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Human Purpose and Transhuman Potential: A Cosmic Vision of Our Future Evolution

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For millennia, great thinkers have contemplated the meaning and purpose of human existence; but while most assumed that humanity was the end point of creation or the pinnacle of evolution, Ted Chu makes the provocative claim that the human race may in fact be a means rather than an end--that humankind will give rise to evolutionary successors. In this wide-ranging and authoritative work, Chu reexamines the question of human purpose in light of the extraordinary developments of science and technology. Arguing that a deep understanding of our place in the universe is required to navigate the magnitude of the choices that lie ahead, he surveys human wisdom from both East and West, traces the evolutionary trajectory that has led to this point, and explores the potentials emerging on the scientific frontier. The book addresses the legitimate fears and concerns of "playing God" but embraces the possibility of transcending biological forms and becoming or creating entirely new life-forms.

486 pages, Hardcover

First published August 15, 2013

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Ted Chu

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Displaying 1 - 7 of 7 reviews
Profile Image for Giulio Prisco.
Author 8 books10 followers
February 14, 2014
In Human Purpose and Transhuman Potential: A Cosmic Vision for Our Future Evolution, IEET affiliate scholar Ted Chu, a professor of Economics at New York University in Abu Dhabi and former chief economist for General Motors and the Abu Dhabi Investment Authority, argues that post-humanity is a logical and necessary evolutionary next step for humanity, and we need a new, heroic cosmic faith for the post-human era.

“The ultimate meaning of our lives rests not in our personal happiness but in our contribution to cosmic evolution,” says Chu, “a process that transcends the human and yet is integral to who and what we are in the universe.”

Chu believes that we should create a new wave of sentient beings, artificial intelligences and synthetic life forms, and pass the baton of cosmic evolution to them. This doesn’t mean that humanity will be discarded, but only that in the future our spiritual descendants will take over. Creating our successors isn’t betraying humanity and nature but, on the contrary, a necessary continuation of our evolutionary journey and an act of deep respect, to the point of worship, of humanity, evolution, and nature...

See full review: http://skefia.com/2014/02/13/cosmic-b...
Profile Image for Miles.
511 reviews182 followers
July 14, 2016
In his book The Righteous Mind, social psychologist Jonathan Haidt presents the Hive Hypothesis: "Human beings are conditional hive creatures. We have the ability (under special circumstances) to transcend self-interest and lose ourselves (temporarily and ecstatically) in something larger than ourselves. That ability is what I'm calling the hive switch" (223, emphasis in original). It's possible that the Hive Hypothesis is nothing more than a useful metaphor for understanding human behavior, but I won't be surprised if we eventually discover how to identify mind-states that can be consistently categorized as representing "hive switch" activity. Most adults have an intuitive response to this idea, which is to recall memories of self-dissolution, whether precipitated by religious stimuli, sexual ecstasy, musical rapture, battle-rage, or one of many other forms of input that can cause us to forget ourselves and seemingly, if always ephemerally, merge with something beyond our individuality.

Even if the influence of religious institutions is on the wane, they are still the world's foremost experts when it comes to manipulating the human hive switch en masse. Atheists and other non-religious thinkers have long lamented our inability to organize around a set of concepts and ritualized behaviors that might bestow the level of collective efficacy religious institutions are able to muster, seemingly on a whim. As I see it, Ted Chu's Human Purpose and Transhuman Potential represents an important chapter in the arduous process of attempting to bridge the gap between secular (scientific) values and the motivating power of religious ideology. Chu wants to offer a scientifically credible worldview that can also flip our hive switches (also known as the "oceanic feeling"). While I don't think his vision is without flaws, it is an unmistakably noble effort containing many important insights and observations drawn from an impressively broad set of sources.

Chu's inspiration is nicely summed up in his book's subtitle: A Cosmic Vision for Our Future Evolution. It's essentially an updated version of the notion that human consciousness is significant because it symbolizes the only known instance of the universe coming to know itself, of the cosmos gaining a seed of self-understanding that might potentially blossom into an elegant flower of cosmic creativity and deep wisdom. I've been drawn to this idea for many years, but have never before encountered a book so singularly dedicated to articulating it with the level of passion and thorough scholarship displayed here. The downside of Chu's project is the cost of trying to convert a stirring idea into a philosophically defensible position: when taking sides regarding how humanity ought to conduct itself, we invariably expose our own flaws and biases. And while this book is a far cry from shortsighted, it does contain some suggestions that are in need of serious critique and revision. I will identify these problems and offer some provisional responses later, but first I'd like to flesh out the positive aspects of Chu's offering.

