Within both philosophy and psychology, a new pro-emotion consensus is replacing the old dogmas that emotions disrupt practical rationality, that they are at best arational, if not outright irrational, and that we can understand what is really central to human cognition without studying them. Emotions are now commonly viewed as evolved capacities that are integral to our practical rationality. An infinite mind, unencumbered by a body, might get along just fine without emotions; but we finite embodied creatures need them if we are to be capable of responding appropriately to our reasons and navigating in a risky world with poor information, limited attention, and restricted computational power. Emotions are clever design solutions to the problem of making fast decisions in response to significant practical problems posed by the natural and social worlds: we perceive a danger and fear immediately primes us to take protective action. On this view, the theory of emotions is an essential part of a theory of ecologically situated and constrained rationality - that is to say, of human rationality (Samuels et al. 1999; Gigerenzer 2000).

How many emotions are there? Should we accept as overwhelming the evidence in favour of regarding emotions as emanating from a relatively small number of modules evolved efficiently to serve us in common life situations? Or can emotions, like colour, be organized in a space of two, three, or more dimensions defining a vast number of discriminable emotions, arranged on a continuum, on the model of the colour cone?

There is some evidence that certain emotions are specialized to facilitate certain response sequences, relatively encapsulated in their neurophysiological organization. These are natural facts. But nature, as Katherine Hepburn remarked to Humphrey Bogart, is what we were put in the world to rise above. I shall suggest that we can consider the question not merely from a scientific point of view, but from a political point of view. And so I will try to explain how to reconcile the evidence of emotional modularity - which, as some of the contributions to the present volume illustrate, is not devoid of a certain ambiguity - with a reasonable plea for an attitude of disapproval towards the rigidities of our taxonomy.

Jane is calmly strolling through the forest one lovely day. Suddenly, a large spider drops in front of her face. She immediately freezes; her heart races; her hands tremble; her face broadcasts “fear.” She screams and runs away. Both before and after, she concedes that spiders in this forest are harmless.

Jane's reaction to the spider contrasts greatly with the way she normally reacts to events. Normally, or so the story goes, Jane weighs her options thoughtfully, choosing a course of action consistent with her beliefs and with the greatest benefit. Indeed, her reaction to the spider contrasts so greatly with calm, rational, deliberate, belief-consistent action that traditional folk psychology supposed two different kinds of mechanism are at work: animal-like emotion (located in the heart and gut) versus human reason (located in the mind). Her emotion explains her reaction to the spider. Her emotion made her do it.

The suggestion that at least some emotions are modular captures a number of our intuitions about emotions: they are generally fast responses to a stimulus, they are involuntary, and they are easily distinguished (at least in most cases) from one another; we simply know that, for example, anger feels different than fear. Candidates for modular emotions are usually the so-called “basic” emotions - anger and fear are good examples of these. Defenders of emotion theories that focus on basic emotions, such as Paul Ekman in psychology and Paul Griffiths in philosophy, emphasize the advantages of theories that stress the evolutionary continuity of emotional expression and link emotions to the activity of neural circuits that are similar in human beings and other animals.

In this paper, however, I will examine arguments for the discontinuity of emotions in human beings, as compared with other animals. Owing to a combination of cultural practices and neuroanatomy, both our emotional “wiring” and our emotions are unique.

Are emotion-producing processes modular? Jerry Fodor, in his classic introduction of the notion of modularity (Fodor 1983), holds that its most important feature is cognitive impenetrability or information encapsulation. If a process possesses this feature, then, as standardly understood (Currie and Sterelny 2000), “what we want or believe makes no difference to how [it] works” (147).

In this paper, we will start with the issue of the cognitive impenetrability of emotion-producing processes. It turns out that, while there is abundant evidence of emotion-producing processes that are not cognitively impenetrable, some nonetheless are. We will look at two sorts of case. The first concerns emotional reactions to observed faces, and the second involves what we can call “primitive emotions,” emotions that can be activated by non-doxastic input into regions of the brain we share with more primitive animals.

In seeing how some emotion-producing processes can be cognitively impenetrable while others are not, we need to use two commonsensical theses. First, a discussion of modularity must in general operate with a taxonomy that allows for sub-processes or stages of processes.

Biologists, more precisely evolutionary biologists, and not only psychologists and philosophers also speak of modularity. However the way in which this theoretical construct functions in their discipline is relatively different from the role it obtains in evolutionary psychology and cognitive science. Rather than postulating modules to explain particular traits of organisms, such as the specificity of input systems or limitations of human reasoning abilities, biologists originally simply assume that some form of modularity constitutes a precondition of evolution. They argue that, in order for natural selection to fine tune organisms to their environment, different traits must be able to evolve independently from one another. This implies modularity in one form or another. Organisms will only be able to adapt if they do not come all in one piece, so to speak. It must therefore be possible for changes to occur in one characteristic of an animal without those changes having repercussions throughout the whole organism.

