Does Identity Politics Foster Intolerance and Irrationalism?

Tweet

Identity politics is much in the news. From Black Lives Matter to #MeToo, and from Incels to White Nationalists, it’s hard to get away from the idea that identity plays a critical role in modern political movements. Society seems to be fragmenting and polarising. People flock to others with whom they share some common identity (race, gender, ethnicity, religion etc) and develop rallying cries and political demands that speak to their shared experiences.

Sometimes this seems like a positive development: by bringing to light systematic abuses suffered by particular groups we can build a more just and equal society. Other times it seems less positive: by settling into our groups we become tribalistic and suspicious of outsiders. There seems to be a paradoxical tension between the aspirations and unintended consequences of identity politics. One of the most common critiques that I have come across is that identity politics leads to a kind of systematic intolerance. There are certain sacred truths about group experience and group membership that must be not be questioned or challenged. This, ironically, leads to a less progressive and fractious social life. As John McWhorter put it (commenting specifically on the concept of ‘microaggressions’) there is a danger that what passes for identity politics is ‘just bullying disguised as progressive thought’.

Is this a fair criticism? In this post I want to take a look at one attempt to put this criticism on a more rigorous, logical footing. This attempt comes from Danny Frederick’s paper ‘Identity Politics, Irrationalism, and Totalitarianism: The Relevance of Karl Popper’s Open Society’. The paper is an interesting blend of Karl Popper’s political philosophy with concerns about microaggressions, trigger warnings and multiculturalism. It helped me to think about identity politics in a new way, and although I agree with a lot of what Frederick has to say, I think he overemphasises the negative manifestations of identity politics in his critique. Although there are certain concepts and ideas employed by identity political movements that lead to a closed social order, the very same concepts and ideas can be used to create a more open society. I’ll try to explain my thinking in what follows.


1. The Open Society and its Enemies
Frederick’s argument is that identity political movements rely on a set of concepts and ideas that foster a ‘closed’ society. This is bad because an ‘open’ society is more desirable than a closed society. In saying this, Frederick leans heavily on the distinction between open and closed societies from Karl Popper’s famous work The Open Society and its Enemies.

A closed society, according to Popper, is historically synonymous with a tribalistic society.* This is a form of social organisation in which an extended kinship group are held together by some common religious myth. This myth usually involves some form of ancestor worship which is used to clearly delineate group ‘insiders’ and ‘outsiders’. The religious myth also typically comes with an irrational attitude toward social customs and practices, and an assumption that the way things are in nature is the way the gods want them to be. The result is a rigid, close-minded, and often hierarchical form of social organisation. Everyone has a predefined role in society. There is little or no scope for escaping from it. People favour irrational loyalty to traditions and customs. There is limited growth and innovation.

An open society is rather different. It is usually more individualistic than tribal and allows people to form alliances with others with whom they may share no common ancestry. There is more scope for moving freely between social groups. People are not defined by or constrained by their ancestry. There may, of course, still be religious beliefs and practices undergirding such societies, but they tend to be universalistic in nature, not tribalistic. Furthermore, rational argument and debate play a larger role in these societies. Traditions and customs are not deemed to be sacred. They can be reformed and changed. There is room for growth and innovation.

From these descriptions, it seems obvious that an open society is more desirable than a closed one. The point of Popper’s two volume work on the Open Society and its Enemies was to show how the ideas of influential philosophers like Plato and Marx lead to the closed society and away from a more open society. Popper argued that their approach to reason and rationality was central to this. Popper felt that the approach we take towards reason and rationality determines how we manage social conflict and solve important problems. He identified five different attitudes toward rationality that could be endorsed by different thinkers at different times:

Irrationalism: This is where we solve problems by appealing to intuitions, emotions, impulses and instincts. This results in a dogmatic approach to intellectual discourse (i.e. you just make pronouncements that are emotionally appealing) and an instrumentalist approach to the use of reason and argument (i.e. you make arguments when this is a useful way of persuading your opponent).

Pseudo-Rationalism: This is where we claim some special epistemic authority (intuition/communication with God etc.) that allows us to know the answer to important questions and problems. This also leads to a dogmatic approach to intellectual discourse as the appeal to epistemic authority is designed bring an end to inquiry and debate.

Uncritical Rationalism: This is where we reject anything that cannot be supported or proved to exist by rational argument and/or evidence (e.g. the philosophical view supported by the Vienna Circle). Popper and others argued that uncritical rationalism was self-defeating because the commitment to rationalism itself was unsupported by rational argument.

Fideistic Rationalism: This is where we pick a few ground truths that cannot be challenged or questioned and then develop our worldview and problem solving approach by reasoning from these ground truths. Depending on what gets included within the set of ground truths, this view can also be quite dogmatic and limiting, tending towards irrationalism, even though it avoids the mistake of uncritical rationalism.

Critical Rationalism: This is where we accept the need for some ground truths to start the process of inquiry and rational argument, but never allow these ground truths to become unquestionable articles of faith. Everything is up for grabs and subject to rational scrutiny. This is the antithesis of dogmatism.

As you might imagine from the descriptions, the irrationalist approach is most at home in the closed society. Indeed, it may be the cognitive foundation of a closed society. Contrariwise, the critical rationalist approach is most at home in the open society. It’s with the other forms of rationalism that the problems arise. They may seem, on the surface, more open-minded than outright irrationalism, but they can easily lead us back to a closed society. This is particularly true of fideistic rationalism. Different groups that adopt fideistic rationalism can appear to be quite rational in many contexts, but they will each have their sacred cows that cannot be slaughtered and so will tend towards irrationalism in certain matters.


2. The Link Between Identity Politics and the Closed Society
We are now in a position to understand Frederick’s argument. He claims that identity politics leads us to the closed society by fostering and encouraging an approach to reason that is antithetical to critical rationalism. He doesn’t spell out the argument in formal terms, but my reading of his paper suggests that the following is a reasonably accurate reconstruction of what he is trying to say:

• (1) We ought to favour an open society over a closed society

• (2) To create the conditions for an open society, we need to foster critical rationalism.

• (3) Identity politics, at least in its current manifestation, is antithetical to critical rationalism (and closer to fideistic rationalism/irrationalism)

• (4) Therefore, we ought to reject/resist identity politics, at least in its current manifestation.

