Your complimentary articles
You’ve read one of your four complimentary articles for this month.
You can read four articles free per month. To have complete access to the thousands of philosophy articles on this site, please
Letters
Letters
Mindful Missives on Machines • A Bar For Truth • Let Fly At Fry • Explaining God • A Life of Liberation • Get Them While They’re Hot
Mindful Missives on Machines
Dear Editor: The article in Issue 168 where Vincent Carchidi discusses the limitations that currently prevent AI systems from reproducing human linguistic creativity has important implications for language learning. According to Noam Chomsky, learning your first language is the product of an inborn brain faculty, through which all infants, unless unusually deprived, will gradually but spontaneously develop mastery of the language of their environment. Other researchers, however, argue instead that this process is similar to the growth of other cognitive skills. Whichever of these theories is the more accurate, the fact remains, as Carchidi admits, that its most sophisticated outcome, appropriate language use, is obscure, and difficult to reproduce in a machine. This obscurity also characterizes how we learn a second language. It was traditionally believed that teaching the rules that seem to govern form and usage in comparison with the learner’s first language would provide the key. In the Sixties this approach was supplemented by the constant repetition of target sentences in order to instill familiarity. By the 1980s it had been recognized that neither of these methods resulted in more than rudimentary skills – on a par with the ability of Large Language Models to reproduce only what had previously been provided as input. There came to be adopted Communicative Methodology, which placed learners in different situations, with the expectation that this would stimulate creative but realistic responses rendered gradually more appropriate via feedback and further practice. It was found, though, that such creativity was severely limited by the lack of the sustained exposure typical of first-language acquisition. It seems, therefore, that we don’t really know how language is learned, either from birth or later in life, and therefore how best to teach it. This mirrors the difficulty inherent in enabling true linguistic creativity in AI systems.
Colin Sowden, Abergavenny
Dear Editor: Mahmoud Khatami’s article warning of the danger of allowing AI to become an ethical black box reminded me of the same warning issued some forty years ago by Douglas Adams in The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. Deep Thought, a vast supercomputer, is constructed to determine the ultimate answer to ‘Life, The Universe and Everything’. The program runs for millions of years, enabling whole tribes of philosophers to become wealthy debating the possible outcome on chat shows. When finally the program ends and states the Ultimate Answer it is… 42. No explanation – a pure black box result – and as a result, utterly meaningless.
Robin Peterson, Tunbridge Wells
Dear Editor: In his article in Issue 168, Amir Haj-Bolouri seems to take the attitude that we shouldn’t care about what’s real as long as we’re engaged with things that seem real enough to us to provide meaning. He uses Martin Heidegger’s ideas to describe our situation of being immersed in ‘worlds’ of things that matter. Then he goes on to discuss whether we can extend ‘Being-in-the-world’ to include ‘Being-in-the virtual-world’.
Unfortunately, neither virtual reality nor Heidegger’s philosophy seem to deal with what exists outside consciousness. Regarding virtual reality, that’s something that by definition doesn’t exist outside a consciousness. Regarding Heidegger, although he claimed to be talking about ‘being’, he actually appears to only be describing a subjective perspective. By contrast, I’m interested in what is actually real. I would also argue that we can make progress on the philosophical quest to understand what is genuinely real. In my view, the conclusions are quite radical, and show a reality that’s very different to the ‘ordinary world’. If, as Haj-Bolouri suggests, some people could come to regard VR as effectively real in the way the ordinary world is normally regarded, and given that VR has no reality outside its appearance, that should undermine our faith in the ‘ordinary world’, too.
