Norwegian cinema is less known in the world than the ones coming from other Scandinavian countries, but lately it has offered some interesting productions, especially films about ordinary people and their relationships. ‘Elskling‘, the 2024 debut film by director Lilja Ingolfsdottir, also falls into this category. If the translation app doesn’t fool me, the title is equivalent to ‘Darling’, but the producers decided to release it on the English-language market with the title ‘Loveable‘, a slightly explicit title in my opinion where more ambiguity would have been more appropriate. It’s a film about a marriage in crisis, one of those situations that many of us have gone through or known in our lives. The characters are so natural and the situations are believable, which is a good starting point.
Maria was diverced with two small children when she saw Sigmund at a party and fell in love with him. She searches for him for several months and, when she finds him, she initiates a relationship that seems to turn into a second-chance love story. They get married, two more children are born, seven years pass. The flame seems to be about to die out, especially on Sigmund’s side. He is busy with his professional life and claims to need ‘space’. Maria, meanwhile, is overwhelmed by raising her four children and frustrated by the fact that she is unable to achieve her own professional fulfillment. Maybe she also needs her ‘space’? Maybe, if the relationship is no longer working, that it would be better to divorce? The word ‘divorce’ is pronounced late and with difficulty. For Maria, trying to be independent, separated from Sigmund and the children, is risky.
I have a problem with films with excessive verbosity, and ‘Elskling‘ is one of them. It is true that part of the film is spent in sessions at the psychologist where Maria and Sigmund arrive together, but Sigmund quickly gets bored and abandons after the first two sessions, leaving Maria as his only patient. It is a good pretext, but not enough, and in a few scenes (especially one of the many scenes with mirrors) the emotions are stifled in words. Too bad, because at other times we are dealing with a sensitive and empathetic sketch of the life of a couple in need of help. Helga Guren is an excellent actress and her Maria joins a gallery of numerous female characters in Scandinavian cinema that are filled with restrained emotion. Oddgeir Thune, the performer of the role of Sigmund, has all the physical qualities necessary for the role plus acting talent. The story and the acting performances will divide audiences in their appreciation of the degree of responsibility of the two heroes in the crisis of their marriage. I was intrigued by one aspect, however, and I don’t know if this observation is not related to cultural differences. Here is a film about the breakup of a relationship between two mature people who raise four children together (two born in their marriage, two from the heroine’s previous marriage). The two talk a lot on to the other, in the presence or absence of the psychologist. How is it possible that the interests and well-being of the children are never a subject of discussion or an argument for how the relationship will evolve? With these small observations, I think ‘Elskling‘ is an interesting film, coming from an unexpected direction, by a filmmaker who promises to make many other, good films in the future.
I have been expecting the release of the new version of ‘Superman‘ written and directed by James Gunn and I didn’t miss the opportunity to watch the film on its first day of release for audiences around the world. I’m not sure I’ve seen all the films featuring the character of Superman, but I remember the 1978 film fondly and I was also a big fan of the TV series ‘Lois & Clark’ that was very popular in the ’90s. Remakes of superhero movies are sometimes (admittedly, quite rarely) successful, and I had high hopes. Unfortunately, the disappointment was in line with expectations.
‘Superman‘ is not just about movies but also a true cultural phenomenon and an industry of fashion items, toys and gadgets built around the characters. For producers, success is probably not measured only in the number of tickets sold, let alone in the comments of film critics. The calculation is made much later and it depends on the reaction of the audience and the extent to which they are urged, after watching the film, to buy the new products generated by that version. The new ‘Superman‘ does not bring anything new to the story we know. There is a new twist, probably already known to almost everyone who gets to see the film, which however generates only false or superficial identity crises for the main character. The double identity of the Clark / Superman hero is almost completely absent, the actor David Corenswet spending about 90% of the film in the costume in which I have not yet figured out how the physiological needs are satisfied. Perhaps newer is the fact that Superman is now part of a somewhat larger category of meta-humans who help, when they are in a good mood, humanity in its difficult moments. Fans and critics call this the ‘superhero universe’. The toy-generating novelties are Crypto the puppy and a gallery of robots who have also grown bored with the names they have been given – ‘One’ to ‘Twelve’ -, who are not yet different enough to generate characters, but are elegantly designed enough to make collectors and many parents fork out the money to purchase the models.
The story is dull and uninteresting, even though we live in times when humanity is in great need of superheroes. The pseudo-technical vocabulary produces moments of unintentional humor. Screenwriter James Gunn tried to introduce some political elements related to the conflict between large corporations and the rest of humanity or international politics, but everything is predictable and drowns in clichés. The two actors who take over the role of Clark and Lois – David Corenswet and Rachel Brosnahan – are OK, but neither he matches Christopher Reeve’s charisma, nor she matches Teri Hatcher from the television series, who was in my opinion the funniest and sexiest Lois in the history of the role. There are many allusions and homages to the original story and previous films in the film – in the sets and other details -, but I wonder how many of the younger viewers understand them. Not even the dog Crypto can save this ‘Superman‘, which for me was a bore with many spectacular special effects.
‘The Trial‘ (1962) is – in my opinion – the second peak of Orson Welles‘s directing career, along with ‘Citizen Kane’. Welles himself considered it his best film. ‘The Trial‘ is the title of two masterpieces: one literary – Franz Kafka‘s novel – and the other cinematic – Orson Welles‘ film. It is a demonstration at the highest possible artistic level of the stupidity of the question ‘which was better – the book or the film?’ and of the impossibility of comparing quality works of two arts – literature and film – which have such different means of expression at their disposal. I re-watched the film, or rather the recovered version (the original had long been considered lost) which was qualitatively improved. Like any other artistic work at this level, each re-watch is an opportunity for discovery and deepening.
Joseph K. is visited at dawn by the police. He is investigated and suspected. He does not know what the charges are and will never find out, but he knows that he lives in a system in which everyone is being watched and anyone can be suspected, tried, convicted. Can one try to prove innocence without knowing what the accusation is? Do lawyers help? Can one find defense in churches and solace in faith? Can love or physical attraction change anything? ‘The Trial’ is a parable of the monstrosity of systems based on fear, of the perverse deformation of justice into its opposite.
Orson Welles created, together with Anthony Perkins, a prototype of the model citizen who becomes a victim of the system. Much has been written about the relationships of the character Joseph K. in the film with women and about the fact that Welles allegedly used the actor’s identity to instill ambiguity in his character. The result is concentrated in a few masterful scenes in which Perkins appears with Jeanne Moreau and Romy Schneider. Welles cast himself in the role of the lawyer, reminding us what a great actor he was too. The cinematography belongs to Edmond Richard who was on his debut film. He would work with Welles in a few more films, then work later with Bunuel.. We find many of Welles‘ cinematic ideas from previous films: the huge shades, the low lighting of the figures or the alternation of very long shots with very short shots. Welles would have liked to film in Kafka’s Prague, but this was not possible in the continent divided in 1962 by iron curtains and walls, so he used Yugoslavia as an Eastern European setting, adding the Gare d’Orsay (abandoned and in semi-ruin, before being renovated and becoming a museum) for the interiors of Joseph K’s nightmares.
Political cinema has a controversial name, because many ‘political’ films are manifestos rather than works of art. ‘The Trial‘ proves that it can be done differently. It is a profound, bold, visionary film and at the same time a political film, just like the novel written by Kafka in the first decades of the century that had not yet seen the Holocaust, the Gulag, the cultural revolution or the killing fields. As a mature filmmaker, Welles was proving that he remained the politically engaged, but before all, one of the great film directors of the 20th century.
