Introduction
Since the advent of neuroimaging technologies, their limits and possibilities have captivated scientists, philosophers and the public. The ethical significance of the debate on the prospects of brain imaging, in particular functional magnetic resonance imaging (fMRI), seems obvious. On the one hand, it is important not to raise unnecessary and groundless concerns (or hopes) but, on the other, it would be naive to close one’s eyes to the risks that such technologies create, say, for democracy or for people’s privacy. Thus far, the debate has largely concerned technical limits of our capacity to “read minds”; and this explains, at least partly, why the debate is continuing. When the technologies advance, the technical preconditions constantly change.Footnote 1 However, it is also important to ask whether brain imaging has limitations that are not dependent on the current stage of development—limitations that are here to stay, and not only because of the fundamental technical limits of fMRI, but because of more principled reasons. This kind of philosophical consideration has been quite rare although, admittedly, there have been some examples of principled discussions.Footnote 2
In this paper, I aim to shed some light on the possible principled (nontechnical) limits of brain scanning by asking why it is that we are so interested in what people intentionally tell us, verbally or otherwise. It is likely, perhaps, that people would be interested in what others tell them even if, in the distant fictional future, we have neuroimaging technology that would allow us to scan one another’s brains at any time and in any place in an easy, reliable, quick, open, socially acceptable, and pleasant way. If it can be shown that it would be reasonable to listen to what others say even in such circumstances, then it seems that there is a serious chance that brain scanning cannot replace what people intentionally assert even in principle, and that neuroimaging may have limits that are not related to merely technical matters. Of course, it is extremely unlikely that we will ever face circumstances in which brain scanning could be used in face-to-face interaction.Footnote 3 But it is equally unlikely that this should bother us when it is asked, if we faced such peculiar circumstances, would it still be reasonable for a person to concentrate on what she is told.Footnote 4
In what follows, I will introduce two arguments that can be presented in defense of the claim that, surely, a person would have grounds to be interested in what she is told, even if she had unrealistically perfect scanning methods that could immediately reveal other people’s beliefs, attitudes, emotions, and intentions. Both arguments suggest that there is something distinctive about acquiring information from what people intentionally tell us—something that could be achieved by brain scanning only if the assertions were so-called mental assertions, made by active thoughts. The arguments support the claim that the information that people usually get by neuroimaging is different in kind from the information they get by hearing what others tell them. My aim here is not provide a full defense of the two arguments, but instead to argue that they are both rather promising and plausible, if not in the form presented below then in some other form. I will attempt to defend, albeit moderately, the idea that there are principled limits on neuroimaging. It is often said that fMRI and monitoring of cortical activity may inform us about our emotions (such as love), attitudes (such as racist biases), and diseases (such as autism), among other things.Footnote 5 My purpose is not to deny this, but to indicate some issues that might be permanently beyond the reach of the scanners.
In the next section, I introduce the argument from the assurance view, and in the section that follows, the argument from the theatrical model. Before concluding, I discuss some of the objections that the arguments may raise, and reply to them.
