Tag Archives: Transhumanism

Hi-tech human hacking; the advance to posthumanity

Cyborg dialectics / a perpetual state of transition

Cyborg dialectics with Kimiko Ross

Dresden Codak. Started following his original webcomic way way back in the Noughties, when it was just as much of a one-person labour of love as it is now (though the artwork has gone from good to astonishing over the years).

Back then DC (and I, for my sins) were fellow-travellers of transhumanism; DC is, I suspect (on the basis of my reading of their work, rather than any direct knowledge), still a smidgen closer to that scene than I am these days, but the Dark Science series (go read some) has been steadily developing what feels like a much more posthumanist position — an understanding of the cyborg as a (sociotechnopolitical) metaphor, in other words, rather than the naive concretised misparsings of sf images so fetishized by the transhumanoids. This panel seems to confirm that feeling quite bluntly, at the same time as it resonates with stuff I’ve been discussing over the last few weeks*. Plus I thought maybe it was time I posted something that wasn’t just words.

* Things have been quiet because I’ve been in Sweden for close to three weeks, a “visiting scholar” set-up that is now drawing to a close. It’s been insanely busy and tiring, but very much in the positive sense.

Five theses for the future

(Or: what I did on my holiday, by Paul Graham Raven, aged 40 ¾)

Many thanks to the lovely people at Bayerischer Rundfunk for inviting me to their annual conference in Munich, putting me up in what looks to be possibly its most characterful hotel, and giving me a stage from which to expose the noxious back-stage ideologies of transhumanism to a receptive and insightful audience. Doing little video bits like this is a small price to pay for such a privilege… but let’s be frank, that’s a face made for radio.

Immortality and infrastructure

Every technology requires a physical infrastructure in order to operate. But this infrastructure depends on social institutions, which are frequently subject to breakdown. I made this point when I bumped into some ardent advocates of cryonic suspension in California in the 1980s. How long would it take to develop the technologies that were needed to resurrect frozen cadavers as living organisms, I wondered. Not much more than a century, I was told. I asked these techno-futurists to consider the events of the past hundred years or so – a devastating civil war and two world wars, a ruinous stock-market crash and the Great Depression, for example. Given this history, how could they be confident that their refrigerated cadavers would remain intact for another century? The companies that stored them would surely go bust, wars and civil disturbances would lead to power failures, and the legal system that protected the cadavers could disappear. The United States might no longer exist in a recognisable form. The cryonicists looked at me blankly. These were scenarios that they had not considered and could not process. Such upheavals might have happened in the past, but the future was going to be quite different. For these believers in technological resurrection, American society was already immortal.

John Gray at The New Statesman, reviewing Mark O’Connell’s To Be A Machine

Cool your head

Another day, another minor mention of immortalism in the mainstream media; this one’s rare in that it mentions the really important element of the business model of Alcor and other such cryogenics “service providers”:

The majority of patients choose to take out life insurance policies naming Alcor or the Cryonics Institute as their beneficiary.

Read that again. Let the implications sink in. Alcor’s business model involves encouraging people to bequeath a significant chunk of their estate against an ill-defined promise with little or no scientific foundations, to possibly be delivered upon at an indeterminate date in the future.

If it were only wealthy SilVal vencaps and other powerbros who were foolish enough to quaff this particular flavour of snake-oil, I’d have few tears to shed; any successful con-artist knows that the greedy and vain are the easiest targets to take. But the desperate are also easy targets, and quackery is always drawn to the scent of sickrooms; it takes a very special sort of grasping scumbag to bottle your hopes and sell them back to you.

I try to speak to Max More, but no interview is forthcoming despite several emails and calls.

The mightily monikered More is wise enough to not submit to interviews which are likely to not picture Alcor in its best light — and what astute businessman would do otherwise? But we need not be left guessing as to the flavours of philosophy that most made their mark on More during his stint reading PPE at Oxford, as his website burgeons with enlightening screeds that offer an insight into the man behind the elaborate self-made myth. I recommend starting with the soi-disant Proactionary Principle, which is also a cornerstone of transhumanist doctrine. Here’s a wee taster:

Whereas the precautionary principle is often used to take an absolutist stand against an activity, the Proactionary Principle allows for handling mixed effects through compensation and remediation instead of prohibition.

The core project of capital-T Transhumanism is only ostensibly about life extension and immortality; its true purpose is as a glossy conceptual package of future-glossed vanity-bait designed to encourage wealthy spoiled assholes to argue for massive programs of further economic and industrial deregulation. And while I’m not greatly fussed about the fates of fools who’d fall for this, the ultimate suit of emperor’s new clothes, I retain the same healthy respect for its tailor that I reserve for another species equipped with a forked tongue.  To paraphrase another libertarian fantasist:

People will believe anything you tell them, provided they want it to be true, or fear that it already is.

To observe that this is true is pessimism; to monetise it is cynicism, pure and simple.