Peter Spurrier, Halstead, Essex
Dear Editor: In Minds, Brains, and Programs (1984), John Searle asserts that, regardless of whether a system such as a robot displays intelligent behavior, it still lacks an inherent understanding of the meaning behind these actions, that is, consciousness. He argues that “the robot has no intentional states at all; it is simply moving about as a result of its electrical wiring and its program.” Searle is not convinced that the robot can think even if it is exposed to its surroundings and the real world. He further argues that despite extensive simulation of brain functions by a computer, it would merely mimic cognitive processes, lacking genuine consciousness. Regardless of the robot’s complexity, it cannot generate subjective experiences or true comprehension – elements he views as essential for consciousness. What comes closest to the human brain is that of an animal, not a machine: “We assume both that the animal must have mental states underlying its behavior, and that the mental states must be produced by mechanisms made out of the stuff that is like our [brain] stuff. We would certainly make similar assumptions about the robot unless we had some reason not to, but as soon as we knew that the behavior was the result of a formal program, and that the actual causal properties of the physical substance were irrelevant, we would abandon the assumption of intentionality.” I agree with Searle, and hope it will always be so. There is no profound purpose for an AI, only mechanical mimicry. Perhaps the human mind can never fully be replicated.
Megan Russo
A Bar For Truth
Dear Editor: Behind the bar in my local is a sign on the wall. It reads:
“Bar Rules:
1. The barman is always right.
2. If the barman is wrong, refer to Rule1.”
This amusing piece of nonsense reminds me of Epimenides’ Liar Paradox: a group of Greek sailors approach the island of Crete and are met by Epimenides, a Cretan man, who warns them that all Cretans are liars; but he’s a Cretan: so is his warning true or false? Slavoj Žižek (PN 168) raises the same paradox by saying ‘Everything I say is false’, which can be either true or false.
Perhaps evolution prefers ‘pay-off’ strategies to ‘truth’ strategies, so don’t worry about the Bar Rules if you want the barman to give you a beer – the pay-off. We decided the whole thing was enjoyable nonsense, and the barman was still pulling beers, so we laughed and ordered another round. The barman obliged because the barman is always right.
David Berger Lawson, NSW
Let Fly At Fry
Dear Editor: This is in response to the interview with Stephen Fry in Issue 168. Fry’s assertion that ‘a violinist has their violin, it isn’t them’ is not entirely accurate. I am a professional screenwriter, director, costumer, and actor. When I write a script, the script is in essence what I am. There was a PN article last year that argued that significance was not defined by size or breadth [‘Significance’, Issue 162]. I’d argue further that although Musk’s space empire might conquer the solar system, ideas can conquer entire universes, and in fact, create entire universes! Ideas are therefore the most precious resource. So to me, intellectual property is more important than gemstones.
I’m not surprised that Fry has an affinity for the intellectual. He was the voice of the Guide in the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy movie, and ought to know the value of the meaning of life! Jokes aside, my view is that the meaning of life is to seek beauty. This might sound fluffy, but it has a logic. For example, a Wall Street executive who has no interest in art might say that his purpose is to increase his salary, yet his upscale Manhattan apartment would probably have nice decor and a good view of the skyline. This decor and skyline constitute beauty – therefore demonstrating that all humans seek beauty.
If there’s another interview with Fry, I’d like you to ask – does he know where his towel is? Because I lost mine.
Larry Chan, New York City
Dear Editor: Stephen Fry’s general knowledgeability evidently does not extend to the history of cinema. The viewers of the earliest films did not see ‘grainy jerky cinema footage’ as he asserts in his interview in PN 168. These films only look that way today if watched on poorly preserved copies screened at the wrong speed (silent films were shot at a slower speed). However, anyone who has seen prints of these films taken directly from the original negatives will testify to the astonishing sharpness and clarity of the images. The Lumière brothers, who made the very first films, were already distinguished still photographers, and brought all their skills to bear on the new medium.
The first audiences also did not scream with terror when they saw a train apparently approaching them. This is a myth. The earliest versions of this tall tale date from decades after the event, and none of the many reports at the time mention any such thing happening. The first audiences were sophisticated Parisians who were familiar with magic lantern shows. They were highly impressed by the moving images, but not at all frightened by them. Continuing to spread discredited myths should be discouraged, even if by a Knight of the Realm.
