Tag Archives: language

#436218 An AI Debated Its Own Potential for Good ...

Posted on November 27, 2019 by Android

Artificial intelligence is going to overhaul the way we live and work. But will the changes it brings be for the better? As the technology slowly develops (let’s remember that right now, we’re still very much in the narrow AI space and nowhere near an artificial general intelligence), whether it will end up doing us more harm than good is a question at the top of everyone’s mind.

What kind of response might we get if we posed this question to an AI itself?

Last week at the Cambridge Union in England, IBM did just that. Its Project Debater (an AI that narrowly lost a debate to human debating champion Harish Natarajan in February) gave the opening arguments in a debate about the promise and peril of artificial intelligence.

Critical thinking, linking different lines of thought, and anticipating counter-arguments are all valuable debating skills that humans can practice and refine. While these skills are tougher for an AI to get good at since they often require deeper contextual understanding, AI does have a major edge over humans in absorbing and analyzing information. In the February debate, Project Debater used IBM’s cloud computing infrastructure to read hundreds of millions of documents and extract relevant details to construct an argument.

This time around, Debater looked through 1,100 arguments for or against AI. The arguments were submitted to IBM by the public during the week prior to the debate, through a website set up for that purpose. Of the 1,100 submissions, the AI classified 570 as anti-AI, or of the opinion that the technology will bring more harm to humanity than good. 511 arguments were found to be pro-AI, and the rest were irrelevant to the topic at hand.

Debater grouped the arguments into five themes; the technology’s ability to take over dangerous or monotonous jobs was a pro-AI theme, and on the flip side was its potential to perpetuate the biases of its creators. “AI companies still have too little expertise on how to properly assess datasets and filter out bias,” the tall black box that houses Project Debater said. “AI will take human bias and will fixate it for generations.”
After Project Debater kicked off the debate by giving opening arguments for both sides, two teams of people took over, elaborating on its points and coming up with their own counter-arguments.

In the end, an audience poll voted in favor of the pro-AI side, but just barely; 51.2 percent of voters felt convinced that AI can help us more than it can hurt us.

The software’s natural language processing was able to identify racist, obscene, or otherwise inappropriate comments and weed them out as being irrelevant to the debate. But it also repeated the same arguments multiple times, and mixed up a statement about bias as being pro-AI rather than anti-AI.

IBM has been working on Project Debater for over six years, and though it aims to iron out small glitches like these, the system’s goal isn’t to ultimately outwit and defeat humans. On the contrary, the AI is meant to support our decision-making by taking in and processing huge amounts of information in a nuanced way, more quickly than we ever could.

IBM engineer Noam Slonim envisions Project Debater’s tech being used, for example, by a government seeking citizens’ feedback about a new policy. “This technology can help to establish an interesting and effective communication channel between the decision maker and the people that are going to be impacted by the decision,” he said.

As for the question of whether AI will do more good or harm, perhaps Sylvie Delacroix put it best. A professor of law and ethics at the University of Birmingham who argued on the pro-AI side of the debate, she pointed out that the impact AI will have depends on the way we design it, saying “AI is only as good as the data it has been fed.”

She’s right; rather than asking what sort of impact AI will have on humanity, we should start by asking what sort of impact we want it to have. The people working on AI—not AIs themselves—are ultimately responsible for how much good or harm will be done.

Image Credit: IBM Project Debater at Cambridge Union Society, photo courtesy of IBM Research Continue reading →

Posted in Human Robots

#436190 What Is the Uncanny Valley?

Posted on November 21, 2019 by Android

Have you ever encountered a lifelike humanoid robot or a realistic computer-generated face that seem a bit off or unsettling, though you can’t quite explain why?

Take for instance AVA, one of the “digital humans” created by New Zealand tech startup Soul Machines as an on-screen avatar for Autodesk. Watching a lifelike digital being such as AVA can be both fascinating and disconcerting. AVA expresses empathy through her demeanor and movements: slightly raised brows, a tilt of the head, a nod.

By meticulously rendering every lash and line in its avatars, Soul Machines aimed to create a digital human that is virtually undistinguishable from a real one. But to many, rather than looking natural, AVA actually looks creepy. There’s something about it being almost human but not quite that can make people uneasy.

Like AVA, many other ultra-realistic avatars, androids, and animated characters appear stuck in a disturbing in-between world: They are so lifelike and yet they are not “right.” This void of strangeness is known as the uncanny valley.

