The 'Create the Future' myth

A popular notion amongst futurists, technoprogressives and transhumanists alike is the suggestion that we can proactively engineer the kind of future we want to live in. I myself have been seduced by this idea; back during the Betterhumans days our mission was to "connect people to the future so that they can create it." Given the seemingly dystopic and near-apocalyptic trajectory that humanity appears to be heading in, this was and still is a powerfully intuitive and empowering concept.

Trouble is, we're mostly deluded about this.

Now, I don't deny that we should collectively work to build a desirable future that is inherently liveable and where our values have been preserved; my progressivism is unshatterable. What I am concerned about, however, is the degree to which we can actually control our destiny. While I am not an outright technological determinist, I am pretty damn close. As our technologies increase in power and sophistication, and as unanticipated convergent effects emerge from their presence, we will increasingly find ourselves having to deal with the consequences. It is in addressing these technological side-effects that our desired trajectories will be re-routed by pragmatism and survivalism.

In other words, adaptationism will supercede idealized notions of where we can and should develop as an advanced species.

For example, consider the remedial ecology and geoengineering concepts. We have not voluntarily chosen to explore these particular areas of inquiry. These are technologies of adaptationist necessity. Because we have buggered up the planet, and because we may have no other choice, humanity finds itself compelled to pour its time and resources into areas in which we wouldn't have otherwise cared about. Breaking down toxic wastes and removing carbon from the atmosphere was not anything anybody would have desired a century ago; our present is not the future that our ancestors could have anticipated or created.

Technological adaptationism also extends to ramifications in the social and political arenas. The entire back-half of the 20th Century was marred by the Cold War, a biopolar geopolitical arrangement that emerged due the presence of ideologically disparate hegemons in the possession of apocalyptic weapons. We have no reason to believe that a similar arrangement couldn't happen again, especially when considering the potential for ongoing nuclear proliferation and the development of novel apocalyptic-scale technologies such as nanoweapons and robotic armadas. Even worse, given the possibility that a small team (or even a single individual) may eventually be capable of hijacking the entire planet, our civil liberties as we know them may cease to exist altogether in favour of mass surveillance and quasi-totalitarian police states.

Again, this isn't anything that any progressive futurist wants. But these are the unintended consequences of technological advancement. We are slaves to technological adaptationism; to do otherwise would be to risk our very own existence. And in order to avoid our extinction (or something similarly catastrophic), we may be compelled to alter our social structures, values, technological areas of inquiry and even ourselves in order to adapt.

As to whether or not such a future is desirable by today's standards is an open question.

Abou Farman: The Intelligent Universe

Abou Farman has penned a must-read essay about Singularitarianism and modern futurism--even if you don't agree with him and his oft sleight-of-hand dismissives. Dude has clearly done his homework, resulting in provocative and insightful commentary.

Thinkers mentioned in this article include Ray Kurzweil, Eliezer Yudkowsky, Giulio Prisco, Jamais Cascio, Tyler Emerson, Michael Anissimov, Michael Vasser, Bill Joy, Ben Goertzel, Stephen Wolfram and many, many more.

Excerpt:

Images of transhuman and posthuman figures, hybrids and chimeras, robots and nanobots became uncannily real, blurring further the distinction between science and science fiction. Now, no one says a given innovation can’t happen; the naysayers simply argue that it shouldn’t. But if the proliferating future scenarios no longer seem like science fiction, they are not exactly fact either—not yet. They are still stories about the future and they are stories about science, though they can no longer be banished to the bantustans of unlikely sci-fi. In a promise-oriented world of fast-paced technological change, prediction is the new basis of authority.

That is why futurist groups, operating thus far on the margins of cultural conversation, were thrust into the most significant discussions of the twenty-first century: What is biological, what artificial? Who owns life when it’s bred in the lab? Should there be cut off-lines to technological interventions into life itself, into our DNA, our neurological structures, or those of our foodstuffs? What will happen to human rights when the contours of what is human become blurred through technology?