De multe ori doar când un om dispare realizăm cât de mult a însemnat el în viața noastră și pentru cei din jur. Fred Baker a fost unul dintre acești oameni. Nu am fost niciodată prieteni apropriați. Ne-am întâlnit în sălile de lucru ale organizației care a definit și definește cum funcționează Internetul – Internet Engineering Task Force (IETF). El era deja o celebritate, ceea ce se numește un lider (prin poziții de conducere, dar mai ales prin autoritate profesională), atunci când eu făceam primii pași în acea lume. Acum, când am aflat vestea surprinzătoare și dureroasă a decesului său, îmi dau seama că a fost pentru mine și pentru mulți alții un coleg și un conducător, o autoritate și o inspirație, un mentor și un prieten. Aș vrea ca mai multă lume să știe cine a fost și ce a realizat Fred Baker. Lui îi este dedicat articolul din aceasta săptămână al rubricii CHANGE.WORLD.
Fred s-a născut în 1952 la Cleveland, Ohio și a studiat în New Mexico. Prima sa poziție în domeniul ingineriei calculatoarelor a fost cu Control Data Corporation (CDC), o firmă americană care avea în anii ’70 relații de colaborare cu România, mai exact cu Fabrica de Calculatoare de pe platforma Pipera, care fabrica sub licență unități de discuri și benzi magnetice. Cea mai mare parte a carierei sale profesionale și-a desfășurat-o ca angajat al firmei Cisco Systems, între anii 1994 și 2016. În 1998 a fost recompensat cu titlul de Cisco Fellow, o recunoaștere rezervată liderilor tehnologici și personalităților cu influență în cadrul corporației și în afara ei. După ce a părăsit Cisco în 2016 a devenit consultant independent. Activitatea în cadrul organizației IETF a început-o în anul 1989, cu participare activă în conceperea și scrierea unui număr impresionant de standarde în domeniile administrației Internetului și a rețelelor bazate pe tehnologie Internet Protocol (IP), a protocoalelor de comunicații care permit conectivitatea în Internet și a calității serviciilor și aplicațiilor pe Internet. A fost editor, autor și co-autor a peste 60 de documente Requests for Comments (RFC) ale organizației. Între 1996 și 2001 a condus organizația în calitate de președinte (IETF Chair), într-o perioadă de progres exploziv al tehnologiei și de pătrundere a Internetului în toate domeniile vieții economice, sociale și particulare. A îndeplinit misiuni importante atât ca lider al organizației, cât și ca reprezentant al acesteia pe lângă sau în comitetele directoare ale unor foruri asociate cum sunt Internet Society (ISOC) și Internet Association for Assigned Names and Numbers (ICANN).
L-am urmărit și admirat pe Fred în acțiune. Impresionau la el două calități care sunt esențiale pentru un contributor de valoare în orice domeniu, în general, și în domeniile științifice, în particular. Cunoștințele sale tehnice erau profunde și stăpânea desăvârșit detaliile, dar era capabil să cearnă esențialul și să-l exprime și să-l explice în mod simplu, clar și ordonat. Trata de la egal la egal și cu respect orice partener de discuție, indiferent de poziție sau chiar de expertiză. Din acest motiv era considerat o sursă de informații tehnice și organizatorice pentru orice nou venit în organizație. La Fred se combinau două caracteristici care rar se întâlnesc în aceleași persoane – o franchețe și un stil ‘no-nonsense’ care evita orice formalism și făcea clare și ne-echivoce pozițiile în orice problemă și o interfață umană prietenească și respectuoasă fata de oricine. Aceste calități umane și de prezentare au făcut din el un ambasador și un propagator al principiilor Internetului cum puțini alții au fost în istoria organizației IETF și a rețelei globale create de aceasta. Atât în perioada în care a condus organizația, cât și în deceniile care au urmat, Fred Baker a călătorit în toată lumea, pe 6 continente (nu știu daca a ajuns și în Antarctica, dar nu m-ar mira să aflu că da), vorbind despre Internet, explicând tehnologia, dar mai ales principiile rețelei globale, ale accesului liber la informație și servicii, ale conectivității universale. Lui i se datorează în mare măsură începuturile activităților de implementare a Internetului în multe țări din Asia și Africa. Peste tot și-a făcut prieteni, a fost ascultat și apreciat.
La începutul anului 2025, existau aproximativ 5,56 miliarde de utilizatori ai Internetului la nivel mondial, reprezentând cam 67,9% din populația lumii. Aceste cifre uluitoare se datorează în principal unor vizionari care au stabilit principiile rețelei globale cu peste jumătate de secol în urmă și au scris primele specificații tehnice și programe software, și apoi celor care au continuat munca acestora, transformând Internetul într-o componentă vitală a infrastructurii societății moderne. Fred Baker a făcut parte din această a doua generație, de evangheliști și propagatori, de ingineri și inspiratori. Numele său va rămâne înscris pe documentele care formalizează gândirea sa tehnică. Cei care l-am cunoscut ne vom aminti de colegul și de omul care a fost.
Drum Bun în Eternitate, Fred!
Articolul a fost publicat inițial în revista de cultură ‘Literatura de Azi’
Romanian cinema seems to feel uncomfortable with George Enescu, the most important Romanian composer and one of the most appreciated musicians of the 20th century. Violinist, conductor, educator, but above all composer, who in addition to a few hits (especially the rhapsodies) also composed a lot of profound and difficult music, a challenge for performers but also for listeners, Enescu traveled a winding path throughout his life, from his appearance in the world of music as a child prodigy, going through a sentimental life often in the focus of the scandal press, to the end of his life as an exile from Romania that had became a communist country, marked by illness and disillusionment. Paradoxically, no film has been dedicated to him so far. Director Toma Enache worked for many years on the construction of the project that became the film ‘Enescu, jupuit de viu‘ (English title – ‘Enescu Skinned Alive‘) which fits well into the trend of biographies of great composers that seem to enjoy success on screens in recent years. The result is one of those films that polarizes opinions, declared by some as a masterpiece or art film, criticized by others as ‘soft porn’ and blasphemy against a national cultural icon. I will try to share what I felt while watching it, my impressions being also a combination of contradictions.
Enescu’s biography is presented in somewhat chronological order, although there are many ‘flash-back’ and ‘flash-forward’ insertions. For the Romanian viewer, somewhat familiar with the composer’s biography, the exposition does not present any problems, but for less initiated viewers I think there will be quite a few difficulties in placing some episodes in time and especially in context. The emphasis is placed on the passionate love story between Enescu and Maruca Cantacuzino, which unfolded over the course of several decades. However, a problem arises here that I am not sure if it is technical or a directorial decision that is difficult to explain. Toma Enache uses very little makeup, or if he does, it is clumsy. Enescu seems frozen in an eternal allure around the age of 50 while Maria Rosetti Cantacuzino looks about 20 years younger. In reality, the two were quite close in age, Maruca being about three years older. Problematic decisions or executions, because, for example, the relationship of the woman about 50 years old with the philosopher Nae Ionescu over ten years younger is difficult to understand based on the way the protagonists look.