Uncanny Valley: Definition and History
The uncanny valley is a concept first introduced in the 1970s by Masahiro Mori, then a professor at the Tokyo Institute of Technology. The term describes Mori’s observation that as robots appear more humanlike, they become more appealing—but only up to a certain point. Upon reaching the uncanny valley, our affinity descends into a feeling of strangeness, a sense of unease, and a tendency to be scared or freaked out.

Image: Masahiro Mori

The uncanny valley as depicted in Masahiro Mori’s original graph: As a robot’s human likeness [horizontal axis] increases, our affinity towards the robot [vertical axis] increases too, but only up to a certain point. For some lifelike robots, our response to them plunges, and they appear repulsive or creepy. That’s the uncanny valley.

In his seminal essay for Japanese journal Energy, Mori wrote:

I have noticed that, in climbing toward the goal of making robots appear human, our affinity for them increases until we come to a valley, which I call the uncanny valley.

Later in the essay, Mori describes the uncanny valley by using an example—the first prosthetic hands:

One might say that the prosthetic hand has achieved a degree of resemblance to the human form, perhaps on a par with false teeth. However, when we realize the hand, which at first site looked real, is in fact artificial, we experience an eerie sensation. For example, we could be startled during a handshake by its limp boneless grip together with its texture and coldness. When this happens, we lose our sense of affinity, and the hand becomes uncanny.

In an interview with IEEE Spectrum, Mori explained how he came up with the idea for the uncanny valley:

“Since I was a child, I have never liked looking at wax figures. They looked somewhat creepy to me. At that time, electronic prosthetic hands were being developed, and they triggered in me the same kind of sensation. These experiences had made me start thinking about robots in general, which led me to write that essay. The uncanny valley was my intuition. It was one of my ideas.”

Uncanny Valley Examples
To better illustrate how the uncanny valley works, here are some examples of the phenomenon. Prepare to be freaked out.

1. Telenoid

Photo: Hiroshi Ishiguro/Osaka University/ATR

Taking the top spot in the “creepiest” rankings of IEEE Spectrum’s Robots Guide, Telenoid is a robotic communication device designed by Japanese roboticist Hiroshi Ishiguro. Its bald head, lifeless face, and lack of limbs make it seem more alien than human.

2. Diego-san

Photo: Andrew Oh/Javier Movellan/Calit2

Engineers and roboticists at the University of California San Diego’s Machine Perception Lab developed this robot baby to help parents better communicate with their infants. At 1.2 meters (4 feet) tall and weighing 30 kilograms (66 pounds), Diego-san is a big baby—bigger than an average 1-year-old child.

“Even though the facial expression is sophisticated and intuitive in this infant robot, I still perceive a false smile when I’m expecting the baby to appear happy,” says Angela Tinwell, a senior lecturer at the University of Bolton in the U.K. and author of The Uncanny Valley in Games and Animation. “This, along with a lack of detail in the eyes and forehead, can make the baby appear vacant and creepy, so I would want to avoid those ‘dead eyes’ rather than interacting with Diego-san.”

​3. Geminoid HI

Photo: Osaka University/ATR/Kokoro

Another one of Ishiguro’s creations, Geminoid HI is his android replica. He even took hair from his own scalp to put onto his robot twin. Ishiguro says he created Geminoid HI to better understand what it means to be human.

4. Sophia

Photo: Mikhail Tereshchenko/TASS/Getty Images

Designed by David Hanson of Hanson Robotics, Sophia is one of the most famous humanoid robots. Like Soul Machines’ AVA, Sophia displays a range of emotional expressions and is equipped with natural language processing capabilities.

5. Anthropomorphized felines

The uncanny valley doesn’t only happen with robots that adopt a human form. The 2019 live-action versions of the animated film The Lion King and the musical Cats brought the uncanny valley to the forefront of pop culture. To some fans, the photorealistic computer animations of talking lions and singing cats that mimic human movements were just creepy.

Are you feeling that eerie sensation yet?

Uncanny Valley: Science or Pseudoscience?
Despite our continued fascination with the uncanny valley, its validity as a scientific concept is highly debated. The uncanny valley wasn’t actually proposed as a scientific concept, yet has often been criticized in that light.

