Clark (2001) - Natural Born Cyborgs
Clark (2001) - Natural Born Cyborgs
M. Beynon, C.L. Nehaniv, and K. Dautenhahn (Eds.): CT 2001, LNAI 2117, pp. 17-24, 2001.
© Springer-Verlag Berlin Heidelberg 2001
18 A. Clark
its territory ever since. We see some of the ‘cognitive fossil trail’ of the Cyborg trait
in the historical procession of potent Cognitive Technologies that begins with speech
and counting, morphs first into written text and numerals, then into early printing
(without moveable typefaces), on to the revolutions of moveable typefaces and the
printing press, and most recently to the digital encodings that bring text, sound and
image into a uniform and widely transmissible format. Such technologies, once up-
and-running in the various appliances and institutions that surround us, do far more
than merely allow for the external storage and transmission of ideas.
What’s more, their use, reach and transformative powers are escalating. New
waves of user-sensitive technology will bring this age-old process to a climax, as our
minds and identities become ever more deeply enmeshed in a non-biological matrix
of machines, tools, props, codes and semi-intelligent daily objects. We humans have
always been adept at dovetailing our minds and skills to the shape of our current tools
and aids. But when those tools and aids start dovetailing back- when our technologies
actively, automatically, and continually tailor themselves to us, just as we do to them-
then the line between tool and user becomes flimsy indeed. Such technologies will be
less like tools and more like part of the mental apparatus of the person. They will
remain tools in only the thin and ultimately paradoxical sense in which my own
unconsciously operating neural structures (my hippocampus, my posterior parietal
cortex) are tools. I do not really 'use' my brain. There is no user quite so ephemeral.
Rather, the operation of the brain makes me who and what I am. So too with these
new waves of sensitive, interactive technologies. As our worlds become smarter, and
get to know us better and better, it becomes harder and harder to say where the world
stops and the person begins
What are these technologies? They are many, and various. They include potent,
portable machinery linking the user to an increasingly responsive world-wide-web.
But they include also, and perhaps ultimately more importantly, the gradual smarten-
ng-up and interconnection of the many everyday objects which populate our homes
and offices. This brief note, however, is not going to be about new techology. Rather,
it is about us, about our sense of self, and about the nature of the human mind. The
goal is not to guess at what we might soon become, but to better appreciate what we
already are: creatures whose minds are special precisely because they are tailor-made
for multiple mergers and coalitions.
Cognitive technologies, ancient and modern, are best understood (I suggest) as
deep and integral parts of the problem-solving systems we identify as human intel-
igence. They are best seen as proper parts of the computational apparatus that
constitutes our minds. If we do not always see this, or if the idea seems outlandish or
absurd, that is because we are in the grip of a simple prejudice: the prejudice that
whatever matters about MY mind must depend solely on what goes on inside my own
biological skin-bag, inside the ancient fortress of skin and skull. But this fortress has
been built to be breached. It is a structure whose virtue lies in part in it's capacity to
delicately gear its activities to collaborate with external, non-biological sources of
order so as (originally) to better solve the problems of survival and reproduction.
Thus consider two brief examples: one old (see the Epilogue to Clark (1997)) and
one new. The old one first. Take the familiar process of writing an academic paper.
Confronted, at last, with the shiny finished product the good materialist may find
herself congratulating her brain on its good work. But this is misleading. It is
misleading not simply because (as usual) most of the ideas were not our own anyway,
but because the structure, form and flow of the final product often depends heavily on
Natural-Born Cyborgs? 19
the complex ways the brain co-operates with, and depends on, various special features
of the media and technologies with which it continually interacts. We tend to think of
our biological brains as the point source of the whole final content. But if we look a
little more closely what we may often find is that the biological brain participated in
some potent and iterated loops through the cognitive technological environment. We
began, perhaps, by looking over some old notes, then turned to some original sources.
As we read, our brain generated a few fragmentary, on-the-spot responses which were
duly stored as marks on the page, or in the margins. This cycle repeats, pausing to
loop back to the original plans and sketches, amending them in the same fragmentary,
on-the-spot fashion. This whole process of critiquing, re-arranging, streamlining and
linking is deeply informed by quite specific properties of the external media, which
allow the sequence of simple reactions to become organized and grow (hopefully)
into something like an argument. The brain's role is crucial and special. But it is not
the whole story. In fact, the true power and beauty of the brain's role is that it acts as a
mediating factor in a variety of complex and iterated processes which continually
loop between brain, body and technological environment. And it is this larger system
which solves the problem. We thus confront the cognitive equivalent of Dawkins'
(1982) vision of the extended phenotype. The intelligent process just is the spatially
and temporally extended one which zigzags between brain, body and world.
