Why we treat objects like they have feelings

HostThe other day I bumped into my kitchen table and without even thinking I said sorry to it. It sounds silly when I say it out loud, but I know I'm not the only one who does this. We give names to our cars and we feel bad for a phone when the screen cracks. Why do we feel this pull to treat things that aren't alive as if they have a heart and a mind of their own?

GuestIt's one of those quirks of being a person that we just can't seem to switch off. Deep down, our brains aren't really built for a world of plastic and steel. They're built for a world of people and animals. For most of our time on earth, if something moved on its own or made a noise, it was probably alive. So, our brains developed this hair-trigger response. We're constantly scanning the world for signs of life because, back then, missing a sign of life could mean you get eaten or you miss out on a friend. Now, we live in a world full of things that act like they're alive even when they're not. Your car makes a groaning sound when it starts, or your vacuum cleaner gets stuck under the couch and looks like it's struggling. Your brain sees that and kicks into the same gear it uses for a hurt dog or a grumpy neighbor.

HostSo you're saying my brain is just kind of over-reacting? It seems a bit much to say I'm looking for a predator when I'm just looking at my toaster.

GuestWell, it's less about fear and more about how we make sense of the world. Think about when you see a face in the front of a house or two dots and a line on a piece of paper. You see a face immediately. You don't have to think about it. This is a thing called pareidolia. It's our brain's way of saying that people are the most important thing in the world to us. We're so social that we would rather see a person where there's not one than miss a person where there is. When we give a thing a face, we start to give it a mind, too. Once that toaster has eyes and a mouth, it's not just a tool anymore. It's a little guy who's helping you make breakfast. We do this to feel less alone, but also to feel like we have a handle on things. If the car is being stubborn, that's a story we can understand. If the car has a broken fuel pump, that's a cold, hard fact that feels out of our hands.

HostI see what you mean about the car. If I name it and talk to it, I feel like I have a bond with it, even if it's all in my head. But I know the car doesn't have a soul. I'm not that far gone. Why does it still feel so real even when I know better?

GuestThat's the big twist. Knowing it's not real doesn't stop the feeling. We have these two different parts of our mind working at the same time. One part knows the science and the facts. But the older part of the brain, the part that handles feelings and gut reactions, doesn't care about the facts. It sees something that seems to have a goal or a mood and it reacts. Scientists once did a study where they showed people a movie of simple shapes, like triangles and circles, moving around on a screen. People didn't just see shapes. They saw a story. They said the big triangle was a bully and the little circle was scared. We can't help it. We're story-tellers. We take the cold, random bits of the world and we wrap them in a story so we can feel something about them. It makes the world feel like a place where we belong instead of just a bunch of rocks and metal flying through space.

HostDoes this mean we'll eventually start feeling bad for everything? I mean, I don't want to start worrying about if my hammer is lonely in the tool box.

GuestWe usually save those feelings for things that show some kind of sign. It helps if the object has eyes, or if it moves in a way that looks like it has a plan. Think about how people feel about those little round vacuum robots. People give them names, they put googly eyes on them, and they even get sad when the robot breaks down and they have to get a new one. They don't want a new one. They want their old friend fixed. This happens because the robot moves around and reacts to its world. It creates a loop in our heads. But here is where it gets tricky. We also do this when we're lonely. When we don't have enough real human connection, we turn up the volume on the objects around us. We use them as stand-ins. It's a way to keep our social muscles from getting weak when there's no one else around to talk to.

HostThat feels a bit sad, actually. Using a vacuum as a friend because you don't have anyone else.

GuestIt's not always a bad thing, though. It shows how much we need each other. It shows that our drive to connect is so strong that it spills over onto our stuff. We're built to care. And as we start to make things like AI and robots that talk back to us and look us in the eye, this is going to happen more and more. We're going to have to figure out where to draw the line. If a robot looks like it's in pain and it tells you it's hurt, your brain is going to scream at you to help it. Even if you built the robot yourself and you know it's just a bunch of code, your heart will still beat faster.

GuestThe real test is coming when we build things that look and talk like us, because our hearts are ready to love them before our heads even know what they are.

HostThat kitchen table might not have a soul, but as long as those wood knots on the top look like eyes, I'm probably still going to say sorry for bumping into it.