Author: Abigail Cornelius

At the start of the semester, we were asked to write two papers, one on what we found inspiring, encouraging, hopeful in what we have learned about/experienced with Artificial Intellence (AI) so far, and another on what we found troubling, disturbing, unsettling that Butler’s fiction presents the reader with. Now that we are asked to discuss the opposite, I have been reflecting on my claims made in my past papers. My new conclusion: I find the symbiotic relationship between humans and the Oankli inspiring, encouraging, and hopeful. I now find the dependent relationship between humans and AI troubling, disturbing, and unsettling.

From the beginning of the semester, I was starkly against using AI. As stubborn as I am, I knew that this course would challenge me to rethink what I understand to be AI and how I felt about its uses. In my first essay in the class, “We Fear the Unknown Until We Conquer It,” I explored the alternative use of AI and challenged myself to develop a more nuanced view. In that paper, I stated, “I know I need to do more research and possibly try to think outside of my personal fears and needs. I have found myself hesitant to cheer the rise of AI on.” For the most part, my feelings are the same.

 I do not encourage the use or development of AI, though I understand the advantages, especially for those who could benefit from learning or comprehension aids. I claimed “I may use writing aid AI sparingly, but that doesn’t mean I should damn those who don’t.” However, I now find myself wanting to take a step back from my personal use of AI—the little use I had. To quote myself again, I once said, “I see a student who has done all the ‘brain work’ and uses AI to help them with grammar and spelling after they have put all of their thoughts down.” I now believe that the ‘brain work’ includes grammar and spelling, but more importantly, I find it difficult to draw lines on what is or isn’t an acceptable use of AI. How can I justify drawing those lines for other people? My personal use aside, I am still stuck in the same predicament from the beginning of the semester. With my greater understanding of AI through the semester, what I find troubling, disturbing, and unsettling regarding AI is: Are we creating a dependence on AI?

I would like to elaborate on a claim I had made in my earlier essay, “Who is the Villain in Dawn (1987)?:“Perhaps what troubles, disturbs, and unsettles me the most is that I can see where both sides are coming from—something I usually take pride in… how can I wilfully ignore the needs of the Oankli who have rescued, healed, and housed the human race?” My main problem with Lilith’s Brood was my unsettling feelings about the Oanakli. I struggled to justify their need to relocate and manipulate humans. This—as Beth would say— is where language fails us. Yes, the Oankli manipulate humans and other species throughout the trilogy, but that does not indicate that they themselves are ‘manipulative.’ When reading the trilogy in good faith, I was challenged to understand what is really going on with the Oankli and the humans, without my human bias. Once I gained this understanding, I was then able to accurately criticize both sides and understand where the different perspectives in the book were coming from. For example, understanding the needs of the Oankli allowed me to not only better understand but also enjoy the narrative perspectives of Jodahs and Akin as they, too, are challenged by the intentions of the Oankli and the feelings of the humans.

In comparing Oankli to AI, I am reminded of an argument I made in my original Oankli paper. “As many of my fellow readers agree, at first glance and possibly reinforced throughout the book, the Oankli seem to have colonized Earth.” I go on to explain why this is not demonstrated and supported in the text. “The troubling thought created by labeling the Oankli this way is that it inadvertently justifies real-world colonization…Insinuating that colonizing and displacing the Native population was mandatory for the colonial powers to survive. This, of course, is not true. Colonialism is not a necessity for human life.” The difference between the actions of the book by the Oankli and those of traditional colonialism is that the Oankli must trade genes successfully and are therefore justified. It is how they live, they have every right to gene trade—or manipulate— as humans have every right to hunt animals and eat plants. The same can not be said, however, for AI. Specifically, AI companies—comparable to the Oankli in their manipulation of humans—are not justified in their damages to the human race. Which begs the question: Is AI a necessary damage, or just damaging? Like colonialism, the capitalistic actions of AI companies are not necessary, and their damages are unnecessary collateral.

In my original paper on AI, I concluded that AI is potentially harmful, but drawing a hard line on who, where, and when it can be used is not in good faith. “Though I believe AI’s path can be potentially dangerous, I now feel the need to resist the urge to judge it. How can I judge a technology that has helped people with problems I don’t need help with, such as ADHD?” Throughout this class, I have changed my stance slightly. Though, of course, I am sympathetic to those who use AI as a cognitive aid if they have disabilities, and I again recognize that drawing hard lines on who gets to use AI and when is tricky, I still find myself overwhelmingly against the use of AI. I am now more aware of how AI companies have been creating a false need for their product. 

