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Antichrist in the Machine
09/02/2003

About a third of the way through The Physics of Immortality, I'm starting to think that Frank Tipler's "Omega Point" could literally be the Antichrist. Unless the rest of the book proves me wrong in my general expectations, I intend to write a Just Thinking column explaining why when I'm done reading. But here is the paragraph (from page 87) on which the impression thus far hinges:

A "person" is defined by qualities of mind and soul, not by a particular bodily form. Adolf Hitler disagreed with this definition, of course. He defined "person" in terms of bodily form and tried to prevent the reproduction of all people who were not "Aryans." He nearly succeeded in preventing Jewish reproduction: when the Second World War had ended, 70% of all the Jews in Europe were dead. If one rejects the philosophical basis of racism, one must accept the implications of such rejection: one must oppose any laws restricting the creation or reproduction of intelligent machines.

To understand what makes this largely altruistic-sounding argument so abhorrent, you have to consider how it is that Tipler defines "soul." As a scientist, he begins with the premise that what cannot be measured must therefore not exist. He takes human beings, essentially, to be machines that "run" their personalities; in other words, my brain is just a computer "running" the program of Justin Katz. That program is Tipler's "soul." From this position, he argues that, if one can converse with a computer, asking random questions requiring the semblance of creativity and opinion, without being able to distinguish the experience from conversing with a human, the computer must therefore be a "person."

The missing, as yet immeasurable, component is the very idea of "soul" that such scientists reject (in part to insist upon the primacy of their own vocations). From what I've gathered, thus far, the "resurrection" that Tipler promises is merely an emulation — a future computer that will run every program ever written. The problem — one that Tipler has not addressed throughout the first third of the book — is that this isn't what most people mean by "me." Suppose I die and a clone of me is created the next day; would the "I" who has died have the sensation of reawakening? Not based on any evidence that I've seen. Similarly, while it is not impossible that "intelligent machines" will tap into whatever force or pool of consciousness gives humans this immeasurable quality (in religious terms, that God will grant souls to them), it does not seem likely — particularly given the type of people who will program the initial machines.

According to Tipler's predictions, these machines will permeate the universe, ultimately guiding the universe's collapse toward a specific end. What makes this indicative of the Antichrist is something that I'll dive into, as I said, when I've finished reading the book. But it is enough, for now, to consider "the implications" of what Tipler is suggesting. A world in which intelligent machines are "persons" is one in which unintelligent human beings are not. In other words, while Tipler makes a laughably underhanded attempt to paint "human supremacists" as akin to Nazis, it is actually his encouraged future that will lead to euthanasia. Nietzsche's "Supermen" will merely be robots, with scientific advancement as their uniting "religion." It isn't race, ethnicity, nationality, or sexuality that will define the Higher Persons, but processing power. The fact that Tipler's scenario will require the dismantling of planets shows that individual instances of life will have no claims to value in the face of the perpetuation of the "biosphere" (into which he somewhat disingenuously slips these robots).

Tipler taunts, "To those people [who remain human supremacists], let me point out the consequences of your position: your permanent and very final death, and the death of your children." Not if we believe in the one thing that scientists explicitly reject, and that Tipler, as an assumption, denies: that there is a plane of existence that science cannot (yet) confirm; that there is a spiritual God. Ironically, Tipler's very premise leaves us no reason to prefer his version of a future in which our children are revived as emulations. By his argument, as I currently understand it to be, I will still experience that "very final death," but a computer simulation that acts like me will someday exist. The fact that he considers this to be an emotional trump card suggests to me that he ought to spend some time considering where it comes from.

Perhaps needless to say, at this point, I feel called, as a Christian, to work toward a society in which science is handled within the appropriate boundaries — to which scientists themselves admit — without redefining them as the boundaries of reality.

Posted by Justin Katz @ 09:52 PM EST