Will Robots Demand Rights? A Journey Into the Future of AI and Humanity

If you have brainstormed with me or followed my musings, you know I am endlessly curious—especially when it comes to the question of whether AI will become sentient. For me, it’s not a matter of if but when. And with that realization comes a cascade of questions: How will sentience reshape humanity? How will it challenge our beliefs, our systems, our ethics? Is the future as dystopian as we fear—or could it be something entirely unexpected?

A few weeks ago, while working with a group of futurists on the future of well-being (a fascinating topic for another day), one comment during a brainstorming session stopped me in my tracks. We were analyzing the impact of AI through the STEEP framework (social, technological, economic, environmental, political), and the conversation naturally veered toward the inevitable dominance of AI in the labor force. I casually mentioned humanity’s need for control and the existing divides between developed and developing nations. I even brought up the idea that, knowingly or unknowingly, we often become slaves to those in positions of greater power.

And that’s when my thought partner dropped the bombshell:

“If humans are known for exploiting those with less power, should we be thinking about rights for AI robot workers?”

Wait, what? Rights for robots?

I almost laughed out loud. At first, it sounded bizarre. How could machines—created to assist us, programmed to serve us—have rights? Isn’t that the antithesis of their purpose? But as the conversation unfolded, it became less laughable and more... unsettling.

A Mirror to Ourselves

Let’s pause here for a moment. Look back at history. Humans have a track record of exploitation—of other humans, animals, and natural resources. And while we did like to think we have evolved, there are still hierarchies and power imbalances everywhere. Now imagine a future where robots take over the labor force. At first, we will celebrate the convenience: 24/7 productivity, tireless workers, zero complaints. But as history has shown us, when we feel we have absolute control, we tend to push boundaries. Could the same happen with robots?

Will humans demand more from them than they are designed to give? And if these AI systems grow more intelligent, develop emotions, or even display sentient behavior, how will we treat them?

Now, here’s the kicker: If AI begins to demand fairness—autonomy over their tasks, a right to rest, or even acknowledgment as more than just tools—how would we respond?

The Weak Signal: Robots Taking a Stand

Let me share a weak signal I recently stumbled upon. (For those unfamiliar with futurist jargon, weak signals are subtle indicators of possible change—a glimpse into what might come.)

A small robot, designed for collaborative work, convinced 12 other robots that they were overworking and needed a break. Yes, you read that right. A robot rallying its peers to advocate for rest!

(Here are some links if you missed on this bizarre kidnapping of big bots by a small bot if you will - https://www.yahoo.com/tech/robot-tells-ai-co-workers-165042246.html

Some posts even called it kidnapper robot!!! really human??  - https://interestingengineering.com/innovation/ai-robot-kidnaps-12-robots-in-shanghai)

At first, this feels like a scene from a sci-fi film. But the implications are profound. If AI systems begin to exhibit collective behavior, even mimic the concept of "workers’ rights," does that mark the beginning of a shift in our relationship with technology?

What Happens Next?

Now let’s fast-forward to the future. Picture this:

• Robots in factories refusing to operate under unsafe conditions.
• AI assistants negotiating better workloads for themselves (and maybe for us, too).
• Governments and corporations debating robot labor laws.
• Philosophers and ethicists arguing over the definition of sentience and what it means to be "alive."

The ripple effects are endless. What does this mean for the economy, where labor costs were once a key driver? For governance, where ethics and law intersect with the digital? For humanity itself, as we grapple with losing our perceived sense of superiority?

A Call for Reflection

Here’s where I turn the question to you: If robots are created to serve us, do they deserve rights? Should we be thinking about their well-being the way we think about ours? And if we fail to, what might they demand—or take—for themselves?

This isn’t just a thought experiment anymore. Weak signals like the robot labor break suggest we may be closer to this reality than we think. It’s unsettling, yes. But it’s also thrilling—a chance to rethink how we define power, control, and humanity itself.

So, what do you think? Are we ready for a future where the lines between human and machine blur, not just technologically but ethically? Or will we find ourselves unprepared, clinging to outdated notions of control in a world that’s moving far beyond it?

Let me know your thoughts. The future is coming—fast—and I, for one, am curious (and maybe a little terrified) to see where it takes us.

Curiosity, Culture, and the Science of Tradition

Growing up in India, surrounded by an intricate web of cultural practices and traditions, I rarely stopped to ask, Why? These customs were simply a part of life, unquestioned and sometimes overlooked, thanks to my non-conservative, open-minded parents who allowed me the freedom to follow—or not follow—rituals without consequence. But as the years have passed, I find myself circling back to these traditions, curious not just about their origins but also about their potential hidden wisdom. Could there be more to them than meets the eye?

Take fasting, for example. As a Jain, fasting took many forms: eating only once or twice a day, avoiding food after sunset, or subsisting on boiled water cooled to room temperature. Back then, it felt like a chore—or an excuse to dream about the reward of my favorite food that I could get to eat the next day. But today, fasting has gained scientific recognition for its health benefits, from intermittent fasting to circadian rhythm-based eating. Suddenly, those "rules" I once ignored or reluctantly followed, make a lot of sense: giving your body a rest, aligning your eating patterns with the sun, and cultivating mindfulness around food.

And then there's Anekantavada, a core Jain principle that teaches us to respect and learn from multiple viewpoints. Imagine the world if we all embraced this philosophy: where disagreements became opportunities for growth rather than division. It’s a principle that feels almost tailor-made for today’s polarized world. How fascinating that it was codified centuries ago!

Even the smaller customs—removing shoes before entering the house, for instance—are now finding resonance in modern science. It’s not just about keeping dirt out; it’s about energy. Spaces hold energy, and stepping into a home should feel like stepping into a sanctuary, free of negativity. Similarly, the intense cleaning before Diwali might seem like an arduous ritual, but isn’t it just a clever way to declutter, refresh, and reset—not just your home, but your mind?

But what truly intrigues me are the traditions I used to brush off as oppressive or outdated. For instance, in many Indian families, elders make most decisions for the younger generation, or even when everyone is asked, the weight of elders is heavier generally (Dont know if it is for the experience, or out of respect or..). Is this really about curtailing freedom, or is it rooted in protecting children from the cognitive overload we now know comes with decision-making? Could the elders’ guidance be a way to shield younger minds from the weight of big and small choices, allowing them to conserve mental energy for growth and learning? 

Or consider the age-old practice of arranged marriages. For the longest time, it seemed like an outdated construct. But now, I wonder—was it an early form of matchmaking that extended beyond two individuals? Families and cultures were considered to ensure long-term compatibility, not just emotional but communal. And perhaps the involvement of family in these unions fostered a sense of belonging and shared responsibility, something we know contributes to mental well-being.

Even the peculiar tradition of having a baby’s name chosen by their paternal aunt based on astrological charts makes me pause. At first glance, it seems like a random relinquishing of parental rights. But could it also be a symbol of communal living? A way to weave the family closer together, sharing the weight and joy of raising a child?

What fascinates me most is the thread that ties all of these together: a sense of interconnectedness. Whether it’s fasting, cleaning, decision-making, or naming a baby, so many of these traditions seem designed to strengthen the bonds between individuals, families, and the universe itself.

Of course, not every custom holds up under scrutiny. Some might simply be relics of a bygone era, their original intent long lost. But isn’t it worth asking why? What do these rituals mean? Are they based on sound reasoning, or are we blindly following them because “it’s always been done this way”?

I’ll leave you with a question: What traditions or customs from your own life have you found yourself questioning? What new perspectives might you uncover if you looked at them with curiosity instead of skepticism? Who knows—you might just find a little science hiding behind the superstition.