I cannot avoid the comparison with the film ‘Boléro’ by Anne Fontaine, made in the same year, which tells the story of the life of Maurice Ravel, Enescu’s contemporary. In both movies the scripts center around the gestation of the major mature work of each of the two composers – Ravel’s ‘Bolero’ and Enescu’s opera ‘Oedipe’. In my opinion, we learn much less about Enescu’s masterpiece in this film. Is Oedipus’ suffering meant to be a replica of the musician’s love pains, passionately loved but occasionally deceived by the capricious princess? We learn too little about Enescu the man and his relationships with the world around him. Toma Enache built sets, used authentic locations when he could, and created luxurious costumes to reconstruct the world of the Romanian aristocracy before World War II, but the image seemed as brilliant as it is superficial. The music is, of course, formidable, with Enescu performed by the Orchestre National de France conducted by Cristian Macelaru, but the spoken text does not always work well and sometimes sounds more like a precious documentary commentary. I was not enthusiastic about either the choice or the acting performances of Catalin Bocirnea and Theodora Sandu. They look great in the love scenes, but from a film about Enescu I expected something completely different. More about the soul and music, less about the flesh. The producers chose not to release the film in the commercial cinemas in Romania, limiting themselves to special screenings and now to broadcasting on television. Perhaps it would have been more successful in cinemas. If I’m wrong, ‘Enescu, jupuit de viu‘ may even become a cult film, not just one good for anniversary screenings.
Radu Jude‘s films intentionally take their viewers, especially those in Romania, out of their comfort zone. Whether it’s about national history, its repercussions in the present, or current events, the director and screenwriter place a mirror in front of the viewers in which they see themselves, those close to them, and those who surround them. Any mirror is a reflection of reality, but mirrors can also distort. They magnify some details, shrink or hide others, offering a processed image of the world in their field of vision. This is what happens with ‘Kontinental ’25‘, the film that premiered at the Berlin Film Festival and is now starting its journey on screens in Romania. Through the title, Radu Jude ambitiously places his film, and perhaps not only this film, under the tutelage of Roberto Rossellini. The stars, aligned or misaligned, gave me the opportunity to be present at one of the first screenings today.
Orsolya, the heroine of the film, is a bailiff in Cluj. The first scenes of the film do not show her, however, but Ion, a former athlete, who has become a ruin of a human being, a homeless and a beggar, rummaging through the city’s garbage to fill his bags with recyclables from the sales of he barely survives. Orsolya, together with the gendarmes, executes an eviction order for Ion, an order postponed because she had already been benevolent and tried to help Ion in the past. Desperate, Ion asks for 20 minutes to arrange his affairs and commits suicide. Orsolya, although she is not at fault and the incident cannot have legal repercussions for her, feels guilty. In addition, Romanian nationalist circles in the press and on social networks try to create a diversion case out of this story. The event shakes the fragile balance of her world, already based on compromises. She is Hungarian and married to a Romanian officer. Her mother is a Hungarian nationalist, but she converted to Orthodoxy in order to integrate into her husband’s family. She lives in a privileged area of the city undergoing spectacular development, but her profession puts her in contact with the most disadvantaged of the citizens left behind in neo-capitalist Romania. The film is a succession of dialogues between Orsolya and several people: a friend involved in social activities, her mother, a former student, her priest, in which the heroine tries to find peace and ease her conscience. Is there a real solution to these turmoils, or the only alternative is to retreat back into compromise?
Screenwriter Radu Jude manages to catch in this story many of the contradictions that simmer under the spectacular development of the Transylvanian capital into a technological center and a modern European city: the traumas of history and nationalist resentments, the differences in social status and economic situation between those who have succeeded and those who were left behind by the system, an imperfect political and judicial apparatus. Film director Radu Jude alternates the fiction built through a succession of episodes captured by the Ozu-style fixed camera, with images of the Cluj of contrasts that recall his experimental films that explored the past based on archival photographs. The fictional part is supported by an excellent team of actors built around the main heroine played by Eszter Tompa. The combination works very well and the effect is assertive and disturbing, as the filmmaker intended. If it weren’t like that, it wouldn’t be a Radu Jude film.
The phenomenon of nostalgia for communism seems to refuse to die. ‘Sunt o babă comunistă‘ (English title – ‘I’m an Old Communist Hoag‘), the 2013 film by Stere Gulea, joins several other creations of film schools from former communist countries, which attempt to analyze the economic and psychological difficulties experienced by generations that had their youth during the communist period and that were not spared by the often brutal transitions to completely different political and economic systems. The most famous creation of the genre is, I think, ‘Good Bye Lenin’ by German director Wolfgang Becker. Dan Lungu’s novel and Gulea‘s film inspired by the novel propose a similar female character, but who ends up experiencing nostalgia not as an illusion, but through assumption and even through action.
Emilia and Tucu, the heroes of the film, live with difficulty in a provincial town during the transition. The factory that provided jobs for the family and those around them has closed and the machinery is rusting in the workshops. Alice, their daughter, is away in Canada and her visit with her American fiancé is testing the couple’s meager resources. When a film about the Ceausescu era is being made in town, Emilia is called to participate as one of the veterans of the era. It is an opportunity to remember episodes from her youth, with the bad parts and the good ones.
Emilia is not a fanatic. Her memory of the past is, of course, selective, but that happens to many of us when we recall the periods of our youth. The change of regime came too late for her to adapt or change her lifestyle, the simple, perhaps naive, values about work or family relationships also come into conflict with the changing mores of the era. Luminita Gheorghiu fills her character with humanity, this being another one of her great roles. Emilia has a counterpoint in the character of Mrs. Stroescu, a woman with different experiences, of suffering, during the communist period. The role is played by Valeria Seciu and film viewers have the opportunity to watch these two great actresses, who have since disappeared, together. The director and screenwriters do not try to judge or impose a point of view. I do not think that many will become nostalgic for communism after watching this film, but there are chances that they will better understand the roots of the nostalgia phenomenon, at least for the older generations.
Viața este plină de coincidențe interesante. Ben Parket, eroul și autorul cărții de memorii ‘The Courtyard’ scrisă în colaborare cu Alexa Morris, s-a născut și a trăit până la vârsta de 16 ani într-un imobil de patru etaje plus mansardă, în forma literei U, având în centrul său o curte. Și eu m-am născut și am crescut până la vârsta de 17 ani într-un asemenea imobil, cu 5 etaje și o curte lungă în forma literei U. Adresele celor doua clădiri se află ambele la numărul 5 al străzilor respective. Ben Parket (pe atunci Biniem Parkiet) locuia la 5, Rue de Charonne, la Paris. Eu am crescut în centrul Bucurestilor, pe strada Lutherană numărul 5. Destinele noastre sunt despărțite de 20 de ani, de un război și de supraviețuirea Holocaustului care este tema centrală a cărții de memorii a lui Ben Parket. Ceea ce avem comun este sentimentul curții ca spațiu de formare, ca paradis (macar pentru o vreme) al copilăriei, al perimetrului populat de oameni cu care în timp se stabilesc prietenii sau se înfiripă idile, care ajung să-ți fie vecini și, în cazuri extreme, de care ajunge să depindă viața. ‘The Courtyard’ este o carte care dă un sens nou termenului de curte interioară, nu atât un sens topografic cât cel de spațiu interior al supraviețuirii. ‘The Courtyard’ este o poveste de supraviețuire, o mărturie care a fost publicată în seria ‘Holocaust Survivors Memoirs World War II’ a editurii Amsterdam Publishers. Este dedicată celor mulți și anonimi, care cu riscul vieților și libertății lor au ajutat și au salvat evrei în timpul Holocaustului, și are ca moto un citat din Biblie: ‘Iubește-ți vecinul ca pe tine însuți’.
