Gray matters-1

As a counterpoint to the more technical articles published on Machines Like Us, I've been invited to share my simple, amateur observations about science and human consciousness in occasional posts, which I'll call Gray Matters. Now I should say at the outset that I'm not a scientist, but I am a woman who is interested in the broader aspects of technology: who we are as a species and where we are going. The human mind has always fascinated me--my own, especially--and maybe here I can not only make some observations and vent some concerns, but entertain others as well.

In this first issue of Gray Matters I'll take a look at Budding Consciousness, Cactus Hacking, and French Subtitles.

Budding Consciousness

As you grew up, when did you first realize that you were conscious? For me, the existential moment came when I was 12 years old (plus or minus). I remember suddenly realizing that I was a person, separate from the rest of the world, capable of introspection, and separating fantasy from reality. I remember for the first time thinking about thinking, and asking myself some of the 'big' questions about existence: Who am I? Why am I here? What am I becoming?

It was at that time that I read a quote from Mark Twain which said, in essence: "I'm not afraid of death. I was dead for billions of years before I was born, and it never did me any harm."

Think about that. How strange that we did not exist before we were born; that now we do exist, and that at some point in the future we will no longer exist once more.

In a sense our existence today has little or nothing to do with our past existence. The cells which make up our bodies are continuously renewed, and even the atoms which make up these cells are not the same ones that were there only a few years ago. The only thing that persists for any length of time--the thing that makes me me--is the pattern: the arrangement of the atoms in my body, the arrangement of neurons in my brain. As long as that pattern can be maintained, I will exist.

Cactus Hacking

I take a walk nearly every day, and often pass severely damaged patches of prickly pear cactus. Prickly pear typically grow with flat, rounded platyclades that are armed with two kinds of spines: large, smooth, fixed spines and small, hairlike spines called glochids that easily penetrate skin and detach from the plant. Many types of prickly pears grow into dense, tangled structures.

For years I noticed that while nearly all cactus patches that are exposed to human traffic are broken and scarred--sometimes beyond the point of recognition--other plants are left untouched. Who is damaging the cactus, and why?

It didn't take long for me to realize that the damage was caused by children with sticks and rocks. I eventually saw kids inflict such damage with my own eyes, and even recall hacking cactus myself when I was a young girl, my childhood friends and I slicing and jabbing at them with sticks swung like swords.

What prompts such destructive behavior toward the poor prickly pear? Could it be that even to young children, cactus are known to be dangerous plants, capable of inflicting pain? Cactus hacking may be a way the young mind can safely practice taking an aggressive stance against a perceived adversary--without much chance of suffering retribution.

French Subtitles

Recently a friend visited from France, and each evening during her stay we watched a DVD episode of the exceptional HBO series, Deadwood. This program interested her because since it is known to be a coarse and accurate depiction of the early West, she felt it might provide her with some insight into the American psyche. As an added bonus, watching her watch the show gave me an insight into the human mind.

The language in Deadwood is rich and dense (not to mention full of obscenities). In order to understand it better, my friend requested that French subtitles be displayed.

Now I don't speak French myself, so after a while I began to wonder: was she reading the French subtitles, listening to the English dialog--or both? And if both, didn't she find doing so confusing? What was her mind up to while listening to English and reading a French translation at the same time? She later responded that she was indeed doing both--that one helped clarify and reinforce the other--and she didn't find it confusing in the least.

In his article entitled "Fitting two languages into one brain," Stanislas Dehaene notes that the co-existence of multiple languages in the same brain suggests that sophisticated mechanisms of segregation and coordination must exist to prevent cross-talk. Could it be that bilingual individuals have a sort of split personality--two brains living in the same head?

Evidence suggests that this may indeed be the case. In 2002, Dartmouth College Professor Laura-Ann Petitto and her team determined that if children are exposed to two languages from a very early age (as was my French friend), they will essentially grow as if there were two monolinguals housed in one brain.

Incroyable !

Past issues of Gray Matters are archived here.