Chinese Room Argument

The Chinese room argument – John Searle's (1980a) thought experiment
and associated (1984) derivation – is one of the best known and widely
credited counters to claims of artificial intelligence (AI), i.e., to
claims that computers do or at least can (someday might) think.
According to Searle's original presentation, the argument is based on
two truths: brains cause minds, and syntax doesn't suffice for
semantics. Its target, Searle dubs "strong AI": "according to strong
AI," according to Searle, "the computer is not merely a tool in the
study of the mind, rather the appropriately programmed computer really
is a mind in the sense that computers given the right programs can be
literally said to understand and have other cognitive states" (1980a,
p. 417). Searle contrasts "strong AI" to "weak AI". According to weak
AI, according to Searle, computers just simulate thought, their
seeming understanding isn't real (just as-if) understanding, their
seeming calculation as-if calculation, etc.; nevertheless, computer
simulation is useful for studying the mind (as for studying the
weather and other things).

1. The Chinese Room Thought Experiment

Against "strong AI," Searle (1980a) asks you to imagine yourself a
monolingual English speaker "locked in a room, and given a large batch
of Chinese writing" plus "a second batch of Chinese script" and "a set
of rules" in English "for correlating the second batch with the first
batch." The rules "correlate one set of formal symbols with another
set of formal symbols"; "formal" (or "syntactic") meaning you "can
identify the symbols entirely by their shapes." A third batch of
Chinese symbols and more instructions in English enable you "to
correlate elements of this third batch with elements of the first two
batches" and instruct you, thereby, "to give back certain sorts of
Chinese symbols with certain sorts of shapes in response." Those
giving you the symbols "call the first batch 'a script' [a data
structure with natural language processing applications], "they call
the second batch 'a story', and they call the third batch 'questions';
the symbols you give back "they call . . . 'answers to the
questions'"; "the set of rules in English . . . they call 'the
program'": you yourself know none of this. Nevertheless, you "get so
good at following the instructions" that "from the point of view of
someone outside the room" your responses are "absolutely
indistinguishable from those of Chinese speakers." Just by looking at
your answers, nobody can tell you "don't speak a word of Chinese."
Producing answers "by manipulating uninterpreted formal symbols," it
seems "[a]s far as the Chinese is concerned," you "simply behave like
a computer"; specifically, like a computer running Schank and
Abelson's (1977) "Script Applier Mechanism" story understanding
program (SAM), which Searle's takes for his example. But in imagining
himself to be the person in the room, Searle thinks it's "quite
obvious . . . I do not understand a word of the Chinese stories. I
have inputs and outputs that are indistinguishable from those of the
native Chinese speaker, and I can have any formal program you like,
but I still understand nothing." "For the same reasons," Searle
concludes, "Schank's computer understands nothing of any stories"
since "the computer has nothing more than I have in the case where I
understand nothing" (1980a, p. 418). Furthermore, since in the thought
experiment "nothing . . . depends on the details of Schank's
programs," the same "would apply to any [computer] simulation" of any
"human mental phenomenon" (1980a, p. 417); that's all it would be,
simulation. Contrary to "strong AI", then, no matter how
intelligent-seeming a computer behaves and no matter what programming
makes it behave that way, since the symbols it processes are
meaningless (lack semantics) to it, it's not really intelligent. It's
not actually thinking. Its internal states and processes, being purely
syntactic, lack semantics (meaning); so, it doesn't really have
intentional (that is, meaningful) mental states.
2. Replies and Rejoinders

Having laid out the example and drawn the aforesaid conclusion, Searle
considers several replies offered when he "had the occasion to present
this example to a number of workers in artificial intelligence"
(1980a, p. 419). Searle offers rejoinders to these various replies.
a. The Systems Reply

The Systems Reply suggests that the Chinese room example encourages us
to focus on the wrong agent: the thought experiment encourages us to
mistake the would-be subject-possessed-of-mental-states for the person
in the room. The systems reply grants that "the individual who is
locked in the room does not understand the story" but maintains that
"he is merely part of a whole system, and the system does understand
the story" (1980a, p. 419: my emphases). Searle's main rejoinder to
this is to "let the individual internalize all . . . of the system" by
memorizing the rules and script and doing the lookups and other
operations in their head. "All the same," Searle maintains, "he
understands nothing of the Chinese, and . . . neither does the system,
because there isn't anything in the system that isn't in him. If he
doesn't understand then there is no way the system could understand
because the system is just part of him" (1980a, p. 420). Searle also
insists the systems reply would have the absurd consequence that "mind
is everywhere." For instance, "there is a level of description at
which my stomach does information processing" there being "nothing to
prevent [describers] from treating the input and output of my
digestive organs as information if they so desire." Besides, Searle
contends, it's just ridiculous to say "that while [the] person doesn't
understand Chinese, somehow the conjunction of that person and bits of
paper might" (1980a, p. 420).
b. The Robot Reply

