John G. Messerly's Blog, page 96

Ray Kurzweil’s Basic Ideas

   

I and many other scientists now believe that in around twenty years we will have the means to reprogram our bodies’ stone-age software so we can halt, then reverse, aging. Then nanotechnology will let us live forever. ~ Ray Kurzweil

Ray Kurzweil (1948 – ) is an author, inventor, futurist, and currently Director of Engineering at Google. He is involved in fields such as optical character recognition, text-to-speech synthesis, speech recognition technology, and electronic keyboard instruments; he is the author of several books on health, artificial intelligence, transhumanism, the technological singularity, and futurism; and he may be the most prominent spokesman in the world today for advocating the use of technology to transform humanity.

In his book, The Age of Spiritual Machines: When Computers Exceed Human Intelligence, Kurzweil argues that in the next one hundred years machines will surpass human intelligence. Computers already surpass humans in playing chess, diagnosing certain medical conditions, buying and selling stocks, guiding missiles, and solving complex mathematical problems. However, unlike human intelligence, machine intelligence cannot describe objects on a table, write a term paper, tie shoes, distinguish a dog from a cat, or appreciate humor. One reason for this is that computers are simpler than the human brain, about a million times simpler. However, this difference will go away as computers continue to double in speed every twelve months, achieving the memory capacity and computing speed of the human brain around 2020.

Still, this won’t allow computers to match the flexibility of human intelligence because the software of intelligence is as important as the hardware. One way to mirror the brain’s software is by reverse engineering—scanning a human brain and copying its neural circuitry into a neural computer of sufficient capacity. If computers reach a human level of intelligence through such technologies, they will then go beyond it. They already remember and process information better than we do, remembering trillions of facts perfectly while we have a tough time with a few phone numbers. The combination of human-level intelligence along with greater speed, accuracy, and memory capabilities will push computers beyond human intelligence. A main reason for this is that our neurons are slow compared with electronic circuits, and most of their complexity supports life processes, not computation and information analysis. Thus, while many of us think of evolution as a billion-year drama that leads to human intelligence, the creation of greater than human intelligence will quickly dispel that notion.

Kurzweil supports his case with a number of observations about cosmic evolution and human history. Consider that for most of the history of the universe, cosmologically significant events took eons of time—the interval between significant events was quite long for most of cosmic evolution. But as the universe aged the interval between significant events grew shorter, and cosmically significant events now happen at increasingly shorter intervals. We can see this in the pace of cosmic evolution: ten billion years until the earth’s formation; a few billion more for life to evolve, hundreds of millions of years till the emergence of primates, millions of years till the emergence of humanoids, and the emergence of homo sapiens a mere 200 thousand years ago. In short, transformation is speeding up; the interval between salient events is shrinking.

Now technology is moving this process. Technology—fashioning and using ever more sophisticated tools—is simply another means of evolution which expedites the process of change considerably. Consider that Homo sapiens sapiens appeared only 90 thousand years ago, and become the lone hominoids a mere 30,000 years ago. Still, it took tens of thousands of years to figure out how to sharpen both ends of stones to make them effective! Needless to say, the pace of technological change has accelerated remarkably since then. For example, the 19th century saw technology increase at a dramatic rate compared to the 18th century, and increased unbelievably fast compared to the 12th century. In the 20th century major shifts in technology began to happen in decades or in some cases in a few years. A little more than a hundred years ago there was no flight or radio; and a mere fifty years ago there were no wireless phones or personal computers, much less cell phones or the internet. Today it seems your phone and computer are obsolete in a matter of months.

Technology has enabled our species to dominate the earth, exercise some control over our environment, and survive. Perhaps the most important of these technological innovations has been computation, the ability of machines to remember, compute, and solve problems. So far computers have been governed by Moore’s law: every two years or so the surface area of a transistor is reduced by fifty percent, putting twice as many transistors on an integrated circuit. The implication is that every two years you get twice the computing power for the same amount of money. This trend should continue for another fifteen years or so after which it will break down when transistor insulators will be but a few atoms wide. (At that point quantum computing may move the process forward in fantastic ways.) To really understand what will happen in the 21st century and beyond, we need to look at the exponential growth of the technology that will bring about vast changes in the near future.

Crucial to Kurzweil’s analysis is what he calls “the law of time and chaos.” He asks why some processes begin fast and then slow down—salient events in cosmic evolution or in the biological development of an organism—and why others start slowly and then speed up—the evolution of life forms or technology. The law of time and chaos explains this relationship. If there is a lot of chaos or disorder in a system, the time between salient events is great; as the chaos decreases and the order increases, the time between salient events gets smaller. The “law of accelerating returns” describes the latter phenomenon and is essential to Kurzweil’s argument. (You might say that his entire philosophy is a meditation on accelerating returns or exponential growth.) He argues that though the universe as a whole increases in disorder or entropy, evolution leads to increasing pockets of order (information for the purpose of survival) and complexity. Technology evolution is evolution by means other than biology, and it constantly speeds up as it builds upon itself.

