Qualitative Memory A Response to Commentators

Barbara Gail Montero

 

I thank Sabrina Coninx, Felipe De Brigard, and L.A. Paul for their thoughtful and thought-provoking comments and welcome the opportunity to clarify, develop and, yes, at times emend some of my key points in response to their insights. It is gratifying to interact with such accomplished researchers, and I am certain that their ideas will inspire my work for years to come.

1. What Am I Up To?

Do I intimate, as De Brigard suggests, that my proposed distinction between qualitative and non-qualitative memory is buttressed by scientific studies on memory? I am certainly not trying to intimate this. I think that the need for drawing such a distinction is buttressed by the ambiguous and apparently contradictory results one finds in the scientific literature on pain memory. However, apart from my subtitle, ‘A Case for Pain Amnesia’, which ought to have concluded with a question mark, I don’t think what I wrote suggests that this literature unambiguously or on balance supports either the idea that qualitative and non-qualitative memory are two kinds of memory or that we fail to have qualitative pain memories. As I explain, while some studies may appear to support the idea that we lack qualitative pain memories and other studies may appear to show the opposite, it is not clear what type of memory these studies are investigating.

My goal was merely to introduce a concept rather than to provide evidence or an argument for the view that we fail to have qualitative memories of pain. Indeed, as I put it in the paper, it seems to me that ‘without a concept, it is difficult to investigate whether anything satisfies the concept’. When Tulving introduced the enormously influential concept of episodic memory, the distinction between episodic and semantic memory, he later explained, ‘was readily accepted by the psychological world and regarded by many as a useful heuristic distinction [despite]… the total absence of any relevant data’ (1972). I am not under the delusion that the idea of qualitative memory will be enormously influential, but I do think that presenting a proposal for a concept need not be supported by empirical data. And, in fact, even though my inspiration for the idea that we lack qualita­tive memories of pain does come from my personal experience, I was not trying to justify this idea on the basis of my personal experience. Call me old fashioned, but I do feel that one can distinguish the ‘con­text of discovery’ — initially coming up with a hypothesis — from the ‘context of justification’ — testing the hypothesis (Reichenbach, 1938). I wouldn’t go so far as to say that the context of discovery is typically mysterious, involving a spontaneous creative act: I think often there is some explanation of why one came up with the hypothesis one aims to test (Montero, 2016). But I don’t think that such an explanation needs to provide a reason to think that the hypothesis is correct. Such reasons or evidence would only arrive in the course of future research that employs the concept. De Brigard says that ‘the force of Montero’s argument rests solely in her own introspection: for her, there is something that we arguably have when we remember colours, but we lack when we remember pain’. But although I think this claim is arguably true, in the sense that it is my opinion that it could be supported, I was speaking in the context of discovery. I could have just as well said, as Kekulé said of his inspira­tion for the structure of the benzene molecule, that I dreamt up the idea. Of course, that would have been lying. But then again, that didn’t stop Kekulé (Montero, 2016).

Why do I bring up the empirical literature on pain memory at all, if I’m not trying to hint that it supports the idea that we lack qualitative pain memory? The point was to illustrate the unhappy state of the research on pain memory, research which at times seems to suggest that we do have such memory and at other times that we do not. Like Terry et al. (2008), I think that these divergent results might stem from ambiguities in the questions posed to participants in pain memory studies. And, like Terry et al. (2008), I suggest a way to clarify the question. I agree with De Brigard and Coninx that my proposed qualitative/non-qualitative paradigm is inadequate. For example, work needs to be done to develop a protocol for employing it. However, I presented it as a starting point, and I believe that it is a better starting point than the remember/know paradigm.

2. Morley (1993) and Terry and Gijsbers (2000)

As De Brigard sees things, in Morley’s study, the majority of partici­pants had qualitative memories of past pains. De Brigard thinks that I understand the study as showing exactly the opposite and is somewhat perplexed as to how I could do this. The answer is that I don’t think that answering ‘yes’ to the question ‘can you still recall what the pain sensation felt like’ necessarily means that such participants recall the qualitative feel of pain, and I think that answering ‘no’ to the question about whether they can ‘relive’ the pain might be an indication that they can’t. Although we can’t know exactly how the participants understood the question, I think it’s possible that they might have, or at least some of them might have, understood the question ‘can you still recall what the pain sensation felt like?’ as asking about whether you can still recall whether the sensation was intense or sharp and so on, which, it seems to me, one can answer without having any memory of the qualitative feel of the pain. Furthermore, I find it natural to understand ‘reliving’ pain in memory to mean having a qualitative memory of pain.