The futurist movement, in a sense, went viral. Bill McKibben’s Enough (2004) faced off against biophysicist Gregory Stock’s Redesigning Humans (2002) on television and around the web. New groups and think tanks formed every day, among them the Foresight Institute and the Extropy Institute. Their general membership started to overlap, as did their boards of directors, with figures like Ray Kurzweil ubiquitous. Heavyweight participants include Eric Drexler—the father of nanotechnology—and MIT giant Marvin Minsky. One organization, the World Transhumanist Association, which broke off from the Extropy in 1998, counts six thousand members, with chapters across the globe.

If the emergence of NBIC and the new culture of prediction galvanized futurists, the members were also united by an obligatory and almost imperial sense of optimism, eschewing the dystopian visions of the eighties and nineties. They also learned the dangers of too much enthusiasm. For example, the Singularity Institute, wary of sounding too religious or rapturous, presents its official version of the future in a deliberately understated tone: “The transformation of civilisation into a genuinely nice place to live could occur, not in a distant million-year future, but within our own lifetimes.”

Link.

Isaac Asimov interviewed by Bill Moyers on World of Ideas

Another reason why YouTube is so great: Bill Moyers talks to Isaac Asimov about learning, computers, population growth, the universe and the efficacy of reason over faith.

Working the conscious canvas - A SentDev Classic

Last year in Toronto [2003], as an outgrowth of their PhD research into biofeedback, cyborgs James Fung and Corey Manders used EEG (brainwave) technology to give a concert in which audience members collectively and unconsciously created music with their minds. Called "DECONcert: Regenerative Music in the Key of EEG," the result was an experimental and jazz-like form of music that placed human beings into the feedback loop of a computational artistic process.

To some, such work might seem fringe, the sort of science-meets-art that excites hackers, nerds and nobody else. But to me, DECONcert was a sign of just how close we are to a new era of art, one in which developing brain technologies open the door for new forms of artistic expression in which human consciousness and subjective experience become a canvas unto themselves.

In his 1968 sci-fi classic, Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep, Philip K. Dick envisioned a machine called the "mood organ" that allowed users to dial-in their desired emotional states and, through some sort of techno-voodoo, achieve it. Around the same time, Isaac Asimov, in his Foundation series, envisioned a device he called the "Visi-Sonor" that could also stimulate emotions directly. And in 1970, writing in Ringworld, Larry Niven described the "tasp," a device that could induce a current in the pleasure center of the brain from a distance.

As with all great science fiction, these works made prescient predictions. Recent insight into the workings of the brain and the development of promising neurotechnologies are showing that mood organs and similar devices are theoretically feasible. Given the pace of scientific development this century, I believe that these types of devices should soon be within our grasp, and along with them new modes of artistic expression and experience.

From fiction to fact

Of course, what I'm talking about is in some ways nothing new. People have tried to manipulate their brain and emotional state for thousands of years—witness the recent discovery of ancient brew in China. These include indirect techniques such as taking drugs and alcohol and direct techniques such as psychosurgery—there is evidence of trephining from Neolithic times. Psychiatric shock therapy, which is still used to treat undesirable psychologies and mental illness, falls somewhere in between.

These, however, are crude attempts at cognitive control, with patients often not surviving procedures, or suffering adverse changes to personality. So are mood organs and their ilk actually possible, or will they forever be relegated to science fiction?

Theoretically, they are possible, and evidence suggests that they are also technically feasible.

At the physical level, emotions appear to be regulated through the amygdala, located deep inside the brain in the medial temporal lobe. The amygdala comprises several separately functioning nuclei, which are essentially electrical signal transit points. These components are necessary for fear conditioning, emotional arousal, smell and pheromone processing. It is the amygdala that induces changes in neuromodulator levels. In other words, if you can regulate the amygdala and its associated components, you can control emotions.

Easier said than done, of course, but there are a number of ways in which this could be accomplished.

So-called "brain jacks" would be the most direct route. External stimulation would be exceedingly challenging because the amygdala is fairly deep in the brain. As depicted in cyberpunk novels and films—perhaps most famously in The Matrix—a brain jack seamlessly interfaces the brain with a machine.