Or consider, to take a superficially very different kind of case, the role of sketching
in certain processes of artistic creation. Van Leeuwen, Verstijnen and Hekkert (1999)
offer a careful account of the creation of certain forms of abstract art, depicting such
creation as heavily dependent upon “an interactive process of imagining, sketching
and evaluating [then re-sketching, re-evaluating, etc.]" (op cit p. 180). The question
the authors pursue is: why the need to sketch? Why not simply imagine the final
artwork “in the mind’s eye” and then execute it directly on the canvas? The answer
they develop, in great detail and using multiple real case-studies, is that human
thought is constrained, in mental imagery, in some very specific ways in which it is
not constrained during on-line perception. In particular, our mental images seem to
be more interpretatively fixed: less able to reveal novel forms and components.
Suggestive evidence for such constraints includes the intriguing demonstration
(Chambers and Reisberg (1989)) that it is much harder to discover (for the first time)
the second interpretation of an ambiguous figure (such as the duck/rabbit) in recall
and imagination than when confronted with a real drawing. Good imagers, who
proved unable to discover a second interpretation in the mind's eye, were able
nonetheless to draw what they had seen from memory and, by then perceptually
inspecting their own unaided drawing, to find the second interpretation. Certain forms
of abstract art, Van Leeuwen et al go on to argue, likewise, depend heavily on the
deliberate creation of “multi-layered meanings” – cases where a visual form, on
continued inspection, supports multiple different structural interpretations. Given the
postulated constraints on mental imagery, it is likely that the discovery of such
multiply interpretable forms will depend heavily on the kind of trial and error process
in which we first sketch and then perceptually (not merely imaginatively) re-
encounter visual forms, which we can then tweak and re-sketch so as to create a
product that supports an increasingly multi-layered set of structural interpretations.
This description of artistic creativity is strikingly similar, it seems to me, to our story
about academic creativity. The sketch-pad is not just a convenience for the artist, nor
simply a kind of external memory or durable medium for the storage of particular
20 A. Clark
ideas. Instead, the iterated process of externalizing and re-perceiving is integral to the
process of artistic cognition itself.
One useful way to understand the cognitive role of many of our self-created
cognitive technologies is thus as affording complementary operations to those that
come most naturally to biological brains. Consider here the connectionist image
(McClelland, Rumelhart and the PDP Research Group 1986, Clark 1989) of bio-
ogical brains as pattern-completing engines. Such devices are adept at linking patterns
of current sensory input with associated information: you hear the first bars of the
song and recall the rest, you see the rat’s tail and conjure the image of the rat.
Computational engines of that broad class prove extremely good at tasks such as
sensori-motor co-ordination, face recognition, voice recognition, etc. But they are not
well-suited to deductive logic, planning, and the typical tasks of sequential reason.
They are, roughly speaking, “Good at Frisbee, Bad at Logic” – a cognitive profile that
is at once familiar and alien. Familiar, because human intelligence clearly has
something of that flavor. Yet alien, because we repeatedly transcend these limits,
planning family vacations, running economies, solving complex sequential problems,
etc., etc. A powerful hypothesis, which I first encountered in Rumelhart, Smolensky,
McClelland and Hinton (1986), is that we transcend these limits, in large part, by
combining the internal operation of a connectionist, pattern-completing device with a
variety of external operations and tools which serve to reduce various complex,
sequential problems to an ordered set of simpler pattern-completing operations of the
kind our brains are most comfortable with. Thus, to borrow the classic illustration,
we may tackle the problem of long multiplication by using pen, paper and numerical
symbols. We then engage in a process of external symbol manipulations and storage
so as to reduce the complex problem to a sequence of simple pattern-completing steps
that we already command, first multiplying 9 by 7 and storing the result on paper,
then 9 by 6, and so on. The value of the use of pen, paper, and number symbols is thus
that – in the words of Ed Hutchins;
“[Such tools] permit the [users] to do the tasks that need to be done
while doing the kinds of things people are good at: recognizing
patterns, modeling simple dynamics of the world, and manipulating
objects in the environment.” Hutchins (1995) p. 155
This description nicely captures what is best about good examples of cognitive
technology: recent word-processing packages, web browsers, mouse and icon sysems,
etc. (It also suggests, of course, what is wrong with many of our first attempts at
creating such tools – the skills needed to use those environments (early VCR’s, word-
processors, etc.) were precisely those that biological brains find hardest to support,
such as the recall and execution of long, essentially arbitrary, sequences of operations.
See Norman (1999) for further discussion.
The conjecture, then, is that one large jump or discontinuity in human cognitive
evolution involves the distinctive way human brains repeatedly create and exploit
various species of cognitive technology so as to expand and re-shape the space of
human reason. We – more than any other creature on the planet – deploy non-bio-
logical elements (instruments, media, notations) to complement our basic biological
modes of processing, creating extended cognitive systems whose computational and
problem-solving profiles are quire different from those of the naked brain.
Natural-Born Cyborgs? 21
into a balanced scientific account of mind, should be a prime objective for the
Cognitive Sciences of the next few hundred years.