The June, 2008 issue of Discover magazine has a great cover article about humanoid robots. One of the author’s major points is that the more they are like us, the more useful they will be, and he makes some convincing arguments. Near the end, he presents the idea that in order to make them behave like us, we will have to better understand how we work.
Trying to make computers and machines that behave like us has already opened new doors to understanding ourselves. Marvin Minsky tells the story of a summer project he gave his graduate students in the early days of artificial intelligence: He wanted them to build a computer that visually recognized objects the way humans do. Decades later, we’re still working on the problem, but the process of trying to replicate our abilities has led Minsky to a different perspective and enlightening insights into processes that we took for granted until we tried to reproduce them.
Fred Hapgood, the Discover author, ends his article with a profound observation:
Whatever robotics does to the species, for better or worse, once robots take human form, the old narratives about the mysteries of our nature are likely to be transformed to their roots. We may have to learn how to live with understanding ourselves.(p.36)
You can imagine how that last sentence jumped out at me. To understand and accept what I am is a long-cherished goal of mine, and it seems that, as I have supposed, science and technological progress are pushing all of us toward that end, will we or nil we. We might as well start now getting used to ourselves as we are, because it’s a tricky and difficult business.
We are, in fact, organic robots. Scott Adams had Dogbert tell Dilbert in the Nov. 12, 2004 strip: “Now rationalize your decision, you mindless pink robot!” Some of us are pinker than others, but all of us actually do have minds: robotic minds. That becomes clear enough if we just pay attention to ourselves in everyday life.
Example: In the latest incarnation of my breakfast, all the ingredients go into the Vita-Mix to become a two-liter, all-day smoothie. I pour it into jars and put them in the refrigerator, and then I put a little water into the blender to rinse out all the residue that sticks to the sides, pour it into a cup, and drink it—no waste. With all the spices I put into it, the smoothie is a rich brown color—off-putting enough in itself for some—and one day it struck me that the rinse water I was about to drink looked very much like watery diarrhea. There was a momentary reaction of disgust, and then I broke into peals of laughter at how I was about to do such a disgusting thing. I still laugh almost every morning, and I have a big grin at this moment, writing about it.
Some research has been done on disgust, which I first learned about from Daniel Dennett in Consciousness Explained. The example he cites asks you, first, to swallow any saliva you have in your mouth. Afterwards you are given a clean glass, asked to spit into it and then swallow that saliva. Most people react with disgust, and Dennett makes the point that once something leaves the body, it is no longer “me.” For him, this reaction is an example of how we distinguish ourselves from the outside world.
There are other explanations for disgust that involve a possible evolutionary advantage in recognizing bodily fluids outside ourselves as repellant: it may lessen the chances of contracting certain diseases. In any case, it also gives a graphic example of how certain behaviors are programmed into our robotic selves.
While the biologically programmed behaviors are easiest to recognize, the socially programmed behaviors are also demonstrative of how we are, inevitably, determined by our individual history. The march of science, with all its advantages, is moving everyone toward that understanding. We might as well get on the bus now and begin our journey. We’ll have a head start in getting used to living with ourselves as we are.
Disgusting? Who Decides?
