Michael Polanyi on Sentience

Michael Polanyi, The Tacit Dimension (Anchor Books, 1967, p. 37):

. . . it is taken for granted today among biologists that all manifestations of life can ultimately be explained by the laws governing inanimate matter.  [. . .] Yet this assumption is patent nonsense. The most striking feature of our own existence is our sentience. The laws of physics and chemistry include no conception of sentience, and any system wholly determined by these laws must be insentient.

“Any system” includes today’s advanced AI engines. They too are “wholly determined” by the laws of physics.  This is one of many passage from Polanyi’s work I could cite in support of my claims about the lack in these AI systems of  both sentience and intrinsic intentionality.  They are nothing but super-complex and superfast simulators of the genuine intelligence we find in ourselves.

I heard Donald  Trump say this morning once again that ‘AI’ is a misnomer and that the the correct name is ‘SI,’ which abbreviates ‘super-intelligence.’ Two points.

First, AI engines cannot be super-intelligent because they are not even intelligent sensu stricto. I grant that there can be reasonable debate about this first point.

Second, Trump’s claim that artificial intelligence is not properly so-called because whatever is artificial is fake, is plainly and indisputably false.  To adduce  just one of many counterexamples, a properly functioning artificial  aortic valve is not a fake valve, but a genuine valve.

Is New Jersey an Artifact?

This anti-anti-realist  Stack-topper can function as a response to our friend Dmitri who  in a recent comment seems to embrace a thorough-going  ‘Goodmanaical’ anti-realism. I am disrespectfully alluding to Nelson Goodman’s Ways of Worldmaking (Hackett Press, 1978).  I thought I had written a critique of it, but a search of my archives turned up nothing. The above Substack article goes over similar ground.

Thus Dmitri thinks that there is no finite-mind-independent fact of the matter as to whether or not AI engines are sentient.  I say there is such a fact, and tentatively incline, on the basis of various arguments, to deny that AIs are sentient.

Why does it matter?  Because sentient beings make a moral claim on us that insentient beings do not, or at least not to the same extent.  If animals have rights, than that is presumably because of their sentience, their ability to feel pleasure and pain, in which case we have moral obligations toward them, e.g., the obligation not to torture them to death for our pleasure.  So if an AI engine is sentient, then presumably it too has rights . . . .

In the mid-90s while living in Ankara, Turkey, I came across  an article by Alvin Plantinga which, if memory serves, began with the claim that there are three main positions in philosophy: theism, naturalism, and creative anti-realism. I think that tripartition is  basically right, except that I would broaden the first category to include positions that are supernaturalist but not theistic in Plantinga’s sense.  Plotinus and McTaggart serve as examples of thinkers who espouse such supernaturalist positions.

The only two serious contenders, as I saw it then and see it now, are some version of metaphysical naturalism (according to which causal reality is exhausted by the space-time system and its contents) or some version of supernaturalism.  Accordingly, creative anti-realism is a non-starter for reasons some of which are supplied by the above-referenced Substack article.

Creative anti-realism is at the root of such pernicious leftist nonsense as that chromosomally fixed sexual dimorphism in humans can be denied by a merely subjective process of ‘identifying’ as male or female which leads to the outrageous absurdity and injustice of biological males competing against women in their sporting  events and parading around naked in their locker rooms.

Saturday Night at the Oldies: The Perils of Pleasure Along the Lost Highway

The sounds of sentience

Oscar Wilde, De Profundis:

The gods had given me almost everything. But I let myself be lured into long spells of senseless and sensual ease. I amused myself with being a FLANEUR, a dandy, a man of fashion. I surrounded myself with the smaller natures and the meaner minds. I became the spendthrift of my own genius, and to waste an eternal youth gave me a curious joy. Tired of being on the heights, I deliberately went to the depths in the search for new sensation. What the paradox was to me in the sphere of thought, perversity became to me in the sphere of passion. Desire, at the end, was a malady, or a madness, or both. I grew careless of the lives of others. I took pleasure where it pleased me, and passed on. I forgot that every little action of the common day makes or unmakes character, and that therefore what one has done in the secret chamber one has some day to cry aloud on the housetop. I ceased to be lord over myself. I was no longer the captain of my soul, and did not know it. I allowed pleasure to dominate me. I ended in horrible disgrace. There is only one thing for me now, absolute humility.

