Artificial intelligence has become a subject of immense interest, discussion and speculation. We hear about it from a broad range of specialists and people involved in the development of technology itself. Each approaches the subject from a particular perspective, informed by their knowledge, experience and professional interests. I do not operate within the mainstream of technological development or investment. Nevertheless, I use artificial intelligence, I observe how other people use it, and I listen with considerable interest to what they have to say about it.
What particularly interests me is how differently people perceive AI. I believe we can identify several broad attitudes towards it, depending on an individual's education, experience, social and cultural background, cognitive organisation and, perhaps most importantly, their level of emotional intelligence. Some people immediately recognise the areas in which AI can be enormously useful, as well as those aspects of human performance that it cannot adequately reproduce. Others appear almost captivated by its abilities, sometimes believing that artificial intelligence is, in some fundamental way, cleverer than the human mind itself.
One may possess relatively little technical knowledge of AI and have no immediate professional need for it, yet recognise something essential about its relationship with human experience. Conversely, one may be technologically sophisticated and still overlook aspects of human intelligence that are difficult to define, measure or reproduce. Perhaps one of the most revealing things about artificial intelligence is that our responses to it tell us almost as much about ourselves as they do about the technology.
My simplest way of describing artificial intelligence is to compare it with the development of mechanical power. We once travelled the distances we could cover on foot. Then we learned to use sledges, boats and other means of transport. We invented the wheel, attached engines to vehicles, developed increasingly sophisticated machines, learned to fly, travel underwater and eventually reach space.
We developed cranes capable of lifting weights that no human being could possibly lift unaided. We invented hydraulic systems, power steering, industrial machinery and countless other technologies that enormously increased our physical capabilities. If we place a human being beside a powerful hydraulic crane and compare their physical strength, the crane is infinitely more capable of lifting an enormous weight. But what does that tell us about the intelligence of the crane?
The people who designed, built and operate it understand where its power comes from. They understand the physics involved, the purpose of the machinery and the relationship between its capabilities and the work it is intended to perform. They also understand that such power must be treated with respect. The crane can lift, construct and help create structures that would otherwise be impossible. It might even be used to build a larger, more sophisticated crane. But its enormous power exists in relation to a purpose. And that purpose must originate somewhere.
This is how I think about artificial intelligence. AI is, in a sense, intellectual and informational activity on hydraulics. It is rather like Wikipedia on steroids, Google on steroids, Photoshop on steroids, or programming with the assistance of hydraulic power. Whatever the task, artificial intelligence can increase the speed, scale and complexity with which it is performed. It can operate with language, numbers, images, sounds and enormous quantities of information. It can assist with analysis, research, design, communication, programming and creative production. Its capabilities are extraordinary, just as the capabilities of a modern hydraulic crane would have appeared extraordinary to someone living centuries ago.
Yet the underlying question remains the same: what do we want to achieve with all this power?
Artificial intelligence draws upon immense quantities of information, knowledge and expressions of human experience. Through its training and the information made available to it, it works with ideas, observations, discoveries, images, language and knowledge accumulated by human civilisation. Much of what it produces therefore originates in what has already been created, observed, recorded or understood. It is an extraordinary machine for processing and working with that inheritance.
Of course, this does not mean that AI simply retrieves or copies what already exists. It can produce unfamiliar combinations, generate new material and arrive at solutions that may surprise even its developers. But the distinction I am drawing attention to is between the ability to generate a result and the human experience of deciding why that result matters. We must remember that artificial intelligence is a product of human intellectual activity, developed through systems, knowledge and information accumulated and created by human beings. Even when it produces something apparently new, it does so through capabilities made possible by that human contribution.
It has no human body, no living tissue, no beating heart and no human soul. Its extraordinary abilities arise from the processing of information through systems developed by human intelligence. It can analyse, interpret, combine and generate material at a speed and scale far beyond ordinary human capacity. But that material returns to the human world, where its significance and consequences are experienced. Human beings develop the systems; AI processes information and generates results; human beings then interpret, assess and use those results. The human processes the processed material, and it goes back through the human being.
Who is interpreting those results, with what understanding, and towards what purpose?
AI is immensely powerful, like any powerful machine. And, like other powerful technologies, it can potentially develop or be used in ways that exceed our capacity to manage its consequences. Nuclear power offers one such comparison. It is up to human beings to recognise the potential dangers and understand what they are dealing with.
There are also extraordinary sources of power in nature: hurricanes, volcanic eruptions or Niagara Falls. We can admire their magnificence, study their behaviour and even learn to harness certain aspects of their energy. But such forces demand respect, knowledge and an appreciation of their potential dangers. One would hardly wish to stand inside Niagara Falls simply because it is beautiful.
There is, however, a fundamental difference. These natural forces exist independently of human wishes. Artificial intelligence, by contrast, exists through human intervention, intellectual activity and technological development. There are also extraordinary sources of power in nature: hurricanes, volcanic eruptions or Niagara Falls. It is power we have created. That makes the question of what we intend to do with it particularly important.
I believe emotional intelligence is fundamental to the quality of human life. It is closely connected with our capacity for joy, happiness, balance, contentment and our ability to establish meaningful relationships with the world around us. When I speak of emotional intelligence, I am thinking about something deeper than simply recognising or naming emotions. I am interested in the relationship a person has with their own feelings: how those feelings interact, how they influence judgement, how they are understood and accommodated, and how an individual establishes an internal balance between them.
What is the internal emotional modus operandi of a human being?
How do our emotional responses operate in relation to one another? How do they influence our intentions, ambitions, decisions and behaviour? And to what extent are we even conscious of those processes? These questions are central to understanding human conduct. They influence how we relate to other people, how we exercise power, how we approach conflict and what we choose to create.
