In its pragmatic turn, the new discipline of AI ethics came to be dominated by humanity's collective fear of its creatures, as reflected in an extensive and perennially popular literary tradition. Dr. Frankenstein's monster in the novel by Mary Shelley rising against its creator; the unorthodox golem in H. Leivick's 1920 play going on a rampage; the rebellious robots of Karel \v{C}apek -- these and hundreds of other examples of the genre are the background against which the preoccupation of AI ethics with preventing robots from behaving badly towards people is best understood. In each of these three fictional cases (as well as in many others), the miserable artificial creature -- mercilessly exploited, or cornered by a murderous mob, and driven to violence in self-defense -- has its author's sympathy. In real life, with very few exceptions, things are different: theorists working on the ethics of AI completely ignore the possibility of robots needing protection from their creators. The present book chapter takes up this, less commonly considered, ethical angle of AI.

In early April, the European Commission published guidelines intended to keep any artificial intelligence technology used on the EU's 500 million citizens trustworthy. The bloc's commissioner for digital economy and society, Bulgaria's Mariya Gabriel, called them "a solid foundation based on EU values." One of the 52 experts who worked on the guidelines argues that foundation is flawed--thanks to the tech industry. Thomas Metzinger, a philosopher from the University of Mainz, in Germany, says too many of the experts who created the guidelines came from or were aligned with industry interests. Metzinger says he and another member of the group were asked to draft a list of AI uses that should be prohibited.

Thomas Metzinger had his first out-of-body experience when he was nineteen. He was on a ten-week meditation retreat in the Westerwald, a mountainous area near his home, in Frankfurt. After a long day of yoga and meditation, he had a slice of cake and fell asleep. Then he awoke, feeling an itch on his back. He tried to scratch it, but couldn't--his arm seemed paralyzed.

To understand human consciousness, we need to know why it exists in the first place. New experimental evidence suggests it may have evolved to help us learn and adapt to changing circumstances far more rapidly and effectively. We used to think consciousness was a uniquely human trait, but neuroscientists now believe we share it with many other animals, including mammals, birds and octopuses. While plants and arguably some animals like jellyfish seem able to respond to the world around them without any conscious awareness, many other animals consciously experience and perceive their environment. In the 19th century, Thomas Henry Huxley and others argued that such consciousness is an "epiphenomenon" – a side effect of the workings of the brain that has no causal influence, the way a steam whistle has no effect on the way a steam engine works.

In his 2003 book, Being No One, Thomas Metzinger contends there is no such thing as a "self." Rather, the self is a kind of transparent information-processing system. "You don't see it," he writes. "But you see with it." Metzinger has given a good amount of thought to the nature of our subjective experience--and how best to study it.

In his 2003 book, Being No One, Thomas Metzinger contends there is no such thing as a "self." Rather, the self is a kind of transparent information-processing system. "You don't see it," he writes. "But you see with it." Metzinger has given a good amount of thought to the nature of our subjective experience--and how best to study it.

In his 2003 book, Being No One, Thomas Metzinger contends there is no such thing as a "self." Rather, the self is a kind of transparent information-processing system. "You don't see it," he writes. "But you see with it." Metzinger has given a good amount of thought to the nature of our subjective experience--and how best to study it.