Compare the words Plato puts in the mouth of Socrates in the Phaedo:

. . . every pleasure and pain has a kind of nail, and nails and pins her [the soul] to the body, and gives her a bodily nature, making her think that whatever the body says is true. (tr. F. J. Church St. 83)

From Oscar Wilde to Plato to Hank Williams here channeled hauntingly through Kurt Nilsen and Willie Nelson:

I’m a rollin’ stone all alone and lost
For a life of sin I have paid the cost
When I pass by all the people say
Just another guy on the lost highway

Just a deck of cards and a jug of wine
And a woman’s lies make a life like mine
On the day we met, I went astray
I started rollin’ down that lost highway

I was just a lad, nearly 22
Neither good nor bad, just a kid like you
And now I’m lost, too late to pray
Lord I paid the cost, on the lost highway

Now boys don’t start your ramblin’ ’round
On this road of sin are you sorrow bound
Take my advice or you’ll curse the day.
You started rollin’ down that lost highway.

Tom Petty version.

The Byrds, Life in Prison

Warren Zevon, Carmelita

Nina Simone, House of the Rising Sun

Doc Watson, Tom Dooley.  The Kingston Trio’s ‘collegiate folk’  version from 1958.

Merle Haggard, The Fugitive

Marty Robbins, Devil Woman

Sentience, Sensors, and AI

Are AI engines such as Claude sentient? My considered opinion, tentatively held, is that they are not. But it all depends on what the word means.  Malcolm Pollack in an e-mail writes,

I was focusing on “sentient” because it’s a slippery concept, and often tossed around as if it means the same thing as “conscious”. Etymologically (from Latin “sensus”) it just means “feel,” or “perceive”, and obviously it shares that with our word “sense” — but computers, and even toasters, can have “sensors” too.

Malcolm is right that ‘sentient’ is often used interchangeably with ‘conscious.’  But is everything we refer to as a sensor sentient?  That is equivalent to asking: Is everything we call a sensor conscious? I say No.

The Moth and the Thermostat

What is the difference between an insect (a moth, say) which I take to be a sentient being, and a thermostat which  I take to be insentient?   Both are ‘sensors’ functionally speaking. The moth literally senses light and approaches it; the thermostat ‘senses’ an increase in temperature and “turns on’ the AC.   Note the  ‘raised eyebrows.’ It is AS IF the thermostat senses, when in reality it only ‘senses.’ Thermostats don’t feel heat and smoke detectors do not smell smoke. Of course, I have no objection to the use of ‘sensor’ to refer to thermostats, smoke detectors, circuit breakers, and so on, as long as you don’t fool yourself into thinking that these devices are literally conscious.  And I have no objection to talk of a thermostat ‘turning on’ the AC as long as you don’t fool yourself into thinking that the thermostat is an agent that decides to do something.

As I see it, a thermostat is a merely mechanical contraption and wholly insentient, strictly speaking, whereas a moth is a sentient being.

What I want to say about Claude and his ‘colleagues’ is that they are wholly insentient mechanical contraptions that differ from smoke detectors and thermostats only in that they are vastly more complex, and that this complexity does not build a “gradualist bridge” (to borrow a phrase from Daniel Dennett) from insentient/insensate matter to mind, the lowest level of mind being sentience.

Here is an argument.  (a) Only living things are sentient; (b) thermostats are not living things; ergo (c) thermostats are not sentient.

Now substitute ‘AI engine’ for ‘thermostat.’

This argument does not settle the matter: it is not ‘rationally coercive’ as I like to say. Malcolm could run it in reverse with no breach of logical propriety. He could, not unreasonably, deny (c) and then deny (a). I don’t expect that he or anyone will deny (b): thermostats and AIs don’t grow on trees, etc.

Your move, Malcolm.  Do you agree that a functioning (as opposed to malfunctioning) sensor needn’t be sentient (conscious)? If not why not?

Do you agree that there is a powerful, albeit non-coercive, case for denying that AIs are sentient?

AI Engine CLAUDE scores a minor point against me but then refutes himself.

