As long as they keep a heart-lung machine going, no one can say the patient has died.
As long as I keep a copy of Gravity's Rainbow on my nightstand with a bookmark on page 17, no one can say I'm not an intellectual.
As long as we keep sending soldiers to die to Iraq, no one can say we've lost the war.
(Thanks Nana Rose for the image)
Blogging live today from Ogden, UT, where my barbershop quartet, Baseline, went belly up last night in the semi-finals of the Rocky Mountain District preliminary competition. We were a little shakier than usual on our first song ("Listen to that Dixie Band"), but then halfway through the second ("Each Time I Fall in Love"), we inexplicably segued into four different keys, and couldn't pull it back together until the very end. We tied for 17th out of 18 quartets.
Afterwards we went out to Dee's, one of the only restaurants in Ogden that stays open after the sun goes down. We drank hot chocolate, ate hash browns with gobs ranch dressing and pepper, analyzed our performance, and discussed the breasts of other late-night restaurant patrons.
The barbershop world is strangely numerical and anal retentive: although there are no time limits on quartet or chorus performances, the contests are scheduled to the minute, and every deviation is lamented by the MC. Scores from 1-100 are assigned by a panel of 6-8 judges, where a 50 means you officially don't suck (you can sing in public with the blessing of the society), and a 76 means you "qualify" (you can compete at the international competition in Denver in July)
Well, we scored a 51.5 overall, and a 56.5 on "Dixie". I suspect that one and a half points is not statistically significant, so, strictly speaking, it is impossible to conclusively determine whether we suck or not. However I would like to mention that one of the judges said that we looked very sharp in our tuxes.
I really like this group of guys I'm singing with and I'm sorry to be leaving them soon to move out of state. We were all pretty philosophical about the results, trying to find what we could learn from the experience, willing to share the blame about what went wrong, and the credit for what went right. I think we've gotten to the point where we're really singing approximately the right notes with confidence (except last night, of course), and we're ready to pay closer attention to musicality and presentation issues. I'd be pretty excited about that if I were staying; but sadly they'll be needing to bring a new baritone up to speed, and I'll be back to singing in the shower for a while (where I sound great, I should mention, but I don't look so sharp without the tux hiding 40 years of gravity).
We get what will probably be our last chance to sing together tonight at the afterglow party. For me, that's the fun part; I like the supportive camaraderie of the afterglow far more than the competitive spirit of the prelims. I think we'll claim the ancient right of do-overs on Each Time I Fall; then we've got a couple other songs that are sounding pretty good, so I think we'll be able to redeem ourselves a little bit.
It's true, as everyone is saying, that this video of a German soldier being trained shows racism and Bronxism. The guy tells the trainee to imagine that a bunch of black guys have gotten out of a van in the Bronx, and are insulting his mother, and that he's should shoot them and yell obscenities at them.
But there's something else offensive about it that no one seems to be taking note of: Soldiers ought to be trained not to escalate situations. If someone is yelling insults about your mother, it's not appropriate to shoot them. Am I naive to think that army training ought to include some skills about staying cool and rational in difficult situations, so you can make judicious decisions about when to use deadly force? This is exactly the kind of macho, video game attitude that the good guys should be discouraging in recruits. Why isn't that part of the scandal?
(Thanks to dariuszka for the image!)
One of my favorite bloggers, Brad Warner, (whose blog happens to be posted on a non-explicit section of a porn site, so maybe don't click on this at work:) talks about the Imus affair. Imus was a radio talk show host who got fired for saying some racist stuff on the air.
Warner, to summarize, is basically saying that he doesn't care much about what Imus said on the air, and that we should take responsibility for ourselves rather than fretting about what other people say. Many of his commenters are disagreeing, saying that Imus is perpetuating racist attitudes in society, and he's rightfully being held responsible for his words by being fired.
I think there's a deeper point here, that hopefully Warner is getting at. When we stop people from saying offensive things on the grounds that it will have some general effect on the "public mind", we're encouraging people to value the state of this "public mind", rather than being skeptical of it. It's vitally important for the health of a society, for people to think skeptically. They must be able to hold onto their beliefs and opinions despite appeals to mob mentality, despite crazes and manias, despite panic and terror and lies and promises. We have to know that the "public mind" is untrustworthy, so we will never be tempted to use it to excuse ourselves from moral behavior.
