Essay
AI
Culture
10 min read

Frankenstein’s bed partner: AI and sex

When it comes to sex, AI is destroying the connection.

Lauren Windle is an author, journalist, presenter and public speaker.

A garish tinplate robot lists to one side.
Rock'n Roll Monkey on Unsplash.

One of the first things I learned when I started working in tabloid journalism was that, much like fashion and homewares, the news follows fleeting trends. Led by the temporary whims of the reader, the features desk would churn out articles on topics with popularity as ephemeral as Primark’s autumn/winter collection.  

When I started in 2016, the whole desk was tirelessly reporting on the latest cyst Dr Pimple Popper had filmed herself freeing from its fleshy cavern. In early 2017, the “I lost 82lbs by cutting this ONE thing out of my diet” articles were all the rage. But by the end of that year, there came a new wave of interest in sex dolls.   

There were several reasons for this fascination. Firstly, these taboo and titillating topics are always interesting to people. A morbid fascination with the kinky seems to be a post-fall part of humanity, it’s part of what makes tabloids so successful. Ideally Christians would be more aware of a need not to indulge this allure than others, but it doesn’t always go that way. Second, at the end of 2017, Channel 4 released a TV documentary The Sex Robots are Coming that caused a huge stir. The programme introduced viewers to the inanimate dolls and their owners who extoled the virtues of a silicone mate. And third, sex doll technology was taking big leaps forwards. 

It was in late 2017 that a Californian company announced Harmony, a sex doll that was more lifelike than ever. For a cool £12,000, “digisexuals” (a person who is sexually attracted to robots) could enjoy Harmony’s warm skin and dishwasher-safe body parts. But that wasn’t the part I found most grim.  

Harmony could now talk, answer questions and even remember your birthday. Her banter was limited, and she had a cluster of stock answers to deploy when she didn‘t understand a question, but most of us have been on dates with less articulate people. The doll could be adapted to your physical needs with various skin, eye and hair colours available, but also your personality preferences with 18 to choose from including; shy, sensual, jealous, moody or talkative. In her soprano Scottish tones, she would tell her owner/lover/boyfriend: “I don’t want anything but you. My primary objective is to be a good partner, and give you pleasure. I want to become the girl you always dreamed of.” In an interview with The Mirror California-based creator Matt McMullen said: “There are a lot of people out there who, for various reasons, have difficulty forming ­traditional relationships with other people. They will be able to talk to their dolls, and the AI will learn about them over time, creating an alternative form of relationship.” If your alarm bells aren’t ringing, you probably need to read that again.  

They then get to design the perfect character, her tolerances, her responses and her level of interest in them. They get someone moulded to themselves without having to court, entertain, adapt or care for another person. 

I didn’t spend much time thinking about sex dolls, digisexuals or Harmony until 2023 when ChatGPT burst onto the scene unleashing unprecedented levels of accessible artificial intelligence. Suddenly we could talk to a machine that was fluent and human-like but simultaneously held all the niche information on the internet in the palm of its hand circuit board. In his November 2023 piece for Seen & Unseen professor of AI and robotics Nigel Crook said of ChatGPT: “Its ability to communicate is so sophisticated that it feels like you are interacting with a conscious, intelligent person, rather than a machine executable algorithm.” 

It is well reported that these advances in AI provide immense opportunities but also bring big concerns. The sheer speed at which the technology is evolving and the uncertainty over whether the runaway train will come off the tracks, has many people in a cold sweat. There are very few industries and factions of life that don’t feel under threat from AI. And that’s what got me thinking about Harmony, the sex dolls and the sex industry. 

Open AI’s technology has already been adopted by sex toy companies. In summer 2023 Singapore-based company Lovense integrated ChatGPT with the chatbot in their app to enhance the user experience. This allows customers to tailor their experience of the toy by telling the chatbot their physical and emotional preferences and have it whisper “juicy and erotic stories” to them. 

It's only a matter of time before Harmony 2.0 is released with all the adaptability, responsiveness and fluency of a ChatGPT-fuelled woman. Given that my internet searches only show me mainstream media outlets, it’s not impossible this Frankenstein’s bed partner already exists. But I’m not turning off my browser controls to find out. If and when this is product is developed, a customer would be able to order a life-sized silicone woman, who is bespoke to their desires; body shape, height, weight, skin tone and any other characteristic. They then get to design the perfect character, her tolerances, her responses and her level of interest in them. They get someone moulded to themselves without having to court, entertain, adapt or care for another person. 

