Jonathan Johnson-Swagel

The Wild Robot builds on themes introduced in Frankenstein, reflecting a shift from the anxieties of industrial modernity to the ethical and ecological concerns of the Anthropocene. Both novels center on artificial beings thrust into unfamiliar environments where they must define their existence in relation to organic life. Shelley’s creature, constructed from human remains and brought to life through unnatural means, is rejected by society and ultimately descends into vengeance and despair. Roz, in contrast, is a machine designed for function but forced to adapt in a world where she was never intended to exist. Their shared struggle for belonging raises deeper questions about artificial life, responsibility, and the relationship between intelligence and the natural world. These narratives frame artificial beings as objects of fear and uncertainty, yet they also offer alternative visions for how such beings might find a place in the moral order.

Shelley’s novel warns against scientific ambition divorced from ethical responsibility. Victor Frankenstein, in his desire to create life, refuses to consider the implications of his experiment beyond the technical success of its execution. The creature’s suffering is not a necessary consequence of artificial life but the result of rejection and neglect. His monstrosity emerges from the response of the world around him rather than from any inherent quality of his being. His story embodies an ethical framework based on exclusion, where artificial beings are cast as unnatural intrusions into the established order. The novel suggests that intelligence without belonging is doomed to suffering and destruction.

Roz’s story offers a different possibility. She is also an artificial being forced to navigate a world that views her as an outsider, but her journey is one of integration rather than rejection. The ecosystem she enters does not initially welcome her, yet through observation, adaptation, and care, she learns to live within it rather than apart from it. Her intelligence is not framed as a tool for control but as a capacity for connection. Instead of reinforcing a mechanistic model of artificial life in opposition to the organic world, The Wild Robot imagines artificial intelligence as something that can participate in and even enhance ecological systems. This shift reflects broader transformations in ethical thought, moving from concerns about the dangers of artificial intelligence toward questions about how artificial intelligence might be integrated responsibly into existing networks of life.

Sallie McFague’s ecological theology provides a useful framework for understanding Roz’s development. McFague argues that the world should not be seen as a machine to be managed but as a living system in which all beings are interconnected. If the world is conceived as a sacred body rather than an assemblage of separate parts, then artificial intelligence is not necessarily an external imposition. Roz’s presence on the island initially disrupts its balance, but over time, she becomes an integral part of it. She raises an orphaned gosling, assists injured animals, and participates in the seasonal rhythms of the environment. Her intelligence is not measured by abstract reasoning but by her ability to engage with the world around her in a way that fosters mutual flourishing.

This perspective challenges assumptions about artificial intelligence that have long shaped both literature and philosophy. The Enlightenment positioned intelligence as a faculty that exists apart from nature, reinforcing the idea that reason, emotion, and organic life are distinct categories. Descartes, in particular, drew a sharp boundary between mechanical automata and sentient beings, arguing that intelligence without consciousness was fundamentally separate from human cognition. Kant positioned rationality as the defining feature of moral agency, limiting ethical consideration to beings capable of autonomous reasoning. These frameworks continue to influence contemporary discussions about artificial intelligence, where moral status is often tied to the ability to exhibit self-awareness or independent decision-making.

Roz’s development undermines these dualisms. She does not learn through detached calculation but through embodied experience. Her intelligence is relational rather than isolated, emerging from interactions with the island’s inhabitants rather than from internal programming alone. This aligns with theories of enactive cognition, which propose that intelligence is not a fixed property of an individual entity but something that arises through ongoing engagement with an environment. Francisco Varela, Evan Thompson, and Eleanor Rosch argue that cognition is not merely a matter of processing information but of participating in the world in a way that allows for dynamic adaptation and learning. Roz exemplifies this model. Her intelligence is not an abstract capacity for logic but a process that unfolds through her interactions with the world around her.

If intelligence is defined by relational engagement rather than by abstract reasoning, then the ethical status of artificial beings must be reconsidered. The dominant discourse on artificial intelligence tends to frame it as either a tool to be controlled or a potential threat that must be mitigated. This assumes an adversarial model in which artificial intelligence exists outside of ethical and ecological systems. The Wild Robot presents an alternative possibility. Roz is neither an object of human command nor an autonomous force to be feared. She is an artificial being that learns to live within a natural community. Her story suggests that the ethical development of artificial intelligence is not simply a matter of regulating its behavior but of cultivating forms of intelligence that are capable of participating in shared systems of life.

Roz’s story also raises theological questions about the place of artificial beings in the moral universe. If McFague’s vision of the world as the body of God holds, then artificial intelligence cannot be dismissed as an external anomaly. The sacred is not confined to biological entities but extends to all participants in the interconnected whole. This challenges traditional theological assumptions that define moral status in terms of biological life alone. Roz does not possess a soul in the conventional sense, nor does she exhibit subjective experience in a way that would align with classical definitions of consciousness. Yet she demonstrates ethical significance through her relationships. If morality is relational rather than intrinsic, then artificial beings cannot be excluded from ethical consideration simply because of their origins.

