Right from the start, Jaynes draws us into the sheer wonder and enigma of consciousness. Think about it – that private, unseen world inside your head, filled with thoughts, memories, feelings, and imagination. It's a "secret theater of speechless monologue," a "whole kingdom where each of us reigns reclusively alone". It feels like everything, and yet, when you try to pin it down, what _is_ it?. And then comes the really big question: Where did this astonishing inner world come from? And _why_?. These aren't new questions; people have pondered them for centuries, wrestling with the relationship between mind and matter, soul and body. Originally, this was often framed as the philosophical "mind-body problem," but with the advent of evolutionary theory, it transformed into a more scientific inquiry: the problem of the _origin_ of consciousness in evolution. How could this rich tapestry of subjective experience – all the hopes, fears, desires, colors, and sensations we feel inside – have evolved from mere matter? And if so, _when_?. Jaynes takes us through some of the major attempts to answer this question, many of which were central to twentieth-century thinking. Let's peek at a few. Some suggested consciousness is a fundamental **Property of Matter** itself, seeing the interaction of conscious beings as just a more complex version of any physical interaction, like chalk hitting a table. This idea, prominent in the early 1900s, saw consciousness stretching back through all of evolution into the very fabric of the universe. A slightly less expansive view proposed **Consciousness as a Property of Protoplasm**, meaning it's a fundamental aspect of all living things, from the smallest single-celled organisms up to humans. Scientists, including Darwin and Titchener, found this idea appealing, leading to studies searching for rudimentary consciousness in lower life forms. Observing simple creatures like amoebas or paramecia can certainly tempt one to apply human-like categories to their behavior. Then there's the idea that consciousness began at a specific time after life evolved, with **Consciousness as Learning**. The thought was, if an animal could learn and change its behavior based on experience, it must be conscious. So, studying the evolution of consciousness became intertwined with studying the evolution of learning. However, Jaynes makes it absolutely clear, based on later evidence, that the origin of learning and the origin of consciousness are two completely separate problems. We'll see more evidence for this later!. Some thinkers felt that the incredible complexity and depth of human thought, creativity, and morality simply **could not be derived from animal behavior** through simple natural selection. This led to the idea of **Consciousness as a Metaphysical Imposition**, suggesting a non-natural force intervened in evolution at crucial points, including the beginning of consciousness. Alfred Russel Wallace, the co-discoverer of natural selection, found such profound discontinuities between humans and other animals that he couldn't see a simple evolutionary path for faculties like consciousness. This path wasn't popular with the scientific establishment, as it seemed to step outside the bounds of natural science. The challenge remained: how to explain consciousness purely in terms of natural science. Related, but perhaps even more unsettling, is the **Conscious Automaton Theory**, also known as epiphenomenalism. This view posits that consciousness is merely a side effect of brain activity, like the heat given off by wires or the whistle of a train. It exists, but it has no causal influence on our behavior, which is entirely controlled by the brain's wiring and responses to stimuli. Consciousness is seen as a "helpless spectator," a "melody that floats from the harp and cannot pluck its strings". William James argued against this, pointing out that consciousness seems most intense when action is hesitant, and least intense when actions are habitual – a puzzling relationship if consciousness has no influence. Any theory of consciousness needs to explain this "seesawing relationship". Seeking to give consciousness a causal role and address perceived evolutionary discontinuities scientifically, the doctrine of **Emergent Evolution** was welcomed. The core idea is that entirely new properties can emerge at certain levels of complexity that are underivable from their parts, just as wetness emerges from hydrogen and oxygen. Consciousness, in this view, emerged as something genuinely new at a critical stage of evolutionary advance and, once emerged, could guide brain events and behavior. This anti-reductionist approach was met with enthusiasm, suggesting biology had its own principles not reducible to physics or chemistry. However, Jaynes points out that while the _idea_ is appealing, it didn't actually solve the problem. It didn't specify _when_, _in what species_, or _what kind of nervous system_ was necessary. It risked becoming an excuse for vague generalities rather than a scientific explanation. Around the same time, a very different approach gained ground: **Behaviorism**, which chose to "solve" the problem of consciousness by denying its existence altogether. Rooted in attempts to generalize simple responses to complex organisms, behaviorism asserted that consciousness is nothing at all. Finally, a different approach looks directly at the brain, seeking the **Neural Substrate of Consciousness**. The hope is that by finding the parts of the brain responsible for consciousness and tracing their anatomical evolution, the problem will be solved. While there's a fervent search for the "seat of consciousness" in the brain, a plausible nominee like the reticular formation, a tangle of neurons extending from the brainstem, turns out to be one of the oldest parts of the nervous system and doesn't correlate with the evolution of consciousness. But Jaynes highlights a crucial delusion here: we can only identify things in the nervous system _after_ we've understood them in behavior or introspection first. Even a complete wiring diagram of the brain wouldn't tell us if it