I’m not all that interested in sex dolls, actually. But what I am interested in is the reactions they provoke from people when they consider the nature of intelligence.
My view – pretty much that followed by Alan Turing in his pioneering paper “Computing Machinery and Intelligence” – from which we get the “imitation game” aka the Turing Test – is that intelligence is whatever looks like intelligence.
The relevance of this to sex dolls is that the BBC’s technology correspondent Jane Wakefield has put together a series of reports on the subject – the first was on “From Our Own Correspondent” last Saturday, there’s a web piece – here – and there is a report for the BBC’s World Service yet to come.
Wakefield argues that while the sex doll “Harmony” can say things which sound like intimate small talk, the doll can never know the feelings behind the words.
But what does that mean? At the most basic level none of us can live inside the head of another – we can never “feel” what it’s like to that other person, because we cannot be them.
Or, to paraphrase Turing, you might like strawberry ice cream and I might hate it: but we are both tasting the same thing, so what does this feeling of “love” or “hate” correspond to? How could you know how I “feel” about the ice cream, when you “feel” differently?
It’s an entirely subjective thing, so how can you assert that the machine “feels” nothing?
Of course, the human brain and human experience generally appears to be a massively parallel thing and we simply cannot, yet, replicate that in a machine, but if we could are we seriously suggesting that human consciousness transcends the material? That simply doesn’t make any sense to me.
A while ago I read Max Tegmark‘s “Our Mathematical Universe” (Amazon link) – which introduced me to the concept of “Quantum Suicide” and the idea that if the “many worlds” interpretation of quantum physics is correct then, if death is a result of quantum processes (e.g., does this particular atomic nucleus decay, releasing radiation, causing a mutation, leading to cancer and so on), then, actually, we can expect to live forever – in the sense that our consciousness would continue on in that universe where all the quantum randomness was for the best.
It’s a powerful, if quite mind-bending idea, and it had quite a profound effect on me.
Until, that is, at the end of January, when I slipped on a London street, smashed my face on the pavement and swallowed the broken piece of tooth. Three months later the pain in my upper left arm – with which I tried to break my fall, is a constant reminder that maybe Niels Bohr and the Copenhagen Interpretation was right after all.
This definition of intelligence relies on Turing’s own – in his famous 1950 paper “Computing Machinery and Intelligence” (well worth reading, and no particular knowledge of computing is required) – a definition I like to think of as being summarised in the idea that “if something looks intelligent it is intelligent”: hence if you can make a computer fool you into thinking it is as intelligent as a 13-year-old boy (as in the Reading University case), then it is as intelligent as a 13 year old boy.
Of course, that is not to say it has self-awareness in the same way as a 13-year-old. But given that we are struggling to come up with an agreed scientific consensus on what such self-awareness consists of, that question is, to at least a degree, moot.