Mori himself said in his IEEE Spectrum interview that he didn’t explore the concept from a rigorous scientific perspective but as more of a guideline for robot designers:

Pointing out the existence of the uncanny valley was more of a piece of advice from me to people who design robots rather than a scientific statement.

Karl MacDorman, an associate professor of human-computer interaction at Indiana University who has long studied the uncanny valley, interprets the classic graph not as expressing Mori’s theory but as a heuristic for learning the concept and organizing observations.

“I believe his theory is instead expressed by his examples, which show that a mismatch in the human likeness of appearance and touch or appearance and motion can elicit a feeling of eeriness,” MacDorman says. “In my own experiments, I have consistently reproduced this effect within and across sense modalities. For example, a mismatch in the human realism of the features of a face heightens eeriness; a robot with a human voice or a human with a robotic voice is eerie.”

How to Avoid the Uncanny Valley
Unless you intend to create creepy characters or evoke a feeling of unease, you can follow certain design principles to avoid the uncanny valley. “The effect can be reduced by not creating robots or computer-animated characters that combine features on different sides of a boundary—for example, human and nonhuman, living and nonliving, or real and artificial,” MacDorman says.

To make a robot or avatar more realistic and move it beyond the valley, Tinwell says to ensure that a character’s facial expressions match its emotive tones of speech, and that its body movements are responsive and reflect its hypothetical emotional state. Special attention must also be paid to facial elements such as the forehead, eyes, and mouth, which depict the complexities of emotion and thought. “The mouth must be modeled and animated correctly so the character doesn’t appear aggressive or portray a ‘false smile’ when they should be genuinely happy,” she says.

For Christoph Bartneck, an associate professor at the University of Canterbury in New Zealand, the goal is not to avoid the uncanny valley, but to avoid bad character animations or behaviors, stressing the importance of matching the appearance of a robot with its ability. “We’re trained to spot even the slightest divergence from ‘normal’ human movements or behavior,” he says. “Hence, we often fail in creating highly realistic, humanlike characters.”

But he warns that the uncanny valley appears to be more of an uncanny cliff. “We find the likability to increase and then crash once robots become humanlike,” he says. “But we have never observed them ever coming out of the valley. You fall off and that’s it.” Continue reading →

Posted in Human Robots

#436188 The Blogger Behind “AI ...

Posted on November 21, 2019 by Android

Sure, artificial intelligence is transforming the world’s societies and economies—but can an AI come up with plausible ideas for a Halloween costume?

Janelle Shane has been asking such probing questions since she started her AI Weirdness blog in 2016. She specializes in training neural networks (which underpin most of today’s machine learning techniques) on quirky data sets such as compilations of knitting instructions, ice cream flavors, and names of paint colors. Then she asks the neural net to generate its own contributions to these categories—and hilarity ensues. AI is not likely to disrupt the paint industry with names like “Ronching Blue,” “Dorkwood,” and “Turdly.”

Shane’s antics have a serious purpose. She aims to illustrate the serious limitations of today’s AI, and to counteract the prevailing narrative that describes AI as well on its way to superintelligence and complete human domination. “The danger of AI is not that it’s too smart,” Shane writes in her new book, “but that it’s not smart enough.”

The book, which came out on Tuesday, is called You Look Like a Thing and I Love You. It takes its odd title from a list of AI-generated pick-up lines, all of which would at least get a person’s attention if shouted, preferably by a robot, in a crowded bar. Shane’s book is shot through with her trademark absurdist humor, but it also contains real explanations of machine learning concepts and techniques. It’s a painless way to take AI 101.

She spoke with IEEE Spectrum about the perils of placing too much trust in AI systems, the strange AI phenomenon of “giraffing,” and her next potential Halloween costume.

Janelle Shane on . . .

