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The Chinese room is a thought experiment by John Searle which first appeared in his paper "Minds, Brains, and Programs", published in Behavioral and Brain Sciences in 1980. It addresses the question: if a machine can convincingly simulate an intelligent conversation, does it necessarily understand? In the experiment, Searle imagines himself in a room acting as a computer by manually executing a program that convincingly simulates the behavior of a native Chinese speaker. People outside the room slide Chinese characters under the door and Searle, to whom "Chinese writing is just so many meaningless squiggles", is able to create sensible replies, in Chinese, by following the instructions of the program; that is, by moving papers around. The question arises whether Searle can be said to understand Chinese in the same way that, as Searle says, "according to strong AI, . . . the appropriately programmed computer really is a mind, in the sense that computers given the right programs can be literally said to understand and have other cognitive states."
The experiment is the centerpiece of Searle's Chinese Room Argument which holds that a program cannot give a computer a "mind" or "understanding", regardless of how intelligently it may make it behave. He concludes that "programs are neither constitutive of nor sufficient for minds." "I can have any formal program you like, but I still understand nothing." The Chinese room is an argument against certain claims of leading thinkers in the field of artificial intelligence, and is not concerned with the level of intelligence that an AI program can display.
Searle's argument is directed against functionalism and computationalism (philosophical positions inspired by AI), rather than the goals of applied AI research itself. The argument leaves aside the question of creating an artificial mind by methods other than symbol manipulation. Controversial, and the subject of an entire literature of counterargument, it became the journal's "most influential target article", generating an enormous number of commentaries and responses in the ensuing decades.
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Searle's thought experiment begins with this hypothetical premise: suppose that artificial intelligence research has succeeded in constructing a computer that behaves as if it understands Chinese. It takes Chinese characters as input and, by following the instructions of a computer program, produces other Chinese characters, which it presents as output. Suppose, says Searle, that this computer performs its task so convincingly that it comfortably passes the Turing test: it convinces a human Chinese speaker that the program is itself a human Chinese speaker. To all of the questions that the human asks, it makes appropriate responses, such that any Chinese speaker would be convinced that he or she is talking to another Chinese-speaking human being.
Searle claims that there are some proponents of artificial intelligence, who hold a functionalist position, who would conclude that the computer "understands" Chinese. This conclusion, a position he refers to as strong AI, is the target of Searle's argument.
Searle then supposes that he is in a closed room and has a book with an English version of the computer program, along with sufficient paper, pencils, erasers and filing cabinets. Searle could receive Chinese characters through a slot in the door, process them according to the program's instructions, and produce Chinese characters as output. As the computer had passed the Turing test this way, it is fair, says Searle, to deduce that he would be able to do so as well, simply by running the program manually.
Searle asserts that there is no essential difference between the role the computer plays in the first case and the role he plays in the latter. Each is simply following a program, step-by-step, which simulates intelligent behavior. And yet, Searle points out, "I don't speak a word of Chinese". Since he does not understand Chinese, Searle argues, we must infer that the computer does not understand Chinese either.
Searle argues that without "understanding" (what philosophers call "intentionality"), we cannot describe what the machine is doing as "thinking". Because it does not think, it does not have a "mind" in anything like the normal sense of the word, according to Searle. Therefore, he concludes, "strong AI" is mistaken.
Searle's argument first appeared in his paper "Minds, Brains, and Programs", published in Behavioral and Brain Sciences in 1980. It eventually became the journal's "most influential target article", generating an enormous number of commentaries and responses in the ensuing decades.
Most of the discussion consists of attempts to refute it. "The overwhelming majority," notes BBS editor Stevan Harnad, "still think that the Chinese Room Argument is dead wrong." The sheer volume of the literature that has grown up around it inspired Pat Hayes to quip that the field of cognitive science ought to be redefined as "the ongoing research program of showing Searle's Chinese Room Argument to be false."
Despite the controversy (or perhaps because of it), the paper has become "something of a classic in cognitive science," according to Harnad. Varol Akman agrees, and has described Searle's paper as "an exemplar of philosophical clarity and purity".
Although the Chinese Room argument was originally presented in reaction to the statements of AI researchers, philosophers have come to view it as an important part of the philosophy of mind. It is a challenge to functionalism and the computational theory of mind, and is related to such questions as the mind-body problem, the problem of other minds, the symbol-grounding problem and the hard problem of consciousness.
Searle identified a philosophical position he calls "strong AI":
The appropriately programmed computer with the right inputs and outputs would thereby have a mind in exactly the same sense human beings have minds.
