{"id":2700,"date":"2022-07-05T12:26:54","date_gmt":"2022-07-05T16:26:54","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/biran.birankai.org\/?p=2700"},"modified":"2022-07-05T12:28:38","modified_gmt":"2022-07-05T16:28:38","slug":"the-uncanny-valley","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/biran.birankai.org\/?p=2700","title":{"rendered":"The Uncanny Valley"},"content":{"rendered":"
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Alexander Gheorghiu, student at Ei Mei Kan<\/a> <\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Editor’s note: <\/strong>Like delicate flowers peeking through the melting snow, writings on Aikido begin to emerge as more aikidoka return to the mat. My heartfelt thanks to Alex for reflecting (and writing) on why he trains.<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

When the world couldn\u2019t breathe and isolation-separation became the normal way of life, my teacher, Mooney Sensei, made the rounds to all of his students with one inquiry: \u2018Why do you do Aikido?\u2019 This simple, seemingly innocuous, question, he admits, is not really answerable. And yet, it is worth asking. In fact, it is essential to ask it. When put to me, I realized that I had many possible ways of responding, but none of them were really true. It took a while before I thought of a real answer: I do Aikido because of what I have learned doing it. This is what I am summarizing below, an exegesis of my practice.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Mooney Sensei 7th Dan Promotion Celebration at Ei Mei Kan (February 2018). L to R: Tim Sullivan, author, Christopher Mooney, Pierre Alexis-Mouthuy <\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

In a 1970 essay, Masahiro Mori, a robotics professor at the Tokyo Institute of Technology, made a curious observation about people\u2019s reactions to robots that looked and acted almost like a human: as a robot becomes more human, our affinity for it increases, but after a certain point our response suddenly turns to strong revulsion, and only after significant further development does our response become positive again. Mori called the sudden onset of nauseous dislike the “uncanny valley”. Though he did well to note it outright, the observation is not a modern phenomenon, the concept of an uncanny valley has, in fact, lingered on the edge of our collective consciousness for some time; Charles Darwin, for example, recorded in The Voyage of the Beagle<\/em> how the expression on the face of a snake he saw produced in him a certain disgust and loathing, and suggested that this was likely due to it having features somewhat proportional to a human face, prefiguring Mori by over a hundred years. I am concerned with another, non-aesthetic, version of the uncanny valley: personhood.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The rough mise-en-sc\u00e8ne<\/em> for the peak-valley-peak of the uncanny valley I am considering is captured by three riddles:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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A human that is not a person is someone baby-like; that is,\nsomeone whose world extends precisely to the limits of their mind, someone with\nno concept of a world around them. I do not mean anything pejorative in this\ndescription, it is only a metaphor designed to capture the defining quality of\nthe initial peak \u2014 in analogy to Mori\u2019s uncanny valley, they are robots that do\nnot appear to be human at all. This is the starting point from which we will\ndevelop an understanding of true personhood.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

One descends into the uncanny valley from the initial peak\nby a typical process sometimes referred to as growing-up, which means extending\none\u2019s conscience beyond oneself: we adopt ideologies, doctrines and creeds.\nThis acquired collection of ideas constitutes the individual \u2018I\u2019 with whom we\nidentify. And yet, this \u2018I\u2019 is really just a character composed of the sum of\nour history and the collection of our values, and these values are simply\njudgements \u2014 yes-no, good-bad, etc.\u2014 about the world, so it is not really us:\nthe character is not the actor. Ironically, the acquisition of personhood is\nthe process by which we forget who we are. (I am reminded of Mary Shelley\u2019s Frankenstein<\/em>,\nthe genius so carelessly scrapped in the 1931 film adaptation, and sadly ever\nsince, was that the monster was a most erudite and sophisticated thing while\nbeing the grotesque stitching together of \u2018bits of thieves, bits of\nmurderers.\u2019)<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A person tumbling down the valley reaches the bottom when they are fully convinced by the character \u2018I\u2019, submitting fully to the associated world-script. It is the abjection of this mode of life that George Orwell so perfectly captures in the hauntingly creepy last line of 1984<\/em> (\u2018He loved Big Brother.\u2019): it is not the destruction of Winston-the-human that is disturbing, but rather the destruction of Winston-the-person. In other words, the trough of the uncanny valley is inhabited by human automata: those who simulate life but do not really live it \u2014 yes, Mori, humans can approximate robots too, and the effect is equally dreadful. These individuals are machine-like, emptied-out, void; they have a routine that simply keeps turning, but it is performed without feeling or awareness, sleepwalking without sleeping. What is so dire about this position is that the world-script will always differ from reality, resulting in continual dissatisfaction. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Intensive Seminar at Ei Mei Kan (Sep 2019) Tori: Christopher Mooney;\u00a0 Uke: Kaitlin Sabnish Thomas <\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

