Transhumanism/Jewish Mysticism

James Steinhoff Department of Information and Media StudiesUniversity of Western Ontario [email protected] Journal of Evolution and Technology - Vol. 24 Issue 2 – May 2014 - pgs 1-16Abstract

There exists a real dearth of literature available to Anglophones dealing with philosophical connections between transhumanism and Marxism. This is surprising, given the existence of works on just this relation in the other major European languages and the fact that 47 per cent of people surveyed in the 2007 Interests and Beliefs Survey of the Members of the World Transhumanist Association identified as “left,” though not strictly Marxist (Hughes 2008). Rather than seeking to explain this dearth here, I aim to contribute to its being filled in by identifying three fundamental areas of similarity between transhumanism and Marxism. These are: the importance of material conditions, and particularly technological advancement, for revolution; conceptions of human nature; and conceptions of nature in general. While it is true that both Marxism and (especially) transhumanism are broad fields that encompass diverse positions, even working with somewhat generalized characterizations of the two reveals interesting parallels and dissimilarities fruitful for future work.

This comparison also shows that transhumanism and Marxism can learn important lessons from one another that are complementary to their respective projects. I suggest that Marxists can learn from transhumanists two lessons: that some “natural” forces may become reified forces and the extent to which the productive apparatus is now relevant to revolution. Transhumanists, on the other hand, can learn from Marxist theory the essentially social nature of the human being and the ramifications this has for the transformation of the human condition and for the forms of social organization compatible with transhumanist aims. Transhumanists can also benefit from considering the relevance of Marx’s theory of alienation to their goals of technological advancement.

The term “transhumanism” was coined by evolutionary biologist Julian Huxley in 1957. In a short paper bearing the same neologism as its title, he asserts that:

The human species can, if it wishes, transcend itself – not just sporadically, an individual here in one way, an individual there in another way, but in its entirety, as humanity. We need a name for this new belief. Perhaps transhumanism will serve: man remaining man, but transcending himself, by realizing new possibilities of and for his human nature. (Huxley 1957)

This early formulation contains the kernel of transhumanism, which is the desirability and feasibility of the self-directed evolution or transcendence of humanity beyond its current form or nature. Recently, philosopher Max More has offered this more precise definition:

Transhumanism is both a reason-based philosophy and a cultural movement that affirms the possibility and desirability of fundamentally improving the human condition by means of science and technology. Transhumanists seek the continuation and acceleration of the evolution of intelligent life beyond its currently human form and human limitations by means of science and technology, guided by life-promoting principles and values. (More 2009)

Transhumanism indicates a transitional state on the road to a posthuman state. This transition is to be accomplished primarily by technological means in a transfer of control over the process of evolution from natural selection to conscious human direction. The possibility of taking control of evolution is not a specifically transhumanist belief. Diverse non-transhumanist thinkers such as political scientist Francis Fukuyama and sociobiologist E.O. Wilson acknowledge the coming reality of “volitional evolution” or “a species deciding what to do about its own heredity,” as Wilson puts it (1998, 299). What is distinctly transhumanist is the optimism with which the prospects of volitional evolution are regarded. Fukuyama calls for “humility” regarding human nature and fears that transhumanists will “deface humanity with their genetic bulldozers and psychotropic shopping malls” (Fukuyama 2004). Transhumanists, by contrast, desire to use such new and emerging technologies as genetics, robotics, artificial intelligence, and nanotechnology to achieve ambitious goals: the elimination of disease; radical life extension (even immortality);1 the creation of substrate-independent minds (capable of being uploaded to non-biological systems);2 augmented or virtual realities; and enhanced intellectual, physical, aesthetic and ethical capabilities. Some transhumanists even aim at the abolition of all forms of suffering for all sentient life.3

This is not to say, as many critics have, that transhumanists blithely dismiss the prospects of technological advancements going horribly wrong. Nick Bostrom, in particular, has written much about “existential risks” or the possibilities that new technologies present for the extinction of life on earth (Bostrom 2002). Nonetheless, many transhumanists prefer a “Proactionary Principle” of rational risk-assessment, as More (2005) puts it, as opposed to a “Precautionary Principle” of excessive safeguarding regarding technological developments.

Politically, transhumanists have covered the spectrum. Proto-transhumanists such as molecular biologist J.D. Bernal and geneticist/evolutionary biologist J.B.S. Haldane were Marxists, Bernal being a member of the Communist Party of Great Britain, while Haldane was an external supporter of the Party. Riccardo Campa, chair of the Associazione Italiana Transumanisti (AIT), expresses “only conditional confidence” in the power of markets and asserts that if “market mechanisms do not deliver, we should have to consider socializing what are, from the transhumanist point of view, the key sectors” (Campa 2008).

On a different note, Max More and most of those subscribing to his brand of transhumanism (known as Extropianism) originally espoused anarcho-capitalist views. However, in the past decade More has tended more toward liberal democracy. Ray Kurzweil has not written explicitly on his political stance, but one can safely assume that his views lie somewhere not far from liberal, capitalistic democracy, given his entrepreneurial career and frequent assertions of liberal democratic rights. H+ (formerly The World Transhumanist Association), of which Nick Bostrom is a co-founder, is explicitly a liberal democratic organization.

In the past few years, rumors and accusations concerning transhumanist fascists have been buzzing about the Italian transhumanist community. The “overhumanists” or “sovrumanists” (from the Italian “sovrumanismo”), a group of members within the ITA, have been accused of fascist tendencies.4 As I have not been able to read any of the purportedly fascist texts (Stefano Vaj’s Biopolitica being the most prolifically accused), I leave this discussion untouched. Suffice to say that the allegations lend some support to an appearance that transhumanists range widely across the political spectrum.

James Hughes (2001) suggests that leftist thought and transhumanist ideas parted ways after the experience of Nazi eugenics and that the two are only beginning to meet up again indirectly: through Donna Haraway’s cyborgology, speculative fiction, some radical green movements, and various other dispersed projects. Hughes, himself a transhumanist sociologist, argues for a “democratic transhumanism.” He writes: “For transhumanism to achieve its own goals it needs to distance itself from its anarcho-capitalist roots and its authoritarian mutations, clarify its commitments to liberal democratic institutions, values and public policies, and work to reassure skittish publics and inspire them with Big Projects” (Hughes 2001). Yet as the WTA survey shows, 47 per cent of transhumanists surveyed identify as “left,” so transhumanism and the left would seem to have already been reunited. Perhaps the pertinent thing to do now is to search around “inside” the left for useful political bits and pieces that do not originate from liberal democracy – particularly, Marxism.

Marxism is a staunchly materialist philosophy. It rejects all notions of higher realms, “spirit,” and immaterial substance. Marx’s philosophy is an appropriation of the Hegelian dialectical form, but Marx rejected Hegel’s assertion that the subject of the dialectical movement is abstract spirit or mind that exists above humans and achieves its true form as Absolute Knowledge. For Marx, thought must begin with “real premises from which abstraction can only be made in imagination … [from] real individuals, their activity and the material conditions under which they live” (Marx 1978, 149). “Life is not determined by consciousness,” says Marx, “but consciousness by life” (Marx 1978, 155). Marxism is concerned with the concrete, material details of the lives of individuals. The material conditions of the relations and means of production produce the situations and systems in which individuals live and by which their conceptions of reality are determined. The social problems of private property and alienation arise from the material reality of the means of production being owned by the capitalist class. Thus Marx’s projected socialist revolution has as a necessary condition a change in the material conditions of society.

We can note two key aspects of revolution for Marx. First, revolution must be eminently practical and not merely theoretical. Marx writes: “all forms and products of consciousness cannot be dissolved by mental criticism … only by the practical overthrow of the actual social relations ... that not criticism, but revolution is the driving force of history” (Marx 1973, 164). The socialist revolution will not occur because scathing critiques of capitalism are written, or even by widespread understanding of the contradictions of capitalism – the actual relations of production must be overturned by real people. Workers must seize the means of production. This, however, can only be achieved, Marx says, through the advancement of the productive forces.

Thus the second key aspect: that technological advancement is a necessary precondition for revolution. Marx holds that to achieve a socialist society one of the first priorities of the revolutionary proletariat must be to “centralise all instruments of production in the hands of the State … to increase the total of productive forces as rapidly as possible” (Marx 1978, 490). Through automation and new technologies, the productive forces should be enhanced so that less and less actual human labor is required to produce the goods necessary for satisfying human needs. The idea is that humans need to have easy access to and abundant quantities of the necessities of life (including time itself) if they are to seek a way of life beyond mere survival. Marx holds: “slavery cannot be abolished without the steam-engine and the mule and spinning-jenny, serfdom cannot be abolished without improved agriculture … people cannot be liberated as long as they are unable to obtain food and drink, housing and clothing in adequate quality and quantity” (Marx 1978, 169). It is thus only in a society in which machines perform much of the labor required for human survival that humans can achieve revolutionarily new ways of living.

Most transhumanists are also materialists. The 2007 WTA Survey shows that 64 per cent of those surveyed identify as secular/atheist, while 31 per cent are spread widely across several subcategories of “Religious or spiritual” identifications and 5 per cent describe their beliefs as “Other.” Even the non-secular transhumanists agree that changes to the material conditions of the world are instrumental to the achievement of transhumanist revolution. Indeed, The Mormon Transhumanist Association (MTA) proclaims that humanity’s power over the material world is what will lead to a realization of the objects of traditionally spiritual yearning. The MTA website lists “affirmations” such as:

We believe that scientific knowledge and technological power are among the means ordained of God to enable [the spiritual and physical] exaltation [of individuals and their anatomies, as well as their communities and environments] including realization of diverse prophetic visions of transfiguration, immortality, resurrection, renewal of this world, and the discovery and creation of worlds without end.5

It is therefore safe to say that all transhumanists agree that technological development is necessary for revolution, although it is true that for transhumanists what counts as advanced technology is considerably beyond anything imagined by Marx. Many transhumanists posit the technological Singularity as a necessary precondition for their sense of revolution, which is the transition to a posthuman state. On one popular interpretation, the Singularity is the projected moment in the future when artificial intelligence (AI) reaches human-level capabilities. Since technology evolves at an exponential rate far exceeding biological evolution, the theory is that AI will quickly outstrip human intelligence by several magnitudes and will continue to evolve at blinding speed. This explosion of intelligence will produce unimaginable change, advanced technologies, and ideas that will be essential in the creation of the posthuman. Ray Kurzweil calls the advent of human-level AI an event of importance equaling the advent of biology itself (2005, 296).

While not all transhumanists are Singularitarians, it is always the prospects of advanced technology that make a transhumanist revolution feasible. Goals such as radical life extension, increased cognitive capacity, and increased well-being are generally not sought through spiritual or mystical means such as transcendental meditation, revelation, or divine communion, but through the increasing sophistication of technology. Thus transhumanists support research programs and/or business ventures they believe will advance the human ability to revolutionarily modify the material world. Nick Bostrom emphasizes the narrow locus of transhumanist change:

As you advance, the horizon will recede. The transformation is profound, but it can be as gradual as the growth that made the baby you were into the adult you think you are. You will not achieve this through any magic trick or hokum, nor by the power of wishful thinking, nor by semantic acrobatics, meditation, affirmation, or incantation. And I do not presume to advise you on matters theological. I urge on you nothing more, nothing less, than reconfigured physical situation. (Bostrom 2010, 4)

Also evident here is a call for practical, rather than merely theoretical, revolution in the transhumanist openness to synthetic augmentation of the biological body and brain. Nanotechnology, for example, is a commonly cited way of augmenting the material condition of the body: it has been suggested that digestion, healing, and synaptic processes will be augmented or taken over by nanobots that will perform these functions better. Says Bostrom: “The roots of suffering are planted deep in your brain. Weeding them out and replacing them with nutritious crops of well-being will require advanced skills and instruments for the cultivation of your neuronal soil” (2010, 6). The idea is that practical modification of the human condition at the bodily level is needed to produce social change – theorizing is not enough. We may have to download our consciousnesses to synthetic systems to conquer death. In Bostrom’s words: “Your body is a deathtrap … You are lucky to get seven decades of mobility; eight if you be Fortuna’s darling. That is not sufficient to get started in a serious way, much less to complete the journey. Maturity of the soul takes longer” (2010, 4). Ignoring the poeticism of “the soul” here, the notion is that augmented bodies that are less susceptible to disease, hunger, and decay could give people more time to concern themselves with their freely chosen life-activities instead of the vagaries of quotidian existence and the demands imposed by capitalism.

Nanotechnology also presents the theoretical possibility of assemblers that can manipulate matter at the molecular and atomic levels to construct anything conceivable by the laws of physics.6 Such machines would need only a supply of raw materials to work with, coupled with a power supply and instructions, to produce all kinds of human needs and wants, ranging from computers to tools to the very Star Trek-esque possibility of food and drink. Echoing Marx, transhumanists might say that the abolition of (paid) slavery is impossible without a superabundance provided by molecular assemblers or that liberation from the bodily death trap is impossible without strong AI.

Here is the first point that Marxists should take note of: the extent of technological development required for a revolutionary shift in human existence might be much higher than merely the massive automation of labor. Advanced or theoretical technologies such as molecular assemblers might be required to wrest production from the hands of the capitalists. Molecular assemblers present the possibility of very cheap production of almost any product. It is surely too optimistic to say that molecular assemblers might lead to the total destruction of the commodity form, but it seems likely that even a moderately wide spread of such technology would seriously undermine the capitalist system.7 There would simply be no need for the industrial production of most products if families or communities were able to produce those products themselves.

Advanced technological development not only presents the possibility of the elimination of dehumanizing labor. It presents more fundamental changes in the material basis of production – the potential elimination of the feasibility of large-scale centralized production and potentially the destruction of exchange-value. Marx understands exchange-value as an abstraction, determined solely by market forces, tacked onto an object that obscures its actual qualities or use-value (Marx 1978, 307). With widespread molecular assembling technology available, the cost of a product would be reduced almost to the cost of information – the instructions required for the assembler to build that product – since raw materials would be of minimal cost and the machine would perform the labor of assembling. Of course, if information remains commodified then a capitalist system could continue to thrive. However, we are currently witnessing the difficulties with commodifying information in the Global North’s “war on piracy.” It seems unlikely that anything short of an openly totalitarian regime could effectively stamp out information piracy. In short, transhumanism contains an exhortation to Marxists to keep abreast of the particulars of new technologies and to engage with them critically, looking for the unique revolutionary (and counter-revolutionary) potentials they hold.

Transhumanists should here consider that Marx argues that the centralization of the productive apparatus by the revolutionary proletariat is of fundamental importance to the acceleration of productive capacity. This is because, for Marx, capitalist production divorces or alienates the worker from the activity she engages in, subjecting her instead to “alien” powers – her employer’s need for profit. Marx elaborates:

the division of labour offers us the first example of how … as long as a cleavage exists between the particular and the common interest, as long, therefore, as activity is not voluntarily … divided, man’s own deed becomes an alien power opposed to him, which enslaves him instead of being controlled by him. For as soon as the distribution of labour comes into being, each man has a particular, exclusive sphere of activity, which is forced upon him and from which he cannot escape. (Marx 1845)

Her labor, which is all the worker owns, is divorced by capitalism from her interests and goals – she is alienated from herself and her essential ability of self-determination. Transhumanists, by leaving technological advancement in the hands of profit-driven capitalist enterprise, are analogously alienating the human that is to be transcended from itself. Capitalism enslaves humans to economically profitable, but, in terms of transhumanist goals, conservative or regressive endeavors. Think of the production of cheap, disposable dollar-store toys or the infinite cycle of the military-industrial complex. Centralization of production offers the prospect of stripping away those endeavors that do not serve to advance the technological apparatus necessary for transhumanist goals. In short, I suggest that the advance of technology, if divorced from human self-determination, may not present revolutionary opportunities, but rather the opposite.

For Marx, humans have a dual nature: both active and passive. He offers this description:

Man is directly a natural being. As a natural being and as a living natural being he is on the one hand furnished with natural powers of life – he is an active natural being. These forces exist in him as tendencies and abilities – as impulses. On the other hand, as a natural, corporeal, sensuous, objective being he is a suffering, conditioned and limited creature, like animals and plants. That is to say, the objects of his impulses exist outside him, as objects independent of him; yet these objects are objects of his need – essential objects, indispensable to the manifestation and confirmation of his essential powers. (Marx 1978, 115)

We can note three important points in this passage: that humans are “natural,” that humans are active or determining – that we can change ourselves and the world, and that humans are also passive or determined by a particular biological nature.

The passive aspect of human nature refers to the fact that humans do not exist purely of themselves like omnipotent deities. To exist, humans must fulfill certain needs that are external to their bodies and are not aspects of their selves. Obvious examples are food and drink, but as Herbert Marcuse notes: “‘need’ is not be understood only in the sense of physical neediness: man needs ‘a totality of human manifestations of life’” (1973, 23). For example, having all one’s physical needs met, but being completely isolated from all contact with other humans is not a situation in which human needs are being met. That humans are needy means that they are in a large sense passive beings. One is necessarily dependent on the water’s being there before one can drink it – and without it, death is certain. Thus, Marcuse holds that for Marx: “Distress and neediness here do not describe individual modes of man’s behavior at all: they are features of his whole existence” (Marcuse 1973, 21). Marx holds that since external objects are essential to life, they are actually parts of human life. The passivity of humans means that their lives are determined to the extent that they must meet certain needs to continue existing – there are certain constraints on human life. These limits constitute a fundamental connection to the natural. But as Marcuse noted above, human needs are not only physical needs. There are also what might be called social needs which constitute a fundamental connection between the individual and other individuals in society. Humans need other humans for non-material needs such as education, friendship, and culture. Uniquely human (as far as we can tell) qualities, such as culture, require human beings to be social beings; thus sociality is part of human nature.

But humans are also active, self- and world-determining beings. Humans have the ability to relate to objects “universally,” through labor. Human labor produces objects: buildings, computers, medicines. All of these creations we regard as created by “us” – as humans – out of the raw materials found in nature. In producing such objects we constitute a world in which we see ourselves everywhere. Says Marx: “Man is a species being, not only because in practice and theory he adopts the species as his object (his own as well as those of other things), but – also because he treats himself as the actual, living species: because he treats himself as a universal and therefore a free being” (Marx 1978, 75). While animals produce nests and dams these are only for “immediate physical needs,” while “man produces universally … man produces even when he is free from immediate need and truly produces in freedom therefrom” (1978, 76). The endless creation of new objects and technologies supports Marx’s claim: we do not produce technologies solely for survival – we produce in an aesthetic mode, as well as a profiteering mode. Indeed, and this is Marx’s most important claim about human nature, we actually produce ourselves in other objects. Marx’s proclamation that “man produces man” does not refer solely to biological reproduction (Marcuse 1973, 25). Humans produce a world in which every object has some amount of human involvement in it – the human species becomes universally present.

But what is the distinctive stamp of humanity, the “essence” that it imparts to objects? Marx’s sense of essence must be recognized as wholly material. He holds that what philosophers have called the substance or essence of the human is a “material result” ... [a] sum of productive forces, capital funds and social forms of intercourse, which every individual and generation finds in existence as something given” (Marx 1973, 165). At any moment how humans conceive of themselves is a product of the social and material conditions that previous generations of humans set up. Human “essence” is a historical phenomenon. But this does not mean that humans lack a true nature. Marx writes: “The animal is immediately identical with its life-activity. It is its life-activity. Man makes his life-activity the object of his will and of his consciousness. He has conscious life-activity … his own life is an object for him” (Marx 1978, 76). The “essence” of the human shifts over time because it is not a static form. It is, rather, a self-transformative function or an evolving process. The human is the animal whose nature is to change its own nature.

We are thus led to another relevant aspect of Marxian human nature – its open-endedness. Marx describes the new kind of “wealth” that socialist society will produce as the “absolute working-out of [human] creative potentialities, with no presupposition other than the previous historic development, which makes this totality of development, i.e. the development of all human powers as such, the end in itself, not as measured on a predetermined yardstick” because he is not committed to a particular form of human life or metric by which to judge it (Marx 1973, 488). István Mészáros elaborates, asserting that never “can there be a point in history at which we could say: ‘now the human substance has been fully realized.’ For such a fixing would deprive the human being of his essential attribute: his power of ‘self-mediation’ and ‘self-development’” (Mészáros 1970, 119). It is impossible to posit an ideal ending to the saga of human history as that would constrain the freedom of the human by not allowing her very nature of self-determination to be expressed.

Transhumanists generally agree with the natural being of the human but they tend to differ from Marx on the significance of humanity’s active and passive aspects, emphasizing the active nature of humans and downplaying the significance of the passive and needy aspect.8 Most transhumanists agree that humans are natural beings and are products of natural processes like natural selection. Humans are distinguished from other animals primarily by their level of complexity (biological and social) and ability to modify their own ways of living. It is material aspects that make humans different: our particular brains, bodies and technological capabilities.

Transhumanists do not deny the passive and needy aspects of human nature, although they do question the permanence and desirability of human needs. Nick Bostrom argues that: “not just any aspect of present human nature ... is worth preserving. Rather it is especially those features which contribute to self-development and self-expression, to certain kinds of relationships, and to the development of our consciousness and understanding” that should be preserved (Bostrom 2005). Some human needs may be eliminated entirely through technology. The nutritive aspect of eating might, for example, be separated from the gustatory, just as the pleasurable aspect of sex has largely been separated from its reproductive function through contraceptive technologies. Nutrients and calories could be supplied through smart drugs, supplements, and nanotech delivery systems, and nanobots might filter out unwanted aspects of digested food, making eating a wholly aesthetic experience.

The need for human social interaction is already being partially met through technological alternate-realities such as the online worlds Second Life and World of Warcraft and myriad social networking sites. Such virtual worlds, while currently primitive, are being increasingly seamlessly integrated with “real reality.” Courtship, funerals, marriages, and complex economies already occur in virtual worlds. Kurzweil suggests that we might find living in virtual worlds preferable once they reach a high level of sophistication (1995, 29). The idea is that human needs are subject to change and even disappearance as the human being develops.

It is clear then that transhumanists generally give precedence to the active aspect of human nature. More invokes “Perpetual Progress” as a transhumanist tenet that “captures the way transhumanists challenge traditional assertions that we should leave human nature fundamentally unchanged in order to conform to ‘God’s will’ or to what is considered ‘natural’” (More 2009). Neither social institutions nor moral intuitions should be taken as reasons for not modifying human nature. Currently alien and even unimaginable forms of existence can all be stamped with the mark of humanity, or whatever it is that humanity will call itself in the transhuman and posthuman stages of its existence.

The important point is that transhumanists consider some aspects of human nature to be of negative value and seek their elimination. Some transhumanists even cite an ethical duty to future generations of the species and hold that it is morally irresponsible not to alleviate suffering and death as much as possible for these future beings.

But transhumanists do not seek only the alleviation of perceived lacks. They also aim for the expansion of human qualities and abilities and new levels of existence that are currently unavailable to humans. Bostrom (2001) speaks of new “modes of being” that cannot be imagined by current humans. Kurzweil holds that technology will allow us to map, extract and upload the patterns of energy that constitute our consciousnesses. Through this technique we will ultimately “transcend” the material nature of humanity: “We can ‘go beyond’ the ‘ordinary’ powers of the material world through the power of patterns ... It’s through the emergent powers of the pattern that we transcend. Since the material stuff of which we are made turns over quickly, it is the transcendent power of our patterns that persists” (Kurzweil 2005, 388). Despite this rather mystical language we can discern a concept of human nature not unlike the Marxian one. Human nature is not any set of limits, conditions or needs; rather, it is an evolving process that constantly breaks through perceived limits. Humans can perceive themselves in all kinds of alien objects and forms – humanity is “universal” in Marx’s sense.

Kurzweil describes a transhumanist sense of human essence: “the essence of being human is not our limitations – although we do have many – it’s our ability to reach beyond our limitations” (Kurzweil 2005, 311). Mészáros echoes these sentiments in his reading of Marx: “Nothing is therefore ‘implanted in human nature.’ Human nature is not something fixed by nature, but, on the contrary, a ‘nature’ which is made by man in his acts of ‘self-transcendence’ as a natural being” (Mészáros 1970, 170). Humans are nature “coming out of itself” and transforming itself – a process.

The transhumanist conception of human nature is also, like the Marxian conception, an open-ended one. Whether due to the unforeseeable ruptures with the past that the Singularity will produce, or more modestly, due to human beings’ abysmal track record at predicting the future, most transhumanists do not commit to hard and fast images of the future. Speaking as a hypothetical future self, Bostrom explains: “I can pass you no blueprint for Utopia, no timetable, no roadmap. All I can give you is my assurance that there is something here, the potential for a better life” (Bostrom 2010, 7). All that can be done is to fix what we know now is broken (e.g. short life spans, genetic disease) and envision, rationally, future possibilities.

Despite frequent (and often understandable) accusations of utopianism, most transhumanists do not, in fact, aim for a technological heaven of perfection. While Kurzweil’s far-future projections do sometimes sound something like this, the practical import of the transhumanist project is about making human life better in ways that are possible and comprehensible to us now or in the near future. Thus Riccardo Campa holds that “only when a technology exists and is experimentally proved should it become part of immediate transhumanist policies and action programs aimed at obtaining their implementation and broad accessibility. Until then, it can only be a working hypothesis for scientists in their laboratories or of science fiction writers in their literary works” (Campa 2008). Projections should be recognized as being defeasible, though useful, ways for informing our current actions, which will undoubtedly lead to at least some unforeseeable consequences.

The open-ended nature of human development means that qualitatively different forms of life lie in the future of our species. While the “meaning” of such a radically different life will no doubt be unlike that of our current lives, this is no call for alarm, transhumanists argue. It may not be possible to judge the “meaning” of transhuman or posthuman lives by the values we currently live by. As Bostrom holds: “Our own current mode of being … spans but a minute subspace of what is possible or permitted by the physical constraints of the universe … It is not farfetched to suppose that there are parts of this larger space that represent extremely valuable ways of living, relating, feeling, and thinking” (2001, 2).

We have seen that for both transhumanism and Marxism openness to redefinitions of the human are called for by human nature itself. The similarities are significant, but there is a striking difference between the two: sociality. Most transhumanist thought tends to place little emphasis on the social nature of the human – and this is where transhumanists should take a point from Marx. The transformation of the human seems to be regarded by most transhumanists as a process undergone by atomistic individuals who each exist in no more than a loose aggregate with others. Transformation is of the self, by the self, with social considerations tacked on afterwards – “technological self-transformation” (More 1993). While material conditions in the form of technological apparatuses are certainly an essential aspect of transhumanist revolution, the material aspects of social structures are not usually taken into account beyond assertions that the “freedom” of liberal democracy and/or capitalism provides optimal productivity. While Bostrom advocates equal or wide access to the trans and posthuman realm, he does not touch on the social hierarchy that underlies the current capitalist system and how it will impinge on such egalitarian access (Bostrom 2001, 7). Marx pointed out that in a capitalist society (and this applies now more than ever) individuals can be bestowed with formally equal rights while simultaneously being differentiated and stratified by the underlying economic structure (Marx 1978, 34). An impoverished fisherman in Newfoundland and a CEO of a multinational corporation formally have the same rights as citizens of Canada, yet it is practically true that the millionaire CEO is able to perform actions that the fisherman cannot, through the hierarchical powers inherent in the possession of the means of production.9 Now imagine that the fisherman and the CEO are both given, through an equal distribution of rights, radically extended lives. Would this in any way change the social asymmetry between them? It seems unlikely. The fisherman will still be dependent on dwindling fisheries for his livelihood while the CEO thrives on the extraction of surplus value.

Technological developments occur in a society that has the power to determine to what end those technologies are used and to what extent their equal distribution benefits the transhumanist project. While some proposed technologies, such as molecular assemblers, do present possibilities of undermining or upsetting social structures, it is also possible that oppressive social structures will inhibit or corrupt the optimal utilization of new technologies. A recent (and depressing example) is the internet; the democratic potential of which is currently under sustained assault by governments and multinational corporations worldwide.10 There is also the suppression of the General Motors EV1 electric vehicle by a combination of corporate and governmental forces.11

Transhumanists should take note of Marx’s insistence on what is often recognized as the fundamental contradiction of capitalism, the contradiction between the forces of production and the social relations of production. Marx writes:

At a certain stage of their development, the material productive forces of society come in conflict with the existing relations of production … with the property relations within which they have been at work hitherto. From forms of development of the productive forces these relations turn into their fetters. (Marx 1978, 4)

The capitalist system of production’s sole aim is to extract ever greater surplus value from labor through the increasingly intense exploitation of workers, sophistication of machinery and lay-offs, but at a certain point, Marx holds, these techniques begin to turn back against production and inhibit it. A simple, abstract example: increasing productive efficiency through the use of the above-mentioned techniques means that more product is produced by less workers who receive less wages. Therefore there are less and/or poorer consumers to consume ever more product. With no one to buy up all of the product and thus produce a profit, the capitalist must develop his extraction of surplus value through the same techniques that further shrink the pool of potential consumers, producing a stagnant economy that is cured only when a new market is found or demand for the product resurfaces. The property relations of capitalism – the capitalist owns the means of production, while the worker owns only his labor power – become anti-productive once the productive forces are sufficiently developed.

This ponderous method pays little heed to needs of the people in the society it exists within, operating solely by the capitalist directive of “maximizing shareholder profit,” to use contemporary terms. We are now well aware of stratagems such as planned obsolescence (automobiles) and novelty-mongering (Apple excels at this) that capitalist organizations deploy to keep consumption going. The question for transhumanists is whether they want revolutionarily life-changing technologies to be produced and distributed by the clumsy and brutal hand of capitalist production.

Surely, we can only expect molecular assembling technology to come to the public, if it does, from the non-profit sector, because from a capitalist perspective, selling assemblers would be identical to selling off ownership of the means of production.

In summary, transhumanists need to take into account the fact that, while technology does restructure society, the structures of society – which are social relations between humans – also influence the deployment of technologies. If the ultimate goal of transhumanism is the flourishing of the evolving being that is currently called “human,” current social relations between humans cannot be bracketed out. The “freedom” to compete and accumulate wealth under capitalism is not equivalent to the freedom to reach beyond limits for all individuals. From a Marxian angle: “What is to be avoided above all else is the re-establishing of ‘Society’ as an abstraction vis-à-vis the individual. The individual is the social being … Man’s individual life and social life are not different” (Marx 1978, 86). Society is an association of individuals, not just a neutral space in which technological development will bring about changes in the human condition. The transformation of the individual and the transformation of society are inseparable.

In the previous section we saw how, for Marx, humans are inseparable from nature due to their passive and needy nature. We saw also how the human is linked to nature through the action of human labor, which imparts a stamp of humanity on natural objects. However, humanity’s active relation to nature is deeper than this. In the stamping of objects with human essence, humans refashion nature into a “humanized” nature. For Marx, nature is produced just as the human is. He proclaims that “trade and industry … this unceasing sensuous labor and creation ... is the basis of the whole sensuous world as it now exists” (Marx 1978, 171). The sensuous world is:

not a thing given direct from all eternity, remaining ever the same, but the product of industry and of the state of society; and, indeed, in the sense that it is an historical product, the result of the activity of a whole succession of generations … Even the objects of the simplest “sensuous certainty” are only given [to man] through social development, industry and commercial intercourse. (Marx 1978, 170)

Nature is socially constructed all the way down, Marx argues. All human ways of knowing and relating to the world are mediated by the relations of production and resultant social structures. Even sense perceptions do not perceive reality immediately. Thus György Lukács claims that, for Marx, “nature is a social category” (Lukács 1971, 130). This assertion has garnered much criticism and is often dismissed as a return to the idealism that Marx repudiated. While there is not space here to engage in a defense of Lukács’ reading, there are good reasons not to side with Alfred Schmidt in dismissing it entirely because it absurdly posits humanity as the “creator of nature” (Schmidt 1971, 70). Nature can be socially constructed all the way down while not actually being brought into being for the first time by humans.

For Marx, nature does have an existence independent of human thought and will. There exists a “material substratum … which is furnished by Nature without the help of man” (Marx 1978, 309). Humans, however, never have immediate access to it. Humanity does not bring nature into existence, but it does create nature as far as humans can be concerned with it. By depicting nature in this way, Lukács emphasizes the extent to which we are confronted by false immediacies – not just in the social realm (the phenomenon of reification under capitalism) – but in our basic epistemological relations with the world. As one commentator puts it, Lukács’ radical move is:

to criticize the category of immediacy as such, to reject (that is) the idea that mediations must always be mediations of some pre-existing immediacy, and to insist instead that every supposed immediacy can be shown to be the result of previous constructions, thus dynamizing and dissolving all static givens into the social processes that make them possible. (Vogel 1996, 34)

Nature, as far as we can know it, consists of social mediations that mutate and are replaced by new mediations over time. “Facts” are one-sided abstractions that fail to fully capture reality. Lukács calls facts: “nothing but parts, the aspects of the total process that have been broken off, artificially isolated and ossified” (Lukács 1971, 184). The total process consists of the “developing tendencies of history” which “constitute a higher reality than the empirical ‘facts’” (1971, 181).12 Relying on facts leads to one being “trapped in the frozen forms of the various stages [of past forms of thought]” (1971, 181). Nature is inadequately represented in the form of static facts because it is an evolving heterogeneity of processes, of which humans are an integrated and contributing part. Thus we can see from another perspective why it is for Marx that human nature cannot be static: to be static it would have to somehow stand outside of nature. In other words: “without making man himself dialectical ... man himself is made into an absolute and he simply puts himself in the place of those transcendental forces he was supposed to explain, dissolve and systematically replace” (1971, 187).

Only by recognizing that nature and the human are developing processes and by taking control of those processes can humans attain a free existence, Marx argues. “Freedom,” he holds, “can only consist in socialized man, the associated producers, rationally regulating their interchange with Nature, bringing it under common control, instead of being ruled by it as by the blind forces of Nature” (Marx 1978, 441). In order to achieve revolution, the forces of nature must not, as with the reified forces of capitalism, be allowed to direct the course of human life-activities. While the human is part of nature, she is nature become conscious or “turned back on itself” and is able to manipulate and control the forces of nature that she is subject to.

Transhumanists generally do not deny that there exists a material “substrate” independent of human mind, but this substrate is taken to act as an ultimate constraint on future possibilities rather than a true or ideal form that must be preserved or recovered. Kurzweil, for example, recognizes the substrate as representing the only real limits on the conversion of the matter of the universe into computing power for a posthuman super-intelligence (Kurzweil 2005, 139). The material substrate consists of building blocks out of which objects and theories might be constructed, but it does not contain natural laws in the Aquinian sense, and nor does it consist of Edenic ideals.

There is, therefore, warrant to attribute a socially-mediated conception of nature to most transhumanists. As discussed above, most transhumanists reject any kind of hard nature/human dichotomy, and instead regard nature as a complex, reflexive process from which the human emerges as one reflexive circuit among many others. As a result, even the most fantastically outlandish modifications to the human or the world (if feasible) must be regarded as wholly natural. Campa elaborates:

The advocates of self-directed evolution, more than challenging “nature,” intend to favor the deployment of its possibilities. The sense and the direction we refer to are ultimately those at the origin of our species, our emergence as more sophisticated organisms in comparison with our immediate predecessors. This is the reason why, if we reason in evolutionary rather than static terms, transhumanism cannot be considered as “unnatural” … “Human nature” has always been a product of a self-domestication, combining the “human” with the “living” and the “technological”, and human nature was therefore already, to some extent, a self-directed evolution, albeit at an unconscious level. (Campa 2008)

In this view, nature is a product of human efforts, and humans are a product of natural efforts, having evolved from simpler forms of life. The developmental trajectory of volitional evolution is understood as a continuation of undirected or blind evolution, or perhaps as an “evolution of evolution.” There is simply no way to construct the human/nature dichotomy because the human has been inextricably involved in all human relations to the natural.

Nature, like the human being, is a process, not a fact. And also like the human, nature is seen by transhumanists as necessarily an imperfect process that control must be wrested from. Max More expresses this in “A Letter to Mother Nature”:

Mother Nature, truly we are grateful for what you have made us. No doubt you did the best you could. However, with all due respect, we must say that you have in many ways done a poor job with the human constitution … You held out on us by giving the sharpest senses to other animals. You made us functional only under narrow environmental conditions … What you have made us is glorious, yet deeply flawed … We have decided that it is time to amend the human constitution. (More 1999)

He goes on to criticize “the tyranny of aging and death” and our enslavement to our genes (More 1999). The notion is that transhumanist revolution can occur only if the blind forces of nature are supplanted by consciously-directed human forces.

This implies a sort of disrespect for what have traditionally been considered facts of nature. Since transhumanists “reason in evolutionary rather than static terms,” as Campa said above, we can see how the Lukácsian rejection of static facts of nature is actually a staple of most transhumanist thought. This is most evident in the derision of death as natural fact. Kurzweil asks not whether death is necessary, but rather if it is desirable. If the abolition of death becomes available as a genuine possibility, “we will no longer need to rationalize death as a primary means of giving meaning to life” (Kurzweil 2005, 326). The future of the human and the natural realm itself are currently unknowable, but since our current “facts” are only stages in an on-going process transhumanists remain open to revisions to (and dismissals of) the “facts.”

Transhumanist thought thus sheds new light on something that Lukács emphasized – the social mediation of nature – but expresses its continued development. Marxists should realize that the distinction between natural and reified forces is growing consistently fuzzier. Marx rails against the reified social forces of capitalism because they strip away the human’s unique ability to consciously direct his life-activity. While human action may indeed be constrained by the laws of “the substratum” it seems increasingly likely that many natural forces (e.g. death, blind genetic variation) will be revealed to be “reified” forces in that once they are shown not to be necessary, they will continue to exist only if humans decide they should. Technological means to overcome such forces present a materially grounded, non-idealist form of radical social mediation of nature. Death, regardless of what sort of meaning it imparts to life, will be revealed as a blind force that impinges upon human nature. Yes, human life will take on a different “meaning” if death is eliminated, and such an existence is currently unimaginable, but these are not sufficient grounds for remaining subject to death’s inevitability. The human is but one stage in a process that potentially extends to the heat death of the universe.

Transhumanists can also learn something here. It pertains again to the social nature of the human, but with respect to the control of natural forces. Marx emphasizes that it is only in society that humans gain the means to take control of the blind forces of nature. In a simple sense, this means that a lone human cannot formulate new technologies and build factories to produce them on her own. But the same idea should also be understood in a deeper sense. The social mediation of natural forces needs to be exactly that: social.

Transhumanist neglect of this principle is evident in Bostrom’s assertion that: “Since technological development is necessary to realize the transhumanist vision, entrepreneurship, science, and the engineering spirit are to be promoted” (Bostrom 2001). The social structure in which these values are to be promoted goes unmentioned.

The history of Marxist thought suggests that perhaps the whole of society should be incorporated in the use of advanced technologies to mediate the natural, if that mediation is to reflect the interests of the society as a whole. Stalin’s vanguard party is an example of a small group trying to direct the complex dynamics of a society down to the minute details. The case against vanguardism for transhumanists is even stronger in light of the threat of existential risks posed by advanced technologies. Transhumanists should take note and be wary of leaving the reshaping of the natural realm to a tiny corporate elite. If the Soviet party found centralized administration of one country’s economy impossible, and if that endeavor produced some horrific results, it does not take much speculation to envision the potential for horrors if the control of nature at a fundamental level is left to an elite motivated primarily by turning a profit.

It is clear that transhumanism and Marxism have some fundamental philosophical similarities. This comparison is admittedly composed of broad strokes and the extent to which the two fields differ is not here emphasized. I hope, however, to have contributed generally to the furtherance of a dialogue between the two fields, and particularly, to the socializing of transhumanism.

1. See “The Immortality Institute”: http://www.longecity.org/forum/page/index.html.

4. See “The Complicated Politics of Italian Transhumanism: Part 2”: http://ieet.org/index.php/IEET/print/3733/.

5. See Mormon Transhumanist Affirmation: http://transfigurism.org/pages/about/quick-facts-handout/.

7. Of course, nanotechnologies present all kinds of novel dangers (e.g. “grey goo” scenarios) and I’m not trying to gloss over those here. The dangers are, however, beyond the scope of this discussion.

8. Not all Marxists emphasize the passive aspect of the human as much as Marcuse, whom I have cited, does. György Lukács, for example, places much more emphasize on the active aspect, as we will see in the section regarding nature.

9. Avoiding punishment for law-breaking and the restructuring of the legal realm itself through lobbying, for example.

10. In Canada, Bill C-11 is the government’s most recent step toward exhaustive internet surveillance, under the guise of policing piracy and child pornography. The conviction of Peter Sunde, of The Pirate Bay, is another horrifying example of the capitalist system’s intolerance for the free sharing of information:http://falkvinge.net/2012/07/06/aftermath-of-the-pirate-bay-trial-peter-sundes-plea-in-his-own-words/. Edward Snowden’s case also comes to mind.

11. See Paine, Chris, et. al. Who Killed the Electric Car? Culver City, California: Sony Pictures Home Entertainment, 2006.

12. What constitutes a tendency for Lukács must go unexplored here. May it suffice to say that tendencies are processes of development.

Bostrom, Nick. 2005. A history of transhumanist thought. Journal of Evolution and Technology 14(3): 1-25. Available online http://jetpress.org/volume14/bostrom.html (accessed May 6, 2014).

Bostrom, Nick. 2001. Transhumanist values. Available online: http://www.nickbostrom.com/tra/values.html (accessed May 6, 2014).

Bostrom, Nick. 2002. Existential risks: Analyzing human extinction scenarios and related hazards. Journal of Evolution and Technology 9(1). Available online http://www.jetpress.org/volume9/risks.html (accessed May 6, 2014).

Campa, Riccardo. 2008. Italian transhumanist manifesto. Available online: http://ieet.org/index.php/IEET/more/2520 (accessed May 6, 2014).

Candela, Tony. 2004. An oral history interview with Ray Kurzweil. Available online: http://www.afb.org/section.aspx?FolderID=2&SectionID=4&TopicID=456&SubTopicID=231&DocumentID=5447 (accessed May 6, 2014).

Fukuyama, Francis. 2004. Transhumanism. Foreign Policy. Available online: http://www.foreignpolicy.com/articles/2004/09/01/transhumanism (accessed May 6, 2014).

Hughes, James J. 2001. The politics of transhumanism (ver. 2.0). Originally Presented at the 2001 Annual Meeting of the Society for Social Studies of Science. Cambridge, MA. November 1-4, 2001. Available online: http://www.changesurfer.com/Acad/TranshumPolitics.htm (accessed May 6, 2014).

Huxley, Julian. 1957. Transhumanism. New bottles for new wine. New York: Harper.

Kurzweil, Ray. 2005. The Singularity is near: When humans transcend biology. New York: Viking.

Lukács, György. 1971. History and class consciousness: Studies in Marxist dialectics. Cambridge, Mass: MIT Press.

Marx, Karl, Friedrich Engels, and Robert C. Tucker. 1978. The Marx-Engels reader. New York: Norton.

Marx, Karl. Grundrisse: Foundations of the critique of political economy. 1973. New York: Vintage Books.

Marx, Karl. The German ideology. 1845. Available online: http://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1845/german-ideology/ch01a.htm (accessed May 6, 2014).

More, Max. 1999. A letter to Mother Nature. Available online: http://strategicphilosophy.blogspot.com.au/2009/05/its-about-ten-years-since-i-wrote.html (accessed May 6, 2014).

More, Max. 2005. The proactionary principle. Available online: http://www.maxmore.com/proactionary.html (accessed May 6, 2014).

More, Max. 2009. H+: True transhumanism. Global Spiral 9(9) (February). Available online: http://www.metanexus.net/essay/h-true-transhumanism (accessed May 6, 2014).

Vogel, Steven. 1996. Against nature: The concept of nature in critical theory. Albany, N.Y.: State University of New York Press.

There are two meanings of critical theory which derive from two different intellectual traditions associated with the meaning of criticism and critique. Both derive ultimately from the Greek word kritikos meaning judgment or discernment, and in their present forms go back to the 18th century. While they can be considered completely independent intellectual pursuits, increasingly scholars are interested in the areas of critique where the two overlap.

To use an epistemological distinction introduced by Jürgen Habermas in 1968 in his Erkenntnis und Interesse (Knowledge and Human Interests), critical theory in literary studies is ultimately a form of hermeneutics, i.e. knowledge via interpretation to understand the meaning of human texts and symbolic expressions. Critical social theory is, in contrast, a form of self-reflective knowledge involving both understanding and theoretical explanation to reduce entrapment in systems of domination or dependence, obeying the emancipatory interest in expanding the scope of autonomy and reducing the scope of domination. From this perspective, much literary critical theory, since it is focused on interpretation and explanation rather than on social transformation, would be regarded as positivistic or traditional rather than critical theory in the Kantian or Marxian sense. Critical theory in literature and the humanities in general does not necessarily involve a normative dimension, whereas critical social theory does, either through criticizing society from some general theory of values, norms, or oughts, or through criticizing it in terms of its own espoused values.

In social theoryEdit
Main article: Frankfurt School
The first meaning of the term critical theory was that defined by Max Horkheimer of the Frankfurt School of social science in his 1937 essay Traditional and Critical Theory: Critical theory is a social theory oriented toward critiquing and changing society as a whole, in contrast to traditional theory oriented only to understanding or explaining it. Horkheimer wanted to distinguish critical theory as a radical, emancipatory form of Marxian theory, critiquing both the model of science put forward by logical positivism and what he and his colleagues saw as the covert positivism and authoritarianism of orthodox Marxism and communism. Core concepts are: (1) That critical social theory should be directed at the totality of society in its historical specificity (i.e. how it came to be configured at a specific point in time), and (2) That Critical Theory should improve understanding of society by integrating all the major social sciences, including economics, sociology, history, political science, anthropology, and psychology. Although this conception of critical theory originated with the Frankfurt School, it also prevails among other recent social scientists, such as Pierre Bourdieu, Louis Althusser and arguably Michel Foucault and Bryan Reynolds, as well as certain feminist theorists and social scientists.

The Praxis school was a Marxist humanist philosophical movement. It originated in Zagreb and Belgrade in the SFR Yugoslavia, during the 1960s that in many ways closely linked to Frankfurt School and Critical theory. Prominent figures among the school's founders include Gajo Petrović and Milan Kangrga of Zagreb and Mihailo Marković of Belgrade. From 1964 to 1974 they published the Marxist journal Praxis, which was renowned as one of the leading international journals in Marxist theory.

This version of "critical" theory derives from Kant's (18th-Century) and Marx's (19th Century) use of the term "critique", as in Kant's Critique of Pure Reason and Marx's concept that his work Das Kapital (Capital) forms a "critique of political economy". For Kant's transcendental idealism, "critique" means examining and establishing the limits of the validity of a faculty, type, or body of knowledge, especially through accounting for the limitations imposed by the fundamental, irreducible concepts in use in that knowledge system. Early on, Kant's notion associated critique with the disestablishment of false, unprovable, or dogmatic philosophical, social, and political beliefs, because Kant's critique of reason involved the critique of dogmatic theological and metaphysical ideas and was intertwined with the enhancement of ethical autonomy and the Enlightenment critique of superstition and irrational authority. Marx explicitly developed this notion into the critique of ideology and linked it with the practice of social revolution, as in the famous 11th of his "Theses on Feuerbach," "Philosophers have only interpreted the world in certain ways; the point is to change it".[1]

In the 1960s, Jürgen Habermas raised the epistemological discussion to a new level in his Knowledge and Human Interests, by identifying critical knowledge as based on principles that differentiated it either from the natural sciences or the humanities, through its orientation to self-reflection and emancipation.

The term critical theory, in the sociological or philosophical and non-literary sense, now loosely groups all sorts of work, including that of the Frankfurt School, Michel Foucault, Pierre Bourdieu, disability studies and feminist theory, that has in common the critique of domination, an emancipatory interest, and the fusion of social/cultural analysis, explanation, and interpretation with social/cultural critique.

In literary criticismEdit
Main article: Literary theory
The second meaning of critical theory is that of theory used in literary criticism ("critical theory") and in the analysis and understanding of literature. This is discussed in greater detail under literary theory. This form of critical theory is not necessarily oriented toward radical social change or even toward the analysis of society, but instead specializes on the analysis of texts. It originated among literary scholars and in the discipline of literature in the 1960s and 1970s, and has really only come into broad use since the 1980s, especially as theory used in literary studies has increasingly been influenced by European philosophy and social theory.

This version of "critical" theory derives from the notion of literary criticism as establishing and enhancing the understanding and evaluation of literature in the search for truth. Some consider literary theory merely an aesthetic concern, as articulated, for example, in Joseph Addison's notion of a critic as one who helps understand and interpret literary works: "A true critic ought to dwell rather upon excellencies than imperfections, to discover the concealed beauties of a writer, and communicate to the world such things as are worth their observation."[2] This notion of criticism ultimately goes back to Aristotle's Poetics as a theory of literature.

This meaning of "critical theory" originated entirely within the humanities. There are works of literary critical theory that show no awareness of the sociological version of critical theory.

Overlap between the two versions of critical theoryEdit
Nevertheless, a certain amount of overlap has come about, initiated both from the critical social theory and the literary-critical theory sides. It was distinctive of the Frankfurt School's version of critical theory from the beginning, especially in the work of Max Horkheimer, Theodor Adorno, Walter Benjamin, Herbert Marcuse, and Leo Lowenthal, because of their focus on the role of false consciousness and ideology in the perpetuation of capitalism, to analyze works of culture, including literature, music, art, both "high culture" and "popular culture" or "mass culture." Thus it was to some extent a theory of literature and a method of literary criticism (as in Walter Benjamin's interpretation of Baudelaire and Kafka, Leo Lowenthal's interpretations of Shakespeare, Ibsen, etc., Adorno's interpretations of Kafka, Valery, Balzac, Beckett, etc.) and (see below) in the 1960s started to influence the literary sort of critical theory.

Within social theoryEdit
In the late 1960s Jürgen Habermas of the Frankfurt School, redefined critical theory in a way that freed it from a direct tie to Marxism or the prior work of the Frankfurt School. In Habermas's epistemology, critical knowledge was conceptualized as knowledge that enabled human beings to emancipate themselves from forms of domination through self-reflection and took psychoanalysis as the paradigm of critical knowledge. This expanded considerably the scope of what counted as critical theory within the social sciences, which would include such approaches as world systems theory, feminist theory, postcolonial theory, critical race theory, performance studies, transversal poetics, queer theory, social ecology, the theory of communicative action (Jürgen Habermas), structuration theory, psychoanalysis and neo-Marxian theory.

Within literary theoryEdit
From the literary side, starting in the 1960s literary scholars, reacting especially against the New Criticism of the previous decades, which tried to analyze literary texts purely internally, began to incorporate into their analyses and interpretations of literary works initially semiotic, linguistic, and interpretive theory, then structuralism, Lacanian psychoanalysis, post-structuralism, and deconstruction as well as Continental philosophy, especially phenomenology and hermeneutics, and critical social theory and various other forms of neo-Marxian theory. Thus literary criticism became highly theoretical and some of those practicing it began referring to the theoretical dimension of their work as "critical theory", i.e. philosophically inspired theory of literary criticism. And thus incidentally critical theory in the sociological sense also became, especially among literary scholars of left-wing sympathies, one of a number of influences upon and streams within critical theory in the literary sense.

Furthermore, along with the expansion of the mass media and mass/popular culture in the 1960s and 1970s and the blending of social and cultural criticism and literary criticism, the methods of both kinds of critical theory sometimes intertwined in the analysis of phenomena of popular culture, as in the emerging field of cultural studies, in which concepts deriving from Marxian theory, post-structuralism, semiology, psychoanalysis and feminist theory would be found in the same interpretive work. Both strands were often present in the various modalities of postmodern theory.

Language and constructionEdit
The two points at which there is the greatest overlap or mutual impingement of the two versions of critical theory are in their interrelated foci on language, symbolism, and communication and in their focus on construction.

Language and communicationEdit
From the 1960s and 1970s onward, language, symbolism, text, and meaning became foundational to theory in the humanities and social sciences, through the short-term and long-term influences of Ludwig Wittgenstein, Ferdinand de Saussure, George Herbert Mead, Noam Chomsky, Hans-Georg Gadamer, Roland Barthes, Jacques Derrida and other thinkers in the traditions of linguistic and analytic philosophy, structural linguistics, symbolic interactionism, hermeneutics, semiology, linguistically oriented psychoanalysis (Jacques Lacan, Alfred Lorenzer), and deconstruction. When, in the 1970s and 1980s, Jürgen Habermas also redefined critical social theory as a theory of communication, i.e. communicative competence and communicative rationality on the one hand, distorted communication on the other, the two versions of critical theory began to overlap or intertwine to a much greater degree than before.

ConstructionEdit
Both versions of critical theory have focused on the processes of synthesis, production, or construction by which the phenomena and objects of human communication, culture, and political consciousness come about. Whether it is through the transformational rules by which the deep structure of language becomes its surface structure (Chomsky), the universal pragmatic principles through which mutual understanding is generated (Habermas), the semiotic rules by which objects of daily usage or of fashion obtain their meanings (Barthes), the psychological processes by which the phenomena of everyday consciousness are generated (psychoanalytic thinkers), the episteme that underlies our cognitive formations (Foucault), and so on, there is a common interest in the processes (often of a linguistic or symbolic kind) that give rise to observable phenomena. Here there is significant mutual influence among aspects of the different versions of critical theory. Ultimately this emphasis on production and construction goes back to the revolution wrought by Kant in philosophy, namely his focus in the Critique of Pure Reason on synthesis according to rules as the fundamental activity of the mind that creates the order of our experience.

“a theoretical rumination on the intersection of Jewishness and gender fluidity in terms of personal identity, cultural politics and institutional normativity. Both Jewishness and gender identity are cultural constructions with strong relationships to biological “facts.” They share the experience of internal cohesion through external labeling and persecution. Modernity has transformed both gender identity and Jewish identity into somewhat autonomous self-characterizations even as the choice to transform one’s identity comes with significant social judgment and cost. Jews who were familiar with the challenge of responding to normative cultural expectations sometimes sublimated this challenge into new avenues of resisting those expectations; it is not surprising that several Jews have made significant contributions to transgender theory. Magnus Hirschfeld advocated for transgender rights in 1920’s Germany. Isaac Bashevis Singer’s short story Yentl the Yeshiva Boy about a girl who cross-dresses to study in Yeshiva is far more provocatively transgendered than the better known Oscar winning film Yentl made by Barbara Streisand in the 1980’s. Judith Butler has noted her early background in the study of Jewish ethics as a contributor to her fundamental re-imagination of gender as performance in her groundbreaking Gender Trouble. Further back in history, the Talmud and other works of rabbinic literature regularly treat intersex phenomena as legal categories and at times consider the possibility of three genders on this basis.”

