The Folk Philosophy Fallacy (Part 4)

Twitter Tuesday #23

Between a set of particles arranged rock-wise and the property of hardness

This post is part of a series. For previous entries in the series see:

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3

3.0 So nonphilosophers don’t have a concept of phenomenal consciousness? Not so fast!

Most subsequent research has, at least according to the researchers who conducted it, generally supported the conclusion that nonphilosophers do not think about consciousness in the way philosophers do, and do not share the same notion of phenomenal properties. Following their critique of K&P, Sytsma and Machery (2010) began presenting evidence to the contrary:

Do philosophers and ordinary people conceive of subjective experience in the same way? In this article, we argue that they do not and that the philosophical concept of phenomenal consciousness does not coincide with the folk conception. We first offer experimental support for the hypothesis that philosophers and ordinary people conceive of subjective experience in markedly different ways. (p. 299)

There may also be studies that support the notion that nonphilosophers have a concept of PC. If you find any additional studies that concluded that philosophers and nonphilosophers share the same concept of phenomenal consciousness, I will update this list to include those papers here. When there are multiple studies on the same subject, you will often find studies with conflicting conclusions: one should always beware appeals to one study. I would extend this to those who appeal to a set of studies that all reach similar conclusions. It often takes familiarity with the literature as a whole to reach informed conclusions about that particular body of research. 

For instance, there may be an equal number of studies both for and against a particular claim, yet it may be that one side of the literature emerged later and relied on better methods (or, alternatively, emerged later, was partisan, and appealed to worse methods). Thus, it would be hard to judge which side of a dispute is in a better position even if one were to appeal to the preponderance of studies for or against a given hypothesis: after all, it’s not merely a matter of quantity but quality: it matters what the studies actually show (a situation like this isn’t merely hypothetical, but is central to my own experience when reviewing the literature central to my dissertation; see note).¹ 

Although it would certainly be convenient for me if empirical data did support the conclusion that nonphilosophers don’t share the same concept of PC as philosophers, I am skeptical that studies have settled the matter. Wyrwa (2022) has much to say about the shortcomings of newer studies which purport to show nonphilosophers share philosophers’ concept of PC. 

First, it’s worth noting that Wyrwa likewise supports my sense that, overall, existing studies mostly favor the conclusion that nonphilosophers lack the same concept of PC as philosophers: 

According to the leading interpretation of these results, laypersons—people without academic knowledge about consciousness—do not notice the phenomenal aspect of consciousness. (p. 46)

Wyrwa also notes that S&M’s findings have withstood some methodological challenges and have been successfully replicated (see Cova et al., 2021; Sytsma & Machery, 2012; Sytsma & Ozdemir, 2019;). 

However, much as I argue that the dominant paradigms in the psychology of metaethics rely on invalid measures, Wyrwa argues that we should not trust the results of the leading “No folk PC” view because these studies likewise suffer from a validity problem. Very roughly, in this context, validity refers to the degree to which a purported measure or test actually measures what it is intended to measure. A thermometer is a valid measure of the temperature to the extent that it actually measures the temperature. Just so, a study which purports to determine whether a nonphilosophers has a concept of phenomenal consciousness can only shed light on this question if the methods used to address this question…actually address the question. 

3.1 Operationalize this!

Essentially, Wyrwa argues that research on the question of whether nonphilosophers have a concept of PC has failed to provide an adequate operationalization of the concept of phenomenal consciousness. Wyrwa describes operationalization as “the ‘translation’ of theoretical constructs into something measurable by the research tool.” In this case, if we want to know whether nonphilosophers have a concept of phenomenal consciousness, we need to figure out what would allow us to determine whether people have this concept, some practical test, tool, or method, that would allow us to measure whether people have such a concept. Obviously, we won’t be able to make some device that works like a Geiger counter that we can just wave over people and detect the “has the PC concept” particles floating around them. We’d need some proxy or indirect method that would allow us to infer that people have or lack the concept. 

Here’s the issue: we don’t have Geiger counters, so what do we have?

Language.