We might reconstruct his basic argument as follows: a) evolution builds on itself, thus; b) in an evolutionary process order increases exponentially, thus; c) the returns accelerate. This law of accelerating returns drives cultural and technological evolution forward, with the returns building on themselves to create higher returns. Thus the entire process changes and grows exponentially, meaning that the near future will be radically different than the present.

… evolution has found a way around the computational limitations of neural circuitry. Cleverly, it has created organisms that in turn invented a computational technology a million times faster than carbon-based neurons … Ultimately, the computing conducted on extremely slow mammalian neural circuits will be ported to a far more versatile and speedier electronic (and photonic) equivalent. This will eventually lead to reverse engineering the human brain by scanning it, mapping it, and eventually downloading our minds into computers. This means that your mind (software) would no longer be dependent on your body (hardware). Moreover, your evolving mind file will not be stuck with the circuitry of the brain, making it capable of being transferred from one medium to another, just as files are transferred from one computer to another. Then “our immortality will be a matter of being sufficiently careful to make frequent backups. If we’re careless about this, we’ll have to load an old backup copy and be doomed to repeat our recent past.”

We could download our personal evolving mind files into our original bodies, upgraded bodies, nanoengineered bodies, or virtual bodies. As we are currently further along with body transformation than with brain transformation—titanium devices, artificial skin, heart values, pacemakers—we might want to first completely rebuild our bodies using genetic therapies. But this will only go so far because of the limitations of DNA-based cells that depend on protein synthesis. No matter how well we enhance our bodies, they would still just be second-rate robots.

Instead Kurzweil suggests we use nanotechnology to rebuild the world atom by atom. The holy grail of nanotechnology would be intelligent self-replicating nanomachines capable of manipulating things at the nanolevel. (The great physicist Richard Feynman originally explained the possibility of nanotechnology in the 1950s. Today, important theorists like Eric Drexler and Ralph Merkle have shown the feasibility of self-replicating nanobots. Nanotechnology programs are now common in major universities.) The possibilities for nanotechnology to transform the world are extraordinary. It could build inexpensive solar cells to replace fossil fuels, or be launched in our bloodstream to improve the immune system, destroy pathogens, eradicate cancer cells, and reconstruct bodily organs and systems. It even has the potential to reverse engineer human neurons or any cell in the human body. Will people use this technology?

There is a clear incentive to go down this path. Given a choice, people will prefer to keep their bones from crumbling, their skin supple, and their life systems strong and vital. Improving our lives through neural implants on the mental level, and nanotech enhance bodies on the physical level, will be popular and compelling. It is another one of those slippery slopes—there is no obvious place to stop this progression until the human race has largely replaced the brains and bodies that evolution first provided.

Kurzweil also argues that “the law of accelerating returns” applies to the entire universe. He conjectures that life may exist elsewhere in the universe and proceed through various thresholds: the evolution of life forms; of intelligence; of technology; of computation; and finally the merging of a species with its technology—all driven by accelerating returns. Of course there are many things that can go wrong—nuclear war, climate change, asteroids, bacteria, self-replicating nanobots, and software viruses. Still, he remains optimistic.

Kurzweil ends his book by arguing that intelligence is not impotent against the mighty forces of the universe. Intelligence thwarts gravity and manipulates other physical phenomena despite its density being vanishingly small in a vast cosmos. If intelligence increases exponentially with time, then it will become a worthy competitor for big universal forces. He concludes: “The laws of physics are not repealed by intelligence, but they effectively evaporate in its presence… the fate of the Universe is a decision yet to be made, one which we will intelligently consider when the time is right.”

_____________________________________________________________________

Kurzweil, The Age of Spiritual Machines, 260.

Death is an Ultimate Evil

The story of Ivan Ilyich indicates an inseparable connection between death and meaning. The precise connection is unclear, but surely it depends in large part on whether death is the end of our consciousness. While beliefs in immortality have been widespread among humans, such beliefs are extremely difficult to defend rationally.

If death is the end of an individual human life, the question naturally arises whether this is a good, bad, or indifferent thing. The argument of Epicurus states that being dead cannot be bad for someone, and thus the fear of death is misplaced. Deprivationists argue that we can be harmed by things we don’t experience, but it is hard to see how someone can be harmed if that someone is non-existent. But even if the deprivationists are correct, their view implies the counter-intuitive conclusion that we should regret that we did not exist before birth. In reply, deprivationists try to explain this asymmetry by pointing out that most of us do care more about the future than the past. After considering the arguments, Barry says that death probably is bad for us and nihilism a real possibility. Nonetheless he concludes that we give life subjective meaning by reflecting about our life and death.

Rosenbaum replies that being dead cannot be bad for the dead person—the Epicurean arguments is sound—and fears about death, while explainable, are unfounded. Hanfling stakes out the middle ground, acknowledging the pall that death casts over life while accepting the Epicurean view as palliative. In the end we just do not know the role death plays regarding the meaning of life. Pitcher defends the claim that a dead person can be wronged and harmed, with the caveat that this harm is to be understood as affecting the ante-mortem rather than post-mortem individual. However, it is not clear that this undercuts the Epicurean argument since it is addressed to the post-mortem individual. Luper defends the badness of death by the simple observations that few would reject the offer to live longer, and most believe they could accomplish more if they had more time. These observations make it clear that almost everyone does think that death is an unmitigated disaster, and the Epicurean argument is of limited value.

