The Chinese Room Is a Conjuring Trick
Searle asks us to imagine a man in a room who speaks only English. Chinese characters are slipped under the door. The man consults a manual in english that tells him, based on the characters he receives, which Chinese characters to pass back out. To native Chinese speakers outside the room, the responses are indistinguishable from those of a fluent speaker. Yet the man inside understands no Chinese, he's just manipulating symbols according to formal rules.
The conclusion: syntax (rule-following, symbol manipulation) is not sufficient for semantics (meaning, understanding). A computer running a program is doing what the man does, displaying the symbols according to a rule-sheet and therefore a computer cannot understand language no matter how convincing its output. The Turing Test is inadequate. Strong AI is false.
It's not a very good argument.
Relay or Interpreter?
Here's the question Searle never answers clearly: what is the man in the room actually doing?
Option A: The Relay
The man is a pure cog. He doesn't interpret the Chinese characters at all. He just pattern-matches shapes. "When I see this squiggle, I output that squiggle." He's the equivalent of a camera, reproducing pictures and feeding it to a machine, then showing the machine's output to the person outside. He adds nothing.
But if this is the setup, then Searle's argument isn't about the man, it's about the machine that does all the work (the manual, the system). And now we're just asking: can a system that produces native-equivalent output be said to understand? That's just the Turing Test. Searle hasn't escaped it, he's just hidden it behind a vision of a guy shuffling paper.
Option B: The Interpreter
The man is doing real cognitive work, albeit in English somehow. He parses the Chinese characters (which, even purely as a pictogram requires the non-trivial skill of knowing how the characters are composed). He consults the manual, which requires knowing which section applies to this context. He selects the appropriate output which requires judgment when the same input could mean different things.
Also, think about what that manual would have to look like. Any language is context-dependent, idiomatic, full of implication and laden with convention. How does the man in the chinese room understand that "Have you eaten?" does not refer to food? Even without getting into the intricacies of spoken chinese, anyone who's used Google Translate for real conversation knows it fails, not because it gets the characters wrong, but because it lacks judgment about what a native speaker would actually say.
If the man in the room is producing outputs that native speakers accept as coming from one of their own, he is navigating all of this. He's reading pragmatics, implication, theory of mind, cultural weight. And he's doing it in real time, selecting not just correct responses but native responses.
If he can do this, he is not following rules. He is using language.
What Follows
The argument survives only by keeping both images in superposition, giving us the man as mindless relay to generate the intuition of non-understanding, and then the man as competent interpreter to generate the behaviorally equivalent output. But these are incompatible. Pick one.
If relay: you've just redescribed the Turing Test and added a middleman.
If interpreter: you've described fluency. He cannot be performing the functions that produce output a native speaker would recognize as coming from a native speaker without possessing what we would ordinarily call competence in the language. And if he's doing it without conscious effort—which Searle needs for the thought experiment to feel compelling—then he has what we call native fluency.
Searle keeps moving the shells. When he needs the intuition of non-understanding, the man is a mindless relay. When he needs the output quality, the man is navigating pragmatics, implication, cultural weight—everything that constitutes fluency. The argument works only if you never ask which man is actually in the room.
The room is not an argument. It is a conjuring trick performed in prose.