Hopefully I have said enough about premises (1) and (2) in the preceding section. Admittedly, I haven’t provided a robust defence of them (Frederick says more in his paper) but I hope I’ve provided enough detail for people to see these as reasonable propositions that can be accepted for the sake of argument. This allows us to turn attention to premise (3), which is the real meat of the argument.

The first thing to note about premise (3) is its scope. It does not claim that identity politics is always and everywhere a bad thing. It simply claims that it is a bad thing as it is currently practiced. Frederick is clear about this scope limitation in the paper. He says ‘there need be nothing amiss with identity politics in principle…However, the current popular form of identity politics embraces irrationalism [via fideistic rationalism]’ (Frederick 2017, 7). So what it is about the currently popular form of identity politics that leads to this? Frederick identifies a number of concepts and ideas that are deployed by practitioners of identity politics. He thinks each of them contributes to the problem:

Multiculturalism: This is the view that cultural differences should be celebrated and respected and that society should embrace cultural diversity. The problem with this is that it stalls or prevents criticism of cultural practices that might be ethically or socially problematic.

Criticism of Cultural Appropriation: This is where cultural insiders criticise outsiders for taking, using or re-representing their cultural practices/traditions/artefacts. Taken to an extreme this can prevent cross-pollination and innovation of cultures. Furthermore, it can assume that cultural ‘insiders’ (itself a problematic notion) have some unquestioned epistemic authority or control over their practices/traditions/artefacts.

Publicising of Microaggressions: This is where people are criticised for saying or doing things that, while minor and not overtly discriminatory in themselves, are taken to contribute to an unwelcome social environment for members of recognised minority groups. Frederick thinks this is problematic because in many cases the ‘micro’ behaviour is just assumed to have a negative effect and so must be criticised and punished. In other words, emotional reactions to behaviour are favoured over rational judgments. Similarly, as in the McWhorter quote given in the introduction, critics argue that calling people out for microaggressions can be a form of ‘bullying’.

The Idea that Speech is itself a form of Violence: This is where certain speech acts are taken to be violent in and of themselves, not simply things that can provoke or incite violence. This is particularly problematic when the speech is assumed to be violent irrespective of its context. Frederick argues that this view is absurd because speech acts only take on meaning and have effects in a particular context, and yet some famous cases of people being no-platformed or prevented from speaking seem to have made this assumption (he cites some controversial cases in his paper, such as the protests of Charles Murray speaking at US universities and the withdrawal of an invitation from Richard Dawkins to speak in Berkeley).

Use of Trigger Warnings: This is where advance warnings are issued regarding the content of a movie, book, lecture (etc) on the assumption that the content might be traumatising to some people. While this practice may have some merit in its original form, Frederick says that it is now used to discourage students from dealing with challenging ideas and sacralises their emotional reactions.

Calling out of Mansplaining: ‘Mansplaining’ is when a man tries to explain something to a woman in either a condescending way or in a way that assumes, without evidence or in the face of contradictory evidence, that the woman lacks the requisite knowledge or expertise.** The ‘calling out’ of mansplaining is an attempt to gossip about, ridicule or publicly shame men for doing this. You can find many examples of this on social media (search for #mansplaining on twitter). Frederick argues that this can be problematic if it is used as an excuse to simply dismiss or ignore arguments rather than engage their substance. It could also be counterproductive to dialogue or constructive debate.

Use of the Phrase ‘Check Your Privilege’: This is similar to the publicising of microaggressions and the calling out of mansplaining. It is an attempt to get people from privileged social groups to recognise the unfair advantages they have over others. While this might be valuable in some cases, Frederick laments the fact that it can also be used as a form of ad hominem attack that gives someone an excuse to ignore or dismiss what someone from a privileged group is saying.

In addition to each of these examples, Frederick argues that embracing the tactics and beliefs of identity politics can lead to absurd or contradictory views. For example, there is often tension between the members of different identity groups — e.g. radical feminists and conservative Muslims — and yet the practitioners of identity politics tend to overlook or ignore those tensions. Frederick also uses the more controversial example of the tension between beliefs about transgender identity and feminist identity to illustrate this point.


3. Evaluating the Argument
That’s Frederick’s argument. Is it any good? I think it’s complicated. I’m not a huge fan of identity politics. There is much that I see going on in identity political movements that I find problematic and uncomfortable. I’m particularly uncomfortable about the rise of white identity politics. I’d much rather live in a world where people weren’t attracted to group identity labels and wouldn’t invest so much of their emotional energies in those identities. But I also appreciate that this is unlikely to happen any time soon and that I may be in the privileged position where I (as a white heterosexual male) have to worry less about group identity than people who are coded as belonging to a minority group and have that identity thrust upon them whether they like it or not. I think we need to be able to see things from that perspective (at least to some extent) if we are to build a more just society.

And this brings me to my concerns about Frederick’s argument. To be clear, the concepts and ideas he identifies can definitely foster irrationalism and close-mindedness. I, for one, don’t like the social media pile-ons or public-shaming or ex-communication of people for relatively innocuous behaviours. I don’t like the attempt to shut off inquiry or bully people into silence. That said, I think it is important to put yourself in the shoes of someone who would defend something like multiculturalism, the use of trigger warnings, and the publicising of microaggressions. What would they say to Frederick’s argument? Assuming they aren’t in the grip of complete irrationalism, I think they would argue that each of those practices, when done right, is actually conducive to greater critical rationalism and openness in society, not antithetical to them.

It’s all a matter of dial adjustment. If you crank up the identity political dial too far, you may tip over into irrationalism and closed-mindedness; but if you get the balance right you can actually help to foster more openness and critical reflection. The way I see it is this: the defender of something like multiculturalism or the criticism of cultural appropriation believes (often with good evidence) that dominant cultures tend to silence or ignore the views of minority cultures. In other words, from their perspective, it is the dominant culture that tends towards irrationalism and closed-mindedness because it ignores or suppresses what is said or done by members of a minority culture. This kind of irrationalism needs to be protested and rectified. Members of the dominant culture need to be ‘called out’, to at least some extent, in order to help them to overcome their own tribalism and closed-mindedness. If done right, this can help in building a more open society.

