In May 1948, Newman offered Turing the post as
Deputy Director of the computing laboratory at Manchester
University. Turing accepted, resigned from the NPL, and moved in
October 1948. The meaningless title reflected Turing's uncertain
status. He had no control over the project whose fate was in fact
determined by its sudden necessity for the British atomic bomb
project. F. C. Williams had in any case built his own empire, and
Newman's original plans were largely swept aside. But Turing did
have a clear role to play: as the organiser of programming for the
engineers' electronics.
Turing at Manchester could perhaps have led the world in software
development. His partly explored ideas included the use of
mathematical logic for program checking, implementing Church's
logical calculus on the machine, and other ideas which, combined
with his massive knowledge of combinatorial and statistical methods,
could have set the agenda in computer science for years ahead. This,
however, he failed to do; his work on machine-code programming at
Manchester, produced only as a working manual, was limited in scope.
Instead, there followed a confused period, in which Turing
hovered between new topics and old. He revisited his 1939
calculation of the Riemann zeta-function with the use of the
prototype computer; he pursued the question of computability within
the algebra of group theory. Out of this confused era arose,
however, the most lucid and far-reaching expression of Turing's
philosophy of machine and Mind, the paper Computing Machinery
and Intelligence which appeared in the philosophical journal
Mind in 1950.
This, besides summarising the view he had developed since 1936,
absorbed his first-hand experience and experiment with machinery.
The wit and drama of the Turing Test has proved a lasting stimulus
to later thinkers, and the paper a classic contribution to the
philosophy and practice of Artificial Intelligence research. But
this was essentially the end of his investigation, and despite this
model of communication, supported by his radio talks, he had
apparently no influence on the American foundation of Artificial
Intelligence later in the 1950s.
At the same time, in 1950, there emerged a clear direction for
new thought. Rather than return to classical mathematics, the novel
potential of the computer still held his attention, and he became a
pioneer of its personal use. For, as he settled in Manchester,
buying his own first house at outlying Wilmslow, he had an entirely
fresh field in view. It was what he described as the mathematical
theory of morphogenesis: the theory of growth and form in biology.
Outwardly an extraordinary change of direction, for him it was a
return to a fundamental problem; even in childhood he had been
spotted and sketched 'watching the daisies grow'; from childhood
Natural Wonders to D'Arcy Thompson's On Growth
and Form to a more recent interest in how brains grow new
connections, he had sustained an interest in the biological
structures so easily taken for granted, yet so complex and bizarre
from the viewpoint of physics. Out of all the phenomena of life he
fixed on the way asymmetry can arise out of initially symmetric
conditions as first thing requiring explanation, and his answer,
given without apparent reference to anyone else's work, was that it
could arise from the nonlinearity of the chemical equations of
reaction and diffusion. He modelled hypothetical chemical reactions
on the circle and the plane, and for the repetitive numerical
simulation required to test his ideas, became the first serious user
of an electronic computer for mathematical research.
He was elected to Fellowship of the Royal Society in July 1951,
for the work done fifteen years before, but equal originality was on
the way: his first successful work on The Chemical Basis of
Morphogenesis was submitted as a paper that November. Long
overlooked, it was a founding paper of modern non-linear dynamical
theory.