This may be me trying to justify to myself the concept of “I” (oh how the mighty fall), but something struck me as a bit extreme:
When people ask questions like, “What does the patient think?” or “What do I, [name], think of this?” — I’ve always assumed that, that which is being questioned is the conscious mind. If a patient, for example, says, “I know that I don’t have an arm, but I have a phantom limb. Part of my body still believes I have an arm.” — Then “the patient” refers to that part of his brain that knows he doesn’t have an arm, yeah?
I like the idea of comparing the “self” to a press secretary. Ideally, a press secretary is supposed to be honest. At LessWrong, people make conscious efforts to give the press secretary a few lessons in honesty. I can’t dispute the fact that the mind is modular (I fully advocate it, even) , but I think the idea of one’s self—while it should be open to reconstruction—is an important one.
This may be me trying to justify to myself the concept of “I” (oh how the mighty fall), but something struck me as a bit extreme:
When people ask questions like, “What does the patient think?” or “What do I, [name], think of this?” — I’ve always assumed that, that which is being questioned is the conscious mind. If a patient, for example, says, “I know that I don’t have an arm, but I have a phantom limb. Part of my body still believes I have an arm.” — Then “the patient” refers to that part of his brain that knows he doesn’t have an arm, yeah?
I like the idea of comparing the “self” to a press secretary. Ideally, a press secretary is supposed to be honest. At LessWrong, people make conscious efforts to give the press secretary a few lessons in honesty. I can’t dispute the fact that the mind is modular (I fully advocate it, even) , but I think the idea of one’s self—while it should be open to reconstruction—is an important one.