As Wyrwa puts it:

We have to remember that language is the main—or the only—way to intersubjectively access PC. If we ask laypeople whether they would ascribe a mental state X to an agent, they fi nd out about X due to our use of language. Scholars of consciousness identify X as a phenomenal state but it is unclear if they name X in a manner that would allow laypeople to identify X as a phenomenal state. The question, then, can be phrased like this: how can we describe a particular kind of mental state to point toward its phenomenal character? What is certainly not enough is for a scholar to play an authority that judges which everyday terms and phrases are semantically closest to the philosophical jargon. This matter is to be tackled empirically, not from the armchair. (p. 53, emphasis mine)

Wyrwa is right. The degree to which any given term or phrase would serve as an indicator that people are employing an implicit concept is itself an empirical question that cannot easily be resolved from the armchair, though one can set out with some set of a priori classifications, generate a set of predictions about how people would use various terms or phrases if they had a concept of PC, and see if findings are consistent with those predictions. If philosophers and nonphilosophers both consistently make the same kinds of attributions in the same kinds of cases, this may point to the two sharing the same concepts, though it may not. Such evidence would support one’s hypothesis (including the hypothesis that nonphilosophers have a concept of PC), but you’d have to be wary of confounds and alternative explanations, and it would hardly be definitive. There may be good reasons why philosophers and nonphilosophers speak the same way or respond to cases the same way in some narrow set of cases, even if they thought differently about them  A bottom-up approach that involves directly assessing how nonphilosophers use the relevant terms and phrases (e.g. “experiences,” “feels,” “sees”) may have more promising prospects. 

3.2 Between a set of particles arranged rock-wise and the property of hardness

Wyrwa (2022) describes a couple approaches one might take: “The first, (a), is to give participants a chance to notice that ‘the important part’ of what they read in the experiment is the phenomenal aspect of mental states” (p. 53). According to Wyrwa:

[...] the procedure for (a) is straightforward: we inform scholars that we want them to focus on the phenomenality of mental states that they will read about. We can also refresh their memory and include a short description of what PC is. (p. 53)

This doesn’t strike me as viable. In such cases, demand effects and other psychological factors may kick in, prompting participants to affirm that they “notice” these phenomenal states even if they don’t. However, another problem is that the very act of introducing people to philosophical terms and concepts may remove them from the pool of untrained nonphilosophers in the first place: how could we be sure that the very act of saying “hey, here are some categories and distinctions philosophers who specialize in studying this employ. Do you think the way these smart competent experts think about this issue?” 

Even if participants are unimpressed with the credentials and accomplishments of philosophers, introducing someone to certain ideas and concepts could cause them to develop those concepts or think in accord with the relevant distinctions, and to even begin using the language you provide to refer to those concepts. In other words, it could cause spontaneous theorizing, whereby participating in the study changes the way participants think to be more in line with the operationalizations, terms, and concepts presented in the study. Participants may lack introspective access to this, resulting in them mistakenly believing that thought in this way all along. 

This spontaneous theorizing is especially jeopardized when one foists the specific distinctions, categories, and descriptions analytic philosophers use onto participants. Further efforts to ensure that they comprehend the instructions and concepts could not only alter the way participants think, but specifically teach them to think like philosophers. If this occurs, it would defeat the whole purpose of the study. After all, the point of the study is to find out how nonphilosophers think. You can’t do that by giving them a crash course in philosophy, then asking them. Either the crash course will fail, in which case you won’t even know if your measures are valid, or it will succeed, in which case, congratulations, you’ve just trained a novice philosopher, whose responses are no longer reflective of the target population you wanted to study in the first place, nonphilosophers. 

This method would be absurdly challenging, and Wyrwa points to the risk of presenting participants with new concepts. How, exactly, do you prompt participants to reflect on whether they have the relevant concept if you (a) don’t know what terms or phrases they might use to refer to the concept and (b) the terms and phrases researchers use are all technical and philosophical terms that, could corrupt your participant pool by providing them with novel concepts that change how they think? Wyrwa provides an example:

Does the description “when you hear your favorite music, its melody makes you feel joy” suggest the phenomenality of conscious hearing experience or does it only point toward properties of the musical stimulus and the bodily reaction evoked (increased heart rate, foot-stomping)? (p. 53)

We simply don’t know. Wyrwa continues:

As of today, we have no data indicating which terms and phrases that are used to describe consciousness in the philosophy of consciousness are also used in everyday language to describe consciousness. This is a large pool of data that would need to be analyzed, but the main issue is how to point to the phenomenality without teaching about phenomenality. (p. 53)

This is one of the central problems researchers face: a kind of methodological Catch-22:

1. If you don’t ensure participants are interpreting questions as intended, you cannot be sure whether your measures are valid

2. If you do attempt to ensure participants are interpreting questions as intended, you risk altering how they think inducting them into thinking in terms of the concepts and distinctions of academic philosophers

Even if one could thread this methodological needle in principle, researchers have yet to do so in practice. This problem also generalizes to experimental philosophy as a whole: it may be exceptionally challenging to elicit the intuitions or judgments of nonphilosophers without the stimuli you’re using having a corrupting influence on your participant sample: you can’t find out what people who lack a quality think by giving them that quality and then finding out what they think.