As a young woman living in the capitalist United States, I am more than aware of the prevalence of companies creating a fake problem in order to sell you a product you do not need—creating a problem to sell the solution. Some well-known examples of this include: Apple removing the headphone jack from phones to sell wireless buds instead, the skin care industry creating products that damage your skin just to sell you the product that will “fix it.” I am confident that AI companies are doing the same thing. This begs the question: What are AI companies trying to sell you?

As we have discussed in class, AI is full of false promises. In AI Snake Oil, they discuss the claims of predictive AI and how little evidence there is to back these claims up. Specifically, AI has been implemented to take over jobs such as cashiers, servers, and other in-person minimum wage jobs. But don’t fret if AI took your job, it can find you another! Predictive AI has claimed to be the solution to sifting through job applications and finding suitable clients. This, of course, then takes jobs away from interns who normally do this job. On top of the irony surrounding AI in the minimum wage job market, they also often do not work correctly, as AI does not wield the power to read human energy, earnestness, or spirit—whatever you would like to call it. 

As my fellow student Claire Lustig pointed out, we have metaphorically opened Pandora’s box with AI, as Butler did with the actions of the Oankli. We can erase the damage or introduction of AI, but we can learn how to live with it without it taking over. The same goes for the Oankli. They are not going to leave and undo the impact they have had on humans, but both humans and Oankli can learn to live together. That being said, what do we do now? In my ealer paper, I stated, “I would like to argue that humans’ ability to adapt to technologies and innovations they once feared is inspiring, encouraging, and hopeful in and of itself. If this is true, why do humans struggle with change so much?” In my paper, I explained that “We will fear the unknown until we produce the urge to conquer it.” Stating that we will create fear around new concepts and perpetuate false narratives to self-soothe. This is more than apparent in the case of the Oankli; there is a very real fear of the Oankli, an unknown and more powerful group of people who not only possess the power to potentially transform and manipulate the genes of humans, but they actively and openly do. The change of heart I had was when I took the time to learn the needs of the Oankli and took a deep dive into the relationship of the humans and Oankli, and now understand the symbiotic nature. When taking a deep dive into the relationship of humans and AI, I did not come to a similar conclusion. I believe that AI is not here to aid humans in a symbiotic relationship; AI is here to create a dependency and sell a product while getting rid of human innovations.

According to our universally accepted source of all information, AI (please note my sarcasm), when asked the very unnuanced question, “Who is the villain of Octavia Butler’s Dawn (1987)?” the AI gave a very straightforward answer. “In Dawn by Octavia E. Butler, the Oankali are the colonizers who control the humans. The humans themselves are also responsible for violence.” Now, I interpret this as AI labeling the Oankali as the story’s villain, though they acknowledge that humans contribute to some of the violence in the book. I find it interesting—yet not surprising— that AI would use the term “colonizers” to describe the Oankali. 

This brings me to my initial thoughts of being troubled, disturbed, and unsettled. As many of my fellow readers agree at first glance and possibly reinforced throughout the book, the Oankali seem to have colonized Earth. Colonization is defined as “the establishing of a colony…subjugation of a people or area, especially as an extension of state power.” The troubling thought created by labeling the Oankali this way is that it inadvertently justifies real-world colonization—such as in the Americas by British, French, and Spanish colonizers— as a means of survival. Insinuating that colonizing and displacing the Native population was mandatory for the colonial powers to survive. This, of course, is not true. Colonialism is not a necessity for human life.

What the Oankali must do, gene trading, is, in fact, a necessity for Oankali life. Jdahya explains this to Lilith. “We do [gene trading] naturally. We must do it. It renews us, enables us to survive as an evolving species instead of specializing ourselves into extinction or stagnation” (43). Out of all the alienness in this book, the concept of necessary gene trade with another species is difficult to wrap my head around. What doesn’t help is my seemingly endless list of unanswered questions surrounding this process in this book. However, I can assume some—most likely not all— of my questions will be addressed in the following two books in the trilogy. My most pressing questions include: What does an extinction of the Oankali look like? How often will the Oankali have to gene trade? To what scale must they trade? How much have the Oankali changed from each other? Furthermore, is there a gene-traded genetic cousin of the Oankali, such as the human being, to the lesser great apes? (notice my inherent hieratical language.)

