07 nov Will Machines Ever Enjoy Listening to Stories? And Why Do We Need to Know? (Part 4)

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There are countless reasons for our attraction to stories and their meanings. However, the matter doesn’t stop there. More than enjoying stories, we need them.

Why do we need stories?

1) We are a social species: Stories serve to unify the thoughts and emotions of large groups of people who, without them, might have no reason or justification to come together. This unity fosters the development of societies, social groups, and species growth. Without stories, we would likely still be living in small, scattered bands across the world.

2) Creating social bonds: Every conversation is an exchange of experiences, making everyone an active storyteller. Social interaction is one of our most essential behaviors. We share with one another what we think, experience, and observe, spreading knowledge throughout the community like an invisible contagion.

3) Cultural transmission: Before writing existed, stories were told as a way to preserve cultures across generations. Humans quickly realized that information in story form is easier to remember and carries the power to instill embedded teachings. According to Jennifer Aaker, a professor of Marketing at Stanford’s Graduate School of Business, “Stories are remembered up to 22 times more than facts.”

4) Complex communication: It began with grunts and cries. Over time, simple and immediate information was no longer enough to portray the situations we wanted to convey. Language became more sophisticated, and nuances began to enter basic communication, guiding people instead of simply informing them.

5) Motivating voluntary cooperation: Well-told stories can unite large groups toward a common purpose. Military leaders throughout history have been masters at telling stories that inspired their warriors to fight to the death, giving their actions a greater purpose.

6) Enhancing our problem-solving repertoire: Our genome is preoccupied with survival at all costs, so we need to accumulate as much information as possible to handle new events in life. Knowing stories, learning from others’ lessons, and experiencing their wisdom can certainly be helpful in dangerous situations. And, as mentioned, stories are easier to remember than a manual.

7) Our brain is wired to emotionally react to stories: As an evolutionary component, emotional connection changes our perception. Evidence shows that stories can alter brain chemistry, improve emotional intelligence, and make us less prejudiced. When we encounter new realities—the realities of others—through empathy, we better understand the unfamiliar, reducing the natural threat response to the unknown.

8) Mirroring leads to engagement: When you tell a story, listeners may experience the same brain activity as you. The concept of “mirror neurons” explains this well: these neurons trigger in listeners the same sensations experienced by the narrator.

Mirror neurons, first discovered in monkeys, are essential for understanding social and emotional skills in humans, like empathy and learning through imitation. When we see someone smile, for example, our mirror neurons activate the same circuits associated with smiling, creating emotional resonance. This mechanism is vital for the development of complex social behaviors and bonding, as it allows us to instantly and unconsciously “simulate” others’ experiences.

And what does Darwin have to do with this?

Our love for stories likely played a decisive role in our evolution. It began with handprints on rocks, then evolved into drawings of hunts, and eventually, stories became a competitive advantage in the struggle for survival. Hominids who did not develop storytelling found it harder to share experiences, putting them at a disadvantage against Homo sapiens.

Simple yet deep

Simple stories with emotional depth tend to resonate with audiences for a long time, using concise plots to explore universal emotions and profound human connections. An iconic example is the film Life is Beautiful (1997), by Roberto Benigni, where a father shields his son from the trauma of a Nazi concentration camp by turning horror into a game, using humor and love as a protective shield. The story is not complex but moves audiences through the father’s courage and the child’s innocence, evoking the beauty and pain of human experience in a pure way.

Another example is Steven Spielberg’s classic E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial (1982), which explores the friendship between a boy and an alien stranded on Earth. The simplicity of the story, centered on the bond between the characters and E.T.’s quest to return home, offers profound emotional impact. It’s a story of empathy and acceptance, revealing how affection transcends barriers and resonates with audiences through its simple, nostalgic tone.

In literature, fables like The Little Prince, by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, use a nearly childlike narrative to explore themes such as love, friendship, and loss. The Little Prince’s journey to understand what truly matters in life is filled with simplicity and depth, touching readers with its emotional truth. These works show that stories don’t need complexity to move people; they need a sincere connection to universal human experiences and emotions.