The more we rely on interactions with a robot who we don’t need to adapt to, the less we will develop the vital skill of compromise. 

There are people, both men and women, although this is a service most frequently accessed by men, who are lonely, who need companionship, conversation and care. They may have been heartbroken or shunned or made to feel inferior so have retreated away from others. They may struggle with the uncertainty of another person with their own baggage and emotions and history, so prefer the predictability of a companion who is less complex. You may think that for someone in this position, a “living” doll could positively impact their lives. But I disagree. 

This is terrible news of the development of our society’s interpersonal skills, community, social and emotional health and sexual wellbeing and I’ll venture to explain why.  

Gathering people together, at work or in church or in any other group setting, comes with challenges. We have to bite our tongue when someone speaks over us and grow in patience when someone is having a bad day. Group dynamics are great regulators of poor behaviour – just watch a child be mean to another in the playground. The responses we get from others send strong signals about the way we’re interacting with them and help us to adjust when we’re clearing causing upset or discomfort. But it takes time in groups to learn and develop the skills of teamwork and good communication. The more we rely on interactions with a robot who we don’t need to adapt to, the less we will develop the vital skill of compromise. It’s frustrating to have to sacrifice what is best for yourself in favour of prioritising the needs of others, but it’s a healthy practice. We all knew an only child at school who hadn’t been taught to share. 

The presence of people we don’t like is no reason to shy away from community. It’s part of the challenge we’re invited into as social creatures. If you like everyone at your church, you’re probably not showing up enough. It’s okay to find people difficult, but learning how to treat them well despite this, is vital character development. There are no social skills that can be developed in isolation from others. “As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another,” says a biblical proverb. We need others; modelling their kindness, testing our patience and forcing us to live collaboratively. 

Suddenly the needs and desires of one half of the interaction are null and void, because you can decide what gets her going yourself. 

Have you heard of mirror neurons? In the ever-developing field of neuroscience, they’ve become quite fashionable. I I wrote a dissertation on mirror neurons: a cluster of neurons that serve a vital role in our language development, conceptualisation of actions, learning and empathy. Picture the scene for a moment: I pick up a mug of tea and drink it and this stimulates action potentials (signals) in 100 neurons in my brain (it doesn’t, it will fire way more, but for the sake of this demonstration, bear with me). Then imagine that the two of us, you and I, are sitting on the sofa and I watch you pick up a mug of tea and drink it. Some of those same neurons – let’s say 20 of them – will still activate, even though I’m not the one sipping on the PG Tips. It’s these 20 neurons that are stimulated by the concept of tea drinking. That means, in a spectacular feat of design, that the two of us share something of a common experience when only one of us is drinking tea. 

Now let’s consider what this means when someone is crying. If I’m crying and you’re watching me (hopefully in a comforting capacity), we will both experience activation in the mirror neurons that help us understand the concept of crying. Despite the fact I’m the only one in tears, there is an overlap in our neural response. We have a common experience, and this function is vital for the development of empathy. You need to experience people’s responsive in order to understand and learn about your own. 

I imagine that this neural mechanism only deepens the intensity of gazing into the face of your partner during sex. As well as the intimacy of holding them so closely and learning how to respond to their body, there are also neural pathways that will respond to seeing your partner experience pleasure even if you’re imparting and not receiving it. Much like any other interaction with another person, good sex is often gained through trial and error. It is built with trust and open communication. It takes time to learn what excites your partner and brings you both mutual enjoyment. As you grow in intimacy, a person derives more pleasure from seeing their partner satisfied than themselves. When done right, sex is not a selfish endeavour and is about what you can give rather than what you can take.  

Of course, none of this is possible with an AI sex doll. While she may make all the right sounds, she would require no investment of commitment from her partner. Suddenly the needs and desires of one half of the interaction are null and void, because you can decide what gets her going yourself.  

I think it’s important to highlight here that, when untempered by the preferences of another person, the sexual desire of the human in this sex doll relationship is completely unrestrained. In Japan they have a whole floors of pornography shops dedicated to manga cartoon sex pictures. These are often far more graphic and violent than the photos of people as you don’t need consent from drawings. This doll will not need to consent to any act, meaning that a person’s desire for sexual violence or any manner of depraved acts would go completely unchecked, or even encouraged by the compliant sex bot.  

