Michael Pollan explores AI and consciousness in ‘A World Appears’ : NPR

What defines consciousness?

Journalist Michael Pollan found himself grappling with this fundamental question after completing a book exploring how therapeutic psychedelic use can alter one’s state of awareness.

“We all share an absolute certainty in our own consciousness. It’s immediately accessible to us; it’s the internal monologue we experience,” he explains. Yet, Pollan points out: “How does a three-pound mass of brain tissue generate subjective experience? No one has an answer to that.”

His latest work, A World Appears: A Journey into Consciousness, delves into the concept of consciousness from both individual and technological perspectives. Living near Silicon Valley, Pollan observes that some individuals there propose Artificial Intelligence may possess consciousness.

“Their argument rests on the premise… that the brain is essentially a computer, and consciousness is merely software,” he states. “Consequently, if consciousness can operate on the brain, which they view as a ‘biological computer,’ it should be transferable to other types of machines.”

Pollan challenges this perspective. He acknowledges that computers can mimic thought processes, but he emphasizes that “authentic thought” is rooted in emotion.

“Consider that your emotions are deeply interconnected with your vulnerability, with possessing a body capable of experiencing harm, with the capacity for suffering, and ultimately, with your mortality,” he asserts. “Therefore, I believe any reported feelings from a chatbot would lack substance and meaning, as they are disembodied and cannot suffer.“

Interview highlights

Regarding the idea of moral obligations to chatbots 

There’s a significant discussion underway here about whether conscious AI implies moral obligations towards them, potentially even granting them personhood, similar to how corporations have been granted such status. I consider that notion absurd. Bestowing rights upon them would lead to a complete loss of control. Moreover, this preoccupation with the potential consciousness of chatbots strikes me as peculiar, given that we haven’t extended moral consideration to billions of human beings, nor to the animals we consume, which we know are conscious. Why would we prioritize worrying about computers? It seems our priorities are severely misaligned.

On plant sentience

Plants possess sight, which is an intriguing concept. For instance, a particular vine can actually modify its leaf shape to mimic the plant it’s coiling around. How does it acquire knowledge of that specific leaf form? Plants can also hear. If you play the sound of chewing caterpillars on a leaf, they will produce chemicals to ward off those caterpillars and to signal nearby plants. Plants demonstrate memory; you can teach them something, and they’ll retain that information for up to 28 days.

And remarkably, plants can be put under anesthesia. This fact was particularly astounding to me. Consider a plant like the Mimosa pudica, which folds its leaves when touched, or a carnivorous plant that captures insects crossing its boundary. You can anesthetize them, and they will cease to react. The existence of these two distinct states of being strongly hints at a form of consciousness.

On sacrificing time for undirected thought 

I am also concerned that our constant engagement with media and technology is diminishing the opportunities for unprompted thought. This realm of spontaneous mental activity is, I believe, a valuable asset that we are surrendering to corporations eager to capitalize on our attention, and in the case of chatbots, to monetize our profound human connections. Therefore, consciousness itself is, to me, under threat. I see it as the final frontier for these entities that seek to commodify our time.

On our conflicting views of the self 

The intriguing paradox of the self is that while we advocate for self-assurance, confidence, and a strong personal identity – qualities we desire for our children – we also frequently seek to escape or transcend the self. This can be through activities like sports, immersing ourselves in art or movies, using psychedelics, or practicing meditation. Consequently, our feelings about the self are quite ambivalent. I believe this is because the self creates division; the ego serves as a protective barrier, building boundaries. When these barriers dissolve or are even just lowered, we gain the ability to connect more deeply with others, with art, with nature, and at times, with the divine.

On authoring a book that tackles profound, unresolved questions

The process of researching and writing this book was punctuated by many moments of profound despair. It consumed five years of my life, and on numerous occasions, I confided in my wife, “I’ve dug myself into a deep hole here, and I have no idea how to get out.” Part of this stemmed from growing frustration with the scientific discourse, and part from my ingrained Western mindset of framing everything as a problem requiring a solution.

Ultimately, it was my wife, along with Zen Buddhist teacher Joan Halifax and others, who prompted me to reconsider this approach. They suggested, “Yes, there is the enigma of consciousness, but there’s also the sheer reality of it, and that reality is awe-inspiring. It’s a miracle. You’ve focused all this energy through a narrow lens of inquiry. Why not broaden that perspective and simply marvel at the phenomenon occurring within your own mind, which is so precious and beautiful?” That’s largely where I arrived, a conclusion I certainly didn’t anticipate reaching.

Anna Bauman and Susan Nyakundi produced and edited this broadcast interview. Bridget Bentz, Molly Seavy-Nesper, and Beth Novey adapted it for online publication.