by Sue Black
Turing had been fascinated and obsessed by the idea of artificial intelligence for many years and, while at Princeton, had contributed to the building of several binary multiplying machines, the forerunners of computers. However, his interests lay not in the physical building of a computer, but in the idea that, one day, scientists would be able to “build a brain”, an electronic machine that could mirror the faculties of the human mind. In other words, his Universal Turing Machine. The idea was groundbreaking. His work at the National Physical Laboratory (NPL) in South West London led others to build ACE – the Automatic Computing Engine – recognisably a modern computer using coding rather than mechanical processes to perform tasks. Frustratingly, the development of computers at NPL was held back because Turing could not talk about what had been achieved at Bletchley Park during the war. The computer had to, quite literally, be re-invented from scratch for the benefit of uninitiated colleagues.
Turing would later move to Manchester as a reader in the Mathematics Department and, later, as deputy director of the Computing Laboratory where, in 1950, he published the influential paper “Computing Machinery and Intelligence” in which he proposed what we now call the “Turing Test” – a “test of a machine’s ability to exhibit intelligent behaviour equivalent to, or indistinguishable from, that of a human”. Since 1991, an annual competition called the Loebner Prize has existed to find a machine that can pass the Turing Test. The Bronze Medal is won every year but, to date, no machine has won the Silver or the Gold Medals. But with the increasing complexity of computers, it cannot be long before both are awarded.
It is now well known that Alan Turing’s life ended in tragedy. The shabby “Prof” with his bitten nails, awkward manner and voice that always sounded like it hadn’t quite broken properly, spent his short, brilliant life with the knowledge that his homosexuality wasn’t just frowned upon, it was illegal.
Turing was always aware of the dangers of openly declaring his sexuality but it didn’t stop him from having relationships or confiding in close friends. During his time at Bletchley Park, he grew so fond of his deputy, the codebreaker Joan Clarke, that he misguidedly proposed to her and she gladly accepted. However, he was unable to live a lie and withdrew the proposal, admitting his homosexuality to her. After the war, he spoke more openly, encouraged by the growing gay rights movement. However, in March 1952, he was arrested by the police over his alleged sexual relationship with a young man from Manchester. At his hearing, Turing stated that he saw no wrong in his actions. With no defence offered to counter the allegation, he was found guilty. Rather than go to prison, he opted for the cruel process often called “chemical castration”, a year of regular injections of oestrogen to supposedly suppress his libido. To add insult to injury, the man who had done so much to help the war effort and who had never breathed a word about his work at Station X was stripped of his security clearances and was no longer allowed to be involved in code breaking because he was seen as a “risk”.
Turing spent his last few years using logic and mathematics to return to a childhood fascination with form in the natural world. He was particularly interested in morphology, the way that living things grow and the forms that they grow into. He became fascinated by foetal growth and questions such as, “How can biological matter assemble itself into enormous patterns using such tiny building blocks?” and “Can mathematics explain how asymmetry can arise from a symmetrical starting point?” He became the first scientist to use an electronic computer (a Ferranti Mk 1) to model natural processes. His studies led to the paper “The Chemical Basis of Morphogenesis” in 1951 and he was elected to Fellowship of the Royal Society. His work on pattern formation explained how plant stems grew and why the Fibonacci number series appears in the leaf patterns of plants and in the spirals seen in sunflower seed heads. His calculations led to what we now know as Turing Systems, and they explain and predict the growth of stripes on a tiger and the spots on a leopard. Rather than random growth, they are all created by mathematical process.[41]
Turing was never to see his biological theories proven and adopted. On the 8th June 1954 he was found dead in his house by his cleaner. A half-eaten apple laced with cyanide was beside his bed.[42] Despite the fact he left no note, the coroner’s verdict was suicide. Those who knew him spoke of his desperation and loneliness in those final years and of his hatred for the enforced medication that robbed him of a normal life.[43]
In 2009 Prime Minster Gordon Brown offered a posthumous apology to Alan Turing in response to a public petition that had collected thousands of signatures. “It is thanks to men and women who were totally committed to fighting fascism, people like Alan Turing, that the horrors of the Holocaust and of total war are part of Europe’s history and not Europe’s present,” he said. “So on behalf of the British Government, and all those who live freely thanks to Alan’s work I am very proud to say: We’re sorry, you deserved so much better.” The apology was welcomed by campaigners, although some felt that it had not gone far enough. Peter Tatchell of gay rights group OutRage! was keen to point out that, while the Turing apology was deserved and significant, he was just one of an estimated 100,000 British men who suffered similar treatment, none of whom have ever been offered an apology. Turing later received a Royal Pardon in 2013. This too was received with mixed feelings; a pardon suggests that he did something wrong by being gay. However, some argue that, whatever the rights and wrongs of the legal system, he did nevertheless break the law as it existed back then and a pardon was therefore the appropriate response.