Consider some examples. Although it is often ridiculed, there is clearly a sensible form of multiculturalism, one that is perfectly at home in a Popperian Open Society. As Frederick himself acknowledges, there is no such thing as a perfect culture and there are many different, permissible ways of life. We can learn something from different cultures. Through tolerance and intercultural dialogue we can grow and progress. If we are suspicious and dismissive of other cultures this will never happen. Where multiculturalism becomes problematic is when it is assumed that minority cultures can do no wrong and that they should be forever preserved in some historically contingent form. Something similar is true for the criticism of cultural appropriation. There is obviously something problematic about members of dominant cultures not taking the art, literature, music or ideas of minority cultures seriously unless they are spoken to them by a member of the dominant culture (who may then take the credit or receive the reward for re-representing these ideas). This again silences or suppresses the voices from those cultures, which is not conducive the kind of critical, free-flowing, upwardly mobile, interaction we would expect in an open society. Where it becomes problematic is where it is assumed that there can be no cross-fertilisation of culture and no possibility of intercultural understanding. A similar analysis can be performed for most of the concepts and ideas that Frederick criticises above (the one exception might be the view that speech itself is a kind of violence; I’m more with Frederick on that one but I’m not entirely sure that defenders of that idea do favour a completely de-contextualised view of the harm of speech). In each case, if you adjust the dial to the right level, you avoid irrationalism and foster openness.

And this, for me, is the problem with Frederick’s argument. Although he is clear that he does not think that identity politics is always and everywhere a bad thing, he does seem to assume the worst about the practitioners of identity politics. For example, in his conclusion he says the following about their motives:

The exponents of identity politics want to establish a closed society in which their ideological views are unchallenged, cultural traditions are ossified, a new caste system of approved identities is imposed, and respect for it is indoctrinated…The logical terminus of identity politics is the totalitarian state. 

(Frederick 2017, 11)

Ironically, this is the kind of blanket assumption about a group of people that Frederick himself criticises in the exponents of identity politics. We shouldn’t follow his lead. Maybe what he says is true for some exponents of identity politics but if I’m right a good number of them could have more sensible and progressive aims, ones that are entirely consistent with the open society. The logical terminus of identity politics is not, necessarily, the totalitarian.

What does this mean in practice? It may still be the case that many of the particular manifestations of identity politics do tend towards irrationalism. This strikes me as being an empirical matter that can be determined only on a case-by-case basis. If they are found to favour irrationalism, they should be criticised and challenged. But this does not mean that there is nothing salvageable in the concepts and ideas used by the exponents of identity politics. This too should be recognised.

* For what it is worth, I think it is important to distinguish tribal societies from hunter-gatherer societies. The latter tend to be more egalitarian and flat in nature.Tribal societies are more hierarchical and associated with the origins of agriculture. For more on this distinction, I recommend reading Francis Fukuyama’s book The Origins of Political Order. 

** Yes, I appreciate the irony in the fact that I am a man trying to explain what mansplaining is.

Subscribe to the newsletter

Thomas Hobbes in Space: The Problem of Intergalactic War

Tweet

In a handful of posts published earlier this year, I considered several arguments for thinking that humans ought to explore space and become an interstellar species. I looked at three in particular:

The Utopian Argument: We ought to explore space because it provides a utopian vision for the future of humanity - roughly: humanity expanding into an endless horizon of possibility.

The Moral Argument: We ought to explore space because we have a duty to ensure the future survival of ourselves (and possibly other earthbound life) and this is only going to be possible (in the long term) if we explore space.

The Intellectual Argument: We ought to explore space because doing so will expand our knowledge and understanding, both scientifically (by enabling new forms of inquiry and gathering new data) and culturally (by forcing us to interpret and manage new environments and social circumstances).

Collectively, these seem to provide a strong(ish) case for space exploration. Space barons like Elon Musk and Jeff Bezos might even approve. They, along with countless others, are trying to build the infrastructure that will enable full human exploration of the cosmos. Indeed, Bezos, in some of his public interviews, seems to directly echo the utopian and intellectual arguments in making the ‘pitch’ for space.

But what if space exploration has a darker side? Like, a much darker side? What if the exploration of space is likely to hasten the end of humanity and vastly increase the amount of suffering in the universe? Maybe then all the arguments in favour of space exploration ring hollow? Maybe then we ought to stop Elon Musk, Jeff Bezos and all the other space enthusiasts from realising their ambitions?

That’s effectively what Phil Torres argues in his recent article ‘Space Exploration and Suffering Risks: Reassessing the “Maxipok” Rule’. Using some ideas from international relations theory and the study of war, he argues that the prospects of a catastrophic intergalactic conflict are sufficiently serious to warrant extreme caution when it comes to space exploration. As he puts it in the article’s conclusion “every second of delayed colonization [of space] should be seen as immensely desirable, and the longer the delay, the better” (Torres 2018, 84).

Is he right to be so pessimistic? I won’t offer a definitive verdict here. But I will explore the logic of his arguments in some detail.


1. The Context: Responding to the Maxipok Rule
Torres presents his argument in a particular context. In many ways, this context is irrelevant to the argument — it could be understood without it — but since it does affect some of the language Torres uses when setting it out, it will probably help if I can sketch out that context.

Torres presents his argument as a response to an earlier paper by Nick Bostrom entitled ‘Astronomical Waste: The opportunity cost of delayed technological development’. In that paper, Bostrom argued that we should hasten the exploration of space. Bostrom defended this conclusion by following a simple impartial utilitarian logic. According to this logic, we ought to maximise the number of sentient beings that can live ‘okay’ lives (i.e. lives that are, on balance, worth living). Doing this will maximise the total amount of utility in the universe. When you then realise that the potential number of future sentient beings is vast (our universe has a long time left to run out on the clock) and that we could ensure that more of them exist by colonising space (because we could then escape the carrying capacity limitations of the Earth) you reach the conclusion that we ought to start colonising space as soon as possible. Every second of delay is an astronomically wasted opportunity.

Bostrom admitted that this argument hinged on a number of assumptions. Three of them are important here. The first is that you accept impartial utilitarian principles, which are not everyone’s cup of tea; the second is that you don’t massively discount the value of future lives in your utilitarian calculus, which is something we are usually wont to do; the third is that you assume future populations can avoid existential catastrophe, i.e. some event that would wipe them out or result in significant suffering or torment. These are big assumptions, but if you accept them, Bostrom argues that you would see the wisdom in the ‘maxipok’ rule:

Maxipok Rule: We ought to act so as to maximise the possibility of an okay outcome for ourselves and future civilisations.