In precise antagony to the trough, the final peak is defined\nby being entirely free of all rote behaviours and thinking; that is, in\ncontrast to the ghoulish somnambulists of the bottom of the uncanny valley, the\npopulation at the zenith of personhood are fully alive, fully awake. They are\nfree from the character \u2018I\u2019, rendering them fully real<\/em>-ized persons \u2014\nlet me put that again, slower: fully realized persons. Not only do they see\nthemselves truly, but they see the world too just as it is. In their freedom,\nthere is a particular similarity between the inhabitants of the initial and\nfinal peak, and yet the uncanny valley stands between them \u2014 \u2018I wish I were a\ngirl again, half savage and hardy, and free\u2019 says Catherine in Emily Bronte\u2019s Wuthering\nHeights<\/em>, wishing to be free from the burden of adulthood.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I confess, I am in awe when considering this group of beings. I do not think my wonder is misplaced. Allow me to momentarily trapeze between drama and melo- for rhetorical effect: there is a certain divine<\/em> quality to these free persons. Recall that when Moses asks God for his name in the book of Exodus, God does not answer with \u2018Yaweh\u2019 or \u2018Jehova\u2019 or \u2018Allah\u2019 or any of the other myriad appellations conferred upon him by mankind, instead he says simply \u2018I Am that I Am.\u2019 Therefore, one may think of these fully real-ized persons as an evolved specifies of human, homo deus<\/em> (pace<\/em> Yuval Noah Harari). I defer to Lee\u2019s unforgettable analysis of the Cain and Abel story in Steinbeck\u2019s East of Eden<\/em>, where he explains that \u2018this is not theology\u2019. The freedom from this character \u2018I\u2019 means that the full persons cannot say \u2018I couldn\u2019t help it; the way was set\u2019 because all occurrences of \u2018Do thou\u2019 and \u2018Thou shalt\u2019 in the world-script are replaced by \u2018Thou mayest\u2019. In contradistinction to the human automata \u2014 or, for symmetry, homo automaton<\/em> \u2014 who are stuck in a kind of self-fulfilling predestination, the homo deus<\/em> is free to move in any direction… Apologies, Lee, I interrupted you:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"\"<\/figure><\/div>\n\n\n\n

More may be said along the same (melo-)dramatic lines: the\nfree persons possess a kind of preternatural power \u2014 I am purposefully avoiding\nsaying that there is something super-natural, for they are, by definition,\nmaximally natural people. Gazing up from the uncanny valley through the hazy\nmists emanating from the chartered Lethe, it seems that a homo deus lives an\nimpossible life; that is, the effortlessness with which they conduct themselves\nwhile achieving tremendous success in their actions seems like a kind of magic\n\u2014 a word I chose without blushing. Their harmony with the world, in some\ngeneral sense, is their divine quality. A more secular account may use the word\ngrace <\/em>instead.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

