meanings of certain atomic mental
representations and the way in which those mental representations are composed. Then, the
atomic mental representations get their meaning by way of causal connections. So, a mental
representation M1 could have the content “‘i’ before ‘e’ except after ‘c’” in virtue of the
meanings of “i”, before, “e’, etc. and the way in which those components are put together. So,
13
See (Adams & Aizawa, 2010).
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even where we defending a causal theory of mental content in our “intrinsic content” hypothesis
(which we were not), Menary apparently underestimates the resources of a causal theory of
mental content.
But, suppose that Menary can come up with a good reason to think that the mental
representations of the conventions cannot be generated by a causal theory. It still does not
follow that the contents of these mental representations are generated by conventions. Return to
the final sentence quoted above, namely, “unless there are mental representations with
conventional content, there can be no cognitive processing of Euler circles.” We need to be clear
here. The phrase “mental representations with conventional content” is ambiguous. On the one
hand, it can mean mental representations whose content is determined by convention. We
maintain that there are no such things. On the other hand, it can mean mental representations
whose content is that of a convention, such as that circle containment means set theoretic
containment. We maintain that there are plenty of these. When one typically thins “‘i’ before
‘e’ except after ‘c’” one is likely tokening a mental representation whose content is a convention,
but not a mental representation whose content is conventionally determined. Presumably
Menary means to conclude that unless there are mental representations with content determined
by conventions, there can be no cognitive processing of Euler circles (in syllogistic reasoning).
But, this conclusion presupposes that, if the mental representations of the conventions do not get
their content by causal connections, then they must get them by way of conventions. But, there
are other options. Even if the mental representations of conventions do not get their content
from causal connections, it does not follow that they much get their content by conventions. So
much, then, for Menary’s first objection to the intrinsic content idea.
Menary mixes his exposition of the foregoing argument with another. He writes,
12
But one problem here is that the processes that apply to an image of an Euler circle are
not the same as the processes that apply to the Euler circle in virtue of its conventionally
determined meaning. … internal processes don’t apply to the image of an Euler circle in
the same way that we directly manipulate the external Euler circle. Therefore, we cannot
carry out the same operations on Euler circles in the head that we can by directly
manipulating them if we are guided by A&A’s stipulation. … By A&A’s reasoning,
cognition that involves representations with intrinsic content would be quite limited; but
clearly we aren’t so limited. This is because we have developed external representations
schemes and methods for manipulating them (ibid., pp. 336-7).
In the text leading up to this, Menary evidently supposes that he needs to argue that on our view
the intracranial processes that manipulate mental images of Euler circles are different from the
extracranial processes that manipulate Euler circles on paper. But, that is really not necessary,
since much of our argumentation against “pencil and paper memories” has been directed toward
pointing to the many ways in which internal cognitive processes differ from external physical,
chemical, and biological processes. We have been at pains to note how Otto’s jottings in his
notebook involve different sorts of information processing than do Inga’s “jottings” in her brain.
We have been at pains to note how normal mental rotation differs from physical rotation of zoids
on the Tetris screen. We have been at pains to note how mental arithmetic differs from
arithmetic with pencil and paper.
Menary thinks these differences in processing are a problem for us because it would
mean that human cognitive processing would be quite limited. But, it is, in fact, our view that
humans have more or less fixed cognitive capacities. That seems to us pretty evident. Indeed, it
is because our cognitive capacities are so limited that we have recourse to tools to overcome our
limitations. It is the simple fact that doing things with tools so frequently enables us to complete
tasks so much more quickly, reliably, or easily that we develop them and rely on them. Why, for
example, do we so often rely on pencil and paper to do arithmetic problems? Because we have a
relatively limited short term memory capacity, but by writing the numbers in columns, marking
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numbers to carry, and so forth, we free ourselves from our dependence on our highly fallible
short term memory. And why do we still more often rely on inexpensive pocket calculators,
rather than pencil and paper? Because using a calculator is generally faster and more reliable
than using pencil and paper. With a calculator, one does not have to write the problem down nor
correctly calculate the elementary products in a large multiplication problem. We see nothing
embarrassing in this at all. We are cognitively limited, and the use of non-cognitive tools helps
us overcome these limitations.14 So, we see nothing wrong with drawing a contrast between
intracranial addition and paper and pencil addition. Nor do we see that this commits us to
making incorrect assessments of human cognitive limitations.
Menary’s next objection is that we have an impoverished view of mental content. He
writes,
the mental image of an aardvark is not the sole constituent of my concept of an aardvark.
In fact most of the content of my concept of an aardvark will have been fixed by the
conventional methods that A&A find anathema. Concepts go beyond what asymmetric
dependence or function of indication can offer (ibid.)
Several things are going on here. One is that Menary seems to think that Adams and Aizawa
think that all concepts are mental images. That would explain his claim that the mental image of
an aardvark is not the sole constituent of one’s concept of an aardvark. But happily, we grant
that not all concepts are mental images. We can also admit that non-derived representations
indirectly help us acquire concepts. So, for example, the English word “aardvark” would be
useful in talking about aardvarks and telling people about some of their features. And talking
about aardvarks is probably a good way to get the concept of an aardvark. And, indeed, this
utility of derived representations is plausibly construed as part of the reason we have non-derived
representations for things in the first place. Note that non-derived representations enable us to
14
It is unclear to us just how Menary would tell a plausible story about why we use tools, if it is not that we are
more cognitively limited without them.
