Why AI Is Unlikely to Become Conscious | Anil Seth | TED

So for centuries, people have fantasized about playing God by creating artificial versions of ourselves. From Mary Shelley's "Frankenstein" to Hal in Stanley Kubrick's "2001" and Ava in Alex Garland's "Ex Machina," this is a dream reinvented with every breaking wave of technology, and with AI, the wave is a big one. The AI we have is already smart, at least in some ways. But could it ever be conscious? Will a robot ever gaze at a sunset and experience the beautiful colors, the reds and the oranges? Will it feel a sense of beauty or a rush of joy? Or will computers, however smart they get, always remain dark on the inside, always an object and never a subject? Whether AI can be conscious is one of the most consequential questions we face in our time. If computers can be conscious or sentient or aware, we'd be entering a new era in human history. We'd have new entities that have their own inner lives, new inventions that matter for their own sakes and not only for their effects on us. Conscious AI might suffer the click of a mouse, perhaps in ways we wouldn't even recognize. And if silicon can be sentient, then maybe our messy flesh-and-blood bodies will soon be superseded by machines that never age and cannot die. Now over the last few years, progress in AI has been simply astonishing. And who knows what's around the corner. Many experts think that conscious AI is possible. Quite a few think it's inevitable, and some, some think it's here already. I think they're wrong. I want to tell you why and why this matters so much. So I've been studying brains, minds and consciousness for nearly 30 years, and one thing I've learned is that to answer the question, "can AI be conscious," we need to start by looking within ourselves at the makeup of our own human minds. Now we humans, we tend to see the world in our own terms. We know we’re conscious, and we like to think that we’re intelligent. So we think the two go together. And this is why some people think that consciousness might just glimmer into existence as AI gets smarter and smarter. But consciousness and intelligence are different things. Intelligence is all about doing. It's solving a crossword puzzle, assembling some furniture, navigating a tricky family situation. Consciousness, on the other hand, it's all about feeling and being. It's the difference between normal, wakeful awareness and the oblivion of general anesthesia. It's the bitter tang of coffee, it's the warmth of a log fire. The joy of seeing a loved one. Just because consciousness and intelligence go together in us does not mean that they go together in general. The assumption that they do, well, that's a reflection of our own psychology, not an insight into the nature of reality. Take language models like Claude or GPT, trained on vast quantities of written texts. They reflect back to us an image of ourselves, of our collective, digitized past. We talk about ourselves endlessly, and so do they. We wonder about consciousness and the meaning of it all. And so, it seems, do they. But language models are not conscious. They simulate consciousness. We project consciousness into them in the same way we might project faces into clouds, or even the image of Mother Teresa in a cinnamon bun. I don't know if you can see that. There she is, Mother Teresa in a cinnamon bun. (Laughter) We are built to be seduced, like Narcissus, by our own reflections. And so we see ourselves in our algorithms. I'm always struck that nobody really worries whether DeepMind's AlphaFold is conscious. AlphaFold predicts the structure of proteins rather than words and sentences, but under the hood, it's not much different from Claude or GPT, algorithms running on silicon and trained on vast reservoirs of data. AlphaFold just doesn't pull our psychological strings in the same way. So if we think that Claude is conscious, but AlphaFold isn't, that says more about us than it says about AI. (Applause) But how can I be so sure those systems, like Claude or GPT, aren't conscious? Well, nothing is for certain when it comes to consciousness, but the very idea of conscious AI depends on a deeper assumption, a kind of myth, really. And this is the myth that the brain is a computer that just happens to be made of meat rather than metal. Now consciousness in this story is a special algorithm, a collection of computations

