The Consciousness Conundrum
By John Horgan; IEEE SPECTRUM (June 2008)
I'm 54, with all that entails. Gray hair, trick knee, trickier memory. I still play a mean game of hockey, and my love life requires no pharmaceutical enhancement. But entropy looms ever larger. Suffice it to say, I would love to believe that we are rapidly approaching "the singularity." Like paradise, technological singularity comes in many versions, but most involve bionic brain boosting. At first, we'll become cyborgs, as stupendously powerful brain chips soup up our perception, memory, and intelligence and maybe even eliminate the need for annoying TV remotes. Eventually, we will abandon our flesh-and-blood selves entirely and upload our digitized psyches into computers. We will then dwell happily forever in cyberspace where, to quote Woody Allen, we'll never need to look for a parking space. Sounds good to me! Notably, singularity enthusiasts tend to be computer specialists, such as the author and retired computer scientist Vernor Vinge, the roboticist Hans Moravec, and the entrepreneur Ray Kurzweil. Intoxicated by the explosive progress of information technologies captured by Moore's Law, such singularitarians foresee a "merger of biological and nonbiological intelligence," as Kurzweil puts it, that will culminate in "immortal software-based humans." It will happen not within a millennium, or a century, but no later than 2030, according to Vinge. These guys-and, yes, they're all men-are serious. Kurzweil says he has adopted an antiaging regimen so that he'll "live long enough to live forever."Specialists in real rather than artificial brains find such bionic convergence scenarios naive, often laughably so. Gerald Edelman, a Nobel laureate and director of the Neurosciences Institute, in San Diego, says singularitarians vastly underestimate the brain's complexity. Not only is each brain unique, but each also constantly changes in response to new experiences. Stimulate a brain with exactly the same input, Edelman notes, and you'll never see the same signal set twice in response."This is a wonderful project-that we're going to have a spiritual bar mitzvah in some galaxy," Edelman says of the singularity. "But it's a very unlikely idea. Neuroscientists still do not understand at all how a brain (the squishy agglomeration of tissue and neurons) makes a conscious mind (the intangible entity that enables you to fall in love, find irony in a novel, and appreciate the elegance of a circuit design). "No one has the foggiest notion," says the neuroscientist Eric Kandel of Columbia University Medical Center, in New York City. "At the moment all you can get are informed, intelligent opinions." Neuroscientists lack an overarching, unifying theory to make sense of their sprawling and disjointed findings, such as Kandel's Nobel Prize-winning discovery of the chemical and genetic processes that underpin memory formation in sea slugs.The brain, it seems, is complex enough to conjure fantasies of technotranscendence and also to foil their fulfillment.Crank the numbers and you find that a typical human brain has quadrillions of connections among its neurons. A quadrillion is a one followed by 15 zeroes; a stack of a quadrillion U.S. pennies would go from the sun out past the orbit of Jupiter. Adding to the complexity, synaptic connections constantly form, strengthen, weaken, and dissolve. Old neurons die and-evidence now indicates, overturning decades of dogma-new ones are born. Far from being stamped from a common mold, neurons display an astounding variety of forms and functions. Researchers have discovered scores of distinct types just in the optical system. Neurotransmitters, which carry signals across the synapse between two neurons, also come in many different varieties. In addition to neurotransmitters, neural-growth factors, hormones, and other chemicals ebb and flow through the brain, modulating cognition in ways both profound and subtle. Indeed, the more you learn about brains, the more you may wonder how the damn things work. Nevertheless, the brain is a computer, singularitarians insist. It just has an extremely messy wiring diagram. According to this perspective, neurons resemble transistors, absorbing, processing, and reemitting the electrochemical pulses known as action potentials. Within a decade or so, computers will surpass the computational power of brains, many singularitarians say. They base this claim on the assumption that those spikes represent the brain's total computational capacity. If the brain contains one quadrillion synapses processing on average 10 action potentials per second, then the brain performs 10 quadrillion operations per second. At some point in the near future, some singularitarians say, computers will surpass that processing rate and leave us in their cognitive dust unless we embrace them through bionic convergence or uploading. So would a fully configured Blue Gene/P be cognitive, perhaps like a monkey or a tree frog, if not like us? Of course not. As any singularitarian would agree, intelligence requires software at least as much as hardware. And that software will soon be available, the singularitarians say, because scientists will in the next couple of decades reverse engineer the brain's software, yielding all sorts of benefits. First, the brain's programming tricks will be transferred to computers to make them smarter. Moreover, given the right interface, our brains and computers will communicate as readily as Macs and PCs. And eventually, of course, our personal software will