Jewish Perspectives on Transhumanism
Norbert Samuelson and Hava Tirosh-Samuelson
This chapter compares and contrasts some transhumanist utopian visions of the
ultimate end of humanity with a variety of conceptions in Judaism of the messianic age and the End of Days. There are at least two reasons for expecting such an
engagement to be intellectually interesting and conceptually fruitful. First, Judaism
as a modern religious tradition uniquely defines membership at least in part in
biological terms. Although birth is not the only way to become Jewish, anyone
whose natural mother is considered by the Jewish community to be Jewish has
indeed been regarded as a Jew, at least until the present day.1
Thus, by defining
group membership in relation to genetics, Jewish communal interests can easily
be related to a philosophy such as transhumanism that focuses on the biological
improvement of a human collective, be it a nation state or an ethnic group.
Second, the Jewish community, relatively speaking, is remarkably open to biotechnology, although the degree of openness is subject to debate, varying between different Jewish subgroups. In part, the debate is caused by how we interpret statements of openness by Jewish religious leaders (Shatz 2009, 93-117,
139-76). Still, even the most conservative religious spokespeople are more positive about the value of at least technology than are their most conservative counterparts in other religious traditions.
Comparisons
Transhumanism
Transhumanism envisions the augmentation of human capabilities and health by
means of science and technology. We are asked to believe that a new phase of
human evolution will come about as a result of the confluence of recent developments in the life sciences (e.g., stem-cell therapies, genetic enhancement, and
artificial genes), bioengineering (e.g., robotics and biomaterials), materials
science (e.g., nanotechnology), and the neurosciences (e.g., neuropharmacology
and artificial intelligence). Although it is evident that these innovations are making important strides toward eliminating devastating diseases such as cancer,

1 Rabbinic Judaism decreed that Jewishness is transmitted through the mother, but, in 1985,
Reform rabbis decided that Jewishness can also be transmitted through the father. As a result,
there is no consensus today about the Jewishness of individuals.
106
diabetes, and AIDS, we are also told that future technologies will produce human
beings with enhanced capabilities who will not only be able to live longer but
also will be able to create and modify new forms of life. In the transhuman age,
so the promoters claim, the successors of humanity will become their own makers,
transforming their environment and themselves.
James Hughes, a leading transhumanist, summarizes the transhumanist vision
most succinctly when he predicts that, in the present century, human beings will
achieve
things previously imagined only in science fiction. Life spans will extend well beyond a century. Our senses and cognition will be enhanced. We will gain control over our emotions and
memory. We will merge with machines, and machines will become more like humans.
These technologies will allow us to evolve into varieties of “post humans” and usher us into
a “transhuman” era and society. (2004, xii)
In effect, Hughes sees the disappearance of humanity as a distinct species, as all
forms of living things (both plants and animals) will merge with inorganic beings
to form a single kind of universal being. Hughes and fellow transhumanists are
enthusiastically optimistic about this future scenario; this is indeed an eschatological vision, a scenario for the ultimate end of the human species.
Judaism
From a historical perspective, Jewish literature is foundational for all of Western
culture, from the biblical period through medieval Christian and Muslim civilizations to modern secular post-Christian culture. The premodern Jewish world and
life views all reality as a directed flow of events from a prehistorical origin
(called “creation”) to a posthistorical conclusion (called “redemption”). Both the
origin and the end come in sophisticated religious and scientific premodern
thought to be understood as asymptotes that do not so much describe events in
time as set yardsticks for understanding the past conceptually and establishing
moral criteria by which to evaluate future acts – the past conceptually because all
events are seen as consequences of the act of creation and the future morally
because all events are critically evaluated in terms of their contribution to bringing about the hoped-for (or prayed-for or even anticipated) cosmic final vision.
1. Racial Theories about the Jewish People. For centuries, the embodiment of
the Jews – especially the symbol of Jewish embodiment, the circumcision of
Jewish males – has been a bone of contention between Judaism and Christianity.
In antiquity, Christians used circumcision to denigrate the carnal nature of Jews,
which presumably prevents them from seeing the spiritual truth of Christianity
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(Gager 1985; Hirshman 1996). The intense polemics between Judaism and
Christianity during the Middle Ages and the early modern period (Stow 1992;
Cohen 1994; Chazan 1997) created a negative image of Jews designed to explain
and justify their spiritual inferiority. Nonetheless, in the premodern world, Jews
could opt out of being Jewish through conversion to Christianity, and many took
the path of conversion. In the modern period, by contrast, when the secularization of European culture diminished the effectiveness of religious polemics
against the Jews, the Jewish body became the differentiating mark between Jews
and non-Jews (Gillman 1985, 1987). In the nineteenth century, as Mitchell Hart
succinctly put it, “medicine and race coalesced around nationalism to produce a
coherent anti-Semitic ideology that cast the Jew as essentially different from and
dangerous to civilization and culture. … Judaism and the Jews were often represented as pathological and pathogenic, as diseased and as the cause of disease”
(2007, 7). Thus, racial ideas made it impossible for Jews to improve their social
status through conversion or even to fight social exclusion and marginalization.
Ironically, in the secularized modern period, Jewishness could never be erased or
transcended; it marked a person for life or worse, as in the Nazi ideology and
policies, for extermination.
Race theory, interestingly enough, was advanced not only by anti-Semitic
non-Jews but also by philo-Semitic Jews. A good number of Jewish biologists,
anthropologists, and physicians in Europe, England, and the U.S. participated in
and contributed to this academic discourse, and they had no qualms defining the
Jews as a “race” in order to defend the uniqueness and distinctiveness of the
Jews (Efron 1994; Hart 1999, 2000; Weidling 2006). Not unlike the transhumanists of today, these Jews believed that science, especially the (pseudo-) science of
eugenics, would improve Jews individually and collectively, eliminating specific
diseases, unhealthy mental proclivities, or undesirable social tendencies.
The debate about the meaning of being Jewish at the turn of the twentieth century bears some resemblance to the debate about the meaning of being human
raised by the transhumanist discourse. In both cases, at stake is the relationship
between the embodied and nonembodied aspects of the human in the pursuit of
perfection. This chapter maintains that just as to be Jewish involves more than a
fact of birth and embodied existence, so to be human cannot be reduced to the
genetic makeup of the human body or to its biochemical functions.
The complex relationship between embodied and nonembodied aspects of being Jewish is exemplified most acutely in the case of Zionism, the modern
movement of Jewish nationalism that responded to modern racial anti-Semitism by
seeking to gather all Jews to the ancestral home in the Land of Israel (Shimoni
1995; Almog et al. 1998). A utopian movement, Zionism believed in the perfectibility of humanity, especially with regard to the Jews. Desiring to create
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“Muskeljudentum,” as the physician Max Nordau put it in 1892,2
Zionism envisioned a new breed of Jews free from the negative physical and mental traits of
Diaspora Jews. Zionist ideologues and technocrats had no qualms resorting to
eugenics to ensure the elimination of undesirable dispositions exhibited prominently in Jewish populations.
We will discuss below the Zionist endorsement of eugenics for the physical
improvement of the Jews in light of the transhumanist program for improvement
of human nature by means of genetic engineering. We will argue that, to the
extent transhumanism and Zionism equate being human with having a particular
kind of body and physical traits, these programs are conceptually and morally
problematic. Having a body is necessary for being human and for being Jewish,
but neither being human nor being a Jew can be reduced to embodied existence.
Judaism, Science, and Technology
Whereas believing Christians, especially Roman Catholics, have felt deep anxiety about the current biotechnology revolution (Song 2002; Cole-Turner et al
1996; Dean-Drummond 2001), Jews by and large have welcomed biotechnological advances and have taken an activist stance toward it (Wahrman 2002). In the
heated debates about biotechnology – namely, about stem-cell research (Ruse
and Pynes 2006; Gruen et al 2007), reproductive technologies (Chapman 1989),
and human cloning (McGee and Caplan 2004; McKinnon 2000) – several Jews
have been quite prominent, but there is no consensus about the Jewish position
on biotechnology. Among the most thoughtful critics of biotechnology is Leon
R. Kass, the past chairman of the President’s Council on Bioethics under President George W. Bush, who has cautioned us about biotechnology:
[W]e now clearly recognize new uses for biotechnical power that soar beyond the traditional
medical goals of healing disease and relieving suffering. Human nature itself lies on the operating table, ready for alteration, for eugenic and neuropsychic “enhancement,” for wholesale redesign. In leading laboratories, academic and industrial, new creators are confidently
amassing their powers and quietly honing their skills, while on the street their evangelists
are zealously prophesying a posthuman future. For anyone who cares about preserving our
humanity, the time has come to pay attention. (2003, 10)
Kass’s caution is not universally accepted in the Jewish community, neither in
North America nor in Israel. Jewish legal thinkers, bioethicists, and theologians

2 Nordau was the author of Degeneration (1892) in which he tried to account for the problems of
modernity as symptoms. His call for the creation of “muscular Judaism” is a Jewish variant of
and a response to the ideal of “muscular Christianity” advocated by Evangelicals who “translated the belief in a robust body and mind into a battle cry against all sinfulness” (Mosse 1996, 49).
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across the spectrum of modern Judaism are rather supportive of assisted reproductive technologies, stem-cell research for medical purposes, genetic screening,
testing, and even engineering. Unlike Kass, who argues for restraint based on the
“virtues of mortality,” Reform, Conservative, and Orthodox rabbis and ethicists
tend to be strongly in favor of “more life, longer life, new life,” as Kass derogatorily
put it (2003, 258). The probiotechnology stance of the major Jewish denominations – Reform, Conservative Judaism, and Modern Orthodoxy – makes Judaism
a religious tradition particularly suitable for reflection on transhumanism.
All forms of modern Judaism are responses to the emancipation of the Jews
and the need to respond to the challenge of modernity. Reform Judaism advocated the emancipation of the Jews and their integration in Western society and
culture by modernizing Jewish religious rituals and highlighting the rationalist
core of the Jewish religion. Reform Judaism defined itself in rationalist terms as
a belief in the God-Idea (i.e., ethical monotheism) and denied that there can be
tension between Judaism and science. The rationalist spirit of Reform Judaism
intended to strip Judaism from the morass of ossifying, legalistic minutiae and
bring to the fore the timeless, universal truths of the religion. During the nineteenth century, the rationalist temper of Reform Judaism did not necessarily
mean endorsing the most challenging scientific theory of the nineteenth century
– Darwinism – but in the twentieth century, Reform Judaism has generally accepted the authority of science as the arbiter of truth.
Reform Judaism views healing as a righteous obligation rather than merely as
a profession. In the case of controversial stem-cell research, Reform Judaism
considers it a moral imperative to pursue scientific research into stem-cell regeneration because it holds the promise of finding new and effective treatment for
many diseases. In 2003, the General Assembly of the Union for Reform Judaism
adopted a resolution that supports research using both adult and embryonic stem
cells, not limited to the existing lines currently approved for funding by the U.S.
government. The movement has also supported research and funding of somatic
gene therapy, in contrast to germ-line gene therapy, which poses serious medical
and moral concerns. However, in accordance with its commitment to moral autonomy, the Reform movement places the responsibility for the employment of
stem-cell research on each individual who wishes to use it, rather than on the
scientific community. While the movement supports therapeutic cloning, it opposes reproductive cloning.
Conservative Judaism also endorses accommodation to modernity and integration to Western society and culture, but it seeks to preserve traditional rituals
and the collective identity of the Jews expressed in the Hebrew language, Jewish
law (halakha) and Jewish folkways. Conservative Judaism regards Jewish law as
binding on modern Jews but acknowledges that the legal tradition has changed
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over time in response to historical circumstances and through human interpretation and action. Conservative Judaism regards science – especially its application
in technology – and scientific research as both possible and potentially fruitful
and contemporary interpretations of halakha must be informed by the advances
in science and technology (Dorff 2003 [1998]; Mackler 2000; Sherwin 2000,
110-26; 2004). Yet scientific activity cannot be undertaken for its own sake
alone because scientific means and ends have to be evaluated in terms of religious values and those values in principle transcend any modern scientific methodology.
The leading Conservative jurist and bioethicist, Rabbi Elliot Dorff, has asserted that “Jews have the duty to try to prevent illness if at all possible and to
cure it when they can, and that duty applies to diseases caused by genes as much
as it does to disease engendered by bacterial viruses, or some other environmental factors” (Dorff 2003, 157). On the controversial issue of stem-cell research,
Rabbi Dorff has stated that
the Jewish tradition would certainly not object to such research; it should actually push us to
do as much as we can to learn about these lineages so that hopefully one day soon we can
help people avoid cancer, or, failing that, cure it. This attitude follows from the fundamental
Jewish approach to medicine, namely that human medical research and practice are not violation
of God’s prerogatives but, on the contrary, constitute some of the way in which we fulfill our
obligation to be God’s partners in the ongoing act of creation. [emphasis added] (ibid.)
As for the cloning to produce children, Dorff recognizes arguments against the
technology, but he concludes that “human cloning should be regulated, not
banned” (ibid., 322). He allows cloning “only for medical research or therapy,”
and his view is derived from the requirement to help other people escape sickness, injury, and death. Medical research serves the religious commandment to
heal and to imitate God’s healing power by extending cure to the sick.
The third main movement in contemporary Judaism, Modern Orthodoxy, also
emerged in nineteenth-century Germany. In its response to the challenges of
modernity, Modern Orthodoxy reaffirms the divinely revealed status of Jewish
law and regards the principles of Judaism to be timeless and true. The law does
not change, but it must be constantly and creatively reinterpreted to discover how
its eternal principles apply to the changing world. In the modern period, these
changes include science. According to Orthodox jurists, scientific and technological advances can help resolve many practical details of religious practice, especially in matters that concern the human body. Therefore, medical ethics is a
primary area in which a fruitful interaction between science and Judaism exists.
Modern Orthodox jurists evaluate each and every new technology not in terms of
its impact on the society at large but in terms of its permissibility within the
principles and reasoning procedures of Jewish law.
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Orthodox theologians see the human being as God’s “partner in the work of
creation.” The idea is derived from Talmudic sources that teach that “three partners
(God, man and woman) are required for the creation of a human being” (Babylonian Talmud Niddah 31 a; Kiddushin 30b; Shabbat 10a), meaning that humans
cannot accomplish procreation alone and must receive divine involvement. To be
a “partner of God” is understood to mean that humans have an obligation to
improve and ameliorate what God has created. Rabbi Abraham Steinberg expresses the Orthodox view when he states, “We are permitted to interfere in
nature. … [W]e are obligated to interfere, obligated to improve the world”
(Wahrman 2002, 72). Therefore, science and technology can and should be used
for this purpose “as long as the act of perfecting the world does not violate halakhic
prohibitions or lead to results that would be halakhically prohibited” (ibid.). In
terms of human cloning, Rabbi Azriel Rosenfeld (1972), for example, has concluded that cloning can be permitted because this productive method does not
involve a sex act; therefore, it is not halakhically forbidden. Rabbi Fred Rosner
(1979), who initially did not approve of cloning because “cloning of men negates
identifiable parenthood and would thus seem objectionable to Judaism,” in a later
ruling concluded that it is permissible (Wahrman 2002, 71).
The Orthodox endorsement of reproductive technologies including research
that will lead to cloning humans is most notable in the State of Israel, where
legal reasoning and public policies are openly informed by Jewish religious values
no less than by secular considerations. A recent study noted that “technologies
that are controversial in other parts of the western world, such as embryonic stem
cell research, prenatal genetic testing and human cloning have not caused heated
public debates in Israel and generally enjoy a liberal regulatory framework”
(Prainsack and Firestine 2006, 34). In Israel, biotechnology regulation is characterized by a relatively permissive approach and a low regulatory density. Because the Israeli government has viewed science and technology as matters of
national priority (Penslar 1991), scientists do not have to protect themselves
from intervention by “nonscientists.” As for human cloning, in 1998 the Israeli
parliament, the Knesset, passed a law that bans human cloning and germ-line
therapy for a period of five years, but that law still permitted research on the
activation of cells and production of human embryonic tissue “without actually
getting to a human clone.”
Regarding Jewish support of biotechnology and demographic stresses, it is not
difficult to explain why Jews today are quite enthusiastic about the new genetics
and its accompanying biotechnology. Beyond the religious commandment to
procreate (Genesis 1:28) and the obligation to heal the sick and alleviate or prevent suffering, the Jewish endorsement of the new genetics reflects the deep
anxiety about the demographic weakness of the Jewish people. The anxiety arises
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from a serious demographic crisis. The loss of one-third of the Jewish people in
the Holocaust combined with the fact that Ashkenazi Jewry, the community that
suffered most from the Nazi extermination policies, also exhibits preponderance
to inherited genetic diseases (e.g., Tay-Sacks disease, cystic fibrosis, Fragile X
syndrome, Gaucher’s disease, and breast cancer) deepens the Jewish resolve to
remedy genetic ailments by resorting to the new genetics (Goodman 1979;
Goodman and Motulsky 1979; Bonné-Tamir and Adam 1992). In postindustrialized, Western democracies, the demographic threat to Jewish existence is further
exacerbated by the combined effect of modernization, acculturation, assimilation,
and social mobility, which have not only destabilized Jewish collective and personal identities but also contributed to the shrinking of the Jewish family. As a result
of late marriage age, the choice to have fewer children, the common use of abortion
among nonreligious Jews, and genetic and environmental factors that contribute to
infertility, the Jewish family today is unable to replenish itself. The current situation stands in marked contrast to the Jewish religious obligation to procreate.
In the State of Israel, moreover, these demographic pressures receive a special
significance given the on-going struggle between Israel and its Arab neighbors.
According to the demographer Arnon Soffer (2001), the non-Jewish population
in Israel plus Gaza and the West Bank is expected to have outnumbered Israel’s
Jewish population by 2020 (eight million non-Jewish Palestinians in contrast to
6.6 million Jews).3
It is no wonder, therefore, that medical genetics is a recognized
medical specialty in Israel where thirteen clinical genetic centers offer genetic
testing, genetic screening, and infertility treatment to a population of only six
million, and Orthodox and Ultra-Orthodox rabbinic authorities provide religious
justifications for a wide range of reproductive technologies (Kahn 2000, 2002;
Portuguese 1998).
The new genetic technologies have complicated the very question of Jewish
embodied existence. What does it mean to be Jewish? Even if one agrees with
the rabbinic norm that Jewishness is transmitted through the mother, the question
has no simple answer. As Susan Martha Kahn has convincingly argued, “[T]his
transmission becomes less straightforward: is it the mother’s egg that transmits
Jewishness, or is it the act of gestation and parturition that makes a child Jewish?”
(2005, 10). In the modern period, the definition of Jewishness became ambiguous
and contested matter, open to conflicting interpretations.

3 According to Sofer’s analysis, within the pre-1967 borders, the development is similarly pessimistic for the Jewish majority: the current population of more than five million Jews and 1.2
million Arabs will change to a ratio of 6.6 million Jews to 2.1 Arabs (Muslim, Christian, and
Druze) in Israel proper.
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This ambiguity is most evident in the case of Zionism, the Jewish nationalist
movement that emerged at the end of the nineteenth century to solve once and
for all the “Jewish Question” that haunted Europe since the emancipation of the
Jews. Zionism too struggled to find the balance between the somatic and nonsomatic (i.e., cultural, spiritual, or religious aspects of being Jewish) and the Zionist commitment to the improvement of the Jewish body. This struggle exemplifies the tensions already inherent within the utopian discourse of human betterment. The Zionist attitude toward the improvement of the Jews sheds a new and
somewhat somber light on the transhumanist discourse of human betterment,
since both programs endorsed eugenics.
Zionism and Eugenics
In the second half of the nineteenth century, Europe was preoccupied with the
“Jewish racial question,” “the Jewish Question,” and the “Jewish problem,”
terms that were “used interchangeably to refer to aspects of Jewish society, or to
Jews themselves, that were considered to be objectionable and in need of improvement” (Efron 1994, 3). Throughout the nineteenth century, the belief in
racial difference was given intellectual respectability by race science that provided supposedly anthropological, biological, and statistical proof for human
differences. Anti-Semites appropriated the scientific discourse to prove the inherent
inferiority of the Jews and their innate inability to integrate into European society
and culture. Indeed, race science was a major cause for the failure of political
liberalism and the emancipation process. But in response to anti-Semitism, there
was also a discourse about the “healthy Jew,” in which an effort was made to
represent Judaism and Jewry as robust and link them to the history of Western
medicine and science. Some of this discourse was meant for Jewish audiences
and written in Yiddish to educate the Jewish masses, but there were also many
texts written by Jews and non-Jews in English, German, and French for scientifically educated and medically trained readers (Hart 2007).
The concept of race was central to this scientific and medical discourse. Jewish scientists, especially physical anthropologists and physicians, “employed the
discourse and methodology of race science and ethnography in order to meet the
claims of their opponents” (Efron 1994, 7). Among the Jewish race scientists,
Joseph Jacobs (1854-1916), Samuel Weissenberg (1867-1928), Elias Auerbach
(1882-1971), Felix Theilhaber (1884-1956), and Ignaz Zollschan (1877-1948)
devoted much of their professional careers to defining the Jews in new scientific
terms. To place Judaism on firm scientific foundation they asked several questions:
What are the Jews? Are the Jews a race? If so, do they form a stable racial type,
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or are they made up of many races? What are the unique characteristics of the
Jews? Are the Jews more susceptible to certain diseases? Are these dispositions
hereditary or environmental? (ibid. 8).
The Jewish race discourse was supported by statistical evidence compiled by
the Bureau for Jewish Statistics, and the major scholarly venue for the publication of scientific research was the Zeitschrift für Demographie und Statistik der
Juden (Efron 1994, 167). This information was meant to effect rational and
scientifically based amelioration of the Jewish condition, and many essays were
devoted to the question of racial purity and its relationship to intermarriage.
Jewish scientists concerned themselves with certain disagreeable features of
Jewish behavior, for example, Jewish involvement in crime, but also with the
susceptibility of Jews to certain diseases or, conversely, the high representation
of Jews in professions such as medicine and law. The discourse was suffused
with Social Darwinism, and evolutionary and eugenic ideas articulated by researchers such as Francis Galton and Charles Davenport were applied to understand Jewish history and Jewish survival (Hart 2007, 107).
The language of eugenics was deemed legitimate and necessary for analyzing
issues of collective identity and survival (Hart 2007, 110-14). The discourse on
eugenics and hygiene allowed Jewish medical writers to demonstrate that Jews
and Judaism anticipated the modern state’s central interest and that Jewry posed
no danger to the state’s and society’s vision and interest in this crucial matter.
Jewish scientists and physical anthropologists who supported the Zionist cause
developed a contrary discourse. Recognizing the depth of European antiSemitism and agreeing that Jewish life in the Diaspora was degenerate and diseased, Zionist race scientists rejected the desire of Jews to assimilate in Europe
and predicted that Jews would have no future in Europe. Instead, they claimed
that only in their national ancestral home – the Land of Israel – could the Jews
achieve their full potential and express their innate creativity. Like their universalist Jewish counterparts, Zionist physical anthropologists utilized race theory
and were open to eugenics. This was not surprising since, as Nicholas Gillham
notes, “the opening decades of the twentieth century found the educated classes
in England primed to welcome eugenics. … This notion soon became popular not
only in England, but in much of Europe and the United States as well” (Gillham
2001, 98).
Brian Gratton, in this volume, demonstrates that the victims of eugenics during the early twentieth century were by no means only Jews and that racialist
discourse was inseparable from the debates about immigration and about national identity. Similarly, Diane Paul reminds us that the proponents of eugenics in
Germany and America were able to play on racialist fears that cut across class lines; eugenics was often aimed at “outsiders.” In Germany, Jews were damned; in the United States and
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Canada, the foreign-born. But reflecting Britain’s sharp class divisions, the target of eugenics
in that country was almost exclusively the urban poor. (Paul 1995, 73)
The science of eugenics was endorsed by Zionist physicians, especially after the
new science of genetics was established (Falk 2006, 148). For example, the physician Redcliffe Nathan Salaman (1874-1955) published an essay in the Journal of
Genetics in which he documented the excellent physique of early Zionist settlers
as natural selection in action. There were also Jewish physicians who wrote in
Hebrew about eugenics but rejected the claims that Jews have hereditary diseases. Thus, Shneor Zalman Bychowsky (1865-1934) in his essay “Nervous Disease
and the Eugenics of the Jews” rejected attempts to explain diseases by reference
to hereditary or environmental causes. Instead, he saw the appalling living conditions of the Jews as responsible for Jewish nervous afflictions (ibid., 149-50).
Eugenic ideas were even more prevalent among Zionist physicians in Palestine
who created the health system of the nascent Jewish polity during the 1920s and
1930s. For the physician Israel Rubin, the Zionist enterprise was a “great eugenic
revolution in the life of the nation” whose essence is “the production of a New
Hebrew type restored and improved” (Falk 2006, 151). For another Zionist physician, Abraham Matmon, “the task of modern hygienic is to protect humanity
from the flood of inferiors and block the way for them from penetrating humanity,
by denying them the possibility to inherent their delinquency to later generations”
(ibid., 151-52). The eugenics discourse was not limited to theory; it also informed the practice of “choosing the human material” for the Zionist home. Thus,
Arthur Ruppin (1846-1943), a contributor to the Bureau of Jewish Statistics
before he became a Zionist and later the head of the Palestine office of the Zionist Federation in Jaffa (1908), had no qualms talking about “purifying the Jewish
race” and stressed that “in Palestine we want to develop particularly what is
Jewish” (ibid., 155). In 1904, Ruppin published Die Jüden der Gegenwort (The
Jews of the Present) that stated that the Jewish claim to nationhood was based on
biology, history, culture, and religion. In 1919, he published an article titled “Der
Jude” where he argued that “it would be better if only healthy people with all
their needs and their powers would come to Palestine so that new generations
would arise in the country that are healthy and strong” (ibid., 159). Many Zionists
accepted the notion that “the ingathering of the Diaspora” (kibbutz galuyot)
should be directed from a eugenic perspective at creating “a new Hebrew type,
restored and improved” (ibid., 160).
Precisely because the Zionist project was conceived in utopian terms (Ravitzky
1991), the settlement of Jews was accompanied by a fierce debate about control
of immigration to Palestine. In historical hindsight, the Zionist willingness to
exclude other Jews from immigrating to Palestine seems astonishing given the
restriction on Jewish immigration in the U.S. during the 1920s and 1930s and the
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tragic ramifications of this restrictive policy for those who tried to flee the Nazi
regime. But at the time, the commitment for the betterment of the Jews in Palestine
helped forge a positive attitude toward the science of eugenics. Although one
could argue that Jewish physicians were not the leading intellectuals of the Zionist movement, their publications demonstrate that Zionist physicians and technocrats had no qualms defining Jews as a race, identifying certain racial traits distinctive to Jews, or recommending eugenics to eliminate negative traits highly
representative among Jews.
After the Holocaust, the discourse of scientific racism lost its validity (Barkan
1992), and concern with the physical improvement of the Jewish people shifted
toward saving Jewish survivors and reconstructing the Jewish people. In the
nascent State of Israel during the early 1950s, a fierce debate took place about
medical selection criteria for the waves of Jewish immigrants entering the country,
mostly from North Africa and the Middle East. In that decade, genetic studies
based on blood-group polymorphism were carried out in different communities
in Israel, and increasing scientific effort was directed to uncovering the common
Jewish genetic characteristics and to trying to establish links with the more exotic
communities, namely, Jews in more remote locations. After the discovery of the
DNA in 1953 and the emergence of the more precise methods of molecular genetics, new studies proliferated whose goal was not only to identify the distribution
of Jewish genetic material so as to reconstruct the history of the Jews and their
geographic dissemination but also to identify which genetic traits are amenable
to manipulation, i.e., to eugenics (Falk 2006, 159).
Since the 1950s, the discipline of molecular biology has thrived in the State of
Israel, and this science is routinely applied to contemporary Israeli political life.
For example, there are studies of the Y-chromosome sequences among Yemenite
Jews and the Hadhramaut, as well as the Lemba Tribe of Zimbabwe and South
Africa (Parfitt 2000; Parfitt and Egorova 2006; Goldstein 2008). Other studies
focus on Ashkenazi Jews and indigenous Iraqi Jews who share the same mutation of blood-clotting factor XI. There are also studies about DNA sequencing
that seem to show that all present-day Jews, both Ashkenazi and Sephardic, can
claim a single hereditary line of evolution from the Middle East. These genetic
studies have important implications for both the political and the religious life of
the Jewish people and the utopian spirit of Zionism. Some of the studies concern
the degree of intermarriage between Jews and non-Jews in the past two thousand
years; others support the claims of the African and Middle Eastern tribes whose
religious myth of origins include a reference to Jews and Judaism; and still others are used to prove the legal right of these same people to Israeli citizenship
under the Law of Return. In short, molecular biology provides a scientific underpinning for attempts to establish claims about the Jewish people as well as to
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improve the bodies of Jews by eliminating certain diseases that are highly
represented among Jews on account of past inbreeding. In sum, the formerly
discredited science of eugenics has today been revived as the science of genetics
and is fully supported by Israeli medical policy in its determination to eliminate
Jewish genetic diseases.
The evidence above might lead one to think that the Jewish tradition is especially amenable to the transhumanist project. But the story gets much more complicated when we turn to modern Jewish religious thought and examine how
three leading modern Jewish philosophers – Kaplan, Buber, and Rosenzweig –
reflected on the utopian project. Their speculation presents us with a critical perspective to view the transhumanist project in the light of any ideology that closely
links the end of humanity to the betterment of the individual human body.
The Ideal End: Beyond Human Embodiment
Three prominent Jewish philosophers in the twentieth century – Mordecai Kaplan
(1881-1983), Martin Buber (1878-1965), and Franz Rosenzweig (1886-1929) –
bolster a critical engagement with transhumanism. Kaplan and Buber were cultural
Zionists, and, to at least that extent, their visions of the future of humanity have
something in common with the utopian vision of the transhumanists. As Zionists,
Kaplan and Buber looked forward to an improved humanity who would live
within an improved human community in this world. In this sense, they share
with the transhumanists a futurist vision of an idealized embodied humanity.
However, transhumanists tend to be individualists, while Kaplan was a nationalist. Like the transhumanists and contrary to Kaplan, Buber tended to envision his
ideal in individualistic rather than collectivist terms. But whereas Kaplan, like
the transhumanists, tended to be humanist and modernist, and consequently
physicalist, Buber intellectually came out of the romantic rebellion against modernism in the years following World War I. As a result, he understood the human
ideal in profoundly spiritual rather than in physical terms. In the language of
Buber’s phenomenology, what we are here calling “the physical” is encompassed
by his category of the “I–It,” which is associated with negative moral value,
while the spiritual is encompassed by Buber’s category of the “I–Thou,” which is
almost identical with positive moral value. Hence, while Buber never negated
human embodiment,4
clearly the ideal end is associated with the nonembodied
domain of the spiritual.

4 Quite to the contrary, with the sole exception of God (who is called “The Eternal Thou”),
everything else in reality, including human beings, exist through both I–It and I–Thou relations.
This means that God and only God can be said not to be embodied.
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The most profound critique of the transhumanism comes from the GermanJewish philosopher Franz Rosenzweig who described the ultimate end of everything as a state that transcends all physical nature, including the human body. To
be more precise, the ultimate end consists of the elimination of everything in
realizing the absolute reign of God. Most ingeniously, however, Rosenzweig
visualized this eschatological end in the shape of a human face, the very thing
transhumanism seeks to erase by reducing humans to superintelligent machines.
Jewish philosophical reflections on the ideal end should be understood in their
proper historical context. The discourse of Jewish philosophy (both premodern
and modern) involves a dialogue between the Judaic tradition and non-Jewish
culture, especially philosophy and science. Premodern Jewish philosophy arose
out of the engagement between the prevailing philosophy of those periods and
the accepted canon of the Hebrew scriptures (Samuelson 1994, 2002, 2003,
2009). Modern Jewish philosophy results from the dialogue between what Jews
have learned from their knowledge of their inherited religious and cultural tradition of authoritative texts and what they learn from the scientific and cultural
authoritative texts in their contemporary society. The difference between premodern and modern Jewish philosophy lies not so much in their respective procedures as in the tenets of science that each takes to be authoritative. In terms of an
eschatological vision, modern-thinking Jews derive the sources of their scientific
judgments about the End of Days from both the modern physical sciences associated with cosmology and the modern biological sciences associated with evolution. The latter make predictions about the long-term future of humanity, while
the former make predictions about the long-term end of the entire universe. Since
modern scientific judgments about both clusters are significantly different from
anything a premodern Jewish thinker would have affirmed, contemporary Jewish
philosophers must always reexamine their views on all subjects, especially in
regard to the rabbinically central notion of redemption and the eschatological
end. Out of this historical perspective, we will now investigate the relevant religious thought of each of these three Jewish philosophers to focus our comparison
of teachings of Judaism with transhumanism’s vision of an ideal end.
Mordecai Kaplan
Mordecai Kaplan was deeply aware of the radical gap between the intellectual
values of traditional rabbinic Judaism and what he calls “modernity”, and he
shared the prognosis that Judaism cannot survive if the rupture is not healed. For
Kaplan, the tension between the premodern and the modern is most evident in
terms of politics, sociology, and economy. Whereas traditional Judaism favorably
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presupposes theocratic monarchy as the most desirable system of government,
modern political philosophy affirms democratic nationalism as the ideal. Whereas
traditional Judaism holds obedience to the commandments of the Torah to be the
standard by which human virtue is to be judged, modern economic philosophy
affirms both that human happiness consists of maximum pleasure with minimal
suffering and that the use of money to acquire goods plays the critical role in its
achievement. Similarly, whereas traditional Judaism sees the sensible, material
world to be only one part of a greater spiritual reality, modern philosophy equates
the physical with the real. This modern view can be summarized as “scientific
humanism,” and it is exemplified most potently in transhumanist ideology. This
outlook is humanist because it holds that life should be about human beings
rather than about God, and it is scientific because the physical and human
sciences are the sole source of knowledge.
As a Zionist, Kaplan understood redemption in terms of an ideal Jewish global politics. His Judaism as a Civilization presents a secularized vision of the
messianic age. This claim might startle some readers familiar with the book
because the book is commonly seen more narrowly as a treatise in Jewish political philosophy, its intent being to provide political and sociological reforms to
enable Jewish communal life to prosper in the twentieth century. Yet the concluding paragraph book states its intent along the lines proposed here:
In sum, those who look to Judaism in its present state to provide them with a ready-made
scheme of salvation in this world, or in the next, are bound to be disappointed. The Jew will
have to save Judaism before Judaism will be in a position to save the Jew. The Jew is so circumstanced now that the only way he can achieve salvation is by replenishing the “wells of
salvation” which have run dry. He must rediscover, reinterpret and reconstruct the civilization of his people. To do that he must be willing to live up to a program that spells nothing
less than a maximum of Jewishness. True to his historic tradition he should throw in his lot
with all movements to further social justice and universal peace, and bring to bear upon
them the inspiration of his history and religion. Such a program calls for a degree of honesty
that abhors all forms of self-delusion, for a temper that reaches out to new consummations,
for the type of courage that is not deterred by uncharted regions. If this be the spirit in which
Jews will accept from the past the mandate to keep Judaism alive, and from the present the
guidance dictated by its profoundest needs, the contemporary crisis in Jewish life will prove
to be the birth-throes of a new era in the civilization of the Jewish people. (Kaplan 1934,
521-22; italics added for emphasis)
Kaplan’s redemption is a secularized reconstruction of the version of Jewish
messianism that can be traced all the way to the Hebrew Bible, especially to the
prophecies of Ezekiel. Under the influence of the American pragmatism that he
absorbed from his study at City College and Columbia University, Kaplan
strongly believed in the epistemic authority of what William James called “radical empiricism,” the kind of democratic liberal polity that John Dewey promoted
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and the kind of collective worldwide Jewish identity advocated by Ahad Ha’am
in his cultural Zionism (Zipperstein 1993). He believed that the Jewish people
were entering into a new world, a “world-to-come” that would replace the old socalled “this world” of the past. At the center of this Jewish world would be a
democratic nation-state established in the Land of Israel for the Jewish people. It
would function as an intellectual or spiritual (for Kaplan, these two words were
interchangeable) sun around which would orbit a world of reconstructed Jewish
communities in every nation on earth. These Diaspora Jewries would function as
states within states. In Kaplan’s utopia, nations would be ethnically pluralistic
democracies whose cultural, economic, and political life would be largely autonomous. (Only in the new State of Israel would the Jewish polity be completely
autonomous.)
Kaplan’s utopia is a confederation of polities where power is vested in the
constituent members. The primary collective identity of each individual would
be as members of a family. The families would be part of a “Bet Am,” a political
organization for urban neighborhoods. (Kaplan did not think about Jewish life in
agrarian villages outside large urban areas.) The Bet Am would combine the
features of early twentieth-century North American synagogues, Jewish community centers, and Jewish philanthropic agencies. In turn, each Bet Am would
belong to a city-wide government called a “Kehillah,” which regulated collective
life between neighborhoods. Similarly, each Kehillah would be part of a “General Assembly” at the level of the nation itself.
The form of government of each unit was to be democratic. The families
would elect leaders of the Bet Am who would represent the neighborhood in the
Kehillah. Similarly, each Kehillah would elect leaders who would represent the
city in a national General Assembly, and the General Assembly would elect an
Executive Council both to govern the national internal affairs of the national
Jewish collective and to represent the nation in global deliberations directed to
preserve and prosper world Jewry. On Kaplan’s model, nations would function
more or less as the United Nations functions. Just as nations are autonomous
members of the UN, so Kaplan thought that ethnic groups should become largely
autonomous members of their host nations.
Kaplan believed that his political program was realistic. However, despite his
immense influence on American Jewish intellectuals in the 1930s and 1940s, it
never was adopted successfully anywhere. Its fatal flaw in terms of the thisworldly reality of North America was that he failed to take capitalism sufficiently
seriously. No community structure could provide the kinds of services Kaplan
envisioned as essential to a prosperous Jewish community (notably worship,
education, and charity) without money, but those who could give the money
would not give it to an institution (be it Jewish or not) that they could not trust to
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do what they thought should be done. Consequently, no Jewish communal structure could succeed (especially in a nation as firmly committed to enlightened
capitalism as is the United States) that was not an oligarchy of wealth. Hence,
Kaplan’s vision of Jewish life survives simply as a futuristic hope for a more
enlightened time that even he would call, in the spirit of his reconstruction of
rabbinic language, the “messianic age.”
Although Kaplan’s utopian vision had nothing to do with transhumanist agenda, his political vision offers a certain indirect critique of the transhumanist approach to human life. Transhumanism is inherently individualistic, viewing human beings as bodies that can improve their performance through genetic engineering. Kaplan tells us that human beings are members of communities and that
human perfection can happen only through communal interaction. By contrast,
transhumanist thought is decidedly individualistic, concerned with the happiness
of individuals who have no collective identity and who do not concern themselves with social welfare.
Martin Buber
Another cultural Zionist was Martin Buber, the recognized intellectual leader of
German Jewry from 1933 to 1938 and the most influential Jewish thinker, whose
philosophy of dialogue inspired many non-Jewish thinkers (Brenner 1996, especially chapters 4 and 7). Buber’s philosophy cannot be explored here in any
detail, but it is important to recognize that his hope for the future was no less
Jewish and no less political than was Kaplan’s. However, Buber presented a
vision for the future that is rather universalist, akin to the teachings of the prophet
Isaiah rather than to the nationalist and particularist vision of the prophet Ezekiel.
The work of Buber’s that most closely parallels Kaplan’s Judaism as a Civilization is Paths to Utopia (1967).
Like Kaplan, Buber wrote in response to the severe crisis of survival facing all
of Jewry in the Western culture, and both men sought to solve this problem out
of a commitment to some form of socialism in the minimalist sense of the term,
namely, a belief that the happiness of individuals is intimately tied to correct
moral choices and sound social policy by government. However, for the American
Jew, Kaplan, the political ideal envisioned for the world was a form of representational democracy, while for the German Jew, Buber, the political ideal was a
form of direct democracy. Kaplan’s model was developed out of his involvement
in Jewish community city planning (notably in New York City and in Pittsburgh)
for absorbing anticipated poor Jewish immigrants from Europe to the United
States, while Buber’s model for good government was his ideal of what the Kibbutz
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movement in Israel should strive to become as it also prepared for mass Jewish
immigration from Europe. In this sense, the difference between them had more
to do with their contemporary cultural identities as Jews in their new homelands,
North America and Palestine, not with their backgrounds of European Jews.
In Paths to Utopia, Buber instantiated his general dialectic in the institution of
the Kibbutz movement, which was founded on the ideal that people through
personal relationship would be able to move beyond objectification and selfinterest and find a shared collective way to live. However, even the Kvutzah (a
distinctive, smaller form of agricultural collectives) needed to merge into some
“higher social unit” (Buber 1967, 146). At first, the cooperatives were sufficiently small that all the members could come together and achieve a consensus.
However, their success in working together led them to expand to even larger
cooperatives so that they could accomplish even more, until the collective finally
reached a point where consensus on every issue was no longer practical.
The need of the newly born cooperative to lead a normal life of doing things
like raising food and educating children led the comrades eventually to delegate
responsibility and, with delegation, arose the necessity for their society to evolve
into something both more communist and federalist, both of which required the
differentiation and, therefore, objectification of the fellows into different roles.
People were divided by what they could do for the good of the whole; as such,
the people themselves ceased to live as a whole (Buber 1967, 147-48).
The logic of Buber’s dialectic suggested that, in the end, the seeming growth
of the political units would fail to produce the desired solidarity and sense of
mutuality because the units would have simply become too large for continued
direct relationship, and, indeed, the actual history of the Kibbutz movement
supports this conclusion. However, this was not the conclusion Buber drew.
Rather, he adds, “but the trend towards a larger unit is far from having atrophied
in the process.” Buber saw the inevitable direction toward death, either into (by
implication) something resembling the dreaded capitalist exploitation system of
the United States or the nightmare of impersonal bureaucracy of the Soviet Union. Buber refused to accept this conclusion for the Jewish polity in Israel. In
stubborn (and conscientious) opposition to all that his sharp intellect had revealed in this retrospective on his life-long commitment to socialism, Buber’s
final words in this book are the following:
So long as Russia has not undergone an essential inner change – and today we have no
means of knowing when and how that will come to pass – we must designate one of the two
poles of Socialism between which our choice lies, by the formidable name of “Moscow”.
The other, I would make bold to call “Jerusalem”.
As a product of early twentieth-century German socialism, Buber saw no hope
for the future continuing to practice the nineteenth-century political values of
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individualism, democracy, and materialist utility that formally capitalist and
democratic countries such as the United States continued to advocate as a global
ideal after World War II. Without question, Buber believed that the future was
socialist. However, socialism appeared in two forms, one dark and the other
light. German Nationalist Socialism was the dark form, representing the greatest
extent to which any society in history had overcome the Ich-Du (I–Thou) for
existence in the form of Ich-Es (I–It). It became the society that, before World
War I, Franz Kafka had predicted as the future in his surrealist fairy tales. Buber
had hoped for the other side, a society of pure Ich-Du relationship where living
beings had learned to overcome their material need to objectivize. He saw the
Soviet Union becoming fascist and feared that the same could happen to the
Kvutzah.
Buber’s hope for the Jewish state over the increasingly apparent fate of the Russian state was grounded in Jewish messianism. For him, the Kibbutz imitated the
ideal of “Jerusalem,” and the Jerusalem that fed this hope was the messianic Jerusalem rabbinic tradition extracted out of the prophecies of Ezekiel and Isaiah.
Already thirty years before he published Paths to Utopia, his messianic ideal
for redemption, he had deduced a logical imperative from the past into the
present in I and Thou (1970, 168). Buber used his dialectic of subjective and
objective language to analyze the development of language, history, and theology. His analysis of the history of language focused on the role of what he called
the “foundational word” (Das Grundwort) through a human social history that
culminates in (by implication) the history of religions. Corresponding to the term
word in language is the term revelation (die Offenbarung) in religion.
Buber ends the body (there is also an “Afterthought”) of this central text in his
philosophy with these thoughts: “The word is present in revelation, at work in
the life of the form, and becomes valid in the dominion of the dead form.” This
sentence introduces the conclusion of his book. Walter Kaufmann notes that the
sentence in the original (“Das Wort ist in der Offenbarung wesend”) is “utterly
unidiomatic German.” The reason is that here, as often in his (and Rosenzweig’s)
writing, Buber is speaking German but thinking biblical-rabbinic Hebrew. The
“word” is “DIBBUR,” which in this context is an allusion to “the word of God”,
i.e., to revelation. The German term for revelation, Offenbarung, literally means
that state of being open to receive something. When God reveals, what he reveals
is Himself, not mere (objective) content. Revelation is a relationship in which
one person makes herself completely open (even naked) to another person.
Hence, a word is not some thing stated, and revelation is not some thing revealed. It is a (the) form of life between persons. “Thus the path and counter-path
of the eternal and eternally present word in history” (Buber 1970, 168). God
uniquely is the only living subject who can never be object. Thus, in Buber’s
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language, God and God alone is “the eternal You” (das ewige Du) (ibid. 160).
However, humans, like all created living things, live between the subjective and
the objective. Hence, religions, namely, all societies that live or try to live in
relationship to God, share in the historical movement from birth as pure Ich-Du
toward death in pure Ich-Es. However, each life-to-death is only a stage in an ongoing cycle, for each death is overcome by a new birth that begins the cycle all
over again (ibid.).
This cycle will not last forever. There is a hope that beyond each future “Moscow” in human history, there will be a final “Jerusalem.” The path is not a circle.
It is the way. Doom becomes more oppressive in every new eon, and the return
more explosive. And the theophany comes ever closer to the sphere between beings
– comes closer to the realm that hides in our midst, in the “between.” History is a
mysterious approach to closeness. Every spiral of the path leads us into deeper
corruption and, at the same time, into more fundamental return. But the God-side
of the event whose world-side is called return is called redemption (Buber 1970).
This one concluding paragraph of Ich und Du lays out with astounding brevity
of expression Buber’s entire philosophy of redemption. Writing at the end of
World War I, Buber prophesies that worse coming. We are not yet in “the days
of the messiah.” The cycle is, in fact, not a cycle, because in a cycle there is no
progress. Each beginning is nothing more than the earlier beginning, and each
end is nothing more than the previous end. Hence, there is no change. That is
what “pagans” have thought, but it is not the hope affirmed here of the Jewish
philosopher. In each cycle, the darkness becomes greater, which, in turn, produces
a greater light. Here, the true prophet Martin Buber predicts that, after that darkness, there will be a greater light. The creation of the State of Israel is not the
End of Days. Redemption still, even with the Kibbutz, lies in a future. However,
it will come. At least, that is the hope of the Jew Martin Buber.
Franz Rosenzweig
Buber’s closest friend and collaborator on the translation of the Bible into German
was Franz Rosenzweig, perhaps the most profound Jewish thinker in the twentieth century. The socialism that informed the Jewish conceptions of redemption
shared by both Kaplan and Buber (as we have seen, Kaplan more than Buber)
reflects the latest stage of a political and ethical direction in Western European
utopian thought that traces its origins at least to the eighteenth-century ideals of the
American and French Revolutions. In its broadest outline, that model of messianism
defined modernity as secularist and humanist. As such, the modern vision of the
world – past, present, and future – is a radical break with the earlier rabbinic concep-
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tion of the world that was spiritualist and theocentric. In this most fundamental
respect, the conceptions of redemption affirmed by both Kaplan and Buber are
modernist.
Rosenzweig’s vision of the End was deeply indebted to all the strands of premodern Jewish thought. In fact, it was an intentional critique of any modernist
reinterpretation of Jewish messianism found in either liberal religious versions of
Judaism (of which Kaplan’s conception is one paradigm) or Zionist versions of
Jewish identity (of which Buber’s conception is one ideal). Rosenzweig’s analysis of redemption is presented here as a model of postmodern, contemporary
reflection in Jewish philosophy that contains the most profound, albeit implied,
critique of transhumanism.
Although Rosenzweig was indebted to post-Hegelian German philosophy for
a politically charged, contemporary, secularist vision of what Jews and Christians call “the kingdom of God” (malkhut shamayim), it is crucial not to misunderstand his own eschatological vision. For Rosenzweig, the human will indeed
be transformed in the eschatological end, but the “End” pertains to absolutely
everything and not just to human beings. What Rosenzweig presents is not an
argument, not even a prediction, but what can only be called a prophetic vision
of the end of absolutely everything.
Rosenzweig’s vision of the End is of a human face, and into that final humanity
disappear both the world and the divine. In the End, the human becomes everything. Dissolved of everything physical as well as mental except for a “face,” the
human becomes, in Nietzsche’s words, “superhuman.” But Rosenzweig’s Übermensch is not Nietzsche’s; instead, Rosenzweig has in mind the homiletically
conceived reconstitution of the first human (ha-Adam ha-Rishon in Hebrew)
created by God at the origin of absolutely everything.
Rosenzweig’s conclusion that redemption is to be envisioned as a face is itself
homiletical. In Hebrew countenance (German, das Gesicht) is panim, and the
obvious implicit allusion of this term is to Deut. 34:7, which says “Never again
did there arise in Israel a prophet like Moses – whom the Lord singled out, face
to face (panim el panim).” In all other cases to look on God’s “face” causes the
viewer’s death. Yet, even here, Deut. 34:6 says, “Moses, the servant (‘eved) of
the Lord, died there in the land of Moab, at the command of the Lord (‘al-pi
YHWH).” ‘Al-pi literally means “by the mouth of,” which the Midrash and subsequent traditional rabbinic commentaries take to mean that God kills Moses
with a kiss (Greenberg 1996; Meir 2006).
Rosenzweig here understands Moses’s death by the kiss of God to express
human perfection. The Midrash identifies Moses as the ideal human being; his
death is his “end,” and by “end” the rabbis mean perfection. Hence, on Rosenzweig’s interpretation, the death of Moses expresses the ultimate perfection of
humanity, and that end is caused by a kiss from God. As Mosaic (here meaning
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ultimate human) revelation occurs “face to face,” so the redemption of all of
creation occurs “mouth to mouth,” i.e., as a kiss, from the mouth of God on the
mouth of Moses.
The kiss is an action of loving, and this loving is human. But the human is
more than human. Kissing is an act by what the human is intended to become,
and that becoming is understood on Rosenzweig’s suggestion in light of
Nietzsche’s prediction of the transformation of the human into the superhuman.
Although we cannot prove it here, Rosenzweig’s conception of the End is entirely rooted in rabbinic, philosophic, and kabbalistic sources; but the relevant point
for us is that his notion of human redemption (Erlösung in German, Ge’ulah in
Hebrew) is comparable to (but not identical with) how transhumanists understand what they call “the Singularity” (Rosenzweig 1971, 265). Rosenzweig
describes his understanding of what the Hebrew scriptures say about the End of
Days as a single point of time, a moment, at the end of the line of time whose
starting point, also a single moment, is creation. With respect to time, both creation and time are nothing substantial. All they are, from the perspective of the
positive thinking of naturalist science or philosophy, is a point. The history of
our world can be measured on a time line that is finite with respect to both its
origin and its end, and that beginning/end is only a point – a moment, a (so to
speak) nothing in time. As the world was created from nothing, so the world will
end as nothing.
Yet the nothing posited for the End is full of meaning: it is not only the end of
the world; it is also its redemption. Here redemption is not to be understood in
the this-worldly political-utopian terms that the Ezekiel tradition was transmitted
through both the modernist Kaplan and the romantic Buber. Rather, Rosenzweig
draws a picture of a world beyond all worlds that is portrayed as a single cosmic
light that overcomes all darkness. Rosenzweig in all likelihood derived this notion of the ultimate End from the conception of redemption in medieval Jewish
rationalism and mysticism, even though he does not quote these sources. Instead,
he bases his judgment on the Psalms, especially Ps. 139. The Psalms are chosen
because, for Rosenzweig, literature, like science, is a way of knowing about
something, but prayer is a form of action. In the case of prayer, the object is
redemption, and the words of prayer do more than describe redemption: their
communal utterance is the way that redemption is brought about.
Conclusion: Evaluations
We have presented transhumanism and Judaism in order to provide the background needed to make a comparison. In the case of Judaism our survey focused
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on two questions. First, what are the variety of premodern and modern positions
that the intellectual leaders of Jewry have expressed and exhibited toward
science and technology? Second, how, in comparison with the transhumanists,
have Jewish intellectuals, both premodern and modern, envisioned the future of
humanity and, beyond humanity, the End of the universe? All the issues for
evaluation arise with respect to the second question.
Transhumanism presents a technological utopia that is challenging from the
perspective of Jewish philosophy in three respects. First, the transhumanist vision
of the End is profoundly secular; second, it is inherently materialistic; and third,
it is utopian. In general, transhumanist discourse calls not only for improving the
human condition by biological augmentation but for transcending humanity
altogether.
The techno-optimism that characterizes the transhumanist movement has little
basis in reality. The more we know the history of the human species the less
plausible transhumanism becomes as a scenario about the future of humanity.
Jared Diamond (1992) shows how human beings throughout the world have
destroyed their environment and, by so doing, ultimately themselves. There is no
reason to believe that, in the future, human beings will be able to save their inhabitable world more than they have been able to do so in the past.
In this respect in particular, the Jewish tradition offers intriguing perspectives
on the transhumanist vision. On the one hand, the Jewish historical experience
has made Jews particularly interested in improving the human body and made
them welcome the science of eugenics. In the secular variants of Judaism – especially Zionism – eugenics has been endorsed as a means to improve the Jewish
bodily condition. To this extent, Judaism shares a good deal with transhumanism. On the other hand, Jewish eschatological reflections expose the limits of
transhumanism because they make clear that human existence cannot be reduced
to embodiment. The ultimate End of life cannot be envisioned merely as physical
betterment or even perfection: it must transcend embodiment. Furthermore, the
ultimate End cannot reflect the narrow perspective of humans; instead, it must
pertain to the End of the universe as seen from the perspective of God.
This Jewish perspective is better understood in contemporary physics than in
biology. For example, the physical cosmologist and Nobel Laureate Steven
Weinberg explains how the physical universe began and, based on its present
trajectory, how it will end. The First Three Minutes ends with the following
judgment: “the more the universe seems comprehensible, the more it seems
pointless” (Weinberg 1993, 154). We know that the universe began in a singularity as a single positive, nearly infinitely small globe of nearly infinite density, at
nearly infinite temperature. This singularity imploded, and the implosion produced an expansion of the initial energy into the emptiness of the surrounding
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space. The story of this expansion is the history of the cosmos. As time goes on,
everything becomes more remote from everything else, so that everything that is
becomes less dense and colder. This story can have one of two possible endings.
Which ending will actually occur depends on the density of the universe. If it is
sufficiently great, then the rate of acceleration of the universe will be negative,
so that, with time, the expansion will slow down and will eventually reverse. On
this scenario, the universe will end as it began, namely, as an infinitely small,
infinitely hot, single thing. Conversely, if the density of the universe is sufficiently small, then the things within the universe will continue endlessly to expand. The universe will never end, but it will end for any practical purpose. In
the end, what there is will be infinitely remote from anything else in a state of
near infinite cold. However, whatever the “it” is that will be, it will not have
anything to do with anything that in anyway has anything to do with being human.
In the end, all will be one or nothing, but this “End” is, in Weinberg’s words,
something that, while “comprehensible” is utterly “pointless.”
This is the major difference between the Jewish religious tradition, as interpreted most creatively by Rosenzweig, and contemporary science, or, by extension, transhumanism. Unlike contemporary science, the Judaic vision of the
ultimate End is not pessimistic. The “End” is indeed universal death, as science
teaches, but is has a positive and hopeful scenario. God alone, the ultimate reality,
will remain; all multiplicity, diversity, and imperfection will vanish. From this
religious perspective, this End is not “pointless” or depressing, as the secularist
Weinberg claims, but a hopeful vision that enables us to gain the proper perspective on human life in its futile attempt to transcend human limitation and become
superhuman. This attempt is misguided because it mistakenly defines the “ultimate
end” in human terms and because it identifies perfection with the well-being of
the human body. Rather, traditional Judaism asserts that only when human beings acknowledge God as the one and ultimate reality can they live meaningfully
with a genuine eschatological hope in accord with what modern science teaches
about the universe. The traditional Jewish position lacks the pessimism of Weinberg’s position because it does not lead to nihilism or despair.5

Jewish Bioethics of Transhumanism
JAKE MOROSHEK
Introduction

One aspect of Jewish ethical thinking is modern bioethics. Since the 1960’s
with the advent of life support machines, the ability of man to live longer has
grown tremendously. Judaism usually appreciates these advances, because of the
halakhic principle of pikuah nefesh, which states that life has an inestimable value
and must be protected.1 Moving forward, the biggest question of the 21 st
century for Jewish Bioethicists will be whether to allow humans to augment their
natural body using medicine and biotechnology.
As biotechnology advances, things currently in the realm of science fiction
will become a reality. Artificial organs, artificial limbs, improved memory, bionic
eyes and ears – the list goes on and on. It may seem farfetched, but devices like
prosthetic arms and legs have existed for quite some time. How long till
technology narrows the gap between real and fake? How long till “artificial” trumps
“natural”? This phenomena of using biotechnology to not just heal, but also
improve the human status quo is called Transhumanism, and it is the next big
moral question in Judaism.
In articulating Judaism’s view on Transhumanism, it is important to better
understand what Transhumanism is. Transhumanism, also called Posthumanism,
can operate on a spectrum. It could be something as simple as getting a hip
replacement, or as drastic as getting a bionic leg. Also, there are different
categories to Transhumanism. There’s the physical – an artificial organ, leg, hand,
eye etc. Or it can be something that upgrades our intelligence – memory chips,
processors, and computers.

