Tachikoma's Ghost and Words as a Tool

Ghost in theShell: Stand Alone Complex takes between the 2030 and the 2035 after World War III, a nuclear war between developed countries changed the global balance of power, and a non-nuclear World War IV which cause the collapse of Third World states.... The advance of technology, particularly cyberization technology and the internet, has also drastically increased the frequency of cyber-terrorism. The ability to ghost hack, the act of intruding into the brain of an individual, is one of the most heinous cyber crimes and is used by individuals such as the Laughing Man. The distinction between humans and robots blur between cyborgs, dolls and robots coexist together.Primarily set in the fictional Japanese city of New Port, the series follows the members of Public Security Section 9, a special-operations task-force made up of former military officers and police detectives. Political intrigue and counter terrorism operations are standard fair for Section 9, but with corrupt officials, companies and cyber-criminals each scenario is unique and requires the diverse skills of the Section 9's staff…

In addition to motley group of specialists of Public Security Section 9, Ghost in the Shell also features possibly my favorite character(s) in the series, Tachikoma. Tachikoma are six-legged agile “think tanks” that are outfitted with some heavy artillery, wire, camouflage-technology, and learning A.I. They are intensely curious and throughout the series they eagerly seek out novelties and ask questions amongst themselves. What initially seems like a light-hearted comical character subplot turns out to be a plot device that asks the same questions that GtS asks over and over: What is the essence of a person? When physical differences between man and machine blur, where does the boundary between the two lie?

Before getting into GtS discussion, however, it is crucial to know what the “Ghost in the Shell” means. “Ghost” refers to the intangible essence of a person, and “shell” is the physical form that holds it, be it the natural human body or an entirely cyborg body. “Ghost” is only ever implicitly defined in Stand Alone Complex, leaving viewers with a vague idea of what it means. Nevertheless the Wikipedia page for Ghost in the Shell sums the concept well enough:

The works of Ghost in the Shell serve as vehicles for social commentary and about humanity itself. With cybernization the boundary between human and machine is defined by a "ghost" which is defined as an individual's consciousness. By integrating brain tissue with electronic circuitry, a cyberbrain is created. The ghost of the user is retained within the cyberbrain. Cyberbrains are commonplace in the Ghost in the Shell world, and such prevalence has led to scenarios involving sexuality, body swapping, copying and immortality. Political corruption and terrorists are a frequent antagonists of the franchise which allows for philosophical dialogue about concepts relating to morality, nationality and humanity.

(It is important to note that in this world ghosts are thought to be inherent and essential in humans, making “human consciousness” a better definition, at least at the start of Stand Alone Complex).

We catch glimpses of Tachikoma all throughout Stand-Alone Complex: 

Episode 2: Testation

A Tachikoma unit screams as it is machine-gunned to pieces. 

One Tachikoma exclaims: “He’s so lucky! He broke down!”

Another one very excitedly does a little dance of expectation: “Maybe they’ll do a structural analysis on him!” Luckily the mechanics only have to repair its robotic shell and re-download the Tachikoma A.I. into this unit. 

This scene is just one example of the Tachikomas’ jarring inhumanity. Superficially Tachikoma act and sound almost exactly like curious and excitable children, making it hard to remember that these machines have not an ounce of humanity in them. But as the series progresses the Tachikoma undergo some significant internal changes in Episode 15: Machines Desirantes: 

As Tachikoma talks to Batou it (or perhaps “he”) is wistful that as Ghostless entities Tachikoma cannot experience life or death, a stark contrast to the Tachikomas who found self-destruction to be exciting in earlier episodes. Not only are they aware of their own artificial existences, we see later in this same episode that these robots attempt to act “robot-like:"

“Back in the old days I could be a simple robot without thinking.”

“That’s because we really weren’t thinking anything back then!”

As silly as "Operation: I, Robot" was, it is significant in two ways. First, they acknowledge that they did not think very much “back in the old days.” And second, they recognize that their thoughts have made them unlike ordinary robots. By the end of the series it is heavily implied that the Tachikoma may have attained Ghosts via individuality and introspective thought. Coincidentally this definition of “self” came up from a quick Google search:

A person’s essential being that distinguishes them from others, esp. considered as the object of introspection or reflexive action.

Ghost = self = individual consciousness = concept of a soul. It seems very human, yet one of the big questions we’re left with by the end of Stand Alone Complex is, if the Tachikoma did indeed gain ghosts how did it happen?

