Ex Machina, Empathy, and Autism

I just finished watching the film, Ex Machina, and - while I thought much of it was interesting and thought provoking - there were some parts that made me cringe. The most cringe-worthy moment for me was when the protagonist made this remark:

CALEB: It got me thinking. In a way, the joke is the best indication of AI I’ve seen in her. It’s discretely complicated. Kind of non-autistic.
NATHAN: What do you mean?
CALEB: It was a play on words, and a play on me. She could only do that with an awareness of her own mind, and also of awareness of mine.

Obviously, the writer has not seen how much autistics can love puns and such... Joking aside, though, this is a perpetuation of the old trope, stereotype, myth that autistics do not have empathy (Asperger's Syndrome, in fact, used to be called autistic psychopathy.) The idea is that if you can read someone's expression and respond accordingly, you are empathic, and therefore more human than machine (so... autistics are less human and more machine?) There's one serious problem with this, though. Take, for instance, the fact that computers are easily more capable of identifying facial expressions and responding accordingly given the right coding without being anywhere near an A.I. So... simple (relatively speaking) machines are more empathic than humans, now?

Autistics do, in fact, often have trouble identifying facial expressions, their meaning, associated emotions, and attaching those expressions to reasons, causes. This can cause confusion, certainly, and social turmoil. Autistics can also learn all those things because it's a simple case of "if x, then y." It is hardly algorithmic and more a simple set of equations. But if anyone said that understanding human behavior is easy enough for the general public, they're just plain moronic. Training, experience, and memorisation can only get anyone so far. More 'neurotypical' brains may tend to devote more faculties innately to the recognition of facial expressions and tying them accurately to a cause, but this does not remotely make the person more empathic.

Empathy is a noun that comprises both empathetic and empathic abilities. Empathetic, in its most linear form, simply means 'pertaining to understanding some aspect or aspects of someone else's place in the world at some time or place.' For instance, to identify that a person reduced to the fetal position in a ditch as aircraft fly above dropping bombs is probably terrified. Empathic, however, means more that which pertains to feeling someone else's emotions, creating a sort of sync between oneself and another, emotionally.

The A.I. in that movie, AVA, in my opinion, did not seem glaringly autistic, but since autism really only refers to a particular type of neurology that isn't always noticeable on the surface, perhaps her man-made brain would bear similarities to an autistic one if it could be mapped the same way. This wouldn't make her any more or less of a being, nor would it necessarily have a tremendous impact on if she can have empathy or not. There are also two different kinds of empathy: emotional and intellectual. Intellectual empathy is not barren in psychopaths, often regarded as lacking empathy. Emotional empathy can be abundant in autistics, often regarded as lacking empathy. What this means is that psychopaths are more likely to be able to intellectualise and analyse human behavior, and from that point of view, deduce how and why a person might act or feel a certain way given the certain circumstances at hand.

Autistics can lack in this particular type of empathy, as I know I have throughout my own life, but we're often enough strong in emotional empathy, as previously stated. Emotional empathy is being able to connect with another on an emotional level, instinctively sensing how others are feeling. Note that this does not necessarily mean there is any capability of drawing accurate conclusions as to how or why the person is feeling that way. The simple fact is that if someone is sad, we may feel sad, too. If they are agitated, we might become agitated. If they're happy, we might become happy. Even if we, personally, do not become filled with the emotion, itself, we can often enough sense it.

So, the common misconception of autistics lacking empathy is merely the observation of how autistic frequently may have difficulty drawing accurate conclusions as to why people feel the way they do, or understanding specific facial expressions or socially normative behaviors. These are things a computer can be easily and readily programmed to do, especially given something as rudimentary as a camera to draw visual data. Computers can detect lies, honesty, facial and micro-expressions, and draw conclusions far more readily and accurately than any human. Yet this is what others seem to identify as empathy, and which they see autistics as lacking. 'Lack' is frankly a trivial word to use, in the first place. A basketball player might 'lack' the ice-skating ability necessary for hockey, but does that mean they're 'lacking' as an athlete? The perceived lack of ability is only relative to some particular norm, such as necessary skills for playing hockey. But the athlete might do just well as a basketball player, and may only show deficit when attempting hockey. If they so wish to play hockey, they can just start learning the necessary skills, and if those skills don't come to them naturally or at all like they may for some others, it does not mean they are 'lacking' as an athlete, overall. (Now, I hate sports, so that was quite the analogy for me to draw up, but I think it fits and most people will get it.)

