Robot Rights, Activism, Thought Experiment, Philosophy
Descartes’ Cogito is one of the most iconic pieces of philosophy in existence. Cogito ergo sum. I think, therefore I am. Behind the Latin is a devilishly simple concept. There are thoughts in my head. I can confirm there are thoughts as I am experiencing them. Even if all my thoughts, all my experiences are in some way being altered, there must still be a thinking being to contain the altered thoughts. There must be a thinking being to be tricked. Thus, ‘I’ must exist in some form as a thinking being. From this baseline of certainty, Descartes then goes on to attempt to establish that knowledge of the rest of the universe is possible. Today, I will not focus on anything beyond the Cogito. Determining that the external world exists, although a fundamental question, is not why I have highlighted the Cogito. Instead, my focus is on the limitations of the Cogito and how philosophers have attempted to overcome those limitations. The central problem is that the Cogito is intensely personal.
I think, therefore I am. We know some being exists, the being we call ‘I’, as we can experience that being’s thoughts. Proving the minds of others cannot follow the same reasoning because I have no direct experience of other’s minds. When your leg is sawed off, I do not scream in pain. When you weep over a breakup, it is not my sadness. When you are in ecstasy over a new promotion or the birth of your firstborn, the happiness is not mine. Your emotions can be inferred from your body language, your tone of voice, stance and the like. Still, I cannot directly experience those emotions. I may be wrong. My belief you are happy or sad may just be a credit to your extraordinary acting skills.
Limitations in the Cogito, however, are much more profound. Emotions are not the only unknowable thing about a person’s mind. An example is probably best to establish what I mean. Consider:
Fred and George are both at a farm together. A cow comes along while Fred’s back is turned, causing George to comment, “Oh look, a cow”. Fred turns around, sees the beast and agrees.
George then leaves the farm, being replaced by Percy. A pig comes along, again while Fred’s back is turned. “Oh look, a pig,” Percy comments. Fred turns around, sees the beast and shakes his head. “No silly, that’s a cow. Look, it has four legs and hooves, like the one over there.”
When people say ‘cow’, society presumes that everyone is talking about the four-legged hoofed mammal with thick fur which is often bred for milk. At least I think society does (I have no way of verifying the truth). Children frequently draw cows with black and white splodges across their bodies, and it is this creature which appears to be the universal conception of a cow. Critically, the key phrase is “appears to be”. There is no way for me to know with certainty that the creature I mean when I say ‘cow’ is what anyone else is thinking about when they hear “cow”. I could be Fred. In reality, the chances of someone going through life and never being corrected on the proper usage of the word cow are slim. But the point illustrated by the example remains. Especially when looking at more complex concepts like the Rule of Law or consciousness, there is no way of knowing that people are describing the same idea. To one, consciousness is a pig, to another a cow or a chicken.
Still, the rabbit hole goes deeper. So far, we have presumed that it is indeed Fred or George or Percy who is commenting on the various farmyard animals that come before them. But how do we know that? Sight, touch, hearing, taste, smell can all be tricked. People have dreams that are so vivid that they feel like reality. How do we know that we are not dreaming now? How do we know we are not within an experience machine? Evidence from the external world is of no help to us because minds can be tricked. What we see in Virtual Reality is not ‘real’ because we can remove the headset. But what if the world is one big headset, a headset we have no knowledge of and that is glued to us in a way that it can never be taken off. The very idea sounds like the plot of The Matrix. That’s because The Matrix was based on philosophy. Science Fiction where an unknown force traps people in a world of thoughts actually has a logical basis. Sure, the whole harvesting humans for energy is a bit unrealistic, but the fear is very much a real one. Once in The Matrix, you have no way of knowing it, nor are you able to tell who is an actual homo sapien and who is ‘mere’ programming. Suddenly, the world is a very uncertain place.
