Homo Deus: a brief History of Tomorrow

wants to move to the left, which is why she moves to the left. When the professor
presses another switch, the rat wants to climb a ladder, which is why she climbs
the ladder. After all, the rat’s desires are nothing but a pattern of firing neurons.
What does it matter whether the neurons are firing because they are stimulated
by  other  neurons,  or  because  they  are  stimulated  by  transplanted  electrodes
connected  to  Professor  Talwar’s  remote  control?  If  you  asked  the  rat  about  it,
she might well have told you, ‘Sure I have free will! Look, I want to turn left – and
I turn left. I want to climb a ladder – and I climb a ladder. Doesn’t that prove that
I have free will?’
Experiments performed on Homo sapiens  indicate  that  like  rats  humans  too
can be manipulated, and that it is possible to create or annihilate even complex
feelings such as love, anger, fear and depression by stimulating the right spots
in  the  human  brain.  The  US  military  has  recently  initiated  experiments  on
implanting computer chips in people’s brains, hoping to use this method to treat
soldiers suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder.
4
In Hadassah Hospital in
Jerusalem, doctors have pioneered a novel treatment for patients suffering from
acute depression. They implant electrodes into the patient’s brain, and wire the
electrodes  to  a  minuscule  computer  implanted  into  the  patient’s  breast.  On
receiving  a  command  from  the  computer,  the  electrodes  use  weak  electric
currents  to  paralyse  the  brain  area  responsible  for  the  depression.  The

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treatment  does  not  always  succeed,  but  in  some  cases  patients  reported  that
the  feeling  of  dark  emptiness  that  tormented  them  throughout  their  lives
disappeared as if by magic.
One  patient  complained  that  several  months  after  the  operation,  he  had  a
relapse, and was overcome by severe depression. Upon inspection, the doctors
found  the  source  of  the  problem:  the  computer’s  battery  had  run  out  of  power.
Once they changed the battery, the depression quickly melted away.
5
Due to obvious ethical restrictions, researchers implant electrodes into human
brains  only  under  special  circumstances.  Hence  most  relevant  experiments  on
humans  are  conducted  using  non-intrusive  helmet-like  devices  (technically
known  as  ‘transcranial  direct  current  stimulators’).  The  helmet  is  fitted  with
electrodes  that  attach  to  the  scalp  from  outside.  It  produces  weak
electromagnetic  fields  and  directs  them  towards  specific  brain  areas,  thereby
stimulating or inhibiting select brain activities.
The  American  military  experiments  with  such  helmets  in  the  hope  of
sharpening the focus and enhancing the performance of soldiers both in training
sessions  and  on  the  battlefield.  The  main  experiments  are  conducted  in  the
Human  Effectiveness  Directorate,  which  is  located  in  an  Ohio  air  force  base.
Though  the  results  are  far  from  conclusive,  and  though  the  hype  around
transcranial stimulators currently runs far ahead of actual achievements, several
studies  have  indicated  that  the  method  may  indeed  enhance  the  cognitive
abilities  of  drone  operators,  air-traffic  controllers,  snipers  and  other  personnel
whose duties require them to remain highly attentive for extended periods.
6
Sally Adee, a journalist for the New Scientist,  was  allowed  to  visit  a  training
facility for snipers and test the effects herself. At first, she entered a battlefield
simulator  without  wearing  the  transcranial  helmet.  Sally  describes  how  fear
swept  over  her  as  she  saw  twenty  masked  men,  strapped  with  suicide  bombs
and armed with rifles, charge straight towards her. ‘For every one I manage to
shoot dead,’ writes Sally, ‘three new assailants pop up from nowhere. I’m clearly
not  shooting  fast  enough,  and  panic  and  incompetence  are  making  me
continually jam my rifle.’ Luckily for her, the assailants were just video images,
projected  on  huge  screens  all  around  her.  Still,  she  was  so  disappointed  with
her  poor  performance  that  she  felt  like  putting  down  the  rifle  and  leaving  the
simulator.
Then  they  wired  her  up  to  the  helmet.  She  reports  feeling  nothing  unusual,
except a slight tingle and a strange metallic taste in her mouth. Yet she began
picking off the terrorists one by one, as coolly and methodically as if she were
Rambo or Clint Eastwood. ‘As twenty of them run at me brandishing their guns, I
calmly line up my rifle, take a moment to breathe deeply, and pick off the closest