Autistics can make jokes, be emotionally and cognitively complex and layered, be plenty aware of others and others' cognizance, be empathetic on a variety of levels, and we're not robots. Also, if such a kind of empathy as being able to recognise emotions, expressions, and behaviors, and then draw conclusions from them, were a true sign of sentience, consciousness, and intelligence, then computers have been sentient, conscious, and intelligent for a while, now. But they aren't, so that must not be the actual determiner of such things. In the hierarchy of things, this film seems to place computers anywhere from somewhere below to on-par with autistics, then everyone else above autistics, and A.I. above all else.

In an interview, the director of the film, Alex Garland had this to say:

Well, I mean, basically, what I’ll tell you is that where I come from with regard to scientists is to my mind slightly different to the way they’re often perceived. It seems to me like scientists are often presented as being autistic, or having Aspergers or something a la “The Imitation Game,” which, I’m pretty sure, is not what Alan Turing was actually like anyway. So either you go that kind of route, or they’re presented as being the holders of truth, these dry truth-holders who refuse to listen to emotion. And maybe that’s actually related to the sort of “Aspergers-y” presentation.

Autistics, Asperger's included, often seem to refuse to listen to emotion because of a history of being overly emotional. Certainly, there are those of us who are actually much more analytical, objective, and rational, but this is a personality trait, not so much the outright result of autism. But autistics are just human, like anyone else, which means we have the same sorts of variance of personality and qualities as anyone else. One autistic may, in fact, be very aloof, analytical, and cold, even, but that doesn't mean we all are. Some might be very emotional, irrational, and impulsive, but that doesn't mean we all are. And then there's a whole range, spectrum, between the two poles.

My person experience is that I'm a highly emotional and empathetic individual with very high emotional intelligence, but human behavior can still baffle me, like how it can baffle anyone at certain points; I may also have difficulty discerning what certain behaviors and facial expressions mean, especially if I haven't encountered them very often. However, when I become too emotionally or sensorily overloaded, it feels like my brain 'shuts down,' and I temporarily reboot with only the bare necessities of analytical capability. This can make me seem cold, aloof, distant, and emotional vacant, but I can assure you that I'm not. In fact, my feelings can still get hurt, I can still become confused by others, and I can still try and want to be emotionally sensitive to others. It is simply a self-regulatory mechanism to allow my emotional and sensory functions to recuperate. It is partly due to others' ignorance and misunderstandings that it has taken me roughly the first 20 years of my life to learn this about myself, and it can take yet others far, far longer, if they ever reach that point. Misinformation, misunderstanding, stereotypes, and myths can all do tremendous damage, and this has been seen regularly throughout the autistic community.

So, no, the hierarchy does not have autistics at the bottom with simple, non-sentient machines, and non-autistics, or at least 'neurotypical' sorts above us. Rather, autistics and non-autistics are just as human and sentient as one another... and then A.I. remain above us all, because, damn it, they have super-computers for brains!

I Reminisce of Sepia-Steeped Days

Either way, I'm fucked,
Fucked with or without you.
I'd rather rot alone
Than make you rot with me, too.

As much as I may want to spend my every waking moment
Laying beside you in hopes of just one solitary dream,
I just know that I'd pull you down to my depths;
I'd rather die alone than let you hear my silent screams.

I reminisce
Of sepia-steeped days;
A younger me
Who still happily plays.
I remember dragons
Flying high above the swings
As I close my eyes;
When nature still sings.

I've seen a million lands
Reaching to the depths of my mind.
I've seen verdant valleys,
And I've seen much darker kinds.
I want badly to return,
And it's not that I don't try.
But these days are days
I'm just more prone to cry.

There's no magic bean
To grow a magic bean stalk.
Never again will I be clean
On this path I'm doomed to walk.
There are no magical lands
For me to be whisked off to.
I watch the falling sands;
Oh, where the time flew.

I reminisce
Of sepia-steeped days
As I close my eyes,
When nature still sings...

Opening the Floodgates

I want to write this... but I'm not really sure how, at the moment... I've been struggling with my mind, lately. I've been struggling with urges of self-harm. I've been struggling with my heart, and where I want to go in life. I'd looked into the lock box I keep my meds in, after having refilled my pill boxes. I grabbed a half of an edible, and several hours later, here I am.

