A Discussion of Transhumanism


It’s a difficult world that we live in. It’s a world of expectations and everyone seems to expect different things from it. As some would have it, we are to submit to the pseudo-random flux that is evolution. A biologist might define evolution as: the change in allele frequencies in a population over time.

Humans have the unique ability in all the animals on Earth to sort of transcend their instincts. We can act in ways that are contrary to the way we have evolved to act, in other words. I’m not trying to get into a free will debate here, but the fact remains that our ability to perceive evolution for what it is allows us to make reasoned judgments about it. It allows us the unique ability to consciously manipulate it.

Creationists often argue that evolution has never been observed in a lab. Apparently they have never heard of the Westminster Kennel Club.

As the technology for gene manipulation becomes every more sophisticated, a debate is growing about the ethical implications of so-called designer babies. I have very clear objections for eugenics, but as long as gene-screening of embryos is freely available to everybody who wants a child–and not available exclusively to the filthy rich–then what’s the harm? Everyone has a different idea of what beautiful is. What can possibly be wrong with giving your children a little extra edge in the uphill battle for survival?

What I wanted to talk about today is a little different than designer babies, however. I’m almost thirty years old. I’m past the point where my genes could be screened and I could be selected out of a pot of possible embryos. My Adonis-like beauty and Einsteinian intelligence were the result of good old fashioned chance. But that’s it. There’s no way I can improve myself further at the genetic level.

But are there other options? I came across this article today on Science Daily and it got me thinking. There’s a lot of technology being developed for people who lose limbs. This particular new technology is promising because it involves laying microelectrodes on the surface of the brain, rather than embedding them within the neural tissue as a way of detecting neural impulses, translating them, and using them as a computer interface or as a method of controlling a bionic limb. I actually really like that the article uses the words “bionic limb,” terminology that used to be the playground of science fiction writers.

So far, the technology is able to improve the lives of crippled individuals. It is not, however, capable of bringing them back to full power, so to speak. The question that we must entertain at this point is: what happens when it is?

What happens when bionic limbs meet–or exceed–the capabilities of our natural limbs?

Bionics and cybernetics are pretty science fictiony, but this article shows that dramatic progress has been made in the field, and perhaps in ten or twenty years viable, lifelike appendages can be attached with all the articulation of a real hand. But maybe they’re better and stronger than before! A wounded soldier with his purple heart proudly pinned on his cybernetic chest stands tall and proud among a crowd of normal people. He smiles benignly upon them, only dimly remembering the day when he was a mere mortal. He holds his metallic fist above his head, a salute to his great-great-grandfather who had nothing but a leather-wrapped stick to bite down on when the field medic went at his gangrenous leg with a rusty hacksaw.

It’s not that far-fetched!

And even if it were, what are the ethical implications? It’s called “transhumanism.” One could call it forced human evolution. It is a movement that supports the use of biotechnology to augment the human body, not just in the case of injury, but as a voluntary act. A purposeful denial of the limitations of our naturally selected man-bodies. The idea that injury, aging, disease, and death are involuntary and undesirable carries a lot of merit.

Buddhists spend their entire lives attempting to overcome suffering, but their approach is holistic. It emphasizes acceptance of things that can’t be changed. Transhumanism, as a philosophy, urges people to reject the notion that their body is a temple that should not be altered. Body-modification as art is one thing. Body-modification in the name of utility, physical improvement, and life affirmation is another matter entirely.

Robocop spent three films trying to regain his lost humanity, and this is one of the possible perils of transhumanism (also called “posthumanism”). Nietzsche’s description of the Overman is one who has surpassed humankind, but still cares for the transience and vitality that humankind represents.

Bear in mind that evolution short-changes us. Humans are not the pinnacle of evolution. We are merely the product of a natural mechanism that allows animals that are “fit” to survive. As any biologist will tell you, an accurate description of it would be “survival of the sufficiently fit.” In other words, that which survives, survives. All a human needs to do is survive to reproduce. That’s it. In fact, that’s easy. All sorts of terrible maladies and suffering can crop up after that deed is done. Cancer. Osteoporosis. Heart disease. Love handles. And what’s worse? We pass those tendencies on to our children because it’s easy to reproduce.

The question is whether or not we want to accept the qualities that natural selection has, somewhat arbitrarily, assigned to us, or do we wish to strive for something greater? Do we make ourselves something new and distinct? Do we push the limits of human potential?

