Hoarding, Turing Machines

And Chinese Rooms:

A New Take On Autism

Nathaniel Welch

Psychology 342

Colorado State University- Pueblo

Two theories prevail over others concerning the nature of autism. One considers autism to be

an affective disorder, an inability to construct mental models of or at least comprehend the two-way

emotional aspects of interpersonal relationships and thus perform socially appropriate actions

toward the people around them. Another theory, and the most popular to date, states that autism is a

cognitive disorder, that autistics are unable to establish within themselves a theory of mind. They

cannot create useful operational definitions for judging the mindset of others- a circumstance often

called “mindblindness”- and are therefore incapable of responding to social activities of any sort

appropriately.

Both theories have proven useful in predicting the behaviors and apparent capabilities of

autistic children, but have obvious shortcomings when considered in terms of their practical

applications. Neither one does much more than describe some sociological symptoms of the

condition, and both neglect to explain common non-behavioral symptoms, such as apparent sensory

processing difficulties. In whole, aside from giving unknowledgeable parents of autistic children

something to help them cope and to tell to others who might have questions, the affective and

cognitive theories are of little use.

Given that these behaviorist approaches fail to accurately portray the nature of autism, it is

necessary to invoke a more epistemological theory in order to go beyond mere observations. Even

epistemology’s work with theoretical concepts of the nature of intelligence in the area of sentient

computers may offer new frameworks applicable to autism as well as other conditions.

The Mind and the Hoarding of Information

It has been held by many philosophers since the beginning of the discipline that the human

mind at birth is tabula rasa- a blank slate. That there is no knowledge, understanding or even

personality of any sort held within the psyche until such things are forced into it by experience,

observation and reasoning between the two. Nowhere are the signs of this concept more readily

observable than in individuals with autism. While modern neuroscience has refuted the tabula rasa

theory to a great extent, it persists on the basis of evaluating the ability of individuals to learn.

Studies have shown that the brain is constructed to absorb and process information on

astounding levels. In this light, it could be said that the human psyche is programmed to hoard

whatever knowledge that comes upon it. The building of this hoard could be said to have gone

wrong somehow where autistics are concerned.

As a layman's analogy, let's use that exact example. All people are built to be hoarders of

knowledge. However, it could be said that there are two basic classes of hoarders. The first is the

intentional hoarder. He styles himself a collector of sorts and often goes out of his way to find new

and fantastic information to add to his cache. This is evidenced in the existence of academics who

take great enjoyment in the act of learning, or even thrill seekers who prefer the form of sensory

data. The second is the accidental hoarder. She purports to be entirely clueless on where all that stuff

came from, yet here it is, and it can be somewhat disconcerting at times. This accounts for much of

the rest of humanity.

Additionally, there could be three styles of hoarding within each class. One is the

compartmentalized hoarder. Their home looks fine enough, no problem here. Do not go in the

garage! It's dangerous! These might be the sorts of people who seem to be rather lacking in intellect

most times, but somehow clean up at Trivial Pursuit. Another style is the hyper-organized hoarder.

There is barely any room to move about, but everything they have is neatly organized, stacked,

packed and put securely in its place, often in color coded boxes with labels. Else wise, the place is

immaculate. This would be the person who has something to share on virtually every topic one

might discuss. The last style is the chaotic hoarder. Everything is here, somewhere. Literally

everything it seems. There is no place to walk, sit or sleep, but somehow the occupant has found a

way to survive through it. This sort of person may often be clever or creative, but is otherwise

regarded by their peers as an utter imbecile. They're usually fun at parties, though.

One might conclude an autistic individual to be an accidental hoarder. As to which style of

hoarder, that depends on the person and where they reside on the autism spectrum. Lower

functioning autistics may be accidental chaotic hoarders of information. The constant onslaught of

sensory data from around them combined with the inability to organize it has left them

overwhelmed, often paralyzed to attend to it all. Conversely, the rare case of a savant might be a

combination. Generally they are an accidental chaotic type, but have also somehow found a way to

compartmentalize certain types of information. This certain category of knowledge being the only

thing they can manage properly, they may begin to intentionally hoard it and their little

compartment may become hyper-organized as part of coping with the rest.

