Here's another guest post of mine at R. Scott Bakker's blog. The post is called Technocracy, Buddhism, and Technoscientific Enlightenment, and is a follow-up to my last guest post there, Homelessness and the Transhuman. Here are the first few paragraphs of the new post:
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In Homelessness and the Transhuman I used some analogies to imagine what life without the naïve and illusory self-image would be like. The problem of imagining that enlightenment should be divided into two parts. One is the relatively uninteresting issue of which labels we want to use to describe something. Would an impersonal, amoral, meaningless, and purposeless posthuman, with no consciousness or values as we usually conceive of them “think” at all? Would she be “alive”? Would she have a “mind”? Even if there are objective answers to such questions, the answers don’t really matter since however far our use of labels can be stretched, we can always create a new label. So if the posthuman doesn’t think, maybe she “shminks,” where shminking is only in some ways similar to thinking. This gets at the second, conceptual issue here, though. The interesting question is whether we can conceive of the contents of posthuman life. For example, just what would be the similarities and differences between thinking and shminking? What could we mean by “thought” if we put aside the naïve, folk psychological notions of intentionality, truth, and value? We can use ideas of information and function to start to answer that sort of question, but the problem is that this taxes our imagination because we’re typically committed to the naïve, exoteric way of understanding ourselves, as R. Scott Bakker explains.
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In Homelessness and the Transhuman I used some analogies to imagine what life without the naïve and illusory self-image would be like. The problem of imagining that enlightenment should be divided into two parts. One is the relatively uninteresting issue of which labels we want to use to describe something. Would an impersonal, amoral, meaningless, and purposeless posthuman, with no consciousness or values as we usually conceive of them “think” at all? Would she be “alive”? Would she have a “mind”? Even if there are objective answers to such questions, the answers don’t really matter since however far our use of labels can be stretched, we can always create a new label. So if the posthuman doesn’t think, maybe she “shminks,” where shminking is only in some ways similar to thinking. This gets at the second, conceptual issue here, though. The interesting question is whether we can conceive of the contents of posthuman life. For example, just what would be the similarities and differences between thinking and shminking? What could we mean by “thought” if we put aside the naïve, folk psychological notions of intentionality, truth, and value? We can use ideas of information and function to start to answer that sort of question, but the problem is that this taxes our imagination because we’re typically committed to the naïve, exoteric way of understanding ourselves, as R. Scott Bakker explains.
One way to get clearer about what the transformation from confused
human to enlightened posthuman would entail is to consider an example that’s relatively
easy to understand. So take the Netflix practice described by Andrew Leonard in How Netflix is Turning Viewers into Puppets. Apparently, more Americans now watch movies legally streamed over the internet
than they do on DVD or Blu-Ray, and this allows the stream providers to
accumulate all sorts of data that indicate our movie preferences. When we
pause, fast forward or stop watching streamed content, we supply companies like
Netflix with enormous quantities of information which their number crunchers
explain with a theory about our viewing choices. For example, according to
Leonard, Netflix recently spent $100 million to remake the BBC series House of
Cards, based on that detailed knowledge of viewers’ habits. Moreover, Netflix
learned that the same subscribers who liked that earlier TV show also tend to like
Kevin Spacey, and so the company hired Kevin Spacey to star in the remake.
So the point isn’t just that entertainment providers can now
amass huge quantities of information about us, but that they can use that
information to tailor their products to maximize their profits. In other words,
companies can now come much closer to giving us exactly what we objectively
want, as indicated by scientific explanations of our behaviour. As Leonard
says, “The interesting and potentially troubling question is how a reliance on
Big Data [all the data that’s now available about our viewing habits] might
funnel craftsmanship in particular directions. What happens when directors
approach the editing room armed with the knowledge that a certain subset of
subscribers are opposed to jump cuts or get off on gruesome torture scenes or
just want to see blow jobs. Is that all we’ll be offered? We’ve seen what
happens when news publications specialize in just delivering online content
that maximizes page views. It isn’t always the most edifying spectacle.”
So here we have an example not just of how technocrats depersonalize
consumers, but of the emerging social effects of that technocratic perspective.
There are numerous other fields in which the fig leaf of our crude
self-conception is stripped away and people are regarded as machines. In the
military, there are units, targets, assets, and so forth, not free, conscious,
precious souls. Likewise, in politics and public relations, there are
demographics, constituents, and special interests, and such categories are
typically defined in highly cynical ways. Again, in business there are
consumers and functionaries in bureaucracies, not to mention whatever exotic
categories come to the fore in Wall Street’s mathematics of financing. Again,
though, it’s one thing to depersonalize people in your thoughts, but it’s
another to apply that sophisticated conception to some professional task of
engineering. In other words, we need to distinguish between fantasy- and
reality-driven depersonalization. Military, political, and business
professionals, for example, may resort to fashionable vocabularies to flatter
themselves as insiders or to rationalize the vices they must master to succeed
in their jobs. Then again, perhaps those vocabularies aren’t entirely
subjective; maybe soldiers can’t psych themselves up to kill their opponents
unless they’re trained to depersonalize and even to demonize them. And perhaps
public relations, marketing, and advertising are even now becoming more scientific.
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