Benatar relies on an asymmetry to claim that it is better never to have been born, and it would be a good thing if the human race became extinct. Despite its philosophical subtlety, it is hard to believe that Benatar believes his own argument. Can one really prefer eternal nothingness to the possibility of a good life? If I prefer to remain alive, I am not implicitly accepting that life is better than non-life? Does it really make sense to dedicate a book to the parents who harmed you by bringing you into existence? Still, Benatar’s arguments are persuasive enough that Leslie cannot find any knock-down arguments against them, although he cautions us against accepting philosophical prescriptions that, if followed, will result in the death of the species. Surely we ought to tread carefully here despite the power of Benatar’s claims.

These considerations lead to another question. If life is worth something, as most of us generally believe, then why not have as much of it as we like? Lenman rejects immortality for multiple reasons, primarily because immortals would no longer be human. It is easy to see how young philosophers would advocate such a view, thinking that they have enough time to do what they want, but few older, healthy persons could think such a thing. (Lenman wrote this piece when quite young.) For them aging causes the smell of death to be more real, powerful and putrid. As for losing our humanity, that was gained in the course of our long evolutionary history and we will, hopefully, transcend it.

Bostrom picks up the argument here, arguing forcefully that death is evil. Some tell us we will be born again or that death is good or natural, but all such explanations are cases of adaptive preferences. If we cannot do anything about death, we adapt and say we prefer it; but when we can do something about it, almost everyone will rejoice. When the elixir is real, you can be sure it will be used. At the moment we do not know how to prevent death, but we have some scientific insights that could lead in that direction. If some individuals still want to die when death is preventable, we should respect their autonomy, but for those of us who do not want to die, our autonomy should be honored as well. Thus we agree with Bostrom; we should rid ourselves of the dragon—death should be optional.

At the moment, however, death is not optional. Given our predicament—the problem of life that we discussed in the introduction—we have little choice then but to face death stoically, bravely, optimistically. The optimistic attitude prescribed by Michael and Caldwell violates no principles of reason and is practical to boot. A similar kind of optimism was captured in a famous passage from William James essay “The Will To Believe,”

We stand on a mountain pass in the midst of whirling snow and blinding mist, through which we get glimpses now and then of paths which may be deceptive. If we stand still we shall be frozen to death. If we take the wrong road we shall be dashed to pieces. We do not certainly know whether there is any right one. What must we do? ‘Be strong and of a good courage.’ Act for the best, hope for the best, and take what comes. … If death ends all, we cannot meet death better.

A comparable viewpoint was relayed to me in a hand-written letter (remember those?) in the mid 1990s from my friend and graduate school mentor, Richard J. Blackwell. Replying to my queries about the meaning of life he wrote:

As to your “what does it all mean” questions, you do not really think that I have strong clear replies when no one else since Plato has had much success! It may be more fruitful to ask about what degree of confidence one can expect from attempted answers, since too high expectations are bound to be dashed. It’s a case of Aristotle’s advice not to look for more confidence than the subject matter permits. At any rate, if I am right about there being a strong volitional factor here, why not favor an optimistic over a pessimistic attitude, which is something one can control to some degree? This is not an answer, but a way to live.

This seems right. We really have nothing to lose by being optimistic and, given the current reality of death, this is a wise option. But that does not change the fact that death is bad. Bad because it puts an end to something which at its best is beautiful; bad because all the knowledge and insight and wisdom of that person is lost; bad because of the harm it does to the living; bad because it causes people to be unconcerned about the future beyond their short lifespan; and bad because we know in our bones, that if we had the choice, and if our lives were going well, we would choose to on. That death is generally bad—especially so for the physically, morally, and intellectually vigorous—is nearly self-evident.

But most of all, death is bad because it renders completely meaningful lives impossible. It is true that longer lives do not guarantee meaningful ones, but all other things being equal, longer lives are more meaningful than shorter ones. (Both the quality and the quantity of a life are relevant to its meaning; both are necessary though not sufficient conditions for meaning.) An infinite life can be without meaning, but a life with no duration must be meaningless. Thus the possibility of greater meaning increases proportionately with the length of a lifetime.

Yes, there are indeed fates worse than death, and in some circumstances death may be welcomed even if it extinguishes the further possibility of meaning. Nevertheless, death is one of the worst fates that can befall us, despite the consolations offered by the deathists—the lovers of death. We may become bored with eternal consciousness, but as long as we can end our lives if we want, as long as we can opt out of immortality, who wouldn’t want the option to live forever?

Only if we can choose whether to live or die are we really free. Our lives are not our own if they can be taken from us without our consent, and, to the extent death can be delayed or prevented, further possibilities for meaning ensue. Perhaps with our hard-earned knowledge we can slay the dragon tyrant, thereby opening up the possibility for more meaningful lives. This is perhaps the fundamental imperative for our species. For now the best we can do is to remain optimistic in the face of the great tragedy that is death.

