Recently, the Xiaopeng IRON robot and Tesla Optimus have been fiercely competing online. The IRON robot performs street dance, twists, bends, and walks like a model, while Optimus quietly completes daily tasks such as folding clothes, washing dishes, and moving heavy objects. Some are amazed by the extreme breakthroughs in bionic technology, while others prefer the practicality of direct functionality. So, should the core value of robots be ‘like a human’ or ‘for humans’?
The Xiaopeng IRON robot has created a complete ‘skeleton-muscle-skin’ system, with 82 degrees of freedom that allow its movements to rival those of humans, yet it has sparked controversy over being ‘flashy’; on the other hand, Tesla Optimus has focused from the start on dangerous and tedious human tasks, with 27 degrees of freedom in its bionic fingers that can accurately place eggs, and over 3,000 household skills targeting real-life pain points. With an expected price of less than $20,000, it paves the way for large-scale household service. The former is obsessed with human-like form and movement, as if creating a ‘mechanical human’; the latter focuses on functionality and adaptability to scenarios, firmly adhering to the ‘tool essence’. Behind these two choices lies a different interpretation of the mission of robots. From the perspective of ordinary people, while anthropomorphism may bring a temporary visual shock, functionality is the core key for robots to integrate into human society.
This divergence in technological routes is essentially a difference in developmental concepts. Some domestic companies’ extreme pursuit of anthropomorphism certainly showcases breakthroughs in bionic technology, which may be a blessing in the medical field, but it can also easily fall into the trap of ‘being human for the sake of being human’. When robots focus their energy on doing somersaults and walking like models, they may overlook the most pressing needs of users—those repetitive and tedious household chores, dangerous and complex operations, and caregiving scenarios that are difficult for humans to cover are the true domains of robots. Musk’s approach is more direct: the existence of robots is to help humans offload burdens, freeing people from trivialities and risks to pursue a more valuable life, responding to the core demand of ‘serving humanity’. This is not a compromise on technology, but a clear recognition of the responsibility for the development of all humanity.
What is even more concerning is the ethical and practical dilemmas that excessive anthropomorphism may trigger. When a robot’s appearance, movements, and even expressions closely resemble those of humans, it may not only trigger the ‘uncanny valley effect’ but also blur the boundaries between humans and machines, leading to emotional dependency or confusion in value recognition. In contrast, functionality-first robots never attempt to replace humans; they always exist in the form of ‘tools’, clearly defining their roles: as helpers for household chores, explorers in dangerous environments, and assistants in elder care. This positioning not only avoids ethical disputes but also ensures that technological development revolves around human needs, truly realizing the original intention of ‘technology serving humanity’.
Ultimately, the purpose of creating robots should not be to replace humans, but to bring benefits to humanity. When technology returns to its essence of service, and development focuses on real needs, robots can truly become a driving force for the progress of human civilization. This is the original meaning for which this technology was created. Future robots may not have a perfect human appearance, but they will certainly possess precise service capabilities; they may lack complex emotional simulations, but they will definitely have a strong sense of responsibility. The entire significance of their existence is to make human life better.