Theories of emotions traditionally divide into two categories. According to some researchers, emotions are or essentially involve evaluative thoughts or judgments. These are called cognitive theories. According to other researchers, an emotion can occur without any thought. These are called non-cognitive theories. Some defenders of non-cognitive theories argue that emotions are action tendencies, others say they are feelings, and still others say they are affect programs, which encompass a range of internal and external events. One of the most celebrated non-cognitive theories owes, independently, to William James and Carl Lange. According to them, emotions are perceptions of patterned changes in the body. I think the perceptual theory of emotions is basically correct, but it needs to be updated. In this discussion, I will offer a summary and defence.

The question I am addressing bears on the question of modularity. Within cognitive science, there is a widespread view that perceptual systems are modular.

One stream in contemporary philosophical and psychological study of the emotions argues that they are perceptual capacities (e.g., Prinz 2004). For instance, Jesse Prinz has recently defended the view that emotions are perceptions of bodily changes and, via these, of “core relational themes” (2004, 224-25). Core relational themes are, roughly, relations an individual has to his/her environment that pertain to that individual's welfare (2004, 15-16). The present project is to compare and contrast two possible models of emotional perception. The central difference between these models is the notion of modularity that they use, and the corresponding overall view of the nature of the mind. I will suggest some empirical tests that might adjudicate between these different kinds of emotional modularity, and hence between these two models of emotional perception. I will conclude with some remarks about the extent of the relevance of this issue.

Endogenous depression is highly correlated with low levels of serotonin in the central nervous system. Does this imply or suggest that this sort of depression just is this neurochemical deficit? Scorning such an inference, Antonio Damasio writes:

If feeling happy or sad … corresponds in part to the cognitive modes under which your thoughts are operating, then the explanation also requires that the chemical acts on the circuits which generate and manipulate [such thoughts]. Which means that reducing depression to a statement about the availability of serotonin or norepinephrine in general- a popular statement in the days and age of Prozac- is unacceptably rude (1995, 161).

Damasio's thought is that depression is essentially a modification of how we perceive the world, reason about it, and make decisions about how to act in it - in other words, that it is essentially cognitive. A reduced level of serotonin might cause the said modification, but no adequate account of depression would identify the malady with its cause. A proper account would minimally need to say how cognitive processing is affected by a reduced level of serotonin.

In a recent survey of contemporary philosophy of emotion, Ronald de Sousa states that “in recent years … emotions have once again become the focus of vigorous interest in philosophy, as well as in other branches of cognitive science” (de Sousa 2003, 1). He then goes on to make the important observation that “in view of the proliferation of increasingly fruitful exchanges between researchers of different stripes, it is no longer useful to speak of the philosophy of emotion in isolation from the approaches of other disciplines, particularly psychology, neurology and evolutionary biology” (de Sousa 2003, 1). This last remark is particularly apt in the case of a topic like modularity and emotion, which represents an ideal opportunity for reflecting on the emerging alliance between the philosophy of emotion and emotion science. In addition to being interesting in its own right, the topic also illustrates some of the perils associated with the new alliance, as different academic traditions must adapt to interdisciplinary dialogue.

On the surface, self-centred emotions like shame or pride are related to subtle understandings of one's own identity and relevant objects (Taylor 1985; Ben Ze'ev 2000). Changes of beliefs about these objects often result in changes in the related emotions.

If I am very proud that, on the first of April, I won the Jacques Chirac Prize for moral philosophy and then realize that it was just an April Fool's joke, my pride will probably vanish. I will probably be ashamed that I believed it. Cases like this support the idea that having beliefs is a necessary condition for feeling pride or shame.

If this is true and if we endorse Jerry Fodor's views about modularity, it follows that shame can't be modular because, according to these views, no beliefs or other central mental processes are supposed to be involved in the operation of modules (Fodor 1983). Further, contempt, derision, or avoidance are supposed to be typical causes of shame, but they may trigger other emotions as well: hatred, anger, self-pity, or sadness, etc.

As topics in the philosophy of emotion, pleasure and displeasure get less than their fair share of attention. On the one hand, there is the fact that pleasure and displeasure are given no role at all in many theories of the emotions, and secondary roles in many others. On the other, there is the centrality of pleasure and displeasure to being emotional. A woman who tears up because of a blustery wind, while an ill-advised burrito weighs heavily upon her digestive tract, feels an impressive number of the sensations felt by someone who is gut-wrenchingly sad. Yet, unless she feels bad, the way she feels is only a pale echo of the feeling of sadness. If she feels good in spite of the burrito and the wind, then she does not feel at all the way she would if she were sad. Likewise, a man falling asleep can hardly fail to feel his muscles relax, his heart rate fall, and so on, but unless he feels good his state is only a shadow of feeling content.