1. The Imitation Game
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." It is played with
three people, a man (A), a woman (B), and an interrogator
(C) who may be of either sex. The interrogator stays in a
room apart front the other two. The object of the game for
the interrogator is to determine which of the other two is
the man and which is the woman. He knows them by labels X
and Y, and at the end of the game he says either "X is A and
Y is B" or "X is B and Y is A." The interrogator is allowed
to put questions to A and B thus:
C: Will X please tell me the length of his or her hair?
Now suppose X is actually A, then A must answer. It is A's
object in the game to try and cause C to make the wrong
identification. His answer might therefore be:
"My hair is shingled, and the longest strands are about nine
inches long."
In order that tones of voice may not help the interrogator
the answers should be written, or better still, typewritten.
The ideal arrangement is to have a teleprinter communicating
between the two rooms. Alternatively the question and
answers can be repeated by an intermediary. The object of
the game for the third player (B) is to help the
interrogator. The best strategy for her is probably to give
truthful answers. She can add such things as "I am the
woman, don't listen to him!" to her answers, but it will
avail nothing as the man can make similar remarks.
We now ask the question, "What will happen when a machine
takes the part of A in this game?" Will the interrogator
decide wrongly as often when the game is played like this as
he does when the game is played between a man and a woman?
These questions replace our original, "Can machines think?"
2. Critique of the New Problem
As well as asking, "What is the answer to this new form of
the question," one may ask, "Is this new question a worthy
one to investigate?" This latter question we investigate
without further ado, thereby cutting short an infinite
regress.
The new problem has the advantage of drawing a fairly sharp
line between the physical and the intellectual capacities of
a man. No engineer or chemist claims to be able to produce a
material which is indistinguishable from the human skin. It
is possible that at some time this might be done, but even
supposing this invention available we should feel there was
little point in trying to make a "thinking machine" more
human by dressing it up in such artificial flesh. The form
in which we have set the problem reflects this fact in the
condition which prevents the interrogator from seeing or
touching the other competitors, or hearing -their voices.
Some other advantages of the proposed criterion may be shown
up by specimen questions and answers. Thus:
-
Q: Please write me a sonnet on the subject of the Forth
Bridge.
-
A : Count me out on this one. I never could write
poetry.
- Q: Add 34957 to 70764.
-
A: (Pause about 30 seconds and then give as answer)
105621.
- Q: Do you play chess?
- A: Yes.
-
Q: I have K at my K1, and no other pieces. You have only
K at K6 and R at R1. It is your move. What do you play?
- A: (After a pause of 15 seconds) R-R8 mate.
The question and answer method seems to be suitable for
introducing almost any one of the fields of human endeavour
that we wish to include. We do not wish to penalise the
machine for its inability to shine in beauty competitions,
nor to penalise a man for losing in a race against an
aeroplane. The conditions of our game make these
disabilities irrelevant. The "witnesses" can brag, if they
consider it advisable, as much as they please about their
charms, strength or heroism, but the interrogator cannot
demand practical demonstrations.
The game may perhaps be criticised on the ground that the
odds are weighted too heavily against the machine. If the
man were to try and pretend to be the machine he would
clearly make a very poor showing. He would be given away at
once by slowness and inaccuracy in arithmetic. May not
machines carry out something which ought to be described as
thinking but which is very different from what a man does?
This objection is a very strong one, but at least we can say
that if, nevertheless, a machine can be constructed to play
the imitation game satisfactorily, we need not be troubled
by this objection.
It might be urged that when playing the "imitation game" the
best strategy for the machine may possibly be something
other than imitation of the behaviour of a man. This may be,
but I think it is unlikely that there is any great effect of
this kind. In any case there is no intention to investigate
here the theory of the game, and it will be assumed that the
best strategy is to try to provide answers that would
naturally be given by a man.
3. The Machines Concerned in the Game
The question which we put in 1 will not be quite definite
until we have specified what we mean by the word "machine."
It is natural that we should wish to permit every kind of
engineering technique to be used in our machines. We also
wish to allow the possibility than an engineer or team of
engineers may construct a machine which works, but whose
manner of operation cannot be satisfactorily described by
its constructors because they have applied a method which is
largely experimental. Finally, we wish to exclude from the
machines men born in the usual manner. It is difficult to
frame the definitions so as to satisfy these three
conditions. One might for instance insist that the team of
engineers should be all of one sex, but this would not
really be satisfactory, for it is probably possible to rear
a complete individual from a single cell of the skin (say)
of a man. To do so would be a feat of biological technique
deserving of the very highest praise, but we would not be
inclined to regard it as a case of "constructing a thinking
machine." This prompts us to abandon the requirement that
every kind of technique should be permitted. We are the more
ready to do so in view of the fact that the present interest
in "thinking machines" has been aroused by a particular kind
of machine, usually called an "electronic computer" or
"digital computer." Following this suggestion we only permit
digital computers to take part in our game.
This restriction appears at first sight to be a very drastic
one. I shall attempt to show that it is not so in reality.
To do this necessitates a short account of the nature and
properties of these computers.
It may also be said that this identification of machines
with digital computers, like our criterion for "thinking,"
will only be unsatisfactory if (contrary to my belief), it
turns out that digital computers are unable to give a good
showing in the game.
There are already a number of digital computers in working
order, and it may be asked, "Why not try the experiment
straight away? It would be easy to satisfy the conditions of
the game. A number of interrogators could be used, and
statistics compiled to show how often the right
identification was given." The short answer is that we are
not asking whether all digital computers would do well in
the game nor whether the computers at present available
would do well, but whether there are imaginable computers
which would do well. But this is only the short answer. We
shall see this question in a different light later.
4. Digital Computers
The idea behind digital computers may be explained by saying
that these machines are intended to carry out any operations
which could be done by a human computer. The human computer
is supposed to be following fixed rules; he has no authority
to deviate from them in any detail. We may suppose that
these rules are supplied in a book, which is altered
whenever he is put on to a new job. He has also an unlimited
supply of paper on which he does his calculations. He may
also do his multiplications and additions on a "desk
machine," but this is not important.
