People have explored the idea of having a romantic
relationship with an artificial intelligence for a while. Recent films like Her and Ex Machina have
explored what falling in love with a robot would entail. Various Star
Trek episodes have depicted scenarios in which characters develop feelings
for holograms in the holodeck. We could
see this kind of thing happening in real life very soon. For those of you interested in reading more about lessons
from fictional relationships, feel free to check out my friend Tianna’s blog on
the subject.
I want to make a distinction between two kinds of love: eros and agape. Eros is love as a noun; it is the feelings of infatuation and
desire to be with someone because of how that makes you feel. Agape
is love as a verb. It is the foundation
for strong marriages. It is selfless and
self-sacrificial. There are other
conceptions for love, with their own Greek words as well, but I think making
the distinction between these two kinds for our purposes here highlights some
interesting issues about the prospect of “falling in love” with robots or any
kind of artificial intelligence.
One can love a robot in the eros, or noun, sense of the word, but not in the agape, or verb, sense. A robot can love someone in neither sense. When science fiction depicts humans’ falling
in love with robots, it is only in the noun sense. When an artificial intelligence can mimic a
human enough to pass the Turing test, and the kind of human it mimics happens to
be attractive, it makes sense that one could feel an attraction to it. It is at the verb level that a problem
arises. One cannot truly love a robot in
this sense because a robot cannot receive one’s love. You can act self-sacrificially for a robot no
more than you can act self-sacrificially for a chair. The ability actually receive agape love depends on a recognition that
goes beyond simply acting like there is a recognition.
The Chinese Room Argument, developed by philosopher John
Searle, illustrates why this is the case.
Imagine a person alone in a room receiving messages in Chinese. The person has an instruction manual or
computer program that allows them to respond to every conceivable message,
enough to fool anyone on the outside that the person with whom they are
communicating can speak Chinese. But in
reality the person still does not know the language, even if it appeared that
they did. The broader conclusion is that
with artificial intelligence, mimicking understanding does not equate to real
understanding. Mimicking the biological
processes that relate to our being sentient beings does not equate to
replicating them.
This brings us to a more philosophical
question. This presupposes that we have
souls. But I am aware that if one
accepts the paradigm that our brain chemistry is all we are, then who is to say
that an artificial intelligence cannot be sentient? The brain is merely one kind of computer out
of many. For those who accept the soul
paradigm, however, we should remember that agape
love is the backbone of relationships, and the practice affects so many areas
of life. Relationships with artificial
intelligence does not allow that possibility, so we should probably discourage
it.
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