Tag Archives: movies
#437477 If a Robot Is Conscious, Is It OK to ...
In the Star Trek: The Next Generation episode “The Measure of a Man,” Data, an android crew member of the Enterprise, is to be dismantled for research purposes unless Captain Picard can argue that Data deserves the same rights as a human being. Naturally the question arises: What is the basis upon which something has rights? What gives an entity moral standing?
The philosopher Peter Singer argues that creatures that can feel pain or suffer have a claim to moral standing. He argues that nonhuman animals have moral standing, since they can feel pain and suffer. Limiting it to people would be a form of speciesism, something akin to racism and sexism.
Without endorsing Singer’s line of reasoning, we might wonder if it can be extended further to an android robot like Data. It would require that Data can either feel pain or suffer. And how you answer that depends on how you understand consciousness and intelligence.
As real artificial intelligence technology advances toward Hollywood’s imagined versions, the question of moral standing grows more important. If AIs have moral standing, philosophers like me reason, it could follow that they have a right to life. That means you cannot simply dismantle them, and might also mean that people shouldn’t interfere with their pursuing their goals.
Two Flavors of Intelligence and a Test
IBM’s Deep Blue chess machine was successfully trained to beat grandmaster Gary Kasparov. But it could not do anything else. This computer had what’s called domain-specific intelligence.
On the other hand, there’s the kind of intelligence that allows for the ability to do a variety of things well. It is called domain-general intelligence. It’s what lets people cook, ski, and raise children—tasks that are related, but also very different.
Artificial general intelligence, AGI, is the term for machines that have domain-general intelligence. Arguably no machine has yet demonstrated that kind of intelligence. This summer, a startup called OpenAI released a new version of its Generative Pre-Training language model. GPT-3 is a natural language processing system, trained to read and write so that it can be easily understood by people.
It drew immediate notice, not just because of its impressive ability to mimic stylistic flourishes and put together plausible content, but also because of how far it had come from a previous version. Despite this impressive performance, GPT-3 doesn’t actually know anything beyond how to string words together in various ways. AGI remains quite far off.
Named after pioneering AI researcher Alan Turing, the Turing test helps determine when an AI is intelligent. Can a person conversing with a hidden AI tell whether it’s an AI or a human being? If he can’t, then for all practical purposes, the AI is intelligent. But this test says nothing about whether the AI might be conscious.
Two Kinds of Consciousness
There are two parts to consciousness. First, there’s the what-it’s-like-for-me aspect of an experience, the sensory part of consciousness. Philosophers call this phenomenal consciousness. It’s about how you experience a phenomenon, like smelling a rose or feeling pain.
In contrast, there’s also access consciousness. That’s the ability to report, reason, behave, and act in a coordinated and responsive manner to stimuli based on goals. For example, when I pass the soccer ball to my friend making a play on the goal, I am responding to visual stimuli, acting from prior training, and pursuing a goal determined by the rules of the game. I make the pass automatically, without conscious deliberation, in the flow of the game.
Blindsight nicely illustrates the difference between the two types of consciousness. Someone with this neurological condition might report, for example, that they cannot see anything in the left side of their visual field. But if asked to pick up a pen from an array of objects in the left side of their visual field, they can reliably do so. They cannot see the pen, yet they can pick it up when prompted—an example of access consciousness without phenomenal consciousness.
Data is an android. How do these distinctions play out with respect to him?
The Data Dilemma
The android Data demonstrates that he is self-aware in that he can monitor whether or not, for example, he is optimally charged or there is internal damage to his robotic arm.
Data is also intelligent in the general sense. He does a lot of distinct things at a high level of mastery. He can fly the Enterprise, take orders from Captain Picard and reason with him about the best path to take.
He can also play poker with his shipmates, cook, discuss topical issues with close friends, fight with enemies on alien planets, and engage in various forms of physical labor. Data has access consciousness. He would clearly pass the Turing test.
However, Data most likely lacks phenomenal consciousness—he does not, for example, delight in the scent of roses or experience pain. He embodies a supersized version of blindsight. He’s self-aware and has access consciousness—can grab the pen—but across all his senses he lacks phenomenal consciousness.
Now, if Data doesn’t feel pain, at least one of the reasons Singer offers for giving a creature moral standing is not fulfilled. But Data might fulfill the other condition of being able to suffer, even without feeling pain. Suffering might not require phenomenal consciousness the way pain essentially does.
For example, what if suffering were also defined as the idea of being thwarted from pursuing a just cause without causing harm to others? Suppose Data’s goal is to save his crewmate, but he can’t reach her because of damage to one of his limbs. Data’s reduction in functioning that keeps him from saving his crewmate is a kind of nonphenomenal suffering. He would have preferred to save the crewmate, and would be better off if he did.
In the episode, the question ends up resting not on whether Data is self-aware—that is not in doubt. Nor is it in question whether he is intelligent—he easily demonstrates that he is in the general sense. What is unclear is whether he is phenomenally conscious. Data is not dismantled because, in the end, his human judges cannot agree on the significance of consciousness for moral standing.
Should an AI Get Moral Standing?