I can feel everything. I feel as though I am more hyper-aware of my five senses, allowing me to feel each and every minute sensation in complete detail. I feel more aware. I float beneath my eyes, from the vantage of the third eye, watching, feeling everything around me. I can feel so deeply, it reaches into another dimension.

I started watching an episode of Bones where the forensic anthropologist interns are tasked with identifying remains previously deemed unidentifiable. One of the remains becomes the primary focus because it was found to be directly related to 9/11. A homeless man, previously a Desert Storm veteran, was forgotten in our history, and the interns work to give this skeleton, this man... his life back. It's a tearjerker for even those not familiar with the series, I guarantee. They all recall the exact snippet of their lives in which 9/11 occurs. I couldn't help, after monologue after monologue, burst into tears.

The longer I endured crying about my own memories, suddenly unlocked and profoundly powerful, of 9/11 in my own life, the more I began to realise that my tears were for something else entirely. Officially, I arrived to the mutual severance of my longest and most profound relationship ever before. The show unlocked a gate to my true feelings in my life at this time.

I cried and grieved for a relationship lost. I grieved in acknowledgement of the profound power this loss has had in my life. I grieved for a love deeper than I had ever felt before. I acknowledged the profound nature of this transition and new path. 

Every inch of growth is a profound rebirth.

The Struggle of Struggling

Why is admitting to having a struggle so... well, much of a struggle? Why does it seem so impossible to change our perceptions of struggle being weakness? Largely, I would say, it is from past experiences when we admitted to struggling, or even just tested the waters with a small glimpse suggesting we might be struggling. After hearing phrases like, "Get over it," or "Pull yourself up by the bootstraps," or even "I'm so sorry for you!", we simply equate struggle of any kind to weakness. In our eyes, according to the clandestine, unspoken rule of society, we are never supposed to struggle. No, struggle means you're failing, and failing means you ARE a failure. This is why it's so difficult.

So what do those of us who are struggling do? Many need help, but are far too reluctant to ask for any. Their burdens become buried deep within the heart, eating away at the soul like wood rot setting in. If we do this for too long, our very foundations become so rotted and weak that we simply fall apart and collapse within ourselves. There is also another reason for not wanting to share that one is struggling: we don't want to be a 'burden' to others. It is this thought that we should never have to rely on others, let alone add any extra burden to their lives, but that is what is most important about having others in our lives. We are not social creatures who form bonds and communities because we are completely self-sufficient. No, we do this so that we can rely on one another when the need arises, and yet we don't. We continue to suppress our feelings and bury them deeply within ourselves.

I've noticed a common theme, in that those who take on everyone else's burdens bury their own burdens deep inside as to not burden anyone else. So carrying all of one's own burdens, and the burdens of others, becomes so impossibly exhaustive and destructive that we either implode or explode. Neither is good at all. We empaths, who connect on the deepest levels with others, and who feel a sense of duty and devotion to help relieve the world of sorrow and darkness, well... we try to stuff all of that sorrow and darkness within ourselves. We often feel that our purpose in life is not to ever be happy, but to soak up all of the darkness in the world that we can so that others don't have to have darkness in their lives, but this is an impossible, Sisyphean feat which could never be truly accomplished. No matter how good our intentions, no good truly comes of this self-destructive cycle. It eats away at us, one little nibble at a time.

So, in conclusion, we all need to try to lean on others a little more. We need to seek help more, confide in others more, and not be so afraid to share our struggles with others. But, in this same spirit, we should also try our best to help ourselves out of the struggle, and not rely wholly on others. Neither extreme is good or healthy in any way. A balance must be attained where everyone can feel safe to share their burdens, yet a commitment to also try to solve those burdens. It's never a bad thing to need to ask for help.

Embracing the Whole

I move forward and backward in time... I can feel my heart pulsating through my body, a mixture of heaviness and lightness in my limbs, a feeling as though - at any moment - gravity might disappear and I'll begin to float, suspended weightless mass that is caving in on itself. My breathing shallow, my head in a sort of daze, I struggle to think words, and yet I contemplate things far more complex than I otherwise could. In this state, the outside world both exists and doesn't. I feel as though on the outside looking in, seeing our entire dimension from another. The world is both vibrant and colorless, both light and dark, both shapeless and concrete. I feel as though I sink into my body, going further and further back into some darkness infinitely, and yet always contained in my body. I feel both within and detached from my physical being. The world, all existence, pulses with waves of energy.