Transhumanism through plastic surgery
While no famous Jewish scholars have tackled the issue of Transhumanism
as of yet, a parallel example for comparison can be found in plastic surgery. Why?
In the majority of cases, people get plastic surgery to improve their appearance.
It’s usually not something necessary to survive. Similarly, Posthumanists will
generally improve their body for reasons other than medical necessity, such as
strength or intelligence. In other words, both procedures often are not necessary
for survival, but are performed anyways to enhance social standing and appeal.
Sometimes however, plastic surgery is important for a person’s career, or it may
solve some physical problems. Such a situation parallels how Transhumanism
seeks to not only improve mankind, but often will prolong life for the ill. For
example, a person with an enlarged heart would benefit greatly from receiving a
bionic heart; just as a person who struggles to breathe because of a poorly shaped
1

Even so, this remains a topic of rabbinic discussion, because Judaism supports prolonging
life, not delaying death.

nose benefits from plastic surgery. Another parallel to plastic surgery is that it was
once an unproven procedure. Similarly, Posthumanism will pose certain dangers
from the get go. The above are some examples of how plastic surgery parallels
Transhumanism. Because there are so many similarities, one can extrapolate
Jewish bioethical discussion on plastic surgery onto Posthumanism.
First let’s start with something easy. Judaism believes in protecting life at all
costs. “One who had a structure fall upon him [on the Sabbath], and it is uncertain
whether he is there or not, whether he is dead or alive, whether he is Cuthite or
Jew, the heap is cleared off of him [in spite of the Sabbath violation this
involves]...”[2] So whether discussion is about clearing building pieces off a body,
performing plastic surgery, or doing a futuristic operation with an artificial organ, if
it saves a life, it is performed.
What if the procedure is not necessary for survival? In the case of plastic
surgery, Jewish bioethicists raise several questions that are applicable to both
plastic surgery and Transhumanism. The first asks: does the procedure involve
infractions against havalah, the law against self wounding? And more broadly, does
the procedure pose a life risk?[3] This is an important question in Judaism, which
believes that people are the caretakers of their bodies – almost as if bodies are on
loan from God. Since any early procedure poses inherent risks, the early adopters
of plastic surgery (which traces all the way back to Ancient Egyptian times[4]) and
the future adopters of Transhumanism probably go against the beliefs of Judaism,
because the risks involved are too great. The Jewish canon, however, talks
extensively about acceptable risks. So the next question that must be answered is
whether Transhumanism is an acceptable risk to take.
This opens a Pandora’s Box of issues, because Judaism allows almost any
risk to be taken if done for the right reason.[5] For example, if someone’s life is on
the line, Judaism allows almost anything to be done to save the person. Anything
less than this requires scrutiny. In summary, to understand if a risk is acceptable,
Judaism says one must look at how dangerous a procedure is and the motivation
for doing it. Is becoming Posthuman or looking a certain way a risk worth taking?
That will be answered later. Needless to say, the less experimental and dangerous
a procedure is, the more favorably Judaism regards it.
Jewish tradition provides many examples discouraging the modification of
the body. "In my flesh, I see God," says Job.[6] In this passage Job says that despite
all the faults his body has, he still sees the work of God in it. Clearly the idea of
improving upon God’s work is very unsettling for the would be recipient of plastic
surgery, a bionic eye etc. Rabbi Waldenburg, who vehemently opposes plastic
surgery, cites the Gemara (Taanit 20b) which relates the story of when Rabbi
Elazar met an exceptionally unattractive individual. He asked the man whether all
the people in his town were as ugly as he. The man responded that Rabbi Elazar
had insulted Hashem by implying, “What an ugly vessel You have made.”[7]
Deuteronomy 22:5, goes further in explaining why not only changing the body, but
improving it is not allowed, “a man shall not put on a woman’s garment.” J.David
Bleich says this doesn’t just apply to the act of wearing female clothing, but to the
entire process of beautifying the body.[3] Despite all these arguments from the
Pentateuch and other Jewish texts which discourage the modification of the body,
there nonetheless exists plenty of evidence which argues the reverse.
One of the questions posed above was whether it is consistent with the task
of a reasonable caretaker to undergo self-wounding and its accompanying pain
(havalah) on behalf of the promised improvement of appearance? Maimonides

argues that a person is permitted to choose to undergo a degree of self-wounding
and pain on behalf of that which he or she judges to be a greater good. The only
type of self wounding that he prohibits is the sort which is done in a humiliating or
belligerent manner (derekh bizayon and derekh nitzayon).[8] Since plastic surgery
and the Transhumanist movement both have good intentions, they would probably
be allowed according to Maimonides.
In the case of plastic surgery where the risk is low, Rabbi Breish invokes the
concept of Shomer Pasaim Hashem - God watches over the simple.[4] The idea is
that if the common people believe the procedure is safe, whether plastic surgery or
Posthuman surgery, the physician must perform it. So, while every medical
procedure begins its existence as risky, eventually it becomes more acceptable
and safe. Then, it becomes the job of the doctor to leave behind his bias and
emotion and perform the procedure. This idea reinforces what was said before
about risk: if there comes a time when the risk of performing a Posthuman
operation goes down to a point even normal people are willing to get it, then it is
likely safe enough for Judaism.
What about the previous argument that changing the body disrespects
God’s original creation? One passage from the Babylonian Talmud says “Every
judge who judges with complete fairness, even for a single hour, tradition gives
him credit as though he had become a partner to the Holy One, blessed be God, in
the creation.”[9] It means that people are God’s partners in creation. This is a view
held by many Jewish bioethicists like Dayan Weisz, Rabbi Moshe, and Rabbi
Breisch. They often site Nahmanides and the idea of tikkun olam – that the world is
broken and that God is no longer creating alone. Thus, people need to participate
to make the world whole again.[10] This legitimizes the practice of plastic surgery,
medicine, Transhumanism, because it portrays all of these as our part of the
mission of humanity to finish creation in God’s world.
One passage in the Gemara serves as an argument for and against plastic
surgery (and Posthumanism). The Gemara states that a man is permitted to
remove scabs from his body to eliminate pain, but not for beautification purposes.
[11] Rashi comments that removing scabs for beautification purposes is forbidden
for a male because it is regarded as feminine behavior. Tosofos, however, says that
“If the only pain that he suffers is that he is embarrassed to walk among people
then it is permissible, because there is no greater pain than this.”[12] Amazing
that from the same passage, two views can be propagated. Rashi with his view
that beautification is feminine, and Tosofos about the need to fit in with society.
People who currently do plastic surgery would probably agree with Tosofos. They
do the surgery because they feel embarrassed about the way they look. This idea
can be extrapolated onto Posthumanism. Currently, a futuristic procedure is
nothing more than that, but some day if/when the majority of mankind becomes
“Posthuman,” society will shun those that are different. Then, Tosofos’ argument
will become all the more valid. Using that as a jumping point, there may come a
time in the future when a person who doesn’t have a memory chip implant or
some physical enhancement will be at a great disadvantage. They will have trouble
finding jobs, and will be at a societal disadvantage. In that situation the arguments
of Tosofos play even more strongly.
What becomes obvious from all of this is that Jewish texts can be interpreted
in more than one way. Depending on what a person agrees with, two different
conclusions can be reached. This is the case when plastic surgery is used to
extrapolate halakhah onto Transhumanism. Transhumanism could be seen as a

dangerous act of hubris which defies God’s creation, or as something that allows a
person to fit in and do what they wish as legitimate caretakers of their body.
Further Ideas
After this extensive analysis and extrapolation of plastic surgery onto
Transhumanism, it is important to acknowledge where this analysis has fallen
short. The Central Conference of American Rabbis in their responsa to surgical
transplants writes that the problem is difficult, because “transplanting of organs is
an entirely new surgical procedure, and, therefore, there could be no direct parallel
or discussion of such a procedure in the older literature. Whatever opinion is
arrived at on this matter must be derived as the underlying ethical principle behind
related discussions in the literature.”[13] This identifies the key difficulty in
discussing something as advanced and futuristic as Posthumanism – not only has it
not happened yet, but it also has no equivalent in the past. To mitigate that
problem, plastic surgery was used as a similar biomedical example. But, as shall be
seen further, Transhumanism is more complicated than plastic surgery. Therefore
the analysis done above becomes inadequate.
Another missing piece is the “intelligence” part of Transhumanism. Up to
now, it has been all but ignored. When discussing Posthumanism, it has been in
terms of bionic arms, eyes, organs and other things that improve on the physical
nature of man. However, there is so much more to Transhumanism.
Transhumanism is all about creating intelligence and making mankind smarter. It’s
using the fruits of the computer age to allow people to connect themselves into the
growing network of knowledge. It could be using genetic engineering to improve
the gene pool. The list goes on and on. What does Judaism say about this aspect of
Transhumanism? Furthermore, what does Judaism say about Posthumanism taken
to infinity, a point science fiction writers call the “the singularity” –
a time in the future when humanity uses technology to create or become
creatures of superhuman intelligence?[14]
Basically the questions above can be synthesized into the following: how
does Judaism feel about expanding human intelligence? What does Judaism feel
about artificially implanting that knowledge into people? What is Judaism’s
perspective about genetically altering people to select for better traits? And finally,
is it ok to create another sentient species?
To answer the first question, one must look at Judaism in general. The Torah
is the Jew’s code of laws and a template for life. Each subsequent book in the
Jewish canon, whether Mishnah or Talmud, has been a way for the great thinkers of
that age to comment on the previous body of work before them. In this way,
Judaism always keeps itself rooted in its original principles, but open to the everchanging future. Therefore the Transhumanist goal of increasing intelligence and
pushing the scientific knowledge of mankind forward corresponds directly to the
Judaic goal of bequeathing the wisdom and knowledge of the present for the
future.
The next two questions have contradictory answers. On the one hand
genetic engineering could mesh with Judaism in that it is a part of man’s mission of
repairing the world (tikkun olam). Yet in the examples related to plastic surgery,
there were several passages like “In my flesh I see God”[6] which argue against
man changing the nature around him. Nahmanides who himself was a great
proponent of the “tikkun olam” philosophy also had the following commentary on a
Talmudic story. In the story (Pesachim 54a) God inspires Adam with a type of Divine

knowledge, and Adam takes two heterogeneous animals and crosses them and
creates a mule. Elsewhere, the Talmud asks (Chullin 7b) why they are called mules
(yemim) and the answer is "because they cast fear upon men." This inappropriate
use of nature by Adam is what Nahmanides condemns in his biblical commentary
(Leviticus 19:19) as “changing and denying the Divine creation of the world."[15]
Ramban in his commentary shows that there is a difference between improving the
world around us, and making it different from the way God made it. The silver
lining in all of this is that if Transhumanism is using genetic engineering, gene
therapy, or some other future technology to improve man as we know him, then
that is Eugenics, and not allowed. However, if it is done to cure disease, then all
the laws of the Torah are suspended in order to cure the sick.
What about augmenting human minds by implanting memory chips or
computers? Just as Adam created the mule, which was an unnatural being, so
would the blending of human brains and computers be an unnatural creature in
nature. Rav S.R. Hirsch goes further and explains that kilayim, an unnalowed
mixture, is prohibited because it is an unnatural mixing of things, even though
what is produced may be stronger and bigger.[16]
Finally, what is Judaism’s belief about creating a sentient species? In other
words, what happens if people create a computer that becomes sentient and
capable of evolution? Based on the Torah it seems like this would overstep the
bounds of human involvement in nature and would border on the realm of God.
That would be a great form of Hubris for the Jewish people. If one needs Talmudic
proof, one can again turn to Adam’s unnatural creation of the mule which
overstepped the powers that God gave him.

Conclusion
It seems in the final analysis that although one can find evidence in the
Torah which allows a man or a woman to augment their body, this evidence is
eclipsed by the larger amount of evidence which suggests a blending of man and
machine would create a monster of nature. While mankind’s exploration of
technology and Transhumanism is probably a worthwhile task, because it furthers
the knowledge of humanity, it is ultimately too dangerous to dabble in the realm of
God. Creating superior people or entire sentient species infringes on God’s plan for
creation. As always, there is a silver lining, the counterpoint if you will.
Maimonides, himself a great physician, says in (Hilchot Yesodei Torah 5.6), "He who
is sick and in danger of death, and the physician tells him that he can be cured by
a certain object or material which is forbidden by the Torah, must obey the
physician and be cured." This is codified as a law in the Shulchan Aruch, Yoreh De-a
155.3. The message is thus: despite all the dangers of creating Posthumans, and
the fact that this area of science infringes on God’s plan, it may ultimately be done
in order to save the lives of the ill.

Despite Google’s dictum of “Don’t Be Evil,” the company has suspiciously aligned itself with the grand ambitions of American imperialism, with its executive chairman Eric Schmidt attending the infamous Bilderberg conference in 2008, 2010, 2011 and 2013. Schmidt also has a listed membership with the Trilateral Commission.

Far more disturbing, however, is Google participation in what appears to be a totalitarian ambition to create a New World Order under a superconscious computer likened to God. See here, here, here, and here for more. While it may sound like science fiction, Google execs have been advancing the cause of “technological singularity,” and the advent of superhuman intelligence, known as “transhumanism.”

These delusional ambitions have their origin in the CIA-sponsored Cybernetics Group, formed about the Macy Conferences of the 40s and 50s. They were inheritors of the mad scientists of the Frankfurt School, a group of neo-Freudians who manufactured the foundations of American popular culture. Beginning with the 60s counterculture, it fostered the rise of the “personal computer,” which grew out of the CIA”s MK-Ultra program for the proliferation of LSD.

It would be through the aid of powerful psychedelics that the transhumanists would be aided in developing a delusional wonderment with this completely implausible scenario of a conscious computer.

These aspirations are outgrowths of the Kabbalah, according to which human intellectual history is that of man evolving to become God. From its origins with Isaac Luria in the sixteenth century, the idea has now evolved so that it is proposed that humans will become gods, by achieving the ultimate divine feat, creating intelligent life, in the form of a supercomputer.

The technological singularity, or simply the singularity, is a hypothetical moment in time when artificial intelligence will have progressed to the point of a greater-than-human intelligence, radically changing civilization, and perhaps human nature. Because the capabilities of such an intelligence may be difficult for a human to comprehend, the technological singularity is often seen as an occurrence beyond which the future course of human history is unpredictable or even unfathomable.

The use of the term "transhuman" goes back to Jesuit priest, philosopher and paleontologist Pierre Teilhard de Chardin., the "Catholic Darwin," who through his postulation that man would create the Noosphere, a supreme consciousness, is often regarded as the patron saint of the internet.

Teilhard applied the scientific concept of evolution to the Christian notion of spiritual rapture, believing that technology would bring about the ultimate spiritual evolution of mankind. According to him, this is the work of Christ. Teilhard's beliefs also reconciled panpsychism, the idea that all matter is intelligent. He developed the Omega Point Theory, which posits that all the organisms on Earth will reach a higher evolutionary point by merging into one "planetized spirit."

However, humans would have to merge their collective intelligence into one super-mind through computer technology, as a necessary first step in the collective evolution of the universe. Teilhard was unapologetic about the eugenic basis of his theory:

So far we have certainly allowed our race to develop at random, and we have given too little thought to the question of what medical and moral factors must replace the crude forces of natural selection should we suppress them. In the course of the coming centuries, it is indispensable that a form of noble eugenics, on a standard worthy of our personalities, should be discovered and developed. Eugenics applied to individuals leads to eugenics applied to society.[1]

The first use of the term "singularity" in this context was by mathematician John von Neumann, one of the leaders of the Cybernetics Group. According to Jeffrey Steinberg, in From Cybernetics to Littleton,

For John von Neumann and Norbert Wiener, the core of the Cybernetics Group project was the development of computers, and the prospect of combining high-speed computers with so-called Artificial Intelligence, to literally "program" the human race. Underlying all of these efforts was the unshakable, albeit preposterous conviction, most avidly presented by von Neumann, that there was nothing sacred about the human mind, and that the human brain was a machine, whose functioning could be replicated, and eventually surpassed, by computers.

The biologist and eugenicist Julian Huxley, who was once head of UNESCO and whose brother Aldous was one of the leading architects of MK-Ultra, popularizing the use of psychedelics, is generally regarded as the founder of "transhumanism." Julian also wrote the introduction to Teilhard de Chardin's The Phenomenon of Man. In 1957 he wrote:

Up till now human life has generally been, as Hobbes described it, ‘nasty, brutish and short’; the great majority of human beings (if they have not already died young) have been afflicted with misery… we can justifiably hold the belief that these lands of possibility exist, and that the present limitations and miserable frustrations of our existence could be in large measure surmounted… The human species can, if it wishes, transcend itself —- not just sporadically, an individual here in one way, an individual there in another way, but in its entirety, as humanity.[2]

Computer scientist Marvin Minsky wrote on relationships between human and artificial intelligence beginning in the 1960s. Over the succeeding decades, this field continued to generate influential thinkers, such as Hans Moravec and Raymond Kurzweil. The coalescence of an identifiable transhumanist movement began in the last decades of the 20th century. In 1966, FM-2030 (formerly F.M. Esfandiary), a futurist who taught “new concepts of the Human” at The New School in New York, began to identify people who adopt technologies, lifestyles and world views transitional to "posthumanity" as "transhuman."

The New School had become affiliated with the Frankfurt School when, following Hitler’s rise to power in 1933, its members left Germany for Geneva before moving to New York in 1935. There, they became affiliated with the University in Exile, which the New School had founded in 1933, with financial contributions from the Rockefeller Foundation, to be a haven for scholars dismissed from teaching positions by the Italian fascists or Nazi Germany.

These ideas were glamorized in Hollywood, such as Kubrik's version of 2001: A Space Odyssey by Arthur C. Clarke, the Terminator series, Blade Runner based on LSD-influenced author Philip K. Dick's Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep. Dick was also inspired by Teilhard de Chardin. Philip K Dick was also associated with Ira Einhorn, known as “The Unicorn,” a prominent figure in the New Age counterculture of the late sixties and seventies. through The Whole Earth Review, a by-product of Stewart Brand's Catalogue, where they initiated discussion of Soviet psychotronics and mind control. Shortly afterward, Einhorn's girlfriend’s body parts were discovered in a trunk in his Philadelphia apartment, and Einhorn charged with her murder.

Other movies following the transhumanist trends have been the anime classic The Ghost in the Shell, The Matrix, the remake of Robocop, and more recently Her, with Joachin Phoenix, and Transcendence, starring Johnny Depp.

Ray Kurzweil, now a director of engineering at Google, cited von Neumann's use of the term “singularity” in a foreword to von Neumann's classic The Computer and the Brain. Kurzweil received the 1999 National Medal of Technology and Innovation, America's highest honor in technology, from President Clinton in a White House ceremony. And in 2002 he was inducted into the National Inventors Hall of Fame, established by the U.S. Patent Office. He has received nineteen honorary doctorates, and honors from three U.S. presidents. Kurzweil has been described as a "restless genius" by The Wall Street Journal and "the ultimate thinking machine" by Forbes. PBS included Kurzweil as one of 16 "revolutionaries who made America" along with other inventors of the past two centuries. Inc. magazine ranked him #8 among the "most fascinating" entrepreneurs in the United States and called him “Edison's rightful heir."

Kurzweil has authored seven books, five of which have been national bestsellers. The Age of Spiritual Machines, about artificial intelligence and the future course of humanity, has been translated into 9 languages and was the #1 best-selling book on Amazon in science. Kurzweil believes evolution provides evidence that humans will one day create machines more intelligent than they are. Kurzweil predicts the machines "will appear to have their own free will" and even "spiritual experiences".

Kurzweil's book The Singularity Is Near was a New York Times bestseller, says this will lead to a technological singularity in the year 2045, a point where progress is so rapid it outstrips humans' ability to comprehend it. Once the Singularity has been reached, Kurzweil predicts machine intelligence will be infinitely more powerful than all human intelligence combined. Afterward, Kurzweil says, intelligence will radiate outward from the planet until it saturates the universe.

Kurzweil's standing as a futurist and transhumanist has led to his involvement in several singularity-themed organizations. Kurzweil is also among the founders of the Singularity Summit, the annual conference of the Singularity Institute for Artificial Intelligence, in 2006 at Stanford University. SIAI was founded to "help humanity prepare for the moment when machine intelligence exceeded human intelligence." (Also check out the Singularity University.)

A leading evangelist for Kurweil’s ideas is Jason Silva, a television personality and “performance philosopher,” who quotes Teilhard de Chardin to substantiate his prognostications. Silva started out as a presenter on Al Gore’s cable channel, Current TV. In September 2012, he appeared at the Festival of Dangerous Ideas, where he presented a speech entitled "We Are The Gods Now."

Silva also promotes the ideas of David Pearce, a leading figure in the Transhumanism movement. Pearce owns a series of websites that feature biographies and information about MKUltra personalities like Chilean psychiatrist Claudio Naranjo and Aldous Huxley. In The Hedonistic Imperative, Pearce calls for liberation from our natural biochemistry, what he refers to as the “sick psycho-chemical ghetto bequeathed by our genetic past" and the beginning of an era of “paradise engineering.” With the help of psychedelics, he writes, we´ll be able to chemically enhance our dopaminergic systems so that “undiluted existential happiness will infuse every second of waking and dreaming existence.”[3]

The Atlantic describes Silva as "A Timothy Leary of the Viral Video Age."[4] Silva, who is also described as "a part-time filmmaker and full-time walking, talking TEDTalk," is completely giddy with wild possibilities about transcendence. Continuing the MK-Ultra tradition of drugs and computers, Silva says of himself that he is “fascinated by the relationship between psychedelics and technology…”[5]

[1] Aaron Franz, “The Jesuit Priest who influenced Transhumanism,” The Age of Transitions, Friday May 1, 2009
[2] Huxley, Julian (1957). Transhumanism. Retrieved 2006-02-24
[3] James Vlahos, “Will Drugs Make Us Smarter and Happier?” Popular Science, July 31, 2005.
[4] "A Timothy Leary for the Viral Video Age". The Atlantic. Retrieved 17 August 2012.
[5] Futurology forum, Reddit.com.

The term “transhumanism” was coined by evolutionary biologist Julian Huxley in 1957. In a short paper bearing the same neologism as its title, he asserts that:

For Marx, humans have a dual nature: both active and passive. He offers this description:

-human-exploring-transhumanism
By
Kelsey Wharton
—
November 19, 2014
What do pacemakers, prosthetic limbs, Iron Man and flu vaccines all have in common?

They are examples of an old idea that’s been gaining in significance in the last several decades: transhumanism. The word denotes a set of ideas relating to the increasing integration of humans with their technologies. At the heart of the transhuman conversation, however, lies the oldest question of all: What does it mean to be human?

When talking about transhumanism, it’s easy to get lost because the definition is imprecise. “Transhumanism” can refer to the Transhumanist (with a capital T) movement, which actively pursues a technologically enhanced future, or an amorphous body of ideas and technologies that are closing the bio-techno gap, such as a robotic exoskeleton that enhances the natural strength of the wearer.

At Arizona State University, a diverse set of researchers has been critically examining transhumanism since 2004.

Hava Tirosh-Samuelson, a professor in ASU’s School of Historical, Philosophical and Religious Studies and director of the Center for Jewish Studies, has been at the forefront of this work. Her research includes a project exploring the challenges of transhumanism in collaboration with ASU’s Center for the Study of Religion and Conflict.

According to Tirosh-Samuelson, transhumanists seek to transcend human biology through techno-genetic enhancements. Their ultimate goal is the Singularity – a supposedly inexorable turning point after which humans as we understand them will eventually become obsolete, either because super-intelligent machines will replace them or because techno-genetic enhancements will render them unrecognizable. Essentially, it would be a new phase of human evolution driven by exponential technological growth.

But Brad Allenby, a professor in the School of Sustainable Engineering and the Built Environment at ASU, says the idea that transhumanism will end humanity is just one of many transhumanist narratives.

“That's why transhumanism is so confusing," says Allenby. "Because some of the time people are talking about very normative perspectives on what it means to be human, and some of the time they're talking about specific technologies, or suites of technologies. That makes it very hard to define."

Allenby describes transhumanism as being either a superficial cultural meme or a suite of technological projects.

Views supporting the cultural meme of transhumanism see human enhancement as inherently good. They disregard the fact that enhancing, say, a murderer, might have negative consequences. This view also tends to overlook the fact that one person’s enhancement impacts others. Allenby uses test-taking enhancements as an example:

“Let's say you and I and a hundred other people are taking the SAT and you take an ADD drug to improve your performance,” says Allenby. “No biggie right? I mean it's just you. (But) let's say 10 of those people do. Let's say 20. At some point, the fact that they make an individual choice to enhance makes me the new sub-normal because their scores on the SAT as a whole will be categorically better than my scores.”

Cultural meme-based views that are critical of transhumanism typically derive from religion. They see tampering with humanity as morally wrong. But religious belief is subjective and what’s more, people always strive to be more than they are, says Allenby.

The technological aspect of transhumanism is concerned more with the how of transhumanism than the why. It’s “basically the question of what can we do now the human is a design space? And that's much more of a technical issue,” Allenby says.

The idea of humans and technology coming together to create something "more than human" isn’t new.

Humans have been technologically enhancing their capabilities for thousands of years, and many of our unquestioned activities involve technologically altering ourselves. For instance, vaccines are a medical technology that we introduce into our bodies to make them more resistant to diseases, so that we can “upgrade” our immune system.

The military, in particular, has evolved closely with technology. Soldiers are routinely aided in their missions by weapons, computers, drones and drugs. Allenby notes that pilots commonly take stimulants such as modafinil to keep them alert and successfully complete their missions.

But what constitutes an “enhancement?” Do glasses or wheelchairs count? What about stone tools? Have we ever not been technologically enhanced in some way? The answer is unclear because we don’t have a strict sense of where “human” stops and “transhuman” begins.

“Let's say you wire me up to a machine,” says Allenby. “Do I become different when part of what I think I am is, say, a battle tank, or a fighter airplane? When do I cross that line to being not human?”

Just as the humans of tomorrow might be unrecognizable to us, the humans of today might be unrecognizable to people from several centuries ago. We live longer, our immune systems are different and our brains are even wired differently.

“For example, my class walks into my (room), they flip open their computers, and they're automatically gods," says Allenby. "If, in any other generation, you’d had anybody who could access the accumulated memory of our civilization, they would have been gods. But of course now everybody can do it, right? That's what Google does.

“Now, it doesn't mean those students know how to use it, so maybe they're not so much gods as they are idiot savants, but it does mean that they're very, very different than any generation that has ever gone before.”

He adds: “What a lot of the enhancement technologies do, and what the evolution of the human as a design space does, is obviously profoundly raise the question: What is human?”

There are a number of common ways that humanity is defined. An evolutionary perspective holds that humans are the product of evolution by natural selection. A geneticist’s answer might be about how our DNA is unique when compared to the DNA of other species.

There are many stumbling blocks that get in the way of a straightforward scientific answer, however. For instance, is a baby born without a brain (a fatal condition known as anencephaly) human? After all, changes in the brain are one of the defining features of our emergence as Homo sapiens, and the brain is what makes us recognizably alive and able to operate. The same question could be asked of people who are brain dead.

And what about robots? If a robot could think and feel, if it had a conscience, would it be human? Or would its lack of genetic material render it forever “artificial?”

“For most people it seems to be that when I start changing your emotional structure significantly is when you stop being human,” says Allenby. “But again, we may not tolerate psychopaths and sociopaths well, but we don't consider them not human. We may consider their lack of empathy disturbing, or possibly leading to criminal behavior, but we don't consider them to be nonhuman. So when is somebody nonhuman? There's no answer to that.”

Theology, philosophy and other areas of the humanities can enhance this conversation. For example, Tirosh-Samuelson adheres to a humanist perspective.

“(Humanism is a) worldview that values the existence of humans for its own sake … (and) emphasizes the human capacity to think symbolically, create language, imagine scenarios and abide by moral norms,” she says.

She says that humans are complex and can make mistakes, but that technology shouldn’t try to “improve” them; rather humanity is “an ideal we should aspire to.”

She also sees being human as a holistic experience in which mind and body are interdependent. In her opinion, “human embodiment is very much what it means to be a human,” and therefore she finds the transhumanist desire to dramatically alter or even do away with the human biological existence to be highly problematic.

Tirosh-Samuelson started studying transhumanism as part of her larger interest in the relationship between science and religion.

Since contemporary science is inseparable from technology, transhumanism offered the category within which she and her colleagues explored how science and technology function in contemporary culture. The book, “Building Better Humans? Refocusing the Debate on Transhumanism” (Peter Lang International Academic Publishers, 2012) presents the deliberations of ASU scholars engaged in the critical examination of transhumanism.

“A major contribution of the book is the attention to the religious dimensions of transhumanism, showing it to be secularization of age-old motifs and impulses,” Tirosh-Samuelson writes.

The religious motifs in transhumanism are revealed in its rhetoric. Julian Huxley, the British evolutionary biologist and eugenicist who coined the term “transhumanism,” described his idea as “a religion without revelation.” In modern transhumanist circles, religious language is still present. The Singularity, for example, is suffused with religiosity – some versions bear a striking resemblance to the Christian Rapture.

“The transhumanist speculations about reality coming to an end, or the radical transformation of life, reflects a much older mentality that can be traced to antiquity, namely to Jewish and Christian apocalyptic movements,” says Tirsoh-Samuelson.

Religious ideas such as immortality and the transcendence of the soul are mirrored in transhumanist projects of radical life extension and the transcendence of the physical body through uploading minds onto computers.

In 2012, Tirosh-Samuelson teamed up with Ben Hurlbut, a science historian and assistant professor in ASU’s School of Life Sciences, on a project called “The Transhumanist Imagination: Innovation, Secularization, and Eschatology.” The project has led to an international conference at the Karlsruhe Institute of Technology in Germany, a special journal issue and a book, “Perfecting Human Futures,” which will be published next year.

The researchers used case studies to understand the social impact of transhumanist ideas and their relevance to our understanding of politics. One of the cases was Singularity University (SU), a program that “tries to do all the things it thinks universities ought to be doing but aren't doing. It’s sort of a Silicon Valley startup version of a university,” says Hurlbut.

Although it’s not explicitly focused on transhumanism, one of the program’s founders, Ray Kurzweil, is a noted transhumanist.

The SU slogan, and the problem put to all of its students, is “How can you improve the lives of a billion people?” In some sense, this harkens back to the religious rhetoric of more explicitly transhumanist ventures, branding technology as salvationary. The SU also presents an interesting asymmetry, where the lives of the “billion” are shaped by the visions of a small, select group – it’s a vision of progress where “progress comes from the small number of technological elite and is then produced for and provided to a wider world,” says Hurlbut.

Ideas of technological change and disruption are not limited to transhumanism, however. Rather, as Hurlbut writes, “(transhumanism) refracts questions and anxieties that have come to loom large in scientific and technological societies in the last several decades.” Because of this, a lot of transhumanist ideas reflect wider preoccupations in modern culture that significantly affect economics and politics.

“One of the reasons I'm really interested in the transhumanist imagination (is) it's not some self-contained niche thing, it's actually drawing upon and trading in a set of ways of thinking about technological change, progress and the public good, that are much more widespread,” says Hurlbut. “When we talk about innovation, we're talking about economic growth. We're talking about the strength of a nation-state. We're talking about the future. Many countries are thinking in precisely these terms.”

Transhuman interests inspire and are inspired by other areas of society, too, where technology is “challenging established ideas of, and relationships within, human life,” writes Hurlbut. For instance, companies are replacing many human employees with machines, and virtual worlds are becoming increasingly entangled with very real legal, scientific and social issues.

The widespread unease and uncertainty surrounding technology’s impact on society is revealed in many modern narratives where technology is seen as either causing crisis, curing it, or both. Many popular movies (Transcendence), video games (Deus Ex) and books (Neuromancer) also grapple with these concerns.

“Transhumanism is itself an expression of these ways of thinking,” writes Hurlbut, “but it takes these tropes and repackages them … (into) technocratic predictions of what the future of humanity will be, and an ethical account of what it should be, all wrapped into one.”

Research on transhumanism at ASU is funded in part by the John Templeton Foundation and the Metanexus Institute. The School of Life Sciences and the School of Historical, Philosophical and Religious Studies are academic units of the College of Liberal Arts and Sciences. The School of Sustainable Engineering and the Built Environment is a unit of the Ira A. Fulton Schools of Engineering.

5 The issue in this concluding paragraph has been conflicting conceptions of the cosmos and not
different accounts of causation. Both sets of issues are part of the broader question of what is
commonly called “Naturalism” and “Supernaturalism,” and while there is some logical connection between the two sets of questions, one set does not necessarily entail judgments within the
other . On the special logical complexity involved in issues of occasionalism, strong and weak
naturalism, and secular and religious naturalism, see Shatz 2009, 179-208).
129
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1666
On September 16th 1666, three hundred and fifty years ago, a Jewish messianic claimant who had more followers in his lifetime than Jesus did in his, converted to Islam while imprisoned in Istanbul. Sabbatai Zevi taught an unconventional theology heavily indebted to the Kabbalah, and with an idiosyncratic interpretation of the Torah which contradicted orthodox religious authorities (who mostly, though not entirely, denounced him in return). As the great scholar of Jewish mysticism Gershom Scholem observed, Zevi’s was “the most important messianic movement in Judaism since the destruction of the Second Temple,” perhaps even more influential than the failed rebellion of Simon bar Kokhba during the second-century Third Jewish Revolt.

Though the context which birthed Zevi was very much eastern European and Middle Eastern Judaism, his mystical and millenarian beliefs owed something to Lurianic Kabbalah, Rosicrucian mysticism, Lutheran Pietism, and even English Protestant religious non-conformism. His movement attracted thousands of disenfranchised Jews who’d suffered under the pogroms which marked the era, and he proved so popular that both Catholic and Protestant religious authorities were fascinated by his story, a flood of pamphlets telling tale of his prophecies, his rebellious behavior, and his preaching against biblical law – with some enthused Christian commentators seeing in him a possible harbinger of Christ’s return.

As an antinomian radical (where “antinomian” means “against the law”) his beliefs were arguably a more radical departure from orthodoxy than Jesus’ had been from first century Judaism, and Zevi operated in a world which was becoming in some sense increasingly globalized, as he drew liberally from non-Jewish sources, including Christianity and the occult. In 1666, that numerologically most diabolical of years which Zevi had prophesized would be that of apocalypse, the pseudo-messiah was imprisoned by Ottoman authorities who feared his ability to organize potential threats to their power. Sultan Mehmed IV offered the prisoner the choice of conversion or execution, and Zevi chose the former, ingloriously bringing his brief but incendiary movement (mostly) to an end. As Scholem observed, an apostate messiah is a far bigger scandal for believers than a crucified one. Now that it is three and a half centuries since that conversion, it behooves us to reflect a bit on the man and his legacy, and the perhaps the surprising ways that Zevi contributed to the invention of the modern world.

The story of Sabbatai Zevi and the massive movement he inspired in the seventeenth-century is well known to scholars of Jewish Studies and to others who are familiar with the time period, but Zevi is less commonly heard of outside of academic circles. His movement’s popularity was supplanted in the following century by more normative varieties of Judaism such as Hasidism, which is a substantial reason for Zevi’s relative obscurity today. Much of the emotional resonances concerning redemption, the messiah, and the end of the world were compelling during a period when massacres such as those promulgated by Bohdan Khmelnytsky continually threatened the lives of Jews. The great Yiddish writer Isaac Bashevis Singer explained in his 1933 novel Satan in Goray that the tribulations of the pogroms acted as “birth-pangs of the Messiah.” The traumas of exile, such as those that resulted from the reconquista of Spain only a century and a half before, loomed large in the minds of both Ashkenazi and Sephardic Jews, and as a result Zevi found followers across national and ethnic boundaries.

Though the qualities which made Sabbateanism (followers of Zevi) attractive were ultimately channeled into movements such as Hasidism, Sabbateanism exists as sort of an undertone to more widely known history. In addition, the specter of an “apostate messiah” loomed as an enigma, a fundamentally paradoxical development which normative faith had trouble processing, even if more esoteric movements evolved to accommodate such a thing. Yet for a brief period Jews, as well as some Christians, saw in Zevi an eschatological promise in which a new era would descend, one where the previous law would be abolished in favor of a new one, an apocalyptic hope which has motivated some religious radicals, both Jewish and Christian, throughout history.

Zevi was born in 1626 in Smyrna Turkey to a Sephardic family. His father was a poultry dealer, and historian Heinrich Graetz conjectured that the father’s work may have facilitated contact with English religious radicals trading in Smyrna during the years when non-conformists with exotic names such as Levelers, Diggers, Muggletonians, Seekers, and Ranters flourished in Britain, alongside more familiar dissenting groups like Baptists and Quakers. Though Scholem disputed the veracity of such a conjecture, there are provocative similarities between Zevi and English Protestant radicals.

Compare Quaker leader James Nayler entering the English city of Bristol on the back of a donkey on Palm Sunday in 1656 in emulation of Christ entering Jerusalem, to eight years earlier when Zevi publically uttered the ineffable Tetragrammaton and dramatically broke Jewish dietary law while worshiping at the synagogue in Smyrna. Both figures, borderline or explicitly blasphemous in their denouncements of traditional religion, embodied a type of seventeenth-century radicalism that arguably had a role in the development of secularism.

Zevi’s apparent sacrilege resulted in a cherem (similar to an excommunication and famously enacted against the philosopher Baruch Spinoza around the same time). What followed was a tour of living in cities as varied as Salonika, Cairo, and Jerusalem, marginally attracting followers, and marrying a survivor of pogrom and former prostitute (Zevi also “married” the Torah in a ceremony during this period). But it wasn’t until his association with the rabbi Nathan of Gaza who acted as a type of John the Baptist and St. Paul all rolled into one that the rhetorical excesses and strange behavior of Zevi were marshaled into the service of a more organized movement. It was in Aleppo, Syria in 1665 that Zevi, to great fanfare, declared himself to be the promised Messiah, with Nathan promising in language startlingly evocative of Revelation that the Ten Lost Tribes of Israel and Zevi would march on Jerusalem, “riding on a lion with a seven-headed dragon in its jaws.”

Neither Jesus nor bar Kokhba had the benefit of the printing press, and in a manner not unlike how the Reformation spread Zevi’s message was disseminated among Jewish communities as far as Hamburg and Amsterdam. Though traditional minded rabbis mostly resisted the strange teachings of the “mystical messiah,” poor and oppressed Jews saw in him a redemptive promise and liberation from their oppression. As mentioned earlier, even Christian pamphleteers were caught up in the enthusiasm, potentially seeing in Zevi portents of Christ’s return. For example, there were rumors that off the coast of Britain a ship was seen that was manned by a Hebrew crew, composed of members of the lost tribes of Israel traveling to the Middle East to assist Zevi in his coming millennial war against the perfidious Ottoman Empire. Yet ultimately it was that very same empire that would bring the movement to a halt with Zevi’s conversion to Islam.

Disillusionment was swift, yet apologists like Nathan of Gaza argued that Zevi’s conversion was in keeping with his theology, that by embracing apostasy Zevi was paradoxically fulfilling his own teaching. For Nathan and for others who maintained faith in Zevi even after he himself seemed to lose his own faith, his conversion was part of the process of tikkun olam, whereby sparks of creation were spread as widely as possible in order to redeem our fallen world.

For the majority of Jews, even those who had once had fervent expectations for this “messiah,” the explanation was unconvincing. And yet the Sabbateans endured as an offshoot of Judaism which is still practiced today by a group called the Dönmeh, in Turkey. Subsequent revolutionaries like Jakob Frank in the following century were inspired by Zevi’s example, and indeed Frank’s similarly radical theology saw events such as the French Revolution in light of apocalyptic history, with many Frankists contributing to that effort. Zevi and Frank complicate the popular understanding of religion, that faith is only an instrument of the status quo, or that seemingly secular movements such as the Enlightenment don’t show any religious influence.

As Scholem explains in his novel, “the ritual ceremonies would no longer hold. Bodies would become pure spirit…. new souls would descend. There would be no more eating and drinking. Instead of being fruitful and multiplying, being would unite in combination of holy letters. The Talmud wouldn’t be studied. Of the Bible only the secret essence would remain.” It’s an apt description of Zevi’s antinomian teachings, and it’s similar to the seemingly perennial philosophy that runs through millenarians from the twelfth-century radical Franciscan Joachim of Fiore to the Romantic poet William Blake – a sense that when the apocalyptic seals are opened the old system will be permanently abolished. A dangerous gospel, but also a gospel of liberation – whether September 16th in 1666, or 2016.

For the world to emancipate itself from anti-Semitism, religions and political movements will have to accept individual freedom of conscience and cultural pluralism, which are essential if universalism and particularism are to coexist. That universalism and particularism can, in fact, coexist and thrive together is demonstrated by 3,000 years of Jewish history. When the world finally understands the merits of embracing universal values without shedding ethnic identity, Jews and Judaism will be genuinely understood and accepted.

Zarathustra 2.0 and Beyond
Further Remarks on the Complex Relationship between Nietzsche and
Transhumanism
Stefan Lorenz Sorgner, Erlangen
After the intense debate concerning the relationship between Nietzsche, European
Posthumanisms and Transhumanism which has taken place in three issues of the Journal
of Evolution and Technology (Vol. 20, issue 1; Vol. 21, issues 1 and 2), with this issue of
“The Agonist” the exchange has entered the realm of Nietzsche scholarship which I regard
as an important step given the relevance of the questions which have been raised by
transhumanists. Due to the close structural similarity between Nietzsche’s philosophy and
many transhumanists’ reflections, for which I argued at least, an exchange between the
two discourses can be of great use for scholars of both topics. As Nietzsche scholarship is
related to the tradition of continental philosophy and transhumanists’ reflections are most
closely connected to analytical ethics exchanges and the Anglo-American Utilitarian
(Mill) and evolutionary theory (Darwin) tradition, experts of both disciplines do not
usually meet and argue with one another. I hope the following reflections and arguments
will make it even more obvious that there is a structural similarity between the views of
Nietzsche and those of transhumanists, even though the sound in which they put forward
their understandings of the world differs significantly. The inspiring articles by Babich
and Loeb provide an excellent basis for clarifying some specific issues which are closely
related to the debate, so that the views of Nietzsche and those of transhumanists become
clearer. In addition, I use some insights gained from these exchanges to put forward new
perspectives and values by developing further selected arguments which have been put
forward by Nietzsche as well as by transhumanists.
Page | 2
I will progress as follows: In the initial sections 1 to 14, I deal with questions and
topics Babich dealt with in her piece within this issue of The Agonist (2012) and in the
later sections 15 and 16 I clarify some challenges Loeb mentioned in his article in this
issue of The Agonist (2012). The reason why I am considering more points Babich raised
is not that her piece is better or worse than Loeb’s article, but I am mostly in agreement
with the positions Loeb argued for and hence there was not much need to argue against his
points of view, even though I do argue against the very heart of his position, which
concerns the relationship between the overhuman and the eternal recurrence according to
Nietzsche’s perspective. Babich, on the other hand, referred to several important
challenges concerning the relationship between Nietzsche and transhumanism, and as she
criticized me with respect to many of the topics mentioned; I face her challenges and
respond to the questions raised. I am very grateful to both Babich and Loeb for this
incredibly stimulating philosophical exchange.
1- Methodology
I need to make some remarks concerning Babich’s interpretation of my methodology,
because some of them are incorrect, e.g.:
For Sorgner, had Nietzsche only known, per impossible, of transhumanism,
he could only have been sympathetic with the ideal.
This is not what I argued for. I only showed that there are significant similarities between
Nietzsche’s philosophy and transhumanists’ positions. Neither did I claim that Nietzsche’s
philosophy is identical with tranhumanism in all respects, nor that transhumanism was
actually influenced by Nietzsche’s writings. However, in one of the replies to my initial
paper Max More1 upholds the latter position by stressing that he himself, who is a leading

1 Max More, The Overhuman in the Transhuman. In: Journal of Evolution and Technology 21(1) (January
Page | 3
transhumanist thinker, was influenced by Nietzsche’s philosophy. In any case, Babich
explains her reading of my methodology further:
Sorgner tells us in his essay what, in his judgment, Nietzsche would have
“liked.” Hence we are informed that Nietzsche would have been an
advocate of transhumanism. This is an argument by assertion.
In one case, I mentioned that given the structural analogies of genetic enhancement by
means of the alteration of genes and classical education and the relevance of education for
bringing about the overhuman according to Nietzsche provides us with a reason for
assuming that he might have also been in favor of certain genetic enhancement
technologies. I stressed that these reflections provide us with a reason for asserting that the
fact that genetic enhancement procedures play an important role in transhumanist
reflections but do not and cannot turn up in Nietzsche’s philosophy is not a reason for
dissociating Nietzsche from the transhumanist movement. However, this does not imply
that I claim to know what Nietzsche would have liked or that he necessarily would have
been in favor of transhumanist ideals. Both claims are far too strong. Neither did I wish to
argue for them, nor do I think that they can get argued for. It would have to be mere
speculation, if one aimed to show the aforementioned position. My goal was a weak one,
namely to show that there are structural similarities between transhumanist reflections and
Nietzsche’s philosophy. I regard this insight as important because given such a similarity
it is possible to employ Nietzsche’s lines of thought to develop transhumanist reflections
further and to also reveal crucial challenges some transhumanist concepts have to face.
Both procedures can be important for trying to find a more appropriate way of dealing
with emerging technologies.

2010): 1-4.
Page | 4
2 - No one wants to play with Freddy
A further mistake in Babich’s article which I need to point out is that she claims that I did
not inquire why many thinkers do not wish to get associated with Nietzsche:
And yet, as we have noted, Sorgner chooses not to take his point of
departure by inquiring into the reasons Bostrom and Co. might have — here
along with a number of others such as Habermas but also and for different
reasons also including the preternaturally insightful and musically creative
Jaron Lanier2 — to seek to keep Nietzsche at a distance.
In a different section she repeats the same point in a slightly different manner:
Yet Sorgner opts to defer, at least for the most part, any direct engagement
with the specific reasons given by other transhumanists for seeking to keep
their distance from Nietzsche.
I have to correct both of her remarks because I do mention and analyze some of the
reasons explicitly in the article Beyond Humanism3:
In his influential essay on liberal eugenics, Habermas (2001, 43) talks about
some freaky intellectuals who reject what they see as the illusion of equality
and try to develop a very German naturalistic ideology. This seriously
considers the potential for employing human biotechnology in the service of
Nietzschean breeding fantasies. This is the kind of identification that
Bostrom rightly fears. Habermas, who rejects all procedures of genetic
enhancement, identifies transhumanists (whom he refers to incorrectly as
“posthumanists”) with Nietzscheans, associating both with fascist breeding
ideologies. Habermas is rhetorically gifted, and he knew exactly what he
was doing – that an effective way to bring about negative reactions to
human biotechnological procedures in the reader would be to identify those
measures with procedures undertaken in Nazi Germany.
Maybe, Babich intended to claim that I have not dealt with the topic sufficiently enough.
This might be the case. Hence, I will make some further remarks on that topic in section 4.
Not only will I discuss why thinkers do not wish to play with Freddy in that section, but I

2 See Jaron Lanier’s You Are Not A Gadget: A Manifesto (New York: Knopf, 2010). It is utterly relevant to
the present context that in response to an email inquiry I sent regarding the argument I cite here, Lanier’s
first response was the exclamation, “Yikes, Nietzsche studies!” As an academic, one might wish that
further commentary would be needed on this point but yikes is the sort of comment that does its own
self-commenting.
3 Stefan Lorenz Sorgner, Beyond Humanism. In: Journal of Evolution and Technology - Vol. 21 Issue 2 –
October 2010, 1-19.
Page | 5
will also analyze how Nietzsche is interwoven into the recent enhancement debates in
Germany.
3 - The Good as Universal Concept or as Advertised Goal
The question of values and norms within the Nietzsche and transhumanism comparison is
a tricky one and one I have not yet considered in its appropriate depth. The following
remark from Babich’s text made it clear to me that some further clarifications concerning
this topic are needed.
Beyond what he calls “ontological dynamics,” (ibid., 32), Sorgner discovers
additional parallels on the level of values, the same level so important for
Bostrom as he for his own part argues for a normative appreciation of the
transhuman, i.e., and in terms of what it ought be.
Babich did not criticise me in this phrase. However, I must point out that there are not
only parallels but there can also be differences between the two philosophies in question,
e.g. the methods of how transhumanists and how Nietzsche argues for the relevance of the
development beyond human beings differs in some cases. Nietzsche does not put forward
universal norms. He is a rigid critic of norms. I explained his critique of norms in detail in
my most recent Nietzsche monograph Menschenwürde nach Nietzsche.4 Nietzsche
associates norms with slave moralities, which he criticizes. He, on the other hand, puts
forward values, as it is done within a master morality, which implies that he does not
claim that his values are universally valid. Nietzsche merely puts forward reasons to
advertise a certain position concerning the good, and he employs this method also with
respect to the overhuman by putting forward the suggestion that the overhuman is the
meaning of the earth.

4 Stefan Lorenz Sorgner, Menschenwürde nach Nietzsche. Die Geschichte eines Begriffs, (Darmstadt: WBG
2010).
Page | 6
Some transhumanists use a similar method as Nietzsche, e.g. Bostrom who refers
to psychological research to support his claim that a person leads a better life, if he has
higher capacities, lives longer and so on.5 Thereby, he does not claim that all people lead a
better life, if they have higher capacities, but he merely stresses that the psychological
research on which he bases his judgment provide us with a reason for holding that some
judgments concerning the good life apply to many people. Given that the research shows
that a certain value judgment is widely shared within a society, we do have a reason for
making such a judgment while one has to be aware that the judgment is not valid for all
people at all times.
Other transhumanists and quite a few bioliberal thinkers put forward stronger
positions concerning the good and the moral life, namely that we have a moral duty to use
enhancement technologies to promote the good life. In contrast to the above position, here
the focus lies on the question of the right whereby it gets connected with a universally
valid concept of the good. Hence, such a position assumes that there is a universally valid
concept of the good, and also that we ought to promote it whereby the “ought” is based
upon a utilitarian foundation. This position differs from the above concepts, because the
above position includes that there is no universally valid concept of the good. In addition,
this Utilitarian position demands that the good ought to be promoted from which follows a
universal moral imperative to act in a certain manner. The most prominent exponent of
this position is the Oxford philosopher Julian Savulescu who is a bio-liberal pupil of Peter
Singer but not a transhumanist. Still, he often puts forward positions, which are close to
the ones transhumanists affirm. In two influential articles6 he argues in favour of a moral

5 Nick Bostrom, Why I want to be a Posthuman when I grow up. In: Bert Gordijn/R. Chadwick (Ed.),
Medical Enhancement and Posthumanity, (New York et al.: Springer, 2009), 107-136 (in. part. 114-116).
6 Julian Savulescu, Procreative Beneficence: Why we should select the best children. In: Bioethics 15 (5-6),
2001, 413–426.
Page | 7
duty to select the child with the best chance of the best life. Savulescu does not advertise
the use of enhancement technologies but claims that there is a moral duty to use
enhancement technologies to select the child with the best chance of the best life, which is
a much stronger claim than the aforementioned one. This view is also supported by some
transhumanists.
It needs to be stressed that on a political level both Savulescu and transhumanists
(in contrast to Nietzsche) affirm the relevance of the norm of negative freedom, which
implies that even though there might be the moral duty to select a certain child, Savulescu
would not regard it as appropriate that this moral duty gets politically enforced. Hence, on
a political level transhumanists and bio-liberals are liberal thinkers. Still, a wide spectrum
of liberal positions can be found among transhumanists in between the libertarian Max
More and the liberal social democrat James Hughes.
It was important for me to stress that Nietzsche does not put forward a theory of
the good, which he regards as universally valid. He merely puts forward reasons for
regarding his position as a plausible one. Bostrom argues analogously with respect to the
question of the good whereby he draws upon psychological research to support his point
of view. I regard both methods as appropriate ones. This judgment does not apply to
Savulescu’s position, which claims that there are universally valid judgments concerning
the good; this is his reason for upholding some universal moral obligations. Even though
these obligations are merely pro tanto obligations, they are seen as universally valid
obligations. Due to my doubt concerning the possibility of grasping a universally valid
concept of the good, I regard his position as problematic. I also think that Savulescu’s

Julian Savulescu/Guy Kahane, “The Moral Obligation to Create Children with the Best Chance of the Best
Life,” Bioethics 23 (5), 2009, 274-290.
Page | 8
position has some morally problematic consequences (it might have totalitarian
implications), if one applies them in a practical context.
4 - Nietzsche, Sloterdijk, Habermas and Genetic Enhancement
In section 2, I mentioned some reasons why many thinkers do not wish to get associated
with Nietzsche. In this section I make some further remarks about this topic by
considering the role of Nietzsche within the German bioethics debates.
Babich criticises me for not considering sufficiently Sloterdijk in the articles in question.
(“as he also excludes Peter Sloterdijk”) She is right that Sloterdijk deserves detailed
attention concerning this topic but not with respect to the work she has in mind:
Sorgner could do worse than to turn to Sloterdijk’s Critique of Cynical
Reason.
I already published two articles in English7 in which I considered Sloterdijk’s philosophy,
and one of them was an in depth treatment of the Critique of Cynical Reason.8 However, I
regard his infamous speech Rules for the Human Zoo9 as far more important in this
context, because it was responsible for starting a bigger public debate concerning the
moral challenges of biotechnologies and enhancement techniques, it dealt with Nietzsche
and it was referred to by Habermas in his little monograph on liberal eugenics. In one
section of his treatise The Future of Human Nature Habermas mentions a bunch of mad
intellectuals who develop further a very German ideology by putting forward a naturalist
type of posthumanism.10 He also stresses that luckily this position, which comes along

7 Stefan Lorenz Sorgner, Nietzsche and Germany. In: Philosophy Now 29 (October/November 2000): 10-13.
Stefan Lorenz Sorgner, In Search of Lost Cheekiness: An Introduction to Peter Sloterdijk’s “Critique of
Cynical Reason”. In: Tabula Rasa 20, 2003.
8 Peter Sloterdijk, Kritik der zynischen Vernunft, (Frankfurt am Main: Suhrkamp 1983).
9 Peter Sloterdijk, Regeln für den Menschenpark. Ein Antwortschreiben zu Heideggers Brief über den
Humanismus, (Frankfurt am Main: Suhrkamp 1999).
10 Jürgen Habermas, Die Zukunft der menschlichen Natur. Auf dem Weg zu einer liberalen Eugenik?
Page | 9
with Nietzschean type of breeding fantasies, has not yet gained broader support by the
public according to him. By referring to a naturalist type of posthumanism he means
transhumanism in whose context he sees Sloterdijk, because he cites passages from
Sloterdijk’s rules for the human zoo speech without mentioning Slotersdijk’s name. This
paragraph is particularly interesting because it reveals several problematic intuitions and
false claims. I will point out three challenges related to the passages.
Firstly, it needs to be mentioned that the procedures he deals with are not
posthumanist ones but transhumanist ones. Whereas posthumanism is embedded in the
tradition of continental philosophy, transhumanism is mainly part of the Anglo-American
bioethics scene. This does not mean that the two movements have nothing in common.
However, the relationship between them is a complex one, and it will be dealt with in
detail in the forthcoming collection Post- and Transhumanism: An Introduction, which
will be edited by Robert Ranisch and myself and which will come out in my book series
Beyond Humanism: Trans- and Posthumanism.11
Secondly, in his speech Rules for the Human Zoo Sloterdijk merely stresses the
relevance of dealing ethically with questions concerning biotechnologies. He did not make
any strong normative claims in this context. In a later speech on human perfection which
he gave on December 6th, 2005 at the University of Tübingen, he made clear that
concerning normative judgments he is in agreement with Habermas’ position by regarding
gene technologies as morally appropriate for therapeutic purposes but morally problematic
for enhancement ones. Hence, Sloterdijk clearly is not a transhumanist. What was seen as
problematic concerning Sloterdijk’s text on the human zoo and, which was also

(Frankfurt am Main: Suhrkamp 2001), 43.
11 Robert Ranisch/Stefan Lorenz Sorgner, Post- and Transhumanim.: An Introduction, (New York et al.:
Peter Lang forthcoming).
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responsible for it to cause such a massive public debate in Germany, was the fact that he
referred to Plato, Nietzsche and Heidegger, who are still seen as defenders of a totalitarian
state system from the perspective of many Germans and also a lot of German intellectuals
today. In addition, he employed a terminology (human zoo, breeding etc.) which did not
help bring about a different impression on the reader either. Hence, it was mostly his
rhetoric and style, which was responsible for bringing about the famous HabermasSloterdijk-debate rather than the content of the text.
In the context of the Nietzsche and transhumanism debate this fact is interesting.
Just by referring to Nietzsche, Sloterdijk was regarded as a transhumanist by Habermas.
Habermas also identifies transhumanism with Nietzschean breeding fantasies. The
transhumanist Bostrom, on the other hand, does not regard Nietzsche as an ancestor of
transhumanism.12 Hence, it becomes clear why many thinkers do not wish to play with
poor Freddy because he is widely regarded as a morally problematic or even dangerous
thinker by many educated people today.
Thirdly, Habermas’ remark needs to get criticized because he thinks that
transhumanism has not yet gained a broader intellectual support. This might be a correct
judgment with regard to Germany but it definitely has to get challenged with respect to
many other cultures of the world, at least concerning the current state of affairs.
Transhumanist publications dominate the Anglo-American academic debate in the field of
bioethics and medical ethics, leading transhumanists teach and have permanent posts at
some of the best universities of the English speaking world (e.g. University of Oxford),
and an intense consideration of transhumanist reflections has taken place in various artistic

