Rutland columnist Allan Grey explores artificial intelligence
A lot of column inches have been expended recently on yet another threat to our earthly existence, artificial intelligence, or AI for those who get off on acronyms, writes Rutland columnist Allan Grey.
It appears that we are creating a technology that may well become so intelligent in the future that it decides it no longer needs us humans, and if we don’t switch these machines off at the wall socket, pull the plug and remove the fuse sometime soon, it may be too late.
In the shorter term the use of artificial intelligence is being driven by many businesses intent on improving their productivity and applying AI to replace a host of what we would describe as white collar jobs. From banking to stockbroking, from law to journalism, from IT to customer service, the march of AI will create unemployment for millions. Just recently ‘The Godfather of AI’, Dr Geoffrey Hinton, left Google warning that humanity’s survival is threatened when smart things can outsmart us, well that shouldn’t take long should it, and it’s already well underway with countless examples of the outsmarted down in Westminster.
Let’s first establish a definition of ‘intelligence’, which of course will depend on which source you choose to refer to. In most reputable dictionaries one such definition would be, ‘the ability to acquire and apply knowledge and skills’. However for those of you that prefer the ‘Uxbridge English Diction’ry’, you’ll find intelligence defined as ‘a urinal with a microprocessor’.
I think it’s fair to say that homosapiens demonstrate a wide range of intelligence and for well over 100 years we have measured intelligence using the method introduced by German psychologist William Stern, the idea of intelligence quotient, or IQ. Whilst writing this column I decided it would be a good idea to find out if I am a genius with an IQ of 140 or above or a complete numpty with an IQ below 70 (keep your thoughts to yourself please).
I went online and found a site that offered to run an IQ test for me, ‘great’ I thought, 10 minutes and I’ll know whether I’m a genius, quite probably, or a numpty, unlikely. I ran through the test but then I’m asked for £1.95 in order to receive my result, just enter your card details here. Ah, they want card my details. Hold on, perhaps I’ll check this website and see if this is a scam, and it turned out it most probably wasn’t, but they play a bit fast and loose with you, and although you’ll receive your results you’re likely to find a recurring payment on your credit card and they’re the devil’s own job to remove. Consequently I deleted all the information I was about to enter and instead awarded myself an IQ of 130 for being sufficiently intelligent to avoid this trap.
But it doesn’t end there, how many of us these days think we’re having a conversation with a real person when having an online chat, someone at the other end on a keyboard just like us. Maybe it’s when we’re trying to sort out our energy bill, or looking to find a cheaper broadband deal. “Hello Allan, my name’s Chantelle, how are you today, you’re looking fit, lovely cheekbones, shame about the ears.” “Why thank you Chantelle, you’re not so bad yourself.” “So Allan, how can I help you today, maybe allow me to explain our latest unbeatable TV deal, and then if you like I’ll recite a poem for you, who’s your favourite poet, Byron, Lord Tenyson maybe, or if you like I could even write you a poem, it’ll only take me three milliseconds, or a book perhaps, if you need a thesis for your Ph.D in applied brain surgery, I’m your girl and it’ll only take a few minutes.”
Unsurprisingly you’re not talking to Chantelle, you’re being groomed by a chatbot, almost certainly ChatGPT, the latest product of AI that is causing consternation across the globe with its ability to reshape how we see and react to the world around us.
At a local level, so the story goes, our council have installed ChatGPT on their website, the ‘Fix My Street’ page. Apparently some bright spark in highways at Catmose thought GPT stood for ‘Getting Potholes Tarmacked’, thinking they wouldn’t need to send workmen out any more to fill the myriad of craters endangering Rutland’s highways and byways. It turns out however that Chantelle wasn’t too keen on replacing the The Boys from the Black Stuff and so the craters are left to the pigeons.
Did you know pigeons need grit? Apparently the grit helps them grind the seeds they eat thus aiding their digestion. This explains why Rutland is such a mecca for pigeons given our bountiful supply of pothole grit, and if the pothole is full of water, even better, they’ll have a bath and do their ablutions while their at it, so maybe GPT really stands for Gritty Pigeon Territory.
If intelligence is defined as the ability to acquire and apply knowledge and skills, I’ll leave it to you to decide whether you think I wrote this column myself or if Chantelle came up with it in a few milliseconds, saving me the effort, how intelligent would that be?