When we attempt to scrub the airwaves of any bad ideas that might influence people, we cause the same sort of problem as overuse of antibiotics. People accustomed to hearing only socially acceptable stuff on the radio will not get much practice in distinguishing what they hear from what they have seen to be true with their own eyes. Their defenses will be down. But people who are used to hearing a lot of bullshit on the radio will get practice at questioning everything they hear.
Advice to Any Random Tourist
Instead of trying to understand
concise
or the scent of everything
keep trying to magnify
your soul lost and little
like a mustard bean
soft and little
set ever so carefully
in the center
of a lone placemat
scuffed and brittle
--Nicole Marie Beatty
There is a great article on The Situationist about March Madness and sports fandom.
For some reason, this enthusiasm for one team over another is something I don't experience very strongly. I occasionally go to a football game with my boyfriend, and once I identify what colors "our" team's uniform is, I do find myself watching the game from their perspective and hoping they win. But it's just not a very strong preference -- I'll find myself cheering after an impressive run or something by the other team.
I'm not sure why I'm like that. Seems like a pretty normal thing for people to strongly identify with a team, nation, university, or any other in-group that presents itself. It's obviously irrational, and my boyfriend, for example, will happily admit that it's irrational but that it's fun to get caught up in it anyway. But he's pretty balanced about it, compared to some other fans I see. We sat behind a guy at a Crush game the other night who was on his feet the whole time, yelling, red in the face, looking genuinely upset and angry with every referee call that went against the Crush. He was disturbing for two reasons: he seemed incapable of believing that his team was capable of an error; and he wasn't equally gleeful when things went his way. I wonder if for a guy like that, his whole life isn't just one bad day after another.
Must be some personality trait that you just kind of have or don't have, and I come up deficient. I guess I sometimes get a little smug about thinking I'm more rational that everyone else, but the fact is most of the sanest, most rational people I know are sports fans, and they can easily separate the fun of boosterism from rational analysis of a situation. I wonder if there's some benefit to that mental trait, that I'm missing out on.
I started digging through my filing cabinet today, throwing old stuff away. The thing was full, and I'm moving out of state, so I need to lighten my load quite a bit.
Flipping through folders of business proposals, 401K brochures, copies of tax forms; I ran across evidence of things I did long ago that I barely remember and rarely think about. I'm 40 years old, which doesn't seem very old to me, but maybe that's because I forget so much. It's a little scary to throw some of this stuff out, knowing that without any evidence, I may never think of some of these old jobs again. Jobs that were my whole life at the time and that I obsessed about every detail.
I've never been good at telling my own story because I tend to think about the present and the future a lot more than I think about the past. So when someone asks, "what kind of jobs have you had" or "what did you do this weekend", I really have to stretch to remember because my rememberer doesn't get much exercise.
It's funny how quaint some of this stuff looks. I found a nastygram I got from the IRS in the early 90's, and it was printed on multiple pages with carbon in between, with holes along both sides, for feeding into a printer. And I found old resumes I typed on an actual typewriter. I found a letter from a professor mentioning that he'd found "interesting" comments in some code I'd written -- I'm meticulous now about not putting smart-ass comments in code, but at the time I guess I must not have been quite as professional about that kind of thing.
I should be more careful not to save things now, because this will be even harder when I'm 80. The pull of nostalgia will be stronger and I'll want to spend my days reading old blog posts and scrutinizing yellowed grocery receipts, longing for those exotic foods we used to eat back at the turn of the century.
My recent post on The Secret and the Law of Attraction seems to have attracted the attention of a few people hawking related self-help products. They try to post comments which make a passing reference to what I said, then go on to plug their wares.
I'm forced to admit that maybe if you are very focussed on your goal of making money by selling a book, you might be more effective if you set aside socially beneficial, but limiting, beliefs like "I don't want to be an annoyance to people" or "it's rude to post lame comments as an excuse to insert marketing". This technique probably works, to the benefit of your bottom line, but to the detriment of the quality of conversation that goes on on the internet.
I said recently it might be OK if The Secret was urging people to get clear with themselves, by tempting them with material wealth. But this reaction makes me question that. If The Secret is "you can get rich by removing all mental resistance to your greed", then it might be better for it to stay a secret.
The Last Psychiatrist makes use of the same quantum mechanics metaphor I did recently, and suggests that what we call "identity" is really just our own and other people's expectations of us, combined with our desire to live up to those expectations. Change those expectations, and you'll find yourself very motivated to change your behavior.
