Sex, pets and robots
I do apologize to any CHN readers who will be offended by the nature of this CHN's subject matter. However, the questions raised by Farhad Manjoo in this article on Salon.com's Machinist blog seem to be becoming more and more relevant in our technology-driven society where the boundary between man and machine is becoming increasingly blurry. Manjoo reviews a recent book by David Levy called Love and Sex with Robots: The Evolution of Human-Robot Relationships which was adapted from Levy's PhD thesis on artificial intelligence. Levy makes the point that we're not far away from the day when humans will want to copulate with—and perhaps even marry—robots: the time is coming, says Levy, when “robots will conquer our hearts”.
Does this sound far-fetched, too sci-fi, or too much like an episode of Futurama? Perhaps. But consider Levy's argument. He starts by talking about pets:
Levy points out that like robots, cats and dogs first pushed into human lives by providing services to our ancestors—cats kept homes free of rats, dogs were guards and hunting partners and herders. Love was only a side benefit of such relationships, a feeling cooked up in human brains and exploited by the animals, who got shelter and food and safety from the deal.
But none of that matters anymore. The situation's evolved. Now we think of our pets as extensions of our family, as beings roughly on our level—they're not adults, but for many of us, they're comparable to children. We no longer put our pets to work, of course; their only purpose is love.
Why did our feelings for animals evolve? The human brain is unrelenting in its tendency to anthropomorphize, to subconsciously ascribe human feelings and thoughts to animals and inanimate objects. We began to treat our pets as people because we're given to thinking of them as people—see the Onion's “Vacationing Woman Thinks Cats Miss Her.”
Levy argues it's not such a big step to move from anthropomorphizing pets to anthropomorphizing—and even loving—machines. Though currently machines provide us with many valuable services (for example, my mobile remembers everyone's phone numbers so I don't have to), one day, like pets, we may see them as “beings roughly on our level”. He discusses several psychological studies which show that people have a tendency to treat computers like humans, even though they know perfectly well they're not talking to a human:
One of the most interesting such experiments involves what's known as “reciprocal self-disclosure.” We're usually reluctant to divulge our innermost feelings to strangers, but we often open up when the stranger discloses something about himself first. Would we treat computers the same way—if a computer tells you something about itself, would you respond with something about yourself?
Researchers Clifford Nass and Youngme Moon carried out an experiment to find out. Test subjects were made to chat with a machine that was either dishy or reticent about itself. Reserved machines asked straightforward questions, things like, “What has been your biggest disappointment in life?” or “What have you done in your life that you feel most guilty about?”
The more chatty machine posed queries like this:
This computer has been configured to run at speeds up to 266 MHz. But 90% of computer users don't use applications that require these speeds. So this computer rarely gets used to its full potential. What has been your biggest disappointment in life?
and
There are times when this computer crashes for reasons that are not apparent to its user. It usually does this at the most inopportune time, causing great inconvenience to the user. What have you done in your life that you feel most guilty about?
Guess what? People who chatted with the confessional computer became confessional themselves. They didn't do it on purpose; these folks knew they were talking to a mere machine. But they treated a device they knew was not human as being just slightly so, discussing their guilts and regrets as they would have with another person.
One day, argues Levy, technology will reach a point where machines can be built to look human (or better than human; robots don't get pimples or cellulite), and programmed to mimic human behaviour and respond to human desires in such a way that they will make us love them and—incredible though it may sound—even sleep with them. Levy doesn't just mean programmable in terms of sexual preferences; he also says robots could be programmed to like your taste in movies, books and music, to feign an adorable personality, and of course, to possess unconditional affection for you.
The existence of such robots will expand the range of entertainment technology by turning sex into a “video game”. It will allow those who cannot find anyone to love them to enjoy suitable companionship. It will even “reduce the incidence of infidelity between human couples (infidelity with other humans, that is; Levy thinks that people will come to think of having sex with a robot as not constituting cheating, though he says we'll take some time to adjust to this view)”. (Already there seems to be a market for this sort of thing, if this article about a Japanese man who prefers his dolls to dating is any indication.) It will halt the spread of sexually transmitted disease. It will revolutionize the sex industry (think Gigolo Joe and Gigolo Jane, the mechanical prostitutes in A.I. Artificial Intelligence), and it may even solve the problem of sex trafficking.
All of this highlights the problem with the objectification and commodification of sex. We've managed to divorce sex from reproduction; now we can divorce sex from any form of human relationship (though, arguably, that already happened with the invention of sex toys). But God did not create sex purely for human pleasure (though it is a testament to God's goodness that sex is pleasurable); God created sex to be the loving and emotionally intimate expression of the union of husband and wife in matrimony. Divorcing sex from human relationships—more particularly, the marriage relationship—robs sex of its richness. Instead of the happiness and satisfaction that Levy envisages robot sex partners will bring, I wouldn't be surprised if, instead, we see more unhappiness and dissatisfaction (and, perhaps, greater sexual perversity) as a result.
Let me finish with a few musings about pets, for the logic Levy employs has come out of his observations of certain pet-owners. Is it a good idea to let the pet you love so much eat at your table and sleep on your bed? Should you be giving it presents at Christmas and for birthdays? Should you be dressing it up in funny clothes, and sharing the photos on your Flickr account? Is creating (and updating) your pet's social networking profile on Dogster or Catbook really a good idea (even if it is fun)? Should you include your pet in the list of your children when talking about your family? Should you place your relationship with your pet above your relationship with other human beings? Those among us who are pet-lovers might want to consider all these questions in the light of Levy and his talk of sex with robots, and, as a result, relegate our pets to their proper place in the created order (Gen 1:26).