by Vic Grout
Bob’s first call to Stephen went about as well as he expected, which was not well. He had chosen to approach him alone, with a personal call, as a first attempt, and to simply lay everything they felt they had before him. So, in as logical an order as he could manage, he outlined the diverse contributions of The Desk in relation to understanding PDN and RFS, the theory they had evolved to explain Its apparent sentience, the measurement they had developed to test for this and the results of their several experiments the day before. After speaking for approximately quarter of an hour, he found himself summing up.
“… So, that’s what we think’s happened. We’re not quite sure how but we think that, somehow, the combination of the Internet and the power grids has reached some critical point in Its size and complexity and has started behaving primitively something like a natural nervous system; like a brain. We think the PDN is Its own internal signals; and we think that RFS is when It very occasionally, well … sort of … gets it right! We’ve modified Hatt… sorry, my holistic analysis tool … to recognise the features we’d expect to see in a human brain and we’ve tested it – as best we can, which isn’t brilliantly, we know – in a few different places. And the results tend to support the theory. In terms of the noise, the Internet, It, does seem to be exhibiting those characteristics.
A long pause at the other end, terminated by a sigh.
“Bob, please be clear. What are you trying to tell me?”
“Well, that’s it really. If you want it in simpler terms – although one of my colleagues doesn’t really like it put like this, we’re saying the powered Internet has achieved some level of sentience. It may be conscious. The noise isn’t coming from anywhere external: it’s coming from It.”
An even longer pause; eventually a louder sigh. Stephen spoke quietly but coldly.
“Bob, we are trying to conduct an important study here. For all we know, the security of the world may be at stake. We have to work together … sensibly.” He almost spat the last word. “If you and your team are going to engage in flights of fancy, then you are no use to me.” The call was abruptly terminated.
“OK, now what?” asked Bob, turning to the rest of The Desk, observing behind him. The nature of the conversation, and its conclusion was clear to all of them. No-one replied. A gloomy air descended. Eventually, Andy suggested.
“Shall we all try to talk to him?”
So they tried.
*
It was over an hour before Stephen agreed to connect with them again; when he did, it was with clear reluctance. In the meantime, Bob and Jenny had rearranged Bob’s office as best they could to allow all four of The Desk to take part in the video-conference. Eventually Stephen came back online, looking impatient.
“Yes, Bob?”
Bob introduced the rest of the team, unnecessarily it appeared.
“Yes, I am aware of your colleagues and their work, Bob,” came the curt reply. Andy, Aisha and Jenny raised their eyebrows in surprise, causing Stephen to continue in a slightly softened tone. “Please do not be alarmed, ladies and gentlemen; it is only a routine precaution we have taken here in the office. We all have to remember we do not know who we are dealing with here.” He added, after a pause, “Your work is very much appreciated, let me assure you.”
“But you don’t believe us?” suggested Andy.
“I find this a difficult explanation to accept,” agreed Stephen quietly, after a pause. “The concept of the Internet becoming sentient sounds more like science fiction to me than science.” However, this time he waited, as if expecting a response. So Andy continued.
“Aye, I agree. It’s daft; it’s mad! If there was any other credible explanation, we’d be looking at it – but there isn’t.” He paused to see the effect on Stephen, who seemed lost for words so he pressed on.
“We have to consider this as an explanation: there’s nothing else! It might be improbable but it’s all we’re left with now that we’ve eliminated the impossible!”
They could see that this had some effect. The four of them continued to try to drive the argument home over the next twenty minutes. They quickly became quite skilful at this as a team. Eventually, Stephen raised a hand as if to demand a halt.
He put his fingertips together and closed his eyes in thought; finally he opened them again and spoke slowly. “I have two problems,” he said thoughtfully. “Firstly I have to convince myself that this is credible. Secondly, if I were able to do that, I would have to convince the team here – including my superiors – without placing my credibility, and therefore my career, at risk. At the moment, both of those objectives look difficult … possibly for different reasons.” He spoke the last few words almost to himself.
“But will you at least consider it?” suggested Aisha.
“I will consider it,” agreed Stephen, in a less than encouraging tone.
*
They waited. Hours passed. They ate a small lunch and continued to wait into the afternoon. Sitting around the kitchen table, they sipped coffee and tea in silence. Eventually, Jenny voiced what they were all thinking.
“He’s not going to buy it, is he?”
They all shook their heads in agreement.
“Shall we try to contact him again?”
“I don’t think he’s going to talk to us any more,” Bob said sadly. “From what I know of the guy, he’s quite hard to persuade if he doesn’t like something.” He stood up to clear the lunch plates. Suddenly, Andy leaned back in his chair and said thoughtfully.
“Possibly for different reasons.”
“What?” asked Aisha.
“He – Stephen – said ‘possibly for different reasons’. What did he mean by that?”
“Does it matter?”
“It might. I guess we’re assuming that Stephen’s too practical, too fundamentally scientific, to accept the idea of a sentient Internet. But suppose, that’s not it. Suppose he – maybe even someone else he knows on the team there – might have some principled objection as to why it couldn’t happen?”
