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Tag: theological anthropology

Klara and the Sun: Robotic Redemption for a Dystopian World

In the previous blog, we discussed how Klara, the AI and the main character of Kazuo Ishiguro’s latest novel, develops a religious devotion to the Sun. In the second and final installment of this book review, I explore how Klara impacts the people around her. Klara and the Sun, shows how they become better humans for interacting with her in a dystopian world.

Photo by Randy Jacob on Unsplash

Gene Inequality

Because humans are only supporting characters in this novel, we only learn about their world later in the book. The author does not give out a year but places that story in a near future. Society is sharply divided along with class and racial lines. Gene editing has become a reality and now parents can opt to have children born with the traits that will help them succeed in life.

This stark choice does not only affect the family’s fate but re-orients the way society allocates opportunities. Colleges no longer accept average kids meaning that a natural birth path puts a child at a disadvantage. Yet, this choice comes at a cost. Experimenting with genes also means a higher mortality rate for children and adolescents. That is the case for the family that purchases Klara, they have lost their first daughter and now their second one is sick.

These gene-edited children receive special education in their home remotely by specialized tutors. This turned out to be an ironic trait in a pandemic year where most children in the world learned through Zoom. They socialize through prearranged gatherings in homes. Those that are well-to-do live in gated communities, supposedly because the world had become unsafe. This is just one of the many aspects of the dystopian world of Klara and the Sun.

Photo by Andy Kelly on Unsplash

AI Companionship and Remembrance

A secondary plot-line in the novel is the relationship between the teenage Josie, Klara’s owner, and her friend Rick who is not gene-edited. The teens are coming of age in this tumultuous period where the viability of their relationship is in question. The adults discuss whether they should even be together in a society that delineates separate paths assigned at birth. One has a safe passage into college and stable jobs while the other is shut out from opportunity by the sheer fact their parents did not interfere with nature.

In this world, droids are common companions to wealthy children. Since many don’t go to school anymore, the droid plays the role of nanny, friend, guardian, and at times tutor. Even so, there is resistance to them in the public square where resentful segments of society see their presence with contempt. They represent a symbol of status for the affluent and a menace to the working class. Even so, their owners often treat them as merchandise. At best they were seen as servants and at worse as disposable toys that could be tossed around for amusement.

The novel also hints at the use of AI to extend the life of loved ones. AI remembrance, shall we say. That is, programming AI droids to take the place of a diseased human. This seems like a natural complement in a world where parents have no guarantee that their gene-edited children will live to adulthood. For some, the AI companion could live out the years their children were denied.

Klara The Therapist

In the world described above, the AF (artificial friend) plays a pivotal role in family life not just for the children that they accompany but also for the parents. In effect, because of her robotic impartiality, Klara serves as a safe confidant to Josie, Rick, her mother, and her dad. The novel includes intimate one-on-one conversations where Klara offers a fresh take on their troubles. Her gentle and unpretentious perspective prods them to do what is right even when it is hard. In this way, she also plays a moral role, reminding humans of their best instincts.

Yet, humans are not the only ones impacted. Klara also grows and matures through her interaction with them. Navigating the tensions, joys, and sorrows of human relationships, she uncovers the many layers of human emotion. Though lacking tear ducts and a beating heart, she is not a prisoner to detached rationality. She suffers with the pain of the humans around her, she cares deeply about their well-being and she is willing to sacrifice her own future to ensure they have one. In short, she is programmed to serve them not as a dutiful pet but as a caring friend. In doing so, she embodies the best of human empathy.

The reader joins Klara in her path to maturity and it is a delightful ride. As she observes and learns about the people around her, the human readers get a mirror to themselves. We see our struggles, our pettiness, our hopes and expectations reflected in this rich story. For the ones that read with an open heart, the book also offers an opportunity for transformation and growth.

Final Reflections

In an insightful series of 4 blogs, Dr. Dorabantu argues that future general AI will be hyper-rational forcing us to re-imagine the essence of who we are. Yet, Ishiguro presents an alternative hypothesis. What if instead, AI technology led to the development of empathetic servant companions? Could a machine express both rational and emotional intelligence?

Emotionally intelligent AI would help us redefine the image of God not by contrast but by reinforcement. That is, instead of simply demonstrating our limitations in rationality it could expand our potential for empathy. The novel shows how AI can act as a therapist or spiritual guide. Through empathetic dialogue, they can help us find the best of our moral senses. In short, it can help us love better.

Finally, the book raises important ethical questions about gene editing’s promises and dangers. What would it look like to live in a world where “designer babies” are commonplace? Could gene-editing combining with AI lead to the harrowing scenario where droids serve as complete replacements for humans? While Ishuguro’s future is fictitious, he speculates on technologies that already exist now. Gene editing and narrow AI are a reality while General AI is plausibly within reach.

We do well to seriously consider their impact before a small group in Silicon Valley decides how to maximize profit from them. This may be the greatest lesson we can take from Klara and the Sun and its dystopian world.