The Robot Reply – along lines favored by contemporary causal theories
of reference – suggests what prevents the person in the Chinese room
from attaching meanings to (and thus presents them from understanding)
the Chinese ciphers is the sensory-motoric disconnection of the
ciphers from the realities they are supposed to represent: to promote
the "symbol" manipulation to genuine understanding, according to this
causal-theoretic line of thought, the manipulation needs to be
grounded in the outside world via the agent's causal relations to the
things to which the ciphers, as symbols, apply. If we "put a computer
inside a robot" so as to "operate the robot in such a way that the
robot does something very much like perceiving, walking, moving
about," however, then the "robot would," according to this line of
thought, "unlike Schank's computer, have genuine understanding and
other mental states" (1980a, p. 420). Against the Robot Reply Searle
maintains "the same experiment applies" with only slight modification.
Put the room, with Searle in it, inside the robot; imagine "some of
the Chinese symbols come from a television camera attached to the
robot" and that "other Chinese symbols that [Searle is] giving out
serve to make the motors inside the robot move the robot's legs or
arms." Still, Searle asserts, "I don't understand anything except the
rules for symbol manipulation." He explains, "by instantiating the
program I have no [mental] states of the relevant [meaningful, or
intentional] type. All I do is follow formal instructions about
manipulating formal symbols." Searle also charges that the robot reply
"tacitly concedes that cognition is not solely a matter of formal
symbol manipulation" after all, as "strong AI" supposes, since it
"adds a set of causal relation[s] to the outside world" (1980a, p.
420).
c. The Brain Simulator Reply

The Brain Simulator Reply asks us to imagine that the program
implemented by the computer (or the person in the room) "doesn't
represent information that we have about the world, such as the
information in Schank's scripts, but simulates the actual sequence of
neuron firings at the synapses of a Chinese speaker when he
understands stories in Chinese and gives answers to them." Surely then
"we would have to say that the machine understood the stories"; or
else we would "also have to deny that native Chinese speakers
understood the stories" since "[a]t the level of the synapses" there
would be no difference between "the program of the computer and the
program of the Chinese brain" (1980a, p. 420). Against this, Searle
insists, "even getting this close to the operation of the brain is
still not sufficient to produce understanding" as may be seen from the
following variation on the Chinese room scenario. Instead of shuffling
symbols, we "have the man operate an elaborate set of water pipes with
valves connecting them." Given some Chinese symbols as input, the
program now tells the man "which valves he has to turn off and on.
Each water connection corresponds to synapse in the Chinese brain, and
the whole system is rigged so that after . . . turning on all the
right faucets, the Chinese answer pops out at the output end of the
series of pipes." Yet, Searle thinks, obviously, "the man certainly
doesn't understand Chinese, and neither do the water pipes." "The
problem with the brain simulator," as Searle diagnoses it, is that it
simulates "only the formal structure of the sequence of neuron
firings": the insufficiency of this formal structure for producing
meaning and mental states "is shown by the water pipe example" (1980a,
p. 421).
d. The Combination Reply

The Combination Reply supposes all of the above: a computer lodged in
a robot running a brain simulation program, considered as a unified
system. Surely, now, "we would have to ascribe intentionality to the
system" (1980a, p. 421). Searle responds, in effect, that since none
of these replies, taken alone, has any tendency to overthrow his
thought experimental result, neither do all of them taken together:
zero times three is naught. Though it would be "rational and indeed
irresistible," he concedes, "to accept the hypothesis that the robot
had intentionality, as long as we knew nothing more about it" the
acceptance would be simply based on the assumption that "if the robot
looks and behaves sufficiently like us then we would suppose, until
proven otherwise, that it must have mental states like ours that cause
and are expressed by its behavior." However, "[i]f we knew
independently how to account for its behavior without such
assumptions," as with computers, "we would not attribute
intentionality to it, especially if we knew it had a formal program"
(1980a, p. 421).
e. The Other Minds Reply