The second is to canvas mental states philosophers claim involve phenomenal states and mental states that do not exhibit these properties, then assess whether philosophers and nonphilosophers attribute mental states across these conditions in the same (or at least very similar) way. Why so comprehensive? Wyrwa argues that:

it is not enough to show that laypeople attribute one or two kinds of mental states the way philosophers do, to make a claim about whether laypeople recognize a whole range of mental states based on their shared property (in this case: having phenomenal properties). We need to show that laypeople consistently attribute all relevant types of mental states in the way philosophers do. (p. 54)

For comparison, suppose you wanted to see if two groups identify the same set of objects as fruits. If you confirmed that Group 1 and Group 2 both agreed that apples and oranges are fruits, would this show that they employ the same concept of fruit? No. Maybe the groups would judge other objects differently. Maybe one group would consider all vegetables to be fruits, so they’d judge that asparagus and broccoli were fruits. Maybe their concept fruit is any small, round object, such as a marble. You wouldn’t know without asking them about a broader range of objects. To really know whether they employ the same concept of fruit, they’d have to agree both on what is a fruit and on what isn’t a fruit. Now, if you gave them a list of 100 items, and both classified the exact same 10 as fruits and 90 as non-fruits, that would be far better evidence that they are employing the same distinction than merely classifying apples and oranges as fruits.

Even this wouldn’t be good enough, though. That two groups categorize things in the same way does not mean that they do so for the same reason. Philosophers are drawn from the general human population. It’s possible that whatever distinctions they believe illustrate the phenomenal/non-phenomenal distinction are distinctions they are intuitively disposed to make for other (perhaps inscrutable) reasons, and they simply appropriate a disposition driven by some other cause for their theory, supposing that the distinction illustrates and is driven by an implicit notion of phenomenal consciousness, even if it isn’t. Maybe philosophers have engaged in a whole bunch of superfluous post hoc confabulation that has resulted in the construction of theories that purport to account for or explain their propensity to draw a distinction even if that isn’t the real reason why they (or nonphilosophers) are disposed to do so. This cannot be ruled out by armchair theorizing, and I suspect one could marshal a fairly good case that something like this plausibly could be going on.

Nevertheless, such evidence would at least be consistent with the hypothesis that philosophers and nonphilosophers share a concept of phenomenal consciousness, and would provide reasonably good evidence that they do share the same concept. While I’d remain skeptical, evidence that philosophers and nonphilosophers categorize mental states in the same way would be pretty good evidence that nonphilosophers have a concept of PC, even if it wouldn’t be definitive on its own…and that’s fine, one shouldn’t expect only a single finding like this to fully establish a given hypothesis.

I suspect achieving even this goal would be fairly challenging, though I think it would take quite a bit more work to devise additional findings that would corroborate these results and convincingly show that philosophers and nonphilosophers really are employing the same concept. Wyrwa believes that this second proposal is achievable though, going so far as to say that doing so, “while burdensome, is also quite simple to implement” (p. 55). Maybe so. I’m just not as confident in the probity of the results. Wyrwa addresses a number of criticisms of this approach, which I won’t address here.

Instead, I want to address a deeper concern: maybe there is no intelligible concept to operationalize in the first place. That is, maybe there is no concept of phenomenal consciousness. There may be instances where individuals or groups get tangled up in conceptual and linguistic knots that result in the use of terms and phrase that they may report, and genuinely believe, capture some distinctive concept, even if there is no particular concept to which those terms meaningfully refer. If so, it would make no sense to ask whether nonphilosophers share the same concept as philosophers, since there simply wouldn’t be a concept to share in the first place.