The definition hinges on the distinction between simulating a mind and actually having a mind. Searle writes that "according to Strong AI, the correct simulation really is a mind. According to Weak AI, the correct simulation is a model of the mind."
The position is implicit in some of the statements of early AI researchers and analysts. For example, in 1955, AI founder Herbert Simon declared that "there are now in the world machines that think, that learn and create" and claimed that they had "solved the venerable mind-body problem, explaining how a system composed of matter can have the properties of mind." John Haugeland wrote that "AI wants only the genuine article: machines with minds, in the full and literal sense. This is not science fiction, but real science, based on a theoretical conception as deep as it is daring: namely, we are, at root, computers ourselves."
Searle also ascribes the following positions to advocates of strong AI:
In more recent presentations of the Chinese room argument, Searle has identified "strong AI" as "computer functionalism" (a term he attributes to Daniel Dennett). Functionalism is a position in modern philosophy of mind that holds that we can define mental phenomena (such as beliefs, desires and perceptions) by describing their functions in relation to each other and to the outside world. Because a computer program can accurately represent functional relationships as relationships between symbols, a computer can have mental phenomena if it runs the right program, according to functionalism.
Stevan Harnad argues that Searle's depictions of strong AI can be reformulated as "recognizable tenets of computationalism, a position (unlike 'strong AI') that is actually held by many thinkers, and hence one worth refuting." Computationalism is the position in the philosophy of mind which argues that the mind can be accurately described as an information-processing system.
Each of the following, according to Harnad, is a "tenet" of computationalism:
The Chinese room has exactly the same design as any modern computer. It has a Von Neumann architecture, which consists of a program (the book of instructions), some memory (the papers and file cabinets), a CPU which follows the instructions (the man) and a means to write symbols in memory (the pencil and eraser). A machine with this design is known in theoretical computer science as "Turing complete", because it has the necessary machinery to carry out any computation that Turing machine can do, and therefore it is capable of doing a step-by-step simulation of any other digital machine. Alan Turing writes, "all digital computers are in a sense equivalent." In other words, the Chinese room can do whatever any other computer can do (albeit much, much slower). The widely accepted Church-Turing thesis holds that anything computable is computable by any Turing complete machine.
The Chinese room (and all modern computers) manipulate physical objects in order to carry out calculations and do simulations. AI researchers Alan Newell and Herbert Simon called this kind of machine a physical symbol system. It is also equivalent to the formal systems used in the field of mathematical logic. Searle emphasizes the fact that this kind of symbol manipulation is syntactic (borrowing a term from the study of grammar). The CPU manipulates the symbols using a form of syntax rules, without any knowledge of the symbol's semantics (that is, their meaning).
Searle's argument applies specifically to computers (that is, devices that can only manipulate symbols without knowing what they mean) and not to machines in general. Searle does not disagree that machines can have consciousness and understanding, because, as he writes, "we are precisely such machines". Searle's holds that the brain is, in fact, a machine, but the brain gives rise to consciousness and understanding using machinery that is non-computational. Searle writes "brains cause minds" and that "actual human mental phenomena [are] dependent on actual physical-chemical properties of actual human brains", a position called "biological naturalism" (as opposed to alternatives like dualism, behaviorism, functionalism or identity theory). Indeed, Searle accuses "strong AI" of dualism, the idea that the brain and mind are made of different "substances". He writes that "strong AI only makes sense given the dualistic assumption that, where the mind is concerned, the brain doesn't matter."
Searle's original argument centered on 'understanding' — that is, mental states with what philosophers call 'intentionality' — and did not directly address other closely related ideas such as 'consciousness'. David Chalmers argued that "it is fairly clear that consciousness is at the root of the matter". In more recent presentations of the Chinese Room, Searle has included 'consciousness' as part of the argument as well.
Searle's argument does not limit the intelligence with which machines can behave or act; indeed, it does not address this issue directly. "The Chinese room argument ... assumes complete success on the part of artificial intelligence in simulating human cognition," Searle writes. This leaves open the possibility that a machine could be built that acts more intelligent than a man, but does not have a mind or intentionality in the same way that brains do.
Since the primary mission of artificial intelligence research is only to create useful systems that act intelligently, Searle's arguments are not usually considered an issue for AI research. Stuart Russell and Peter Norvig observe that most AI researchers "don't care about the strong AI hypothesis—as long as the program works, they don't care whether you call it a simulation of intelligence or real intelligence."