be extracted from our frail flesh and blood and uploaded into advanced robots or computers. (Don't forget to back yourself up on a hard drive!) We'll walk the earth in impervious titanium-boned bodies. Or we'll inhabit impossibly lush virtual paradises specifically created to please and stimulate our disembodied, digital psyches. Many neuroscientists do assume that, just as computers operate according to a machine code, the brain's performance must depend on a "neural code," a set of rules or algorithms that transforms those spikes into perceptions, memories, meanings, sensations, and intentions. If such a neural code exists, however, neuroscientists still have no idea what that code is. Or, more accurately, like voters in a U.S. presidential primary, researchers have a surfeit of candidates, each seriously flawed. Consciousness is not easy to define, let alone create in a machine. The psychologist William James described it succinctly as attention plus short-term memory. It's what you possess right now as you read this article, and what you lack when you are asleep and between dreams, or under anesthesia.Given our ignorance about the brain, Singer calls the idea of an imminent singularity "science fiction." A neuroscientist at Caltech, Koch was a close friend and collaborator of Crick, who together with James Watson unraveled the structure of DNA in 1953. Koch says, "It is very unlikely that the neural code will be anything as simple and as universal as the genetic code." Neural codes seem to vary in different species, Koch notes, and even in different sensory modes within the same species. "The code for hearing is not the same as that for smelling," he explains, "in part because the phonemes that make up words change within a tiny fraction of a second, while smells wax and wane much more slowly." Evidence from research on neural prostheses suggests that brains even devise entirely new codes in response to new experiences. "There may be no universal principle" governing neural-information processing, Koch says, "above and beyond the insight that brains are amazingly adaptive and can extract every bit of information possible, inventing new codes as necessary." Discussions of memory chips leave Andrew Schwartz cold. A neural-prosthesis researcher at the University of Pittsburgh, Schwartz has shown that monkeys can learn to control robotic arms by means of chips embedded in the brain's motor cortex. But no one has any idea how memories are encoded, Schwartz says. "We know so little about the higher functions of the brain that it seems ridiculous to talk about enhancing things like intelligence and memory," he says. Moreover, he says, downloading complex knowledge directly into the brain would require not just stimulating millions of specific neurons but also altering synaptic connections throughout the brain. So they sidestep the issue, predicting that all current interfaces will soon yield to very small robots, or "nanobots." Remember the 1966 motion picture Fantastic Voyage? That's the basic idea. But try to imagine, in place of Raquel Welch in a formfitting wet suit, robotic submarines the size of blood cells. They infiltrate the entire brain, then record all neural activity and manipulate it by zapping neurons, tinkering with synaptic links, and so on. The nanobots will be equipped with some sort of Wi-Fi so that they can communicate with one another as well as with electronic systems inside and outside the body. Nanobots have inspired some terrific "X-Files" episodes as well as the Michael Crichton novel Prey. But they have as much basis in current research as fairy dust. Steven Rose has nothing against technoenhancement. The neurobiologist at England's Open University wears eyeglasses and is proud of his titanium knee and dental implants. He says a lot can be done to improve the brain's performance through improved drugs, neural prostheses, and perhaps genetic engineering. But he calls the claims about imminent consciousness uploading "pretty much crap." Rose disputes the singularitarians' contention that computers will soon surpass the brain's computational capacity. He suspects that computation occurs at scales above and below the level of individual neurons and synapses, via genetic, hormonal, and other processes. So the brain's total computational power may be many orders of magnitude greater than what singularitarians profess. Rose also rejects the basic premise of uploading, that our psyches consist of nothing more than algorithms that can be transferred from our bodies to entirely different substrates, whether silicon or glass fibers or as-yet-unimaginable quantum computers. The information processing that constitutes our selves, Rose asserts, evolved within-and may not work in any medium other than-a social, crafty, emotional, sex-obsessed flesh-and-blood primate. Perhaps the old joke is right after all: If the brain were simple enough for us to understand, we wouldn't be smart enough to understand it. Let's face it. The singularity is a religious rather than a scientific vision. Such yearning for transcendence, whether spiritual or technological, is all too understandable. Both as individuals and as a species, we face deadly serious problems, including terrorism, nuclear proliferation, overpopulation, poverty, famine, environmental degradation, climate change, resource depletion, and AIDS. Engineers and scientists should be helping us face the world's problems and find solutions to them, rather than indulging in escapist, pseudoscientific fantasies like the singularity.