The Other Minds Reply reminds us that how we "know other people
understand Chinese or anything else" is "by their behavior."
Consequently, "if the computer can pass the behavioral tests as well"
as a person, then "if you are going to attribute cognition to other
people you must in principle also attribute it to computers" (1980a,
p. 421). Searle responds that this misses the point: it's "not. . .
how I know that other people have cognitive states, but rather what it
is that I am attributing when I attribute cognitive states to them.
The thrust of the argument is that it couldn't be just computational
processes and their output because the computational processes and
their output can exist without the cognitive state" (1980a, p.
420-421: my emphases).
f. The Many Mansions Reply

The Many Mansions Reply suggests that even if Searle is right in his
suggestion that programming cannot suffice to cause computers to have
intentionality and cognitive states, other means besides programming
might be devised such that computers may be imbued with whatever does
suffice for intentionality by these other means. This too, Searle
says, misses the point: it "trivializes the project of Strong AI by
redefining it as whatever artificially produces and explains
cognition" abandoning "the original claim made on behalf of artificial
intelligence" that "mental processes are computational processes over
formally defined elements." If AI is not identified with that
"precise, well defined thesis," Searle says, "my objections no longer
apply because there is no longer a testable hypothesis for them to
apply to" (1980a, p. 422).
3. Searle's "Derivation from Axioms."

Besides the Chinese room thought experiment, Searle's more recent
presentations of the Chinese room argument feature – with minor
variations of wording and in the ordering of the premises – a formal
"derivation from axioms" (1989, p. 701). The derivation, according to
Searle's 1990 formulation proceeds from the following three axioms
(1990, p. 27):

(A1) Programs are formal (syntactic).
(A2) Minds have mental contents (semantics).
(A3) Syntax by itself is neither constitutive of nor sufficient
for semantics.

to the conclusion:

(C1) Programs are neither constitutive of nor sufficient for minds.

Searle then adds a fourth axiom (p. 29):

(A4) Brains cause minds.

from which we are supposed to "immediately derive, trivially" the conclusion:

(C2) Any other system capable of causing minds would have to have
causal powers (at least) equivalent to those of brains.

whence we are supposed to derive the further conclusions:

(C3) Any artifact that produced mental phenomena, any artificial
brain, would have to be able to duplicate the specific causal powers
of brains, and it could not do that just by running a formal program.
(C4) The way that human brains actually produce mental phenomena
cannot be solely by virtue of running a computer program.

On the usual understanding, the Chinese room experiment subserves this
derivation by "shoring up axiom 3″ (Churchland & Churchland 1990, p.
34).
4. Continuing Dispute

To call the Chinese room controversial would be an understatement.
Beginning with objections published along with Searle's original
(1980a) presentation, opinions have drastically divided, not only
about whether the Chinese room argument is cogent; but, among those
who think it is, as to why it is; and, among those who think it is
not, as to why not. This discussion includes several noteworthy
threads.
a. Initial Objections & Replies

Initial Objections & Replies to the Chinese room argument besides
filing new briefs on behalf of many of the forenamed replies(e.g.,
Fodor 1980 on behalf of "the Robot Reply") take, notably, two tacks.
One tack, taken by Daniel Dennett (1980), among others, decries the
dualistic tendencies discernible, for instance, in Searle's
methodological maxim "always insist on the first-person point of view"
(Searle 1980b, p. 451). Another tack notices that the symbols
Searle-in-the-room processes are not meaningless ciphers, they're
Chinese inscriptions. So they are meaningful; and so is Searle's
processing of them in the room; whether he knows it or not. In reply
to this second sort of objection, Searle insists that what's at issue
here is intrinsic intentionality in contrast to the merely derived
intentionality of inscriptions and other linguistic signs. Whatever
meaning Searle-in-the-room's computation might derive from the meaning
of the Chinese symbols which he processes will not be intrinsic to the
process or the processor but "observer relative," existing only in the
minds of beholders such as the native Chinese speakers outside the
room. "Observer-relative ascriptions of intentionality are always
dependent on the intrinsic intentionality of the observers" (Searle
1980b, pp. 451-452). The nub of the experiment, according to Searle's
attempted clarification, then, is this: "instantiating a program could
not be constitutive of intentionality, because it would be possible
for an agent [e.g., Searle-in-the-room] to instantiate the program and
still not have the right kind of intentionality" (Searle 1980b, pp.
450-451: my emphasis); the intrinsic kind. Though Searle
unapologetically identifies intrinsic intentionality with conscious
intentionality, still he resists Dennett's and others' imputations of
dualism. Given that what it is we're attributing in attributing mental
states is conscious intentionality, Searle maintains, insistence on
the "first-person point of view" is warranted; because "the ontology
of the mind is a first-person ontology": "the mind consists of qualia
[subjective conscious experiences] . . . right down to the ground"
(1992, p. 20). This thesis of Ontological Subjectivity, as Searle
calls it in more recent work, is not, he insists, some dualistic
invocation of discredited "Cartesian apparatus" (Searle 1992, p. xii),
as his critics charge; it simply reaffirms commonsensical intuitions
that behavioristic views and their functionalistic progeny have, for
too long, highhandedly, dismissed. This commonsense identification of
thought with consciousness, Searle maintains, is readily reconcilable
with thoroughgoing physicalism when we conceive of consciousness as
both caused by and realized in underlying brain processes.
Identification of thought with consciousness along these lines, Searle
insists, is not dualism; it might more aptly be styled monist
interactionism (1980b, p. 455-456) or (as he now prefers) "biological
naturalism" (1992, p. 1).
b. The Connectionist Reply

