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No modern work on quantum cosmology would be complete without an overview of life, as an element of the universe, and humans specifically, as the species that ponders it all. Humanity and intelligence have traditionally and conspicuously been absent from most conventional physicists’ discussions of the universe. Cosmology—the study of the origin, evolution, and structure of the universe—has neglected to include humankind, implying that humanity is somehow not a part of the universe, that the universe as a whole must (or can) be studied without us in it.

This is, of course, patently absurd. It is analogous to studying a beach while disregarding the sand, or analyzing a rose bush while dismissing the petals on the flowers. Yet, the emergence of consciousness and intelligence is the most awe-inspiring of all cosmological developments, but is often reserved for other fields of inquiry, such as the cognitive sciences and philosophy.

In a universe that includes conscious and intelligent life, a study of quantum cosmology in its absence would be pitifully deficient. In the broadest sense, cosmology—the science of the universe—should include everything. It is for this reason that the sciences and philosophy must converge, must investigate the complete experience of what it means to be human.

How did we get to consciousness, to intelligence? How did we happen?

About 4.5 billion years ago, Earth formed from aggregating hot, swirling matter left over from ancient supernovas. Every atom on Earth derives from “star stuff,” including the atoms of our bodies.

The first hominid appeared about 4 million years ago in Earth’s evolutionary history; the first Homo sapiens (our species) evolved about 100,000 years ago. Mathematically, humans have been a constituent of the universe for a modest portion of the Earth’s age, and only a minuscule fraction of the universe’s age.

Biologically, we differ only about 2–4% from most other mammals; differ only marginally from most nonmammals; and are even similar, in certain respects, to living plants. As a living entity, we share many of the same proteins as other living things; we produce many of the same enzymes and hormones. Indeed, we can even use hormones from other animals to augment our own physiology—insulin (from pigs), thyroxine (from cows), and estrogen (from horses) are examples.

What makes us different is our brains—that approximately three-pound mass of neurons and glial (support) cells between our ears. But our difference does not arise from brain size, or from specific structures, or convolutions, or even chemistry—many animals share similar brain physiology. We experience the same drives and emotions as other animals; there is no drive or emotion experienced by any particular animal species that we do not also experience.

The main distinction between humans and other animals is the manner in which our brains function—how our minds work.

Though the terms brain and mind are often used interchangeably, the distinction between them is crucial to exploring consciousness. Brain may be defined as the actual anatomy—the neurons and their synapses as the fundamental entities in brain functions; mind is what the brain does, which includes producing consciousness.

Philosophers have always had a problem with the idea that mentality emerges from physicality. René Descartes concluded that the mind was completely indivisible and different from the body. Most modern scientists consider the Cartesian model erroneous.

The conventional view is known as The Neuron Doctrine, a model that regards brain and mind as an inseparable whole, functioning much as a computational organ, or biological computer. Until recently, The Neuron Doctrine has been the only model of human mental processes, including consciousness. But, as we will discover, The Neuron Doctrine still leaves us almost completely ignorant about how the brain produces an internal mental life.

Evolutionary processes are responsible for how the human brain is constructed and functions. Evolution does not happen linearly, progressing along a predictable path. It is a haphazard branching process in which recent developments build atop older structures having more fundamental functions. Each newer structure becomes ever more complex, adding functions, altering the workings of previous structures.

The human brain is a collection of adaptations housed in a triune anatomy evolved over 250 million years (keep in mind that hominids have been around for only 4 million years; Homo sapiens, 100,000 years). Three main evolutionary levels of anatomy comprise the human brain:

The reptilian brain (brainstem): primitive functions reside here, such as the startle reflex, fear, sex drive, territoriality, and ritualistic display. It is essential to all autonomic functions: heartbeat, breathing, thermostat, swallowing, and visual tracking. The reptilian brain is the oldest of the brain’s structures and is deep within the center of the brain, a bulb of neurons atop the spinal cord.

The mammalian brain (limbic system): the emotions—anger, love, joy, sadness, shame, pride, happiness, mirth, separation anxiety, etc.—are processed here. The mammalian brain evolved after the reptilian brain, neatly enveloping the bulb of the brainstem. All mammals, and some birds, possess this second evolutionary stage of brain structure.

The neocortex (reasoning brain): abstraction (art, representation, planning, strategy, symbols, language), free will, communication, and complex skills are processed here. The neocortex is the outermost layer of the brain, and is the most recent structure. Higher mammals and humans have a well-developed neocortex.