William James, Pragmatism and Other Writings (New York: Penguin, 2000), x.

 

Michaelis Michael & Peter Caldwell’s, “The Consolations of Optimism”

Michaelis Michael is a senior lecturer of the University of New South Wales in Sydney Australia, and Peter Caldwell is a lecturer at the University of Technology in Sydney. In their insightful piece, “The Consolations of Optimism” (2004), they argue for adopting an attitude of optimism regarding the meaning of life.

The optimist and pessimist may agree on the facts, but not on their attitude toward those facts. “This nicely sketches what our thesis is: optimism is an attitude, not a theoretical position; moreover, there are reasons why one ought to be an optimist.”  The reasons for preferring optimism have nothing to do with how the world is—optimism is not a better description of reality. Instead it is that a reasonable optimism is best for ourselves and those around us. To better understand reasonable optimism, the authors turn to the Stoics.

The Happiness of the Stoic Sage – Stoics are often characterized as emotionless, indifferent, individuals who simply put up with their fate, accepting that life is bad. Such a picture is uninspiring. While resignation toward the dreadfulness of life is cynical and pessimistic, this is not how the authors interpret Stoicism. The Stoics counsels us to embrace that which we cannot change rather than fight against it and, in the process, embrace reality. Thus Stoicism is realistic, not cynical.

For the Stoics emotions follow from beliefs.  For example, if we believe that death is bad then the emotion of fear or dread may follow. In this case, Stoics generally holds that the belief that death is bad is unjustified and hence negative emotions should not follow. Now consider cheerfulness. There are good reasons to be cheerful and happy—it feels better than being unhappy. This is the reason to be cheerfully optimistic. But can we adopt this optimistic attitude, is it psychologically feasible? The authors think it is both feasible and reasonable to adopt optimism. While the pessimist might object that optimism provides little consolation, optimism contributes to a happier existence and that is a reason to adopt it. Optimism is more than a small consolation.

But optimism is not a set of beliefs about how reality is; rather it is a response to reality. A stoical attitude does not mean not caring or being indifferent to unpleasant things, rather it doesn’t add lamenting to one’s caring. Stoics do not deny that pain and suffering exist—because that is to deny reality—but accept such evils without resenting them. The Stoics reject responding to situations with strong, irrational emotions that would cloud judgment, counseling instead to remain calm and optimistic. “This way of experiencing pains without losing equanimity is the key to stoical optimism.” Optimism leads to happiness and is therefore reasonable.

The Rationality of Beliefs – Beliefs represent how things are to us. If we find beliefs do not adequately do this, we ought to reject them; if they do represent the world well, then we ought to keep them. In addition to believing things about the world, we might desire, expect, hope, fear, or want things about the world. If we expect things about the world, we believe those things will happen. If we hope, desire, want, or fear things, we might not believe those things will happen, instead believing only that they might happen. In all of these cases beliefs are about possibilities that are rational to entertain. But what counts as making a belief rational? Here we can distinguish between strongly rational—the evidence is nearly irrefutable—or weakly rational—as a practical necessity we must believe some things that are not certain but necessary for us to act in the world. So the test of a belief system may be whether it is practical in this way.

Optimism & Pessimism – Again optimists and pessimists do not necessarily disagree about how the world is, although they could, but instead project differing attitudes toward it. Since optimism is an attitude, it does not assume any cluster of beliefs and thus cannot be undermined for being irrational like a belief can. Pessimism is an attitude which demands things from reality and resent that reality does not conform to their wishes. Optimists are typically more accepting of the limitations of the world. Of course optimists may lose their optimism when bad fortune strikes, but we are all happier when we are optimistic and less happy when we are pessimistic—this is the rational ground for optimism.

Yet optimism is not wishful thinking. Wishful thinking involves beliefs that are false, whereas optimism is an attitude that does not necessarily involve false beliefs. Furthermore, optimism has positive results, as the case of Hume’s attitude toward his impending death shows. Diagnosed with a fatal disease Hume begins his ruminations on his situation thus: “I was ever more disposed to see the favorable than unfavorable side of things: a turn of mind which it is more happy to possess, than to be born to an estate of ten thousand a year… It is difficult to be more detached from life than I am at the present.” While many fear death or react variously in ways that disturb tranquility “Hume’s calm and sanguine resignation stands like a beacon of reasonableness, calling out for emulation.” Optimism is a reasonable and beneficial response to the human condition.

Summary – We do not know if life is meaningful or not. For now we might as well be optimistic, especially when facing death.

_____________________________________________________________

Michael & Caldwell, “The Consolations of Optimism,” 390.

Summary of Nick Bostrom’s, “The Fable of the Dragon-Tyrant”

Nick Bostrom (1973 – ) holds a PhD from the London School of Economics (2000). He is a co-founder of the World Transhumanist Association (now called Humanity+) and co–founder of the Institute for Ethics and Emerging Technologies. He was on the faculty of Yale University until 2005, when he was appointed Director of the newly created Future of Humanity Institute at Oxford University. He is currently Professor, Faculty of Philosophy & Oxford Martin School; Director, Future of Humanity Institute; and Director, Program on the Impacts of Future Technology; all at Oxford University.

