| Human self-awareness is incomplete.
We still ask simple questions whose answers have been largely
relegated to the conjectures of philosophy and religion: Is
the mind a pilot or a passenger of the body? Are thoughts bound
by physical constraints? Science attempts to provide a logical
framework through which to understand observable phenomena through
experimentation and analysis, but the science driving AI seems
to have lost its focus.
For the past twenty years, the approach towards creating
machine intelligence has been reminiscent of the way humans
took flight; First, our scientists looked to nature for design
templates, then set to work mechanically duplicating the aerodynamic
capabilities of a bird, substituting raw power in all the
places where they failed to match elegance of design. The
result? A line of hulking machines that can fly faster than
any bird, but could not begin to approach their flexibility
of movement. Then the helicopter was designed to improve dynamic
agility, but the architecture sacrificed speed in order to
achieve it. Similarly, computer science has designed systems
such as "Deep Blue" - a machine so intelligent that
it can beat any living human in a game of chess, but for all
its intelligence, it is unable to learn how to play a simple
game of checkers.
An archetypical example of this kind of AI is a software
package developed by UCLA professor Richard Korf to solve
the famous Rubik's Cube (citeseer.nj.nec.com/cachedpage/157215/1).
Since this puzzle has frustrated millions of fairly intelligent
humans, this program is often seen as a dramatic illustration
of the potential capabilities of machine intelligence: despite
the enormous complexity of the problem (a state space on the
order of 10^19 possible configurations), Korf's software can
solve almost any initial state in under twenty moves.
These are brilliant and sophisticated algorithms, but the
brilliance and sophistication lies in the skill of the programmer,
not in the inherent capabilities of the program itself, which
relies on brute force computation (evaluating hundreds of
billions of configurations per run), a huge (42 Mbyte) lookup
table database, and vast computer resources (several weeks
on a workstation). Certainly these programs are not thinking,
not learning, not adapting, and not behaving in any way that
really resembles intelligence. In fact they are not qualitatively
any more intelligent than an old hand held calculator that
can instantly evaluate nine digit multiplications. These are
computer programs, written in ordinary computer languages,
performing more or less ordinary computations, written by
extraordinarily smart programmers.
Today almost all of AI research is focused on the one domain
in which its practitioners have achieved success: Expert systems.
But referring to these systems as a branch of AI is a popular
miscategorization, for nothing distinguishes these methods
from regular computer programming or statistical analyses.
Many of their capabilities are impressive, but all of them
are highly specialized to perform a single task, and none
of them has any kind of generic capacity to learn new tasks
or function in new environments. Expert systems can be extremely
valuable as long as they are focused on solving problems that
are narrow and deep (e.g., medical symptom analyzers), and
general information systems are useful as long as the information
requests are wide and shallow (e.g., search engines).
The widely publicized Cyc project (www.cyc.com)
is another example of today's brand of artificial intelligence.
Cyc is a growing database of over a million facts that collectively
embody much of the common sense knowledge possessed by humans.
Each fact, or rule, is manually entered into the database
by its programmers and endows Cyc with tidbits of knowledge
such as "water is wet" and "when you let go
of things they usually fall." By making connections between
input data and the various facts in its database Cyc is able
to draw inferences and even assist in providing solutions
to some planning problems.
An extensible warehouse of knowledge such as Cyc will undoubtedly
prove to be a useful tool for many applications. But the dizzying
claims of its creators that Cyc has a capacity for understanding
and reasoning, and may eventually surpass human capacity for
intelligence, ethics and compassion are the kind of rhetoric
that badly damages the credibility of AI research, and probably
misdirects resources and attention away from real attempts
to design artificial minds.
One branch of AI that does try to create systems that more
closely resemble our brains in their internal workings is
the field of artificial neural networks (ANNs). These systems
have achieved some success in their ability to recognize and
classify data inputs, most notably in hand writing recognition,
and are very robust with respect to sensitivity to noisy data.
However, the functional resemblance of these networks to biological
neural networks is only superficial; these models are strikingly
unbrainlike in their architecture and operation. They are
nothing essentially more than correlation algorithms that
determine the best match between input data and a precoded
set of already known data.
Moreover, they are incapable of ongoing experiential learning.
There are two phases of network operation: programing (also
called training), and execution. When the programing phase
is complete, learning ends, and the processing capability
of the ANN is permanently frozen at its current level of competence.