The un-delicious origin of her blog
“The narrower the problem, the smarter the AI will seem”
Why overestimating AI is dangerous
Giraffing!
Machine and human creativity

The un-delicious origin of her blog IEEE Spectrum: You studied electrical engineering as an undergrad, then got a master’s degree in physics. How did that lead to you becoming the comedian of AI?
Janelle Shane: I’ve been interested in machine learning since freshman year of college. During orientation at Michigan State, a professor who worked on evolutionary algorithms gave a talk about his work. It was full of the most interesting anecdotes–some of which I’ve used in my book. He told an anecdote about people setting up a machine learning algorithm to do lens design, and the algorithm did end up designing an optical system that works… except one of the lenses was 50 feet thick, because they didn’t specify that it couldn’t do that.
I started working in his lab on optics, doing ultra-short laser pulse work. I ended up doing a lot more optics than machine learning, but I always found it interesting. One day I came across a list of recipes that someone had generated using a neural net, and I thought it was hilarious and remembered why I thought machine learning was so cool. That was in 2016, ages ago in machine learning land.
Spectrum: So you decided to “establish weirdness as your goal” for your blog. What was the first weird experiment that you blogged about?
Shane: It was generating cookbook recipes. The neural net came up with ingredients like: “Take ¼ pounds of bones or fresh bread.” That recipe started out: “Brown the salmon in oil, add creamed meat to the mixture.” It was making mistakes that showed the thing had no memory at all.
Spectrum: You say in the book that you can learn a lot about AI by giving it a task and watching it flail. What do you learn?
Shane: One thing you learn is how much it relies on surface appearances rather than deep understanding. With the recipes, for example: It got the structure of title, category, ingredients, instructions, yield at the end. But when you look more closely, it has instructions like “Fold the water and roll it into cubes.” So clearly this thing does not understand water, let alone the other things. It’s recognizing certain phrases that tend to occur, but it doesn’t have a concept that these recipes are describing something real. You start to realize how very narrow the algorithms in this world are. They only know exactly what we tell them in our data set.
BACK TO TOP↑ “The narrower the problem, the smarter the AI will seem” Spectrum: That makes me think of DeepMind’s AlphaGo, which was universally hailed as a triumph for AI. It can play the game of Go better than any human, but it doesn’t know what Go is. It doesn’t know that it’s playing a game.
Shane: It doesn’t know what a human is, or if it’s playing against a human or another program. That’s also a nice illustration of how well these algorithms do when they have a really narrow and well-defined problem.
The narrower the problem, the smarter the AI will seem. If it’s not just doing something repeatedly but instead has to understand something, coherence goes down. For example, take an algorithm that can generate images of objects. If the algorithm is restricted to birds, it could do a recognizable bird. If this same algorithm is asked to generate images of any animal, if its task is that broad, the bird it generates becomes an unrecognizable brown feathered smear against a green background.
Spectrum: That sounds… disturbing.
Shane: It’s disturbing in a weird amusing way. What’s really disturbing is the humans it generates. It hasn’t seen them enough times to have a good representation, so you end up with an amorphous, usually pale-faced thing with way too many orifices. If you asked it to generate an image of a person eating pizza, you’ll have blocks of pizza texture floating around. But if you give that image to an image-recognition algorithm that was trained on that same data set, it will say, “Oh yes, that’s a person eating pizza.”
BACK TO TOP↑ Why overestimating AI is dangerous Spectrum: Do you see it as your role to puncture the AI hype?
Shane: I do see it that way. Not a lot of people are bringing out this side of AI. When I first started posting my results, I’d get people saying, “I don’t understand, this is AI, shouldn’t it be better than this? Why doesn't it understand?” Many of the impressive examples of AI have a really narrow task, or they’ve been set up to hide how little understanding it has. There’s a motivation, especially among people selling products based on AI, to represent the AI as more competent and understanding than it actually is.
Spectrum: If people overestimate the abilities of AI, what risk does that pose?
Shane: I worry when I see people trusting AI with decisions it can’t handle, like hiring decisions or decisions about moderating content. These are really tough tasks for AI to do well on. There are going to be a lot of glitches. I see people saying, “The computer decided this so it must be unbiased, it must be objective.”