14
acquire concepts, but this is not that same thing as saying that non-derived representations enable
us to develop concepts by being directly imported into the brain, as if that makes any sense. We
do not think that images can be somehow directly inserted or implanted into one’s cognitive
economy. And, we find here again that Menary thinks we are committed to some specific causal
theory of mental content. But, again, for the space of our challenge to the hypothesis of extended
cognition, we are not specifically committed to any particular theory of how non-derived content
might arise. So, for present purposes it does not matter whether Jerry Fodor’s asymmetric causal
dependency theory does not work or whether Fred Dretske’s function of indication theory does
not work.15
Finally, we arrive at that purported dilemma we mentioned earlier:
Either A&A’s intrinsic mental representations will be too rich—too similar to
conventional representations—such that the intrinsic-conventional distinction becomes
vacuous or they will be too meager, in which case they won’t be of much use in
completing cognitive tasks. Either way the intrinsic-derived distinction looks unhelpful
(ibid).16
One might wonder why intrinsic mental representations must be “too rich” or “too meager,”
rather than just right. Menary does not spell this out. But, set this aside and accept the premise
merely for the sake of argument. As we see things, neither case is really harmful. Let the set of
all non-derived mental representations and the set of all derived representations have exactly the
same contents. This would make mental representations “maximally rich.” Why would this
make the distinction between the two types vacuous? Indeed, one can readily see a reason why it
would be a good thing to have all the non-derived contents expressible in a derived fashion as
well. Suppose that Gary has a vast set of thoughts in a system of non-derived mental
Indeed, Adams and Aizawa are on the books arguing that Fodor’s theory doesn’t work. See, for example, Adams
and Aizawa (1994).
16
For some reason, Menary seems to have presented the same dilemma twice in succession. We do not really see
the difference between these two dilemmas.
15
15
representations squirreled away in his brain, one of them being that the icy water of the lake
looks inviting. Further suppose he wants to communicate this last fact to us. It would be
convenient for Gary to have a set of publicly available derived expressions, such as those of a
natural language that would enable him to communicate his thoughts. And if he wanted to share
his thoughts for posterity, it would be convenient to have a system of writing that could express
his thoughts for the ages.17 So, as far as we can tell, having a “maximally rich” system of
derived representations would seem to have its usefulness, since it would be all the better for
communicating Gary’s vast set of thoughts. And, even something less than maximally rich
might still be pretty good as well. (This is essentially the point we made above in response to
Menary’s aardvark example. We do not see a problem here. In this case, we can see what is
meant by the derived/non-derived distinction and why it is important.) So, the first horn of the
purported dilemma does not appear to constitute a problem for us.
Let there be a vast gulf between the contents expressible using non-derived
representations in the mind and the contents expressible using derived representations in the
physical, chemical, and biological world. If that were the case—if the system of mental
representations were “too meager,” one could understand the struggle to develop other forms of
communication and intellectual inspiration, such as perhaps some of those found in mathematics,
music, and art. So, as in the first horn of Menary’s dilemma, the derived/non-derived distinction
is unthreatened. As best we can tell, whatever relations there might be between the contents of
our hypothetical non-derived representations and of derived representations, the distinction
Of course, one does not always speak one’s mind. One might say that “Bill Clinton was the greatest president of
the Twentieth Century” because one thinks that Bill Clinton was the greatest president of the Twentieth Century or
because one does not think this, but is being sarcastic. Nevertheless, there could often enough be enough usefulness
in having a close matching between what one thinks and what one says to sustain a match.
17
16
offers us at least the beginnings of an attempt to understand some features of the human
condition.
2. The Coupling-Constitution Fallacy
Move now from the rather focused issue of non-derived content to the most pervasive
type of argument for the hypothesis of extended cognition, the coupling-constitution arguments.
In these arguments, one uses certain sorts of observations about a cognitive agent’s causal
interactions with the external, non-biological world—a cognitive agent’s “coupling” with the
world—to make the case that part of the external, non-biological world realizes an agent’s
cognitive processes. Clark and Chalmers (1998) present the argument quite succinctly: “we will
argue that beliefs can be constituted partly by features of the environment, when those features
play the right sort of role in driving cognitive processes. If so, the mind extends into the world.”
(Clark and Chalmers, 1998, p. 12) Clark himself gives a lengthier version of the argument in this
passage,
Confronted, at last, with the shiny finished product the good materialist may find herself
congratulating her brain on its good work. But this is misleading. It is misleading not
simply because (as usual) most of the ideas were not our own anyway, but because the
structure, form and flow of the final product often depends heavily on the complex ways
the brain cooperates with, and leans upon, various special features of the media and
technologies with which it continually interacts. . . . The brain’s role is crucial and
special. But it is not the whole story. In fact, the true (fast and frugal!) power and beauty
of the brain’s role is that it acts as a mediating factor in a variety of complex and iterated
processes which continually loop between brain, body and technological environment.
And it is this larger system which solves the problem. . . . The intelligent process just is
the spatially and temporally extended one which zig-zags between brain, body, and world
(Clark, 2001, p. 132).
Here is Menary setting out the argument quite succinctly,
The real disagreement between internalists [like Adams and Aizawa] and integrationists
[like Menary] is whether the manipulation of external vehicles constitutes a cognitive
process. Integrationists think that they do, typically for reasons to do with the close
17
coordination and causal interplay between internal and external processes (Menary, 2006,
p. 331).
So, both Clark and Menary apparently endorse this kind of argument, at least at times.
