Given the obsessive fascination of daily horoscopes of self and kin for huge swaths of the populace, the readiness of much of the subcontinent to use the planets as oracles to pick a lifelong marital match, the unflagging grip of particolored neural imagery on those striving to decipher the brain’s secret code, not to mention a century of western fealty to Freudian fantasies, Marxian (or — pick your poison — Market) moronics and our continuing global affinity for the local equivalent of the Bible and the pin — it is hardly surprising that the cerebral hermeneuts who elect to do their dechiffrage on behavioral function rather than on spatiotemporal patterns are having a field day freely projecting their animism onto robots’ ramblings… We are a superstitious species.
Stevan Harnad