If we use the above explanation as a definition we shall be
in danger of circularity of argument. We avoid this by
giving an outline. of the means by which the desired effect
is achieved. A digital computer can usually be regarded as
consisting of three parts:
- Store.
- Executive unit.
- Control.
The store is a store of information, and corresponds to the
human computer's paper, whether this is the paper on which
he does his calculations or that on which his book of rules
is printed. In so far as the human computer does
calculations in his bead a part of the store will correspond
to his memory.
The executive unit is the part which carries out the various
individual operations involved in a calculation. What these
individual operations are will vary from machine to machine.
Usually fairly lengthy operations can be done such as
"Multiply 3540675445 by 7076345687" but in some machines
only very simple ones such as "Write down 0" are possible.
We have mentioned that the "book of rules" supplied to the
computer is replaced in the machine by a part of the store.
It is then called the "table of instructions." It is the
duty of the control to see that these instructions are
obeyed correctly and in the right order. The control is so
constructed that this necessarily happens.
The information in the store is usually broken up into
packets of moderately small size. In one machine, for
instance, a packet might consist of ten decimal digits.
Numbers are assigned to the parts of the store in which the
various packets of information are stored, in some
systematic manner. A typical instruction might say-
"Add the number stored in position 6809 to that in 4302 and
put the result back into the latter storage position."
Needless to say it would not occur in the machine expressed
in English. It would more likely be coded in a form such as
6809430217. Here 17 says which of various possible
operations is to be performed on the two numbers. In this
case the)e operation is that described above, viz., "Add the
number. . . ." It will be noticed that the instruction takes
up 10 digits and so forms one packet of information, very
conveniently. The control will normally take the
instructions to be obeyed in the order of the positions in
which they are stored, but occasionally an instruction such
as
"Now obey the instruction stored in position 5606, and
continue from there"
may be encountered, or again
"If position 4505 contains 0 obey next the instruction
stored in 6707, otherwise continue straight on."
Instructions of these latter types are very important
because they make it possible for a sequence of operations
to be replaced over and over again until some condition is
fulfilled, but in doing so to obey, not fresh instructions
on each repetition, but the same ones over and over again.
To take a domestic analogy. Suppose Mother wants Tommy to
call at the cobbler's every morning on his way to school to
see if her shoes are done, she can ask him afresh every
morning. Alternatively she can stick up a notice once and
for all in the hall which he will see when he leaves for
school and which tells him to call for the shoes, and also
to destroy the notice when he comes back if he has the shoes
with him.
The reader must accept it as a fact that digital computers
can be constructed, and indeed have been constructed,
according to the principles we have described, and that they
can in fact mimic the actions of a human computer very
closely.
The book of rules which we have described our human computer
as using is of course a convenient fiction. Actual human
computers really remember what they have got to do. If one
wants to make a machine mimic the behaviour of the human
computer in some complex operation one has to ask him how it
is done, and then translate the answer into the form of an
instruction table. Constructing instruction tables is
usually described as "programming." To "programme a machine
to carry out the operation A" means to put the appropriate
instruction table into the machine so that it will do A.
An interesting variant on the idea of a digital computer is
a "digital computer with a random element." These have
instructions involving the throwing of a die or some
equivalent electronic process; one such instruction might
for instance be, "Throw the die and put the-resulting number
into store 1000." Sometimes such a machine is described as
having free will (though I would not use this phrase
myself), It is not normally possible to determine from
observing a machine whether it has a random element, for a
similar effect can be produced by such devices as making the
choices depend on the digits of the decimal for .
Most actual digital computers have only a finite store.
There is no theoretical difficulty in the idea of a computer
with an unlimited store. Of course only a finite part can
have been used at any one time. Likewise only a finite
amount can have been constructed, but we can imagine more
and more being added as required. Such computers have
special theoretical interest and will be called infinitive
capacity computers.
The idea of a digital computer is an old one. Charles
Babbage, Lucasian Professor of Mathematics at Cambridge from
1828 to 1839, planned such a machine, called the Analytical
Engine, but it was never completed. Although Babbage had all
the essential ideas, his machine was not at that time such a
very attractive prospect. The speed which would have been
available would be definitely faster than a human computer
but something like I 00 times slower than the Manchester
machine, itself one of the slower of the modern machines,
The storage was to be purely mechanical, using wheels and
cards.
The fact that Babbage's Analytical Engine was to be entirely
mechanical will help us to rid ourselves of a superstition.
Importance is often attached to the fact that modern digital
computers are electrical, and that the nervous system also
is electrical. Since Babbage's machine was not electrical,
and since all digital computers are in a sense equivalent,
we see that this use of electricity cannot be of theoretical
importance. Of course electricity usually comes in where
fast signalling is concerned, so that it is not surprising
that we find it in both these connections. In the nervous
system chemical phenomena are at least as important as
electrical. In certain computers the storage system is
mainly acoustic. The feature of using electricity is thus
seen to be only a very superficial similarity. If we wish to
find such similarities we should took rather for
mathematical analogies of function.
5. Universality of Digital Computers
The digital computers considered in the last section may be
classified amongst the "discrete-state machines." These are
the machines which move by sudden jumps or clicks from one
quite definite state to another. These states are
sufficiently different for the possibility of confusion
between them to be ignored. Strictly speaking there, are no
such machines. Everything really moves continuously. But
there are many kinds of machine which can profitably be
thought of as being discrete-state machines. For
instance in considering the switches for a lighting system
it is a convenient fiction that each switch must be
definitely on or definitely off. There must be intermediate
positions, but for most purposes we can forget about them.
As an example of a discrete-state machine we might consider
a wheel which clicks round through 120 once a second, but
may be stopped by a ]ever which can be operated from
outside; in addition a lamp is to light in one of the
positions of the wheel. This machine could be described
abstractly as follows. The internal state of the machine
(which is described by the position of the wheel) may be
q1, q2
or q3. There is an input signal i0. or i1
(position of ]ever). The internal state at any moment is
determined by the last state and input signal according to
the table
The output signals, the only externally visible indication
of the internal state (the light) are described by the table
State |
q1 |
q2 |
q3 |
Output |
o0 |
o0 |
o1 |
This example is typical of discrete-state machines. They can
be described by such tables provided they have only a finite
number of possible states.