Bostrom’s article, “The Fable of the Dragon-Tyrant,” tells the story of a planet ravaged by a dragon (death) that demands a tribute which is satisfied only by consuming thousands of people each day. Neither priests with curses, warriors with weapons, or chemists with concoctions could defeat the dragon. The elders were selected to be sacrificed, although they were often wiser than the young, because they had at least lived longer than the youth. Here is a description of their situation:

Spiritual men sought to comfort those who were afraid of being eaten by the dragon (which included almost everyone, although many denied it in public) by promising another life after death, a life that would be free from the dragon-scourge. Other orators argued that the dragon has its place in the natural order and a moral right to be fed. They said that it was part of the very meaning of being human to end up in the dragon’s stomach. Others still maintained that the dragon was good for the human species because it kept the population size down. To what extent these arguments convinced the worried souls is not known. Most people tried to cope by not thinking about the grim end that awaited them.

Given the ceaselessness of the dragon’s consumption, most people did not fight it and accepted the inevitable. A whole industry grew up to study and delay the process of being eaten by the dragon, and a large portion of the society’s wealth was used for these purposes. As their technology grew, some suggested that they would one day build flying machines, communicate over great distances without wires, or even be able to slay the dragon. Most dismissed these ideas.

Finally, a group of iconoclastic scientists figured out that a projectile could be built to pierce the dragon’s scales. However, to build this technology would cost vast sums of money and they would need the king’s support. (Unfortunately, the king was busy raging war killing tigers, which cost the society vast sums of wealth and accomplished little.) The scientists then began to educate the public about their proposals and the people became excited about the prospect of killing the dragon. In response the king convened a conference to discuss the options.

First to speak was a scientist who explained carefully how research should yield a solution to the problem of killing the dragon in about twenty years. But the king’s moral advisors said that it is presumptuous to think you have a right not to be eaten by the dragon; they said that finitude is a blessing and removing it would remove human dignity and debase life. Nature decries, they said, that dragons eat people and people should be eaten. Next to speak was a spiritual sage who told the people not to be afraid of the dragon, but a little boy crying about his grandma’s death moved most toward the anti-dragon position.

However, when the people realized that millions would die before the research was completed, they frantically sought out financing for anti-dragon research and the king complied. This started a technological race to kill the dragon, although the process was painstakingly slow, and filled with many mishaps. Finally, after twelve years of research the king launch a successful dragon-killing missile. The people were happy but the king saddened that they had not started their research years earlier—millions had died unnecessarily. As to what was next for his civilization, the king proclaimed: “Today we are like children again. The future lies open before us. We shall go into this future and try to do better than we have done in the past. We have time now—time to get things right, time to grow up, time to learn from our mistakes, time for the slow process of building a better world…” 

Summary – We should try to overcome the tyranny of death with technology.

_____________________________________________________________________

Bostrom, “The Fable of the Dragon-Tyrant,” 277.

Summary of James Lenman’s Immortality: A Letter”

James Lenman a Professor in the Department of Philosophy at the University of Sheffield. He did his undergraduate work at Oxford University and received his PhD from St. Andrews University.

Lenman’s article, “Immortality: A Letter,” (1995) concerns a letter from a fictional philosopher to her fictitious biological friend in which she presents arguments against taking his immortality drug. She worries that if only some people get the drug, those who don’t will regret it; while if everyone gets the drug, overpopulation will ensue unless people stop having children. But this will lead to more unhappiness, as people want to have children.

Most importantly immortality would undermine our humanity by transforming us into different kinds of beings. Just as an angel who gives up immortality to become human would transform into a human, so too would a human who accepts immortality give up their humanity. To be granted immortality is to become a different kind of being. In addition an immortal life might become boring. And finally the value of life derives in large part from its fragility, which would be undermined by immortality. Lenman’s letter concludes:

The problem with your discovery is that … it precisely wouldn’t be a human good that was advanced because so much of what makes us human would then be obsolete. And human good … is the only sort of good we can make much sense of or coherently view as intrinsically worth our wanting. Nothing … is intrinsically worth anybody’s wanting and what is worth our wanting can only be our good. There is no such thing as the good. Our proper concern being rather with … the good for man.

Summary – More value will be lost than gained if we become immortal.

_____________________________________________________________

James Lenman, “Immortality: A Letter,” Cogito 9 (1995): 169.

John Leslie’s, “Why Not Let Life Become Extinct?”

John Leslie (1940 – ) is currently Professor emeritus at the University of Guelph, in Ontario, Canada. In his essay “Why Not Let Life Become Extinct?” he argues that we ought not to embrace the view that extinction would be best.