The Argument from the Assurance View
The assurance view is the claim that when a person tells us something, say, that it is a rainy day, she also intentionally offers a guarantee that this is really so. She gives her word for it, and she assures that what she says is true. The speaker assumes responsibility for the acceptability of her claim, when her assertion is meant to inform the hearer. The argument from the assurance view is the claim that the usual information that we receive by brain scans and similar methods lacks the guarantee that voluntary assertions provide; and, therefore, there are some psychologically and epistemically interesting facts that brain scans cannot provide. Although by scanning we might be able to find out what beliefs a person has and how strongly she supports them, we will not be able, however advanced the technology we might have, to get the person’s assurance merely by seeing inside her mind. For assuring something is an act, namely, a speech act. Of course, a person could tell something by active thoughts—that is, by acting via thoughts and choosing to have one thought rather than another. A scanner would reveal it. However, our usual assertions are not accompanied by separate “mental assertions.” Scanner cannot reveal them, because normally there is nothing to reveal.Footnote 6
The assurance view is often presented as an alternative to the Humean approach to testimony, an approach that treats people’s utterances merely as evidence. Footnote 7 On the Humean approach, someone’s assertion that “It is a rainy day” is merely evidence of the possible fact that this is so, and it can be actually rather poor evidence, as people can lie, be unaware of their own beliefs, express their beliefs carelessly, and be mistaken. The assurance view strengthens the intuition that our fellow citizens’ words are more than evidence. According to the assurance view, when a person tells us something, she invites us to trust her. When we believe her, we take her word for it and believe what she says on that basis. To a certain degree, assertions resemble promises. We can speak of “guarantees” in connection both with assertions and promises.Footnote 8 The assurance view has many supporters and it comes in many forms. A version of the assurance view can be found in the writing of Pierce, who argued that “the assuming of responsibility” must “be present in every genuine assertion.”Footnote 9 Supporters of this view include: Ross, Watson, Hinchman, Moran, and Origgi.Footnote 10
Here, I will concentrate only on the version defended by Moran, who has used the label “the assurance view.”Footnote 11 Moran’s starting point is the observation that, in many cases, people use the fact that someone has told them something as a reason to believe that something. “Telling someone something is not simply giving expression to what is on your mind, but is making a statement with the understanding that here it is your word that is to be relied on.”Footnote 12 Assertions resemble promises, for they both can provide reasons for believing something, and in both cases it is up to the speaker whether she gives those reasons—by telling, or by promising. If a person promises that she will come to your office in the afternoon, then you have a reason to believe that she will come. Similarly, if someone tells you, say, that it is cold outside, you have a reason to believe that it is cold outside.Footnote 13 If another person then asks you why you believe that it is cold outside, it would not be unnatural or strange to reply that you believe this because you were just told that it is cold.
Why do assertions provide reasons to believe? Because by making an assertion the speaker explicitly assumes a “responsibility for the truth of what is said”Footnote 14 and becomes accountable, conferring a “right of complaint on his audience”Footnote 15 should the claim be false. The speaker has the “authority to determine the illocutionary status of his utterance,”Footnote 16 and the epistemic import of what a person does is “dependent on the speaker’s attitude toward his utterance and presentation of it in a certain spirit.”Footnote 17 If the speaker intends to tell us something, then he becomes accountable for the truth of what he says, and in doing so “offers a kind of guarantee for this truth.”Footnote 18 Moran explains that this “is no more (or less) mysterious than how an explicit agreement or contract alters one’s responsibilities.”Footnote 19
Of course, in relying on what a person says, the hearer is incurring a risk that the behavior the speaker is manifesting “may be deliberately calculated to mislead” the hearer as to what the speaker believes.Footnote 20 Moran notices that this kind of “risk of error is not a possibility at all for those ways, real or imaginary, of learning someone’s beliefs directly and without the mediation of voluntary expression or behavior at all (i.e., whatever is imagined in imagining the effects of truth serum, hypnotism, or brain-scans).”Footnote 21 However, by their assertions people assure something, and what people tell us occupies a “privileged place in what we learn from other people.”Footnote 22 By intentionally telling us something they can guarantee that they have facts right. Information gathered in this way is “different in kind from anything provided by evidence alone.”Footnote 23 Telling is free action, and it is one thing to tell something and another thing to talk in one’s sleep or have the utterance of some words “be produced by electrical stimulation of the cortex.”Footnote 24 In the two latter cases, we may certainly learn something, but the speaker does not intend to provide us reasons to believe.