“You mean a religious objection?” suggested Bob.
“Possibly,” agreed Andy. “Perhaps the concept’s alien to some assumed belief he has, or thinks one of his bosses has?”
“Maybe. But that doesn’t really help us, does it?” asked Aisha.
“Perhaps it could,” Andy muttered, pulling his tablet from his bag. “Here, have a look at this. This is Ruth Jones’s most recent post. It’s a very interesting way of looking at the whole AI thing, although it’s based on Turing’s original work. Maybe, if we were to put this argument to him, it might at least disturb a few preconceptions?”
Bob brought the post up on the large display screen and they all read:
“The ‘Theological Objection’”
This month's post considers a little-remembered part of Turing's otherwise famous 1950 paper on AI.
Just for once, this month, let's not skirt around the generally problematic issue of 'real intelligence' compared with 'artificial intelligence' and ask what it means for a machine (a robot, if you like, for simplicity) to have the whole package: not just some abstract ability to calculate, process, adapt, etc. but 'human intelligence', 'self-awareness', 'sentience'; the 'Full Monty', as it were. Star Trek's 'Data' if you like, assuming we've understood what the writers had in mind correctly.
Of course, we're not really going to build such a robot, nor even come anything close to designing one. We're just going to ask whether it's possible to create a machine with consciousness. Even that's fraught with difficulty, however, because we may not be able to define 'consciousness' to everyone's satisfaction but let's try the simple, optimistic version of 'consciousness' broadly meaning 'a state of self-awareness like a human'. Is that possible?
Well, there's no place to start other than by considering what consciousness is. Where does consciousness come from? What are the rules? What can have consciousness and what can't? What are the requirements?
OK, this if difficu
lt. We're never going to all agree – that's not the point. But, just like the Fermi Paradox, the question must have an answer. However unsatisfactory any given answer might be, one of them must be right. So what are the possibilities?
Well, here are those generally regarded as the more credible contenders; not each and every one individually, but roughly combined into 'types' of explanation:
Consciousness is just the result of neural complexity. Build something with a big enough 'brain' and it will acquire consciousness. There's possibly some sort of critical neural mass and/or degree of connectivity for this to happen.
Similar to 1 but the brain needs energy. It needs power (food, fuel, electricity, etc.) to make it work.
Similar to 2 but with some symbiosis. A physical substrate is needed to carry signals of a particular type. The relationship between the substrate and signals (hardware and software) takes a particular critical form (maybe the two are indistinguishable) and we don't know what it is yet.
Similar to 3 but there's a biological requirement in there somewhere. Consciousness is the preserve of carbon life forms, perhaps. How and/or why we don't understand yet.
Similar to 4 but whatever it is that's special about carbon-based life will remain one of the great unknowns of the universe (see last month’s post). There might not be anything particularly remarkable about it from a philosophical perspective: it's just beyond us.
Similar to 5 but there’s actually something very 'special' about the whole thing. Way beyond us.
A particular form of 6. Consciousness is somehow separate from the underlying hardware but still can't exist without it.
Extending 7. Consciousness is completely separate from the body and could exist independently. We might call it a 'soul'.
Taking 8 to the limit? Consciousness, the soul, comes from God.
Now, there's a sort of progression suggested here. Of course, the human brain could satisfy any of these explanations, which is why they're credible. ('Credible' here means logically non-contradictory: it's got nothing to do with any of our particular preconceptions.) It's generally argued, however, that a robot could only get so far down the list. In other words, with technology improving all the time, we've already done 1 and 2 and, with further advances, 3, possibly even 4, might be manageable. So, if the first four aren't the right definitions, we'll eventually prove it by building a robot satisfying all the requirements, which doesn't achieve sentience. (We'll not consider here the somewhat thorny question of how we'd necessarily know!)
The other way this ordering is often informally portrayed is as some progression from the 'ultra-scientific' to the 'ultra-spiritual'. Many people's version of 'common sense' comes somewhere in the middle, often without them being able to precisely articulate it.
However, this is where Alan Turing throws a massive spanner into the works! But, to understand it, we need to recap a little ...
In his seminal 1950 paper, “Computing Machinery and Intelligence”, published in the journal, “Mind”, Turing starts:
“I propose to consider the question, ‘Can machines think?’ This should begin with definitions of the meaning of the terms ‘machine’ and ‘think’. The definitions might be framed so as to reflect so far as possible the normal use of the words, but this attitude is dangerous, If the meaning of the words ‘machine’ and ‘think’ are to be found by examining how they are commonly used it is difficult to escape the conclusion that the meaning and the answer to the question, ‘Can machines think?’ is to be sought in a statistical survey such as a Gallup poll. But this is absurd. Instead of attempting such a definition I shall replace the question by another, which is closely related to it and is expressed in relatively unambiguous words. The new form of the problem can be described in terms of a game which we call the 'imitation game’."