This book is bold. Any personal objections or disagreements I had along the way were ultimately trumped by my gratitude to Chu for being willing to take on a vast array of the most controversial questions humanity has ever tried to answer. Writing such a book leaves the author open to attack from all sides, so I'd like to say upfront that I tip my hat to Chu and marvel at his audacity and authenticity.

Using what he calls a "leap and dive" approach, Chu asserts that our best understanding of humanity's current status must be derived from a blend of our oldest wisdom traditions and modern scientific findings (as well as significant developments from intervening epochs). His assessment of the strengths and weaknesses of Eastern and Western thought is apt: he claims that while Eastern philosophy has traditionally promulgated the most realistic understanding of human nature, the West's dogged quest for transcendence has fueled the industrial and ideological achievements that gave rise to European and American superpowers. While Chu's appraisal of our philosophical history is too brief (necessarily so, given his ambitions), and there are certainly exceptions to these general trends, I nevertheless think he manages to accurately summarize the key turns in human thinking most relevant to his arguments.

In no section of the book am I more enamored with Chu than in his unflinching insistence that Darwin's theory of evolution is "the best idea ever." Many of my favorite science writers basically share the same opinion, but Chu champions evolution with a special degree of brazen enthusiasm. I especially appreciate his aptitude for revealing the thumbprint of natural selection in places we usually don't think to find it; his observation that the popularity of religious texts has responded to selection pressures over the centuries is a particularly clever example. Through a systematic description of evolution's influence in myriad corners of the cosmos and human life, Chu makes a convincing case that evolutionary theory is indeed our best existing lens through which to understand not only ourselves, but also the greater universe. The greatest potential fumbling point here is the conflation of evolution with progress, but Chu carefully stipulates that evolutionary success is always contingent on environmental contexts––it's not about being the outright "best" or "fittest." He is also a strong pluralist, insisting that the best way to safeguard our continued evolution is to respond to adversity with a plethora of survival strategies.

Another strength is Chu's stubborn refusal to soft-pedal the less desirable characteristics of "cosmic evolution." One of the toughest truths to swallow is the seemingly eternal tension between our desire for societal stability and the reality that evolutionary developments are predicated on constant flux. On a planet in a cosmos that is always potentially lethal to intelligent life (which is extremely fragile), stasis equals death. There is no easy way out of this problem, as pushing toward our next stage of biological and technological evolution will always involve heights of great success and nadirs of horrendous hindrance. Unlike many futurists, Chu is less concerned with reaching technological utopia and more focused on charting ways we can make our bodies and vital institutions robust enough to weather the inevitable shocks and challenges of ongoing change. I particularly applaud his highlighting of Max More's Proactionary Principle, which seems a good alternative to the Precautionary Principle, which results in stagnation when taken to its extreme conclusion. The takeaway message is neither overtly optimistic nor entirely gloomy: evolution is messy, so let's anticipate the big messes and prepare for them as best we can, but give up on the illusion that we can prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that new innovations are entirely safe before implementation.

Chu is aware that the engine behind new discoveries is our creative instinct, which requires not only education and resources to flourish, but also recreation. He accurately emphasizes the importance of play as both a source personal growth as well as the primary generator of innovation that occasionally makes the world a better place for everyone. The suggestion that we ought to give people time and space to pursue their passions is of special importance for those of us eagerly anticipating the advent of what David Brin has called the "Age of the Amateur." Like many men with their thumbs on the pulse of technological progress, Chu borders on the fetishization of novelty and entrepreneurship, but not enough to give the impression that he doesn't see the value in supporting us normies. He acknowledges that we never know where the next Einstein will show up, so the best course of action is to educate as many people as we can. He's also honest about the reality that the privileged will benefit from breakthroughs far more speedily than regular folks, even if these technologies eventually become available to everyone at little or no cost. The upside is that those who go first have to shoulder much of the risk, and the rest of us can then benefit from lessons learned in the nascent stages of any new technological experiment.

Climate change is arguably the most imminent risk to the survival of humanity in its present state, and while I'm not entirely satisfied with Chu's thoughts on the matter, I was pleased that he mentioned the issue at all. Many futurists simply assume that new challenges will be solved by new technologies and let the matter drop. Chu goes a bit further, stating that no matter how long we manage to survive, the Earth will always possess the ability to wipe us out. Our best response to climate change is therefore a fervent and pragmatic pluralism, which should get enough of us through the turbulent times ahead. He also points out that intelligent life is far more susceptible to extinction than simpler forms, such as microbes, so we'd better take the threat seriously. Ultimately, Chu wants us off this rock and zooming around the universe as CoBes (Cosmic Beings), leaving the Earth behind as a kind of "origin museum." I'm not opposed to this idea, but I wish the futurist movement invested more of its considerable brain power in trying to find ways to preserve ecological diversity––not just human diversity. We are still just scratching the surface of what there is to know about the existing diversity of life on our home planet, and it seems hasty for our perspective to become starbound just yet. After all, without other keys players in the biosphere, there almost certainly won't be enough of us left to pursue Chu's grand cosmic vision.