If the network has been trained to optically recognize characters,
for instance, the introduction of a new character into the
alphabet would require that the network be wiped clean and
trained from scratch. For this reason, ANNs have not made
very much progress over other approaches to AI. While the
programming process is different (entering a sequence of coded
instructions vs. applying a statistical correlation function),
the result is the same - a static system that executes an
exact and predetermined series of calculations.
Some ANN modelers incorporate an evolutionary process into
the training phase, but like their conventional counterparts,
once the training is complete, these networks will stop learning
anything new. The Robokoneko project (www.genobyte.com/robokoneko.html)
is a prominent example of this training method. Robokoneko
is a virtual cat that will someday be capable of walking,
sitting upright, playing with a ball, and a few other kittenlike
behaviors. The cat will be controlled by an artificial brain
of 75 million neurons. Its behaviors will be acquired through
an evolutionary process in which a large virtual population
of these brains is subjected to many generations of mutation,
replication, and finally artificial selection by the trainers
for those with the most desirable behaviors. After tens of
thousand of these generations it is hoped that Robokoneko
will have sufficiently developed skills. But as soon as this
training is done, the evolutionary process comes to an end,
and the best-behaving brain is chosen for the real cat. That
cat's brain will not evolve any further, and so will never
be able to learn anything new or improve upon its current
performance. Biological evolution doubtlessly does have an
analog in cognition and learning, but that process must be
much more autonomous than in the Robokoneko project, and must
not ever terminate.
Because so many of the capabilities usually associated with
human intelligence are unattainable to ANN technology, many
AI researchers argue that neural models alone will never be
sufficient to simulate intelligence. Tragically for the AI
community, criticisms against ANNs have been mistakenly but
universally extrapolated as fundamental flaws that would apply
to any neural-based learning system. By failing to develop
neural models any more complex or interesting than statistical
correlation calculators, ANN researchers have unwittingly
erected their own straw man for traditional AI researchers
to attack. The result is a self-reinforcing failure of progress
in the development of new neural models. But we know from
the example of our own minds that some kinds of neural systems
definitely are capable of intelligence. Biology is an excellent
guide: Through studying the brains of intelligent living organisms,
we have learned that highly robust and adaptive phenomena
emerge from the hierarchical self-architecture of much simpler
elements.
Current approaches to AI have failed because none of them
is essentially different from the original computing paradigm:
programming a highly specific series of predefined instructions
for the computer to follow in precise manner and exact order.
Intelligence as we understand it cannot be achieved using
this approach to problem solving. The cognitive functions
of the human brain are literally defined by adaptive self-organization,
and without this critical foundation, attempts to create a
conscious system will continue to miss the mark.
Intelligence depends on the ability to successfully integrate
data from the environment into previously stored classifications
and generalizations - and the ability to generate new classifications
and generalizations and integrate those with successively
higher hierarchical levels of metaclassifications. The mind
performs a very sophisticated kind of pattern matching, perceiving
and recognizing patterns from the external environment and
from within its own reservoir of accumulated experience. This
pattern matching is an evolutionary process: new patterns
are created, old patterns mutate and adapt, and successful
patterns become further integrated into a rich ecology of
interacting and multidimensional patterns.
Since the mind's capacity for pattern matching is a robust,
self-architecting, evolutionary and hierarchical process,
we think any intelligent system - artificial or otherwise
- must be composed of elementary components, and elementary,
though dynamic, interactions between them. The capacity to
store concepts and interrelate them will be emergent from
these dynamic interactions. As networks of interacting components
begin to interact with each other, and successively more intricate
interactions emerge among those, so emerges higher cognitive
functioning in the form of successively more intricate memory
traces and information processing.
The emergence of complex phenomena from the interactions
of simple components is illustrated in every facet of biological
evolution. An evolved sequence of interactions among DNA molecules
forms a more complex and more dynamic functional unit, the
gene. An adaptive and coordinated assemblage of genes unites
to form an even more complex and functional unit, the genome.
Organisms assemble to form populations, populations to form
species, and species to form ecosystems, with each level attaining
new functionality emergent from that below it. Every level
of the biological hierarchy is an active target for natural
selection, and selection among competing entities at any one
level has the potential to cause sorting (differential survival
and reproduction) at any other level, with cascades of upward
and downward causations rippling through the entire network
of life.
The result is a highly adapted, highly complex, highly robust
and fault tolerant ecosystem, designed from the bottom up,
with every interacting component - from DNA molecules to groups
of species - seamlessly integrated into the dynamic whole.
As a paradigm for engineering design, this model has never
been surpassed.