There is a curious footnote to the Alan Turing story. It concerns the whereabouts of his personal fortune. As the war progressed, and Alan, being unsure of its outcome, he drew as much of his pay as he could in silver half-crowns, which he melted down into two large ingots and buried somewhere near the village of Shenley. When he returned to the site in 1944, it had changed greatly and many of the landmarks he’d recorded to ease the bars’ recovery had gone. He made two further attempts to find them in 1946 and 1952 but failed. They are now, presumably, somewhere under the housing site that covers the area. As far as anyone knows, they have never been found and his buried treasure is still out there waiting to be discovered.
16
Devastating news and an apology
Although the campaign was continuing apace, August 2009 had been a very difficult month for me. Late in the evening of the 11th August my mobile rang. I could see from the display that it was my sister Sarah calling. It was about 11pm, so I knew straight away that it was important, and probably something bad, because she never rings me at that time of night. I answered the phone with great trepidation.
“It’s only me, have you got someone with you? You need to sit down,” said Sarah.
I started crying and sat on the sofa. I somehow knew what was coming and it felt like my heart was being ripped apart.
“I’m sitting down, Paul’s here,” I replied.
“It’s Stephen, he’s dead. Rachel found him in the garage this evening.”
I started howling. I find it very hard even now to put into words how terrible it feels to find out that your younger brother has committed suicide. I felt like I was falling into a deep, black abyss.
Fast forward a month: on the 10th of September 2009 I was out for one of the first times since my brother’s funeral. I was at my second Twestival. Twestival is held as a celebration of Twitter and its users. It brings together Twitter lovers from all over to one space where they can hang out together, drink free beer and discuss Twitter, social media and much more.
I was really looking forward to Twestival. I knew that quite a few of my Twitter friends would be there, some of whom I knew in real life and some whom I’d only ever chatted to online. It’s always great meeting up with someone you’ve only interacted with online for the first time. I’ve never had any surprises from people, they have always been the same in person as they are on Twitter – something I’ve
not found to be true with other online communication channels like email. My theory is that on Twitter you often have real time conversations, and that in real time you are who you are.
So, I was looking forward to meeting up with lots of friends, and I was also looking forward to letting my hair down a bit for the first time since my brother Stephen had died. I’d not felt like going out for a while, but that night I really did. I needed company, invigorating conversation and a few drinks.
When I arrived, I could hear the music inside and could see people standing around in the entrance in front of me. I was invited to write my Twitter ID on a white label with a marker pen and stick it on my T-shirt, which I did. Looking up, I recognised my friend Jamillah Knowles. I went over and said hi.
I spent the evening meeting up with friends new and old and having a few beers – quite a few, actually. It was one of the few nights in my life that I really felt like getting very drunk rather than just a bit tipsy.
At around 9.30pm I got a text from Kelsey at Bletchley Park saying, “What is Stephen Fry talking about?”
I replied: “What do you mean? What is Stephen Fry talking about?”
“On Twitter, what is Stephen Fry talking about on Twitter? He is making coded references to Bletchley Park, what does he mean?”
I had a look at Stephen’s Twitter stream. Here is what he had tweeted:
Stephen Fry
@stephenfry
If I said it was ULTRA secret and an ENIGMA . . .
9:17 PM – 10 Sep 09
I had no idea what he was referring to.
I sent Stephen a direct message saying that Bletchley Park were worried because they didn’t know what he was tweeting about. Could he tell me?
He replied saying that Bletchley were not to worry and that all would be revealed at 10pm. I texted Kelsey to let her know and told my friends that were with me that something exciting was going to happen at 10pm, but I didn’t know what it was . . .
At 10pm I checked my phone again. I saw that Stephen had tweeted:
Stephen Fry
@stephenfry
Alan Turing, breaker of the Enigma code receives belated apology from UK Govt – http://www.number10.gov.uk/
10:00 PM – 10 Sep 09
Wow! I couldn’t believe it. The UK Government had issued a posthumous apology to Alan Turing. I was amazed and, of course, delighted. I told all of my friends the great news. We had a few more beers to celebrate and I went crazy on Twitter, letting everyone know what had happened. Within a few minutes my Twitter stream went crazy too. So many of the people that I’d connected to on Twitter were massive fans of Bletchley Park. It was a rush seeing how excited everyone was.
An hour later we were all celebrating away, both online and offline, when my phone rang. It was Kelsey from Bletchley Park.
“Hiya, I’ve just had the BBC on the phone, they want someone to go on Breakfast Time tomorrow morning to talk about the government apology. Simon is away in Paris at the moment, can you do it?”
I thought about it for a moment. I had a meeting in Central London the next morning at about 10am, so yes, I could do it.
“Yes, I can!”
I got off the phone and told my friend Lynn, who was still there. Quite a few people had gone home by then. I probably should have done, too, but it hadn’t even occurred to me. We had another beer to celebrate and carried on chatting and drinking.
At about midnight I had a phone call from the BBC. They asked if I was OK to go on Breakfast Time in the morning. I replied that that was fine. They said that they would probably interview me twice, once around 6.20am and again around 8.30am, was that OK? I said yes, that was fine. They said that they would send a car to pick me up from home. Wonderful!