The fallacy in this kind of argument is easy to see. This simply lies in the fact that, in
general, it does not follow from the fact that a process X is coupled or causally connected to a
cognitive process Y that X itself, or the entire X-Y process, is cognitive. Stating the problem a
bit more generally, the fact that a process X is coupled to a process of type Y does not show that
that X is, in fact, also a (part of a) Y process or that the entire X-Y process is of type Y. In an
airplane, the combustion of fuel can be coupled to the rotation of a propeller, but under normal
circumstances the combustion is limited to the engine. The same point can be made with a
biological process. In the rods of the human eye, the isomerization of rhodopsin is coupled by a
biochemical pathway to the release of the neurotransmitter glutamate, but the isomerization is a
change in the structure of the photopigment molecule. The isomerization is limited to the
rhodopsin molecule and does not extend throughout the entire rod or into the cell membrane.
What the coupling-constitution arguments overlook is the fact that, in general, the power of
linking components together does not always come by linking together components that do the
same thing. It is by combining components that perform different processes that one typically
gets something useful.18
On presenting the coupling-constitution fallacy, one sometimes encounters the charge
that the coupling-constitution fallacy involves the imposition of a (dubious, armchair)
metaphysical distinction on the proponents of extended cognition and that the distinction
18
As an aside, advocates of extended cognition have embraced this idea and have employed it for yet another
argument, a “complementarity argument,” for extended cognition. To put it crudely, the brain, body, and
environment carry out complementary processes, so all of them are cognitive. Aside from the prima facie
implausibility of this kind of argument, there is a prima facie tension between the coupling-constitution arguments
that try to argue for the sameness of processes, where the complementarity arguments are predicated on the
differences among processes.
18
between coupling and constitution should be rejected by advocates of extended cognition.
Rather than relying on antiquated metaphysical principles, we should let the best science of the
mind inform our views of the bounds of cognition.19 The principal problem with this reply is
that a coupling-constitution distinction appears to be central to the hypothesis that cognitive
processes are realized by the brain, body, and environment. Rejecting or doing away with the
distinction is to abandon the most common means of articulating the extended cognition
hypothesis. In the passage cited above, for example, Menary frames the issue between
internalists and integrations as to whether the mind is constituted by processes involving
environmental tools or, as we would say, the mind merely causally interacts with the
environment by way of tools. Clark (2007), for his part, accepts a framing of the issue of
extended cognition put forth in Rupert (2004). According to Rupert, the hypothesis of embedded
cognition (HEMC) asserts that
Cognitive processes depend very heavily, in hitherto unexpected ways, on organismically
external props and devices and on the structure of the external environment in which
cognition takes place,
where the hypothesis of extended cognition (HEC) maintains that
Human cognitive processing literally extends into the environment surrounding the
organism, and human cognitive states literally comprise—as wholes do their proper
parts—elements in that environment.
A coupling-constitution distinction is implicit in this dichotomy. Where HEMC maintains that
cognitive processes causally depend on external tools and feature of the environment, HEC
maintains that cognitive processes constitutively depend on external tools and features of the
19
Although we have encountered this argument in discussion with Susan Hurley, Tony Chemero, and Michael
Silberstein, something like this line is found in Rockwell (2005) and Hurley (forthcoming). Block (2005) notes that
Alva Noë is inclined to say this kind of thing as well.
19
environment. If Clark abandons the distinction between causation and constitution, hence
between HEMC and HEC, then what is left for Clark to defend?
So, Clark and Menary, like at least many proponents of extended cognition, cannot
readily abandon a distinction between metaphysical relations such as causation and constitution.
They can, however, in principle, give up on arguments that begin with causal relations and infer
a constitutive or realization relation. They could instead try to make a case for extended
cognition based on some form of cognitive equivalence argument. They could try to provide real
world cases in which the processes that take place inside of brains are cognitively equivalent to
processes that propagate through brain, body, and environment, hence that we should recognize
these cases are instances of extended cognition. Here is where cognitivism could help. Clark
and Menary could try to argue that processes that take place inside the brain manipulate nonderived mental representations in a particular sort of way and that brain-body-environment
processes do as well. But, Clark and Menary seem to reject cognitivism. So in order to invoke
cognitive equivalence arguments, they would have to invoke some other plausible theory of
when two processes are cognitively equivalent. But, neither Clark nor Menary nor any other
advocates of extended cognition seems to have a theory of what cognition is that does justice to
what cognitive psychologists have been investigating for decades. These sorts of considerations
suggest that, all told, it is too much trouble for the advocates of extended cognition simply to
abandon the coupling-constitution arguments. Instead, they may wish to persist, as do Clark and
Menary, in trying to find a way to make these sorts of arguments compelling.
2.1 Clark’s Hippoworld Argument. Having already replied to much of Clark’s rejoinder
in defense of coupling-constitution arguments,20 we here limit ourselves to one argument that we
have yet to address. This argument might be thought to vindicate coupling-constitution
20
See Adams and Aizawa (2008) Chapter 7.
20
arguments. This is Clark’s “Hippo-world” thought experiment, which goes something like this.21
For idiosyncratic historical reasons (perhaps the enduring influence of the philosophical
“picture” of one Hippo-Descartes), all neuroscientific attention is focused on the hippocampus.