The Connectionist Reply (as it might be called) is set forth – along
with a recapitulation of the Chinese room argument and a rejoinder by
Searle – by Paul and Patricia Churchland in a 1990 Scientific American
piece. The Churchlands criticize the crucial third "axiom" of Searle's
"derivation" by attacking his would-be supporting thought experimental
result. This putative result, they contend, gets much if not all of
its plausibility from the lack of neurophysiological verisimilitude in
the thought-experimental setup. Instead of imagining Searle working
alone with his pad of paper and lookup table, like the Central
Processing Unit of a serial architecture machine, the Churchlands
invite us to imagine a more brainlike connectionist architecture.
Imagine Searle-in-the-room, then, to be just one of very many agents,
all working in parallel, each doing their own small bit of processing
(like the many neurons of the brain). Since Searle-in-the-room, in
this revised scenario, does only a very small portion of the total
computational job of generating sensible Chinese replies in response
to Chinese input, naturally he himself does not comprehend the whole
process; so we should hardly expect him to grasp or to be conscious of
the meanings of the communications he is involved, in such a minor
way, in processing. Searle counters that this Connectionist Reply –
incorporating, as it does, elements of both systems and
brain-simulator replies – can, like these predecessors, be decisively
defeated by appropriately tweaking the thought-experimental scenario.
Imagine, if you will, a Chinese gymnasium, with many monolingual
English speakers working in parallel, producing output
indistinguishable from that of native Chinese speakers: each follows
their own (more limited) set of instructions in English. Still, Searle
insists, obviously, none of these individuals understands; and neither
does the whole company of them collectively. It's intuitively utterly
obvious, Searle maintains, that no one and nothing in the revised
"Chinese gym" experiment understands a word of Chinese either
individually or collectively. Both individually and collectively,
nothing is being done in the Chinese gym except meaningless syntactic
manipulations from which intentionality and consequently meaningful
thought could not conceivably arise.
5. Summary Analysis

Searle's Chinese Room experiment parodies the Turing test, a test for
artificial intelligence proposed by Alan Turing (1950) and echoing
René Descartes' suggested means for distinguishing thinking souls from
unthinking automata. Since "it is not conceivable," Descartes says,
that a machine "should produce different arrangements of words so as
to give an appropriately meaningful answer to whatever is said in its
presence, as even the dullest of men can do" (1637, Part V), whatever
has such ability evidently thinks. Turing embodies this conversation
criterion in a would-be experimental test of machine intelligence; in
effect, a "blind" interview. Not knowing which is which, a human
interviewer addresses questions, on the one hand, to a computer, and,
on the other, to a human being. If, after a decent interval, the
questioner is unable to tell which interviewee is the computer on the
basis of their answers, then, Turing concludes, we would be well
warranted in concluding that the computer, like the person, actually
thinks. Restricting himself to the epistemological claim that under
the envisaged circumstances attribution of thought to the computer is
warranted, Turing himself hazards no metaphysical guesses as to what
thought is – proposing no definition or no conjecture as to the
essential nature thereof. Nevertheless, his would-be experimental
apparatus can be used to characterize the main competing metaphysical
hypotheses here in terms their answers to the question of what else or
what instead, if anything, is required to guarantee that
intelligent-seeming behavior really is intelligent or evinces thought.
Roughly speaking, we have four sorts of hypotheses here on offer.
Behavioristic hypotheses deny that anything besides acting intelligent
is required. Dualistic hypotheses hold that, besides (or instead of)
intelligent-seeming behavior, thought requires having the right
subjective conscious experiences. Identity theoretic hypotheses hold
it to be essential that the intelligent-seeming performances proceed
from the right underlying neurophysiological states. Functionalistic
hypotheses hold that the intelligent-seeming behavior must be produced
by the right procedures or computations.

