Artificial Intelligence Doesn't Get Goosebumps

Illustration: Victor de Schwanberg 

Science Photo Library / Getty Images

 

 

Just about everyone - from Elon Musk and Geoffrey Hinton to Tim Pendry [1] - is warning these days about the coming AI revolution. 

 

And whilst I certainly don't wish to underestimate the dangers presented by artificial intelligence, I continue to be encouraged by the fact that because machines cannot feel, they cannot really think; that mind is ultimately a product of suffering.

 

Or, as Byung-Chul Han puts it: "The negativity of pain is constitutive of thought. Pain is what distinguishes thinking from calculating, from artificial intelligence." [2]

 

Generative AI may be capable of independent learning and producing the most astonishing results. But it will never give birth to thoughts in the manner that a mother gives birth to a child, invested with "blood, heart, fire, pleasure, passion, agony, conscience, fate, and catastrophe" [3].  

 

 

Notes

 

[1] Whilst I take seriously what these three wise men have to say about technology and the future of humanity, I certainly don't wish to hear from King Charles III on the subject: see the post written on 7 September 2018, when he was still the Prince of Wales: I said it then and I'll say it again now: better artificial intelligence than royal stupidity.      

 

[2] Byung-Chul Han, The Palliative Society, trans. Daniel Steuer, (Polity Press, 2021), p. 39. 

      See also Han's Non-things: Upheaval in the Lifeworld, trans. Daniel Steuer, (Polity Press, 2022), in which he argues: "Artificial intelligence is incapable of thinking, for the very reason that it cannot get goosebumps." Readers who are interested may click here for my post on this book. And this short piece by Mariella Moon on robots designed to sweat and get goosebumps, might also amuse.    

[3] Nietzsche, The Gay Science, trans. Walter Kaufmann, (Vintage Books, 1974), Preface for the Second Edition, §3, p. 36. 

Ouch! Another Brief Note on Pain and The Palliative Society

Haroshi: Agony Into Beauty from the solo exhibition Pain

StolenSpace Gallery, London (Oct 10th - Nov 3rd 2013)
stolenspace.com

 

 

According to Byung-Chul Han, algophobia - a generalised fear of pain - is one of the key features of what he terms the palliative society: 

 

"The consequence of this algophobia is a permanent anaesthesia. All painful conditions are avoided. Even the pain of love is treated as suspect. This algophobia extends into society. Less and less space is given to conflicts and controversies that might prompt painful discussions. Algophobia also takes hold of politics. The pressure to conform and to reach consensus intensifies." [a]  

Now, as a reader of Nietzsche, I am of course aware that whilst one of the defining achievements of the modern age has been to vastly improve human health thanks to unparalleled advances in medical science, there has nevertheless been a peculiar softening of the species and what might be called a loss of spirit [b].

 

People used to be able to endure - and inflict - great suffering and regarded pain as a form of passion; now they immediately reach for the paracetamol if they even think they might have a headache coming on. Ironically, as our direct experience of severe pain has lessened, our horror of it has increased and intensified.   

 

However, even as one who affirms the tragic fact that life bleeds and is prone to disease and mortal decay, I don't wish to idealise pain, for fear that, in doing so, one ends up returning either to the foot of the Cross or to Romanticism.

 

I'm not sure, however, that this particularly troubles Byung-Chul Han. For he's someone who believes that art "must be able to alienate, irritate, disturb, and, yes, even be painful" [6], and celebrates the Christian mystic Teresa of Ávila for demonstrating how pain "deepens the relationship with God" [21]. 

 

Ultimately, the main difference between Han and myself is that he desperately wants pain (and everything else) to be meaningful, whereas the "persisting meaninglessness of life" [24] doesn't trouble me in the least. 

 

I don't think pain is an incarnation of truth - no matter what Viktor von Weizsäcker might say [c] - and, as a matter of fact, I like the "morality-free, and ostentatiously decorative" [4] art of Jeff Koons ...   

 

Notes

 

[a] Byung-Chul Han, The Palliative Society, trans. Daniel Steuer, (Polity Press, 2021), p. 1. Future page references to this work will be given directly in the post. 

 

[b] See §48 of The Gay Science, for example, wherein Nietzsche reflects on how nothing separates human beings or ages from each other more than their experience of pain.

 

[c] German physician and physiologist Viktor von Weizsäcker (1886-1957) was a pioneer in the fields of psychosomatic medicine and Gestalt psychology. Weizsäcker argued that if you wish to reliably distinguish between what is genuine and what is fake in this life, then trust to pain; only pain allows us to know what's what, give structure to our life, and find love. 

      Byung-Chul Han discusses Weizsäcker' essay 'Die Schmerzen' in chapter 6 of The Palliative Society, concluding that pain not only evokes reality, it is reality.    

