Is it the end of us? An end-of-the-year reflection

He who loves his life will lose it. John 12:25

I subscribe to two magazines, The New Yorker and The Atlantic. They pile up on the end table next to my side of the bed all semester–I generally start catching up on them in between semesters, often while riding on the stationary bike at the gym. The theme of the recently-arrived January 2023 The Atlantic  is “Notes from the Apocalypse.” Given that I have participated in a team-taught colloquium called “Apocalypse” three times–including during the Spring 2020 semester–and am penciled in to do so again in the Spring 2024 semester, this seemed to be suitable reading material for working out.

First up the other day was Adam Kirsch’s “The People Cheering for Humanity’s End.”

Adam Kirsch: The People Cheering for Humanity’s End

Kirsch asks the question “Is the reign of human beings on Earth nearing its end?”, noting that “a disparate group of thinkers says yes—and that we should welcome our demise.” This rather unfortunate (for humans) and eclectic group includes “engineers and philosophers [of course], political activists and would-be hermits, novelists and paleontologists,” not a movement so much as a motley crew of eclectic folks who agree on only one thing: “the end of humanity’s reign on Earth is imminent, and we should welcome it.”

This turn against human primacy is being driven by two ways of thinking that, at least at first approach, seem to be opposites. The first of these might be called “environmentalism on steroids.” In fact, it is called Anthropocene anti-humanism, inspired by revulsion at humanity’s destruction of the natural environment. It claims that our self-destruction is inevitable and that we whould welcome it as a sentence we have justly passed on ourselves. It is a rejection of humanity’s traditional role as Earth’s primary protagonist, the most important being in creation.

The other way of thinking is transhumanism which glorifies some of the very things that anti-humanism regrets, including scientific and technological progress and the primacy of human reason. Transhumanists believe that the only way forward for humanity is to create new forms of intelligent life that will no longer be us. While anti-humanists believe that the meaningfulness of the universe does not depend on human consciousness (or existence), transhumanists believe that the universe would be meaningless without minds to experience and understand it. But those minds don’t need to be human minds—and probably won’t be.

If this all seems rather esoteric and philosophical, it is—and that’s why it fascinates me (remember what I do for a living, after all). Although environmental issues are front and center in my concerns for the future, I find transhumanism particularly interesting, perhaps because its general optimism about the future of the universe fits my natural optimism—even though that future universe does not include human beings. Transhumanists consider the primary task of humanity to be the stewardship of reason.

Without getting too far into the weeds, the Holy Grail of transhumanism is

artificial general intelligence—a computer mind that can learn about any subject, rather than being confined to a narrow domain such as chess. Even if such an AI started out in a rudimentary form, it would be able to apply itself to the problem of AI design and improve itself to think faster and deeper. Then the improved version would improve itself, and so on, exponentially.

Such a general AI would quickly replace humanity from its position as “apex cogitator” before we even knew it. This is good news, of course, only if the expansion of intelligent minds is more important than the continuation of the human species. But why do we imagine that our preferences are so special?

An AI takeover would certainly be bad for the human beings who are alive when it occurs, but perhaps a world dominated by nonhuman minds would be morally preferable in the end, with less cruelty and waste . . . AI minds might be more appreciative than we are of the wonder of creation. They might know nothing of the violence and hatred that often makes humanity loathsome to human beings themselves. Our greatest spiritual achievements might seem as crude and indecipherable to them as a coyote’s howl to us.

At this point you might be wondering why I’m geeking out on transhumanism on a blog called “Freelance Christianity.” I’m that sort of guy—in my early years as an academic cognitive science and artificial intelligence were some of my primary research interests. But toward the end of his article, Adam Kirsch makes some observations that bring transhumanism into the arena of faith—creating something that you can’t control is a familiar story.

Or maybe our preferences are entirely irrelevant. We might be in the position of God after he created humanity with free will, thus forfeiting the right to intervene when his creation makes mistakes.

The traditional “go to” answer to the question of why a good and all-powerful God allows so much evil in this divinely created world is that God created human beings with free will—the evil is our fault. What many miss is that in creating humans with free will, God has created a world that God can no longer control—the direct result of God’s own creating decisions. The analogy with transhumanism is not perfect, but is definitely illuminating. I’ll keep it in mind the next time we’re doing the problem of evil in class.

Of course, the apocalyptic prophecies of the end of humanity, whether the anti-humanist or the transhumanist version, may never come true. Most prophecies don’t, at least not in the way prophesied. But as Adam Kirsch writes, this does not devalue the importance of the prophecy.

The accuracy of a prophecy is one thing; its significance is another. In the Gospel of Matthew, Jesus tells his followers that the world is going to end in their lifetime: “Verily I say to you, there are some standing here who shall not taste death till they see the Son of Man coming in His kingdom.” This proved not to be true—at least not in any straightforward sense—but the promise still changed the world.

Considering the possible extinction of humanity has great moral importance, even though it is unlikely that it will happen—if it happens at all—in our lifetimes. It decenters us from the middle of what is most important, which is always a good thing.

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 plan, 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.

I think I’ve heard that one before.