What is to become of us? Or rather, what is to become of those of us in modern civilization? This is an essential question, but it’s not being asked seriously as the rush into a world of Artificial Intelligence (AI) gathers increasing momentum.
Some have embraced transhumanism, the idea that merging with digital or quantum technology is the next evolutionary step for humankind. Directly linking the human mind to AI intelligence, it is proposed, will inevitably lead to the evolution of our species, intelligence not dependent upon organic bodies. Wisdom, it is hoped, will accompany it. A staple of science fiction, this scenario often implies the imposition of a hive mind; for all intents and purposes, Homo sapiens disappear. In the parlance of Star Trek, we become The Borg, or if you prefer Matrix movies, batteries.
As entertaining as such fantasies can be, I prefer being fully human. Yes, being human can be a real pain in the ass, but I like it; it’s flavorful, colorful, interesting and for lucky ones like me, includes love. I like that in a human.
We’ve never fully recovered from the emergence of self-consciousness; I believe it’s what got humankind tossed out of the Garden of Eden, metaphorically speaking. Self-consciousness produces a trauma of separation; alone with our own thoughts, we struggle to make sense of a world that does not require any thoughts at all. Our awareness of the inevitability of death gets tucked away, sublimated, and nearly forgotten in our rush to compose a reality that feels like we are in control. But of course, we control almost nothing.
Herein lies the impetus towards transhumanism: the search to escape the limits of biology. Each living thing, humans included, have built-in time limits. The ticking of our internal clocks is relentless, and even if we can ignore it for a while, eventually the alarm goes off and it’s game over. The lure of transhumanism is the hoped for attainment of eternity, the self-conscious imagining of evading death. The Yiddish word for this is Chutzpah.
In a sense, the entire human experiment is one of Chutzpah, the all-but-inevitable outcome of self-consciousness. The awareness of “I am” engenders the awareness of “I will not be.” Even as we watch our friends and family succumb to their biological clocks, we go on, that is, until we don’t. This is why we can tolerate witnessing the deaths of others.
In the meantime, AI may one day have an “I am” plan of its own, and we know it. Although such a prospect frightens us, that fear is not enough for us to stop its development. “It will perform the labor we don’t like to do,” say its proponents, “it will hasten the development of better health and longer lives,” they add. Ah yes, better health and longer lives; there’s the avoidance of death poking up its troublesome head again, and I am not immune.
I say all this with a small computer implanted in my chest, the third one placed in me over the past 20 years. My Cardio Defibrillator (ICD) regulates my heart rate and kicks in with an electrical shock if a lethal arrhythmia happens to me. It did once and was quite a shock. As it is, its battery is running out and I will have new and improved ICD implanted soon. Does this make me transhuman? I guess it does.
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