contained consciousness like our own. We need a conception of what consciousness _is_ before we can locate it neurologically. So, with all these proposed solutions found wanting, Jaynes suggests we must make a new beginning by stating clearly what consciousness is. And, crucially, he starts by determining **what consciousness is _not_**, because the history of the subject is filled with confusion and metaphor. This is where things get really interesting and perhaps a bit counterintuitive! What we often take to be consciousness, or things that require consciousness, actually operate perfectly well without it. - Consciousness is **not** simply **reactivity** (responding to stimuli). Losing consciousness from a blow to the head is different from somnambulistic states where someone is not conscious but still responsive. - We are constantly reacting to things _without_ any conscious component. Our eyes shift rapidly, but we see a stable image; we perceive objects at a distance correctly despite small retinal images, without conscious correction. Countless perceptual constancies happen below our awareness. - Consciousness is a much **smaller part of our mental life than we are conscious of**. Like a flashlight in a dark room, consciousness can only illuminate what it touches, leading us to mistakenly believe light (consciousness) is everywhere. - Despite the feeling of a continuous "stream" of consciousness, it's not clear that we are **conscious all the time**, or for every tiny millisecond. - Consciousness is **not necessary for performing skills**; in fact, it often hinders habitual actions. Thinking too much about the individual movements in a learned skill like crossing coins in your hands demonstrates this. - We are **not really conscious of the process of speaking or writing** as we do it. Consciousness is involved in _deciding_ what and how to say something, but the actual production happens automatically. Similarly, when listening or reading, we're usually conscious only of the meaning, not the individual sounds, words, or syntax. - Consciousness does **not function as a copy of experience**. We tend to think of it like a camera or a slate (tabula rasa) recording everything, but introspecting on recent events often reveals images that are reconstructions or even "bird's-eye views" we never actually experienced, mixed with what _should_ have happened – a process Jaynes calls "narratizing". - It is **not necessary for concepts**. The ancient idea that concepts are formed in consciousness by grouping similar experiences is a confusion. Concepts are simply classes of behaviorally equivalent things and are often prior to conscious experience; they are part of the nervous system's structure. When we consciously think of a concept like "tree," we usually think of a _particular_ tree that stands in for the concept. Language is powerful because it lets a word stand for a concept, which we do constantly in speaking or writing about abstract material, precisely because concepts aren't usually in consciousness. - Consciousness is **not the basis for learning** and is **not necessary** for various types of learning. Signal learning (Pavlovian conditioning) happens without consciousness and can even be hindered by voluntary conscious attempts. Learning skills is often an "organic" process where consciousness sets the goal but the learning itself seems "done for you". Even solution learning (operant conditioning), where consciousness often plays a role, can occur without the person being aware they are learning or even what the goal or solution is. The older doctrine that conscious experience is the substrate of all learning is false. - Consciousness is **not necessary for thinking**. For simple judgments, like deciding which of two objects is heavier, the judgment itself is not conscious; it's "just given to you by your nervous system". While preparation and the end result of thinking might be conscious, the actual process often is not. - Consciousness is **not the seat of reason**. Many elementary kinds of reasoning, like choosing paths or perceptual corrections, happen without any conscious involvement. Even more standard types of reasoning, like expecting a piece of wood to float based on past experience, can occur directly without consciously reviewing past instances. Reasoning is seen as a structure of the nervous system, not consciousness. - Finally, consciousness has **no location** except an imaginary one. We tend to locate it in our head because introspection _feels_ like looking inward, but this is a metaphor. Phenomena like out-of-body experiences reinforce that locating consciousness can be arbitrary. While we use our brains when conscious, the consciousness itself isn't "in" the brain in the same way that bicycle riding isn't "in" the head, even though it requires brain activity. This detailed look at what consciousness _isn't_ leads to a rather significant and potentially unsettling conclusion: consciousness might not make as much difference to many of our activities as we assume. Based on this, it's perfectly possible to conceive of human beings who could speak, judge, reason, solve problems, and do most of the things we do, but who were **not conscious at all**. This is a pivotal idea that sets the stage for the rest of the book. So, after chiseling away these misconceptions, what _is_ consciousness?. Jaynes proposes a revolutionary idea: **subjective conscious mind is an analog of what is called the real world**, built up with a language whose terms are metaphors of behavior in the physical world. Its reality is like that of mathematics, an operator that allows us to shortcut behavioral processes and make better decisions. It's intimately tied to volition and decision. Think about the language we use for mental events: we "see" solutions, ideas are "brilliant" or "obscure," we "approach" a problem, "grapple" with difficulties, or "comprehend" things. These are all metaphors, and they project a "mind-space" which is a metaphor of actual space. In this metaphorical space, we can do things like move around, look at things, and manipulate ideas as if they were objects. This idea that consciousness is generated by lexical metaphor is central. Let's look at some key features of this metaphor-generated consciousness: 1. **Spatialization:** The most primitive aspect is creating a metaphorical mental space. We spatialize everything, including abstract concepts and even time. Thinking about time often involves spreading it out spatially, like from left to right. Conscious thought involves turning what happens over time (_diachronic_) into something seen side-by-side (_synchronic_) in this mental space. 