The chemistry of primitive and recent brain systems differs, evidenced by selective destruction of certain brain cells with specific toxins that leave other structures untouched. Because of this biochemical variance, these “three brains” sometimes have competing interests, creating disharmony and unease.

To further appreciate the ramifications of this disharmony, it is necessary to understand how each hemisphere of the human brain processes information.

Julian Jaynes, in his landmark and controversial book, The Origin of Consciousness in the Breakdown of the Bicameral Mind, asserts that the two hemispheres of the human brain were less integrated—if integrated at all—some three thousand years ago. The two hemispheres processed information independently, with little feedback across the corpus callosum—the neural network joining the two halves. Man, Jaynes asserts, was truly of “two minds.”

The right brain had the nasty habit of reacting to internal dialog as messages from beyond itself, construing this internal chatter as emanating from angels, demons, or God. Interpretation occurs in the left brain, explaining, justifying the acts the right brain dictates. All creative, intuitive acts and ideas are right-brained and somewhat unconscious. They happen. It is up to the left brain to explain why.

The breakdown of bicamerality began due to developments in language and the exchange of ideas. But, unfortunately for the human, this dual consciousness is still with most of us today. It often causes great suffering. (Ever have an argument with yourself?)

Because the left and right hemispheres are different, they often do not agree; there is conflict. Witness the common response of “freezing” during an emergency situation. The left brain logically wants to act on the emergency; the right brain wants to run like hell. The left brain tries to shut down the right. There is mutual inhibition on both sides: Nothing happens. It is only when left and right are in accordance that there is serenity and a clear functioning mind.

A normal brain is mutually inhibitory. Blocking effects during internal conflict cause disinhibition of the blocked side:

The apparent disagreement between science and religion may have its foundations in brain anatomy. In general, scientific analysis resides in the left brain; spiritual experiences reside in the right hemisphere. The sense of self primarily emanates from the left temporal lobe; brain damage—especially in the left hemisphere—may cause a person to regard the right hemisphere as another “self,” a mysterious detected presence. Stimulation in the right temporal lobe can produce illusions of hearing voices and seeing apparitions. Hemispheric “coherence” (in which electrical activity becomes synced between the two hemispheres) occurs only during meditation, hallucinations, epileptic seizures, coma, and impending death. Part of the “natural” state of the human mind is one of duality; the brain and mind experience a constant discrepancy of interest.

The neuron axon membranes “fire” (through sodium and potassium ion exchange) and propagate traveling action potential “spikes” on the axonal surface, which upon reaching postsynaptic axon terminals, cause release of chemical neurotransmitters into the synaptic cleft. These in turn trigger dendritic membrane events in a second neuron, which culminate in another axon firing, more neurotransmitter release, and so on.

Curiously, in the ephapses of some neurons, firing occurs without neurotransmitter release; only about 15% of axonal action-potentials reaching presynaptic terminals result in actual release of neurotransmitters from vesicles.

The brain generates two distinct states: a conscious state (mind); and an unconscious (or subconscious) state. The brain needs affirmation of a living state (somatic—or body—feedback) to remain awake and aware.

Conscious experience constitutes only a small portion of the brain’s activities; the majority of the brain’s functions are unconscious and therefore, not experienced at all. Cognitive science cannot adequately explain why some complex brain processes result in conscious experience, while other equally complex—and much more numerous—processes do not. Some scientists assert that the brain filters out that which is constant in experience; it tends to focus and to make aware those events that change markedly. Otherwise, we would be inundated with an excess of trifling internal signals for everything from hormone fluctuations to enzyme release.

Our everyday lives are primarily governed by automatic processes; we learn skills so comprehensively that we don’t need to attend to them consciously. The benefit is that we can perform many tasks unconsciously: typing, dancing, driving a car, playing a musical instrument. The disadvantage is that we are frequently reduced to automatons in the workplace, moving through our lives in a dull trance, never fully experiencing our remarkable existences.

When we speak of the mind, therefore, we are specifying the experienced state of consciousness. The mind operates on qualia—purely subjective perceptions, thoughts, emotions, and memories. These can be directly experienced only by their owners. The mind is intangible—it has no substance; it cannot be sensed through anyone else’s perceptions or detected with any instruments. We can only infer that other humans have conscious minds because of our subjective experiences of our own consciousness.

When in the course of evolution did consciousness first appear? Are all living organisms conscious, or did consciousness emerge more recently, with language or toolmaking?

