PART III
Homo Sapiens Loses Control
Can humans go on running the world and giving it meaning?
How do biotechnology and artificial intelligence threaten humanism?
Who might inherit humankind, and what new religion might replace humanism?
8
The Time Bomb in the Laboratory
In 2016 the world is dominated by the liberal package of individualism, human
rights, democracy and the free market. Yet twenty-first-century science is
undermining the foundations of the liberal order. Because science does not deal
with questions of value, it cannot determine whether liberals are right in valuing
liberty more than equality, or in valuing the individual more than the collective.
However, like every other religion, liberalism too is based on what it believes to
be factual statements, in addition to abstract ethical judgements. And these
factual statements just don’t stand up to rigorous scientific scrutiny.
Liberals value individual liberty so much because they believe that humans
have free will. According to liberalism, the decisions of voters and customers are
neither deterministic nor random. People are of course influenced by external
forces and chance events, but at the end of the day each of us can wave the
magic wand of freedom and decide things for ourselves. This is the reason
liberalism gives so much importance to voters and customers, and instructs us
to follow our heart and do what feels good. It is our free will that imbues the
universe with meaning, and since no outsider can know how you really feel or
predict your choices for sure, you shouldn’t trust any Big Brother to look after
your interests and desires.
Attributing free will to humans is not an ethical judgement – it purports to be a
factual description of the world. Although this so-called factual description might
have made sense back in the days of Locke, Rousseau and Thomas Jefferson,
it does not sit well with the latest findings of the life sciences. The contradiction
between free will and contemporary science is the elephant in the laboratory,
whom many prefer not to see as they peer into their microscopes and fMRI
scanners.
1
In the eighteenth century Homo sapiens was like a mysterious black box,
whose inner workings were beyond our grasp. Hence when scholars asked why
a man drew a knife and stabbed another to death, an acceptable answer said:
‘Because he chose to. He used his free will to choose murder, which is why he is
fully responsible for his crime.’ Over the last century, as scientists opened up the
Sapiens black box, they discovered there neither soul, nor free will, nor ‘self’ –
but only genes, hormones and neurons that obey the same physical and
chemical laws governing the rest of reality. Today, when scholars ask why a
man drew a knife and stabbed someone death, answering ‘Because he chose
to’ doesn’t cut the mustard. Instead, geneticists and brain scientists provide a
much more detailed answer: ‘He did it due to such-and-such electrochemical
processes in the brain, which were shaped by a particular genetic make-up,
which reflect ancient evolutionary pressures coupled with chance mutations.’
The electrochemical brain processes that result in murder are either
deterministic or random or a combination of both – but they are never free. For
example, when a neuron fires an electric charge, this may either be a
deterministic reaction to external stimuli, or it might be the outcome of a random
event such as the spontaneous decomposition of a radioactive atom. Neither
option leaves any room for free will. Decisions reached through a chain reaction
of biochemical events, each determined by a previous event, are certainly not
free. Decisions resulting from random subatomic accidents aren’t free either.
They are just random. And when random accidents combine with deterministic
processes, we get probabilistic outcomes, but this too doesn’t amount to
freedom.
Suppose we build a robot whose central processing unit is linked to a
radioactive lump of uranium. When choosing between two options – say, press
the right button or the left button – the robot counts the number of uranium
atoms that decayed during the previous minute. If the number is even – it
presses the right button. If the number is odd – the left button. We can never be
certain about the actions of such a robot. But nobody would call this contraption
‘free’, and we wouldn’t dream of allowing it to vote in democratic elections or
holding it legally responsible for its actions.
To the best of our scientific understanding, determinism and randomness
have divided the entire cake between them, leaving not even a crumb for
‘freedom’. The sacred word ‘freedom’ turns out to be, just like ‘soul’, an empty
term that carries no discernible meaning. Free will exists only in the imaginary
stories we humans have invented.
The last nail in freedom’s coffin is provided by the theory of evolution. Just as
evolution cannot be squared with eternal souls, neither can it swallow the idea of
free will. For if humans are free, how could natural selection have shaped them?
According to the theory of evolution, all the choices animals make – whether of
residence, food or mates – reflect their genetic code. If, thanks to its fit genes,
an animal chooses to eat a nutritious mushroom and copulate with healthy and
fertile mates, these genes pass on to the next generation. If, because of unfit
genes, an animal chooses poisonous mushrooms and anaemic mates, these
genes become extinct. However, if an animal ‘freely’ chooses what to eat and
with whom to mate, then natural selection is left with nothing to work on.
When confronted with such scientific explanations, people often brush them
aside, pointing out that they feel free, and that they act according to their own
wishes and decisions. This is true. Humans act according to their desires. If by
‘free will’ you mean the ability to act according to your desires – then yes,
humans have free will, and so do chimpanzees, dogs and parrots. When Polly
wants a cracker, Polly eats a cracker. But the million-dollar question is not
whether parrots and humans can act out their inner desires – the question is
whether they can choose their desires in the first place. Why does Polly want a
cracker rather than a cucumber? Why do I decide to kill my annoying neighbour
instead of turning the other cheek? Why do I want to buy the red car rather than
the black? Why do I prefer voting for the Conservatives rather than the Labour
Party? I don’t choose any of these wishes. I feel a particular wish welling up
within me because this is the feeling created by the biochemical processes in
my brain. These processes might be deterministic or random, but not free.