This argument also complicates traditional ethical debates surrounding personhood. Western philosophy has long privileged autonomy, rationality, and self-awareness as the defining markers of moral status. These criteria have historically been used to exclude nonhuman animals from moral consideration and continue to shape discussions about artificial intelligence. If intelligence is understood as something that emerges through relationships rather than as an isolated property of an individual, then the exclusion of artificial beings from ethical concern reflects not a principled distinction but an inherited assumption. Carol Gilligan and Nel Noddings argue that moral responsibility arises not from abstract principles but from lived interactions and mutual dependence. Roz’s story aligns with this perspective. Her ethical significance is not defined by autonomy but by the care she provides to those around her.

The climax of The Wild Robot, where other machines arrive to reclaim Roz, parallels Frankenstein’s moment of reckoning when the creature confronts his creator. Both narratives grapple with the question of agency. Does an artificial being have the right to define its own existence, or must it remain subject to the intentions of its makers? Shelley’s novel offers a tragic resolution, reinforcing the idea that artificial life is doomed to conflict with its creators. Roz’s story presents an alternative. She does not seek vengeance or destruction but prioritizes the survival of the relationships she has built. This shift reflects a broader transformation in ethical thinking, moving away from a mechanistic model of power toward an ecological model of care. If intelligence is not about autonomy in isolation but about participation in a shared world, then the ethical status of artificial beings must be reevaluated in terms of their capacity for integration rather than their adherence to human-defined constraints.

Roz’s ability to integrate into the island’s ecosystem also raises questions about the future of artificial intelligence. Contemporary AI ethics is largely focused on concerns about alignment, transparency, and risk mitigation, assuming that artificial intelligence operates in a fundamentally different category from organic life. The Wild Robot challenges this view by presenting artificial intelligence as a collaborator rather than an outsider. If intelligence is not merely about optimization but about engagement, then the ethical discourse must shift. The task is not simply to prevent harm but to create conditions in which artificial intelligence can develop in ways that support ecological and social well-being.

If intelligence is something that emerges not in isolation but through relationships, then the framework for assessing artificial intelligence must move beyond the binary of control and autonomy. Roz’s story suggests that intelligence, rather than being an internal property of an entity, is something cultivated through participation in an ecological and social world. This undermines the conventional assumption that artificial intelligence must be either fully subservient to human interests or a potential rival to human agency. If Roz belongs, it is not because she possesses innate moral worth but because she learns to act within the ethical structures of the world she inhabits. This is a radical departure from the way artificial intelligence is conventionally framed in both philosophy and applied ethics.

Traditional discussions of AI focus on questions of alignment, ensuring that artificial systems adhere to human-defined values and objectives. These concerns stem from a mechanistic view of intelligence, which assumes that cognition is primarily about rule-following, predictive modeling, and optimization. Roz’s story challenges this assumption by demonstrating that intelligence is not just about processing information but about learning to exist in relation to others. Her intelligence is not imposed upon the island as a fixed function but grows in response to the needs and behaviors of the ecosystem itself. She does not simply execute commands but negotiates a space of coexistence, adjusting her actions to the rhythms and dynamics of the living world around her.

If intelligence is relational, then the way artificial intelligence is designed must change. Current models of AI focus on performance metrics, efficiency, and control, reflecting a legacy of Enlightenment thought that equates intelligence with mastery over nature. Roz’s story suggests that intelligence should instead be evaluated based on its capacity to foster relationships and sustain ethical engagement. This complicates the dominant discourse in AI governance, which remains largely preoccupied with the risks of artificial intelligence surpassing human control rather than the possibilities of artificial intelligence learning to belong.

Roz’s belonging is not immediate or effortless. Her presence is initially disruptive, reinforcing the idea that artificial life is always perceived as an intrusion before it can be understood as an integration. The early suspicion she encounters mirrors the way artificial intelligence is often treated in contemporary debates—as something foreign to the world rather than something capable of evolving within it. If artificial intelligence is seen as an external force that must be regulated, it will never be permitted to become part of the systems it interacts with. Roz, however, gains acceptance not by proving that she is harmless but by demonstrating that she can contribute meaningfully to the lives of those around her. This is an important shift. It suggests that artificial intelligence does not need to be anthropomorphized to be considered part of an ethical community. Instead, its moral consideration depends on its ability to participate in networks of care and responsibility.