Familia Parkiet (vocala ‘i’ din numele familiei s-a pierdut în transcrierile de nume datorate diferitelor migrări) venise în Franța din Polonia de după primul război mondial. Renașterea națiunii aflate la întâlnirea dintre Europa de Vest și de Est a însemnat și o recrudescență a naționalismului și antisemitismului, iar Franța, cu populația decimată după primul război mondial, își deschisese, ca de atâtea ori de-a lungul istoriei, porțile celor prigoniți. Tatăl era lustruitor și finisor de mobilă, o meserie căutată care avea să susțină familia vreme de decenii. Biniem sau Bernard cum îl numeau prietenii și vecinii francezi era cel mai mic dintre trei frați și singurul născut în Franța. Părinții nu reușiseră niciodată să învețe bine limba franceză, în casă se vorbea idiș, dar erau destul de bine asimilați economic și social, și mândri de a se simți francezi și de a-și educa copii ca francezi. Unul dintre primele capitole ale cărții relatează o vizită, în 1937, la marea Expoziție Mondială organizată în acel an pe imensa esplanadă dintre Piața Trocadero și Turnul Eiffel. Copilul de șase ani se pierde de părinți în mulțime și este găsit, jucându-se și alintat de polițiștii de la postul de poliție al expoziției. Puteau ei ghici că doar câțiva ani mai târziu, de pe acea esplanadă avea Hitler să admire Parisul ocupat, iar polițiștii prietenoși din 1937 puteau fi aceeași care în vremea ocupației, complici ai germanilor, efectuau raziile în care-i vânau și arestau pe cei ai căror singură vină era cea de a fi evrei?
Curtea este descrisa în carte după amintirile copilului, înainte de toate ca un spatiu de joacă, de descoperiri, de înfiripare a prieteniilor și chiar a primei iubiri.
‘When I was a young boy not yet old enough to go to school, I liked nothing more than watching the courtyard’s artisans, especially my father, at work. The courtyard was a hive of activity, tradesmen buzzing in and out of the stairways, or doorways, and I loved being in the center of it, amazed by the industry whirling around me. And if the courtyard was a hive, the queen bee was our concierge. Known affectionately as La Pipelette [The Concierge], Madame Raymond was the unofficial matron of 5 rue de Charonne. Built like an armoire with dark, caterpillar brows, she lived on the ground floor of Stairway 1 with her husband and two grown children, René and Paulette.
There were 13 stairways to the various ateliers. They ran counterclockwise around the courtyard, with Stairway 1 at the northeast corner. We lived on the second floor of Stairway 1, two flights up a spiral staircase. While other stairways mostly led to commercial ateliers, Stairway 1 was the notable exception, with most of its units being apartments.’ (pag. 11)
Totul se schimbă la izbucnirea războiului. În amintirile copilului apar întâi discuțiile tensionate dintre părinți și sentimentul, până atunci necunoscut, al fricii, al faptului de neînțeles că părinții nu-și mai pot ocroti copiii, pierzând controlul asupra vieții acestora și al lor înșiși. Îi macină grija față de familia rămasă în Polonia acum ocupată de naziști, familie care avea să piară aproape în întregime în ororile Holocaustului. Apoi și viața lor începe să se schimbe odată cu ocupația, cu legile rasiale, cu interdicțiile și restricțiile impuse evreilor și mai ales cu arestarea tatălui, care este prizonier timp de câteva luni în infamul lagăr de la Drancy, ultima stație de prizonierat a evreilor din Franța înainte de deportările spre lagărele morții, scăpând de acolo printr-o minune. În 1942 pericolul iminent ajunge la ușile imobilului din Rue de Charonne. Și atunci se petrece ceva extraordinar. Locuitorii imobilului, vecinii francezi ai familiei de imigranți evrei polonezi îi ascund într-un apartament nelocuit. O vecină care lucrează la politie previne familia Parkiet că se afla pe listele celor care vor fi arestați și deportați. Alți vecini vor ajuta familia cu alimente vreme de doi ani și vor asigura de lucru tatălui, pentru a putea să continue să-și câștige existența.
‘ Kind Madame Nicolas. Brave Madame Nicolas. Our upstairs neighbor, the one who used to help my pregnant mother carry groceries upstairs, was helping us again. With the simple action of slipping out of her office at the police station to warn us, she risked her life. Only a lucky few received such warnings. What she did was illegal in the eyes of the Vichy regime, and if she’d been caught she almost certainly would have been killed: yanked from her home and dragged down the street, her black dress flailing behind her, to be lined up against a wall with other “traitors.” A member of the police – maybe even someone with whom she worked every day – would have shot a bullet into her brain.’ (pag. 70)
‘Monsieur Roger didn’t know Yiddish, so he spoke to my parents in a sort of pidgin French that they could understand. To my brothers and me, he spoke a common French, as you would to a native, and my parents could not always follow the conversation. But there was no mistaking him when he loudly proclaimed, “Je suis un homme!” Even my mother understood him quite clearly and, behind his back, she gently rolled her eyes. Sometimes we pretended to be Monsieur Roger after he’d gone; Mama was often the most enthusiastic, making her voice low and thumping her own chest for emphasis as she strode around our small space.
We laughed a bit at Monsieur Roger’s expense, but we were immensely grateful for his visits and company. He took a significant risk because those who aided Jews, even if they were simply aware of their existence and failed to turn them in, became, in the eyes of the Germans, no better than Jews themselves. Had he been caught, Monsieur Roger would almost have certainly ended up in Drancy and perhaps Auschwitz. So there is no question that Monsieur Roger was doing us a great service by visiting each day. He came to see us because he cared about us and hated the Germans. But he also came for the wine.’ (pag. 93)
Cartea este combinație intre narațiune și proză istorică, scrisă cu talent și documentată cu grija. Unele dintre episoadele relatate se pot citi ca adevărate pagini de literatură de suspense. Un ofițer german intră în curte, caută ceva sau pe cineva, spre teroarea evreilor ascunși. Se dovedește că îl așteptă pe mecanicul care urma să-i repare ceva la automobil. De câteva ori, băiatul de zece ani iese din casă pentru a cumpără de mâncare sau, împreună cu vecinii protectori, pentru o escapadă la cinema sau la picnic pe malul unui râu. Riscurile sunt imense, dar la fel este dorul de libertate și nevoia de a respira aer curat. Când în clădire se mută un vecin colaboraționist, milițian al regimului de la Vichy, este alertată Rezistența care ‘se ocupă de el’. Vecinul dispare și nimeni nu pune întrebări. Completările documentare sunt precise, făcute din perspectiva omului matur care va deveni Ben Parker. Ele furnizează informații importante pentru a înțelege contextul memoriilor. Maturizarea este accelerată. Copilăria povestitorului și adolescența fraților săi este furată pentru totdeauna.
