In a 24-hour news cycle that constantly bombards us with the underbelly of the world--boorish politicians, hyper-partisanship, climate change, tech scandals, xenophobic nationalism, racism, misogyny, fake news, rising income inequality and national debt and more--it is nice to be able to step back, take a deep breath, and look at the bigger picture. Before humanity can address its formidable catalog of problems, it is necessary to get our bearings in a world that feels chronically unsteady and vicious. Author and historian Yuval Noah Harari attempts to provide that big picture perspective, first with Sapiens, in which he tells of humanity's rise as a function of group cooperation fostered by grand narratives (think nationalism, religion) or the stories that people need to hear . Homo Deus looks at humanity's future, one in which we all potentially become cyborgs, more intimately connected to technology than even today. So what about today? Can humanity address what ails us so we can reach the new heights he predicts in Homo Deus? Harari's answer comes to us in his latest work, 21 Lessons for the 21st Century (2018).
Like his previous works, 21 Lessons doesn't aspire to being an all-encompassing how-to solutions guide for the biggest problems facing humanity. It is more philosophical, thought-provoking, meant to stimulate the necessary conversations that need to take place globally in a vast population of individuals that do not know everything, let alone the latest advances in AI or cryptocurrency. A variety of subjects are addressed in loosely-connected op-ed-like chapters with characteristic wit and cautious optimism, such as fake news, immigration, terrorism and toxic nationalism, which Harari sees as symptoms of malaise in our current liberal international order. Moreover, while these problems are symptomatic of an ill-equipped system, Harari also sees them as products of technological disruption coupled by continuing advances in biotechnology, something free-market logic and an ever-expanding pie (doubtful nowadays, as we don't have exponential planets to draw from) alone cannot solve.
The algorithms are coming, the algorithms are coming!
Why does technology (both biotechnology and inorganic computer technology) threaten the established liberal order and challenge it with reinvention? Humanity is already faced with trying to stave off the twin existential problems (I call them the Big Ones) of ecological disaster and nuclear war. Those who are at the forefront of the development of technologies like AI, machine learning, Big Data algorithms are profit-driven enterprises not primarily concerned with the ethical, political, and economic consequences of these technologies--like that automation could put a huge segment of the working class out of a job and in need of re-training. A core part of the liberal bargain entails governments looking out for the happiness and well being of its citizens, providing foundational social welfare programs and other services to help citizens prosper in whatever personal and occupational paths they choose.
What happens when automation, machine learning and AI combine to put a good deal of people out of work, while those who invented the technologies are doing better than ever? What happens if all human labor, excepting those operating these technologies (the rich/elites), becomes irrelevant? How do nation-states deal with these tricky issues that involve disillusioned people no longer trusting the grand narratives they were brought up with--whether it be a nationalism, a religious creed, or some other philosophy? The example of automation and significant socioeconomic disruption is just one of the many problems that threaten the liberal dream of a better life for everyone, a life that retains a sense of dignity that comes from being able to control their destinies. People don't particularly enjoy the unknown and the amorphous threats of advancing technology and near-invisible global catastrophes like climate change or nuclear proliferation produce an uncertainty-driven deluge of constant stress.
For all the serious historical and political examination of problems like fake news and terrorism, for Harari it comes down to stories: the stories that inspired ever increasing amounts of people to cooperate for the common good. While it is extremely uncomfortable to realize that human societies must rely on these stories to instill a common sense of identity and purpose in large groups of people (and that disruptions to these stories could potentially undermine the social order as we know it), it is nevertheless mind-expanding, not unusual for works that are audaciously all-encompassing. It is also discomfiting because as with advanced technology, stories can be used for good and bad purposes, powerful tools wielded by those who understand that humans respond more strongly to emotive rather than logical appeals (biochemical paths from evolution better suited to the African savanna--"Move quickly! No time to think!"-than today's over-stimulated world). In the case of nationalism: from "My nation is unique and I celebrate its heritage" to "My nation is superior to yours in every way and I owe it my undying allegiance." Religion? "My religion believes in peace and tolerance and I respect your differing method of achieving spiritual fulfillment" versus "There is only one God and I will fight you to show you the truth." And so on. Then, there is liberalism, the narrative of rational individuals coming together to create a society that believes in democracy, human rights, and the freedom for people to make their own way in life however they choose.
What then is the new story needing to be formulated to help reinvent liberalism to deal with our current slate of problems (whether they primarily stem from technology or not)? Harari's 21 Lessons doesn't provide one. Rather, the overall purpose of the treatise was, like its mind-expanding prose, designed to provoke mass self-reflection and discussion and take people back from the brink of apocalyptic thinking to a more healthy place of cautious optimism, critical thinking and healthy skepticism. That can make it frustrating for readers, but not any less intellectually satisfying. In the end, Harari seems to imply that it is only through a new and urgent worldwide discussion that humanity can find a new story, a new common ideal to organize around that can help society solve its problems and continue to advance. Humanity has done it once before with nation-states and liberal democracy. We can do it again.
Works Cited:
Harari, Yuval Noah. (2018). 21 Lessons for the 21st Century. New York: Spiegel & Grau.
