Fifteen Eighty Four

When philosophers write about and explain actions they focus almost exclusively on so-called “intentional actions.” These are actions that are done for reasons, selected in the light of one’s beliefs and desires. But this narrow focus misses out vast swathes of human action, including habitual, speeded, skilled, and directly emotion-caused actions. Why? In part, it is because in many of these cases we readily fall under the illusion that the actions in question are intentional ones. This is because we smoothly and spontaneously explain them in such terms, even when those actions are our own. Such explanations are illusory products of our mentalizing – or “theory of mind” – faculty, which automatically interprets the behaviors of others and of ourselves, and undergirds almost all of our social interactions in daily life.

Consider behavioral habits first. These are actions that are so frequently performed in a given context that they can become automatically triggered by associated cues from those contexts. They aren’t, on an individual basis, performed for reasons (although the actions taken when the habit was being formed will have been done for reasons). Although psychologists tell us that a great many everyday behaviors are actually habitual, rather than being selected in light of our current beliefs and desires, philosophers barely mention them. This may be because whenever one’s attention is drawn to one of them one readily provides an intentional explanation. Consider someone who has developed the habit of grinding and making coffee first thing in the morning. Although originally done with the goal of making coffee, and knowing that coffee beans need to be ground first, the sequence is now a habitual one. Stumbling into the kitchen after coming down from the bedroom provides the cue for a stereotyped habitual sequence: reaching down the coffee pot and the grinder, retrieving the beans from the cupboard, and so on. But if asked, the person will interpret their action as goal-directed: “I wanted to make coffee and knew that I couldn’t do it without grinding the beans first, so … .” But such explanations are actually false. There was no goal of making coffee in mind, either consciously or unconsciously. It is only when something goes awry that we realize we have been acting out of habit. (Entering the upstairs bathroom on a gloomy afternoon to retrieve some nail-scissors, one finds oneself in the middle of brushing one’s teeth. Switching on the bathroom light had triggered the brush-teeth-before-bed habitual sequence.) As a result, people don’t realize just how extensive habitual action really is. They are under an illusion of intentionality.

Now consider skilled (especially speeded) actions. Think of a professional tennis player receiving a serve from his opponent. A first serve from a male tennis player often travels at speeds in excess of 125 mph (˃200 km/h). Since the tennis court is 78 feet long, this means that the ball will reach a receiver standing 12 feet behind the baseline in half a second. But we know that it takes almost that long for stimuli presented to the retina to reach consciousness. Moreover, we have known for decades that there is a distinct visual system (the so-called “dorsal” or “how-to” visual stream) that guides our actions in an online way, and which is significantly faster than the system that results in conscious experience (the “ventral” or “what” visual stream). Since such serves are often returned, this means that the receiver must be able to identify the initial trajectory of the ball to select a forehand or backhand response, and then, while continuing to track the ball’s trajectory and spin, generate and execute the movements of body, arm, and wrist necessary to bring the racket into contact with the ball – almost all of this happening prior to consciously experiencing the ball’s motion. Rather, the action is executed by a well-trained sensorimotor system that operates independently of decision-making processes. But if prompted, the player will readily explain why he acted as he did – “I saw it was coming to my backhand with heavy top-spin, so I decided to hit a backhand cross-court.” If by “see” and “decide” he means “consciously see and decide,” as he almost certainly does, then the explanation is false. He is under an illusion of intentionality.

Finally, consider the actions that result from urgent forms of emotion. All emotions share a common structure. They begin with an (unconscious) evaluative appraisal of the personal significance of some event (whether real or imagined). Such appraisals then generate three kinds of output in parallel. One is some degree of bodily arousal (including increases in heart-rate and breathing rate, pupil dilation, and release of adrenaline and cortisol into the blood-stream). Another is some degree of valence (positive or negative, good or bad) attaching to the representation of the appraised event. And the third is automatic motor activation, either expressive (the fear-face, the disgust-retch, and so on) or seemingly instrumental (an urge to retreat, in the case of fear and disgust, and urge to approach, in the case of curiosity). These motor urges will be executed unless inhibited. And often – especially in the case of strong emotion – they can initiate action swiftly enough to evade executive control. Yet they are still apt to be interpreted as goal-directed. A hiker who panics and turns to run when a bear suddenly emerges from behind a nearby bush, for example, might explain afterwards, “I was desperate to get to safety,” or “I really wanted to get away.” But this is false. The action was not an intentional, goal-directed, one. Rather, it resulted from an automatic and powerful motor urge caused by an appraisal of imminent danger. Again, there is an illusion of intentionality.

In short, there are many more kinds of action that are worth taking seriously, Horatio, than are thought of in your philosophy.