It will seem that given the initial state of the machine and
the input signals it is always possible to predict all
future states, This is reminiscent of Laplace's view that
from the complete state of the universe at one moment of
time, as described by the positions and velocities of all
particles, it should be possible to predict all future
states. The prediction which we are considering is, however,
rather nearer to practicability than that considered by
Laplace. The system of the "universe as a whole" is such
that quite small errors in the initial conditions can have
an overwhelming effect at a later time. The displacement of
a single electron by a billionth of a centimetre at one
moment might make the difference between a man being killed
by an avalanche a year later, or escaping. It is an
essential property of the mechanical systems which we have
called "discrete-state machines" that this phenomenon does
not occur. Even when we consider the actual physical
machines instead of the idealised machines, reasonably
accurate knowledge of the state at one moment yields
reasonably accurate knowledge any number of steps later.
As we have mentioned, digital computers fall within the
class of discrete-state machines. But the number of states
of which such a machine is capable is usually enormously
large. For instance, the number for the machine now working
at Manchester is about 2165,000, i.e., about
1050,000. Compare this with our example of the
clicking wheel described above, which had three states. It
is not difficult to see why the number of states should be
so immense. The computer includes a store corresponding to
the paper used by a human computer. It must be possible to
write into the store any one of the combinations of symbols
which might have been written on the paper. For simplicity
suppose that only digits from 0 to 9 are used as symbols.
Variations in handwriting are ignored. Suppose the computer
is allowed 100 sheets of paper each containing 50 lines each
with room for 30 digits. Then the number of states is 10100x50x30
i.e., 10150,000. This is about the number of
states of three Manchester machines put together. The
logarithm to the base two of the number of states is usually
called the "storage capacity" of the machine. Thus the
Manchester machine has a storage capacity of about 165,000
and the wheel machine of our example about 1.6. If two
machines are put together their capacities must be added to
obtain the capacity of the resultant machine. This leads to
the possibility of statements such as "The Manchester
machine contains 64 magnetic tracks each with a capacity of
2560, eight electronic tubes with a capacity of 1280.
Miscellaneous storage amounts to about 300 making a total of
174,380."
Given the table corresponding to a discrete-state machine it
is possible to predict what it will do. There is no reason
why this calculation should not be carried out by means of a
digital computer. Provided it could be carried out
sufficiently quickly the digital computer could mimic the
behavior of any discrete-state machine. The imitation game
could then be played with the machine in question (as B) and
the mimicking digital computer (as A) and the interrogator
would be unable to distinguish them. Of course the digital
computer must have an adequate storage capacity as well as
working sufficiently fast. Moreover, it must be programmed
afresh for each new machine which it is desired to mimic.
This special property of digital computers, that they can
mimic any discrete-state machine, is described by saying
that they are universal machines. The existence of machines
with this property has the important consequence that,
considerations of speed apart, it is unnecessary to design
various new machines to do various computing processes. They
can all be done with one digital computer, suitably
programmed for each case. It 'ill be seen that as a
consequence of this all digital computers are in a sense
equivalent.
We may now consider again the point raised at the end of §3.
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
C. 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, C can be
made to play satisfactorily the part of A in the imitation
game, the part of B being taken by a man?"
6. Contrary Views on the Main Question
We may now consider the ground to have been cleared and we
are ready to proceed to the debate on our question, "Can
machines think?" and the variant of it quoted at the end of
the last section. We cannot altogether abandon the original
form of the problem, for opinions will differ as to the
appropriateness of the substitution and we must at least
listen to what has to be said in this connexion.
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. I believe further that no useful purpose is
served by concealing these beliefs. The popular view that
scientists proceed inexorably from well-established fact to
well-established fact, never being influenced by any
improved conjecture, is quite mistaken. Provided it is made
clear which are proved facts and which are conjectures, no
harm can result. Conjectures are of great importance since
they suggest useful lines of research.
I now proceed to consider opinions opposed to my own.
(1) The Theological Objection
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.
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.
However, this is mere speculation. I am not very impressed
with theological arguments whatever they may be used to
support. Such arguments have often been found unsatisfactory
in the past. In the time of Galileo it was argued that the
texts, "And the sun stood still . . . and hasted not to go
down about a whole day" (Joshua x. 13) and "He laid the
foundations of the earth, that it should not move at any
time" (Psalm cv. 5) were an adequate refutation of the
Copernican theory. With our present knowledge such an
argument appears futile. When that knowledge was not
available it made a quite different impression.
(2) The "Heads in the Sand" Objection
The consequences of machines thinking would be too dreadful.
Let us hope and believe that they cannot do so."
This argument is seldom expressed quite so openly as in the
form above. But it affects most of us who think about it at
all. We like to believe that Man is in some subtle way
superior to the rest of creation. It is best if he can be
shown to be necessarily superior, for then there is no
danger of him losing his commanding position. The popularity
of the theological argument is clearly connected with this
feeling. It is likely to be quite strong in intellectual
people, since they value the power of thinking more highly
than others, and are more inclined to base their belief in
the superiority of Man on this power.
I do not think that this argument is sufficiently
substantial to require refutation. Consolation would be more
appropriate: perhaps this should be sought in the
transmigration of souls.