Torres’s paper is sceptical of this rule. At a minimum he thinks it doesn’t speak in favour of space exploration. As an alternative, he thinks we should favour a ‘maximin’ rule, which states that ought to we try to achieve the best worst-case outcome. When this is applied to the question of space colonisation, he thinks it speaks decisively against the idea. The reason for this is that significant existential catastrophes — specifically a catastrophic intergalactic war — await us in space.


2. The Intergalactic ‘Warre’ of All Against All
Torres’s pessimism about space colonisation has its roots in Thomas Hobbes’s theory of violence. In his famous work of political philosophy — Leviathan — Hobbes argued that in a state of nature (i.e. in the absence of institutions of government to keep the peace), humans would get trapped in a cycle of violence — a war of all against all. Why so? Well, Hobbes argued that there were three basic motivations for violence:

Competition: People have to compete for scarce resources and will fight each other to gain access to them.

Diffidence: People want to protect themselves and will act violently in order to ensure their own safety (and possibly the safety of others who belong to their families/tribes)

Glory: People want to develop reputations for violence in order to gain access to scarce resources and to discourage people from attacking them. This leads them to launch pre-emptive strikes in order to cultivate a reputation.

In certain environments, these motivations provide the basis for a positive feedback loop: one act of violence begets another and, before you know it, the whole thing spirals out of control.


Hobbes argued that the only way out of this cycle of violence was for everybody to lay down their arms and agree to the creation of a powerful state (a ‘Leviathan’) with a monopoly on the use of force. The state could then prevent outbreaks of violence, enforce a common rulebook of standards, and ensure productive cooperation and coordination among citizens of the state. Hobbes himself favoured an extremely authoritarian style of government — an all-powerful monarch. Most people disagree with him on this, but agree that strong institutions are needed to prevent societal breakdown. These institutions need not come in the form of the state as we now conceive it. In certain small-scale societies, social norms and informal power hierarchies could do the trick, and in some instances markets could maintain order and keep the peace (but they usually require some background set of quasi-legal norms to function well). There are nuances and complexities here, but the gist of Hobbes’s idea — that some sort of ‘Leviathan’ is needed to maintain order — seems fairly robust, particularly in larger societies.

The problem, as Torres sees it, is that there is no way we can create an interstellar Leviathan. Consequently, there is every reason to suspect that a colonised space will descend into a Hobbesian ‘warre’ of all against all. Indeed, Torres goes further and argues that a colonised space will provide conditions that are ripe for a truly apocalyptic war. Not just some minor skirmishes in the outer colonies. The argument, in its basic outline, is as follows:

• (1) If we are to keep the peace in space (and avoid a catastrophic interstellar war), we need to have some sort of interstellar Leviathan (i.e. some set of institutions that can maintain order and prevent us slipping into the Hobbesian trap)

• (2) It will not be possible to construct an interstellar Leviathan of any sufficient sort.

• (3) Therefore, if we colonise space, we cannot avoid the possibility of a catastrophic interstellar war.

I’ve tried to formulate this argument in a way that respects what Torres has to say. You’ll note that the conclusion is somewhat modest: it doesn’t claim that a catastrophic war is definitely going to happen, just that we cannot stop it. I think this is the best way to understand Torres’s argument — particularly in light of his opening discussion of Bostrom and the maxipok rule — but I could be wrong about this. Sometimes it seems that Torres wants to make a stronger claim, viz. that a catastrophic interstellar war is pretty likely if we colonise space. If that’s what he is arguing, it could make his argument less persuasive. I’ll return to this later.

In the meantime, I want to consider Torres’s case for premise (2). Why will an interstellar Leviathan prove so elusive? Although he does not state this explicitly, I think Torres presents three main reasons for thinking this is likely to be the case:

• (4) Colonial Speciation: As different human colonies spread out into space, populating several geographically isolated regions (etc), and facing different adaptive challenges and selection pressures, they will have a propensity to speciate. This will be exacerbated if we have technological control over our biology or if there is increased cyborgisation. These new human (or post-human) species and sub-species could have radically different emotional repertoires and ways of understanding and interacting with the world. This increases the potential for conflict and interspecies tension/suspicion.

• (5) Distance and communication breakdown: The distances between space colonies will be vast. This will make it exceptionally difficult (if not impossible) to create some common institutional structure and rulebook for maintaining the intergalactic peace. What’s more, communication breakdown between the different colonies will be possible (even likely) and this could potentially stir up conflict or tension.

• (6) Future weapons: The space colonies could create advanced weaponry that would allow them to wreak havoc at an intergalactic scale — ‘Weapons of Total Destruction’. Examples include weaponised planets, heliobeams or ‘sun guns’, weaponised particle colliders that create galaxy-swallowing blackholes, and more that we haven’t even been able to think about. The scale and reach of these weapons, combined with the problems of speciation and communication breakdown, will make it difficult to maintain a policy of deterrence or mutually assured destruction.

Torres goes into more detail on each of these three reasons and discusses some elaborate intergalactic conflict scenarios. Many of these are both interesting and provocative. For example, Torres talks about the possibility that some space colonies might, through speciation and cultural change, become gripped by extreme negative utilitarianism and want to eliminate all suffering in the universe by eliminating all suffering creatures. Their advanced, intergalactic weaponry will enable them to do so. If you want to read about more such scenarios, I encourage you to read the article in full.

Torres also discusses some counterarguments to his view. Perhaps, for example, we don’t need a ‘Leviathan’ to keep the peace. Some scholars in international relations have argued that there is no global Leviathan here on the planet earth. The international order of sovereign states is, according to one influential theory, anarchical in nature. And yet, despite this, there are ways to keep the peace. For example, some argue that democratic countries tend not to fight with each other (‘Democratic Peace Theory’) or that countries that engage in mutually beneficial trade tend not to fight with each other (‘Capitalist Peace Theory’). But Torres argues that these mechanisms are unlikely to work at an intergalactic scale because there is no guarantee that space colonies will all be democracies or that they will engage in mutually beneficial trade with one another.

If this is right, we should be wary of space colonisation.