The Chinese experiment, then, can be seen to take aim at Behaviorism
and Functionalism as a would-be counterexample to both.
Searle-in-the-room behaves as if he understands Chinese; yet doesn't
understand: so, contrary to Behaviorism, acting (as-if) intelligent
does not suffice for being so; something else is required. But,
contrary to Functionalism this something else is not – or at least,
not just – a matter of by what underlying procedures (or programming)
the intelligent-seeming behavior is brought about: Searle-in-the-room,
according to the thought-experiment, may be implementing whatever
program you please, yet still be lacking the mental state (e.g.,
understanding Chinese) that his behavior would seem to evidence. Thus,
Searle claims, Behaviorism and Functionalism are utterly refuted by
this experiment; leaving dualistic and identity theoretic hypotheses
in control of the field. Searle's own hypothesis of Biological
Naturalism may be characterized sympathetically as an attempt to wed –
or unsympathetically as an attempt to waffle between – the remaining
dualistic and identity-theoretic alternatives.
6. Postscript

Debate over the Chinese room thought experiment – while generating
considerable heat – has proven inconclusive. To the Chinese room's
champions – as to Searle himself – the experiment and allied argument
have often seemed so obviously cogent and decisively victorious that
doubts professed by naysayers have seemed discreditable and
disingenuous attempts to salvage "strong AI" at all costs. To the
argument's detractors, on the other hand, the Chinese room has seemed
more like "religious diatribe against AI, masquerading as a serious
scientific argument" (Hofstadter 1980, p. 433) than a serious
objection. Though I am with the masquerade party, a full dress
criticism is, perhaps, out of place here (see Hauser 1993 and Hauser
forthcoming). I offer, instead, the following (hopefully, not too
tendentious) observations about the Chinese room and its neighborhood.

(1) Though Searle himself has consistently (since 1984) fronted the
formal "derivation from axioms," general discussion continues to focus
mainly on Searle's striking thought experiment. This is unfortunate, I
think. Since intuitions about the experiment seem irremediably at
loggerheads, perhaps closer attention to the derivation could shed
some light on vagaries of the argument (see Hauser forthcoming).

(2) The Chinese room experiment, as Searle himself notices, is akin to
"arbitrary realization" scenarios of the sort suggested first,
perhaps, by Joseph Weizenbaum (1976, Ch. 2), who "shows in detail how
to construct a computer using a roll of toilet paper and a pile of
small stones" (Searle 1980a, p. 423). Such scenarios are also
marshaled against Functionalism (and Behaviorism en passant) by
others, perhaps most famously, by Ned Block (1978). Arbitrary
realizations imagine would-be AI-programs to be implemented in
outlandish ways: collective implementations (e.g., by the population
of China coordinating their efforts via two-way radio communications),
imagine programs implemented by groups; Rube Goldberg implementations
(e.g., Searle's water pipes or Weizenbaum's toilet paper roll and
stones), imagine programs implemented bizarrely, in "the wrong stuff."
Such scenarios aim to provoke intuitions that no such thing – no such
collective or no such ridiculous contraption – could possibly be
possessed of mental states. This, together with the premise –
generally conceded by Functionalists – that programs might well be so
implemented, yields the conclusion that computation, the "right
programming" does not suffice for thought; the programming must be
implemented in "the right stuff." Searle concludes similarly that what
the Chinese room experiment shows is that "[w]hat matters about brain
operations is not the formal shadow cast by the sequences of synapses
but rather the actual properties of the synapses" (1980, p. 422),
their "specific biochemistry" (1980, p. 424).

(3) Among those sympathetic to the Chinese room, it is mainly its
negative claims – not Searle's positive doctrine – that garner assent.
The positive doctrine – "biological naturalism," is either confused
(waffling between identity theory and dualism) or else it just is
identity theory or dualism.

(4) Since Searle argues against identity theory, on independent
grounds, elsewhere (e.g., 1992, Ch. 5); and since he acknowledges the
possibility that some "specific biochemistry" different than ours
might suffice to produce conscious experiences and consequently
intentionality (in Martians, say), and speaks unabashedly of
"ontological subjectivity" (see, e.g., Searle 1992, p. 100); it seems
most natural to construe Searle's positive doctrine as basically
dualistic, specifically as a species of "property dualism" such as
Thomas Nagel (1974, 1986) and Frank Jackson (1982) espouse.
Nevertheless, Searle frequently and vigorously protests that he is not
any sort of dualist. Perhaps he protests too much.

