Some challenges raised by unconscious belief

Eric Marcus's Belief, Inference, and the Self-Conscious Mind urges that beliefs of the sort possessed by normal adult humans are "essentially self-conscious" (Marcus 2021, 6, 39). Marcus also grants that there are unconscious beliefs of the sort relevant in psychoanalysis and psychodynamic psychotherapy (34). He acknowledges a tension here, and his solution is clever: he holds that unconscious beliefs, too, essentially involve self-consciousness. In these cases, he claims, non-evidential, non-observational knowledge that one believes that p is part and parcel of believing that p – but it too is unconscious. This solution raises numerous questions concerning self-consciousness, its relation to consciousness, and its relation to non-evidential, non-observational knowledge of one's own attitudes. However, there is an even more pressing question from my viewpoint as a clinical psychoanalyst: Is there any empirical or clinical plausibility to the supposition that in every case of unconscious belief there must also be unconscious knowledge of the belief? The ascription of an unconscious attitude to a person is based on the best explanation of the overall pattern of their expressed thoughts and feelings as well as their reactions and behavior (including patterns of defense). In some cases the evidence might warrant ascription of unconscious belief but not of unconscious knowledge of the belief, for instance because the attitude seems not to have yet undergone that kind of development and articulation. This difference can show up clinically. For instance, there's an important difference between the patient who responds by saying, "Wow, you're right. I do believe that, but I never recognized it", and the patient who says, "You know, I always kind of knew that I believed that." The two cases indicate mental states that have different kinds of histories and different paths of evolution and development, and different clinical techniques may be relevant. Unless a lot more is said (and to say it, one would have to get into the details of clinical theory and practice), Marcus's proposal doesn't seem to be sensitive to these empirical and clinical considerations. It is more straightforward to reject the sweeping claim about the self-conscious nature of belief, at least when it comes to unconscious beliefs. I do not find this argument convincing. I will focus first on claim (A) and then on (B). Marcus explains the relevant sense of "is able" as a "voluntary power" exercised "at will" (42). But because we can take complex attitudinal stances involving our own beliefs, the relation between belief and the ability to honestly assert at will is not straightforward. Consider someone who believes that p but also has significant doubts about their belief. Someone might, for instance, find themself with a belief that they regard as problematic but cannot shake, or have significant reasons to doubt the reliability of the process by which they formed the belief but still hold the belief nonetheless. "I believe he can be relied upon," I might say, "but I recognize that I may have been swayed by his charm." In such a case, it might be true that I believe that he can be relied upon. However, I am not able to honestly assert simply, "He can be relied upon"; to do so would be dishonest. To be honest, my assertion would have to be appropriately hedged. So, this is a case in which I believe that p but I am not able to honestly assert that p. Marcus claims that whenever someone believes that p but cannot honestly assert that p, this must be because something masks the ability or prevents its exercise (43).1 But this characterization does not fit the case I just described. It's true that someone in such a situation could honestly assert that p, if they didn't have those doubts. But this does not mean that those doubts mask or block an ability they currently have to honestly assert this proposition. Whether someone would be honest in asserting that p doesn't just depend upon whether they believe that p. It also depends on other aspects of their current total psychology. For this reason, whether they currently possess the ability to honestly assert that p is similarly dependent on other aspects of their total psychology. As long as they have those doubts, they do not have the "voluntary power" to honestly assert that p, because so long as they have those doubts nothing they could do at will would count as honestly asserting that p. So too, if I believe that p but have relevant doubts about it, my doubts are not an "obstacle standing in the way of communication" (44-45). Those doubts are part of what has to be communicated in order for me to be honest. Of course, there's a very weak sense in which I "have the ability" to honestly assert that p under these circumstances. I know how to assert (and so in that sense have the ability to assert anything), and my assertion would be honest if certain conditions were met. But that's not to have the ability to honestly assert in the sense that Marcus points us to. The general point in play here can be seen by considering cases that do not involve assertion and its relation to belief. Someone who is aware that they cannot be at the airport before 2 PM cannot honestly promise to pick you up at 1:30. This is not a matter of an ability to honestly promise that is masked or blocked by the awareness that they cannot get there before 2 PM. Of course, if they weren't aware of this, they could honestly promise to be there at 1:30, so in that weak sense they could be said to currently have an ability to honestly promise to pick you up