3. Evaluating the Argument
But is it right? I certainly think it is interesting and worth taking seriously. Torres is to be commended for sketching out the possible scenarios in some detail and for thinking about the topic in a rigorous and illuminating way. Like many arguments in the ‘existential risk’ debate, however, it depends on stringing together a number of propositions about cause-and-effect, many of which are relatively far-fetched but each of which is ‘possible’ and, perhaps, minimally plausible, and then showing how they could lead to some truly catastrophic outcome. The idea is that even if this truly catastrophic outcome is highly unlikely, it would be sufficiently bad if it happened that so we should do whatever we can stop it. This is Pascalian/precautionary reasoning at its finest.

But I, for one, have never found this kind of precautionary reasoning particularly persuasive. I’ve argued on another occasion that the possibility-mongering and precautionary reasoning that Bostrom uses to defend the idea that we face an existential threat from AI can lead to problems. If you have to start taking far-fetched, but minimally plausible, possibilities into consideration when thinking about what we should do, then there are lots of other daily activities that warrant extreme caution. Indeed, precautionary reasoning of this sort seems like the perfect gateway drug to the kinds of extreme ethical philosophies that worry Torres in the article. It’s people who reason like this that are going to be most inclined to act preemptively to prevent a possible, but highly speculative, threat to their existence. So maybe instead of delaying space colonisation we should be doing everything in our power to prevent this kind of precautionary reasoning from taking root? Maybe we should encourage people to be rosy and irrational optimists? Maybe that’s what will maximise the chances of a least worse case scenario?

As I have said before, I think we need clearer modal standards in the existential risk debate. How plausible or probable must some possibility be before we have to take it seriously? Something more than minimal plausibility is obviously required but how much more and how should it be weighed against other plausible scenarios. If the scenario has to be substantially plausible then we might take a very different attitude to an argument like Torres’s. For instance, when I think about geographically isolated colonies in space, I think this is more likely to reduce the chances of a Hobbesian trap than increase it. The Hobbesian trap arises when there is conflict over scarce resources and a salient threat from some ‘Other’ who could access those resources. In geographically isolated colonies, that don’t rely on or compete for shared resources, that speciate and develop radically distinct cultures, and that don’t communicate with each other often or easily, it seems to me that the risk of conflict reduces. Why should I care about what my neighbours 200 light years away are doing? Indeed, when you think about it in these terms, staying on the earth, with its limited carrying capacity and still-growing population, seems like a less safe bet (if what we care about is avoiding a catastrophic Hobbesian ‘warre’). The fact that we may not be able to avoid the possibility of an intergalactic conflict doesn’t countermand that for me.

This is not to say that we should definitely be exploring space. There are other arguments and objections to be considered, some of which I have discussed before. It’s just that when we indulge in this kind of precautionary-reasoning, and try to factor in all the different risks we might face not just the one that happens to tickle our fancy at a particular moment in time, it gets pretty difficult to figure out what we ought to be doing and how seriously we should be taking the threat. This is why I find myself less pessimistic than Torres about the case for space colonisation.

Still, maybe I’m one of those rosy but irrational optimists. I’d recommend reading Torres’s article to see if you disagree.

Subscribe to the newsletter

Robot Sex Paperback Edition and Some Blog Updates

Tweet

Now in paperback

Regular readers will have noted that things have been a bit quiet here for the past couple of months. There are several reasons for this. The main one is that I spent the majority of June and July writing a new book. The good news is that I finished it; the bad news is that this meant I had no real time or energy for blogging. I then took a two week vacation/delayed honeymoon from which I have only just returned.

I'll get back to more regular blogging soon (at least that's the plan). I'll also make an announcement about the book I've been working on closer to the time of publication (probably sometime next year). In the meantime, I think it's worth noting that my previous book (co-edited with Neil McArthur) on Robot Sex: Social and Ethical Implications has just been released in paperback. It is consequently much more affordable. It'll cost you about $20, €16 or £14. You can buy it from the publisher, or on Amazon US or UK. At the time of writing (and this will no doubt change pretty soon and so become unverifiable) it is about #150 in the 'Self-Help' rankings of Amazon.com. Make of that what you will.

Also, rather fortuitously, and without any prompting, the guys over on the excellent Review the Future podcast have just released their latest episode in which they discuss the topic of robot sex, using the book as the framework for their conversation. If you want to whet your appetite for the book, and listen to a very enjoyable and erudite discussion about the social impact of sex robots, you should definitely check it out.

Finally, Slate Magazine have published an abbreviated version of one of the book's chapters, which you read to get a sense of what it is about.

Subscribe to the newsletter

Episode #43 - Elder on Friendship, Robots and Social Media

Tweet

 In this episode I talk to Alexis Elder. Alexis is an Assistant Professor of Philosophy at the University of Minnesota Duluth. Her research focuses on ethics, emerging technologies, social philosophy, metaphysics (especially social ontology), and philosophy of mind. She draws on ancient philosophy - primarily Chinese and Greek - in order to think about current problems. She is the author of a number of articles on the philosophy of friendship, and her book Friendship, Robots, and Social Media: False Friends and Second Selves, came out in January 2018. We talk about all things to do with friendship, social media and social robots.

You can download the episode here or listen below. You can also subscribe on iTunes or Stitcher (the RSS feed is here).

Show Notes

• 0:00 - Introduction

• 1:37 - Aristotle's theory of friendship

• 5:00 - The idea of virtue/character friendship

• 10:14 - The enduring appeal of Aristotle's account of friendship

• 12: 30 - Does social media corrode friendship?

• 16:35 - The Publicity Objection to online friendships

• 20:40 - The Superficiality Objection to online friendships

• 25:23 - The Commercialisation/Contamination Objection to online friendships

• 30:34 - Deception in online friendships

• 35:18 - Must we physically interact with our friends?

• 39:25 - Social robots as friends (with a specific focus on elderly populations and those on the autism spectrum)

• 46:50 - Can you be friends with a robot? The counterfeit currency analogy

• 50:55 - Does the analogy hold up?

• 56:13 - Why are robotic friends assumed to be fake?

• 1:03:50 - Does the 'falseness' of robotic friends depend on the type of friendship we are interested in?

• 1:06:38 - What about companion animals?

• 1:08:35 - Where is this debate going?