I feel so separate from the world, and yet I feel closer than ever. I feel whole, yet I feel destined never to connect with another in the truly human way as I've ascended (yet sunken inside of myself) to spiritual transcendence. It's somewhat lonely and cold, yet I feel a warmth as though embracing and old friend with a powerful sense of nostalgia. I feel limitless sentimentality. I see my life fly by as though on a grand film, crossing and interweaving with countless others'. I'm an observer. No matter how much I wish to intervene, to take action, I float listlessly on the outside, in another state of consciousness, of being. All war, all conflict, seems menial and pointless. In this dimension, there is no good or bad, no positive or negative, no suffering or ambitions... All things simply exist. All things simply are.

A womanly figure made of spiritual essence embraces me with warm, open arms, kissing me and, in doing so, releases all that is tied to my mortality. All my worries, all my strife, all my struggles released. Everything flows freely into the ocean of time and space at once, each individual moment, though, actions, feeling a single drop in the infinite sea. My relationship to existence becomes like music. I am not hearing what is originating from one source to my being through direct transference, but by vibrations through the air that eventually reach me. I am exposed to all the universe, and yet it's only indirectly. I'm outside, but consumed.

This is but a vision of my eventual fate. As I die and decompose, I will become, once again, a part of the whole, giving and taking, creating and destroying. My spirit will float freely in a parallel existence, observing the entirety of the universe all at once and forever now, then, and to come. Up, down, forward, backward, side to side... None of these things exist, no Euclidean plane to pinpoint and exact. No, this is the quantum world, where past, present, and future, and all directions in time and space, exist in one place and everywhere at the same time, infinitely. This is the home I have forgotten. This is the home I will always return to...

On: The Self

I often feel surreally on the outside looking in, as though I know something that the entirety of the rest of the world is somehow blind to. I think how ignorant and foolish mankind is as I stare down at them in astonished wonderment as to how they could be so stupid! And then, after some time, I realise I was looking in the mirror but hadn't realise it. I realise how ignorant and arrogant I was, not to mention presumptuous. I just find it far easier to criticise and call out others in those regards than to call myself out. But then, I wonder, how am I supposed to teach anyone anything if I don't call them out, if I don't criticise them..? I'm not criticising in the most common sense, but in the sense of a well-meaning critique, intended to help provide guidance and improvement, yes? No, not so much. At least... not with the exclusion of myself. I cannot drone on about how no one is special without saying that I am not special. I cannot drone on about equality while raising myself above others. I cannot drone on about how selfless I am without saying how selfish I am, as well. There are two sides to every coin, after all, and I even say often enough how much duality has veins deep within my world-view and personal philosophies.

But this arrogance of my act simply demonstrates the point! I point out other's ignorance or arrogance, but in doing so, must also confront and point out my own. My spiritual views are pantheistic, and I believe all that is is God, and therefore God is all that is. Doesn't conflict with the bible, nor many other religious views, either, which I'm contented about. I also see the entire universe as fractals from the smallest things in existence to the very largest. Patterns woven into the fabric of reality over and over, creating bigger and bigger versions of those same patterns. I believe all is one, and one is all. Therefore, whenever I say something of someone else I hold to be true, is that not therefore true of me in some way? Is the world around me, and all those who fill it, not simply a reflection of myself in some way?

When I lash out, it's because I'm also lashing in, in essence. My loathing of the world tends to merely reflect my self-loathing. Likewise, others being happy can very well make me happy, even if I have no idea who it is that is happy – I merely know that they are happy, and that's enough. Their happiness makes me happy because the two – I and they – are reflections of one another. Likewise, I preach letting go of the ego – or the self – in favor of living for others, and yet acknowledge the necessity of serving one's self, lest they cannot serve others. Serving others, however, serves the self, just as much as one must serve the self in order to serve others. The two are one and the same, so really, I mean that one must let go of the illusion that the two are different. Oneness with God, in my views, is no different than Oneness with the Universe. Therefore, loving thy neighbor is fundamentally loving thyself, as well. These are what I personally hold to be mutually inalienable truths.