At my core, I am troubled by the assumptions I cannot make about the Oankali. I dislike how humans—specifically Lilith— are treated as experiments and must suffer casualties throughout the book. But again, it troubles me more that I can not, in good faith, damn the Oankali for what they must do to survive. Knowing this, I have an increasingly unsettling thought regarding my AI quote. “In Dawn by Octavia E. Butler, the Oankali are the colonizers who control the humans. The humans themselves are also responsible for violence.” Is this true? Are the humans the ones responsible for the violence in the book?

The Oankali—based on Butler’s world-building– has discovered, through human genetics, that human nature is “composed of two traits in tension with each other: the much older hierarchic trait that constantly stomps on the younger intelligence trait.” as stated in a class discussion. It took roughly two weeks of reading Dawn and participating in class discussions to wrap my head around this idea. It seemed as though I was not alone. Beth exclaimed, “There was understandably some dismay among participants at this Oankali claim that is true within the world that Butler has built.”

Though I took comfort in the fact that my classmates also struggled with this concept, I quickly learned that I had a different problem than the rest of my class—based on those who chose to voice their objections. What made me troubled, disturbed, and unsettled was the claim that humans are genetically predisposed to hierarchy. I outright challenged this in class many times, so confident in my stance, taking my background in anthropology to mean my word on human evolution and human behavior is, in fact, law. 

What a humbling experience this was. I am proven wrong within the book when Lilith is labeled as a leader and teacher and, at times, perceived as a captor and traitor (all hierarchal positions created by and sustained by humans alone). What profoundly changed my thinking, though, was a comment made by Beth. She gently reminded me that though human beings are not genetically predisposed to create human-centric hierarchical governments, such as the aforementioned colonial powers, we are undoubtedly hierarchical at our core. Beth asked me a straightforward question: What do humans do for food? Incredibly humbled, I realized the human predisposition to categorize ourselves as our species above others, the plants and animals that we must eat to survive. Rarely do we ask the animals, and never do we ask the plants if they can allow us to eat them humanely. Just as the Oankali must gene trade with humans in this book, never mind whether or not they ask. 

The difference between human consumption of plants and animals and the Oankali relationship between humans paints humans in a much more troubled, disturbed, and unsettled light. This is because, unlike humans, the Oankali do not see the world as hierarchical.

Most of my classmates questioned or even rejected the Oankali statement that they are not genetically hierarchic. Many of my classmates clung to one quote from the book. “And in spite of Jdahya’s claim that the Oankali were not hierarchal, the ooloi seemed to be the head of the house.” (53). This is what Lilith perceives to be true based on her experiences as a hierarchical human.

We are reminded that Lilith is an incredibly convincing protagonist, but we cannot take her word as law. Butler tasks us with challenging the internal scripts running through our minds about what we understand about the Oankali; I believe this in and of itself is evidence to support the Oankali’s claim that humans are hierarchical to the point of disrupting our own intelligence. We are given a fact: The Oankali do not and cannot be hierarchical, and we actively choose to fight this despite the evidence we are presented. Not unlike the flat-earth and parallel anti-ship argument presented in the book.   

Perhaps what troubles, disturbs, and unsettles me the most is that I can see where both sides are coming from—something I usually take pride in. While I am quick to side with the humans who are obducted, isolated, manipulated, and ultimately bred by the Oankali, how can I wilfully ignore the needs of the Oankali who have rescued, healed, and housed the human race?

The rise of artificial intelligence (AI) over the last several years has been simultaneously exhilarating and terrifying. When I am asked; Is there anything inspiring, encouraging, hopeful in what you have learned about/experienced with AI so far? I know I need to do more research and possibly try to think outside of my personal fears and needs. I must admit I have been leaning toward one side over the other. Due to professors’ warnings about incorrect information produced by AI, problematic results regarding personal biases encrypted into AI programs, and fears of overreliance, I have found myself hesitant to cheer the rise of AI on. 