After all, the people who design AI systems, determine their priorities, finance their development and decide how to implement them are human beings. They bring their own values, ambitions, interests, limitations and emotional structures into everything they do. Technological sophistication does not automatically produce emotional maturity. Nor does increased intellectual capacity necessarily create a greater understanding of what makes human life worth living.
We are still very far from understanding ourselves fully. We do not yet know, in any complete sense, how our own consciousness is structured, how creativity emerges, how intention develops or how our emotional and intellectual processes operate together. We are still trying to understand what we ourselves are. And yet we are developing machines that increasingly reproduce, simulate or extend certain aspects of our intellectual performance. To me, this makes the human question even more important.
I am deeply interested in creativity, but I think the word itself requires some examination. We tend to associate creativity with something positive: beauty, invention, originality, artistic expression and the development of things that enrich our lives. That is certainly how I prefer to use the word. When I speak positively about creativity, I am thinking of the human capacity to produce something meaningful, beautiful, useful or intellectually valuable; something that contributes to our lives and perhaps remains valuable to future generations. Ideally, such creativity contributes to human wellbeing while respecting the wellbeing of other people, other living creatures and the wider world we inhabit.
But creativity itself is capable of taking very different directions. Some criminals, for example, have demonstrated extraordinary ingenuity, inventiveness and imaginative ability. Their creativity may be considerable, but the intentions towards which it is directed are destructive. The same human capacity can therefore produce profoundly different consequences.
The value of creativity depends not only on the power of imagination, but also on what that imagination is directed towards. Artificial intelligence dramatically expands the possibilities available to human imagination. It can assist someone who wishes to create beauty, develop knowledge, solve problems or improve living conditions. It can also assist someone whose intentions are manipulative, exploitative or destructive. What matters is who directs it, how it is developed, and towards what result.
History offers countless examples of powerful inventions being used for both constructive and destructive purposes. Even explosives, which we naturally associate with destruction, have important applications in engineering, construction and other fields. The same technology can serve radically different human intentions.
History also shows that periods of conflict have frequently accelerated technological development. This is an unfortunate consequence of human history, rather than an argument in favour of conflict. War has brought immense suffering and destruction, yet the demands it imposes have sometimes stimulated rapid developments in medicine, engineering, communication and other technologies. I find this relationship deeply troubling because it raises another question about human nature.
Why do we so often mobilise extraordinary intelligence, resources and imagination under circumstances of conflict, when those same capacities could be directed towards improving life? Again, I return to emotional intelligence and the internal organisation of human beings. Our ability to develop powerful technologies has often advanced faster than our ability to understand the human impulses that determine how those technologies are used.
Artificial intelligence introduces an extraordinary new level of power into this relationship. It can process information, generate persuasive language, construct images and influence how people interpret the world. It can assist human thought, but it can also be used to manipulate it. That is where I see some of its greatest dangers. Perception is fundamental to how people understand reality, make decisions and act. When a technology can influence not merely what we do, but what we believe, desire or consider possible, questions of responsibility become inseparable from questions of technological development.
Another aspect of the discussion around AI that interests me is the language used to explain it. Technological discussions, like discussions within any specialised field, can become unnecessarily complicated, exclusive and inaccessible. Specialised terminology has its place, particularly among people working directly within a scientific or technical discipline. But something genuinely understood should also be capable of being explained in relatively simple language.
There is little value in making an idea appear more mysterious merely through the complexity of its description, or through manipulative generalisations. No matter how intelligent or educated a person may be, there is considerable virtue in clarity. After all, technology exists within the human world. It is developed, financed, implemented and experienced by human beings. If it is to become an increasingly important part of our lives, we should make every effort to explain it in ways that people can understand. And here I return to my hydraulic crane.
You do not need to be an engineer to understand that a crane enormously increases our physical power. You can recognise its usefulness, appreciate its capabilities and understand why it requires competent operation. You can also understand that the existence of a powerful crane does not, by itself, determine what should be built. Take almost any intellectual, creative or informational task and imagine the application of immense mechanical power to its performance. That is how I understand much of what AI makes possible.
But once we have established what can be done, we return to the question of what should be done. And that question brings us back to ourselves.
For me, the most important questions raised by artificial intelligence are ultimately questions about humanity.
Who am I? What are my values? What is my intention? What am I trying to achieve? Does what I intend to produce align with my own wellbeing and with the wellbeing of my surroundings? And when I speak of surroundings, I mean something far broader than our immediate domestic or professional environment. I mean other human beings, animals, nature, communities and the interconnected systems of life within which we exist. Some of the consequences of our actions may extend far beyond anything we immediately perceive or consciously consider. Our technologies amplify that reach.
The extraordinary power of AI places an equally extraordinary responsibility upon the people who develop, direct and use it. I hope that human beings will continue to develop the intellectual and emotional capacity to understand its results, evaluate their consequences and direct this power towards peaceful and constructive purposes. By peaceful, I certainly do not mean boring, slow, unimaginative or lacking excitement. Quite the opposite. I mean activities capable of extraordinary invention, discovery, beauty and progress, while remaining aligned with the wellbeing of human beings, other living creatures and the planet we inhabit.
I do not believe that the most important question is whether artificial intelligence can eventually outperform human beings in a particular intellectual activity. We have already created machines that outperform us in countless physical activities. These achievements are remarkable, but they do not, in themselves, tell us what constitutes a good human life. Artificial intelligence introduces extraordinary new possibilities, yet it also brings us face to face with questions that have accompanied humanity throughout its history.
What is intelligence for? What is creativity for? What is power for? And what kind of world do we actually want to create?
For all our technological achievements, we remain remarkably incomplete in our understanding of ourselves. And perhaps that is precisely where our attention should begin.
Artificial intelligence may give us extraordinary new powers, but it is our humanity that must determine what those powers are for.