Friday, December 14, 2018
Saturday, December 1, 2018
Book Review: Neil deGrasse Tyson's "Accessory to War"
There are many advertisements out there on behalf of the military nowadays, featuring soldiers remote-operating drones at a distance, satellites zooming in on battle terrain as stealth jets fly overhead, conveying a sense of futuristic warfare as they attempt to recruit to their cause. Or smiling, yet serious, soldier-scientists--engineers, physicists, chemists, etc.--going about the business of both military operations and groundbreaking experiments and research. "You can be both [scientist and soldier]! Have a career and serve your country! Come, join the future!" is usually how it goes. Flash to an episode of The Big Bang Theory in which Raj, Leonard, Howard and Sheldon are wrestling with the ethical and moral dilemmas surrounding their project to develop a better guidance system for the Air Force--receiving funding to do this research project, but also realizing the system will likely become another tool of war. This complicated relationship between science and war is everywhere, suffusing our culture, economy, politics, governmental institutions and academia with this uneasy knowledge. To no one's surprise, this complicity between scientific advancements and better technologies of destruction goes way back. Providing a context for our present moment of cyberwarfare, drones and satellites is astrophysicist Neil deGrasse Tyson and co-author Avis Lang's 2018 collaboration Accessory to War: The Unspoken Alliance Between Astrophysics and the Military.
I remember learning in school about the technological boon to society from the NASA space program, from Velcro to infrared thermometers to warmer, better insulated blankets. Being a kid, I was amazed with science's capacity to push society forward with both the gaining of knowledge and development of better technologies. I suppose I was naive enough not to realize the two-way relationship between scientific/societal advancement and military capabilities, just one of the many dualities and paradoxes of humans in general: building by destroying. Empires rose and fell based off of the level of scientific capital and knowledge present in their societies and the ones they conquered. In other words, science was power in multiple dimensions. After all, the emergence post-WWII of the American superpower on the world stage was greatly facilitated by the scientific and economic boons of the war. Tyson and Lang give vivid illustration to this complicated relationship through a historical jaunt from ancient times to the present.
Those forerunners of today's powers started off by relying on the stars for navigation, time organization, and rituals. After all, knowing where and when you were allowed societies to orient themselves, plan ahead, and standardize everything from rituals to tax collection to the sailing that allowed everything from a more interconnected global economy to the conduct of military operations and conquests. Scientists from the beginning had complicated relations with the state, army, and economic interests with astronomers serving as prized court advisers. Recognizing celestial patterns and cycles and learning to predict them, knowledge gleaned from an immeasurable amount of time of patient observation and recording of the heavens was one of the cornerstones of early societies. It allowed Columbus to trick the natives out of their provisions by his ability to exploit the knowledge of a coming lunar eclipse and explorers to circumnavigate the globe and European powers to colonize and establish outposts in the Middle East, Asia, and Africa. The fruits of celestial navigation and prediction gave way to further advances, gained by scientists wanting better observation tools with which to see the universe from and institutionalized armies wanting to see their enemies coming from farther away. The telescope, early message relay systems, the telegraph, photography, spectrography, radar, nuclear power, satellites, GPS and many more such advances flowed from this knowledge.
This perennial quest of constant improvement stemmed from the first stargazers, a quest motivated by humanity's desire to act upon their knowledge of the scale of the world they inhabited, a world that got bigger and bigger the more they advanced, until the seemingly last frontier for which humanity could explore (or conquer) was space. Resources continued their flow between the private sector, academia, and the military, juicing the economy in the process. Society profited from war, while trying to use its newfound knowledge and resources to the common benefit of all, fighting human nature itself.
While countries do engage in scientific collaboration both on Earth and in the emerging dimension of space (think the International Space Station), they also, true to human nature, have started to squabble as each tries to achieve the highest of higher-grounds in space. This is despite the fact that under international law, space is a commons for all humanity, much like the oceans and the air we breathe. [One of the more famous examples of scientific interests (i.e. funding for research and experiments) getting entangled with the geopolitical was the Space Race, an epic Cold War-era fight between communist and capitalist ideologues alike, national pride and international prestige on the line.] Space is getting crowded, full of dual-use, civilian and military satellites and debris from past space missions, making exclusive space control infeasible and space wars with Star Wars-like weaponry of high-powered lasers and the like incredibly dangerous, risking damage to your own space assets and that of your allies and adversaries. Not to mention the astronomical costs of the development of these new and more destructive weapons in the first place, which takes away from other areas of societal investment. Additionally, despite the military investments America continues to make (outpacing the rest of the world presently), China and Russia are closing the gap, developing space programs and capacities of their own and threatening American scientific and technological preeminence (and of course, power).
