The Golem as Techno-Imagination?

What we see are cameras, silicone body parts, cables, tools, pink mannequins with Mickey Mouse ears and plastic petticoats. What we don’t see are the underlying principles and visions that guided (and still guide) the robotics experts as they built their models.

Why do they construct dancing robots? Why do female robots have to wear high heels? What is the purpose of an alter-ego robot? What contexts of use do the developers envisage? What insights do they gain while constructing their “Human Version 2.0”? It would be tempting to ask the developers these questions—to find out more about their values and worldviews, and about the artifacts’ cultural background, the setting that “orients their purposes and gives them meaning.”¹

According to David Gelernter, professor of computer science at Yale University, the development of humanoid robots and artificial intelligence research is driven by the crucial supposition that constructing machines in human form will help human beings understand the body, that studying computers will help them understand the mind. Gelernter regards this as a fallacy with significant ethical and moral implications. In fact, it has become apparent that the mind is not a formal system explicable through knowledge of software. The mind contains far fewer knowns than unknowns. And the parable of the golem in Gershom Scholem’s essay, Gelernter argues, should be read as an admonition to scientists, warning them to deal carefully with their inventions.²

Regardless of that, in January 2015, Prime Minister Shinzô Abe proclaimed the “starting point of the robot revolution” in Japan. By promoting robotic technology in all the domains of everyday life—from work in industry, agriculture, services, and nursing care right up to disaster management—his aim was nothing less than to launch the country’s second industrial revolution. The government’s “New Strategy for Robots” intends to set out the path to making Japan “the world’s most advanced robot showcase” and a shining example of robot utilization.³

The numerous robot stories in popular culture, especially in manga and anime art, seem to provide a narrative to accompany this robot revolution. Since the 1950s, manga and anime have given visual and literary form to the dream of robots as the friends of humans, symbolizing technological optimism. The best-known figures from these genres, such as the android Astro Boy created by manga artist Osamu Tezuka (1928–1989) or Hiroshi Fujimoto’s (1933–1996) robot cat Doraemon, have acquired the status of Japanese national icons. They serve as reference points for the idea of the sociable robot as humanity’s friend and helper.

Yet even if the notion of a robotic companion and assistant for human beings has positive connotations in Japan in the realm of “techno-imagination,” very few next-generation robots have actually been brought to market that are safe and affordable for private users. From a gender perspective, there are also criticisms of the traditional images of masculinity and femininity that are applied in the construction and workings of the new robots.⁴ More generally, critics claim, the real needs of future users have not yet been adequately researched.⁵

In view of the debates over “Human Version 2.0” and the supposedly inevitable “trans-human,” robotized society of the very near future, it is valuable not only to look curiously and critically into the technicians’ lab, but also to read myths and legends, which, as “collective certainties,” play their part in shaping technology.⁶ They can be drawn upon as techno-imaginary visions to complement the development of robots and artificial intelligence—or, indeed, they can also be rejected.

Translated by Kate Sturge