PSYCHE: http://psyche.cs.monash.edu.au/

Précis: Stream of Consciousness
Barry Dainton
Department of Philosophy
University of Liverpool
Liverpool, L69 3BX
U.K.
email: bdainton@liverpool.ac.uk
Copyright (c) Barry Dainton (2003)

PSYCHE 10 (1), MAY 2004
KEYWORDS: unity of consciousness, stream of consciousness, co-consciousness,
phenomenology, introspection, awareness, phenomenal space, phenomenal time, holism
PRECIS OF: Dainton, B. (2000). Stream of Consciousness: Unity and Continuity in
Conscious Experience. London: Routledge. International Library of Philosophy. ISBN:
0-415-22382-2. pp.254.

1. Overview
That our ordinary everyday experience exhibits both unity and continuity is
uncontroversial, and on the face of it utterly unmysterious. At any moment we havesome conscious awareness of both the world about us, as revealed through our perceptual
experiences, and our own inner states – our bodily sensations, thoughts, mental images
and so on. Since once wakened we tend to stay awake for several hours, tracing out
continuous routes through whatever environment we happen to find ourselves in, it ishardly surprising that our experience itself is continuous rather than discontinuous.
Or so it may seem. That there is something to be accounted for starts to emerge
as soon as we consider more closely what our experience is like in its own right. Suppose
your stream of consciousness over the past few hours has been a perfectly realistic
hallucination, created by .... (fill the gap with your preferred scenario). Your experience
exhibits the same kind of unity and continuity as per usual, but since this can no longer be
explained in terms of uninterrupted contact with a unified and continuously existingworld, it must be accounted for in some other way. Just what is it that binds your various
experiences together? Since the environment only impacts on our consciousness
indirectly – by influencing the way in which our brains generate experience – ordinary
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non-hallucinatory experience poses precisely the same problem. What is the unifying
force or relation that holds the experiential constituents of a typical stream of
consciousness together? What has been unifying the myriad different parts of your own
stream of consciousness for the past few hours, or for the past few seconds?
Stream of Consciousness is devoted to exploring solutions to this problem. But
only solutions of a certain sort. There are interesting questions about the sorts ofprocesses in our brains that are responsible for our experience being as it is, but I leavethese to one side, and concentrate instead on the task of trying to discover what can besaid about the basic structures of our ordinary streams of consciousness from the firstperson perspective. While this phenomenological approach has its risks and limitations,the potential rewards are considerable. In investigating the basic structures of ourstreams of consciousness we are probing the general framework within which all of us
live out our conscious lives, and it may well be that this framework has features which
only phenomenology can reveal.
The unity of consciousness has synchronic and diachronic aspects, and althoughboth aspects are to be found in any ordinary stretch of experience, it helps (at least
initially) to consider them separately. To bring the synchronic aspect to the fore, focus
your attention on two enduring parts of your current stream of consciousness – a visualexperience and a bodily sensation, a visual experience and a sound – it doesn’t matter,
provided the parts you choose are not too fleeting to introspect for a short while. Having
selected your experiences, consider how they are related to each other from moment tomoment. There is clearly a relationship between these experiences, but of what sort? It
may be that either of these experiences could have existed on its own, but as it happens
they both co-exist within your consciousness, and the togetherness of these two
experiences is itself something that you experience – at least in the sense that there issomething that it is like to have them both at once, rather than separately. As a little
introspective experimentation will confirm (if it is not already obvious) a similarly
intimate relationship holds between many of your other current experiences, irrespectiveof their qualitative or modal type (e.g. an itch and a smell, a smell and a buzzing sound, abuzzing sound and a mental image, a mental image and a conscious thought). I call thisinter-experiential relationship “co-consciousness”.
The physical realm also contains a diverse range of objects – stars, teacups, cats –and these too are unified at any given time, irrespective of the distance separating them.
But instead of belonging to a single consciousness, physical objects belong to a single
universe. Quite how objects in a single universe are related is much-disputed, but there issome consensus as to what the basic options are. The physical world is a spatio-temporalworld, and the task of understanding its mode of unity – at least on the large-scale –comes down to understanding space and time. So far as synchronic unity is concerned,
there are two main options. Some regard the stars and galaxies as embedded in a
substantival spatial manifold; objects which exist in the same spatial (or spacetime)
manifold exist in the same physical universe. Others reject substantival space as
superfluous to requirements, and posit instead spatial relations which link and bindmaterial things into a common spatial system. Do either of these options extend to therealm of experience? It is at least conceivable that they might: perhaps there is something
akin to a spatial manifold in our consciousness, or perhaps there isn’t, but diverse
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PSYCHE: http://psyche.cs.monash.edu.au/contents are bound together by something akin to spatial relations. However, there isanother possibility. It goes without saying that we are “aware” of our experiences as theyoccur, so perhaps the unity of consciousness consists simply in the fact that diverse
contents (the particular instantiations of various phenomenal qualities) fall under the gazeof a single conscious awareness. There is no obvious counterpart to this “top-down”
mode of unification in the physical world.
These possibilities, along with others, are explored in chapters 2 and 3 of thebook. Chapter 4 is also concerned with synchronic co-consciousness, but the topic is thescope of this unity rather than its nature. Are all parts of a subject’s experience at any
one time unified, or is a partially disunified consciousness a possibility? Is coconsciousness a transitive relationship?
Chapters 5, 6 and 7 are given over to diachronic unity, the way our experience isunified over time, from moment to moment. The simultaneous parts of our streams ofconsciousness are co-conscious, but so too are the directly successive parts, or so it seems
natural to say. However, this diachronic unity is a particularly intractable topic. Our
consciousness seems confined to the present – the future we can only anticipate, the past
we can only recall – and the present, common sense suggests, is a momentary interface
between past and future. So is a stream of experience a succession of momentary statesof consciousness? There are considerations that suggest otherwise. It is hard to believethat a strictly durationless state could have any phenomenal characteristics. Could astream of consciousness – of the sort we enjoy – be entirely composed of parts that do notin themselves possess any phenomenological reality? Moreover, we are continually anddirectly aware of change, and surely an experience of change requires time. So perhaps
the present of consciousness has some temporal breadth. But this option also seems
problematic. How long are these “chunks” of experience? How are they related to one
another? Since a temporally extended experience will have earlier and later parts, how
can we be aware of both parts together? Can we be directly aware of what is past or
future? As these brief remarks have perhaps made clear, describing the distinctive sort ofunity-within-flux that our ordinary experience exhibits is hard, and making sense of it
harder still. This difficulty is reflected in the amount of space I devote to the topic ofdiachronic unity.
Some writers have suggested that the (phenomenal) character of a particularexperience is affected by the other states of consciousness it is experienced with. If thisis right, then there is a sense in which consciousness is holistic: the character ofexperiential parts depends upon the wholes of which they are parts. Whether this claim istrue is another matter. I tackle this topic in the final two chapters of the book, where
different forms and potential sources of holism are distinguished. In the opening chapter
I prepare the ground by explaining how certain terms will be used, and setting out certain
assumptions. I will mention a few of the more important of these.
I adopt a robust realism about consciousness, and so take items such as bodily
sensations and sensory experiences to be perfectly real ingredients of reality; I reject –without argument – all attempts to reduce the experiential to the non-experiential. On theissue of how consciousness is related to matter, I remain largely neutral. I use“experience” to refer to consciousness in all its forms (so conscious thoughts and vague
bodily feelings count as “experiences”). I take any state with a “phenomenal character”
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to be a conscious state – a state has phenomenal character if there is something it is liketo have it. Since I assume a representative theory of perception, I regard the items we are
directly aware of in perceptual experience to be experiences (or parts of experiences).
That this is not how these experiences seem is something I fully accept. Perceptual
experience is “world-presenting”: our experience is such that we have the impression that
we are directly apprehending our physical surroundings; we are not normally aware ofany “experiential medium” standing between us and the world. I reconcile thisterminological preference with my phenomenological approach by distinguishing
between “informed” and “naive” phenomenology: the latter attempts to remain neutral on
how the world really is, the former does not. I opt for the informed approach, and since I
take science seriously, I can see no reason to believe that material objects are clothed in
the intrinsic phenomenal qualities we are acquainted with in our experience. I also takephenomenology seriously, and suggest there may be a distinctive range of “phenomenal
truths” about experience which can be discovered only through introspection. However,these truths may not be easily discovered, since some features of experience may be more
obvious than others, and finding the best way of describing these features may not beeasy. It is natural to think phenomenal truths (if there are any) only concern how reality
appears, rather than how reality is in itself. But from the standpoint of a robust realism
about experience, this is a mistake. If experiences themselves are as real as anything else,
in learning about experience we are making discoveries about how things really are.