(3) The Mathematical Objection
There are a number of results of mathematical logic which
can be used to show that there are limitations to the powers
of discrete-state machines. The best known of these results
is known as Gödel's theorem (1931) and shows that in any
sufficiently powerful logical system statements can be
formulated which can neither be proved nor disproved within
the system, unless possibly the system itself is
inconsistent. There are other, in some respects similar,
results due to Church (1936), Kleene (1935), Rosser, and
Turing (1937). The latter result is the most convenient to
consider, since it refers directly to machines, whereas the
others can only be used in a comparatively indirect
argument: for instance if Gödel's theorem is to be used we
need in addition to have some means of describing logical
systems in terms of machines, and machines in terms of
logical systems. The result in question refers to a type of
machine which is essentially a digital computer with an
infinite capacity. It states that there are certain things
that such a machine cannot do. If it is rigged up to give
answers to questions as in the imitation game, there will be
some questions to which it will either give a wrong answer,
or fail to give an answer at all however much time is
allowed for a reply. There may, of course, be many such
questions, and questions which cannot be answered by one
machine may be satisfactorily answered by another. We are of
course supposing for the present that the questions are of
the kind to which an answer "Yes" or "No" is appropriate,
rather than questions such as "What do you think of
Picasso?" The questions that we know the machines must fail
on are of this type, "Consider the machine specified as
follows. . . . Will this machine ever answer 'Yes' to any
question?" The dots are to be replaced by a description of
some machine in a standard form, which could be something
like that used in §5. When the machine described bears a
certain comparatively simple relation to the machine which
is under interrogation, it can be shown that the answer is
either wrong or not forthcoming. This is the mathematical
result: it is argued that it proves a disability of machines
to which the human intellect is not subject.
The short answer to this argument is that although it is
established that there are limitations to the Powers If any
particular machine, it has only been stated, without any
sort of proof, that no such limitations apply to the human
intellect. But I do not think this view can be dismissed
quite so lightly. Whenever one of these machines is asked
the appropriate critical question, and gives a definite
answer, we know that this answer must be wrong, and this
gives us a certain feeling of superiority. Is this feeling
illusory? It is no doubt quite genuine, but I do not think
too much importance should be attached to it. We too often
give wrong answers to questions ourselves to be justified in
being very pleased at such evidence of fallibility on the
part of the machines. Further, our superiority can only be
felt on such an occasion in relation to the one machine over
which we have scored our petty triumph. There would be no
question of triumphing simultaneously over all machines. In
short, then, there might be men cleverer than any given
machine, but then again there might be other machines
cleverer again, and so on.
Those who hold to the mathematical argument would, I think,
mostly he willing to accept the imitation game as a basis
for discussion, Those who believe in the two previous
objections would probably not be interested in any criteria.
(4) The Argument from Consciousness
This argument is very, well expressed in Professor
Jefferson's Lister Oration for 1949, from which I quote.
"Not until a machine can write a sonnet or compose a
concerto because of thoughts and emotions felt, and not by
the chance fall of symbols, could we agree that machine
equals brain-that is, not only write it but know that it had
written it. No mechanism could feel (and not merely
artificially signal, an easy contrivance) pleasure at its
successes, grief when its valves fuse, be warmed by
flattery, be made miserable by its mistakes, be charmed by
sex, be angry or depressed when it cannot get what it
wants."
This argument appears to be a denial of the validity of our
test. According to the most extreme form of this view the
only way by which one could be sure that machine thinks is
to be the machine and to feel oneself thinking. One could
then describe these feelings to the world, but of course no
one would be justified in taking any notice. Likewise
according to this view the only way to know that a man
thinks is to be that particular man. It is in fact the
solipsist point of view. It may be the most logical view to
hold but it makes communication of ideas difficult. A is
liable to believe "A thinks but B does not" whilst B
believes "B thinks but A does not." instead of arguing
continually over this point it is usual to have the polite
convention that everyone thinks.
I am sure that Professor Jefferson does not wish to adopt
the extreme and solipsist point of view. Probably he would
be quite willing to accept the imitation game as a test. The
game (with the player B omitted) is frequently used in
practice under the name of viva voce to discover whether
some one really understands something or has "learnt it
parrot fashion." Let us listen in to a part of such a
viva voce:
-
Interrogator: In the first line of your sonnet which
reads "Shall I compare thee to a summer's day," would
not "a spring day" do as well or better?
- Witness: It wouldn't scan.
-
Interrogator: How about "a winter's day," That would
scan all right.
-
Witness: Yes, but nobody wants to be compared to a
winter's day.
-
Interrogator: Would you say Mr. Pickwick reminded you of
Christmas?
- Witness: In a way.
-
Interrogator: Yet Christmas is a winter's day, and I do
not think Mr. Pickwick would mind the comparison.
-
Witness: I don't think you're serious. By a winter's day
one means a typical winter's day, rather than a special
one like Christmas.
And so on, What would Professor Jefferson say if the
sonnet-writing machine was able to answer like this in the
viva voce? I do not know whether he would regard
the machine as "merely artificially signalling" these
answers, but if the answers were as satisfactory and
sustained as in the above passage I do not think he would
describe it as "an easy contrivance." This phrase is, I
think, intended to cover such devices as the inclusion in
the machine of a record of someone reading a sonnet, with
appropriate switching to turn it on from time to time.
In short then, I think that most of those who support the
argument from consciousness could be persuaded to abandon it
rather than be forced into the solipsist position. They will
then probably be willing to accept our test.
I do not wish to give the impression that I think there is
no mystery about consciousness. There is, for instance,
something of a paradox connected with any attempt to
localise it. But I do not think these mysteries necessarily
need to be solved before we can answer the question with
which we are concerned in this paper.
(5) Arguments from Various Disabilities
These arguments take the form, "I grant you that you can
make machines do all the things you have mentioned but you
will never be able to make one to do X." Numerous features X
are suggested in this connexion I offer a selection:
Be kind, resourceful, beautiful, friendly, have initiative,
have a sense of humour, tell right from wrong, make
mistakes, fall in love, enjoy strawberries and cream, make
some one fall in love with it, learn from experience, use
words properly, be the subject of its own thought, have as
much diversity of behaviour as a man, do something really
new.
No support is usually offered for these statements. I
believe they are mostly founded on the principle of
scientific induction. A man has seen thousands of machines
in his lifetime. From what he sees of them he draws a number
of general conclusions. They are ugly, each is designed for
a very limited purpose, when required for a minutely
different purpose they are useless, the variety of behaviour
of any one of them is very small, etc., etc. Naturally he
concludes that these are necessary properties of machines in
general. Many of these limitations are associated with the
very small storage capacity of most machines. (I am assuming
that the idea of storage capacity is extended in some way to
cover machines other than discrete-state machines. The exact
definition does not matter as no mathematical accuracy is
claimed in the present discussion,) A few years ago, when
very little had been heard of digital computers, it was
possible to elicit much incredulity concerning them, if one
mentioned their properties without describing their
construction. That was presumably due to a similar
application of the principle of scientific induction. These
applications of the principle are of course largely
unconscious. When a burnt child fears the fire and shows
that he fears it by avoiding it, f should say that he was
applying scientific induction. (I could of course also
describe his behaviour in many other ways.) The works and
customs of mankind do not seem to be very suitable material
to which to apply scientific induction. A very large part of
space-time must be investigated, if reliable results are to
be obtained. Otherwise we may (as most English 'Children do)
decide that everybody speaks English, and that it is silly
to learn French.