at 1:30. But given their awareness that they can't be there before 2 PM, nothing they could now do at will could be an honest promise to pick you up at 1:30. Whether they now have the "voluntary power" to honestly promise to pick you up at 1:30 depends upon broader aspects of their psychology. The same goes for honest assertion. Consider another kind of case – one that brings us closer to the issues about self-consciousness that are central to Marcus's aims. Marcus grants that not only are there unconscious beliefs, but also that someone might have an unconscious belief that p and also consciously know that p is false (35, for examples see Leite (2019)). Does such a person have the ability to honestly assert that p? Because the belief is functioning unconsciously, it's true that their ability to express the belief that p through straightforward assertion of p is blocked. But there is another crucial feature of the case: nothing they could possibly do at will could count as the honest assertion of p. This is because they are aware that p is false. Someone who is aware that p is false does not have the ability to honestly assert that p, at least not in the sense relevant to Marcus's argument. In fact, I've argued (Leite 2018, 2019) that there is an important range of cases in which a person consciously believes that p, is able to avow the belief from the first-person position in a way that does not depend upon observation or evidence, and yet recognizes that p is false. One way this can happen is as unconscious beliefs come to function consciously through therapy. When this process goes well, the person comes to occupy the belief consciously – indeed, self-consciously – but also contains it by circumscribing it and limiting its effects on thought, feeling, speech, and action. It can be tempting to imagine that the belief stops existing the very moment that it is functioning consciously and is recognized as false, but clinical experience shows that that's not how human beings always work. That's part of why psychotherapy, even Cognitive Behavioral Therapy, can be an arduous road. Someone who believes at bottom that they are worthless and unlovable will not be freed instantly by the recognition that there are people who love them – not even when they put two and two together. It can be an important step clinically to acknowledge, really experiencing the incoherence in an emotionally rich way, "I believe that I am worthless and unlovable, and yet I recognize that my spouse loves me for who I am." A belief that one lacked the ability to honestly assert would be a kind of alien presence in the mind, a bit of 'mental' sediment deposited by the flow of conscious activity and action (in virtue of which another might ascribe the belief) that in turn manages to exercise control of our behavior despite our utterly lacking the capacity to bring them to mind. As such, it could hardly be the state about which we ask, 'Why do you believe it?' in hopes of learning someone's reasons for belief. (45) This characterization is inapt. As I've highlighted, the relevant beliefs often can be brought to mind; indeed, they can function consciously. Moreover, all of the cases I've described are cases of a sort for which it can be apt to ask for justifying reasons. In fact, consideration of that question might be therapeutically useful at certain junctures. It might be objected here that Marcus argues that it is metaphysically impossible to believe 'p and not-p.' I remain unconvinced, but even if he is right, it does not touch the cases I am highlighting. In the relevant cases, the person does not believe 'p and not-p.' They do believe that p, and they do believe that not-p. But they also recognize that p is false, and so they cordon it off so far as possible in their thinking and reasoning. They do not take 'p and not-p' to be true. What would be impossible is for someone to actualize simultaneously the capacities to avow the belief that p and also the belief that not-p. For in avowing a belief, one brings it to consciousness … And if one were to bring both one's belief that p and one's belief that not-p to consciousness, one or the other of them would have to go. For it is impossible to bring both to mind. (60) However, I take this to be false on empirical, clinical grounds provided by examples like those highlighted above. A person can avow a belief that they recognize to be false, for instance by saying something that might be summarized as, "I believe that I am worthless and unlovable, but I also see that's wrong: I am valuable and worthy of love. Can you help me get out of this painful mess?" At moments like this, the unity of the self-conscious mind does not require rational consistency (Leite, 2019). I turn now to the second premise of Marcus's argument, "(B) S is able to honestly assert that p only if S is able to avow the belief that p" (46). More precisely, I want to begin with the intermediate lemma that Marcus derives from (A) and (B): S believes that p only if S is able to avow the belief that p. Here too, unconscious beliefs pose serious problems for Marcus. …there is an intuitive sense in which an unconscious mental state is avowable in a way that a sub-personal mental state is not. Therapy can never bring it about that a subject avows her sub-personal states, whose contents the subject need not even be capable of grasping. But even Freudians hold that unconscious mental states could come to be avowed – that's the goal of therapy. Importantly, 'able to avow with the help of a therapist' does not imply 'unable to avow.' Recall the example of the neurosurgeon above: There is nothing