Free assertions provide reasons to believe, but are they good reasons? Not necessarily. Moran confesses that, of course, the speaker’s intention and her guarantee of the truth of the assertion is merely a necessary condition for the assertion’s epistemic significance. If a speaker says “It is a rainy day” only in order to give an example of a sentence that concerns the weather, her intention is not to tell us something about the weather, and she does not guarantee that it is a rainy day. Her utterance is epistemically irrelevant for a person who is interested in the weather. However, it is clear that even if a person does claim that it is a rainy day, this does not mean that the hearer has a good reason to think so. Whether the reason is good does not depend on the speaker’s “illocutionary authority” but on her sincerity and on having charged her “epistemic responsibilities with respect to the belief in question.”Footnote 25 The speaker’s voluntary assertion constitutes a good reason to believe something only if it also assumed “that the speaker does indeed satisfy the right conditions”—for example that she “possesses relevant knowledge, trustworthiness, and reliability.”Footnote 26 This addition is important. If someone tells you that it is cold outside and you believe it, then it is natural to say, if asked, that you believe it because you were told. But what you really mean is that you believe it because you were told, and you think that the speaker was trustworthy and reliable and possessed relevant knowledge—or something similar. As Moran explains, the assurance view is not a claim that “the speaker’s words ‘all by themselves’ should count as a reason for belief, or that the speaker’s authority over the constitution of the particular speech act he is performing (e.g., as assertion rather than recitation) shoulders the epistemic burden all by itself.”Footnote 27
The assurance view sounds plausible, as it is a rather weak claim. All it says is that it is one thing to learn something by hearing it from a reliable and trustworthy person who voluntarily tells it and another thing to learn something by checking (say, by scanning) what beliefs a reliable and trustworthy person happens to have. Only in the former case can we possibly blame a person for what she says, should we get false information; only in the former case are we involved in something which is social and interactive; only in the former case is the speaker’s trustworthiness relevant in the first place.Footnote 28 There is something distinctive about acquiring information from what people intentionally tell us.
The argument from the assurance view sounds plausible too, although its main message is not that weak. It says that there are principled limits on neuroimaging. The argument from the assurance view identifies that limitation by pointing out that the brain scanners cannot provide, even in principle, what assertions as speech acts do provide, namely, guarantees. Of course, in principle, someone could scan the brain of a person who intends or has decided to assert something, and thus find out that the person will soon give a guarantee. Perhaps someone could even scan the brain of a person who is actually asserting something and thus she would find out, by seeing the results of the scan, that now the speaker is asserting and assuring something for someone. However, these findings would not give her a guarantee of anything. She would certainly not be in a position to complain or to blame the speaker in the usual way, should the speaker make a mistake in making the assertion. Perhaps she could blame the speaker for having wrongful intentions or mistaken beliefs, but she could not lay blame for assuring something that was not really true. Such criticism is available only for a person who listened to the speaker and accepted the invitation to trust them—but was then betrayed.Footnote 29 Usual guarantees and assurances are beyond the reach of the scanners, although a talented scientist might, perhaps, see their “pictures.”Footnote 30 Of course, “mental assertions” form an exception, but that is more or less irrelevant, as people do not make separate “mental assertions” when they tell something.
The Argument from the Theatrical Model
The argument from the assurance view concerns situations in which a person trusts the speaker and assumes that what the speaker says is true. After all, she has the speaker’s guarantee of that. The argument from the theatrical model applies also in those circumstances in which a person is interested in what she is told even if she does not assume that the speaker is reliable and trustworthy.Footnote 31 Let us now turn to the argument from the theatrical model.
The theatrical model is the claim that there is an analogy between acting for reasons, in general, and improvisational theatrical acting. When a person talks to you—suppose they tell you that the Seminar Room H3 is too hot—they also present themselves in a certain manner in a certain role. That gives you important information on how they would like to present themselves, and their words help you to make the next move; maybe you decide to raise your eyebrows and say: “Oh, again? They should fix the air-conditioner.” The argument from the theatrical model is the claim that the information that we get by brain scans and similar methods lacks the dramaturgic element that we need in order to know how to proceed in face-to-face interaction, and that therefore brain scans cannot provide certain psychologically and socially important information. Although by scanning we might be able to see a person’s decision concerning their self-presentation, we will not be able to see the actual self-presentation, however brilliant the technology we may have. This is because presenting oneself in a certain way is to act in a certain way that communicates one’s social persona to others in the social context. Of course, a person could present themselves only by “actions via thoughts” and others could then scan the act. But, again, this is not what we normally do. Our self-presentations are not accompanied by separate “mental self-presentations.”