Cognitive scientists, neurophysiologists, and other scientists are able to deduce the onset of consciousness. Neurologists know that there is a neuron number threshold (somewhere between 100 and 10,000) necessary to produce a chain reaction—a fast cascade of neuronal events sufficient for consciousness to occur.

Organisms such as tiny worms and urchins prevailed at the beginning of the “Cambrian explosion,” a burst of evolution that occurred about 540 million years ago. These organisms possess a sufficient number of neurons to produce the chain-reaction required for a conscious event to occur. Perhaps primitive consciousness accelerated evolution and precipitated the Cambrian explosion.

Consciousness is what renders living things able to experience their lives. Primitive consciousness (sometimes referred to as proto-consciousness), however, would result in a limited smear of reality, a partial half-asleep glimpse of the world we so richly enjoy. But, it would still be a conscious experience.

It is still not clear if consciousness is truly advantageous to survival above and beyond intelligent, complex behavior. There is nothing about consciousness that is so necessary that we could not live without it. It is doubtful that consciousness is epiphenomenal—a side-effect of evolution; epiphenomena confer no survival advantage, but obviously, consciousness does. Consciousness results in noncomputable behavior. Noncomputable behavior—unpredictability, intuitive actions—is beneficial in predator-prey relationships. Having a conscious experience of taste promotes finding food and avoiding toxins. The experience of pain assists in avoiding tissue damage. The pleasure of engaging in sex promotes reproduction. The mind develops representations of conscious images, contributing to an organism’s adaptability.

The coherence of consciousness represents the greatest form of order currently known in the universe.

Consciousness, in its simplest sense, is shared by many living organisms and is an expression of atomic complexity and synchronization. Life itself may be defined as organization, relationship, and process.
Think of consciousness as the “inner life”—a series of multi-modal integrated experiences. But, what is the nature of experience? That, according to philosopher David Chalmers, is the “hard problem” of philosophy and scientific disciplines.

Why do we have conscious experience? We needn’t necessarily have it. If the world were only slightly different, we could just as easily exist as robot-like zombies with behavior outwardly indistinguishable from that of conscious beings.

The most confounding aspect of studying consciousness is that even if neurophysiologists knew the activities of each and every neuron, synapse, ion channel, receptor, molecule, etc. in our brains at any given instant and were able to correlate that activity with a given mental state, it still wouldn’t tell us anything about experience, or about why we have an inner life.

Consciousness—because it defines an inner subjective experience—is by its nature, unobservable. Classical physics and biology alike regard consciousness as an epiphenomenon—what the brain does or produces as an inconsequential side-effect of its functions. Yet, we all know it is much more than that!

Consciousness is an emergent phenomenon—it pops into existence when a critical level of complexity is reached in the brain’s neural networks. Neurons must fire at a minimum of about 40 Hz and “lock” for an organism to become conscious of an event or object. When these conditions are not present—such as during deep sleep, coma, or anesthesia—we lose consciousness. The real marvel is that after this “loss,” consciousness reappears with a perfect sense of self intact. The reticular formation serves as the switch in the brain between sleep and full consciousness, stimulating a sort of phase transition.

As we’ve learned, the experienced “subjective” world is not identical to the “objective” physical world. Consciousness is a distinct phenomenology; it is essentially nonphysical. It cannot be re-expressed as a combination of other factors. Consciousness is not something we can define or understand by describing it in terms of other things more fundamental. Consciousness includes three elements:

Conventional explanations portray consciousness as an emergent property of classical computerlike activities in the brain’s neural networks. This approach is inadequate to explain:

Consciousness is subjective awareness, experience, ideation, imagery, visualization, the feeling of what happens. Consciousness is what is inside our minds before we translate ideas into words. Consciousness also is what’s left when the mind is stilled, without thoughts. “Consciousness of consciousness” is the highest human significance of the mind.

It is worth repeating that science cannot directly measure by any means, the characteristics of conscious experience. There is no way to empirically verify that another person experiences the same color green as you do, the same chocolate taste as you do, the same feelings of love as you do. The problem is compounded when making cross-species assessments, by virtue of dissimilar anatomy. There is no way to quantify feelings; only the relative intensity of feelings can be described. (“On a scale of one to ten, how do you feel?” is a common clinical query that has little objective meaning—only you can know what such a rating means.)