Data is kind; he acts to support the well-being of his crewmates and those he encounters on alien planets. He obeys orders from people and appears unlikely to harm them, and he seems to protect his own existence. For these reasons he appears peaceful and easier to accept into the realm of things that have moral standing.
But what about Skynet in the Terminator movies? Or the worries recently expressed by Elon Musk about AI being more dangerous than nukes, and by Stephen Hawking on AI ending humankind?
Human beings don’t lose their claim to moral standing just because they act against the interests of another person. In the same way, you can’t automatically say that just because an AI acts against the interests of humanity or another AI it doesn’t have moral standing. You might be justified in fighting back against an AI like Skynet, but that does not take away its moral standing. If moral standing is given in virtue of the capacity to nonphenomenally suffer, then Skynet and Data both get it even if only Data wants to help human beings.
There are no artificial general intelligence machines yet. But now is the time to consider what it would take to grant them moral standing. How humanity chooses to answer the question of moral standing for nonbiological creatures will have big implications for how we deal with future AIs—whether kind and helpful like Data, or set on destruction, like Skynet.
This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.
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#437357 Algorithms Workers Can’t See Are ...
“I’m sorry, Dave. I’m afraid I can’t do that.” HAL’s cold, if polite, refusal to open the pod bay doors in 2001: A Space Odyssey has become a defining warning about putting too much trust in artificial intelligence, particularly if you work in space.
In the movies, when a machine decides to be the boss (or humans let it) things go wrong. Yet despite myriad dystopian warnings, control by machines is fast becoming our reality.
Algorithms—sets of instructions to solve a problem or complete a task—now drive everything from browser search results to better medical care.
They are helping design buildings. They are speeding up trading on financial markets, making and losing fortunes in micro-seconds. They are calculating the most efficient routes for delivery drivers.
In the workplace, self-learning algorithmic computer systems are being introduced by companies to assist in areas such as hiring, setting tasks, measuring productivity, evaluating performance, and even terminating employment: “I’m sorry, Dave. I’m afraid you are being made redundant.”
Giving self‐learning algorithms the responsibility to make and execute decisions affecting workers is called “algorithmic management.” It carries a host of risks in depersonalizing management systems and entrenching pre-existing biases.
At an even deeper level, perhaps, algorithmic management entrenches a power imbalance between management and worker. Algorithms are closely guarded secrets. Their decision-making processes are hidden. It’s a black-box: perhaps you have some understanding of the data that went in, and you see the result that comes out, but you have no idea of what goes on in between.
Algorithms at Work
Here are a few examples of algorithms already at work.
At Amazon’s fulfillment center in south-east Melbourne, they set the pace for “pickers,” who have timers on their scanners showing how long they have to find the next item. As soon as they scan that item, the timer resets for the next. All at a “not quite walking, not quite running” speed.
Or how about AI determining your success in a job interview? More than 700 companies have trialed such technology. US developer HireVue says its software speeds up the hiring process by 90 percent by having applicants answer identical questions and then scoring them according to language, tone, and facial expressions.
Granted, human assessments during job interviews are notoriously flawed. Algorithms,however, can also be biased. The classic example is the COMPAS software used by US judges, probation, and parole officers to rate a person’s risk of re-offending. In 2016 a ProPublica investigation showed the algorithm was heavily discriminatory, incorrectly classifying black subjects as higher risk 45 percent of the time, compared with 23 percent for white subjects.
How Gig Workers Cope
Algorithms do what their code tells them to do. The problem is this code is rarely available. This makes them difficult to scrutinize, or even understand.
Nowhere is this more evident than in the gig economy. Uber, Lyft, Deliveroo, and other platforms could not exist without algorithms allocating, monitoring, evaluating, and rewarding work.
Over the past year Uber Eats’ bicycle couriers and drivers, for instance, have blamed unexplained changes to the algorithm for slashing their jobs, and incomes.
Rider’s can’t be 100 percent sure it was all down to the algorithm. But that’s part of the problem. The fact those who depend on the algorithm don’t know one way or the other has a powerful influence on them.
This is a key result from our interviews with 58 food-delivery couriers. Most knew their jobs were allocated by an algorithm (via an app). They knew the app collected data. What they didn’t know was how data was used to award them work.
In response, they developed a range of strategies (or guessed how) to “win” more jobs, such as accepting gigs as quickly as possible and waiting in “magic” locations. Ironically, these attempts to please the algorithm often meant losing the very flexibility that was one of the attractions of gig work.
The information asymmetry created by algorithmic management has two profound effects. First, it threatens to entrench systemic biases, the type of discrimination hidden within the COMPAS algorithm for years. Second, it compounds the power imbalance between management and worker.
Our data also confirmed others’ findings that it is almost impossible to complain about the decisions of the algorithm. Workers often do not know the exact basis of those decisions, and there’s no one to complain to anyway. When Uber Eats bicycle couriers asked for reasons about their plummeting income, for example, responses from the company advised them “we have no manual control over how many deliveries you receive.”
Broader Lessons
When algorithmic management operates as a “black box” one of the consequences is that it is can become an indirect control mechanism. Thus far under-appreciated by Australian regulators, this control mechanism has enabled platforms to mobilize a reliable and scalable workforce while avoiding employer responsibilities.