“If the algorithm’s task is to replicate human hiring decisions, it’s going to glom onto gender bias and race bias.”
—Janelle Shane, AI Weirdness blogger
That’s another thing I find myself highlighting in the work I’m doing. If the data includes bias, the algorithm will copy that bias. You can’t tell it not to be biased, because it doesn’t understand what bias is. I think that message is an important one for people to understand.
If there’s bias to be found, the algorithm is going to go after it. It’s like, “Thank goodness, finally a signal that’s reliable.” But for a tough problem like: Look at these resumes and decide who’s best for the job. If its task is to replicate human hiring decisions, it’s going to glom onto gender bias and race bias. There’s an example in the book of a hiring algorithm that Amazon was developing that discriminated against women, because the historical data it was trained on had that gender bias.
Spectrum: What are the other downsides of using AI systems that don’t really understand their tasks?
Shane: There is a risk in putting too much trust in AI and not examining its decisions. Another issue is that it can solve the wrong problems, without anyone realizing it. There have been a couple of cases in medicine. For example, there was an algorithm that was trained to recognize things like skin cancer. But instead of recognizing the actual skin condition, it latched onto signals like the markings a surgeon makes on the skin, or a ruler placed there for scale. It was treating those things as a sign of skin cancer. It’s another indication that these algorithms don’t understand what they’re looking at and what the goal really is.
BACK TO TOP↑ Giraffing Spectrum: In your blog, you often have neural nets generate names for things—such as ice cream flavors, paint colors, cats, mushrooms, and types of apples. How do you decide on topics?
Shane: Quite often it’s because someone has written in with an idea or a data set. They’ll say something like, “I’m the MIT librarian and I have a whole list of MIT thesis titles.” That one was delightful. Or they’ll say, “We are a high school robotics team, and we know where there’s a list of robotics team names.” It’s fun to peek into a different world. I have to be careful that I’m not making fun of the naming conventions in the field. But there’s a lot of humor simply in the neural net’s complete failure to understand. Puns in particular—it really struggles with puns.
Spectrum: Your blog is quite absurd, but it strikes me that machine learning is often absurd in itself. Can you explain the concept of giraffing?
Shane: This concept was originally introduced by [internet security expert] Melissa Elliott. She proposed this phrase as a way to describe the algorithms’ tendency to see giraffes way more often than would be likely in the real world. She posted a whole bunch of examples, like a photo of an empty field in which an image-recognition algorithm has confidently reported that there are giraffes. Why does it think giraffes are present so often when they’re actually really rare? Because they’re trained on data sets from online. People tend to say, “Hey look, a giraffe!” And then take a photo and share it. They don’t do that so often when they see an empty field with rocks.
There’s also a chatbot that has a delightful quirk. If you show it some photo and ask it how many giraffes are in the picture, it will always answer with some non zero number. This quirk comes from the way the training data was generated: These were questions asked and answered by humans online. People tended not to ask the question “How many giraffes are there?” when the answer was zero. So you can show it a picture of someone holding a Wii remote. If you ask it how many giraffes are in the picture, it will say two.
BACK TO TOP↑ Machine and human creativity Spectrum: AI can be absurd, and maybe also creative. But you make the point that AI art projects are really human-AI collaborations: Collecting the data set, training the algorithm, and curating the output are all artistic acts on the part of the human. Do you see your work as a human-AI art project?
Shane: Yes, I think there is artistic intent in my work; you could call it literary or visual. It’s not so interesting to just take a pre-trained algorithm that’s been trained on utilitarian data, and tell it to generate a bunch of stuff. Even if the algorithm isn’t one that I’ve trained myself, I think about, what is it doing that’s interesting, what kind of story can I tell around it, and what do I want to show people.

The Halloween costume algorithm “was able to draw on its knowledge of which words are related to suggest things like sexy barnacle.”
—Janelle Shane, AI Weirdness blogger
Spectrum: For the past three years you’ve been getting neural nets to generate ideas for Halloween costumes. As language models have gotten dramatically better over the past three years, are the costume suggestions getting less absurd?
Shane: Yes. Before I would get a lot more nonsense words. This time I got phrases that were related to real things in the data set. I don’t believe the training data had the words Flying Dutchman or barnacle. But it was able to draw on its knowledge of which words are related to suggest things like sexy barnacle and sexy Flying Dutchman.
Spectrum: This year, I saw on Twitter that someone made the gothy giraffe costume happen. Would you ever dress up for Halloween in a costume that the neural net suggested?
Shane: I think that would be fun. But there would be some challenges. I would love to go as the sexy Flying Dutchman. But my ambition may constrict me to do something more like a list of leg parts.
BACK TO TOP↑ Continue reading →

Posted in Human Robots

#436184 Why People Demanded Privacy to Confide ...

Posted on November 21, 2019 by Android

This is part four of a six-part series on the history of natural language processing.

Between 1964 and 1966, Joseph Weizenbaum, a German American computer scientist at MIT’s artificial intelligence lab, developed the first-ever chatbot [PDF].

