Douglas Hofstadter - The Mind’s I - Fantasies and Reflections on Self and Soul

“For years it was assumed that animals had not developed a humanlike language facility because their brains were deficient. But in the early sixties some animal psychologists proposed that the only reason chimpanzees couldn’t talk was because their primitive vocalizing mechanisms prevented them from sounding words. They proceeded to test this theory by devising simple symbolic languages which didn’t involve speech. They tried coloured cards, pictures, magnetic slate boards, keyboard devices and even the international sign language, all with some degree of success.

“Although these experiments proved that symbolic speech is not restricted to man, they seemed also to show that the language capacity of the most intelligent animals was severely limited. When a clever undergraduate student subsequently devised a computer program capable of duplicating every language achievement of the cleverest chimpanzees, interest in the animal speech experiments diminished significantly.

“Nonetheless, it seemed that these animals might be limited by the constraints of the previous experiments, just as they were limited earlier by poor vocal chords. Man has a speech centre within his brain, a specialized area devoted to the interpretation and creation of human language. Chimpanzees do communicate with each other in their natural state, and also have a specialized brain area for their natural system of chattering and yowling.

“It occurred to me that, by their use of hand motions to bypass vocal chords, the previous language experiments had also bypassed the chimpanzee’s natural speech centres. I decided to try to involve this natural speech centre while still bypassing the animal’s primitive vocal cords, and succeeded with the equipment you see before you.

“If you look closely at the left side of Martha’s head here, you will observe a circular plastic cap. This covers an electrical connector permanently imbedded in her skull. To this are attached a number of electrodes which terminate within her brain. Our electronic equipment can be connected to Martha’s head so as to monitor the neural activity of her speech centre and translate it into English words.

“Martha is only a seven-electrode chimp, one of our slower experimental animals. She ‘speaks’ by stimulating certain of the implanted electrodes, although she doesn’t realize that. The pattern of the electrode signals is decoded by a small computer that outputs her selected word on a voice-synthesizer. This technique enabled her to develop a natural sort of feedback-response mechanism. Except for a deficient grammatical base and lack of inflection, when we connect up her transistorized vocal chords she will sound quite human.

“Don’t expect too much, however, for as I mentioned, Martha is not one of our star pupils. Although her seven-electrode system can be decoded into one hundred twenty-eight distinct words, she has learned only fifty-three. Other animals have done much better. Our resident genius is a nine-electrode male with a vocabulary of four hundred seven words out of five hundred twelve possibilities. Nonetheless,” he added as he reached for her connecting cable. “I believe you’ll find her a pleasant conversationalist.”

As Dr. Belinsky proceeded to connect her to the world of human language, the chimpanzee indicated delight and excitement. She jumped up and down and chattered as he reached for the cable handed him by one of his student assistants, then sat still while he removed the protective cap and mated the halves of the connector. As soon as they snapped together in positive lock she jumped up again, seemingly oblivious to the cable attached to her head, as she pointed to a small box the scientists held in one hand.

“For Martha,” he explained, “speech is an almost ceaseless activity for her electronic vocal chords never tire. In order to get a word in I use this control to literally shut her off.

“All right, Martha, go ahead,” the psychologist said as he switched her sound on.

Immediately a small loudspeaker on the equipment burst into noisy life. “Hello! Hello! I Martha Martha Happy Chimp. Hello Hello—!

The beast was cut off with a soft electrical click as the courtroom sat in dumb amazement. The sight of the animal opening and closing her mouth in mimicry of the sexy female voice pouring from the speaker was rather difficult to assimilate.

Her teacher continued. “How old is Martha?”

“Three Three Martha Three—”

“Very good. Now relax, Martha quite down. Who am I?” he asked, pointing to himself.

“Belinsky Man Nice Belins—”

“And what are those?” he asked, his hand sweeping the packed courtroom.

“Man man People Nice people—”

The researcher cut her off again and turned to the defense attorney, indicating that he was ready to proceed.

Hunt stood and addressed his first question. “In your opinion is this animal intelligent?”

“Within the broad definition of ‘intelligence’ I would say yes, she is.”

“Is she intelligent in the human sense?” Hunt asked.

“I believe so, but to form such an opinion of her yourself, you would really have to treat her like a human, talk to her, play with her. To that end I brought along a box of her favourite playthings. She will devote her limited attention either to me, or whoever has custody of her treasures. I suggest you examine her yourself.”

From the corner of his eye Morrison observed the judge watching him in anticipation of an objection, which he dutifully provided. “Objection, your Honour. I should at least like to hear Mr. Hunt assure us this testimony will be relevant.”

“Well, Mr. Hun?” Feinman asked.

“It is relevant, as will become clear.”

“And if it is not,” Feinman promise, “rest assured it will be stricken from the record. Proceed.”

Hunt opened Martha’s box, an oversized jewelry box painted in bright red, and after looking over its contents, he reached in and retrieved a cellophane-wrapped cigar. As held it up the chimpanzee piped. “Cigar Belinsky Bad Bad Cigar.” To which she added her normal chattering and some flamboyant nose-holding for emphasis.

“What’s an old cigar doing in your toy box, Martha?” Hunt asked.

“What? What Wha—” she returned before Belisnky cut her off.

“The question is a bit complicated for her. Try simplifying it to key words and short verbs,” he suggested.

Hunt did. “Does Martha eat cigar?”

This time she responded, “No Eat No eat Cigar. Eat Food Food Smoke Cigar.”

“Rather impressive, Doctor,” Hunt complimented the scientist. Then he turned to Morrison. “Perhaps the prosecution would like an opportunity to examine the witness?”

Morrison hesitated before agreeing, then took the box holding the animal’s playthings. With undisguised discomfort he picked out a stuffed teddy bear and asked the chimp to identify it. Immediately the beast began to jump in agitation as her artificial voice tried to keep up with her.

“Man Bad Bad No Take Bear Martha Bear Help Belinsky Help Martha Take Bear Hel—”

As soon as she was cut off, she reverted to her natural chattering, while the researcher explained her paranoia. “She detects a level of hostility in you, sir. Frankly, I sympathize with you, and assure you that many people besides yourself are uncomfortable with the notion that an animal might speak intelligibly. But she is becoming somewhat agitated. Perhaps if someone else could interview her—”

“I would like to try,” Judge Feinman interjected. The participants readily agreed, and as Morrison brought the box to the bench, Martha subsided, unoffended by the prosecutor’s scowl.

“Is Martha hungry?” Feinman asked, perceiving several ripe bananas and candies within the container.