Searle's "strong AI" should not be confused with "strong AI" as defined by Ray Kurzweil and other futurists, who use the term to describe machine intelligence that rivals or exceeds human intelligence. Kurzweil is concerned primarily with the amount of intelligence displayed by the machine, whereas Searle's argument sets no limit on this, as long as it is understood that it is a simulation and not the real thing.
Replies to Searle's argument may be classified according to what they claim to show:
Some of the arguments (robot and brain simulation, for example) fall into multiple categories.
These two replies attempt to answer the question: since the man in the room doesn't speak Chinese, where is the "mind" that does? These replies address the key ontological issues of mind vs. body and simulation vs. reality.
Systems reply. The "systems reply" argues that it is the whole system, the whole room, that understands Chinese. The man understands only English, but the whole system understands Chinese. In the room, the man is just the central processor. The assertion that the CPU doesn't understand Chinese is beside the point.
Searle responds to this position by asking what happens if the man memorizes the rules and keeps track of everything in his head. Then, Searle argues, the whole system is the man himself. Searle argues that if the man doesn't understand Chinese then the system doesn't understand Chinese either and the fact that the man appears to understand Chinese proves nothing.
The response to Searle's counter-argument is the "virtual mind" reply.
Virtual mind reply. The "virtual mind reply" argues that it is a portion of the system that understands Chinese, the portion identified as the virtual mind: the simulation. The term "virtual mind" is analogous to the computer term "virtual machine": a situation in which an operating system is run on a platform other than its native hardware platform by using a simulator. Any computer can simulate, or "implement", any other. A computer platform is "multiply realizable", meaning it can consist of different collections of hardware and software. This is also called, from the point of view of the running program, "implementation independence", meaning that a program gives the same results no matter which collection it runs on.
To clarify the distinction between the systems reply and virtual mind reply, David Cole notes that two simulations could be running on one system at the same time; one speaking Chinese and one speaking Korean. While there is only one system, there can be multiple "virtual minds."
Searle responds that such a simulation is incomplete. He writes: "No one supposes that computer simulations of a five-alarm fire will burn the neighborhood down or that a computer simulation of a rainstorm will leave us all drenched." Nicholas Fearn responds that, for some things, simulation is as good as the real thing. "When we call up the pocket calculator function on a desktop computer, the image of a pocket calculator appears on the screen. We don't complain that 'it isn't really a calculator', because the physical attributes of the device do not matter." The question is, is the human mind like the pocket calculator, essentially composed of information? Or is the mind like the rainstorm, something other than a computer, and not realizable in full by a computer simulation? (The issue of simulation is also discussed in the article synthetic intelligence.)
What they do and don't prove. These replies provide an explanation of exactly who it is that understands Chinese. If there is something besides the man in the room that can understand Chinese, Searle can't argue that (1) the man doesn't understand Chinese, therefore (2) nothing in the room understands Chinese. This, according to those who make this reply, shows that Searle's argument fails to prove that "strong AI" is false.
However, the replies, by themselves, do not prove that strong AI is true, either: they provide no evidence that the system (or the virtual mind) understands Chinese, other than the hypothetical premise that it passes the Turing Test. As Searle writes "the systems reply simply begs the question by insisting that system must understand Chinese."
As far as the person in the room is concerned, the symbols are just meaningless "squiggles." But if the Chinese room really "understands" what it's saying, then the symbols must get their meaning from somewhere. These arguments attempt to connect the symbols to the things they symbolize. These replies address Searle's concerns about intentionality, symbol grounding and syntax vs. semantics.
Robot reply. Suppose that instead of a room, the program was placed into a robot that could wander around and interact with its environment. This would allow a "causal connection" between the symbols and things they represent. Hans Moravec comments: 'If we could graft a robot to a reasoning program, we wouldn't need a person to provide the meaning anymore: it would come from the physical world."
Searle’s reply is to suppose that, unbeknownst to the individual in the Chinese room, some of the inputs came directly from a camera mounted on a robot, and some of the outputs were used to manipulate the arms and legs of the robot. Nevertheless, the person in the room is still just following the rules, and does not know what the symbols mean. Searle writes "he doesn't see what comes into the robot's eyes." (See Mary's room for a similar thought experiment.)
Derived meaning. Some respond that the room, as Searle describes it, is connected to the world: through the Chinese speakers that it is "talking" to and through the programmers who designed the knowledge base in his file cabinet. The symbols Searle manipulates are already meaningful, they're just not meaningful to him.
Searle says that the symbols only have a "derived" meaning, like the meaning of words in books. The meaning of the symbols depends on the conscious understanding of the Chinese speakers and the programmers outside the room. The room, according to Searle, has no understanding of its own.
