Recently, I had the privilege to speak one on one, with Swami Sarvapriyananda on the topic of AI Ethics, and also present our work in this area. We presented two of our approaches: one is called "Computational Transcendence" that is aimed at making AI agents act more responsibly, and the second called "Theory of Being" that we argue would be the next evolutionary step in AI-- from "agents" to "beings". We shall not go into the details of our work in this post, and instead, focus on the philosophical talking points that I took back from our discussion.
Firstly, my thanks to Oxford Dharma Centre and its dynamic founder and volunteers who made this happen, and also for the rest of the members of our initiatives on exploring dharmic foundations for a post AI future (not mentioning specific names here, in case there are any privacy considerations).
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The theme of our discussion can be described by the question: "Can the `ought' be derived from the `is'?".
Scientific inquiry has predominantly focused on understanding "what is" rather than resolving "what ought to be". The "is-ness" of physical reality is presumed to be impersonal and indifferent to what ought to be the case. And all questions involving AI acting ethically and responsibly seems to be squarely rooted in the realm of "ought".
The question of ethics is sought to be explained and resolved on the basis of different hermeneutic schools, each of which, identify some fundamental attribute that ought to be pivot for our ethical actions. For instance, utilitarianism is the ethical view that an action is right if it produces the greatest overall happiness or least suffering for the most people, while consequentialism is the broader idea that the moral value of an action depends mainly on its results rather than on the act itself. Deontology takes a different approach, arguing that actions are right or wrong according to expected behaviour in a role-- involving requisite duties, rules, or principles, regardless of the consequences. Virtue ethics in contrast, focuses not on rules or outcomes but on the "character" of the agent-- asking what a good or virtuous person would do. Similarly, Reciprocity is the principle of mutual fairness and exchange, often expressed as treating others as you would like to be treated. Other important ethical views include ethics of care, which emphasises empathy, relationships, and responsibility; divine commandments, which grounds morality in God’s commands; and so on.
In all of the above, the idea of ethics is grounded in some form of "ought", which makes all schools of ethics as some form of ideology. Indeed, all human social systems are sought to be explained within some ideological framework or the other.
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But somehow, the worldview in which we were brought up in, we never saw ethics as a matter of ideology-- it was always something deeper and something more fundamental, and rooted in the very fabric of how nature functions.
Even today, there are several thought leaders who endorse medieval thinkers like Thomas Hobbes, who, in his work Leviathan, describes the "state of nature" (life without government or law) as a "war of all against all." For Hobbes, humans are driven by a constant, relentless desire for power and self-preservation, and are inherently competitive and violent. In this view, morality and ethics are not innate but is a social contract; we agree to act "ethically" only because we fear the chaos of the state of nature and the punishment of a sovereign authority (the state/law) that keeps us in check.
From the worldview that I have been brought up in, this is as alien as it can get. We were taught to regard ethics and morality as something divine-- not in the form of divine commandments that we ought to follow or be liable for punishment-- but as something that represents a refined form of being. A king for example, is evaluated not by his power, but by how well he performs his "Raja dharma", which in our English-medium schools was translated as "duties of a king". Similarly, we learnt that families are run based on "Grihasta dharma" which was then translated as "duties of a householder".
It is hence not really surprising that the term "dharma" is seen as a confused, overloaded term, and is variously translated as "righteousness", "duty", "divine law", even "religion", and what not-- making our worldview just another form of not so well defined, normative system.
Before I come back to dharma that forms the grounding for our notion of ethics (and just about everything else), let me also take up one more question: Is ethics a purely objective construct? In other words, can I act ethically in a system where I bear no consequences of my actions?
For instance, a robot that has been sent to kill a human being (of which, there have already been several documented instances) can justify its actions based on any of the above schools of thought. It can argue that killing that person was necessary for upholding "greater good" (utilitarianism), or by killing the said human, it has performed its expected role properly (deontics), or killing of that person was its way of upholding the virtue of justice, or whatever.
