Article
AI
Comment
4 min read

It's our mistakes that make us human

What we learn distinguishes us from tech.

Silvianne Aspray is a theologian and postdoctoral fellow at the University of Cambridge.

A man staring at a laptop grimmaces and holds his hands to his head.
Francisco De Legarreta C. on Unsplash.

The distinction between technology and human beings has become blurry: AI seems to be able to listen, answer our questions, even respond to our feelings. It becomes increasingly easy to confuse machines with humans. In this situation, it is increasingly important to ask: What makes us human, in distinction from machines? There are many answers to this question, but for now I would like to focus on just one aspect of what I think is distinctively human: As human beings, we live and learn in time.  

To be human means to be intrinsically temporal. We live in time and are oriented towards a future good. We are learning animals, and our learning is bound up with the taking of time. When we learn to know or to do something, we necessarily make mistakes, and we take practice. But keeping in view something we desire – a future good – we keep going.  

Let’s take the example of language. We acquire language in community over time. Toddlers make all sorts of hilarious mistakes when they first try to talk, and it takes them a long time even to get single words right, let alone to try and form sentences. But they keep trying, and they eventually learn. The same goes with love: Knowing how to love our family or our neighbours near and far is not something we are good at instantly. It is not the sort of learning where you absorb a piece of information and then you ‘get’ it. No, we learn it over time, we imitate others, we practice and even when we have learned, in the abstract, what it is to be loving, we keep getting it wrong. 

This, too, is part of what it means to be human: to make mistakes. Not the sort of mistakes machines make, when they classify some information wrongly, for instance, but the very human mistake of falling short of your own ideal. Of striving towards something you desire – happiness, in the broadest of terms – and yet falling short, in your actions, of that very goal. But there’s another very human thing right here: Human beings can also change. They – we – can have a change of heart, be transformed, and at some point in time, actually start to do the right thing – even against all the odds. Statistics of past behaviours, do not always correctly predict future outcomes. Part of being human means that we can be transformed.  

Transformation sometimes comes suddenly, when an overwhelming, awe-inspiring experience changes somebody’s life as by a bolt of lightning. Much more commonly, though, such transformation takes time. Through taking up small practices, we can form new habits, gradually acquire virtue, and do the right thing more often than not. This is so human: We are anything but perfect. As Christians would say: We have a tendency to entangle ourselves in the mess of sin and guilt. But we also bear the image of the Holy One who made us, and by the grace and favour of that One, we are not forever stuck in the mess. We are redeemed: are given the strength to keep trying, despite the mistakes we make, and given the grace to acquire virtue and become better people over time. All of this to say that being human means to live in time, and to learn in time. 

So, this is a real difference between human beings and machines: Human beings can, and do strive toward a future good. 

Now compare this to the most complex of machines. We say that AI is able to “learn”. But what does it mean to learn, for AI? Machine learning is usually categorized into supervised learning, unsupervised and self-supervised learning. Supervised learning means that a model is trained for a specific task based on correctly labelled data. For instance, if a model is to predict whether a mammogram image contains a cancerous tumour, it is given many example images which are correctly classed as ‘contains cancer’ or ‘does not contain cancer’. That way, it is “taught” to recognise cancer in unlabelled mammograms. Unsupervised learning is different. Here, the system looks for patterns in the dataset it is given. It clusters and groups data without relying on predefined labels. Self-supervised learning uses both methods: Here, the system uses parts of the data itself as a kind of label – such as, for instance, predicting the upper half of an image from its lower half, or the next word in a given text. This is the predominant paradigm for how contemporary large-scale AI models “learn”.  

In each case, AI’s learning is necessarily based on data sets. Learning happens with reference to pre-given data, and in that sense with reference to the past. It may look like such models can consider the future, and have future goals, but only insofar as they have picked up patterns in past data, which they use to predict future patterns – as if the future was nothing but a repetition of the past.  