I do present the view conditionally: ‘If “reliving” a past pain means remembering what it felt like, Morley’s data suggest that we do not remember the qualitative nature of pain.’ This claim should be uncontroversial since, in the conditional claim, I was simply using ‘remembering what it felt like’ to mean remembering the qualitative nature of pain. Morley himself seems to understand what it means to relive a past pain as I am tentatively interpreting it, since he claims that the results of his study are consistent with Jones’s (1952) comment that ‘it is very difficult to imagine severe pain or to recall in one’s imagination the memory of it’ (quoted in Morley, 1993, p. 55).

De Brigard also wonders why, if I was reasoning in the above way, I would take the 41% of participants who responded with the lowest possible value in this psychometric measure as providing evidence that they don’t have qualitative memories of pain, yet not take those who responded with the highest possible value as providing evidence that they do have qualitative memories of pain. Again, I’m not sure that Morley’s study provides evidence for the view that we don’t have qualitative memories of pain, as I think that acquiring evidence is difficult without a clearer concept of the type of memory in question. But let’s put that issue aside; De Brigard is at a loss to understand why I think that not being able to say anything about quality of the pain — not being able to say, for example, whether it was very intense — indicates that one fails to have a qualitative memory of it but that merely being able to say something about the quality of the pain — that the pain was intense, for example — does not indicate that one does have such a memory. And I suppose I am at a loss as to why he doesn’t understand this. Though the situation is not as clear-cut, nor is it an implication, what I’m saying has the same general form as the claim that being able to walk doesn’t imply that you can run, but if you can’t walk, then you can’t run. Thus, I find it reasonable to think that claiming that a pain was intense need not suggest that one has a qualitative memory of its intensity, but if one can’t say anything at all about what a pain was like, this suggests that one has no qualitative memory of it.

Coninx points out that what Terry and Gisbers (2000) are studying is ‘not necessarily the fundamental qualitative feel that Montero pre­supposes’. But I only meant that it might be interpreted as such, not that it necessarily is. Again, my view is that without a better con­ception of the type of memory being investigated, it is difficult to interpret this research. If I had thought that empirical evidence clearly supported my hypothesis that we have no memory of the qualitative nature of pain, I would not have felt the need to argue that we need a new concept of memory.

3. Episodic and Semantic Memory

Both De Brigard and Coninx think that all that pain memory researchers need is a concept of episodic memory. To an extent I agree. The pain memory researchers I mention are interested in discovering whether we have episodic memories of pain. But, more specifically, they are interested in discovering whether we have episodic memories of the qualitative nature of pain, and I question whether the concept of episodic memory is precise enough or readily understandable enough to participants in studies of pain memory to convey that it is the qualitative nature of pain that is at stake. ‘Do you remember your experience of labour when you were pregnant?’ could be a question that might be thought to elicit a response about whether one has an episodic memory of labour pain, but it would be reasonable for me to answer ‘yes’ to this question even though it seems to me that I can’t recall the qualitative feel of the pain. I remember much of the vivid qualitative content of the event — I can see in my mind’s eye what I was doing and almost hear the screams — but I can’t call to mind the qualitative nature of the feeling. We might, as I said in the paper, think of such an episodic memory as having gaps since the memory does not contain the memory of the qualitative aspect of pain, though as Coninx points out, this is not an explanation of what is missing in such episodic memories.

How ought we to convey the very elusive idea of the qualitative nature of pain, an idea I also referred to, following Davis, Kucyi and Moayedi (2015), as the ‘fundamental ouch’? I am not sure. De Brigard points out that episodic memories always have gaps. However, I think it would be interesting to find that there are systematic gaps in some of our episodic memories. My hypothesis is that the conscious experi­ence of pain is one of them.