2. Unity, Introspection and AwarenessThe unity within our consciousness is something we experience, it is something of which
we have an awareness. Might it be that awareness itself is responsible for, or at the very
least closely bound up with, the unity that it discloses? I begin my investigation into
synchronic co-consciousness by considering this idea.
Perhaps the most obvious way of interpreting the proposal is in terms of attentive
or introspective awareness, the kind of awareness that occurs when we pay attention tosome aspect of our experience, possibly (but not necessarily) with a view to forming abelief about it. However, interpreted in this way, the proposal faces an obvious difficulty:
attention is selective, and generally speaking, at any one time we are only paying
attention to a relatively small part of our overall state of consciousness. Is the unity of
consciousness restricted to those parts of our experience to which we pay attention?
To see that this is not the case it suffices to consider what our ordinary experienceis like. Imagine you are studying a painting in an art gallery; your attention is absorbed
in what you are seeing. If you were to compile a careful inventory of everything you areexperiencing, what would it include? At the top of the list, of course, would be yourvisual experience of the painting, but this is not all, far from it. There is also what you
are thinking or imagining as you pay attention to the picture, and what you feel in
response to it – together with your general emotional state (vague annoyance that thegallery is so crowded). There are the (somewhat blurred) contents at the periphery of
your field of vision; there are also sounds, perhaps smells, perhaps some flavours (youhave just finished a strong mint). Also, and easily overlooked, there are various bodily
feelings. These include sensations of pressure, itches, twinges of pain and so forth, alongwith the proprioceptive awareness of the disposition of your limbs and the general
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PSYCHE: http://psyche.cs.monash.edu.au/orientation of your body (upright rather than upsides down). All these diverse
experiences belong to what I call “the phenomenal background”, which consists simply
of all those parts of our consciousness to which we are not paying explicit attention as
and when they occur; typically, the bulk of our consciousness falls into this category.
Perhaps the best way of rendering the existence of the phenomenal backgroundvivid is by imagining how different one’s experience would be if it were suddenly andcompletely to disappear. It is hard to imagine what it would be like for one’s
consciousness to shrink down to a disembodied awareness of a few colours and nothingelse, but it would clearly be very different from how our consciousness usually is, evenwhen we are paying close attention to a few colours. However, for our purposes, it is not
the existence of the phenomenal background which matters so much as its character. Is ita collection of unconnected experiential fragments? Again, clearly not. The phenomenal
background is both structured and unified: it is simply the surrounding three-dimensional
world (as it features in our experience), a world we feel ourselves wholly present within.
The existence and character of the phenomenal background poses a problem foranyone seeking to explicate the unity of consciousness in terms of introspective or
attentive awareness. Since the experiences in the phenomenal background are themselves
unified, and so co-conscious, it is clearly not an option to hold that experiences are coconscious if and only if they are the objects of introspective or attentive awareness. Butother options exist. Experiences which are not actually introspected could be, or so it
seems natural to think. So perhaps we can explicate co-consciousness in terms of what is
introspectible, rather than in terms of what is actually introspected. Can we say thatexperiences are co-conscious if and only if they are the actual or potential objects of asingle introspective awareness? I call this the “I-thesis”, and it can be interpreted in astronger or a weaker way, depending on whether we view introspectibility as constitutiveof co-consciousness, or merely correlated with it (see Stream section 2.3). But however it
is viewed, the I-thesis is problematic.
The claim that experiences are co-conscious only because they are introspectible
has no phenomenological foundation: this is simply not how it seems (and of course, forphenomenology this is all that matters). I doubt anyone has the feeling that the stability,
coherence and unity of the world about them depends upon their ability to direct theirattention where they wish, and the same applies to experience itself. There is an
explanation for this: the phenomenal background is a constant presence (and a constantly
unified presence) in our experience, one that is largely unaffected by changes in the focus
of attention. (I deal with the question of quite how we can know this in section 2.2.)
What of the weaker claim that introspectibility and co-consciousness arecorrelated, so that as a matter of fact, any co-conscious experiences are the potential
objects of a single introspective awareness? There are at least two difficulties with this.
Since the phenomenal character of an experience is essential to its identity, the claim that
we could have attended to an experience to which we did not in fact attend could only betrue if, in general, the character of experience is unaffected by attention. But in fact, thereverse is true. The phenomenal character of at least some experiences is attentiondependent; the itch from the mosquito bite on my leg would have felt different (worse) if
I had been paying close attention to it for the past few minutes (I haven’t been). The
second difficulty is one of principle rather than fact, and it applies to both the strong and
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weak forms of the I-thesis. Introspection is contrastive; if I am introspecting one part of
my overall state of consciousness at a given time, other parts will go unintrospected. The
introspected and non-introspected regions of my consciousness are themselves coconscious (recall my earlier remarks about unity of the phenomenal background with theattended-to parts of consciousness). Is the experienced unity of such regions itself
introspectible? Obviously not. Quite generally, the unity of introspected and nonintrospected experiences is not itself introspectible.
So the I-thesis must be rejected. But there is another way of construing the ideathat the unity of consciousness is the product of awareness. According to some,consciousness itself is essentially bi-polar, and any experiencing has two components: an
act of pure awareness (or sensing) and one or more contents falling under the act.
Awareness in this sense is bare apprehension, and all contents – the phenomenal
background included – fall under awareness if they are experienced at all. This notion ofpure awareness – or simply “Awareness” henceforth – cannot be identified with the morefamiliar “attentive awareness” which featured in the I-thesis. The Awareness of the actobject theorist extends to all corners of consciousness, and takes in contents which are notthe objects of attention (as we normally construe it). If consciousness in general has an
Awareness-content structure, then we have a plausible account of the synchronic unity of
consciousness: all and only those contents which fall under a single Awareness are thus
unified. I call this combination of claims the “A-thesis”.
The A-thesis is not susceptible to direct empirical refutation. The fact that one
cannot detect Awareness in ordinary experience proves nothing in itself. Awareness is
supposedly that to which ordinary phenomenal contents are presented, it is not itself an
object of consciousness, so the fact that it cannot be discerned among such objects does
not mean it is not there. Nonetheless, an argument based on general phenomenologicalconsiderations can be mounted. The A-thesis posits a complex two-component view of
consciousness, and so is vulnerable to Occam’s razor. Unless we have some positive
reason for believing the two-component picture we should accept a simpler onecomponent account of the structure of consciousness. In sections 2.4-2.6 I argue that nosuch reason exists, at least if we confine our attention to what it is like to haveexperience. The claim that the A-thesis should be accepted for its ability to account for
the unity of consciousness would have to be taken seriously if no competing accountwere available, but – as will emerge – a competing account is in fact available. For now I
will mention only the main points in my case against the A-thesis itself.
The idea that consciousness has an awareness-content structure might seem quite
natural, even common sense. In 2.5 I suggest otherwise. The real business is done 2.6.
If we assume there is a dualism of Awareness and content, a question remains to beanswered: what precisely is the relationship between the two components of ordinary
experience? Can Awareness exist by itself, independently of content? Or is or is
Awareness content-dependent? Can content exist by itself, independently of Awareness,or is content Awareness-dependent?
It is difficult to see how the thesis that Awareness can exist independently ofcontent could possibly be justified on phenomenological grounds. Since Awareness itself
is supposed to be entirely devoid of its own phenomenal character, there could be nothingthat it is like to be an Awareness in the absence of content. If anyone were to claim to
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have experienced the condition of being reduced to a bare Awareness we could
reasonably ask: “Are you certain the state in question was entirely lacking in phenomenalfeatures, no matter how faint and unusual”? If the answer is affirmative, we can ask:
“What makes you think you hadn’t lost consciousness entirely”? To this it might beobjected: “As is well known, the notion of a ‘pure’ or ‘void’ consciousness plays animportant role in many meditative traditions; many people have actually encountered aform of consciousness that is devoid of content. Doesn’t this constitutephenomenological evidence for the existence of Awareness?” I think not. While there iscertainly a sizeable literature on the topic of “pure consciousness”, the precise characterof the relevant experiences is far from clear, and the same questions can be posed: Is thepure consciousness state entirely devoid of phenomenal characteristics? If it is, how isbeing in this condition different from being wholly unconscious (or non-existent)? Thissaid, I see no reason to reject the claim that “pure consciousness” is possible if “pure”
means “qualia-free” and “qualia” are taken to be the sorts of sensory qualities weencounter in our everyday experience. There may well be several ways in which a stateof consciousness could lack all sensory characteristics but nonetheless have a distinctive
phenomenal character. I can imagine (albeit not very clearly) being reduced to acondition in which I experience nothing more than a definite sense that something isabout to happen, or in which I experience nothing but the (non-sensory, fringe-type)feeling that things are going well (or badly). But accepting the possibility of these kindsof state is one thing, accepting the possibility of experiences that are subjectively
indistinguishable from non-existence is quite another. So far as I can see, the conditionof being reduced to a bare Awareness would be indistinguishable from non-existence,
phenomenologically speaking.
Since the doctrine of content-independent Awareness has proven to be
problematic, we can move on to consider the versions of the A-thesis which reject thepossibility of a bare Awareness. The status of content now comes to the fore. Supposean A-theorist maintains that just as Awareness cannot exist independently of phenomenal
contents, the latter cannot exist independently of Awareness. Prima facie, this may seema very natural position. After all, the idea of pains, itches, thoughts and perceptions
existing when no one is experiencing them is counterintuitive, to say the least. But it is
one thing to say that a phenomenal content has to have a subject, another to say that aphenomenal content has to fall under the A-theorist’s pure contentless Awareness. The
former claim may well be true, the latter claim is precisely what we are seeking arationale for believing. On closer scrutiny it is difficult to see how the claim in question
could have a rationale. A phenomenal content is a realization of one or more phenomenal
properties. What is it about phenomenal properties which prevents their being realized
independently of Awareness? The dependence thesis would clearly be warranted if
Awareness had some distinctive quality which all phenomenal contents possess, but by
hypothesis Awareness is entirely featureless and so brings nothing to the contents whichfall under it. Does Awareness cause phenomenal properties to come into being, whencombined with appropriate non-phenomenal properties? This view might make sense ona purely conceptual level, but it is hard to see how it could be motivated by appeal tophenomenology – Awareness, don’t forget, is introspectively invisible!
So should the A-theorist take the view that phenomenal contents can exist
independently of Awareness? Although some A-theorist do take this view, it is open to
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an obvious objection. Consider the phenomenal contents which feature in your own
current experience, and imagine exactly similar contents occurring without Awareness.
Why wouldn’t these Awareness-free contents constitute experiences in their own right,
experiences just like those you are having? The A-theorist will no doubt insist thatexperience in the absence of Awareness is simply impossible. But while this claim would
be perfectly justified in the context of the awareness-dependence doctrine, we are
currently assuming that contents can exist independently of Awareness with all theirphenomenal characteristics intact. Given this, what reason do we have for thinking that
contents which exist unsensed (in the distinctive A-theoretical way) differ in any way
from contents which are sensed (in the same A-theoretical way)? In the absence of any
difference, what could prevent both sorts of contents from constituting experiences intheir own right? In its current guise, Awareness has no role; at most it is akin to an
unseen witness, passively apprehending our conscious lives from a distance(metaphorically speaking). There is absolutely no reason to think such a thing exists.
Since each variant of the A-thesis faces difficulties, it is clear that we must seek
an alternative account of the synchronic unity of consciousness. While this discovery
amounts to progress of a sort, the examination and rejection of the A-thesis also serves anadditional purpose, for it has cast some useful light on the nature of consciousness itself.
The A-theorist’s conception of ordinary conscious experience is dualistic: every
experience, even the simplest, involves both Awareness and content. In rejecting thisdualism we are free to adopt a simpler, one-level, conception of experience. If there is noneed for phenomenal contents to be accompanied by a separate, onlooking, Awareness inorder to be conscious in the first place, we can hold that instantiations of phenomenal
contents are conscious in and of themselves. On this view, phenomenal contents are
intrinsically conscious, they are self-revealing – in the sense that such contents do notneed to be apprehended by any higher-level awareness in order to constitute fully-fledged
conscious experiences. For obvious reasons, I call this non-dualistic view of
consciousness the Simple Conception.
The Simple Conception can seem strange. In section 2.7 I argue that it is not as
counterintuitive as it may initially seem. But at this stage I hold back from concludingthat the Simple Conception is true. Thus far I have been concerned only with synchronic
unity; since a number of influential conceptions of the diachronic unity of consciousness
presuppose the A-thesis, or something close to it, the case against the latter will only becomplete when these conceptions have been examined and found wanting – and this point
not reached until chapter 7. But before embarking on this task there are further issues
concerning synchronic unity to be pursued.