So this is a real difference between human beings and machines: Human beings can, and do strive toward a future good. Machines, by contrast, are always oriented towards the past of the data that was fed to them. Human beings are intrinsically temporal beings, whereas machines are defined by temporality only in a very limited sense: it takes time to upload data, and for the data to be processed, for instance. Time, for machines, is nothing but an extension of the past, whereas for human beings, it is an invitation to and the possibility for being transformed for the sake of a future good. We, human beings, are intrinsically temporal, living in time towards a future good – which machines do not.  

In the face of new technologies we need a sharpened sense for the strange and awe-inspiring species that is the human race, and cultivate a new sense of wonder about humanity itself.  

Article
Comment
Leading
Politics
3 min read

My problem with the polls

Chasing the polls hobbles the leadership we really need.

Jean Kabasomi works in financial services in London. She also writes and broadcasts. 

A graphic shows two political opinion poll questions and bar graphs.
Political opinion polls.
YouGov.

Recently reviewing the media’s coverage of the riots in the UK, I came across an article in The Telegraph that both surprised and annoyed me. It outlined an opinion poll conducted on the government’s response to the riots. It claimed that 49 per cent of the population were unhappy with the Prime Minister’s response to the riots. 

Now, you might be wondering why I was annoyed by the article. For me, IF opinion polling is to be used it has three principal applications. First, it might be used to understand how people intend to vote in an upcoming election. Secondly, polling might be used to inform governments or public organisations. They might want to understand how a policy could impact the general populus or a specific group of people. Or measure whether a policy is having its intended impact or not. Lastly, polling might be used by a government to gauge how its overall programme is being received by the population it was elected to serve.  

Polling, in my view, is not supposed to be used   to ask the general public about the day-to-day functioning and decision-making of a recently elected government. Again, you might wonder - why does this matter?  

Well, you don’t need to be a polling expert to know that trust in politicians in developed democracies around the world is at an all-time low. The prevailing view is that politicians are out for themselves, lack integrity, do not believe in anything in particular.  They are happy to provide their opinion based on whichever way the wind is blowing.  

The blame for this is often placed at the feet of those politicians. The argument is that the calibre of people choosing politics is far lower than it has been in previous generations. As such we have a group of leaders who do not believe in what they tell us. Others argue the toxic culture of social media, the overall decline in moral standards in Western democracies and the rise of the culture of the individual, also contribute to fewer common norms on moral expectations.  

All of these are true and do intensify the situation we find ourselves in. But I think there might be a more fundamental problem that is rarely addressed. Instead of politicians getting on with the job they have been elected and therefore delegated to do, they are constantly trying to please people instead of serve people. 

Politicians are having to constantly try and not say the wrong thing on social media or in a tough interview. They are, more and more being urged to respond to polls (often commissioned by the media) and the resulting stories about the day-to-day functioning of government. In any sphere of life, it is virtually impossible for any leader to make a good decision if they are constantly forced to question whether they are making the right decision not because it might harm the people they are leading or serving but because it might not be received well.  

If we want the calibre of our politicians to improve, our current crop needs the freedom to govern, oppose and lead without the need to please us. 

Both Jesus and St Paul spoke of the contrast in pleasing people instead of being led by God (or your convictions). Jesus said that you cannot serve two masters. You will either hate one and love the other or be devoted to one and despise the other. Here, the contrast in question is between money and God. But the principle remains the same. Politicians cannot govern effectively if they are trying to win a popularity contest at the same time.  

This does not mean that politicians should not be held accountable. They should be able to explain and justify the policies and decisions they make within the confines of the system that they have been elected into. In the UK, this includes Parliament, engagement with constituents, in-person surgeries and meetings, party management, and dialogue and examination by the media. It should not include weekly polling data which seems to serve the purpose of generating cheap content and fleeting headlines.  It prevents the politicians from taking difficult but necessary decisions and stifles debate on challenging topics.  

If we want the calibre of our politicians to improve, our current crop needs the freedom to govern, oppose and lead without the need to please us. They need to feel compelled to serve us. Not only will this lead to better decision making but it will also encourage ‘stronger’ candidates to enter politics knowing that they have the freedom to contribute to a better society for all.