Just as in the evolution of life, the elementary components
in our brains emerge to form highly adapted, highly complex,
highly robust and fault tolerant functional systems - our
minds. Coordinate interactions among neurons form a more complex
and functional unit: a simple neural circuit. Closed circuits
of linked neurons form an even more complex, functional and
dynamic unit: feedback loops. Higher circuit dimensions (metaloops),
made up of conflations of interacting loops, represent higher
levels of integration and coordination of stored memories.
As the network forms loops and pathways that interact with
each other by virtue of their shared connections, metaloops
themselves become interrelated in higher hierarchical dimensions
of metaloops. Ultimately, in a network of sufficient complexity
both in terms of the number of neurons and connections and
the number of interrelated loops and pathways, every loop
will become incorporated into a single unified cohesive metaloop,
embodying the collective repertoire of patterns - memories,
classifications, and generalizations - gleaned throughout
its existence. And this processes continues and grows throughout
the life of that mind.
Only with an emergent hierarchical system based on elementary
components can true machine intelligence ever be realized.
Yet the world of computing remains transfixed on the opposite
approach: Top-down design of phenomenally complex programs
and algorithms that are very adept at specific tasks, but
will never develop any capabilities beyond them. These programs
can solve a Rubik's Cube or tell you that if you drop a glass
of water the floor will become wet, but they will never acquire
such knowledge on their own. And even when successful, these
complex programs are notoriously fault sensitive and unstable.
An intelligent system must be neural in that it must consist
of elementary components and dynamic interactions between
them, and must manifest the emergence of successively more
complex, dynamic, and adaptive structures and interactions
from these elementary components. As with all forms of biological
evolution, adaptation must occur autonomously and continuously.
But while biological adaptation is an emergent process observable
in large populations of ephemeral components that live, die,
and become replaced, neural learning is an emergent process
of gradual changes in the connections between the neural loops
and metaloops. While these connections undergo many changes,
the neuron itself is relatively permanent. Learning occurs
within an individual mind, which responds to contingencies
of positive and negative reinforcement, automatically adapting
to its environment, automatically learning and optimizing
new behaviors, automatically maintaining internal consistency.
The process is often slow, but the outcome is extremely powerful.
Slowness of learning, however, will soon be a handicap unique
to the animal kingdom: biological neurons fire at maximal
rates on the order of a thousand times per second; silicon
neurons made up of transistors can fire at clock speeds of
a billion times per second. This is a difference in learning
and processing speed of a factor of one million. And with
the steady march of technological advancement, this difference
in learning speed between humans and the robots built by them
is certain to become astronomical.
Animals are further limited in their intellectual capacity
by their number of neurons, number of connections per neuron,
their organization and circuitry, and perhaps countless other
factors. While many of these parameters have undoubtedly been
shaped and optimized by millions of generations of evolution,
they surely face an enormity of biochemical obstacles and
resource constraints that silicon neurons will not. An artificial
mind could enjoy boundless architectural flexibility in the
number of neurons, the number of connections between them,
and their dynamics of interaction.
This means that unlike every other AI project ever envisioned,
a neural learning system could immediately be scaled to any
desired size and any desired performance level. The bottom-up
design approach means there is no ceiling: Through the emergence
of complex relationships formed between simple components,
anything is achievable. Elucidating the fundamental nature
of these simple components is the only challenge separating
today's technology from an overnight revolution.
The potential for commercial application is without end.
Virtually every where current computer technology fails, an
artificially intelligent system will excel. The top-down design
of today's technology will pale to the bottom-up design of
the most complex and adaptive systems every known. And truly
intelligent machines may well come to surpass even the biological
models on which they were based.
We have begun developing and training our networks within
easy domains such as mazes, puzzles, and games. But our goal
is not to construct a program that can solve a Rubik's Cube
- instead, we intend to evolve a conscious system which, when
confronted with a Rubik's Cube, wants to solve it, and understands
what needs to be done. We seek to answer the question of consciousness
- to explain the metaphysical nature of being - not by attempting
to manufacture a sentient robot, but by giving birth to a
virtual embryo, nurturing it to maturity, and setting it free
to make order out of chaos.
Our goals are ambitious, but we firmly believe that immersed
in a high-intensity, intellectually synergistic, singularly
focused environment, the right team can make this happen.
We must be ready to think outside the box. We must be ready
to reconstruct the box. We know why others before us have
failed. And we continue to believe that the fundamental building
blocks of our minds are not beyond our intellectual grasp.
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