Consider this famous exchange between the Nobel Prize–winning physicist Richard Feynman and the historian Charles Weiner.1 Weiner, encountering with a historian’s glee a batch of Feynman’s original notes and sketches, remarked that the materials represented “a record of [Feynman’s] day-to-day work.” But instead of simply acknowledging this historic value, Feynman reacted with unexpected sharpness:
“I actually did the work on the paper,” he said.
“Well,” Weiner said, “the work was done in your head, but
the record of it is still here.”
“No, it’s not a record, not really. It’s working. You have to work
on paper and this is the paper. Okay?” (from Gleick 1993, 409)
Feynman’s suggestion is, at the very least, that the loop into the external medium was integral to his intellectual activity (the “working”) itself. But I would like to go further and suggest that Feynman was actually thinking on the paper. The loop through pen and paper is part of the physical machinery responsible for the shape of the flow of thoughts and ideas that we take, nonetheless, to be distinctively those of Richard Feynman. It reliably and robustly provides a functionality which, were it provided by goings-on in the head alone, we would have no hesitation in designating as part of the cognitive circuitry.