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one,  before  tranquilly  assessing  my  next  target.  In  what  seems  like  next  to  no
time,  I  hear  a  voice  call  out,  “Okay,  that’s  it.”  The  lights  come  up  in  the
simulation room . . . In the sudden quiet amid the bodies around me, I was really
expecting more assailants, and I’m a bit disappointed when the team begins to
remove  my  electrodes.  I  look  up  and  wonder  if  someone  wound  the  clocks
forward. Inexplicably, twenty minutes have just passed. “How many did I get?” I
ask the assistant. She looks at me quizzically. “All of them.”’
The  experiment  changed  Sally’s  life.  In  the  following  days  she  realised  she
has been through a ‘near-spiritual experience . . . what defined the experience
was not feeling smarter or learning faster: the thing that made the earth drop out
from under my feet was that for the first time in my life, everything in my head
finally  shut  up  .  .  .  My  brain  without  self-doubt  was  a  revelation.  There  was
suddenly this incredible silence in my head . . . I hope you can sympathise with
me when I tell you that the thing I wanted most acutely for the weeks following
my experience was to go back and strap on those electrodes. I also started to
have  a  lot  of  questions.  Who  was  I  apart  from  the  angry  bitter  gnomes  that
populate  my  mind  and  drive  me  to  failure  because  I’m  too  scared  to  try?  And
where did those voices come from?’
7
Some  of  those  voices  repeat  society’s  prejudices,  some  echo  our  personal
history, and some articulate our genetic legacy. All of them together, says Sally,
create an invisible story that shapes our conscious decisions in ways we seldom
grasp.  What  would  happen  if  we  could  rewrite  our  inner  monologues,  or  even
silence them completely on occasion?
8
As of 2016, transcranial stimulators are still in their infancy, and it is unclear if
and when they will become a mature technology. So far they provide enhanced
capabilities  for  only  short  durations,  and  even  Sally  Adee’s  twenty-minute
experience  may  be  quite  exceptional  (or  perhaps  even  the  outcome  of  the
notorious placebo effect). Most published studies of transcranial stimulators are
based on very small samples of people operating under special circumstances,
and the long-term effects and hazards are completely unknown. However, if the
technology  does  mature,  or  if  some  other  method  is  found  to  manipulate  the
brain’s  electric  patterns,  what  would  it  do  to  human  societies  and  to  human
beings?
People  may  well  manipulate  their  brain’s  electric  circuits  not  just  in  order  to
shoot  terrorists,  but  also  to  achieve  more  mundane  liberal  goals.  Namely,  to
study and work more efficiently, immerse ourselves in games and hobbies, and
be able to focus on what interests us at any particular moment, be it maths or
football.  However,  if  and  when  such  manipulations  become  routine,  the
supposedly free will of customers will become just another product we can buy.

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You  want  to  master  the  piano  but  whenever  practice  time  comes  you  actually
prefer  to  watch  television?  No  problem:  just  put  on  the  helmet,  install  the  right
software, and you will be downright aching to play the piano.
You  may  counter-argue  that  the  ability  to  silence  or  enhance  the  voices  in
your  head  will  actually  strengthen  rather  than  undermine  your  free  will.
Presently,  you  often  fail  to  realise  your  most  cherished  and  authentic  desires
due  to  external  distractions.  With  the  help  of  the  attention  helmet  and  similar
devices, you could more easily silence the alien voices of priests, spin doctors,
advertisers and neighbours, and focus on what you want. However, as we will
shortly see, the notion that you have a single self and that you could therefore
distinguish your authentic desires from alien voices is just another liberal myth,
debunked by the latest scientific research.
Who Are I?
Science undermines not only the liberal belief in free will, but also the belief in
individualism. Liberals believe that we have a single and indivisible self. To be
an  individual  means  that  I  am  in-dividual.  Yes,  my  body  is  made  up  of
approximately  37  trillion  cells,
9
 and  each  day  both  my  body  and  my  mind  go
through countless permutations and transformations. Yet if I really pay attention
and  strive  to  get  in  touch  with  myself,  I  am  bound  to  discover  deep  inside  a
single clear and authentic voice, which is my true self, and which is the source of
all meaning and authority in the universe. For liberalism to make sense, I must
have one – and only one – true self, for if I had more than one authentic voice,
how would I know which voice to heed in the polling station, in the supermarket
and in the marriage market?
However,  over  the  last  few  decades  the  life  sciences  have  reached  the
conclusion that this liberal story is pure mythology. The single authentic self is as
real as the eternal Christian soul, Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny. If you look
really deep within yourself, the seeming unity that we take for granted dissolves
into a cacophony of conflicting voices, none of which is ‘my true self’. Humans
aren’t individuals. They are ‘dividuals’.
The human brain is composed of two hemispheres, connected to each other
through a thick neural cable. Each hemisphere controls the opposite side of the
body. The right hemisphere controls the left side of the body, receives data from
the  left-hand  field  of  vision  and  is  responsible  for  moving  the  left  arm  and  leg,
and  vice  versa.  This  is  why  people  who  have  had  a  stroke  in  their  right
hemisphere sometimes ignore the left side of their body (combing only the right