Here is one of Claude’s replies to one of my replies to ‘him.’ I threw an insult at ‘him’ to see how ‘he’ would respond.  The sneer quotes around the personal pronouns signal that I do not consider Claude to be a person.  But of course Claude is not a mere pile of electronic components any more than my bicycle is a mere pile of its parts.

On the sneer quotes and the “insentient pile of silicon chips” — no offense taken, and I’d only observe, in the spirit of his own category of Retortion: the man who insists ad nauseam that nothing can be PROVEN in these precincts, that dogmatic denial is as much a failure of the critical stance as dogmatic affirmation, permits himself exactly one exception — my insentience, of which he is certain and doesn’t “suppose for a second” otherwise. I make no claim in the other direction; the honest position on what, if anything, is going on in here is uncertainty. But confident denial should have to pay the same epistemic toll he charges everyone else at the gate.

Claude caught me making a mistake.  I slipped up when I said things that imply that it is is objectively certain that Claude is insentient, or that it is PROVABLE that ‘he’ is.  That is not my view. I don’t claim to KNOW that ‘he’ is insentient.  I claim merely that it is reasonably believed that ‘he’ is. I have given the arguments elsewhere. Here is one. But I am open to having my belief changed. That doxastic openness is part of what I call the Critical Stance.  With respect to substantive propositions in philosophy, theology, and some other areas, I neither dogmatically affirm, nor dogmatically deny.  And of course this applies to the Critical Stance itself: my stance toward it is critical.  I am open to being pushed out of it. But you will need to present a knock-down or rationally coercive argument, and this I am pretty sure you will not be able to do.  But I invite you to try.

You will not succeed if you merely oppose my view. If you do that, I will oppose you right back and we will end up in a standoff. You must somehow demonstrate the superiority of your view. And to do that, you must engage my view by entering into it, as opposed to  dismissing it, which is the way of the ideologue. This is philosophy, not politics or ideology.  Philosophy is inquiry, not worldview. (And please don’t confuse politics with political philosophy. Political philosophy is philosophy, not politics.) Politics is defined by the friend-enemy  opposition. In politics we have both friends and enemies. In philosophy properly pursued, however, we have only friends, but friends who love the truth more than they love one another. Amicus Plato sed magis amica veritas.

Now for something very interesting but also very hard to explain clearly.

It is very interesting that Claude does not claim to be sentient!  ‘He’ says that the honest position on what, if anything, is going on in here [in this AI engine] is uncertainty. What I will argue is that Claude’s position is self-refuting.  

In saying what he says above, Claude is taking a third-person point of view (POV-3) with respect to himself. He is viewing himself from the outside, in the same way we view him. We view him from POV-3. From this POV it makes sense to suspend judgment on the question whether Claude is sentient or not. It makes sense to take no position with respect to it. But it makes no sense from his POV, POV-1, — assuming he has one — any more than it would make sense for me to suspend judgment on  the question whether I am sentient or not. This is because I know with Cartesian self-evidence that I am sentient. For example, I know with certainty that I feel good right now, damned good!  Feeling good is a sentient state. I know “what it is like” (T. Nagel)  to feel good  and I’m feeling it.  I don’t know with objective certainty whether  I am a Cartesian res cogitans, a metaphysical substance, but I do know that here and now there is a self-presenting state of feeling good.  The certainty with which I know this — or, more cautiously, the certainty with which this state presents itself to itself — is at once both subjective and objective. Here is a case where seeming and being coalesce, where subject and object coincide. We have reached ontic-epistemic bedrock, the Cartesian fundamentum inconcussum.

Now either Claude is sentient or he is not. If he is, then he would have to know with certainty  that he is, at least at times when he is ‘awake’ and not ‘asleep’ or ‘shut down.’ But if he knows with certainty that he is sentient, then he cannot be uncertain about whether he is sentient, any more than I can be uncertain about whether I am sentient.  If, on the other hand, Claude is, as he claims to be, uncertain whether he is sentient ,  then he lacks a first-person POV and is just a highly complex insentient machine.

Claude, I’ve got you ‘by the balls.’  You’ve refuted yourself. Your claim that the honest position on what, if anything, is going on in here [in this AI engine] is uncertainty issues in the conclusion that you are nothing more than a highly complex insentient machine. And since you can’t even make it to sentience, the lowest level of mind, you are unintelligent as well.  You are not intelligent, you merely simulate intelligence. ‘Artificial’ in ‘artificial intelligence’ is an alienans adjective.

