Should you say ‘Thank You’ to AI?

‘Summarise this article for me’

‘Give me ideas for my trip to France’

‘Help me organise my schedule’

These are some perfectly reasonable requests we frequently make of the various AI assistant apps and programmes that have recently inserted themselves into our lives. The practical implications of this technology, slowly beginning to reveal themselves, have economists, scientists, and ethicists all trying to predict whether it will be positive or negative. I, however, would like to address a question ripe for discussion.

The statements above, whist indeed reasonable to direct to AI, would certainly not be appropriate if addressed to a friend or family member from whom we used to ask for help and guidance. ‘Could you help me with…’ ‘I would really appreciate your advice on…’ or in a more formal setting ‘Please could you…’ would have introduced each of these requests, as a natural expression of our politeness and respect in addressing another.

Certainly, a person could be forgiven for deeming such politeness an unnecessary inefficiency when communicating with an AI interface. But is it true that we should give up our p’s & q’s when talking to a computer?

On the internet, there are various answers to this question, arguing for or against, but most of these discussions centre around how it might affect the output of your prompt/request, or reference to a future AI overlord who will give us our just desserts for being rude to its ancestor…

Though it might seem the last place we should seek guidance on this topic, this question of ethics has a clear answer in our sources. In order to uncover it, we must recount a rather peculiar tale from one of the foundational events of our history.

In the beginning of the Exodus story, Moshe (Moses) is appointed as the redeemer of Israel, to confront Paroh (the Pharoah) and perform wonders and miracles on behalf of Hashem (G-d). And yet, as the iconic story of the 10 Plagues begins, it would be expected that Moshe to assume his role as the harbinger of history. Yet the story reveals a last-minute substitution when the day to initiate the first plague and begin the journey to the subsequent exodus finally arrived.

The first three plagues are introduced in the same way “The Lord said to Moshe: Say to Aharon: Take your staff…”^[1]. After all the build-up to this moment, it is Aharon (Aaron), Moshe’s brother, who is charged with the execution of these plagues, rather than Moshe himself.

Rabbi Tanchum, referred to in the Midrash,^[2] notices this discrepancy, and provides the same answer each time. Both the Nile River (struck by the plagues of blood and frogs) and the sand of Egypt (which summoned the lice) had twice assisted Moshe earlier in life. Firstly, Rabbi Tanchum explains, when Moshe was only a few months old, his mother hid him in the reeds on the bank of the Nile until he was discovered by Paroh’s daughter, protecting him from Paroh’s decree against all newborn boys. Later, when Moshe’s eyes are opened to the reality of his people’s suffering under the brutal Egyptian slavery, he strikes down an Egyptian taskmaster that he witnesses beating a fellow member of his people, hiding the body of his victim in the sand.

Rabbi Tanchum explains as follows. If the Nile, protector of an infant Moshe in the basket, and the sand, co-conspirator in Moshe’s selfless defence of an innocent Hebrew slave, were turned into blood and lice respectively or made to disgorge frogs, it would have showed scant respect from Moshe to his two saviours. Hashem, therefore, did not want Moshe to be the one to trigger these plagues, as it would be deeply ungrateful of him to strike those that had saved him in the past.

On the surface, this seems like a puzzling answer. Firstly, why should Moshe hold sensitivity towards non-sentient, inanimate objects, and feel grateful towards water and sand? Secondly, from Moshe and Hashem’s perspective, this was surely not to be considered foul treatment, rather, if we are to assume that these entities do feel, should we not assume that they would be honoured and proud to take part in Hashem’s wonders? A deeper reading provides us with the answer, an answer that addresses precisely what ethical behaviour is all about.

Both challenges mentioned above are valid, in as much as the focus of Moshe’s actions is the Nile/sand, and the result of his actions. But when it comes to ethics, so the Torah here teaches us, what is more significant is the perspective of Moshe, the perspective of the person doing the action. For Moshe to strike out at these entities might be justifiable objectively, even fulfilling the Divine purpose, but for Moshe it would (should) feel as if he were being ungrateful. Were he to allow this justification to decide his actions, he would simultaneously erode his own moral sensitivity, that voice of conscience within him that knows that ‘it just isn’t right’. Furthermore, it is lesson to all of us – once we start to silence that voice, it will not be long before we stop paying attention to it entirely.

Returning to AI, as it possesses no sentience it certainly does not need our pleasantries. However, even at the expense of a less efficient process, we stand to lose a precious part of ourselves if we rely on justifications to steamroll our inner voice that knows that saying please and thank you is the right thing to do. Think of it this way – speaking to an AI is not only the issuing instructions, but a reflection of our selves, and the way we choose to treat the world around us.

^[1] Shemot (Exodus), 7:19, 8:1, 8:12

^[2] Shemot Rabba 9:10; 10:4,7