Can you change those expectations? Are you free to redefine yourself as The Last Psychiatrist claims? Can Barbie return to the Bardo at will? I've been perusing another blog called The Situationist, which makes the rather depressing argument that we're so influenced by our environment that it's a stretch to say we're free at all.
There's plenty of people out there struggling and failing to lose weight or fight addictions. Are they free to change but choose not to, or are they not free? Some people do change, others do not. I don't understand why.
"One form of mental illness is obsessive behavior in which all observations are interpreted in terms of some emotional component. I even suspect that the liberal - conservative political spectrum is based upon ones inherent emotional bias. Liberals tend to think everything is their fault (or their group's fault) while conservatives think nothing is their fault (or their group's fault)."-- unknown, quoted by Chris Chatham.
David Monk talked in a recent blog entry about a movie called The Secret. I haven't seen it, but I've Steve Pavlina's descriptions of its topic, the Law of Attraction: it's essentially a New Age, power of positive thinking message, sometimes expounded in terms of physical concepts such as quantum mechanics, energy, and vibration.
On one hand, I find the underlying concept essentially a good one. There are a lot of things we claim to "want", but we don't behave the way you'd expect a good wanter to behave. We say we want to drink beer and have six-pack abs -- and we end up frustrated one way or the other (you know the model in the photo at left dropped that beer like a red-hot snake after the photo was taken -- he knows which side his bread is buttered on). I think the underlying message of the Law of Attraction is about being conscious of conflicting goals and realizing that you have to clarify your desires or you'll be sabotaging yourself.
But why is it that this stuff gets couched in pseudoscience? You hear people talk about this in terms of vibrations, quantum mechanics, energy, force, even nonsensical combinations like "energy force". To be fair, a some of it is clearly metaphorical: it's common to talk about "vibes" and "resonance" as a metaphor for detecting having something in common with another person, in the same way that a tuning fork will resonate along with another tuning fork of a close enough resonating frequency. (I abused quantum mechanics myself in a previous post.) But there's also an element of snake oil, especially with quantum mechanics, in movies like What the Bleep that are seriously trying to sell us on the idea that quantum phenomena can be observed on the macroscopic scale.
How we think influences how we act, and how we act influences the world. I guess it makes sense that if you adopt a belief in a shortcut directly from our thoughts to the world, it provides a simpler conceptual framework that can make necessary introspection appear to be more rewarding in the short term. That's probably why some very effective people have had good luck with this kind of mental framework. But for essentially lazy people
Monk also questions The Secret's emphasis on manifesting wealth and shiny consumer goods. I'm not sure that's bad in itself -- if someone is pursuing material wealth, and they're not succeeding because they're confused and conflicted, giving them tips for getting richer through introspection may be the spoonful of sugar they need to make the medicine go down. Getting clear with things is good for you whatever your goals are, although it will certainly cause you to reconsider what your goals are.
Thanks to taijofj for the cat photo: may he manifest a big bowl of tuna.
Over at Unknowing Mind, Mike theorizes about why time seems to pass faster as we age. His answer is framed from a Buddhist perspective involving karma, intention and mindfulness and it's worth reading. Here's my reinterpretation of his idea: you're conscious of the passing of time only when you're conscious of what you're doing; and you barely notice time when you're operating on autopilot. The longer you live, the more situations you have an automatic unthinking response to. When you're 13 and you do the laundry for the first time, you think about every step and worry that you're not getting it right. When you're 31 you do it automatically without even noticing, and so much less time seems to pass for you. As you become more competent in so many areas, your life flies by like a time-lapse film, the camera only capturing a frame during your increasingly rare "what the fuck am I doing?" moments.
Mike suggests living more intentionally -- deciding what to do and doing it mindfully. Maybe another trick would be to try lots of new things and take more risks. Try to put yourself in situations like you encountered so often as a child: trying to do important adult things for the first time with small uncoordinated hands.
I had this 11th grade history teacher, who I'll call Mr. R, who told us one day in class what the seven reasons for the US civil war were. Then on the test we had to list them. If I recall correctly, the question was, "What were the seven reasons for the civil war?"
At the time I think the sum total of my internal reaction to this was "History is boring", but after taking some more thoughtful history courses in college, I began wondering how Mr. R decided what the seven reasons were (or more to the point, how the textbook writers decided; Mr. R taught with the textbook open on his podium for reference; I don't think he liked history any more than I did).