Some argue that it would not be sad or a pity if humans went extinct because: 1) there would be nobody left to be sad; or 2) life is so bad that extinction is preferable. Leslie maintains that this issue has practical implications since someone with power might decide that life is not worth it, and press the nuclear button (or bring about some other extinction scenario.) Fortunately most do not reason this way, but if they do there is a paucity of philosophical arguments to dissuade them. Moreover, philosophers often advance arguments that we should improve the lives of the worst off and, since so many people live wretched lives, it is easy to see that a solution might entail killing a lot of people.

But what of letting all life go extinct? Some philosophers argue that we have no duty to prevent this, that even if life is a good we have no duty to propagate it, or if someone is about to lose their life we have no obligation to save it. The principle behind such thinking is that though we ought not to hurt people, we have no duty to help them. Other lines of thinking may lead to similar conclusions. A utilitarian might argue that life should go extinct if it is sufficiently unhappy now or will be so in the future. Other argue that we have no duties to produce future people no matter how happy they might be, for the simple reason that these possible people cannot be deprived of anything, as they do not yet exist. Leslie counters that deciding whether to produce a situation should be influenced by what the situation will be like, by its consequences. If one is deciding whether to produce a certain future, the most relevant fact is whether that future will be good.

He now makes some concessions. First, it is morally good to want to make the lives of the worst off better, but not if this entails destroying the entire human race. Second, actual people are not obligated to make all sacrifices for possible people, anymore than you are obliged to give food to others when your own family is starving. Third, given overpopulation, we are not obligated to have children.

And since ethics is imprecise, we cannot be sure that we have duties to future generations. Still, the universe has value despite the evil it contains, leading Leslie to speculate that there might be an “ethical requirement that it exist…” In other words a thing’s nature, if it has intrinsic value, makes its existence ethically required. But how can the description of a thing’s nature lead to the prescription that it ought to exist? Leslie argues that we cannot derive that a thing should exist from a description of its nature. Perhaps it would be better if no life existed. But suppose we agree that life is intrinsically good, would we then have an obligation to perpetuate it? Leslie answers no. A thing’s intrinsic goodness only implies some obligation that it exist, since other ethical considerations might overrule that obligation. For instance a moral person might think it better that life ended then have a world with so much suffering. The upshot of all this is that there are no knockdown arguments either way. Competent philosophers who argue that it is better for there to be no life probably are equal footing with those who argue the opposite. Leslie continues: “Still, pause before joining such people.”

In the end, we cannot show conclusively that we should not let life become extinct because we can never go from saying that something is—even happiness or pleasure—to saying that something should be. And it is also not clear that maximizing happiness is the proper moral goal. Perhaps instead we should try to prevent misery—which may entail allowing life to go extinct. Philosophers do not generally advocate such a position, but their reluctance to do so suggests that they are willing to tolerate the suffering of some for the happiness of others.

Summary – There are strong arguments for letting life go extinct, although Leslie suggests we generally reject them because life has intrinsic goodness.

_________________________________________________________________

Leslie, “Why Not Let Life Become Extinct?” 130.

Summary of David Benatar’s, Better Never to Have Been

David Benatar is professor of philosophy and head of the Department of Philosophy at the University of Cape Town in Cape Town, South Africa. He is best known for his advocacy of antinatalism. His article, “Why It Is Better Never to Come into Existence,” espouses the view that it is always a harm to be born, as does his book, Better Never to Have Been: The Harm of Coming into Existence. Here is a brief summary of his basic argument.

It is commonly assumed that we do nothing wrong bringing future people into existence if their lives will, on balance, be good. This assumes that being brought into existence is generally beneficial. In contrast Benatar argues that: “Being brought into existence is not a benefit but always a harm.” While most maintain that living is beneficial as long as the benefits of life outweigh the evil, Benatar argues that this conclusion does not follow because: 1) pain is bad, and 2) pleasure good; but 3) the absence of pain is always good whether people exist or not, whereas 4) the absence of pleasure is only bad if people exist to be denied it.

To support this asymmetry between 3 & 4 Benatar presents three arguments. The first is that: 1) while there is a duty not to bring people who will suffer into the world (supports 3), there is no duty to bring people who will be happy into the world (supports 4). Thus a lack of suffering is always good, whether or not someone enjoys this absence; whereas a lack of happiness is not always bad, unless people exist to be denied it.

His second argument is that though we think it strange to say we have children so they will benefit, we think it normal to say we should not have children because they will be harmed. We don’t think people should have as many children as they can to benefit those children, but we do think people should refrain from having children if this will cause them suffering.

His third argument to support the asymmetry is that while not having children may be bad or good for the living, not having been born cannot deprive those who have never been born of anything.

This fundamental asymmetry—suffering is an intrinsic harm, but the absence of pleasure is not—allows Benatar to draw his nihilistic conclusions. In other words, the measure by which the absence of pain is better than its presence is itself greater than the measure by which the presence of pleasure is better than its absence. This means that not existing is either a lot better than existing, in the case of pain, or a little worse, in the case of pleasure. Or to think of it another way, the absence of pain and the presence of pleasure are both good, but the presence of pain is much worse than the absence of pleasure. (Here is my own thought experiment that might help. Suppose that before you were born the gods were trying to decide whether to create you. If they decide to create you, you will suffer much if you have a bad life or a gain greatly if you have a good life. If they decide not to create you, you will gain greatly by avoiding a bad life, but suffer only slightly if at all by not existing—as you wouldn’t know what you had been deprived of.)