Some extra reading is important. I highly recommend anything by Nick Bostrom. He’s a professor at Oxford and a noted transhumanist philosopher. Specifically, look at:

In the end, it’s not about whether or not you value human life. Everyone except the most staunch sociopaths value human life. It’s about whether you value human life enough to go beyond it.

do svidania

Why Transformers 2 is not a terrible movie

Or: Roger Ebert takes himself too seriously.


On my old blog, I wrote an analysis of the original Transformers movie in light of memetic theory. It bore the title, “Do you really think we can trust the Decepticons?”

It was common in eighties action cartoons, like Transformers, to have an episode where the “good guys” and the “bad guys” team up to defeat a common foe. It happened in He-Man. It happened in GI-Joe. It happened in Transformers. One could presumably imagine a conversation, not necessarily with Captain Picard and Jeff Goldblum (who is not quite dead yet), in this episode of Transformers. The penultimate line in the image, the dramatic crux upon which the entire exchange rests, would be delivered completely without irony. As a child, I would have been too caught up in the drama to notice this lack. Or even to understand that there probably ought to be a snicker or a guffaw.

I read Roger Ebert’s review of Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen after I saw the movie. Though I suspect that if the order were reversed, I might have made a concerted effort to enjoy it even more than I did. In fact, in light of some of the reviews, I find myself looking for reasons to like the movie. I don’t know why I dislike Ebert so intensely. I mean, it’s obvious that he’s not seeing eye to eye with me ever. I mean, can everyone agree that he’s utterly incorrect about Star Trek?

Everything Ebert says is true: the plot is nonsensical, the characters are vapid and shallow, the movie is loud. The question: what’s wrong with that?

I guess it’s a question of expectations. I was expecting something on par with the first movie. What I got was something that actually corrected several of the problems with the first movie. I went to the film expecting (and desiring) a 2.5 hour robot slugfest. And you know what? Michael Bay delivered. This shit was crazy!

In the first film, it was difficult to see much of the action. In this new iteration, he did a few things to make the action more intelligible and i applaud him for it. First of all, he chose his environments with more care. The scene where Optimus dukes it out with Megatron and Starscream in the woods was great because the camera could sit farther back, and the robots stood out against the vegetation. It was easily one of my favorite scenes in the film.

His use of slow motion was nice as well. This gave us an opportunity to see, in detail, the results of some of these blows. I mean, a giant robot has to put some pretty tremendous power behind a punch. I could barely contain myself when Bumblebee stripped that dog robot down to its spine, or when another robot got its face ripped in half.

A friend of mine pointed out afterwards, using the word “Cronenbergian,” the use of fluids and ichors and sinus invasion with some of the robots. It was seriously that creepy in spots.

I liked the look of the robots. In particular, his use of very small robots was cool. Hordes of tiny robots are to giant robots what hordes of scorpions are to grizzly bears. They are all terrifying, but for very different reasons.

There are obviously a ton of plot holes and problems with this film. It’s not a “great” film. It’s not even a “good” film. But it certainly isn’t terrible and it’s for this reason that the film manages to succeed. It has excellent pacing for it’s length. There was always something happening and I wasn’t bored. I was looking for a particular type of entertainment and I got it.

This movie shows that a movie doesn’t have to be great in order to deliver on a promise.

The question of why this movie is far superior to the Wolverine movie of earlier this summer is much more complex. They both appeal to the same primitive emotions. They both aim at the same goal: a re-imagining of an old franchise. But somehow Wolverine felt like it was written by a fourteen-year-old. Transformers 2 felt like it was written by an adult for the fourteen-year-old in all of us. Except Roger Ebert.

Look at that old pretentious fuddy-duddy:

Assumed to be fair use.

Assumed to be fair use.


Why Terminator Salvation is not a terrible movie.


Spoilers follow.

If you were to follow my Twitter, you’d know that I watched Terminator Salvation yesterday. You’d also know that my reaction to the movie was positive. And so I won’t bore you with a review of the film, but instead, an analysis. Lots of people who make lots more money than I do have already reviewed the crap out of it and they got to see it before it was officially released. I am not in a position to get special screenings and so I’ll take the high road and rely on the far less time-dependent nature of analysis. I mean, they’re still analyzing Plato and that was sooo last millennium.

Most good science fiction stories are based on a simple idea. It is usually possible to distill the essence of the story into a “what if” type of question. Since the Terminator franchise is science fiction, it seems to follow that there’s an idea somewhere in underlying story, the action, the explosions and the scary freaking skeleton robots. The first Terminator movie is by far the best thing the genre has created. And the germ that lies at the heart of this now sprawling franchise might have a pitch that looks something like this:

What if a robot assassin from the future were sent back in time to kill a woman before she can give birth the savior of mankind?