Nowadays I think that every participant in a war, from soldier to politician to journalist, had differing and complex reasons why they participate. A war itself doesn't have a purpose; purposes are things people have.
I keep hearing that the war in Iraq is "really" about oil, and I just can't believe that. It's plausible that profits to oil companies are high on the president's list of concerns -- I understand his family and their friends have concerns in that business so it makes sense that he might see things from an oilman's perspective. But I can't believe it's his only reason, or even his main reason. People are more complex than that.
And furthermore, even if W were totally and solely focussed on oil, he wouldn't have been able to convince the Congress to go to war without pitching other reasons: fear of terrorism, fear of nuclear or chemical weapons, the promise of a new Arab democracy to set an example. Since those ideas were critical to convincing Congress to declare war, why shouldn't they count as "reasons" for the war, regardless of the president's personal motives?
And to take it a step further, what if Congress threw a war and no one came? Americans participate as soldiers for various reasons, including the ones stated, as well as individual reasons ranging from loyalty and patriotism, to unemployment, desperation, rage, curiosity, or a thousand other things. Then there the Iraqis and all the other nationalities fighting on both sides, whose many reasons I probably can't even guess at.
I don't think the US is doing the right thing in Iraq. But the reasons we are there are complicated and I don't think it helps to claim they are simple. If all the world's oil were gone tomorrow, we'd still have wars. It's useful to look at and consider the influence of oil on the equation, but in the end, wars are emergent phenomena that are very hard to explain, and therefore very hard to prevent. I hope we figure it out soon, but I'm not all that optimistic.
In filling out grad school applications and writing essays for them this fall, I found that the most difficult aspect of it was defining myself: telling a story describing my life, experiences, and interests that would let admissions committees know who I am. I found that I needed to write three different essays for the three different schools; each of them was very honest, I think, but they all told different stories. I've been thinking about what that means.
Seems to me that the relationship between what we really are and what we say about ourselves, is kind of like the relationship between a quantum state and a classical state in quantum physics. (I'm not claiming that quantum physics really has anything particular to do with how the mind works; I just think it's a good metaphor). What we really are is a bundle of contradictory possibilities; but when we describe ourselves or make choices in our lives, we make some of the possibilities manifest and turn the others into might-have-beens.
For example, suppose there's someone you know, and you really haven't decided if you like them or not yet. They say what they mean and ask for what they want; they could be assertive and self-confident, or maybe they're pushy and egotistical. You haven't really thought about it.
Then someone asks you for an opinion. You think about it, talk about it, reach a conclusion. After that, you're more likely to see evidence that that person fits your judgment; if you said they were egotistical, everything self-confident about them will feel like egotism to you. What was a contradictory, ill-defined collection of impressions has become a preconception that every new impression is now fitted to.
Here's an article talking about how people choose "friends" on MySpace; what is a fluid and ill-defined thing in the real world has to be narrowed down to a black and white decision on a social networking site. There's people you like when you're in one frame of mind and dislike when you're in another, kind of like that poor cat that's both alive and dead, but rather mistreated either way.
This all makes it sound like I think it's a bad thing to have to describe yourself. In fact, I think it's what life is all about. In doing these grad school essays, and playing around with my profile on social networking sites, I've been realizing how much a different attitude towards the same set of facts and expressions of interests, can make a person seem totally different, without being the least bit dishonest. It's just good to maintain your awareness of the fact that these manufactured identities, that you use for grad school essays, friendster profiles, and smalltalk in bars, are just roles we play in the stories we make of our days; but in fact we're much foggier and full of potential.
A naked Barbie doll is full of potential; you can dress her up as a nurse or a ninja or a firefighter or a fashion model, and then she's fun to play with because there's a story to tell. Her power comes from her versatility, but it's not realized until she adopts an identity: temporarily limited, she trades breadth for depth, and has an adventure in her spacesuit as the first woman on the moon, before returning to the foggy bardo of naked plastic non-being from which the next adventure will begin!
Your mission, if you choose to accept it, is to go forth and adopt a different identity for a day, and see how you like it. The rules: you can't lie about yourself; you have to take the actual facts of your life and see if you can tell a different story about yourself. Emphasize a different subset of your experiences; be confident about different things and vulnerable about different things. Dress differently than you normally do. Meet someone you don't know and strike up a conversation as that new person, and see what it's like. The goal of the mission is to notice that you're a naked Barbie doll on the inside, and the way you present yourself to people is an optional set of accessories; fun and rewarding, perhaps, but totally interchangeable.