This may strike philosophers, at least, as one of the most ridiculous suggestions anyone could put forward. It may strike philosophers as very implausible that professional philosophers would be so confused as to not even know what they’re talking about. There is a great deal to say on this matter, not the least of which is that I don’t find it implausible at all, but I want to stress one point here: many philosophers toss arguments for and against various positions back and forth like Pokémon moves. They often take one or another conflicting positions to be “obvious,” and often think the arguments for or against that position are compelling. If they and their colleagues are so competent, and the arguments are so compelling, and their shared pool of concepts so intelligible, why do they still disagree with each other? 

There are a number of explanations why they would still disagree despite having access to the same arguments, sharing similar intuitions, and engaging with one another for decades, and, critically despite employing completely intelligible and well-understood concepts that they all have access to. Here’s one: their colleagues are simply incompetent. That is, they have all the tools and resources needed to reach the right conclusions, but consistently fail to do so anyway. That is exactly the kind of conclusion one might reach if the terms and concepts shared by academic philosophers are all intelligible, and they are using good methods to address philosophical questions: given how little consensus their is in philosophy, that would mean an enormous number of philosophers are completely wrong despite having all the tools and resources necessary to arrive at the correct conclusion.

Now, what I am suggesting, is that this lack of consensus isn’t a result of a whole bunch of philosophers using the right methods, having the right concepts, and reading the right books and articles, but somehow being completely wrong anyway, is that they are not using the right methods, do not have the right concepts, and are not reading the right books: the problem is endemic to the field, and is far more fundamental than one’s colleagues simply being a bunch of stubborn morons or are so riven by motivated reasoning and other biases that they are incapable of recognizing the truth even when it’s clear to others.

If I am correct, this could explain why at least some (if not many) philosophical disputes seem intransigent, and why philosophers take views that are often diametrically opposed. That they’re employing the wrong tools, or share some mistaken presuppositions, does not strike me as an especially insulting suggestion. If anything, I think the most plausible options on the table if you don’t suspect something like this is going on present a far less flattering picture of the field.

In this case, my concern is with the notion of phenomenal consciousness, and a related cluster of terms and phrases analytic philosophers employ: qualia, what-its-likeness, and so on. I am a proponent of qualia quietism, a view put forward by Mandik (2016). Roughly, I think that terms like “phenomenal consciousness,” “qualia,” “what-its-like,” and so on are technical terms invented by philosophers, that they are not meaningful, and that efforts to provide an account of their meaning have and always will fail because there isn’t anything substantive to communicate when using these terms.

According to Mandik:

The term ‘phenomenal’, as used in contemporary philosophy of mind, is a technical term. I am aware of no non-technical English word or phrase that is accepted as its direct analogue. Unlike technical terms in maths and physics, which are introduced with explicit defi- nitions, ‘phenomenal’ has no such definition. What we find instead of an explicit definition are other technical terms treated as interchange- able synonyms. (p. 141)

Others have likewise identified such turns of phrase as technical terms, e.g., Owesen’s (2023) helpfully titled, “What-it’s-like talk is technical talk.” The opening lines of this article are no less direct:

It is common to characterise phenomenal consciousness as what it is like to be in a mental state. This paper argues that the ‘what-it’s-like’-phrase in this context has a technical meaning, i.e. a meaning for which the association to the relevant expression is peculiar to a theoretical community.

I’ve already written a blog post outlining my concerns with this terminology, so I won’t repeat all of that here. Instead, simply have a look at that post if you’re unfamiliar with my concerns. Very briefly, central to my concern is the total failure of proponents of these terms to communicate what they mean without appeal to a vicious chain of mutually interdefining terms (though this concern does not exhaust my objections to talk of phenomenal states, contrary to some misunderstandings that have arisen when I’ve discussed this problem). Mandik (2016) makes a similar point:

We have then, in place of an explicit definition of ‘phenomenal properties’, a circular chain of interchangeable technical terms — a chain with very few links, and little to relate those links to non- technical terminology. The circle, then, is vicious. I’m sceptical that any properties seem ‘phenomenal’ to anyone because this vicious circle gives me very little idea what seeming ‘phenomenal’ would be. (p. 142)

Wyrwa stresses the importance of operationalizing a concept one intends to measure. Here’s the problem: if it’s not clear what phenomenal consciousness means, or, if there is no non-circular way of expressing what it means, how on earth are we supposed to operationalize it? I think there is a simple answer to this question: we can’t. There simply isn’t a way to operationalize the concept, because there isn’t a meaningful concept to operationalize in the first place.

