Not sure where to post this, 'cause it's not current events, but there's a vein of thought I'm running into in different places, from different angles. It's on this month's cover of Harper's magazine, and today in a piece by Adam Kirsch in the Atlantic.
Kirsch opens with the famous finale of Michel Foucault's dense, magisterial, in places nearly unreadable The Order of Things (1966):
He goes on then:
It's a long piece, referencing P. D. James, Alfonso CuarĂłn, and 21st century thinkers I'm not familiar with. Worth checking out, if it's not behind a paywall for you.
Kirsch concludes:
I've been reading end-of-the-world novels since the 1960s, but this idea of celebrating the end of our species as intelligence transitions into something else, of viewing it as a moral imperative is, well except for Foucault, pretty new to me.
I'll be paying attention to this. I don't think it's very realistic, because there's eight billion of us. We're the real cockroaches on the planet. Our civilization may fall, but I expect that for eons to come there'll be sickly bands of us managing to survive by scattering away from the uninhabitable regions.
But these ideas are intriguing—as conflicting yet congruent philosophical principles.
It's also open to mockery: people who talk about being "uploaded after the Singularity" AKA "the Rapture of the Nerds." =laugh=
Kirsch opens with the famous finale of Michel Foucault's dense, magisterial, in places nearly unreadable The Order of Things (1966):
As Foucault writes in the book’s famous last sentence, one day “man would be erased, like a face drawn in the sand at the edge of the sea.” The image is eerie, but he claimed to find it “a source of profound relief,” because it implies that human ideas and institutions aren’t fixed. They can be endlessly reconfigured, maybe even for the better. This was the liberating promise of postmodernism: The face in the sand is swept away, but someone will always come along to draw a new picture in a different style.
He goes on then:
But the image of humanity can be redrawn only if there are human beings to do it. Even the most radical 20th-century thinkers stop short at the prospect of the actual extinction of Homo sapiens, which would mean the end of all our projects, values, and meanings. Humanity may be destined to disappear someday, but almost everyone would agree that the day should be postponed as long as possible, just as most individuals generally try to delay the inevitable end of their own life.
In recent years, however, a disparate group of thinkers has begun to challenge this core assumption. From, Silicon Valley boardrooms to rural communes to academic philosophy departments, a seemingly inconceivable idea is being seriously discussed: that the end of humanity’s reign on Earth is imminent, and that we should welcome it. The revolt against humanity is still new enough to appear outlandish, but it has already spread beyond the fringes of the intellectual world, and in the coming years and decades it has the potential to transform politics and society in profound ways.
This view finds support among very different kinds of people: engineers and philosophers, political activists and would-be hermits, novelists and paleontologists. Not only do they not see themselves as a single movement, but in many cases they want nothing to do with one another. Indeed, the turn against human primacy is being driven by two ways of thinking that appear to be opposites.
The first is Anthropocene anti-humanism, inspired by revulsion at humanity’s destruction of the natural environment. [...]
Transhumanism, by contrast, glorifies some of the very things that anti-humanism decries—scientific and technological progress, the supremacy of reason. But it believes that the only way forward for humanity is to create new forms of intelligent life that will no longer be Homo sapiens.
It's a long piece, referencing P. D. James, Alfonso CuarĂłn, and 21st century thinkers I'm not familiar with. Worth checking out, if it's not behind a paywall for you.
Kirsch concludes:
The apocalyptic predictions of today’s transhumanist and anti-humanist thinkers are of a very different nature, but they too may be highly significant even if they don’t come to pass. Profound civilizational changes begin with a revolution in how people think about themselves and their destiny. The revolt against humanity has the potential to be such a beginning, with unpredictable consequences for politics, economics, technology, and culture.
The revolt against humanity has a great future ahead of it because it appeals to people who are at once committed to science and reason yet yearn for the clarity and purpose of an absolute moral imperative. It says that we can move the planet, maybe even the universe, in the direction of the good, on one condition—that we forfeit our own existence as a species.
In this way, the question of why humanity exists is given a convincing yet wholly immanent answer. Following the logic of sacrifice, we give our life meaning by giving it up.
Anthropocene anti-humanism and transhumanism share this premise, despite their contrasting visions of the post-human future. The former longs for a return to the natural equilibrium that existed on Earth before humans came along to disrupt it with our technological rapacity. The latter dreams of pushing forward, using technology to achieve a complete abolition of nature and its limitations. One sees reason as the serpent that got humanity expelled from Eden, while the other sees it as the only road back to Eden.
But both call for drastic forms of human self-limitation—whether that means the destruction of civilization, the renunciation of child-bearing, or the replacement of human beings by machines. These sacrifices are ways of expressing high ethical ambitions that find no scope in our ordinary, hedonistic lives: compassion for suffering nature, hope for cosmic dominion, love of knowledge. This essential similarity between anti-humanists and transhumanists means that they may often find themselves on the same side in the political and social struggles to come.
I've been reading end-of-the-world novels since the 1960s, but this idea of celebrating the end of our species as intelligence transitions into something else, of viewing it as a moral imperative is, well except for Foucault, pretty new to me.
I'll be paying attention to this. I don't think it's very realistic, because there's eight billion of us. We're the real cockroaches on the planet. Our civilization may fall, but I expect that for eons to come there'll be sickly bands of us managing to survive by scattering away from the uninhabitable regions.
But these ideas are intriguing—as conflicting yet congruent philosophical principles.
It's also open to mockery: people who talk about being "uploaded after the Singularity" AKA "the Rapture of the Nerds." =laugh=
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