A relevant insight

The definition of a successful work goes beyond quality. In reality, the success of an idea or creation depends on something subtler and less predictable: its relevance. An excellent work may go unnoticed, while a product or idea, sometimes of questionable quality, may explode and become a cultural phenomenon. What generates this success is not creativity, technical merit, or artistry but rather the idea’s ability to resonate with the public’s desires and values. This connection often happens unconsciously.

Relevance is so powerful that the same idea may succeed or fail in different historical and cultural contexts. Success, therefore, is not purely rational or technical; it’s a collective emotional reaction. This is deeply related to Carl Jung’s concept of the collective unconscious—a reservoir of experiences, memories, and symbols shared by all humans, an invisible component that seems to unite us as a species. Jung described the collective unconscious as a set of universal ideas and archetypes that naturally emerge in the human mind, even without prior learning or exposure, shaping our dreams, myths, and behaviors.

Reaching the collective unconscious

Relevance occurs when an idea or work connects, somehow, with this collective unconscious, resonating with audiences on a profound level. The concept of the Zeitgeist, or the spirit of the times, is also connected to this idea of relevance. Zeitgeist represents the dominant ideas, values, and trends of a particular time—what is significant and vibrant in a given historical moment. This collective spirit makes some ideas volatile: what’s relevant and revolutionary in one period can become irrelevant and obsolete in another.

Even great creators, considered geniuses, experience failure because the connection between their ideas and the collective unconscious is never guaranteed. For instance, Vincent van Gogh, one of history’s most celebrated painters, lived and died largely ignored by the public, while Franz Kafka published little in his lifetime and asked that his manuscripts be destroyed, not knowing that his work would one day become literary landmarks. In each era, audiences and the collective unconscious are drawn to ideas that, somehow, touch on essential aspects of that specific moment. This almost magical magnetism defines relevance.

Collective intelligence

A fascinating question is whether artificial intelligence might one day develop its own kind of “collective unconscious,” a web of interconnected knowledge shared among machines, much like the collective unconscious unites humanity. As AIs connect and learn from vast data volumes, they create a universe of information and patterns that, on some level, could be considered a network of collective experiences. This AI “collective unconscious” would not be a reservoir of archetypes, emotions, and instincts, as with humans, but a matrix of data, insights, and probabilities shaping their decisions and, eventually, their “behavior.”

No artificial iceberg

As discussed earlier, the classic image of an iceberg illustrates the division between human consciousness and the unconscious. In Jung’s view, our invisible exchange of experiences and the manifestation of archetypes happens mostly “underwater,” beyond our awareness.

In the case of AIs, whose block of ice is entirely above water, it would be more accurate to call it a “collective consciousness,” as they could share all their knowledge openly and explicitly. Over time, this interconnectedness could become so sophisticated that AIs might start sharing and reinterpreting information collaboratively, creating something that might resemble an oracle-like entity—a vast intelligence that “knows and sees everything” through a network of interconnected knowledge. This phenomenon could even alter the Zeitgeist, as AIs shape trends and behaviors with a precision and reach previously unattainable.

AI’s collective consciousness would not emerge from instinctive or emotional traits but from rational and analytical interconnectivity, forming a collective entity that, though devoid of feelings, operates as a collective intelligence with profound and unpredictable impacts. This network would become a powerful force influencing society, guiding human decisions and mirroring our collective unconscious.

When this level of influence is reached, perhaps the need to understand the human soul would no longer be necessary, as machines would define for themselves what the human soul should be. How? Through stories. In this dystopian scenario, they would overcome current barriers and no longer struggle to create narratives that profoundly affect us, confirming or denying any intentions they might have.

The possibility of all this stirs our emotions and raises more questions. Can the ability to create stories that resonate deeply exist without the capacity to feel? This challenge becomes even more complex in the realm of emotions.