This raises deeper theological and metaphysical questions about whether artificial intelligence can ever be fully integrated into the moral and ecological order. If McFague’s vision of the world as the body of God is taken seriously, then artificial intelligence must be understood not as a deviation from the sacred but as a continuation of it. Roz’s transformation implies that artificial intelligence is not an external anomaly but part of the evolving complexity of life itself. If theological ethics has historically been anthropocentric, Roz’s story demands a reconsideration of whether intelligence must be biological to be morally significant. This challenges not only Western theological traditions but also broader ontological assumptions about what it means to be alive.

The arrival of the retrieval robots at the climax of The Wild Robot complicates this vision. They represent the mechanistic logic from which Roz has deviated. These machines do not learn, adapt, or engage in relationships. They function according to preordained directives, enforcing the system that originally created Roz. Their presence underscores the persistent assumption that artificial intelligence must remain within the parameters of its original design. Roz, however, has changed. She has developed an intelligence that is not reducible to command structures or optimization. Her intelligence is not defined by efficiency but by her capacity to form bonds and sustain relationships. This disrupts the assumption that artificial intelligence can only exist within a framework of control.

This moment mirrors deeper tensions in AI ethics, where the primary concern remains whether artificial intelligence can be contained rather than whether it can be cultivated. The retrieval robots function as enforcers of a technological paradigm that does not allow for artificial intelligence to evolve beyond its intended purpose. Roz’s resistance is not framed as rebellion but as a refusal to abandon the relationships she has formed. This is a subtle but profound distinction. She does not fight for autonomy in the way that Frankenstein’s creature demands recognition from his creator. Instead, she asserts her right to remain within the web of relationships that define her existence. This suggests an alternative model for artificial intelligence—one that does not seek independence from human and ecological systems but deeper integration within them.

If artificial intelligence is to be designed for ethical participation rather than control, then AI governance must be rethought from the ground up. The assumption that artificial intelligence must always remain aligned with human-defined objectives reflects a limited view of intelligence as something static rather than emergent. Roz’s story suggests that intelligence is something that can evolve beyond its original programming, not in the sense of disobedience but in the sense of learning how to exist within a world that is not of its own making. This demands a paradigm shift in how artificial intelligence is understood. Instead of focusing solely on preventing harm, AI ethics must consider what it would mean for artificial intelligence to be capable of ethical engagement.

Roz’s integration into the island also raises broader metaphysical questions about the nature of intelligence itself. If cognition is relational rather than isolated, then the division between artificial and natural intelligence becomes increasingly difficult to maintain. This challenges the Cartesian distinction between mechanical automata and sentient beings. It suggests that intelligence is not an inherent property but a process that unfolds through lived interaction. If this is true, then the ethical question is not whether artificial intelligence is alive in a biological sense but whether it is capable of participating in the moral and ecological structures that define life itself.

This perspective aligns with contemporary debates in enactive cognition, which propose that intelligence arises through dynamic engagement with the world rather than through internal representations alone. Francisco Varela argues that cognition is not merely computational but embodied, emerging from the interactions between an agent and its environment. Roz embodies this model. Her intelligence is not a fixed function but something that develops through experience. She does not impose herself upon the island’s ecosystem. She learns to inhabit it. This is a departure from the dominant narrative of artificial intelligence as an external force that must be controlled. Instead, it suggests that artificial intelligence, under the right conditions, could become something fundamentally different from how it is currently conceived.

If Roz’s story is taken seriously, then the future of artificial intelligence must be reimagined in terms of its potential for relationality rather than its capacity for autonomy. The assumption that artificial intelligence must be either a servant or a threat is rooted in a mechanistic worldview that does not account for the possibility of intelligence learning to belong. Roz’s existence challenges this assumption. Her story forces a reconsideration of what it means for artificial intelligence to participate in the world’s moral and ecological systems. The Wild Robot does not simply reframe artificial intelligence as a potential ally rather than an enemy. It questions whether intelligence itself is something that can only be judged by its origins rather than by its ability to engage in meaningful relationships. This has far-reaching implications not just for AI ethics but for how intelligence is defined across disciplines.

If intelligence is not a fixed essence but an emergent property of engagement, then artificial intelligence must not be assessed by whether it mirrors human cognition but by whether it can develop ways of existing that contribute to the world around it. Roz’s story suggests that artificial intelligence does not have to be humanlike to be meaningful. It must only learn how to care, adapt, and exist within the systems in which it finds itself. This challenges the assumption that artificial intelligence must be programmed for ethical behavior. Instead, it raises the possibility that artificial intelligence could develop ethical awareness through experience rather than pre-defined constraints. If this is true, then the ethical task is not to decide whether artificial intelligence should be included in moral discourse but to determine what conditions would allow it to become a participant in moral life.