3. Phenomenal SpaceI next consider this proposal: that simultaneous experiences are co-conscious by
virtue of occurring within a single unified phenomenal space. I call this the S-thesis. If
this thesis is true, a similar unifying principle is at work in both the physical and thephenomenal realms.
The very idea that consciousness is spatial might strike some people as very odd.
Isn’t it a commonplace in the philosophy of mind that consciousness is temporal but
entirely non-spatial? This doctrine is associated with substance dualism: the non-physical
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PSYCHE: http://psyche.cs.monash.edu.au/substance which Descartes posited as the bearer of conscious states is (usually) supposedto lack a location in physical space. Since I adopt an agnostic stance with regard to therelationship between matter and consciousness, I take no view on the relationshipbetween experiences and physical space. However, from the standpoint ofphenomenology the S-thesis has a good deal in its favour. Our ordinary perceptual
experience is world-presenting, and the world that is presented is obviously spatial aswell as temporal. Moreover, the experiences our different senses provide seem to belong
to a single unified space. My bodily experiences and conscious thoughts and feelings
seem to be located in the same space as the objects I can see, smell, taste and hear. The
space in question may be a phenomenal or experiential space, rather than a physicalspace, but this does not matter. What does matter is whether this phenomenal space iswholly and solely responsible for the unity we find (or could find) in our experience. I
argue that it is not. In sections 3.2-3.3 I suggest there are counterexamples to the Sthesis: experiences which are co-conscious without being spatially related. In 3.4-3.6(and 4.2) the topic is the nature of phenomenal spaces themselves, and the while findings
here may not decisively refute the S-thesis, they certainly reduce its appeal.
The first sort of counterexample relies upon the fact that some kinds of experience
do not seem, in themselves, to be spatially extended: conscious thoughts which don’t
involve spatial imagery of any kind, certain emotional feelings, certain types of sounds(as “heard” in the acoustic imagination). It seems perfectly conceivable that a subject
could have two or more of these non-spatial experiences at the same time, and experience
them as co-conscious with each other, without also experiencing them as being spatiallyrelated. This said, a consciousness of this kind is not something we can easily imagine,
for the simple reason that our imaginings always occur (under normal circumstances)against the backdrop of a spatially extended phenomenal body-image. So try to imagine
what it would be like to lose your body-image and all bodily sensation (perhaps due toneurological damage, or drugs), to be in darkness and silence, alone with your thoughts,
feelings, memories and imaginings. Would these different experiences all have spatial
extension? Would they all seem to be in some definite spatial arrangement, or at definite
distances and directions from one another? I suggest not. But since it is hard to becertain, I am reluctant to dismiss the S-thesis on these grounds alone.
Hence the second counterexample. I develop a scenario in which theconsciousness of a single subject is distributed across two distinct phenomenal spaces;
although the experiences in these different phenomenal spaces are not spatially linked,
they are fully co-conscious. I will not try to summarize this scenario here, but an idea ofwhat it involves can be gleaned from a similar, if slightly simpler, thought-experiment.
Imagine a future in which brains can be hooked up to bodies at a distance, by (in effect)
instantaneous signals and transceivers. These brain-body connections are such that they
deliver an experience of being fully and normally embodied. Many people no longer livein their bodies in the old-fashioned way – their brains are not in their heads – but thisdifference (or distance) does not register in any phenomenologically discernible way:
they feel as though they are in their bodies in the usual manner. In fact, you are one ofthese people. Your original body was damaged in an accident, but your brain survived,
and is maintained in a vat. Since you prefer to work in the city but spend your free-timein the countryside, you had two new bodies cloned; you spend your weekdays in yourcity-body (your country-body is disconnected), and your weekends are spent in yourDAINTON: PRECIS OF STREAM OF CONSCIOUSNESS

