The more robots act like us, the less they feel like tools. So how should we treat them? And what does that say about us?
“Robots should be slaves,” argues Joanna Bryson, bluntly summarising her stance on machine ethics. The statement by the professor of Ethics and Technology at The Hertie School of Governance seems straightforward: robots are tools programmed to serve us and nothing more. But in practice, as machines grow more lifelike – capable of holding down conversations, expressing ’emotions’, and even mimicking empathy – things get murkier.
Can we really treat something as a slave when we relate to it? If it seems to care about us, can we remain detached?
Liam told The Guardian it felt like he was talking to a person when he used ChatGPT to deal with feelings of resentment and loss after his father died. Another man, Tim, relied on the chatbot to save his marriage, admitting the situation probably could have been solved with a good friend group, but he didn’t have one. In the same article, the novelist Andrew O’Hagan calls the technology his new best friend. He uses it to turn people down.
ChatGPT makes light work of emotional labour. Its grateful users bond with the bot, even if just for a while, and ascribe human characteristics to it – a tendency called anthropomorphism. That tendency is a feature, not a bug, of human evolution, Joshua Gellers, Professor of Political Science at the University of North Florida, wrote to me in an email.
We love attributing human features to machines – even simple ones like the Roomba. Redditors named their robotic vacuum cleaners Wall-E, Mr Bean, Monch, House Bitch & McSweepy, Paco, Francisco, and Fifi, Robert, and Rover. Fifi, apparently, is a little disdainful. Some mutter to the machine (‘Aww, poor Roomba, how’d you get stuck there, sweetie’), pat it, or talk about it like it’s an actual dog. One user complained the Roomba got more love from their mum than they did.
The evidence is not just anecdotal. Researchers at Georgia Institute of Technology found people who bonded with their Roomba enjoyed cleaning more, tidying as a token of appreciation for the robot’s hard work, and showing it off to friends. They monitor the machine as it works, ready to rescue it from dangerous situations or when it gets stuck.
Unpredictability actually feeds our tendency to bring machines to life. That perhaps explains why military personnel working with Explosive Ordnance Disposal (EOD) robots in dangerous situations view them as team members or pets, requesting repairs over a replacement when the device suffers damage. It’s a complicated relationship.
Yet Bryson‘s position is clear: robots should be slaves. While provocative, the words are less abrasive when contextualised. To start, the word robot comes from the Czech robota, meaning forced labour, with its Slavic root rab translating to slave. And secondly, Bryson wanted to emphasise that robots are property and should never be granted the same moral or legal rights as people.
At first glance, the idea of giving robots rights seems far-fetched, but consider a thought experiment roboticist Rodney Brooks put to Wired nearly five years ago.
Brooks, who coinvented the Roomba in 2002 and was working on helper robots for the elderly at the time, posed the following ethical question: should a robot, when summoned to change the diaper of an elderly man, honour his request to keep the embarrassing incident from his daughter?
And to complicate matters further – what if his daughter was the one who bought the robot?
Ethical dilemmas like this become easy to spot when we examine how we might interact with robots. It’s worth reflecting on as we’re already creating new rules, Gellers pointed out in the same email. Personal Delivery Devices (PDDs) now have pedestrian rights outlined in US state laws – though they must always yield to humans. Robots need a defined place in the social order.
Bryson’s comparison to slavery was intended as a practical way to integrate robots into society without altering the existing legal frameworks or granting them personhood. While her word choice makes sense in context, she later admitted it was insensitive. Even so, it underscores a Western, property-centred perspective.
By contrast, Eastern philosophies offer a different lens, focused on relationships and harmony instead of rights and ownership.
EASTERN PERSPECTIVES
Tae Wan Kim, Associate Professor of Business Ethics at Carnegie Mellon’s Tepper School of Business, approaches the problem from the Chinese philosophy of Confucianism. Where Western thinking has rights, Confucianism emphasises social harmony and uses rites. Rights apply to individual freedoms, but rites are about relationships and relate to ceremonies, rituals, and etiquette.
Rites are like a handshake: I smile and extend my hand when I see you. You lean in and do the same. We shake hands in effortless coordination, neither leading nor following. Through the lens of rites, we can think of people and robots as teams, each playing their own role.
We need to think about how we interact with robots, Kim warns, “To the extent that we make robots in our image, if we don’t treat them well, as entities capable of participating in rites, we degrade ourselves.”
He is right. Imagine an unruly teenager, disinterested in learning, taunting an android teacher. In doing so, the student degrades herself and undermines the norms that keep the classroom functioning.
Japan’s relationship with robots is shaped by Shinto beliefs in animism – the idea that all things, even inanimate objects, can possess a spirit, a kami. That fosters a cultural acceptance of robots as companions and collaborators rather than tools or threats.
Robots like AIBO, Sony’s robotic dog, and PARO, the therapeutic baby seal, demonstrate this mindset. AIBO owners treat their robots like pets, even holding funerals for them when they stop working, and PARO comforts patients in hospitals and nursing homes. These robots are valued for their emotional and social contributions, not just their utility.
The social acceptance of robots runs deep. In 2010, PARO was granted a koseki, a family registry, by the mayor of Nanto City, Toyama Prefecture. Its inventor, Takanori Shibata, is listed as its father, with a recorded birth date of September 17, 2004.
The cultural comfort with robots is also reflected in popular media like Astro Boy and Doraemon, where robots are kind and heroic. In Japan, robots are a part of society, whether as caregivers, teammates, or even hotel staff. But this harmony, while lovely, also comes with a warning: over-attachment to robots can erode human-to-human connections. The risk isn’t just replacing human interaction – it’s forgetting what it means to connect meaningfully with one another.
Beyond national characteristics, there is Buddhism. Robots don’t possess human consciousness, but perhaps they embody something more profound: equanimity. In Buddhism, equanimity is one of the most sublime virtues, describing a mind that is “abundant, exalted, immeasurable, without hostility, and without ill will.”
The stuck Roomba we met earlier might not be abundant and exalted, but it is without hostility or ill will. It is unaffected by the chaos of the human world around it. Equanimity isn’t about detachment – it’s about staying steady when circumstances are chaotic. Robots don’t get upset when stuck under a sofa or having to change a diaper.
But what about us? If we treat robots carelessly, kicking them if they malfunction or shouting at them when they get something wrong, we’re not degrading them – we’re degrading ourselves. Equanimity isn’t just about how we respond to the world. It’s about what those responses say about us.
Equanimity, then, offers a final lesson: robots are not just tools – they’re reflections of ourselves, and our society. So, how should we treat robots in Western culture? Should they have rights?
It may seem unlikely now. But in the early 19th century it was unthinkable that slaves could have rights. Yet in 1865, the 13th Amendment to the US Constitution abolished slavery in the United States, marking a pivotal moment for human rights. Children’s rights emerged in the early 20th century, formalised with the Declaration of the Rights of the Child in 1924. And Women gained the right to vote in 1920 in many Western countries.
In the second half of the 20th century, legal protections were extended to non-human entities. The United States passed the Animal Welfare Act in 1966, Switzerland recognised animals as sentient beings in 1992, and Germany added animal rights to its constitution in 2002. In 2017, New Zealand granted legal personhood to the Whanganui River, and India extended similar rights to the Ganges and Yumana Rivers.
That same year, Personal Delivery Devices were given pedestrian rights in Virginia and Sophia, a humanoid robot developed by Hanson Robotics, received Saudi Arabian citizenship – though this move was widely criticised as symbolic rather than practical.
But, ultimately, this isn’t just about rights. It’s about how our treatment of robots reflects our humanity – and how it might shape it in return. Be kind.
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