Instead of doggedly pursuing the doctrine of total command and control (and the development of even more dangerous weapons than the A-bomb) espoused by the American military, Tyson and Lang conclude the well-researched cautionary tale of Accessory to War by making the case for pivoting to more benevolent and economically beneficial space ventures--from space tourism to asteroid mining--that could not only help alleviate the resource disparities that are often the undercurrents to conflict, but open up a new frontier, a glittering future of humanity expanding into the stars. It is a vision of utopian prosperity more akin to Star Trek, where scientific exploration is heavily prioritized because of the alleviation or even elimination of basic need scarcities and embrace of more cooperative means of existence. However, it is a good vision to strive for, especially in a time when science and expertise is often denounced and human capacity for self-destruction is on full display all around us. We may not be able to completely defeat human nature itself, but science continues to give us all a choice to work towards beneficial collaboration rather than mutually-assured destruction.
Works Cited:
Tyson, Neil DeGrasse, & Lang, Avis. (2018). Accessory to War: The Unspoken Alliance Between Astrophysics and the Military. New York: W.W. Norton & Company.
I remember learning in school about the technological boon to society from the NASA space program, from Velcro to infrared thermometers to warmer, better insulated blankets. Being a kid, I was amazed with science's capacity to push society forward with both the gaining of knowledge and development of better technologies. I suppose I was naive enough not to realize the two-way relationship between scientific/societal advancement and military capabilities, just one of the many dualities and paradoxes of humans in general: building by destroying. Empires rose and fell based off of the level of scientific capital and knowledge present in their societies and the ones they conquered. In other words, science was power in multiple dimensions. After all, the emergence post-WWII of the American superpower on the world stage was greatly facilitated by the scientific and economic boons of the war. Tyson and Lang give vivid illustration to this complicated relationship through a historical jaunt from ancient times to the present.
Those forerunners of today's powers started off by relying on the stars for navigation, time organization, and rituals. After all, knowing where and when you were allowed societies to orient themselves, plan ahead, and standardize everything from rituals to tax collection to the sailing that allowed everything from a more interconnected global economy to the conduct of military operations and conquests. Scientists from the beginning had complicated relations with the state, army, and economic interests with astronomers serving as prized court advisers. Recognizing celestial patterns and cycles and learning to predict them, knowledge gleaned from an immeasurable amount of time of patient observation and recording of the heavens was one of the cornerstones of early societies. It allowed Columbus to trick the natives out of their provisions by his ability to exploit the knowledge of a coming lunar eclipse and explorers to circumnavigate the globe and European powers to colonize and establish outposts in the Middle East, Asia, and Africa. The fruits of celestial navigation and prediction gave way to further advances, gained by scientists wanting better observation tools with which to see the universe from and institutionalized armies wanting to see their enemies coming from farther away. The telescope, early message relay systems, the telegraph, photography, spectrography, radar, nuclear power, satellites, GPS and many more such advances flowed from this knowledge.
This perennial quest of constant improvement stemmed from the first stargazers, a quest motivated by humanity's desire to act upon their knowledge of the scale of the world they inhabited, a world that got bigger and bigger the more they advanced, until the seemingly last frontier for which humanity could explore (or conquer) was space. Resources continued their flow between the private sector, academia, and the military, juicing the economy in the process. Society profited from war, while trying to use its newfound knowledge and resources to the common benefit of all, fighting human nature itself.
While countries do engage in scientific collaboration both on Earth and in the emerging dimension of space (think the International Space Station), they also, true to human nature, have started to squabble as each tries to achieve the highest of higher-grounds in space. This is despite the fact that under international law, space is a commons for all humanity, much like the oceans and the air we breathe. [One of the more famous examples of scientific interests (i.e. funding for research and experiments) getting entangled with the geopolitical was the Space Race, an epic Cold War-era fight between communist and capitalist ideologues alike, national pride and international prestige on the line.] Space is getting crowded, full of dual-use, civilian and military satellites and debris from past space missions, making exclusive space control infeasible and space wars with Star Wars-like weaponry of high-powered lasers and the like incredibly dangerous, risking damage to your own space assets and that of your allies and adversaries. Not to mention the astronomical costs of the development of these new and more destructive weapons in the first place, which takes away from other areas of societal investment. Additionally, despite the military investments America continues to make (outpacing the rest of the world presently), China and Russia are closing the gap, developing space programs and capacities of their own and threatening American scientific and technological preeminence (and of course, power).
Instead of doggedly pursuing the doctrine of total command and control (and the development of even more dangerous weapons than the A-bomb) espoused by the American military, Tyson and Lang conclude the well-researched cautionary tale of Accessory to War by making the case for pivoting to more benevolent and economically beneficial space ventures--from space tourism to asteroid mining--that could not only help alleviate the resource disparities that are often the undercurrents to conflict, but open up a new frontier, a glittering future of humanity expanding into the stars. It is a vision of utopian prosperity more akin to Star Trek, where scientific exploration is heavily prioritized because of the alleviation or even elimination of basic need scarcities and embrace of more cooperative means of existence. However, it is a good vision to strive for, especially in a time when science and expertise is often denounced and human capacity for self-destruction is on full display all around us. We may not be able to completely defeat human nature itself, but science continues to give us all a choice to work towards beneficial collaboration rather than mutually-assured destruction.
Works Cited:
Tyson, Neil DeGrasse, & Lang, Avis. (2018). Accessory to War: The Unspoken Alliance Between Astrophysics and the Military. New York: W.W. Norton & Company.
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