So how do we dig ourselves out of the deep hole we have fallen into. Is there a way of justifying our belief that other minds, other people exist? Are we stuck in a universe alone, trapped in solitary confinement for eternity? Our friends, family, colleagues, anyone we have ever interacted with could just be imaginary people. They may all just be creatures we invent so that the darkness does not feel so alone. What we need is a way of assuring ourselves that this is not the case. Now a variation of Pascal’s Wager could be used, however, that only justifies why we should continue to treat others as moral agents. Going on a rampage might be fun, but there is a chance that other people exist. Just because something cannot be proven does not mean it has been disproven. Treating people as moral agents has the best potential outcomes, either having no moral worth or amounting to good. Therefore, that is the path we should continue to walk, even if the existence of those other people cannot be proven. Seems a bit flimsy though. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life worried that everything is just a mass illusion. Experiences, skydiving, volunteering, graduating, would have just that tiny bit more meaning. Actual accomplishments feel like they have more value than playing one big video game.
Betraham Russell saves the day on this one. He accepts that other minds are unknowable. There is no way of knowing with certainty that your ‘red’ is my ‘red’, your ‘cows’ are my ‘cows’ or that there is even a 'you', independent from my own imagination. Other minds are, however, the best possible hypothesis for our experiences. I know ‘I’ (a thinking being) exists because I experience thoughts. There are thoughts outside of my control. These thoughts go beyond being parts of my subconscious, as there is too much consistency. Nightmares feel like something we would not inflict on ourselves, but there remains an element of inconsistency with any dream. One moment, you can fly, the next you can’t. One moment you're by a pool in Hawaii, the next you're trapped in a cupboard with a masked killer chopping at the door with his axe. People lack the same inconsistency when you’re awake. Generally, everyone remembers what you told them five seconds earlier. The fact that people have knowledge and ideas, unlike our own is also another point against the world amounting to one big dream. No matter how much you try, creating independent beings who don't just agree with your every word using only your mind. People simply don't reject you in your own fantasies. Other minds existing is the best alternative, given we already know that minds (our own) can exist. Consider:
P1: My reactions to stimuli (laughing at a joke) are the result of my mind operating in a certain way.
P2: Other people react in similar ways to me (also laughing at jokes).
P3: Similar effects have similar causes.
C: The minds of other people exist.
Building an analogy between our minds and the minds of others allows us to escape from solipsism. We can never be one hundred percent certain that other minds exist. Still, their existence is the most probable explanation for our interactions with others.
Where do robots fit into all of this? Just because other minds are likely to exist doesn’t mean that robotic minds are equally probable. Actually, it kind of does. Look at the logic again.
P1 is indisputable. Cogito Ergo Sum. I know my mind exists and that it responds to stimuli in specific ways. Even if those stimuli are not the ones I think they are, some stimulus is necessary for the response. The whole world could be based on neurotransmitters interacting with my brain, but some interaction is required
P2 works based on our observations of the world. Good comedians don’t have an audience of one. Multiple people laugh at the same joke.
P3 is fundamental physics. One apple doesn’t fall due to gravity, while another falls simply because it feels like it. Causation is built upon consistency.
C thus follows. Why I laugh at jokes and why others laugh at jokes is likely for the same reason.
The same reasoning applies to the existence of robotic minds. A robot that acts indistinguishable from anyone else fulfils the same requirements in P2 as any other being. Knowing that the robot is constructed, even manufacturing and programming the robot ourselves is irrelevant. The entire point of the Cogito is that the external world is uncertain. If I can’t prove other minds exist simply by pointing at other people, I cannot disprove a mind doesn’t exist by gesturing at a robot. Any form of experiential evidence can be distorted, irrespective of if it proves or disproves a theory. Hence why P2 only allows us to assume other minds exist rather than showing the matter as a certainty. My memories of building a robot could simply be an illusion, implanted so that I do not remember the birth of my own child. Or, every mother’s memory of their child’s birth could be a trick, with all babies instead of being manufactured robots. Neither theory can be disproven, as proof requires reference to the external world, the very thing tricking us. Accepting Russell’s best hypothesis requires the hypothesis to be accepted for all beings that act and react in a way similar to us. 'Knowing' how they are created is irrelevant. Cogitant, Igitur Sunt. They think, therefore they are.