Terminator and Philosophy: I'll Be Back, Therefore I Am (39 page)

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Authors: Richard Brown,William Irwin,Kevin S. Decker

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T4: Ambiguity Salvation
 
So what then is the score? From what we’ve seen, the balance seems to be tilted slightly in favor of Grice. Kripke’s argument from indirect quotation doesn’t have an answer, and so I think we can safely say: “Ambiguity, you’ve been terminated.” But what does this tell us about the question we started with? Should the first movie have been called
The Terminator
? If what we have said is right, then the title literally means what Russell said that it did: there is one and only one object that is the Terminator. Given this, the title is literally false; there are many Terminators. Nonetheless James Cameron most likely meant to be taken as referring to the T-101. This is the way that everyone in the films uses the phrase as well. This is a perfectly legitimate use of the phrase and so the title is apt despite its literal falsity. Sheesh! Can you believe people actually get paid to think about this stuff? Well, if it’s any consolation, philosophers don’t get paid much!
12
 
NOTES
 
1
They are contrasted with indefinite descriptions like “a Terminator” or “a leader of the resistance in 2029.” I will not have anything to say about these kinds of phrases, though there is a fair amount of controversy that swirls around them as well.
 
2
Bertrand Russell, “On Denoting,” in
The Philosophy of Language
, ed. A. P. Martinich (Oxford Univ. Press, 1985), 230-238.
 
3
P. F. Strawson, “On Referring,” in
The Philosophy of Language
, 246-260.
 
4
Ibid., 249.
 
5
Keith Donnellan, “Reference and Definite Descriptions,” in
The Philosophy of Language
, 265-277.
 
6
Saul Kripke, “Speaker’s Reference and Semantic Reference,” in
Pragmatics
, ed. S. Davies (Oxford: Oxford Univ. Press, 1991), 77-96.
 
7
Michael Devitt’s response to this is that in Russell English there would not be a convention for expressing singular thoughts the way there is in English. There would have to be careful stage setting in order for someone to make a referential use. For a careful defense of the ambiguity of definite descriptions, see Devitt, “The Case for Referential Descriptions,” in
Descriptions: Semantic and Pragmatic Perspectives
, ed. Marga Reimer and Anne Bezuidenhout (Oxford: Oxford Univ. Press, 2004), 280-305.
 
8
Michael Devitt, “Donnellan’s Distinction,” in
Foundations of Analytic Philosophy: Midwest Studies in Philosophy
, ed. Peter A. French, Theodore E. Uehling, and Howard K. Wettstein (Minneapolis: Univ. of Minnesota Press, 1981), 522.
 
9
Based on a story by Philip K. Dick.
 
10
Kripke, “Speaker’s Reference and Semantic Reference,” 83.
 
11
Personal communication to the author, spring 2006.
 
12
I would like to thank Frank Pupa, Kevin S. Decker, and Bill Irwin for valuable help in revising earlier drafts.
 
19
 
WITTGENSTEIN AND WHAT’S INSIDE THE TERMINATOR’S HEAD
 
Antti Kuusela
 
 
The three
Terminator
movies, especially
Terminator 2: Judgment Day
, invite us to consider whether machines have mental lives like we do. Among the most basic aspects of human mental life are emotions, feelings, sensations, and self-awareness. Could a Terminator have feelings and sensations? Does the T-101 have self-awareness like a human does?
 
I’m not a very sentimental person, but when I first saw
T2
, I was moved. The scene in which the T-101 is lowered into the molten steel by Sarah Connor is touching, and after seeing the movie a dozen times, the scene still strikes me as emotionally powerful. Why is this? One reason is that the viewer is able to see the grief of the fatherless John Connor, who has formed an emotional bond with the cybernetic organism. It’s easy to empathize with John’s sadness, because he is about to lose a father figure. But the main reason why the scene is so touching for me is not empathy with the grief of John, but sympathy for the sadness I perceived from the T-101.
 
But how can this be? Intuition tells us that a machine doesn’t have emotions. A Terminator is simply a machine, and so it’s incapable of feeling sadness, joy, or grief. If this is so, it makes no sense to feel sorry for the Terminator. After all, we can’t relate to its feelings it if doesn’t have any! Yet I think that it
does
make sense to feel sympathy for the T-101. By the end of
T2
we’ve come to think of the T-101 as
one of us
, as a being with emotions of its own. The Terminator’s self-destruction wouldn’t be noble from our perspective, wouldn’t move us, if we thought that the T-101 was completely indifferent to its fate. If we’re moved by the self-destruction of the Terminator, it’s because we feel that
somebody
and not just some
thing
is being destroyed. We can place ourselves in its shoes and imagine how we would feel if such a choice were in front of us.
 
We may feel sorry for the T-101 because it is going to lose its existence. We may think of the Terminator’s act as being unselfish because it puts the interests of humans before its own. But of course, these views make sense only if we believe that the T-101’s mental life
is
similar to ours. And if it is, then there may be good reasons to reevaluate the real difference between machines and persons.
 
If It Cries Like a Human, It Is Human . . .
 
Let’s take a reasonably simple definition of a “person”: first, a person is a being that’s self-aware, which means that it can think about the process of thinking itself. A person has emotions and can make choices. When questions about the differences and similarities between machines and persons are raised in philosophy or in films like
The Terminator
, it’s a fairly commonsense idea of a person, much like this one, that is used as a measuring stick. Given this definition, how similar to a person is the T-101?
 
