communication

All posts tagged communication

Kirsten and I spent the week between the 17th and the 21st of September with 18 other utterly amazing people having Chatham House Rule-governed conversations about the Future of Artificial Intelligence.

We were in Norway, in the Juvet Landscape Hotel, which is where they filmed a lot of the movie Ex Machina, and it is even more gorgeous in person. None of the rooms shown in the film share a single building space. It’s astounding as a place of both striking architectural sensibility and also natural integration as they built every structure in the winter to allow the dormancy cycles of the plants and animals to dictate when and where they could build, rather than cutting anything down.

And on our first full day here, Two Ravens flew directly over my and Kirsten’s heads.

Yes.

[Image of a rainbow rising over a bend in a river across a patchy overcast sky, with the river going between two outcropping boulders, trees in the foreground and on either bank and stretching off into the distance, and absolutely enormous mountains in the background]

I am extraordinarily grateful to Andy Budd and the other members of the Clear Left team for organizing this, and to Cennydd Bowles for opening the space for me to be able to attend, and being so forcefully enthused about the prospect of my attending that he came to me with a full set of strategies in hand to get me to this place. That kind of having someone in your corner means the world for a whole host of personal reasons, but also more general psychological and socially important ones, as well.

I am a fortunate person. I am a person who has friends and resources and a bloody-minded stubbornness that means that when I determine to do something, it will more likely than not get fucking done, for good or ill.

I am a person who has been given opportunities to be in places many people will never get to see, and have conversations with people who are often considered legends in their fields, and start projects that could very well alter the shape of the world on a massive scale.

Yeah, that’s a bit of a grandiose statement, but you’re here reading this, and so you know where I’ve been and what I’ve done.

I am a person who tries to pay forward what I have been given and to create as many spaces for people to have the opportunities that I have been able to have.

I am not a monetarily wealthy person, measured against my society, but my wealth and fortune are things that strike me still and make me take stock of it all and what it can mean and do, all over again, at least once a week, if not once a day, as I sit in tension with who I am, how the world perceives me, and what amazing and ridiculous things I have had, been given, and created the space to do, because and in violent spite of it all.

So when I and others come together and say we’re going to have to talk about how intersectional oppression and the lived experiences of marginalized peoples affect, effect, and are affected and effected BY the wider techoscientific/sociotechnical/sociopolitical/socioeconomic world and what that means for how we design, build, train, rear, and regard machine minds, then we are going to have to talk about how intersectional oppression and the lived experiences of marginalized peoples affect, effect, and are affected and effected by the wider techoscientific/sociotechnical/sociopolitical/socioeconomic world and what that means for how we design, build, train, rear, and regard machine minds.

So let’s talk about what that means.

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Late last month, I was at Theorizing the Web, in NYC, to moderate Panel B3, “Bot Phenomenology,” in which I was very grateful to moderate a panel of people I was very lucky to be able to bring together. Johnathan Flowers, Emma Stamm, and Robin Zebrowski were my interlocutors in a discussion about the potential nature of nonbiological phenomenology. Machine consciousness. What robots might feel.

I led them through with questions like “What do you take phenomenology to mean?” and “what do you think of the possibility of a machine having a phenomenology of its own?” We discussed different definitions of “language” and “communication” and “body,” and unfortunately didn’t have a conversation about how certain definitions of those terms mean that what would be considered language between cats would be a cat communicating via signalling to humans.

It was a really great conversation and the Live Stream video for this is here, and linked below (for now, but it may go away at some point, to be replaced by a static youtube link; when I know that that’s happened, I will update links and embeds, here).

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So this past Saturday, a surrogate speaker for the Republican nominee for President of the United States spoke on CNN about how it was somehow a problem that the Democratic Nominee for Vice President of the United States spoke in Spanish, in his first speech addressing the nation as the Dem VP Nom.

She—the Republican Surrogate—then made a really racist reference to “Dora The Explorer.”

Now, we should note that Spanish is the first or immediate second language of 52.6 million people in the United States of America, and it is spoken by approximately 427 million people in the entire world, making in the second most widely spoken language, after Chinese (English is 3rd). So even if it weren’t just politically a good idea to address between 52.6 and 427 million people in a way that made them comfortable (and it is), there’s something weird about how…offended people get by being “made to” hear another language. There’s something of the “I don’t understand it, and I never want to have to!” in there that just baffles me. Something that we seem to read as a threat, when we observe others communicating by means in which we aren’t fluent. Rather than take it as a chance to open ourselves up, and learn something new, or to recognise that, for some of us, the ability to speak candidly in a native language is the only personal space to be had, within a particular society—rather than any of that, we get scared and feel excluded, and take offense.

When perhaps we should recognise that that exclusion and fear is something felt by precisely the same people we shout at to “Learn the Damn Language.”

But let’s set that aside, for a second, and talk about why it’s good to learn other languages. Studies have shown that the more languages we speak, the more conceptual structures we create in our minds, and this goes for everything from Spanish to Sign Language to Math to Coding to the way someone with whom we’re intimate expresses their emotionality. Any time we learn a new way to communicate perceptions and ideas and needs and desires, we create whole new ways of thinking and functioning, in ourselves. Those aforementioned conceptual structures then mean that we’ll be in a better position to understand and be understood by people who aren’t just exactly like us. Politically, the benefits of this should be obvious, in terms of diplomacy and opportunities to craft coalitions of peace, but even simpler than that is the fact that, through new languages, we provide ourselves and others a wider array of potential connections and intersections, in the world we all share.

And if that doesn’t strike us all as a VERY GOOD THING, then I don’t know what the hell else to say.

Let’s just make it real simple: Understanding Each Other Is Good.

To that end, we have to remember that understanding doesn’t just mean that we make everyone speak and behave exactly the way we want them to. Understanding means a mutual reaching-toward, when possible, and it means those of us who can expend the extra effort doing so, especially when another might not be able to, at all.

There’s really not much else to it.