 

This post is a companion piece to an earlier brief note on pain (written whilst waiting to see the dentist): click here.  

A Brief Note on Pain (Whilst Waiting to See the Dentist)

La douleur n'est pas mon fort ...       

 

Sitting here, with toothache, waiting to see the dentist, one recalls the line by Ernst Jünger with which Byung-Chul Han opens his new study: "Tell me your relation to pain, and I will tell you who you are!" [1]

Well, my relation to pain is a mixture of indifference and irritation. I don't share the universal algophobia that characterises our society today, but, unlike many artists and intellectuals, neither do I fetishise pain or regard suffering as the most crucial aspect of life. 

 

Thus, whilst I have a relatively high pain tolerance level and very rarely resort to painkillers, I don't think that this makes courageous or morally superior to those who reach for the paracetamol at the earliest opportunity and opt for drug-induced relief.

 

Pain, says Han, purifies. By which he means it has a cathartic effect. It should thus be recognised as a genuine passion. Which sounds suspiciously Christian to me and I remember Lawrence's remark made in a letter: "Jesus becomes more unsympatisch to me, the longer I live: crosses and nails and tears and all that stuff! I think he showed us into a nice cul de sac." [2] 

 

Lawrence's view contrasts nicely with the remark by Walter Benjamin which Han chose as an epigraph for The Palliative Society: 

 

"Of all the corporeal feelings, pain alone is like a navigable river which never dries up and which leads man down to the sea. Pleasure, in contrast, turns out to be a dead end, wherever man tries to follow its lead." [3]

 

This characterisation of pleasure as a dead end and affirmation of pain is simply a form of ascetic idealism, is it not? Again, far it be from me to reify pleasure, but I think we might challenge the idea that when pain is suppressed, happiness is attenuated and becomes merely a form of dull contentment. Or that those who are "unreceptive to pain close themselves off from deep happiness" [4].    

 

It may be Nietzschean to think like this - to give pain metaphysical significance and project it into the symbolic order (to speak of the art of suffering, etc.) - but when a tooth is troublesome who really cares about what this might (or might not) mean? At such times, we all rub our jaw and fall silent like Monsieur Teste ... [5] 

 

 

Notes

 

[1] Byung-Chul Han, The Palliative Society, trans. Daniel Steuer, (Polity Press, 2021), p. 1. Han is quoting from Ernst Jünger's On Pain, (Telos Press, 2008), p. 32. 

 

[2] D. H. Lawrence, The Letters of D. H. Lawrence, Vol. V, ed. James T. Boulton and Lindeth Vasey, (Cambridge University Press, 1989), p. 322. Letter number 3516 [26 Oct 1925], to John Middleton Murry. 

      

[3] Walter Benjamin, 'Outline of the Psychological Problem', Selected Writings, Vol. 1, (Harvard University Press, 1996), p. 397.

[4] Byung-Chul Han, The Palliative Society, p. 13. 

[5] With reference to the figure of Monsieur Teste, Byung-Chul Han writes: 

      

"Paul Valéry's Monsieur Teste represents the modern, sensitive bourgeois subject who experiences pain as meaningless, as purely physical agony. He has completely lost the Christian narrative [...] and thus also the ability to alleviate pain symbolically. [...]

      For Monsieur Teste, pain cannot be narrated. It destroys language. Where the pain begins, his sentences break off. [...] 

      Confronted with pain, Monsieur Teste falls silent. Pain robs him of his language. It destroys his world, traps him in his mute body." [19-20] 

 

 

For another brief note on pain and the palliative society, click here.

     

Gone Fishing

Recreational cruelty: Bob Mortimer and Paul Whitehouse 

proudly showing off a catch on their popular TV show, 

Gone Fishing, as the poor carp struggles to breathe 

 

 

All of a sudden, there seem to be a shoal of programmes on TV that involve the gentle art of fly fishing, with even elderly comedians Mortimer and Whitehouse getting in on the act [1]. 

 

Only it's not such a gentle art - certainly not for the fish, who is subject to the violence of being hooked, reeled in, and manhandled. Despite recent research indicating that these beautiful and intelligent creatures experience fear and react to pain in similar ways to birds and mammals [2], there are still anglers who dispute or deny the cruelty involved in their recreational pursuit [3].  

 

We don't keep the fish out of the water for long and always put them back unharmed, is the familiar line of argument. But this ignores the trauma that the fish suffers and overlooks the fact that the hook used to catch them often causes damage to the mouth, thus making it difficult (and painful) for the fish to feed after their release.

 

Of course, Nietzsche would point out that just because something causes suffering that's no reason not to do it; i.e., the fact that pain hurts is not an argument [4]. Further, there might even be wisdom to be found in pain (as in pleasure); fish, for example, might have learnt something from the experience of being caught over the centuries by anglers which has ultimately helped them survive as a species. 