Given sophisticated neural and computer science, a brain jack could tap into the sensory cortex and feed the brain all the data it currently receives through sensory inputs. There is nothing in the analog arena that cannot be converted into digitized or computational form for eventual processing in the brain.

Another way would be to install small liquid perfusion pumps that distribute neuromodulators across the brain in the appropriate sequence and amounts, but this is an inelegant and brute force engineering solution.

Essentially, the major difficulties to any of this are figuring out where to put the electrodes or pumps and what electrical dynamics, chemical dynamics or combination thereof are required to generate the appropriate patterns to get the desired response. It's safe to assume that such a feat won't be possible without sophisticated technologies, including intelligent computer control systems, microsurgery and possibly even molecular nanotechnology—not to mention the complete mapping of the human brain.

But believe it or not, there are already devices in existence that, at a rudimentary level, perform similar tasks.

Texas-based Cyberonics, for example, recently developed the Vagus Nerve Stimulator (VNS). VNS provides seizure control for epilepsy patients using an implanted cardiac pacemaker-like device connected to the vagus nerve in the neck. Once in place, the device can be set to emit electronic pulses to the vagus nerve at preset intervals and levels. Studies have shown that approximately 50% of epileptics treated in this fashion have significant seizure reduction.

Researchers working on VNS also unexpectedly discovered that stimulating the vagus nerve in this way stimulated brain regions believed to control emotions. Essentially, VNS devices could be used as implanted emotion management "pacemakers." So, unsurprisingly, VNS is now being considered for treating depression.

There are also noninvasive approaches that show promise—devices that would make Dr. McCoy from Star Trek jealous. Transcranial magnetic stimulation (TMS) is one such remarkable technique currently under development. TMS uses pulsed magnetic fields to produce an electrical effect. Initially developed as a diagnostic aid for neurologists, TMS devices can stimulate motor regions of the brain, inducing a twitch of the thumb that tells a neurologist that particular nerve pathways are intact. Apparently free of serious side-effects, TMS can also affect brain areas involved in visual perception, memory, reaction time, speech and mood.

Psychotropic sonatas

Where might VNS, TMS, liquid perfusion pumps and brain jacks eventually lead? Quite obviously, potential applications lie across the board. But from the creative and recreational perspectives, the possibilities are quite fascinating.

Today, artists are somewhat limited in their ability to go deeper inside a person's psyche and elicit an absolutely predetermined response. This limitation is set to change with the advent of sophisticated psychological control devices. In the future, artists will be able to perform not only on a canvas or musical instrument, but in the consciousness of the audience itself.

It's conceivable that predetermined sets of emotional experiences could be a future art form. Artists might, for example, manipulate emotions alongside established art forms, a la A Clockwork Orange-but certainly not for the same questionable ends.

For example, imagine listening to Beethoven's "Ode to Joy" or "Moonlight Sonata" while having your emotional centers manipulated in synch with the music's mood and tone. You'd be compelled to feel joy when the music is joyful, sadness when the music is sad.

The same could be done with film. In fact, last century, director Orson Welles, who was greatly influenced by German expressionistic filmmaking, directed movies in which the subjective expression of inner experiences was emphasized (Touch of Evil, for example). In the 1960s, Alfred Hitchcock, also a student of expressionism, went a step further by creating and editing sequences in a way that was synchronized with subjective perception, such as the quick-cut shower sequence in Psycho.

In the future, audiences could share emotional experiences with a film's protagonist. Imagine watching Saving Private Ryan, Titanic or Gone with the Wind in such a manner. The experience would be unbelievably visceral, nothing like today's experience of sitting back and watching.

The beauty of such experiences is that sophisticated virtual reality technology isn't required, just the control mechanisms to alter emotional experience in real-time.