12 Nick Bostrom, A History of Transhumanist Thought. In: Journal of Evolution and Technology, 14(1),
2005, 4.
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and cultural realms. Here, I am merely referring to some selected examples: Films:
Gattaca; Music: Facing Goya by Michael Nyman; Literature: The Elementary Particles
and an immense amount of science fiction literature; Fine Arts: Patricia Piccini’s Still Life
with Stem Cells and Alba the fluorescent rabbit by Edouardo Kac. This short overview
hints at the broad public awareness and engagement with transhumanist positions, which
also shows that Habermas’s judgment can be seen as implausible.
Given the central relevance and presence of Nietzsche with respect to the German
bioethical debates concerning genetic enhancement, or as it has been referred to by
Habermas “liberal eugenics”, and the dubious reputation Nietzsche still has in many
intellectual circles, it becomes clear why many intellectuals do not wish to be associated
with him. However, there are similarities between Nietzsche and transhumanism, and I
think that one can employ this insight for gaining further knowledge and for making new
and more complex reflections on the problematic relationship between human beings and
emerging technologies.
5 - Fascism, Totalitarianism or Hughes’ Social Democratic
Transhumanism?
As I have shown in the last section, Nietzsche still gets associated with totalitarianism by
many educated people and intellectuals and hence many thinkers do not wish to get
associated with Nietzsche. There are also some scholars who claim that totalitarian
motives can be found within transhumanism, and Babich belongs to this group of scholars
when she argues as follows:
Sorgner could do worse than to turn to Sloterdijk’s Critique of Cynical
Reason, in particular the bits at the end where Sloterdijk is at pains to show
that then-popular futurists like Alwin Toffler and Marshall McLuhan, much
Page | 12
like today’s Kurzweil,13 were themselves dependent upon an earlier
generation of thinkers, not so much cold war thinkers but pre-World War II
thinkers, including Friedrich Dessauer, but also Walter Rathaus, and Adrien
Turel in a decidedly uncanny context that turns out to be nothing less than
the crucible for the particular fascism that grew out of the Weimar Republic
as Sloterdijk discusses it.
Babich claims that fascism had grown out of futurism and that there are parallels between
earlier futurists and later transhumanist futurists. Hence she implies that there is the risk
that a new type of fascism can grow out of contemporary transhumanism, which she
stresses explicitly in the following statement:
Here we note the very specific (and very popularly Nietzschean) “faith” in
science and especially industrial, corporate, capitalist technology that has, if
we read Sloterdijk aright, been with us since the interregnum between the
two wars which is again and also to say that such a vision is fascist through
and through.
It is not the case that I cannot understand the worry that transhumanism can lead to a
totalitarian system, but I do not think that a logical and necessary connection is given
between these two types of structures as she wishes to make us belief. In addition, I do not
think that fascism is the appropriate word to use here, as fascism implies both
authoritarianism and nationalism. Transhumanism clearly is no movement that could be in
favor of nationalism. However, her judgment would have to be considered more carefully,
if Babich had used the term totalitarianism instead of fascism, because the novel Brave
New World by Aldous Huxley clearly shows that technological innovations can lead to a
totalitarian system.14 The movie Gattaca reveals another danger, which Babich also has in

13 Vinge, “The Coming Technological Singularity: How to Survive in the Post-Human Era,” lecture,
VISION-21 Symposium, NASA Lewis Research Center and the Ohio Aerospace Institute, Mar. 30-31,
1993. Whole Earth Review, Winter 1993.
http://www.aleph.se/Trans/Global/Singularity/sing.htmlhttp://www.aleph.se/Trans/Global/Singularity/sin
g.html.
14 By the way, Aldous Huxley wrote the novel as a response to the transhumanism put forward by his
brother Julian Huxley who coined the concept “transhumanism” which bears many similarities to the
more recent use of the concept and which is the reason why he can be seen as founder of transhumanism.
However, it needs to be stressed that the word was created by Julian Huxley in his book New Bottles for
New Wine after Aldous Huxley had written this most famous novel of his. Still, Julian Huxley has put
forward ideas which were written in the spirit which he referred to as transhumanist later on before
Page | 13
mind and which often is associated with biotechnological innovations, namely a social
order which includes a hierarchical ranking of members of different groups:
Most of us are not sure how that difference would make a difference to
those who might be considered differently valued “subhuman” by
comparison with the supposed “over-” human (like overclocking, it all
depends).
Even though I can understand her worry, I do not think that it is one, which ought to lead
to the decision to stop making scientific and biotechnological research. There are two
central reasons for me to hold this position:
Firstly, it needs to be pointed out that there are political ways of regulating
technological innovations such that they do not lead to social injustice or to a breaking up
of the norm of equality. One option was developed in detail by James Hughes in his book
Citizen Cyborg15 in which he develops a liberal social democratic version of
transhumanism.
How can technologies get dealt with without them bringing about totalitarian
structures within a society? One enhancement technique which we have already is
vaccinations. Future enhancement technologies could get treated analogously to the way
we deal with vaccinations today; e.g. in Germany vaccinations have not been obligatory
during the previous decades. However, as most vaccinations are relatively safe and
beneficial, it is possible for all citizens to get the ones that are most relevant for free,
because they will be paid for by the public health insurance. The ones which are not
directly relevant for everyone can be paid for by the public health insurance in certain
circumstances. However, there are also other more specialized vaccinations, which have to

Brave New World was written.
15 James Hughes, Citizen Cyborg. Why Democratic Societies must respond to the redesigned Human of the
Future, (Boulder: Westview Press 2004).
Page | 14
be paid for privately. Analogously future enhancement technologies can get dealt with so
that all citizens can be able to have access to them, if they wish to use them.
Secondly, a different line of thought can become relevant, too, which reveals that
further technological innovations do not have to lead to a two class society. The best
examples here are mobile phones. Thirty years ago they were available only to high
profile managers and their use was very expensive. Nowadays, the majority of Western
citizens has a mobile phone and is able to use it due to the low costs of its use. This shows
that if an innovation is reliable, useful and functional, then the demand and production
will rise such that it will also gradually get cheaper. If mobile phones have developed in
this direction, it is likely that the development of successful enhancement technologies
will take a similar route.
Hence, as successful enhancement technologies can be distributed equally either by
means of the public health system or by them becoming so cheap that they become widely
available, the nightmare of a totalitarian technological world does not have to occur. Some
critics might still claim that by a widespread use of enhancement technologies, others will
implicitly be forced to also use these technologies without them wishing to do so. These
critics are right in pointing out this consequence. However, it does not have to be a
morally problematic consequence, as we can see in the case of laptops and computers.
Twenty years ago it was not obligatory for University students to deliver their papers
written on a computer in a certain style. Nowadays, the option of handing in a handwritten
paper is no longer available, as it would be declined by most university teachers. Hence,
as a student you are forced to use a computer. Does this means that in this case morally
problematic totalitarian tendencies are at work? I do not think so. The computer is a
reliable and useful device, which has become so cheap that it is available to most citizens
Page | 15
of Western countries. Other enhancement technologies might develop in a similar
direction.
A further counterexample against the use value of technological innovations is the
fact that not all technologies become reliable and successful and some might even have
grave and dangerous implications. This judgment is correct, of course. However, is this
danger, which is connected to all technological innovations, a reason for no longer
working on projects which lead to scientific and biotechnological progress? I do not think
so. 250 years ago, we did not have vaccinations. I am very happy that these have been
developed. Yeah! 150 years ago antibiotics had not been made. I am more than glad living
at a time at which we have antibiotics. Yeah. Each technology brings with it new dangers.
However, I think that the advances technologies brought with it during the previous 1000
years are praiseworthy. I would not wish to live without them anymore. However, I can
imagine a future in which we have even further developed technologies and medical
possibilities, which can help human beings in many respects. Hence, I am very much in
favor of scientific and biotechnological research, which can be beneficial in many
respects. Given the above listed reflections, I do not think that the fear of a future
totalitarian system, which was established because of technological innovations, is one
which ought to be dominant. I think that it is useful and important to have this worry in
mind so that scientists continue to progress with great care, but I definitely do not think
that this worry ought to should stop us from making further scientific research.
6 - Becoming who you are vs. Becoming who you wish you were or
Perfection as Goal
The next issue Babich raises within her article is a very important one because it
concentrates on the content of the ideal of the good, which is connected to transhumanism,
Page | 16
and not only the formal role of the good with which I dealt in section 3:
Beyond Sloterdijk, the message of Kurzweil’s vision of the ‘technological
singularity’ as it has been embraced by (at least some elements of) popular
culture, when it is not the message of the genome project or stem cells, is
indeed anthropotechnics, which is all about not becoming the one you are
but, and to be sure becoming the one you wish you were, becoming the one
you should have been all along. Call this the Harry Potter effect, or
everyone is a boy wizard, quidditch player, best in sports, all secret
greatness and unfair discrimination, at least, in the germ, at least after the
singularity.
According to Babich, transhumanists are in favor of “becoming the one you wish you
were, becoming the one you should have been all along” which is supposed to be different
from Nietzsche’s demand to “become who you are”:
Thus Nietzsche excludes the kind of transhumanism Sorgner and others
speak of, because and exactly qua “enhancement,” it transpires that what is
meant by transhumanism is no kind of self-overcoming.
Overcoming and not enhancing the human (or perhaps better said, the alltoo-human) is the meaning of the over-human as the meaning not of the
human but of the earth. In part this is the meaning of Pindar’s word to the
seldom encountered, that would be the few, that would be Pindar’s word
spoken to the rare: become the one you are.
She implies that the transhumanists’ goal is linked to the following utopian vision:
Everything will be perfect after the revolution.
She repeats the claim in a different way in the following two statements:
transhuman is the transitional human, on the way to a perfect model that the
marketing department, rather like the iphone…
Much rather, have we perfected the body, so say the last men, and, as
Nietzsche tells us, they blink.
Hence, she claims that there is one strong, and detailed ideal of the good which is
associated with the concept of enhancement and enhancement is only enhancement when
it leads toward this perfect ideal, and in a sense, she is right, because it is the case that
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Bostrom does uphold such an ideal, as I pointed out before in the Beyond Humanism16
article:
Bostrom stresses the Renaissance ideal as a concept of the good that is
worth aspiring to.
Actually, there are reasons for holding that Nietzsche has a similar ideal in mind, as he
regularly stresses the relevance of the classical type or ideal. When Nietzsche compares
the qualities of geniuses and higher human beings in Zarathustra, it also becomes clear
that a fully developed and flourishing Renaissance human being is what he associates with
his ideal of the good which is worth aspiring for.17
There seem to be some central similarities between Nietzsche’s position and that of
some transhumanists, because both identify the Renaissance ideal or the classical type
with the good, which is worth aspiring for. Given that this is an appropriate reconstruction
of both concepts of the good, it becomes relevant to make further inquiries concerning the
epistemological status of this concept of the concept of the good within both of their
philosophies. As we noted earlier, both Nietzsche and Bostrom do not claim universal
validity for their views of the good, which also implies that these concepts should not
contain universal moral duties.
However, this judgment is not valid for all transhumanists or transhumanist
friendly thinkers. Savulescu’s concept of the good has a different epistemological status.
He holds that there is a universally valid account of the good, which he has grasped and
which he includes in a central moral principle of his, the principle of procreative

16 Stefan Lorenz Sorgner, Beyond Humanism. In: Journal of Evolution and Technology - Vol. 21 Issue 2
– October 2010, 1-19.
17 I dealt with exegetical questions concerning the classical ideal in Nietzsche in detail elsewhere. (Stefan
Lorenz Sorgner, Metaphysics without Truth. On the Importance of Consistency within Nietzsche’s
Philosophy, Rev. second ed. (Milwaukee: University of Marquette Press 2007)).
Page | 18
beneficence. However, in contrast to Nietzsche and Bostrom, his view of the good is a
much less detailed one, because it merely stresses the relevance of intelligence, memory
and health. Still, I think that even a weak universal account of the good has morally
problematic implications. A stronger account of the good with a weaker epistemological
status, as it is being upheld by Bostrom, does not lead to a universally valid moral duty,
and hence I regard it as less problematic than Savulescu’s position. If Bostrom, however,
wishes to employ his strong and detailed account of the good for creating moral or maybe
even political obligations, then the issue would be different and his position would have to
be seen as a dangerous one. As long as he merely advocates and advertises his stronger
account of the good, as I think he is, the worries concerning his position do not have to be
serious ones.
The question concerning the content of the concept of the good which is being
used for moral and political judgments is a highly problematic one, and much more could
be said about it, but I plan give a more detailed account of that topic in a later publication.
As I alluded to in this section, I think that it depends a lot on the epistemological status of
one’s concept of the good, how problematic it is. If someone holds that he has grasped a
universally valid truth, then his position is far more problematic and dangerous as
someone else's position, which implies that what he upholds is not a certain truth but
rather a plausible position which he himself regards as subject to revision given new and
further information.
What is important to realize here is the following. Some transhumanists as well as
Nietzsche identify the classical or the Renaissance ideal with the good life. However, they
also relativize this insight by stressing that it is not universally valid. This aspect is being
considered when Nietzsche stresses the need to become who you are: It is in each person's
Page | 19
interest to consider the needs of his body and to live in accordance with them. In
transhumanists’ reflections, this aspect is being taken into consideration by stressing the
norm of negative freedom on a political level: Many concepts of the good life are valid,
and it ought to be possible for human beings to realize them. On the one hand, there is the
affirmation of the classical or Renaissance ideal of the good life, but on the other hand, the
realization that a plurality of views of the good is valid. Hence the goal of becoming who
you are and the goal of becoming who you wish you were can both be found in
Nietzsche's philosophy as well as in transhumanist reflections.
7 - Evolution, Ethics, and Existential Risks
I wish to refer to a further remark of Babich, which seems to me as very important:
Sorgner for his own part seems to assume this same technological focus, the
transhuman is the human plus whatever technological enhancement. But as
a specific, Sorgner attends to the issue of Nietzsche and evolution, an issue
that is itself far from straightforward (most readings of Nietzsche and
evolution depend upon a fairly limited understanding of Darwin himself and
not less of Nietzsche’s understanding of Darwin).
Given our biotechnological advances, human beings have entered an era in which they are
able to actively influence evolutionary processes. I am not claiming that given our
progress chance does not play any role for evolutionary processes anymore. However, our
technological possibilities enable us to have some influence on qualities relevant for
evolutionary processes. Is enhancing evolution possible as a consequence? Not
necessarily, I must say, because we do not know which qualities are actually helpful for us
to be the fittest. According to Darwin, the fittest survives, which means that the one who
has qualities with which he is best adapted to the environment has the best chances of
survival. This does not mean that a human being who fulfills the Renaissance ideal
necessarily must have qualities, which are most beneficial in this context. Dinosaurs
would not have thought either that they will die out sometime or in the same spirit it has to
Page | 20
be realized that it is unclear which ideal of the good proves to be in the human interest
from the evolutionary perspective.
Even if one took an evolutionary perspective, the universal validity of the
Renaissance ideal would not follow. Renaissance human beings do not necessarily have
the best option of being the winners in the evolutionary game. It depends upon the specific
context at a specific time, which qualities prove to be the most helpful ones. It could be
that a small group of physiologically weak people who are immune to a certain virus has
the appropriate prerequisites for surviving the evolutionary game.
However, given that human beings or life on earth from time to time has to face the
risk of getting extinct (be it due to a virus or due to an asteroid), technological innovations
might be helpful in facing the risk successfully or at least in facing the risk better than
without our technological innovations.
There is also the risk that technological progress is responsible for bringing about
the existential risk in question. We might create weapons which lead to mass destruction
or even global extinction of life, or side effects of our scientific research bring about
deadly viruses that kill all human lives.
On the one hand, technological innovations can lead to further significant and even
existential problems but, on the other hand, they might also be helpful in facing new
challenges. The question is whether this insight ought to be a reason for us to refrain from
being innovative and to remain being content with what we have? I do not think that this is
the best decision, which we can make. I am very happy that I have the option of using
vaccinations. Vaccinations clearly are an enhancement technology. 250 years ago we did
Page | 21
not have this option. Of course, vaccinations can go wrong. However, I think it is better to
have vaccinations than not to have them. The same applies to antibiotics, which we did not
have 150 years ago. I think it is great to have them. Instead of reacting towards such
innovations with a “Yuck”, as suggested by Leon Kass18, I think that a “Yeah” is by far
the more appropriate reaction in these cases. However, the expression of a spontaneous
inner reaction cannot count as an intellectually honest argument for or against the use of
enhancement technologies, if it is unsupported by further reasons.
These reflections concerning the evolutionary perspective do not imply that I am in
favor of applying them for paternalistically making decision for individuals by integrating
a stronger view of the good on the political level. I do think, however, that these
reflections suggest that scientific and technological innovations bring about wonderful
achievements, if one progresses with the appropriate care.
8 - Classical Education and Genetic Enhancement by Alteration &
Choosing a Partner for Procreative Purposes and Genetic
Enhancement by Selection as Structural Analogies
The topic “Education” is a particularly difficult one, and one I am unable to reply to in a
satisfactory manner by means of just a couple remarks within an article. The following
paragraphs at least give me the chance to clarify some fundamental misunderstandings.
Babich points out the following:
As Sorgner contends, education and genetic enhancement are “structurally
analogous procedures.19
But it is worth asking here, just what it is that Sorgner means by
“education”? Does Sorgner understand this in the traditional sense of

18 L. R. Kass, The Wisdom of Repugnance. In: The New Republic (Washington, DC: CanWest) (216), 1997,
17–26.
19 Stefan Lorenz Sorgner, Beyond Humanism: Reflections on Trans- and Posthumanism. In: Journal of
Evolution and Technology, Vol. 21, Issue 2 (October 2010):1-19, sec. 1.1.1.
Page | 22
Bildung or as what counts for the French as formation and where we may
speak of either in terms of what Nietzsche also called getting oneself a
culture, that is to say, personal and intellectual cultivation?
She hints at certain possibilities of how I might have understood the concept “education”
in this context:
What is certain is that many of us even within the academy do suppose that
education is no more than the acquisition of such degrees, especially at the
graduate but also at the undergraduate level,
In the following section, Babich seems to imply that education is far more complex than
how I understood it within the above mentioned structural analogy, namely the structural
analogy between genetic enhancement by alteration and classical education for which I
argue:
The idea that an education, the getting of or the having of one, is a simple
affair, and thus that the parallel idea of an upgrade to the more-than-human,
that is now: the trans-human would simply be like taking a course, say, or
reading a book, supposes that one pretend (as transhumanists do like to
pretend) that one can/should set aside questions of cultural inequalities,
differences in wealth, “class” differences and so on.
The concept “education”, as I employ it in the above mentioned analogy, has not much to
do with the acquisition of degrees, taking a course, or reading a book. What is important is
that both in the case of genetic enhancement by alteration as well as in the case of classical
education the following structures are given. Parents are making decisions whereby they
influence the lives of their offspring. The influence can be such that it can be reversible
but also that it can be irreversible.20 Hence, it is a very particular understanding of
education, which I am using in this context. A valid criticism of the analogy I am
proposing has to employ the same concepts I am using and not some arbitrary ones.
In this context, there is another point that needs to be stressed. As Babich rightly

20 Stefan Lorenz Sorgner, Beyond Humanism: Reflections on Trans- and Posthumanism. In: Journal of
Evolution and Technology, Vol. 21, Issue 2 (October 2010):1-19, sec. 1.1.1.
Page | 23
points out, I claim that there is a structural analogy between classical education and
genetic enhancement. However, I always qualify genetic enhancement further, because the
structural analogy is solely given in the case of genetic enhancement by means of the
alteration of the genetic makeup. This analogy does not apply to the selection process,
which can occur after in vitro fertilization and pre-implantation diagnosis (PGD). It is
possible and common to refer to this process also as genetic enhancement procedure.
However, in this case genetic enhancement by means of selection takes place. In contrast
to genetic enhancement by means of the alteration of the genetic makeup, which is
structurally analogous to classical education processes, a different type of analogy applies
with respect to genetic enhancement processes by means of selecting an already given
genetic makeup (after IVF and PGD). In the case of genetic enhancement by means of
selecting an already given genetic makeup a structural analogy to selecting a partner with
whom one wishes to have offspring is given.
By choosing a partner with whom one wishes to have offspring, one thereby
implicitly also determines the genetic makeup of one’s kids, as 50 per cent of their genes
come from one’s partner, and the other 50 per cent from oneself. By selecting a fertilized
egg, one also determines 100 per cent of the genetic makeup by means of selection.
One objection, which might be raised here, is that selecting a fertilized egg cell is a
conscious procedure but normally one does not choose a partner according to their genetic
makeup such that one has specific genes for one’s child. However, it can be objected that
our evolutionary heritage might be more effective during the selection procedure of a
partner than we consciously wish to acknowledge. In addition, the qualities according to
which we choose a fertilized egg after a PGD might not have been chosen as consciously
as we wish to believe, but might be influenced more on the basis of our unconscious
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organic setup than we wish to acknowledge. It might even be the case, that the standards
for choosing a partner and for choosing a fertilized egg might both be strongly influenced
by our organic makeup and evolutionary heritage such that both are extremely similar.
A difference between these two selection procedures is surely that in the one case,
one selects a specific entity, a fertilized egg, but in the other case a partner and therefore
only a certain range of genetic possibilities. However, given the latest epigenetic research,
we know that genes can get switched on and off, which makes an enormous difference on
the phenomenological level. Hence, it is also the case that by choosing a fertilized egg, we
only choose a certain range of phenomenological possibilities of the later adult, as is the
case by choosing a partner for procreative purposes.
The aforementioned comparison provides some initial evidence for holding that
there is a structural analogy between choosing a partner for procreative purposes and for
choosing a fertilized egg cell after PGD. I mentioned this analogy here to stress that one
has to distinguish carefully between various methods of genetic enhancement procedures,
if one wishes to make a moral judgment about these procedures. In the Beyond
Humanism21 article I provided some evidence for holding that there is a structural analogy
between genetic enhancement by means of the alteration of the genetic makeup and
classical education processes. In the above paragraphs, I put forward some initial evidence
for holding that genetic enhancement by means of selecting an already given genetic
makeup is structurally analogous to selecting a partner with whom one wishes to have
offspring. These analogies are helpful because they enable us to have an initial tool for
making a moral judgment concerning these new biotechnologies. Actually, this is the

21 Stefan Lorenz Sorgner, Beyond Humanism: Reflections on Trans- and Posthumanism. In: Journal of
Evolution and Technology, Vol. 21, Issue 2 (October 2010):1-19, sec. 1.1.1.
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method I am employing whenever I am facing new technologies and I am puzzled
concerning their moral evaluation. By drawing parallels and finding analogies to wellknown procedures for which we have a clear moral framework, helps us find a way of
approaching or dealing with new challenges. By means of the above analogies, it is
possible to make some founded moral judgments concerning the related enhancement
technologies.
9 - Transhumanism as Humanism, Hyperhumanism or Posthumanism?
In the following paragraphs, Babich raises a fascinating and important question:
In this (an sich inherently optimistic when it is not inherently calculating or
manipulative) regard, the transhumanist movement turns out of course to be
another humanism, using the term as Sartre once spoke of Existentialism as
a Humanism.22 Hence and at least in principle, human enhancement may
be regarded, if only for the sake of argument, as corresponding to
“enhancement for all,” like “micro-chips for all” or “security searches for
all.
Ultimately, as Leibniz might help remind us, such a broad extension would lead to a
society not of “enhanced” but and much rather of leveled or flattened out humanity.”
Firstly, she claims that transhumanism is just another type of humanism. It is a
difficult and important question whether transhumanism ought to be seen in the tradition
of humanism, whether it could be described as a hyperhumanism or whether it is a
particular variant of posthumanism. In my book series Beyond Humanism: Trans- and
Posthumanism (Peter Lang Publishing) authors address questions related to the
clarification of the various types of humanism and how one can go beyond humanism.
Secondly, it is noteworthy that Babich claims that transhumanism leads to a

22 By contrast Heidegger’s Humanismusbrief is written against such a presupposition. See Sartre’s
L’existentialism est un humanisme and compare both with Sloterdijk’s controversial Elmau lecture:
Regeln für den Menschenpark. I address some of these issues in Babich, Sloterdijk’s Cynicism.
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“flattened out humanity”, the critique that transhumanism leads to a Gattaca type of
utopia comes up more regularly in the Academic literature. I assume that she has in mind
the following issue.
9 - 1 Promoting Identical Consumer Tastes
The following statement of Babich might clarify further what she means when she worries
that transhumanism leads to a “flattened out humanity”:
Sorgner argues that Nietzsche would back this enhanced “accessory” life, as
the transhumanist life for all and sundry. But, and this is why Nietzsche
gives us food for thought, at the same time, I think it is plain that Nietzsche
sidesteps any such advocacy.
I did not claim that Nietzsche would hold such an “accessory” life, if he lived now. I did
not claim either that Babich’s presentation of an enhanced “accessory” life bears
significant similarities to what Nietzsche upholds. Neither is it my claim that the main
concern of transhumanists is to live in accord with Babich’s vision of an ““accessory”
life”. Transhumanists aim for an enhancement of cognitive and physiological capacities, a
widening of the human health span and a promotion of human emotional faculties so that
the likelihood of the coming about of the posthuman increases. The transhumanist goal
does not necessarily include having the latest iphone applications. What Babich refers to
as “accessory life” is not a goal transhumanists primarily aim for, and neither is it a value
which Nietzsche upholds. A separate but related issue was referred to by Babich in the
following statement:
So far from tools for conviviality or the transmission of a collective culture
of human flourishing, we find our schools promulgate identical consumer
tastes for identical consumer goods now globally projected in a world of
limited resources.
Here, it becomes clear that she identifies the transhumanist goal with the promotion of
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“identical consumer tastes”. This might be the goal of certain technological companies,
but I do not see that transhumanists are in the least interested in it.
9.2 Humanist Dualities in Transhumanist Positions
As Babich holds that transhumanists promote identical consumer tastes, she claims that
transhumanism is a variant of humanism, if I understand her correctly. However,
transhumanists do not promote identical consumer tastes, which were one of her reasons
for making this judgment. Still, there might be some reasons for affirming that
transhumanism belongs to the humanist tradition or can even be seen as a type of
hyperhumanism.
One technology, which is being seen as a promising one for promoting the
prolongation of our lives and also for other enhancement purposes by many
transhumanists, is that of mind uploading. The hypothetical process of mind uploading
occurs when a conscious mind gets scanned, copied and then transferred from the brain
onto a computational device. Some scholars hold that in this way human beings can
continue to exist in the digital realm, other claim that the mind after having been uploaded
to a computational device can be transferred back to a new organic brain. What I am
interested in in this context, are the anthropological implications of this claim. It seems as
if scholars who affirm this version of mind uploading have the tendency to affirm a dualist
understanding of human beings with a mind on the one hand and a brain on the other hand
from which the mind can get separated. If this is the case, then transhumanism can be seen
as a kind of humanism, because humanism, as I understand the concept, relies upon a
world constituted out of dualist concepts: mind-brain, matter-spirit, good-evil. It can even
be described as a type of hyperhumanism, whereby hyperhumanism is to be understood as
a radical and even more extreme version of humanism.
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I, as a metahumanist, also regard myself as a weak transhumanist. However, I think
that humanism has to be in conflict with transhumanism, and it would be in the interest of
transhumanists, if they integrated a post- or metahumanist anthropology into their
understanding of the world. In contrast to humanism, post- and metahumanism reject
dualities and hence also a dualist understanding of human beings. As most transhumanists
affirm a naturalist, this-worldly or relational understanding of the world, they cannot be
humanists. Due to their this-worldly understanding of the world, they also have to
conceptualize human beings in this manner, which means that it is more in tune with their
other views to assume that human beings have an embodied mind, as it is being described
by Francisco Varela, Evan Thompson, and Eleanor Rosch.23 Hence, if tranhumanists held
a posthumanist anthropology, they would be more consistent within their worldview.
Consequently, I can claim that transhumanism ought not to be understood as a type of
humanism, as Babich claims.
A further reason has to be mentioned for regarding transhumanism as a variety of
humanism. Most transhumanists agree that transhumanism belongs to the Enlightenment
tradition, because of the central relevance of reason and the employment of rational
methods. Even though this self-understanding is being widely shared by transhumanists, I
doubt that it corresponds to many of their basic premises. The Enlightenment tradition is
based upon a dualist understanding of human beings with the rational immaterial soul, on
the one hand, and a material body on the other one. Kant as one of the leading
Enlightenment humanists affirms exactly this radically dualist anthropology. Most
transhumanists, on the other hand, hold a naturalist understanding of human beings, which
clearly undermines the dominant Enlightenment anthropology. Hence, it can be stressed

23 F. J. Varela/E. Thompson/E. Rosch, The Embodied Mind: Cognitive Science and Human Experience,
(Cambridge, MA: MIT Press 1991).
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that concerning certain fundamental premises transhumanism is in disagreement with the
Enlightenment humanist tradition, even though both outlooks have a high estimation of
reason. Still, you do not have to be an Enlightenment humanist to value reason and
rational discourses. Due to these insights, the similarities between posthumanism and
transhumanism seem to me as stronger than the ones between transhumanism and
humanism.
10 Utilitarianism
A brief remark needs to be made about the following comment of Babich:
What is at issue for what we might regard as Nietzsche’s particular brand of
transhumanism, if we may so speak of the self-overcoming that is the
transition to the overhuman, the post-human, is that it is no kind of
utilitarianism but that it is also no kind of humanism, other than that served
by what Nietzsche called his “future humaneness,” (GS §337), or else by
what I have elsewhere described and analyzed as the “bravest democratic
fugue”24 ever written.
Nietzsche is against utilitarianism. Transhumanism is in favor of utilitarianism. Hence,
Nietzsche and transhumanism uphold radically different ethical theories. Thus, it could get
argued. However, the issue is more complex than the argument assumes. Even though
utilitarianism can be seen as the dominant ethical theory associated with transhumanism,
this does not have to be the case, which I already stressed in section 4 of my Beyond
Humanism25 article.
I think that a virtue ethical approach suits transhumanism as well as utilitarianism.
Some of the most interesting arguments against the use of enhancement technologies are

24 Babich, Words in Blood, Like Flowers: Poetry and Philosophy, Music and Eros in Nietzsche, Hölderlin,
Heidegger (New York; State University of New York Press, 2006), pp. 166 ff as well as Babich,
“Adorno on Science and Nihilism, Animals, and Jews,” Symposium: Canadian Journal of Continental
Philosophy/Revue canadienne de philosophiecontinentale, Vol. 14, No. 1, (2011): 110-145, pp. 124ff.
25 Stefan Lorenz Sorgner, Beyond Humanism: Reflections on Trans- and Posthumanism. In: Journal of
Evolution and Technology, Vol. 21, Issue 2 (October 2010):1-19.
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being put forward by Michael Sandel.26 He claims that parents who use enhancement
techniques on their children do not possess parental virtues. I do not think that this has to
be the case. As I regard classical education to be structurally analogous to genetic
enhancement technologies by means of the alteration of genes, it follows that it can be
morally adequate for parents to apply these technologies on their children in the same way
as there are educational techniques that are morally appropriate. What is important for
parents is to act morally appropriately as parents for them to possess parental virtues.
Acting thus implies, knowing when and how educational and genetic enhancement
technologies ought to be used. It is not the case that the use of all enhancement
technologies reveals the possession of parental virtues. What is important for parents to
understand is, when the use of enhancement technologies is appropriate, and when this is
not the case. However, further clarifications are needed to explain this issue in detail.
11 Do I need to be rich for becoming a Post- or an Overhuman?
The question concerning the financial implications of values is usually a very important
one. Many bioethical challenges can be reduced to financial questions, I think. I am
grateful to Babich that she is referring to the financial dimensions of transhumanist ideas:
For Nietzsche, and this is perhaps his greatest distance from the
transhumanist movement, this particular rarity will not turn out to be an
upgrade money can buy. What will be the object of such design, on
Nietzsche’s account, will be the values esteemed as best in popular
regarded, and Nietzsche regarded such values, empirically enough, as
middle-rank values, that is what he called mediocrity.
I do not think that Babich’s argument is a plausible one. It is correct that money will be
needed to pay for enhancement procedures,27 but I do not see why money should not be

26 Michael Sandel, The Case against Perfection. In: The Atlantic Monthly, 2004, 293.
27 “Indeed, while one may argue that if the supposed ideal behind the transhumanist movement is to create a
better world for all, anything that involves technology also involves less randomness, or chance, or luck,
but old-fashioned money.” (Babich 2012)
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helpful in the context of educational processes, which help bring about Nietzsche’s higher
beings or maybe even overhumans. Educational processes can be improved by employing
better educators and by paying for better educational methods, and money can also be
needed for these processes.
Hence, if we follow Sorgner’s parallel between education and
transhumanism solely for the sake of argument, in the transhumanist world
envisioned as the world to come (post BP old-spill to go with the ongoing
[but not reported], new spills in the Gulf of Mexico, post earthquake in
Japan, with the same caveats regarding the lack of news reports on the same
ongoing consequences of radiation fallout), only those with ample resources
(financial and otherwise) will have access to transhuman enhancements, just
as only those with access to advanced medical care can afford the implants
that can keep a failing heart going — and this is true today as well and on
any level of technology, be it a heart transplant, a pacemaker or even a
shunt.
I am wondering what her remarks are supposed to imply. Would it be better not to realize
any technological innovations, according to her, so that it will be impossible that only a
small group of people can benefit from the technological innovations? Would it not be
better to promote innovations first and to make sure then that the most successful ones
become so cheap that many people can afford them or that the most efficient and helpful
techniques become publicly accessible by having them being paid for by the public health
insurance? Without innovations, all citizens equally do not benefit. What I suggest is that
it is much better to promote technological innovations, even though initially only a small
group might benefit from the outcomes of the innovations. At the initial stages of the
innovations, it is still an open question whether the newly developed techniques will be
successful and reliable ones. Hence, besides money, courage might also be needed for
using the latest technologies. Once it is clear that a technology is reliable and helpful like
mobile phones or vaccinations, then they become publicly available. This logic is a
different one from the logic Babich accuses transhumanists of having, which is supposed
to be the following one:
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Here it is popular to advert to the most empirically disproven vision of
economics, and the one currently dominating most markets, that is, the wellpublicized, that is to say constantly repeated idea that enhancing the wealth
of the wealthy, that enhancing the material well-being of the wealthy is
somehow in the interest of everyone.
Most transhumanists would not agree with these claims. Transhumanists do not aim for
the enhancement of the material well-being of the wealthy. Most transhumanists agree
with Hughes’s social democratic version of transhumanism, and hence they are in favor of
promoting enhancement technologies, but they are also in favor of political regulations
such that the most efficient procedures become publicly available. I think that it makes
good sense to progress in this manner.
12 False Preferences? Eat Lemons instead of Apples!
Babich’s next worry is a strange one. We are concerned with apples, but she claims that
we ought to be concerned with lemons. Is it not clear that both apples and lemons can be
important?
And yet and at the current time, the vaunted enhancements of
transhumanism are still so many motes in the eye of a technological demon
yet to be born. And by fixing our sights on these possibilities, potential
benefits, promised promise, we overlook the more urgent problems all
around us and we pass over the experience that is or should be common to
us, the experience of technologies gone wrong, unanticipated side-effects of
the kind one can only learn in practice.
Technological challenges can go wrong and because of this there are other challenges
which are more important, which ought to be considered instead, she seems to argue. It is
clear that technological innovations can have problematic consequences. This is exactly
the reason why it is important to seriously reflect upon them. In addition, technologies
often also work properly and help us in various respects, like solar or wind energy
generators. They provide us with energy such that we do not have to rely so heavily on
more problematic sources of energy. Would it be better not to be concerned with
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technologies anymore and to solely focus on other issues?
Although at the moment of this writing, we can do none of this, no part of it,
at all, at all, we are astonishingly preoccupied with the idea. We do not
worry about the destruction of wild-life all over the globe in our now long
and ongoing holocaust of beings other than ourselves, we do not worry
about the deforestation of the land on every continent, especially southern
ones, we do not worry about what we do to the water table we ourselves
depend upon, or our air, etc., etc.
Having clean water is wonderful and important. New technologies can help us, too, in
order to purify a river, and have drinking water. New technologies might be helpful for
reducing the suffering of animal, if one managed to make meat out of stem cells. New
technologies can help us to reduce the consumption of energy, by creating more efficient
ways of using energies. Should we throw away our computers, cell phones and
microwaves, and live like a peasant a thousand years ago? As I said before, it is important
to be aware of environmental issues and the moral challenges related to animals. Still
having better medical technologies is excellent, too. We can be concerned both with
apples and lemons. We do not have to choose between them. Are environmental concerns
more important than technological ones? Both areas are so closely interrelated that it is
hardly possible to solely focus on one of them. In addition, many transhumanists are not
solely concerned with technological challenges. There is an important IEET program,
which fights for rights of non-human persons, and hence aims to promote the moral status
of animals, which has been initiated by Peter Singer.
As many transhumanists, like posthumanists, have a rather naturalist understanding
of the world, they do not subscribe to a dualist understanding of human beings, which
implies that human beings are constituted out of a material body and an immaterial mind.
This understanding of human beings is still implicitly dominant in many legal systems. It
comes out clearly in the German legal system according to which only human beings are
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bearers of human dignity. Animals, even though they are not regarded as things, ought to
be treated like things according to the German law. This absurd and untimely
understanding of animals is the result of our Christian and Kantian history. Babich also
stresses the importance of our concern with animal ethics. However, she does not
recognize and acknowledge that the moral concern for animals is something that is being
shared by many transhumanists:
We breed and raise animals in order to sell them more efficiently but also in
order to experiment on them trying out medical, therapeutic uses for animal
parts (this will also be a kind of transhumanism).
13 Ascetic Ideal
The next reason for dissociating transhumanism from Nietzsche’s philosophy is Babich’s
identification of transhumanism as an instantiation of the ascetic ideal:
Transhumanism turns out to be the latest and maybe not even the best (ah,
we should probably wait for the next model) instantiation of the ascetic
ideal. One wants life, but not life as it is, with all its fuss and mess, with all
its banality and its limitations but life as in a video-game or a movie: no
suffering, no illness, no death, and although one wants sex, one might well
be inclined to exclude birth, generating children on demand, and maybe
fast-forwarding through the first few months or years, depending on taste.
Do transhumanists aim for something that cannot be reached, which is one of the central
characteristics of the ascetic ideal? According to Nietzsche, all human beings are will to
power, and it is in their interest to permanently overcome themselves by setting
themselves realizable goals, which get renewed after the old ones have been reached.
Thereby it is important for him that the goals are immanent and realistic ones.
Transhumanists work analogously. It is not the case that the majority of them wish to
reach an eternal life in the digital realm because they know that immortality is not a goal
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that can be reached realistically. A central goal of many transhumanists is that the
healthspan of human beings gets expanded.
Most transhumanists are naturalists who accept that human beings are a type of
animal who are part of the evolutionary process. In this respect transhumanists, just like
Nietzsche, accept life as it is. However, by wishing “to exclude birth, generating children
on demand, and maybe fast-forwarding through the first few months or years” they do not
aim for something that cannot in principle be reached. On the basis of a naturalist world
view all of these goals are realistic ones which can be reached within a realistic time span.
In addition, by having and by trying to realize these goals, transhumanists create new
organic forms by taking into consideration naturalistic processes, which seems to be a
procedure with significant similarities to a Nietzschean way of thinking.
14 Nietzsche and Transhumanism – Two Different Sounds, but Similar
Concepts?
Finally, Babich mentions an aspect of transhumanism, which is clearly different from
Nietzsche’s approach – the element of style. In which style should reflections about the
world be written? Nietzsche stresses the importance of style whereby he means a literary
and metaphorical style. It can be seen how he works, if one considers the writings within
his notebooks and compares them to the works he himself published. In the notebooks
rather analytical statements, clear phrases and explicit judgments can be found. In the
works he published himself, the same content comes hidden in metaphorical language,
beautifully written and integrated in an artistically styled general outline. Most
transhumanists have a scientific or technological background, and have been brought up in
the tradition of analytic philosophy and clear scientific and naturalist thinking.
Consequently, their writings often are clear, rigid, mathematical, logical, and without
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reference to literary or poetical masterworks.
For me this bespeaks certain critical problems for conjoining Nietzsche’s
thought with the transhumanist ethos, here and just musically speaking.
I think this point Babich mentions might be one of the most important differences between
Nietzsche’s and the transhumanists’ approach to understanding the world – the styles in
which they put forward their positions radically differ from each other. Transhumanists
often employ a dry, scientific way of arguing and analyzing matters. Nietzsche (often, but
not always) writes in an overbearing flamboyant style in the works he published himself.
Does this mean that the content of their thoughts has to differ fundamentally? I do not
think so. Maybe, it would be in the interest of many transhumanists to put forward their
ideas in a more lively and Nietzschean style. But, maybe, it would also have been in the
interest of Nietzsche’s philosophy, if he had employed a more sober style when discussing
certain topics, e.g. the eternal recurrence of everything. In any case, it is clear to me that it
is timely, possible and fascinating to consider and bring together both approaches of
thinking about the world. The differences in style might be a reason why the similarity in
their understanding of the world sometimes is not recognized and acknowledged. Maybe,
scholars who can relate to one type of style often have problems also making sense of a
different type of style. I find the intellectual exchange with both traditions extremely
stimulating and I think that a more intensive exchange between the two traditions can lead
to many useful and important further insights.
15 Metaphysics or Ontology
Loeb did an excellent job in reconstructing my argument concerning the relationship
between the eternal recurrence and the overhuman. I am mostly in agreement with what he
writes in his reply article. Still, there are two issues, which I wish to address in my reply.
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The initial point can be seen as a minor one, but I regard it as a noteworthy one. The
second topic, however, touches the heart of his interpretation concerning the relationship
between the overhuman and the eternal recurrence, and I think that I have some reasons
for claiming why I regard his interpretation as implausible. I cannot disprove it, because it
is solidly based upon Nietzsche’s writings. However, I also think that he cannot disprove
my reading concerning this relationship, which has the advantage, that it is founded on
more plausible premises. Firstly, I will address the initial issue, which is related to the
following statement of his:
Is eternal recurrence a piece of metaphysics? Yes, of course it is, but this is
no longer the devastating objection that it used to be under the mid-20thcentury influence of Heidegger and the later Wittgenstein. Metaphysics is a
thriving and respected philosophical discipline today, and careful
commentators like John Richardson and Peter Poellner (cited by Sorgner in
his own recent monograph on this topic) have persuasively shown that
Nietzsche was of course interested in constructing his own brand of
immanent metaphysics.
I do not think “metaphysics” is the word, which ought to be used with respect to the
concept of the eternal recurrence. I myself identified eternal recurrence as a metaphysical
concept when I wrote my first Nietzsche monograph Metaphysics without Truth: On the
Importance of consistency within Nietzsche’s Philosophy.28 However, I realized that this
use of the concept “metaphysics” can be misleading and that a different use of the concept
might be more appropriate. Nietzsche often employed the word “metaphysics” to refer to
two world theories („Metaphysik als im Zusammenhang mit Geister- und
Gespensterglauben“ (KSA, vol. 10, 6[1], p. 231)) whereas the aforementioned English
language interpreters use it to refer to any philosophy which deals with foundational
structures of the world, which can include both one world and two world theories. Both
uses of the word “metaphysics” are possible ones.

28 Stefan Lorenz Sorgner, Metaphysics without Truth. On the Importance of Consistency within Nietzsche’s
Philosophy, Rev. second ed. (Milwaukee: University of Marquette Press 2007).
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However, in the hermeneutic continental tradition, Nietzsche’s use of the concept
metaphysics was influential. Hence, Heidegger criticized metaphysical thinking but put
forward an ontology instead.29 In the same spirit, Vattimo put forward a weak ontology
whereby he tells a story of the weakening of being in history.30 Hence, in this tradition,
the word “metaphysics” developed the connotation of the affirmation of a two-world
theory. To refer to basic structures of a one-world theory, hermeneutic continental thinkers
preferred the word “ontology”. I think that the distinction is an important and established
one within this tradition so that a different use can lead to significant misunderstandings.
Given this use of the concept, it would be self-contradictory to regard the eternal
recurrence as a metaphysical theory, because the eternal recurrence does not affirm a two
world but is solely based within a one-world view. Consequently, I regard it as more
appropriate to claim that the eternal recurrence is an ontological theory but not a
metaphysical one.
16 The Eternal Recurrence and the Overhuman
Finally, I am reaching the one issue concerning Loeb’s interpretation of the relationship
between the overhuman (to whom he refers as superhuman) and the eternal recurrence,31
which I regard as implausible. I also think that I am putting forward a more plausible
position than him. In his article, Loeb stresses:
I also agree with More that Nietzsche thought that his doctrine of eternal
recurrence was inseparable from his concept of the superhuman.
Loeb and I agree that this aspect of Nietzsche’s thought lies at the heart of Nietzsche’s

29 Martin Heidegger, Nietzsche, 2 vol. (Pfullingen: Verlag Günther Neske 1961).
30 Gianni Vattimo, Glauben – Philosophieren, transl. from the Italian by Christiane Schultz. (Stuttgart:
Reclam 2003).
31 I will not deal with the question whether the translation “superhuman” or “overhuman” is more
appropriate but I will stick to the term “overhuman” because “superhuman” sounds more like
“superman” and hence seems to allude to inappropriate connotations.
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philosophy. I doubt, however, that the two concepts in question are logically inseparable.
Loeb puts forward an ingenious suggestion with respect to the question concerning the
exact relationship between the overhuman and the eternal recurrence. Besides one premise
of his position, which I regard as highly dubitable, his suggestion is one, which seems to
correspond to Nietzsche’s way of thinking, but this judgment also applies to my own
reconstruction of Nietzsche’s position. I also think that my interpretation is a plausible one
whereas I doubt that this is correct for Loeb’s suggestion, even though I regard it as a
logical possibility and one which corresponds to Nietzsche’s way of thinking. Loeb claims
the following:
Let me now articulate a more interesting, and to my knowledge
unrecognized, feature of Nietzsche’s thinking—namely, that eternal
recurrence is actually required for there to be any transhumanist progress in
the first place.
I do not think that this is a plausible claim, but let me reconstruct briefly his line of
argument before I will point out in which respect this claim is problematic. According to
Loeb, the necessary connection between the eternal recurrence and the overhuman is an
insight from which transhumanists could benefit significantly:
I will offer my reasons for thinking that the transhumanist movement has
something important to learn from Nietzsche’s pairing of the Übermensch
and eternal recurrence.
According to Loeb, Nietzsche has found a way of showing how it is possible for human
beings to free themselves from the necessity of natural selection so that they are able to
move towards a type of human, through intentional and artificial selection, and so that it
becomes possible for them to gain more control over natural processes. To have more
power over natural processes is also in the interest of many transhumanists. According to
Loeb’s interpretation of Nietzsche, this move is supposed to be possible due to
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Zarathustra’s understanding of how to realize backward-willing, which is connected with
the capacity of a prospective memory. This capacity is supposed to enable Zarathustra
turning into a transhuman and pointing towards the existence of an overhuman species:
This backward-willing extends into Zarathustra’s presentiment in his speech
on redemption that someone has already taught him backward-willing and
also into his dream in the “Soothsayer” chapter that he is liberated from his
entombment in the past by his future redeemed self. As a consequence,
Zarathustra is able to create his completely novel, no-longer-human, and
child-spirited soul who laughs like no one has ever yet laughed on earth and
who is able to exert a creative influence on his unchangeable past that
allows him to say to it, “But thus I will it!” 32 In showing that Zarathustra
himself becomes transhuman as a result of his newfound wisdom, Nietzsche
thus points the way to the future superhuman species that will be stronger
and healthier precisely because it will live and thrive in the reality of
circular recurring time.
The critical question at issue is how the procedure of backward willing ought to be
understood whereby the following premise is of particular relevance for Loeb:
This is because humans, as he defines them (GM II), are mnemonic animals,
meaning that they are able to remember (that is, suspend their forgetting of)
the past.
From the insight that human beings are mnemonic animals and time being circular he
infers that human memory can also be seen as prospective:
But in circular and recurring time, the past is identical to the future, and so
human memory is now also prospective.33
In principle this is a plausible point of view. What is problematic is Loeb’s understanding
of the concept “memory” in this context. What is within our memory? Is it solely what we
have experienced, all experiences from all times or something in between? Loeb infers
from his premises that human beings are mnemonic animals and that the circularity of

32 In an unpublished note from 1884 (KSA 11:25[7]), Nietzsche has Zarathustra spell out the compatibility of
intra-cyclical novelty and trans-cyclical repetition (Loeb 2010: 17, 142; Loeb 2012).
33 As I argue in Loeb 2010: 14-16, scholars have missed this point because they have imagined that a
memory of the last cycle would add something different to the next cycle. But Nietzsche’s point is that
the memory is acquired in every cycle, including the last cycle, and that there has never been an original,
or first, cycle in which the memory was not yet acquired.
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time is given, that in principle it must be possible for human beings to also remember
something which will occur tomorrow, because from a different perspective events which
will occur tomorrow already occurred in the past — a long time ago in the past I must
stress, given that the eternal recurrence is a correct description of the world.
Is Loeb’s interpretation of Nietzsche plausible in this respect? I do not think so,
because if he assumes that human beings are able to remember what will occur tomorrow,
then it seems to imply that we either have to have access to a quasi-global mind, which
stores all memories of all people, or that that the power-quanta responsible for our
memories contain all the information they have experienced throughout all periods of time
during the eternal recurrence and that it is possible to have access to all the information
stored there. These two options are the most obvious options of how prospective memory
can be possible. The first option of a universal mind, which stores all experiences and
memories of all perspectives at all times, is not a position which Nietzsche would have
affirmed. He clearly holds that there is no such universal organism by means of which
such a universal memory could exist. I do not think either that Loeb has this option in
mind.
The second option most probably comes much closer to the basic assumptions
Loeb holds concerning the possibility of a prospective memory. Whatever an organism
experiences gets stored within the quanta the organism consists off. These memories (at
least some of them) get passed on to the next organism, which will consist off partly the
same quanta. In this case, a future organism could only remember some selected past
events which are being stored in the power-quanta out of which it consists. Given that it is
possible to have a prospective memory of tomorrow’s events, it seems to be necessary that
these quanta store all the information they receive during all phases of the eternal
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recurrence. As a human being is not constituted out of all the quanta of all organisms of
tomorrow, the memory of a human being concerning events that will occur tomorrow
would have to be a limited one. A human being might be able to remember some events
that will occur tomorrow but certainly not all events. Furthermore, it can be argued that if
an organism can remember tomorrow’s events then it should in principle also be possible
to remember experiences of one’s own power-quanta ten thousand years ago or two billion
years ago. Hence, the information to which any organism would in principle be able to
have access would have to be immense. Yet, it needs to be stressed again that the period of
time between a human being at the moment and the experiences of an organism tomorrow
(i.e. a very long but limited time ago in the past) is incredibly long. It does not seem
plausible to my mind that human beings are able to remember much about tomorrow,
because another mental capacity, which human beings have, is the wonderful capacity to
forget things. This is a central capacity for human survival. It seems less than likely to my
mind that we, as mnemonic animals, can actually remember tomorrow’s events.
My main reason against Loeb’s Nietzsche interpretation according to which human
memory can also be prospective is that this position has highly implausible implications,
namely the judgment that it can be possible to memorize all events which the power
quanta out of which someone is constituted has experienced, even if these events took
place an incredibly long time ago in the past. Loeb’s interpretation of Nietzsche’s position
takes into account central premises which Nietzsche holds, because I agree with him in so
far that Nietzsche stresses that human beings have a memory, which can remember things
beyond the experiences of an individual human being, i.e. a human being is able to
remember experiences the power-quanta or energy out of which it is constituted and has
had in the past. As the quanta have already had experiences a long time ago in the past, i.e.
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tomorrow, a human being in principle is also able to remember the experiences the quanta
had then. As the quanta, out of which a human being is constituted, are limited, the
experiences are also bound to be limited ones, which is the reason why human beings
clearly cannot remember all about tomorrow. If this interpretation were the correct
account of the relationship between the eternal recurrence and the overhuman, then it
should in principle also be able for me to have access to all these information. It seems
clear to me that I am unable to have access to such memories, which is one reason why I
do not regard his interpretation as a plausible one.
Given the above reflections, it seems reasonable to hold that Loeb’s interpretation
of Nietzsche’s position concerning the relationship between the overhuman and the eternal
recurrence which stresses that “human memory is now also prospective” is not the most
plausible position to hold. I am not saying that it is impossible to hold this point of view or
that it is not in accordance with Nietzsche’s premises. It would be false, if I made these
claims. However, the claim itself seems highly unlikely and implausible. This is my
reason for affirming a different interpretation which implies the logical separability of the
eternal recurrence and the overhuman. If this is the case, then it also follows that it is not
logically necessary for transhumanists to take the eternal recurrence into consideration
concerning the process of the coming about of the posthuman. However, I agree with
Loeb that transhumanism might benefit from taking Nietzsche’s account of the eternal
recurrence seriously. Yet, my reasons for this claim differ from the ones Loeb puts
forward (see Journal of Evolution and Technology Vol. 20, issue 1).
Loeb’s argument concerning the relationship between the overhuman and the
eternal recurrence, however, is based upon the aforementioned premise, because his
further line of thought runs as follows:
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Indeed, in the passages mentioned above and others, he shows Zarathustra
leaving mnemonic messages to his younger self and thus using his memory
as a means whereby his present and future will can creatively influence and
shape his unchangeable past so as to be able say to it, “But thus I will it! But
thus I shall will it!”. And since Zarathustra is the teacher of disciples who
will themselves be able to use their own memory in this same way, his
interaction with them allows him to be influenced by a future they
remember that is beyond the span of his own lifetime. These disciples,
Zarathustra says, will be the ancestors of the superhuman species, and so
ultimately there is a paradoxical sense in which Zarathustra’s teaching of
the superhuman species is retroactively inspired by the actual future
emergence of just this species.
It is an intriguing line of thought but, due to the highly implausible implications
concerning the powers of our memory, not one, which I regard as charitable to Nietzsche’s
philosophy. Loeb also summarizes well my own account concerning the coming about of
the overhuman and the eternal recurrence, which are related concepts, but in contrast to his
interpretation, which are also logically separable without any grave loss. Even though he
does an excellent job in presenting my views, there are some specific points I wish to
clarify further.
Firstly, Loeb claims the following while presenting my account of Nietzsche’s
theory of evolution towards the overhuman:
So I think that he is committed to admitting the role of chance and accident
in this final step as well.
He is correct in stressing that in this way chance still plays a role during the
process of evolution. However, chance no longer is the sole determining factor as it used
to be the case in a state in which solely procedures of natural selection were responsible
for the occurrence of any changes. For chance being able to play a role, it is necessary that
human beings intentionally work at themselves to distinguish themselves from others.
Hence, the role of chance in my interpretation is reduced with respect to the traditional
process of natural selection according to which chance is solely responsible for
evolutionary alterations. Consequently, my interpretation can be seen as a gradual move
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away from natural selection towards human selection whereby Loeb is right in stressing
that the relevance of chance is not excluded in my reading. However, the relevance of
chance gets reduced which is the important point, I think.
Secondly, Loeb holds the following position:
On Sorgner’s interpretation, humans are given meaning by their goal of
creating superhuman individuals who will be able to attain redemption in
this fashion and say to their past, “But thus I will it!”. Notice, however, that
this interpretation of Nietzsche’s concept does not in any way require the
assumption of circular and recurring time. Indeed, this is precisely the same
kind of interpretation that is offered by scholars like Alexander Nehamas
who think that Nietzsche did not actually believe in the truth of
cosmological eternal recurrence.
When Loeb claims that Nehamas’ understanding of backward willing “does not in any
way require the assumption of circular and recurring time” I must say that Loeb is wrong.
In contrast, to convincingly be able to say “But thus I will it!” only works given that one
also holds the eternal recurrence as a cosmological theory which is also the reason why I
regard Nehamas’ position as false who stresses the separability of these two positions. It
depends upon the eternal recurrence as cosmological theory to be able to reach
redemption, because in this way it is possible to justify all moments prior and after the one
moment to which one is able to say “But thus I will it!.” Only if one also holds the
cosmological interpretation of the eternal recurrence, one actually believes that this
moment and thereby also all the moments prior and after this moment will recur again and
again.
If my account of the connection between the overhuman and the eternal recurrence
is correct, then transhumanism does not have to take the eternal recurrence into
consideration for reducing the importance of chance with respect to the coming about of
the posthuman. However, for different reasons, a consideration of the eternal recurrence
Page | 46
might still be in the interest of transhumanists.
17 Conclusion
I am very grateful to both Babich and Loeb for writing such inspiring articles, which
enable all the readers to continue thinking about the various incredibly important
questions which are being dealt with in the debates concerning Nietzsche and
transhumanism. For me, it has been a stimulating exchange. I hope that we will be able to
continue dealing with the various specific aspects of this exchange in future debates,
because there are many topics which have only been alluded to or which have been
addressed merely in short passages, even though they deserved a more detailed and
scholarly treatment. In particular the attempt to bridge the gap between the AngloAmerican and the Continental philosophical tradition with respect to technological,
biological and medical challenges is one which I regard as highly promising and one to
which I plan to dedicate myself further. My own approach attempts to combine a weak
version of Continental posthumanism with a weak type of Anglo-American
transhumanism. As it is in between post- and transhumanism, but also beyond a Christian
and Kantian type of humanism, it can be referred to as metahumanism (meta meaning both
beyond as well as in between)

Robert EllwoodWhat will the religion of the sixth and seventh root races be? The seventh'swill no doubt be whatever the religion of a single human megabrain is like, but that gets ahead of the story-one thing at a time. The contours of faith in the sixth root race are now beginning to emerge. Signs abound; the transition appears to be already underway. The twentieth century was a time of great religious change, much of it beneath the surface of exoteric religious institutions.

Although regrettably plenty of iron-hard attitudes remain in the world around religious nationalism and dogmatism, it must be acknowledged that at least the religious "playing field" has changed dramatically since about 1900. Virtually everyone must now recognize that the arguments about religious truth take placein a pluralistic world, and this realization changes our concept of the very nature of belief. A worldview, even a conservative, traditionalist one, must now be seen as a choice made in the face of the possibility of other choices, rather than simply imposed by tradition or authority.

