Is Compassion the Next Frontier of Technological Innovation?

A few days ago, a marathon held in Beijing marked the first time that specifically designed humanoid runner robots participated alongside actual human runners. Rather than a display of technological prowess, the publicity focused on just how much the humanoids lagged behind the humans, with the fastest robot finishing more than an hour after the human winner, and three-quarters of the robot entries dropped out of the race. The event became a testament to just how difficult it remains for robotics to fully mimic such basic human actions as running, despite advancements in AI and precision manufacturing.

The risk the Beijing authorities took in getting robots to run next to the humans was more than just a technological one. With the publicized event clearly a gimmick to get extra attention to the city (and China's) robotics industry, the marketing strategy depended on some definition of success. The technology certainly did not deliver, with online meme-makers busily creating video compilations of all the robot runners' sometimes hilarious trip-ups and face planks. Millions watching TV probably felt that human runners had little to fear from the immaturity of the robotic industry on display.

Yet, behind the technological failure, the organizers managed to market an ideology that is much more valuable than any robot: a willingness to display utter failure to millions, showcasing a willingness to tolerate errors, mistakes, and imperfections as the first step to creating truly competitive robots. The Beijing authorities' openly embarrassing themselves to a global audience was also a conscious decision to become a role model for resilience. Startups making second-rate robots today, the government is almost saying, should keep going and not be afraid of the initial ridicule.

Such a drastic marketing message is necessary because, quite often, the general public treats technological failures with a distinct lack of compassion. Many, used to the sophistication of consumer electronics that play with everyday life, have come to expect any tech that comes into contact with the public to be products of numerous prototype iterations, testing, and retesting for any permutations of errors before the final polished products go to the market for general consumption. They see emerging industries like humanoid robotics through the same lens.

It goes without saying that in these industries with no right answers, the lack of compassion, if not tempered, can become emotional obstacles for perseverance. Image-conscious investors, particularly the state-linked ones, may flee from those making primitive machines, even if further investments and improvements could potentially lead to world-changing results. The founders themselves may lose hope in the face of widespread ridicule, giving up their entrepreneurial dreams as they can no longer bear the peer pressure of standing down from their ridiculous failures.

That needed compassion may be found in a rather unlikely source: religion. Pope Francis, who passed away hours ago, symbolizes how the word of God can be interpreted to embrace not just diversity in backgrounds but also skills and capabilities, tolerating and even celebrating imperfections as long as efforts are made wholeheartedly for rectification. Religion binds together and accepts flawed humans, boosting their self-confidence and sense of belonging. Failures are no longer a source of ridicule, but a positive source of energy for growth and learning.

Why not apply the same teaching to other humans and machines? Pope Francis was known for reaching out to those Catholics would normally consider enemies and heretics. He saw handshakes and embraces as the first step to pave over cracks in individuals and groups, so that those with conflicts can learn from one another and grow together. Can't humans, both the entrepreneurs who are struggling to harness the full potential of tech, and the skeptics criticizing the danger or incompetence of machines, work together with themselves and machines through shared attempts at mutual understanding and compromise?

As the repeated explosion of SpaceX rockets show, tech can thrive if people are unafraid of showing off their failures and then progress upon them. But many people are not mentally strong enough to fail so publicly, despite marketing efforts to signal otherwise. Concerted efforts at compassion can fundamentally bridge the gap between the need for risk-taking and the fear of public repercussions. If failures are no longer a necessary evil on the road to success, but celebrated for its essential role in success itself, imagine how fast those running robots will improve in the coming years.