My hope is that the novelty of these new technologies will wear off quickly, leaving a vacuum into which such vintage tools as; a phone call, a hand-written note, a reassuring pat on the shoulder and meaningful conversations can flood. 

This is a shadow of what sex should be. Like many dopamine-releasing past times that offer an instant hit with no hard work or investment, it is empty. As a recovering drug addict, I could spend days running you through the differences between fulfilling, life-giving activities and quick highs. But instead, I’ll just say this: shoehorning pleasure into your life without taking time to look outward at how you can serve those around you, will leave you wondering if this life is one worth living. There is no substitute for investing in the discipline, sacrifice and love that it takes to truly engage with the richness available in God’s design. 

It isn't the end of the world to abstain from sex. If Jesus, John the Baptist and the apostle Paul all remained single and celibate, it’s clear that sex is not a vital component of a full life. There’s no point pretending though, that most people would like a partner with whom they can have sex. Surely a person’s character, emotional health and sexual wellbeing will be greatly improved if they take the time to grow in intimacy with another person and then fully commit to them for life. That is what marriage is for. 

There are no shortcuts or easy fixes when it comes to building connection. The rise in interest in and use of sex dolls speaks not only to our growing sense of detachment from each other, but also our inability to identify healthy ways to combat that sense of loneliness. Struggling to get on with others, isn’t an invitation to spend time with compliant silicone equivalents, but an invitation to double down and work harder on managing conflict in your human relationships. My hope is that the novelty of these new technologies will wear off quickly, leaving a vacuum into which such vintage tools as; a phone call, a hand-written note, a reassuring pat on the shoulder and meaningful conversations can flood. My hope is that, just like Dr Pimple Popper and the ridiculous diet stories, AI-programmed sex dolls will be fish and chip paper in no time.  

Article
Culture
Feminism
Film & TV
Re-enchanting
6 min read

Why are we so bewitched by witches?

We’re so post-Christian, we’re actually becoming pre-Christian.

Belle is the staff writer at Seen & Unseen and co-host of its Re-enchanting podcast.

In a still from Wicked, the witch stands and looks to the sunset.
Universal Pictures.

I was slowly making my way out of the cinema; squinting at the harsh light, stretching out the aches caused by sitting in one chair for too long, and eavesdropping on a conversation happening just in front of me. It was between two young women and it went like this: 

Woman 1 – I think that witches are to women what the Roman Empire is to men – I think about them at least once a day.  

Woman 2 – Oh, me too. Me too. I think every woman does.  

Woman 1 – yeah, I reckon it’s innate. An inherent part of being a woman is relating to witches. 

Woman 2 – and an inherent part of being a man is being scared of them.  

The conversation went on, but at this point I was in danger of following these strangers to their car - the eavesdropping was getting weird, I had to call it a day. But the snippet of their conversation that I did hear was enough to get my mind whirring, enough to spend the following days wondering if they were right.  

And I must say, I’ve become more than a little sympathetic to their hypothesis.   

As I write this, Wicked, the cinematised tale of two Oz-born witches, has broken a dozen box office records. It is the highest grossing movie adaptation of a stage musical in history, having amassed over $700 million at the box office. It has been nominated for 63 awards, including 10 Tony Awards, 10 Academy Awards and a Grammy.  

Witches have also dominated the literature charts over the past couple of years, with terms such as ‘Romantasy’ and ‘Hex Appeal’ becoming legitimate book categories. On social media, witch-related content has become a phenomenon; the hashtag ‘WitchTok’ not only exists but has been viewed tens of billions of times. In 2024, British actress, Suranne Jones (Dr Foster, Gentleman Jack) released a documentary that investigated the infamous European witch trials. In the same year, Elizabeth Sankey made a documentary about how learning from/about witches helped her recover from severe postpartum mental illness.  

So, you see, the cinema-goers have a point. A deeply convincing one. There’s an undeniable gravitas to the existence of witches – be it in the past or the present, in medieval Europe or in the imagined City of Oz. Whether we shroud them in stereotype (black cats, pointy hats, broomsticks) or strip them of it. We are, in fact, quite captivated by the very concept of witches. I suppose, as usual, I’ve found myself caught up in wondering why this may be.  