It is still possible that nonphilosophers are subject to a similar cluster of conceptual and linguistic errors as philosophers, though. That is, it could be that nonphilosophers share the same pseudoconcept of “phenomenal consciousness.” This may be worth studying, but it would be exceptionally difficult to study, and, in any case, I have my doubts that this is the case. 

Here’s what I think, I think academics were inducted into the same ways of thinking, studied the same material, were subjected to the same education, tend to speak and work in the same language, tend to interact with one another a lot, tend to be fairly insular, and tend to valorize the works of people who use these terms and purport to have these concepts. There are probably a host of other factors that causally intertwine their ways of speaking and thinking. Taken together, I think this results in a process of induction into shared ways of thinking and speaking that are distinctive to academic philosophers (and those working in related fields, e.g., cognitive science, or who read or discuss their work). I think this process of induction causes philosophers to develop idiosyncratic ways of speaking and thinking, and it is this process that has ultimately led to the promulgation and circulation of meaningless terms and pseudoconcepts. In short, I think studying and practicing a shared philosophical corpus causes those who study it to develop the same idiosyncratic and ultimately confused ways of thinking and speaking.

This hypothesis (I don’t have a name for it yet) may explain a great deal of observations: the insularity of academic philosophy, its lack of practical relevance, its abstractness, the intransigence of disputes within the field, and likely a host of other observations about the state of the field. And it could offer to do so with a fairly simple, underlying common cause behind all of these observations. That, at least, should count for something. Parsimony is a virtue.

Where does this leave us? At best, then, present empirical evidence about whether nonphilosophers share the same concept of phenomenal properties or qualia as philosophers remains an unresolved question pending future empirical inquiry. What we don’t have is a body of empirical literature that decisively supports Dominik’s claims: there simply is no good empirical evidence that nonphilosphers have a concept of phenomenal consciousness.

I, for one, endorse what others may regard as the “radical” suggestion that nonphilosophers don’t have a concept of phenomenal consciousness because there isn’t an intelligible concept to have in the first place. You don’t have to agree with me about this. You may even think this is the stupidest suggestion ever, and that there is obviously a meaningful concept of phenomenal consciousness on offer. Even if this is the case, though, there simply is no compelling body of literature that would support Dominik’s claims.

One interesting implication of my own diagnosis of the issue is that, if qualia quietism is correct, then not only do nonphilosophers lack a concept of PC, so, too, do philosophers, at least if we think intelligibility is a prerequisite for being a concept.

Endnotes

1. For example, I ended up focusing on the psychology of metaethics for my dissertation research. Early studies often found more variation and higher rates of realism than more recent studies. So does this literature support that most nonphilosophers are consistent moral realists, consistent moral antirealists, realist pluralists (realists about some issues, antirealists about others; they’d be realists because it only takes a little realism to be a realist), or something else? Until 2020, “mostly realist pluralists” would be the most surface-level interpretation of much of the literature. But since the publication of studies with better methods, studies written by authors who specifically canvassed previous research, identified the shortcomings in that research, then devised new studies that sought to correct for these shortcomings, the picture is a lot less clear: more recent studies such as Beebe (2015), Davis (2021), and Wright (2018), and Pölzler and Wright (2020a; 2020b), found far higher rates of antirealism. 

Is this just a clash of two equally well-positioned bodies of literature? Absolutely not. These later studies were devised with the explicit goal of correcting for methodological shortcomings in the previous studies. Beebe noted the absence of noncognitivism options, included them, and found that once they were offered they were very common (they were the most popular choice for some moral issues). Beebe (2020) has subsequently argued for folk relativism. Davis likewise noted a significant lack of response options for possible metaethical positions. Once included, Davis, too, found higher rates of antirealism. Pölzler (2018), and Pölzler and Wright (2020a; 2020b) identified numerous methodological problems with previous research and did their best to correct for it.

My own research, as well as David Moss’s research and our collaborations (Bush & Moss, 2020) provide additional empirical and theoretical support for the identification of methodological shortcomings in previous research. The point here is that newer research is better, and it has generally trended, with  exceptions towards the possibility that antirealist thinking may be prevalent in ordinary thought (see e.g., Zijlstra, 2023, though see also my criticisms of this study in Bush, 2023, specifically section S3.9 in the Supplement to Chapter 3, in the Supplements on page 431).