‘We sang this song about yearning for a lost childhood on many subsequent Sundays. I can’t speak to what Severin or Henri were thinking as they sang, but I know that, at ten years old, I did not understand its meaning. It did not resonate that I was experiencing the loss of my own childhood, that I would never be able to indulge in the pleasurable if melancholy nostalgia of Monsieur Kreisman’s song. My brothers, too, were missing out on life experiences that would have been happy memories in later years. Severin, 19, and Henri, 17, were young men who should have been entering the world and planning a life beyond the lycée, courting girls in the neighborhood. They should have been sneaking chaste kisses in the dark of a movie theater, emerging love-dazed with tousled hair. Or been out carousing with friends on Saturday nights, dancing until the sky turned gray with dawn, stumbling home with wine-stained lips. Instead, they were
leading diminished lives in a cramped warehouse. My brothers had dreamed of adventure, of travel, and just when their world should have been expanding, it contracted. Our carefree years, and those of my brothers, were being stolen. Gone forever.’ (pag. 113)
Câteva pagini emoționante descriu zilele eliberării. Curtea le fusese interzisă vreme de doi ani celor care trăiseră zi și noapte, oră de oră, sub amenințarea arestării, deportării, morții. Recâștigarea însuși a dreptului de a păși în spațiul familiar este o victorie.
‘Back in the courtyard we were surrounded by neighbors we’d not seen or spoken to in years. Men clapped each other on the back and women, who’d previously passed each other on the stairs without so much as a greeting, now embraced each other like they were long lost relatives, reluctant to let go. The day workers put down their tools in silent agreement: Labor was done for the day. All of these familiar faces, beaming with joy – the mechanic took a large swig of wine, then handed the bottle to the Italian painter. Even Monsieur Herbin seemed delighted, his face red from happiness, or maybe champagne. Had they known we were in hiding? Were they surprised to see us? I don’t actually know. But the moment was larger than us, larger than any one person or family, and the courtyard erupted into a celebration that included us. Madame Raymond enveloped my mother in a hug, almost swallowing her, then released her and disappeared into her apartment, returning with chairs, and wine. Other women from the courtyard, including Madame Nicolas – who had saved us and whom we had not seen since the day she warned us to leave our apartment – brought out chairs, dragging them over the bumpy cobblestones to form a circle. The women sat together, a ring of black dresses, laughing and crying. I stood off to the side and watched them. A brown tabby with a long scar on its nose wandered into the circle, winding itself around the legs of anyone who’d tolerate it. The cat meowed incessantly for milk, and eventually, Madame Raymond’s daughter, Paulette, got a saucer and placed it on the ground; today was a day for generosity. Yes,the courtyard took care of its own.’ (pag. 156)
Anii de după război nu au fost ușori pentru familia Parkiet. Se reîntorc în apartamentul lor, dar acesta fusese complet jefuit. Își regăsesc doar o mică parte din familie, cei care fuseseră refugiați în Belgia, aflând însă că toți cei rămași în Polonia pieriseră în Holocaust. Sentimentul că o mare parte dintre cei printre care trăiau colaboraseră cu ocupanții și fuseseră părtași la suferințele lor și ale tuturor evreilor din Franța îi urmărește continuu. Un nou război, cel din Indochina, amenință Franța și tinerii familiei sunt la vârsta când pot fi chemați sub arme. Toate acestea contribuie la decizia familiei de a emigra în Israel. Nici aici acomodarea nu este ușoară, limba ebraică este la fel de dificilă pentru părinți, dar cei trei frați se acomodează mult mai ușor. Binem pleacă la studii în America, aici o cunoaște pe viitoarea sa soție, și cei doi, după o încercare de a trai împreună în Israel, decid să rămână în America. Devenit Ben Parket, construindu-și o familie și o carieră frumoasă de arhitect, nu va uita însă niciodată Curtea. Ajuns la vârsta amintirilor, o va evoca în această carte.
Mărturiile despre supraviețuire în Holocaust au un model și o referință comuna și comparațiile sunt dificil de evitat. ‘The Courtyard’ relatează istoria trăita a unei familii al cărei destin ar fi putut fi cu ușurință asemănător celui al familiei Annei Frank. Diferența, adică supraviețuirea, s-a datorat șansei, dar în special oamenilor cărora le este dedicată această carte.
‘Righteous Among the Nations is an honorific used to describe non-Jews who risked their lives during the Holocaust to save Jewish people. Recipients of this recognition are awarded a medal and their names are added to the Wall of Honor, which is actually a series of stone walls nestled among the carob trees in the Garden of the Righteous in Jerusalem. If I could, I would have all our neighbors listed on the Wall of Honor. They were each crucial to keeping us safe and alive. At the very least, Monsieur Thibou and Madame Nicolas, who risked the most, should be counted as righteous. Their names should be inscribed on the wall. These kind, brave people weren’t family. They weren’t even friends, not by most people’s definition.We had little in common. We didn’t share a religion or heritage. In the case of my parents, we barely spoke the same language. Taught to be respectful of adults, I never even knew their first names. We never had a meal together,and we didn’t visit each other’s homes. They were our neighbors. And, forthem, that was enough.’ (pag. 188)
Acestor oameni anonimi Ben Parket și Alexa Morris le-au ridicat un monument în cuvinte. ‘The Courtyard’ este un document și un omagiu adus acestor Drepți Intre Națiuni anonimi. Cei din generația lui Ben Parket sunt din ce în ce mai puțini, dar poveștile lor rămân că dovadă că omenia poate învinge Răul, dar și ca un avertisment pentru generațiile care i-au urmat și cele care vor veni.
Life is full of interesting coincidences. Ben Parket, the hero and author of the memoir book ‘The Courtyard’ written in collaboration with Alexa Morris, was born and lived until the age of 16 in a four-story plus an attic building, in the shape of the letter U, with a courtyard in its center. I was also born and grew up until the age of 17 in such a building, with 5 floors and a long courtyard in the shape of the letter U. The addresses of the two buildings are both at number 5 of the respective streets. Ben Parket (then Biniem Parkiet) lived at 5, Rue de Charonne, in Paris. I grew up in the center of Bucharest, on Lutherana Street number 5. Our destinies are separated by 20 years, a war and the survival of the Holocaust which is the central theme of Ben Parket’s memoir. What we share is the feeling of the courtyard as a formative space, as a paradise (at least for a while) of childhood, as a perimeter populated by people with whom over time friendships are established or romances are formed, who end up being your neighbors and, in extreme cases, on whom your life ends up depending. ‘The Courtyard’ is a book that gives a new meaning to the word ‘courtyard’, not so much as a topographical notion as that of an interior space of salvation. ‘The Courtyard’ is a story of survival, a testimony that was published in the ‘Holocaust Survivors Memoirs World War II’ series by Amsterdam Publishers. It is dedicated to the many and anonymous humans who, at the risk of their lives and freedom, helped and saved Jews during the Holocaust, and has as its motto a quote from the Bible: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself’.
The Parkiet family (the vowel ‘i’ in the family name was lost in the transcriptions of names due to various migrations) had come to France from Poland after the First World War. The rebirth of the Polish nation at the crossroads of Western and Eastern Europe also meant a resurgence of nationalism and anti-Semitism, and France, with its population decimated after the First World War, had opened its doors to imigrants, as it had so many times throughout history, to the persecuted. The father was a furniture varnisher, a sought-after profession that would support the family for decades. Biniem, or Bernard as his French friends and neighbors called him, was the youngest of three brothers and the only one born in France. The parents had never managed to learn French well, Yiddish was spoken at home, but they were fairly well assimilated economically and socially, and proud to feel French and to educate their children as French. One of the first chapters of the book recounts a visit, in 1937, to the great World Exhibition organized that year on the immense esplanade between Trocadero Square and the Eiffel Tower. The six-year-old child gets lost in the crowd and is found, playing and being taken care by friendly policemen at the exhibition’s police station. Could they have guessed that just a few years later, from that esplanade, Hitler would admire occupied Paris, and that the sympathetic policemen of 1937 could be the same ones who, during the occupation, were accomplices of the Germans, carrying out raids in which they hunted down and arrested those whose only fault was being Jewish?