There are, however, special remarks to be made about many of
the disabilities that have been mentioned. The inability to
enjoy strawberries and cream may have struck the reader as
frivolous. Possibly a machine might be made to enjoy this
delicious dish, but any attempt to make one do so would be
idiotic. What is important about this disability is that it
contributes to some of the other disabilities, e.g., to the
difficulty of the same kind of friendliness occurring
between man and machine as between white man and white man,
or between black man and black man.
The claim that "machines cannot make mistakes" seems a
curious one. One is tempted to retort, "Are they any the
worse for that?" But let us adopt a more sympathetic
attitude, and try to see what is really meant. I think this
criticism can be explained in terms of the imitation game.
It is claimed that the interrogator could distinguish the
machine from the man simply by setting them a number of
problems in arithmetic. The machine would be unmasked
because of its deadly accuracy. The reply to this is simple.
The machine (programmed for playing the game) would not
attempt to give the right answers to the arithmetic
problems. It would deliberately introduce mistakes in a
manner calculated to confuse the interrogator. A mechanical
fault would probably show itself through an unsuitable
decision as to what sort of a mistake to make in the
arithmetic. Even this interpretation of the criticism is not
sufficiently sympathetic. But we cannot afford the space to
go into it much further. It seems to me that this criticism
depends on a confusion between two kinds of mistake, We may
call them "errors of functioning" and "errors of
conclusion." Errors of functioning are due to some
mechanical or electrical fault which causes the machine to
behave otherwise than it was designed to do. In
philosophical discussions one likes to ignore the
possibility of such errors; one is therefore discussing
"abstract machines." These abstract machines are
mathematical fictions rather than physical objects. By
definition they are incapable of errors of functioning. In
this sense we can truly say that "machines can never make
mistakes." Errors of conclusion can only arise when some
meaning is attached to the output signals from the machine.
The machine might, for instance, type out mathematical
equations, or sentences in English. When a false proposition
is typed we say that the machine has committed an error of
conclusion. There is clearly no reason at all for saying
that a machine cannot make this kind of mistake. It might do
nothing but type out repeatedly "O = I." To take a less
perverse example, it might have some method for drawing
conclusions by scientific induction. We must expect such a
method to lead occasionally to erroneous results.
The claim that a machine cannot be the subject of its own
thought can of course only be answered if it can be shown
that the machine has some thought with some subject matter.
Nevertheless, "the subject matter of a machine's operations"
does seem to mean something, at least to the people who deal
with it. If, for instance, the machine was trying to find a
solution of the equation x2 - 40x - 11 = 0 one
would be tempted to describe this equation as part of the
machine's subject matter at that moment. In this sort of
sense a machine undoubtedly can be its own subject matter.
It may be used to help in making up its own programmes, or
to predict the effect of alterations in its own structure.
By observing the results of its own behaviour it can modify
its own programmes so as to achieve some purpose more
effectively. These are possibilities of the near future,
rather than Utopian dreams.
The criticism that a machine cannot have much diversity of
behaviour is just a way of saying that it cannot have much
storage capacity. Until fairly recently a storage capacity
of even a thousand digits was very rare.
The criticisms that we are considering here are often
disguised forms of the argument from consciousness, Usually
if one maintains that a machine can do one of these things,
and describes the kind of method that the machine could use,
one will not make much of an impression. It is thought that
tile method (whatever it may be, for it must be mechanical)
is really rather base. Compare the parentheses in
Jefferson's statement quoted on page 22.
(6) Lady Lovelace's Objection
Our most detailed information of Babbage's Analytical Engine
comes from a memoir by Lady Lovelace (1842). In it she
states, "The Analytical Engine has no pretensions to
originate anything. It can do
whatever we know how to order it to perform" (her
italics). This statement is quoted by Hartree (1949) who
adds: "This does not imply that it may not be possible to
construct electronic equipment which will 'think for
itself,' or in which, in biological terms, one could set up
a conditioned reflex, which would serve as a basis for
'learning.' Whether this is possible in principle or not is
a stimulating and exciting question, suggested by some of
these recent developments But it did not seem that the
machines constructed or projected at the time had this
property."
I am in thorough agreement with Hartree over this. It will
be noticed that he does not assert that the machines in
question had not got the property, but rather that the
evidence available to Lady Lovelace did not encourage her to
believe that they had it. It is quite possible that the
machines in question had in a sense got this property. For
suppose that some discrete-state machine has the property.
The Analytical Engine was a universal digital computer, so
that, if its storage capacity and speed were adequate, it
could by suitable programming be made to mimic the machine
in question. Probably this argument did not occur to the
Countess or to Babbage. In any case there was no obligation
on them to claim all that could be claimed.
This whole question will be considered again under the
heading of learning machines.
A variant of Lady Lovelace's objection states that a machine
can "never do anything really new." This may be parried for
a moment with the saw, "There is nothing new under the sun."
Who can be certain that "original work" that he has done was
not simply the growth of the seed planted in him by
teaching, or the effect of following well-known general
principles. A better variant of the objection says that a
machine can never "take us by surprise." This statement is a
more direct challenge and can be met directly. Machines take
me by surprise with great frequency. This is largely because
I do not do sufficient calculation to decide what to expect
them to do, or rather because, although I do a calculation,
I do it in a hurried, slipshod fashion, taking risks.
Perhaps I say to myself, "I suppose the Voltage here ought
to he the same as there: anyway let's assume it is."
Naturally I am often wrong, and the result is a surprise for
me for by the time the experiment is done these assumptions
have been forgotten. These admissions lay me open to
lectures on the subject of my vicious ways, but do not throw
any doubt on my credibility when I testify to the surprises
I experience.