that just happens to be carried out in the wetware of the brain in us, but which could equally be carried out in silicon, in AI. But the computer is just one in a long line of technological metaphors that we've reached for when trying to understand the deep complexity of the brain. One time, the brain was a system of plumbing. Later, it was a telephone exchange. And for the last few decades, it's been a computer. And this most recent metaphor has been extremely powerful. But it is still a metaphor. And we will always get into trouble when we confuse a metaphor with the thing itself. The map with the territory. For one thing, in a real brain, there's no sharp separation between the mindware and the wetware. Unlike the separation that you get between software and hardware in a computer. And this really matters because in a computer, you can describe and understand everything about an algorithm, whether it's a language model or a word processor, without worrying about all the silicon shenanigans going on underneath. The computation, the algorithm is all that matters. But for brains, you just cannot separate what they do from what they are. And this means that what they do is unlikely to be a matter of computation of algorithm alone. Look closely at a brain, at any brain, and it becomes less and less plausible that all that's going on is just turning some numbers into other numbers in this endless dance of zeros and ones. Yes, there are neural circuits which exchange signals and may do computation, or at least something like it. But there's so much else that escapes the confines of the digital. Neurotransmitter chemicals course through the brain circuitry, electromagnetic fields sweep through the cortex like weather systems. Even a single neuron is such a beautiful biological machine. A far cry from the simplified, cartoon-like neurons that power today's AI. The brain is not, or at least not just, a computer made of meat. And so consciousness is very unlikely to be a matter of computation alone. And if this is true, then conscious AI is off the table, at least for AI as we know it today. Let me put it another way. What if we simulated every last detail about the brain in some massive supercomputer? Now if the fine details of the brain do matter for consciousness, well, wouldn't this be enough for consciousness to happen inside a machine? Well, a computer simulation of a hurricane does not create real wind. [A] computer simulation of a black hole doesn’t suck the Earth into its algorithmic singularity. Making these simulations more detailed can make them more useful, but it does not make them any more real. We can have a simulation of the brain, and you can make it as detailed as you want. This might make it more useful, but it's not going to make it any more conscious. Now consciousness, has to be said does remain a bit mysterious, but perhaps one reason for this is that we've been so constrained by our metaphors, by the idea that it just has to be some kind of information processing. After all, if you think the brain literally is a computer, then what else could it really be? But once we see the brain more clearly for what it really is, many new possibilities arise. And my own view, developed over many years, is that consciousness is intimately connected to our nature as living creatures. Unlike the abstract universe of computation, life is all about materiality. Unlike algorithms, living systems are deeply embedded in flows of energy and matter, and they continually regenerate their own conditions for existence and for persistence over time. I think we can draw a direct line from the molecular furnaces of metabolism, one billion biochemical reactions in every cell, in every second, all the way to the neural circuits that underlie each and every experience that we have, whether it's the sight of a blue sky or a pang of envy. Every conscious experience is imbued, however subtly, with a tinge of aliveness, with some core relevance for our future survival prospects. And at the heart of every experience, beneath even emotion, is this simple, shapeless and formless but fundamental feeling of being alive. And in this story, it's life, not computation, that breathes the fire into the equations of experience. And if this is right, then conscious AI will need to be living AI. Let me bring things together.

First, we're built to see consciousness where it isn't, thanks to deep-seated psychological biases that bundle language, intelligence and consciousness together. Second, the brain is not, or not just, a computer. So consciousness is unlikely to be a matter of computation of algorithm alone. Brains are the kinds of things for which you can't separate what they do from what they are. And silicon is not up to the job. And third, many other things about our biological brains and bodies might matter for consciousness, including a deep connection between consciousness and life. Artificial intelligence is computer software. It is not a living mind. It might give the impression of being conscious, but it is vanishingly unlikely that it actually is. I want to close by returning to why this matters so much. Take the idea of AI welfare. Now there are already influential groups advocating that AI systems should have their own rights based mainly on the idea that they might be or become conscious. Now if real artificial consciousness is on the way, maybe through some other technology or other pathway, then this is entirely justified. We humans have a terrible track record in our ethical treatment of non-human animals and of other humans, and we don't want to make the same mistake again. This is one reason why even trying to build conscious AI is a very bad idea. But if conscious AI is just an illusion created by design, as I think it is, then by extending rights to these systems, we’d be sacrificing our ability to control, to regulate them and perhaps even to turn them off and for no good reason at all. And this is one reason why even AI that merely seems to be conscious is very dangerous for our society, too. And unlike real artificial consciousness, conscious-seeming AI is either already here or coming very, very soon. There are other reasons we should avoid creating AI that seems to be conscious. It makes us more psychologically vulnerable. We might be more likely to do what an AI says if we believe that it really feels for us, that it really understands us, even if what it's telling us to do is very bad for us. And finally, the very idea of conscious AI undermines our human nature. The mirror of AI goes both ways. We see ourselves in our algorithms, but we also see our algorithms in ourselves. And when we do, when we think of the mind as a collection of computations floating free from their bases in biology, we reduce and we diminish what it is to be a living, breathing human being in a real world. (Applause) "Frankenstein," which Mary Shelley wrote when she was just 19, is often taken as a cautionary tale, a warning against the hubris of bringing something to life, a Promethean sin like stealing fire from the gods. The idea of conscious AI is a new Promethean dream wrapped up in a silicon rapture. And if conscious AI is possible, then so is the prospect of uploading our own conscious minds and floating off to eternity in a silicon cloud of living, or at least existing forever in the pristine circuits of some future supercomputer. Now the seductive power of this vision -- of being at such a pivotal point in the history of life on Earth -- I suppose it's understandable. And back in the real world, talk of conscious AI does other things too -- it conjures this sense of technological wonder and magic which might keep share prices aloft and regulators at bay. But we should resist. The sacrament of the algorithm is most likely an empty dream, delivering not post-human Paradise, but silicon oblivion. We need a different story. One in which we're more part of nature, not apart from it, with consciousness more closely tied to living flesh and blood, not to the dead sand of silicon. AI might claim the prize of intelligence, at least in some ways, but consciousness, consciousness remains ours to celebrate and to share with other living creatures. So let's not sell our minds so easily to our machine creations. If we do, we not only overestimate them, we underestimate ourselves. Thank you. (Cheers and applause) Thank you very much.