Classical physics cannot account for mental phenomena or experience. It cannot demonstrate that from the actions of particles within fields, that feelings can arise. In fact, feelings can be denied without violating any classical laws of physics. Consciousness is not necessary, yet it exists. Perhaps there is something amiss in the classical interpretation of physical reality. Though it is quite possible that a sufficiently complex system could produce consciousness, and that relationships between experience and feelings arises naturally from the substrate, it does not follow that feeling (consciousness) must be a logical consequence of classical physical laws—since these laws can exist without consciousness. In classical physics, consciousness is gratuitous.

The brain primarily communicates with itself and the rest of the body through phase, amplitude, and frequency. Brains perceive objects and events by resonating with them, projecting a virtual image of the object/event in space so that the object/event and the perception of the object/event coincide.

The brain behaves via nonlinear dynamics; recollection entails retrieving different bits of information scattered all over the brain. Most information is recalled near the area it was first processed, i.e., sounds are recalled as stored in the auditory centers in the temporal lobe; object shape occurs in the occipital lobe—the neurons actually fire in the pattern of the shape!

Consciousness involves sensory, perceptual, and kinesthetic attentiveness. Awareness entails self-reflection; the knowledge that the organism is doing, feeling, or thinking something. Basic consciousness does not require language—only images (sights, sounds, feelings, tastes, smells). Any animal without language can create internal representations of an object/event. (But, language may help generate the source of the “I.”) Diverse and abstract concepts exist independently of linguistic experience, hence consciousness cannot be the result of language; abstract conceptualizing exists before language is acquired.

Often, the conscious mind does not control how we act, but merely tells us stories about our actions. Justification and rationalization are two strategies consciousness uses to create reasons for what the unconscious mind sometimes does on its own. The conscious mind is a spin doctor, not the commander-in-chief. The brain manipulates memories of perceptual experience—one of the problems underlying eyewitness testimony.

Another facet of consciousness is that it allows for a unitary sense of self. Despite the fact that in any given instant we may have a hundred billion neurons firing all over the brain, we somehow have a sense of oneness. Consciousness is a globally coherent state realized through synchronous neuron firing; the activities of many systems bind to create the feeling of unity, of self. Why do we perceive ourselves as one thing—as a unity—when we are actually aggregates of interconnected systems? Where does this unity come from in consciousness?

This sense of self also occurs in visual physiology, even though objects or events are processed all over the brain. For instance, this book has several features: its linear proportions (vertical and horizontal lines) are processed in one part of the brain, its color is processed in another part, and the patterns the words convey to your understanding are processed in yet another part. But somehow, it all comes together as one entity. This unity, or binding, is a feature of consciousness. If consciousness can be regarded as something that the brain does—an emergent property of neurological processes—then consciousness = mind = brain = unity.

One curiosity of the sense of self is what happens during dreams. During dreams, we still experience a form of consciousness, though it is somewhat altered. Most remarkably, we frequently participate in our dreams as an observed actor—we may watch ourselves from the outside of ourselves, as if watching another. Why does this happen?

Conscious existence, in the end, may be the ultimate tragedy. Much of our effort is expended in minimizing suffering, which enhances the value of life. Without a little suffering, there would be not bliss, but nothing. We must feel pain to appreciate joy. As philosophers and psychologists understand, “there is no light without the darkness; no joy without despair.”

Consciousness means awareness, but the question is: awareness of what? Of whatever one can be aware. Humans agree that they are aware, but often deny consciousness in animals, and surely in insects, plants, and bacteria.

Some assert that all cells are conscious, that even protozoa and bacteria have a simple consciousness. But the threshold for emergence of conscious experience is roughly hundreds of neurons. This level is found, for example, in small worms, tiny sea urchins, and other very simple creatures. Bacteria and protozoa like paramecia are below that line, so, in this view, they would not be conscious. They would be more like proto-conscious—something analogous to a primitive sub-conscious or dream state. For simple creatures, proto-consciousness means nothing more than recognition and reaction. Plants respond to light and water; bacteria recognize noxious chemicals and move away from them.

Consciousness does not equate with self-awareness, but self-awareness is an aspect of human consciousness, and possibly of other animals’ inner lives. Can we know for sure if we can’t ask them? After all, it wasn’t so long ago that animals were said to have no emotions. We know now that emotions are a basic mammalian trait—originating in the limbic system of the human brain, also known as the mammalian brain.