(5) If Searle's positive views are basically dualistic – as many
believe – then the usual objections to dualism apply, other-minds
troubles among them; so, the "other-minds" reply can hardly be said to
"miss the point". Indeed, since the question of whether computers
(can) think just is an other-minds question, if other minds questions
"miss the point" it's hard to see how the Chinese room speaks to the
issue of whether computers really (can) think at all.

(6) Confusion on the preceding point is fueled by Searle's seemingly
equivocal use of the phrase "strong AI" to mean, on the one hand,
computers really do think, and on the other hand, thought is
essentially just computation. Even if thought is not essentially just
computation, computers (even present-day ones), nevertheless, might
really think. That their behavior seems to evince thought is why there
is a problem about AI in the first place; and if Searle's argument
merely discountenances theoretic or metaphysical identification of
thought with computation, the behavioral evidence – and consequently
Turing's point – remains unscathed. Since computers seem, on the face
of things, to think, the conclusion that the essential nonidentity of
thought with computation would seem to warrant is that whatever else
thought essentially is, computers have this too; not, as Searle
maintains, that computers' seeming thought-like performances are
bogus. Alternately put, equivocation on "Strong AI" invalidates the
would-be dilemma that Searle's intitial contrast of "Strong AI" to
"Weak AI" seems to pose:

Strong AI (they really do think) or Weak AI (it's just simulation).
Not Strong AI (by the Chinese room argument).
Therefore, Weak AI.

To show that thought is not just computation (what the Chinese room —
if it shows anything — shows) is not to show that computers'
intelligent seeming performances are not real thought (as the "strong"
"weak" dichotomy suggests) .
7. References and Further Reading

* Block, Ned. 1978. "Troubles with Functionalism." In C. W.
Savage, ed., Perception and Cognition: Issues in the Foundations of
Psychology, Minnesota Studies in the Philosophy of Science, Vol. 9,
261-325. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press.
* Churchland, Paul, and Patricia Smith Churchland. 1990. "Could a
machine think?" Scientific American 262(1, January): 32-39.
* Dennett, Daniel. 1980. "The milk of human intentionality."
Behavioral and Brain Sciences 3: 429-430.
* Descartes, René. 1637. Discourse on method. Trans. John
Cottingham, Robert Stoothoff and Dugald Murdoch. In The philosophical
writings of Descartes, Vol. I, 109-151. New York: Cambridge University
Press.
* Fodor, Jerry. 1980. "Searle on what only brains can do."
Behavioral and Brain Sciences 3: 431-432.
* Hauser, Larry. 1993. Searle's Chinese Box: The Chinese Room
Argument and Artificial Intelligence. East Lansing, Michigan: Michigan
State University (Doctoral Dissertation). URL =
http://members.aol.com/wutsamada/disserta.html.
* Hauser, Larry. Forthcoming. Searle's Chinese Box: Debunking the
Chinese Room Argument." Minds and Machines, forthcoming. URL =
http://members.aol.com/lshauser/chiboxab.html.
* Jackson, Frank. 1982. "Epiphenomenal qualia." Philosophical
Quarterly 32:127-136.
* Nagel, Thomas. 1974. What is it like to be a bat? Philosophical
Review 83:435-450.
* Nagel, Thomas. 1986. The View from Nowhere. Oxford: Oxford
University Press.
* Schank, Roger C., and Robert P. Abelson. 1977. Scripts, Plans,
Goals, and Understanding. Hillsdale, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Press.
* Searle, John. 1980a. "Minds, Brains, and Programs." Behavioral
and Brain Sciences 3, 417-424.
* Searle, John. 1980b. "Intrinsic Intentionality." Behavioral and
Brain Sciences 3: 450-456.
* Searle, John. 1984. Minds, Brains, and Science. Cambridge:
Harvard University Press.
* Searle, John. 1989. "Reply to Jacquette." Philosophy and
Phenomenological Research XLIX: 701-708.
* Searle, John. 1990. "Is the Brain's Mind a Computer Program?"
Scientific American 262: 26-31.
* Searle, John. 1992. The Rediscovery of the Mind, Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.
* Turing, Alan. 1950. "Computing Machinery and Intelligence." Mind
LIX: 433-460.
* Weizenbaum, Joseph. 1976. Computer Power and Human Reason. San
Francisco: W. H. Freeman.