If I Dare . . .
I say to you today, my friends, that even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow,
in this final moment, I will allow myself to dare to hope . . .
I dare to hope for a post-hope world, where people are never treated merely as means but
always as ends, where no consciousness is sacrificed for some greater religious aim, where no
identity is harmed out of malice or greed or negligence, where the ability to reason and act is
held in the highest regard by all, and where this is reflected not only in our hearts but also in our
social institutions and business models.
I dare to hope that people will stop suppressing either their Thinking Brain or their Feeling
Brain and marry the two in a holy matrimony of emotional stability and psychological maturity;
that people will become aware of the pitfalls of their own desires, of the seduction of their
comforts, of the destruction behind their whims, and will instead seek out the discomfort that
will force them to grow.
I dare to hope that the fake freedom of variety will be rejected by people in favor of the
deeper, more meaningful freedom of commitment; that people will opt in to self-limitation rather
than the quixotic quest of self-indulgence; that people will demand something better of
themselves first before demanding something better from the world.
That said, I dare to hope that one day the online advertising business model will die in a
fucking dumpster fire; that the news media will no longer have incentives to optimize content for
emotional impact but, rather, for informational utility; that technology will seek not to exploit
our psychological fragility but, rather, to counterbalance it; that information will be worth
something again; that anything will be worth something again.
I dare to hope that search engines and social media algorithms will be optimized for truth and
social relevance rather than simply showing people what they want to see; that there will be
independent, third-party algorithms that rate the veracity of headlines, websites, and news stories
in real time, allowing users to more quickly sift through the propaganda-laden garbage and get
closer to evidence-based truth; that there will be actual respect for empirically tested data,
because in an infinite sea of possible beliefs, evidence is the only life preserver we’ve got.
I dare to hope that one day we will have AI that will listen to all the dumb shit we write and
say and will point out (just to us, maybe) our cognitive biases, uninformed assumptions, and
prejudices—like a little notification that pops up on your phone letting you know that you just
totally exaggerated the unemployment rate when arguing with your uncle, or that you were
talking out of your ass the other night when you were doling out angry tweet after angry tweet.
I dare to hope that there will be tools to help people understand statistics, proportions, and
probability in real time and realize that, no, a few people getting shot in the far corners of the
globe does not have any bearing on you, no matter how scary it looks on TV; that most “crises”
are statistically insignificant and/or just noise; and that most real crises are too slow-moving and
unexciting to get the attention they deserve.
I dare to hope that education will get a much-needed facelift, incorporating not only
therapeutic practices to help children with their emotional development, but also letting them run
around and scrape their knees and get into all sorts of trouble. Children are the kings and queens
of antifragility, the masters of pain. It is we who are afraid.
I dare to hope that the oncoming catastrophes of climate change and automation are
mitigated, if not outright prevented, by the inevitable explosion of technology wrought by the
impending AI revolution; that some dumb fuck with a nuke doesn’t obliterate us all before that
happens; and that a new, radical human religion doesn’t emerge that convinces us to destroy our
own humanity, as so many have done before.
I dare to hope that AI hurries along and develops some new virtual reality religion that is so
enticing that none of us can tear ourselves away from it long enough to get back to fucking and
killing each other. It will be a church in the cloud, except it will be experienced as one universal
video game. There will be offerings and rites and sacraments just as there will points and
rewards and progression systems for strict adherence. We will all log on, and stay on, because it
will be our only conduit for influencing the AI gods and, therefore, the only wellspring that can
quench our insatiable desire for meaning and hope.
Groups of people will rebel against the new AI gods, of course. But this will be by design, as
humanity always needs factious groups of opposing religions, for this is the only way for us to
prove our own significance. Bands of infidels and heretics will emerge in this virtual landscape,
and we will spend most of our time battling and railing against these various factions. We will
seek to destroy one another’s moral standing and diminish each other’s accomplishments, all the
while not realizing that this was intended. The AI, realizing that the productive energies of
humanity emerge only through conflict, will generate endless series of artificial crises in a safe
virtual realm, where that productivity and ingenuity can then be cultivated and used for some
greater purpose we won’t ever know or understand. Human hope will be harvested like a
resource, a never-ending reservoir of creative energy.
We will worship at AI’s digitized altars. We will follow their arbitrary rules and play their
games not because we’re forced to, but because they will be designed so well that we will want
to.
We need our lives to mean something, and while the startling advance of technology has
made finding that meaning more difficult, the ultimate innovation will be the day we can
manufacture significance without strife or conflict, find importance without the necessity of
death.
And then, maybe one day, we will become integrated with the machines themselves. Our
individual consciousnesses will be subsumed. Our independent hopes will vanish. We will meet
and merge in the cloud, and our digitized souls will swirl and eddy in the storms of data, a splay
of bits and functions harmoniously brought into some grand, unseen alignment.
We will have evolved into a great unknowable entity. We will transcend the limitations of
our own value-laden minds. We will live beyond means and ends, for we will always be both,
one and the same. We will have crossed the evolutionary bridge into “something greater” and
ceased to be human any longer.
Perhaps then, we will not only realize but finally embrace the Uncomfortable Truth: that we
imagined our own importance, we invented our purpose, and we were, and still are, nothing.
All along, we were nothing.
And maybe then, only then, will the eternal cycle of hope and destruction come to an end.
Or—?
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