inconsistent about the idea of an ability that one can exercise only with help. Thus, the fact that help from the therapist is needed does not show that, in the absence of such help, the subject is deprived of the ability. One can thus understand unconscious beliefs, beliefs about which the subject is in denial, and ordinary beliefs as lying on a continuum of avowability: able to avow with the help of a therapist, able to avow upon the overcoming of denial, and simply able to avow. All are avowable. An unconscious belief is not a counterexample to (B). (50) This reply involves two mistakes. The first is an equivocation. An unconscious belief is indeed avowable, in the sense that unlike a subpersonal state, it's the sort of mental state that the person could come to self-attribute while self-consciously occupying the standpoint of the belief and without depending upon inference, evidence, or observation. It doesn't follow that the person currently has the ability to avow it, in the sense of "able to" relevant to Marcus's argument. For that to happen, the person will need to develop various psychological skills, and there will need to be a transformation in how they are functioning. This is not a matter of currently possessing an ability that is masked; rather, they need to develop abilities they lack. Here's an instructive parallel. In one way, it's true that the logic final is passable for a smart undergraduate who hasn't yet taken the class: if they acquire the relevant skills (which they have a capacity to acquire), they will be able to pass. It doesn't follow that they are able to pass the final now. The second mistake in Marcus's response relates to the idea that the therapist's assistance is relevantly like the assistance a nurse provides a neurosurgeon. The neurosurgeon can successfully exercise her ability to remove the brain tumor only with her surgical team's assistance. The psychoanalyst's role in relation to her patient is very different. She is attempting to help the patient develop skills and attain shifts in psychological functioning, as a result of which the patient will come to have an ability to do something independently. In this regard, she is more like the logic teacher helping a student than like the nurse helping the neurosurgeon. Marcus's reply does not take seriously the nature of the therapeutic task. It misses the extent to which the aim of therapy is to transform psychic organization and functioning. It's not intelligible that someone might honestly assert that the subway is safe, but yet be in a position to be apprised of the fact that she believes that the subway is safe by an appeal to behavioral evidence. Were someone to utter the words "the subway is safe" and her audience were to respond by saying "so you actually believe the subway is safe?", and she were to reply, "oh, do I? I hadn't realized," we could no longer consider her initial utterance an assertion at all. … it would be bizarre to attempt to inform an asserter that she believes the asserted proposition. (47) This strikes me as false. In my clinical experience, the following is not uncommon: someone is talking about their life, and only by hearing their words do we both come to realize what they believe. Sometimes they don't take themselves to believe it even after hearing their own words. In other cases they do, and sometimes they immediately become able to avow the belief. But across this range of cases it's perfectly intelligible to respond to a person's assertion with the question, "So you actually believe p?", and it's perfectly intelligible for the person to reply, "Wow, I do. I hadn't realized it." These sorts of experiences are also part of an ordinary life thoughtfully lived. Just consider the ways in which we can surprise ourselves when we try to explain ourselves to other people. Marcus's argument underplays the extent to which we can make discoveries about what we believe by listening to ourselves speak. To assert is to perform a certain act. It is intentionally to put forward the asserted proposition as true, which is to say that the person who asserts understands that an act of assertion can be criticized if the asserter doesn't in fact believe that p, understands that, in asserting that p, she represents herself as believing that p, as opening herself up to follow-up questions like "why do you believe that p?". Understanding these things is part of what it is to assert intentionally because, in the absence of such knowledge, one would not know what one was doing in asserting, one would not be acting under the description, 'asserting'. (47) We can grant all of this, however, and still allow that someone who is honestly asserting that p may learn that they believe that p by listening to their own words. Someone could perfectly well understand that they are asserting something, and understand all the implications that Marcus highlights, without yet first-personally recognizing "from the inside" that they do in fact believe that p. I have been focusing on the one detailed argument Marcus offers in support of his claim that belief is essentially self-conscious, urging that some of its key premises aren't true. At the end of the day, I think that two sets of issues separate me and Marcus. The first concerns the nature of unconscious belief and of the unity of the conscious mind. I've detailed some of these concerns above. The second is methodological. Marcus seems to aspire to something like a priori, conceptual arguments, whereas I take empirical considerations (especially clinical considerations) to significantly inform and constrain philosophical theorizing in this territory.