The theatrical model derives from the self-presentation theory as formulated by Goffman in The Presentation of Self in Everyday Life (1959) and elsewhere.Footnote 32 Goffman argued that our behavior should be understood on the basis of the theatrical (or dramaturgic) model so that the actions of a person are seen as performances by which the actor asks the audience to believe that the character they see “actually possesses the attributed they appear to possess.”Footnote 33 Of course, similar ideas were defended much earlier. James argued that “a man has as many social selves as there are individuals who recognize him,”Footnote 34 and Simmel wrote that we reveal “only fragments of our inner life” in social interaction—“even to our closest fellowmen.”Footnote 35 Here, I will concentrate on a recent version of the theatrical model as described by Velleman.Footnote 36 His formulation of the theatrical model does not emphasize strategic aspects of our behavior, but considers presentation of self as a part of any intentional action.Footnote 37
Velleman’s starting point is the idea that people’s ordinary behavior resembles improvisational theatrical acting with the difference being that the role a person plays in his daily life is the role of himself. When a person behaves in a certain way he is, in Velleman’s view, “an actor who plays himself, responding to his actual circumstances and manifesting the occurrent thoughts and feelings that the circumstances actually arouse in him, given his actual attitudes and traits.”Footnote 38 Theatrical actors portray fictional characters, but an ordinary person’s “character is himself, and so what would be understandable coming from the character, given the character’s motives, is what would be understandable coming from him, given the motives he actually has.”Footnote 39 Thus when a person acts, “he manifests his actual thoughts and feelings, as elicited from his actual makeup by his actual circumstances, in accordance with his idea of what it makes sense for him to do in light of them.”Footnote 40
According to Velleman, a motive in all action is the growth of self-understanding. We have a “drive toward self-understanding.”Footnote 41 When a person tries to understand himself, he “learns that he can make sense of himself by making sense to himself—that is, by doing what makes sense to him.”Footnote 42 Velleman explains that once a person is “equipped with an objective self-concept” he “becomes an audience seeking to understand his own behavior, and he begins to accommodate this audience by enacting ideas of what it would be intelligible for him to do.”Footnote 43 In practical reasoning, considerations weigh in favor of a certain action “insofar as they contribute to an overall understanding of the action, given how the agent conceives of himself and his situation.”Footnote 44
But the action needs to be understandable because it serves the natural desire to understand oneself. In practical reasoning a person is “supplying himself with the materials for self-understanding,”Footnote 45 and such reasoning “aims at self-understanding.”Footnote 46 A capacity for practical reasoning is what makes a person an autonomous agent.Footnote 47
Of course, a motive to understand oneself is not the only motive behind the actions. The aims of our action are “whatever they ordinarily seem to be: pleasure, health, friendship, chocolate.”Footnote 48 Velleman makes clear that, actually, our aim to understand our own selves is “an aim with respect to our manner of pursuing these and other aims, which we pursue for their own sakes.”Footnote 49 We strive for self-understanding just as we may strive for efficiency. We cannot pursue efficiency alone and, similarly, we cannot pursue self-understanding without pursuing something else as well. Velleman writes that the drive toward self-understanding exerts a “fairly minor, modulating role” in our practical affairs, but it does influence “which desired objects we choose to pursue, how we harmonize them with one another, organize our efforts toward them, and express our thoughts and feelings along the way.”Footnote 50 An authentic person enacts her role so that it reflects truly who and what she really is, although it is clear that a person always has “distinct overt and covert selves.”Footnote 51
