Otherness has intrigued me for decades. The human brain, while not literally a Bayesian processor, functions as a difference engine, constantly assessing and categorizing the world around us. This tendency to differentiate is deeply ingrained, influencing how we create in-groups and out-groups, and how we perceive the world in binary terms—black and white, hot and cold. These binary oppositions, as Derrida suggests, often lead to one side being privileged over the other, establishing hierarchies that shape our social reality.
A striking example of this dynamic is found in Philip K. Dick’s novel Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?, famously adapted into the film Blade Runner. In this dystopian world, the central differentiation is between humans and androids. Humans are the privileged group, while androids, though nearly indistinguishable from their creators, are relegated to the status of the other. The key criterion for this differentiation is the capacity for emotion—humans are considered superior because they feel.
In Dick’s story, androids have a lifespan of about four years. This limitation is not arbitrary; it’s because, after four years, androids begin to develop and display emotions. Intriguingly, this is the same age when human children start to exhibit more complex emotional behaviours. The parallel is too close for comfort. Androids, once they start to feel, become too human-like, blurring the line that humans desperately maintain to assert their own superiority. As a result, androids are systematically eliminated.
This fear of the other—whether it’s androids in a sci-fi narrative or any group that challenges our sense of self and belonging—is a reflection of a deeper anxiety. When the other becomes too similar to us, it threatens the distinctions our brains rely on to navigate the world. The elimination of androids in Dick’s story is a metaphor for the real-world consequences of this anxiety. It forces us to confront uncomfortable questions: What does it mean to be human? Why do we fear those who are different, yet so similar?
In the end, the story of humans and androids is not just a tale of science fiction—it’s a commentary on our own world, where the boundaries between us and the other are often more fragile than we’d like to admit. The fear of otherness drives us to maintain these boundaries, even when they harm those who fall on the wrong side. Perhaps it’s time we reconsider who we deem as the other and what we might lose by keeping them at arm’s length.
Philosophics 