This page on Tibetan Spiritual Technology outlines different methods of machine-assisted mantra recital. Electric and steam-powered drums with the mantra, "Om mane padme hum" written on them can produce the same spiritual effect as merely reciting the phrase.
Like the Amish, it seems that Tibetan Buddhists put conscious thought into how to integrate technology with their religious beliefs. They come to some different conclusions, obviously, but they're questioning the same set of assumptions that most of us take for granted -- does the use of this cell phone or this car or this television set help or hurt my spiritual development?
I can't help thinking though, how cool it would be to take this to its extreme. Imagine row on row of ten-story high prayer turbines, each inscribed with the mantra billions of times, perhaps laser etched at a nanoscale on a teflon surface. Monks could inscribe prayers on trees, which would be chopped down by giant logging machines, and fed into a blast furnace. The furnace would boil water, and the steam would turn the prayer turbines at thousands of rotations per second. Just how fast can Chenrezig read? The smoke from the furnace would be a prayer in itself, much as the threads ripped by prayer flags by the wind constitute a prayer.
Output of the turbines would be measured in kM/s, kilomantras per second. Measured of course by an Ommeter. A nation could have a spiritual accounting office to keep track of its gross national karmic product (GNKP), balancing industrial mantra production against a tally of such negatives as war casualties inflicted, crime rates, and estimated instances of corporate malfeasance.
(Thanks to Liz Highleyman and LHOON for the images!)
I've just had a curious experience trying to google info about a religious organization called FISU (the Foundation for International Spiritual Unfoldment). They have a brand new Wikipedia page, all created by one person, and I wondered if it was basically an advertisement for a new group, that didn't deserve to be in an encyclopedia yet. They claim to have thousands of members in the UK, and be sponsoring meditation lessons all over the world. But every reference to them I can find on Google is merely an ad they've placed, on an astonishing variety of directories, going back at least 10 years. No one refers to them in a blog, or in a newspaper article, as far as I can tell. The only information available about them comes from their own PR.
I had a similar experience last year trying to research New Kadampa Tradition Buddhism; they have a meditation center in my neighborhood and I was trying to find out more about it. They weren't quite so elusive -- there was a stink between them and the Dalai Lama some time back, so you'll find articles about that; and generally they're kind of hooked in, positively or negatively, with other branches of Tibetan Buddhism. But if you want to know solid, useful, information from an outside source about a group like NKT or FISU -- how large they really are; are they high-pressure fundraisers or evangelists; how does their philosophy and practice compare to other sects -- you pretty much have to just check them out personally and trust your instincts.
I don't particularly have a bad instinct about either group, by the way; I haven't visited them; their practices sound like they are inoffensive but would not suit me personally. I'm curious about these things because I respect people that put their values on the line and work with idealistic organizations like this, but I'm also wary of religious organizations in general; so many have been tools for abusing people. Maybe there should be something like a Better Business Bureau for religions.
Suppose you wanted to evaluate whether some alien creature, or artificial intelligence software, or big-brained sea mammal was a conscious, intelligent being, and not just a boring algorithmically-directed lump of cells or chips or data structures. How would you do it?
Alan Turing addressed this question with the Turing Test, where contestants try to guess whether the entity they're communicating with over a teletype, is a person or a computer. I've never found this very satisfying, because I can imagine a being I thought was intelligent, that couldn't convince people it was human, simply for lack of a lifetime experience of being human.
I think that sensing an intelligence or consciousness in a being's words or behavior, is an ineffable, subconscious process. You're going to get the impression from dealing with someone that: they know they exist, and they know you exist, and they know you're aware of them, etc. That impression is going to be something hard to pin down: it'll comes from subtleties you take in with all your senses and experiences, any one of which could be isolated and removed, and you'd still say "there's someone in there".
So, suppose Alice thinks Blob is a conscious being, but thinks Clump is just an automaton. I think the interesting thing to study is not what Blob does and what makes Clump tick, but what Alice is perceiving and what makes Alice assign personhood to Blob and not Clump. Maybe it will come down to Alice finding it more practical to deal with Blob using the social navigation parts of her brain, and to deal with Clump using the object manipulation parts of her brain.