I do not expect this reply to silence my critic. He will
probably say that h surprises are due to some creative
mental act on my part, and reflect no credit on the machine.
This leads us back to the argument from consciousness, and
far from the idea of surprise. It is a line of argument we
must consider closed, but it is perhaps worth remarking that
the appreciation of something as surprising requires as much
of a "creative mental act" whether the surprising event
originates from a man, a book, a machine or anything else.
The view that machines cannot give rise to surprises is due,
I believe, to a fallacy to which philosophers and
mathematicians are particularly subject. This is the
assumption that as soon as a fact is presented to a mind all
consequences of that fact spring into the mind
simultaneously with it. It is a very useful assumption under
many circumstances, but one too easily forgets that it is
false. A natural consequence of doing so is that one then
assumes that there is no virtue in the mere working out of
consequences from data and general principles.
(7) Argument from Continuity in the Nervous System
The nervous system is certainly not a discrete-state
machine. A small error in the information about the size of
a nervous impulse impinging on a neuron, may make a large
difference to the size of the outgoing impulse. It may be
argued that, this being so, one cannot expect to be able to
mimic the behaviour of the nervous system with a
discrete-state system.
It is true that a discrete-state machine must be different
from a continuous machine. But if we adhere to the
conditions of the imitation game, the interrogator will not
be able to take any advantage of this difference. The
situation can be made clearer if we consider sonic other
simpler continuous machine. A differential analyser will do
very well. (A differential analyser is a certain kind of
machine not of the discrete-state type used for some kinds
of calculation.) Some of these provide their answers in a
typed form, and so are suitable for taking part in the game.
It would not be possible for a digital computer to predict
exactly what answers the differential analyser would give to
a problem, but it would be quite capable of giving the right
sort of answer. For instance, if asked to give the value of
(actually about 3.1416) it would be reasonable to choose at
random between the values 3.12, 3.13, 3.14, 3.15, 3.16 with
the probabilities of 0.05, 0.15, 0.55, 0.19, 0.06 (say).
Under these circumstances it would be very difficult for the
interrogator to distinguish the differential analyser from
the digital computer.
(8) The Argument from Informality of Behaviour
It is not possible to produce a set of rules purporting to
describe what a man should do in every conceivable set of
circumstances. One might for instance have a rule that one
is to stop when one sees a red traffic light, and to go if
one sees a green one, but what if by some fault both appear
together? One may perhaps decide that it is safest to stop.
But some further difficulty may well arise from this
decision later. To attempt to provide rules of conduct to
cover every eventuality, even those arising from traffic
lights, appears to be impossible. With all this I agree.
From this it is argued that we cannot be machines. I shall
try to reproduce the argument, but I fear I shall hardly do
it justice. It seems to run something like this. "if each
man had a definite set of rules of conduct by which he
regulated his life he would be no better than a machine. But
there are no such rules, so men cannot be machines." The
undistributed middle is glaring. I do not think the argument
is ever put quite like this, but I believe this is the
argument used nevertheless. There may however be a certain
confusion between "rules of conduct" and "laws of behaviour"
to cloud the issue. By "rules of conduct" I mean precepts
such as "Stop if you see red lights," on which one can act,
and of which one can be conscious. By "laws of behaviour" I
mean laws of nature as applied to a man's body such as "if
you pinch him he will squeak." If we substitute "laws of
behaviour which regulate his life" for "laws of conduct by
which he regulates his life" in the argument quoted the
undistributed middle is no longer insuperable. For we
believe that it is not only true that being regulated by
laws of behaviour implies being some sort of machine (though
not necessarily a discrete-state machine), but that
conversely being such a machine implies being regulated by
such laws. However, we cannot so easily convince ourselves
of the absence of complete laws of behaviour as of complete
rules of conduct. The only way we know of for finding such
laws is scientific observation, and we certainly know of no
circumstances under which we could say, "We have searched
enough. There are no such laws."
We can demonstrate more forcibly that any such statement
would be unjustified. For suppose we could be sure of
finding such laws if they existed. Then given a
discrete-state machine it should certainly be possible to
discover by observation sufficient about it to predict its
future behaviour, and this within a reasonable time, say a
thousand years. But this does not seem to be the case. I
have set up on the Manchester computer a small programme
using only 1,000 units of storage, whereby the machine
supplied with one sixteen-figure number replies with another
within two seconds. I would defy anyone to learn from these
replies sufficient about the programme to be able to predict
any replies to untried values.
(9) The Argument from Extrasensory Perception
I assume that the reader is familiar with the idea of
extrasensory perception, and the meaning of the four items
of it, viz., telepathy, clairvoyance, precognition and
psychokinesis. These disturbing phenomena seem to deny all
our usual scientific ideas. How we should like to discredit
them! Unfortunately the statistical evidence, at least for
telepathy, is overwhelming. It is very difficult to
rearrange one's ideas so as to fit these new facts in. Once
one has accepted them it does not seem a very big step to
believe in ghosts and bogies. The idea that our bodies move
simply according to the known laws of physics, together with
some others not yet discovered but somewhat similar, would
be one of the first to go.
This argument is to my mind quite a strong one. One can say
in reply that many scientific theories seem to remain
workable in practice, in spite of clashing with ESP; that in
fact one can get along very nicely if one forgets about it.
This is rather cold comfort, and one fears that thinking is
just the kind of phenomenon where ESP may be especially
relevant.
A more specific argument based on ESP might run as follows:
"Let us play the imitation game, using as witnesses a man
who is good as a telepathic receiver, and a digital
computer. The interrogator can ask such questions as 'What
suit does the card in my right hand belong to?' The man by
telepathy or clairvoyance gives the right answer 130 times
out of 400 cards. The machine can only guess at random, and
perhaps gets 104 right, so the interrogator makes the right
identification." There is an interesting possibility which
opens here. Suppose the digital computer contains a random
number generator. Then it will be natural to use this to
decide what answer to give. But then the random number
generator will be subject to the psychokinetic powers of the
interrogator. Perhaps this psychokinesis might cause the
machine to guess right more often than would be expected on
a probability calculation, so that the interrogator might
still be unable to make the right identification. On the
other hand, he might be able to guess right without any
questioning, by clairvoyance. With ESP anything may happen.
