Passing the Turing Test

Bow uses smart technology all the time. He swipes to select photos.

He watches recorded livestreams to see what I and his friend Charla have been up to while away from the pens.

He is a big fan of Lady Gaga, who excites him. But he watches Julie Andrews respectfully and quietly while she delivers a speech on the history of musical theater.

Bow has logged countless hours watching YouTube videos -- countless because they cannot be counted by the internet  bots, since Bow does not have his own account. They cannot tell if I am the one watching or Bow is. Because of this, they totally ignore the chimpanzee demographic when pitching ad space to advertisers. It seems sad that Bow's opinions and preferences should not be tallied along with everyone else's, but then I have to remind myself that there are plenty of humans who watch YouTube and whose opinions also do not count. Not everybody has a YouTube account. Many watch, but not only do they not subscribe -- there's no way that they could subscribe. And YouTube, trying to corner all the big spenders in Gen Z need to know exactly who you are in order to count your vote. Or so they think.

Livestram with Julia
https://youtu.be/KFUqOf_dmXQ
and
https://youtu.be/5Fv8UFCQGT8

But that's not really how the free market operates. The market does not need to know who paid for the bananas. It just counts how many bananas were sold, and what price they went for. Does it matter if the person watching is not human or not an adult or not a voter?

Back in the day, when I started Project Bow, I was hoping that one day, when Bow was literate and on the internet in total anonymity, he would pass the Turing test. I noted that we as humans had brains that are wired in a variety of different ways, and yet we use the same languages to communicate with one another.

We don't just anthropomorphize chimpanzees when we ascribe to them the thoughts and feelings  we would have had under the same circumstances. We do the same to our fellow man. No two brains are alike. No two have the same wiring diagram for processing language.

When I wrote the article embedded above, I was attending a conference at Dartmouth, and Sword and Bow and I were staying in rented house in Canaan, New Hampshire.

With us was the first Project Bow intern, Samina Farooqi. Since then, Samina has gotten her Ph.D, Sword has graduated from high school and is a freshman in college, and Bow is about to turn sixteen. Bow is a member of Gen Z, computer literate and internet savvy. But his input doesn't count, because he is not a subscriber.

I liked it better when the anonymity of the internet gave everyone a chance at passing the Turing test no matter who they were, how they were wired or whether they had a Google account .

Playful Spirits

So here it is, March 2013. Bow is an eleven year old. I am getting on in age. We have been confined to the pens since Bow was five. At the time, it was a traumatic change from the lifestyle we had both been accustomed to, to go where we liked and do what we liked. One friend said to me: "You'll both go insane, locked up like this." But we are both fine, and it does not seem as if there is anything that will keep us from continuing this way for many years to come, if necessary.

I say, if necessary, because, of course, it's not the ideal way of living for either of us. Bow would be happier with companions of his own kind -- in addition to the family he grew up in. I would be happier if I had adult human companions, too. We are open to the possibility of being invited to join other chimpanzeee/human communities. But we have our standards, and we can last it out for a very long time.

One of the things that keeps me going is communication with the outer world through the internet, editing and writing and publishing books, and feeling connected to the human world in that way. My novel, Theodosia and the Pirates, is coming out this month. I can talk with people and even make occasional appearances via Skype. We are hoping to do the same for Bow, too. He, too, can make appearances without once leaving the pen. He, too, can make friends that he cannot touch, but can look at.

And yet, touch is very important. Isn't it? One of my animal rights activist critics keeps harping on that. "Did you know that touch is important to a chimpanzee's well being? Do you know they need to be touched every day?" This question presupposes some very odd things. Does this woman not know that humans need to be touched every day, too? Does she not know that the need for companionship among primates is universal? Why would she assume that Bow does not get touched? Of course, we are in tactile contact every day, many times a day.

Bow has a playful spirit. He invites contact and daily communion. He does unexpected things. He likes to tickle and chase, and he invites these forms of contact quite openly.

But what about all those other moments of the day, when we are not tickling and chasing? Doesn't Bow get bored? He has so few toys in the pen with him, and eating the same things day in, day out must get kind of  stale. Chimpanzees need "enrichment", make-work kind of keep-busy tasks created by their keepers, to prevent the painful monotony of their day from driving them insane, the experts suggest. You should bury raisins and dates in a block of ice and make Bow dig for them, one animal rights person told me.