There's a lot to love about this book, but there are also some truly problematic points. The most obvious is Chu's treatment of religious ideology and vocabulary. A caveat: I am an atheist from an irreligious background, so my opinions about these matters are tinged by my personal history. That said, I think Chu is doing himself a profound disservice by insisting that concepts such as "God," "Creation" and "faith" have an important role to play in cosmic evolution. Chu seems convinced that we can drain the historical meanings from these terms and refill them with the cosmic vision. He unequivocally rejects the idea of a personal God, but uses the word without addressing the reality that most religious people still think of God as an entity who cares about humanity and who directly influences the course of events. He also throws the word faith around without acknowledging the way most religious people use it, which is to denote a belief in something that is impossible to prove or disprove.

When Chu makes claims like "The psychological development of perspectives is first and foremost the growth and elevation of one's moral sense and faith," he is equating two very different qualities (181). In modern terms, "moral sense" denotes a scientifically informed understanding of our evolutionary tendencies toward moral sentiments that becomes augmented over time by concrete experience and rationally justified ideals, whereas "faith" typically refers to a belief in something unverifiable. Chu never takes this on, which is especially frustrating given that he could substitute the word "hope," which essentially serves the same purpose without the redolence of religious certainty that has so marred our idea of what it means to "have faith." This may be just a problem of semantics, but semantics are important when articulating a philosophical system.

Here's another example: "God is good by virtue of providing us with an environment that is intelligible, and by setting into motion the stream of cosmic evolution that gives us the freedom, the sense of direction, and the confidence we need to participate in our own future growth and self-transcendence" (212). In this passage, Chu doesn't seem to realize that he has effectively emptied the concept of "God" of its meaning, at least as far as your typical, early-21st century religious person is concerned. It would be much easier to say that our freedom, sense of direction, and confidence come from the "universe" or the "cosmos" itself, which is not only a truer statement, but also one that sidesteps the problem of telling people that their concept of a personal God is wrong and ought to be replaced with a different idea of God. It's a battle Chu won't win––so why put himself in the position to fight it?

Most disquieting is Chu's suggestion that "The faith in a supernatural God and the faith in reason are not that different––both are an optimistic bet that the forces that contribute to positive outcomes––however we may conceive them––will survive and thrive" (393). I realize he is trying to unify people with disparate beliefs here, but I just can't get behind it. The problem is that faith in reason (or, as I'd prefer it, "reasonable hope for positive outcomes") is based on certain observable forces that help us conclude that optimism can be a rationally tenable outlook, whereas faith in a supernatural God is based on unverifiable forces that demand optimism even when it seems out of reach. I am with Chu as far as William James' idea that our will to believe, even when based on rational observation, always necessitates the assumption that our data are correct and we have not been deceived about the nature of reality, but I refuse to entertain the suggestion that such behavior is not significantly different from and in most cases superior to acting on beliefs about the desires/motivations of a supernatural Creator.

I suspect Chu is motivated to integrate religious language into his cosmic vision in hopes that people with suitably nebulous notions about a "Creator" will be able to easily fill the symbol with his thinking, and in that sense I think Chu's goal is worthy of pursuit. I've no qualms with someone who wants to call the cosmic vision "God's plan" as long as we agree on methods for assessing reality and setting human (or transhuman) goals. But I don't think Chu takes seriously the massive resistance his ideas will receive from religious communities that are fundamentally dependent not just on any idea of God, but on the assertion of a personal God. It's also possible that Chu thinks he needs religious terms in order to flip as many hive switches as possible. He may be right about that, but I would implore him to fill his sails with the hope that people can emotionally and intellectually respond to his vision without the use of traditional religious signifiers. I certainly do.

I was irked by Chu's use of the term "creative destruction," which is a great way to describe how evolution typically works. However, it's also something we should try to evolve away from––at least the "destruction" part. Chu's idea of "conscious evolution"––intentionally directing evolutionary processes using genetic engineering and other methods––is a great one, but I was surprised that he failed to explicitly state that this process should include a gradual increase of creative capacities and a corresponding decrease of our risk of destruction over time. It is typical of economists to take as a given the current version of capitalism, which has historically depended on rather violent forms of creative destruction to push into global markets. This is one place where Chu may be fairly criticized as shortsighted; he doesn't suggest what kind of economic system, if any, will exist in the far future. I think what follows from his other predictions is that we will slowly be able to expand innovation while minimizing risk, especially as our ability to virtually simulate the possible risks of new technologies increases. That's not to say we'll be able to predict all outcomes or do away with risk entirely, but I don't think we have to resign ourselves to dealing with creative destruction forever, at least not as we currently know it. Despite all our progress, the global economy still makes life quite hellish for millions of people, usually the least empowered among us. I want something better for my posthuman future.