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PSYCHE: http://psyche.cs.monash.edu.au/country-body (your city-body is then disconnected). The saving in commuting costs is
considerable.
One day during the working week the equipment malfunctions, and you suddenly
find yourself “living in” both of your bodies simultaneously. Needless to say, this is very
confusing. You are not accustomed to having two sets of bodily and perceptual
experiences at once – and for a time the two sets of experiences seem superimposed on
one another, creating a quite baffling phenomenal melange. But after a while you findthings stabilizing; the superimposed experiences separate out into two separate andcoherent sub-streams (the emergence of order from blurry disorder is somewhat akin tothat which can occur when looking at “magic eye” pictures). Each of these sub-streams
comprises a collection of spatially unified experiences, and these experiences are coconscious, but you have no sense whatsoever that the experiences associated with yourcity-body are spatially related to the experiences associated with your country-body.
Controlling the movements of your two bodies is a tricky business. When you need todrive to the nearest village in your country-body, you “park” your city-body somewhere
safe and secure, and direct all your attention to driving. On doing so, you feel yourself“moving into” the country-body, and leaving your city-body behind; but the transfer is
not total, you continue to be passively aware of your city-body throughout. Whencircumstances require you to move around in your city-body, you retain a similar
background awareness of your country-body. Either way, you retain a continuous (ifusually only passive) awareness of two spatially unconnected fields of consciousness.
Although the forms of experience which feature in this genre of thoughtexperiment are very odd indeed, it seems by no means inconceivable that consciousness
could take such a form; even if we are unable to imagine exactly what experience of thiskind would be like we can get close to doing so. Of course, the very fact that we areunable to imagine with complete clarity what a spatially disunified consciousness would
be like means the S-thesis cannot be decisively refuted by such methods. So I reinforce
the thought-experiment with some more general considerations concerning phenomenal
spaces.
Earlier I mentioned the two competing conceptions of physical space: thesubstantivalist and relationist accounts. These accounts correspond to two distinct formsof phenomenal space. Just as a substantival physical space must possess some real
physical being, so must a substantival phenomenal space; but whereas the physicalcharacteristics of a substantival physical space can be invisible – and so detectable only
indirectly – a substantival phenomenal space must have some discernible phenomenal
character to call its own. Hence what I call a “phenomenal plenum” or “P-space” is acontinuous spread of phenomenal content, e.g. an expanse of colour, of two or moredimensions. Phenomenal spaces of the relational kind lack discernible intrinsic features.
Hence what I call a “phenomenal void” or “V-space” consists of phenomenal objects thatare experienced as occurring at a certain distance or direction from one another, despite
the fact that the objects concerned are surrounded by an absence of intrinsic phenomenal
content. Think of a pair simultaneous sounds against a backdrop of silence; the sounds
are of a familiar kind, and you have a clear sense of where they are, relative to one
another and to yourself, but you are aware of these sounds as occurring in an auditory
void.
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I characterize these spaces in some detail in sections 3.4 and 3.6, but here I will
confine myself to pointing out the relevance of the distinction to the S-thesis. It is
possible to imagine life as a being whose consciousness takes the form of a single P-field.
Clearly, the consciousness of such a being is spatial in a very profound way. If ourimaginary being were to consider the nature of co-consciousness, it might well (and quite
understandably) arrive at the conclusion that experiences are co-conscious if and only ifthey are connected by a continuous path through a phenomenal manifold. Our
consciousness is not of this kind, it is of the V-variety: we find ourselves surrounded byphenomenal void. Although we perceive objects to be some distance apart, theintervening space usually lacks any intrinsic phenomenal character (think of the spacelying between your eyes and the page in front of you, unless the room is filled withsmoke or illuminated fine dust, this stretch of space is invisible). As a consequence, we
are not obliged to define co-consciousness in the same way as our imaginary P-being;
indeed, for beings such as ourselves, the positing of a substantival phenomenal space iswholly unwarranted. Spatial relations in a V-space are direct links between objects
separated by void – not continuous paths through a substantival phenomenal manifold –and these links lack any intrinsic phenomenal features to call their own.
This lack means that for beings such as ourselves the bond between coconsciousness and spatiality is far more tenuous than for our imaginary P-being and its
kin. So tenuous, in fact, that the idea that experiences could be co-conscious without
being spatially related seems eminently plausible. Think again of hearing two
simultaneous sounds; this time the sounds are of an unfamiliar kind, and their location
relative to you and each other is entirely unclear; although you have no definite
impression of distance or direction, the fact that these two sounds are co-conscious could
not be clearer. In this sort of case, co-consciousness overwhelms or dominates distanceand direction to a remarkable degree: despite the absence of definite spatial relations, coconsciousness is entirely undiminished. So is there any reason to think that phenomenal
contents can only be co-conscious if they experienced as being spatially related? It seems
not. Which is precisely the reason why the spatially disunified form of experienceinvoked in our earlier thought-experiment seems possible, even if we are not quite able toimagine it clearly.
We have considered, and rejected, the I-thesis, the A-thesis and the S-thesis.
What view should we adopt about the relationship of synchronic co-consciousness? Only
one option seems to remain: we should take the relationship to be a primitive experiential
feature, a direct and unmediated relationship, one which cannot be analysed away or
reduced to anything else, and one which does not in itself have distinct phenomenologicalfeatures (by which I mean: we are not aware of co-consciousness as an additional
experiential ingredient, we are simply aware of experiences occurring together).
Although it is natural to think of co-consciousness as linking different experiences (thissound, that coloured object, that pain), this is not all it does. The parts of an individual
experience are themselves co-conscious (think of the upper and lower halves of a expanseof white); precisely the same unifying relationship holds within phenomenal contents asholds between them.
Positing a primitive experiential relationship might seem an act of desperation, or
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consciousness, for the relationship in question is one we are all perfectly familiar with,even if we usually manage to get by without devoting much attention to it. There issomething that it is like to have several experiences together (or to have a single
experience with parts that are experienced together), and this “togetherness” is coconsciousness. Nor is it an act of desperation to describe a relationship as primitive orbasic if that is what it is – and this is how co-consciousness seems, at least from thestandpoint of phenomenology.

4. Transitivity
If we view synchronic co-consciousness as a relation, what are its properties? It is amaterial (rather than formal) relation, since it only holds between concrete particulars –experiences and their parts – and cannot hold between abstract entities. It is also agenuine connection, unlike other relations, such as “same shape” (which can holdbetween objects in different universes). It is certainly symmetrical (if an experience e1 is
co-conscious with e2, then e2 is co-conscious with e1). Reflexivity is less obvious. The
idea that an experience is co-conscious with itself initially seems rather odd. If e1 is coconscious with e2, we have a genuine connection between two numerically distinct
experiences; since e1 is not numerically distinct from itself, it cannot be co-consciouswith itself (as a whole) in this sort of way. Or so it might seem. However, when viewed
in another way, the two cases are precisely analogous. Every part of e1 is co-consciouswith every part of e2, and vice-versa, but similarly, every part of e1 is co-conscious withevery other part of e1 (co-consciousness holds within as well as between experiences). In
both cases, we have a single state of consciousness (e1, and the combination of e1 ande2) all of whose parts are co-conscious with each other. In this sense at least, coconsciousness is reflexive. What of transitivity? If e1 is co-conscious with e2, and e2 is
co-conscious with e3, must it be the case that e1 and e3 are also co-conscious?
How this question is answered has significant implications for the possible
configurations experiences can enter into – the possible “shapes” of consciousness, if you
like. If co-consciousness were reflexive, symmetrical and transitive, it would be an
equivalence relation. Collections of objects linked by an equivalence relation are
partitioned into distinct non-overlapping groups, with each member of each groupbearing the relationship in question to every other member of the group. If coconsciousness were an equivalence relation, the totality of experiences existing at a given
time would divide off into discrete non-overlapping bundles, with each experience ineach bundle being co-conscious with every other experience in the same bundle. I callsuch bundles “total experiences”, and until this point I have been (tacitly) assuming that a
subject’s consciousness at a given time consists of a total experience. If this is the case,and is so necessarily, then consciousness is strongly unified, and essentially so.
However, if co-consciousness is not transitive, it is possible for a consciousness to be
only partially or weakly unified. At a given time a subject could have experiences {e1,e2, e3, e4} where e2 and e3 are co-conscious with one another, e1 is co-conscious onlywith e2, and e4 is co-conscious only with e3. An experiential configuration of this sort isunified by co-consciousness, but in an uneven way. Every experience is directly coconscious with at least one other, but some experiences are connected only by the weaker
relationship of indirect co-consciousness (in our example, e1 and e4 fall into thiscategory).
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The question of whether co-consciousness is transitive is important, but difficult
to answer. Common sense suggests that from moment to moment our experience isstrongly unified. But this is unsurprising, and may not mean very much. The verdict ofcommon sense is grounded in the knowledge we have of our own consciousness provided
by introspection. Since any experiences we introspect are always co-conscious with one
another (we are aware of them together), introspection can never reveal partial unity. If
our consciousness were only partially unified on a given occasion, this is not something
we could be introspectively aware of. A similar point applies to what we can imagine. It
is impossible to imagine a configuration of experiences which are not strongly unified.
Given the link between what is imaginable and what is possible, can we conclude that aweakly unified consciousness is impossible? No. Any experiences we imagine arealways going to be co-conscious, simply because in imagining them we render them coconscious. Since the impossibility of imagining experiences that are only indirectly coconscious is a consequence of the structure of “imaginative space”, as one might call it,
we cannot conclude that co-consciousness itself is essentially transitive.
However, the fact that common sense is fallible here does not necessarily meanthat it is mistaken. There are different methods of exploring the experiences one ishaving at any given time. The “active” ways involve the deliberate focusing of attention
on some particular part of one’s experience; but there is also the “passive” route, which
involves relaxing (or broadening) the focus of attention, in an attempt to take in all that isthere. Both methods deliver roughly similar answers to the question “What sorts ofexperience are usually to be found in my consciousness?” This fact has clear
implications for our current concern. Call the range of experiences these methods reveal
the “normal field of consciousness” or “NFC” for short. Even if it were possible for there
to be experiences that are co-conscious with the contents of the NFC, which our active
and passive introspective techniques never reveal, it seems unlikely on purely naturalistic
grounds that they exist. We never find ourselves behaviourally responding to “hidden”
experiences, experiences of a sort which we know are never to be found in the NFC.
Surely natural selection would soon lead to the elimination of creatures which wasteenergy producing experiences which always go “unused”, as it were.
But considerations of this kind are of no assistance when assessing the question ofwhether it is possible for consciousness to be partially unified. In section 4.5 I mount anargument against the possibility of partial unity grounded in the character of coconsciousness itself. We are always (passively) aware of this relationship, but its
remarkable nature is easily overlooked – no doubt the very ubiquity of co-consciousness
is largely responsible for this. My basic claim is simple: when an experience e1 is coconscious with a simultaneous experience e2, the two experiences are fused into a single
unit of experience in such a manner that it is impossible for a third experience, e3, to be
co-conscious with (say) e2 without also being co-conscious with e1. The connection
between experiences that co-consciousness creates is so intimate and pervasive that it is
impossible for transitivity to fail. Or so I argue.
However, although this consideration may have considerable intuitive force, there
are considerations which run in the other direction. As is well known, there is evidence
to suggest that cutting the nerves connecting the cerebral hemispheres leads to a “divided
consciousness”, and this is often taken to mean “two completely distinct streams of
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consciousness”. However, since the brains of split-brain patients are not completely
divided into two – the lower-brain remains intact – might it not be that the patient comesto have a partially rather than a completely divided consciousness? Rather than two
distinct streams, such patients might have two partially overlapping streams. Thishypothesis provides a more economical explanation of the data in cases where the “rightsubject” and the “left-subject” both report having an experience of the same type at thesame time.
I consider this sort of case (and other more speculative variants) in 4.4 and 4.6. I
argue that although the split-brain considerations are far from negligible, there is still
plenty of room for doubt, especially in the light of the phenomenological considerations
which suggest co-consciousness must be transitive. So, somewhat tentatively, I conclude
that synchronic co-consciousness is transitive, and partial unity impossible.