Several decades of research using single cell recording techniques, brain lesions in animals, and
so forth has lead to important and replicable findings about the processes that occur within the
hippocampus. Scientists on Hippo-world are nothing if not inventive and one day some turn
their scientific attention to the rest of the brain, where they too begin to make some significant
progress. They discover new neural circuits and processes that are linked to processes within the
hippocampus. And among these new scientists, there are some who are so bold as to conjecture
that cognitive processes occur within the whole of the brain. Inspired by this new science, some
philosophers, Hippo-Clark and Hippo-Chalmers, among countless others, openly disavow the
remnants of the traditional Hippo-Cartesian view of the mind and declare that “Cognitive
processes ain’t (all) in the hippocampus!”
Yet, there are philosophers who resist the enthusiastic philosophical interpretations of the
studies of the entire brain. Some philosophers, such as Hippo-Adams and Hippo-Aizawa,
conjecture that, in its studies of the hippocampus, science has discovered the scientific essence of
cognition itself. More boldly, these philosophers conjecture that what occurs within the
hippocampus is cognitive, where what occurs within the other regions of the brain is of a distinct
non-cognitive character. These philosophers maintain that genuinely cognitive processes,
processes bearing the mark of the cognitive, take place within the hippocampus, where other
supportive non-cognitive processes take place within the other regions of the brain.
21
See Clark (2008, forthcoming). For simplicity of exposition, we will eliminate the portions of the thought
experiment that are directed to Robert Rupert’s view.
21
In reflecting upon Hippo-world, Clark wants his reader to have the impression that the
critics of whole brain cognition of the Hippo-A-Team variety have an overly narrow vision of
what cognition is. Like Adams and Aizawa of earthly fame, Hippo-Adams and Hippo-Aizawa
display an overly restricted conception of cognition. In Hippo-World there are extrahippocampal processes that complement those of the hippocampus and that are integrated with
hippocampal processes to augment the power and scope of human intelligence. Similarly, on
earth, there are bodily and environmental processes that complement those of the brain and that
are integrated with brain processes to augment the power and scope of human intelligence.
Hippo-Adams and Hippo-Aizawa should accept extra-hippocampal brain processes as genuinely
cognitive processes, just as Adams and Aizawa should accept environmental processes as
genuinely cognitive.
Unfortunately for Clark, such prima facie plausibility as the Hippo-World argument
might enjoy evaporates on more careful examination. The Hippo-World account relies upon a
kind of philosophical misdirection. In describing the case, Clark provides the usual extended
cognition sorts of observations of the causal roles played by the surrounding structures and the
interplay between them. He observes the coupling of the hippocampus and the extrahippocampal brain and the way in which the whole can do more than the isolated parts. And in
this case, one is inclined to think that the whole of the brain is indeed a cognitive processor.
One, therefore, might suppose that coupling and integration can indeed lead to the extension of
cognition. One gets the distinct impression that the whole brain is cognitive in virtue of the
coupling of the extra-hippocampal regions to the hippocampal regions. The misdirection,
however, becomes apparent when we note that, it is perfectly legitimate to suppose that the
whole of the brain is indeed a cognitive processor, but not in virtue of the fact that it is coupled
22
or integrated with the hippocampus. What makes the whole of the brain a cognitive processor is
the fact that the whole bears the mark of the cognitive?22 As cognitivists would point out, the
whole of the brain realizes processes that transform or manipulate non-derived representations.
This has nothing to do with the coupling considerations brought forth by many advocates of the
hypothesis of extended cognition.
But, there is also a second way in which one might interpret Hippo-Adams and HippoAizawa more sympathetically. Although it is Clark’s thought experiment and he is free to
develop it as he wishes, let us suppose that the Hippo-world brain, just like the real world brain,
is a cognitive processor. If so, then by our lights, there will be non-derived representations in the
hippocampus and in the extra-hippocampal regions of the brain. Further, in both worlds the
brain will carry out transformations or manipulations of these non-derived representations. So,
there would be this level of similarity. Nevertheless, there would still be some point to HippoAdams and Hippo-Aizawa drawing a theoretical difference between intra-hippocampal processes
and extra-hippocampal brain processes. What Hippo-Adams and Hippo-Aizawa might be trying
to bring to the attention of the scientific and philosophical community are the ways in which, as a
matter of contingent empirical fact, hippocampal processes differs from extra-hippocampal brain
processes, not to mention environmental processes. The hippocampus carries out, let us say,
spatial mapping of the environment, but not visual or auditory or linguistic processing. Part of
what this means is that there are different kinds of information processing going on in the
hippocampal and the extra-hippocampal brain regions, not to mention in the external
22
It is, of course, an oversimplification to say that the whole of the brain realizes cognitive processes, since there
may well be glial cells or blood vessels or other such structures that do not, but it is an oversimplification we tolerate
merely for the sake of simplifying the exposition.
23
environment.23 Neither Hippo-Adams and Hippo-Aizawa nor Adams and Aizawa are satisfied to
use “cognition” as a label for just any old information processing on non-derived representations.
Hippo-Adams and Hippo-Aizawa share with Adams and Aizawa a concern over the
indiscriminate lumping together of distinguishable types of processes. Hippo-Adams and HippoAizawa wish to distinguish hippocampus processes from more general “cognitive processes,”
where Adams and Aizawa wish to distinguish cognitive processes from more general causal
processes. There is sense to what the Hippo-A-Team is saying, just as there is sense to what the
Earthly-A-Team is saying. So, it seems that the discussion of Hippo-world does not avoid the
tendency to fall prey to the Coupling-Constitution Fallacy.