While there were already some rudimentary digital language generators in existence—programs that could spit out somewhat coherent lines of text—Weizenbaum’s program was the first designed explicitly for interactions with humans. The user could type in some statement or set of statements in their normal language, press enter, and receive a response from the machine. As Weizenbaum explained, his program made “certain kinds of natural-language conversation between man and computer possible.”

He named the program Eliza after Eliza Doolittle, the working-class hero of George Bernard Shaw’s Pygmalion who learns how to talk with an upper-class accent. The new Eliza was written for the 36-bit IBM 7094, an early transistorized mainframe computer, in a programming language that Weizenbaum developed called MAD-SLIP.

Because computer time was a valuable resource, Eliza could only be run via a time-sharing system; the user interacted with the program remotely via an electric typewriter and printer. When the user typed in a sentence and pressed enter, a message was sent to the mainframe computer. Eliza scanned the message for the presence of a keyword and used it in a new sentence to form a response that was sent back, printed out, and read by the user.

To encourage ongoing dialogue, Weizenbaum designed Eliza to simulate the type of conversational style used by a Rogerian psychoanalyst. The program would take something the user said and reflect it back with a question, as can be seen in the example below. (Notice how the program takes keywords like “boyfriend” and “depressed” and re-uses them.)

Human: Men are all alike.

Computer: IN WHAT WAY?

Human: They're always bugging us about something or other.

Computer: CAN YOU THINK OF A SPECIFIC EXAMPLE?

Human: Well, my boyfriend made me come here.

Computer: YOUR BOYFRIEND MADE YOU COME HERE

Human: He says I'm depressed much of the time.

Computer: I AM SORRY TO HEAR YOU ARE DEPRESSED

Human: It's true. I am unhappy.

Weizenbaum chose this mode of dialogue for Eliza because it gave the impression that the computer understood what was being said without having to offer anything new to the conversation. It created the illusion of comprehension and engagement in a mere 200 lines of code.

To test Eliza’s capacity to engage an interlocutor, Weizenbaum invited students and colleagues into his office and let them chat with the machine while he looked on. He noticed, with some concern, that during their brief interactions with Eliza, many users began forming emotional attachments to the algorithm. They would open up to the machine and confess problems they were facing in their lives and relationships.

During their brief interactions with Eliza, many users began forming emotional attachments to the algorithm.

Even more surprising was that this sense of intimacy persisted even after Weizenbaum described how the machine worked and explained that it didn’t really understand anything that was being said. Weizenbaum was most troubled when his secretary, who had watched him build the program from scratch over many months, insisted that he leave the room so she could talk to Eliza in private.

For Weizenbaum, this experiment with Eliza made him question an idea that Alan Turing had proposed in 1950 about machine intelligence. In his paper, entitled “Computing Machinery and Intelligence,” Turing suggested that if a computer could conduct a convincingly human conversation in text, one could assume it was intelligent—an idea that became the basis of the famous Turing Test.

But Eliza demonstrated that convincing communication between a human and a machine could take place even if comprehension only flowed from one side: The simulation of intelligence, rather than intelligence itself, was enough to fool people. Weizenbaum called this the Eliza effect, and believed it was a type of “delusional thinking” that humanity would collectively suffer from in the digital age. This insight was a profound shock for Weizenbaum, and one that came to define his intellectual trajectory over the next decade.

The simulation of intelligence, rather than intelligence itself, was enough to fool people.

In 1976, he published Computing Power and Human Reason: From Judgment to Calculation [PDF], which offered a long meditation on why people are willing to believe that a simple machine might be able to understand their complex human emotions.

In this book, he argues that the Eliza effect signifies a broader pathology afflicting “modern man.” In a world conquered by science, technology, and capitalism, people had grown accustomed to viewing themselves as isolated cogs in a large and uncaring machine. In such a diminished social world, Weizenbaum reasoned, people had grown so desperate for connection that they put aside their reason and judgment in order to believe that a program could care about their problems.

Weizenbaum spent the rest of his life developing this humanistic critique of artificial intelligence and digital technology. His mission was to remind people that their machines were not as smart as they were often said to be. And that even though it sometimes appeared as though they could talk, they were never really listening.

This is the fourth installment of a six-part series on the history of natural language processing. Last week’s post described Andrey Markov and Claude Shannon’s painstaking efforts to create statistical models of language for text generation. Come back next Monday for part five, “In 2016, Microsoft’s Racist Chatbot Revealed the Dangers of Conversation.”