Commonsense knowledge / contextualist reply. Some have argued that the meanings of the symbols would come from a vast "background" of commonsense knowledge encoded in the program and the filing cabinets. This would provide a "context" that would give the symbols their meaning.
Searle agrees that this background exists, but he does not agree that it can be built into programs. Hubert Dreyfus has also criticized the idea that the "background" can be represented symbolically.
What they do and don't prove. To each of these suggestions, Searle's response is the same: no matter how much knowledge is written into the program and no matter how the program is connected to the world, he is still in the room manipulating symbols according to rules. His actions are syntactic and this can never explain to him what the symbols stand for. Searle writes "syntax is insufficient for semantics."
However, for those who accept that Searle's actions simulate a mind, separate from his own, the important question is not what the symbols mean to Searle, what is important is what they mean to the virtual mind. While Searle is trapped in the room, the virtual mind is not: it is connected to the outside world through the Chinese speakers it speaks to, through the programmers who gave it world knowledge, and through the cameras and other sensors that roboticists can supply.
These arguments are all versions of the systems reply that identify a particular kind of system as being important. They try to outline what kind of a system would be able to pass the Turing test and give rise to conscious awareness in a machine. (Note that the "robot" and "commonsense knowledge" replies above also specify a certain kind of system as being important.)
Brain simulator reply. Suppose that the program simulated in fine detail the action of every neuron in the brain of a Chinese speaker. This strengthens the intuition that there would be no significant difference between the operation of the program and the operation of a live human brain.
Searle replies that such a simulation will not have reproduced the important features of the brain — its causal and intentional states. Searle is adamant that "human mental phenomena [are] dependent on actual physical-chemical properties of actual human brains."
Two variations on the brain simulator reply are:
Connectionist replies. Closely related to the brain simulator reply, this claims that a massively parallel connectionist architecture would be capable of understanding.
Combination reply. This response combines the robot reply with the brain simulation reply, arguing that a brain simulation connected to the world through a robot body could have a mind.
What they do and don't prove. Arguments such as these (and the robot and commonsense knowledge replies above) recommend that Searle's room be redesigned. Searle's replies all point out that, however the program is written or however it is connected to the world, it is still being simulated by a simple step by step Turing complete machine (or machines). These machines are still just like the man in the room: they understand nothing and don't speak Chinese. They are merely manipulating symbols without knowing what they mean.
Searle also argues that, if features like a robot body or a connectionist architecture are required, then strong AI (as he understands it) has been abandoned. Either (1) Searle's room can't pass the Turing test, because formal symbol manipulation (by a Turing complete machine) is not enough, or (2) Searle's room could pass the Turing test, but the Turing test is not sufficient to determine if the room has a "mind." Either way, it denies one or the other of the positions Searle thinks of "strong AI", proving his argument.
The brain arguments also suggests that computation can't provide an explanation of the human mind (another aspect of what Searle thinks of as "strong AI"). They assume that there is no simpler way to describe the mind than to create a program that is just as mysterious as the brain was. He writes "I thought the whole idea of strong AI was that we don't need to know how the brain works to know how the mind works."
Other critics don't argue that these improvements are necessary for the Chinese room to pass the Turing test or to have a mind. They accept the premise that the room as Searle describes it does, in fact, have a mind, but they argue that it is difficult to see—Searle's description is correct, but misleading. By redesigning the room more realistically they hope to make this more obvious. In this case, these arguments are being used as appeals to intuition (see next section). Searle's intuition, however, is never shaken. He writes: "I can have any formal program you like, but I still understand nothing."
In fact, the room can just as easily be redesigned to weaken our intuitions. Ned Block's "blockhead" argument (Block 1981) suggests that the program could, in theory, be rewritten into a simple lookup table of rules of the form "if the user writes S, reply with P and goto X". At least in principle, any program can be rewritten (or "refactored") into this form, even a brain simulation. In the blockhead scenario, the entire mental state is hidden in the letter X, which represents a memory address—a number associated with the next rule. It is hard to visualize that an instant of one's conscious experience can be captured in a single large number, yet this is exactly what "strong AI" claims. On the other hand, such a lookup table would be ridiculously large (probably to the point of being impossible in practice), and the states could therefore be extremely specific.
The following arguments (and the intuitive interpretations of the arguments above) do not directly explain how a Chinese speaking mind could exist in Searle's room, or how the symbols he manipulates could become meaningful. However, by raising doubts about Searle's intuitions they support other positions, such as the system and robot replies.