2.2 Menary on coupling-constitution arguments. Menary’s reply to the couplingconstitution fallacy has two parts. The first is that we are begging the question against the
hypothesis of extended cognition; the second is that we misunderstand how the argument is
supposed to work. To meet Menary’s first challenge, we need only tweak the details of the way
in which we state the coupling-constitution fallacy. To meet the second, we argue that he either
undermines the force of his own use of coupling arguments or he begs the question against the
advocate of intracranial cognition. Because Menary’s discussion of coupling and constitution
are short and to the point, we can quote them at length.
A&A (Adams & Aizawa) (2001) claim that the causal coupling of X to Y does not make
X a part of Y. The alleged fallacy assumes something like the following picture: an
external object/process X is causally coupled to a cognitive agent Y. The Otto example
fits this picture: a notebook coupled to a discrete cognitive agent, whereby the notebook
becomes part of the memory system of that agent because it is coupled to that agent.
Cognitive integrationists [those who support Menary’s version of the extended cognition]
23
The distinction we are here drawing between hippocampal processing and extra-hippocampal processing is, in
important respects, analogous to the distinct Clark recognizes between vision for action and vision for perceptual
experience. See Clark, (2008), Chapter 8. Hippocampal and extra-hippocampal processing will differ at the
psychological level as do visual processing for action and visual processing for perceptual experience. Moreover,
they will be localized in different parts of the brain, just as visual processing for action is localized in the dorsal
stream, where visual processing for perceptual experience is localized in the ventral stream.
24
should resist this picture. It is a residual form of internalism, because it assumes a
discrete, already formed cognitive agent. And this is precisely the picture we are arguing
against. If we accept the picture of a cognitive agent as implementing a discrete
cognitive system, before they ever encounter an external vehicle, then we will have
accepted the very picture of cognition we set out to reject. This does not fit with the aim
of cognitive integration, which is to show how internal and external vehicles and
processes are integrated in the completion of cognitive tasks (such as remembering the
location of MOMA). (Menary, 2006, p. 333)
The suggestion appears to be that we should never think of a lone human being as a discrete
cognitive system. Humans are, so this line goes, always cognitive systems integrated into a
network of interacting components. Humans in their mere biological being are never cognitive
systems. Put more boldly, perhaps, insofar as humans are cognitive beings, they are essentially
users of external vehicles.
Suppose that, just for the sake of argument, it is true that, insofar as humans are cognitive
agents, they are never entirely bereft of external vehicles that they manipulate. That is, suppose
that every human cognitive agent always engages some external vehicle or other in her cognitive
processing. Even this concession is not adequate to circumvent the coupling-constitution fallacy.
We can simply reformulate the problem to incorporate Menary’s idea. So, suppose that, simply
for the sake of argument, Otto’s biological mass never in itself suffices to form a cognitive
system. Otto’s cognitive being is always enmeshed in a network of tools. Still, think of “young
Otto” before the onset of Alzheimer’s disease. Young Otto was embedded in one network of
tools. Presumably this network of tools will not include the notebook that will one day, say, 30
years later, be manufactured in some factory and subsequently purchased by “Old Otto” who has
come to suffer from Alzheimer’s Disease. That is, assume that one’s cognition does not extend
into currently non-existent tools that one will use in the future. Now consider “Old Otto”
following the onset of Alzheimer’s, but prior to the purchase of the notebook. Still, the notebook
lying on a store shelf never seen by Old Otto is not part of Old Otto’s cognitive apparatus. How,
25
then, does the notebook become part of Old Otto’s cognitive apparatus on a coupling argument?
One might suspect it begins with Otto’s coming to regularly use the apparatus. It begins when
Old Otto begins to manipulate his notebook. But, it is right here that the coupling-constitution
fallacy is committed. It is committed when one makes the move to include new cognitive
processing mechanisms, such as the notebook. So, even Menary’s strong hypothesis that
cognitive agents are never without their cognitive processes extending into tools is not enough to
avoid the coupling-constitution fallacy.
We should emphasize the importance of the foregoing reply to Menary. The reply lets
the advocate of extended cognition dictate a case in which she can assume that a cognitive
process extends from an individual’s brain into that individual’s body and a set of environmental
tools at time t0. Now suppose that the individual acquires a new tool at t1, a tool that the
individual uses a lot, one with which the individual causally interacts in some very intense way.
The point of the coupling-constitution fallacy is that coupling is not sufficient for constitution,
regardless of one’s theory of the bounds of cognition. We are not begging the question against
the hypothesis of extended cognition in drawing attention to the coupling-constitution fallacy.
We are not presupposing our preferred way of localizing cognitive processes. We can concede a
method of localizing cognitive processes to the advocate of extended cognition and the problem
remains.
Consider now Menary’s second defense of coupling arguments
For the cognitive integrationist the picture is like this: my manipulation of the notebook
and my brain together constitute a process of remembering. In cases like these, the
process of remembering cannot be described exclusively in terms of biological memory
or solely in terms of the manipulation of external representations, because it is a hybrid
process. Schematically: X is the manipulation of the notebook reciprocally coupled to
Y—the brain processes—which together constitute Z, the process of remembering. Once
we have this picture, it is easy to see that A&A have distorted the aim of cognitive
integration. The aim is not to show that artifacts get to be part of cognition just because
26
they are causally coupled to a pre-existing agent, but to explain why X and Y are so
coordinated that they together function as Z, which causes further behavior (Menary,
2006, pp. 333-334).
