Only You Exist, So Why Not be Friends with Robots?

By Jake Lee

“Cogito Ergo Sum” — I think, therefore I am.

One of the most fundamental ideas in all of philosophy, this statement by philosophy Rene Descartes affirms our own existence because of our ability to think. After all, if I am contemplating the question of whether or not I exist, there must be an “I” who’s doing the contemplation.

But this is the extent of what we truly know. Though we do not live in a world with only an “I” (in fact, there are approximately 7 billion more “non-I” individuals than “I”) there is no philosophical principle as bold as “Cogito Ergo Sum” to affirm the existence of other people. This position, that we can never know anything outside of our own minds, including the existence of other people, is solipsism.

A reasonable person would likely be appalled by such an implication. Surely other people must exist—we see them all the time! Beyond that, we also communicate with them, talk to them about our hopes and dreams, and develop emotional connections with other people. There is nothing “fake” or “illusory” about these other people, or else everything would similarly be unreal.

But a solipsist would say there is nothing about solipsism that makes it “unreal”. Simply, just like how you need a monitor in order to see your computer, you need an I in order to see the world.

The only way to view a computer is through a monitor. If there is a flaw in the monitor’s design, where half the pixels are two shades too green, that is how you will understand your computer—two shades greener than it really is. If the monitor can only display images upside down, that is also how you will see the computer. As a person, you likely view things incorrectly as well. Optical illusions, dreams, and hallucinogens all show that our experience of the world can very easily be distorted, and therefore we ought to be careful about making any bold generalizations about the universe. And while there is a correct way to see a computer, there isn’t one for seeing the world, at least none we know for sure. Perhaps we are seeing the world two shades greener than it really is, but we will never be able to tell since we do not know what the universe “really is” in the first place.

That is the core of solipsism: that we simply ought to be cautious about our understanding of the world, lest we make incorrect claims based on flawed perceptions. When we say we can never know anything outside of our minds, it does not mean that nothing exists outside. In fact, the ability for us to see things incorrectly must mean that there is something out there we can see in the first place. However, it does mean that we can never be sure about our perceptions.

Then how do we deal with the existence of other people? If my perception is faulty, and I can never truly be sure I am talking to my friend Joseph or Jasmine (or if either of them exist in the first place), then whose existence is real and legitimate?

You would have to rely on your own sense. After all, if all you know is that “I am”, then how else would you understand the world then through your own perceptions? We therefore mold the world based on our existence. Solipsism means we can never be sure about the world outside us, but so long as we believe that we are seeing what is correct, we can map our surroundings nonetheless.

This is again considered a radical belief. But we already do this all the time. How do we know something is the color red? Because we see it as red. There is no such thing as the concept “red” in nature. There is #FF0000, which we call “red”, but these are all simply different quantities of types of light, and we as humans choose what is considered red and what isn’t. That is why a color like #E34234 (displayed below) is either red or orange depending on who you ask. (As a note, of course solipsism entails that we can never really be sure if we’re even seeing #E34234, but the point is that our world is made by our own perceptions, and that both viewing a particular shade as well as putting it into words is done through our perceptions)

So, when I talk to my friend Joseph, I know he is Joseph because I trust my perception. It is not because I can tell his DNA matches with that of a human being (and those who argue that biological data is the sole determiner of identity will have to admit that almost no one knows each other's identity, because hardly anyone maps out their entire genome sequence and shares it with their friends). Nor is it because he thinks like a human. I will never be able to know what goes on inside his mind, and nor will he know what goes on in mine. While we might attempt to communicate what goes on in each of our minds, it’s obvious that words are inadequate for describing human emotions and thoughts. And as soon as we explain our mind in terms of words, we are no longer communicating our minds—we are communicating words. Therefore, Joseph is himself because I see that he is Joseph. However, this analysis prompts another question:

So what?

These arguments, if we are to take them as true, do not significantly modify our view of the world. We still interact with people, and treat them as people. But if we define people as what we perceive and not what is internal, on the grounds that we can never truly know what is “internal” anyways, then it allows us a certain leeway in defining personhood. Thus, enter robots.

Imagine if every single person in the world except yourself has been replaced by robots. They all act the same way as before, but they are internally empty. “I think, therefore I am”—but these robots do not think and cannot say the same. What changes? Since we live in a universe where one can only be fully confident in our own existence, nothing changes at all. I see Joseph, and certainly my senses understand that he is Joseph, and therefore I have no reason to believe that he is not Joseph. Short of taking out a screwdriver and attempting to disassemble him, there is no reason to doubt his legitimacy. And even then, there have already been creations of human-like materials like Frubber (AKA flesh rubber), as well as the beginnings of “Xenobots”— living cells with no brain or digestive system, essentially “programmed” to act in certain ways exactly like a standard robot, except with cells instead of metal frames.

This is not a promotion of the idea that all your friends are secretly robots. Rather, this is the idea that, given our limited perspective, there doesn’t need to be a difference between our treatment of people and robots. “If it looks like a duck, swims like a duck, and quacks like a duck, then it probably is a duck.” Both certain humans and certain robots act like my friends, move like my friends, and talk like my friends. If this is enough for me to consider other humans my friends, then I can certainly do the same for robots. That is to say, if both act like people, there is no reason to say they aren’t because of arbitrary standards. Those who say that robots lack the ability to “think” like humans will find that they cannot prove other humans can do the same. Appeals to biological DNA are also faulty—in a world where both Xenobots and friends we only ever meet online exist, DNA has no place as a necessary requirement for personhood. The existence of souls, a less common argument in the world today but still held by many, again fails to live up to its own standards—one would have to prove the existence of souls for all people (or at least beyond a sample size of 1, which is unfortunately all we are capable of knowing) to exclude robots from their standards.

Solipsism is not a nihilistic philosophy. Rather, it is one that admits the limitations of our own existence, and sees the world as an open question. Thus, when we make the decision to trust our perceptions and call another person a friend, rather than an unknown, we ought to do the same with robots. The choice to base personhood on DNA or internal mechanisms or souls is just as arbitrary, if not more so, than choosing simply because it is the most logical and practical. Therefore, we ought to take our limitations as freedom to choose our friends, whether flesh or metal.