But there is a different between a robot offering such a justification, and a human who had committed this activity, offering a justification. In the latter case, the human has a stake and is subject to judgment and maybe prosecution. A robot has no such stake. Hence, the "ethical" action of the robot is quite different from that of a human.
Also, while a robot knows what it is supposed to do, it does not really know why it is doing this activity. For instance, suppose a robot sent to kill a person were to see that the person is already injured and is unable to offer resistance, or if the person is offering to surrender-- it does not change its behaviour, unless it has been explicitly programmed to watch out for these signals and change behaviour accordingly. It does not encounter a "change of heart" suddenly upon seeing the human side of the adversary. Similarly, one cannot use a strategy like "appealing to conscience" of a rampaging robot, to make it stop its destructive activities.
If we claim that we have resolved "ethics" without the involvement of the subject or their conscience, I'm not sure we have really resolved the question.
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The emerging post-AI society has reached such a quagmire, where the existential dilemmas are so subtle that people can actually be convinced that a rampaging autonomous robot is acting ethically, and all the damage it has caused in this process, is actually justifiable!
What we are seeing now is the saturation point for machine hermeneutics-- which for the past couple of centuries, has been the dominant interpretive framework worldwide, and which is considered the only framework whose explanations can be considered scientific. In this hermeneutic framework, the universe is seen as an impersonal automaton, grounded in material reality, and driven by the laws of physics, where life somehow emerges out of a large number of random interactions, and in turn gives rise to social constructs like ethics, morality, and consciousness.
Indian thought (at least most schools of Indian thought) has rejected this idea of material grounding for life and consciousness, since at least 5000 years. In Indian thought, the fundamental substrate of all reality is a triad-- sat-chit-ananda (loosely translated as existence-consciousness-bliss). This is not three separate entities, but one entity that is the ground of all three. The grounding of all physical (material) reality-- the "is" that is investigated by science, as well as the grounding of all humanist concerns including our sense of self, ethics, morality, freedom, etc. and the grounding of all "Axiology"-- that is, our sense of beauty, aesthetics, art, poetry, etc.-- is this same fundamental reality sat-chit-ananda that is the entire universe.
The dynamics of the existential universe that is grounded in this reality, is itself characterised by different states of being. Each state of being where the system settles down is called its "dharma"-- that represents a sustainable (resilient) state. Each resilient state in turn has different extents of capability (artha) and creative autonomy (kama). (For our purposes, we will not consider the fourth element of Purushartha, that is moksha).
We can see that while non-living ecosystems (like the surface of Mars) can have different sustainable states, it still represents a lower form of "dharma" as it cannot support life (the chit and ananda realms of reality). A better state of being would be a resilient state where capability for life (including wealth, power, etc.) and creative autonomy are also maximised. This would form the basis for a king to administer his kingdom, or for a householder to run his family.
So yes, our sense of "ought" was indeed derived from the "is".
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As part of our conversation, Swamiji also narrated an anecdote about Maa Sharada, where she once admonishes a disciple who throws away the broom after sweeping the floor. She asks him to "treat the broom with dignity"!
While at first, it may appear as someone being overtly sentimental about the "dignity" of inanimate things, this kind of thinking stems from the hermeneutic that treats humanistic constructs like dignity and ethics to be grounded in reality, rather than ideology. While today's India itself has lost much of this kind of approach to life, it can still be seen in other Asian societies. In Japanese culture for example, many practices reflect a deep respect for inanimate objects and physical spaces, treating them as worthy of dignity, care, and even a kind of spiritual presence. This can be seen in traditions such as Shinto, which honours the sacredness of nature and the idea that spirits, or kami, may dwell in places, objects, and natural features. Everyday customs like removing shoes before entering a home, carefully maintaining gardens, wrapping tools with respect, and cleaning public spaces all express the belief that environment shapes behaviour and that order is not merely imposed from outside but cultivated through attention and reverence. This attitude gives objects and spaces a natural sense of civility, as though harmony is embedded in the world itself and should be preserved through disciplined, thoughtful conduct.