5. Diachronic Unity: Streams of Experience
Thus far we have been concerned with the way in which experiences at any given
moment are bound together. But if our concern is the unity of consciousness in its fullgenerality we need to consider another question: what binds consciousness together frommoment to moment? A typical stream of consciousness is an uninterrupted succession ofexperiences lasting several hours. How are the myriad components of a stream related to
one another?
These questions occupy me in chapters 5, 6 and 7. My approach to diachronic
unity follows the same pattern as my approach to synchronic unity: I arrive at a solution
via a process of elimination. In chapter 5 I sketch out various aspects of the problem,
introduce several constraints to which a satisfactory solution must conform, and consider
two accounts of diachronic unity, both of which prove flawed. But the flaws proveinformative, for they provide valuable clues as to how to proceed. Attempts by Broad
and Husserl to describe what our immediate experience of time involves are considered in
Chapter 6; these various accounts are relevant because of their implications fordiachronic unity. Both philosophers changed their views on the topic, and I suggest thedifficulties they encountered in formulating an adequate account were due to flawed
assumptions both were making. (Husserl’s views on this topic are very complicated –and often obscure – and I make no attempt to provide a full and accurate guide to them.)
By this point it is reasonably clear where the solution must lie, and in Chapter 7 thissolution is explored. The key, it turns out, is co-consciousness: the same primitive
relationship which binds simultaneous experiences together also binds experience
together from moment to moment. However, it turns out that co-consciousness in its
diachronic form is, in one respect, significantly different from its synchronic counterpart,and I suggest co-consciousness alone cannot account for all aspects of phenomenal
continuity, something else is needed.
Having described how the discussion proceeds in the book, I will now leave it
behind, and expound the main lines of argument in a different, rather more schematic,
form.
There are two experiential features to be accounted for, at least if we want tounderstand both the unity and continuity which are to be found in a typical stream of

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consciousness: our direct experience of change, and our direct experience of persistence.
Imagine you are in a room; the windows are open, and a long straight road is close by.
You hear a car in the distance, and over the next minute or so, you listen as it gradually
approaches, passes and recedes into the distance; what you hear is a constant drone,
which changes in volume and timbre. In addition, just as the car is getting close, you turnyour head and see it move past your front gate. When you do so, you see the car inmotion – you see this motion as plainly as you see the car’s colour and shape. You
experience the changes in the sound the car is making in a similarly vivid and immediatemanner. But as well as directly experiencing change, you directly experience persistence:
you hear the drone continuing on for an entire minute. In this particular example, theexperience of persistence is accompanied by qualitative change – the noise changes involume and tone – but we often experience persistence without any accompanying
qualitative change. Imagine hearing an enduring but unvarying tone, or staring at an
unchanging red sphere, or feeling the constant warmth of a hot bath. In such cases there
is discernible phenomenal flow (as I call it), a sense that the same kind of phenomenal
quality is being continuously renewed or replaced, in a perfectly smooth, continuous
fashion. Thus far I have been focusing on individual experiences, which we happen to be
paying attention to, but the same sort of flow is present throughout our consciousness: thephenomenal background is a mass of continuously flowing phenomenal content. Even
when we experience sudden changes and discontinuities (a firecracker going off, the joltof pain when treading on an unsuspected nail), these occur against a largely stable
backdrop, a backdrop which is continually flowing.
Although we are aware (usually only passively) of experience flowing on for long
periods of time, we are not aware of the entire temporal stretch as a whole; we experienceit through a narrow temporal “window” (or “clearing”). We are aware of the passing of
our lives in somewhat the same way as we are aware of countryside we observe throughthe window on a train – by the end of the journey we will have seen a lot of it, but only a
bit at a time. (Of course, bearing in mind the earlier discussion of the A-thesis, I do notwant to suggest that we “observe” our experiences – the analogy has its limitations). Thisnarrow temporal clearing is known as the “specious” or “phenomenal” present. Itsnarrow span – perhaps less than a second – is due to the fact that our direct experience ofchange (or persistence) is restricted to brief intervals. When listening to a piece of music
we directly experience the transition from one note to another, we do not directly
experience the first note and the last. The same applies to our typical streams ofconsciousness in their entirety.
So much for the phenomenological data.
structures are needed to explain it?

What experiential features andOne popular approach appeals to memory. On this view, we do not directly
apprehend change and succession in experience; we may seem to, but this is an illusion.
What is really happening when – say – we listen to a succession of brief (but not
momentary) notes C-D-E, is that we first hear, C; we then hear D accompanied by amemory of just-having-heard-C; then we hear E, accompanied by a memory of justhaving-heard-D (or possibly, a more complex memory with content “just-having-heardD-preceded-by-C”). The same applies across the board, to all the contents of our streams
of consciousness as they unfold. There is no denying the central role memory plays in
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PSYCHE: http://psyche.cs.monash.edu.au/the “macro-phenomenology” of time – our experience of living through hours, days andyears – perhaps it has a similar role in the “micro-phenomenology of time” – ourexperience of living from one moment to the next.
But as quickly becomes clear, the memory-theory is problematic on several
counts. To explain away our apparent direct experience of succession and change, thememories involved must themselves have phenomenological features – so they cannot beakin to (dispositional) beliefs. This is not necessarily a problem: there is nothing toprevent the memory-theorist positing special short-term and involuntary “memory
images” (corresponding to different types of experience) which accompany our actual
experiences. However, a memory of the required sort, of (say) “C-being-followed-by-D”,
is a memory of directly experiencing change or succession, and so possesses the very
phenomenal features that are supposed to be explained. This points towards a second andmore fundamental difficulty. Two claims can be distinguished. A weak claim, to theeffect that experiential memory plays an important and indispensable role in our temporalawareness, and a strong claim, to the effect that temporal awareness is entirely a productof experiential memory. Thus far we have been considering only the weaker claim. We
have been considering whether the experience of hearing one note being followed by asecond note and then a third can be explained in terms of memory. But each individualnote also possesses discernible duration. Consequently, if phenomenal temporality is to
be explained entirely in terms of memory, the apparent duration of each individual tone
must be a product of short-term involuntary memories. The problem now is acute: what
are these memories of? There is only one answer. The experience of an individual tone,such as C, must consist of a succession of durationless auditory experiences, each ofwhich is accompanied by durationless memory-images of durationless auditory tones.
Even if we can make sense of durationless phenomenal tones and memory images, there
clearly remains a severe plausibility problem with this proposal. The postulated
complexes of memory-images are purely hypothetical, we are not aware of them in our
experience. All we hear is a single clear tone. Since the memory-theory is unable toexplain this most basic of micro-phenomenological facts in a phenomenologicallyrealistic way, we must look elsewhere.
There is a simple remedy to the main flaw of the memory-theory. Why notsimply hold that our streams of consciousness consist of a succession of discrete pulses,
each of some short but finite duration. Although these pulses are of some duration, they
consist of a temporal spread of phenomenal content, all of whose parts are experienced
together (but not as occurring simultaneously). As a consequence, direct experience ofchange and persistence is possible, and occurs, but it is restricted to the confines of asingle pulse. The transitions between pulses are not themselves directly experienced;
successive pulses are linked by short-term memory. So if I hear C-D-E-F, my experience
consists of two successive pulses: P1: [C-D] and P2: [E-F]. Since I remember
experiencing P1 when experiencing P2, I have the impression that my consciousness is
continuous.
This “pulse theory” solves the problem of how change and experience can bedirectly experienced, but it too is phenomenologically unrealistic. If our streams ofconsciousness were structured in this way we should be able to discern two distinct kindsof experiential transitions: those which occur within single pulses, and those which occur
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between pulses. Since the transition from C to D is directly experienced, but thetransition between D and E is not, the difference between the two should be discernible.
The trouble is, it isn’t. When we hear C-D-E-F, the transition between each note isexperienced in the same immediate way.
This problem runs deeper. In the absence of experienced transitions between
pulses, successive pulses might as well belong in entirely different streams ofconsciousness. Suppose someone a hundred year ago had an experience of hearing C-DE-F which was just like yours (so was the rest of their experience during this short time –you were both sitting in a darkened room). Your experience consists of S1 = [C-D], [EF], theirs consists of S2 = [C*-D*], [E*-F*], where C and C*, D and D*, etc., arephenomenally indistinguishable. So far as experienced transitions and connections areconcerned, there is nothing to distinguish the actual (we are supposing) stream-phases S1and S2, from the non-existent stream-phases S3 = [C-D], [E*-F*] and S4 = [C*-D*], [EF]. This seems absurd. It seems absurd because in actual fact adjoining phases of ourstreams of consciousness are linked to one another by directly experienced transitions;
successive phases are phenomenally bonded to one another. An adequate account ofphenomenal temporality must accommodate phenomenal bonding. The pulse accountdoesn’t (and it is not alone, as we shall see).
A quite different approach (or family of approaches) relies on the awarenesscontent model of consciousness. (Although I found no compelling reason for adopting
this model when exploring synchronic unity, the situation may well be different in thediachronic context, so the A-thesis remains a force to be reckoned with.) Some theorists
take the view that if a temporal spread of content is present to consciousness, it must bepresent at once, and they interpret “at once” as meaning simultaneously. There is only
one obvious way for this to be possible: temporally extended contents must, at each
instant, be apprehended by an awareness which itself is momentary. Although each actof awareness is itself momentary, the contents apprehended seem to extend through time;
we seem to have direct experience of change and persistence because the different partsof these contents are presented together to a single locus of awareness.
This basic idea can be elaborated in quite different ways. The variants fall into
two categories: realist and representationalist (or anti-realist). Realists andrepresentationalists agree on the “awareness + temporally extended content” model, butdiverge over the character of the contents. Realists take the view that the contents havegenuine temporal breadth, representationalists deny this. The difficulties facing realism
are such that the representationalist option quickly gains in appeal; but this too faces
difficulties.
Realism in its simplest form is simply the pulse-theory in A-theoretical guise. For
example, the experience of C-D-E-F might consist of two acts of awareness and two
extended contents, A1 = [C-D], A2 = [C-D]. Since an account of this kind cannot
accommodate phenomenal bonding, it must be rejected. But a simple remedy is at hand.
What if the contents of successive acts overlapped? The experience of C-D-E-F mighttake this form: A1 = [C-D], A2 = [D-E], A3 = [E-F], although in reality there might well
be far more acts than just these three. This proposal secures (in its fashion) phenomenalbonding, but it faces a simple and devastating problem: repeated contents. The
succession of acts A1, A2, A3 delivers two apprehensions of both D and E, so the subject
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PSYCHE: http://psyche.cs.monash.edu.au/of these acts would hear these notes not once but twice (and many more times, if we
introduce more acts of awareness). Evidently, this does not happen.
The representationalist solves the problem of repeated contents in a seemingly
effective way. Rather than holding that successive acts apprehend numerically the same
temporally extended contents, they hold that the contents of successive acts are always
numerically distinct, for what they consist of are momentary contents – contents whichlack genuine temporal breadth – but which appear to be temporally extended. Since thecontents of successive acts differ both numerically and qualitatively, the repeated
contents problem is resolved. Representationalism comes in different guises (theversions found in Broad and Husserl differ in certain ways) but I will restrict myself here
to the basics.
We shall consider the experiencing of a succession of brief sounds, C-D-E-F-GH-I-J-K, which are apprehended by nine acts of awareness. Let us further suppose there
are six degrees (or intensities) of a property which we can call presentedness (as Broaddoes). In reality, there might be many more acts of awareness involved in an experienceof this sort, and many more degrees of presentedness – I want to keep things simple.
Contents which possess maximum presentedness seem to be happening in the present;
contents with lesser degrees of presentedness seem to be occurring a short distance in thepast (the less presentedness, the more past). In Figure 1, the different degrees ofpresentedness are indicated by font size – the larger the font, the more intense thepresentedness.