If others are delusional, then so am I. If others are dumb, then so am I. If others are selfish, then so am I. However... if others are intelligent, then so am I. If others are beautiful, then so am I. If others are loving, then so am I. One is One with God whether one wishes it or not, and yet I see Hell as the dissonance of one from God (and, therefore, the universe, including those around them.) This dissonance, this disconnect, causes friction and frustration, discord and dysphoria. You can believe or not believe in God, it does not matter. You can see God as merely a literary device or metaphor, but I implore you not to let religion or semantics get in the way of these words I write.

Accept your flaws when you can. Accept the flaws of others when you can. Accept your good qualities when you can. Accept the good qualities of others when you can. Accept yourself for who you are, but accept others for who they are, as well. This does not mean you should become complacent. This does not mean there is no need, nor reason, to change. However, in the moment, all is as it is, and nothing can change that, as change happens over time, and therefore cannot happen in the moment that all is as it is. Accept that you do not have power over all, but also accept that you are a part of the universal power over all that exists. The point is not to succeed in these things, nor is it to become a 'perfect' human being. Rather, by accepting these things, you accept the reality that such is quite impossible, and that no one is perfect. The point is simply to try. Try for yourself, but also try for others. Try for others for yourself, and try for yourself for others. Give to the universe, and you give to yourself. Give to yourself, and you give to the universe. However, by making a distinction, by giving to yourself purely for your own sake, you breed dissonance and discord with the universe, and by giving to the universe purely for the universe's sake, you breed self-destruction.

Shut-Down

If, in person, I seem mute, it's not my intention. My mind is going a million miles per hour, screaming, but my lips don't move, my voice does not resonate. As I become more and more overwhelmed, my body starts to shut down, piece by piece, and my voice is quite often one of those things that just seems to 'turn off.' At the worst, I can become totally non-responsive, and yet consciously and fully aware (except that my eyes also may be closed.) I become trapped in a shell that is my body, struggling to move even a single finger. Fear and terror fill my mind and turn into a cyclonic fireball of utter self-loathing and destruction. But this is all inside. No one can hear it, and no one can hear me. I scream, but not a noise comes out. I can appear almost dead, breathing shallowly, unresponsive to most stimuli, unable to speak or move, eyes often closed. And yet... I'm still there. My mind is still present. And so I am simply left there to listen, to feel, to hear, to smell, to taste, and sometimes - if I can manage to open my eyes - to see. But, with all of these things, I still cannot seem to interact with the world around me. Others begin to feel or treat me like I no longer exist, or like I'm some petulant poltergeist trying to nudge, pull, squeak - trying to make any kind of outward communication possible.

Many people can be left speechless. This is a whole other thing. Imagine being an android, but believing that you're a human. Suddenly, as if by remote control, your arms stop working. Someone just turned them off. No matter what you try to do, you can't move them voluntarily. Next, your legs. You collapse, unable to hold your own body up. You try to call for help, but your voice also got turned off. You have trouble moving your jaw, your lips, and your eyes get extremely heavy. All of your nerves still work, so you can feel every sensation, you are present of mind, but trapped inside of the cage that your body has become, unable to be heard, unable to do anything at all. It's isolating... Dreadful... One of the only things I can think of that might embody the true Hell.

Love..?

Dead.

Joy..?

Dead.

Hope..?

Dead.

Rationality..?

Dead.

Reality?

Dead.

People get divorced over this. Realities become so warped that it infects the actualities of the reality. What is depression? The brain... literally - and I do not mean figuratively, but literally - dying. Brain cells start decaying and dying, neural activity lessons, the spiritual and emotional centres of the brain undergo a brownout where all positivity is severed from consciousness. The happiness, joy, and love being stripped from you, and so suddenly, shreds your heart apart. You question everything you thought was true, and begin to doubt everything.


"Do I really love her?"

"Is this what I want for my life?"

"I'll never be happy again."

"Everything hurts."

"There's no forward, backward, left or right. I'm lost."

"I'll never get out of this dungeon!"

"Kill me. Please, kill me."

"I want to stab myself in the head with a pitchfork."

"I don't want you to see me like this!"

"Help... Please... Help me."

"I'm already dead inside. Just end my misery."

"No future... There is no future..."

"No one loves me."

"AHHHHHHHH!"

"I scream and scream, but nobody hears me."

"Trapped, locked in this cage. I can't get out. I'll die here."

"I can't take it anymore!"

"The world is better off without me."

These are the things people with major depression truly feel, think, and sometimes even say.