So, having descended into the valley, how are we to ascend the other side? How do we become free of the character \u2018I\u2019? Here the ancient Greek injunction of \u2018Know Thyself!\u2019 is pertinent and has an exhilarating symmetry with the more familiar personal question: \u2018Who am I?\u2019 And yet, the Delphic maxim is not very useful since it is, to borrow from the poet William Blake, the mind-forged<\/em> manacles that are the hardest to shake off. At the same time, the personal question is never satisfactorily answered because the paradigm in which it is asked is one of the character \u2018I\u2019 and their world-script. So what are we supposed to do?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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To exit the mire of the uncanny valley requires a total\ncapitulation to the way things are, as opposed to how they are perceived or\njudged or believed to be. One must cast away the discriminating character \u2018I\u2019.\nAnd this giving up is not trivial, it is not a setting aside of things, it is\nletting them blow away completely and irrevocably. Using the metaphor of the\nsleepwalkers in the uncanny valley, this is awakening to reality; put more\ndramatically, since we live vicariously through the character \u2018I\u2019, they must\ndie, and since this \u2018I\u2019 is us, this death is our death \u2014 \u2018You want it darker,\u2019\nsays Leonard Cohen, \u2018We Kill the flame\u2019 \u2014 our awakening is our extinguishment.\nIndeed, in every myth I know, death is ancillary for apotheosis.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

So, what would be left if I were to take away your body and\nyour history, your opinions and your power, your name and even your smile?\nWell, nothing. For me, understanding this \u2018nothing\u2019 is difficult. Perhaps the\nearliest recorded account trying to understand the concept of nothingness is\ndue to Parmenides in the 5th Century BCE and argues that \u2018nothing\u2019 cannot exist\nby the very fact that it is spoken about. The argument seems sound to me, but\none of the premises seems dubious, rendering the conclusion dubious: viz. that\nyou can speak of true \u2018nothing\u2019. Instead, I think it reasonable to suppose that\none cannot even vocalize true nothingness, that the word \u2018nothing\u2019 is only a\nfinger pointing at it. Well, then, I cannot really claim to be able to define\n\u2018nothing\u2019 any better than the question above: what is left when one lets go of\neverything? I may say this though, this \u2018nothing\u2019 is not a kind of nihilism.\nThe character \u2018I\u2019 and their world-script do indeed constitute a world; in\nparticular, it comprises the world of those things that are real in a relative\nsense \u2014 name, body, etc. \u2014 so that the \u2018nothing\u2019 I am discussing is the relief\nto this relativism. Using capitals to emphasize a platonic metaphysics, I may\ncapture this idea with an ironic slogan: form is Nothingness and Nothingness\nis form<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In short, I claim that a person is a gestalt, by which I mean that the components do not make up the whole. The \u2018nothing\u2019 that is left behind when the character \u2018I\u2019 is given up is the actor, the true person. I may call it the soul of the person \u2014 I simply refuse to blush here too. The impossible art of M.C. Escher captures this notion perfectly: look at any fragment of Ascending and Descending and it makes sense, but look at the painting as a whole and it does not; the whole is more than the sum of the parts, it is imbibed with something none of the components have. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Somewhat unexpected, since this nothingness is all that is demanded to exit the uncanny valley, and since it is we ourselves that hold onto the something (i.e., this character \u2018I\u2019), there is actually no barrier to climbing out of the uncanny valley at all! In other words, the demand that we let go of the character \u2018I\u2019 is a gateless gate, a concept that is not only Kafkaesque but actually is Kafka, appearing in The Trial<\/em> as a moral of the sub-story Before the Law<\/em>. So why should it be so difficult? Paradoxically, letting go of the character \u2018I\u2019 and their world-script requires not holding onto something, but it is like having swallowed a red hot iron ball: you try to vomit it but cannot. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Intensive Seminar at Ei Mei Kan (April 2018) <\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