One thing Menary may be saying is that he does not want to make an inference from coupling to
constitution. He does not want to use the fact that Otto manipulates his notebook in certain ways
as evidence for the hypothesis that Otto’s use of his notebook constitutes an extension of
cognitive processing. He simply wants to stipulate, or define, or hypothesize that Otto’s
manipulation of his notebook constitutes an extension of cognitive processing. This reading
seems to be the import of the part about “The aim is not to show that artifacts get to be part of
cognition just because they are causally coupled to a pre-existing agent.” If that, however, is
what Menary is about, then that is not a defense of what other extended cognition theorists have
said. Menary is not coming up with a way to vindicate the coupling-constitution arguments, he
is instead offering a statement of extended cognition. And, by Adams and Aizawa lights, giving
up the coupling-constitution considerations as an argument for extended cognition is entirely in
order. The arguments are, after all, fallacious.
Menary is, of course, free to abandon an argument, but he is also abandoning the
argument that others have given. So, Alva Noë writes, “According to active externalism, the
environment can drive and so partially constitute cognitive processes” (Noë, 2004, p. 221).
Menary is abandoning Noë’s argument. More strikingly, Menary is abandoning his earlier
argument: “The real disagreement between internalists [like Adams & Aizawa] and
integrationists [like Menary] is whether the manipulation of external vehicles constitutes a
cognitive process. Integrationists think that they do, typically for reasons to do with the close
coordination and causal interplay between internal and external processes.” (Menary 2006, p.
27
331) The second sentence seems to mean that considerations of causal coupling do provide
reasons for thinking that cognition sometimes extends.
Set aside now the question of abandonment. This is not the only problem with Menary’s
reply. In the last sentence of the passage cited above, Menary claims that what we are supposed
to do is explain why X and Y are so coordinated that they together function as Z, which causes
further behavior. In this sentence, there is an ambiguity about “functions as.” Sometimes we say
that a screwdriver functions as a hammer, as when we use the handle of the screwdriver to tap in
a nail. Sometimes we say that a fork functions as a knife, as when one cuts pizza with a fork. In
these cases, something functions as Z, even though it is not Z. A screwdriver functions as a
hammer, even though it is not a hammer. A fork functions as a knife, even though it is not a
knife. So, if Menary’s idea is that we have to explain why the combination of Otto and his
notebook function as the process of remembering, even though it is not remembering, then that’s
no problem for the internalist. After all, the internalist view is that when Otto manipulates his
notebook, he is not remembering where the MOMA is. The notebook enables Otto with his
remaining cognitive faculties, to compensate for the fact that he does not remember.
But, maybe this “functions as” is not meant in this way. Perhaps that is simply an
uncharitable reading. Suppose, instead, that what Menary has in mind is that what we are
supposed to do is explain why the manipulation of the notebook (X) and the brain processes (Y)
are so coordinated that they together constitute the process of remembering (Z) which causes
further behavior. But wait! The internalist is not going to accept the obligation to explain this,
because the internalist rejects the idea that the manipulation of the notebook and the processes
are so coordinated as to constitute the process of remembering. According to the internalist, the
only remembering that is going on is whatever happens to be in Otto’s head. Demanding that the
28
internalist explain why Otto’s use of his notebook constitutes remembering is a question-begging
demand.
3. A Principled Internalist View of the Mind and How to Make a Brain-Tool Science
The introduction to this paper noted some virtues of cognitivism. We can now return to
one of these virtues; the ability to delimit a proper subject for a science of cognition. To do this,
recall some of Clark and Chalmers’s comments on Inga and Otto. They assert that
For in relevant respects the cases are entirely analogous: the notebook plays for Otto the
same role that memory plays for Inga. The information in the notebook functions just
like the information constituting an ordinary non-occurrent belief; it just happens that this
information lies beyond the skin” (Clark and Chalmers, 1998, p. 13)
Certainly, insofar as beliefs and desires are characterized by their explanatory roles,
Otto’s and Inga’s cases seem to be on a par: the essential causal dynamics of the two
cases mirror each other precisely. (ibid).
In all important respects, Otto’s case is similar to a standard case of (non-occurrent)
belief. The differences between Otto’s case and Inga’s case are striking, but they are
superficial. … To provide substantial resistance, an opponent has to show that Otto’s and
Inga’s cases differ in some important and relevant respect. But in what respect are the
cases different? (ibid., pp. 14-15).
To provide the “substantial resistance” Clark and Chalmers were after, Adams and Aizawa
(2001), and Rupert (2004), drew attention to various features of normal human memory that
psychologists had discovered over the last century and more. Plausible differences uncovered by
scientific research in cognitive psychology would seem to count as important and relevant
respects in which Inga and Otto differed. This is where cognitivism helps us draw a principled
distinction between the intracranial and the transcranial.
29
Among the replies Clark and Menary adopt is to make a virtue out of necessity.24 Rather
than supposing that functional similarities make the case for extended cognition they want to
claim that functional dissimilarities and complementarity of function make the case.25 Here is
what they have to say in their own words. Wilson and Clark, write,
no part of the arguments for extended cognition turn[s] on, or otherwise require[s], the
similarity of the inner and outer contributions. This point also deflects a related concern
that Adams and Aizawa express. They say that since the causal arrangements whereby
external stuff contributes to action seem very different from those in place when internal
stuff does so, there can be no unified science of the extended mind. Thus, they note
(Adams and Aizawa 2001, p.61), that biological memory systems display a number of
effects (such as recency effects, priming etc.) that are not currently features of external
modes of storage, such as Otto's notebook. True enough. Such differences, however, in
no way compromise the case for extended cognition. For that case depends not on finegrained functional identity but upon the deep complementarity of inner and outer
contributions whose joint effect (e.g., effective remembering) seems apt for the solution
of a cognitive task, intuitively identified (Wilson and Clark, 2009, pp. 24-25).