Most people would say that a person has a mental life, while a machine doesn’t. It feels “like something” to be a person, whereas it doesn’t feel like anything to be a machine. One way to examine the commonsense idea of machine vs. person is to carefully look at the difference between the
behavior
of a person and the
behavior
of a machine. Ludwig Wittgenstein (1889-1951), an Austrian philosopher, suggested this method, claiming, “Only of a living human being and what resembles (behaves like) a living human being can one say: it has sensations; it sees; is blind; hears; is deaf; is conscious or unconscious.”
1
Wittgenstein doesn’t mean that a machine could
never
have sensations or that a machine could
never
be conscious. Instead, he was considering how we use language. What do we
mean
when we say that a human has sensations, but a machine does not? What are the facts on which we could base this difference?
 
Wittgenstein’s answer is this: as things currently stand, the only criterion for what it means to be a “thinking thing” is the behavior of human beings. Human behavior, for Wittgenstein, is a
sign
that stands for being conscious and having a mental life. To see what he means, take the phenomenon of pain. Moaning and crying are signs that we interpret to mean that the moaner or crier is experiencing pain, which by itself is mental and private. Pain behavior is not limited to simple things like crying, of course. Seeing a doctor or taking a painkiller are pain behaviors as well. For Wittgenstein, the
meaning
of any behavior, the way we
understand
it, is tied to a complex web of human habits, customs, rules, and institutions. In fact, if we couldn’t understand the behavior of a creature like ourselves in these respects we couldn’t make sense of its mental life at all. But Wittgenstein goes even further than this, arguing that the relationship between behavior and having a mental life is not merely that of a sign and what it signifies.
 
For Wittgenstein, complex behavior is
constitutive
of mental life. In other words, meaningful actions that we observe in others become the touchstone of mental life, and not merely a
symptom
that something is going on in our heads. If Wittgenstein’s point about the relationship between behavior and our conclusions about the mind isn’t clear enough, consider how people who have mental illnesses are usually diagnosed. Deranged behavior on the part of a person implies that there is something wrong with the person’s mind. It seems that what we
mean
by “having a mind” is really just “being capable of acting in certain kinds of rational ways.”
 
These complex forms of behavior are important if we are to conclude that other beings have mental lives. We don’t treat stones or tables as having minds. Animals are somewhere between things and persons: the more an animal behaves like we do, the higher degree of mental activity we grant to it. Complex machines like Terminators are another example of borderline cases. In terms of their behavior, Terminators are practically identical to humans. This makes sense, since these machines were originally developed as
infiltrators
who could approach humans without being revealed as the killing machines they are. So if we agree with Wittgenstein about behavior being the touchstone of mental life, then we should conclude that it makes good sense to treat Terminators as if they had a mental life. The conclusion is justified because the behavior of these machines is very similar to that of humans.
 
A Terminator would also likely pass the most famous test designed to answer the question of whether machines can think, the Turing Test. The test, named after the famous mathematician Alan Turing (1912-1954), looks at the result of a conversation with a machine when we cannot decide whether the conversation partner was a machine or not (both a machine and a human are hidden from us and we ask questions of both).
2
If Turing’s test is sound, and if a Terminator passes it, then perhaps the Terminator really is an intelligent, thinking being.
 
Wittgenstein would say that the Terminator has demonstrated behavior that shows it has a mind. But should we agree with him? Is the behavior of a human and a T-101 similar enough to say that these machines have a mental life? In
The Terminator
, Kyle Reese claims that Terminators don’t have feelings and don’t feel pain. This implies that Terminators lack emotions and sensations that are an essential part of the mental life of humans. How can Reese know this? Even assuming he hasn’t designed Terminators and he doesn’t know what happens in their heads, his claim seems to be true. Consider the T-101 in the first movie, which shows no signs of emotion at all. It doesn’t behave in a way to suggest that it feels pain, either. The T-101’s arm is cut open, and this doesn’t faze it; neither does being hit by a bullet. Could we say that the machine nevertheless
does
feel pain? As Wittgenstein might ask, what would it
mean
to say that the Terminator feels pain?
 
When a human is in pain, this means that she experiences an unpleasant sensation and is apt to behave in certain ways—for example, she might grimace or cry. But to say that a Terminator is in pain can’t mean
this
. Since the statement about the Terminator’s pain means something different from a statement about a human’s pain, Wittgenstein would say that we don’t really know the relationship between a Terminator’s pain and a human’s pain. It would perhaps be best to say that “pain” doesn’t apply to Terminators at all because their so-called pain is utterly different from human pain. Why would we use the term
pain
in the case of Terminators? How about emotions?
 
The capability of feeling humanlike emotions would be useful for infiltration because then Terminators would appear “more human” not just physically, but in terms of their behavior as well. And they’d be in a better position to deceive real humans. On the other hand, the purpose of Terminators is to kill without asking questions and complete their assigned mission. For them to feel emotions, to be sentimental, or to consider the morality of a certain action would make a Terminator’s main task more difficult. In
T2
, the T-101 explains that it does not have feelings because functionality is the most important thing for a machine. This confession by the T-101, along with Reese’s comment, gives us reason to think that Terminators don’t have the kind of mental life that we attribute to humans, despite their complex behavior. However, as we also see in
T2
, the T-101 is capable of
adapting
as it receives instructions from John Connor. Maybe this should alter our conclusion about their mental lives.
 
“Desire Is Irrelevant. I Am a Machine”: The Mental Life of Terminators

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