Even if using a dozen or more measures, one found participants gave a realist-leaning response to one of them, it would be a bit dubious to take this as evidence that the person “is a realist.” It would be even more questionable to deploy such a result to insist that realism is “the” commonsense view: such data would, at best, show significant evidence of both realist and antirealist thinking among ordinary people, and it would be extremely misleading to interpret findings like this as evidence that antirealist views towards moral issues are “counterintuitive.” Employing measures in such a categorical way would also be a poor way to interpret findings. If you give someone a 50-item Likert scale that consisted of statements affirming the existence of God, with response options ranging from 1 = Strongly disagree to 7 = Strongly agree, if a participant’s mean score was 2.3 out of 7, and they selected items indicating disbelief in God for 47 out of the 50 items, and 3 affirming God’s existence, would you conclude that the participant “believes in God” by using the standard that “If even a single item ever crosses the midpoint, the person believes in God”? No. That would be absurd.

One reason for employing so many items is to buffer against variation in participant interpretation, error, and other factors. Setting categorical standards like that in empirical research of this kind isn’t a sensible way to approach the data. Nevertheless, Dominik’s remarks (I believe on YouTube) have hinted that Dominik’s view is that this is how we should interpret data on whether nonphilosophers are moral realists. It’s not a reasonable approach and I doubt many researchers would, either initially or on reflection, endorse such a crude way of interpreting data. Nevertheless, I suspect philosophers unsympathetic to antirealism would interpret evidence in this way, even if it is a tendentious and poor reading of the literature.

CLICK HERE TO CONTINUE TO PART 5

References

Beebe, J. R. (2015). The empirical study of folk metaethics. Etyka, 50, 11-28.

Beebe, J. R. (2020). The empirical case for folk indexical moral relativism. In T Lombrozo, J. Knobe, & S. Nichols (Eds.), Oxford studies in experimental philosophy (Vol. 4, pp. 81-111). Oxford, UK: Oxford University Press.

Bush, L. S. (2023). Schrödinger's Categories: The Indeterminacy of Folk Metaethics (Doctoral dissertation, Cornell University).

Bush, L. S., & Moss, D. (2020). Misunderstanding metaethics: Difficulties measuring folk objectivism and relativism. Diametros 17(64): 6-21.

Cova, F., Strickland, B., Abatista, A., Allard, A., Andow, J., Attie, M., ... & Zhou, X. (2021). Estimating the reproducibility of experimental philosophy. Review of Philosophy and Psychology, 12, 9-44.

Davis, T. (2021). Beyond objectivism: new methods for studying metaethical intuitions. Philosophical Psychology, 34(1), 125-153.

Mandik, P. (2016). Meta-illusionism and qualia quietism. Journal of Consciousness Studies, 23(11-12), 140-148.

Owesen, E. (2023). What-it’s-like talk is technical talk. Synthese, 201(4), 132.

Pölzler, T. (2018). How to measure moral realism. Review of Philosophy and Psychology, 9(3), 647-670.

Pölzler, T., & Cole Wright, J. C. (2020a). An empirical argument against moral non-cognitivism. Inquiry, 1-29. https://doi.org/10.1080/0020174X.2020.1798280

Pölzler, T., & Wright, J. C. (2020b). Anti-realist pluralism: A new approach to folk metaethics. Review of Philosophy and Psychology, 11(1), 53-82.

Sytsma, J., & Machery, E. (2010). Two conceptions of subjective experience. Philosophical studies, 151, 299-327.  

Sytsma, J., & Machery, E. (2012). On the relevance of folk intuitions: A commentary on Talbot. Consciousness and cognition, 21(2), 654-660.

Sytsma, J., & Ozdemir, E. (2019). No problem: Evidence that the concept of phenomenal consciousness is not widespread. Journal of Consciousness Studies, 26(9-10), 241-256.

Wright, J. C. (2018). The fact and function of meta-ethical pluralism: Exploring the evidence. In T. Lombrozo, J. Knobe, S. Nichols (Eds.), Oxford studies in experimental philosophy (Vol. 2, pp. 119-150). Oxford, UK: Oxford University Press.

Wyrwa, M. (2022). Does the Folk Concept of Phenomenal Consciousness Exist?. Diametros, 19(71), 46-66.

Zijlstra, L. (2023). Are people implicitly moral objectivists?. Review of Philosophy and Psychology, 14(1), 229-247.