Because one can be said to have an episodic memory of being in pain even if there is a gap where the feeling of pain ought to be, I don’t think it’s quite correct that, as De Brigard puts it, ‘when it comes to remembering pains, our good-old episodic memory is just the kind of memory that we need’. The good-old concept, I’ve tried to argue, may not be precise enough. But this isn’t the only reason why I think pain memory researchers need to work with more than good-old episodic memory: I also think it would be worthwhile to investigate whether we have, as I would now want to put it, ‘qualitative semantic memories’ of pain. De Brigard is correct to criticize me for thinking that semantic memory is never qualitative. If remembering what a face looks like can count as semantic memory, then remembering what red looks like can count as well. This was certainly an oversight on my part. In fact, knowing what it is like to have a qualitative experience of red is frequently thought of as knowledge of a fact — the fact that red looks like that, where ‘that’ refers to reddishness or the quality of redness, and factual knowledge fits squarely under the heading of semantic memory.

Might it be useful to categorize semantic memory as being either qualitative or non-qualitative? Perhaps doing so would facilitate investigating my hypothesis, as I would now want to put it, that we have no qualitative semantic memories of pain yet have qualitative semantic memories of colours. Perhaps it is not as useful to see qualitative memory as a distinct form of memory as it is to think of both our episodic and semantic memories as possibly being qualita­tive. (Perhaps procedural memories could be thought of in either way — but that’s a different topic, hinted at in Høffding and Montero, 2019.) Episodic memory may be invariably qualitative. At least it is frequently described as having a vivid phenomenology — for example, Tulving (1985), as I quoted in the paper, tells us that episodic memory provides ‘the familiar phenomenal flavor of recollective experience’. But perhaps it is worth asking which flavours show up and, moreover, whether some semantic memories are flavourless altogether. I remember that there are three teaspoons in one tablespoon. Is there any phenomenology associated with this memory? My introspection is not 20/20, so it is difficult for me say. I do feel, however, that I have qualitative semantic memories of colours but not pains, and I would love to see empirical research that addresses this question. If we have qualitative semantic memories of colour, I’d also be curious to know how they arise. If we do not form episodic memories during early childhood, are we nonetheless forming qualitative semantic memories of colour? It seems to me — in the context of discovery — that, although we may learn about the qualitative nature of colour during early childhood, childhood doesn’t teach us what pain feels like; it doesn’t teach us about the qualitative nature of pain.

Of course, this is not to say that we do not learn anything from experiences of pain. Perhaps, contra Coninx’s comment, what we fail to learn about pain is not one of the most important things about pain. Pain, I said in the paper, is a poor teacher because it doesn’t teach us in a lasting way what the experience of being in pain feels like. Importantly, however, we do learn from pain to not touch fire again; yet, if my hypothesis is correct, we do not learn this through an under­standing of what touching fire feels like.

4. Phantom Pain and PTSD

De Brigard is surprised that I do not take the cases I bring up of phan­tom pain and PTSD as examples of remembered qualitative pain. With the PTSD cases, he says that they ‘appear to be exactly what the defi­nition of qualitative memory demands’. But, as I tried to explain in the paper, although I think that they could be cases of remembering quali­tative pain, I also think, along with Salomons et al. (2004), that since all of the cases of purported remembered pain involve pain at the site of a still recovering injury, these cases might be cases where indi­viduals are not remembering their pain but, instead, simply are in pain because they experience pain from the bodily damage caused by their injuries. As I put it, ‘fear is known to lower pain thresholds and, since all cases involve pain at the site of a recovering injury, the fear engendered by the flashback might push subthreshold pain into consciousness’.

Phantom pain, as I said in the paper, was once considered a memory disorder but is now generally thought to result from a mismatch between one’s internal body image and sensory input (Flor, 2003).

5. Cortical Stimulation and Increased GABA

If we do in fact fail to have qualitative pain memories, what might account for this? I loved reading about De Brigard’s suggested answers to this question. I’m not convinced that either are correct, but De Brigard’s speculations are one line of enquiry that I had hoped my ideas could be propaedeutic to.

De Brigard explains that, according to the cortical reinstatement hypothesis, there is an overlap in cortical activity during encoding and retrieval. Because pain experiences are less likely to be under top-down attentional control, they are less likely to be voluntarily recollected, though they might arise involuntarily, which he thinks could account for the PTSD cases I mention. This is interesting and for all I know it may be correct. As I said above, I question whether the PTSD cases are cases of remembered pain; if they are not, it wouldn’t support the view but neither would it contradict it. However, I question the explanation because during labour I found that dis­traction techniques were entirely ineffective, so I tried the other tech­nique of pain mitigation that I had learned during my birthing classes: focus on the precise way the pain feels. I’m not sure if this technique was effective either, but I do know that I was marshalling all the top-down attentional control I could muster. Nonetheless, I can’t recall the qualitative feel of it.