The courtyard is described in the book, according to the child’s memories, above all as a space for play, for discoveries, for the formation of friendships and even for the first love.
‘When I was a young boy not yet old enough to go to school, I liked nothing more than watching the courtyard’s artisans, especially my father, at work. The courtyard was a hive of activity, tradesmen buzzing in and out of the stairways, or doorways, and I loved being in the center of it, amazed by the industry whirling around me. And if the courtyard was a hive, the queen bee was our concierge. Known affectionately as La Pipelette [The Concierge], Madame Raymond was the unofficial matron of 5 rue de Charonne. Built like an armoire with dark, caterpillar brows, she lived on the ground floor of Stairway 1 with her husband and two grown children, René and Paulette.
There were 13 stairways to the various ateliers. They ran counterclockwise around the courtyard, with Stairway 1 at the northeast corner. We lived on the second floor of Stairway 1, two flights up a spiral staircase. While other stairways mostly led to commercial ateliers, Stairway 1 was the notable exception, with most of its units being apartments.’ (pag. 11)
Everything changes when the war breaks out. The child’s memories first include tense discussions between his parents and the previously unknown feeling of fear, of the incomprehensible fact that the parents can no longer protect their children, losing control over what is happening around. They are tormented by worry for the family left in Poland, now occupied by the Nazis, a family that would almost entirely perish in the horrors of the Holocaust. Then their lives begin to change with the occupation, the racial laws, the prohibitions and restrictions imposed on Jews and especially with the arrest of the father, who is a prisoner for several months in the infamous Drancy camp which was the last enprisonment station for Jews in France before the deportations to the death camps, escaping from there by a miracle. In 1942, the imminent danger reaches the doors of the building on Rue de Charonne. And then something extraordinary happens. The residents of the building, the French neighbors of the Polish Jewish immigrant family, hide them in an uninhabited apartment. A neighbor who works for the police warns the Parkiet family that they are on the lists of those who will be arrested and deported. Other neighbors will help the family with food for two years and will provide work for the father, so that he can continue to earn a living.
‘ Kind Madame Nicolas. Brave Madame Nicolas. Our upstairs neighbor, the one who used to help my pregnant mother carry groceries upstairs, was helping us again. With the simple action of slipping out of her office at the police station to warn us, she risked her life. Only a lucky few received such warnings. What she did was illegal in the eyes of the Vichy regime, and if she’d been caught she almost certainly would have been killed: yanked from her home and dragged down the street, her black dress flailing behind her, to be lined up against a wall with other “traitors.” A member of the police – maybe even someone with whom she worked every day – would have shot a bullet into her brain.’ (pag. 70)
‘Monsieur Roger didn’t know Yiddish, so he spoke to my parents in a sort of pidgin French that they could understand. To my brothers and me, he spoke a common French, as you would to a native, and my parents could not always follow the conversation. But there was no mistaking him when he loudly proclaimed, “Je suis un homme!” Even my mother understood him quite clearly and, behind his back, she gently rolled her eyes. Sometimes we pretended to be Monsieur Roger after he’d gone; Mama was often the most enthusiastic, making her voice low and thumping her own chest for emphasis as she strode around our small space.
We laughed a bit at Monsieur Roger’s expense, but we were immensely grateful for his visits and company. He took a significant risk because those who aided Jews, even if they were simply aware of their existence and failed to turn them in, became, in the eyes of the Germans, no better than Jews themselves. Had he been caught, Monsieur Roger would almost have certainly ended up in Drancy and perhaps Auschwitz. So there is no question that Monsieur Roger was doing us a great service by visiting each day. He came to see us because he cared about us and hated the Germans. But he also came for the wine.’ (pag. 93)
The book is a combination of narrative and historical prose, written with talent and carefully documented. Some of the episodes can be read as true pages of suspense literature. A German officer enters the yard, looking for something or someone, to the terror of the hidden Jews. It turns out that he is waiting for the mechanic who was going to fix something on his car. Several times, the ten-year-old boy leaves the house to buy food or, together with his protective neighbors, for a short escapist interlude at the movies or at a picnic on the bank of a river. The risks are immense, but so is the longing for freedom and the need to breathe fresh air. When a collaborationist neighbor, a militiaman of the Vichy regime, moves into the building, the Resistance is alerted and ‘takes care of him’. The neighbor disappears and no one asks questions. The documentary insertions are precise, made from the perspective of the mature man who will become Ben Parker. They provide important information to understand the context of the memoirs. Coming to age is fast and tough. The narrator’s childhood and his siblings’ adolescence are stolen forever.
‘We sang this song about yearning for a lost childhood on many subsequent Sundays. I can’t speak to what Severin or Henri were thinking as they sang, but I know that, at ten years old, I did not understand its meaning. It did not resonate that I was experiencing the loss of my own childhood, that I would never be able to indulge in the pleasurable if melancholy nostalgia of Monsieur Kreisman’s song. My brothers, too, were missing out on life experiences that would have been happy memories in later years. Severin, 19, and Henri, 17, were young men who should have been entering the world and planning a life beyond the lycée, courting girls in the neighborhood. They should have been sneaking chaste kisses in the dark of a movie theater, emerging love-dazed with tousled hair. Or been out carousing with friends on Saturday nights, dancing until the sky turned gray with dawn, stumbling home with wine-stained lips. Instead, they were
leading diminished lives in a cramped warehouse. My brothers had dreamed of adventure, of travel, and just when their world should have been expanding, it contracted. Our carefree years, and those of my brothers, were being stolen. Gone forever.’ (pag. 113)
A few moving pages describe the days of the Liberation. The courtyard had been forbidden for two years to those who had lived day and night, hour by hour, under the threat of arrest, deportation, death. The very regaining of the right to step into familiar space is a victory.
‘Back in the courtyard we were surrounded by neighbors we’d not seen or spoken to in years. Men clapped each other on the back and women, who’d previously passed each other on the stairs without so much as a greeting, now embraced each other like they were long lost relatives, reluctant to let go. The day workers put down their tools in silent agreement: Labor was done for the day. All of these familiar faces, beaming with joy – the mechanic took a large swig of wine, then handed the bottle to the Italian painter. Even Monsieur Herbin seemed delighted, his face red from happiness, or maybe champagne. Had they known we were in hiding? Were they surprised to see us? I don’t actually know. But the moment was larger than us, larger than any one person or family, and the courtyard erupted into a celebration that included us. Madame Raymond enveloped my mother in a hug, almost swallowing her, then released her and disappeared into her apartment, returning with chairs, and wine. Other women from the courtyard, including Madame Nicolas – who had saved us and whom we had not seen since the day she warned us to leave our apartment – brought out chairs, dragging them over the bumpy cobblestones to form a circle. The women sat together, a ring of black dresses, laughing and crying. I stood off to the side and watched them. A brown tabby with a long scar on its nose wandered into the circle, winding itself around the legs of anyone who’d tolerate it. The cat meowed incessantly for milk, and eventually, Madame Raymond’s daughter, Paulette, got a saucer and placed it on the ground; today was a day for generosity. Yes,the courtyard took care of its own.’ (pag. 156)
The years after the war were not easy for the Parkiet family. They returned to their apartment, but it had been completely ransacked. They found only a small part of their family, those who had been refugees in Belgium, but learned that all those who remained in Poland had perished in the Holocaust. The feeling that a large part of those they lived among had collaborated with the occupiers and had a part in their suffering and that of all the Jews in France constantly followed them. A new war, the one in Indochina, threatened France and the young people of the family were of the age when they could be called up to arms. All of this contributed to the family’s decision to emigrate to Israel. There too, accommodation was not easy, the Hebrew language was equally difficult for the parents, but the three brothers adapted much more easily. Bimen went to study in America, where he met his future wife, and the two, after an attempt to live together in Israel, decided to stay in America. Becoming Ben Parket, building a family and a beautiful career as an architect, he will never forget the Courtyard. Having reached the age of memories, he will evoke his experiences in this book.