You can also check out our prior series on the untold history of AI. Continue reading →

Posted in Human Robots

#436151 Natural Language Processing Dates Back ...

Posted on October 29, 2019 by Android

This is part one of a six-part series on the history of natural language processing.

We’re in the middle of a boom time for natural language processing (NLP), the field of computer science that focuses on linguistic interactions between humans and machines. Thanks to advances in machine learning over the past decade, we’ve seen vast improvements in speech recognition and machine translation software. Language generators are now good enough to write coherent news articles, and virtual agents like Siri and Alexa are becoming part of our daily lives.

Most trace the origins of this field back to the beginning of the computer age, when Alan Turing, writing in 1950, imagined a smart machine that could interact fluently with a human via typed text on a screen. For this reason, machine-generated language is mostly understood as a digital phenomenon—and a central goal of artificial intelligence (AI) research.

This six-part series will challenge that common understanding of NLP. In fact, attempts to design formal rules and machines that can analyze, process, and generate language go back hundreds of years.

Attempts to design formal rules and machines that can analyze, process, and generate language go back hundreds of years.

While specific technologies have changed over time, the basic idea of treating language as a material that can be artificially manipulated by rule-based systems has been pursued by many people in many cultures and for many different reasons. These historical experiments reveal the promise and perils of attempting to simulate human language in non-human ways—and they hold lessons for today’s practitioners of cutting-edge NLP techniques.

The story begins in medieval Spain. In the late 1200s, a Jewish mystic by the name of Abraham Abulafia sat down at a table in his small house in Barcelona, picked up a quill, dipped it in ink, and began combining the letters of the Hebrew alphabet in strange and seemingly random ways. Aleph with Bet, Bet with Gimmel, Gimmel with Aleph and Bet, and so on.

Abulafia called this practice “the science of the combination of letters.” He wasn’t actually combining letters at random; instead he was carefully following a secret set of rules that he had devised while studying an ancient Kabbalistic text called the Sefer Yetsirah. This book describes how God created “all that is formed and all that is spoken” by combining Hebrew letters according to sacred formulas. In one section, God exhausts all possible two-letter combinations of the 22 Hebrew letters.

By studying the Sefer Yetsirah, Abulafia gained the insight that linguistic symbols can be manipulated with formal rules in order to create new, interesting, insightful sentences. To this end, he spent months generating thousands of combinations of the 22 letters of the Hebrew alphabet and eventually emerged with a series of books that he claimed were endowed with prophetic wisdom.

For Abulafia, generating language according to divine rules offered insight into the sacred and the unknown, or as he put it, allowed him to “grasp things which by human tradition or by thyself thou would not be able to know.”

Combining letters to generate language allows thou to “grasp things which by human tradition or by thyself thou would not be able to know.”
—Abraham Abulafia, mystic

But other Jewish scholars considered this rudimentary language generation a dangerous act that bordered on the profane. The Talmud tells stories of rabbis who, by the magical act of permuting language according to the formulas set out in the Sefer Yetsirah, created artificial creatures called golems. In these tales, rabbis manipulated the letters of the Hebrew alphabet to replicate God’s act of creation, using the sacred formulas to imbue inanimate objects with life.

In some of these myths, the rabbis used this skill for practical reasons, to make animals to eat when hungry or servants to help them with domestic duties. But many of these golem stories end badly. In one particularly well-known fable, Judah Loew ben Bezalel, the 16th century rabbi of Prague, used the sacred practice of letter combinatorics to conjure a golem to protect the Jewish community from antisemitic attacks, only to see the golem turn violently on him instead.

This “science of the combination of letters” was a rudimentary form of natural language processing, as it involved combining letters of the Hebrew alphabet according to specific rules. For Kabbalists, it was a double-edged sword: a way to access new forms of knowledge and wisdom, but also an inherently dangerous practice that could bring about unintended consequences.

This tension reappears throughout the long history of language processing, and still echoes in discussions about the most cutting-edge NLP technology of our digital era.

This is the first installment of a six-part series on the history of natural language processing. Come back next Monday for part two, “In the 17th Century, Leibniz Dreamed of a Machine That Could Calculate Ideas​.”

You can also check out our prior series on the untold history of AI. Continue reading →

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