Other Minds: The Octopus and the Evolution of Intelligent Life

by Peter Godfrey-Smith

To put it too anthropomorphically: you would send an arm out deliberately and hope the local fine-tuning goes right. Action by an octopus, then, would mix elements that are usually distinct, or at least seem that way, in animals like us. When we act, the border between self and environment is usually fairly clear. If you move your arm, for example, you control the arm both on its general path and also in many fine details of its motions. Various other objects in the environment are not under your direct control at all, though they can be moved indirectly by manipulating them with your limbs. Uncontrolled movements by an object around you are usually a sign that it is not part of you (with partial exceptions for knee-jerk reflexes and the like). If you were an octopus, these distinctions would be blurred. To some extent you would guide your arms, and to some extent you would just watch them go. To tell the story this way is to tell it from the vantage point of the “central octopus.” That might be an error.