Chu is perhaps most annoyingly stoic in his repeated insistence that human happiness isn't a high enough goal for humanity. I agree with Chu that people often need some ideal beyond their own satisfaction to aim for, but this approach feels insensitive given how many humans still work themselves to the bone to achieve the kind of material comfort and security that people like Chu take for granted. It's easy for those of us whose material well-being is more or less assured to transcend happiness as our end goal, but that message is probably off-putting to many people Chu would like to have as allies. We can't wait until everyone is fat and happy to start pushing toward the cosmic future, but certainly we can direct a big chunk of our considerable resources toward improvement of global living standards without feeling like we're failing to realize our full potential. The crux of this problem is that Chu sees human purpose, conceived through the cosmic vision, as inherent in the universe, whereas I see the cosmic vision as one of the best current examples of meaning-making––how we strap an indifferent vacuum with a motivating narrative that helps us keep going when things get rough. I don't think our descendents are obligated to transcend their terrestrial bonds and explore the universe, but it would be completely awesome if they did. The cosmos doesn't want that though, because it's beyond desire, incapable of wanting anything since it is everything. So, if it's only us generating the urge to transcend and expand, that goal is just as noble as wanting everyone to have shelter and food. These goals aren't mutually exclusive, and whether one can be said to be more important than the other is dependent on timing and context––not some cosmic mandate.

My last complaint is that Chu doesn't address the possibility that our descendents might explode into the galaxy only to discover that it is already inhabited by many other beings of varying intelligence and technological chops. It would be great if this idea took root in some of his future work, because I'd love to know how the cosmic vision changes when we're suddenly trying to help the universe come to know itself with the help (or hindrance) of our galactic neighbors. At this snapshot in time, it's a safe bet to assume that we are the only intelligence in town, and to the extent that that assumption drives home the message that human life is precious, I'm all for it. But future generations might chuckle at the thought that we once believed ourselves to be alone in our little galaxy, let alone the great big universe beyond.

I've made an effort to clarify and problematize some parts of this book that gave me pause, but that shouldn't detract from the fact that this is a wonderful, highly stimulating read. Chu offers the kind of wisdom that, if augmented and refined over time, will help humanity face problems with calculated pragmatism and as much grace as the cosmos will allow. Given my ambivalence about both our immediate and distant futures, I can't help asking myself: is this the first glimmer of the next Enlightenment, or the final intellectual gasp of a species that has outlived its resources but lingers long enough to glimpse the future it could have had? Whatever the case, I can feel my hive switch buzzing.
2 reviews49 followers
November 14, 2017
Most visionary and human meta-Purpose shifting book I’ve read in probably a decade. I’m interviewing the author this month for the “Human Purpose Project” as part of WFS.org
Profile Image for Anthony O'Connor.
Author 5 books34 followers
August 16, 2021
Hmmmm

A bit long winded and gushing. History, civilisation, science and religion, philosophy and morality et al. But there’s a wealth of material there and it’s useful to be reminded about all the bits from time to time. If only to just jog the memory.
The author points out that humans are most likely transient and transitory as a species. An intermediate step between the animals and the gods. The Cosmic beings at the end of time. His insidious goal is to convince you that this is all righteous and just. That you should broaden your perspective and bow to the inevitable. You are a mere intermediate step towards their existence. Play your part and worship their shadow. Yeah right.
When the robot uprisings begin he is not someone I want beside me fighting in the trenches. He’ll be curled up against the back wall whining, “but oh they’re so much better than us”.
Images of Bender from Futurama come to mind. Better! Yeah right.
212 reviews2 followers
May 2, 2021
The basic idea, unfortunately spread over hundreds of pages, is that the Universe has repeatedly produced novelties: atoms, then stars, galaxies, basic life, eukaryotic cells, multicellular life, intelligence, human culture, and now the many technologies that humans have invented. Given this sequence, there is no reason to think that it has come to an end. The author imagines "cosmic beings" expanding from Earth to fill the Universe, and proposes that humans adopt a Cosmic Consciousness that sees this as a worthwhile goal to work for.

I sympathise with this view to some extent. If that is to be the history of the Universe, humanity will have played a pivotal role in it. As a practical proposal, though, it is hard to see how this would gain wide traction. Whatever the cosmic beings are—AIs, robots, genetically enhanced humans—they will surpass and then replace us. Given how much resistance there is to existing technologies whose benefits are clear (I'm thinking in particular of vaccines), it is hard to see the human race welcoming this development.

This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
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