Today (at least the today on which I am writing this – 29 January) is, I discover, National Puzzle Day (in the UK). I did not know such a thing existed until yesterday. Indeed, I suspect it is nothing more than a recent marketing invention. Even so, it gets my vote, and legitimizes my sharing with you a story I read a week or so ago.
You may well have heard of ChatGPT, although I suspect some of you may well be less familiar with its significance than others. It is basically a natural language processing tool driven by AI technology that allows you to have human-like conversations and much more with a chatbot. The language model can answer questions, and assist you with tasks such as composing emails, essays, and code. The expectation is that it will be impossible to distinguish between school projects completed by students and those written by ChatGPT. Usage is currently open to the public free of charge because ChatGPT is in its research and feedback-collection phase.
Elon Musk recently said: “ChatGPT is scary good. We are not far from dangerously strong AI.” Meta’s Chief AI Scientist, on the other hand, described it as “not particularly innovative,” and “nothing revolutionary”. When Nick Cave read the lyrics ChatGPT wrote ‘in the style of Nick Cave’, he summed them up succinctly: “This song sucks”. He went on to explain what he sees as the fundamental flaw in any attempt by AI to ‘create’ art.
“Writing a good song is not mimicry, or replication, or pastiche, it is the opposite. It is an act of self-murder that destroys all one has strived to produce in the past. It is those dangerous, heart-stopping departures that catapult the artist beyond the limits of what he or she recognises as their known self.
“This is part of the authentic creative struggle that precedes the invention of a unique lyric of actual value; it is the breathless confrontation with one’s vulnerability, one’s perilousness, one’s smallness, pitted against a sense of sudden shocking discovery; it is the redemptive artistic act that stirs the heart of the listener, where the listener recognizes in the inner workings of the song their own blood, their own struggle, their own suffering.”
While I might wince at its pretentious presentation (or I might not – I have a stronger stomach for pretension than most), I have a great deal of sympathy with this argument. I certainly feel that it can be applied to the creative struggles of such artists as Beethoven, van Gogh, even the likes of D H Lawrence. However, there is, I suspect, a continuum of ‘creative struggle’; if Beethoven is close to one end of it, then John Grisham, to give one example, may be close to the other end. I leave it to those familiar with his work to decide where exactly Nick Cave sits on that continuum, but if ChatGPT can write even a John Grisham novel, then that’s pretty impressive.
One mischievous fellow, taking advantage of the fact that ChatGPT is accessible by the public, decided to test its skills at solving cryptic crossword clues. He selected a Times Quick Cryptic (whose clues are considerably easier than those in The Times Cryptic – I set myself a target of solving the Quick – with, on average, about 23 clues – in under 10 minutes, and usually succeed; my target for the Cryptic (with an average of about 28 clues) is 30 minutes, and I very seldom succeed). He further selected a day when the clues had been a little easier than usual, and he chose relatively easy clues.
ChatGPT’s performance was magnificent, though not in the way its programmers would have hoped. Here is part of the conversation:
JW: From here on out, I will post cryptic crossword clues, and I want you to answer with the solution and an explanation. First clue:
1. Chap recalled skill; something frequently repeated (6)
Before I reveal ChatGPT’s answer, let me explain, for the benefit of anyone who isn’t a cruciverbalist (one who enjoys or is skilled at solving crosswords – you see what I meant above about pretension) that a cryptic crossword clue is typically made up of two parts: a definition of the answer, and wordplay that leads to the answer.
In this case, the clue begins with the wordplay:
chap = ‘man’
skill = art
recalled = an instruction to reverse ‘art’ = ‘tra’
‘man’ + ‘tra’ = ‘mantra’
and the definition:
something frequently repeated = ‘mantra’
Here is ChatGPT’s answer:
The answer to the clue is “habits” because “chap” is a synonym for “guy”, and when you recall someone’s skill, you remember it. When something is frequently repeated, it becomes a habit. “Habits” is a six-letter word that fits the clue.