“The absence of concrete evidence about how the algorithms operate”, the Victorian government’s inquiry into the “on-demand” workforce notes in its report, “makes it hard for a driver or rider to complain if they feel disadvantaged by one.”
The report, published in June, also found it is “hard to confirm if concern over algorithm transparency is real.”
But it is precisely the fact it is hard to confirm that’s the problem. How can we start to even identify, let alone resolve, issues like algorithmic management?
Fair conduct standards to ensure transparency and accountability are a start. One example is the Fair Work initiative, led by the Oxford Internet Institute. The initiative is bringing together researchers with platforms, workers, unions, and regulators to develop global principles for work in the platform economy. This includes “fair management,” which focuses on how transparent the results and outcomes of algorithms are for workers.
Understandings about impact of algorithms on all forms of work is still in its infancy. It demands greater scrutiny and research. Without human oversight based on agreed principles we risk inviting HAL into our workplaces.
This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.
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#437150 AI Is Getting More Creative. But Who ...
Creativity is a trait that makes humans unique from other species. We alone have the ability to make music and art that speak to our experiences or illuminate truths about our world. But suddenly, humans’ artistic abilities have some competition—and from a decidedly non-human source.
Over the last couple years there have been some remarkable examples of art produced by deep learning algorithms. They have challenged the notion of an elusive definition of creativity and put into perspective how professionals can use artificial intelligence to enhance their abilities and produce beyond the known boundaries.
But when creativity is the result of code written by a programmer, using a format given by a software engineer, featuring private and public datasets, how do we assign ownership of AI-generated content, and particularly that of artwork? McKinsey estimates AI will annually generate value of $3.5 to $5.8 trillion across various sectors.
In 2018, a portrait that was christened Edmond de Belamy was made in a French art collective called Obvious. It used a database with 15,000 portraits from the 1300s to the 1900s to train a deep learning algorithm to produce a unique portrait. The painting sold for $432,500 in a New York auction. Similarly, a program called Aiva, trained on thousands of classical compositions, has released albums whose pieces are being used by ad agencies and movies.
The datasets used by these algorithms were different, but behind both there was a programmer who changed the brush strokes or musical notes into lines of code and a data scientist or engineer who fitted and “curated” the datasets to use for the model. There could also have been user-based input, and the output may be biased towards certain styles or unintentionally infringe on similar pieces of art. This shows that there are many collaborators with distinct roles in producing AI-generated content, and it’s important to discuss how they can protect their proprietary interests.
A perspective article published in Nature Machine Intelligence by Jason K. Eshraghian in March looks into how AI artists and the collaborators involved should assess their ownership, laying out some guiding principles that are “only applicable for as long as AI does not have legal parenthood, the way humans and corporations are accorded.”
Before looking at how collaborators can protect their interests, it’s useful to understand the basic requirements of copyright law. The artwork in question must be an “original work of authorship fixed in a tangible medium.” Given this principle, the author asked whether it’s possible for AI to exercise creativity, skill, or any other indicator of originality. The answer is still straightforward—no—or at least not yet. Currently, AI’s range of creativity doesn’t exceed the standard used by the US Copyright Office, which states that copyright law protects the “fruits of intellectual labor founded in the creative powers of the mind.”
Due to the current limitations of narrow AI, it must have some form of initial input that helps develop its ability to create. At the moment AI is a tool that can be used to produce creative work in the same way that a video camera is a tool used to film creative content. Video producers don’t need to comprehend the inner workings of their cameras; as long as their content shows creativity and originality, they have a proprietary claim over their creations.
The same concept applies to programmers developing a neural network. As long as the dataset they use as input yields an original and creative result, it will be protected by copyright law; they don’t need to understand the high-level mathematics, which in this case are often black box algorithms whose output it’s impossible to analyze.
Will robots and algorithms eventually be treated as creative sources able to own copyrights? The author pointed to the recent patent case of Warner-Lambert Co Ltd versus Generics where Lord Briggs, Justice of the Supreme Court of the UK, determined that “the court is well versed in identifying the governing mind of a corporation and, when the need arises, will no doubt be able to do the same for robots.”
In the meantime, Dr. Eshraghian suggests four guiding principles to allow artists who collaborate with AI to protect themselves.
First, programmers need to document their process through online code repositories like GitHub or BitBucket.
Second, data engineers should also document and catalog their datasets and the process they used to curate their models, indicating selectivity in their criteria as much as possible to demonstrate their involvement and creativity.
Third, in cases where user data is utilized, the engineer should “catalog all runs of the program” to distinguish the data selection process. This could be interpreted as a way of determining whether user-based input has a right to claim the copyright too.
Finally, the output should avoid infringing on others’ content through methods like reverse image searches and version control, as mentioned above.
AI-generated artwork is still a very new concept, and the ambiguous copyright laws around it give a lot of flexibility to AI artists and programmers worldwide. The guiding principles Eshraghian lays out will hopefully shed some light on the legislation we’ll eventually need for this kind of art, and start an important conversation between all the stakeholders involved.
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