To further his argument, Benatar notes that most persons underestimate how much suffering they will endure. If their lives are going better than most, they count themselves lucky. Consider death. It is a tragedy at any age, and only seems acceptable at ninety because of our expectations about life-spans. But is lamenting death inconsistent with his anitnatalism? Benatar thinks not. While non-existence does not harm a possible person, death is another harm that will come to those in existence. In response you could say that you can’t be mistaken about whether you prefer existence to non-existence. Benatar grants that you may not be mistaken if you claim that you are currently glad to have been born, but you could still be mistaken that it was better to have been born at all. You might now be glad you were born, and then suffer so badly latter that you change your mind. (I might wish I hadn’t been born, after I find out what’s in store for me.)

What follows from all this? That we shouldn’t have children? That no one should have children? Benatar claims that to answer yes to these questions goes against a basic drive to reproduce, so we must be careful not to let such drives bias our analysis. Having children satisfies many needs of those who bring children into existence, but this does not mean it serves the interests of the children—in fact it causes them great harm. One could reply that the harm is not that great to the children, since the benefits of existing may outweigh the harm, and, at any rate, we cannot ask future persons if they want to be born. Since we enjoy our lives we assume they will too, thus providing the justification for satisfying our procreational needs. Most people do not regret their existence, and if some do we could not have foreseen it.

But might we be deceiving ourselves about how good life is? Most of us assume life would be unbearable if we were in certain situations. But often, when we find ourselves in these situations, we adapt. Could it be that we have adapted to a relatively unbearable life now? Benatar says that a superior species might look at our species with sympathy for our sorry state. And the reason we deceive ourselves is that we have been wired by evolution to think this way—it aids our survival. Benatar views people’s claims about the benefits of life skeptically, just as he would the ruminations of the slave who claims to prefer slavery.

Benatar concludes by saying: “One implication of my view is that it would be preferable for our species to die out.” He claims that it would be heroic if people quit having children so that no one would suffer in the future. You may think it tragic to allow the human race to die out, but it would be hard to explain this by appealing to the interests of potential people.

Summary – It is better never to come into existence as being born is always a harm.

_____________________________________________________________________

Benatar, “Why It Is Better Never to Come into Existence,” 167.

Summary of Steven Luper’s, “Annihilation”

Steven Luper is Professor of Philosophy at Trinity University in San Antonio Texas.  He received his PhD from Harvard in 1982. In his essay “Annihilation,” he argues that death is a terrible thing and that Epicurus’ indifference to death is badly mistaken.

Luper begins by noting that while there may be fates worse than death, death is still a terrible fate. We may prefer death to eternal torture or boredom, but few would reject the offer to live as long as they want, and Epicurus’ argument is beside the point. Can we really believe that death is nothing to us? Luper thinks not.

Death is a misfortune for us primarily because it thwarts our desires. If we have a desire we want fulfilled, then death may prevent its fulfillment; if we enjoy living, then dying prevents us from continuing to do so; if we have hopes and aspirations; then they will be frustrated by our deaths; if we have reasons to live, then we have reasons not to want to die. For all these reasons death is a grave misfortune.

Moreover, we should care about dying, for to be indifferent to this calamity is to be hard-hearted and dispassionate. What kind of person is indifferent to their desires, or their deaths, or their children? Would our lives not be poorer if we were detached from the cares, concerns, and relationships that bind us to life? To the extent we tolerate death, we give up on life. Better to think that dying is bad than that life is no longer worth living.

Still, if we must die, we can soften the blow somewhat. We can live passionately and have realistic goals that can be accomplished in a lifetime. If we live accordingly, accomplishing what we set out to do, then dying will be less bad. But it will still be a great misfortune unless we can honestly say that we could have done no more had we been granted more time. But who could honestly say that?

Summary – Death is a misfortune because it thwarts our desires.

___________________________________________________________________

Steven Luper, “Annihilation,” The Philosophical Quarterly 37 (1985): 233-252.

Summary of George Pitcher’s, “The Misfortunes of the Dead”

George Pitcher is emeritus professor of philosophy at Princeton where he was a member of the philosophy department from 1956-1981. His 1984 article, “The Misfortunes of the Dead,” addresses the question of whether the dead can be harmed.

Pitcher begins by assuming that death is the end of our consciousness. It has benefits—no pain, suffering, or anxiety—but does death harm the dead person?  On the one hand, it doesn’t seem so. If after my death my college closes down that doesn’t hurt me. On the other hand, if I’ve given a lot of my life to my college and it was important to me, it might seem bad for me. In this article Pitcher defends the claim (claim 1) that the dead can be harmed. But first he defends the claim (claim 2) that the dead can be wronged. If your son promises to bury you but sells your body for spare parts, or you won a gold medal at the Olympics and it is now unjustly taken away, you have been wronged even though you are now dead. In both cases an injustice has been done to you, or so Pitcher argues. So it seems the dead can be wronged.