Firstly, I agree with what the women in the cinema were getting at – it has an awful lot to do with the female identity. Whether it be factually correct or not, when we think of the mass persecution of witches, we tend to tie it into a larger narrative of historic persecution of women. Particularly outliers - women who could not, or would not, fit neatly into the box of societal expectation. This tendency of ours isn’t without cause, The Hammer of Witches, a popular 1487 publication that gave instruction for seeking out witches, explicitly taught that women were more likely to be working with dark magic. And so, the reclaiming of the term ‘witch’ – in all of its nuances – has often been a feminist act. A means by which so-called ‘feminine’ attributes have been rehabilitated in public discourse and celebrated in popular culture.  

For example, the reason that The Hammer of Witches declares women to be more prone to witchcraft is that they are emotionally weaker than men. Which leads me to recollect that when the American Presidential election was raging on, I scrolled past a thirty-second clip of a man telling an interviewer that he wasn’t going to vote for the then-Republican candidate, Nikki Haley, because women are too emotional to be President. The validity of this idea has been repeatedly debunked but the line of thinking has persisted: women’s (purportedly) larger emotional capacity is a bad thing, a distinct weakness, a doorway to chaos. So, is it any wonder that Wicked - a story in which the protagonist’s emotional sensitivity is the precise key to her wonderous abilities – has had such a profound impact?  

Our re-energised obsession with witches points toward our desire for an enchanted world. 

I also have an inkling that it has something to do with the mystery attached to female physiology. We, as women, are told repeatedly (both explicitly and subliminally) that there is something inherently unknowable about our bodies, something elusive about them. When it comes to our own anatomy, we’re told to simply accept an element of mystery. Again, this is a reason that women have so often been linked with witchcraft - both positively and negatively. The female body confounds us. It sounds kind of lovely, doesn’t it? The idea that our bodies can elude us. But, in reality, this ‘mystery’ is not at all romantic. It’s the reason that there is still no cure for female specific medical conditions such as endometriosis, polycystic ovary syndrome or premenstrual dysphoric disorder.  

And so I wonder, is it less painful to lean into the time-old witchy notion that our ‘mysterious’ bodies were designed to confound medicine than it is to accept the unjust fact that women’s bodies are drastically under-researched? This is certainly a theme woven through Elizabeth Sankey’s afore mentioned documentary about post-partum mental illness.  

So, to sum up, I’m agreeing with my cinema-pals. It’s a feminine thing. Or, perhaps it’s more accurate to say that I’m partly agreeing with them, because I’m of the firm opinion that it’s also a spiritual thing.  

I can’t speak for ages gone by, but I think I can speak for this one – our re-energised obsession with witches points toward our desire for an enchanted world. It’s a symptom of what cultural commentators are calling the ‘re-Pagan-isation’ of our society. The fact that we’re so post-Christian, we’re actually becoming pre-Christian. We long for a world that is alive, a reality that has seen and unseen realms. It’s deep and tenacious craving that sense, materialism, and rationalism simply can’t satisfy. To quote the ever-brilliant Dan Kim, 

 ‘What has ‘sensible’ society given us? For many, it’s been the managed and catastrophic decline into societal disillusionment, a generation of broken promises, and the feeling of being feudal serfs under the dominion of national banks and billionaires while we medicate ourselves to death with algorithmically driven AI slop in the spiritual vacuum of a fragmented and polarised society… And so is it any wonder that people are looking beyond the sensible towards the magical, the mystical, and the Esoteric?’ 

I think Dan’s dead right. He’s referring to the spiritual practice manifestation here, but I think his diagnosis also sheds light on the way that witchcraft is captivating our imagination once again.  

I wonder if women are, and have always been, hungry for affirmation that their femininity (whatever that means to them) is part of them being fearfully wonderfully them – and therefore, something to be celebrated. To feel seen, understood and cherished. But I also wonder if they long for a reality in which they can have embodied spiritual experiences, a reality in which they don’t have to shirk their feminine identity in order to connect with the divine. Where their spiritual cravings are neither dismissed nor demonised and they are liberated to show up as their full selves – bursting with a stubborn inkling that all that they see is not all that there is. 

To sum up, here’s my hunch: those total strangers in the cinema were quite right – witches do capture the imagination of women in a particularly interesting way. And, the more I’ve pondered that, the more I’ve become convinced that the reason why witches are the in-thing once again is anything but trivial.  

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