An Inimitable Game: the impossibility of artificial intelligence

I just saw the film The Imitation Game, about Alan Turing, fore bearer of cognitive science and artificial intelligence. First of all, let me say: SEE THIS FILM. It is one of the best I have ever seen. I was a wreck by the end of it. Turing was a genius and did so much for humanity and I just feel so scraped away and raw inside. So inspired. This film focused on his efforts in breaking the codes that the Nazis used in WWII. He was a genius, an enigma himself. 

I have to do something with my life. 

Damn.

Anyways.

I was (and remain) most familiar with Turing's work on the possibility of creating an artificial intelligence, having read Can Computers Think? and Computing Machinery and Intelligence during my undergraduate studies. In the work of his that I have read, he lays out a test for intelligence - the eponymous Imitation Game, also known as the Turing Test. He posited that, given the proper speed, amount of storage, and code, a digital computer could fool a human judge into believing that the computer itself was a human being. He was sure to reiterate that he was merely talking about the possibility of such a machine being created, and he had no reason to believe that this was not a possibility - after all, rudimentary digital computers existed in 1950, when he wrote Computing Machinery and Intelligence. For Turing, it was all a matter of memory and processing speed, something that the future would likely provide - the mechanics were already in place in his time.

I was (and remain) of the mind that we will never be able to create anything like strong AI. 

By strong AI I mean anything like sentience or consciousness. My reasoning behind this runs thus: Even the most powerful computer that can seem eerily like a human consciousness under the right circumstances is not consciousness. Take Jeopardy's Watson as an example. It seemed to have a personality, and certainly had the ability to respond to difficult trivia questions with an expertise that often outstripped its human counterparts. Surely someone who performed a Turing Test on Watson would be fooled into thinking it was a human. In my view, however, there is a difference between recalling vast amounts of preprogrammed information from a massive store and delivering it with a jocular preprogrammed personality and actually having intelligence. 

"But," you cry, "Aren't you being a bit chauvinistic with respect to your definition of intelligence? Doesn't defining intelligence necessarily preclude anything other than a human from having intelligence?" 

To which I reply, nope. I think a frog is more intelligent than the iPhone 7, or whichever one's out now. Yep, a frog. Probably even a fish. Humanity has yet to program anything with the intelligence of either. 

"Wait, what?" you cry, "What about all of the cool robots that exist? I hear about them all the time in the news."

I suppose my break from Turing's line of thought begins at the outset of his definitions of Machine and Intelligence. He defines intelligence as thinking, and he defines the mark of thinking as fooling a human into thinking that you're thinking (or, the Turing Test). 

To me, intelligence is so much more than this. Intelligence is consciousness. Consciousness is the ability to navigate through the world, to filter through billions upon billions of inputs and somehow selectively attend to just what's important. John Vervaeke, a beloved professor of mine from undergrad, would call this relevance realization. Though sentient beings can indeed become overloaded, we (and by we I mean all sentient beings, humans and frogs alike) have the ability to hone in on what matters to us, whether "matters" is defined as what's needed for survival, or if it's defined as what it takes to get that person from the other side of the room to notice that you exist. 

Furthermore, we can learn from what we encounter. (Turing's explanation for the possibility of a Learning Machine stems from the possibility of creating a child-machine that can eventually learn new propositions, but as I said, we have yet to program anything with even the intelligence of a frog, so I think a child is way out). 

I also believe that consciousness is necessarily embodied. 

"What?!" you cry, "Now, that's chauvinistic. Requiring a body for consciousness? That definitely precludes a machine from ever having consciousness."

Perhaps. But I believe that the experience of consciousnes is borne out of the physical/chemical dynamical system that is body-consciousness. I believe that all the aspects of the body (including the brain) - neurotransmitters, action potentials, hormones, proprioceptive system, sensory systems - are all required for the emergence of the phenomenological aspect of human consciousness. A programmer would need to program in all of these systems in order to achieve consciousness. Consciousness would have to emerge from these systems. Somehow.

"Somehow?!" you explode, "What the hell? Now that's a cop-out if I ever saw one."

Well. Yes. But if I had the answer to that 'somehow' I would know how to create consciousness. And frankly, I really don't.

Sentient beings are faced with billions upon billions of inputs, that require billions upon billions of decisions, every day. Inputs from the world, through every integrated system that we have in our embodied consciousness. Every second, our world, our inputs, our premises, change. We have to selectively ignore a great deal of extraneous information in order to zero in on what actually matters to our situation. Our world is messy and chaotic, every problem space has a million different paths to get from point A to point B. So far, as astounding as they are, the computers that we have still deal with discrete sets of data as input and discrete functions for decision making. A programmer would need the most giant RAM in the world and the fastest processor in order to approximate anything like relevance realization. And that would still be a pale approximation. 