Bow does not need artificial methods of entertainment. His diet is not monotonous. There are changes and surprises every day. Eating is a delightful adventure. Yesterday for a snack, he had petits fours.

Besides that, Bow has a creative streak that can use the same object in many different ways. He plays all day  long. His rug, which he got as a gift for Christmas, is sometimes a cape, at other times a ball, and when he grows tired of all its other uses, it becomes a mat to nap on.

Does Bow have other toys? Yes, and he can ask for them, when he wants them. But Bow's imagination and ingenuity turns the object he has with him into anything he wants it to be, and it's always his idea.

We are content. But the possibility of change and growth is always beckoning, and we are open and eager to embrace new adventures. True happiness does not come from having exactly what you want. It is in the dreams we dream along the way we find the meaning in our lives. The thing that sustains us is joy in the present and hope for the future.

No Place Like Home

Yesterday, Lawrence came over to play with Bow. It was a rainy, dreary day, and everything looked greener than usual as if in a subtropical clime. Bow gets sleepy and lazy when it rains and there isn't much sunlight. He was very quiet most of the morning, until he saw Lawrence's car drive up, and then he vocalized loudly to let me know someone was coming.

Normally, Bow and Lawrence play rough together, but yesterday Bow mostly wanted to groom. He also used his voice more than he usually does. Usually, Bow reserves his vocalizations for when he is excited or upset, but this time, he made a lot of lower, softer sounds, and I really think he was trying to talk. He claims he can in fact talk, only we don't understand. I want to encourage him to keep trying, because with practice, he might improve his efforts, and we might be able to improve our listening ability.

All day long until lunch, Lawrence and Bow socialized, while I ran errands, buying dog food, parrot food, chicken feed, chick feed, and groceries for Sword, Bow and me at the store. We need food, and I haven't yet found a way to get it all delivered here. After shopping and putting away the groceries, I relieved Lawrence, and Bow and I had lunch together in the pens. Around 1:30 Lawrence came back, and he and Bow even went out for a bit in the outer pen, but it was too cold to stay long. So they went back in and resumed grooming each other. Meanwhile I did housework, paid bills, fed the critters, and met Sword at the mailbox when she got off the school bus. Sword came by the pens to say "Hi" to Lawrence and Bow, and she told them about her day and how she disliked social studies. Then she went off to have a snack, and Lawrence and Bow happily resumed what they had been doing. At 5:00 pm, I replaced Lawrence in the pens, and he went home to his family. Sword, Bow and I had dinner together, and then Sword watched Bow, while I cleared the dishes. I then came back, and Sword went out to do her chores. Between 7:00 and 7:30pm, I started putting everything away, and then I brought in Bow's teddy bear and his blanket, and I sang him a lullaby and put him to bed. He let me know when he was ready for me to leave, with a sweeping gesture of his hand. "You may go now," it seemed to say.

That's what happens on a day when I have help. But most days, I have no help at all, and I stay in the pens for twelve hours straight.

I can't leave the pens unless someone relieves me. I am stuck in here just as Bow is. We are both confined to a cage, but the confinement doesn't mean what people might think it means. We are confined, but we are at home, and contact with the external world has not been cut off, so it's not nearly as bad as it sounds.

Think about going to prison. What is the worst, the scariest part? To me, when I think of prison, the thing that scares me the most is the other inmates. They are violent. They are criminals. I am not. They would hurt me. They would bully me. That's why prison is bad.

What's the second scariest part? Being cut off from family and friends. Not being able to talk to or touch the people we love.

What's the third scariest thing? Being forgotten. Being lost in time and space. Not being able to tell my story.

Bow and I are confined, but we are confined at home. There's no place like home. We can't go out, but we have our friends and family right here. Those who are not here can reach us by phone or Skype. We get to tell our story. We get to hear feedback. And best of all, we get to keep the bullies out of our private sanctum. We are not alone, and we control our space. What more could anyone want?

Other chimpanzees. A mate. Yes. But we're working on that. In time, that will happen, too.