That should be familiar enough by now. We’ve all seen the film! Can a human tell another human and a machine apart? What he had in mind was:
“It was suggested tentatively that the question, ‘Can machines think?’ should be replaced by ‘Are there imaginable digital computers which would do well in the imitation game?’ If we wish we can make this superficially more general and ask ‘Are there discrete-state machines which would do well?’ But in view of the universality property we see that either of these questions is equivalent to this, ‘Let us fix our attention on one particular digital computer. Is it true that by modifying this computer to have an adequate storage, suitably increasing its speed of action, and providing it with an appropriate programme, it can be made to play satisfactorily … in the imitation game, [and convince] a man?’”
And then there's a famous prediction, now almost universally misunderstood as 'The Turing Test'.
“It will simplify matters for the reader if I explain first my own beliefs in the matter. Consider first the more accurate form of the question. I believe that in about fifty years' time it will be possible, to programme computers, with a storage capacity of about 109, to make them play the imitation game so well that an average interrogator will not have more than 70 per cent chance of making the right identification after five minutes of questioning. The original question, ‘Can machines think?’ I believe to be too meaningless to deserve discussion. Nevertheless I believe that at the end of the century the use of words and general educated opinion will have altered so much that one will be able to speak of machines thinking without expecting to be contradicted.”
That's water under the bridge as far as this post is concerned. Perhaps few people will ever read this part of the paper properly!
However, the interesting section, as far as our earlier discussion of consciousness is concerned, comes later in the paper. Turing was only too aware of the impact, probably negative, his predictions were going to have in the scientific and spiritual communities and on a wider plane so he tried to head several of them off at the pass. A large part of the paper is devoted to his consideration of several 'objections' presented in the form of an initial anticipated criticism followed by a counter-argument. Top of the list, as predicted by Turing is the “The Theological Objection", which he suggests as:
"Thinking is a function of man's immortal soul. God has given an immortal soul to every man and woman, but not to any other animal or to machines. Hence no animal or machine can think."
He then systematically dismantles the objection as follows:
"I am unable to accept any part of this, but will attempt to reply in theological terms. I should find the argument more convincing if animals were classed with men, for there is a greater difference, to my mind, between the typical animate and the inanimate than there is between man and the other animals. The arbitrary character of the orthodox view becomes clearer if we consider how it might appear to a member of some other religious community. How do Christians regard the Moslem view that women have no souls? But let us leave this point aside and return to the main argument. It appears to me that the argument quoted above implies a serious restriction of the omnipotence of the Almighty. It is admitted that there are certain things that He cannot do such as making one equal to two, but should we not believe that He has freedom to confer a soul on an elephant if He sees fit? We might expect that He would only exercise this power in conjunction with a mutation which provided the elephant with an appropriately improved brain to minister to the needs of this sort. An argument of exactly similar form may be made for the case of machines. It may seem different because it is more difficult to ‘swallow’. But this really only means that we think it would be less likely that He would consider the circumstances suitable for conferring a soul. The circumstances in question are discussed in the rest of this paper. In attempting to construct such machines we should not be irreverently usurping His power of creating souls, any more than we are in the procreation of children: rather we are, in either case, instruments of His will providing mansions for the souls that He creates.
Now, we need to be a little careful with this. Firstly, Turing's reading of some sacr
ed texts may be questionable (possibly even offensive; although he would hardly be the first to have managed a dubious interpretation of scripture: we're still doing that). And we can see that he had no time for any God or religion whatsoever: that's unambiguous. However, the interesting bit is his 'OK, just supposing ...' position.
What Turing points out in his defence to the 'theological objection' is that saying intelligence (consciousness, adapted for the purposes of this post) isn't just the result of machine complexity is effectively telling God what He can and can't do. We might prefer the later options in the list above but it's not we that decide. For all we know, God may be just waiting for us to build a robot with a big enough brain for Him to put sentience (even a soul, if you like) into! It's His universe, His rules, His science: He'll decide surely, not us!
So the perceived 'ultra-scientific' to the 'ultra-spiritual' progression in our 1-9 list above may not make sense at all, viewed in those terms; not if God can decide any of them are right.
In fact, we can actually take God temporarily out of the discussion and muddy the waters ourselves now, by rewriting the list but adding a new 'option zero':
0. Everything has consciousness to some extent, even an apparently inanimate object like a rock. The universe is conscious. We're just not very good at seeing this. (This is 'panpsychism'.)
1. Consciousness is just the result of neural complexity. Build something with a big enough 'brain' and it will acquire consciousness. So 0 is broadly right but there's some sort of critical neural mass and/or degree of connectivity for consciousness to happen.
2. Similar to 1 but …
: : : :
8. … could exist independently. We might call it a 'soul'.
9. Taking 8 to the limit? Consciousness, the soul, comes from God.
Now, 0 leads nicely into 1. Panpsychism (0) suggests that everything has consciousness. The next option (1) says its neural complexity just has to reach some critical point. But, to most general philosophies, 0 is pretty close to 9 as well. The 'spirit of the universe' in universal consciousness is some people's way of saying 'God' and our taxonomy has gone out of the window. In fact, it suddenly looks cyclic.