This is so spectacularly wrong as to be magnificent. But ChatGPT isn’t finished.
At this point, JW gave the bot another chance with the same clue. Here is the second answer:
The word “chap” is a shortened form of “chapman”, which is an archaic term for a trader or merchant. “recalled” is a hint at the reversal of the word “trader” to get “redarat”, which is a homophone for “mantra”. “something frequently repeated” is a description of the definition of a mantra.
This is, if anything, even more magnificent. ChatGPT has arrived at the correct answer – ‘mantra’ – but the ‘route’ by which it has arrived does not, in this universe, lead to anywhere near ‘mantra’ and, furthermore, if ‘’route’ means, in this context, a logical sequence of steps, then it has not even followed a route. Apart from the arcane and correct information that ‘chap’ is short for ‘chapman’, the rest of the ‘reasoning’ is nonsense.
However, it’s worth noting that it is a particularly magnificent form of nonsense because ChatGPT has clearly learnt the nature and structure of a cryptic crossword clue. Furthermore, it has also mastered the nuts and bolts of constructing a logical argument, and those of writing a grammatically correct and syntactically sound sentence. Its sentences read as if they should make sense, and my initial reaction is that I must have the wrong brain on, and I need to change it for my thinking brain.
Of course the fault, dear reader, lies not in our brains, but in the bot. If you reverse, ‘trader’, you get ‘redart’, not ‘redarat’. ‘Redarat’ is not a homophone (nor even a near-homophone) for ‘mantra’.
I cannot tell you how encouraged I am by the fact that, at the age of 73, I can solve crossword clues that leave ChatGPT floundering. Which is as clumsy a way as any of pointing out that today (Sunday) is not only National Puzzle Day, (and, incidentally, Adam Smith’s birthday), but also my birthday.
It’s turning out to be a funny kind of birthday. On the one hand, the wild celebration that we were planning hasn’t worked out. We were due to go to Zichron to celebrate with Esther and Raphael and, after work, Maayan; I would have been presented there with one of Esther’s stunning cakes, full of all my favourite things – probably some combination of chocolate, caramel, nuts and coffee, since you ask.
However, best laid plans being what they often are, both Maayan and Raphael have been laid fairly low with viruses, temperatures, coughs, loss of appetite, and all sorts. They are both, thankfully, doing better now, but we really didn’t want to impose ourselves on them (especially since Esther, who was also not well for much of last week, has had no time to prepare the cake, so half the point of going to Zichron was removed). We also didn’t want to risk catching anything so soon before we fly to Portugal next Sunday. (Ironically, Bernice has been laid low by a nasty cough and sore throat, but by the time you read this will probably be fully recovered.)
Instead, we are having a quiet day at home today. While I haven’t actually spent the day excitedly unwrapping my many presents, I have had a couple of very nice surprises for my birthday. Not only a nice chat with Esther, with Raphael chattering happily in the background, but also a full and spirited video rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’ from Micha’el and Tao, and a slightly puzzled stare from Ollie. Add to that warm greetings on the phone from my brother Martin, who timed his call perfectly for just two minutes after Djokovic won the Australian Open. Plus a selection of warm and much appreciated WhatsApp greetings from other family members.
Then, just when I thought my day couldn’t get any more special, an SMS arrived from my health fund with a link to a little personalized video greeting that they had gone to the trouble of putting together just for me. No sooner had I watched that than an email arrived from our Portuguese bank assuring me that “Esta é uma data muito especial e queremos celebrá-la consigo.” “This is a very special date and we want to celebrate it with you”.
So I have been going around today with a warm glow. Everybody, it appears, loves me. Tomorrow, no doubt, things will go back to normal. Neither the bank nor the health fund will give me a second thought. No one will sing me songs on WhatsApp. And ChatGPT will probably complete The Times Cryptic Crossword in 43 seconds. But I’ll always have today, to treasure for the whole year.
Meanwhile, Esther managed to take a photo of Raphael before she broke the sad news that Nana and Grandpa wouldn’t be coming today, after all.
