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Can We Open the Black Box of AI? Prøvekjøring

Artificial intelligence is everywhere. But before scientists trust it, they first need to understand how machines learn Prøvekjøring vår Norgesturnè óòåæâéèêø

Dean Pomerleau can still remember his first tussle with the black-box problem. The year was 1991, and he was making a pioneering attempt to do something that has now become commonplace in autonomous-vehicle research: teach a computer how to drive.

This meant taking the wheel of a specially equipped Humvee military vehicle and guiding it through city streets, says Pomerleau, who was then a robotics graduate student at Carnegie Mellon University in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. With him in the Humvee was a computer that he had programmed to peer through a camera, interpret what was happening out on the road and memorize every move that he made in response. Eventually, Pomerleau hoped, the machine would make enough associations to steer on its own.

On each trip, Pomerleau would train the system for a few minutes, then turn it loose to drive itself. Everything seemed to go well—until one day the Humvee approached a bridge and suddenly swerved to one side. He avoided a crash only by quickly grabbing the wheel and retaking control.

Back in the lab, Pomerleau tried to understand where the computer had gone wrong. “Part of my thesis was to open up the black box and figure out what it was thinking,” he explains. But how? He had programmed the computer to act as a 'neural network'—a type of artificial intelligence (AI) that is modelled on the brain, and that promised to be better than standard algorithms at dealing with complex real-world situations. Unfortunately, such networks are also as opaque as the brain. Instead of storing what they have learned in a neat block of digital memory, they diffuse the information in a way that is exceedingly difficult to decipher. Only after extensively testing his software's responses to various visual stimuli did Pomerleau discover the problem: the network had been using grassy roadsides as a guide to the direction of the road, so the appearance of the bridge confused it.

Twenty-five years later, deciphering the black box has become exponentially harder and more urgent. The technology itself has exploded in complexity and application. Pomerleau, who now teaches robotics part-time at Carnegie Mellon, describes his little van-mounted system as “a poor man's version” of the huge neural networks being implemented on today's machines. And the technique of deep learning, in which the networks are trained on vast archives of big data, is finding commercial applications that range from self-driving cars to websites that recommend products on the basis of a user's browsing history.

It promises to become ubiquitous in science, too. Future radio-astronomy observatories will need deep learning to find worthwhile signals in their otherwise unmanageable amounts of data; gravitational-wave detectors will use it to understand and eliminate the tiniest sources of noise; and publishers will use it to scour and tag millions of research papers and books. Eventually, some researchers believe, computers equipped with deep learning may even display imagination and creativity. “You would just throw data at this machine, and it would come back with the laws of nature,” says Jean-Roch Vlimant, a physicist at the California Institute of Technology in Pasadena.

But such advances would make the black-box problem all the more acute. Exactly how is the machine finding those worthwhile signals, for example? And how can anyone be sure that it's right? How far should people be willing to trust deep learning? “I think we are definitely losing ground to these algorithms,” says roboticist Hod Lipson at Columbia University in New York City. He compares the situation to meeting an intelligent alien species whose eyes have receptors not just for the primary colours red, green and blue, but also for a fourth colour. It would be very difficult for humans to understand how the alien sees the world, and for the alien to explain it to us, he says. Computers will have similar difficulties explaining things to us, he saysiss. “At some point, it's like explaining Shakespeare to a dog.”

Faced with such challenges, AI researchers are responding just as Pomerleau did—by opening up the black box and doing the equivalent of neuroscience to understand the networks inside. Answers are not insight, says Vincenzo Innocente, a physicist at CERN, the European particle-physics laboratory near Geneva, Switzerland who has pioneered the application of AI to the field. “As a scientist,” he says, “I am not satisfied with just distinguishing cats from dogs. A scientist wants to be able to say: 'the difference is such and such'.”

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