The Computational Universe

Initially, when I wrote my reaction to “Is the Brain’s Mind a Computer Program?” I was pretty impressed by John Searle’s argument. He essentially stated that a computer might be able to pass the Turing Test, but that this test would not actually be a valid, or significant test of computer intelligence, because it does not test for comprehension, but merely the ability to simulate human behavior. In other words, Searle argues that computers may be able to be programmed to act like humans, but that they will never achieve the human level of consciousness that is inherent in our minds. All a computer will be able to do is recreate the behavioral patterns that we want it to. I thought he presented his ideas in an interesting, comprehensible manner, and I will admit that I was convinced of his argument. This was, however, before our class discussion, and before I read Rodney Brooks.
When we talked about the techniques and actual arguments that Seale made in class, I began to change my mind about what I consider Artificial Intelligence to be capable of, as well as how effectively John Searle argued against its possibility (or inevitability). He seemed to rely heavily upon this notion of the “Chinese room”, which seemed applicable to his argument at the time, but that I later had to question. He also provided no alternative for how one would test for his notion of human consciousness, arguing only against the Turing Test. This brought up a further concern: because he did not give the reader a definite way to test for his definition of intelligence, I was forced to wonder what his definition was at all. In fact, he never really gives one—besides saying that computers cannot comprehend the formal qua symbols we give them. Is understanding, then, necessary for intelligence? Searle never actually states his idea of what Artificial Intelligence would entail, but only proves, using a metaphor he himself created, that the definition presented by the Turing Test is insufficient. What a cop out.
After reading Rodney Brooks, I realized how shaky Searle’s argument really is. Brooks criticizes Searle’s “Chinese room,” and the idea that he could pass the Turing Test, although he would not understand Chinese. “Just as no single neuron in a Chinese speaker understands Chinese,” Brooks explains, “Searle, a component of the larger system, does not need to understand Chinese for the whole system to understand Chinese” (Brooks 179). After reading this, I realized where Searle may have made his biggest mistake: he thought that his own understanding inside the Chinese room would be the same as the larger whole of understanding in the Chinese room system. As Brooks explained, this isn’t how it works—with the human brain, or with computer programming. One small part of the system does not, and does not even need to, understand the big picture, so long as the whole system functions. Searle argues, “The way that human brains actually produce mental phenomena cannot be solely by virtue of running a computer program.” This distinction of a computer program and a mind (“mental phenomena”) is, however, refuted well by Brooks, who states that “the body is a machine that acts according to a set of specifiable rules”, which is exactly what a computer program is, and that the “mind is a product of the operation of the brain” (Brooks 173). In other words, Brooks argues that all we are all, in fact, machines, and that this notion of “mind” is exactly how a computer program works. Thus, if a computer could pass the Turing Test, it should be considered on the same level as human consciousness. According to Rodney Brooks, the problem with Searle’s argument, essentially, is that “he is afraid to give machines consciousness” (Brooks 180).

Well, I’m scared too, but I must admit that I definitely see where Brooks is coming from.

I went to the lecture on Sir Tim Berners-Lee with my roommate, Alissa. She’s from Tokyo, and there are tons of wires running around her desk, so I figured she’d help me out if we got into any dangerous web-jargon territory. I was wrong.

I will admit, the lecture was interesting. I learned a lot of things that I didn’t know–like the reliance on individual responsibility, the difference between the word wide web and the internet, and what direction all this technology is headed–but it definitely required a really active listening experience. I found it particularly interesting that emails used to not get flooded with spam–imagine that!–and the fact that Sir Tim Berners-Lee gets to royalties even though he began the world wide web. These were the moments my roommate and I looked over at eachother with raised eyebrows.

Alas, there were also moments where we looked at eachother in confused disbelief. I guess my main problem during the lecture was that I was unable to understand the main concepts, the categories of things. There was one slide I remember with particular hostility. It was basically a map connecting all these different things–Events, Calender, Maps, etc. I could understand why some of them were there, but there would be catagories that seemed disjunct as well. Basically, I couldn’t understand where he was getting these sub-points. But no matter.

I definitely learned a lot, so I’m thankful I went. I can understand that, for a technological genius, it must be difficult to talk to people who are miles behind. And I’m just speaking for myself– I’m sure there were many present that DID understand. To be honest, I think I would be more offended if I went to the lecture and he talked down to the audience the whole time. At least he set the standard high. Next time I go to a lecture like this, I will definitely try to do a little research beforehand so that I can get a sense of what the speaker will be addressing. I wish I had, although I still had a jolly good time with Sir Tim.

Hello, my name is Lily Cowles, and I’m from Connecticut. My real name is Kateri Tekakwitha–probably a very sweet attempt on the part of my rather eccentric father to ensure my eternal closeness to the Catholic Church. The name is from a Mohawk saint who was referred to so tenderly as “The Lily of the Mohawks”, which is where Lily comes from, claims Pappy. My mother, on the other hand, probably in an attempt to distance herself from the possible “religious fanatic” image, claims that Lily comes from Lily Bart in Edith Wharton’s House of Mirth, but frankly I find this origin just as strange. Not to ruin the end, but she kills herself. At any rate, Kateri Tekakwitha actually means Running Deer Bumps Into Things. But feel free to just use Lily.

I’m a hopeful Religion major, possibly with a little Slavic Language thrown in somewhere. These are actually all ideas I came up with last semester. I like to think they make me sound interesting. Actually, up until about three weeks ago, I was planning on being a paleontologist–I had recently been inspired by a trip to the Natural History Museum–but the sad fact is, you have to be pretty good at science and math to be a paleontologist. Anyway, I would probably have to double major in biology and geology to be successful, which is the perfect segue to confess my inability in both these fields, and by both these fields, I really mean most science in general. (You may question my wanting to be a paleontologist at this point. In defense I will merely say that I find dinosaurs interesting and I have a steady hand with tools.)

I decided to take this course because it seems both extremely relevant and pretty manageable for a kid like me. I should add at this point that my family is stuck in the 20th, maybe even 19th century. My mother has cutely coined the term “Luddite”, meaning 1) Any group of British workers who between 1811 and 1816 rioted and destroyed laborsaving textile machinery in the belief that such machinery would diminish employment, or 2) One who opposes technical or technological change. I don’t find it as amusing as some other members of the family. My mother once offered me twenty dollars an hour to teach her to use a computer, and I quit after I realized she did not understand the term “mouse”. Needless to say, I’ve struggled to maintain a modern understanding of the world, but it’s difficult in my house. But things are looking up–we’re beginning to understand the cellular telephone!

Secretly, I also feel guilty because I used to say I hated robots a lot. I don’t know why I said it, I probably didn’t mean it at the time. In truth, I really didn’t know anything about robots and it was unfair of me to pass judgment so quickly. I hope they can forgive me, or at least be programmed to forgive me.

Update 02/14/06: Who knew iBook and PowerBook were different? Props to Francesco for humiliating me–I actually use a PowerBook G4. And we get alone quite well.