“The car will pick you up at 5am outside your house, is that OK?”
“Yes, that’s great, thanks very much.”
5am! Ah well, I was sure I’d be fine.
After that conversation my phone rang a few more times. The BBC Radio 4 Today programme phoned and asked if I could go on the show at around 8am; luckily their studio is very near the Breakfast Time studio, so I said that would be fine. They said they would come and find me at the appropriate time. I also had calls from other radio stations; I told them about the timings for Breakfast Time and Today, and they said that they would try to fit in with the other timings. I was going to have a busy morning!
I told Lynn all about the calls and how excited I was that I was going to be on Breakfast Time in the morning. After a discussion all about it and another beer we had a look at the time. It was after 1am – I had missed my last train home.
Sue Black
@Dr_Black
Oh man I’m not home yet and need to b up t 4.30am!! Not sure I’m going to n coherent on breakfast tv at 6.20am. I’m not a morning person!
12:46 AM – 11 Sep 09
We went outside to see if we could find a couple of cabs to take us home. Luckily there were some waiting, so we said our goodbyes and off we went. By the time I got home it was nearly 2am and I was slightly the worse for wear. I had phoned Paul to tell him the news and when I got home he was in bed but awake, wanting to hear more about my evening. I got undressed as I told him everything. I was wearing a trouser suit and zip-up ankle boots. I took my jacket off and hung it up, then unzipped my right boot and took it off.
When I tried to unzip my left boot, the zip bust. It broke right in the middle of the zip, on my ankle bone. I yanked it up and down but couldn’t make it budge. Paul had a go and he couldn’t get it to move either. I could think of no other solution than cutting the boot off my foot. I made my way downstairs, one boot off, one boot stuck on, to find some scissors. As I was walking downstairs I started thinking:
If I can’t wear these boots tomorrow what am I going to wear? I need to wear my suit because I need to look smart on TV. I haven’t got any other boots that go with my suit. What other clothes could I wear that look smart and are clean?
I couldn’t think of any. It came down to the fact that I needed to wear my trouser suit, and I only had the boots that I had been wearing that would go with it. I was going to have to wear them, broken or not – otherwise I was going to be wearing clothes that didn’t match on primetime TV.
I walked back upstairs with my one broken boot on. I took the rest of my clothes off and got into bed, still with one boot off, one boot on. I slept with my booted foot outside the covers, feeling vaguely ridiculous.
Reboot
My alarm woke me up two hours later. It was 4.30am already. I felt pretty groggy, to say the least. I got out of bed, pulled my suit out of the wardrobe and found clean underwear and a top to wear with it. I went into the bathroom, turned on the shower and started brushing my teeth. The usual morning ritual, only this morning I was somehow going to have to shower with one boot on. I decided that the best way to do it would be to leave my booted leg outside of the shower, so that’s what I did. It wasn’t that easy, but I managed without falling over. After my shower I got dressed and put a bit of makeup on. I checked the time – it was almost 5am. I said goodbye to Paul, went downstairs, picked up my stuff, got into the car and we were away.
We drove through the quiet London streets and after about half an hour arrived at the BBC TV studios in White City, West London. I went into the building, gave my name and was taken around to the green room, which by the way wasn’t green, and was shown a seat. A friendly producer greeted me and told me that I would probably be on at about 6.45am and again at 8.30am or so.
While I waited, I read a bit about Alan Turing; I had printed out his entry on Wikipedia so that I could brush up before going on television to talk about him. I wrote down a few key facts. He was born in Maida Vale, went to Sherborne School, his parents left him and his brother in the UK and lived in India for much of his childhood. How hard that must have been! I loved the stories about how he rode his bicycle 60 m
iles to Sherborne School for an interview at the age of 12 because there was a train strike. It didn’t occur to him not to go. What a great character; I would have loved to have met him.
I read about his work at Bletchley on the Bombe and being head of Hut 8. He was called “Prof” at Bletchley and had a close friendship with Joan Clarke, a fellow codebreaker in Hut 8. Another great story involving a bicycle was that he used to cycle around Bletchley wearing a gas mask in the summer to stop his hay fever. He was also a great runner and almost qualified for the Olympic team in the marathon. He was obviously a man of great intellectual and physical prowess – someone to be admired.
After Bletchley he went to work for the National Physical Laboratory in Surrey and then Manchester University. It was so sad to read about how he had been treated by some of the people around him, and especially the circumstances of his untimely death. It was an absolute tragedy.
As I was reading, the producer came into the room to let me know that I would be called through in about five minutes. When I was called, I left my notes in my pink handbag in the green room and went through. We entered the studio and I was asked to sit on a chair just at the edge of the studio behind a black curtain. I could see the Breakfast Time sofa with two presenters and a rather good-looking young man, who turned out to be David Miliband, sitting on it. I think that’s the first time I’ve ever thought of a politician as cute! I couldn’t quite make out who he was at that point. I was told that they were interviewing him now, they would soon cut to a piece of video, and then someone would come and take me over to the sofa.