Pitcher distinguished two ways to describe a dead person: 1) as they were when alive—ante-mortem; or 2) as they are dead, as a rotting corpse or pile of ashes—post-mortem. He argues that we can be wronged ante-mortem, but not post-mortem. For instance, if one is slandered after death, one is slandering the ante-mortem person but not the post-mortem person. Or when you break a promise, you break it to the ante-mortem person, since you cannot break (or make I suppose) a promise to a post-mortem person.

Pitcher now turns back to claim 1, his strongest claim, that the dead can be harmed. (In Pitcher’s hierarchy being harmed is worse than being wronged, and being wronged worse than being the victim of hostility.) Now Pitcher asks: “is it possible for something to happen after a person’s death that harms the living person he was before he died?” He answers in the affirmative.

By definition harms are events or states of affairs contrary to your desires or interests. Of course we cannot be killed or experience pain after death—the post mortem person can’t be harmed—but we can have desires thwarted after death—the ante mortem person can be harmed. If I desire to be remembered after I die with a statue on campus and you destroy the statue, then you have defeated my desire and harmed the ante-mortem person I was. To better understand this nuance, compare two worlds. In World 1 I had discovered the absolute truth about reality, disseminated my work, and after my death proclaimed the world greatest philosopher; in World 2 my neighbor destroyed all my works the day after I died and nobody knows of my philosophy and I’m forgotten. If World 2 came about we would feel I was harmed—all my work obliterated and my name forgotten even though I was the greatest philosopher of all time. This suggests the (ante-mortem) dead can be harmed.

Pitcher notes that the idea that the dead can be at least slightly harmed goes back to at least Aristotle. But how is a living person affected by something that happens after they die? We have seen that ante-mortems can be wronged—by being slandered for example—but how can they be harmed? How can something that happens now, at a later time after the person is dead, affect the person at an earlier time, when they were alive? If this is true, we have a case of backward causation—of the present causing the past.

Pitcher doesn’t think he needs to invoke backward causation to make his argument work. All he needs to show is that being harmed does not entail knowing about the harm. Of course most of the time you are harmed you know about it, but you don’t have to know about it to be harmed. You are harmed if you contract a terminal illness, or if everyone ridicules you behind your back, even if you don’t know about either. So a person can be harmed after their death even though they won’t know about it then. For example, if I know my child will die young this is a misfortune for me, but it is not the only harm that befalls me. The other harm is that my child will actually die young. And even if I didn’t know my child would die, there was still some harm being done to me before my child died. And that harm was that my child was going to die. This is a harm for me whether I know of it or not.

So the shadow of harm that an event casts can reach back across the chasm even of a person’s death and darken his ante-mortem life.” While I do not suffer my son’s death when I’m (post-mortem) dead, I do suffer it understood as (ante-mortem) death. Thus it is not that after I’m dead I now suffer for the first time and my ante-mortem person is harmed retroactively. Rather the ante-mortem person is harmed by events that occur after one’s death because: “the occurrence of the event makes it true that during the time before the person’s death, he was harmed—harmed in that the unfortunate event was going to happen. 

Summary – We are harmed by death because while alive the knowledge of death harmed us.

____________________________________________________________________

Pitcher, “The Misfortunes of the Dead,” 197.

Oswald Hanfling on Death and Meaning

Oswald Hanfling (1927 – 2005) was a German philosopher who worked until his death at the Open University in the United Kingdom. We have summarized his book, The Quest for Meaning, in a previous post. In that book he also takes a stand on the issue of death and meaning which we summarize below.

Hanfling accepts as obvious the claim that meaning is affected by our knowledge of death, and agrees that “death casts a negative shadow over our lives.”  Moreover, while the naturalness of death may provide some consolation from our anxiety, it does not show that our apprehension about death is misplaced. Still, Epicurus’ sound argument should mitigate our worries and provide consolation. Death is not totally bad.

But are there any overriding reasons to regard death as mostly evil? Hanfling does not think such reasons are convincing. For while I may wish to fulfill some goal and regret that I cannot, I will not be harmed after my death by the fact that I didn’t fulfill that goal. Or though one might argue that death is bad because life is good, it is unclear whether life in general is good. Similarly one might argue that merely having experiences is a good in itself, but this does not hold up either, as we are not comforted in times of misfortune by being said to have the benefit of existence. Even the fact that we generally desire life does not show that it is good. Hanfling concludes that arguments from the goodness of life to the badness of death are unsound—there are no convincing reasons to think that death is primarily bad. But none of this shows that a life without death would be meaningful; they do not show that death is necessary for meaning. Death is not necessarily good either.

In the end death is a somber prospect and not something we look forward to, but it is neither a definitive blessing nor a curse. Death makes a great difference to us, but we cannot come to any simple conclusions about the meaning of death. “Death, like life itself, is not amenable to such conclusions.”

Summary – The thought of death is unpleasant, but we cannot determine the implications of death for meaning.

_______________________________________________________________________________________ 

Hanfling, The Quest for Meaning, 84.