In such an age, an independent organization like the Theosophical Society can have an important role: first, as a paradigm or model of a movement based on the free choice and affiliation of mature members, each in his or her own way; second, as an organization whose teaching affirms the intrinsic value of pluralism as such, recognizing that the knowledge of the Ancient Wisdom each of us has individually is imperfect.

An attitude of respectful pluralism is, in fact, a growing reality at the end ofthe twentieth century. Even though many people are not yet ready to acknowledgethe new reality openly, one can see widespread evidence that religions are actually increasingly regarded as subjective structures that we ourselves construct to negotiate our relation to absolute reality, rather than as objective truths. People change religions freely; they "blend" religions in the increasing number of interreligious marriages and families; they accept that most of the societies of the world are pluralistic ones in which people need to get along with each other. I know of Christian-Jewish families who observe both Christmas and Passover, and Christian-Buddhist families who display both the cross and the image of the Enlightened One in their home.

There are exceptions, but throughout present-day culture, religions are often no longer seen as matters for doctrinal or logical consistency, or for institutional loyalty, as admirable as those virtues may be in some contexts. Instead, they are perceived as invaluable but flexible symbol-systems that maybe employed by individuals in a variety of ways: as instruments of family or community cohesion, as channels for one's aspirations toward the highest realities, as cultural heritages, as inspirations for good living and spirituality, with a dimension of depth.

All the ideas outlined here are very much in line with the Theosophical expectation that we are now moving into the era of the sixth root race, or perhaps more technically, the sixth subrace of the fifth root race, which wil lprepare for the sixth. We need first to remind ourselves again that the present fifth root race was intended especially to explore and experience the meaning of the material plane. That is its particular role in the course of our long pilgrimage from out of the Halls of Light, which are our true home, for the sake of experience in this and other worlds before our return, enriched and ennobled, to the Source.

For the most part we have done well what we were supposed to do: explore and understand the material composition of the universe. Our science and technology have brought us incomparable knowledge of the laws of nature, of the atom and the galaxy, and of the application of these laws in the making of tools from the flint blade to the computer. There have, of course, been down sides, beginning with the terrible misuse of technology for human exploitation and war, owing to the dismal fact that our moral evolution has hardly kept pace with out scientific progress.

A no less grievous consequence is that the very success of the scientific way of thinking has suggested it as a model of philosophizing in other spheres where its application is more dubious, such as the religious. A master in The Mahatma Letters speaks of our civilization as one which "rests so exclusively upon intellect." Insofar as this applies to religion, it points to the way religion has been seen so much as a matter of dogmas, like scientific axioms or laws, which entail other doctrines with virtually mathematical logic, all of which need to be imposed with the harsh rigor of nature itself.

But this is a very fifth-race way of looking at religion, and not at all the only way possible. The great religions themselves, for all their doctrines, gesture in another direction by holding up conscience, and above all love, asthe final court of appeal in the mind and in ethics. If supremacy of conscience means anything, it means that the inner integrity of the individual is more important than any mental construct. If love means anything, it means accepting others in their differences from oneself as well as in their similarities. It says that we want to grow mutually by exploring those differences with appreciation and that this experience of mutuality is deeper and better than just preaching one's dogma at others, take it or leave it.

Increasingly in our world we are coming to see this interactive loving kind of understanding as the way the world ought to be, across religions, castes, races, nationalities, personal differences all areas in which we have laid down many rigid rules as the shadow side of fifth-root-race thinking, with its scientific or pseudoscientific logic. In the sixth root race our calling will not be to pursue some one way with exclusive consistency, but to expand our capacity for love by embracing persons of all kinds and to explore their inwardness with sensitivity and appreciation. Along with this, will come an appropriate recovery of psychic and mystical capacities, the necessary tools for truly profound understanding of ourselves and of that which is beyond ourselves.

There will still be problems, of course, for the sixth root race is not the end of the journey, and some issues, perhaps unimaginable to us now, will remain to be resolved in the seventh or on other worlds. One is fairly familiar: how does one respond in love to another whose way of life one honestly believes to contain evil? Other issues may be a little further down the road: do the coming biological engineering and neurotechnological techniques mean enhanced human freedom, or do they only invite totalitarian control of whatever is left of the individual? It seems clear that the world is now making the transition to new kinds of thinking that spell a new stage in evolution, and before long the remaining moral and ethical issues will be dealt with in fresh ways.

This is how I see the coming sixth root race: a people of pluralism, individuality, new ways of image-based reading and thinking, leading up to an amalgamation of all those relatively enlightened individual humans into what is really a transhuman stage, the neuro technological linkage of all minds into agrand array of consciousness. That united supermind will be the seventh rootrace, the last which will have need at all for this physical world and which we hope will live on a spiritual level appropriate to its tremendous leap into cosmic consciousness.

What signs are pointing to that unimaginable future, and what is the shape of that which comes? First let us consider future scenarios from the scientific sphere. The distinguished physicist and master of scientific speculation Freeman Dyson has suggested, in Imagined Worlds, an awesome list of awaiting technological revolutions. From our point of view, these will be material concomitants and expressions of the changing consciousness and spirituality ofthe sixth root race. First, genetic engineering, already commenced but still ata very crude level, within two or three centuries will produce biological entities virtually on demand, including Jurassic Park animals, plus new and improved human bodies, to reflect the undogmatic plasticity of sixth-root-race consciousness.

One of the most dramatic prospects awaiting us in biological engineering will call for new thought patterns and new religious concepts. Sooner than we now think, it may be possible to reverse the aging process through cellular modification or transplants and so create immunity to most of the ailments from which we die. This would result in very long life spans of hundreds or even thousands of years, indeed perhaps virtual immortality.

One can only begin to conjecture what kind of effect this development would have on the world's religions, since they now exist in large part as guides for how to live within a very limited span of years and in the face of mortality, and include strong elements of hope and fear regarding the afterlife. Remove the specter of the man with the scythe more or less indefinitely and, if religion as we know it does not simply wither away, other features of faith than those centering around death will no doubt gain prominence, ones that some of us might consider healthier concerns: community, ethics, and the spiritual quality of life.

But even virtual immortality is as nothing compared to the prospects lurking within the emerging science of neurotechnology. The premier art of that field, splicing biological beings with computerized intelligence (miniaturized and flexible far beyond present capability), will then be ready to equip the new man and woman with remarkable combinations of human mind and artificial intelligence. Dyson among others has suggested that before long we may be able to download data and ideas directly from computers to our brains, and from brains to databases. Perhaps the computers themselves would be organic and, as it were, grafted-on brain-enhancing body parts.

Then as the third radical development after virtual immortality and neuro-computer linkages, it will be possible to transmit data by what Dysoncalls radio telepathy, "brain waves" or neuron charges translated by a small implanted sender into radio waves that could be picked up by a computer receiveror by another brain. Radio telepathy will allow all these enhanced minds to be directly linked like computer arrays on the level of memory, thought, and will. This vast human computer array could be moving into place by the end of the next millennium, in a thousand years or less.

Radio telepathy could be achieved either through tiny transmitters placed in the brain or through the genetic engineering of cerebral biology to electrify, computerize, and "radioize" the human brain, on the model of the electric organs that already exist in electric eels and electric catfish. It would then permit the direct communication of signals and information from one brain to another, and no doubt also from associated computerized databases. Books, videos, spoken language, and other primitive means of transmitting information through verbal symbols encoded on paper or film or in combinations of sound waves, and received by means of the senses, will then be as outdated as those bards who, before the invention of writing, had to commit vast amounts of tribal lore to memory.

Radio telepathy, whether from data bases to brain or from brain to brain, would certainly be as revolutionary an advance in communication, and even in the human meaning of knowledge, as was the invention of writing, which those powerful new information engines will displace. It would deliver to us a world as different from the age of literacy as that age was from the preliterate stone-age world that went before. At best, reading, writing, and speaking would now be used only for historical, recreational, or aesthetic purposes. Another thought: it might also be possible by this means, Dyson suggests, to connect with the minds ofother species and for the first time to know directly the subjective world of a cat, a dog, an eagle, or a dolphin.

From here only a small step will carry us to the most revolutionary development of all, one that we might wish to term the seventh root race. The next stage,though dramatic and irreversible, would be comparatively easy after radio telepathy, and probably would not be long resisted, though it would mean nothing less than changing human beings as we know ourselves into something that is not merely another species, or another genera, but virtually a whole neworder of life.

For a thousand years from now or perhaps sooner, undoubtedly it will be possible to unite those radio telepathically implanted brains into great arrays of tens,hundreds, even thousands of units capable of problem-solving and achievement not to mention pleasure on an unimaginable scale. But within a collective like this,one imagines the individual, and with it individual consciousness, fading and failing in the face of the vastly larger collective mind's power.

One can project vast disquietude by humans in the immediate face of this prospect, but it would not be resisted long. The newest and most powerful technology never is, and the competitive edge going to those accessing large-array brains would make this neurological leap imperative for the rest. Nonetheless this awesome change in human nature would clearly overturn all existing institutions. The profoundest challenge of this eventuality, as in the case of biological individual immortality, would be to religion, whatever formit has taken a millennium from now. For religion as we know it depends fundamentally on the idea of the responsible individual self, and the self would now be shown to be outdated, a puny instrument in the eyes of something immensely greater.

Death would indeed no longer have its sting nor the grave its victory, at leastnot to the collective consciousness, which will increasingly simply be the consciousness of each entity within its hold. The whole would undoubtedly soon,and irreversibly, supplant individual human consciousness like a far more powerful radio signal drowning out lesser stations. Its mental energies, its brilliance of intellect, its determined will and purpose, its breadth of information and awareness, its inconceivable joys and raptures, will dwarf anything we, or rather our distant progeny, could possibly sustain on our own, and we, or they, would become it. So it is that the entire part of religion thatdeals with individual preparation for death, the trauma of dying, final judgment, and immortality or resurrection will retain little meaning.

And what is the spiritual status of a radio telepathically-linked collective mind? Is it itself a person in the religious sense, a soul, capable of sin and salvation, or of karma and enlightenment the great idea of axial-age, fifth-root-race religion? Or is the new human megabrain a demonic entity thath as swallowed up the greatest of God's creations, the individual soul? Or can souls somehow still be found within it? At our present level of consciousness, these questions are simply unanswerable.

Nor is that all. For the collective, for all intents and purposes, would be immortal, at least until the collapse and death of this particular universeeighty billion years hence and by then the array, perhaps by now united into one vast universal consciousness of billions of parts, could be a mind invincible enough to prevail even against that ultimate termination. Life and death will be as insignificant to the collective as the individual. Any one unit within it, upon failing, would easily be replaced by another, no doubt quickly constructed for the purpose by biological engineering.

It can be argued, of course, and probably will be at the time, that religion hasother foci than the separate individual, indeed that it insists the separateindividual is not the ultimate focus of meaning. In Christianity, individuals are supposed to be parts of the body of Christ, like cells or organs in a physical body, almost like a spiritual anticipation of the collective. The Hindu social order, with its castes and roles, is based on an organic more than an individualistic model of society. Priests and preachers will endeavor to spiritualize the collective in some such manner as this. Yet to see the spiritual ideal become everyday physical and biological reality will be no small challenge to conventional religion. How can Theosophy respond to this and theother challenges of the occult future?

We have a couple of hints about Theosophy and this "science fiction" future in a classic Theosophical text. The Mahatma Letters to A. P. Sinnett (letter 66 inthe chronological edition, 14 in the third edition, part 7b) tell us: "The principle of acceleration and retardation applies itself in such a way, as to .. . leave but a single superior one [stock] to make the last ring." As the text makes clear, this final superior entity is also the culmination of the seventh root race. And (letter 93B, 23B): "The last seventh race will have its Buddha as every one of the predecessors had; but its adepts will be far higher than any ofthe present race, for among them will abide the future Planetary, the Dhyan Chohan" or meditation buddha, whose contemplative aura can embrace a planet and who will instruct the next still higher level of development that will pass beyond our world altogether.

One can easily imagine that, at this level, those other adepts and that superior stock would harmoniously and without coercion be embraced within the Dhyan Chohan's single incomparable mind. These no doubt partial and tentative glimpses into the distant spiritual future, couched in traditional language and concepts,hint at one important idea: that the separate individual human self as we now know it is far from the final stage of spiritual evolution. At higher and higher levels, both selection and increasing harmony in freedom will move us together toward a single transcendent consciousness capable of almost unimaginable wisdom, power, and bliss. In that buddhic mind, consciousness and all experience will be united and fulfilled in a way that is now only potential and barely feltby most.

If these developments include the use of technological, or neuro technological, innovations as well as purely "spiritual" means of evolution, that should not surprise us nor discredit the advance. Theosophy has never imposed a rigiddualism between the sprit and the flesh, or the spiritual and the technological,but rather accepts, with the Mahatmas of the Letters, that manifest reality isin fact all material as well as spiritual. Matter, however, is capable of higher and subtler refinements than most of us can conceive and is susceptible to scientific and technological as well as subjective means of evolution.

Matter and spirit express each other, and to set them in opposition is a false dualism. We are material and are meant to use matter as we continue our evolution, letting its deep interplay with consciousness direct us toward the spiritual values of oneness and love. But we are also creatures of free will, and so able to abuse anything. The sixth-root-race values of tolerance and the seventh of oneness of consciousness could of course lead to subtle kinds of evil magic. But they need not.

From the point of view of the tremendous overall Theosophical model of spiritual evolution, we can be optimistic about the future. We can and must believe that the new spiritual energies which are released into the world with each upward movement, and which are being powerfully released now despite often discouraging appearances, have the power to overcome the negatives and bring us closer to the Halls of Light. Ultimately, they will. If we work with them with selflessness and wisdom, they will raise us quickly and easily. If not, the job will take longer and will be much harder.

For us as Theosophists, then, I offer two reflections. First, we must not think that we are outdated or irrelevant in this rapidly changing world, as I am sure we are sometimes tempted to think. I am convinced that the deepest relevance of the Theosophical message is only beginning to be apparent, that we are among those who really know what is going on, both historically and spiritually, and we are desperately needed to put it in the largest possible perspective.

Second, the task does not call for arrogance, but more love and service, our great ideal virtues, with a bit of upaya, skill-in-means, thrown in. As new languages, new thoughts, new worlds arrive, we must be there at the cutting edge of change, expressing Theosophy in fresh media, showing that any emergent era isours in the sense that we have equipment for understanding it and shaping it to the right ends of human freedom and brotherhood, rather than giving over to those dark forces that would make new developments only novel means ofen slavement.

How this is done will be up to the now-young generation of Theosophists. But the next stage of human evolution may not wait much longer than that before commencing radically to remake our human world. We must all be, in the familiar title from the Adyar Theosophist, "on the watchtower."

Robert Ellwood, a noted authority in the history of religion, is the author ofmany works of scholarship, including Alternative Altars: Unconventional and Eastern Spirituality in America (University of Chicago Press) and The Politics of Myth: A Study of C. G. Jung, Mircea Eliade, and Joseph Campbell (StateUniversity of New York Press). He is also the author of several Quest Books: The Cross and the Grail: Esoteric Christianity for the 21st Century, Finding the Quiet Mind, The Pilgrim Self, and Theosophy. He has long had a love of science fiction and speculative science, as well as amateur astronomy.

file:///C:/data/fetzer_articles/docs/deep_cm/hplus_utopia.pdf
Michael Hauskeller
Progress has often been driven by utopian dreams of a better world. This better world
is always one that allows people’s lives to be, in some important (albeit varying)
respect, better than they normally are at the time when, and the place where, the
dream is dreamt. That imagined world, which compares favourably with the here and
now, can be in the past (the Golden Age, Paradise Lost), in the future (Heaven and a
New Earth, Paradise Regained, and secularised versions thereof), and even in the
present (mythical places like the Isles of the Blessed or Avalon, but also real places
such as America - the “land of the blessed” – for European emigrants in the early
1900s or Communist Russia in the 1930s). Utopian dreams fulfil an important
function. They serve as a reminder that the world doesn’t have to be as it is: that there
are other possible worlds that we could live in - worlds in which nobody is poor and
where everyone has enough to eat, worlds in which people are not being oppressed
and each can say what they please, where everyone counts for one and no one for
more than one; worlds perhaps where we don’t have to work so hard and where there
is more enjoyment, where being alive is an unimpaired pleasure, where there is no
suffering, disease, or death, where we are powerful and no longer have to fear
anything or anyone. Utopian dreams like these have no doubt stimulated social,
scientific and technological progress. However, they have also led to terror and
humanitarian disaster when concerted attempts to make the dream come true failed
miserably. Unfortunately, some worlds turn out to be less desirable than they
appeared to be in our dreams, and some dreams get compromised by the means
thought necessary to realize them. Others are repugnant in their own right, like the
utopian dream of a world in which, say, the Aryan Race reigns supreme. Clearly not
all dreams are worth dreaming, and not all survive their implementation into the real
world undamaged. The challenge is to know in advance what will happen if we
endeavour to turn utopia into reality.
Utopian thinking can be found both in transhumanism and in posthumanism
(or, as Miah 2008 calls them, philosophical posthumanism and cultural
posthumanism, largely because transhumanism is mostly advocated by philosophers,
whereas posthumanism is more the domain of cultural theorists). Transhumanism is
2
without doubt a philosophy with strong utopian tendencies, both in motivation and in
outlook (see for a more detailed discussion Hauskeller 2011). It is a practice-oriented,
increasingly influential philosophical-political movement whose proponents and allies
frequently and quite openly declare themselves to be motivated by a desire to create a
better world or make this world “a better place” (see e.g. Harris 2007, 3; Bostrom
2011; UK Transhumanist Association 2011). Transhumanists believe that the best
chance we have to make this world a better place is through the use of already
existing or soon to be developed human enhancement technologies. By gradually
improving human capability we will eventually change into beings far superior to any
human that has ever lived and hence can be seen, in this respect, as “posthuman”. It is
commonly assumed that posthumans will lead lives and have experiences that are on
the one hand unimaginable, but are on the other far superior to, i.e. much better than,
anything we can experience now. When transhumanists describe the posthuman future
that allegedly awaits us, they often indulge in fantasies that borrow their imagery from
religious hymns and ancient myths. Nick Bostrom, transhumanism’s most prolific
academic proponent, is particularly apt at painting our posthuman future in the most
glorious colours. We are being promised nothing less than “lives wonderful beyond
imagination” (Bostrom 2011). In his Letter from Utopia (2010, 3), in which one of
those fortunate posthumans of the future addresses us merely humans, we are
reminded of those few and all-too-short precious moments in which we experience
life at its best, only to be told that those moments are nothing compared to the bliss
permanently experienced by the posthuman: “And yet, what you had in your best
moment is not close to what I have now – a beckoning scintilla at most. If the distance
between base and apex for you is eight kilometres, then to reach my dwelling requires
a million light-year ascent. The altitude is outside moon and planets and all the stars
your eyes can see. Beyond dreams. Beyond imagination.” Posthumans will no longer
be cursed with ageing bodies, and will no longer have to die; they will know and
understand things that are entirely beyond our reach now; and above all, they will
have lots and lots of pleasurable experiences: “Pleasure! A few grains of this magic
ingredient are dearer than a king’s treasure, and we have it aplenty here in Utopia. It
pervades into everything we do and everything we experience. We sprinkle it in our
tea.” (Bostrom 2010, 5) The letter ends with an urgent call to bring the posthuman
into existence and is signed by “your possible future self”.
3
There is nothing very unusual about the utopian outlook that Bostrom
endorses so unabashedly. On the contrary, it is rather common and apparently shared
by many who see humanity’s salvation in emerging and converging technologies and
technological growth in general. The authors of the 2002 landmark report Converging
Technologies for Improving Human Performance, commissioned by the US National
Science Foundation and Department of Commerce, seriously expect that through the
convergence of nanotechnology, biotechnology, information technology and cognitive
science we will soon be able to solve all the world’s problems. Technological
progress will result in “world peace” and “evolution to a higher level of compassion
and accomplishment” (Roco/ Bainbridge 2003, 6). More importantly, it will also lead
to “a golden age of prosperity” (ibid., 291) and “economic wealth on a scale hitherto
unimaginable” (ibid., 293). Economic wealth is here clearly seen as both necessary
and sufficient for permanent human happiness, where the latter, in well-tried
utilitarian fashion, is equated with unlimited access to, and enjoyment of, pleasurable
experiences. This essentially materialistic and hedonistic understanding of human
progress is reminiscent of the medieval legend of the Land of Cockaigne, where
supposedly “no one suffers shortages/ the walls are made of sausages” and “lovely
women and girls may be taken to bed/ without the encumbrance of having to wed”
(Pleij 2001, 33, 39). Transhumanists occasionally betray similar sentiments and
ideals. David Pearce for instance, who in 1998, with Nick Bostrom and a few others,
drafted the Transhumanist Declaration (the founding document of the World
Transhumanist Association), advocates a form of negative Utilitarianism that sees as
the ultimate goal of all human action the abolition of all suffering. In his internet
manifesto The Hedonistic Imperative he predicts that over “the next thousand years or
so, the biological substrates of suffering will be eradicated completely” and that
consequently the “states of mind of our descendants (…) will share at least one
common feature: a sublime and all-pervasive happiness” (1995, 0.1.). What awaits us
(or rather our posthuman descendents) is nothing short of a “naturalisation of
heaven”, where we “will have the chance to enjoy modes of experience we primitives
cruelly lack. For on offer are sights more majestically beautiful, music more deeply
soul-stirring, sex more exquisitely erotic, mystical epiphanies more awe-inspiring, and
love more profoundly intense than anything we can now properly comprehend”
(1995, 0.4.).
4
By and large, all transhumanists are optimists regarding the future of humanity
(Berthoud 2007, 295). They look forward to what lies ahead of us, and embrace
without much hesitation the technologies that are supposed to lead us there. They tend
to believe that everything will be for the best, and that the best is what we will get if
we are only courageous enough to wholeheartedly commit ourselves to scientific and
technological progress. Transhumanists do not doubt that humans are special, that
reason sets us apart from the rest of nature, and that we all carry the potential in us to
ascend the heavens and to be (or live) like Gods – very much in accordance with the
very modern human self-understanding that Pico della Mirandola laid down in his
Oration on the Dignity of Man (1486), which can be seen as the foundation charter of
Renaissance humanism. For Pico (1985, 4) humans were by nature free to invent
themselves, and not confined by any natural boundaries: “Thou art the molder and
maker of thyself, thou mayest sculpt thyself into whatever shape thou dost prefer.” As
humans we are naturally disposed to change and to progress to higher spheres. It is in
our very essence to transgress boundaries, to go ever further on our way to perfection
and godliness. This belief is also at the core of transhumanism. Scratch a
transhumanist and you will find a humanist underneath.
In contrast, despite being rather a diverse lot, (cultural) posthumanists are
normally decidedly anti-humanist - or “posthumanist” (Wolfe 2010, xv) - and hence
also deeply suspicious of transhumanist aspirations to create better, even more
glorious humans by means of technology. Posthumanists generally refuse to see
humans as a “superior species in the natural order” (Miah 2008, 72), ontologically
distinct from animals on the one hand, and machines on the other. They insist that the
boundaries between the human and the non-human are rather fluent and in fact have
always been so: it is just that this fact has become more pronounced and thus more
obvious through recent technological advances. This makes the posthuman that
posthumanists talk about an altogether different entity from the posthuman of the
transhumanists. In contrast to the latter, the posthumanist posthuman is not an entity
of an imagined future, but an entity that already exists. For the posthumanist we are
already posthuman (Hayles 1999) and in a certain sense have always been so. The
human (as something essentially different from other entities) has never existed. As
Halberstam and Livingston in their seminal collection of articles on “posthuman
bodies”, echoing Donna Haraway’s “we are cyborgs” (1985, 191) programmatically
declare: “You’re not human until you’re posthuman. You were never human.”
5
(Halberstam/ Livingson 1995, 8) Thus “the human” is merely an ideological
construct, a myth, and ultimately a lie, because the phrase suggests that there is an
essential distinction between the human and the non-human, while in fact there isn’t.
Any appearance of an ontological difference between humans and machines on the
one side, and humans and animals on the other, is merely a discursive practice that
“functions to domesticate and hierarchize difference within the human (whether
according to race, class, gender) and to absolutize difference between the human and
the nonhuman” (Halberstam/ Livingston 1995, 10) It is the ideology of the human that
posthumanists seek to uncover and to attack. The political goal is to rupture and
exceed traditional cultural “narratives” of the human and to “destabilize the
ontological hygiene of Western modernity” (Graham 2002, 16) in order to overcome
historic divisions between class, race and gender. For this reason, posthumanists are
equally opposed to so-called ‘bioconservative’ critics of radical human enhancement
such as Francis Fukuyama, Michael Sandel, or Leon Kass, and to transhumanist
enhancement enthusiasts. From a posthumanist perspective both parties commit the
same basic mistake: that, although they may have different ideas about what it means
to be human, they both believe in the existence of the human, and in the value of
being one. Transhumanists welcome and endorse the new technologies because they
seem to provide new, far-ranging possibilities for human progress. Posthumanists
often do the same, but for other reasons. The increasing incorporation of modern
technology into our lives and bodies is a fact that we have to deal with, and whether
we like it or not, it is to be welcomed to the extent that it confuses boundaries (e.g.
between human and non-human, male and female, physical and non-physical) and
forces (or at least allows) us to review and revise the way we are used to look at the
world. “The dichotomies between mind and body, animal and human, organism and
machine, public and private, nature and culture, men and women, primitive and
civilized are all in question ideologically.” (Haraway 1985, 205).
There is, of course, a utopian dimension to the posthumanist critique of
humanist and transhumanist progressivism and utopianism, which was initially
acknowledged by Donna Haraway in her early Manifesto (1985, 193): “This chapter
(…) is an effort to contribute to socialist-feminist culture and theory in a postmodernist, nonnaturalist mode and in the utopian tradition of imagining a world
without gender”. 20 years later, however, she expressed discomfort with her own
utopian interpretation of posthumanism. In an interview with Nicholas Gane (Gane/
6
Haraway 2006, 137) she revokes her earlier remark: “It’s not a utopian dream but an
on-the-ground working project. I have trouble with the way people go for a utopian
post-gender world”. Clearly part of Haraway’s discomfort with being seen as trying to
launch some kind of utopian project stems from her distaste for the goals of
transhumanism: “I can’t believe the blissed-out techno-idiocy of people who talk
about downloading human consciousness onto a chip” (ibid., 146). Yet she still
acknowledges the importance of utopian thinking for the purpose of critiquing (and
possibly changing) established practices (ibid., 152): “I suppose there is a kind of
fantastic hope that runs through a manifesto. There’s some kind of without warrant
insistence that the fantasy of an elsewhere is not escapism but it’s a powerful tool.”
It is obvious that Haraway does not share the enthusiasm that most
transhumanists seem to feel for the ongoing technification of the life world – she even
admits that it is something of a “nightmare” (Gane/ Haraway 2006, 150). Likewise,
Katherine Hayles, in her influential book How We Became Posthuman (1999, 1),
speaks of the “nightmare” of a downloaded consciousness, and contrasts it with a
“dream” of her own: “If my nightmare is a culture inhabited by posthumans who
regard their bodies as fashion accessories rather than the ground of being, my dream
is a version of the posthuman that embraces the possibilities of information
technologies without being seduced by fantasies of unlimited power and disembodied
immortality, that recognizes and celebrates finitude as a condition of human being”
(ibid., 5). Other posthumanists express a similarly ambivalent attitude. Thus David
Wills (2008), while embracing what he calls the “technological turn” and claiming
that the “human thing” has never been “simply human”, but is and has always been in
its very essence a “technological thing” (ibid., 3), argues that, precisely because we
always already have technology in our backs, we can and should resist a “technology
that defines itself as straight-forward, as straight and forward, straight-ahead linear
advance, the totally concentrated confidence and pure technological fiat of an
unwavering lift-off” and “reserve the right to hold back, not to presume that every
technology is an advance” (ibid., 6). According to Wills, control and mastery are an
illusion, never to be fully accomplished because technology has us rather than the
other way around. In the same vein, though not always for the same reasons, other
posthumanists such as Elaine Graham also scorn what they see as transhumanists’
“technocratic futurism” (Graham 2002, 155) and “libertarian philosophy” (ibid., 159).
7
However, despite the widespread posthumanist opposition to transhumanist
techno-utopianism, the desired and recommended dissolution of all confining
boundaries is clearly itself a utopian idea, whether those boundaries are conceived as
physical boundaries (as in transhumanism) or rather conceptual, i.e., social and
political boundaries (as in posthumanism). At the heart of posthumanism is clearly a
liberationist ideal: the hoped-for redistribution of difference and identity is ultimately
a redistribution of power. Haraway and those who have been following in her
footsteps urge us to see the confusion of boundaries that our use of modern
technologies forces upon us not as a threat, but rather as an opportunity to develop
resistance to domination: “certain dualisms have been persistent in Western traditions;
they have all been systemic to the logics and practices of domination of women,
people of color, nature, workers, animals – in short, domination of all constituted as
others, whose task is to mirror the self.” (Haraway 1985, 219) Instead of bemoaning
the increasing technification of our life world and resigning ourselves to the role of
victims, we are asked to use it in order to undermine existing structures of
domination. Again, we are told to be brave in the face of new developments and to see
them as an opportunity rather than a threat. However, while transhumanists tell us not
to be afraid of letting go of the familiar but defective human and paving the way for
the unfamiliar, but vastly improved posthuman, posthumanists ask us not to be afraid
of “permanently partial identities and contradictory standpoints” and to suppress and
firmly reject the perhaps all-too-human desire for clear demarcations (Haraway 1985,
194). This requires an appreciation of disorder and illogic, and a repudiation of
(normative conceptualisations of) health, purity and stability (Halberstam/ Livingston
1995, 13). Katherine Hayles makes it clear that “the posthuman” is just as much a
construct as “the human”. It is not a real entity that is meant to replace the human at
some point in the future, but rather a certain point of view, a new way of looking at
things and at ourselves: “Whether or not interventions have been made on the body,
new models of subjectivity emerging from such fields as cognitive science and
artificial life imply that even a biologically unaltered Homo sapiens counts as
posthuman” (Hayles 1999, 4). Whether we are human or posthuman thus entirely
depends on our own self-understanding: “People become posthuman because they
think they are posthuman” (ibid., 6). Along the same lines, Elaine Graham (2002)
analyses the different “representational practices” that create the differing worlds of
the human and the posthuman. Technology changes things, but the really important
8
changes, according to posthumanists, are ultimately in the head. Haraway’s ‘Cyborg’
was a metaphor for a changed, or changing, perspective. And so is ‘the posthuman’
for many cultural theorists. For transhumanists on the other hand, the posthuman is
the radically enhanced, virtually omnipotent human of the future.
Haraway famously concluded her Manifesto with the statement that she’d
rather be a cyborg than a goddess. These two words stand for alternative utopias.
What distinguishes posthumanists from transhumanists is this: while posthumanists
would rather be cyborgs than goddesses or gods, transhumanists wish to be both, but
if they had to choose, they would much rather be gods.
Literature:
Berthoud, G. (2007): The Techno-Utopia of ‘Human Performance Enhancement. In:
Sitter-Liver, B. (Ed.): Utopie heute 1. Academic Press, Fribourg/ Kohlhammer,
Stuttgart, 291-305.
Bostrom, N. (2010): Letter from Utopia, Version 1.9, accessed 15 June 2011
(http://www.nickbostrom.com/utopia.pdf)
Bostrom, N. (2011): Nick Bostrom’s Home Page, accessed 13 June 2011
(http://research.lifeboat.com/bostrom.htm).
Gane, N./ Haraway, D. (2006): When we have never been human, what is to be
done?: Interview with Donna Haraway. In: Theory Culture Society 23, 135-158.
Graham, E.L. (2002): Representations of the Post/Human. Rutgers University Press,
New Brunswick.
Halberstam, J./ Livingston, I. (Ed.) (1995): Posthuman Bodies. Indiana University
Press, Bloomington and Indianapolis.
Haraway, D. (1985): A Manifesto for Cyborgs. Science, Technology, and Socialist
Feminism in the 1980s. In: Nicholson, L. (Ed.) (1990): Feminism/ Postmodernism.
Routledge, New York and London, 190-233.
Harris , J. (2007): Enhancing Evolution. Princeton University Press, Princeton and
Oxford.
Hauskeller, M. (2011): Reinventing Cockaigne. Utopian Themes in Transhumanist
Thought. In: Hastings Center Report 2011 (forthcoming).
Hayles, N.K. (1999): How We Became Posthuman. The University of Chicago Press,
Chicago and London.
9
Miah, A. (2008): A Critical History of Posthumanism. In: Gordijn, B./ Chadwick, R.
(Ed.): Medical Enhancement and Posthumanity. Springer, New York.
Pearce, D. (1995): The Hedonistic Imperative (www.hedweb.com).
Pico della Mirandola (1985): On the Dignity of Man, On Being and the One,
Heptaplus. Macmillan, New York/ London.
Pleij, H. (2001): Dreaming of Cockaigne. Medieval Fantasies of the Perfect Life.
Columbia University Press, New York.
Roco, M.C./ Bainbridge, W.S. (Ed.) (2003): Converging Technologies for Improving
Human Performance. Nanotechnology, Biotechnology, Information Technology and
Cognitive Science. Kluver, Dordrecht.
UK Transhumanist Association (2011): Home Page, accessed 13 June 2011
(http://www.uktranshumanistassociation.org).
Wills, D. (2008): Dorsality. Thinking Back through Technology and Politics.
University of Minnesota Press, Minneapolis.
Wolfe, C. (2010): What is Posthumanism? University of Minnesota Press,
Minneapolis.

Beyond Otaku: Transhumanism and Judaism
August 18, 2011 Editorials, Transhumanism
authors Joshua Fox

Transhumanism seeks to bring about a radically transformed future, one in which every aspect of our human existence is changed for the better. The ideology, though not explicitly dependent on any one culture, is in practice tightly bound with Silicon Valley way of life: intellectual, elitist, Americentric, secular, and technophilic.

Ethnic groups world-wide have developed distinctive elements such as oral traditions, literature, song, visual art, crafts, languages, family structures, ritual, moral systems, and much more. If Transhumanism completely remakes mankind in its own image, we will lose the best of thousands of world cultures, from New Guinea to Lappland. Transhumanists counter that in their preferred future, people will be permitted to retain their atavisms Amish-style, or else to adopt for themselves features of any culture, just as people today can choose punk, Goth, Otaku, or polyamory.

These alternatives leave a thin broth in place of yesterday’s rich stew. Western civilization has already swamped thousands of now-dead cultures, eliminating both their good and their bad aspects. Transhumanism threatens to wipe out all the rest.

Many transhumanists strive to based their principles and beliefs on culture-neutral rational principles, such as utilitarianism. Yet cultural neutrality does not require neutralizing culture. Transhumanism also believes in “Humanity Plus,” in enhancing the best of what makes us human. This includes not only universal values, but also those found in the tremendous variety of cultures. There is a more out there than furries and anime. We must open a path into the future for these myriad cultures.

The path-breaking Transhumanism belief-system does draw on richer historical roots than are readily visible in its future-looking ideas. Though these are less important influences, they serve as a reminder that not all is rationalist-libertarian-atheist. Transhumanism has drawn on Pierre Teilhard de Chardin’s Jesuit learning, as well as the Taoist and Buddhist insights of East Asia, the Paleolithic lifestyle represented by today’s hunter-gatherers, and the Russian Orthodox traditionalism of Nikolay Fedorovich Fedorov. This essay will trace the connection to Transhumanism of another source: The Jewish culture, religion and ethnic group.

The Singularity is a modern apocalyptic, the End of Days: the looming threat of world-destroying nanobots, or an superintelligent machine as world-devouring demon-god. Along with that, the Singularity offers the promise of a Messianic Transition Guide to lead us to utopia, with a Singleton AI as benevolent god-figure–or, as Eliezer Yudkowsky has put it, an entity greater than any god ever imagined.

The idea of the apocalypse (originally meaning “revelation”) emerged in Judaism during the late Biblical period, under the influence of Persian Zoroastrianism. The idea reached the form we know today around the turn of the era, emerging in both Judaism and Christianity.

As Steven Kaas points out, the concept of Singularity differs sharply from the religious version of the Abrahamic religions. Still, there is no doubt that the Rapture of the Nerds evokes many of the same feelings as the Jewish and Christian Apocalypse. And of these two religious visions, the Singularity more closely resembles the Jewish version, in which the Messianic era is purely earthly, a much-improved political situation, with people living their lives in a material Utopia, not transfigured into a spiritual existence.

There is precedent for strivings towards an earthly Messianic era, with overtones of Transhumanism. Socialists, and particularly the idealists of the late nineteenth century, looked forward to the hell-and-heaven of a secular End of Days, with science and technology as guides. Theodor Herzl likewise offered a technophilic and universalistic solution to the age-old problem of anti-Semitic persecution. Libertarians, who are disproportionately represented among Transhumanists, envisage a Utopia brought about by the elimination of government interference in society.

A disproportionate number of Jews are leaders in Transhumanism, as also in these other Utopian ideologies. This may be due to the influence on Jews of their tradition’s materialist apocalyptic; or this may simply be another case of Jews’ outsized representation in many areas of endeavor in modern society. But either way, a glance at any list of well-known Transhumanists shows that the Jewish people has contributed disproportionately towards this effort to improve humanity’s future. Ironically, the number of Jews involved also means that Judaism also gets a disproportionate amount of the anti-religious reactions common in the movement.

The Jewish people has re-built its national home in Israel. This state leads the world in many areas of interest to Transhumanists: computer science, software and hardware development, bio-tech, and others. I’ll refer you to an article by Hank “Hyena” Pellissier in an earlier issue of H+Magazine for the details, and I’ll let Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu fill in the picture, with his speech at the United Nations in September 2009:

…. The allure of freedom, the power of technology, the reach of communications should surely win the day. Ultimately, the past cannot triumph over the future. And the future offers all nations magnificent bounties of hope. The pace of progress is growing exponentially ….

What seemed impossible a few years ago is already outdated, and we can scarcely fathom the changes that are yet to come. We will crack the genetic code. We will cure the incurable. We will lengthen our lives. We will find a cheap alternative to fossil fuels and clean up the planet.

I am proud that my country Israel is at the forefront of these advances – by leading innovations in science and technology, medicine and biology, agriculture and water, energy and the environment. These innovations the world over offer humanity a sunlit future of unimagined promise ….

Figure 1: Theodor Herzl’s rejected proposal for a Zionist flag: Stars of David for the Jewish heritage; seven stars for the seven hours of the working day; white background to symbolize purity.

I have traced several lines of connection between Judaism and Transhumanism: The rise of apocalyptic, with a focus on a material rather than an other-worldly Utopia; the outsized contribution of Jews to Transhumanism; and the role of the state of Israel in benefiting humanity through technological progress.

But I have not traced a connection between Transhumanism and Judaism as a religion. In Transhumanism, attitudes towards religion range from evangelical atheism to a diffuse personal spirituality. Support for organized religion is few and far between, with Lincoln Cannon’s Transhumanist Mormonism and Tohamer Toth-Fejel’s Catholicism as notable exceptions. There is no explicit connection between the Jewish religion and transhumanism. But Judaism, though it includes religion in the post-Enlightenment sense of personal spirituality, is more than that. It is also an ethnic group, an ancient civilization, a state, and a system of rules for daily life, including ethical principles

There is another area where Judaism’s contribution is crucial. Judaism was the origin of ethical monotheism. Other civilizations have established their own moral systems, all related through their origin in our evolutionary past, but the moral backdrop established by Judaism has spread world-wide through the civilization in which Transhumanism thrives, to a large extent through the medium of Christianity. We define morality here not simply in the narrow sense of “altruism,” but, in accordance with the Jewish legal system, as “the best way to order society and human life.”

Jewish religious law frames its commandments as divinely inspired imperatives , not merely as calculations of personal benefit, nor as arbitrary customs. The laws are not necessarily moral injunctions. Seen from the ethical perspective commonly adopted by Transhumanists, which tries to be culturally neutral while taking its guidance from Enlightenment principles such as individual choice, the ethical weight of the precepts vary from the immoral to the moral.

Some of Jewish religious law, like divorce regulations, are from the modern perspective immoral. (We should note, however, that such Biblical commandments as the extermination of enemy tribes are proto-Jewish, not Jewish; the religion has evolved radically since the writing of the Bible.)

Other rules, like dietary taboos, are morally neutral. Yet others, like rules for sexual behavior, are immorally restrictive of liberty from a modern Western perspective, yet considered key to morality by billions of people worldwide, including those who are followers of an Abrahamic religion.

But many of the religious precepts of Judaism are explicit demands for just behavior towards others, without hope of immediate reward. It is this ancient background, more than any utilitarian calculations or abstract deontological universal imperatives, which has shaped our altruistic feelings into what we call “morality” today.

Transhumanism as a whole has a “techno-volatile” world-view, foreseeing either tremendous benefit or tremendous harm from technology. This makes the definition of morality critical; when we set technology on a course, we may find that it takes us to a destination far beyond what we can imagine today.

There is thus a tension between simplicity and complexity in moral definitions. On the one hand, as technological power tends to an extreme, it is much easier to extrapolate its effect under simpler moral calculations.

David Pearce’s negative hedonism, the elimination of suffering, can be extrapolated to a world where no living being, neither human nor any other animal, experiences the subjective pain which today serves as a low-level driver for higher-level behavioral choices. Eliminating suffering is important, and it would be unfair to deprecate Pearce’s philosophy for “compromising” by seeking nothing more than the total elimination of pain. Yet morality as we intuit it, whatever it is, is much more than that.

Another Transhumanist philosophy, one which Hugo de Garis calls “Cosmism” and reluctantly advocates, ascribes primary moral value to increased intelligence. It is simple to extrapolate this morality under radical technological improvement, and relatively simple to guide the future towards perfection under this moral system. All that is needed is to fill the world with intelligent thought, and the ideal is achieved. Yet morality, again, is far more than that. An “artilect,” a superintelligence which is able to maximize intelligent thought by converting the world to ultraefficient computer processors, computronium, and then setting these processors to intelligent thought, would not have achieved moral perfection, as most of us see it.

The Singularity Institute is working on the formal definition of a decision-theory based on utilitarianism, which in the limiting case fulfills each human’s true desires with the help of a friendly superintelligence. Again, a simple definition and a relatively simple extrapolation.

The definition does try to subsume, within its compact specification, the complexity of individual human volition. And no doubt the ultimate solution, if any, will be based on something like this approach. Yet each individual’s desires sometimes contradict each other, as the science of heuristics and biases has shown. For example, the Trolley Problem, which poses certain moral quandaries to test subjects, produces results which apparently contradict not only each other but also utilitarian ethics. The “Framing Effect” bias produces mutually contradictory answers to moral questions by a single respondent depending on how the situation is described. Though the utilitarian formula “the greatest good for the greatest number” can cover pretty much any moral system with an appropriate choice of definition for “good” (technically, a utility function), human morality simply doesn’t work that way, and human morality is the only kind we can work with.

Moreover, in a world where different people want different things, reconciling their desires may be impossible. Ben Goertzel, Chairman of Humanity+, describes a Coherent Aggregated Volition which tries to average out human desires. But game theory has known, at least the 1940s, of difficulties and paradoxes in rules-based preference aggregation, as for example Arrow’s Impossibility Theorem. The notion that one could average out human desire is a simplification.

Worse, even if one could average out human desires, what would emerge would not necessarily look like what most Transhumanists consider morality. It seems likely, for example, that an average of all humans’ attitudes towards homosexuality would work out to condemnation, or at least disapproval.

Eliezer Yudkowsky of the SIAI attempts to solve this with his proposal for Coherent Extrapolated Volition, in which the desires of humanity are not only averaged, but also extrapolated into the future towards what “we would wish if we knew more, thought faster, were more the people we wished we were.” The results of this extrapolation are not known precisely, but the dominant assumption seems to be that this future wisdom would be based on the liberal-secular-Western principles of the culture which surrounds the SIAI–augmented with other as-yet-unknown moral sentiments. The presumptuous notion that humans’ desires would converge under extrapolation at all, and that the SIAI’s host culture would serve as the core of this outcome, are simplifications with little evidence to support them.

Ray Kurzweil’s approach at least resolves the problem of oversimplification. He believes that humans will merge with machines. Rising intelligence and power will be controlled directly by humans, and thus will reflect human values in all their complexity. Unfortunately, humans are unreliable, and we cannot rely on individuals to use their power responsibly, particularly since their minds’ architecture could change in new and unpredictable ways as they merge with their computers; nor is there any guarantee that we will merge with our computers before a standalone AI self-improves itself to super-human intelligence levels.

Socialists also tried to discard our complex and contradictory morality, which was brewed by human societies out of the original psychological ingredients created by evolution; they wanted to eliminate the complex “bourgeois morality” and replace it with simple formulas like “from each according to his ability, to each according to his need,” “for the good of society,” and “for the good of the state.” Then, as the power of the state trended towards totality, the results were 100 million deaths and much more suffering.

In contrast to these simplifications, real human morality is a complex and internally inconsistent mess, as Joshua Greene has described. Morality is built of ad hoc and sometimes contradictory modules designed by evolution, and then further developed in human societies. If we really want a moral future, we must set our technology on a course towards true morality, which is deeply human, and not simple at all.

What is usually called morality, in the larger civilization in which Transhumanism is embedded, has been shaped by its Jewish origins. No one will develop brain-altering drugs to implement a morality based on the Jewish religion, or any other; nor will anyone assign a super-human AI to make this happen. The results would differ too often from personal definitions of morality in a world with thousands of cultures and billions of individuals. But the principles which emerge from this ancient, inconsistent source serve as a reminder that the world is not simple, nor is the definition of what it means to make the world a better place.

Joshua Fox works at IBM, where he co-founded the Guardium Data Redaction product and now manages its development. He has served as a software architect in various Israeli start-ups and growth companies. He received a BA in Mathematics and Judaic Studies from Brandeis and a PhD in Semitic Philology from Harvard. He is a long-time supporter and now a Research Associate of the Singularity Institute for Artificial Intelligence. Links to his talks and articles are available at his website and blog.

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23 Comments

Religion has no place within the walls of 21st century society, it bears no benefits to those ‘believers’ and should be admonished by anyone who encounters it. The sooner humanity grasps the spiritual enlightenment of atheism, the sooner the world will have less chaos and evil. Religion is ignorance manifest.

i’ve considered the theme of messianism in judaism (and christian baptist thought) versus the theme of techno-utopianism.

just as with the trend of budhhism being adopted in the west disproportionately by secular jews ( jubu’s they are frequently called ) who have become american neo-budhist figureheads such as sharon salzburg, you are also seeing this with transhumanism.

there is a new brand , if , ill defined breed–not really priests——-of figureheads involved in the messy variety of groups under the transhumanism umbrella.

on one hand , messianic movements have clear hierarchy. on the other —transhumanist technoutopianism has a magazine –H+, and possesses numerous associations with various associations.

of course, transhumanism is the messianic embrace of where a technouptopian model can lead the human mind, a place of less pain, more ethics, less suffering ( highly budhist ideas), but the wiser utopianists, are focussing on the satanic problems of where techno embrace has already led us , the problems of further concentration of power, the problems of the use of communications technology to control increasing numbers of people with fewer resources.

technoutopianism, needs a satan. it needs a concise theory of what is wrong and what are the damaging attributes of man which, in particular, technology itself ( enumerated for each specific technology area) exacerbates .

ultimately. transhumanism needs to be filled with more ideas, in order to eventually hack off the excess, then polish what’s left for presentation to the masses—for presentation and a promotional religion.

it’s going there. and i for one would love to be part of that. I’m a lawyer, i like to read about organizational psychology, and i am very confident giving public speeches as well 🙂

great article, Joshua. I appreciate you writing about this topic, that I also wrote about, and others before me. Can you make sure the Israeli H+ chapter sees it? I will let them know about it. Also there is a week-long transhumanist conference there in October – I am going to try to attend. I really see Israel as a leading light in H+.

I mean to say above that SCIENCE has disproven religion, so what is there to talk about? Creationism is false. Dualism is FALSE. Supernatural entities? Well, there is simply no room for that in our universe. There may be room for it in mythological fiction, but am I giving examples from, say, Greek mythology, talking about how Apollo was a model of transhuman, or something silly like that. What stupidity that would be!

As if mythology is related to reality in any way, it may be related to our mental imagination and ability of producing fiction, but if you would like to read good fiction, read the novels of transhumanist science fiction writers. Therein you will find a much stronger spirit of transhumanism than in any mythology!!!!!!

If you are looking for something sacred, you can find it in the wonder of the physical universe. You can find it in the courageous quest of natural philosophy: that is true transcendence, when man discovered the principles of reasoning, or the laws of physics. When you refer to gods that do not exist, when you talk of ancient mythology that has absolutely no basis in natural philosophy, you are merely belittling yourself. Mythology is fiction. Those holy books have no more value than horror novels. I recommend that you see it at that, and do not try to force your ignorant opinion on true philosophers.

I am rightly offended when the ignoramus suggest things like positivism is like religious dogmatism, that they are two sides of the same coin. What stupidity, and there is not a god I can complain to! Science is not dogmatic, it is based on a process that extinguishes the dogma, that is how science and natural philosophers have resolutely disproven the farce of religion, that creationism is false, that dualism is false and so forth. Yet, the subhuman rears its ugly head, in the form of ignorant obsessions and latent lies this time (and not necessarily in the form of religious fundamentalism, yet still these ideas are unmistakably sub-human), likening anti-religion to the dogma of religion, to irrational belief (faith) in supernatural entities that do not, and cannot possibly exist.

What must I say? Must I respect these foolish views? The answer must be a resounding NO. There is no way for a truly rational mind to respond, a mind that has purified itself from the false philosophy and mythology of the sub-human. I suggest you follow my example, and denounce your petty religions if you would like to transcend in any way. Transcendence begins with the liberation of the mind from human (and sub-human) delusions and prejudice. Our present culture is mired with all sorts of delusion and falsehood, the primary of which is religion. Use the power of your mind and break free of them!

@tom: Who says that scientists need the help of priests? Do you seriously think that any of the real scientists who lead the scientific revolutions believe in religion? If anything, priests will make noise, and I don’t want to give a single megabyte to a priest. Religion is obsolete, has been obsolete for so long, but we scientists have to live among delusional primates and we are supposed to respect their ignorant, foolish, banal beliefs based on mythology? Their time is over, there is no more respect for religion!!!

Indiscriminate anti-religiosity, especially against religions of the superstitious variety which posit supernatural entities, is a certain primary attribute of a trans-sapient mind. So, I cannot even respectfully disagree.

The people who try to associate religious falsehood with transhumanism have absolutely no idea about the philosophical foundations of transhumanism.

For instance, it is obvious that they do not know that artificial intelligence research is firmly founded on the philosophy of positivists, who view religion with as much vengeance as I do. Religion is the enemy of the true philosophers (of Aristotle and his creed, up to Carnap) and I am rather tired of explaining this to people who have the philosophical maturity of a child.

Believing in some sort of a supernatural deity, a bedtime story for undeveloped brains, is a condition of weak intelligence and culture. There is no place for such inferior minds in a transhuman culture. It is that simple, why cannot you accept that? 🙂 It is logically impossible for a transhuman to believe in mythology. You might as well be talking about how transhumanist the God of thunder Thor is, you just sound ridiculous.

there’s more to judaism than blind faith. your argument is invalid. and i’m having real problems with the tone some of the things you’re saying here. please get off your high horse – you have a certain kind of faith too!

Eray Ozkural
would it not be beter to take any help offered ?
even from prists wishing to upload ?

I believe it is crucial in any comparison of transhumanism and Judiasm to discuss the concept of Tikkun Olum (Repairing or Perfecting the World).

Jews and H+ers have many things in common. Maybe it’s why so many are both. Both are used to a challenging, cerebral life. Both see the world differently and appreciate things no one understands but them. Both self-identify as outsiders in a hostile, dominant culture and console themselves that their separateness allows greater moral, ethical or intellectual clarity.

It is the pursuit of Tikkun Olam that unites them both. Many Jews believe by performing Mitzvots — good deeds — they set an example others can follow and this perfects the world, so the powerless can positively influence others. Many H+ers dedicate their lives to their research or writings and hope someone will use it to change the world for the better. But some think Tikkun Olam means they are responsible for the world, even if they are not a welcome part of it. Since they know best, they must fix it, however possible, regardless of opinions or cost. Jews and H+ers have cultures that meditate upon this choice, however this mentality is not reserved for Jews or H+ers. All Abrahamic religions think this. It gives them moral authority. The American Empire called it “Manifest Destiny” or “my way or the highway.” 😉

Ultimately, the question to every society is this: Which way is best? Positive change (whatever that means) only through moral behavior or by any means necessary?

Eray, the failure of mind here is that of indiscriminate anti-religiosity, which is made possible only within the context of reactionary dogmatism. Indiscriminate anti-religiosity and religious fundamentalism are two sides of the same coin.

No, it turns out that Yudkowsky doesn’t believe that and asking the question belies my trust in your rationality.

But maybe its just ignorance that prompts that question rather than a lack of reasoning ability.

I had stated earlier about my ignorance about wanting Jews who are only culturally Jewish to denounce their faith by Jews actually complaining about its commanded genocidal past. OF course, past Jews are not present Jews. But why would one want to be associated with that?

Obviously, the most futile (for the lack of a better word) attempt would be to try to train AI’s so that they believe in the false gods of heavenly religions (judaism and the other two abrahamic-moronic religions that are just like it) if that’s what Yudowski’s strange proposals are.

I would love to speak politely about this. Yet, it is much better to speak the truth.

I intend to destroy religion. I don’t want to deal with uploaded priests or anything stupid like that.

Judaism is no better than other mythological delusions. This religion bears the mark of the sub-human and must be buried deep along with the rest of human-animal’s history.

>Then, as the power of the state trended towards totality, the results were 100 million deaths and much more suffering.

>Unfortunately, humans are unreliable, and we cannot rely on individuals to use their power responsibly

There is one extreme solution – constant and full interconnection. Logical end of Kurzweil’s merging.

Transhumanism, capitalism, democracy as we know it, etc. are all based on renaissance and enlightenment philosophy. Transhumanism and everything that makes it possible is western civilization. And should western civilization take us to new and greater heights at the expense of a few cultures, that’s evolution for you.

Joshua, are you familiar with the work of Mitchell Heisman? He wrote a 1900 word essay on the Singularity and its roots in Judaism:

Ok, but simply because Jews are over-represented in areas of influence doesn’t mean that it was Judaism that caused that behavior. They were simply the first group to write down their monotheistic myth (and have it stick).

There isn’t any need to censor a book if people don’t like it. Censor is the wrong word. OF course people can read and enjoy an interesting story.

I really appreciate the notion that Judaism has evolved beyond the bible. So, where do I go to find Jews wanting certain parts of the bible removed because they find them offensive? Or at least an official pronouncement of condemnation for certain obviously hateful/wrong/etc passages?

I would be really surprised and impressed if there was an official book that actually made corrections, rather than a sub-group of liberal minded Jews, such as yourself, whom obviously disagree with certain “proto-Jewish” sentiments of the past.

Hey, I know people change, and cultures change. I just want to see someone of the faith actually say it, rather than take it as obvious that certain odious passages should just be ignored.

Also, I say this in basic ignorance so it isn’t meant as a criticism of Judaism as a culture which is distinct from it as a religion. But they are intertwined, a major position of this article, no?

They don’t censor the Bible. The process of careful hand-copying with error-checks and notes on the correct text kept the text of the Bible almost unchanged, from its canonization in the late first millennium BCE through today.

However, the reinterpretation of the Bible, sometimes to the point that explicit injunctions were reversed, also began as soon as it was canonized or before.

For example, the Bible mandates debt-forgiveness every seven years; but when the economic system developed so that long-term lending was clearly to everyone’s benefit, and especially for the poor, it was enabled, with a rather transparent legalistic excuse.