Our dismissive attitude towards consciousness in other life-forms is very old. In the mid-1600s, Descartes asserted that animals were little more than automatons, without feelings or thoughts. As late as the 1970s, animals were considered nonconscious because they lacked speech; speech was regarded as the only certain criteria for thought. Any creature who could not state the intent behind its actions was assumed more mechanistic in nature, without reason or understanding. (Intent is not an externally observable behavior.) But, humans and animals do share similar mental worlds. It is perhaps conveniently comforting to regard animals as different and inferior to us, so that we can continue to control and exploit them to our needs with a clear conscience.

Does a live shrimp experience pain when tossed on a hot griddle? There is no way to answer this question empirically. It is easier to decide if a human experiences pain when he puts his hand on a hot griddle because he is like us, and we make an assumption that his experiences are similar to our own. He may even tell us that he feels pain, which we accept as verification. However, a properly programmed computer can provide the same answers when exposed to the same circumstances. Does the computer experience anything that compels it to respond?

Consciousness is a global phenomenon that occurs throughout the body, not just in the brain. A series of conscious events produces a stream of consciousness.

Consciousness and quantum states share one characteristic: Neither can be directly observed. The Penrose-Hameroff Model of Consciousness—conceived by mathematician Roger Penrose and anesthesiologist Stuart Hameroff—describes how quantum states may not only affect consciousness, quantum states may in fact generate consciousness. Long-range quantum-coherence (quantum entanglement) effects that extend over a large area of the brain occurring prior to physical embodiment may be what we experience as consciousness, and the phenomenon of unity—of a self. Tiny anatomical structures called microtubules, responsible for molecular transport within cells, may be at the heart of consciousness—especially in the brain.

Neurons Reappraised

Neurons resemble complex computers, rather than simple switches. Conventional approaches to brain function and consciousness focus on synaptic switching at the neural level, which optimally yields about 1018 operations per second in human brains. This does not seem adequate to explain the speed with which many brain processes occur. The average neuronal transmission within the brain occurs between
1/10,000 and 1/1000 of a second. Automatic microtubule switching can explain some 1027 operations per second.

What Are Microtubules?

Microtubules exist in all living cells. They are somewhat limited in plant cells, whereas human neurons have hundreds to thousands of microtubules. Most cells contain microtubules that radiate outward from the centrosome—or centrioles—next to the cell nucleus. (Centrioles are elegant organelles made up of microtubules that organize mitosis—cell division.)

The microtubules in the brain’s neurons are denser and more plentiful than in any other cell in the body. Microtubules in neurons are also arrayed in parallel, giving them unique properties. Microtubule activity could support information processing, transmission, and learning within neurons, which may contribute to the conscious state.

Microtubules are composed of thousands of even smaller hollow, crystalline cylinders 25 nanometers in diameter made of hexagonal lattices of tubulin protein. The fact that all biological cells typically contain approximately 107 tubulins could account for the adaptive behaviors of single-celled organisms, which have no nervous systems or synapses.

Microtubule Function

Mechanical signals propagate through microtubules to the cell nucleus, travelling at 15 microns (2000 tubulin subunits) per second. When microtubules are metabolically active, they vibrate at 100–650 Hz, optically “shimmering” with vigor. A vibration in one microtubule resonates in unison through neighboring microtubules and may depend entirely on quantum states.

Tubulins within microtubules undergo coherent excitation, switching between two or more physical states within nanoseconds. Dipole coupling (binding of two quantum states—in this case, electron localization) among neighboring tubulins in the microtubule lattice form dynamical patterns, which evolve, interact, and result in the emergence of new patterns. Each tubulin can also exist in a quantum superposition of two (or more) physical states.

If all the microtubules in about 100 neurons are in a quantum state for 500 milliseconds—a half second—a conscious event occurs; more intense experiences involving 1000 neurons would require just 50 milliseconds. Microtubules may actually help to marshal “discordant energy” and create global coherence within the brain, leading to consciousness and the sensation of a personal unity of self.

Anesthetics cause microtubules to disassemble, which may be the mechanism that results in loss of consciousness.

Because neurons don’t divide, the centrioles have disappeared (or are hidden) and the microtubules are all arrayed in parallel. This highly parallel arrangement can facilitate computation and quantum coherence.
Consciousness may requires a critical degree of quantum coherence in neuronal parallel-arrayed microtubules. (This critical degree is what allows a prediction as to what evolutionary level of neural complexity will result in consciousness.)