In searching for inspiring, encouraging, and hopeful qualities about AI, it is important to recognize that AI is an umbrella term. In the opening line of “You look like a thing, and I love you,” we are reminded that “artificial intelligence” means a lot of things, depending on whether you’re reading science fiction or, selling a new app, or academic research. While sci-fi AI is often used as a villain or obstacle, AI as a tool can be incredibly effective. 

I personally use AI every day without even thinking about it. For example, I use spellcheck. Apple helps me with spelling and grammar errors in every text, and the same is true for every sentence I write for class—not including handwritten work, of course—as my commuter also uses AI.

 Students in class seem to be using AI in the same way. Several students stated through Padlet that they use spellchecking AI, “I use grammarly to fix mistakes that I may have made in my writing.” and “I use AI the most with advanced grammar and spellcheck.” Some even go a step further, “I will paste [my work] into ChatGPT and ask it to check if my grammar or sentences make sense.” Though I’m not doing the grading, I don’t see this as academic dishonesty. I see a student who has done all the “brain work” and uses AI to help them with grammar and spelling after they have put all of their thoughts down.

Spellcheck and other AI are being used as an aid for people with ADHD, according to one ‘super user’. “Ross, who has attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder (ADHD) and uses they/them pronouns, says they’ve more than doubled their productivity by using AI for almost everything.” This is a perfect example of an effective use of AI that I wrongfully neglected. Just because I don’t struggle with something—to the same extent— doesn’t mean other people couldn’t use a tool to help them. Imagine judging someone for using the elevator when they haven’t been given any stairs. I may use writing aid AI sparingly, but that doesn’t mean I should damn those who don’t. 

In a class discussion about the public perception of AI, my fellow student Claire Lustig created an incredibly effective metaphor. She describes the rise of AI as a mythological Pandora’s box. Humanity has come upon this infinitely powerful entity that can change our lives in ways we can not anticipate and can not take back. I would like to argue that humans’ ability to adapt to technologies and innovations they once feared is inspiring, encouraging, and hopeful in and of itself.

I grew up in an era of exponentially increasing technology. Of course, all generations have major and minor technological advancements that sometimes rewrite people’s entire livelihoods. My generation grew up in the age of the internet–-an innovation that has conquered every aspect of our daily lives. This did not go without an adjustment period from the public. Why should we expect anything less from the introduction to AI? To tackle this moral dilemma of mine, I will dive into how and why humans adapt to change—like artificial intelligence.

Not only is the rise of AI comparable to that of other technologies, such as the Internet, television, and mobility aids, but this is also not the first time the public has feared these large changes. We discussed in class that new technological advancements often lead to moral/social panic, at least at the beginning of their introduction to the public. 

In response to my group’s conversation, Beth began to tell an interesting story about the first Matrix movie, which shifted my perspective of AI. Beth explained, “That [the] film has a lot of phones in it, both relatively new cell phones and lots of fetish-y shots of landlines with twirling, whirling phone cords. The scholar’s research had revealed that when [the] telephone first came on the scene, moral panic ensued.” This is a remarkably similar situation to the fears surrounding AI. Humans are great adapters by nature (I confidently say that as someone dedicating my life to studying how and why they adapt as an anthropologist). 

If this is true, why do humans struggle with change so much? Well, to use circular thinking, it’s because we are humans. We will fear the unknown until we produce the urge to conquer it. Beth later explained why people were so afraid of something that now seems so crucial to our everyday lives. The public feared young people would use phones to talk to each other naked. While yes, this most undoubtedly happens, it has not led to the destruction of civilizations as people predicted. (Note that I’m being hyperbolic here, but people have certainly responded to AI to this level of catastrophe). 

While the intellect and innovation necessary to create artificial intelligence are unfathomably impressive in their own right, what inspires, encourages, and brings me hope the most about AI is how humans have been able to face their fears and begin to adapt and mold it to their needs. When looking back at how humans first encountered modern technology, such as the telephone or the internet, it can be natural to judge their stubbornness. Though I believe AI’s path can be potentially dangerous, I now feel the need to resist the urge to judge it. How can I judge a technology that has helped people with problems I don’t need help with, such as ADHD? It’s all fun, games, and critical thinking until you’re the old dinosaur cursing at your Alexa, blaming the youth for letting technology take over without acknowledging the good it has done for others.