Anyway, that doesn’t have much to do with my points about transhumanism, other than that in human society, principles of justice evolve in a messy and sometimes illogical way

The Singularity:
A Crucial Phase in Divine Self-Actualization?
Published in Cosmos and History: The Journal of Natural and Social Philosophy (2008). Michael E. Zimmerman Department of Philosophy University of Colorado at Boulder [email protected]

For the anxious longing of the creation waits eagerly for the revealing of the sons of God. For the creation was subjected to futility, not willingly, but because of Him who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself also will be set free from its slavery to corruption into the freedom of the glory of the children of God. For we know that the whole creation groans and suffers the pains of childbirth together until now. St. Paul, Letter to the Romans, 8: 19-23 Universal history is the exhibition of Spirit in the process of working out the knowledge of what it [Spirit] potentially is. Just as the seed bears in itself the whole nature of the tree, including the taste and form of its fruit, so do the first traces of Spirit virtually contain the whole of its own history. Hegel, Lectures on the Philosophy of Historyi This is the ultimate destiny of the Singularity and of the universe. [….] Our civilization will … expand outward, turning all the dumb matter and energy we encounter into sublimely intelligent—transcendent—matter and energy. So in a sense, we can say that the Singularity will ultimately infuse the universe with spirit…. Ray Kurzweil, The Singularity is Nearii Ever since Donna Haraway published her “Cyborg Manifesto” two decades ago, there has been an outpouring of literature—fiction, non-fiction, and informed speculation—about the extraordinary human transformation that purportedly will begin in the next few decades, after the development of computers with millions of times the processing power of the human brain. Encouraging and accompanying such literature have been spectacular scientific accomplishments on many fronts, some of the ethical and political implications of which have sparked sharp controversy. Public scrutiny has focused mainly on stem-cell research, cloning, and other kinds

2 of bioengineering, but—according to trans- and posthumanists--these achievements will pale in comparison with the consequences of the confluence of genetic engineering, nanotechnology, robotics, and artificial intelligence.iii We are told that in coming decades, as innovation rates in these domains become exponential and are represented nearly vertically on graphs, there will occur a developmental “Singularity” or “Spike,” when there will emerge post-human beings with whose power and intelligence will so far surpass our own that they will seem God-like. In this essay, I examine the extent to which post-humanism draws upon and extends a long-standing theme in Western philosophy and theology, according to which humans have the capacity to become virtually divine. After introducing trans- and post-humanism, I discuss briefly how technological innovation allows their proponents to believe they are helping to bring forth extraordinary beings, akin to Nietzsche‟s Overman, but with powers bordering on he divine. Dramatically re-interpreting Martin Luther‟s theology, G.W.F. Hegel depicted humankind as the instrument through which absolute Geist (spirit) achieves total selfconsciousness. Jesus Christ was the man who became God, as much as the God who became human. Similarly, leading post- and trans-humanist, Ray Kurzweil revises the customary conception of God to accommodate the possibility that humans are taking part in a process by which post-human beings (creatures, according to traditional theism) will attain powers equivalent to those usually attributed to God. Some may construe post-humanism as an appalling instance of hubris, in which individuals propose taking enormous risks both with themselves and with the human species, in order to pursue an impossible goal. Others, however may construe post-humanism as calling for alignment of personal energy with a cosmic evolutionary imperative: to preserve self-conscious organic life—currently threatened by anthropogenic environmental disaster—long enough to transfer it to a more enduring substrate needed to support an evolutionary process that culminates when the entire universe is made conscious. If this astonishing goal ever begins to bear fruit, future theologians would presumably rethink traditional conceptions of cosmos and history, humankind and God. Part One: An Introduction to Trans- and Post-Humanism Futurist, novelist, scientist, and post-humanist Vernor Vinge borrowed the term “singularity” from astrophysics, which uses it to describe the event horizon around a black hole, the gravitational pull of which is so enormous that nothing—not even light--can escape. We can know nothing about occurs beyond the horizon at which the pull of gravity takes over.iv Vinge

3 uses the term to refer to the event horizon that will arise once post-human intelligence emerges that is far greater than anything humans can now imagine. According to post-humanist Max Born, the Singularity includes the notion of a "wall" or "prediction horizon"--a time horizon beyond which we can no longer say anything useful about the future. The pace of change is so rapid and deep that our human minds cannot sensibly conceive of life post-Singularity. Many regard this as a specific point in time in the future, sometimes estimated at around 2035 when AI and nanotechnology are projected to be in full force.v Born adds that as humankind itself undergoes extraordinary development in coming decades, the “wall” will recede a bit, allowing highly enhanced humans to gain a glimpse of what might be possible for beings of even greater intelligence. Before going further, we should ask: What, exactly, is meant by “intelligence” here? Those promoting highly enhanced humans and post-humans do not have a common definition of it, although they often speak of intelligence in terms of the brain‟s computational power, which is linked to human cognition. Such cognitive activity is clearly prized among the many scientists and technical experts attracted to the enhancement process. Some people promoting human enhancements, however, take seriously the theory of “multiple intelligence”, insofar as they seek to enhance themselves (or others) in domains such as aesthetic appreciation, artistic creativity, athletic ability, emotional intelligence, and so on.vi Major mysteries still surround (various kinds of) human intelligence, not to mention consciousness, however. Hence, not only does much work remains to be done (not to mention risks that must be taken) to enable significant artificial augmentation of human capacities.vii Leading sup to the post-human Singularity, according to the increasingly visible, international transhumanist movement, will be a surge of “new sciences and technologies [designed] to enhance human mental and physical abilities and aptitudes, and [to] ameliorate what it regards as undesirable and unnecessary aspects of the human condition, such as stupidity, suffering, disease, ageing and involuntary death.”viii Transhumanism opens the way for posthumanism, in which super-intelligent robots will abandon the biological body for a far more permanent substrate, and may end up reshaping the entire universe.ix Explicating such views in The Age of Spiritual Machines: When Computers Exceed Human Intelligence (2000) and in The Singularity Is Near: When Humans Transcend Biology (2006), inventor Ray Kurzweil describes

4 how genetic engineering, robotics, information technology, and nanotechnology (GRIN) will join forces to transform and later to transcend the human species. It is easy to feel giddy at the prospect that human life will be profoundly enhanced by bio- and nano-technological interventions that will ostensibly increase life span, intelligence, sensory capacity, athletic achievement, personal appearance, aesthetic appreciation, artistic talent, and so on. Given the long-standing human desire for such improvements, and the extent to which people are already purchasing them as they come onto the market, one can expect that early adopters will voluntarily take significant risks by buying enhancements that promise huge benefits.x Despite the undeniable attraction of living longer, people may well be concerned about the personal, social, and cultural consequences of living fifty or even one hundred years longer than we do today. Average life spans approaching eighty years are already playing havoc with Social Security and other social programs designed with much shorter life spans in mind. If people eventually live to be 150, will they have to work until they are 110 to provide for their retirement? Will people be expected to remain married to the same spouse for 125 years or more? How will rising generations find meaningful work if there is no compulsory retirement age and people are living well into their 100‟s? In reply, transhumanists argue that the same exponential rate of innovation that makes possible increased longevity will also put an end to the need for work. Nanotechnology will allow people to produce almost anything in their counter-top fabricators. As products become vanishingly inexpensive, people will find far more interesting and challenging things to do than to earn a paycheck. By ending polluting and wasteful forms of production, transhumanists say, we will avoid creating new environmental problems, while we use astonishing new technologies to mitigate existing environmental problems. Critics doubt, however, that promised enhancements will be equally distributed. Presumably, only those who can afford enhancements will be able to purchase them. Hence, liberal democracy may be replaced by a kind of enhancement-based caste system.xi Transhumanists reply that forthcoming increases in wealth will make enhancements available to just about anyone who chooses to receive them, thereby avoiding the purported emergence of a new caste system. Striving to perfect humankind, so we are told, ought not to be restrained by debates about political, moral, or religious implications of technologically aided human enhancements. Transhumanists are libertarians who say, in effect: “We don‟t ask others to opt

5 for the enhancements that are coming, but we do ask others not to interfere with our right to take advantage of such enhancements.” One can certainly envision the prospect, however, of at least some humans attaining such exalted status that they will inspire awe, fear, and jealousy on the part of “naturals,” that is, the un-enhanced.xii Some posthumanists, including Kurzweil, represent the Singularity as a turning point in the evolutionary process that will give rise to extraordinary beings capable of awaking the entire material universe. Such an awakening may be viewed as actualizing a potential present from the very beginning. By capitalizing “Singularity”, posthumanists suggest that the event is not merely important, but numinous, that is, possessing what amounts to a sacred dimension. Posthumanists such as Kurzweil represent the future in ways consistent with at least some conceptions of God. Many trans- and posthumanists, however, deny that there is any religious content to their predictions about enhanced humans, or about the Singularity, which will purportedly allow post-human intelligence to reconstruct the laws of nature and thus reorder the entire universe! Yet, scientists currently engaged in the research needed to make transhumans and subsequently posthumans possible, frequently use religious imagery. Consider the following 2007 newspaper article, the headline of which reads: “Tail cells to stem cells: Breakthrough electrifies.” The story continues: Scientists have reprogrammed ordinary cells and rewound their developmental clocks to make them virtually indistinguishable from embryonic stem cells…. “This is truly the Holy Grail—to be able to take a few cells from a patient, say a cheek swab or some skin cells, and turn them into stem cells in the laboratory,” said Dr. Robert Lanza, an embryonic stem-cell researcher at Advanced Cell Technology Inc. in Worcester, Mass., who was not involved in the research. “It would be like turning lead into gold.”xiii Even when explicitly opposed to theistic religion, trans- and posthumanists usually represent coming developments in terms of modified progressive narratives that arguably derive from early modern thought, according to which humankind could regain one aspect of its prelapsarian status by acquiring the scientific knowledge and technological capability needed to control Creation. Trans- and posthumanism follow the trajectory of modernity‟s project of overcoming finitude, death, violence, and oppression by redesigning and pacifying human nature, on the one hand, and by controlling external nature, on the other. The optimism currently discernible in trans-humanists and posthumanists has long been a potent influence in Western civilization. During the last century in particular, natural science,

6 technology, engineering and industry have made possible truly remarkable achievements, which have altered the social fabric. In Future Shock (1970), sociologist Alvin Toffler insightfully predicted that exponential scientific-technological growth would overwhelm individuals and shake socio-cultural foundations, but even he could not anticipate the mind-blowing changes that are ostensibly on the way. Social dislocations accompanying rapid technological change were one reason that until only recently many people were skeptical and even cynical about the promises associated with modern technology. After all, in addition to making such notable contributions as developing penicillin, inventing the airplane, and promoting constitutional democracy, moderns have also created poisonous gas for concentration camps, nuclear-tipped ICBMs capable of rendering humankind extinct, industrial pollution threatening the integrity of the biosphere, and the enormous institutions designed by social engineers following the modern Gospel of ever greater efficiency. A central goal of all modern economy—capitalist or communist—has been to attain ever-greater efficiency in production, which in turn requires ever-greater mastery of natural processes and ever-greater pacification of human society. For many years, efforts at such pacification were limited to altering behavior through ideology and institution. In coming decades, however, techniques capable of massively altering or even re-inventing non-human organisms will be brought to bear on the human genome at the molecular level. This unprecedented development has implications that are only starting to dawn on some people. For one thing, it will presumably erase the distinction between the human and the natural. Control at the molecular level over nature means control over the very “nature” of humankind as well as over the rest of nature. Who—or what—will exercise such control, and to what ends, remain undetermined. The social, cultural, personal, and environmental costs of technological innovation have led many people to arrive at totalizing critiques of modernity, while ignoring its noble aspects, including political liberation, personal autonomy, increased life spans, better health, and a host of other positive developments. Would anyone really want to be transported back many centuries ago, when life spans were short, politics were hierarchical and exclusionary, and personal freedoms limited or non-existent? Only a few decades ago, however, some people believed that technological determinism was leading either to literal destruction of humankind and the biosphere, or at least to indirect destruction of humankind through processes of objectification.

7 In 1979 one of the nuclear reactors at the Three Mile Island power plant in Pennsylvania suffered a partial meltdown. The nuclear arms race between the USA and USSR had been brought to the hair-trigger stage, by the introduction of MIRVed missiles, which could destroy enemy missiles in their silos. Gloom about eco-apocalypse was widespread, even on the part of many industrial and governmental elites. In that same year, however, Jean-François Lyotard published The Postmodern Condition, according to which the supposedly monolithic techno-industrial society—as conceived either by systems-theorist such as Talcott Parsons and Niklaus Luhmann, or by socialist theorists such as Herbert Marcuse—was gradually being undermined by the increasing availability of information, which had become central to science, technology, and economic production. Players in information-rich social networks, so Lyotard predicted, would develop a multiplicity of language games that would erode the status of “grand narratives,” whether religious or secular. Instead of being at the mercy of all-embracing ideologies and objectifying socio-industrial systems, then, computer-networked individuals would define themselves, their values, and their futures in novel ways. A little more than a decade later, the information revolution helped to bring down the USSR. Around this time, noted technology critic Jacques Ellul conceded that the public had largely abandoned its suspicion of technological innovation, and had embraced the digital revolution and other dramatic technological developments. Ellul used the term “technological bluff” to refer to how modern technology showcases its extraordinary promises, while concealing its negative consequences. Like ideology, according to Ellul, modern technology reveals as much as it conceals. Today, the cascade of technological innovations is incorporated into everyday life with little resistance or questioning. The growing tempo of innovation is taken to be “normal,” rather than threatening. Bucking this trend, Ellul regarded as “myth pure and simple” the claim that the digital revolution would bring about greater personal freedom and selfexpression.xiv Trans- and posthumanists would reply that the promise of technology is neither a “myth” nor a “bluff,” but rather a morally legitimate and technically plausible attempt to improve the human condition, not only by adding longer life spans and greater material well-being, but also by in fact augmenting human freedom and the capacity for self-expression. Renouncing talk of limits and discounting warnings about hubris, trans- and posthumanists insist that they are

8 paving the way for a potentially glorious future. Posthumanists often cite the following passage from the prologue to Nietzsche‟s Thus Spoke Zarathustra: I teach you the Overman! Mankind is something to be overcome. What have you done to overcome mankind? All beings so far have created something beyond themselves. Do you want to be the ebb of that great tide, and revert back to the beast rather than overcome mankind? What is the ape to a man? A laughing-stock, a thing of shame. And just so shall a man be to the Overman: a laughing-stock, a thing of shame. You have evolved from worm to man, but much within you is still worm. Once you were apes, yet even now man is more of an ape than any of the apes.xv Just as humans would be a laughing stock for the Overman, so too un-enhanced humans will be a laughing stock for post-humans, who will be millions or even billions of times more intelligent than are humans. Mitchell Porter opines: [W]e‟re midway in the chain of being from microbe to megamind, a turning point but not an endpoint. We are a turning point, among other reasons, because of our technology: we are the first organisms to leave the planet, to discover fundamental laws, to tinker with our brains and genes. But this is surely only the start of the auto evolutionary process. I would not expect it to stabilize until we arrived at, say, a galaxy full of Jupiter-brains, all bent on projects that would mostly be incomprehensible to us.xvi Jaron Lanier uses the term “extropians” to describe today‟s trans- and post-humanistic utopians. A combination of the terms extrapolate and utopian, extropian means someone who supports not a static utopia, but rather an open-ended domain subject to ever increasing improvement. The new divide is between what I'll call Extropians and Stewards. A Steward is somebody who wants to manage the world as a precious resource, and an Extropian is someone who wants to let some big, impartial evolution-like process run wild with it. Extropians differ about which process this should be, though it certainly can be the more traditional libertarian capitalism combined with the self-propelled onslaught of new technologies. Extropians don't worry about natural resources running out, or about poverty, or any of the other problems that frighten Stewards, because they are convinced that new technologies will solve the problems if we just give capitalism and science an unfettered chance. Stewards speak a language of what's already here, like human beings and rocks, while Extropians believe that everything here is going to be replaced by new, evolving things anyway.xvii

9 Understandably, many critics on trans- and posthumanism have reservations about gambling the future of humankind on risky innovation. Even if such critics persuade the federal government to limit research in certain areas, however, private corporations will conduct such research on their own. Corporations weigh financial (and ethical) risk against untold profits that would be generated by successful enhancements that slow the aging process while conferring extraordinary powers. But, critics also warn that application of emerging technology— developed outside the scrutiny of government supervision or public discussion—will lead to disasters, ranging from anthropogenic environmental apocalypse to human enslavement/annihilation imposed by creatures of our own making. The popular film trilogies, The Terminator and The Matrix, were based on the premise that technological innovation will generate unanticipated and possibly devastating consequences.xviii Extropians sometimes acknowledge that they have mixed feelings about the new technologies. For instance, Lanier admires extroprianism “because it is creative and unbounded, yet is also gives me the creeps.”xix Why? Because “Evolution is nothing more than the victor‟s word for genocide.” Would post-humans ignore humans, tolerate them, cultivate them as aboriginal curiosities, or simply eliminate them? Extropian Damien Broderick, author of The Spike: How Our Lives Are Being Transformed by Rapidly Advancing Technologies, concedes that things may go awry, as would be the case if self-replicating nanobots were to ceaselessly replicate themselves, thereby enveloping Earth in a life exterminating “gray goo”.xx Most posthumanists agree that it would be ironic if humankind were surpassed by beings that humans made possible, and tragic if such post-humans did away with humankind altogether. Still, more than a few posthumanists assert without nostalgia that evolutionary development is indifferent to the fate of what came before. For them, the prospect of dramatically improving ourselves in the process of giving birth to something far greater than humankind more than justifies taking risks. Only time will tell which of the following three possibilities will be realized: 1) The extropian drive to total mastery and perfection will succeed, possibly at the cost of the viability of our own species; 2) the extropian drive will end in dystopia; or 3) the drive will make possible dramatic, but limited changes in humankind.xxi Between the extropians and dystopians are appreciative critics of trans- and post-humanism. Nikolas Rose, for instance, warns against assuming that the present epoch is pivotal, revolutionary, and unprecedented. Coming decades will indeed bring significant changes, but

10 there will be important continuities as well. That is, the Singularity is unlikely to occur, although aspects of trans-humanism may be realized. N. Katherine Hayles is intrigued by possibilities opened up technological innovation, but also cautions against conceiving of the future in terms of an initiating Idea that grounds and guides subsequent development. Moreover, echoing decades of feminist suspicion about the body-despising tendencies of modern “man,” she cautions against the desire to replace the organic human body with a more enduring and reliable silicon “substrate.” Donna Haraway, in her “Cyborg Manifesto,” proposed an alternative to Western myths of origin and return. The cyborg incarnation is outside salvation history. In a sense, the cyborg has no origin story in the Western sense - a 'final' irony since the cyborg is also the awful apocalyptic telos of the 'West's' escalating dominations of abstract individuation, an ultimate self untied at last from all dependency, a man in space. An origin story in the 'Western', humanist sense depends on the myth of original unity, fullness, bliss and terror, represented by the phallic mother from whom all humans must separate, the task of individual development and of history…. The cyborg skips the step of original unity, of identification with nature in the Western sense. This is its illegitimate promise that might lead to subversion of its teleology as star wars.xxii Writing at the peak of the nuclear arms race in the mid-1980s, Haraway feared that the Western teleological narrative of reunification, in which all otherness is overcome, would lead to human self-annihilation. Haraway proposes to replace this narrative with one of open-ended and risky reinvention by engaging with the possibilities of modern technology. Post-humanist discourse, including Ray Kurzweil‟s, represents at least in some respects the Western salvation narrative. Kurzweil‟s book, The Singularity Is Near, for instance, makes predictions with a decidedly eschatological flavor. If super-luminary speeds can be attained, Kurzweil predicts, post-humans will eventually transform the entire universe into an all-powerful intelligence resembling in important respects the monotheistic God. Kurzweil‟s God does not transcend nature, but instead brings nature to the zenith of its intrinsic possibilities. Humankind will supposedly give birth to godlike post-humans who radiate intelligence, creativity, power, and compassion. Post-humans, then, are the vehicles through which the intra-worldly God comes to full self-actualization. Part Two: Humans-as-God in Christian Theology and Metaphysics Although two millennia separate St. Paul and Ray Kurzweil, they share two important convictions. First, humankind is not destined forever to remain in bondage to mortal flesh.

11 Second, either redeeming (St. Paul) or forsaking (Kurzweil) the human body would eventually deliver the entire cosmos from its current condition of suffering and limitation. For St. Paul, Christ‟s sacrifice on the cross redeems the human body from the corruption and mortality imposed by the Fall. The salvation-body of reborn humans will be akin to the transfigured body of Christ revealed on Mount Tabor. In the New Testament, we read: “[T]hus are we transfigured into His [Jesus Christ‟s] likeness, from splendor to splendor.” (2 Corinthians 3:18) In Eastern Orthodoxy, the feast of the Transfiguration is second in importance only to Easter. Christ‟s transfiguration prefigures theosis, according to which God‟s becoming human in the form of Jesus Christ will enable humans to become God-like. A transfigured and resurrected body, however, can occur only in the context of a cosmos that has itself been transfigured. Hence, the New Jerusalem will be a glorious cosmos fit for glorified, God-like humankind.xxiii Genesis states that humans were created in God‟s image, but the subsequent Fall prevented humans from bringing to fruition their God-like status. In freeing humankind from sin, Christ‟s sacrifice liberates people to realize their endowment as co-creators with God. John‟s Gospel emphasizes the cosmic dimension of the man-God, Jesus Christ: In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning. Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made. In him was life, and that life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness, but the darkness has not understood it…. He was in the world, and though the world was made through him, the world did not recognize him. He came to that which was his own, but his own did not receive him. Yet to all who received him, to those who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God— children born not of natural descent, nor of human decision or a husband's will, but born of God. (John, 1: 1-5, 10-13) When the doctrine of theosis is combined with John‟s Gospel, the result is a view with potentially far-reaching implications for later centuries. Jesus Christ was incarnate cosmic Logos, which created and sustains all creatures and which infuses them with intelligibility. By becoming human, and redeeming humans from sin, the incarnate Logos demonstrated that human beings are capable of attaining a limited equality with Logos. In short, a fully redeemed and transformed humanity will be endowed with divine glory and energies, divine intelligence and creativity, divine love and responsibility for all Creation.xxiv

12 In a premodern context, theosis was understood as a gift from the supernatural Creator. Humans, through penitence and prayer, might prepare themselves to receive God‟s redeeming grace, but could not by their own efforts overcome the consequences of the Fall. Even in their fallen condition, however, humans can apprehend the objective structures of the Creation, because God designed mind to be capable of becoming those structures in a certain sense. Hence, Thomas Aquinas maintained that the pre-Christian Aristotle was capable of comprehending fundamental features of Creation. Despite affirming that human intelligence can operate even in a fallen condition, few early Christians supposed that such intelligence would enable people to invent the technology needed to overcome the material consequences of the fall. Many medievals identified technology with labor, which was regarded as inferior to contemplation and learning. As William Leiss, David Noble, Lynn White, Jr., and others have pointed out, however, about a thousand years ago Europeans began to develop technological innovations capable of dramatically improving the human estate. Soon, theologians began interpreting such innovations not as the work of the devil, but rather as evidence that humans could restore their lost power over Creation, even if moral-spiritual redemption still had to await God‟s intercession. The Protestant Reformation tended to encourage such efforts to gain control of Creation as compatible with the Biblical parable that people should develop and invest their talents wisely. One leading Reformation figure, however, Martin Luther had reason to be suspicious of such this-worldly ambitions. Luther described fallen humans as virtually nothing—lower than worm s—when compared with almighty God.xxv For Luther, unredeemed humans could not, through their own efforts, heal the consequences of the Fall. Despite emphasizing that faith alone—not works--brings salvation, Luther claimed that humanity is fundamentally significant to and intertwined with divine history. A saved humanity will enjoy the fruits associated with being children of God.xxvi God became incarnate to save humankind, but the fact of incarnation underscores God‟s profound love for and relationship with humankind. According to Luther‟s theology of the cross, when Christ died, God Himself died. Hence, the resurrection of the Godman foreshadows the future resurrection of God-like humans. In 1515, Luther wrote: As the Word became flesh, so it is certainly necessary that the flesh should also become Word. For just for this reason does the Word become flesh, in order that the flesh might become Word. In other words: God becomes man, in order that man should become God.xxvii

13 Luther emphasized that for theosis to occur, God must reach down to humans via the grace needed for faith, rather than humans reaching up to God in the form of works. The Lutheran idea that human and divine destiny were deeply interwoven became a central to the idealism of Hegel, a Lutheran who graduated with a degree in theology from Tübingen in the late 18th century. Alison Bird argues that Luthter, having applied to political reformation his insights about the importance of human individuals in relation to God, “released Christian faith from its previously cloistered confinement within traditional realms of religious devotion.”xxviii By raising the status of the person in relation to his savior, [Luther] had initiated an evolutionary progression, from a self-consciousness which acknowledged its inferiority in relation to an omnipotent God, towards a secular self-consciousness which would in time claim the right to determine for itself, through reason and empirical experience, its own form of truth…. For, in Hegel‟s view, Luther had, unwittingly and in total contradiction to his original aim, facilitated the initiation of the Enlightenment epistemological project which sought to establish the autonomy of reason and dispose of faith.xxix In the late 1700s, while a theology student at Tübingen, Hegel began to radicalize Luther‟s notion that Jesus Christ is man become God.xxx In philosophical concepts, Hegel claims to have brought to fulfillment the implications what Jesus had articulated in terms of religion. According to Hegel, God actualizes Himself through a dialectical process that works itself out through human history. For Hegel, then, history is the process by which Geist (spirit, mind, God) actualizes its original potential by becoming wholly free, self-conscious, and self-identical. Such self-conscious freedom, according to Hegel, is not abstract, but rather actualizes itself within the living modern community, which has replaced faith with reason. According to Hegel, God requires Creation in order to become fully God, not only because Creation constitutes the Otherness needed to generate self-consciousness on God‟s part, but also because only through humankind can such divine self-consciousness occur. After positing an Other to itself in the form of nature, which is Geist extended in space, Geist subsequently manifests itself as conscious humankind, which then sets about to know and thus to assimilate Otherness constituted by extended nature. Material things are “petrified intelligence” extended in space, whereas consciousness is liquefied intelligence unfolding through time (history). Estranged from the idea, nature is only the corpse of the understanding. Nature is, however, only implicitly the idea, and Schelling therefore called her a

14 petrified intelligence, others even a frozen intelligence, but God does not remain petrified and dead, the very stones cry out and raise themselves to spirit [Geist].xxxi Natural science, by discerning the rational laws of nature, allows Geist to discover itself hidden in what at first seemed wholly Other, thereby overcoming a basic dualism. Yet, Geist at work in humankind must overcome other obstacles in the quest for its true identity. History is a painful dialectical process, a veritable “highway of despair,” in which Geist attempts to discover its ultimate identity by adopting first one guise, which is then both surmounted and yet preserved (aufgehoben) by another guise, and so on, as exemplified in the history of art, religion, and science. For Hegel, substance becomes subject when nature becomes self-consciousness in the form of humankind. The true subject of world history is not humankind, but rather Geist at work in and through humankind.xxxii Elsewhere, Hegel writes: “Universal History is the exhibition of Geist in the process of working out the knowledge of that which it is potentially.”xxxiii Nevertheless, Geist cannot be understood as radically transcendent, apart from the world. Instead, Geist emptied itself into Creation, and then undertook the immense journey required to attain absolute self-consciousness and self-identity. In a move central to defining modern political freedom, Hegel de-deemphasized the transcendent aspect of God, while emphasizing divine immanence in human history.xxxiv In his compelling although controversial analysis, Robert C. Tucker uses the term “epistemological aggrandizement” to describe the virtual war in which Geist engages to comprehend and to control nature, thereby vanquishing the Otherness obstructing the way to unrestricted divine/human self-identity. It was Geist--dissatisfied, alienated, and homesick-which imparted to humankind the passionate yearning to overcome all Otherness, in order to achieve absolute freedom and self-consciousness. The human urge toward self-aggrandizement, which leads to nearly constant warfare, is an expression of Geist‟s desire to actualize its own potential, yet humankind‟s potential as well. World history, then, as Tucker puts it, is the autobiography of God-in-the-making. Geist’s recognition of its own infinite freedom, however, is simultaneously humankind‟s recognition of itself as Geist. Hence, Hegel‟s thought may be understood as a justification for modernity, in which humankind recognizes within itself the freedom and knowledge once associated with divinity.xxxv Arguing that Hegel‟s philosophy amounts to “an apologia for pride,” Tucker writes:

15 Hegel gives us a picture of a self-glorifying humanity striving compulsively, and at the end successfully, to rise to divinity. If man as knower is inspired by the Faustian urge towards omniscience, man as historical doer pursues the absolute in more mundane ways. The generic tendency of man is megalomania. Hegel clearly sees and stresses that he [man becomes its victim. The demonic force in man that leads him to reach out for the absolute and unlimited in his own person or nation is one that also divides him against himself, deprives him of happiness, and ultimately encompasses his ruin. Hence Hegel‟s self-deifying humanity is likewise a suffering humanity…. History is the „slaughter-bench‟ at which the happiness of peoples is sacrificed.xxxvi Given the stakes involved in Geist‟s use of humans to achieve its own ends, Hegel maintains that ordinary morality is not binding on world-historical acts and agents. As Tucker notes, moral reflection, allegiances to formal rectitude, and indulgence in “sentimentalism” have no place in assessing the gruesome spectacle of world history, which holds a morally higher ground than personal character. In this way, according to Tucker, Hegel justifies „those whose crimes have been turned into the means—under the direction of a superior principle [Geist, the Idea]—of realizing the purposes of that principle.‟ Of world-historical individuals obsessed with the passion for glory, [Hegel] writes that „such men may treat other great and even sacred interests inconsiderately—a conduct which indeed subjects them to moral reprehension. But so might a figure must trample down many an innocent flower, crush to pieces many an object in its path.‟ xxxvii Tucker interprets Hegel‟s thought as both interpreting and justifying Geist as Will that strives after absolute power, and as arguing for “the historical beneficence of moral evil. Moreover, Hegel verges on the complete and explicit „transvaluation of values‟ that Nietzsche later carried through.”xxxviii For Nietzsche, of course, great individuals—pointing the way to the Overman—inevitably destroy pre-existing values and institutions, just as strong new races vanquish those in decline. Nietzsche‟s morality of self-glorification differentiated itself sharply from resentment-animated slave morality, based on Christian selflessness. All this is food for thought in contemplating Zarathustra‟s proclamation, so often cited by trans- and posthumanists, that “Man is something that must be overcome.” Tucker‟s reading of Hegel was influenced in part by how much Hegel‟s thought influenced Marx, of whose thought Tucker was very critical. Marx made Hegel “walk on his head” by insisting that world history is not about the self-actualization of God, but instead the self-actualization of human potential. Hegel‟s thought, however, remains crucial for defining

16 modernity as the period in which humankind transformed its understanding of itself, history, nature, and divinity in ways that promoted human freedom and self-transcendence. Ralph Waldo Emerson, the great American transcendentalist, was influenced by the trends developed by German idealism and romanticism. Emerson, too, depicted humankind as endowed with divine capacities. No sentimentalist, he maintained in 1844 that old practices would inevitably give way before the creative spirit at work through humankind. [Spirit] does not build up nature around us, but puts it forth through us, as the life of the tree puts forth new branches and leaves through the pores of the old. As a plant upon the earth, so a man rests upon the bosom of God; he is nourished by unfailing fountains, and draws, at his need, inexhaustible power. Who can set bounds to the possibilities of man? Once inhale the upper air, being admitted to behold the absolute natures of justice and truth, and we learn that man has access to the entire mind of the Creator, is himself the creator in the finite. xxxix At the end of the twentieth century, a noted American scientist—Richard Seed—espoused a version of Emerson‟s theme: “God intended for man to become one with God. We are going to become one with God. We are going to have almost as much knowledge and almost as much power as God.” xl In the next section, we will see that trans-and posthumanism continue to draw upon the idea of human self-divinization, in a new guise. Part Three: The Singularity as God’s Self-Actualization? An updated reading of Hegel‟s view of world history may help to illuminate aspects of the Singularitarian/post-humanist vision of the future. The updating is needed because posthumanism: a) emphasizes much more so than did Hegel the role played by technological innovation in bringing about the post-human future; and b) posits that humankind itself will be eclipsed by beings endowed with far more God-like power and intelligence than envisioned by Hegel. Despite such differences, however, neo-Hegelian theological and eschatological themes abound in post-humanist discourse, even though many posthumanists profess to be atheists. In his influential version of the Singularity, however, Ray Kurzweil does not hesitate to represents humankind as a crucial phase in the evolutionary process that will bring forth God-like beings. According to Kurzweil, the cosmos has brought itself to self-awareness through humankind. Eventually, humans will evolve beyond themselves by generating modes of consciousness and technology that will make possible a cosmic self-realization that has

17 something in common with St. Paul‟s hope “that the Creation itself also will be set free from its slavery to corruption into the freedom of the glory of the children of God. “ In Kurzweil‟s universe story, the cosmos is not only life-friendly and even consciousness-friendly, but also God-friendly. Post-human divinity will take charge of its own destiny and “spiritualize” everything in the universe, including supposedly “dumb” matter/energy. Posthumanists often regard humans as relay runners about to pass the baton to oncoming Others, who in turn will race toward a summit that surpasses all ordinary human understanding. Likewise, St. Paul used the metaphor of athletes training for a race to depict the rigorous practice undertaken by Christians to prepare for receiving the grace needed for salvation. Nowhere, however, did St. Paul envision humankind using its own intelligence either to save itself or to transform the suffering Creation into a self-conscious cosmos. Divine intervention was to make possible these extraordinary transformations. Hence, many traditional Christians regard transand post-humanism as dangerous and illegitimate efforts to redesign humankind, which was created in the image of God.xli Moreover, particularly in regard to Kurzweil‟s notion that posthumans will in effect become God (see below), traditional Christians see something quite different from what they mean by theosis, the transfiguration of the human being into the glorified body of the God-man Christ. Instead, the God-like post-human amounts to a creature that has become divine, and that has thereby attained the status of cosmic Logos. Seeking after such an astonishing “reaching up” is clearly impossible to square with orthodox Christianity.xlii Yet, as we noted earlier, Christianity has long been read in ways that legitimate the full development of human creative potential. Beginning with medieval thinkers such as Joachim de Fiore, theologians differentiated saving the fallen soul from renewing the fallen Creation, the latter of which might be achieved by human intelligence and ingenuity. In modern times, Western people began speaking not of Creation, but of a disenchanted nature, which is inert, mute, and without value of its own. St. Paul, in contrast, had written that even non-human Creation “groans and suffers the pains of childbirth,” thereby suggesting that all creatures long to become something freer and more intelligible. The idea that the universe is the manifestation of a superior, hidden intelligence is common to pre-modern religion and philosophy. Although seeking ever-greater understanding of and control over natural processes, many trans- and posthumanists also promote the idea that intelligence is at work in nature. As a corollary, they suggest that “control” over nature be redefined as cooperation with its creative

18 impulses. so that they can be harnessed to save humankind from eco-calamity, to enhance humankind in extraordinary ways, and eventually to generate posthumans whose powers and aims will be far beyond our own. Many scientists now regard information and even intelligence—the cosmic code--as the most important factor in universe, more important even than matter-energy. With the full realization of the Singularity, so we are told, a glorious cosmic self-consciousness will arise. Kurzweil writes: “Once we saturate the matter and energy in the universe with intelligence, it will „wake up,‟ be conscious, and sublimely intelligent. That‟s about as close to God as I can imagine.”xliii In Genesis, we are told that God punished the people of Babel for building a tower that was to reach into Heaven. God forced people to speak different languages, rather than one language, which had allowed them to build their audacious structure. Today, one language has once again been forged: the language of science. Theists warn that humans are erecting yet another blasphemous tower, this time, the tower of post-humanity. Kurzweil responds, however, that traditional views about God need to be revisited in light of the growth of human knowledge and technical power. Instead, he maintains that the universe itself is giving rise to the beings who will ultimately transform lifeless atoms “into a vast, transcendent mind.” The ultimate goal of the Singularity (God) is for the emerging post-human civilization to engineer the universe it wants.xliv [E]volution moves toward greater complexity, greater elegance, greater knowledge, greater intelligence, greater beauty, greater creativity, greater love. And God has been called all these things, only without any limitations [….] Evolution does not achieve an infinite level, but as it explodes exponentially it certainly moves in this direction.xlv Moderns accuse Christianity and other premodern religions as being guilty of an unjustifiable anthropocentrism, but Kurzweil demurs at rejecting all versions of anthropocentrism, just as he is disinclined to forego all God-talk. At the end of The Singularity is Near, for instance, he quotes Stephen Jay Gould as saying that scientific revolutions dethrone “human arrogance from one pedestal after another of previous convictions about our centrality in the cosmos.”xlvi Kurzweil replies: But it turns out that we are central, after all. Our ability to create models—virtual realities—in our brains, combined with our modest-looking thumbs, has been sufficient to usher in another form of evolution: technology. That development enabled the persistence of the accelerating pace that started

19 with biological evolution. It will continue until the entire universe is at our fingertips.xlvii Hegel once wrote: “God does not remain petrified and dead, the stones cry out and raise themselves to mind.” Today, scientists would give this explanation for how the stones cry out. Billions of years after the Big Bang, stars cooked within themselves the heavy elements needed for forming planets. On one of presumably billions of planets, those elements gave rise to life by a process that is still not understood. After countless eons, sentient life arose, followed by selfconscious life. In effect, then, humans are stones that have evolved into animate and self-aware beings. Life did emerge on Earth, but the odds against life emerging anywhere else again are said to be staggering. The cosmic conditions needed for life evolve are so “finely-tuned” that the idea of cosmic purpose has come back into vogue in some circles. NASA scientists suppose that anywhere the “cosmic soup” (water, amino acids, right temperature, etc.) is in place, life will emerge. According to physicist Paul Davies, however, this supposition conflicts with the prevailing scientific view that life on Earth resulted from processes so accidental and implausible that they would never be repeated, if we rewound the clock on terrestrial evoluition. According to Davies, if we were to discover life on a planet other than Earth—a planet that, unlike Mars, could not have been “seeded” by terrestrial life—this would be proof that the laws of nature encode a hidden subtext, a cosmic imperative, which tells them: “Make life!” This is a breathtaking vision of nature, magnificent and uplifting in its majestic sweep. It would be wonderful if it were correct. But if it is, it represents a shift in the scientific world-view as profound as that initiated by Copernicus and Darwin put together.xlviii Until recently most twentieth century scientists agreed with the nihilistic views of Jacques Monod and Stephen Gould, according to whom the universe is meaningless, life is accidental, and cosmic development absent. Davies and a number of other contemporary scientists, however, now conclude not only that cosmic development (from atoms to life) has occurred, but also that the universe is somehow “rigged” in favor of life and even of selfconscious life. Discovery of life elsewhere would be proof of cosmic purposiveness: “Only if there is more to it than chance, if nature has an ingeniously built-in bias toward life and mind, would we expect to see anything like the developmental thrust that has occurred on Earth repeated on other planets.”xlix

20 Part Four: Conclusion. According to posthumanists such as Kurzweil, humans are in effect the organic brain that will eventually make possible the emergence of truly God-like beings. The engine of history, at work “behind the backs” of historical agents, is the imperative of the universe to make itself fully self-conscious. For Kurzweil, Hegel was right in many ways, but wrong in this respect: Alpha has not become Omega, the ultimate end has not been achieved, and Geist has not yet become fully self-conscious. Vast Otherness remains to be awakened by being assimilated to divine intelligence. If a profound cosmic telos helped to generate self-conscious humankind in the first place, that same telos may be animating those who today envision and call for a post-human future. According to posthumanists, humankind cannot evolve in the ways required to reconstruct the universe, because the organic body is too frail for the task. Just as humankind has exterminated many species, quite possibly including other higher primates, in the process of achieving planetary dominance, post-humans may exterminate humankind to achieve galactic and even cosmic dominance, all in the quest for total self-consciousness of a sort that we are incapable of imagining. Impending global climate change—along with a number of other “existential” threats--may exterminate humankind, thereby destroying what may be the only opportunity in cosmic history for self-conscious beings to move toward the Singularity.l The stakes would seem to be very high indeed. Considering themselves to be serving a higher cosmic purpose, some trans- and posthumanists might feel justified in taking whatever steps are necessary to “download” consciousness into post-biological modes that can survive bio-disaster.
li

Would many an innocent flower, we might ask here, have to be trampled for Geist to take the

leap to immortal superconsciousness? In The Religion of Technology, David F. Noble argues that a millennium of Christian longing to regain mastery over Creation now serves increasingly “escapist fantasies,” including trans- and post-humanism, which display contempt for the body and the human condition in general. According to Noble, technological innovation has so often failed to meet human and social needs not merely because such innovations are driven by greed and lust for power, but also and more importantly because they do not aim not at meeting human needs at all, despite protestations to the contrary. Instead, those innovations aim at “the loftier goal of transcending such mortal concerns altogether. In such an ideological context, inspired by prophets rather than

21 by profits, the needs neither of mortals nor of the earth they inhabit are of any enduring consequence. And it is here that the religion of technology can rightly be considered a menace.”lii If Noble were party to our earlier discussion, he might sa y that whereas Hegel‟s conception of the self-actualization of God in self-conscious humankind helped both to articulate and to justify the modern constitutional state, the transhumanist idea of self-actualization would seem to benefit only some people, thereby failing to provide an adequate social philosophy. Noble would also agree with concerns raised by Haraway, Hayles, and other technofeminists who resist the call to abandon the human body. For such feminists, trans- and posthumanists all too often display a familiar masculinist contempt for the mortal and “corruptible” body, which stands in sharp contrast to the immortal and stainless substrate of posthumankind. Likewise, many Christian theologians maintain that trans- and post-humanism is the most recent reprise of Gnosticism, which represents Creation (and thus the human body) as the corrupt Creation of an evil Deity.liii David Pauls writes: Like the earlier Gnostics, knowledge and insight are the keys to overcome the deficiencies of the physical. With the accumulation of research in genetic engineering, nanotechnology, artificial intelligence, and neural network interfacing, man will be able to overwhelm the frailty and deficiency inherent in the human condition and transform that which was weak into strength. The ability to repair, replace or enhance the various biological systems in the body allows one to overcome the limits of finitude.liv One transhumanist replies to this critique by claiming that its author is not so much against transhumanism as he is against modernity in general.lv Humans have been modifying themselves for centuries, not only by intensive spiritual practices, but also by technological means, including most recently artificial implants and genetic manipulation. In effect, humans are already well along in the process of remaking their original image, not from contempt for the body, but rather from the desire for a body that suffers less, lives longer, has greater vitality, and is capable of more enjoyment. There are religious transhumanists who see no insurmountable barriers to reconciling their faith with transhumanist aims.lvi James J. Hughes writes: As transhuman possibilities increasingly develop, the compatibilities of metaphysics, theodicy, soteriology and eschatology between the transhumanist and religious worldviews will be built upon to create new “trans-spiritualities.” In this future religious landscape there will be bioconservative and transhumanist wings within all the world‟s faiths…. We will create new

22 religious rituals and meanings around biotechnological and cybernetic capacities, just as we did around fire, the wheel, healing plants and the book.lvii In his famous essay, “The Future Doesn‟t Need Us,” however, Bill Joy—co-founder and chief scientist of Sun Microsystems—emphasizes the potentially devastating consequences of emerging technologies, including robots that may regard humans as little better than vermin.lviii Given that the aims of post-Singularity beings would be well beyond our ken, why should we assume either that they would be benevolently inclined toward us, or interested in the kinds of things that Kurzweil speculates that they would be? Joy‟s friend, Ray Kurzweil, is much more optimistic that post-humans will grow not only in intelligence and power, but in aesthetic and moral capacity as well. Arguably, however, there is no necessary correlation between cognitive and moral development.lix Frequently cited examples of such lack of coordination were the German doctors who conducted gruesome scientific experiments on Jews and other people enslaved by the Nazi regime. National Socialism helped to develop and justify its murderous policies by appealing to eugenics U.S. research, which some Americans had used to justify sterilization of the mentally “feeble” and otherwise unfit members of society. Critics who regard transhumanism as the latest reprise of eugenics cite as evidence how frequently transhumanists cite the proclamation of Nietzsche‟s Zarathustra, that that “man” is something that must be overcome. Nietzsche‟s own discourses on racial breeding, as well as his idea of the Overman, made aspects of his work appealing to Nazi visions of a “master race”, even though Nietzsche himself might have disagreed with Nazi ideology, had he lived long enough to confront it. Transhumanists insist, however, that their goals are very different from government-sponsored eugenics, which wrongly sought to impose--without consent--major genetic changes on whole populations. As libertarians, transhumanists calls for private, nongovernmental, voluntary enhancements of individuals.lx Despite such emphasis on individual enhancement, however, critics envision the likely return of a more collectivist eugenics program, which justifies questionable practices because they serve a higher goal than individual wellbeing. A final criticism, one that we can merely mention here, would come from those who believe that speculation about post-Singularity demi-gods “awakening” the entire universe has ignored the Second Law of Thermodynamics. Stanley N. Salthe, for instance, has argued vigorously that the universe is striving to return itself to equilibrium after the Big Bang, which--

23 because of the velocity attained by the matter-energy blown apart—generated gravity, galaxies, planets, and even living beings that are very far from equilibrium. Instead of positing that a kind of supreme cosmic Intelligence has been at work since the Big Bang (Alpha) to bring about the cosmic culmination of such Intelligence (Omega), Salthe argues that the “final cause” of the activity of our universe is to bring things to a state of entropy or equilibrium. Instead of evolution being the way in which cosmic Intelligence attains its hidden and unimaginably grand ambitions, “Evolution… is the Universe‟s devious route to its own negation.”lxi In a later essay, I plan on examining in greater detail the implications of Salthe‟s work for the re-emerging field of “natural philosophy.” I close with a few questions: Many centuries from now, will intelligent beings look back upon human history as an episode in the biography of cosmic Geist? If so, what means are justifiable in pursuit of this extraordinary end? Because people have so often committed terrible atrocities when convinced that they were carrying out God‟s will, should we not keep in mind the possibility that trans- and posthumanists are themselves deluded in what is behind their visions for the future? Does the drive to leave behind mortal flesh divert human energy that might otherwise go to restoring the life- and human-friendly features of a planet that has been ravaged by the very science and industry that unwittingly paved the way for trans- and posthumanists? Ought there be international forums in which these portentous questions can receive serious and lengthy hearings? Or will technological innovations develop so rapidly that little time will remain for inquiry into the potential implications of trans- and posthumanism? Will the future envelop us before we even have the chance to think whether we ought to embrace it? Or will environmental problems bring about a grimmer future, one that precludes the possibilities—both grand and terrifying—that we have been discussing here?

G.W.F. Hegel, The Philosophy of History, trans. J. Sibree (New York: Dover, 1956), 17. Ray Kurzweil, The Singularity is Near: When Humans Transcend Biology (New York: Penguin Books, 2005), 389, 21 iii Douglas Mulhall, Our Molecular Future: How Nanotechnology, Robotics, Genetics and Artificial Intelligence Will Transform Our World (Amherst, NY: Prometheus Books, 2002). See also the NSF/DOC-sponsored report, Converging Technologies for Improving Human Performance: Nanotechnology, Biotechnology, Information Technology and Cognitive Science (June, 2002), http://www.wtec.org/ConvergingTechnologies/ iv Vernor Vinge, “The Coming Technological Singularity” (1993). http://www.accelerating.org/articles/comingtechsingularity.html. Accessed on January 15, 2008. People
ii

speculate about what post-humans will do, of course, despite the “fact” that such speculation is presumably groundless! v Max Born, from “Max More and Ray Kurzweil on the Singularity,” http://www.kurzweilai.net/articles/art0408.html?printable=1. Accessed on January 8, 2008. See also Kurzweil, The Singularity is Near. vi See Howard Gardner, Frames of Mind: The Theory of Multiple Intelligences (New York: Basic Books, 1993 [1983]; and Daniel Goleman, Emotional Intelligence: Why It Can Matter More than IQ (New York: Bantam Books, 1997). vii Typically missing from discussions of intelligence and consciousness is the extent to which finitude is crucial for both. Consciousness purportedly arose as an adaptive strategy for optimizing survival and reproductive success. Life matters to itself; it wants to continue. Consciousness enhances the fact that my life matters to me. But life is bound up with death, and—arguably—consciousness is bound up with finitude. Hence, a profound understanding of intelligence and consciousness will require insight into death, finitude, and mortality. The issues I bring up here are informed by the work of Martin Heidegger. viii “Transhumanism,” Wikipedia, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Transhumanism. Accessed on May 29, 2007. See also “The Transhumanist Declaration,” World Humanist Association website: http://transhumanism.org/index.php/WTA/declaration/, accessed on January 16, 2008; Nick Bostrom, “A History of Transhumanist Thought,” Journal of Evolution and Technology, 2005, Vol.14, No. 1. Available on Bostrom‟s home page: http://www.nickbostrom.com/. ix See Hans Moravec, Robot: Mere Machine to Transcendent Mind (New York: Oxford University Press, 2000). x See Gregory Stock, Redesigning Humans: Choosing Our Genes, Changing Our Future (New York: Mariner Books, 2003). xi See Jürgen Habermas, The Future of Human Nature, trans. Hella Beister and William Rehg (Polity Press, 2003). For a critique of Habermas and other secular humanists opposing human enhancement, see K. Mark Smith, “Saving Humanity? Counter-arguing Posthuman Enhancement.” Journal of Evolution and Technology, Vol. 14 (April, 2005), http://jetpress.org/volume14/smith.html. Accessed on January 14, 2008. xii The film Gattaca provides an insightful treatment of issues faced in the future by a young “natural” struggling to become an astronaut, a position restricted to the technologically enhanced. See David A. Kirby, “The New Eugenics in Cinema: Genetic Determinism and Gene Therapy in GATTACA.” Science Fiction Studies, #81, Volume 27, Part (July, 2000), http://www.depauw.edu/sfs/essays/gattaca.htm. Accessed on January 16, 2008. xiii Denver Post, Thursday, June 7, 2007, 3A. Emphasis mine. xiv (TB, 276-277, quoted in Wha-Chul Son, “Reading Jacques Ellul‟s The technological bluff in context,” Bulletin of Science, Technology, and Society, 24, 2004, p. 526.) See Jacques Ellul, The Technological Bluff, trans. Geoffrey Bromiley (Grand Rapids, Michigan: Eerdman‟s Publishing Company, 1990). xv Friedrich Nietzsche, Thus Spoke Zarathustra, in The Portable Nietzsche, trans. Walter Kaufmann (New York: Viking Press, 1977), 124. xvi Mitchell Porter, “Transhumanism and the Singularity,” http://members.tripod.com/Transtopia/semper.html. Accessed on January 8, 2008. xvii Jaron Lanier, “The Future,” http://www.jaronlanier.com/topspintx.html. Accessed on January 8, 2008 xviii Fears about a technologically supported Big Brother regime were exploited by the (in)famous Apple Computer ad, which aired only once, during the 1984 Super Bowl. In the ad, a young female athlete, chased by police thugs, hurls a sledgehammer that smashes the huge TV image of a glowering tyrant, propagandizing zombie-like people enslaved to the totalizing regime… of modernity? At the end of the ad, we are told: “On January 24th Apple will introduce Macintosh. So that 1984 won‟t be like

„1984‟.” The right design and use of modern technology, so the ad indicated, could liberate people from monolithic social practices and corporate hegemony. Lyotard‟s surmise was becoming popularized: Information in the hands of the many could undo the machinations of the powerful few. xix Jaron Lanier, “The Future,” http://www.jaronlanier.com/topspintx.html. xx Damien Broderick, The Spike: How Our Lives Are Being Transformed by Rapidly Advancing Technologies (New York: Forge, 2001), 79-80. This is a very informative work. xxi See Vernor Vinge, “What If the Singularity Does Not Happen?” (2007), KurzweilAI.net, http://www.kurzweilai.net/meme/frame.html?main=/articles/art0696.html. Accessed on January 15, 2008. See also “Singularity Chat with Vernor Vinge and Ray Kurzweil,” (2002), KurzweilAI.net, http://www.kurzweilai.net/meme/frame.html?main=/articles/art0476.html. Accessed on January 15, 2008. xxii Donna Haraway, “A Cyborg Manifesto: Science, Technology, and Socialist-Feminism in the Late Twentieth Century," in Simians, Cyborgs and Women: The Reinvention of Nature (New York; Routledge, 1991), 150-151. xxiii See Kurt E. Marquart, “Luther and Theosis,” Concordia Theological Review, Vol. 64, No. 3 (July, 2000), 182-205. I mention here only in passing the remarkable correlation between the three bodies of Jesus and the three bodies of the Buddha. Jesus incarnated as a human body, revealed himself to his disciples in his transfigured body, and is most fundamentally the cosmic Logos, source of all bodies whatsoever. Analogously, Buddhism speaks of the Nirmanakaya (ordinary body of Buddha), the Sambhogakaya (bliss-body or transfigured body of Buddha), and the Dharmakaya (Buddha understood as ultimate cosmological principle). xxiv The environmental stewardship implications of theosis have not been lost on Orthodox theologians, including Patriarch Bartholomew. See “Address of his All Holiness Ecumenical Patriarch Bartholomew to the Summit of Religions and Conservation Religion and Nature, „The Abrahamic Faith‟s Concepts of Creation‟.” (Atama, Japan, April 5, 1995). http://www.ecpatr.org/docdisplay.php?lang=en&id=449&tla=en. Accessed on May 29, 2007 xxv Here, we call to mind the remarks of Nietzsche‟s Zarathustra, according to whom humans will be like apes when compared with the Overman. The son of a Lutheran minister, Nietzsche was well aware of and even adopted some of Luther‟s caustic attitudes toward (unredeemed) humankind. Zarathustra‟s vision of the Overman, overtly pagan though that vision may be, draws upon the Christian vision of the transfigured Christ, the glorious God-Man. xxvi See Alison Bird “ „Good to Think‟: Martin Luther‟s Conservative Iconoclasm (with Apologies to Lévi-Strauss),” Studies in Social and Political Thought, Issue 7 (September, 2002), http://www.sussex.ac.uk/spt/1-4-6-2-7.html. Accessed on January 16, 2008. It is no accident that in The Birth of Tragedy, Nietzsche discusses Raphael‟s painting of Christ‟s Transfiguration, which subsequently appears—mutatis mutandi—in Nietzsche‟s idea of the Overman. xxvii Cited by Marquart in “Luther and Theosis, op cit., 186. xxviii Bird, “ Good to Think‟,” op cit. xxix Ibid. Emphasis mine. xxx See Gary D. Badcock, “Hegel, Lutheranism and Contemporary Theology,” Animus (2000, Vol. 5). http://www2.swgc.mun.ca/animus/2000vol5/badcock5.htm. Accessed February 26, 2008. xxxi G.W.F. Hegel, The Philosophy of Nature, trans. A.V. Miller (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1970); cited in Hegel: The Essential Writings, ed. Frederick G. Weiss (New York: Harper and Row, 1974), 211. See Alison Stone, Petrified Intelligence: Nature in Hegel’s Philosophy (Albany: SUNY Press, 2004). xxxii Hegel did not devise an evolutionary view of natural history, but tended to regard only the domains of consciousness and history as capable of dialectical development. Nevertheless, by emphasizing the concept of development. They contributed significantly to the growing notion that even life itself evolved. xxxiii G.W.F. Hegel, The Philosophy of History, trans. J. Sibree (New York: Dover, 1956), 17.

