Artificial

When I step out of the car in Waterton, I am refreshed. As I walk down to the edge of the water and look across the lake to the peak of Alderson, I feel whole. With the sun gently beating down on my face, I walk with Michelle over to a nearby bench where we sit together in silence, just being. A cool breeze brushes my cheek, and I turn to watch some young kids laughing and screaming as they throw rocks into the water and push each other into the cold glacier-fed lake.

What I don’t do is process the view with light sensors pixel by pixel. Recording each one in one of the billions of possible color combinations. I don’t measure the pressure of the air pushing into the sensors on the side of my upper viewing appendage. I don’t calculate the height of each peak in relation to the rest to carefully map out my surroundings. I don’t relocate myself closer to the water’s edge, noting the distance to the water, and carefully place myself where I can sense the water but not get any on my fragile sensors. Not that they would break, but that there might be a malfunction until the water dried completely. The frigidity of the water also poses a threat to the proper functioning of the underlying structure. I don’t just note the sounds 46 meters to the left coming from the children playing.

Did I mention that Michelle got up and picked up a big rock and threw it down in the water at an angle and distance to perfectly splash me in my reverie?

What is intelligence? Can a machine ever really experience life?

Neil Lawrence (Wilkins, 2024) argues that intelligence is so much more than just processing information. The awe that sweeps over us in a setting like lakeside Waterton is just as important to the human experience as being able to recite the digits of pi to the 47^th character. Calculating pi is something that AI can do brilliantly, but it fails completely at appreciating the quiet moments that contribute so much to our lives.

Can we really directly compare human intelligence to artificial, machine intelligence? Scientists respect and are amazed at the functionality of their machines that can search, remember, calculate, assemble text, wield logic flawlessly, and reason faster than the best of us. They classify that as the pinnacle of intelligence because that is the kind of thinking that they understand and respect (Ranganath, 2025). Is that all there is?

Just like a lumber baron has only one value for a tree, many scientists have a very narrow view of what intelligence should be. Producing a great poem or rendering a series of tones into a pleasing melody isn’t the same as appreciating artistry. Even if AI can explain what makes something aesthetically pleasing, do any of us really believe that it can be moved by such?

I can use AI and I can appreciate what it can do. It might replace a billion of us in what we do to live. But can it ever appreciate me or can it ever really live?

I say no. Emphatically NO! Human intelligence, with all of its shortcomings and failures, will always triumph in the areas that really count. The tears at a death. The joy at a birth. The smiles at success. The awe of Alderson. That is ours and ours alone.

That is our intelligence and I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

References

Ranganath, C. 2025. Why I’m deeply skeptical about comparisons between humans and machines. New Scientist, Feb 19, 2025.

Wilkins, A. 2024. The AI expert who says artificial general intelligence is nonsense. New Scientist, Sept. 16, 2024.