 

Relevant Links

• Alexis Elder's webpage

• 'Excellent Online Friendships: An Aristotelian Defence of Social Media' by Alexis

• 'False Friends and False Coinage: a tool for navigating the ethics of sociable robots" by Alexis

• Friendship, Robots and Social Media by Alexis

• 'Can you be friends with a robot? Aristotelian Friendship and Robotics' by John Danaher

Subscribe to the newsletter

Episode #42 - Earp on Psychedelics and Moral Enhancement

Tweet

 In this episode I talk to Brian Earp. Brian is Associate Director of the Yale-Hastings Program in Ethics and Health Policy at Yale University and The Hastings Center, and a Research Fellow in the Uehiro Centre for Practical Ethics at the University of Oxford. Brian has diverse research interests in ethics, psychology, and the philosophy of science. His research has been covered in Nature, Popular Science, The Chronicle of Higher Education, The Atlantic, New Scientist, and other major outlets. We talk about moral enhancement and the potential use of psychedelics as a form of moral enhancement.

You can download the episode here or listen below. You can also subscribe to the podcast on iTunes and Stitcher (the RSS feed is here).

Show Notes

• 0:00 - Introduction

• 1:53 - Why psychedelics and moral enhancement?

• 5:07 - What is moral enhancement anyway? Why are people excited about it?

• 7:12 - What are the methods of moral enhancement?

• 10:18 - Why is Brian sceptical about the possibility of moral enhancement?

• 14:16 - So is it an empty idea?

• 17:58 - What if we adopt an 'extended' concept of enhancement, i.e. beyond the biomedical?

• 26:12 - Can we use psychedelics to overcome the dilemma facing the proponent of moral enhancement?

• 29:07 - What are psychedelic drugs? How do they work on the brain?

• 34:26 - Are your experiences whilst on psychedelic drugs conditional on your cultural background?

• 37:39 - Dissolving the ego and the feeling of oneness

• 41:36 - Are psychedelics the new productivity hack?

• 43:48 - How can psychedelics enhance moral behaviour?

• 47:36 - How can a moral philosopher make sense of these effects?

• 51:12 - The MDMA case study

• 58:38 - How about MDMA assisted political negotiations?

• 1:02:11 - Could we achieve the same outcomes without drugs?

• 1:06:52 - Where should the research go from here?

Relevant Links

• Brian's academia.edu page

• Brian's researchgate page

• Brian as Rob Walker (and his theatre reel)

• 'Psychedelic moral enhancement' by Brian Earp

• 'Moral Neuroenhancement' by Earp, Douglas and Savulescu

• How to Change Your Mind by Michael Pollan

• Interview with Ole Martin Moen in the ethics of psychedelics

• The Doors of Perception by Aldous Huxley

• Roland Griffiths Laboratory at Johns Hopkins

Subscribe to the newsletter

Episode #41 - Binns on Fairness in Algorithmic Decision-Making

Tweet

In this episode I talk to Reuben Binns. Reuben is a post-doctoral researcher at the Department of Computer Science in Oxford University. His research focuses on both the technical, ethical and legal aspects of privacy, machine learning and algorithmic decision-making. We have a detailed and informative discussion (for me at any rate!) about recent debates about algorithmic bias and discrimination, and how they could be informed by the philosophy of egalitarianism.

You can download the episode here or listen below. You can also subscribe on Stitcher and iTunes (the RSS feed is here).

 

Show notes

• 0:00 - Introduction

• 1:46 - What is algorithmic decision-making?

• 4:20 - Isn't all decision-making algorithmic?

• 6:10 - Examples of unfairness in algorithmic decision-making: The COMPAS debate

• 12:02 - Limitations of the COMPAS debate

• 15:22 - Other examples of unfairness in algorithmic decision-making

• 17:00 - What is discrimination in decision-making?

• 19:45 - The mental state theory of discrimination

• 25:20 - Statistical discrimination and the problem of generalisation

• 29:10 - Defending algorithmic decision-making from the charge of statistical discrimination

• 34:40 - Algorithmic typecasting: Could we all end up like William Shatner?

• 39:02 - Egalitarianism and algorithmic decision-making

• 43:07 - The role that luck and desert play in our understanding of fairness

• 49:38 - Deontic justice and historical discrimination in algorithmic decision-making

• 53:36 - Fair distribution vs Fair recognition

• 59:03 - Should we be enthusiastic about the fairness of future algorithmic decision-making?

 

Relevant Links

• Reuben's homepage

• Reuben's institutional page 

• 'Fairness in Machine Learning: Lessons from Political Philosophy' by Reuben Binns

• 'Algorithmic Accountability and Public Reason' by Reuben Binns

• 'It's Reducing a Human Being to a Percentage: Perceptions of Justice in Algorithmic Decision-Making' by Binns et al

• 'Machine Bias' - the ProPublica story on unfairness in the COMPAS recidivism algorithm

• 'Inherent Tradeoffs in the Fair Determination of Risk Scores' by Kleinberg et al -- an impossibility proof showing that you cannot minimise false positive rates and equalise accuracy rates across two populations at the same time (except in the rare case that the base rate for both populations is the same)

Subscribe to the newsletter

Tranhumanism as Utopianism: A Critical Analysis

Tweet

The poem ‘The Land of Cockaygne’ is one of the original works of utopian literature. A satire, written in Ireland in the 14th century, the poem describes a corrupt community of monks living in the mythical land of Cockaigne (different spellings for different dialogues). Cockaigne is a medieval idyll. It is the land of plenty, where no one goes without, where no one has to work, and there is an abundance of food and gluttony.

But there is something quaint about this medieval idyll. As Steven Pinker points out in his book Enlightenment Now, if Cockaigne represents the ideal society, then arguably we’ve managed to create it in Western countries in the 21st century:

Hungry Europeans [once] titillated themselves with food pornography, such as tales of Cockaigne, a country where pancakes grew on trees, the streets were paved with pastry, roasted pigs wandered around with knives in their backs for easy carving, and cooked fish jumped out of the water and landed at one’s feet. Today we live in Cockaigne, and our problem is not too few calories but too many. As the comedian Chris Rock observed, “This is the first society in history where the poor people are fat.” 

(Pinker 2018, 69)

It’s an attractive idea, but I think Pinker is wrong. While we in the West (and elsewhere) may have created a world of relative food abundance, it’s clear that the mythical land of Cockaigne wasn’t just about food. It was also about sex, health, entertainment and politics. Cockaigne was a place where there was no illness or disease, an abundance of sexual pleasure and entertainment, and where the traditional power elites were taken down a peg or two. It was a ‘flat’ society, where everyone had what they wanted when they wanted it. I don’t think we have reached that quite yet.