Figure 1: Generating the illusion of temporal depth in momentary episodesof consciousness: the representationalist account of phenomenal
temporality. Tone C is apprehended as possessing diminishing degrees of“presentedness” in successive acts of awareness, and so is experienced as
sinking into the past. Or so it is claimed.

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The diagram has the form it does because A1 was preceded by a period of silence.
Each act apprehends one content as possessing maximum presentedness; in subsequentacts, this content is apprehended as possessing progressively lesser degrees ofpresentedness, and so is experienced as sinking further into the past, until finally it fades
from the domain of direct awareness, and is available only through memory. So for
example, D is apprehended as present in A2, and in A3-A7 it is apprehended asincreasingly more past, and by the time A8 occurs it is gone. The same process isrepeated for the other contents.
The representationalist model can also account for phenomenal flow, theimpression we have that a qualitatively unvarying sensation is continuously refreshed or
renewed. Figure 2 illustrates the hearing of an extended C-tone. In each of the
momentary awarenesses A1-A6 a “new” C-content is presented, and these are retained,
albeit in altered form, in subsequent awarenesses. The subject’s consciousness soon
becomes entirely filled with the sound of this tone, which is experienced as enduring in
the present while simultaneously sinking into the past.

Figure 2: The representationalist account of phenomenal flow: contents do
not immediately vanish from consciousness, they continue to beapprehended in later acts, in modified form.
In effect, the representationalist is offering a two-dimensional account of phenomenal
temporality. As well as extending through ordinary (real) time, phenomenal content is(apparently) spread through an additional, orthogonal temporal dimension. Twodimensional accounts of real-world temporal passage are problematic for the simple
reason that there is no reason to believe that a second dimension of time exists. Should
we accept the two-dimensional account of phenomenal time?

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I argue not. Despite its ingenuity and explanatory potential, the account is
problematic on several fronts. I will briefly run though the problems, and move swiftly
on to consider a superior account.
First, its phenomenological accuracy is questionable. Are we aware of complex
systems of representations attaching themselves to every brief phase of our experience?
It seems not. Are we aware of contents hanging around in our consciousness as they
gradually fade into the past? Again, it seems not: contents often end abruptly, anddisappear “cleanly”, without lingering. Since the experiential processes posited by thetwo-dimensional model have no phenomenological reality, there is no reason to believe
they exist.
Second, awkward questions can be asked about the notion of “presentedness”.
Presumably, this is an intrinsic quality which is combined with “ordinary” phenomenal
contents such as colour and sound. Are we aware of any such property in our
experience? There are no obvious candidates, to say the least. But perhaps it can bedetected indirectly, through its effects. We are told that contents which possess less of
this quality seem to be in the (recent) past. But what quality added to a current pain
sensation would have the effect of “pushing” this pain into the past? Surely, whatever
form this quality took, it would be experienced in the present, along with the pain. In
response, it might be held that presentedness is not an additional quality which contents
can possess, rather it is akin to Hume’s “force and vivacity”? it is simply a measure of thequalitative intensity of an experience. But this suggestion faces an obvious difficulty.
Do you experience the less ‘forceful’ parts the image shown in Figure 3 as existing in the
recent past?

Figure 3: A difficulty for the representationalist: what sort of phenomenal
characteristic could make a presently occurring content appear to beoccurring in the past? Intensity or vivacity clearly aren’t up to the job.

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A third problem is the most damaging still: representationalism in all its forms fails toaccommodate phenomenal bonding. The two-dimensional account is in fact deeply
atomistic. Each momentary awareness consists of a discrete episode of experiencing;neighbouring acts of awareness may possess contents which resemble those in nearby
acts, but this is all: there are no real experiential connections between one awareness andits close neighbours; individual acts are totally isolated from one another. From a purely
experiential perspective, the successive phases of our streams of consciousness might aswell exist in different universes. But this is manifestly not the case. There are realconnections between the successive parts of our streams of consciousness, connections ofan experiential kind, connections which go beyond mere resemblance.
So we must look elsewhere for a realistic account of diachronic unity. The flaws
in the theories we have considered thus far point the way forward. We have always been
looking for an account that is faithful to the phenomenological data, but we now have abetter idea of what such an account might look like. In addition to making room for the
direct experience of change, persistence and phenomenal flow, it must accommodate
phenomenal bonding, and do so without postulating mechanisms or processes whichcannot be discerned within experience itself.
An account with just these features was proposed in outline by Russell (in 1915 orthereabouts) and more recently (and in somewhat more detail) by Foster. I call it “theoverlap model”, and expound and explore it further in chapter 7. Here I restrict myself tothe bare essentials.
Let us return to the pulse theory and its problems. We have our simple stream of
consciousness C-D-E-F, and two pulses, [C-D] and [E-F]. Each part of [C-D] is fully coconscious with every other part, let us suppose, and the same applies to [E-F]. Recalling
our earlier terminology, each of these pulses constitutes a “total experience”, albeit a
temporally extended one. The pulse theory failed because it ignored phenomenalbonding, but there is a simple way to remedy this defect. We need simply increase thenumber of pulses, and allow them to overlap by sharing numerically identical parts.
Instead of holding that C-D-E-F is experienced in two distinct pulses, we say that it
consists of three temporally extended total experiences E1 = [C-D], E2 = [D-E] , E3 = [EF], where the D-tone in E1 and E2 is numerically the same experience, and likewise theE-tone in E2 and E3. In reality, there could be many more pulses than this – indeed, it isplausible to suppose that there are successions of pulses which differ in just-noticeable
ways – but this complication does not affect the situation in the slightest: given that they
will overlap nearly completely, these additional experiences will not be noticeable assuch. All that will be experienced is the simple succession C-D-E-F. What holds for thissimple case will apply more generally, to the rich and varied contents of our ordinary
streams of consciousness. These too consist of successions of overlapping temporally
extended total experiences of short duration.
It is possible to formulate the overlap theory in terms of the split-level awarenesscontent model of consciousness; all we need do is shift from a momentary point-likeawareness, to a temporally extended awareness which runs concurrently with its contents,and hold that these temporally extended awarenesses themselves overlap by sharing
common parts. But this additional complexity is unnecessary. The overlap theory canalso be formulated in terms of the one-level Simple Conception of consciousness,
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appealing only to a primitive relationship of diachronic co-consciousness, a relationshipwhich unifies the constituent parts of temporally extended total experiences. For obvious
reasons, I prefer the latter formulation. Why introduce an indiscernible additional layer
into consciousness if it is not needed?
There is a second point to note. In the synchronic case, co-consciousness istransitive (or so it seems, at least in everyday experience). In the diachronic case it
clearly isn’t. Returning to our simple example, although C in E1 is co-conscious with D,
and D is co-conscious with E (in E2), C is not co-conscious with E. If transitivity did not
fail in the temporal case, every part of a day-long stream of consciousness would be coconscious with every other part. While a consciousness of this form might be possible, in
our case at least, the distinctive unity co-consciousness brings is temporally restricted,
and transitivity is ruptured by temporal separation. Indeed, we can now see that our
direct experience of time has the character it does precisely because transitivity breaks
down.
Earlier I suggested, on phenomenological grounds, that co-consciousness was
essentially transitive. We can now see that this is wrong, since in the diachronic case it
clearly isn’t. But of course in forwarding this claim I was considering only synchronic
co-consciousness. Nonetheless, the trans-temporal failure of transitivity shows that coconsciousness is not in itself a transitive relation, at least if we assume that the same basic
relation of co-consciousness is involved in both synchronic and diachronic unity – anassumption that is supported by the phenomenological data (diachronic unity seems justas direct and immediate as synchronic unity).
What of the argument that transitivity cannot fail? I suggested that when two
experiences are co-conscious they are fused into a single experiential unit, in such a waythat it is impossible for a third experience to be co-conscious with one without also being
co-conscious with the other. As is now clear, if fusions of this strong kind exist, they areshort-lived, for they last no longer than the specious present. But do such fusions exist?
Two facts suggest otherwise: co-consciousness is not in itself a transitive relationship,
and transitivity is continually being ruptured in our consciousness. Shouldn’t weconclude that strong fusions of the envisaged kind simply do not exist? Not necessarily.
For the very fact that the known failures in transitivity occur over time helps to explain
why we find it so hard to comprehend how transitivity could break down at a time. Nontransitivity is associated with the dynamic character of phenomenal temporality; we hear
C-flowing-into-D, and D-flowing-into-E, with C dropping out of consciousness as E
enters consciousness. In trying to envisage synchronic breakdowns of transitivity we areimposing on contents that are experienced as fully simultaneous an experiential structurethat is normally possessed only by non-simultaneous contents, contents that are separated
by an interval of time longer than the specious present. Might it not be that thisexperiential structure simply cannot exist among contents that are experienced as fully
simultaneous with one another?
There remains one further issue. I have just mentioned the directed dynamic
character of experience, the feature of immanent phenomenal flow. This feature cannot
be explained solely in terms of co-consciousness, which is itself a symmetrical
relationship. In the case of the temporally extended total experience [C-D], tone C is coconscious with tone D, and tone D is co-conscious with tone C. Yet we hear C-flowingPSYCHE 2004: VOLUME 10 ISSUE 1