Of course, some will argue that when artists can directly manipulate emotions, they will have lost a dialogue with their audience, as audience members will simply be feeling exactly what's intended. But this won't necessarily be the case. Rather, audience members will respond to emotional tapestries in unique ways based on their personal experiences, the same way they do now to other art forms.

Art has always been about transcending the individual and sharing the subjective experience of others. The greatest artists thrill us with their stories, endow us with emotional and interpersonal insight, and fill us with joy through beautiful melodies, paintings and dance. By doing so they give us a piece of their selves and allow us to venture inside their very minds—even if just for a little bit. In the future, we'll allow them to go even deeper into ours.

This article originally appeared on Betterhumans on December 13, 2004.

Martin Rees: We Should Take the 'Posthuman' Era Seriously

Edge.org's big question this year is, "What have you changed your mind about?" Sir Martin Rees answered, "We Should Take the 'Posthuman' Era Seriously." Excerpt:

Human-induced changes are occurring with runaway speed. It's hard to predict a mere century from now, because what will happen depends on us - this is the first century where humans can collectively transform, or even ravage, the entire biosphere. Humanity will soon itself be malleable, to an extent that's qualitatively new in the history of our species. New drugs (and perhaps even implants into our brains) could change human character; the cyberworld has potential that is both exhilarating and frightening. We can't confidently guess lifestyles, attitudes, social structures, or population sizes a century hence.

Indeed, it's not even clear for how long our descendants would remain distinctively 'human'. Darwin himself noted that "not one living species will transmit its unaltered likeness to a distant futurity". Our own species will surely change and diversify faster than any predecessor -- via human-induced modifications (whether intelligently-controlled or unintended), not by natural selection alone. Just how fast this could happen is disputed by experts, but the post-human era may be only centuries away.

These thoughts might seem irrelevant to practical discussions - and best left to speculative academics and cosmologists. I used to think this. But humans are now, individually and collectively, so greatly empowered by rapidly changing technology that we can, by design, or as unintended consequences - engender global changes that resonate for centuries. And, sometimes at least, policy-makers indeed think far ahead.

The global warming induced by fossil fuels burnt in the next fifty years could trigger gradual sea level rises that continue for a millennium or more. And in assessing sites for radioactive waste disposal, governments impose the requirements that they be secure for ten thousand years.

It's real political progress that these long-term challenges are higher on the international agenda, and that planners seriously worry about what might happen more than a century hence.

But in such planning, we need to be mindful that it may not be people like us who confront the consequences of our actions today. We are custodians of a 'posthuman' future - here on Earth and perhaps beyond - that can't just be left to writers of science fiction.

Rees is the President, The Royal Society; Professor of Cosmology & Astrophysics; Master, Trinity College, University of Cambridge; Author, Our Final Century: The 50/50 Threat to Humanity's Survival.

You either get it or you don't

When it comes to anticipating the future, you either get it or you don't.

Existential risks: You either acknowledge the strong possibility that humanity could go extinct in the coming decades, or you don't.

Singularity: You either recognize the radical potential for greater-than-human artificial superintelligence and its disruptive capacity, or you don't.

Molecular Assembling Nanotechnology: You either subscribe to the Drexlerian vision of nanoscale engineering and its potential to revolutionize society and biology, or you don't.

Global Warming: You either accept the substantive threat of anthropogenic climate change and the dangers of runaway global warming, or you don't.

Transhumanism: You either accept the notion that our species has the capacity to become a self-modifying posthuman and post-corporeal species, or you don't.

Radical Life Extension: You either agree that aging is a disease that can be defeated, or you don't.

So, do you get it?

Black Belt Bayesian: Star Trek's bad futurism

Steven from the Black Belt Bayesian blog has an interesting post about bad futurism in Star Trek.

Which makes me wonder about the kind of futurism that William Shatner will espouse at the upcoming TransVision conference in Chicago....


Related post: Star Trek's Prime Directive is Stupid.

New podcast posted: Must-know terms for the 21st Century intellectual

My latest audiocast has been posted here. You can subscribe to this feed.

I devote the entire episode to discussing must-know terms for the 21st Century intellectual.