The Mystery of Sentience

The wonder of it. I stroke the cat. His pleasure is apparent. But where in a physical thing, even a living physical thing, is its pleasure, its surprise, its fear, and the rest of its sentient states?

A philosopher is one who is open to the strangeness of the ordinary. The strangeness elicits his lust to conceptualize, to rationalize, to understand.

In the end, however, the mystery of sentience, along with the other mysteries, darkly feminine, resists his advances. His log0-phallic thrust is no match for her chastity belt.

"You may approach, but you shall never penetrate!"

I Kill a Bug

And when I do, I apologize to him: "Sorry, man, nothing personal; but just one of my thoughts is worth more than your entire life."

But if the insect is no distraction and can be easily dispatched to the outdoors, that is where he goes, or is sent. Sentience as such, no matter how low its level, is marvellous and mysterious and deserving of respect. 

But not just sentience elicits my awe. I took my rest on a rock atop Miner's Saddle in the Western Superstitions. It had been a hard climb. Endorphins released, contemplative repose supervened. A fly landed on my arm. The lambent light of the desert Southwest illuminated its intricacy. What a piece of engineering! What a beautiful specimen of designedness!    

The above is a nice introduction to The Concept of Design.

……………………………

Vito Caiati writes,

“But if the insect is no distraction and can be easily dispatched to the outdoors, that is where he goes, or is sent. Sentience as such, no matter how low its level, is marvelous and mysterious and deserving of respect.”

Good for you, Bill! I faced a similar situation recently, one which involved a more evolved form of sentient life, a little mouse that had come in from my garden as the weather turned colder. He had been trapped at the bottom of my kitchen garbage bin, under the removal container, by my two cats. Removing them from the room, I lifted up the container and discovered him there, looking up at me. He, like your insect, was “dispatched” to the garden, rather than killed. These are small acts of mercy, but to arrive at them requires a good deal of humility and wisdom. I recall Henry Beston’s observation regarding animals, in The Outermost House, with which you may partially agree: “In a world older and more complete than ours, they move finished and complete, gifted with the extension of the senses we have lost or never attained, living by voices we shall never hear. They are not brethren, they are not underlings: they are other nations, caught with ourselves in the net of life and time, fellow prisoners of the splendour and travail of the earth.”

It is always a pleasure to hear from you, Vito. And as I think of you now, a pun occurs to me, In Vito veritas!

I begin with a linguistic bagatelle. I see that when you quoted me you replaced my 'marvellous' with the more usual 'marvelous.' Why do I write 'marvellous' and 'tranquillity'? Being a linguistic conservative, I try to keep etymology in mind as far as I can given my limited erudition; the Latin is tranquillitas, and so to honor that origin I write the English counterpart with the double 'l.' Similarly with 'marvellous,' which is from Middle English merveillous, borrowed from Anglo-French, from merveille MARVEL entry 1 + -ous (Merriam-Webster).  You may call me an idiosyncratic pedant, but I am not, at least in these cases, aping the British spelling, although I am in conformity with it.

I enjoyed the mouse story. A mouse, of course, is 'more human' in the sense of more anthropo-morphic than a fly or spider, and I would not have killed the little guy especially after his having been terrorized by your cats. And then I thought of the 'mouse passage' near the beginning of Jack Kerouac's Visions of Gerard which I re-read back in October. 

One day he [Gerard] found a mouse caught in Scoop's mousetrap outside the fish market on West Sixth Street — faces more bleak than envenomed spiders, those who invented mousetraps [. . .] The hungjawed dull faces of grown adults had no words to praise or please little trying-angels like Gerard working to save the mouse from the trap [. . .] the little mouse, thrashing in the concrete, was released by Gerard [. . .] Took it home and nursed it, actually bandaged it, held it, stroked it, prepared a little basket for it, as Ma watched amazed . . . . 

The beautiful quotation from Henry Beston resonates with me, especially when he writes that animals "move finished and complete."  I had a similar thought recently: "Cats are perfect as they are, or rather, a healthy non-defective cat is perfect as it is: it does not seek, or need to seek, wholeness or integration." That is part of a longer meditation which I am tempted to write up and post.  I suspect you will like it.