Peter Benson, London
Explaining God
Dear Editor: Concerning Raymond Tallis’s article ‘Excusing God’, Philosophy Now 168, it is a truism that nature is chaotic and knows no good or evil. However, on the basis of the hypothetical existence of God, Tallis argues against the ‘terrible’, ‘dreadful’, ‘appalling’ suffering that such a God would permit in this world. Take away the God argument, and we’re left with a man who is very upset about the way the world is. Yet as a self-professed ‘infidel’, what comfort does he have? Worse, what comfort could he bring to others? On the other hand, if God is omnipotent, would not his omnipotence include the ability to guarantee some kind of good for each of us? This is precisely what Tallis rejects.
Rev. Thomas O. Scarborough
Dear Editor: In Issue 168 Raymond Tallis took up the hoary problem of evil in a Godly world, although the problem itself undermines the existence of an intentional deity who cares deeply about the affairs of our cancerous species. The deity’s popularity is due in large measure to his supposed promise of eternal life to the chosen. However, while losing life on this rather lovely little planet is sad, it’s also clear that few people contemplate the horror of unending existence. What does one do after, say, the first thousand years? Practice the harp?
Let me by define ‘evil’ as intentional cruelty – taking pleasure in inflicting pain. Predation in nature isn’t about causing pain, but getting food. That may not explain why the cat plays with a mouse; but maybe they’ve acquired their owner’s sensibility. Otherwise, we’re the only creatures who hurt other creatures for the pleasure of it. Of course, much evil is hurting others out of greed, indifferent to their pain. We’ve made defeating others our economic system and the purpose of most sports. And many peoples alive today basically stole their country from its original inhabitants (as Moses’ people did in the promised land). So is the collective more evil than the individual?
Walter L Mosley, Wilmette, IL
Dear Editor: Like Professor Tallis, I too struggle with the evils in the world. Mostly I struggle with man’s inhumanity to man. I studied Theology in college, but theology is no longer the Queen of the Sciences it was in the Middle Ages: it’s become more of a pesky stepchild. Philosophy and Theology are related, but the line between the two is fuzzy, and both schools of study seem to go in circles a lot. That’s OK. They far outstrip not thinking at all (and there’s plenty of that going around). But when it comes to understanding things like good and evil, or an infinite God… ultimately, we’re going into things we will never completely understand. However, if I have learned anything, it is that God is limitless in all his attributes. So although we might get a peek into the wisdom of God, as for the really big picture, we have to trust that God knows what he’s doing. To a moderate evangelical like me this is called ‘faith’. But I also believe that the conversation should not end.
Wade Rustin
Dear Editor: In Issue 168, Tallis questions whether a benevolent God powerful enough to create a universe would be unwilling to prevent natural disasters such as earthquakes and volcanoes, on out particular planet. Neither does God punish the wicked for deliberately causing distress to the innocent. We do not know why the wicked prosper and the righteous are afflicted, but one reason why it happens is that the wicked look after themselves and the good look after others. But if there’s no God to reward or punish us, why should we suffer to relieve the distress of others? One possibility is that knowledge of suffering causes some of us greater distress than the effort of relieving or preventing the distress does. It is in the nature of some people to feel the suffering of others a little like it was their own, and so they too feel benefit when the suffering is relieved. Such feelings might be natural, or instilled during childhood. Some care for others because their religion tells them to do so. Unfortunately the religions tell us to care for different others, such that followers of one religion may be cruel to followers of a different one.
If we believe we should care for others our world will be a happier place. That probably has to be sufficient for us, as when we cannot rely on ourselves we can only turn to each other.
Allen Shaw, Leeds
Dear Editor: In reference to a child suffering in Gaza (Issue 168), Raymond Tallis’s comment “the evil that caused this hideous suffering” tells me something about Tallis himself. Firstly, he must have some concept of evil to make that association. Secondly, it demonstrates compassion for the suffering of another human being. The question remains, wherein is the source, or justification, of his compassion, and what was the origin of the evil he mentioned? Tallis concedes he has a gap in his understanding, which is “not shaped to accommodate a god.” This is where his logic breaks down. Would he say he has a gap in not understanding science, medicine, or even philosophy, and therefore claim non-existence for their truths?