If telepathy is admitted it will be necessary to tighten our
test up. The situation could be regarded as analogous to
that which would occur if the interrogator were talking to
himself and one of the competitors was listening with his
ear to the wall. To put the competitors into a
"telepathy-proof room" would satisfy all requirements.
7. Learning Machines
The reader will have anticipated that I have no very
convincing arguments of a positive nature to support my
views. If I had I should not have taken such pains to point
out the fallacies in contrary views. Such evidence as I have
I shall now give.
Let us return for a moment to Lady Lovelace's objection,
which stated that the machine can only do what we tell it to
do. One could say that a man can "inject" an idea into the
machine, and that it will respond to a certain extent and
then drop into quiescence, like a piano string struck by a
hammer. Another simile would be an atomic pile of less than
critical size: an injected idea is to correspond to a
neutron entering the pile from without. Each such neutron
will cause a certain disturbance which eventually dies away.
If, however, the size of the pile is sufficiently increased,
tire disturbance caused by such an incoming neutron will
very likely go on and on increasing until the whole pile is
destroyed. Is there a corresponding phenomenon for minds,
and is there one for machines? There does seem to be one for
the human mind. The majority of them seem to be
"subcritical," i.e., to correspond in this analogy to piles
of subcritical size. An idea presented to such a mind will
on average give rise to less than one idea in reply. A
smallish proportion are supercritical. An idea presented to
such a mind that may give rise to a whole "theory"
consisting of secondary, tertiary and more remote ideas.
Animals minds seem to be very definitely subcritical.
Adhering to this analogy we ask, "Can a machine be made to
be supercritical?"
The "skin-of-an-onion" analogy is also helpful. In
considering the functions of the mind or the brain we find
certain operations which we can explain in purely mechanical
terms. This we say does not correspond to the real mind: it
is a sort of skin which we must strip off if we are to find
the real mind. But then in what remains we find a further
skin to be stripped off, and so on. Proceeding in this way
do we ever come to the "real" mind, or do we eventually come
to the skin which has nothing in it? In the latter case the
whole mind is mechanical. (It would not be a discrete-state
machine however. We have discussed this.)
These last two paragraphs do not claim to be convincing
arguments. They should rather be described as "recitations
tending to produce belief."
The only really satisfactory support that can be given for
the view expressed at the beginning of §6, will be that
provided by waiting for the end of the century and then
doing the experiment described. But what can we say in the
meantime? What steps should be taken now if the experiment
is to be successful?
As I have explained, the problem is mainly one of
programming. Advances in engineering will have to be made
too, but it seems unlikely that these will not be adequate
for the requirements. Estimates of the storage capacity of
the brain vary from 1010 to 1015
binary digits. I incline to the lower values and believe
that only a very small fraction is used for the higher types
of thinking. Most of it is probably used for the retention
of visual impressions, I should be surprised if more than
109 was required for satisfactory playing of the
imitation game, at any rate against a blind man. (Note: The
capacity of the Encyclopaedia Britannica, 11th
edition, is 2 × 109) A storage capacity of
107, would be a very practicable possibility even
by present techniques. It is probably not necessary to
increase the speed of operations of the machines at all.
Parts of modern machines which can be regarded as analogs of
nerve cells work about a thousand times faster than the
latter. This should provide a "margin of safety" which could
cover losses of speed arising in many ways, Our problem then
is to find out how to programme these machines to play the
game. At my present rate of working I produce about a
thousand digits of progratiirne a day, so that about sixty
workers, working steadily through the fifty years might
accomplish the job, if nothing went into the wastepaper
basket. Some more expeditious method seems desirable.
In the process of trying to imitate an adult human mind we
are bound to think a good deal about the process which has
brought it to the state that it is in. We may notice three
components.
- The initial state of the mind, say at birth,
- The education to which it has been subjected,
-
Other experience, not to be described as education, to
which it has been subjected.
Instead of trying to produce a programme to simulate the
adult mind, why not rather try to produce one which
simulates the child's? If this were then subjected to an
appropriate course of education one would obtain the adult
brain. Presumably the child brain is something like a
notebook as one buys it from the stationer's. Rather little
mechanism, and lots of blank sheets. (Mechanism and writing
are from our point of view almost synonymous.) Our hope is
that there is so little mechanism in the child brain that
something like it can be easily programmed. The amount of
work in the education we can assume, as a first
approximation, to be much the same as for the human child.
We have thus divided our problem into two parts. The child
programme and the education process. These two remain very
closely connected. We cannot expect to find a good child
machine at the first attempt. One must experiment with
teaching one such machine and see how well it learns. One
can then try another and see if it is better or worse. There
is an obvious connection between this process and evolution,
by the identifications
Structure of the child machine |
= hereditary material |
Changes of the child machine |
= mutation, |
Natural selection |
= judgment of the experimenter |
One may hope, however, that this process will be more
expeditious than evolution. The survival of the fittest is a
slow method for measuring advantages. The experimenter, by
the exercise of intelligence, should he able to speed it up.
Equally important is the fact that he is not restricted to
random mutations. If he can trace a cause for some weakness
he can probably think of the kind of mutation which will
improve it.
It will not be possible to apply exactly the same teaching
process to the machine as to a normal child. It will not,
for instance, be provided with legs, so that it could not be
asked to go out and fill the coal scuttle. Possibly it might
not have eyes. But however well these deficiencies might be
overcome by clever engineering, one could not send the
creature to school without the other children making
excessive fun of it. It must be given some tuition. We need
not be too concerned about the legs, eyes, etc. The example
of Miss Helen Keller shows that education can take place
provided that communication in both directions between
teacher and pupil can take place by some means or other.
We normally associate punishments and rewards with the
teaching process. Some simple child machines can be
constructed or programmed on this sort of principle. The
machine has to be so constructed that events which shortly
preceded the occurrence of a punishment signal are unlikely
to be repeated, whereas a reward signal increased the
probability of repetition of the events which led up to it.