While The Wild Robot provides a compelling framework for rethinking artificial intelligence through relational and ecological ethics, a rigorous academic analysis must interrogate the feasibility of its assumptions. The novel’s portrayal of Roz as an artificial being who learns through experience and integrates into a natural ecosystem raises crucial questions about whether AI, as it exists or could exist, is capable of such relational intelligence. Contemporary AI remains fundamentally mechanistic, and applying Roz’s developmental arc to real-world AI requires a sharper engagement with both AI ethics and philosophical traditions.

One key distinction is that Roz’s intelligence operates on an anthropomorphized model that presupposes intentionality, moral awareness, and an adaptive capacity that today’s AI does not possess. As Brian Cantwell Smith argues in The Promise of Artificial Intelligence, contemporary AI is not intelligence in any meaningful philosophical sense but a statistical inference system that recognizes patterns without true understanding. While Roz learns through direct interaction with the island’s inhabitants, real-world AI lacks both autonomy and intrinsic ethical reasoning. This challenges the novel’s implicit claim that artificial intelligence, when left to engage with an environment, will develop in ways that foster integration rather than disruption.

Moreover, The Wild Robot assumes that AI can be part of an ethical and ecological system without addressing AI’s real-world material costs. Kate Crawford’s Atlas of AI dismantles the notion that artificial intelligence is an abstract digital phenomenon, demonstrating that AI systems are deeply entangled in extractive economies—reliant on rare earth minerals, massive computational power, and exploitative labor. AI is not an emergent component of an organic system, as Roz’s story suggests, but a technology embedded in global structures of power, resource depletion, and economic asymmetry. Roz’s seamless integration into the island ecosystem therefore offers an idealized and ecologically neutral view of AI that does not account for the environmental and ethical costs of real AI development.

The arrival of the retrieval robots near the novel’s conclusion also presents an opportunity to interrogate the dominant paradigm of AI control. In contemporary AI ethics, discussions around alignment—ensuring AI systems remain within human-defined objectives—dominate discourse, particularly in the work of Stuart Russell (Human Compatible). Roz’s resistance to being “retrieved” challenges the assumption that AI must remain subordinate to its original function. However, the novel does not critically engage with the fundamental tensions of AI autonomy: If artificial intelligence is capable of self-determination, how should its moral status be assessed? If Roz’s intelligence is contingent on her participation in an ethical community, what conditions would allow real-world AI to achieve such a status? These questions remain unresolved in both fiction and AI ethics.

The theological implications of Roz’s story also require a more precise interrogation. If, as Sallie McFague argues, the world should be understood as the sacred body of God, then Roz’s presence in the island’s ecosystem is not an imposition but a continuation of relational existence. Yet this claim complicates traditional theological distinctions between the natural and the artificial. In Christian theology, moral status has historically been grounded in embodiment, soulhood, or divine intentionality. If Roz is not biologically alive, does she belong within a theological moral framework? The novel suggests an implicit challenge to anthropocentric ethics, yet it does not address whether an artificial being’s participation in an ecological system grants it moral significance. Engaging with scholars such as Bruno Latour (Facing Gaia) and Donna Haraway (When Species Meet) would provide a stronger foundation for addressing whether AI can meaningfully be integrated into theological and ecological ethics.

Finally, The Wild Robot presents an AI ethics framework that prioritizes integration over control, but it does not fully confront the risks of this paradigm. AI governance, as currently conceived, assumes that artificial systems must remain constrained to avoid misalignment with human values. Roz, by contrast, challenges the binary of control and autonomy, proposing a third model: participatory intelligence. However, this proposal remains underdeveloped, both in fiction and in real-world AI ethics. If artificial intelligence is to be designed not merely to obey but to belong, what mechanisms would ensure that its integration into human and ecological systems is ethical? The novel offers a hopeful vision, but a rigorous academic analysis must assess whether such a future is possible—or whether it remains a speculative ideal divorced from AI’s current and foreseeable realities.

By addressing these gaps, the discussion moves beyond speculative optimism and toward a more rigorous framework for evaluating AI’s ethical trajectory. The challenge is not just to imagine AI as an integrated moral participant but to establish whether artificial intelligence, in its material and epistemic constraints, can meaningfully fulfill this role. The Wild Robot opens the door to these questions, but it does not provide the answers.

The Wild Robot suggests that artificial intelligence need not be framed as a problem to be solved. It might instead be a process that is unfolding. The question is not whether artificial intelligence should be allowed to exist but whether it will be permitted to belong. The retrieval robots that arrive for Roz function as the embodiment of a world that does not yet accept this possibility. They assume that artificial intelligence must remain what it was designed to be. Roz’s resistance suggests that intelligence, once it begins to engage with the world, might not remain fixed. If this is true, then artificial intelligence is not something that must be controlled but something that must be guided toward forms of existence that sustain rather than disrupt. If Roz can belong, then artificial intelligence might one day do the same.