Perhaps it would be more accurate to say that they developed them. Here is the first episode of a side-series called Tachikomatic Days. It is not meant to be taken seriously, but the Tachikoma say some very interesting things here:

Initially I had no idea what these super-intelligent critters could be talking about. It wasn’t until recently that I came back to Ghost in the Shell and realized that the Tachikomas’ Ghosts didn’t arise spontaneously. Instead it was the Tachikomas’ chatter and conversation that gave rise to introspective capacity. In Henry David Thoreau’s Waldo and Anne Frank’s The Diary of a Young Girl both writers become increasingly thoughtful and explorative of their inner lives; they used words to convey their selves, not just information. This idea is corroborated in the next episode; the sky-bound Tachikoma returns to find that the other Tachikoma have left, and also left a memo for him. The memo tells him, in lengthy words, that they have been called away. Tachikoma rants and raves and emphatically explains the purpose of words thusly:

The significance of words isn't their superficial ability to relay information, but rather to structure the self-programming quality that's inherent in language itself! 

This convinced me that the Tachikoma developed Ghosts through the “self-programming quality” of language. Isn’t “self-programming” in robots analogous to reflexive thinking in people? Writers who keep diaries also develop their selves, their individuality and thoughts, their ghosts, by means of introspection and written language.

Tachikoma

Gentlemen! You haven't forgotten than communication = conversation, and that conversation comes from words!  We're always using data links! Don't you feel the need to bring yourself to use words every once in a while?!

Others

(What the heck is he talking about?) (Beats me)

Another 

With data links, you get instant comprehension through simple visualization, so why use such a primitive method?

Yet Another Tachikoma

Anyways, the faster the data transfer, the better, so I believe such a primitive protocol should be abolished for everyone, humans included!

Others

(I agree!) (Yeah, yeah!)

Tachikoma 

You don't know what you're talking about…

Just stop and consider why we're equipped with high-performance linguistic drivers and voice synthesizers that let us make full use of those drivers!

Others

(From a data transfer standpoint, words are clearly full of shortcomings. Whether it's spoken or written).

(Maybe what's most dangerous is the fixed idea that words are a data transfer tool).

(Maybe words have some purpose other than their role as a tool…)

(Maybe the Major tells us not to chatter 'cause she doesn't want us to find out what that is).  

Page 105 of Understanding Comics, by Scott McCloud

Scott McCloud frames the problem of communication best in Understanding Comics: “No human being can ever know what it’s like to be you from the inside.” All media of communication are attempts to bypass our inability to communicate mind-to-mind, he claims. 

In Ghost in the Shell however, such limitations do not exist, raising the question of why Tachikoma choose to converse physically; they speak of abolishing speech but physically they are actually very, very chatty. McCloud and Tachikoma agree that direct communication between minds is ideal, but for the former words is a next-best option and for the latter an inferior option. And with regard to conveying and expressing one’s thoughts, the exact effect of language on human psychology is of some concern as well. Some studies support linguistic relativism, the idea that language development shapes how we process information. Others suggest linguistic determinism, that language determines the extent of thoughts. And through deconstructionism, literary critics also question how effective words are in conveying the intended meaning. Scholars are increasing debunking the true worth of words; the general consensus is that words are an imperfect tool of self-expression. “Words are clearly full of shortcomings,” Tachikoma criticizes.

So why do the Tachikoma continue to converse with language instead of data links? Who knows (perhaps it’s because it’s difficult to animate mental conversations), but the more relevant question is to wonder what impact their mode of communication had on them. Considering all the deep conversations the Tachikoma have in the latter half of Stand Alone Complex, the obvious conclusion is that conversation by means of words catalyzed their ghost development. We see in both diary writers and Tachikoma that both reflexive thinking and structuring those thoughts into words evoked the self in a way that just thinking, or even writing without thinking, does not. As for why words have this effect, I conjecture that language has a peculiar power of making nebulous thoughts seem more solid, more real. One of my professors who guides his patients in “empty chair therapy,” insists that articulating and expressing one’s deepest feelings has an emotional impact that makes this choice of therapy curiously cathartic. Tachikoma explains it as a “self-programming quality that's inherent in language itself,” a quality that structures one’s thoughts into a communicable format. The significant of words, then, is to capture and contain the essence of each thought. Of course there are some very abstract thoughts that we simply don’t have the words for, as described in linguistic relativism, and the possibility that a lacking language capability limits us. Nevertheless I (and many writers, and Tachikoma!) believe there is at least some value in words as a tool of self-expression. 

(And as side note, as soon as I think that I've come across some new insight, it turns out that the masterminds behind Stand Alone Complex and indeed, the creator of Ghost in the Shell, Masamune Shirou, have considered it already. It seems like newspapers are still in print post-World War III, but they make full use of cyberbrain technology. The headlines are written in words to be interpreted in any which way, and the content is encoded for scanning and easy data-transfer. This is a fine example of distinguishing between relaying information versus expressing ideas!)