You might reply that at least in the case of major decisions such as murdering
a neighbour or electing a government, my choice does not reflect a momentary
feeling, but a long and reasoned contemplation of weighty arguments. However,
there are many possible trains of arguments I could follow, some of which will
cause me to vote Conservative, others to vote Labour, and still others to vote
UKIP or just stay at home. What makes me board one train of reasoning rather
than another? In the Paddington of my brain, I may be compelled to get on a
particular train of reasoning by deterministic processes, or I may embark at
random. But I don’t ‘freely’ choose to think those thoughts that will make me vote
Conservative.
These are not just hypotheses or philosophical speculations. Today we can
use brain scanners to predict people’s desires and decisions well before they
are aware of them. In one kind of experiment, people are placed within a huge
brain scanner, holding a switch in each hand. They are asked to press one of
the two switches whenever they feel like it. Scientists observing neural activity in
the brain can predict which switch the person will press well before the person
actually does so, and even before the person is aware of their own intention.
Neural events in the brain indicating the person’s decision begin from a few
hundred milliseconds to a few seconds before the person is aware of this
choice.
2
The decision to press either the right or left switch certainly reflected the
person’s choice. Yet it wasn’t a free choice. In fact, our belief in free will results
from faulty logic. When a biochemical chain reaction makes me desire to press
the right switch, I feel that I really want to press the right switch. And this is true.
I really want to press it. Yet people erroneously jump to the conclusion that if I
want to press it, I choose to want to. This is of course false. I don’t choose my
desires. I only feel them, and act accordingly.
People nevertheless go on arguing about free will because even scientists all
too often continue to use outdated theological concepts. Christian, Muslim and
Jewish theologians debated for centuries the relations between the soul and the
will. They assumed that every human has an internal inner essence – called the
soul – which is my true self. They further maintained that this self possesses
various desires, just as it possesses clothes, vehicles and houses. I allegedly
choose my desires in the same way I choose my clothes, and my fate is
determined according to these choices. If I choose good desires, I go to heaven.
If I choose bad desires, I am sent to hell. The question then arose, how exactly
do I choose my desires? Why, for example, did Eve desire to eat the forbidden
fruit the snake offered her? Was this desire forced upon her? Did this desire just
pop up within her by pure chance? Or did she choose it ‘freely’? If she didn’t
choose it freely, why punish her for it?
However, once we accept that there is no soul, and that humans have no
inner essence called ‘the self’, it no longer makes sense to ask, ‘How does the
self choose its desires?’ It’s like asking a bachelor, ‘How does your wife choose
her clothes?’ In reality, there is only a stream of consciousness, and desires
arise and pass within this stream, but there is no permanent self who owns the
desires, hence it is meaningless to ask whether I choose my desires
deterministically, randomly or freely.
It may sound extremely complicated, but it is surprisingly easy to test this
idea. Next time a thought pops up in your mind, stop and ask yourself: ‘Why did I
think this particular thought? Did I decide a minute ago to think this thought, and
only then did I think it? Or did it just arise in my mind, without my permission or
instruction? If I am indeed the master of my thoughts and decisions, can I
decide not to think about anything at all for the next sixty seconds?’ Just try, and
see what happens.
Doubting free will is not just a philosophical exercise. It has practical
implications. If organisms indeed lack free will, it implies we could manipulate
and even control their desires using drugs, genetic engineering or direct brain
stimulation.
If you want to see philosophy in action, pay a visit to a robo-rat laboratory. A
robo-rat is a run-of-the-mill rat with a twist: scientists have implanted electrodes
into the sensory and reward areas in the rat’s brain. This enables the scientists
to manoeuvre the rat by remote control. After short training sessions,
researchers have managed not only to make the rats turn left or right, but also to
climb ladders, sniff around garbage piles, and do things that rats normally
dislike, such as jumping from great heights. Armies and corporations show keen
interest in the robo-rats, hoping they could prove useful in many tasks and
situations. For example, robo-rats could help detect survivors trapped under
collapsed buildings, locate bombs and booby traps, and map underground
tunnels and caves.
Animal-welfare activists have voiced concern about the suffering such
experiments inflict on the rats. Professor Sanjiv Talwar of the State University of
New York, one of the leading robo-rat researchers, has dismissed these
concerns, arguing that the rats actually enjoy the experiments. After all, explains
Talwar, the rats ‘work for pleasure’ and when the electrodes stimulate the
reward centre in their brain, ‘the rat feels Nirvana’.
3
To the best of our understanding, the rat doesn’t feel that somebody else
controls her, and she doesn’t feel that she is being coerced to do something
against her will. When Professor Talwar presses the remote control, the rat
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