I'm Nobody! Who are you?
Are you - Nobody - too?
Then there's a pair of us!
Dont tell! they'd banish us - you know!
How dreary - to be - Somebody!
How public - like a Frog -
To tell your name - the livelong June -
To an admiring Bog!
-- Emily Dickinson
If a philosophical zombie is behaviorally identical to a conscious being, but lacks qualia, couldn't we just define consciousness as that behavior?
If the hypothesis makes sense that philosophical zombies could exist, that a complex system could manifest all the behaviors of a conscious creature but without having any conscious experiences, then the hypothesis makes sense that all of you, out there in the bog, who seem so similar to me, could, in fact, be zombies.
Of course, you would deny being a zombie. I fully expect this. Any self-respecting zombie (i.e. one who behaves as a self-respecting person) will deny being one. But this denial is fully compatible with the hypothesis that you are a zombie. To me, your denial is just an external, observable action - there need be no soul behind it, just a piece of croaking machinery.
But - this is where the screw turns and everything gets horribly twisted:
If there is no ghost in your machine, what is it that haunts mine?
Is this spectral being - this "I" claiming to be conscious - itself not a product of the "meat machine"? If so, could I then also be a zombie, but one who happens to have fallen for the illusion that it isn't one of those dreadfully soulless creatures? How did I ever convince myself of not being one? Shouldn't I be very suspicious of the claim that "Oh, I just know I'm not!", that "it's simply obvious", it's an immediate self-evident given - a revelation that fades as soon as any daylight strikes it? A strictly private truth is no truth at all. It is like a child believing it has captured a sound in a shoe box.
As of today, I have reached the following tentative conclusion. Either (1) none of you are conscious, or (2) all of you are, or (3) some of you are, or (4) the question is incoherent. But which is it?
I predict that whichever answer you may give, will, unfortunately, be fully compatible with your being a zombie. But, if you are, fortunately nobody will notice - including you - until it's too late.
In this swamp, the music seems to play on,
les sons et les parfums méphitiques tournent dans l'air du soir,
even when the spectre has ended its serenata del espectro,
pinçant les cordes de sa guitare.
Have a nice day.