Most theists, like me, concede that the problem of pain is difficult to comprehend. Perhaps this is because we continually try to fit God into our model of reality: to say, “If God (by my definition), were omnipotent (by my definition of what that should mean), he/she should (fill in the blank)”. The stumbling block seems to be our free will, which abused, results in cruelty and suffering. But as C.S. Lewis said, God cannot give us free will and at the same time withhold it. Nonsense remains nonsense even when we talk it about God.
Finally, it is tempting to believe that the supposed ‘allowance of suffering’ of that girl in Gaza is meaningless. I disagree. I know it affected Prof Nick Maynard, who reported it, Raymond Tallis, who was so moved as to refer to it, and myself, who woke in the early hours of the morning after reading him, pondering how to respond. Could it be that awareness of her suffering and death has moved at least three human beings to a greater compassion, and so a little closer to the One who understands?
Michael Hanley, Melbourne
A Life of Liberation
Dear Editor: I found the article on Paulo Freire in PN 167 most interesting, so I bought a copy of his book Pedagogy of the Oppressed. It is not an easy read, with a heavy Marxist slant – not surprising as its genesis was amongst the poor in Brazil. But Freire’s emphasis on communication through dialogue is vital, and is now an accepted part of education.
Freire’s crucial message was to awaken awareness in the masses about their situation and what might be done about it – a continuing push for greater fairness in their share in the wealth of society. Freire coined the Portuguese word conscientizacao (‘conscientisation’) for the essential process of awakening awareness to mutual causes. Generally, the ongoing struggle described in Pedagogy aims to reverse processes that dehumanise people. In the modern world, where much in our lives is decided at a global level, most of us endure a ‘master and servant’ relationship, where those at the top enjoy vastly greater rewards than those whose labours generate the wealth. In the afterword by Ira Shor, Freire’s ambitions are summarised by the questions, “What kind of world do we live in? Why is it like that? What kind of world do we want? How do we get there from here?”
Those thoughts about the dehumanisation of people echo those of Hannah Arendt in The Origins of Totalitarianism. In another of her books, The Life of the Mind, she emphasises the importance of teaching people to think clearly and broadly from an early age. Humans are gifted with the power of language, and we should use it constructively at all times, to ensure all opinions are heard. That route leads to social harmony and progress; stifling opinion and dehumanisation of people leads to conflict. The ability to think seriously, and the encouragement of dialogue and involvement at all levels, would make for a happier, healthier society, and the realisation of Freire’s ideas.
David Morris, Oxford
Get Them While They’re Hot
Dear Editor: I’ve imagined philosophers with food or drink or flower carts. Each cart would have a sign near the top with wares that rhyme with his name. Below that is a slogan pertaining to his philosophy. I present them for your amusement:
Plato’s Potatoes: Ideal spuds fresh from the Form.
Spinoza’s Roses: Divine fragrance from nature’s garden.
Russell’s Truffles: ‘Nobody knows the truffles I’ve seen.’
Hegel’s Bagels: Baked in the oven of Reason; glazed with pedantry.
Nietzsche’s Peaches: Uber sweet; willfully powerful.
Socrates’s Cheeses: Toasted cheddar with hemlock. Yum!
Aristotle’s Bottles: Fruit and vegetable juices, logically squeezed.
Locke’s Lox: empirically smoked by seasoned experience.
Descartes’ Tarts: Great taste, clear and distinct.
Carnap’s Snaps: Introduced gingerly in London by A.J. Ayer.
Camus’ Booze: Aged with absurdity.
Bacon’s Bacon: Fried crisply by Scientific Method.
Quine’s Wines: ‘There’s many a slip twixt objective cup and subjective lip.’
Voltaire’s Pears: ‘The best of all possible pears’ – Leibniz.
Schopenhauer’s Flowers: Brought to bloom by a blind, unconscious Will.
Lenin’s Lemons: Eternally preserved.
Parmenides’ Teas: Steeped in the dream of a goddess.
Whitehead’s Breads: Baked in the oven of mathematical logic.
Occam’s Raisins: Eat no more than necessary.
You may now call the boys in white coats. I will not resist.
Chris Christensen, Portland, OR