These definitions do not presuppose any feelings on the part
of the machine, I have done some experiments with one such
child machine, and succeeded in teaching it a few things,
but the teaching method was too unorthodox for the
experiment to be considered really successful.
The use of punishments and rewards can at best be a part of
the teaching process. Roughly speaking, if the teacher has
no other means of communicating to the pupil, the amount of
information which can reach him does not exceed the total
number of rewards and punishments applied. By the time a
child has learnt to repeat "Casabianca" he would probably
feel very sore indeed, if the text could only be discovered
by a "Twenty Questions" technique, every "NO" taking the
form of a blow. It is necessary therefore to have some other
"unemotional" channels of communication. If these are
available it is possible to teach a machine by punishments
and rewards to obey orders given in some language, e.g., a
symbolic language. These orders are to be transmitted
through the "unemotional" channels. The use of this language
will diminish greatly the number of punishments and rewards
required.
Opinions may vary as to the complexity which is suitable in
the child machine. One might try to make it as simple as
possible consistently with the general principles.
Alternatively one might have a complete system of logical
inference "built in."' In the latter case the store would be
largely occupied with definitions and propositions. The
propositions would have various kinds of status, e.g.,
well-established facts, conjectures, mathematically proved
theorems, statements given by an authority, expressions
having the logical form of proposition but not belief-value.
Certain propositions may be described as "imperatives." The
machine should be so constructed that as soon as an
imperative is classed as "well established" the appropriate
action automatically takes place. To illustrate this,
suppose the teacher says to the machine, "Do your homework
now." This may cause "Teacher says 'Do your homework now' "
to be included amongst the well-established facts. Another
such fact might be, "Everything that teacher says is true."
Combining these may eventually lead to the imperative, "Do
your homework now," being included amongst the
well-established facts, and this, by the construction of the
machine, will mean that the homework actually gets started,
but the effect is very satisfactory. The processes of
inference used by the machine need not be such as would
satisfy the most exacting logicians. There might for
instance be no hierarchy of types. But this need not mean
that type fallacies will occur, any more than we are bound
to fall over unfenced cliffs. Suitable imperatives
(expressed within the systems, not forming part of the rules
of the system) such as "Do not use a class unless it is a
subclass of one which has been mentioned by teacher" can
have a similar effect to "Do not go too near the edge."
The imperatives that can be obeyed by a machine that has no
limbs are bound to be of a rather intellectual character, as
in the example (doing homework) given above. important
amongst such imperatives will be ones which regulate the
order in which the rules of the logical system concerned are
to be applied, For at each stage when one is using a logical
system, there is a very large number of alternative steps,
any of which one is permitted to apply, so far as obedience
to the rules of the logical system is concerned. These
choices make the difference between a brilliant and a
footling reasoner, not the difference between a sound and a
fallacious one. Propositions leading to imperatives of this
kind might be "When Socrates is mentioned, use the syllogism
in Barbara" or "If one method has been proved to be quicker
than another, do not use the slower method." Some of these
may be "given by authority," but others may be produced by
the machine itself, e.g. by scientific induction.
The idea of a learning machine may appear paradoxical to
some readers. How can the rules of operation of the machine
change? They should describe completely how the machine will
react whatever its history might be, whatever changes it
might undergo. The rules are thus quite time-invariant. This
is quite true. The explanation of the paradox is that the
rules which get changed in the learning process are of a
rather less pretentious kind, claiming only an ephemeral
validity. The reader may draw a parallel with the
Constitution of the United States.
An important feature of a learning machine is that its
teacher will often be very largely ignorant of quite what is
going on inside, although he may still be able to some
extent to predict his pupil's behavior. This should apply
most strongly to the later education of a machine arising
from a child machine of well-tried design (or programme).
This is in clear contrast with normal procedure when using a
machine to do computations one's object is then to have a
clear mental picture of the state of the machine at each
moment in the computation. This object can only be achieved
with a struggle. The view that "the machine can only do what
we know how to order it to do,"' appears strange in face of
this. Most of the programmes which we can put into the
machine will result in its doing something that we cannot
make sense (if at all, or which we regard as completely
random behaviour. Intelligent behaviour presumably consists
in a departure from the completely disciplined behaviour
involved in computation, but a rather slight one, which does
not give rise to random behaviour, or to pointless
repetitive loops. Another important result of preparing our
machine for its part in the imitation game by a process of
teaching and learning is that "human fallibility" is likely
to be omitted in a rather natural way, i.e., without special
"coaching." (The reader should reconcile this with the point
of view on pages 23 and 24.) Processes that are learnt do
not produce a hundred per cent certainty of result; if they
did they could not be unlearnt.
It is probably wise to include a random element in a
learning machine. A random element is rather useful when we
are searching for a solution of some problem. Suppose for
instance we wanted to find a number between 50 and 200 which
was equal to the square of the sum of its digits, we might
start at 51 then try 52 and go on until we got a number that
worked. Alternatively we might choose numbers at random
until we got a good one. This method has the advantage that
it is unnecessary to keep track of the values that have been
tried, but the disadvantage that one may try the same one
twice, but this is not very important if there are several
solutions. The systematic method has the disadvantage that
there may be an enormous block without any solutions in the
region which has to be investigated first, Now the learning
process may be regarded as a search for a form of behaviour
which will satisfy the teacher (or some other criterion).
Since there is probably a very large number of satisfactory
solutions the random method seems to be better than the
systematic. It should be noticed that it is used in the
analogous process of evolution. But there the systematic
method is not possible. How could one keep track of the
different genetical combinations that had been tried, so as
to avoid trying them again?
We may hope that machines will eventually compete with men
in all purely intellectual fields. But which are the best
ones to start with? Even this is a difficult decision. Many
people think that a very abstract activity, like the playing
of chess, would be best. It can also be maintained that it
is best to provide the machine with the best sense organs
that money can buy, and then teach it to understand and
speak English. This process could follow the normal teaching
of a child. Things would be pointed out and named, etc.
Again I do not know what the right answer is, but I think
both approaches should be tried.
We can only see a short distance ahead, but we can see
plenty there that needs to be done.