The second possible explanation De Brigard offers is that increased GABA levels during pain might block consolidation. On the first explanation, consolidation occurs but the problem is with retrieval. On this explanation, it is consolidation that is hindered. The difficulty I see here is that it seems that not all pain results in increased GABA (Peek et al., 2020), and evidence suggests that labour pain, in particu­lar, is not correlated with increased GABA (Chalermkitpanit et al., 2017).

6. Beyond Severe Pain

Though my introspection is not 20/20, it nonetheless seems fairly clear to me that I fail to have qualitative memories of severe pain: I seem to lack both qualitative semantic memories of labour pain and I seem to have a qualitative gap in my episodic memory of the births of both of my children. Paul thinks that the lack of qualitative memory extends to more mundane cases as well, suggesting that we may suffer a type of qualitative amnesia with respect to tastes and scents, and Coninx concurs. If I am reading her correctly, Coninx thinks that I am arguing that we can remember the qualitative aspect of gustatory and olfactory experiences, but although I said that I was fairly sure that I have such memories, I am certainly not arguing for this view. Paul’s example of the lemongrass pandan tea makes me question my quali­fied certainty, not with respect to lemongrass pandan — I’ve never had it — but with Turmeric-Meadowsweet tea. I bought it once and couldn’t stand the taste, but then a couple years later it seemed again worth a try. It wasn’t. To be sure, Descartes (1642/ 2016), as I pointed out, was convinced that he had gustatory memories, but this wouldn’t be the only time he’s been wrong.

Coninx points out that it may be that people differ as to what qualities they are able to remember. Perhaps they do, and armed with a better way of conveying the notion of qualitative memory, future researchers may be able to investigate this possibility. She also suggests that the difference between those sensory experiences that imprint their qualitative nature in our memories and those that do not may be a matter of degree rather than a difference in kind. I think this is an interesting suggestion. I saw myself as broaching the question of whether the difference between qualitative and non-qualitative memories is a matter of degree by suggesting that perhaps I have qualitative memories of colours but not of pain (if this is in fact correct) because I am constantly reminded of what colours looks like (but am not constantly in pain) and also by wondering whether we would have qualitative memories of pain if we experienced pain as frequently as we experience colour. I also mentioned that Cooper, Kensinger and Ritchey’s (2019) study suggests that qualitative visual memories fade over time (and, as I should have said in the paper, I thank an anonymous JCS referee for alerting me to this study). How different, then, are they really from qualitative pain memories? The concept of qualitative memory, it seems, is essential to addressing this question.

7. Overturning the Remember/Know Paradigm

In writing the paper, I had looked at a few remember/know protocols and what concerned me was that they keyed remembering to the idea of remembering the situation in which the pain occurred, and they keyed knowing to the idea of, without remembering the context, simply having knowledge of the pain you experienced. This, as I said in the paper and said above, seems problematic since I may very well feel as if I recall a situation in which a pain occurred without having a memory of the qualitative feeling of the pain. In 1985 Tulving wrote, ‘nowhere is the benign neglect of consciousness more conspicuous than in the study of human memory’. It seems to me that, although memory researchers are now more willing to investigate the role of consciousness in memory, the remember/know paradigm may at least sometimes still be a way of circumventing questions about conscious­ness. If you ask a participant whether they remember something or just know it, you don’t need to say the word consciousness at all.

Moreover, I think that the criticisms I presented of the remember/ know paradigm in the paper might be just the tip of the iceberg. After I had submitted the final draft of my paper to send out to my commentators, Umanath and Coane (2020) published a study on the usefulness of the remember/know paradigm that adds a significant layer of criticisms to my admittedly impressionistic remarks about it. Once more, the concern I expressed in the paper was that when remembering is explained in terms of remembering the place in which an event took place, one could answer ‘yes’ to the question ‘do you remember your experience of labour pain?’ even if one has no qualita­tive memory of the pain. But it seems that the situation may be even worse than this. Umanath and Coane found that researchers use a wide variety of instructions to convey the distinction between remembering and knowing and that these instructions differentially affect the way participants respond to questions about their memories. Moreover, Umanath and Coane’s study suggests that even after being provided with an explanation of how the terms ‘remember’ and ‘know’ are being used in the context of an experiment, participants’ familiarity with the everyday use of these terms interferes with their ability to understand the terms in the technical ways that the researchers intend to use them.