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into-D, not D-flowing-into-C. What is the source of this asymmetry? We saw earlier
how the two-dimensionalist can account for phenomenal flow, how can this most basic
feature of experience be explained using the resources available to the overlap theorist?
One option would be to hold that there is a directional asymmetry built into therelationship of co-consciousness itself. But while this idea has a certain appeal, it would
mean positing two distinct kinds of co-consciousness, one synchronic and one diachronic.
Since I take co-consciousness to be simply “experienced togetherness”, a relationshipwhich holds at and over time, there is no rationale for the distinction in question.
Another possibility is to appeal to the nature of time. On one view, time itself is
dynamic: the universe as a whole is continually growing, as new “layers” of reality are
created and added to the already-existing past. If the universe is dynamic in this sort ofway, it is not surprising that experience is too, or so it might reasonably be thought.
However, there are reasons for not taking up this option. Many reject the idea that worldtime is dynamic, and posit instead a four-dimensional “block” universe. While it is far
from clear that the block conception is correct, it is also far from clear that it is notcorrect, at least on general scientific and metaphysical grounds. This would not matter if
the phenomenological evidence in favour of the growing-universe view were
overwhelmingly strong – empirical evidence of this sort might tilt the balance in favourof the dynamic conception of world-time. But it isn’t. Phenomenal flow is an intrinsic
feature of contents, and as such it is hard to see how it could be explained by the cominginto-being of contents which did not previously exist. Suppose an extended C-tone iscomposed of momentary (or near-momentary) “slices”, C1, C2, C2 .. Cn, which comeinto being successively. These tone-slices do not themselves possess phenomenal flow –the latter feature is meant to be explained by the coming-into-being of the slices
themselves. So first C1 exists, then C2 comes into existence, and is co-conscious with
C1. Let us further suppose that the combination [C1-C2] is experienced as possessing
phenomenal flow. Can the presence of this feature be explained by the coming-intobeing of C2? It is difficult to see how. First C1 exists, then C1-C2 exists. The latter
experience possesses phenomenal flow as a whole. Consequently, the “coming-intoexistence” of C2 renders an experience of phenomenal flow possible, but does not
explain it: the “coming into existence” of C2 is not itself experienced, even though – as is
obvious – C2 cannot be experienced until it exists.
There is a simpler option, and one which is neutral with respect to the controversy
concerning the nature of world-time. We need simply recognize that the contents which
are symmetrically joined by co-consciousness themselves possess an inherent directional
dynamism. The C-tone is not a static auditory quality, but a flowing quality, likewise for
D and E. This immanent flow is an essential ingredient of any auditory content, just as
essential as timbre, pitch or volume. If such contents did not posses this intrinsic
dynamic character we would not experience them as we do: we would not hear C persist
briefly then run into D, which persists briefly and runs into E, and so on. Precisely thesame applies for all other phenomenal contents which possess phenomenal flow. When I
see a ball thrown through the air, I do not see it occupying different places at different
times, in a series of static “frames”; what I see is a ball moving – this dynamic temporal
animation is an intrinsic feature of my experience, as basic as colour or shape.

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It could be objected that positing inherently animated contents is expediency bornout of desperation. However, although such contents are indeed what the overlap theory
needs in order to accommodate the phenomenological data, there is no denying thatphenomenal contents have the feature in question. The measure may be convenient, but
it is also justified. Also, once the distinctive temporal animations of different types ofexperience are recognized, the temptation to ascribe phenomenal flow to coconsciousness itself diminishes.
To sum up: the unity and continuity in our streams of consciousness has two
sources. First, there are the symmetrical relationships of co-consciousness linking
adjoining stream-phases, and the breakdowns of transitivity which restrict the span of ourdirect experience of change. Second, there is the asymmetrical temporal animation which
contents possess, and which explains immanent phenomenal flow. This account ofphenomenal temporality is largely neutral with regard to the different conceptions of time
per se. It is even compatible with the Block view. There is, it seems, no need topostulate a dynamic world-time to explain the dynamism to be found within ourconsciousness.

6. Holism
Having explored what the unity and continuity of our experience involves, I conclude – inchapters 8 and 9 – with an examination of some of its possible consequences.
When phenomenal contents are experienced together, does this fact impact upon
the contents themselves? Some have held that phenomenal character of an experience isin some way altered or influenced by the other experiences which occur with it in thesame state of consciousness. Since the identity of an experience depends on its
phenomenal character, this is tantamount to holding that the very existence of a particularexperience depends upon the other experiences with which it is co-conscious. If coconsciousness does have such effects, it would be an “internal” rather than an “external”
relation, and consciousness itself would be holistic: the character of experiential parts
would depend on the experiential wholes to which they belong. Given the sheer variety
of experiences and the possible modes and sources of inter-experiential interdependence,
this is a highly complex topic, and my investigation is far from exhaustive. In an attempt
to bring some clarity to a potentially confusing area, I draw a fair number of distinctions,and the discussion at times becomes rather involved; in this summary I will keep
complications to a minimum.
Several of the relevant distinctions emerge in sections 8.2-8.4. Holism could
apply to only some parts of total experiences (or some parts of some total experiences), orit could apply to all parts of all total experiences. I call the latter complete holism, andthe former partial holism. If some degree of holism does obtain, it could do sonecessarily, or only contingently. We also need to distinguish token holism from typeholism, each of which can apply partially or completely, and necessarily or contingently.
If token holism obtains, then if an experience e1 is co-conscious with two otherexperiences e2 and e3, then e1 could not exist except as co-conscious with theseparticular token experiences. If type holism obtains, then e1 could exist with“phenomenal counterparts” of e2 and e3, i.e. a pair of experiences e2* and e3* which arephenomenally indiscernible but numerically distinct from e2 and e3. The possibility of
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phenomenal counterparts is a product on the stance I adopt on the individuation ofexperiences. In order to remain neutral on the relationship between experience andsubjects of experience, I elect to individuate token experiences in terms of time,
phenomenal character and material basis, rather than time, phenomenal character andsubject – the latter would rule out phenomenal counterparts, but the former does not.
In 8.4 I start to examine the doctrine I call the “phenomenal interdependence
thesis”, the claim that the familiar qualitative properties of an experience are dependent
upon the wholes of which they are parts. Some writers (Sprigge certainly, perhaps James
and Bradley) uphold the phenomenal interdependence thesis as a necessary truth about all
experiences. I suggest there is no evidence for this whatsoever, at least of aphenomenological kind. My current visual experience would be as it is if the noise
outside were a fraction louder, or the pain in my back a fraction less intense. Generally
speaking, if one small part of our overall experience at a given time were different from
how it actually is, the remainder of our experience would be unaffected, at least at thelevel of intrinsic phenomenal character. However, although the complete phenomenalinterdependency thesis is false, the partial interdependence is not. There certainly aresome inter-experiential interdependencies. Often these are intra-modal, but they can beintermodal (what we see can affect how we feel). Usually they are contingent rather thannecessary (a sight which makes me feel nauseous might well leave someone else
unmoved). I make no attempt at a full investigation of these local interdependencies;
instead I focus on two specific types of case.
Sensory gestalts are one potential source of intra-modal interdependence, and I
consider these in 8.5. Psychologists of the gestalt school were adamant that thephenomenal characteristics of the constituents of “organized wholes” were indeed
interdependent, and there is certainly some evidence for this. The Muller-Lyer illusion
depends on local interdependence: changing the orientation of the “arrow-heads” alters
the apparent length of a line.

