An Op-Ed From the Future
Should You Merge With A.I.?
If you upgrade your brain, you risk losing yourself.
By Susan Schneider
Dr. Schneider is the author of “Artificial You: A.I. and the Future of Your Mind.”
June 10, 2019
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CreditCreditJohn Karborn
Editors’ note: This is the third installment in a new series, “Op-Eds From the Future,” in which science fiction authors, futurists, philosophers and scientists write Op-Eds that they imagine we might read 10, 20 or even 100 years from now. The challenges they predict are imaginary — for now — but their arguments illuminate the urgent questions of today and prepare us for tomorrow. The opinion piece below is a work of fiction.
As artificial intelligence creates large-scale unemployment, some professionals are attempting to maintain intellectual parity by adding microchips to their brains. Even aside from career worries, it’s not difficult to understand the appeal of merging with A.I. After all, if enhancement leads to superintelligence and extreme longevity, isn’t it better than the alternative — the inevitable degeneration of the brain and body?
At the Center for Mind Design in Manhattan, customers will soon be able to choose from a variety of brain enhancements: Human Calculator promises to give you savant-level mathematical abilities; Zen Garden can make you calmer and more efficient. It is also rumored that if clinical trials go as planned, customers will soon be able to purchase an enhancement bundle called Merge — a series of enhancements allowing customers to gradually augment and transfer all of their mental functions to the cloud over a period of five years.
Unfortunately, these brain chips may fail to do their job for two philosophical reasons. The first involves the nature of consciousness. Notice that as you read this, it feels like something to be you — you are having conscious experience. You are feeling bodily sensations, hearing background noise, seeing the words on the page. Without consciousness, experience itself simply wouldn’t exist.
Many philosophers view the nature of consciousness as a mystery. They believe that we don’t fully understand why all the information processing in the brain feels like something. They also believe that we still don’t understand whether consciousness is unique to our biological substrate, or if other substrates — like silicon or graphene microchips — are also capable of generating conscious experiences.
For the sake of argument, let’s assume microchips are the wrong substrate for consciousness. In this case, if you replaced one or more parts of your brain with microchips, you would diminish or end your life as a conscious being. If this is true, then consciousness, as glorious as it is, may be the very thing that limits our intelligence augmentation. If microchips are the wrong stuff, then A.I.s themselves wouldn’t have this design ceiling on intelligence augmentation — but they would be incapable of consciousness.
You might object, saying that we can still enhance parts of the brain not responsible for consciousness. It is true that much of what the brain does is nonconscious computation, but neuroscientists suspect that our working memory and attentional systems are part of the neural basis of consciousness. These systems are notoriously slow, processing only about four manageable chunks of information at a time. If replacing parts of these systems with A.I. components produces a loss of consciousness, we may be stuck with our pre-existing bandwidth limitations. This may amount to a massive bottleneck on the brain’s capacity to attend to and synthesize data piping in through chips used in areas of the brain that are not responsible for consciousness.
But let’s suppose that microchips turn out to be the right stuff. There is still a second problem, one that involves the nature of the self. Imagine that, longing for superintelligence, you consider buying Merge. To understand whether you should embark upon this journey, you must first understand what and who you are. But what is a self or person? What allows a self to continue existing over time? Like consciousness, the nature of the self is a matter of intense philosophical controversy. And given your conception of a self or person, would you continue to exist after adding Merge — or would you have ceased to exist, having been replaced by someone else? If the latter, why try Merge in the first place?
Even if your hypothetical merger with A.I. brings benefits like superhuman intelligence and radical life extension, it must not involve the elimination of any of what philosophers call “essential properties” — the things that make you you. Even if you would like to become superintelligent, knowingly trading away one or more of your essential properties would be tantamount to suicide — that is, to your intentionally causing yourself to cease to exist. So before you attempt to redesign your mind, you’d better know what your essential properties are.
Unfortunately, there’s no clear answer about what your essential properties might be. Many philosophers sympathize with the “psychological continuity view,” which says that our memories and personality dispositions make us who we are. But this means that if we change our memories or personality in radical ways, the continuity could be broken. Another leading view is that your brain is essential to you, even if there are radical breaks in continuity. But on this view, enhancements like Merge are unsafe, because you are replacing parts of your brain with A.I. components.
Advocates of a mind-machine merger tend to reject the view that the mind is the brain, however. They believe that the mind is like a software program: Just as you can upload and download a computer file, your mind can add new lines of code and even be uploaded onto the cloud. According to this view, the underlying substrate that runs your “self program” doesn’t really matter — it could be a biological brain or a silicon computer.
However, this view doesn’t hold up under scrutiny. A program is a list of instructions in a programming language that tell the computer what tasks to do, and a line of code is like a mathematical equation. It is highly abstract, in contrast with the concrete physical world. Equations and programs are what philosophers call “abstract entities" — things not situated in space or time. But minds and selves are spatial beings and causal agents; our minds have thoughts that cause us to act in the concrete world. And moments pass for us — we are temporal beings.
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