The first sentence of this passage seems to be flatly contradicted by the passages from Clark and
Chalmers, (1998). But, perhaps it is true that the differences found in the cognitive
psychological literature to which Adams and Aizawa (2001) and Rupert (2004) draw attention
are irrelevant. Maybe what really matters is complementarity. Here is how Menary puts it,
It is important to cognitive integration that external manipulation do something different
to brain processes … Otto’s use of his notebook is cognitive because he manipulates the
vehicles (sentences) in his notebook to complete a cognitive task. … Otto’s manipulation
of external vehicles is not cognitive because it is similar to Inga’s biological memory, but
because Otto and his notebook constitute “an integrated system for holding and
manipulating information during the performance of complex cognitive tasks” (Baddeley,
2000, p. 78).26
24
In addition to the complementarity reply, there is also the suggestion that we should not look at fine grained
similarities between Inga and Otto, we should instead look at coarse grained similarities. There is also the
suggestion that we should not to find scientific regularities, but instead “common sense” regularities. See Clark,
(2008), p. 88. These will not be addressed here merely for lack of space.
25
Sutton (2005) explores this position in terms of a move from “first wave” extended mind to “second wave.”
26
Like Menary, Wilson and Clark (forthcoming), p. 13, also relate complementarity and the idea of accomplishing
cognitive task: “In most cases where we are tempted to speak of cognitive augmentation, the same rule of thumb
seems to apply: we find cognitive augmentation where new resources help accomplish a recognizable cognitive task
in an intuitively appropriate manner, e.g., by enabling the faster or more reliable processing of information required
by some goal or project”
30
Menary’s third sentence here apparently rejects the argument developed by Clark and Chalmers,
(1998). Menary, far from denying the differences between Inga and Otto, energetically embraces
them. Now these important and relevant differences are supposed to be part of what makes
Otto’s use of his notebook cognitive. Whatever processes conspire to accomplish a cognitive
task are supposed to be cognitive processes.
The discovery of complementarity is a peculiar basis upon which to argue for extended
cognition. Why suppose that if a process of type A and a process of type B conspire to bring
about some effect, then, really both processes are of the same type, either A or B? Perhaps there
are some cases in which this kind of reasoning delivers a plausible result, but there are clearly
cases where it does not work. Consider distillations in which two liquids with different boiling
points might be separated. (See Figure 3.) Consider n-octane which has a boiling point of
around 126°C and n-decane which has a boiling point of around 174°C. By applying heat to a
mixture of n-octane and n-decane, one can raise the temperature of the mixture to the boiling
point of n-octane, so that it evaporates, while the n-decane remains in a liquid state. The noctane vapor can then proceed up a column and into a condenser, while a coolant will reduce the
temperature of the vapor below the boiling point of n-octane, thereby causing it to condense.
Upon its condensation, the liquid n-octane can drain down an inclined column into a collection
flask. In a distillation, we have complementary types of processes, evaporation and
condensation, which work together to achieve a desire effect, an effect that neither process alone
could produce. But, in distillation, we do not have a case in which the process of evaporation
extends into the second process of condensation, or vice versa. Nor does distillation provide us
with an instance of the process of evaporation becoming an instance of the process of
condensation or vice versa.
31
Yet, Clark and Menary might see some hope for their view in this example of distillation.
The process of distillation, they could rightly say, is simply a combination of a process of
evaporation—which is not itself the process of distillation—and a process of condensation—
which is also not the process of distillation. By analogy, they might argue that cognitive
processes are made up of combinations of other non-cognitive processes, non-cognitive
processes in the brain, non-cognitive processes in the body, and non-cognitive processes in the
extra-organismic environment. The complementary actions of such processes are exactly what
extended cognition is all about. And surely, they could continue, it is not at all unusual to find
scientifically valid types of processes that are made up of disparate types of subprocesses. Think
of the process of mitosis as being made up of the subprocesses of prophase, metaphase,
anaphase, and telophase. The process of human digestion might be broken up into processes of
mastication, swallowing, acidification, emulsification, and absorption. Many biochemical
processes, such as glycolysis, involve many distinct subprocesses, such as phosphorylation,
dehydration, and isomerization. So, again, we should not be surprised to find that cognitive
processes are like other scientific processes.
There are numerous reasons to abandon this hope. In the first place, it could well be that
Clark and Menary’s view is that cognition is a composite process made up of non-cognitive
subprocesses just as distillation is a process made up of non-distillation subprocesses. But, to
have that as a view does not amount to having a case for the view. Contrary to what Clark and
Wilson and Menary propose, complementarity does not give one an argument for extended
cognition; it merely provides a way to state the idea. In the passage from Wilson and Clark cited
above, complementarity is supposed to ground an argument for the hypothesis of extended
cognition, not merely constitute a statement of it. So, the analogy does not deliver an argument.
32
We still need some reason to think that “cognitive processing” refers to processes in the whole
brain-body-world ensemble, rather than to processes in the brain. Cognitivism might provide a
basis for doing this, but Clark and Menary have shied away from cognitivism.