For an illuminating treatment of this issue, see Lisabaeth During, “Hegel‟s Critique of Transcendence,” Man and World, 21 (1988), 287-305, xxxv Much of post-Hegelian philosophy has been “deflationary,” that is, emphasizing the limits of human understanding and thus heavily discounting the possibility that humans can attain anything like absolute knowledge. Recently, however, in his “Prolegomena to Any Future Philosophy,” Mark Alan Walker has argued that reinflated philosophical aspirations may be fulfilled by post-humans whose intelligence vastly exceeds our own. See Journal of Evolution and Technology, Vol. 10 (March, 2002). http://jetpress.org/volume10/prolegomena.html Accessed on January 23, 2008. xxxvi Robert C. Tucker, Philosophy and Myth in Karl Marx (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1972). This is an extraordinarily rich and insightful work. xxxvii Ibid., 68-69. xxxviii Ibid., 69. xxxix Emerson, Nature, Chapter VII, Spirit. xl PBS, Morning Edition, January 7, 1998. Cited by David F. Noble, The Religion of Technology [New York: Penguin, 1999], vii. xli See “Communion and Stewardship: Human Persons Created in the Image of God,” International Theological Commission of the Vatican. http://www.vatican.va/roman_curia/congregations/cfaith/cti_documents/rc_con_cfaith_doc_20040723_co mmunion-stewardship_en.html. See also C.S. Lewis‟s classic essay, “The Abolition of Man” (1943). http://www.columbia.edu/cu/augustine/arch/lewis/abolition1.htm. See also William Sims Bainbridge, “The Transhuman Heresy,” Journal of Evolution and Technology, Vol. 14, Issue 2 (August 2005), 1-10. http://jetpress.org/volume14/bainbridge.html. Accessed on January 8, 2008. xlii But see Frank Tipler, Jr., The Physics of Immortality: Modern Cosmology, God and the Resurrection of the Dead (New York: Anchor Books, 1995). xliii Kurzweil, The Singularity is Near, op cit., 375. See also 361, 362, 364, 387, and 476. xliv Ibid., 362-364. xlv Ibid., 476. xlvi Ibid., 487. xlvii Ibid. In modern cosmology, the terms “Copernican principle” and “mediocrity principle” are used to mean that there is no center to the universe, and thus nothing special about any part of it, including planet Earth, supposedly just another planet in the middle of nowhere. Recently, however, some scientists have challenged this view. See for example Guillermo Gonzalez and Jay Richards, The Privileged Planet: How Our Place in the Cosmos is Designed for Discovery (Chicago: Henry Regnery, 2004). See also Peter Ward and Donald Brownlee, Rare Earth: Why Complex Life is Uncommon in the Universe (New York: Springer, 2003). xlviii Paul Davies, The Fifth Miracle: The Search for the Origin and Meaning of Life (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1999), 246. xlix Ibid., 272. l On the looming possibility of human extinction in the near future, see Martin Rees, Our Final Hour: A Scientist's Warning: How Terror, Error, and Environmental Disaster Threaten Humankind's Future in This Century--On Earth and Beyond (New York: Basic Books, 2004). li On the topic of uploading consciousness, see Anders Sandberg excellent on-line resource, Uploading, http://www.aleph.se/Trans/Global/Uploading/. Accessed on January 16, 2008. lii Noble, The Religion of Technology, 207. liii Se David B. Hart, “The Anti-Theology of the Body,” The New Atlantis (Summer, 2o005), http://www.thenewatlantis.com/archive/9/hartprint.htm liv David Pauls, “Transhumanism: 2000 Years in the Making,” The Center for Bioethics and Culture Network. http://www.thecbc.org/redesigned/research_display.php?id=189. Accessed on January 8, 2008.
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Maahaadave, “Transhumanism and Gnosticism: The Antithesis of Christianity?” Posted on the World Transhumanist Association website. http://www.transhumanism.org/index.php/th/print/655/ Accessed on January 8, 2008. lvi See the Mormon Transhumanist Association website at: http://transfigurism.org/community/content/FAQ.aspx. Accessed on January 8, 2008. In certain respects, Mormon theology—more so than mainstream Christian theology--lends itself to reconciliation with important aspects of transhumanism, although perhaps not with post-humanism. lvii James J. Hughes, “The Compatibility of Religious and Transhumanist Views of Metaphysics, Suffering, Virtue and Transcendence in an Enhanced Future,” Institute for Ethics and Emerging Technologies (2007). ieet.org/archive/20070326-Hughes-ASU-H+Religion.pdf. Accessed on January 8, 2008. See also Gregory Jordan, “Apologia for Transhumanist Religion,” Journal of Evolution and Technology, Vol. 15, Issue 1 (February, 2006), 55-72. Http://jetpress.org/volume15/jordan2.html See also Heidi Campbell and Mark Walker, “Religion and Transhumanism: Introducing a Conversation,” in the special issue of Journal of Evolution and Technology devoted to this topic, Vol. 14, No. 2 (April, 2005), http://jetpress.org/volume14/specialissueintro.html. Accessed on January 18, 2008. lviii Bill Joy, “Why the Future Doesn‟t Need Us,” Wired, issue 8.04 (April, 2000), http://www.wired.com/wired/archive/8.04/joy.html. Accessed on January 14, 2008. For a critique, see John Seely Brown and Paul Duguid, “A Response to Bill Joy and the Doom-and-Gloom Technofuturists,” www.aaas.org/spp/rd/ch4.pdf. Accessed on January 14, 2008. lix I have not yet read a transhumanist discussion of what many spiritual traditions describe as “heart-opening,” the stage that must be achieved in order to generate enduring compassion. The heartopening stage lies beyond the mental-egoic stage, which is concerned primarily about using intelligence to promote survival and power. If such an opening is related to and even dependent on organic human embodiment, then such an opening could not occur in post-humans, unless such beings were designed (or designed themselves) in ways that allowed for an analogous opening in bodies made of silicon (or whatever the preferable substrate turns out to be). If discourse about heart-opening and other such spiritual developments does not enter into contemporary discourse about trans- and post-humanism, however, there is little reason to expect that “enhanced” beings will seek anything but finding new ways of using intelligence to attain greater power. This is the surmise of those who write dystopian literature and screenplays, such as The Terminator. lx Philosopher Robert Berman suggests that Hegel‟s distinction between civil society and the state is important here. Civil society refers to the private domain in which individuals engage in economic exchange, and contend with one another for status, influence, and other kinds of power. Given that both National Socialism and Soviet Marxism called for the subordination of private interests to those of the state, these regimes attempted either to eliminate civil society or else to drastically curtail its independence. It is not surprising that in liberal democracy, a new “eugenics” would emphasize the development of individuals outside the context of the state and its aims. Robert Berman, personal communication. lxi Stanley N. Salthe, “The Spontaneous Origin of New Levels in a Scalar Hierarchy,” Entropy, 2004, 6, 327-343. See also Salthe and Fuhrman, “The Cosmic Bellows: The Big Bang and the Second Law,” Cosmos and History: The Journal of Natural and Social Philosophy, Vol. I, No. 2 (2005), 295-318. For many other insightful essays, consult Salthe‟s website: http://www.nbi.dk/~natphil/salthe/
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I. Introduction One of mankind’s most cherished dreams—in religious, scientific, and artistic circles—has been the creation of humanoid life (Bilski 1988; Cohen 1966; Newman 2004). The Pygmalion myth in ancient Greece and the golem myth in medieval Judaism, for example, reflect this drive within artistic and religious spheres respectively. In science, a long tradition of automatons includes ancient Greek water mechanisms, 17th century Japanese tea-serving dolls, and 18th century European automata (such as Vaucanson’s wing-flapping, eating, and defecating duck or Jacquet-Droz’s piano player). Contemporary robotic technology continues this trend. 1 Often, the creation of intelligent life is simultaneously religious, scientific, and artistic. Neat divisions among these categories cannot be easily drawn even today, when robotics and artificial intelligence (AI) hold the most promise for realizing this longstanding dream. In the late 20th century and early 21st century, a number of influential roboticists and AI pioneers wrote popular science books that show the close connections between religion and science in contemporary life. Major figures in this movement include awardwinning AI inventor Ray Kurzweil, seminal roboticist Hans Moravec, neural net building Hugo de Garis, and UK roboticist Kevin Warwick. 2 The world they so eloquently describe conjures a fantastic paradise in which robotics and AI improve humankind and the world. In doing so, these AI advocates lead a scientific movement that never strays far from the apocalyptic traditions of Western culture. Apocalyptic AI is a popular science movement which has absorbed the apocalyptic categories of the Jewish and Christian traditions (this despite the atheistic convictions of most advocates). Second Temple Jews and early Christians maintained a dualistic worldview and anticipated a radical divide between the present and the immediate future. They expected that the world and the human person would be transformed, with the latter given new, improved bodies in order to enjoy the heavenly Kingdom which would resolve the problematic dualism of earthly life. Apocalyptic AI looks forward to a mechanical future in which human beings will upload their minds into machines and enjoy a virtual reality Kingdom. Thanks to these soteriological hopes, the historical structure of Apocalyptic AI offers fruitful comparison to Jewish and Christian views. II. God’s Kingdom Come: Apocalyptic Theology Properly speaking, “apocalypse” is a (generally eschatological) literary genre wherein a prophet receives divine revelation through a vision of a transcendent reality distinct from the everyday world. Apocalypticism, however, occurs in a wide variety of narrative structures; it can be “broadly described as the belief that God has revealed the

imminent end of the ongoing struggle between good and evil in history” (Collins 2000a, vii). In its fullest elaborations, the breakdown of a “proper” social order promotes apocalypticism, in which believers expect that God will reconfigure the world and transform humanity so they can enjoy the Kingdom eternally. 3 Although the popular science works of Apocalyptic AI are not members of the apocalypse genre, they contain what Wayne Meeks calls “apocalyptic discourse” (2000, 463). 4 Jewish and Christian apocalyptic traditions drew upon contributions from ancient Israel’s prophetic tradition (Russell 1964, Hanson 1975) and wisdom tradition (von Rad 1965), combat myths of ancient Mesopotamia (Clifford 2000), and writings from Greek and Persian culture (Collins 2000b). Collectively, these sources found a home in the social landscape of Second Temple Judaism and early Christianity. 5 Because the 20th century robotics and AI authors had access to the full tradition of Jewish and Christian apocalypticisms, there will be little effort to offer a chronological assessment of apocalyptic development or situate the ideas of one group relative to those of others. Rather, the worldview of Apocalyptic AI will be analyzed after several basic characteristics of Jewish and Christian traditions have been described. 6 Alienation: Rome’s To Do with Jerusalem Troubling political conditions provide fertile ground for apocalyptic writings and beliefs. 7 The political alienation experienced by Jews and Christians in the ancient world made apocalypticism a favorable religious alternative to cultural submission. This was clearly the case during Roman rule of Palestine. Political power and the right to worship were often stripped away from Jews and Christians, who had little hope but to wait for the Messiah (or his return) to rectify the world. Elements of apocalypticism arose in Judaism during times of tribulation, culminating in the Second Temple period. The conflict with Assyria (Isaiah), the Babylonian Captivity and post-exilic period (Ezekiel, 3 Isaiah), Greek rule and the Maccabean Revolt (Daniel, 2 Maccabees, the early elements of 1 Enoch) and Roman Rule (2 Baruch, 4 Ezra, Apocalypse of Abraham, 1 Enoch 37-71) all contributed to Jewish faith in the apocalyptic redemption of Israel. While early texts such as Isaiah and Ezekiel were not themselves apocalypses, they provided a starter culture for some of that genre’s key ideas. Prophetic oracles and hopes for redemption led to full blown apocalypticism in which alienation would be overcome with the establishment of a new world. During Roman rule, Jews confronted a basic conflict in their covenantal view of history. Why did God withhold control of the promised land? 8 The followers of Jesus inherited this pre-existing Jewish alienation and established upon it a new religion based on their presumed Messiah. As their political and religious split with the Jews widened, Christians were as uncomfortable in the Temple as they were in the agora, where they refused to participate in Roman public religion. 9 Early Christians desperately awaited the return of Jesus, which would eliminate their twofold political troubles and bring about an eternal end to alienation. 10 Apocalyptics hope that God, as arbiter of absolute justice and rectifier of a corrupt world, will radically reconstruct the world. Apocalyptics, despite their criticism of the present world, are not pessimistic in their outlook. They are “passionately concerned, even obsessed, with the possibility of goodness” (Meeks 2000,

462). As this world is so miserably sinful, apocalyptics look forward to the time when God creates a new, infinitely good world. The New Jerusalem Apocalypticism devalues the present world, which, as 4 Ezra states, is but clay compared to the gold of the next (8:1-3). 11 God will establish a new world where all of the misguided values of the old world will give way to meaningful life. The boundary between the old world and the new, between evil and good, reflects the fundamental dualism of apocalyptic life. Meaningful activity—in the form of prayer and heavenly praise—abounds in the new kingdom. Apocalyptic visionaries often traveled to Heaven, which provides a glimpse into their expectations of a radically reconstructed world. When apocalyptics ascend to heaven, they typically understand it as a glorious temple (Himmelfarb 1993). According to Himmelfarb, priestly investiture allows visionaries to join the angels in the heavenly temple and once in heaven they observe the angels and righteous human beings engaged in prayer to and praise of God (2 Enoch 8-9, Apocalypse of Zephaniah 3:3-4, 1 Enoch 39:9-14). From most religious perspectives, praise of God amounts to the highest human endeavor; the entire cosmos supposedly devotes itself to this task. As the ultimately meaningful activity, it occupies the highest levels of heaven. Apocalyptics point to the difference between our world, where material desires overshadow the spiritual, and the heavenly world, where angels and the righteous saints maintain proper values. The coming kingdom will appropriate the activity and faith of heaven. Because misaligned values characterize the present world, apocalyptics anticipate a new world, one built up by God to replace the old. This hope was common to ancient Jews and Christians, who expressed it in their writings. “I am about to create a new heavens and a new earth,” declares God in the Hebrew Bible (Isa. 65:17). This event is fully realized in 1 Enoch’s “Apocalypse of Weeks” (1 Enoch 94:16) 12 around the time of the Maccabees and revisited in John’s apocalyptic vision (Rev. 21:1) in the late 1st century C.E. John sees a New Jerusalem descending from heaven; in the New Jerusalem, death and sadness will be wiped away (21:2-4). In the New Kingdom, no one need worry whether he or she should pay taxes to Caesar! 13 The new world will dissolve sadness and bring humanity into contact with the divine. The current world acquires meaning through its historical progression toward the new but is otherwise devoid of real value. 14 The new world is fully eschatological, however: it leads nowhere and it never evolves. Flush with the eternal presence of God, it is ultimately meaningful with nothing more to be sought. Whatever it is that happens in the New Jerusalem, it certainly will not advance history in any conventional sense. God, of course, plans to include the righteous in this wondrous future. Thanks to their resurrection in transformed bodies, the saved will enter the Kingdom of God. Angels from the Ashes Apocalyptic Jews and Christians expected resurrection in glorified bodies. Although alternate views of resurrection existed, 15 the dominant positions among both Jews and Christians maintained that it would be bodily. 16 Indeed, it was the bodily

element of resurrection that functioned as the lynchpin of communal self-definition, uniting the disparate elements of Jewish and Christian theologies (Setzer 2004). Although apocalyptic Jews and Christians expected bodily resurrection, they did not expect to have precisely the same bodies as those which they possessed in life. 17 God will glorify the apocalyptic dead, raising them up in purified bodies; made immortal, these glorious new bodies enable the righteous to join the angels in the Kingdom of God. This resurrection stands opposite the common Greek notion of escape from the body but still recognizes that earthly bodies lack something essential to life in the future world. For example, Paul’s assertion that “flesh and blood cannot inherit the Kingdom” (1 Cor: 50) refers to the impossibility of saving human bodies as they are in this world (Setzer 2004, 65). At the moment of the kingdom come, the human person must take on a new form. “We will not all die,” says Paul, “but we will all be changed” (1 Cor 15: 51; see also 2 Cor 5:1-4). Although each person will require a body in order to take part in the life to come, the mortal bodies of the present cannot inhabit the perfect world of the future. God must, therefore, act to transform human bodies into angelic bodies. 18 The glorious new body will be immortal. Death marks the ultimate degradation of humanity so resurrection in a heavenly body will eliminate it. 19 The impure bodies of the world are mortal. God promises a new body, one that belongs in the New Jerusalem. Reconfigured bodies will combine humanity with the divine glory of the celestial realm. These bodies will be eternal, perfect, and immortal…just like the world to which they go. The Shifting Nature of Transcendent Guarantees Early Jewish and Christian apocalypticisms share several basic characteristics, which, as we will see in Section III, appear in 20th century popular science books on robotics and artificial intelligence. Ancient Jews and Christians, caught in alienating circumstances, eagerly anticipated God’s intervention in history. After the end of history, God will create a new world and resurrect humanity in new bodies to eternally enjoy that world. Jewish and Christian apocalypticisms require that God intervene in history but Apocalyptic AI advocates cannot rely upon divine forces. Instead, they offer evolution as a transcendent guarantee for the new world. 20 Apocalyptic AI advocates unite Moore’s Law, which describes the rate of technical progress in computer processing speeds, to biological evolution (Moravec 1999, 165; Kurzweil 1999, 255) as a means of assuring that the movement’s predictions will come to fruition. Even without God, evolution guarantees the coming of the Kingdom. The nature of this Kingdom and its inhabitants bears striking resemblance to that of Jewish and Christian apocalyptic salvation. III. Virtual Kingdom Come: Apocalyptic AI Several pioneers in robotics and AI speak the language of apocalypticism. Advocates anticipate a radical divide in history that resolves their present state of alienation. This resolution requires the establishment of a new world in which machine life succeeds biological life. Human beings will cast off the limitations of their bodies for mechanical and virtual bodies that will live forever in eternal bliss.

Apocalyptic visions include either an account of historical progress or an otherworldly journey interested in cosmological speculation (Collins 1984, 5); Apocalyptic AI includes both. 21 Apocalyptic AI authors extrapolate from current technological trends to predict the course of history over the next fifty years (a course which inevitably revolves around robotic and AI technology) but they also explore the transcendent realm of cyberspace. Ray Kurzweil even relies upon an angelic figure from the transcendent future realm to offer advice and interpretation. The apocalyptic tradition of robotics and AI pioneers results from the political struggles of late 20th century science (Geraci 2007) and the dangerous world in which the authors were raised. 22 Stephen O’Leary of the University of Southern California points toward the “generational sensibility” of baby boomers, who grew up in the decades of nuclear proliferation and the Cold War, following the trauma of World War II, the Shoah, and the atomic destruction of Hiroshima and Nagasaki (2000, 393). O’Leary argues that the barrage of apocalypticism in 1990s pop culture, from Heavens Gate to The Terminator, was a result of this sensibility. 23 The apocalyptic tradition provided an outlet for those distressed, whether that distress arises from the threat of Soviet invasion or the fear of a more “natural” death. Alienation: The Body Embattled Though Apocalyptic AI advocates fight political battles for funding and respect, the greater share of alienation in Apocalyptic AI derives from the physical nature of humanity. 24 The human body has a number of significant restrictions, chief of which is, of course, its rather limited shelf life. In addition, complain the major figures in Apocalyptic AI, a mind trapped inside a human body learns only with difficulty, thinks slowly, and has difficulty passing on its knowledge. Protein-based life forms, say Apocalyptic AI advocates, will never think as well as machines will in the future (de Garis 2005, 103; Kurzweil 1999, 4; Moravec 1988, 5556; Moravec 1999, 55; Warwick 1997, 178). The speeds possible in human brains cannot equal those of a computer, whose silicon substrate is far more efficient in the transmission of information. Limited memory and inadequate accuracy further trouble human minds; these problems will be wiped out in the transition to mechanical life. Descriptions of death in Apocalyptic AI further show the alienation felt by its advocates. A living person’s value, in Apocalyptic AI, stems from the knowledge he or she possesses, rather than being intrinsic to life or grounded in social relations of one sort or another. The AI apocalypse will end the “wanton loss of knowledge and function that is the worst aspect of personal death” (Moravec 1988, 121). It would appear that the death of knowledge counts for more than the death of persons. This is the case because the aspects of personhood supposedly divorced from rational thought are considered fetters. 25 Fear of death is widespread, but Apocalyptic AI advocates see traditional and widely-held belief in souls and spirits as a feeble psychological ploy. According to AI pioneer Marvin Minsky, they are “all insinuations that we’re helpless to improve ourselves” (1985, 41, emphasis original). The loss of knowledge that cannot be overcome in religion, according to the Apocalyptic AI crowd, can be addressed through technology. While Minsky deplores religious failures to rectify the perceived failures of human life,

his enthusiasm for AI’s possibilities shows how Apocalyptic AI shares the passionate excitement that Meeks describes in ancient apocalypticism (see above). Distrust of the world and its values undergirds the alienation of Apocalyptic AI. The movement’s advocates worry that the world might turn its back on scientific understanding in favor of ‘useless’ religious faiths and, as a consequent, they believe that the world is a place devoid of intentional intellectual work, the only thing that produces meaning. The world is a bad place not because it is evil but because it is ignorant and inadequate. Even where people strive to compute, they find themselves hampered on all sides. The mind will never be at home until it sheds the body that inhibits the mind’s rational processes. Slow computation, limited recall, insufficient ability to share one’s insights, and death all restrict the mind from realizing its full potential, which can be unlocked only by a radical change in life itself. Before we turn to the new lives predicted for our future, however, we must first examine the world in which they will live. The AI apocalypse will not come about because people fear death, loss of knowledge, et cetera. Rather, these things are supposedly incidental. The apocalypse must come about because evolutionary history moves inexorably in that direction. A Virtual Jerusalem Just as many early Jews and Christians believed that God’s intervention in history was right around the corner, contemporary figures in Apocalyptic AI believe that a moment of cataclysmic change approaches. Gradual change has little place in apocalyptic visions. Instead, apocalyptic believers anticipate a sudden revolution (Schoepflin 2000, 428). In Apocalyptic AI, this momentous event is called the “singularity;” it marks a radical divide between this world and the next, a mechanical world culminating in the onset of the age of mind, a Virtual Kingdom in cyberspace. Technological evolution (i.e. the processing speeds of computers) currently experiences exponential growth. The singularity is the point on the graph of progress where explosive growth occurs in a blink of an eye; it is the end of history and the beginning of the new world and it is closer than you think. Architectural software pioneer Michael Benedikt argues that cyberspace opens the doors to the Heavenly City of Revelations (1994, 14). In its utopian manifestations, architecture blends art and technology to envision how the Kingdom might appear. 26 Of course, architecture seeks to bring about the very conditions that it illustrates. Benedikt’s cyberspace would allow human beings unfettered joy through idyllic environs and limitless personal experience. The eschatological kingdom of Benedikt’s architectural fantasy shows the deep connections between virtual reality and Christian salvation. In cyberspace, we will find the good life: an egalitarian society (see Stone 1991), vanquishment of need (Kurzweil 1999, 248; Moravec 1999, 137), happiness (Kurzweil 1999, 236), even better sex lives (ibid., 148, 206). As though these things were not enough, we will see in the next section that the Virtual Kingdom will virtually guarantee our immortality. Benedikt believes that human creativity (through cyberspace architecture) is the key to the Heavenly City but most members of the Apocalyptic AI community believe that machine creativity will lead to salvation. Humanity’s chief role, its most important

task, is the creation of artificial life. From that point, the robots will do what biological life cannot. The singularity is the point at which machines become sufficiently intelligent to start teaching themselves. When that happens, their growth rate will be exponential, meaning that in very short time, the world will irrevocably shift from the biological to the mechanical (Kurzweil 1999, 3-5; de Garis 2005, 158; Moravec 1998, 1-2). The mechanical age will permit the establishment of a new Kingdom, one not based upon God but otherwise making the same promises as more traditional apocalypses. 27 The march toward the Virtual Kingdom will proceed through an Edenic earthly life before the final transcendence of mind over matter. AI and robotics will relieve humanity of its burdens, forcing human beings up the social ladder into a universal class of wealthy owners (Moravec 1999, 128). This future will be a “garden of earthly delights…reserved for the meek” (ibid., 143). Like all earthly gardens, it must eventually whither away but it will leave us—not with a fallow field—but with a much greater world, a paradise never to be lost. Moravec’s paradise on earth is the most recent extrapolation of the two-stage apocalypse tradition of Judaism and Christianity. The Book of Revelations predicts the righteous will enjoy a 1000 year reign of peace prior to the final end of the world (20:47). 28 Likewise, in 4 Ezra, God says that the Messiah will come and “in mercy he will set free the remnant of my people, those who have been saved throughout my borders, and he will make them joyful until the end comes” (12:34). A two stage apocalypse allows the believer to expect an earthly resolution to their alienation as a reward for faithful service while still promising the ultimate fulfillment of immortal salvation. Before the final transition to the Virtual Kingdom, Moravec holds out a fantastic vision of human joy. With robots earning wealth, humanity will lose its sense of material need. Kurzweil envisions a future in which need is a “quaint idea” (1999, 249). No one will work for his daily bread, but will quite literally have it fall from heaven. Outer space corporations of intelligent robots, Moravec imagines, will provide for human beings. Their diligent work will allow us the leisure to pursue intellectual discoveries (though we will be rather less efficient at this than the machines). Unlike the millennial land use technologies of early America (e.g. surveying, the axe, and the plow) described by David Nye (2003), artificial intelligence does not stop with the establishment of an earthly Kingdom. Eventually, the machines will tire of caring for humanity and decide to spread throughout the universe in the interests of discovering all the secrets of the cosmos (though perhaps some will remain behind). They will convert the entire universe into an “extended thinking entity” (Moravec 1988, 116). Utopian conditions brought about by advances in robotics and AI will merely presage the wondrous Virtual Kingdom to come. Moravec’s “Age of Robots” is supplanted by an “Age of Mind” in which the expansion of machines creates space for a “subtler world” (1999, 163). The earthly paradise is but a brief stopping point on the historical march to a transcendent Virtual Kingdom Real, meaningful activity will cease to take place in the physical world, shifting instead to cyberspace. Just as meaningful prayer characterizes heaven in Judeo-Christian apocalypticism, meaningful computation occupies all individuals in Apocalyptic AI. Heaven allows for only one ultimately meaningful activity, which is perceived as absent

on earth. Just as the apocalyptic visionaries despair over the faithlessness of their generations, Apocalyptic AI advocates bemoan the lack of computation that they (and even more so, their contemporaries) are capable of producing. The Virtual Kingdom will rectify such sorrows. Where the machines go, “meaningful computation” will follow (Moravec 1992a, 15). They will gradually fill up space with increasingly intricate computations until, in the end, “every tiniest mote will be part of a relevant computation or storing a significant datum” (Moravec 1999, 166). Machine computation will extend throughout the universe in what Moravec terms a Mind Fire. The Mind Fire will reject the useless, meaningless existence of earthly life in favor of ubiquitous computation. “Boring old Earth also will suddenly be swallowed by cyberspace. Afterwards its transformed substance will host astronomically more meaningful activity than before” (Moravec 1999, 167). Virtual reality (realities) will accompany the spread of intelligent machines. The importance of the Mind Fire does not lie in the material presence of intelligent machines but in the cyberspace created by their computations. Moravec is a modern day alchemist, seeking to make gold out of lead, life out of death. All “[p]hysical activity will gradually transform itself into a web of increasingly pure thought” (1999, 164). The purification of the cosmos will make it a meaningful world. 29 Alchemy seeks to improve upon the world, to transmute the lesser into the greater; just so, Moravec takes what appears debased in his eyes and seeks to make it illustrious. 30 Before the AI apocalypse, very little meaningful activity takes place (it does so only in the isolated pockets of rational intellect on earth, particularly where AI work is done). Soon there will be nothing but meaningfulness. Like many apocalypses, the popular science books of Apocalyptic AI promise an escape from time. Supremely intelligent machines will use cyberspace to escape the historical reality of the present. In the Mind Fire, entire universes will be created through vast computer simulations. All of history will be held captive, played and replayed for the interest and amusement of intelligent machines (Moravec 1992a). All of history will coexist in one eternal moment. The Virtual Kingdom is unquestionably apocalyptic and not merely utopian eschatology. While the latter takes place on earth, more or less in keeping with the traditional rules of everyday life (Collins 2000b), the Virtual Kingdom transcends earthly life. The new world of Apocalyptic AI is transcendentally other, it surpasses human life and replaces it with something that—while perhaps connected to the physical reality of our current lives—exists on another plane altogether. The Virtual Kingdom is a transcendent plane of cyberspace where history ends, pain disappears, and truly meaningful life becomes possible. Cyborgs, Robots, and Software Fortunately for us, there will be room to join our mechanical progeny as they spread their Virtual Kingdom throughout the cosmos. Just as the old flesh cannot inherit the Kingdom of God, however, it cannot inherit the Virtual Kingdom. Human beings will augment or replace their weak human bodies in order to participate in the wondrous future to come. Participation in the kingdom come may depend upon integrating mechanical parts and human beings in the creation of cyborgs; or perhaps human beings

will slough off their bodies altogether, allowing their minds free reign in the virtual reality of the Mind Fire. In order to experience the heavenly world of hyper-intelligent machines, these scientists advocate building new bodies that can successfully operate in the Virtual Kingdom. Supplementing our natural abilities with computer hardware implanted directly into our bodies could help human beings join ever-smarter machines in the Kingdom. University of Reading roboticist Kevin Warwick believes that adding mechanical hardware to human brains will enable them to compete mentally with artificial intelligences. Cyborg minds, he believes, will be far superior to natural human minds (2003, 136). Thanks to enhanced memory, additional senses (such as infrared or ultraviolet vision), internal networking to the Internet, rapid powers of computation, and more, cyborgs will quickly begin to ignore the “trivial utterances” of ordinary human beings (ibid., 136). While Warwick assumes that we will soon transcend the limitations of our current existence, his goals are slightly more modest than those of most Apocalyptic AI thinkers. Moravec and Kurzweil believe that our technology will become so powerful that we will download our consciousness into machines, thus freeing ourselves from human bodies altogether. 31 Midway in our transition from human beings to disembodied superminds we will house ourselves in machine bodies (without any of the old human biological parts) but eventually our need to walk and talk will fade into oblivion; as software, we will leap from computer to computer. Successful downloading of our consciousness depends upon our ability to represent the pattern of neuron firing in our brains. Moravec argues that the essential human person is a pattern, not a material instantiation. Pattern-identity, he says, “defines the essence of a person, say myself, as the pattern and process going on in my head and body, not the machinery supporting that process. If the process is preserved, I am preserved. The rest is mere jelly.” (1988, 117, emphasis original). Any material housing for that pattern will do and the machine bodies he imagines will do quite nicely indeed. Moravec paints a lovely picture of the enormous powers that robot bodies will provide us (1999, 150-154). His “robot bush” takes after the branching leaf and root structures of plants, with each layer of branches smaller than the one form which it springs. The branches get smaller and smaller until they can operate on a nanoscale. Massive computation will enable the mind to control the many tiny digits at the ends. For the robot bush, “the laws of physics will seem to melt in the face of intention and will. As with no magician that ever was, impossible things will simply happen around a robot bush” (1988, 107-108, emphasis original). Kurzweil echoes Moravec’s belief that in the near future, mechanical bodies will greatly enhance the powers of human minds. He believes that nanotechnology will enable human beings to build far superior bodies (1999, 141). Maintaining all the advantages of a biological body (described as: suppleness, self-healing, and cuddliness), nanobodies will live longer, be more malleable to environmental changes, and allow faster computation times for the mind. But once we have successfully ported consciousness out of a human being and into a machine, why stop at the meager scale of our present lives? Eventually, human minds will eliminate their needs for bodily existence; after all, “[w]e don’t always need real bodies. If we happen to be in a virtual environment, then a virtual body will do just

fine” (Kurzweil 1999, 142). Once we overcome the limited aspiration for a better physical body, we can expand our horizons immensely. We will cease living in the physical world; our lives will play out in a virtual world and our minds will not, therefore, require any particular kind of embodiment. Our virtual selves will accomplish exactly what Isaiah prophesied millennia ago. “[T]here won’t be mortality by the end of the twenty-first century…Up until now, our mortality was tied to the longevity of our hardware…As we cross the divide to instantiate ourselves into our computational technology, our identity will be based on our evolving mind file. We will be software, not hardware.” (ibid., 128-129, emphasis original). We will become, in Moravec’s terms, “disembodied superminds” (1992a, 20). Of course, all software needs hardware, so we will not be truly disembodied. We will, however, cease identifying with our material bodies. We will replace living bodies with virtual bodies capable of transferal and duplication across the cosmic spread of machines. 32 In the future, human beings will reconfigure their bodies in order to participate in the Kingdom come. Whether as cyborgs, robots, or software, they will live forever, cast aside pain and want, and participate in a truly universal network of knowledge. This quest can be undertaken only after we replace our human bodies and join our mechanical children in the Virtual Kingdom. Tribulation Twentieth century apocalyptic worldviews, established through the terrors of the World Wars and the Cold War, infiltrated a broad spectrum of baby boomer culture. Just as artists, politicians, and everyday citizens lived with apocalyptic expectations, many scientists did. In the robotics and AI community, apocalyptic expectations of a new world inhabited by the elect in new bodies freed from their previous alienation took on a life of their own. In pop science books, these ideas attempt to guide scientific research in their fields. IV. Armageddon Realized: Lions among the Sheep A loud bang accompanies both the beginning and the end of the world. In the final days, there will be war and pain and sorrow and false prophets and much gnashing of teeth. Just as it follows Jewish and Christian apocalypses in so many other ways, the AI apocalypse will be a difficult time for those still living. The promise of a better future to come makes the apocalypse worthwhile but those who suffer through it must overcome conflict and war. The prospect of violence, maintained by many members of the Euro-American AI and robotics communities, threatens human survival past the singularity. 33 While Moravec and Kurzweil anticipate a joyful merger of human and machine, other popular science authors believe the coming of intelligent machines heralds violent confrontation—either between human beings and machines or among human beings themselves. Moravec does not believe that war and strife will characterize the future. He says that in the future, “antisocial robot software would sell poorly” (1999, 77). Although he acknowledges that such software exists currently, 34 it will “soon cease being

manufactured” (1992b, 52). Moravec wants to preserve the Edenic vision of his apocalypse, so he rejects the violence encoded in current funding priorities. Although he hopes the future will be peaceful, Moravec fails to secure that vision. He admits, for example, that each individual in the future will try to “subvert others to its purposes” (1999, 164). Any world in which individuals struggle for power over one another is a world in which violence will continue. Not all violence requires the use of atomic weaponry and self-piloting aircraft. Given that struggle remains vital to postapocalyptic life, we are hard pressed to believe his more idyllic promises. Daniel Crevier, author of an influential history of AI, believes that Moravec’s account of immortality is convincing (1993, 339) and looks forward to the possibility of spiritual evolution in an age of intelligent machines (341), but he fears that intelligent machines will have a ways to go before they fulfill their fantastic potential. He believes that early generations of human-equivalent AI will be psychotic and paranoid (318). Such machines would surely be a stumbling block on the way to peaceful paradise but Crevier believes, like Moravec, that such impediments will be overcome. Worse still, it is possible that robotic behavior might necessarily be what human beings would call psychotic. As machines get smarter and smarter, they might lose interest in taking care of human beings. According to Warwick, intelligent machines will have no need for human values or social skills (1997, 179). Naturally, he believes, they will desire domination over the human beings they come to outsmart (ibid., 274). 35 Warwick paints an ugly picture of the year 2050. By that time, he says, machines might rule the planet, using human beings as slaves to perform jobs that are inconvenient for robots. 36 Despite his pessimism, Warwick also hopes to overcome the dangers of AI through the “birth” of cyborgs. Although wars between human beings and machines, long a staple of science fiction, seem inevitable to Warwick, he takes no military funding and hopes that humanity will avoid becoming a slave species for more intelligent machines. Warwick hopes that by becoming cyborgs we will alleviate this concern. As human beings mesh with machines, they will acquire the same set of interests and motivations that the intelligent machines will have. Of course, this means that their values, desires, and needs may be drastically different from those of “natural” humans (2003, 136). At least something human may live to see the promised land. Whether machines alone become super-intelligent or whether they will be joined by cyborgs, a problematic split in values will appear on earth. Many human beings may disapprove of building machines or people that no longer share the basic assumptions of human nature. 37 Divergent values could lead to human beings fighting one another or they could lead to human beings fighting machines. Hugo de Garis appreciates strife because it is the harbinger of his technological dreams. Although he professes to lose sleep over the death of humanity, he looks forward to wars and rumors of wars. De Garis believes that human beings will fight one another over whether or not to build the machines, which he calls “artilects” (i.e. “artificial intellects”). As these wars will inevitably arise over the new technology, the wars must ultimately be considered good: their absence would signal the absence of massively intelligent machines. De Garis believes the rise of AI will lead to (a seemingly morally good) war between the people he calls Terrans (those who oppose such technologies) and those he

calls Cosmists (those who favor the technology). Even should humanity avoid warring over the building of intelligent machines, the machines themselves may decide that human beings are pests, in need of elimination (2005, 12). He does not mind that a pitched war may lead to the destruction of the human race because he believes that “godlike” machines will survive afterward. His cheerful acceptance of the doom of humankind recalls the early 20th century words of Frederick Grant:

one must not be unwilling to pay any cost, however great; for the Kingdom is worth more than anything in this world, even one’s life. Life, earthly happiness, the otherwise legitimate satisfactions of human desire, all may need to be let go; one must not hesitate at any sacrifice for the sake of entrance into the Kingdom. The Kingdom must be one’s absolute highest good, whole aim, completely satisfying and compensating gain (Grant 1917, 157). De Garis shares Grant’s faith in the overriding value of the Apocalypse. He even argues that the building of artilects who will eventually replace humankind is an act of religious worship (2005, 104). 38 The coming Kingdom is the seat of all meaning and value—any sacrifice that brings it about will be a worthy sacrifice. He describes the Cosmist leaders as “‘big picture’ types, former industrial giants, visionary scientists, philosophers, dreamers, individuals with powerful egos, who will be cold hearted enough and logical enough to be willing to trade a billion human lives for the sake of building one godlike artilect. To them, one godlike artilect is equivalent to trillions of trillions of trillions of humans anyway” (2005, 174, emphasis mine). No sacrifice of human lives will be too great. 39 Apocalyptic AI, taken as a whole, fails to offer absolute security to humanity but then again, so does religion. While evangelical Christians may adorn their cars with bumper stickers proclaiming “In case of Rapture, this car will be unoccupied,” they cannot be absolutely certain that they shall be among that number. Perhaps the Rapture will come and they will find themselves left behind. Apocalyptic AI raises the stakes of this fear—it suggests that all of humanity might miss out on the future paradise. This concern occupies some of the field’s leading figures, who desire to lead humanity into the bright new world. De Garis writes, he claims, in order that humanity can address the “artilect war” before it happens. Perhaps if we do so, he suggests, we will avoid catastrophe and find ourselves wedded permanently to our technology. 40 VI. Conclusion The eschatological and soteriological strategies of Jewish and Christian apocalyptic groups, which remained—sometimes overt, sometimes submerged—within Western theology even during the medieval and early modern periods, surface in Apocalyptic AI. Apocalyptic AI is the heir to these religious promises, not a bastardized version of them. We commonly speak of science and religion as though they are two separate endeavors but, while they do have important distinctions that make such everyday usage possible, 41 they are neither clearly nor permanently demarcated; the line separating the two changes from era to era and from individual to individual. It is not,

precisely, unscientific to make religious promises nor is it entirely irreligious to assert atheistic convictions. In Apocalyptic AI, technological research and religious categories come together in a stirringly well-integrated unit. The integration of religion and science in Apocalyptic AI demonstrates the continued need for historical analysis. Just as Apocalyptic AI sheds light on Biblical apocalypticism, the latter helps us understand Apocalyptic AI. Careful reading of ancient apocalyptic traditions allows us to understand what is at stake in pop science robotics and AI. Without that knowledge, Apocalyptic AI would be incoherent or invisible to us. In my analysis, there remains one glaring exception to the comparison between popular science AI and ancient apocalypticisms. From it stem other, less startling differences. In ancient apocalyptic texts and movements, a god operates to guarantee the victory of good over the forces of evil. In Apocalyptic AI, evolution operates to guarantee the victory of intelligent computation over the forces of ignorance and inefficiency. While both God and evolution offer transcendent guarantees about the future, their own moral status affects their historical goals. The death of God alters the apocalyptic morality play by changing the oppositions that are fundamental to the world. Both Apocalyptic AI and Judeo-Christian apocalyptic traditions share a dualistic view of the world. While the question of moral evil rarely, if ever, appears in Apocalyptic AI, 42 value judgments about right/wrong and good/bad do; these value judgments are attached to the dichotomies of virtual/physical and machine/human. The unpleasant half of such dichotomies is grounded in ignorance and inefficiency, over which evolution triumphs in the creation of intelligent, immortal machines capable of colonizing the entire cosmos and thereafter establishing a transcendent virtual realm. Contrary to Collins’s claim in The Encyclopedia of Apocalypticism, the victory of good over evil is not necessary in apocalypticism. Rather, the dualist view of the cosmos, tied to questions of alienation and the victory over it through the creation of a transcendent realm inhabited by purified beings offers a more inclusive, and more fruitful definition. That the struggle between good and evil is one possible interpretation of apocalyptic dualism cannot be denied. That the struggle between good and evil is the only interpretation of apocalyptic dualism must be denied. We are often tempted to conclude that some basic dissatisfaction leads to dualism but the opposite appears closer to the truth. Dualism is not arrived at inductively after we feel alienated by our bodies, politics, etc. Rather, dualism is the presumption by which we subsequently align the empirical world into the good and the bad. Apocalyptic AI’s rejection of the body, of finitude, and of human thoughts and emotions reflects a deeper expectation that the world is already divided into the good and the bad, rather than vice versa. Given the dualist worldview of Apocalyptic AI, such distaste is inevitable. Longstanding religious dreams of purity, perfection and immortality can be realized, say the Apocalyptic AI advocates, as long as we see them through scientific and technological lenses. The Virtual Kingdom rejects both traditional religion and traditional humanity. It enthusiastically endorses mechanical life and approves of human beings only insofar as we are able to step beyond the boundaries that make us human. The ultimate value of human life (rational computation) should be liberated from the body (and quite possibly the emotions) that characterize life as we know it. Our current reality is separated out into

what is good and bad, only by eliminating the physical and embracing the virtual, say Apocalyptic AI authors, can we return to the undifferentiated wholeness of the good. This comparison between ancient apocalyptic traditions to modern science shows the significance of religion-science studies to the wider field of religious studies and, from there, to the social goal of our discipline. In his analysis of the Jonestown massacre in the last chapter of Imagining Religion, J.Z. Smith argues that religious studies must be relevant to society (1982). Smith believes that when the academy reneges on its obligation to interpret modern events it destroys its own raison d’être. If we in the study of religion are unwilling or incapable of interpreting the ways in which the sacred responds to and helps shape scientific culture, then who will be? 43 The rapid development of computers and worldwide deployment of robots remains well within the radar of the sacred: the promises of and strategies employed by Apocalyptic AI stem from their religious environment. As “transhumanists” and “extropians” acquire increasing public attention, the significance of Apocalyptic AI will continue to grow. Analyzing Apocalyptic AI allows us to think through the modern world and, at the same time, throws light upon apocalypticism in the ancient world. Comparison with Apocalyptic AI clarifies the significance and nature of dualism, alienation, and transcendence of the world and the body in ancient apocalypticisms. Apocalypticism thrives in modern robotics and AI. Though many practitioners operate on a daily basis without regard for the fantastic predictions of the Apocalyptic AI community, the advocates of Apocalyptic AI are powerful voices in their fields and, through their pop science books, wider culture. Apocalyptic AI has absorbed the categories of Jewish and Christian apocalyptic theologies and utilizes them for scientific and supposedly secular aims. Scholars of religion have as much obligation as anyone, and more obligation than most, to help explore the characteristics of this movement and its ramifications upon wider culture.

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While the term “robot” includes machines with a wide variety of capabilities, which they usually carry out automatically, I am concerned with the robots that resemble human beings and carry out many or most human tasks. Such robots do not, as yet, exist; they remain the speculation of science fiction and future progress in the dual fields of robotics and artificial intelligence. Scientists design robots to take over human tasks, both physical and mental. The ultimate promise of robotics/AI always includes the hope that robots will provide us with unlimited recreation. For a summary of the difficulties in defining what counts as a robot and what does not, see Schodt 1988, 29-52. 2 Ray Kurzweil is a pioneer in optical character recognition, speech recognition, and other AI fields. He is a member of the National Inventors Hall of Fame and has been awarded both the Lemelson-MIT Prize (a $500,000 prize for invention and innovation) and the 1999 National Medal of Technology. Moravec is known for his contributions to the scientific literature on robot vision and navigation, including the influential Stanford Cart, the first computer controlled, autonomous vehicle. Howie Choset, one of his colleagues at the CMU Robotics Lab before Moravec retired, credits Moravec as the single most important figure in the study of mobile robots (2007). Moravec is also known for his oft-cited Mind Children and Robot, which will be the principle sources for this essay. Like Kurzweil’s The Age of Spiritual Machines, Mind Children has more than 100 academic citations and is widely accepted in discussions of transhumanism and futurism. Hugo de Garis is known for his work in evolvable hardware (the attempt to build artificial neurons through cellular automata theory). He has been rather less successful in his scientific work than have been Kurzweil, Moravec, and Warwick but his recent advocacy of a war over whether to build an artificially intelligent machine has received significant attention in the transhumanist community. Kevin Warwick is noted for both his research in robotics and his research in and advocacy of cyborg technologies. His studies of self-organization in robots significantly advanced cybernetics theory, and although his cyborgian efforts have been criticized as being more publicity stunts than effective research, they have contributed to the study of machine-neuron connectivity. 3 Robert Webb argues that ‘apocalypticism’ is not a useful term with regard to sociological movements and recommends the use of “millenarian movement” to refer to social groups and their ideologies (1990). He believes that ‘apocalypticism’ properly characterizes only the ideology of apocalypses. While Webb makes a strong point in directing us toward the common elision of the differences between a literary ideology and a social ideology, his use of ‘millenarian movement’ is also problematic. As he notes, Collins argues that there is little overlap between Jewish apocalyptic literature and millenarian movements (1984, 205). Moreover, the terminological clarity he seeks (and perhaps fails to achieve if Collins is correct) is overshadowed by the analytical confusion that arises in the progressive narrowing of apocalypticism’s meaning. If a group can no longer be apocalyptic, then we must refer to the characteristics of millenarian groups when addressing the social world of apocalyptic literature and apocalyptic eschatology. If we do this, we risk forcing an unwelcome mix of apocalyptic and millenarian characteristics. For this reason, while I applaud Webb’s call to terminological attention, I think applying the adjective ‘apocalyptic’ to a social movement is a reasonable approach and I will take it here (while trying to be careful so as to not confuse or conflate apocalyptic ideologies and apocalyptic movements). 4 Meeks considers three characteristics sufficient (though not necessary) to classify apocalyptic discourse. He argues that apocalyptic discourse is: revelatory, interpretive, and dualistic. Apocalyptic AI is certainly dualistic in its dichotomies of good/bad, knowledge/ignorance, machine/human being, virtual/physical. Likewise, it is interpretive in its approach to history, which supposedly justifies its conclusions about the future. It differs, however, in that it does not appear revelatory in the sense that Meeks illustrates; it is not based on “inaccessible” knowledge. Indeed, Apocalyptic AI advocates would argue that while their conclusions are in some sense invisible to the average person, this is only because the average person has not properly studied the signs. 5 I do not presume an identity between apocalyptic Judaism and apocalyptic Christianity. Indeed, as Joel Marcus has pointed out, there is vast difference amongst the apocalyptic views of contemporary Jews so to presume even so much as the identity of all ancient Jewish apocalypticisms would be presumptuous indeed (1996, 2). But, as studies of apocalypticism have shown, Jewish and Christian apocalyptic traditions are sufficiently similar to allow fruitful comparison. Moreover, the entire cultural legacy of the Judeo-Christian tradition is available to modern writers, thus justifying the somewhat totalizing approach taken. In this essay, a continuity of apocalypticism from Judaism through Christianity into modern technoscience is

presumed. This presumption stems from the presence of the features of apocalypticism outlined in the text: a dualist perspective on the cosmos, a new world, which resolves the dualism, to be inaugurated after a radical divide in history, the necessity of new bodies in order that human beings can share in the new world to come, and the preference for apocalypticism among alienated communities. Contradicting this thesis, Cook argues that apocalypticism is not tied to alienation or deprivation; he believes that apocalyptic writings in Ezekiel, Zechariah, and Joel stem from ruling priestly groups (1995). Likewise, M.C. de Boer points out that for Paul, alienation was a consequent, not a cause, of his conversion to Jesus’ mission (2000, 348). De Boer’s position presumes, however, that Jewish political life was stable and comfortable for Paul. While he may not have been subject to political persecution prior to his conversion, large segments of the Jewish community were uncomfortable precisely because political alienation was a constant fact under Roman rule. Horsley suggests that colonialism (in this case imperial domination from Rome) can lead to cultural retreat and, therefore, zealous persecution of sinners, a sequence he attributes as likely in the case of Saul/Paul (1993, 128-129). He believes that by Roman times, prolonged subjugation of Judea meant that society was “almost continually in circumstances of crisis” (ibid., 4), a position previously held by Russell (1978). Further, de Boer’s claim assumes that all alienation equals political alienation, a fact disputed by Webb (1990) and destabilized if we assume that Apocalyptic AI advocates are alienated. The principle form of alienation in Apocalyptic AI is distaste for the human bodily finitude. Apocalyptic AI advocates are, however, politically alienated, as seen in their desire to establish cultural authority to protect their research funding from perceived cultural threats (Geraci 2007). A tie between apocalypticism and alienation does not indicate that apocalypticism flourished among only conventicles, or small religious groups who have lost power struggles. Rather, just as Marx argued in economics, even the elite can suffer from alienation. Horsley and Russell rightly demonstrate that the apocalyptic imagination can arise from powerful groups who remain, nevertheless, alienated. Cook’s dispute with the term alienation stems from an overly strict interpretation thereof; he seems to think that political and economic alienation is the only kind and distinguishes ‘cognitive dissonance’ from this (1995, 16). Even Marx’s use of the term exceeds Cook’s. There is no reason to run from the word alienation when it so clearly evokes dissatisfaction and a feeling of ‘not being at home’ in a way that ‘cognitive dissonance’ does not. Moreover, Cook assumes that Temple priestly imagery constitutes priestly authorship and never details the psychological and social outlook of Temple priests. Indeed, in his review of Cook’s work, Peterson suggests post-exilic Temple priests may have had been subordinate to the power of bet ‘abot, or ‘ancestral houses’ (1997). Cook is right, however, in pointing out that alienation does not cause apocalypticism (1995, 40). Alienation is a characteristic of, not a cause of, apocalypticism. 6 All of the apocalyptic characteristics described in this paper can be directly related to a dualism in apocalyptic worldviews. There is always a struggle between a right way of thinking/living/seeing and a wrong way of thinking/living seeing. Malcolm Bull focuses on the dualistic nature of apocalyptic beliefs in his definition of apocalypticism as “the revelation of excluded undifferentiation” (1999, 83). For Bull, the centrality of undifferentiation in the apocalypse (92) marks its chief characteristic and the appropriate line of demarcation for defining the apocalyptic. Bull’s undifferentiation is visible in Apocalyptic AI, where the machine and the human being blur. 7 “Apocalyptic,” notes D.S. Russell, “is a language of crisis” (1978, 6). 8 This is not, of course, the first time that Jews had such difficulties. The history of Judaism after the conquest of Jerusalem by Babylon has almost presumed the political alienation of the Jews. As Collins points out, “even those who wielded power in post-exilic Judah experienced relative deprivation in the broader context of the Persian empire” (2000b, 133), likewise those of the Hellenistic period (ibid., 147). . 9 On opposition to the Jewish elite and Roman rule, see Horsley 2000. According to Horsley, early Christian writings (e.g. Q and the Gospel of Mark) opposed earthly rulers and looked forward to a renewed Israel. 10 Jews and Christians expected an imminent end to history (4Q247, 4 Ezra 5:4, Mark 8:1, 13:30, 1 Cor. 7:25-31, Rev. 22:7, 10, 12). Although most Jewish and Christian groups reevaluated eschatological time frames and seemingly ceased believing that the world would end in their lifetimes, in the apocalyptic communities of Greek and Roman rule Jews and Christians both expected a short end to the world. Identification of the precise timing of the apocalypse is always challenging, especially when so many documents, as has been the case in the Qumran findings, are damaged. The fragmented Qumran Apocalypse of Weeks, however, appears to indicate that the final stage of history will be the rule of the

Kittim—presumably the Romans. Collins maintains a similar position in his interpretation of the Hodayot. He believes that the “eschatological drama is already under way” for the author of 1QH3 (1984, 138). 11 Historical events, especially those of disaster and evil, have meaning only insofar as they proceed towards the end of the world and the establishment of the Kingdom. That fulfillment of God’s promise to remake the world is the cause of every event, and thus the source of the event’s meaningfulness. 12 1 Enoch is, according to Collins, the first literal expectation of the world’s recreation in Jewish apocalypticism (as opposed to a presumably metaphorical expectation in Isaiah) (2000b, 141). 13 God is always just about to create a new world in apocalyptic imaginings. The imminent end of the world is predicted among Jews (4 Ezra 4:26, 2 Bar. 85:10) and Christians (Mk. 13:30, 1 Thess. 4:13-18, Rev. 22:7). To know that one’s alienation might someday be resolved in the distant future of subsequent generations millennia from now would little improve one’s mood. Knowing that God plans on rectifying the world in the very near future gives hope to the downtrodden. There is no reason to believe that all apocalyptic alienation serves the same purpose. For example, the apocalyptic writings of first century Judaism before the Temple was destroyed may have been calls to war but those after the destruction of the temple brought relief without necessarily leading to revolution (Collins 2000b, 159). 14 This kind of apocalypticism is often called post-millenarian in Christianity. Because the return of Jesus is expected after the millennium of peace (rather than a necessary precursor to it), we can expect the world to slowly improve over the course of history before culminating in the Second Coming. Early modern scientists often reflected this attitude in their promises of technological progress. They argued that scientific and, more importantly, technological progress improved humanity’s life on earth and was, therefore, part of the divine promise. When integrated into apocalyptic thought, however, such learning was not “for its own sake” but rather for the sake of God or of the Kingdom come. Thus, meaning is inextricable from the salvific future. 15 E.g. see 4 Ez 7:88-99. 16 Bodily resurrection first occurs in Ezekiel 37: “I am going to open your graves, and bring you up from your graves, O my people; and I will bring you back to the land of Israel” (Ezek 37:12; see also Isa 25:8 and 26:19). For Ezekiel, however, resurrection referred to a restored nation of Israel, not to a literal resurrection of the faithful. 17 It may well have been the metaphorical Ezekiel who set this paradigm. Ezekiel’s resurrection apparently refers to the revived nation of Israel but his language affirmed the need for physical, if perhaps divinely transformed, bodies when later apocalyptics began to reinterpret the notion of resurrection in Jewish belief. In the perfect world to come, death will be annihilated. The bodies of the saved will be incorruptible, imperishable. This tradition traces back at least as far as the apocalyptic portions of Isaiah. “No more shall there be in [the new world] an infant that lives but a few days, or an old person who does not live out a lifetime; for one who dies at a hundred years will be considered a youth” (Isa 65:20). Subsequently, Biblical authors expected the bodily resurrection to do more than just raise bodies from the ground. The early Jews and Christians believed that bodily resurrection would include a transformation of the body into something superior (2 Bar 51:3-10, Mark 12:25, Lk 20: 35-36). 18 In ancient Jewish and Christian apocalyptic traditions, the saved resemble celestial bodies (equated with angels) in their glory. Comparing the resurrected body to the sun, the moon, and the stars, Paul says, “What is sown is perishable, what is raised is imperishable. It is sown in dishonor, it is raised in glory. It is sown in weakness, it is raised in power. It is sown a physical body, it is raised a spiritual body” (1 Cor 15:42-44; see also Phil 3:21). Likewise, 2 Baruch declares that the saved “shall be glorified in changes, and the form of their face shall be turned into the light of their beauty, that they may be able to acquire and receive the world which does not die, which is promised to them” (51:3-4) and “they shall be made equal to the stars” (51:9) 19 For example, the “perishable body must put on imperishability, and this mortal body must put on immortality” (1 Cor 15:53-54). 20 Although Moravec recognizes that natural evolution is “blind” (1988, 158-159), he believes that “competitive diversity will allow a Darwinian evolution to continue, weeding out ineffective ways of thought” (1999, 165). The shift from competition for resources to competition for thought shows that Moravec believes evolution is teleological. More open in his faith, de Garis asserts that perhaps “the rise of the artilect is inherent in the laws of physics” (2005, 175). Artilect is de Garis’s term for a machine with “godlike” intelligence.