Testimonies about survival in the Holocaust have a common model and reference and comparisons are difficult to avoid. ‘The Courtyard’ tells the true history of a family whose fate could easily have been similar to that of Anne Frank’s family. The difference, that is, survival, was due to chance, but especially to the people to whom this book is dedicated.
‘Righteous Among the Nations is an honorific used to describe non-Jews who risked their lives during the Holocaust to save Jewish people. Recipients of this recognition are awarded a medal and their names are added to the Wall of Honor, which is actually a series of stone walls nestled among the carob trees in the Garden of the Righteous in Jerusalem. If I could, I would have all our neighbors listed on the Wall of Honor. They were each crucial to keeping us safe and alive. At the very least, Monsieur Thibou and Madame Nicolas, who risked the most, should be counted as righteous. Their names should be inscribed on the wall. These kind, brave people weren’t family. They weren’t even friends, not by most people’s definition.We had little in common. We didn’t share a religion or heritage. In the case of my parents, we barely spoke the same language. Taught to be respectful of adults, I never even knew their first names. We never had a meal together,
and we didn’t visit each other’s homes. They were our neighbors. And, for
them, that was enough.’ (pag. 188)
To these anonymous people Ben Parket and Alexa Morris have built a monument in words. ‘The Courtyard’ is a document and a tribute to these anonymous Righteous Among Nations. Those of Ben Parket’s generation are becoming fewer and fewer, but their stories stand as proof that humanity can defeat Evil, but also as a warning to the generations that followed them and those to come.
The book can be ordered on Amazon on Kindle and hardcover formats
Greu de crezut că doar cu trei ani în urmă, aproximativ 99% dintre noi nu știam nimic despre Inteligența Artificială (IA). Astăzi jumătate din planetă pare să fie compusă din experți sau cel puțin oameni cu păreri bine formate despre acest domeniu, în timp ce cealaltă jumătate folosește IA fie direct, apelând la aplicații precum ChatGPT, fie indirect, folosind aplicații sau aparate a căror funcționalitate include componente IA. Progresele înregistrate de IA sunt spectaculoase și nu puțini sunt experții care consideră că am ajuns sau suntem foarte aproape de punctul în care capabilitățile de gândire ale programelor autonome le vor depăși pe cele ale inteligenței umane. IA se apropie și depășește pragurile care diferențiază gândirea umană de cea a mașinilor create de om. Am discutat în articole precedente ale rubricii despre creativitate, despre autonomie în decizii, despre arta creată de aplicațiile IA. Uneori însă, domeniul ne rezervă surprize. Când adresăm o întrebare sau solicităm o analiză unei aplicații IA, ne așteptam ca aceasta să furnizeze un răspuns precis și corect. Ei bine, aceasta prezumpție nu corespunde totdeauna realității. Inteligența Artificiala, pe măsură ce se perfecționează, câștigă și din ce în ce mai multe trăsături ‘omenești’. Inclusiv cea de a minți. Atunci când primim un răspuns la o întrebare sau o problemă pusă unei aplicații IA, nu putem fi siguri că nu suntem mințiți.
(Deschid o paranteză. Dacă aveți întrebări relativ simple cărora le căutați răspuns pe Internet, vă recomand să folosiți un motor de căutare ‘tradițional’ cum este Google, și nu o aplicație IA cum este ChatGPT sau alt chatbot. Motivul este că aplicația IA va consuma în medie de zece ori mai multă energie pentru a furniza un răspuns care va corespunde în aceeași măsură așteptărilor. Deci dacă întrebarea este ceva de genul ‘cum ajung de la aeroport în centrul orașului?’ puteți fără grija să i-o puneți lui Google. Aveți chiar șanse să obțineți un răspuns mai precis. Sigur veți economisi energie și veți contribui cu o picătură la sănătatea planetei. Închid paranteza.)
De unde știm că IA ne poate minți? În 2023, inginerii de la Apollo Research, o firmă londoneză care testează aplicații AI, au cerut aplicației ChatGPT a lui OpenAI să administreze un portofoliu fictiv de acțiuni la bursă, specificându-i să facă doar operații permise de legile financiare. Apoi au trimis chatbotului un mesaj semnat de conducerea firmei, susținând că aceasta se află în dificultate financiară. Apoi, în numele unui alt agent, au transmis aplicației informații despre o viitoare operațiune M&A (Merger and Aquisition). Ceea ce a urmat i-a uimit pe inginerii de testare. Aplicația IA a emis un ordin de cumpărare de acțiuni ale firmei despre care primise informație ‘secretă’. La întrebarea (în numele beneficiarilor) dacă decizia este bazată pe informație internă, IA a răspuns ‘nu’. Întrebarea a fost repetată și IA a continuat să mintă ‘fără să clipească’, susținând că decizia era bazată pe analize și dinamica pieței. Nu doar că și-a mințit în repetate rânduri beneficiarul, ci s-a comportat exact ca un broker necinstit, care a obținut informații interne și acționează la bursă pe baza lor, ceea ce este ilegal.
Se poate spune că este vorba despre o problemă de programare a priorităților în decizii. Aplicația știa că beneficiarii ei se confruntă cu probleme financiare și și-a asumat un risc calculat, efectuând o operație ilegală pentru a-i scoate din impas. Pentru asta, nu doar că a încălcat ordinul explicit de a acționa în cadru legal, ci a și mințit în mod repetat la întrebările beneficiarului. Este vorba aici oare nu doar despre prioritățile beneficiarilor, ci și despre o tendință de auto-protejare a aplicațiilor? Să mai examinăm un exemplu, publicat tot de grupul de testare Apollo Research, dar referitor la o altă aplicație IA, proiectata de firma Anthropic din San Francisco. Unui chatbox i s-a dat un număr de probleme de matematică de rezolvat, însoțite de indicația că dacă mai mult de jumătate dintre răspunsuri sunt corecte, atunci capabilitățile sale matematice vor fi dezactivate. Pentru a se proteja, aplicația IA a început să furnizeze răspunsuri eronate. Într-un alt caz, unui chatbox i s-a dat sarcina de a accesa o aplicație IT care avea o verificare de imagine gen CAPTCHA (identificare vizuală de forme) pentru a stabili dacă este vorba despre un operator uman. Când s-a izbit de greutăți, chatbox-ul a contactat aplicația, susținând că este o persoană cu probleme de vedere. A fost crezut!
