Page 39 - Foundations of Cognitive Psychology : Core Readings

Can Machines Think? 37

the Turing test that often leads to drastic overestimation of the powers of actu-
ally existing computer systems. The follies of this familiar sort of thinking
about computers can best be brought out by a reconsideration of the Turing test
itself.
The insight underlying the Turing test is the same insight that inspires the
new practice among symphony orchestras of conducting auditions with an
opaque screen between the jury and the musician. What matters in a musician,
obviously, is musical ability and only musical ability; such features as sex, hair
length, skin color, and weight are strictly irrelevant. Since juries might be
biased—even innocently and unawares—by these irrelevant features, they are
carefully screened off so only the essential feature, musicianship, can be exam-
ined. Turing recognized that people similarly might be biased in their judg-
ments of intelligence by whether the contestant had soft skin, warm blood,
facial features, hands and eyes—which are obviously not themselves essential
components of intelligence—so he devised a screen that would let through only
a sample of what really mattered:the capacity to understand, and think clev-
erly about, challenging problems. Perhaps he was inspired by Descartes, who
in his Discourse on Method (1637) plausibly argued that there was no more
demanding test of human mentality than the capacity to hold an intelligent
conversation:
It is indeed conceivable that a machine could be so made that it would
utter words, and even words appropriate to the presence of physical acts
or objects which cause some change in its organs; as, for example, if it was
touched in some spot that it would ask what you wanted to say to it; if in
another, that it would cry that it was hurt, and so on for similar things.
But it could never modify its phrases to reply to the sense of whatever
was said in its presence, as even the most stupid men can do.
This seemed obvious to Descartes in the seventeenth century, but of course the
fanciest machines he knew were elaborate clockwork figures, not electronic
computers. Today it is far from obvious that such machines are impossible, but
Descartes’s hunch that ordinary conversation would put as severe a strain on
artificial intelligence as any other test was shared by Turing. Of course there is
nothing sacred about the particular conversational game chosen by Turing for
his test; it is just a cannily chosen test of more general intelligence. The as-
sumption Turing was prepared to make was this:Nothing could possibly pass
the Turing test by winning the imitation game without being able to perform
indefinitely many other clearly intelligent actions. Let us call that assumption
the quick-probe assumption. Turing realized, as anyone would, that there are
hundreds and thousands of telling signs of intelligent thinking to be observed
in our fellow creatures, and one could, if one wanted, compile a vast battery of
different tests to assay the capacity for intelligent thought. But success on his
chosen test, he thought, would be highly predictive of success on many other
intuitively acceptable tests of intelligence. Remember, failure on the Turing test
does not predict failure on those others, but success would surely predict suc-
cess. His test was so severe, he thought, that nothing that could pass it fair and
square would disappoint us in other quarters. Maybe it wouldn’t do everything
we hoped—maybe it wouldn’t appreciate ballet, or understand quantum