The Human Turing Machine and Its Chinese Room

Alan Turing, a mathematician now considered the grandfather of the computer age, was the

first to coin the term artificial intelligence. He defined intelligence in computers as being able to

behave in much the same fashion as a human being, being virtually indistinguishable from humans

in at least the field of conversation. His proposed test for determining whether a computer was

intelligent was little more than the adaptation of an old parlor game where two people would exit

the room and then send messages back. The remaining people in the parlor would then attempt to

determine who was who by the written messages alone. According to Turing’s test a computer can

be considered intelligent once a human judge could no longer tell the difference between the

computer and a human control subject. If the human mind can be likened to a computer program

then we are all just biological Turing Machines. Except that autistics have more trouble passing the

test than most others do.

Another philosopher, John Searyl, refuted the ideas behind the Turing Test using an analogy

now known as the Chinese Room. In his argument, Searyl compared Turing Machines to a man

locked in a room where he was given rule books on formulating responses to messages sent to him

in Chinese characters. The man does not know any amount of Chinese, spoken or written, nor is

there an actual dictionary to help him translate the characters in the messages sent to him from the

outside world, much less any means of interacting with that world other than two message slots, one

incoming, the other outgoing. So, a message may come in which reads (in Chinese, of course)

“what would you like to drink?” The man in the room works through his rule books and formulates

a reply (which he doesn’t himself understand) and sends it out, then is astonished when a glass of

Coca-Cola is delivered to him. Why is this here? He’s a Pepsi guy! Now the unintelligible attempts

at protest and explanation the man sends out are only met with confusion by the people outside the

room. After all, it was a simple question, and the answer was straight forward. What went wrong?

This is the experience of every parent of an autistic child.

Hoarding In a Chinese Room?

So, if the brain is constructed to build a hoard of knowledge, and the mechanisms for

interacting with the world function in much the same way as the construction of a Chinese Room,

what separates the average person from an autistic person? The answer is fairly simple. Let’s

reimagine the Chinese Room as a Chinese Warehouse. The message slots are replaced with a myriad

of message tubes. Each tube only accepts messages from certain various external surfaces of the

Warehouse, and delivers them to a central location in the Warehouse, and each tube and its message

canister is labeled with a Chinese character representing the nature of the message.

Now, when a message in Chinese comes in regarding a drink, it and others like it come in

only one canister through a corresponding tube, and because the messages exchanged via this tube

and canister always result in food or drink, the man in the Chinese Warehouse eventually deciphers

the character labeling them as saying “hunger.” Having successfully understood and translated this

one character, the man is now on his way to translating and understanding the entire Chinese

language. He steadfastly hoards away every message looking for clues as to the meanings of every

character and eventually comes to comprehend the meanings behind the full gambit of Chinese

characters. Ultimately Searyl’s unconscious, non-cogent Turing Machine becomes fully self-aware

and articulate.

Conversely, the autistic is locked in a Chinese Warehouse where the labels for the tubes and

canisters have been removed, yet they must still accept just as many messages from just as many

points around the warehouse and are expected to respond appropriately. The only way for them to

begin comprehending the actual meanings of the characters is to slowly take notice of which

unmarked tube they come through, and hopefully remember which canister goes to which tube

when they attempt to respond. In this light, even an extremely high functioning autistic may take

some time to decipher even a portion of the messages running through their mind.

The ordeal can be exacerbated by the style of their knowledge hoard. At first, all people are

classed as accidental hoarders, but then at various stages of cognitive development become

intentional hoarders. Many revert back to accidental while others learn to enjoy the collection of

data and remain in the intentional state.

Implications

The key, then, to overcoming the limitations of autism is found not only in combating the

behavioral symptoms of the condition, as has been the common practice, but in diligently marking

the beginnings of each innate developmental stage. The progression of developmental milestones

are points at which an individual is involuntarily forced into intention. It is during these moments

that individuals learn the most in the fastest time, though it may not be immediately apparent in

autistics. The information is still retained in their mind, though often not in a readily accessible

form. Eventually, however, in the course of their own inner reasoning, the autistic individual may

come to piece each item of data together, even many of the subtleties of human interaction.