Human-level, but not Humanlike: The Strangeness of Strong AI

The emergence of AI opens up exciting new avenues of thought, promising to add some clarity to our understanding of intelligence and of the relation between intelligence and consciousness. For Christian anthropology, observing which aspects of human cognition are easily replicated in machines can be of particular help in refining the theological definition of human distinctiveness and the image of God.

However, by far the most theologically exciting scenario is the possibility of human-level AI, or artificial general intelligence (AGI), the Holy Grail of AI research. AGI would be capable to convincingly replicate human behavior. It could, in principle, pass as human, if it chose to. This is precisely how the Turing Test is designed to work. But how humanlike would a human-level AI really be?

Computer programs have already become capable of impressive things, which, when done by humans, require some of our ‘highest’ forms of intelligence. However, the way AI approaches such tasks is very non-humanlike, as explained in the previous post. If the current paradigm continues its march towards human-level intelligence, what could we expect AGI to be like? What kind of creature might such an intelligent robot be? How humanlike would it be? The short answer is, not much, or even not at all.

The Problem of Consciousness

Philosophically, there is a huge difference between what John Searle calls ‘strong’ and ‘weak’ AI. While strong AI would be an emulation of intelligence, weak AI would be a mere simulation. The two would be virtually indistinguishable on the ‘outside,’ but very different ‘on the inside.’ Strong AI would be someone, a thinking entity, endowed with conscience, while weak AI would be a something, a clockwork machine completely empty on the inside.

It is still too early to know whether AGI will be strong or weak, because we currently lack a good theory of how consciousness arises from inert matter. In philosophy, this is known as “the hard problem of consciousness.” But if current AI applications are any indication, weak AGI is a much more likely scenario than strong AGI. So far, AI has made significant progress in problem-solving, but it has made zero progress in developing any form of consciousness or ‘inside-out-ness.’

Even if AGI does somehow become strong AI (how could we even tell?), there are good reasons to believe that it would be a very alien type of intelligence.

What makes human life enjoyable is arguably related to the chunk of our mind that is not completely rational.

Photo by Maximalfocus on Unsplash

The Mystery of Being Human

As John McCarthy – one of the founding fathers of AI – argues, an AGI would have complete access to its internal states and algorithms. Just think about how weird that is! Humans have a very limited knowledge of what happens ‘on their inside.’ We only see the tip of the iceberg, because only a tiny fraction of our internal processes enter our stream of consciousness. Most information remains unconscious, and that is crucial for how we perceive, feel, and act.

Most of the time we have no idea why we do the things we do, even though we might fabricate compelling, post-factum rationalizations of our behavior. But would we really want to know such things and always act in a perfectly rational manner? Or, even better, would we be friends or lovers with such a hyper-rational person? I doubt.

Part of what makes us what we are and what makes human life enjoyable is arguably related to the chunk of our mind that is not completely rational. Our whole lives are journeys of self-discovery, and with each experience and relationship we get a better understanding of who we are. That is largely what motivates us to reach beyond our own self and do stuff. Just think of how much of human art is driven precisely by a longing to touch deeper truths about oneself, which are not easily accessible otherwise.

Strong AI could be the opposite of that. Robots might understand their own algorithms much better than we do, without any need to discover anything further. They might be able to communicate such information directly as raw data, without needing the approximation/encryption of metaphors. As Ian McEwan’s fictitious robot character emphatically declares, most human literature would be completely redundant for such creatures.

The Uncanny Worldview of an Intelligent Robot

Intelligent robots would likely have a very different perception of the world. With access to Bluetooth and WiFi, they would be able to ‘smell’ other connected devices and develop a sort of ‘sixth sense’ of knowing when a particular person is approaching merely from their Bluetooth signature. As roboticist Rodney Brooks shows, robots will soon be able to measure one’s breathing and heart rate without any biometric sensor, simply by analyzing how a person’s physical presence slightly changes the behavior of WiFi signals.

The technology for this already exists, and it could enable the robot to have access to a totally different kind of information about the humans around, such as their emotional state or health. Similar technologies of detecting changes in the radio field could allow the robots to do something akin to echolocation and know if they are surrounded by wood, stone, or metal. Just imagine how alien a creature endowed with such senses would be!

AGI might also perceive time very differently from us because they would think much faster. The ‘wetware’ of our biological brains constrains the speed at which electrical signals can travel. Electronic brains, however, could enable speeds closer to the ultimate physical limit, the speed of light. Minds running on such faster hardware would also think proportionally faster, making their experience of the passage of time proportionally slower.

If AGI would think ‘only’ ten thousand times faster than humans, a conservative estimation, they would inhabit a completely different world. It is difficult to imagine how such creatures might regard humans, but futurist James Lovelock chillingly estimates that “the experience of watching your garden grow gives you some idea of how future AI systems will feel when observing human life.”

The way AGI is depicted in sci-fi (e.g. Terminator, Ex Machina, or Westworld) might rightly give us existential shivers. But if the predictions above are anywhere near right, then AGI might turn out to be weirder than our wildest sci-fi dreams. AI might reach human-level, but it would most likely be radically non-humanlike.

Is this good or bad news for theological anthropology? How would the emergence of such an alien type of affect our understanding of humanity and its imago Dei status? The next post, the last one in this four-part series, wrestles head-on with this question.