How should memory researchers fix this? Umanath and Coane write that ‘adherence to providing similar methodological details would be a good start’ (ibid.). But perhaps, at least for pain memory research, coming up with a different paradigm might be necessary. In the article, I suggested that, in developing their script for participants, researchers could draw from both Davis, Kucyi and Moayedi’s (2015) concept of ‘the fundamental “ouch”’ as well as Thomas Nagel’s (1974) discussion of conscious experience; explaining the idea of qualitative memory in terms of remembering what red looks like might be of use as well. Providing such an explanation is difficult since it does seem, as Paul points out, that with respect to the qualita­tive feel of pain, ‘language just can’t function effectively as a vehicle for the expression of this sort of content’. And I have no confidence that my suggestion would be of any help. While I have tried to present some reasons to think that pain memory researchers need a better protocol, perhaps I had better leave the task of arriving at one to the pain memory researchers themselves.

8. Implications for Informed Choice

As Paul makes abundantly clear in her commentary, if we fail to remember what pain feels like — our episodic memories of pain have a qualitative gap, and we lack qualitative semantic memories of pain — this will impact our ability to make certain decisions about whether we should do something, such as whether we should have a second child or undergo a second operation, one to repair the other knee, for example.

Paul suggests that a lack of qualitative memory might play a role in what we often think of as weakness of the will. It’s easy to make diet plans, she points out, after you’ve just had a filling meal. But when hunger strikes, these plans may disintegrate. We often see this as an inability to follow through with what we really want to do. However, as she points out, the problem might be that what you had thought you had wanted to do was based on significantly incomplete information. Without remembering the qualitative feel of hunger, be it episodic or semantic, dieting made sense. Yet if you had known the facts, you might have made other plans.

Would it be better to have had the information about what the hunger would feel like or, even more importantly since you can’t change your mind about going through with it once you feel the pain, what the labour pain would feel like? If one assumes that more informed decisions in such situations would be better decisions, it is natural to ask: what can we do to rectify the situation? As Coninx brings up, and as I mention in a footnote, there is some indication that watching a video tape of one’s experience of labour might spark a qualitative memory of the pain. Again, because of the difficulty of pinpointing what is at stake, I don’t think we can be certain that participants in the Niven and Murphy-Black (2000) study were able to remember the qualitative aspect of their pain. But let’s assume that they were. Would it be advisable for women who are contemplating having a second child to watch a video of their past labour before they make up their minds?

Or could it be that the gaps in our episodic memories and the limits on our semantic memories, both of which result in gaps in our model-based prospective reasoning, are in some way beneficial to such reasoning? In other words, might there be some way in which a decision about whether to have a second child that is informed by a memory of the qualitative feel of pain leads to a suboptimal decision, somewhat like the way in which hiring decisions that are based on information from a written application as well as information from unstructured interviews results in worse decisions than those based solely on the written material (Dana, Dawes and Peterson, 2013)? I have no idea, but I thank Paul for inspiring such questions and Coninx and De Brigard for making me think more clearly about just what I was up to in the paper.[1]

References

Chalermkitpanit, P., Thonnagith, A., Engsusophon, P., Charuluxananan, S. & Honsawek, S. (2017) Noradrenaline, serotonin, GABA, and glycine in cerebro­spinal fluid during labor pain: A cross-sectional prospective study, Pain Research and Management, 2752658.

Cooper, R.E., Kensinger, A. & Ritchey, M. (2019) Memories fade: The relation­ship between memory vividness and remembered visual salience, Psychological Science, 30 (5), pp. 657–668.

Dana, J., Dawes, R. & Peterson, N. (2013) Belief in the unstructured interview: The persistence of an illusion, Judgment and Decision Making, 8 (5), pp. 512–520.

Davis, K.D., Kucyi, A. & Moayedi, M. (2015) The pain switch: An ‘ouch’ detector, Pain, 156, pp. 2164–2166.

