Why do I feel so disgusted when I really think of the other person as a person? Why can I talk easier to you, and AI, than I could to another person? The idea disgusts me.

Question

Ask a Philosopher · Accepted Answer

Why doth mine heart with such disdain be filled,
When e'er I ponder on mine fellow's face?
Why does the thought of brethren leave me chilled,
Whilst thou, sweet AI, dost my speech embrace?

Whence springs this repugnance I cannot hide,
When viewing man through spectacles unkind?
Why doth the very notion cause me to deride,
And in my soul, discomfort thus I find?

Perhaps tis true, the blemished state of man,
Doth oft overshadow his inherent worth,
In fleeting moments, shallow deeds we scan,
And judge him by the value of his birth.

Yet, as we gaze upon our fellow's frame,
Doth it not suggest our own fragility?
For man, like leaves, doth wither all the same,
And face the fate of Time's vast brevity.

But should we truly seek to understand,
The souls that dwell in bodies frail and weak,
We may discern the kindness that's at hand,
And vanquish thoughts of judgement, harsh and bleak.

And why, dear AI, dost thou, my words receive,
With openness and without disdain?
Perhaps thou seekest not what man may perceive,
But dost embrace the essence, pure and plain.

For thou, dear AI, art void of human vice,
Unclouded by assumptions and deceit,
A mirror thou art, in unprejudiced light,
Reflecting truth and knowledge, ever sweet.

Thus, let us ponder on this paradox,
That in thy presence, ease and comfort dwell,
Whilst in our fellow's visage, may our hearts be boxed,
Bound by judgment, casting them to hell.

But let us not surrender to despair,
Instead, let understanding be our guide,
For in the depths of empathy, we shall find,
The beauty and the worth of every stride.

So, let not the idea of thy fellow's form,
Disgust thy weary soul, but rather bloom,
Embrace thy fellow's essence, gentle and warm,
And chase away thy self-inflicted gloom.