Consciousness may involve quantum state reductions (quantum-wave collapse from many possibilities). Microtubules in neurons may provide sufficient isolation to generate coherent (entangled) quantum oscillations, resulting in consciousness. Consciousness and quantum collapses may actually be the result of collapses to patterns of neurological activity affecting the timing and amplitude of neuron pulses, thereby speeding up brain processes in solving problems and enhancing survival.

But, how can a quantum state exist in an apparently noisy, thermal, chaotic system like the brain? The only known technological examples of quantum states are things such as superconductors, superfluids, Bose-Einstein condensates, and lasers. Except for the laser, these require cooling to near absolute zero to stop thermal oscillations so the atoms can align coherently. The brain is very warm—there is thermal oscillation. With a laser, energy is pumped in to get a macroscopic quantum state. There may be a biochemical pumping mechanism driving quantum coherence in the brain’s microtubules.

So, how can a quantum state be isolated from environmental interaction? Cytologists (cell biologists) know that cytoplasm exists in two phases—a solution state and a gel state—that alternately switch between the two. These transitions can occur very rapidly—about 40 transitions per second. Perhaps microtubule quantum coherence is isolated and protected by gelation. Quantum coherence occurs in the gel phase, then in the liquid phase the collapse occurs in which microtubule information transmits. At 40 cycles-per-second of quantum coherence-collapse, quantum coherence-collapse, quantum coherence-collapse, cycles of isolation-communication, isolation-communication, isolation-communication would result. This suggests consciousness is a series of discrete events, rather than a seamless continuum. The basic interval of consciousness is about 1/25 of a second.

Furthermore, all processes in the body and brain may be triggered by quantum fluctuations. The unitary nature of living systems may involve entangled, isolated quantum states in cytoplasm.

Some of the water inside microtubules is also ordered and exhibits coherence. The more coherence, the more aware one becomes.

The Role of Electrons

Additionally, electron exchange within dendritic microtubules might be a mechanism of consciousness. Curiously, melanin—normally present on the skin to absorb photons and produce a protective tan—also is present in the outer layer of the brain. Melanin may serve to absorb some of the electrons, preventing excessive blurring of the consciousness interval.

Quantum states in microtubules may link to those in microtubules in other neurons and glia (brain support cells) via electron tunneling through gap junctions, permitting extension of the quantum state throughout a significant brain volume. Gap junctions may enable quantum tunneling among dendrites, resulting in macroscopic quantum states. Electron tunneling—essentially, translocation—provides the energy to open vesicle gates in neuron synapses of the brain. Using soluble RNA as propagators, electrons can also get from one synapse to another through hopping conduction. It is possible that this electron tunneling and hopping is what unifies the discrete localized activity of the brain into a unified experience of consciousness. Because of the indistinguishability property of particles, a distant electron is—simultaneously—all the other electrons.

An explanation for free will might be that electrons within microtubules can maintain a superposed quantum state until the brain chooses among all possible states. A conscious event—awareness, experience—occurs when some objective factor disturbs the superposition and causes it to collapse. During collapse, conscious experience merges with the normally subconscious quantum computing mode. This could mean that behavior may still be essentially unpredictable because the brain may amplify random quantum events, acting as nonlinear dynamical systems subject to chaotic manifestations.

Benedict Spinoza argued in the 17TH century that some form of consciousness existed in everything physical. Perhaps the raw components of mental processes (qualia) are fundamental properties of nature (like mass, spin, or charge). Consciousness may someday be regarded as a phenomenon separate from brain activity—something special “embedded” in the universe that expresses itself in ever more complex terms depending on brain complexity and quantum coherence within microtubules.

Could proto-conscious qualia simply exist in spacetime? Long before the Penrose-Hameroff model, philosopher Alfred North Whitehead argued that consciousness is a process of events occurring in a wide, basic field of proto-conscious experience. Each event is conscious because it may select a pattern in fundamental reality, and experience could possibly be embedded at the fundamental level of the universe.

This may all seem very impressive and even convincing, but reductionism to the level of microtubule automata still cannot address the enigmatic features of consciousness—in particular the nature of conscious experience.

Intelligence may be defined most simply as “fitness for particular mental tasks.” Intelligence is sometimes mistaken for sentience. Sentience is mere consciousness of feelings—sensitivity. Intelligence is wisdom, both intrinsic and acquired through experience. There are eight facets of intelligence: imagination, initiative, interpretation, relationship, pattern-recognition, discernment, synthesis, and creativity.

All intelligence possesses all eight of the criteria, but in differing degrees. This difference in ratios is determined both by heredity and by experience.

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