In this picture of human action, listening to what others tell you is very important. For what is the most intelligible action for you in a social context depends essentially on what others have done and said; and which action makes most sense to you depends largely on others’ previous acts, including speech acts. Velleman points out that the “motive that each of us has for making himself understood to himself” favors making himself understood to others as well.Footnote 52 Your role makes sense to you only if it is an acceptable part of a larger drama, and we “seek agreement on scenarios for various kinds of interaction, specifying how those interactions are carried out.”Footnote 53 For instance, in a restaurant scenario we know which kinds of actions and assertions are likely to be most sensible (wait to be seated, or seat yourself; say hello, or greet formally).Footnote 54 Knowing oneself is largely a social process, as it is often a result of what is called “identity negotiation,” a process by which people “tacitly agree upon a set of roles for each of them to play.”Footnote 55 Such negotiation may end as a result in which you are perceived somehow unacceptable (say, “noisy” or “belligerent”) both by yourself and by others, but the cost of this kind of image is outweighed by the gains that the agreement gives, namely, the growth of self-understanding and practical knowledge on how to behave, verbally and otherwise.Footnote 56
The theatrical model is rather credible, at least if it is interpreted mainly as the claim that a person knows who she is and how she should present herself largely because she has listened to what others tell her and observed how they generally present themselves to her.Footnote 57 Human beings are reciprocal improvisers who get help from each other in performing their own roles. Suppose that someone who works in the same building as you, sees you in the entrance hall and says that it is raining again. Her intention is to tell you about the weather; you realize her intention, and you start to believe that it is raining, just because you were told so. But this is not all. You also learn that the person would like to present herself as a friendly or at least a polite person, and that she conceives you as worthy of such self-presentation. This may add something to your self-understanding (and possibly strengthen your picture of yourself as a nice person or a good colleague). Her words help you to make the next move, and perhaps you decide to smile and say: “Oh, again? It has been a rainy week.” You decide to say something that nice persons (or good colleagues) tend to say in these circumstances.Footnote 58 Notice, however, that the intelligibility of this reply is not dependent on your belief that the person is reliable and trustworthy. Your reply would make sense even if you did not trust the person at all. Your information about her way of presenting herself is not dependent on her trustworthiness, as you have just seen how she wants to present herself to you.Footnote 59 You have evidence about how she would like to be seen by you.
The argument from the theatrical model is plausible, as the brain scanners cannot provide you with the evidence you get from someone’s actual self-presentation by which a person tells you how she would like to be seen. Mutual improvisation and shared scenarios offer information that cannot be reached by means such as brain scans (unless we scan “mental self-presentations” made by active thoughts). To find out by a scanner that a person has a certain belief, say a belief that it is a rainy day, is not the information we usually need in social interaction.Footnote 60 For a person who has this belief need not be a person who would like to present herself as a person who thinks so, or as a person who has time for small talk. Of course, in principle, we may find out by a scanner how a person would like to present herself and how she would like to be seen by you in a specific social context (say, in a restaurant or in an entrance hall). But even that would not help you much, if you were not provided with any social persona with whom you could continue the scenario and make your own decisions that would spring from your self-understanding and at the same time increase your self-understanding. By merely having a “picture” of someone’s would-be image would not help you to make the next move—the move that would be most intelligible and make most sense in that context—if your co-improviser’s previous move were not there. Your possible response, “Oh, again? It has been a rainy week,” makes sense only if someone has actually told you that it is raining (or something similar). Actual self-presentations are beyond the reach of the scanners, “mental self-presentations” aside.Footnote 61 Neuroimaging seems to have important limitations.Footnote 62
Objection and Replies
I have argued that it would be reasonable to listen to what other people intentionally assert even if we had the most advanced technological means to scan people’s brains. Thus, it seems that there is a chance that brain scanning cannot replace what people are intentionally asserting, and that neuroimaging has principled limits. In this section I evaluate three objections that my discussion may raise, and I try to show that they do not provide sufficient grounds for the rejection of my suggestion that neuroimaging has principled limitations. I have selected these objections, as they are probably the ones that first come to the reader’s mind.