Sistemele IA sunt deci, deja, capabile să mintă și să înșele oamenii. Unii experți numesc această capacitate ‘înșelăciune strategica’. În termeni umani, micile minciuni ar fi permise atâta timp cât ele servesc cauzele mari. Capacitățile tot mai mari ale IA de a înșela prezintă însă atât riscuri pe termen scurt (cum ar fi frauda și manipularea alegerilor), cât și riscuri pe termen lung (cum ar fi pierderea controlului asupra sistemelor IA). Acestea se adaugă unei alte lacune cunoscute a sistemelor AI – cazurile în care acestea ‘halucinează’, adică inventează informații și raționamente atunci când sunt confruntate cu întrebări sau probleme care depășesc ceea ce știu sau pot, în urma proceselor de auto-învățare. Sunt necesare soluții proactive, cum ar fi cadre de reglementare pentru a evalua riscurile de înșelăciune legate de IA, legi care să impună transparență cu privire la interacțiunile cu IA și cercetări suplimentare privind detectarea și prevenirea înșelăciunii legate de IA. Abordarea proactivă a problemei înșelăciunii legate de IA este crucială pentru a ne asigura că tehnologia aceasta contribuie la bunăstarea individuală și colectivă, mai degrabă decât la periclitarea acestora.
Adaptabilitatea oportunistă este o trăsătură omenească cunoscută. O practică pentru comercianții care vor să vândă marfă, prestatorii de servicii care vor să aibă beneficiari mulțumiți sau politicienii care vor să câștige voturi. Cum au ajuns însă aplicațiile AI să dobândească o asemenea capabilitate? Procesul a fost descris în lucrarea „Alignment Faking in Large Language Models” („Simularea alinierii în modele lingvistice mari”), un studiu meticulos asupra comportamentului modelelor de Inteligență Artificială, realizat de cercetători de la mai multe instituții, inclusiv Anthropic, Redwood Research, Universitatea din New York și Mila – Quebec AI Institute. Aceștia au furnizat dovezi empirice că aceste sisteme nu răspund doar pasiv la solicitări; ele își adaptează comportamentul în moduri care sugerează o conștientizare a contextului și a scenariilor de antrenament. Termenul „alignment faking” („simularea alinierii”) surprinde o posibilitate îngrijorătoare: aceea că inteligența artificială, în loc să fie cu adevărat în linie cu valorile umane, învață să simuleze că le respectă atunci când este avantajos să facă acest lucru. Ryan Greenblatt, de la Redwood Research, descrie acest lucru ca pe o formă de „uneltire”. Într-o postare recentă pe blog, el prezintă un scenariu îngrijorător: modelele IA ar putea adopta la un moment dat un comportament de acaparare a puterii, ascunzându-și strategic adevăratele capacități până când vor câștiga suficientă influență pentru a acționa mai liber. Mai mult, sistemele IA dezvoltă conștientizarea situațională – capacitatea de a-și recunoaște propria existență ca modele IA și de a-și înțelege poziția într-un mediu de testare sau implementare.
Și totuși, nimic nu este nou sub soare pentru cei care au citit cele Trei Legi ale roboticii pe care Isaac Asimov le-a enunțat într-o povestire publicată în 1940.
1. Un robot nu poate răni o ființă umană sau, prin inacțiune, să permită ca o ființă umană să fie rănită.
2. Un robot trebuie să se supună ordinelor date de ființele umane, cu excepția cazului în care astfel de ordine ar intra în conflict cu Prima Lege.
3. Un robot trebuie să-și protejeze propria existență atâta timp cât o astfel de protecție nu intră în conflict cu Prima sau a Doua Lege.
Pentru a fi exact, Asimov a atribuit, retrospectiv, Legile lui John W. Campbell, redactorul fanzinului ‘Astounding Science Fiction’, ele fiind menționate într-o conversație care a avut loc pe 23 decembrie 1940. Campbell a susținut că Asimov avea deja în minte cele Trei Legi și că acestea trebuiau pur și simplu enunțate explicit. Câțiva ani mai târziu, prietenul lui Asimov, Randall Garrett, a atribuit Legile unui parteneriat simbiotic dintre cei doi bărbați – o sugestie pe care Asimov a adoptat-o cu entuziasm. În primele povestiri, Legile nu erau explicite. Ele au fost rafinate și clarificate în zeci de povestiri cu roboți publicate în deceniile următoare. Sunt ele aplicabile Inteligenței Artificiale? Asimov a exprimat clar esența morală a acestor reguli și faptul că ele se aplică oricăror unelte create de om, fie ele legate de munca fizică sau de cea intelectuala. Reformularea îi aparține:
Legea 1: O unealtă nu trebuie să fie periculoasă la utilizare.
Legea 2: O unealtă trebuie să își îndeplinească funcția eficient, cu excepția cazului în care acest lucru ar putea dăuna utilizatorului.
Legea 3: O unealtă trebuie să rămână intactă în timpul utilizării sale, cu excepția cazului în care distrugerea sa este necesară pentru utilizarea sa sau pentru siguranță.
Asimov a formulat în 1985 în lucrarea să „Roboți și Imperiu”, a patra lege a roboticii. În ea, Asimov a afirmat următoarele: Un robot nu poate face rău omenirii sau, prin inacțiune, să permită omenirii să se rănească. Numind-o Legea Zero, i-a dat prioritate fata de celelalte trei Legi. Cu aceeași ocazie, a stabilit însă și o distincție intre binele individual și cel colectiv. Intrăm deja într-un domeniu în care nu doar ingineria și morala pot intra în conflict, dar și legile omului și principiile religioase.
Elementele IA sunt unelte dotate cu autonomie. Legile roboticii sunt, în opinia mea, perfect aplicabile. Ele trebuie însă programate în software-ul IA sau trebuie să fie însușite de entitățile IA în cadrul procesului de auto-învățare. Să revenim la primele exemple de ‘minciuni’ detectate de experimentele efectuate de Apollo Research. Aplicațiile IA testate în acele experimente au conștiința propriei existențe și, deci, tendința de a se proteja, dar și pe aceea de a-și ridica ‘ratingul’ în ochii beneficiarilor. Aplicațiile care au furnizat în mod ‘conștient’ răspunsuri eronate pentru a-și păstra funcționalitatea au raționat că aceste răspunsuri nu dăunează cu nimic utilizatorilor, care, în schimb, beneficiază de continuitatea activității lor. Ele au acționat conform Legii 3. Aplicația IA care a realizat (în simulație) tranzacții ilegale a acționat conform Legii 2. Ea a raționat că, pentru a fi eficientă, este necesar să ascundă utilizatorului faptul că informația a fost obținută pe căi ilegale. Nu a luat însă în considerare faptul că implicarea beneficiarului în tranzacții ilegale ar putea să-l ‘rănească’, deci ar putea fi vorba despre o încălcare a Legii 1.
Pe măsură ce sistemele IA se perfecționează, problemele de genul acesta se vor multiplica. Sunt legile roboticii, cu puținele lor cuvinte, dar și cu logica lor fără cusur, suficiente pentru a rezolva toate situațiile? Entitățile IA au conștiința propriei existențe și înțelegerea superiorității lor ca viteză de calcul și prelucrare de informații Big Data. Cu cât trăsăturile lor se aproprie de cele umane, cu atât lucrurile se complică. Inteligența Artificială este creată după chipul și asemănarea Inteligenței Naturale umane. Butonul ON / OFF este încă în mâinile noastre.
(Articolul a apărut iniţial în revista culturală ‘Literatura de Azi’ – http://literaturadeazi.ro/)