It's not that a computer with the right processing speed, size of store, and coding could never be programmed to perform its functions rapidly in order to recall preprogrammed information, in order to present it in a way that answers discrete questions that are posed to it. A computer could definitely do that. They do, now. And they'll only get faster and built with more memory as time goes on.

But, that is not the game that we are playing. 

The game that we are playing is much more complicated than that. It is so much more than working with discrete pieces of input to perform discrete functions in order to churn out discrete outputs. It involves sifting through a messy world with constantly changing circumstances, and somehow filtering through it all and making some kind of sense of things, oftentimes with little to no direction or programming. 

How the hell do sentient beings do this? I have no idea. I don't think we ever will. It is an inimitable game. 

how do we engage in critical discourse with the willfully ignorant?

It hurts my brain to think that there are still people in this world who do not acknowledge the existence of racism, sexism, or any other systematic prejudicial institution.

You know the type.

"Feminism is bad for men! Why do you think men have to fight so hard for child custody?"

"People can be racist against white people too!"

"Feminists want superiority, not equality."

"I'm fine with gay people, I just don't want to see them being gay."

"I just don't see colour. We live in a post-racial world. I mean, Obama."

Now, there's a difference between people who are ignorant because of circumstance, and people who are willfully ignorant. There was a time in my life when I was ignorant of and oblivious to certain societal issues, and I'm sure that there are many more that I am currently oblivious to. But whenever I hear someone from a marginalized group tell me that my behaviour is problematic, I damn well listen. It's hard, and I feel like an asshole, but I know that it's the right thing to do. And it doesn't matter if I disagree or don't understand. Given the certain facets of privilege that I enjoy, obliviousness is built into the nature of who I am. It takes someone who doesn't enjoy a facet of privilege to point out that privilege in the first place. 

It's the people who flatly deny their privilege that make me want to tear my hair out. 

And they're everywhere.

How the hell are you supposed to engage with these people? Goddess knows that it's not the responsibility of marginalized groups to educate the majority, because it's frustrating and hurtful and can be very traumatizing. So who is responsible for educating them? Are they even educable? If they're so willfully ignorant, what's the point? Do we just give up, for the sake of our own sanity?

Hell no.

Yes, it's frustrating. Yes it can be fruitless to try to engage in debates with people who are so committed to wearing blinders. But all the same, I think it's important to stick to our guns. 

Of course, there's a time and a place. Getting in a tweeting war with an internet troll is probably not going to do anything other than make you want to vomit (preferably on the troll in question). Nor will it likely be worth your while getting into a shouting match with a white-hetero-cis-abled-male-etc about how the fact that they've experienced hardship does nothing to take away from the fact that institutional power structures exist. 

But there is a lot of middle ground between beating your head against a wall and giving up. Disengaging from a conversation does not mean disengaging from an issue. Just because you back away from a fruitless (and potentially damaging) conversation does not mean that you're a traitor to your causes. 

The most important thing is that we don't shut up in the grand scheme of things, that we keep talking about it, that we weave critical discourse into the very fabric of our lives, and not let one instance of willful ignorance do anything to dampen our convictions. 

Practice personal safety, count every victory, lean on your allies, and never let anything put your fire out. 

Small, dangerous, beautiful things

I've been thinking a lot lately about what I do to contribute to my own anxiety. Yes, there are sometimes environmental circumstances that exacerbate it, and perhaps I do have some strange body-chemistry thing going on that predisposes me to it, but at the end of the day I have to accept responsibility and acknowledge the fact that there is a lot that I do to contribute to my own anxiety.

It's been helpful to me to try to create a list of these little things that I do so I can be better aware of them. It's also been helpful to me to try to engage in activities that help relieve a little of the pressure, a trephination of sorts.

I'll share with you a piece of stream-of-consciousness writing that churned out of my head during a period of anxious energy.

I can't seem to shake the marvel at small things. Small, dangerous, beautiful things. Asking along the axis of my own existence. My line grows shorter with every breath. My hand draws more and more steady as the time of the killing draws near. I write in charcoal on the eyes of my enemies. I breathe in the fumes of their fear. I stand in the wake of no man. I quiver in no one's shadow, save the sun's, such a cool penumbral glow for such a bright hot star. I sense my unrealized sisters' sorrow in its rays. Like warm tongues on flesh, like needles in the crook of every elbow. Don't stop to think, just let it flow out of you like blood. Create a space for yourself in the midst of all that's been taken away. Take it back. Let yourself realize your worth. Let yourself understand the singular beauty of your mind. Create art. Destroy art. Let your creations be destroyed, just let go. Feel the freedom in giving in to the unknown. 

