The following Thursday found the Senior Common Room unusually well supplied with tea.
Mr Blottisham regarded this as evidence that philosophy was flourishing.
Professor Quillibrace regarded it as evidence that the bursar was away.
Blottisham unfolded another newspaper.
"It says future artificial intelligence systems may know everything."
Professor Quillibrace looked interested.
"Everything?"
"So it says."
"That should save an enormous amount of filing."
Miss Stray smiled.
"What would you do if you knew everything?"
Blottisham thought for a moment.
"I should probably enter more pub quizzes."
Professor Quillibrace nodded.
"A sensible commercial strategy."
Miss Stray continued.
"Suppose you genuinely knew every fact."
"Yes?"
"Would that guarantee every decision was wise?"
Blottisham looked puzzled.
"I should have thought so."
Professor Quillibrace rose.
He walked to the chessboard that permanently occupied one corner of the room.
Without speaking, he arranged the pieces into the middle of a game.
"What do you see?"
Blottisham looked carefully.
"A chess position."
"Excellent."
"What would you do?"
"I haven't the faintest idea."
Professor Quillibrace nodded.
"Neither do I."
Blottisham looked astonished.
"You?"
"I know every rule."
"So do I."
"I know how every piece moves."
"So do I."
"I know thousands of famous games."
"Far more than I do."
"And yet..."
He looked down at the board.
"...I still do not immediately know the right move."
Miss Stray leaned forward.
"So knowledge does not automatically produce judgement."
"No."
Blottisham frowned.
"Then where does judgement come from?"
Professor Quillibrace smiled.
"I was hoping you would ask."
He sat down again.
"When we exercise judgement..."
he began,
"...we are rarely asking, 'What is true?'"
"What are we asking?"
"'What matters?'"
Miss Stray nodded.
"A doctor knows many facts."
"Indeed."
"But treating a patient involves deciding which facts matter most."
"A judge knows the law."
"Certainly."
"But justice requires more than remembering statutes."
"A teacher knows a subject."
"Yes."
"But teaching involves deciding what this particular student needs today."
Professor Quillibrace inclined his head.
"Precisely."
Blottisham looked thoughtful.
"So judgement is selective."
"It must be."
"Because the world contains too many facts."
Professor Quillibrace smiled.
"Now you are beginning to sound dangerous."
The room fell quiet.
Outside, the chapel bell marked the quarter hour.
Miss Stray broke the silence.
"I wonder whether wisdom is really the art of ignoring most of what one knows."
Professor Quillibrace stared into his teacup.
"I have never heard it put quite like that."
"Is it wrong?"
"No."
"Merely slightly alarming."
Blottisham brightened.
"I've done that for years."
"You have ignored knowledge?"
"No."
"I've ignored most facts."
Quillibrace sighed.
"We had noticed."
Blottisham laughed.
"But seriously..."
he said,
"...when my niece tells me about her day..."
"Yes?"
"...I'm not trying to remember everything."
"No."
"I'm trying to notice what was important to her."
Nobody spoke.
Miss Stray smiled.
"That isn't really a problem of intelligence."
"No."
"It's a problem of attention."
Professor Quillibrace nodded slowly.
"And sympathy."
Another silence.
Blottisham looked at the newspaper once more.
"It still says these systems will know more than any human."
Professor Quillibrace shrugged.
"They almost certainly will."
"But..."
"But knowing more..."
he said quietly,
"...is not the same as understanding more."
Miss Stray looked thoughtful.
"And understanding is not the same as caring."
Professor Quillibrace looked at her for a long moment.
"No."
"It isn't."
The college clock struck five.
Books were closed.
Teacups emptied.
Mr Blottisham reached the door before turning back.
"I think I've worked it out."
"Have you?"
"If intelligence helps us answer questions..."
"Yes?"
"...judgement helps us decide which questions deserve answering."
Professor Quillibrace remained perfectly still.
After a few seconds he smiled.
"My dear Blottisham..."
he said quietly,
"...I believe your tea has finally reached the brain."
Miss Stray laughed.
"I was beginning to think it inevitable."
As they left the room, Professor Quillibrace paused beside the old noticeboard.
He looked at the countless announcements of committees, seminars, reviews and strategic initiatives.
"You know..."
he murmured,
"...universities contain no shortage of information."
"No?"
"What they occasionally lack..."
he said,
"...is a sufficiently interesting question."
He switched off the light.
The room returned to silence.
No comments:
Post a Comment