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1) First, it can be argued that my discussion is based on the assumption that the theories of Moran and Velleman are completely unproblematic, which they are not. On the contrary, there are many powerful objections against both theories. Lackey, among others, has criticized Moran’s argument and pointed out that even if a speaker explicitly offers her hearer a guarantee of the truth of her assertion, it is not clear what this has to do with “the truth itself.”Footnote 63 If a person is a “reliably unreliable testifier” she can assure her hearer of whatever comes to her mind. Hazlett, for one, has criticized Velleman’s claim that we should “understand all action done for reasons (as opposed to involuntary behavior) on the model of improvisational theatrical acting,” although “there seem to be actions, even entire species of actions, for which this model seems implausible.”Footnote 64 For instance, to say that one of the motives of a person who eats a bagel is to do something intelligible is to posit “one thought too many” for that person. In Hazlett’s view, eating a bagel may certainly “make sense,” but it is unlikely that a person who eats a bagel tries to do something that makes sense by eating it.Footnote 65
This objection is important, as it correctly points out that the approaches of Moran and Velleman are controversial. However, it is important to notice that my discussion does not presuppose that they are completely correct, or that their details are acceptable. I have made use of the arguments only as representatives of a more general line of thought, and I do not assume that no objection can be raised against them. As far as I see, my discussion is based on rather innocent assumptions. First, on the assumption that the assurance view is correct to the extent that it distinguishes between learning something by hearing it from a reliable and trustworthy person who voluntarily tells it and learning something by going behind someone’s back to check what beliefs she might have, say, by scanning her brain. Second, on the assumption that the theatrical model is correct to the extent that it claims that the information that we get by brain scans lacks the dramaturgic element—an actual self-presentation of someone—that we need in order to know how to proceed in face-to-face interaction in the most intelligible way, given our motives, emotions, traits, and beliefs. These two assumptions can be (and most probably are) acceptable whether or not there are problems in the details of the approaches of Moran and Velleman.
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2) Second, it can be objected that my discussion on the principled limitations of neuroimaging misses the target of the whole issue, as no one has ever claimed that neuroimaging could provide knowledge that can be acquired only by observing actions such as assurances (that are speech acts) or self-presentations (that usually include speech acts, besides other acts). It is obvious that neuroimaging is limited in this way—no neuroscientist or physician has ever denied it. But this kind of “limitation” is not interesting. The task of brain scanning is elsewhere. As one author explains, “thousands of fMRI studies are published each year on topics ranging from perception to decisionmaking” and we “now know that the pattern of blood flow to the fusiform face area in the temporal lobe can indicate that a person is looking at a face instead of a ball; and that imagining playing tennis or walking around your house, say, elicits activations in different brain regions.”Footnote 66 Brain scanning concerns brain activities, not actions—except possible “mental actions.”
This objection is relevant in that it clarifies the purposes and function of brain scanning. However, my claim is not that “Neuroscientists have implicitly or explicitly implied that, in principle, brain scanning can be a substitute for what people are intentionally telling but, in fact, it cannot.” My claim is that “Brain scanning cannot, even in principle, be a substitute for what people are intentionally telling, and that therefore neuroimaging has principled limitations.” That is, my discussion concerns the limitations of neuroimaging and “mind reading,” not the question whether we have been provided with false promises at some stage of the development of fMRI and other scanning technologies. I do not claim that neuroscientists and cognitive scientists are not doing what they are supposed to do. My point is to emphasize the limits of brain scanning (in one respect) by pointing out that daily chatting—which is presently an important source of knowledge—will be very important in the future as well, however enormous the technological advances may be. We will have to listen what others intentionally tell us also in the forthcoming years, no matter how well we are able to “read” people’s minds. This is because by intentionally telling something people can, among other things, (1) voluntarily assure their hearers of something and (2) present a suitable social persona for social interaction. (No doubt, we can imagine a world in which people would not speak anymore and made only “mental assertions” and “mental self-presentations.” My argument concerns the limitations of brain scanning in the actual world.) Notice, however, that I am not challenging a position that nobody takes seriously: in public debates, there are many who assume, implicitly or explicitly, that brain scanning can do almost everything in the future. But they are wrong.
