and testing a program. The meaning of intelligence changed when the field of artificial intelligence declared it was something computers could have. The meaning of memory changed when it was something computers used. Here the word “trust” is under siege, now that it is something of which robots are worthy. But some of the children are concerned that a trustworthy, because consistent, robot might still fall short as babysitter for lack of heart. So Bridget says she could love a robot babysitter if it did a good job, but she is skeptical about the possibility. She describes what might occur if a robot babysitter were taking care of her and she scraped her knee: “It’s just going to be like, [in a robot voice] ‘Okay, what do I do, get a Band-Aid and put it on, that’s it. That’s my job, just get a Band-Aid and put it on.’ . . . [stops using robot’s voice] But to love somebody, you need a body and a heart. These computers don’t really have a heart. It’s just a brain.... A robot can get hurt, but it doesn’t really hurt. The robot just shuts down. When hurt, the robot says, ‘Right. Okay, I’m hurt, now I’ll shut down.’”
As Bridget speaks, I feel a chill. This “shutdown” is, of course, the behavior of My Real Baby, which shuts down when treated roughly. Bridget seizes upon that detail as a reason why a robot cannot have empathy. How easy it would be, how small a technical thing, to give robots “pretend empathy.” With some trepidation, I ask Bridget, “So, if the robot showed that it felt pain, would that make a difference?” Without hesitation she answers, “Oh yes, but these robots shut down if they are hurt.” From my perspective, the lack of robotic “empathy” depends on their not being part of the human life cycle, of not experiencing what humans experience. But these are not Bridget’s concerns. She imagines a robot that could be comforting if it performed pain. This is the behaviorism of the robotic moment.
There is little sentimentality in this classroom. Indeed, one of Miss Grant’s students sees people as potential obstacles to relationships with robots: “If you are already attached to your babysitter, you won’t be able to bond with a robot.” And this might be a shame. For the babysitter is not necessarily better, she just got there first. The children’s lack of sentimentality does not mean that the robots always come out ahead. After a long conversation about robot babysitters, Octavio, still dreaming of pasta instead of cereal, imagines how a robot might be programmed both to play with him and feed him “chicken and pasta because that is what you are supposed to have at night.” But Bridget dismisses Octavio’s plan as “just a waste. You could have just had a person.” Jude concurs: “What’s the point of buying a robot for thousands and thousands of dollars when you could have just kept the babysitter for twenty dollars an hour?”
DON’T WE HAVE PEOPLE FOR THESE JOBS?
Children speak fondly of their grandparents, whose care is often a source of family tension. Children feel a responsibility, and they want their parents to take responsibility. And yet, children see that their parents struggle with this. Might robots be there to fill in the gaps?
Some children are taken with the idea that machines could help with purely practical matters. They talk about a robot “getting my grandmother water in the middle of the night,” “watching over my grandmother when she sleeps,” and being outfitted with “emergency supplies.” The robots might be more reliable than people—they would not need sleep, for example—and they might make it easier for grandparents to continue living in their own homes.
But other children’s thinking goes beyond emergencies to offering grandparents the pleasures of robotic companionship. Oliver, the nine-year-old owner of Peanut the hamster, says that his grandparents are frail and don’t get out much. He considers in
As Bridget speaks, I feel a chill. This “shutdown” is, of course, the behavior of My Real Baby, which shuts down when treated roughly. Bridget seizes upon that detail as a reason why a robot cannot have empathy. How easy it would be, how small a technical thing, to give robots “pretend empathy.” With some trepidation, I ask Bridget, “So, if the robot showed that it felt pain, would that make a difference?” Without hesitation she answers, “Oh yes, but these robots shut down if they are hurt.” From my perspective, the lack of robotic “empathy” depends on their not being part of the human life cycle, of not experiencing what humans experience. But these are not Bridget’s concerns. She imagines a robot that could be comforting if it performed pain. This is the behaviorism of the robotic moment.
There is little sentimentality in this classroom. Indeed, one of Miss Grant’s students sees people as potential obstacles to relationships with robots: “If you are already attached to your babysitter, you won’t be able to bond with a robot.” And this might be a shame. For the babysitter is not necessarily better, she just got there first. The children’s lack of sentimentality does not mean that the robots always come out ahead. After a long conversation about robot babysitters, Octavio, still dreaming of pasta instead of cereal, imagines how a robot might be programmed both to play with him and feed him “chicken and pasta because that is what you are supposed to have at night.” But Bridget dismisses Octavio’s plan as “just a waste. You could have just had a person.” Jude concurs: “What’s the point of buying a robot for thousands and thousands of dollars when you could have just kept the babysitter for twenty dollars an hour?”
DON’T WE HAVE PEOPLE FOR THESE JOBS?
Children speak fondly of their grandparents, whose care is often a source of family tension. Children feel a responsibility, and they want their parents to take responsibility. And yet, children see that their parents struggle with this. Might robots be there to fill in the gaps?
Some children are taken with the idea that machines could help with purely practical matters. They talk about a robot “getting my grandmother water in the middle of the night,” “watching over my grandmother when she sleeps,” and being outfitted with “emergency supplies.” The robots might be more reliable than people—they would not need sleep, for example—and they might make it easier for grandparents to continue living in their own homes.
But other children’s thinking goes beyond emergencies to offering grandparents the pleasures of robotic companionship. Oliver, the nine-year-old owner of Peanut the hamster, says that his grandparents are frail and don’t get out much. He considers in
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