In the second place, and more seriously, the complementarity in the distillation example
is still disanalogous to the complementarity in the extended cognition cases. Think of Otto
suffering from Alzheimer’s disease before he takes up his use of a notebook and after he takes up
the notebook. Prior to his use, his cognitive processes do not extend into the notebook. After he
takes up the notebook, his cognitive processes are supposed to extend into the notebook. But,
the analogy between cognition and distillation breaks down here. Prior to Otto’s
complementation with the notebook, the processes in Otto’s lone brain might be likened to
evaporation in the distillation case. But, keeping to the analogy, after complementation, we do
not get evaporation extending into the condenser, and so we should not suppose that we get
cognition extending into Otto’s notebook. This is just to reiterate the very problem that the
distillation example was meant to illuminate.
In the third place, where the process of distillation is only made up of the same two
subprocesses, evaporation and condensation, Clark and Menary evidently suppose that cognitive
processes could be made of any number of distinct kinds of complementary subprocesses.
People can complement their relatively fixed cognitive apparatus with sun dials, analog watches,
digital watches, hour glasses, warning lights, warning buzzers, sticky notes, PDAs, calculators,
pocket calculators, personal computers, an abacus, a telescope, a microscope, magnifying glass,
contact lens, eye glasses, sun glasses, hearing aids, cochlear implants, tape recorders, cameras,
video tape recorders, Flash movies, animated gifs, rolodexes, index cards, mathematical
equations, Fitch style deduction notation, musical notation, libraries, maps, and on and on. This
33
is the motley of things to which we were referring in Adams and Aizawa (2001), the motley that
Menary (2006), thinks he can avoid, but does not explain how.
In the final place, the advocates of extended cognition have no satisfactory theory of what
cognition is that corresponds to the theory of what distillation is.27 Rather than embrace
cognitivism as offering a theory of the cognitive, both Clark and Menary suggest that cognitive
processes are what enable one to complete cognitive tasks. Familiar sorts of counterexamples
reveal the inadequacy of this idea. Suppose that engaging in an entertaining conversation in an
online chat room is a cognitive task. This, however, can be accomplished by so-called
“chatterbots” that apply many simple rules. So, in response to the input “I am feeling…,” a
chatterbot might reply, “Why are you feeling…?” In response to a particular celebrity name,
such as “Halle Berry,” the chatterbot might reply, “I love Halle Berry! Don’t you?” Such
chatterbots are often deployed to online chat rooms as a kind of prank or sometimes, more
malevolently, to phish for personal information from visitors to the chatroom. Yet, to date,
among the many chatterbots that can successfully pass for human, there are many that simply do
not think. Such chatterbots are simply successors to Joseph Weizenbaum’s computer program
ELIZA that could pass for a Rogerian psychotherapist. Chatterbots are more practical versions
of a computer program that is a mere vast lookup table of all possible conversations. Chatterbots
and vast lookup tables are not cognitive agents and do no cognitive processing. So, Clark and
Menary would have to say a lot more to validate the idea that whatever processes one uses to
complete a cognitive task is thereby cognitive and still more to flesh out how there could be a
familiar kind of science of extended cognition.
The short of the matter in this section is that, aside from providing a non-questionbegging reason to think that, as a matter of contingent empirical fact, the cognitive is typically
27
For further discussion of this, see Adams and Aizawa (2008) chapter 5.
34
realized in the neural, cognitivism encourages right thinking in delimiting a proper subject for
cognitive science. It helps us avoid falling victim to implausible complementary arguments. It
encourages us to challenge the extended cognition view that claims that complementary brain,
body, and environmental processes add up to a cognitive process. What would it be about these
complementary processes that make them cognitive? In virtue of what do they bear the mark of
the cognitive? Surely it cannot be that we should embrace some form of operationalism. Some
four decades into computational theories of the mind, we should all be very familiar with the
failings of operational definitions of thinking.
4. Conclusion
In this and earlier exchanges regarding the hypothesis of extended cognition, we have
taken a decidedly reactionary strategy of invoking cognitivism in defense of the orthodoxy. This
makes sense, since cognitivism is so central to cognitive science. It is the orthodox view of the
nature of cognition. It begs no questions against extended cognition. It provides a principled
basis for discriminating the cognitive from the non-cognitive. It supports right thinking
regarding the delimitation of a field of cognitive science and avoiding the coupling-constitution
fallacy. It resists certain challenges to even one of its boldest elements, the idea that there is nonderived content. It is a theory that has a lot going for it. It is a theory that Clark and Menary
have been willing to take seriously in debates over extended cognition.
There are, however, those who are ready to dismiss cognitivism, or at least many of its
components, out of hand. There are ecological psychologists, influenced by J. J. Gibson, who
reject the need to hypothesize mental representations. There are also phenomenologists who
reject mental representations, although for very different reasons. And there are those who are
35
simply ready to celebrate a “post-cognitivist” cognitive science, whatever that may become. It
would, indeed, be interesting to see what case one could make for or against the hypothesis of
extended cognition, if one did not rely on cognitivism. We suspect that much of the
argumentation would still be invalid and the hypothesis still far from secure. But, making good
on such suspicions will have to await other works.
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Figure 1. A pencil and paper drawing of Gary’s Venn diagrams.
Figure 2. Gary’s mental image of Venn diagrams.
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Figure 3. Illustration of a simple distillation apparatus: A = a heat source, B = a flask containing a mixture of
n-octane and n-decane, C = a condenser with coolant ports, and D = a flask of distilled n-octane.