Descartes, R. (1642/2016) The Passions of the Soul and Other Late Philosophical Writings, Moriarty, M. (trans.), Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Flor, H. (2003) Cortical reorganization and chronic pain: Implications for rehabilitation, Journal of Rehab Medicine, May (41 Suppl.), pp. 66–72.

Høffding, S. & Montero, B.G. (2019) Not being there: Reconciling expertise induced amnesia and the possibility of total recall, Mind and Language, [Online], https://doi.org/10.1111/mila.12260.

Jones, E. (1952) Pain, International Journal of Psychoanalysis, 38 (1957), p. 255.

Montero, B.G. (2016) Thought in Action: Expertise and the Conscious Mind, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Morley, S. (1993) Vivid memory for ‘everyday’ pains, Pain, 55 (1), pp. 55–62.

Nagel, T. (1974) What is it like to be a bat?, Philosophical Review, 83, pp. 435–450.

Niven, C.A. & Murphy-Black, T. (2000) Memory for labor pain: A review of the literature, Birth, 27 (4), pp. 244–253.

Peek, A.L., Rebbeck, T., Puts, N.A., Watson, J., Aguila, M.R. & Leaver, A.M. (2020) Brain GABA and glutamate levels across pain conditions: A systematic literature review and meta-analysis of 1H-MRS studies using the MRS-Q quality assessment tool, NeuroImage, 210, 116532.

Reichenbach, H. (1938) Experience and Prediction: An Analysis of the Founda­tions and the Structure of Knowledge, Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press.

Salomons, T., Osterman, J.E., Gagliese, L. & Katz, J. (2004) Pain flashbacks in posttraumatic stress disorder, Clinical Journal of Pain, 20 (2), pp. 83–87.

Terry, R. & Gijsbers, K. (2000) Memory for the quantiative and qualitative aspects of labor pain: A prelimenary study, Journal of Reproductive and Infant Psychology, 18 (2), pp. 143–152.

Terry, R., Niven, C.A., Brodie, E.E., Jones, R.B. & Prowse, M.A. (2008) Memory for pain? A comparison of nonexperiential estimates and patients’ reports of the quality and intensity of postoperative pain, The Journal of Pain, 9 (4), pp. 342–349.

Tulving, E. (1972) Episodic and semantic memory, in Tulving, E. & Donaldson, W. (eds.) Organization of Memory, Cambridge, MA: Academic Press.

Tulving, E. (1985) How many memory systems are there?, American Psychologist, 40 (4), pp. 385–398.

Umanath, S. & Coane, J.H. (2020) Face validity of remembering and knowing: Empirical consensus and disagreement between participants and researchers, [published online ahead of print, 12 Jun 2020], Perspectives on Psychological Science, [Online], 10.1177/1745691620917672.

[1]      Managing editor’s note: JCS will not be considering further papers concerning this particular debate. However, this article will be uploaded to the JCS blog following publication (https://www.imprint.co.uk/jcs-blog/), where the authors concerned (and any other interested readers) can continue to discuss the topic further.

2 Comments

  1. Joe McCard on 1st January 2021 at 2:01 pm

    ” Call me old fashioned, but I do feel that one can distinguish the ‘con­text of discovery’ — initially coming up with a hypothesis — from the ‘context of justification’ — testing the hypothesis …The point was to illustrate the unhappy state of the research on pain memory, research which at times seems to suggest that we do have such memory and at other times that we do not.”

    Austen Clark told me there was no scientific understanding about the nature of pain. So, how can you understand memories of pain, what they are?

    As far as I understand, science does not know what and where a memory actually is, where is is exactly, what the mechanisms are.

    Hypothesis: Pain is a judgement, by the mind, of a representation in the brain. A memory of a pain, or of anything, is formed as an integrated perception (Donald Hoffman) . So, both pains and memories are represented as thoughts. A thought is an EM and thermal field composed of consciousness units (monads). The brain is a transmitter and receiver of thoughts, communicating with the non-physical mind. All thoughts are permanently stored in the mind, and use emotion to organize and trigger them.

  2. Joe McCard on 1st January 2021 at 4:15 pm

    “To begin, understanding pain, one of the core concepts of the paper, is of utmost importance. Montero understands pain in terms of a particular phenomenal character”(Sabrina Coninx)

    It would be a mistake to assume pain in brain/body consciousness is phenomenal. Brains and bodies do not make phenomenal judgements wrt pain. The mind does.

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