Whether we should want to is another question. Utopias are, in principle, ideal societies. They radically improve upon our current lot. But what would actually count as a utopia is a matter of some debate. I don’t have any particular interest in whether Cockaigne represents the best that humanity can hope for — I suspect it does not — but I do have an interest in modern day utopian projects. Are they feasible? Are they desirable?

Transhumanism would seem to be the quintessential modern day utopian project. Transhumanists are trying to create a world of technological abundance and perfection. A world where we can control everything (our intelligence, our happiness, our lifespans) through technology. It’s a contemporary Cockaignian fantasy, updated for the technologically advanced age in which we now live.

But transhumanism can be criticised for these utopian leanings. Michael Hauskeller, in his article ‘Reinventing Cockaigne: Utopian themes in Transhumanist Thought’ claims that transhumanist philosophy — for all its sophisticated arguments and principles — is contaminated by its implicit and foundational utopianism. In this post, I want to try to understand Hauskeller’s argument. Is it true that Transhumanism is a utopianist philosophy? Does this really have disastrous consequences? Let’s see.


1. Is Transhumanism Utopian?
Hauskeller presents two main arguments in his article. The first is that there are direct analogues between transhumanism and classic works of utopian literature and, as a result, it is right and proper to refer to transhumanism as a form of utopianism. The second is that this utopianism has a contaminating effect on other transhumanist arguments. I’m far more interested in the second argument. Indeed, I’d be willing to simply concede the first argument just so we can get to the second. But Hauskeller spends far more time on the first argument and he does say some interesting things about the kind of utopianism you can find in the transhumanist literature. Let’s review them briefly.

First, some transhumanist works wear their utopian leanings on their sleeves. Nick Bostrom, for example, has written a ‘Letter from Utopia’ which is in an imaginary letter from a resident of a future transhumanist society to those of us living the early-21st century. In this imagined future there is an end to all suffering, ageing and disease. There is also an abundance of pleasure. Some of the things Bostrom says in this letter could be taken almost directly from the medieval myth of Cockaigne. For example:

Pleasure! A few grains of this magic ingredient are dearer than a king’s treasure, and we have plenty of it here in Utopia. It pervades everything we do and everything we experience. We sprinkle it in our tea. 

(Bostrom 2010)

David Pearce is another transhumanist who shares this Cockaignian outlook. He wants to eliminate suffering and ensure that we can experience sublime happiness all the time. He refers to this project, variously, as ‘paradise engineering’ and the ‘naturalisation of heaven’. The parallels between the work of both authors and the medieval myth of Cockaigne are, as Hauskeller points out, quite striking.

Second, Hauskeller argues that transhumanists share some of the utopian myths that you find among 16th century alchemists. Alchemy is popularly understood as the attempt to convert base metals into gold, but Hauskeller argues that this popular conception only scratches the surface of what the alchemists were trying to do. They were trying to unlock the secrets of the universe and attain a utopian existence. Breaking down the ontological barriers between different substances — base metals and gold — was the way to do this. It would allow them exercise perfect control over the natural order and attain the Elixir of Life. To do this, alchemists searched for a magical device — the Philosopher’s Stone — that would provide the means to their utopian ends.

Hauskeller argues that there are obvious parallels with the transhumanist project. Transhumanists are also trying to exercise perfect control over nature (specifically their own bodies and brains) and to find the Elixir of Life. They see technology, particular biotech and nanotech, as the means to do this. Thus, technology takes on a similar role to that of the Philosopher’s Stone:

Biotechnology promises to be the real Philosopher’s Stone, that elusive device that the alchemists so desperately tried to find and which would finally give them the power to reinvent the world so that it would match their desires. 

(Hauskeller 2012, 7)

Finally, Hauskeller argues that transhumanism conceives of the ideal form of existence not as a fixed endpoint but, rather, as an continual upward cycle of improvement. Through technology, we can constantly improve and enhance ourselves and our societies. This is not something that has to be brought to a halt. In other words, they echo and adopt one of the key shifts in modern day utopian thought away from ‘blueprint’ models of utopia to ‘horizonal’ models. I discussed this distinction previously, but the essence of it is nicely summed up in this quote from HG Wells (which Hauskeller uses):

The Modern Utopia must not be static but kinetic, must shape not as a permanent state but as a hopeful stage leading to a long ascent of stages. 

(Wells, A Modern Utopia)

Parallels and analogies of this sort lead Hauskeller to conclude that transhumanism is utopian to its core. It is a direct descendant of classic utopianism and it carries the torch of utopianism into the future. As I said, I’m happy to concede this point to Hauskeller. The deeper question is: does it matter? Does it undermine the transhumanist project in some way?


2. Does it matter? The Contamination Argument
There are two reasons for thinking that it doesn’t. The first is simply that utopianism is a good thing. It is a good thing that people articulate and defend possible ideal societies. We shouldn’t rest on our laurels and assume that our current way of life is the best. We should be open to the possibility of radical improvement. Transhumanism is a breath of fresh air in this regard. There are plenty of techno-pessimists and morose social critics out there. They all lament the state of humanity. Isn’t it nice to have people defend a more positive and hopeful outlook? So what if transhumanism is laced with utopian language and ideals.

The second reason is possibly more important. Even if it turns out that utopianism is not such a positive thing, there is still the fact that transhumanists have independent arguments for each of their pet projects. In other words, there are specific reasons why they think that, say, cognitive enhancement is a good thing, or that life extension is a good thing, or that happiness engineering is a good thing. Indeed, some of their arguments have become extremely elaborate over the years as they have responded to critics. Those arguments ultimately stand and fall on their own merits. Whether they are undergirded by a generally utopian outlook or leaning is, strictly speaking, irrelevant to their critical assessment. Call this the independence hypothesis:

Independence Hypothesis: The arguments for specific transhumanist projects (cognitive enhancement, genetic engineering, life extension, happiness engineering etc.) stand and fall on their own merits, i.e. they are independent of any underlying utopianism.

Hauskeller rejects both of these reasons. He think that utopianism is problematic and that transhumanist arguments are not independent from it. He favours what I would call a ‘contamination argument’ against transhumanism. He doesn’t set it out in formal terms, but I will make an attempt to do so here:

• (1) If a set of arguments (A1…An) in favour of a set of conclusions (C1…Cn) is (a) motivated by an underlying theory/ideology; (b) that ideology is flawed or problematic and (c) those flaws carry over into or get reflected in the premises of the arguments, then those arguments are contaminated by that theory/ideology.