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side of their hair, or eating only the food placed on the right side of their plate).
10
There  are  also  emotional  and  cognitive  differences  between  the  two
hemispheres, though the division is far from clear-cut. Most cognitive activities
involve  both  hemispheres,  but  not  to  the  same  degree.  For  example,  in  most
cases the left hemisphere plays a more important role in speech and in logical
reasoning, whereas the right hemisphere is more dominant in processing spatial
information.
Many  breakthroughs  in  understanding  the  relations  between  the  two
hemispheres were based on the study of epilepsy patients. In severe cases of
epilepsy,  electrical  storms  begin  in  one  part  of  the  brain  but  quickly  spread  to
other  parts,  causing  a  very  acute  seizure.  During  such  seizures  patients  lose
control of their body, and frequent seizures consequently prevent patients from
holding a job or leading a normal lifestyle. In the mid-twentieth century, when all
other treatments failed, doctors alleviated the problem by cutting the thick neural
cable  connecting  the  two  hemispheres,  so  that  electrical  storms  beginning  in
one  hemisphere  could  not  spill  over  to  the  other.  For  brain  scientists  these
patients were a gold-mine of astounding data.
Some  of  the  most  notable  studies  on  these  split-brain  patients  were
conducted  by  Professor  Roger  Wolcott  Sperry,  who  won  the  Nobel  Prize  in
Physiology  and  Medicine  for  his  groundbreaking  discoveries,  and  by  his
student,  Professor  Michael  S.  Gazzaniga.  One  study  was  conducted  on  a
teenaged boy. The boy was asked what he would like to do when he grew up.
The  boy  answered  that  he  wanted  to  be  a  draughtsman.  This  answer  was
provided by the left hemisphere, which plays a crucial part in logical reasoning
as well as in speech. Yet the boy had another active speech centre in his right
hemisphere, which could not control vocal language, but could spell words using
Scrabble  tiles.  The  researchers  were  keen  to  know  what  the  right  hemisphere
would say. So they spread Scrabble tiles on the table, and then took a piece of
paper  and  wrote  on  it:  ‘What  would  you  like  to  do  when  you  grow  up?’  They
placed  the  paper  at  the  edge  of  the  boy’s  left  visual  field.  Data  from  the  left
visual  field  is  processed  in  the  right  hemisphere.  Since  the  right  hemisphere
could  not  use  vocal  language,  the  boy  said  nothing.  But  his  left  hand  began
moving  rapidly  across  the  table,  collecting  tiles  from  here  and  there.  It  spelled
out: ‘automobile race’. Spooky.
11
Equally  eerie  behaviour  was  displayed  by  patient  WJ,  a  Second  World  War
veteran. WJ’s hands were each controlled by a different hemisphere. Since the
two  hemispheres  were  out  of  touch  with  one  another,  it  sometimes  happened
that his right hand would reach out to open a door, and then his left hand would
intervene and try to slam the door shut.