From this germ, the idea is expanded. We already have, of course, the robot apocalypse. We also have time travel. And then, to make things even more crazy, the savior, upon discovering this plot, sends one of his best soldiers back in time to stop the robot assassin. Even better? The soldier sent back is the one who will sire the savior of mankind.

It’s a brilliant story, but it can only go so far.

We can make one decent sequel. The robots try again, sending a more advanced robot this time, armed with the newest in CGI technology. This time, the savior sends a reprogrammed robot assassin back in time to save his own rebellious teenage ass. It follows pretty well. It makes sense. At the very least, it’s fun. It still needs little to no extra explanation. It holds its own as a science fiction story. Maybe it’s not as good as the original, but it’s got our attention. We get all that emotional garble that is admittedly pretty seamlessly integrated, but still shows a very common tendency in science fiction to ask the question, “What if robots had feelings? Does that make them human?” The thing that saves it is that most of the world didn’t know that it was a cliché, though plenty of science fiction nerds did.

I have a confession to make. I have never seen T3. It looked really bad and while I usually will get around to seeing just about everything that even remotely appeals to my science fiction sensibility–I saw Wolverine twice and I hated it the first time around–I somehow managed to miss this one. Based on what I’ve read, I haven’t missed much and that doesn’t surprise me. It seems like a backhanded attempt to make further cash-money by rehashing the same damned plot from T2 with a hot chick terminator. Absurdly bad sci-fi.

That brings us to Terminator Salvation and what it means for the franchise and what it means as science fiction. Schwarzenegger was apparently treated to an early screening and was “underwhelmed.” To be fair, he didn’t see the whole movie, but he said he “wasn’t sure who the terminator was,” which is a pretty telling remark of a)Schwarzenegger’s complete ignorance of anything of substance and b)the fact that this is not a “terminator film,” in the sense of T1 and T2. It’s a completely different type of story. You see, Terminator 2 was really a remake disguised as a sequel. Same plot. Same characters. Slightly different take.

What are the common elements of the first two films? Robot assassin, time travel. T4 is missing the time travel element, though it retains the robot assassin designed to blend into a human society. But at its heart, it draws from a completely different science fiction mode. This is a post-apocalyptic film. It’s in the vein of Mad Max, A Boy and his Dog, and, well, most of Harlan Ellison’s stuff. The other films were, more properly, pre-apocalyptic films. In the original films, Judgment Day is a sort of vaguely defined event some time in the future. It’s a fearful event just beyond our vision. It’s mysterious, terrifying, and the fact that it is unknowable is what makes it so terrifying. In T4, it’s a history lesson. It happened a while ago.

This is what I mean by the fact that it totally abandons the original concept of the former films and draws upon something artificial, that is, the specific mythos of the original films with which to build its story. The first two (or three) films were based on the same idea and were, in essence, iterations of the same idea (two different tellings of the same idea, though passed of as sequential). This new creature continues chronologically, but not necessarily building on the original concept. It is, instead, based on the specific plot events that transpired in the original films.

The original film is pure and undiluted. Characters were created to fill necessary roles in a drama based on a “what if?” question. The new film is answers the question “What happens next?” if Judgement Day were to actually occur. Thus the original idea is diluted and it is now about something completely different. Put another way, the first film answers the “what if?” question and the second film, answers a second “what if?” question using the end of the first film as its initial conditions.

Again, at its core, it could be any robot apocalypse movie. The fact that it draws from an established mythos is beside the point. All this gives us is easy plotting: John Connor has to save his teenage father so that he can send him back in time to shack up with his mother. The rest of it is essentially the same as any apocalypse movie (zombie, robot, nuclear, or otherwise): Survive.

In other words, the proper way to make Terminator 4 would be to say, “Let’s make a robot apocalypse movie” and then use the Terminator mythos as a convenient vehicle for setting up the scenario that plays out in the film. In many ways, it feels like this is exactly what McG did.

Understanding the film from this perspective, we can see that it’s actually pretty stupendous. Post-apocalyptic movies should be terrifying. That giant robot is damned terrifying–the sound effects are pretty key in establishing this tension, I might add. In fact, zombie and robot apocalypse movies have a lot in common in this respect.