 

But surely fish experience enough danger in their daily life under the water to keep them on their guard, without human beings adding to their fear, stress, and suffering. Nietzsche makes a good case for the non-alleviation of natural hardship and danger, but that doesn't mean we should go out of our way to increase or intensify the pain felt by other animals.  

 

Otherwise, we must say yes to badger-baiting, fox hunting, and bullfighting as well as what Byron described as the cruellest, the coldest, and the stupidest of pretend sports - fishing [5].

 

 

Notes

 

[1] To watch episodes of Mortimer and Whitehouse: Gone Fishing go to BBC Online: click here. 

      The series has received widespread praise for its warmth, charm, and gentle humour. Many critics even find it poignant as the two comics reflect on their own mortality (both men having recently undergone heart surgery). No one, as far as I can see, stops to give a thought to the fish whose participation in the show, whilst central, is non-consensual and one might ask if the real joy of the show is listening to two old friends reminisce about the good old days, whilst contemplating the beauty and tranquility of their surroundings, then why do they need to also catch fish for our entertainment.   

[2] Whether fish experience pain in the same way that we do is a contentious issue (especially amongst those who subscribe to some form of human exceptionalism). But it seems fairly obvious, both from observation and from knowing what we do about their brains and nervous system, that they certainly don't like having sharp metal hooks pierce their mouths and being hauled out of the water into an environment in which they cannot breathe (and which can cause their gills to collapse).   

 

[3] It's worth remembering that fishing litter left behind by careless anglers also presents a danger to other forms of wildlife, including birds and small mammals.  

 

[4] See Nietzsche, The Gay Science, IV. 318. 

[5] For the record, I'm not - unlike members of PETA - arguing for fishing to be outlawed. But I do think people should be actively encouraged to treat fish with care and respect, even if - as D. H. Lawrence says - we may never know their gods. I develop this idea in a post published last year on the intelligence of fish: click here. 

 

Thanks to David Brock for inspiring this post.

 

  

On Black Mould and the Tragic Case of Dana Anhalt

Photos: Caters News

Mould is a fungus that grows in the form of multicellular filaments called hyphae. There are thousands of diverse species, but they all require moisture for growth and they all derive their energy heterotrophically from the organic matter on which they live. Typically, mould secretes enzymes that transform complex biopolymers such as starch, cellulose and lignin into simpler substances which can be absorbed by the hyphae. Mould thus has a significant role in decomposition, enabling nutrients to be recycled throughout ecosystems - which is a good thing.

Mould also plays an important part in the production of various foods, antibiotics and other medicinal drugs - and again, this is a good thing. Indeed, one might view mould positively from the perspective of Ben Woodward's slime dynamics and understand it to be a darkly vital substance. Unfortunately, however, mould is also a major source of food waste and of illness and many strategies for food preservation - such as salting, pickling, and freeze-drying - are essentially attempts to prevent or retard mould growth.

Although moulds grow all around us and their spores are a common component of dust, their presence is visible to the naked eye only when they form large colonies consisting of an interconnected network of hyphae called a mycelium. In artificial environments, such as homes and offices, humidity and temperature are often stable enough to foster the rapid and extensive growth of mould colonies and this can lead to a variety of health issues, including allergic reactions and respiratory problems.

Indeed, some moulds, including the notorious black mould or Stachybotrys chartarum, produce mycotoxins, prolonged exposure to which can have extremely serious - potentially fatal - consequences. As a general rule, you really don't want to ingest or inhale toxic compounds produced by black mould, or facilitate the growth of pathogenic moulds within the body.   

Which brings us to the terrible and tragic case of Dana Anhalt which has recently received extensive media attention; a 37-year old writer and psychology student from New York, Ms Anhalt has been bedridden for years suffering from multiple health problems, due (it was eventually discovered) to the presence of toxic black mould in her household (and not, as was once believed, chronic Lyme disease).

Having spent most of her life being slowly poisoned and crippled with excruciating pain, Dana has now been instructed by doctors to immediately abandon her home and all of her possessions and move into a new, sterile environment - a bit like the Bubble Boy, Donald Sanger (Seinfeld 4-07).

But this, of course, requires money ... And so I invite readers of this blog interested in knowing more about Dana's case and possibly donating to her family's attempt to raise funds in order to help pay for her new life and the expensive medical care still required, to click here. Alternatively, one can go to Dana's own fundraising project: Art is Life.   

Hopefully, this courageous woman will one day discover the greater health which Zarathustra speaks of and enjoy the intoxication of convalesence. In the meantime, she might care to remember that it is only intense pain and sickness, unfolding within us over an extended period, that serves as the ultimate emancipator of the spirit and compels us to descend into our depths; not necessarily improving us as human beings, but making us more profound as thinkers.