Speed and complexity replies. The speed at which our brains process information is (by some estimates) 100,000,000,000 operations per second. Several critics point out that the man in the room would probably take millions of years to respond to a simple question, and would require "filing cabinets" of astronomical proportions. This brings the clarity of Searle's intuition into doubt.
An especially vivid version of the speed and complexity reply is from Paul and Patricia Churchland. They propose this analogous thought experiment:
Several of the replies above address the issue of complexity. The connectionist reply emphasizes that a working artificial system would have to be as complex and as interconnected as the human brain. The commonsense knowledge reply emphasizes that any program that passed a Turing test would have to be "an extraordinarily supple, sophisticated, and multilayered system, brimming with 'world knowledge' and meta-knowledge and meta-meta-knowledge," as Daniel Dennett explains.
Stevan Harnad is critical of speed and complexity replies when they stray beyond addressing our intuitions. He writes "Some have made a cult of speed and timing, holding that, when accelerated to the right speed, the computational may make a phase transition into the mental. It should be clear that is not a counterargument but merely an ad hoc speculation (as is the view that it is all just a matter of ratcheting up to the right degree of 'complexity.')"
Other minds reply. This reply points out that Searle's argument is a version of the problem of other minds, applied to machines. There is no way we can determine if other people's subjective experience is the same as our own. We can only study their behavior (i.e., by giving them our own Turing test). Critics of Searle argue that he is holding the Chinese room to a higher standard than we would hold an ordinary person.
Nils Nilsson writes "If a program behaves as if it were multiplying, most of us would say that it is, in fact, multiplying. For all I know, Searle may only be behaving as if he were thinking deeply about these matters. But, even though I disagree with him, his simulation is pretty good, so I’m willing to credit him with real thought."
Alan Turing (writing 30 years before Searle presented his argument) noted that people never consider the problem of other minds when dealing with each other. He writes that "instead of arguing continually over this point it is usual to have the polite convention that everyone thinks." The Turing test simply extends this "polite convention" to machines. He doesn't intend to solve the problem of other minds (for machines or people) and he doesn't think we need to.
Searle believes that there are "causal properties" in our neurons that give rise to the mind. However, these causal properties can't be detected by anyone outside the mind, otherwise the Chinese Room couldn't pass the Turing test—the people outside would be able to tell there wasn't a Chinese speaker in the room by detecting their causal properties. Since they can't detect causal properties, they can't detect the existence of the mental. Russell & Norvig (2003) argue that this implies the human mind, as Searle describes it, is epiphenomenal: that it "casts no shadow." To make this point clear, Daniel Dennett suggests this version of the "other minds" reply:
Searle disagrees with this analysis and insists that we must "presuppose the reality and knowability of the mental." and that "The study of the mind starts with such facts as that humans have beliefs, while thermostats, telephones, and adding machines don't ... what we wanted to know is what distinguishes the mind from thermostats and livers." He takes it as obvious that we can detect the presence of other minds and dismisses this reply as being off the point.
What they do and don't prove. These arguments apply only to our intuitions. (As do the arguments above which are intended to make it seem more plausible that the Chinese room contains a mind, which can include the robot, commonsense knowledge, brain simulation and connectionist replies.) They do not directly prove that a machine can or can't have a mind.
However, some critics believe that Searle's argument relies entirely on intuitions. Ned Block writes "Searle's argument depends for its force on intuitions that certain entities do not think." Daniel Dennett describes the Chinese room argument as an "intuition pump" and writes "Searle's thought experiment depends, illicitly, on your imagining too simple a case, an irrelevant case, and drawing the 'obvious' conclusion from it."
These arguments, if accepted, prevent Searle from claiming that his conclusion is obvious by undermining the intuitions that his certainty requires.
Searle has produced a more formal version of the argument of which the Chinese Room forms a part. He presented the first "excessively crude" version in 1984. The version given below is from 1990.
The part of the argument which should be controversial is A3 and it is this point which the Chinese room thought experiment is intended to prove.
He begins with three axioms:
Searle posits that these lead directly to this conclusion:
This much of the argument is intended to show that artificial intelligence will never produce a machine with a mind by writing programs that manipulate symbols. The remainder of the argument addresses a different issue. Is the human brain running a program? In other words, is the computational theory of mind correct? He begins with an axiom that is intended to express the basic modern scientific consensus about brains and minds:
Searle claims that we can derive "immediately" and "trivially" that:
And from this he derives the further conclusions:
In Rebirth,, the first episode of Futurama after its comeback from cancellation, a robotic replica of Leela, programmed to simulate her personality, asks "Am I just an automaton, or can a machine of suficient complexity legitimately achieve consciousness?" To which Fry responds, "I agree."
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