I am detaining us with these philosophical ruminations, we\nhave a long journey to make… We must, at last, begin the ascent from the\nuncanny valley! What do we require for the journey? I defer to King David:\n\u2018Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no\nevil: For thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.\u2019 (Psalm\n23:4). We require great faith to cross the vale of personhood \u2014 I know, quelle\nsurprise<\/em>, but I shall do slightly better than mere platitudes \u2014 and also\ngreat doubt and great determination.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The place of faith is our journey is in recognizing that this character \u2018I\u2019 is not the whole truth; that is, that there is something beyond the world-script. Faith is articulated through action, through ritual and tradition and practices (\u2018…thy rod and thy staff…\u2019). One may call these practices religion, and indeed religion can be a very good way to cross the uncanny valley. More generally, I would propose that this is the defining quality of art; that is, a practice constitutes an art when it is a way to seeing through the character \u2018I\u2019. Of course, it is essential that one\u2019s practice is sincere and with focus on the freedom and not the art itself, otherwise the practice simply becomes another routine, another aspect of the character \u2018I\u2019 \u2014 let\u2019s not forget that the sin of idolatry is the first of the Ten Commandments. It is here that the way in which the rituals of religion are practiced becomes paramount: no one who has witnessed a service done by people of faith could say that it is not artful, but a service done without faith is mere choreography (a bad, bland and boring dance) and, consequently, worthless. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

With great faith comes great danger: one may try to carry one\u2019s practice out of the uncanny valley! This is impossible. The one and only condition for ascending the final peak is that one gives up everything, and that means one\u2019s faith must also be let go. As Rushdie puts it in the The Moor\u2019s Last Sigh<\/em>, \u2018To give up one\u2019s own picture of the world and become wholly dependent on someone else\u2019s \u2014 was not that as good a description as any of the process of, literally, going out of one\u2019s mind?\u2019 Therefore, faith must be counterbalanced, but with what? Rushdie answers us in The Satanic Verses<\/em>, \u2018Question: What is the opposite of faith? Not disbelief. Too final, certain, closed. Itself is a kind of belief. Doubt.\u2019 Hence, we require great doubt to exit the uncanny valley. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Heart Sutra Calligraphy at Ei Mei Kan <\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

Even with great faith and great doubt, and perhaps because\nof them, one is likely to encounter great disappointment, great frustration,\nand great pain. It is too easy to imagine a devout who has spent their whole\nlife reading, studying, learning and memorizing all of the liturgy of their religion\nand has not managed to see beyond the character \u2018I\u2019; or, an artist who has\nmastered their craft at an incredible technical level but has never produced\nanything of significance. Perhaps in their final moment at the end of their\nlife there is a single, simple instant in which they break through the gateless\ngate; and then again, perhaps not. By their practice, these wretches stood a\nchance at ascending the final peak. Worse, just because one practices a craft\nwith integrity and sincerity does not mean that one will be any good at it.\nWhat does one do in this case? Quit? No: too final, certain, closed. As Kipling\nputs it in If<\/em>, all one has in the moments of calamitous sorrow when\none\u2019s heart and sinew are giving up is the \u2018Will which says to them: \u201cHold on!\u201d\n\u2019 Therefore, to exit the uncanny valley and ascend the final peak of\npersonhood, one requires great determination.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

That\u2019s all very well, I hear you say, but what has any of this to do with Aikido? In any martial art one is confronted between one\u2019s idea of things and the reality of things; the first may be represented by you going that way, the second by a fist going this way… Bang! Aikido is the martial art that takes as its founding principle harmony, meaning accepting every- and any- thing just as it is without judgement. In practising Aikido one attempts to literally embody the freedom discussed above. Taken beyond the training mat, this freedom is the letting go of \u2018I\u2019.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Alexander Gheorghiu, student at Ei Mei Kan Editor’s note: Like delicate flowers peeking through the melting snow, writings on Aikido begin to emerge as more aikidoka return to the mat. My heartfelt thanks to Alex for reflecting (and writing) on why he trains. When the world couldn\u2019t breathe and isolation-separation became the normal way of … <\/p>\n

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