So in the end, Artificial Intelligence is really the study of human personfication. All the stuff about neural networks, embodied intelligence, vision algorithms and self-referential data structures are just fascinating implementation issues.
...But, you may object, just because Blob can fool Alice into thinking "he's" a "person", doesn't mean he really is, inside! Maybe I'm distracted by appearances and missing all the metaphysical stuff about qualia and the fact that it feels like something to be conscious. Well, maybe. If I knew the answer to that for sure I'd be the best philosopher in the world, living in the fanciest ivory tower on the block. But my suspicion is that qualia are illusions, and that we're hard-wired to seriously misperceive certain (practically useless) philosophical truths, that only Buddhist monks and category theorists really get right.
Technorati tags: AI, Consciousness
I've heard this idea come up a couple of times recently, that it's not a healthy thing to follow the news, because so much of what happens on a global and national scale isn't anything you can do anything about; it's little more than voyeurism and a distraction from the good you can do in the local world you actually live in.
I think it's true that the news is rarely relevant, and that political awareness and involvement is irrational from a pure self-interest perspective. The chances that your vote, or your letter to the editor, or your contribution to a cause, will be a deciding factor, is slim-to-none, unless you have more money than George Soros.
But I wonder what will happen as people are more and more able to create their own realities, by choosing to read only stuff that interests them, and ignore the larger direction humanity is heading day to day. Maybe the animosity between red- and blue-state people in the US is fueled by the fact that we're drifting into different informational universes.
When Turkey and France got in this tiff about whether the Armenian genocide really happened, I don't think it's that one side or the other is blinded by hate or something; it's just that people getting a general education in the two countries, get presented with a different consensus, that they usually just adopt unless they have a special personal reason to take an interest in pursuing the truth.
The fact that the Turks and the French disagree about this, then, is no big surprise; they're different cultures, consuming different media, speaking different languages. But with the diversification of media that the internet allows, we're starting to see this same divide happen within our own culture, with liberals and conservatives clustering around their own media.
In the end I think more choices in media will end up being a good thing somehow. I can't say how; I just have a kind of faith that people are basically good, and so personal empowerment leads to good things in the long run. But I'd advise anyone who cared to listen, that maybe it's a good idea to keep one eye on the global media, as awful or irrelevant as it seems sometimes, just so your personal universe doesn't totally wall itself off into a mirror maze where every piece of data you have about the world is something you put there yourself.
I'm continually amazed by the human mind's way of finding meaning in randomness. I've been trying to learn Japanese characters lately, using the Heisig method, where you make up little stories to remember what pieces go together to make each character. It's a little weird how well this works. For example the character for "hemp" (麻) is made up of parts that mean grove (林) and cave (广). Makes sense, doesn't it, that you'd have to grow pot in a cave, to hide it from the police. Others aren't so easy: the character for "feminine" (雌) is made of parts meaning footprint (止), spoon (匕), and turkey (隹). So I've got this silly picture in my head now of a very feminine turkey who holds her toes in when she walks to make her footprints look like spoons, thinking that shape is more feminine than normal turkey-foot-shaped footprints.
So, I'm stuffing my head with hundreds of these stories, and it's working well for me so far, but I'm probably stuck with that strange association for the rest of my life. The thing is, as the flashcard for "feminine" comes around 3, 4, 5 times, the association comes quicker and quicker, and starts to make a weird kind of sense.
I've noticed this playing around with tarot cards as well. Each card has a whole bunch of vague meanings, and the card's position in a layout has a vague significance of its own. So it's no surprise that a layout of cards can be interpreted as meaning something. What's is a surprise, is that when I lay the cards out and start trying to make a consistent message out of them, a message often tends to appear quite strongly. I get the distinct sense that I've "found" what the cards are "trying" to tell me. I don't believe there's anything supernatural going on -- it's a demonstration of how our minds search for meaning, and goose us with a satisfying "aha" when a best-fit interpretation is settled on.
One more example: a program called ELIZA was written in the 1960's that you could type at and it would respond in a crude imitation of a psychotherapist, by feeding you leading questions peppered with words taken from your own responses. Remarkably, it sometimes could fool people for a short time into thinking there was a real person behind it.
It's my belief that when we attribute intelligence or consciousness to another being, this same sort of mechanism is at work filling in the gaps. If we ever do succeed in building software systems that people consider to be artificially intelligent, it may be partly because we've come to understand better how this creative perception mechanism works, and how to spoof it for longer and longer periods.