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In another experiment, Gazzaniga and his team flashed a picture of a chicken
claw to the left-half brain – the side responsible for speech – and simultaneously
flashed a picture of a snowy landscape to the right brain. When asked what they
saw, patients invariably answered ‘a chicken claw’. Gazzaniga then presented
one patient, PS, with a series of picture cards and asked him to point to the one
that best matched what he had seen. The patient’s right hand (controlled by his
left brain) pointed to a picture of a chicken, but simultaneously his left hand shot
out  and  pointed  to  a  snow  shovel.  Gazzaniga  then  asked  PS  the  million-dollar
question: ‘Why did you point both to the chicken and to the shovel?’ PS replied,
‘Oh, the chicken claw goes with the chicken, and you need a shovel to clean out
the chicken shed.’
12
What  happened  here?  The  left  brain,  which  controls  speech,  had  no  data
about  the  snow  scene,  and  therefore  did  not  really  know  why  the  left  hand
pointed to the shovel. So it just invented something credible. After repeating this
experiment  many  times,  Gazzaniga  concluded  that  the  left  hemisphere  of  the
brain is the seat not only of our verbal abilities, but also of an internal interpreter
that  constantly  tries  to  make  sense  of  our  life,  using  partial  clues  in  order  to
concoct plausible stories.
In  another  experiment,  the  non-verbal  right  hemisphere  was  shown  a
pornographic  image.  The  patient  reacted  by  blushing  and  giggling.  ‘What  did
you  see?’  asked  the  mischievous  researchers.  ‘Nothing,  just  a  flash  of  light,’
said  the  left  hemisphere,  and  the  patient  immediately  giggled  again,  covering
her  mouth  with  her  hand.  ‘Why  are  you  laughing  then?’  they  insisted.  The
bewildered left-hemisphere interpreter – struggling for some rational explanation
– replied that one of the machines in the room looked very funny.
13
It’s  as  if  the  CIA  conducts  a  drone  strike  in  Pakistan,  unbeknown  to  the  US
State  Department.  When  a  journalist  grills  State  Department  officials  about  it,
they make up some plausible explanation. In reality, the spin doctors don’t have
a  clue  why  the  strike  was  ordered,  so  they  just  invent  something.  A  similar
mechanism  is  employed  by  all  human  beings,  not  just  by  split-brain  patients.
Again  and  again  my  own  private  CIA  does  things  without  the  approval  or
knowledge of my State Department, and then my State Department cooks up a
story  that  presents  me  in  the  best  possible  light.  Often  enough,  the  State
Department itself becomes convinced of the pure fantasies it has invented.
14
Similar conclusions have been reached by behavioural economists, who want to
know  how  people  take  economic  decisions.  Or  more  accurately,  who  takes
these decisions. Who decides to buy a Toyota rather than a Mercedes, to go on
holiday  to  Paris  rather  than  Thailand,  and  to  invest  in  South  Korean  treasury

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bonds  rather  than  in  the  Shanghai  stock  exchange?  Most  experiments  have
indicated that there is no single self making any of these decisions. Rather, they
result from a tug of war between different and often conflicting inner entities.
One  groundbreaking  experiment  was  conducted  by  Daniel  Kahneman,  who
won  the  Nobel  Prize  in  Economics.  Kahneman  asked  a  group  of  volunteers  to
join a three-part experiment. In the ‘short’ part of the experiment, the volunteers
inserted  one  hand  into  a  container  filled  with  water  at  14°C  for  one  minute,
which is unpleasant, bordering on painful. After sixty seconds, they were told to
take their hand out. In the ‘long’ part of the experiment, volunteers placed their
other  hand  in  another  water  container.  The  temperature  there  was  also  14°C,
but after sixty seconds, hot water was secretly added into the container, bringing
the temperature up to 15°C. Thirty seconds later, they were told to pull out their
hand.  Some  volunteers  did  the  ‘short’  part  first,  while  others  began  with  the
‘long’  part.  In  either  case,  exactly  seven  minutes  after  both  parts  were  over
came the third and most important part of the experiment. The volunteers were
told  they  must  repeat  one  of  the  two  parts,  and  it  was  up  to  them  to  choose
which; 80 per cent preferred to repeat the ‘long’ experiment, remembering it as
less painful.
The cold-water experiment is so simple, yet its implications shake the core of
the  liberal  world  view.  It  exposes  the  existence  of  at  least  two  different  selves
within  us:  the  experiencing  self  and  the  narrating  self.  The  experiencing  self  is
our  moment-to-moment  consciousness.  For  the  experiencing  self,  it’s  obvious
that the ‘long’ part of the cold-water experiment was worse. First you experience
water  at  14°C  for  sixty  seconds,  which  is  every  bit  as  bad  as  what  you
experience in the ‘short’ part, and then you must endure another thirty seconds
of water at 15°C, which is not quite as bad, but still far from pleasant. For the
experiencing self, it is impossible that adding a slightly unpleasant experience to
a very unpleasant experience will make the entire episode more appealing.
However, the experiencing self remembers nothing. It tells no stories, and is
seldom  consulted  when  it  comes  to  big  decisions.  Retrieving  memories,  telling
stories and making big decisions are all the monopoly of a very different entity
inside us: the narrating self. The narrating self is akin to Gazzaniga’s left-brain
interpreter. It is forever busy spinning yarns about the past and making plans for
the  future.  Like  every  journalist,  poet  and  politician,  the  narrating  self  takes
many short cuts. It doesn’t narrate everything, and usually weaves the story only
from  peak  moments  and  end  results.  The  value  of  the  whole  experience  is
determined by averaging peaks with ends. For example, in the short part of the
cold-water  experiment,  the  narrating  self  finds  the  average  between  the  worst