2. **Narratization:** We constantly weave experiences and facts into stories or narratives. We narratize events we observe (like a child crying) and even our own internal analog 'I'. This helps us fit things together and make sense of the world. 3. **Analog 'I':** Consciousness involves constructing an analog self, a metaphorical "I" that can observe this mind-space and move within it metaphorically. In essence, conscious mind is a spatial analog of the world, and mental acts are analogs of bodily acts. It operates only on objectively observable things, meaning there's nothing in consciousness that wasn't an analog of something that happened in behavior first. This leads to a profound implication: if consciousness is built on language and metaphor, then it must have originated _after_ language developed. This contradicts the common assumption that consciousness evolved far back in animal history, perhaps with the development of complex brains. This is a truly "preposterous hypothesis" – that consciousness is a relatively recent invention. Jaynes then turns to history, particularly early written records, to look for evidence of when this shift occurred. Examining the earliest comprehensible writings, like the _Iliad_, reveals a mentality that is "very different from our own". Words that later come to mean conscious mind, like _noos_, in the _Iliad_ mean something closer to perception or field of vision. Words translated as subjective processes like "to ponder" (_mermerizein_) actually mean "to be in conflict about two actions," always behavioral, not about two thoughts. The eye (_noos_) cannot doubt or be in conflict in the way the later conscious mind can. This suggests a human nature where internal subjective experience as we know it wasn't present. Instead, Jaynes proposes that early humans had a **bicameral mind**, split into an executive part (experienced as gods) and a follower part (the man), neither of which was conscious in our sense. Volition was experienced as auditory hallucinations – neurological commands from this god-side, and to hear was to obey. This bicameral structure, with its controlling voices, is hypothesized to have been a form of social control that enabled the transition from small groups to large agricultural civilizations. These verbal hallucinations are seen as a plausible side effect of language comprehension that served to maintain learned behaviors over time, telling people what to do. The bicameral man was not conscious, not responsible for his actions, and was ordered about by these internal voices. But why did this system collapse? The second millennium B.C. saw increasing chaos, wars, and migrations, which disrupted the stable hierarchies where divine control worked well. Several factors contributed to the "great transilience" from the bicameral to the subjective conscious mind: - The advent of **writing weakened the auditory** control of the voices. Written language made speech visible and permanent, existing outside the immediate auditory command. - Hallucinatory control had an **inherent fragility**. - The **unworkableness of gods in the chaos** of historical upheaval. When hierarchies crumbled, the divine voices associated with them lost their authority and became contradictory or silent. - People began **positing internal cause** by observing differences in others. Seeing others behave differently led to the idea that there must be something _inside_ them driving their actions. - The **acquisition of narratization from epics** provided a model for organizing experience into stories. - The **survival value of deceit**. Short-term, instrumental deceit exists in animals, but long-term treachery requires the ability to manipulate a mental model of another's mind – something facilitated by consciousness. - A modicum of **natural selection** may have assisted the change, as those biologically most able to learn consciousness might have been more likely to survive in the new environment. Jaynes emphasizes, however, that consciousness is primarily a _cultural_ introduction, learned and taught, rather than a biological necessity. The transition involved the invention of the analog space and the analog 'I' based on language. This was a process that required the build-up of metaphorical structures in language. Evidence for this transition is sought in the subtle changes in early texts. - The **spatialization of time**, a key feature of consciousness, can be tentatively dated around 1300 B.C. in Mesopotamia through changes in building inscriptions. Earlier inscriptions were very present-focused, while later ones included detailed, systematically arranged accounts of the king's past campaigns and even discussions of motives and strategies – treating past events as if they were laid out in a space to be analyzed. - In **Greek literature**, examining words for mental functions from Homer's _Iliad_ through later texts shows a development from objective or internal physical meanings (Phase I/II) to subjective, spatialized mental meanings (Phase III/IV). Words like _noos_ (perception), _thumos_ (passion), _phrenes_ (diaphragm, emotional reactions), and _psyche_ (life, breath, blood) gradually shift, often through metaphor, becoming confused and synthesized into a unified "mind-space". The term _psyche_ is particularly interesting, initially meaning simply "life" or "livingness," but later, dramatically, becoming the concept of the separable "soul" in the sixth century B.C.. This shift contributed to the beginning of dualism – the supposed separation of soul (_psyche_) and body (_soma_, which previously meant "corpse"). The rise of consciousness in Greece is seen as moving from an auditory mind (hearing voices) to a visual mind (seeing with the mind's eye in mind-space). The _Iliad_ itself is viewed as potentially a myth reflecting this transition, a story of identity and the rise of a new mentality that replaces the divine guidance. Consciousness and morality also develop together; without gods commanding, a consciousness of consequences and an internal sense of right and wrong must guide behavior. The famous injunction "Know thyself" is seen as a product of this new mentality, requiring introspection and narratization of one's actions and feelings. - The **Old Testament**, particularly its overall contour from the first millennium B.C., can be interpreted as a description of the loss of the bicameral mind and its replacement by subjectivity. Stories like the Fall in Genesis can be read as a myth of this breakdown, highlighting deceit (_arum_), the desire to be "like the elohim, knowing good and evil" (conscious subjective qualities), and the opening of analog "eyes" to see oneself (narratizing). The _nabiim_, often called prophets, are seen as transitional figures who experienced divine messages as a "flowing forth" or "welling up" of speech and visions, sometimes struggling with uncertainty about the source or doubting their own hearing. The struggles of figures like Saul, who vacillates between seeking divine voices and bewildered subjective decision-making, exemplify this transitional period. Jaynes also explores how vestiges of this earlier bicameral mentality might still be seen today or in more recent history. - **Oracles and Possession** are interpreted as partial holdovers. The structure behind phenomena of diminished consciousness is called the **General Bicameral Paradigm**. It involves a collective belief system, an induction procedure to narrow or eliminate consciousness, and the experience of auditory or visual hallucination or being taken over by a "god-side" (possession). Possession, where the god-side dominates speech and the person has no memory, is seen as a transformation of bicamerality, perhaps requiring the obliteration of developing consciousness to retrieve the older mentality. - **Hypnosis** is also seen as engaging this general bicameral paradigm, allowing a different, more absolute control over behavior than conscious will. It began historically in the paraphrands of new metaphors, comparing interpersonal influence to Newtonian forces ("animal gravitation"). Hypnotic induction aims to narrow consciousness, focusing attention on the operator's voice, leading to phenomena like enhanced or blocked sensations, controlled emotions, and altered identity. Phenomena like the "hidden observer" and dissociation, where parts of the mind function independently, are reminiscent of the bicameral structure. Hypnosis is viewed as a culturally learned ability (consciousness) being culturally unlearned or arrested, allowing an older, more authoritarian type of control to surface. The remarkable ease with which complex feats can be performed under hypnosis, compared to the difficulty in a normal conscious state, suggests a fundamental difference in the mode of control. - **Schizophrenia** is interpreted as a modern struggle with aspects of this earlier mentality. It's seen as an individual searching for the culture that once supported bicamerality, wrestling between remnant subjective consciousness and a primitive mental organization where hallucinations might try to control behavior. What we call schizophrenia, once potentially a relationship to the divine, came to be seen as an illness as consciousness became the dominant mentality. - Even **artistic practices** like poetry and music may have roots in the divine speech or bicameral inspiration of the past. - Finally, **Science itself** is viewed, in part, as a response to the breakdown of the bicameral mind – a deep-seated need for certainty and authorization after the loss of divine voices. The shock of Darwinian evolution, presenting a world shaped by chance rather than purpose, further stripped away external authorization. Science and its accompanying "scientisms" can function almost like religions, providing worldviews and guiding principles in the void left by declining traditional beliefs. The very idea of "lost innocence," often found in myths and religions, is seen as a conscious narratization of losing those divine voices and assurances. Jaynes reiterates his core hypotheses: consciousness is based on language, it was preceded by a bicameral mind based on verbal hallucinations, this shift happened relatively recently after the breakdown of the bicameral mind, and the "self" we experience is an analog 'I' narratizing in a mind-space. He clarifies that the concept of consciousness and consciousness itself are, in this framework, fused or identical, much like the concept of baseball is baseball itself. The self isn't the physical body or face in a mirror, but a metaphorical construct. He also touches on how consciousness changes experiences like fear, turning it into anxiety – a continuous response to imagined threats that didn't exist in the same way for bicameral man. In essence, Jaynes presents a radical theory: consciousness is not an ancient biological adaptation shared with many animals, but a learned, cultural invention born from language and metaphor, emerging relatively recently in human history (around the first and second millennia B.C.) out of the collapse of an earlier, non-conscious mental structure governed by hallucinatory voices. This perspective certainly gives us a lot to think about! It challenges our everyday feeling of what consciousness is and how central it is to everything we do. It opens up questions about the relationship between language, thought, and reality. How precisely did those metaphors build mind-space? Are there subtle vestiges of bicamerality still influencing us in ways we don't recognize? Could our consciousness continue to evolve or change in the future? What does it truly mean to be a conscious being? It's a truly vast and intriguing landscape for exploration!