与智慧机器共舞：人类如何在AI时代发挥优势

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This story begins in 1985. When at age 22, I became the world chess champion after beating Anatoli Corpoff. After that year, I played what is called Simultaneous Exhibition against 32 of the world's best chess-playing machines in Hamburg, Germany. I won all the games. And then it was not considered much of a surprise that I could beat 32 computers at the same time. To me, that was the gold age. This was a week and my hair was strong. Just 12 years later, I was fighting for my life against just one computer. In a match called by the cover of Newsweek, the Braze Last Stand. No pressure.

From mythology to science fiction, human versus machine has been often portrayed as a matter of life and death. John Henry, a still-driving man in a non-essential African-American folk legend, was pitted in a race against a steam-powered hammer bashing a tunnel through mountain rock. John Henry's legend is part of a long historical narrative, pitting humanity versus technology. And this competitive rhetoric is standard now. We are in a race against machines, in a fight or even a war. Jobs are being killed off. People are being replaced as if they had vanished from the earth. It's enough to think that movies like The Terminator or The Matrix are non-fiction.

There are very few instances of an arena where the human body and mind can compete on equal terms with a computer or a robot. Actually, I wish there were a few more. But it was my blessing and my curse to literally become the proverbial man in the man-versus-machine competition that everybody is still talking about. In the most famous human-machine competition since John Henry, I played two matches against the IBM Supercomputer, the Blue. Now we remember that I won the first match before losing the rematch the following year in New York. But I guess that's fair. There is no special calendar entry for all the people who failed to climb Mount Everest before Sir Edmund Hillary and Tenzing Norgay made it to the top. And in 1997, I was still the world champion when chess computers finally came of age. I was Mount Everest, and the Blue reached the summit. But I should say, of course, it was not the Blue alone, but its human creators, Anantharaman, Campbell, Hone, and Sue, who had steered it.

As always, machines triumph was a human triumph. Something we tend to forget when humans are surpassed by our own creations. People were victorious. But was it intelligent? No, it wasn't. At least not in the way Alan Turing and other founders of computer science had hoped. It turned out that chess could be crunched by brute force once hardware got fast enough and algorithms smart enough. So by the definition of output, Grandmaster level chess, Deep Blue was intelligent. But even at incredible speed, 200 million positions per second, Deep Blue's method provided little of the dreamt-of insight into the mysteries of human intelligence. Soon machines will be taxi drivers, doctors, and professors, but will they be intelligent, quote-unquote? I would rather leave these definitions to philosophers and the dictionary.

When I first met Deep Blue in February 1996, I had been the World Champion for more than 10 years. I had played 182 World Championship games and hundreds of games against other top players in other competitions. I knew what to expect from my opponents and what to expect from myself. I was used to measuring their moves and gauging their emotional state by watching body language. And then I sat across the chessboard from Deep Blue. I immediately sensed something new, something unsettling. You might experience a similar feeling the first time you ride in a self-driving car or when your new competitor manager issues an order at work. Technology can advance in leaps and bounds. I lost that game. And I couldn't help wondering: might it be invincible? Was my beloved game over? These were human doubts, human fears, and the only thing I knew for sure was that my opponent, Deep Blue, had no such worries at all.

I fought back after this devastating blow to win the first match, but the writing wasn't on the wall. I eventually lost to the machine, but I didn't suffer the fate of John Henry, who won but died with his hammer in hand. It turns out the world of chess still wanted to have a human chess champion. And even today, when a free chess app on the latest mobile phone is stronger than Deep Blue, people are still playing chess, even more than ever before. Predictions that nobody would touch a game conquered by the machine were proven wrong. I learned from my experience that we must face our fears to get the most out of technology, and we must conquer those fears to get the best out of our humanity.

By learning from my wounds, I drew inspiration from my battles against Deep Blue. As the Russian saying goes: "If you can't beat them, join them." I thought, what if I could play with a computer? Together, human intuition plus machine calculation. Human strategy, machine tactics. Human experience, machine memory. Could it be the perfect game? My idea came to life in 1998 as Advanced Chess, a human-plus-machine competition against another elite player. In the first experiment, we both failed to combine human and machine skills effectively. Advanced Chess found its home on the internet. In 2005, a so-called freestyle chess tournament produced a revelation. Teams of grandmasters and top machines participated. But the winners were neither grandmasters nor a supercomputer. They were a pair of amateur American chess players operating three ordinary PCs simultaneously. Their skill in coaching their machines effectively counteracted the superior chess knowledge of their grandmaster opponents and greater computational power of others.

This revealed an important formulation: a weak human player plus a machine plus a better process is superior to a very powerful machine alone, but more remarkably, is superior to a strong human player plus machine with an inferior process. This convinced me that we would need better interfaces to help us coach our machines toward more useful intelligence. Human plus machine isn't the future. It's the present. Everybody has used online translation to get the gist of a news article, then used human experience to correct it, and the machine learns from our corrections. This model is spreading into medical diagnosis and security analysis. The machine crunches data, calculates probabilities, gets 80%–90% of the way, making it easier for human analysis, but the human part is still essential.

One year after my second match with Deep Blue, headlines like "The Brain's Last Stand" have become commonplace as intelligent machines move into every sector. Unlike in the past, when machines replaced farm labor, now they're replacing people with college degrees and political influence. And as someone who fought machines and lost, I'm here to tell you this is excellent news. Eventually, every profession will feel this pressure, or humanity will cease to progress. We cannot slow down; we have to speed up. Our technology excels at removing difficulties and uncertainties from our lives. We must seek ever more difficult and uncertain challenges. We have calculations, we have understanding. Machines have instructions, we have purpose. Machines have objectivity, we have passion. We should not worry about what machines can do today but what they cannot yet do. We will need the help of new intelligent machines to turn our grandest dreams into reality. If we fail, it's not because machines are too intelligent or not intelligent enough; it's because we grew complacent and limited our ambitions. Humanity is not defined by any skill like swinging a hammer or playing chess. There is one thing only humans can do: dream. So let us dream big. Thank you.