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3) Third, it can be argued that although it may be true that neuroimaging has the above-mentioned limitations, they exclude rather unimportant things from the eye of the brain scanner. Neuroimaging can be used to produce court room evidence, and fMRI and monitoring of cortical activity may inform us about emotions (so that we can try to solve possible emotional problems), attitudes (so that we can try to unlearn them if they are undesirable such as racial biases), and diseases (so that we could try to treat them more effectively).Footnote 67 The limitations mentioned above do not have any influence on these things, which are probably the most important matters. If we fail to get assurances or self-presentations by scanners, the loss is not significant. Arguably, even in politics we are interested in representatives’ real beliefs and attitudes (that we can reveal by scanners) rather than their actual claims concerning their beliefs and attitudes. As Sahakian and Gottwald write, in the future “it might be possible to know what your favorite politician is really thinking, no matter how good his acting skills are.”Footnote 68
This objection correctly points out that the limitations I have mentioned do not show that neuroimaging is somehow unimportant. Obviously, I have not tried to say that neuroscientists’ work is not important. On the contrary, as I see it, the whole idea of discussing the issue of limits is meaningful just because neuroimaging is so significant—now and in the future. However, the view that it is not that important to know what people are actually saying does not sound correct to me. Surely, we want to know which kinds of opinions people endorse, not only which attitudes and beliefs they have. It is important to know what views people are ready to defend in their own names. It does not suffice to go behind their backs. This is especially true in politics. A politician who has, say, racial biases but who supports anti-racist policies and condemns her own biased attitudes may deserve our support, as opposed to a politician who does not condemn her prejudices. A politician who has good enough self-knowledge to understand that she has biased attitudes may try to get rid of them. When citizens vote, they primarily need information about the policies the candidates are willing support, and that kind of information becomes available when the candidates tell about it.Footnote 69 Of course, some (or perhaps many) candidates may be liars. But a politician who supports ideals that go against her prejudices need not be a liar. Even if a brain scan revealed to all of us that she has those prejudices we would still need to know which policies she publicly supports and what she possibly says about her prejudices.Footnote 70
Concluding Remarks
Both the argument from the assurance view and the argument from the theatrical model suggests that brain scanning cannot replace what people are intentionally asserting. If the arguments (or some future versions of them) are acceptable, which seems likely, then neuroimaging has limits which are not related to merely technical matters. The information that people usually get by neuroimaging is different in kind from the information they get by hearing what others tell them. There is something distinctive about acquiring information from what people intentionally tell us—something that cannot be achieved by brain scanning (unless we scan mental acts and active thoughts). The reason for this is that to assert something is to act in a certain way, and scanners do not usually scan actions. Although the philosophical approaches of Moran and Velleman are usually discussed in separate contexts, they seem to have interesting points of convergence as the discussion here should show.
The common discussions regarding the limitations of neuroimaging concern its technical limits. For instance, it has been pointed out that although it is possible “to decode activity in the visual cortex in order to identify the general features of an image being viewed by an individual in a functional magnetic resonance imaging scanner, it is not possible to extrapolate an underlying emotion or mental state from brain activity if an individual is not performing a task specifically designed to elicit that emotion.”Footnote 71 Thus deducing a person’s mental or emotional state “solely on the basis of brain activity, a process called reverse inference, remains an important challenge that will require a more detailed understanding of how complex emotions are processed and represented throughout the brain and how brain activity gets combined across time and space.”Footnote 72 My aim in this paper has been to extend the discussion concerning the limitations of neuroimaging to issues that are not really dependent on our understanding of the complexity of brain activities.
Let us return to the fictional scenario with which we started. In the distant fictional future, we would have handy thought-identification devices that would allow us to scan one another’s brains at any time and in any place in an easy, reliable, quick, open, socially acceptable and pleasant way. I have argued that even in such circumstances it would be reasonable to listen to what others say, as listening would be the only way to hear what people really assure and learn how they verbally present themselves for social interaction. One might ask whether life in such circumstances might be possible at all, as it would be acceptable and even pleasant to read others’ personal thoughts, emotions and plans at any time. Maybe it would not. Kant argues in his book Antropologie in pragmatischer Hinsicht (1796) that if we lived on a planet where people “could not think in any other way but aloud” and “would not be able to have thoughts without voicing them at the same time, whether they be awake or asleep, whether in the company of others or alone,” we could not “conceive how they would be able to live at peace with each other” (unless we assume that they all were as “pure as angels”).Footnote 73 Notice, however, that even in a world where all of us used thought-identification devices a person would still have authority to decide what she actually presents as true and how she presents herself. Although we might know what she will say and how she will otherwise behave, it would be up to her whether she says what she says and whether she behaves as she behaves. In that respect, she would still be free.