Do our mixed feelings on advanced A.I. and tantalizing screens, merely reflect our own moral failings?
Elon Musk is scared of artificial intelligence (A.I.). In a 2014 tweet, Elon compared A.I. development to “summoning the demon.” Unlike the countless podcast hosts and academics who routinely engage in such doomsday speculation, Elon put his money where his mouth is. Fifteen days into 2015, when most people were already rethinking their resolutions, Elon donated ten million dollars to the Future of Life Institute, a non-profit dedicated to ensuring that future technologies remain beneficial for humanity. Tellingly, Elon’s donation specifically targeted A.I. development.
This sum is small relative to Elon’s means, yet its symbolism is significant. The gesture reflects a dark outlook that is commonly found in the sunny tech paradise of Silicon Valley. Namely, that much like Skynet combined with Schwarzenegger, A.I. may terminate us. While they vary in their level of devotion, notable believers of this mantra include Bill Gates, Peter Thiel, Sam Harris, and the late Stephen Hawking. More interesting than the fear itself is the contradictory feelings it necessarily evokes for many of its adherents. Elon is probably one of the most prolific tech enthusiasts of our time. His innovations have enabled people to safely transfer money online (Paypal), drive stylish eco-friendly cars (Tesla), and reopen the space frontier (SpaceX). Yet his conviction that technology also poses the greatest “existential threat” to humans makes him seem less like a real-life Iron Man and more like an eighteenth-century luddite.
I certainly lack the specialized knowledge to comment on the plausibility of A.I. going rogue. At the same time, I suspect that many of us share Elon’s mixed feelings on the subject of technology. In particular, we have a love-hate relationship with screens in the modern context. On the one hand, our preferred screens have taken on a quasi-religious status—the sacrosanct designation of being an Apple or an Android person has more significance today than being a Catholic or Protestant. Similarly, the coming of the Messiah probably won’t garner as much social media attention as a new product line announcement from one of the major smartphone manufacturers.
The religious fervour we have for our screens is, in part, influenced by their incredible utility. Their proficiency in the domains of communication and entertainment is unparalleled. We have countless streaming services to numb our minds and a corresponding number of social media platforms to consume mindless thoughts.
On the other hand, our fatigue for screens pre-dates Zoom. Pre-COVID, we were already being bombarded with news articles recounting how our screen habits increase anxiety, decrease sleep, and reduce our overall mental health.
We are also reticent (and sometimes recalcitrant), about technology’s uninterrupted presence in our daily routine. Firstly, it has utterly eroded our sense of privacy. The Cambridge Analytica ordeal demonstrates that privacy is something we still occasionally care about. The ubiquity of screens in our lives has also impeded the limited time we have with other people. Whereas another person used to be the first and last thing one looked at in the day, it is now more likely to be a screen. This is not a fact that we typically brag about.
Interestingly, both A.I. dystopia and the toxic dependence we have on technology were addressed in the cinematic universe between 2013 and 2014. Ex Machina depicted the former, and Her the latter. The narrative arcs in both films are quite illuminating.
In Ex Machina an unsuspecting young programmer, Caleb, is invited to spend a week at the isolated compound of his wealthy and eccentric boss, Nathan. Nathan invites Caleb to conduct a Turing test on Ava, an alluring “female” robot equipped with sophisticated A.I. Unbeknownst to Caleb, Ava is actually programmed to try and escape from the compound they are situated in. Ava deftly combines coquettish gazes and a damsel in distress routine, which render Caleb into silly putty, easily controlled by her cold metallic hands. Sadly, Caleb’s most human qualities, lust and jealousy, allow Ava to successfully complete her task. While fantastical in its premise, Ex Machina argues that our emotion-laden psyche is no match for an intelligence which artificially removes such constraints.
By contrast, Her explores a world more similar to our own. The film focuses on Theodore, a recently divorced forty-something living in a near-future Los Angeles. Compared to the present, the world in Her is clearly more techy, and the people even more socially stunted. For example, Theodore is employed by a business which authors personal cards for people who have difficulty expressing themselves. Poignantly, the protagonist, as well as his soon to be divorced neighbour, decide to have romantic relationships with their cloud-based A.I. assistants. Theodore discovers that he can avoid the painful experiences that are rife in human relationships and instead be nurtured by his perfectly attentive virtual partner named Samantha. In the end, the A.I. assistants designed to serve humans opt to create a hyper-intelligent operating system outside of the physical universe, leaving their emotionally dependent human owners behind. Only with Samantha out of the picture does Theodore finally begin to effectively face his own problems and rediscover the beauty of the natural world.
While destructive A.I. and an unhealthy dependence on technology are distinct issues, there is a common theme present in the above films. Her and Ex Machina both demonstrate that technology’s threat is only as powerful as our own foibles. Yet foibles are not the defining feature of the human condition—wrestling with them and aspiring towards our virtues is. Put in this light, the mixed feelings we have about technology may just reflect the mixed feelings we have about ourselves. Brightening our outlook on A.I. may first require an enhanced vision of our own potential. Therefore, if we decide to be more than lustful and jealous creatures and face, rather than avoid, emotional vulnerability, then advanced A.I. and tantalizing screens seem like a fairly innocuous demon.