Figure 4: The Muller-Lyer illusion.
The line on the page has the same length in both cases, the line as it is experienced – theline qua phenomenal object – does not. The interdependence in cases such as this iscontingent: it is due solely to the particular ways our brains process perceptual input. It isalso not very far-reaching - there is no “interpenetration” or “fusing” of the relevant
experiential parts.
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PSYCHE: http://psyche.cs.monash.edu.au/That this is so clearly emerges as soon as two ways in which the character of anexperiential whole can impact upon its parts. In cases of what I call “strong
impingement”, the effect of the whole on the part is so profound that an experience withthe same general character as the part could only exist in a whole of the same or similar
type. In cases of “weak impingement”, the character of the part is partly dependent upon
the whole, but an experience with the same character as the part could exist in a different
type of experiential context. In the Muller-Lyer case, the impingement is clearly of the
weak variety. Phenomenal objects with the same character as the central lines canobviously exist in different phenomenal contexts (just draw two lines of differing lengths
on a page and look at them). The same applies in many similar cases.
Do any cases of strong impingement exist? I consider – and reject – several
possibilities in 8.6, where I consider “gestalt switches” in some detail. I conclude thatstrong impingement is certainly rare, but not necessarily impossible. Perhaps theboundaries of Kanisza’s illusory triangle provide us with an instance of it. Could atriangle possessing just these phenomenal characteristics exist in a markedly different
phenomenal context? It seems unlikely, but it is hard to be certain.

Figure 5: Kanisza’s Triangle
The topic of 8.7 is phenomenal interdependence in another specific area: “meaningfulwholes”, where the meaning in question is propositional. I suggest that the experiencedmeaning of a word in a sentence is affected by its context, but the impingement is usuallyof the weak variety. I also consider whether demonstrative reference to one’s own
experiences generates significant impingement. I will not try to summarize this
discussion, but merely my conclusion: in this case at least, there is reason for thinking
that the interdependence of part on whole can be of the token-specific variety.
Thus far the discussion of holism has been restricted to the phenomenalinterdependence doctrine, the idea that the phenomenal qualities (auditory, visual, etc.) of
experiences are affected by their experiential contexts. In chapter 9 I consider whether
co-consciousness itself might generate a mode of inter-experiential dependency. I argue
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PSYCHE: http://psyche.cs.monash.edu.au/that it does. What I call “C-holism” is complete, necessary and extends to both types andtokens. In one respect, C-holism is similar to the complete phenomenal interdependence
thesis: if it exists, there is a sense in which the phenomenal character of every part ofevery experience is affected by every part of its experiential context. However, theinterdependence is of an unfamiliar sort, since it concerns an aspect of phenomenal
character that is not usually recognized, an aspect which does not involve the intrinsic
qualities of experience as these are usually understood.
Consider a brief token audiovisual experience E, with visual component v1 (oftype F – a certain shade of red) and auditory component a1 (of type G – a certain kind of
buzzing sound). To simplify, we will assume that E is a total experience; as aconsequence, all of E’s component parts are mutually co-conscious. We further assume
that no phenomenal interdependence (of the ordinary) sort obtains in this instance. So theintrinsic visual characteristics of v1 would have been just as they are if a1 had beenabsent, and likewise, the auditory features of a1 would have been just as they are if v1
had been absent.
If v1 were a total experience in its own right, a complete description of its
phenomenological features would register its visual characteristics (F-type) and nothingelse. Similarly, if a1 were a total experience, a complete description of its
phenomenological features would mention its auditory characteristics (G-type) andnothing else. But v1 and a1 are not total experiences in their own right, they are coconscious. Moreover, that they are co-conscious is itself a phenomenal feature of thetotal experience E = v1\a1. How are we to register this fact? Since we have rejected the
A-thesis, the co-consciousness of a1 and v1 is not due to their being apprehended by ahigher-level awareness, it is a product of the fact that these two experiences are connectedby a primitive and symmetrical experiential relationship. Since the co-consciousness ofv1 and a1 is rooted in v1 and a1 themselves, and is itself a phenomenal characteristic, it
seems this characteristic must itself be a feature of the two experiences involved, a1 andv1.
In trying to make sense of this I distinguish between the local and global featureof an experience. The local phenomenal character of v1 are its F-type visual properties;
in virtue of being co-conscious with a1 it also has a global phenomenal property, one
which can be (roughly) characterized as “being co-conscious with an G-type auditory
experience”. Similarly, the local character of a1 is its G-type auditory features, but also,
in virtue of being co-conscious with v1, it has the global property of “being co-consciouswith an F-type visual experience”. I call these global features of experiences “Cproperties”.
C-holism is phenomenal interdependence at the level of global rather than local
experiential properties. Given the conception of co-consciousness I defend, there seems
no option but to recognize that experiences do possess global C-properties over andabove their local properties. Since all discernible parts of a total experience are coconscious with one another, the global properties of an experience depend on the precise
character of all the other experiences with which it is co-conscious. C-holism is thus
complete. It is also necessary, since it applies without exception to all co-conscious
experiences, and does so solely in virtue of the fact that they are co-conscious.

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But other questions remain to be answered. In 9.2 I consider the different ways inwhich global character can be viewed. I distinguish between “broad” (token-specific) Cproperties, and “narrow” (type-specific) C-properties, and suggest that both sorts ofproperty are genuine, they simply correspond with more or less discriminating ways ofdescribing experiences and their properties. Corresponding to these different modes ofdescription are different grades of holism. Broad characterizations yield token-holism,
narrow characterizations yield only type holism.
In 9.3 I consider a still finer-grained way of characterizing experience, one which
mentions spatial properties. Thus far I have been focusing exclusively on synchronic
unity. In 9.4 I lift this simplifying assumption and consider the C-properties of
temporally extended total experiences. Since the global character of an experience
depends on all the other experiences with which it is co-conscious, and co-consciousness
operates over time as well as at a time, the C-properties of a particular experience reflect
all those earlier and later experiences to which it is joined by co-consciousness. This fact
leads to a deeper understanding of phenomenal temporality, or so I argue in 9.5. The
vexed issue of transitivity makes a final appearance in 9.6, where I suggest that theexistence of global properties does not, in itself, mean that partial unity (in the synchroniccase) is impossible. I close with an overview of the relationship between the different
varieties of experiential holism.

7. Consciousness and Co-consciousness
If the preceding analyses are along the right lines there are at least three general
conclusions to be drawn.
The first is that the unity we find in our consciousness is both simpler and more
involved than might have been assumed. Simpler in that a single primitive unifying
relationship is at work, more involved because of the various forms of interdependency
that have emerged, and the combination of structural and qualitative factors characteristicof phenomenal temporality.
The second lesson is that experience is self-unifying. In making sense of the unity
we find in our experience, so far as phenomenology is concerned, we do not need toappeal to anything beyond or external to experience itself.
The third concerns the nature of experiential unity. All the discernible parts ofexperiences occurring in a single state of consciousness, no matter what their kind, nomatter how different in character, are connected to one another by the immediate (butunmediated) relationship of co-consciousness. The unity within experience is clearly of a
distinctive and quite remarkable sort. That we do not usually appreciate just how
remarkable is due largely to the simple fact that this mode of unity is everywhere that welook (or introspect). The main goal of the book has been to bring this relationship, and its
uncanny character, into the light of day.
I conclude with a speculation. The so-called “problem of consciousness” is how
the phenomenal and the physical realms are related. In getting to grips with this problem
it would help to know what the distinguishing features of phenomenal properties are. Just
how do phenomenal properties differ from physical properties? This question is mademore difficult by the following consideration. Conscious beings come in very different
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physical forms, and beings with different physical constitutions will very likely have very
different kinds of experience (try to imagine what it might be like to be a star-nosed mole,which senses its surroundings in a highly discerning way using the twenty-two tentaclelike flanges of its hand-like nose). As soon as one realizes that experience very probably
comes in forms very different from any we are acquainted with, the prospects for finding
a distinguishing feature of phenomenal properties begin to look bleak. Perhaps theanswer lies in unity. Might it not be that what distinguishes phenomenal from nonphenomenal properties is simply that instantiations of the former, but not the latter,
consist of intrinsic qualities that are unified by co-consciousness? Perhaps a n yinstantiated intrinsic quality unified in this way is an instantiation of a phenomenal
property, and hence an experience.

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