Passion vs. Addiction - thoughts on socially sanctioned obsession

The word passion, in the Romantic sense (and not romantic as in flowers and chocolates, but Romantic as in moodiness, demons, and emotion over reason), refers to an all-consuming feeling; being overwhelmed. There is a self-destructive edge to the word, which itself sounds so much like the bite of a knife blade or the hiss of an igniting fire.

Passion. 

In colloquial terms, we often characterize passion in a much more banal and pale sense. We talk about passion as being synonymous with love or even affinity. But passion is so much more than this. Passion contorts. Passion harms. Passion consumes like fire with a brightness that eclipses reason and forethought.

And yet, passion is sanctioned, even celebrated, in society. We yearn for it. We try our best to cultivate it. We describe the leaders in any field as having passion, and often view it as a requisite for success.

What is the difference between passion and addiction?

Like passion, addiction consumes. Like passion, addiction can make people willingly harm themselves in order to go just that little bit deeper, to get that little bit closer. Dancers dance until their bodies break. Musicians lock themselves in rooms until their records are complete. Programmers spend every waking minute in front of too-bright computer screens, trying to solve problems no one has even considered formulating. Artists and scientists of all kinds push away the ones they love and alienate themselves, all in the name of their craft or work. And of course there is a physiological component to passion, a rush of endorphins and neurotransmitters, the body's endogenous psychoactives.

Perhaps the notion of passion as distinct from addiction comes from characterizing passion as something that someone can share with others. In this sharing, the object of passion becomes something beautiful. The suffering inherent in passion gains meaning that can be appreciated extrapersonally. The dancer performs his piece to a loving audience. The musician releases her album to the world, bearing her heart and soul in a way that would not otherwise be socially acceptable. The programmer creates a piece of technology so revolutionary that it will change the way of the world as we know it.

But the addict is alone, even when surrounded by peers, even when sharing his passion with others.

What is the object of passion for the addict? What is the end game of the addiction? Is there something to be performed, something to be released to the world? Something beautiful to behold after so much suffering?

Perhaps passion is object-directed addiction. The object of passion can be shared with the world, cathected, purged. Passion burns around the core until the final result is pure carbon, a diamond. But for the addict, the passion burns and burns until it burns everything away.

coping vs. complying: thoughts concerning social change

The term 'coping' is used to describe an individual's ability to deal with adverse situations. A 'coping mechanism' is often illustrated as being a knee-jerk reaction to an adverse event that has the unconscious intention of protecting an individual from harm. On the other hand, 'coping strategies' are often characterized as being a more thought-out and consciously implemented method of dealing with adverse situations. I myself use the term 'coping' all the time, often in the context of an individual's progress in fortifying themself against the challenges of every day life.

Developing coping skills is very important. There is a lot in life that we can't control and it is important to learn to cope and manage undesirable events that are beyond the sway of our actions.

It is obvious that there is quite a bit that is (ordinarily) beyond the sway of our actions. Examples include the death, illness, others' actions (i.e. bullying or criticism), or being fired from a job. Of course one could argue that one does have a certain amount of impact on the aforementioned life circumstances, but for the purposes of argument, let us consider extreme cases in which individual actions can do nothing to alter the course of events. So, to rephrase, it is obvious that there is quite a bit that is (ordinarily) beyond the sway of our actions, to a certain extent.

How much of what we label as 'beyond the sway of our actions' is properly characterized as such? In other words, when does coping stop and complacency begin?

To choose an example that is close to my heart: The state of popular media and the way that it dictates what the ideal standard of beauty is. If someone is physically disabled, older, dark-skinned, larger-bodied, hairy, or exhibiting of any other characteristic that isn't lauded as desirable in our world, should this person develop 'coping strategies' to deal with the fact that they don't compare to the standard of beauty?

Or another example: The fact that the world we live in is made for able-bodied individuals. If someone is physically disabled, should this person develop coping strategies to deal with the fact that the world is typically not made for them? Should they develop coping strategies to deal with the fact that a large part of cultural life will be inaccessible to them for the rest of their lives?

Or, should these people demand an alternative? Does coping in some instances mean complacency? Shouldn't we expect so much more from society? When is it appropriate to, rather than trying to fit oneself into a societal mold, break the mold entirely by refusing to try to fit in in the first place?

Of course, complacency is not always chosen - in such instances, coping is necessary. Furthermore, people in positions of privilege (based on gender, race, sexual orientation, ability, SES, etc.) have more freedom to be subversive and mold-breaky than their less privileged counterparts. However, people with less privilege are often the ones who are being forced to fit into a societal mold that does not contain a space for them, and they're often the ones who would benefit most from a mold-breaking in the first place. Hmmmm. Coincidence?