In some ways, it is still a “Terminator” movie. Skynet employs a lone robot assassin in an attempt to kill John Connor. The twist is that the robot assassin doesn’t know that he’s a robot assassin. He thinks he’s a human. That’s cool. I can get behind that.

In the end, however, this is just too different a film to actually be thought to spawn from the same original idea as James Cameron conceived it. As a standalone story, it’s solid–decent action, tolerable acting, fair-to-decent scripting, excellent pacing–and that’s how it should be viewed.

After all, it’s been a while since we’ve had a good robot apocalypse movie. At the very least, it’s a hundred times better than the last two Matrix films, though for accomplishing that, I don’t think we should give McG a medal or anything. Just a pat on the back, I think.

Star Trek: An Analysis


I went and saw Star Trek. It’s good. Not great. Not even the best Star Trek film. But I liked it. And that being said, the debate about whether it is or is not Star Trek is a little absurd. The thing that really impressed me about this movie is that they did something that I don’t think I’ve ever seen in a franchise like this. They managed to maintain narrative continuity while changing the past. Old Spock from the future is not from the same future that New Spock will one day inhabit. It will be a totally different future with all sorts of different adventures and, probably, a lot more sex.

This means that they can produce a number of new films (probably somewhere between three and four) set in a new alternate world that remains cohesive with the original series and films. It’s actually a pretty elegant solution to a problem with origin stories. Look at the disaster that is the Wolverine movie. They tried to make a film that outlines Wolverine’s back story but also introduce some sort of new story, and they find themselves in the position where they try to do far too many things with one film. I mean, the film I wanted to see was Wolverine in his youth, fighting all sorts of wars, living in Victorian Canada, etc. That would be interesting. Better yet, they should have had Ang Lee direct it; he’s got lots of experience with Victorian films and action films. Combine the two and we’ve got something very interesting.

“I say, Logan, those are some very sharp claws you have?”
“Why, yes, I believe they are. Why, did you know, that I can slice through metal with these?”
“Indeed? What are they made of?”
“Oh, it’s this wonderful new material called ‘adamantium.'”
“I say, that is fascinating. Will you be coming round for tea this afternoon?”
“I do think that sounds delightful.”
“Wonderful, I’ll have the butler make up some cucumber sandwiches.”

That’s the film I wanted to see. Instead we got garbage that was obviously written by fourteen-year-olds.

Instead of falling into these usual pitfalls, we got something unique, quirky, and altogether new. They rewrote the story, made it something fresh, and included some things that old Trekkies can relate to without having the opportunity to be overly critical about plot continuity. Zachary Quinto’s Spock is not Leonard Nimoy’s Spock, but he captures the same essence of what it is to be Spock. Since he’s the only one we see on screen with his future (and former) self, he’s perfect for comparison, but I’d even say that Chris Pine manages to pull out a pretty convincing Shatner without actually being too Shanter-ish. I mean, the only one who can really do Shatner and not be a parody is Shatner. He makes the character his own, while managing to convince us that he is, in fact, James Kirk.

Simon Pegg was brilliant.

Another thing that’s truly remarkable about the film is the fact that it is not a parody. It does not poke fun. Perhaps it’s the fact that Star Trek has already been parodied to death that made something like this possible. It couldn’t be a parody. It’s been done. They were forced to do something new. Something that really seemed like serious science fiction in the vein of Star Trek became inevitable. And that’s what it is: standalone science fiction in the vein of Star Trek. It is not the original series. It’s not TNG. It’s not the original films. It’s an entirely new beast and whether or not it’s actually Star Trek is beside the point. The film is damned fun to watch and has a lot of things going for it.

The first time I encountered the idea of alternate realities was Back to the Future II. You know, the one where Michael J. Fox goes to the future and buys the sports almanac and then future Biff Tannen (not unlike future Spock) steals the Delorean and brings himself the sports almanac in the past so that he can get rich and not be an old loser. In fact, it’s pretty much the same plot as Star Trek, now that I think about it.

In many ways, by making this an alternate reality film, they’ve freed themselves of the constraints of a franchise held in the clutches of legions of anal retentive fans and fact-checkers.

As a parting word, I think it would be best to say up front, that while I am not a “Trekkie” I did once go to a Star Trek convention and found myself sitting right next to John Delancie. Yes, that John Delancie. But that’s a story for another day. Suffice to say, I was too star struck to say hi, but I did get his autograph.

The film is not without its logical flaws (why exactly did they send Spock with quite so much of the doomsday goop?), but it just goes to show that a solid narrative style, reasonably good acting, and a fun tone can keep any story from falling flat.