• (2) The arguments that transhumanists offer in support of their projects are (a) motivated by an underlying theory/ideology of utopianism, (b) that ideology is flawed and problematic and (c) these flaws get reflected in the premises of the arguments.

• (3) Therefore, transhumanism is contaminated by utopianism.

I don’t know that Hauskeller would agree with this formalisation, but I think it captures what he is trying to do. Consider the following quote from his article:

Utopian ideas and images do not merely serve as motivational aids to get people to support the radical enhancement agenda, they also affect the very arguments that are proposed in favour of human self-transformation and in particular in support of the claim that it is our moral duty to develop and use technologies that make this happen. As philosophical arguments they appear to be self-contained, but in truth utopian ideas form the fertile soil from which those arguments grow, so that without them they would wither and die. 

(Hauskeller 2012, 11)

That sounds like a contamination argument if ever I saw one. Following my formalisation, for the contamination argument to succeed, Hauskeller will need to show that transhumanist arguments are (a) motivated by utopianism, (b) that utopianism is flawed and problematic, and (c) that these flaws carry over into the premises of transhumanist arguments. He thinks he can do this. Since I have already, effectively, conceded the first of these points, that leaves us with the other two.

As best I can tell, Hauskeller offers three main arguments in favour of (b) and (c). The first is that utopian visions or ideals tend to be incompletely sketched out. So a utopianist will come along and paint a seemingly pleasant picture — pleasure being sprinkled in our tea, lives being extended indefinitely, cognition being enhanced to an extreme — and extoll all the benefits of this utopian existence, but they won’t think it all the way through. They won’t consider all the unintended side effects of realising these utopian aims. What if we spend all day drinking endless cups of pleasure-infused tea, never lifting a finger to do great things? What if in our lust for life extension we become excessively risk averse and never take the risks needed to innovate and make things even better? Thinking things through is important. Utopian projects are laced with uncertainty. We don’t know exactly how things will pan out if we pursue them, and these unintended side effects might be pretty bad (even if they have a low probability of materialising). We cannot make do with the incomplete sketches of the utopian.

The claim then is this incompleteness carries over to the arguments in favour of transhumanist projects. Defenders of these arguments don’t think everything through. Is this true? Hauskeller gives some examples from the transhumanist literature and I think he makes a reasonable case. But I don’t think it is as significant as he lets on. Philosophical arguments are rarely complete in their initial presentation. It is part and parcel of the ordinary scholarly process that objections are formulated and replied to by the original defenders -- thrust and parry, argument and objection, example and counterexample. Through the constant iteration of the scholarly back-and-forth the arguments can be refined and strengthened. It was probably fair to say that transhumanist arguments were once guilty of incomplete specification, and naive utopianism, but I think if you follow the scholarly conversation through to the present day, you find that they are much less so. At least, that’s my sense of the current state of play. This does mean, however, that the arguments may have lost some of their utopian lustre. They may be more modest as a result of refinement. But that’s not necessarily a bad thing. I have long favoured what I would call a 'modest' form of transhumanism.

Hauskeller’s second argument is that utopianists often present their views with an air of inevitability. Social progression or human evolution is supposedly tending towards their utopian idyll. If we just let the cosmic dance play out to the end we will arrive at the utopian paradise. There is an element of this in Marxism and Hegelianism. There is also an element of it in transhumanist argumentation. Although transhumanists do offer arguments in favour of their projects, they often presuppose within the premises of those arguments the notion that the project is part of humanity’s destiny and/or that resistance is, in some sense, futile. This is problematic because it obscures the fact that we have a choice. Things are not inevitable. We must actively choose to pursue the transhumanist project, not simply sit back and enjoy the ride.

There are, of course, deep metaphysical questions at play here. Maybe there is some ultimate destiny to the universe? Maybe a particular future is inevitable? It would take too long to properly probe the metaphysical depths here. Nevertheless, I am willing to concede to Hauskeller that this tendency toward fatalism is a bit of a problem for transhumanists. It is often a way of avoiding hard argumentative work. The transhumanist will say — and I have been guilty of this myself — that ‘sure, you could object to X, but X is going to happen anyway so you may as well get used to it!’ Unless there are very good reasons for thinking that X is going to happen anyway, I think this move should be avoided. Strong independent reasons for thinking that X is desirable should be articulated.

Hauskeller’s third argument is that utopianism tends to make the better the enemy of the good. In other words, utopians are so busy imagining and planning for some wonderful future that they overlook or ignore what is good about our current form of existence. Indeed, they go further. In advocating for their utopian vision, they often denigrate or criticise what we currently have. They need to get people enthusiastic about the future and one way to do this is breed dissatisfaction with the present.

Again, I think there some element of truth to this. For example, I don’t think transhumanists should oversell the idea of life extension or digital ‘immortality’. Although I think it would be, on balance, a good thing if we could radically extend the human lifespan, I suspect that (a) this isn’t going to happen any time soon and (b) we are going to have to embrace death at some point. Fixating on the idea that death is a great evil that could be overcome if we only reprioritised our R&D seems naive to me. We have to live with our mortality. That said, I’m not convinced that the overselling of the future is always present in transhumanist arguments and I have, in some published work, challenged Hauskeller for assuming that transhumanist projects (specifically radical enhancement projets) necessarily entail making the (future) better the enemy of the (present) good. Indeed, I think that certain transhumanist aims are about recognising and conserving what is good about our current existence.


3. Conclusion
In sum, Hauskeller criticises transhumanism for its latent or implicit utopianism. In this post I have conceded that transhumanism may be utopianist in its leanings, but pushed back against the notion that this is a major problem. Although Hauskeller makes some reasonable critiques of transhumanist rhetoric, the more careful, extensively developed, philosophical arguments for transhumanist projects can, I think, escape any charge of contamination.

I want to close with one final point. Even though I conceded the utopian leanings of transhumanism to Hauskeller, there are some well-known transhumanists who resist this idea. Stefan Lorenz Sorgner, for example, has recently written a defence of an anti-utopian transhumanism. I recommend checking it out if you are interested in this debate.

Subscribe to the newsletter