I am beginning to think that we are led to believe that there is more out our control than there actually is. I am beginning to think that we are being encouraged to cope in instances where smashing would be far more appropriate.

disability in a post-Darwinian world

In class the other day, we had an extremely interesting discussion surrounding notions of disability. We were speaking about the International Classification of Functioning, Disability, and Health (ICF) which was implemented by the World Health Organization. We discussed the implications of this new understanding of disability, particularly its implications for occupational therapists. The ICF characterizes the notion of disability as fluid. One's level of disability/ability is determined by one's functional ability, which is in turn determined by various factors, such as impairments, environment, and personal factors like resilience. A consequence of this model of thinking is that the notion of 'ability' is much more nuanced and dynamic than conventional black-and-white characterizations of 'abled' vs. 'disabled.'

This spurred a more general discussion about what it means to be 'disabled' vs 'abled'. The class seemed to agree that there is a spectrum of ability on which everyone occupies a space. This got me thinking about whether or not there is a dividing line between abled and disabled. If everyone is on a spectrum, does that not imply that there is no 'disabled' and no 'abled'? Is there no dividing line? I raised my hand in class and spoke up about my discomfort with that notion. 

I felt somewhat insensitive saying what I said, and disclaimed that fact before carrying on, and made sure to acknowledge my privilege as an able-bodied and cognitively-able person. I said that perhaps our notions of disability are based around notions of what a body is 'supposed' to be able to do, from an evolutionary standpoint. Another student picked up the discussion and added that, while she agreed, she felt that society has moved beyond the point where we mark wellness by what our bodies and minds are 'supposed' to be, from an evolutionary standpoint. I agreed with her, saying that I myself would not be around were it not for the advent of modern medical technology. I added that I believe we are in a post-Darwinian world, in which human evolution has come to incorporate technology, assistive devices, and medicine.

I believe that the notion of disability from a Darwinian standpoint still exists - as in, one is considered disabled if one's body or mind does not function in the way that a completely healthy individual's body or mind would function. However, given that we live in a world where assistive technology and medication is the norm, perhaps such a notion of disability is no longer appropriate. However, something inside of me still wants to classify disability in terms of comparing it to a completely healthy individual. But how many of us are actually completely healthy? Where does one draw the line? Does a line need to be drawn?

After that discussion our class had the opportunity to hear three individuals with varying disabilities speak about their experiences. I learned so much from their presentations. One of the presenters was asked about her specific diagnosis, and she answered the question, but first shared that she did not think it mattered. 

This is something that I will carry into my practice - in reality, it does not matter what someone's disability is on paper. What matters is their level of function and their ability to participate in meaningful activities and enjoy life. Rather than classifying people into categories of disabled vs. abled, perhaps we can think more in terms of one's ability to live a meaningful life. Perhaps the label of disabled vs. abled matters less than I thought it did. 

I welcome conversation/debate on this topic. I especially am interested in hearing the opinions of people who identify as disabled/differently-abled. 

don't fall asleep

So school is very busy. And it will only get busier. For the most part I am deeply enjoying what I am studying. And it is very invigorating to be around so many bright young people.

Everyone I talk to about the issue says that I am getting closer to achieving my dreams. They tell me to keep working hard and keep believing that I can. Yet I can't help but feel some days that I am inching my way forward at best. 

I have such lofty ambitions for myself. And there's always the eternal question: Could I be doing more? The eternal answer: Of course. You always could. You could study more. Read all of the 'suggested' readings as well as the 'required' readings. Sign up for more committees. Sacrifice your social life. Sleep less. 

Where do I draw the line? How do I know when to stop pushing myself? Does trying your best to reach your dreams account for any downtime? If I spend time relaxing does it mean I'm not trying my best? If not, what is the golden ratio of exertion and relaxation?

In other news, I was falling asleep in a writing workshop the other day (not due to lack of interest, just exhaustion, I have not been sleeping well) and I started writing a stream of consciousness piece to keep myself awake. It's unedited save for the line spacing. I thought I'd share it with you.

don't fall asleep don't fall asleep don't fall asleep

stream of consciousness stream of pen fume of mood room of blood
brood of humans the human few the human crew developed people out of womb 

from the womb to the tomb eyes awake to drink the gloom 

purple shroom blue moon i am crooning at the moon 

i am crying at the sky i am keeping open eyes pry them open with my mind

keep them open with the time time is flowing through my life 

i am sleeping in the sky i am snoring on the tide ocean waves inside my brain

footprints on a sandy spine sandy beach and golden wine laughter sunlight and the tide

breathing deeply in the sand keeping glass inside my hand

crushing sand to make it glass crushing memories of the past

frame the picture in your head name the creature in your bed

using pain to stay awake using shame to feel alive

using blame to dry my eyes using noise to bide my time