The coincidence of both historical progress and an otherworldly journey appears to differentiate Apocalyptic AI from ancient apocalypses. Generally, apocalypses contain either narratives of historical progress or otherworldly journeys but the Apocalypse of Abraham is a notable exception. While it may be rare for an apocalypse to contain both elements, it is not unheard of. 22 Even the academic study of apocalypticism reflects this kind of attitude. Concern with ancient apocalyptic beliefs arose out of the apparent risk of worldwide destruction in the mid 20th century (Russell 1978, Bull 2000). 23 That Apocalyptic AI is ultimately optimistic can be traced in part to the optimism inherent in apocalyptic worldviews (Meeks 2000) but also to the specifically 20th century interpretations of apocalyptic possibility. In “Apocalypse Then,” Robert Torry argues 1950s science-fiction films harness the dangers of an atomic war to improve the world (1991). Torry shows how When Worlds Collide, The Day the Earth Stood Still, and War of the Worlds were all metaphors for atomic conflict and how each ultimately affirms the possibility of apocalyptic salvation. The apocalyptic imagination of late 20th century AI and robotics no doubt reflects the “beneficial apocalypse” of mid-century science fiction. 24 Apocalyptic AI advocates are primarily concerned with their bodily alienation but there is a degree to which political concerns over funding and public authority demonstrate perceived political alienation. The desire for cultural authority clearly plays a role in researchers’ willingness to write pop science books, as the books inevitably “prove” both the enormous significance of robotics/AI research and the superiority of their authors as social commentators/directors (see Geraci 2007). It need not be maintained, however, that Apocalyptic AI requires political alienation in order to qualify as apocalyptic. Webb points out that apocalyptic alienation (crisis, in his terms) does not have any exclusive definition; he recognizes psychological, social, religious, economic, and political factors in his approach to the social world of apocalyptic imagination (1990, 125). 25 In separating rational thought and problem solving from the body, the emotions, etc., Apocalyptic AI advocates miss the importance of these in the rational thinking process, which cannot function properly without them (Damasio 1994). 26 For another example, see Benson 1993. 27 Western technology has a long association with God’s Kingdom. For example, David F. Noble has argued that medieval millenarianism has been integrated into a wide array of 20th century technologies (1997) and David E. Nye has demonstrated the relevance of millenarian thinking to the development of land use technologies in early American history (2003). The promises of Apocalyptic AI are the latest in this historical trend. 28 Christians have divided in their interpretation of this passage, either believing that Jesus will personally inaugurate the 1000 years or that they will occur prior to his arrival. These two beliefs are called premillenialism and post-millenialism, respectively. Many of the founders of modern science and technology were post-millenialist, arguing that the technology would produce a wonderful world, a return to Eden, which would subsequently be destroyed upon the coming of Jesus. Apocalyptic AI shares in this tradition, with the obvious exception of the role of Jesus/God. 29 Daniel Crevier argues that building machines smarter than human beings will effectively purify intelligence, removing the stain of its prior life (1993, 307). Like most Apocalyptic AI advocates, he believes that information exists in a transcendent realm (1993, 48). It is to this transcendent world that Apocalyptic AI hopes to bring human minds. 30 Newman offers a particularly effective portrayal of our ambivalence toward alchemical creation (2004). He shows that since Greek times we have been both admiring and suspicious of artistic mimesis, in some cases unsure which is the greater but tending toward faith in the natural (unless, of course, we are alchemists!). Even the creation of gold was a potentially mortal sin, as in it the alchemist would pretend to rival God (ibid., 222). Already in the medieval period, debate raged over whether human beings could produce an artificial man and, if so, whether it would be superior to human beings (ibid., 35-36). 31 Warwick is outright suspicious of the feasibility of such a program (1997, 180-181). 32 Even Warwick’s cyborgs, though they will not be disembodied superminds, will operate in a cosmic internet, having shifted computation/thinking to hardware linked to the global network. 33 While Westerners often decry the destructive power of robotics and AI, this fear is largely absent in Japan, where other highly influential research continues. Religious differences between Japan and the West promote many differences between their respective approaches to robotics and AI (Geraci 2006). One important difference lies in the dynamic of power between intelligent machines and human beings. As is

apparent in this paper, human beings serve the interests of intelligent machines in the West. In Japan, however, intelligent machines are expected to serve the interests of human beings. Obviously, when human beings become subservient to machines those machines will appear threatening to many people. 34 The United States’ military is the world’s largest source of funding for robotics and AI. The military, of course, has a vested interest in “antisocial” software and one is hard pressed to think of why that would change. For a review of military values and robotics/AI see Geraci 2005, 104-112. 35 Of all social values we might hope to instill in machines, Warwick expresses confidence in instilling only our will to power. Although he opposes military uses for AI and robotics (1997, 210), he subconsciously accepts that the machines of the future will be military machines. He never attempts to explain why smarter machines will necessarily desire dominance; he simply assumes it to be the case. Given the role of the military in the wider robotics and AI world, however, his faith may be well-founded 36 Fear that machines will replace us, from Warwick and Bill Joy (who oppose the possibility) to Moravec, Kurzweil, and de Garis (who approve of it, though in different ways), are based upon the presumption that the essential “humanness” to be imparted in them is substantial or functional. That is, if human beings are defined as possessing certain kinds of substances (e.g. reason) or functional abilities (e.g. running or world domination), then surely we have much reason to fear the rise of the machines. If, however, the ability to form relationships with one another is the essentially human attribute that we hope to instill in machines then we have little to fear from them (Hertzfeld 2002, 312). 37 Kurzweil also recognizes that many human beings might oppose advanced AI technology, especially those economically disenfranchised by the machines. He supposes, however, that in the future “the underclass [will be] politically neutralized” (1999, 196). Kurzweil never bats an eyelash at this statement or its wider implication for the poor or those other groups who may oppose the disenfranchisement the machines threaten (which far exceeds the economic sphere). 38 This position has an interesting parallel in the claims of the Lutheran theologian Anne Foerst (2004, 3241). Foerst also asserts that building intelligent machines is an act of religious worship but for her it is to participate in the co-creation of the world, not in the creation of a god. Engineering becomes prayer, approved and encouraged by the Christian God. We should build companions in her account, rather than successors. Some difficulties in this position appear in Geraci (Forthcoming). 39 This has a parallel in ancient writings. In the Apocalypse of Abraham, for example, sacrifice is required for Abraham to enter heaven. Of course, Abraham doesn’t intend to sacrifice the human race! 40 Warwick and Kurzweil echo de Garis in this. Both raise possible threats to humanity but remain hopeful—Kurzweil is always more positive than de Garis, Warwick is so on his happier days—that humanity will merge with machines and join in the joyful life everlasting. 41 The most important such demarcation is that science makes no recourse to the supernatural. While there are specifically religious kinds of promises in Apocalyptic AI, their transcendent guarantee comes from directly within nature…evolution is held to be the key to our future salvation. 42 When morality does appear in Apocalyptic AI, such as in de Garis’s artilect war, the values are inverted. What we once thought to be evil (such as total human genocide) is, he tells us, actually good. 43 We have, moreover, an obligation to promote an historical, philosophical, and sociological analysis of religion and science that goes beyond the current paradigms in such study. Most late 20th century approaches to religion and science (Brooke and Cantor (1998) is the best known exception) stray little from Ian Barbour’s four-fold typology of religion-science interactions: conflict, separation, dialogue, integration (Barbour 1997). That typology, which has a semi-theological aim (Cantor and Kenny 2001) is exploded in a description of Apocalyptic AI. Clearly, the competition for cultural authority between AI advocates and theologians could be seen as a form of conflict, but the basis for AI claims to authority is, itself, grounded in the sacred traditions of Western religion! Therefore, both conflict and integration appear simultaneously, with the latter reconfigured, denying that integration necessarily means the cheerful merger of truths envisioned by Barbour and others.

Is Kabbalah Rational After All?
By N.S. PALMER FEBRUARY 1, 2016 00:03Email Twitter Facebook fb-messenger
Breaking news (photo credit: JPOST STAFF)
Breaking news
(photo credit: JPOST STAFF)
“Whereof we cannot speak, about that we must remain silent,” [1] advised the Austrian Jewish philosopher Ludwig Wittgenstein.
People are never very good at remaining silent. That’s true even for things we can’t talk about in ways that make any sense.
Kabbalah (Jewish mysticism) [2] is an extended exercise in talking about things we can’t talk about. As a result, it's easy to dismiss Kabbalah as mythology, poetry, and the fevered visions of madmen.
But that’s a mistake. Speaking in imagery and metaphor, Kabbalah points to some important truths about our world. It only points to them because it can’t articulate them, at least not very well. Neither can I. But they’re still true.
Jewish rationalists like me tend to regard Kabbalah as an embarrassment. But let’s take a cue from Yoram Hazony, who asked an interesting question about the Bible:
”What if the texts … or many of them are in fact much closer to being works of reason than anything else -- only we don’t know it because this fact has been suppressed (and continues to be suppressed) by an alien interpretive framework that prevents us from seeing much of what is in these texts?” [3]
Might the Kabbalah contain rational insights that we've overlooked because they’re stated in obscure and mythological terms? Philosophy has been defined as an attempt to answer three questions:
* What exists?
* How do we know?
* Therefore, how should we live?

A key insight of Kabbalah, and of mysticism generally, is that some answers to the first question -- What exists? -- elude our ability to understand or express in language. Because the answers can’t be expressed in language, Kabbalists can't simply state them. Instead, they try to lead us to the answers by devices such as images, meditations, rituals, and stories. Some of the answers seem to be:
* God causes everything to exist. [4]
* God is both transcendent and immanent. In one sense, God is separate from the world, and in another sense, God is in everything.
* God uses language to create the world we see around us.
* The world has an underlying unity. Our separation of reality into different things, times, places, and events is a superficial illusion.
A contemporary example of this view is given by Arthur Green, one of our professors at Hebrew College:
”Unity is the only truth, and all divisions of reality, including the most primal dualities (God/world, good/evil, male/female, and lots more) are relative falsehoods. That does not mean, I hasten to add, that we can or should live without them.” [5]
One Kabbalistic source of answers to the first question is the Sefer Yetzirah (The Book of Creation). We aren’t sure exactly when it was written or by whom, though it was probably written between the first and ninth centuries CE. It describes the world as having three layers: cosmos, time, and humanity. God created the world by using the 22 letters of the Hebrew alphabet and 10 sefirot:
”With 32 mystical paths of Wisdom engraved [Hashem], the Lord of Hosts, the God of Israel … And He created His universe with three books: with text, with number, and with communication.” [6]
Rabbi Aryeh Kaplan (1934-1983) explains:
”These 32 paths are manifest as the 10 digits and the 22 letters of the Hebrew alphabet. The 10 digits also manifest in the Ten Sefirot, which are the most basic concepts of existence … The letters and digits are the basis of the most basic ingredients of creation, quality and quantity … Numbers, however, cannot be defined until there existed some element of plurality [which] came into existence only with the advent of creation.” [7]
Another writer explains the implications:
”The idea that the universe was created by Divine speech is an ancient one in Judaism, and the Sefer Yetzirah developed it systematically. The principle seems to be that if creation is accomplished by language, then the laws of creation are the laws of language. Grammar was thus conceived as the basic law of nature … Everything in the universe, following grammatical principles, has two aspects, parallel to the gender duality of masculine and feminine.” [8]
That sounds familiar in a couple of ways.
First, it’s consistent with Ancient Near Eastern ideas about what it means for something to exist:
“In the ancient world something came into existence when it was separated out as a distinct entity, given a function, and given a name.” [9]
Second, it sounds a lot like the ideas of rationalist philosophers in our own era. They argue that mind creates the world by superimposing a layer of plurality over an underlying unity. On their view, whatever the ultimate nature of reality is, reality for us inevitably refers to the minds that experience and understand it:
”In one sense my mind is in my head, in another sense my head is in my mind. In one sense I am in space, in another sense space is in me.” [10]
University of Pittsburgh philosopher Nicholas Rescher explains further:
”The very being of a particular [thing] lies in its possession of a distinguishing individuality. But the very idea of an individual calls for the existence of criteria of identity to specify how it would be distinguished from other individuals. And a criterion is an inherently mind-invoking conceptual resource.” [11]
In other words, the existence of separate things, in various categories and with various names, depends on a mind that separates them, puts them in categories, and gives them names -- Just as the Sefer Yetzirah attributes to God’s creative activity. Without such conscious activity, the world remains “formless and void.”
Metaphysics and Mythology
What might have happened is that the Kabbalistic writers were trying to understand two kinds of realities: transcendent realities involving God, and non-transcendent realities involving the world and how it came into existence.
As they contemplated transcendent realities, the Kabbalists dreamed up all kinds of images and metaphors in their attempt to comprehend the incomprehensible. When they turned their attention to more mundane realities that were actually comprehensible, they still thought in terms of the fantastic imagery they'd constructed to picture the Divine -- so that's what they used. The result was to obscure instead of instruct.
There's a lot in the Kabbalistic literature, both for philosophical insights and for purely artistic enjoyment. We shouldn't dismiss Kabbalah simply because it's become a popular tourist destination for Gentile celebrities.
Works Cited
Bosanquet, B. (1895), Essentials of Logic. Kraus Reprint Company, New York.
Dan, J. (2006), Kabbalah: A Very Short Introduction. Oxford University Press, Oxford, UK. Kindle edition.
Green, A. (2003), Ehyeh: A Kabbalah for Tomorrow. Jewish Lights Publishing, Woodstock, VT. Kindle edition.
Hazony, Y. (2012), The Philosophy of Hebrew Scripture. Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, UK.
Kaplan, A., translator (1990), Sefer Yetzirah: The Book of Creation. Samuel Weiser, Inc., York Beach, ME.
Matt, D. (1995), The Essential Kabbalah. HarperCollins, New York.
Rescher, N. (1973), Conceptual Idealism. Basil Blackwell, Oxford, UK.
Walton, J. (2006), Ancient Near Eastern Thought and the Old Testament. Baker Academic, Grand Rapids, MI. Kindle edition.
Wittgenstein, L. (1961), Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus. Routledge & Kegan Paul, London, UK.
Footnotes
1. Wittgenstein, L. (1961), p. 150. My translation of the German text “Wovon man nicht sprechen kann, daruber muss man schweigen.”
2. The term “kabbalah” has been used to refer to Jewish mysticism, non-Jewish mysticism, and to non-mystical elements of the Jewish tradition. This blog post is only about the first.
3. Hazony, Y. (2012), p. 1.
4. Causation by God is not causation in the normal, scientific sense. It does not occur in time, although we might perceive it that way. Divine causation is beyond our understanding.
5. Green, A. (2003), loc. 132.
6. Kaplan, A. (1990), p. 5.
7. Ibid, p. 5.
8. Dan, J. (2006), loc. 412.
9. Walton, J. (2006), loc. 1466.
10. Bosanquet, B. (1895), p. 17.
11. Rescher, N. (1973), p. 99.

Originally Presented at the 2001 Annual Meeting of the
Society for Social Studies of Science
Cambridge, MA
November 1-4, 2001

For more information please contact:
James Hughes Ph.D.
Public Policy Studies, Trinity College,
71 Vernon St., Hartford CT, 06106, 860-297-2376,
[email protected], www.changesurfer.com

Transhumanism is an emergent philosophical movement which says that humans can and should become more than human through technological enhancements. Contemporary transhumanism has grown out of white, male, affluent, American Internet culture, and its political perspective has generally been a militant version of the libertarianism typical of that culture. Nonetheless transhumanists are becoming more diverse, with some building a broad liberal democratic philosophic foundation in the World Transhumanist Association. A variety of left futurist trends and projects are discussed as a proto-“democratic transhumanism.” The essay also discusses the reaction of transhumanists to a small group of neo-Nazis who have attempted to attach themselves to the transhumanist movement. For the transhumanist movement to grow and become a serious challenge to their opposites, the bio-Luddites, they will need to distance themselves from their elitist anarcho-capitalist roots and clarify commitments to liberal democratic institutions, values and public policies. By embracing political engagement and the use of government to address equity, safety and efficacy concerns about transhuman technologies, transhumanists are in a better position to attract a larger, broader audience.

When it comes to political memes, transhumanism in its purest form doesn't have any fixed niche. Instead each host or group of hosts link it to their previous political views. (Sandberg, 1994)

Since the advent of the Enlightenment, the idea that the human condition can be improved through reason, science and technology has been mated with all varieties of political ideology. Partisans of scientific human betterment have generally been opponents of, and opposed by, the forces of religion, and therefore have generally tilted towards cosmopolitan, cultural liberalism. But there have been secular cosmopolitans, committed to human progress through science, who were classical liberals or “libertarians,” as well as liberal democrats, social democrats and communists. There have also been technocratic fascists, attracted to racialism by eugenics, and to nationalism by the appeal of the unified, modernizing nation-state.

With the emergence of cyberculture, the technoutopian meme-plex has found a natural medium, and has been furiously mutating and crossbreeding with political ideologies. One of its recent manifestations has adopted the label “transhumanism,” and within this sparsely populated but broad ideological tent many proto-ideological hybrids are stirring. Much transhumanist proto-politics is distinctly the product of elitist, male, American libertarianism, limiting its ability to respond to concerns behind the growing Luddite movement, such as with the equity and safety of innovations. Committed only to individual liberty, libertarian transhumanists have little interest in building solidarity between “posthumans” and “normals,” or in crafting techno-utopian projects which can inspire broad social movements.

In this paper I will briefly discuss the political flavors of transhumanism that have developed in the last dozen years, including extropian libertarianism, the liberal democratic World Transhumanist Association, “neo-Nazi transhumanism,” and radical democratic transhumanism. In my closing remarks I will suggest ways that a broader democratic transhumanism may take shape that would have a better chance of attracting a mass following and securing a political space for the kinds of human self-improvement that the transhumanists envision.

This is really what is unique about the Extropian movement: the fusion of radical technological optimism with libertarian political philosophy… one might call it libertarian transhumanism. (Goertzel, 2000)

In the 1980s, a young British graduate student, Max O’Connor, became interested in futurist ideas and life extension technologies while studying philosophy and political economy at Oxford. In the mid-1980s he became one of the pioneers of cryonics in England. After finishing at Oxford in 1988, having been impressed with the United States’ dynamism and openness to future-oriented ideas, O’Connor began his doctoral studies in philosophy at the University of Southern California. At USC he began mixing with the local futurist subculture, and soon teamed up with another graduate student, T.O. Morrow, to found the technoutopian journal Extropy.

O’Connor and Morrow adopted the term “extropy,” the opposite of “entropy,” as the core symbol of their philosophy and goals: life extension, the expansion of human powers and control over nature, expansion into space, and the emergence of intelligent, organic, spontaneous order. O’Connor also adopted the new name Max More as a sign of his commitment to “what my goal is: always to improve, never to be static. I was going to get better at everything, become smarter, fitter, and healthier. It would be a constant reminder to keep moving forward" (Regis, 1994).

In early issues of Extropy magazine More began to publish successive versions and expositions of his “Extropian Principles.” In the early 1990s the Principles resolved down to five:

1. BOUNDLESS EXPANSION: Seeking more intelligence, wisdom, and effectiveness, an unlimited lifespan, and the removal of political, cultural, biological, and psychological limits to self-actualization and self-realization. Perpetually overcoming constraints on our progress and possibilities. Expanding into the universe and advancing without end.

2. SELF-TRANSFORMATION: Affirming continual psychological, intellectual, and physical self-improvement, through reason and critical thinking, personal responsibility, and experimentation. Seeking biological and neurological augmentation.

3. DYNAMIC OPTIMISM: Positive expectations fueling dynamic action. Adopting a rational, action-based optimism, shunning both blind faith and stagnant pessimism.

4. INTELLIGENT TECHNOLOGY: Applying science and technology creatively to transcend "natural" limits imposed by our biological heritage, culture, and environment.

5. SPONTANEOUS ORDER: Supporting decentralized, voluntaristic social coordination processes. Fostering tolerance, diversity, foresight, personal responsibility and individual liberty.

In 1991 the extropians founded an email list, taking advantage of the dramatic expansion of Internet culture. The Extropian email list, and its associated regional and topical email lists, have attracted thousands of subscribers and have carried an extremely high volume of posts for the last decade. Most people who consider themselves extropians have never met other extropians, and participate only in this virtual community. There are however small groups of extropians who meet together socially in California, Washington D.C. and Boston.

In the first issue of Extropy in 1988 More and Morrow included libertarian politics as one of the topics the magazine would promote. In 1991 Extropy focused on the principle of emergent order, publishing an essay by T.O. Morrow on David Friedman’s anarcho-capitalist concept of "Privately Produced Law", and an article from Max More on "Order Without Orderers". In these essays Morrow and More made clear the journal’s commitment to radical libertarianism, an ideological orientation shared by most of the young, well-educated, American men attracted to the extropian list. The extropian milieu saw the state, and any form of egalitarianism, as a potential threat to their personal self-transformation. More’s fifth principle “Spontaneous Order” distilled their Hayek and Ayn Rand-derived belief that an anarchistic market creates free and dynamic order, while the state and its life-stealing authoritarianism is entropic.

In 1992 More and Morrow founded the Extropy Institute, which held its first conference in 1994. At Extro 1 in Sunnyvale California, the keynote speaker was the controversial computer scientist Hans Moravec, speaking on the how humans would be inevitably superceded by robots. Eric Drexler, a cryonics promoter and the founder of the field of nanotechnology, also addressed the conference. Also in attendance was journalist Ed Regis (1994) whose subsequent article on the Extropians in Wired magazine greatly increasing the group’s visibility. The second Extro conference was held in 1995, Extro 3 was held in 1997, Extro 4 in 1999, and Extro 5 in 2001. Each conference has attracted more prominent scientists, science fiction authors and futurist luminaries.

In the wake of all this attention, the extropians also began to attract withering criticism from progressive culture critics. In 1996 Wired contributor Paulina Borsook debated More in an on-line forum in the Wired website, taking him to task for selfishness, elitism and escapism. She subsequently published the book Cyberselfish: A Critical Romp through the Terribly Libertarian Culture of High Tech (2001). Mark Dery excoriated the extropians and a dozen related techno-culture trends in his 1997 Escape Velocity, coining the dismissive phrase “body-loathing” for those, like the extropians, who want to escape from their “meat puppet” (body).

The extropian list often was filled with vituperative attacks on divergent points of view, and those who had been alienated by the extropians but were nonetheless sympathetic with transhumanist views began to amount a sizable group. Although More’s wife, Natasha Vita-More, is given prominent acknowledgement of her transhumanist arts and culture projects, there are few women involved in the extropian subculture, and there have been women who left the list citing the dominant adolescent, hyper-masculine style of argumentation. In a February/March 2002 poll more than 80% of extropians were male, and more than 50% were under 30 years old (ExiCommunity Polls, 2002). In 1999 and 2000 the European fellow-travelers of the extropians began to organize and meet, and the World Transhumanist Association was organized with founding documents distinctly less libertarian than the Extropian Principles. In the latter 1990s, as transhumanism broadened its social base, a growing number of non-libertarian voices began to make themselves heard on the extro email lists.

Responding to these various trends and presumably his own philosophical maturation, More revamped his principles in 2000 from Version 2.6 to Version 3.0, and from five principles into seven: 1. Perpetual Progress, 2. Self-Transformation, 3. Practical Optimism, 4. Intelligent Technology, 5. Open Society, 6. Self-Direction, and 7. Rational Thinking. In Version 3.0, More adapts the previous, anarcho-capitalist “Spontaneous Order” into the much more moderately libertarian:

5. Open Society Supporting social orders that foster freedom of speech, freedom of action, and experimentation. Opposing authoritarian social control and favoring the rule of law and decentralization of power. Preferring bargaining over battling, and exchange over compulsion. Openness to improvement rather than a static utopia.

6. Self-Direction — Seeking independent thinking, individual freedom, personal responsibility, self-direction, self-esteem, and respect for others

In a more extensive commentary on his 3.0 principles More explicitly departs from the elitist, Randian position of enlightened selfishness, and argues for both a consistent rule of law and for civic responsibility.

“..for individuals and societies to flourish, liberty must come with personal responsibility. The demand for freedom without responsibility is an adolescent’s demand for license.” (More, 2000).

He also argues that extropianism is not “libertarian” and can be compatible with a number of different types of liberal “open societies,” although not in theocracies or authoritarian or totalitarian systems. (More, 2000).

However, as a casual review of the traffic on the extropian lists confirms, the majority of extropians remain staunch libertarians. In a survey of extropian list participants conducted in February and March

of 2002, 56% of the respondents identified as "libertarian" or "anarchist/self-governance," with another 15% committed to (generally minarchist) alternative political visions (ExiCommunity Polls, 2002).[1][1] In the recommended “economics and society”reading list that More attaches to the 3.0 version of the principles, the political economy readings still strongly suggest an anarcho-capitalist orientation:

As the Julian Simon readings suggest, most extropians also remain explicitly and adamantly opposed to the environmental movement, advancing the arguments of Julian Simon and others that the eco-system is not really threatened, and if it is, the only solution is more and better technology[2][2]. There are occasional discussions on the extropian list about the potential downsides or catastrophic consequences of emerging technologies, but these are generally waved off as being either easily remediable or acceptable risks given the tremendous rewards.

This form of argumentation is more understandable in the context of the millennial apocalyptic expectations which most transhumanists have adopted, referred to as “the Singularity.” The extropians’ Singularity is a coming rupture in social life, brought about by some confluence of genetic, cybernetic and nano technologies. The concept of the Singularity was first proposed by science fiction author Vernor Vinge in a 1993 essay, referring specifically to the apocalyptic consequences of the emergence of self-willed artificial intelligence, projected to occur with the next couple of decades. In a February-March 2002 poll of extropians, the average year in which respondents expected “the next major breakthrough or shakeup that will radically reshape the future of humanity” was 2017. Only 21% said there would be “no such event, just equal acceleration across all areas.” The majority of extropians who expected a Singularity expected it to emerge from computing or artificial intelligence, a medical breakthrough or an advance in nanotechnology (ExiCommunity Polls, 2002).

Among millenarian movements, belief in the Singularity is uniquely grounded in rational, scientific argument about measurable exponential trends. For instance, “singularitarians” such as Ray Kurzweil (Kurzweilai.net) map the exponential growth of computing power (“Moore’s Law”) and memory against the computing capacity of the human brain to argue for the immanence of machine minds. However, the popularity of the idea of the Singularity also stems from the transcultural appeal of visions of apocalypse and redemption. The Singularity is a vision of techno-Rapture for secular, alienated, relatively powerless, techno-enthusiasts (Bozeman, 1997).[3][3] The appeal of the Singularity for libertarians such as the extropians is that, like the Second Coming, it does not require any specific collective action. The Singularity is literally a deus ex machina. Ayn Rand envisioned society sinking into chaos once the techno-elite withdrew into their Valhalla. But the Singularity will elevate the techno-savvy elite while most likely wiping out everybody else.

For instance, responding to a challenge from Mark Dery about the socio-economic implications of robotic ascension, Extropian Board member Hans Moravec responded ““the socioeconomic implications are … largely irrelevant. It doesn’t matter what people do, because they’re going to be left behind like the second stage of a rocket. Unhappy lives, horrible deaths, and failed projects have been part of the history of life on Earth ever since there was life; what really matters in the long run is what’s left over” (Moravec quoted by Goertzel, 2000). Working individually to stay on the cutting edge of technology, transforming oneself into a post-human, is the extropian’s best insurance of surviving and prospering through the Singularity.

In the last couple of years the neo-Luddite movement has grown in coordination and political visibility, from movements against gene-mod food, cloning and stem cells, to President Bush’s appointment of staunch bio-conservative ethicist Leon Kass as his chief bioethics advisor and chair of the President’s Council on Bioethics (PCB). Kass in turn appointed fellow bio-Luddites to the PCB, such as Francis Fukuyama, author of the recent anti-genetic engineering manifesto Our Posthuman Future: Consequences of the Biotechnology Revolution (2002).

Despite faith in the inevitability of the millennium, the neo-Luddites have sufficiently alarmed the extropians that in 2001 Natasha Vita-More announced the creation of the Progress Action Coalition ("Pro-Act"), an extropian political action committee. The group’s announced intention is to build a coalition of groups to defend high technology against the Luddites.

Speaking at the event, artist and "cultural catalyst" Natasha Vita-More, Pro-Act Director, said the fledgling organization aims to build a coalition of groups that will take on a broad range of neo-Luddites opposed to new technologies such as genetic engineering, nanotechnology and artificial intelligence, ranging from Bill Joy to Greenpeace, Jeremy Rifkin's Foundation for Economic Trends, the Green party, and the current protestors at the BIO2001 conference in San Diego. (Angelica, 2001)

The group is still being established, but the set of scientific and cultural members, supporters and fellow-travelers that the extropians have collected could be leveraged for considerable political effect. Engaging in actual political campaigns to defeat anti-cloning or anti-stem cells bills would inevitably force the extropians to grapple with partisan politics and the ways in which the state actively supports science, further attenuating their anarchist purity. Conversely, the group’s stigma as an elitist, kooky cult centered on the thinking of one man may make it difficult to attract mainstream biotech or computer firms as backers and supporters of their political project.

According to an account by Max More’s wife, Natasha Vita-More, the term “transhuman” was first used in 1966 by the Iranian-American futurist F.M. Esfandiary while he was teaching at the New School for Social Research. The term subsequently appeared in Abraham Maslow’s 1968 Toward a Psychology of Being and in Robert Ettinger’s 1972 Man into Superman. Like Maslow and Ettinger, F.M. Esfandiary (who changed his name to FM-2030) used the term in his writings in the 1970s to refer to people who were adopting the technologies, lifestyles and cultural worldviews that were transitional to post-humanity. In his 1989 book “Are You Transhuman?” FM-2030 says

(Transhumans) are the earliest manifestations of new evolutionary beings. They are like those earliest hominids who many millions of years ago came down from the trees and began to look around. Transhumans are not necessarily committed to accelerating the evolution to higher life forms. Many of them are not even aware of their bridging role in evolution.”

In the early 1980s, FM-2030 befriended More’s future wife, Natasha Vita-More (Nancie Clark), and later became a friend and supporter of More and the Californian extropians. In the lexicon adopted by the extropians, transhumanism involves a self-conscious ideological leaning, not merely having been an early adopter of posthuman tech. For instance, More defined transhumanism in a 1990 essay:

Transhumanism is a class of philosophies that seek to guide us towards a posthuman condition. Transhumanism shares many elements of humanism, including a respect for reason and science, a commitment to progress, and a valuing of human (or transhuman) existence in this life rather than in some supernatural "afterlife". Transhumanism differs from humanism in recognizing and anticipating the radical alterations in the nature and possibilities of our lives resulting from various sciences and technologies such as neuroscience and neuropharmacology, life extension, nanotechnology, artificial ultraintelligence, and space habitation, combined with a rational philosophy and value system.

Philosophies of life that seek the continuation and acceleration of the evolution of intelligent life beyond its currently human form and human limitations by means of science and technology, guided by life-promoting principles and values. (More, quoted by Sandberg, 2001)

From the beginning of Extropy journal, and in the burgeoning lexicon of the extropians, Max More and the other extropians made clear that extropianism was but one of the possible forms of transhumanist ideology. For instance, in 1994 Anders Sandberg, the founder of the Swedish transhumanist group Aleph, noted that transhumanist ideas could be mated with many political ideologies, and that the hybrid of extropian libertarian transhumanism was just one, particularly robust, form that transhumanism could take:

Extropianism, which is a combination of transhumanist memes and libertarianism, seems to be one of the more dynamic and well-integrated systems. This has been successful, mainly because the meme has been able to organize its hosts much better than other transhumanistic meme-complexes. This has led to a certain bias among transhumanists linked to the Net towards the extropian version of the meme since it is the most widely spread and active. (Sandberg, 1994)

By the late 1990s it had begun to become clear that the European fellow-travelers of the Extropy Institute were much less enthralled by anarcho-capitalist orthodoxy than the Americans. One European transhumanist, reviewing a conference of European transhumanists, noted: “The official program started with Remi Sussan…a bleeding heart humanist socialist and a nice person. I am glad that we have that diversity among the European Transhumanists. It makes for much more refined discussions than is often seen on the Extropy mailing list.” (Rasmussen, 1999)”

In 1997 the Swedish philosopher Nick Bostrom organized the World Transhumanist Association (WTA) as an autonomous and more broadly based grouping that would share the techno-liberatory concerns of the Extropians, but allow for more political and ideological diversity than tolerated by the Extropians. Bostrom is an academic philosopher, and the WTA project attracted several of the academics in the extropian milieu to establish a journal, The Journal of Transhumanism, and work toward the recognition of transhumanism as an academic discipline.

In 1998, Bostrom and several dozen far flung American and European collaborators began work on the two founding documents of the WTA, the Transhumanist Declaration and a Transhumanist Frequently Asked Questions or FAQ. The leading extropians, including More, contributed to the documents, but the documents were most heavily influenced by the politically open-minded Swedes Nick Bostrom and Anders Sandberg, the feminist Kathryn Aegis, and the British utilitarian thinker David Pearce. The first drafts of the documents were published in 1999.

The Transhumanist Declaration
(1) Humanity will be radically changed by technology in the future. We foresee the feasibility of redesigning the human condition, including such parameters as the inevitability of ageing, limitations on human and artificial intellects, unchosen psychology, suffering, and our confinement to the planet earth.

(2) Systematic research should be put into understanding these coming developments and their long-term consequences.

(3) Transhumanists think that by being generally open and embracing of new technology we have a better chance of turning it to our advantage than if we try to ban or prohibit it.

(4) Transhumanists advocate the moral right for those who so wish to use technology to extend their mental and physical capacities and to improve their control over their own lives. We seek personal growth beyond our current biological limitations.

(5) In planning for the future, it is mandatory to take into account the prospect of dramatic technological progress. It would be tragic if the potential benefits failed to materialize because of ill-motivated technophobia and unnecessary prohibitions. On the other hand, it would also be tragic if intelligent life went extinct because of some disaster or war involving advanced technologies.

(6) We need to create forums where people can rationally debate what needs to be done, and a social order where responsible decisions can be implemented.

(7) Transhumanism advocates the well-being of all sentience (whether in artificial intellects, humans, non-human animals, or possible extraterrestrial species) and encompasses many principles of modern secular humanism. Transhumanism does not support any particular party, politician or political platform.

The Declaration is notable in its departure from the Extropian Principles in several significant points. In point (5) the Declaration specifically notes the possibility of catastrophic consequences of new technology, and in the attached FAQ the authors discuss the responsibility of transhumanists to anticipate and craft public policy to prevent these catastrophic outcomes. The anarcho-capitalist Extropians, on the other hand, generally dismiss any talk of catastrophic possibilities, and only believe in market-based solutions to any such threats that may exist. Point (6) explicitly addresses the need “to create forums where people can rationally debate what needs to be done, and a social order where responsible decisions can be implemented.” Here, unlike the elitist and hitherto anti-political Extropians, the WTA founders take seriously the need to engage society, and support responsive democracies and democratic technology policies.

In point (7) the WTA founders explicitly commit to a utilitarian ethic, presumably influenced by the utilitarian David Pierce, as opposed to the radically individualist ethics of the Extropians. Finally, in the last line of the Declaration, the authors make clear that the WTA is not committed to a particular political ideology.

Politically, the extropians oppose authoritarian social control and favor the rule of law and decentralization of power. Transhumanism as such does not advocate any particular political viewpoint, although it does have political consequences. Transhumanists themselves hold a wide range of political opinions (there are liberals, social democrats, libertarians, green party members etc.), and some transhumanists have elected to remain apolitical. (Bostrom et al., 1999)

The WTA FAQ asks the question “Won’t new technologies only benefit the rich and powerful? What happens to the rest?” Instead of suggesting that some form of social subsidy might facilitate access to the poor, the FAQ falls back on a trickle-down theory of technological innovation, noting that the lives of the relatively poor today are enriched by technologies previously only available to the wealthy. However, the FAQ then makes the startling acknowledgement:

One can speculate that some technologies may cause social inequalities to widen. For example, if some form of intelligence amplification becomes available, it may at first be so expensive that only the richest can afford it. The same could happen when we learn how to genetically augment our children. Wealthy people would become smarter and make even more money...

Trying to ban technological innovations on these grounds would be misguided. If a society judges these inequalities to be unacceptable, it would be wiser for that society to increase wealth redistribution, for example by means of taxation and the provision of free services (education vouchers, IT access in public libraries, genetic enhancements covered by social security etc.). For economical and technological progress is not a zero sum game. It's a positive sum game. It doesn't solve the old political problem of what degree of income redistribution is desirable, but it can make the pie that is to be divided enormously much greater.

Similarly when addressing whether transhumanism is simply a distraction from the pressing problems of poverty and conflict in the world today, the FAQ argues that transhumanists should work on both these immediate problems and futurist concerns. In fact, the FAQ argues, transhuman technologies can make the solution of poverty and conflict easier, improving health care, amplifying intelligence, and expanding communication and prosperity. Conversely, working for a better world is both an essential transhumanist goal, given the utilitarian ethic of Principle 7, and also is essential for establishing the peaceful liberal democratic social orders in which transhuman experimentation can take place.

Working towards a world order characterized by peace, international cooperation and respect for human rights would much improve the odds that the dangerous applications of certain future technologies will not be used irresponsibly or in warfare. It would also free up resources currently spent on military armaments, and possibly channel them to improve the condition of the poor. (Bostrom et al., 1999)

The FAQ also addresses the issue of overpopulation caused by life extension technologies. Like the techno-libertarian Extropians, it argues that only a combination of population control and the aggressive pursuit of advanced, sustainable technologies, such as agricultural biotechnologies, cleaner industrial processes, nanotechnology, and ultimately space colonization, can address the Malthusian dilemma. However, it also notes that the best way to control population growth is to empower women: “ As a matter of empirical fact, giving people increased rational control over their lives (and especially female education and equality) causes them to have fewer children.” (Bostrom et al., 1999)

In response to a question about how post-humans will treat humans, the FAQ notes “it could help if we continue to build stable democratic traditions and constitutions, ideally expanding the rule of law to the international plane as well as the national” (Bostrom et al., 1999). Here the transhumanists are anticipating the need to build political and cultural solidarity between humans and post-humans, to minimize conflicts, and to have global police institutions that can protect humans from post-humans and vice versa.

In short, the WTA documents establish a broad political tent, with an explicit embrace of political engagement, the need to defend and extend liberal democracy , and the inclusion of social democratic policy alternatives as legitimate points of discussion.

The WTA in 2002
In November of 2001 the WTA began its next phase of institutionalization[4][4]. It has elected a Board of Directors, with Nick Bostrom as Chair, and incorporated in the State of Connecticut. The Journal has been renamed the Journal of Evolution and Technology and the WTA is launching a popular webzine, Transhumanity. The WTA has fifteen hundred people signed up as “basic members” and has several lists growing in activity. After a tense initial reception from the extropians, the Extropy Institute has formally affiliated with the WTA along with a dozen other transhumanist groups in the U.S., Europe, South America and Asia. Local groups are being organized in two dozen cities

In 1909 the Italian writer Filippo Tommaso Marinetti published his “Manifesto of Futurism” in the Parisian newspaper Le Figaro. In it he called for a new aesthetic and approach to life.

We intend to exalt aggressive action, a feverish insomnia, the racer’s stride, the mortal leap, the punch and the slap…..

We want to hymn the man at the wheel, who hurls the lance of his spirit across the Earth, along the circle of its orbit…

We stand on the last promontory of the centuries!... Why should we look back, when what we want is to break down the mysterious doors of the Impossible? Time and Space died yesterday. We already live in the absolute, because we have created eternal, omnipresent speed.

Marinetti believed Italy and Europe in general had become stagnant, and he called for a new art glorifying modern technology, energy, and violence. Artists, writers, musicians, architects and many others flocked to the Futurist banner in Italy and from across Europe, and began issuing their own manifestoes. Many of the founding Futurists, including Marinetti, were anarchists, although they went on to urge Italy’s entry into World War One. When World War One ended the movement and its romantic calls for heroic violence and war, Marinetti went on to befriend Mussolini, who had mixed Marxist and anarchist politics with heroic nationalist romanticism and Nietzschean ideas. Marinetti and many other Italian Futurists joined Mussolini’s new fascist movement and the fascists in turn adopted Futurist ideas and aesthetics.

Today, when a social movement emerges such as the Extropians, which openly scorns liberal democracy, calls for an ubermenschlich elite to free themselves from traditional morality, pursue boundless expansion and optimism, and create a new humanity through genetic technology and the merging of humans with machines, it is understandable that critics would associate the movement with European fascism.

This problem has not escaped the attention of the extropians. For instance, in 1994 Sandberg wrote:

Many people associate ideas of superhumanity, rationally changing our biological form and speeding up the evolution of mankind, with unfashionable or disliked memes like fascism…partially because many transhumanist ideas had counterparts (real or apparent) among the fascists. (Sandberg, 1994)

Ominously for some, Max More has acknowledged and written about the contribution of Nietzsche to extropian thought and included Nietzsche on the extropian reading lists. Nonetheless, More has repeatedly rejected the idea that extropian thought is compatible with fascism, pointing to the extropians’ individualist and libertarian values.

But for some futurist intellectuals the distance between anarcho-capitalism and totalitarianism may not be very large, as the case of Marinetti and numerous other sects demonstrate. The problem for transhumanism, as opposed to extropianism, is even more difficult, since the core transhumanist ideas can be mated with any secular ideology. Commenting on a speaker at the 1999 meeting of European transhumanists, Max Rasmussen notes:

“(The speaker pointed out that) Transhumanism can remind a lot of Nazism, and we should be very aware about this. ‘We must not be tempted by the dark side.’ We should be ready and have a mental defense ready if fascist(s) were ever to try and adapt Transhumanism, so we can keep them out. I totally agree in this. We want to be posthumans not übermensch.” (Rasmussen, 1999)

Occasional examples of transhumanists with fascist leanings appeared in the 1990s on the extropian lists and associated with the milieu. One example is the transhumanist Lyle Burkhead, who wrote:

“the Third Reich is the only model we have of a Transhumanist state…It's high time for transhumanists to face up to the fact that what we are trying to do cannot be done in our present political system. Democracy and transcendence are mutually exclusive concepts. I am searching for a radical alternative, and that search led me to consider Nazi Germany, which, for all its imperfections, at least had some concept of human evolution and transcendence.” (Burkhead, 1999)

Mr. Burkhead has apparently done nothing else to promote his Nazi transhumanism however.

The Nazi challenge became a practical matter in 2000 when it was revealed that a website, Xenith.com, that had joined a Transhuman webring was filled with neo-Nazi propaganda, white nationalist essays and links, and racialist eugenics. The Xenith.com site described itself as transhumanist and included extensive art illustrating heroic transcendence and space travel. The site called for a modern racialist eugenic project using genetic engineering and selective breeding, quoted Adolph Hitler and George Lincoln Rockwell, the founder of the American Nazi Party, and linked to neo-Nazi groups, anti-Semitic sites and sites on the racial superiority of whites. The other websites maintained by Xenith.com’s founder, “Marcus Eugenicus,” likewise condemned democracy, egalitarianism, socialism and “political correctness,” especially in regards the silencing of “racialist science.”

In one of those other sites, Eugenicus promotes “Prometheism” [http://www.prometheism.net/] which calls for using state coercion to promote eugenic goals:

I. We are both a nation and a religion…a homeland must be sought for by any means available.

II. Our aim is to create a genetically enhanced race that will eventually become a new, superior species. In the short-term, this will be achieved via eugenics and genetic engineering.

III. (We pursue eugenics because) the world is caught in a dysgenic trend from which we want to be freed. (Also) this is a way of maximizing our viability -- the survival and probability of survival of our genes. A more intelligent species will be more fit to adapt to new environments and to face new threats and obstacles.

IV. We must not concern ourselves with others that are caught in the dysgenic cycle. We must only be concerned with the success of other competing eugenics' programs that will pose a threat to our own new species, for speciation will not travel along a single vector when humans compete using the new technologies.

V. Any eugenics program has equal validity to use the state's coercive power to improve human genetic capital…

Eugenicus insists in the Prometheism manifesto that “Racial purity is not a valid concept for a eugenicist. Since we are breeding and genetically splicing our way into a new species, racial components are ever changing.” However, he also makes clear that valued traits such as intelligence are linked to race.

While most transhumanists are unconcerned with reproductive decisions, assuming that genetic illnesses and human limitations will be remediable through genetic therapy, chemicals or nanotechnology, Eugenicus explains his emphasis on controlling reproductive decision-making on the grounds that “Resources must not be wasted on curing disease when it is more cost effective to merely eliminate the disease from the genetic capital of the eugenic nation.”

Unlike any other transhumanist, Eugenicus calls for loyalty to the new eugenically superior meta-race, and self-sacrifice in its service: “Allegiance and patriotism to the group takes precedence before attachment to one's religion or patriotism to the country where one just happens to reside. Going to war for the state because of shared loyalties is dysgenic. Only patriotism to the eugenic state requires your sacrifice and allegiance.” In fact, Eugenicus argues that the two most important traits to genetically enhance in children are intelligence and patriotism. The Prometheans, he says, will be attacked and called to make sacrifice since “warfare, that ever present component that drove group evolution to reach Homo Sapiens, will continue.”

In response to the outing of the site and its contents (by me), the Transhuman webring and its affiliated list were thrown into vigorous debate. Some participants were clearly sympathetic to Eugenicus’ iconoclastic attacks on political correctness, although most abhorred his Nazism. The list was split on two questions: whether neo-Nazism could be “transhumanist,” and whether the Nazi site should be excluded from the webring. Some discussants argued that the humanist, cosmopolitan and liberal roots of transhumanism were incompatible with racism and totalitarianism, while transhumanism’s commitment to reason and science were incompatible with the irrationality and pseudo-science of eugenics. The issue had actually been anticipated and addressed in the World Transhumanist Association’s FAQ:

“…transhumanism advocates the well-being of all sentience, whether in artificial intellects, humans, non-human animals or possible extraterrestrial species. Racism, sexism, speciesism, belligerent nationalism and religious intolerance are unacceptable. In addition to the usual grounds for finding such practices morally objectionable, there is an additional specifically transhumanist motivation for this. In order to prepare a time when the human species may start branching out in various directions, we need to start now to strongly encourage the development of moral sentiments that are broad enough encompass within the sphere of moral concern sentiences that are different from current selves. We can go beyond mere tolerance to actively encouraging people who experiment with nonstandard life-styles, because by facing up to prejudices they ultimately expand the range of choices available to others. And we may all delight in the richness and diversity of life to which such individuals disproportionately contribute simply by being who they are.” (Bostrom, 2001)

The debate about whether the site should be removed also addressed the public relations disaster that could result if Nazism was associated with transhumanism. Free speech advocates argued however that all points of view of self-described trashumanists should be allowed expression.

Finally, the owner of the webring decided that he would not remove the Nazi site from the webring, but would instead disband the webring altogether. This led to the creation of the Extrotech webring, which explicitly prohibits racialist sites: “No sites concerning bigotry, racism, neo-Nazism, and the like, will be allowed to join. This is not censorship, merely the ringmaster's decision that sites of that nature are counter to the equality, improvement, and understanding which this ring is intended to represent.” This webring now includes seventeen sites.

Eugenicus attracted some of the members of the former Transhuman webring to his new “True Enlightenment” webring for “pro Transhumanism and anti PC” websites[5][5], such as the Dutch-based “Transtopia” website. Predictably the True Enlightenment webring attacks egalitarianism, argues for “race realism,” and provides links to neo-Nazi articles and websites.

In March of 2002 the World Transhumanist Association voted to formally denounce racialism in general, and the neo-Nazism of Eugenicus in particular:

Any and all doctrines of racial or ethnic supremacy/inferiority are incompatible with the fundamental tolerance and humanist roots of transhumanism. Organizations advocating such doctrines or beliefs are not transhumanist, and are unwelcome as affiliates of the WTA. (adopted 02/25/2002)

WTA STATEMENT ON NEO-NAZISM AND UFO CULTS
Neo-Nazi eugenic views; the individual "Marcus Eugenicus" and his associated group; UFO cults; the Raelian group; shall be designated as 'not transhumanist / unacceptable to the transhumanist community'. (adopted 02/25/2002)

As yet, radical democratic transhumanism has not found a voice or organizational presence, but is implicit in the writings of people in the futurist, science fiction and cyberculture milieus. The fact that a left futurism has been so slow to emerge is somewhat surprising, since technoutopianism, atheism, and scientific rationalism have been associated with the democratic, revolutionary and utopian left for most of the last two hundred years. Robert Owens, Fourier and Saint-Simon in the early nineteenth century inspired communalists with their visions of a future scientific and technological evolution of humanity using reason as its religion. The Oneida community, America’s longest-lived nineteenth century “communist” group, practiced extensive eugenic engineering through arranged breeding. Bellamy’s socialist utopia in Looking Backward, which inspired hundreds of socialist clubs in the late nineteenth century U.S. and a national political party, was as highly technological as Bellamy’s imagination and was to be brought about as a painless corollary of industrial development.

Marx and Engels convinced millions that the advance of technology was laying the groundwork not only for the creation of a new society, with different property relations, but also of new human beings reconnected to nature and themselves. The nineteenth and twentieth century Left, from social democrats to Communists, have been focused on industrial modernization, economic development and the promotion of science, reason and the idea of progress. Transhumanists and the revolutionary left also share the concept of a technologically-determined social revolution. Like the Singularity, Marxian revolution is a sudden, global, discontinuous social rupture, brought about by technological change, beyond which we cannot predict the form that society will take, and about which it is pointless to speculate.

Perhaps the most transhumanist of the early twentieth century socialists was H.G. Wells. Wells referred repeatedly to the attractive and horrific possibilities of post-human stages of evolution. He believed that new technologies of war would bring civilization to the brink, but expected that humanity would learn from the carnage and establish a world socialist government. Wells believed that the path to utopia was through technocracy, the rule of scientific experts, and as a consequence was at first quite admiring of Lenin’s Soviet Communism, who famously said “Communism is socialism plus electrification.”

Left techno-utopianism began to erode after World War Two. Left interest in re-engineering the nature of Man were silenced by Nazi eugenics. The gas chambers revealed that modern technology could be used by a modern state for horrific uses, and the atomic bomb posed a permanent technological threat to humanity’s existence. The ecological movement suggested that industrial activity was threatening all life on the planet, while the anti-nuclear power movement inspired calls for renunciation of specific types of technology altogether. The counter-culture attacked positivism, and lauded pre-industrial ways of life. While the progressives and New Dealers had built the welfare state to be a tool of reason and social justice, the New Left and free-market libertarians attacked it as a stultifying tool of oppression, contributing to the general decline in faith in democratic governments. Intellectual trends such as deconstruction began to cast doubt on the “master narratives” of political and scientific progress, while cultural relativism eroded progressives’ faith that industrialized secular liberal democracies were in fact superior to pre-industrial and Third World societies. As the Left gave up on the idea of a sexy, high-tech vision of a radically democratic future, libertarians became associated with technological progress. Left techno-enthusiasm was supplanted by pervasive Luddite suspicion about the products of the corporate consumerist machine.

Ironically, one of the first contemporary left futurists or radical democratic transhumanists was FM-2030, the creator of the term “transhuman.” FM-2030 spelled out his political philosophy in a series of books written in the 1970s and 1980s. Like the Greens, he argued that his politics were neither left nor right-wing, but rather “upwing”: “The UpWing philosophy is a visionary new thrust beyond Right and Left-wing, beyond conservative and conventional radical.” (FM-2030, 1975).

However, he argued for transcending both capitalism and socialism by automating work and expanding leisure. In place of authoritarianism and representative democracy FM-2030 argued for direct electronic democracy. In place of fractious nation-states FM-2030 argued for world government and citizenship.

We want to help accelerate the thrust beyond nations, ethnic groups, races to create a global consciousness, global institutions, a global language, global citizenship, global free flow of people, global commitments. (FM-2030, 1975).

FM-2030 wrote only a couple of pages about upwing political philosophy before his death in 2000 and those opinions seem to have been mostly ignored by the extropians. However, radical democratic or left futurists can certainly claim FM-2030 as one of their forebears.

Another sign of a left futurism emerged in the 1980s, under the rubric of “cyborgology,” which emerged as a reaction to eco-feminism. According to the eco-feminists, rationalistic, technological patriarchy is the common source of the oppression of women and nature, while the struggle against patriarchy and technology are deeply intertwined. The eco-feminists embraced the man-woman/culture-nature duality allegedly imposed by patriarchy, and embraced it.

In 1984 Donna Haraway wrote “A Manifesto for Cyborgs: Science, Technology, and Socialist Feminism in the 1980s,” aimed as a critique of ecofeminism, and it landed with the reverberating bang of a hand grenade. Haraway argued that it was precisely in the eroding boundary between human beings and machines, and between women and machines in particular, that we can find liberation from the old patriarchal dualisms. Haraway says she would rather be a cyborg than a goddess, and proposes that the cyborg could be the liberatory mythos for women.

This essay, and Haraway’s subsequent writings, have inspired a new cultural studies sub-discipline of “cyborgology,” made up of feminist culture and science fiction critics, exploring cyborgs and the woman-machine interface in various permutations (Gray 1995, 2001; Kirkup 1999; Haraway 1997; Balsamo, 1996; Davis-Floyd, 1998). As yet there has been little cross-pollination between the left-wing academic cyborgologists and the transhumanists.

One of the most challenging philosophers in the world is bioethicist Peter Singer. In the 1970s Singer wrote the book credited with inspiring the modern animal rights movement, Animal Liberation. Singer is a utilitarian, and he argued that the suffering of animals, especially apes and other large mammals, should be put on par with the suffering of children and retarded adults. His subsequent writings on the permissibility of euthanizing certain disabled newborns (Kuhse and Singer, 1985), however, inspired howls of outrage, and accusations of fascism. Singer, however, is Jewish, with relatives who died in the Holocaust. He considers himself a man of the Left, and in 1995 published How Are We to Live?: Ethics in an Age of Self-Interest, which argued that people should give away all their wealth beyond what’s required to live a simple life.

Singer’s most recent tract, however, A Darwinian Left: Politics, Evolution, and Cooperation (2001), is an argument with the Left over the relevance of sociobiological constraints on human nature and politics. Singer contends that there is a biologically rooted tendency towards selfishness and hierarchy which has defeated attempts at egalitarian social reform. If the Left program of social reform is to succeed, Singer argues, we must employ the new genetic and neurological sciences to identify and modify the aspects of human nature that cause conflict and competition. Singer also embraces a program of socially subsidized, but voluntary, genetic improvement, while rejecting coercive reproductive policies and eugenic pseudo-science.

Another strain of left techno-utopianism that could be incorporated into a democratic transhumanist worldview is promotion of a society in which most people do not have to work for a living because of automation and a universal guaranteed income. For instance, Andre Gorz (1980,2000) has been promoting a political program for twenty-five years that embraces automation, and the expansion of the “social wage.” The movement for universal basic income (Lerner, 1994) has been growing in Europe[6][6] and the United States[7][7].

One transhumanist who is promoting the automation/guaranteed minimum income vision is Australian science fiction writer Damien Broderick. Broderick has participated in the extropian mailing list for most of its existence, and in 1997 published The Spike, a non-fiction treatment of the extropian ideas about the Singularity (Broderick, 2001). The Spike is for the most part a review of the various technological advances and their permutations. However, in the middle of his text he reveals a distinctly non-libertarian worldview when he projects that automation and nanotechnology will create widespread unemployment, which will in turn require the provision of a universal guaranteed income.

A corporation that downsizes its work-force today, in favor of robots, is surviving as a beneficiary of the human investment of the past. Its current productivity, after all, are the outcome of every erg of accumulated human effort that went into creating the economy and technological culture that made those robots possible. So let's not look at a guaranteed income as a `natural right', like the supposed innate rights to freedom of speech and liberty. Rather, it is an inheritance, something owed to all the children of a society whose ancestors for generations have together built, and purchased through the work of their minds and hands, the resource base sustaining today's cornucopia.

For reasons discussed above, Greens are generally anti-technology. But another strain of democratic transhumanism can come from techno-utopian environmentalists. This strain has always been in the background, nestled among the “alternative technology” and “alternative energy” milieu. Walter Truett Anderson[8][8] is an example of a political philosopher who embraces the environmental cause, but challenges Green anti-technological dogmas. In To Govern Evolution (1987) and Evolution Isn't What It Used to Be (1997), Anderson proposes that the only way for humanity to avoid catastrophe in the ecosphere or in our biomedical interventions is to take democratic responsibility for managing nature. This is the ethical complement of the movement for bioremediation[9][9], the use of technology to fix ecological destruction.

But the most prominent contemporary example of techno-utopian environmentalism comes from the unexpected source of science fiction. In the 1980s a gritty new style of science fiction emerged out of the work of a half dozen writers, which became know as “cyberpunk.” Cyberpunk authors depicted a future in which people had become technologically augmented and deeply enmeshed with computers, artificial intelligence and virtual reality. For many cyberpunk authors, such as William Gibson in his Neuromancer series, transnational corporations had displaced the nation-state.

At the center of cyberpunk was an energetic Texan writer, editor and polemicist, Bruce Sterling. One of Sterling’s early novels, Islands in the Net (1988), proposed a worker-owned transnational corporation that explored the radical democratic possibilities within the premise of eroding nation-states. Sterling also used the term “transhumanism” in his Shaper-Mechanist stories (1985, 1989). These stories envisioned a solar system several centuries in the future in which humanity has split into two competing sub-species: Shapers, who use genetics to enhance human abilities, and Mechanists, who have become cyborgs. “Transhumanism” in Sterling’s Shaper-Mechanist politics is the ideology advanced by a movement for peace and solidarity between the differentiating sub-species of post-humans.

The cyberpunk movement diffused into the rest of science fiction by the early 1990s, and Sterling returned to writing novels about the politics and social consequences of climate change (1994), life extension (1996), political campaigning and electronic nomadism in an eroded nation-state (1998), and globalism (2000). In January of 2000 Sterling returned to his polemicist roots and penned a 4300-word manifesto for a new “Viridian” green political movement. Sterling accepts the urgency of climate change and species depletion, but his principal complaint about contemporary Green politics is that they are Luddite and dour. He calls for a sexy, high-tech, design movement, to make attractive, practical ecological tools. Although Sterling steadfastly refuses to argue for political activism or partisan engagement, like FM-2030 he outlines a third way between capitalism and socialism involving controls on transnational capital, redirecting of militaries to peacekeeping, sustainable industries, increasing leisure time, guaranteed social wage, education reform, expanded global public health, and gender equity. The Viridian movement has attracted hundreds of people to participate in its list, and to receive weekly missives from Sterling about appropriate, but exciting, technologies.

The most technologically dependent humans today are disabled people in the wealthier industrialized countries. They have pioneered the use of wheelchairs, prosthetic limbs, novel computing interfaces and portable computing. Many people with disabilities are embracing the transgressive image of the cyborgs, some with an explicit influence from Harawayan cyborgology (Gosling, 2002). Paraplegic journalist John Hockenberry recently summed up the disabled transhumanist perspective in Wired:

Humanity's specs are back on the drawing board, thanks to some unlikely designers, and the disabled have a serious advantage in this conversation. They've been using technology in collaborative, intimate ways for years - to move, to communicate, to interact with the world. …People with disabilities - who for much of human history died or were left to die - are now, due to medical technology, living full lives. As they do, the definition of humanness has begun to widen.

Probably the most prominent symbol of disabled transhumanist activism these days is Christopher Reeves, the former Superman actor who became a tireless campaigner for biomedical research after an horse-riding accident left him quadriplegic. Reeves has been especially important as a leading symbol of the fight to defend the use of clonal embryos in stem cell research.

There is now also an explicitly transhumanist organization for people with disabilities, the Ascender Alliance. Founded by Alan Pottinger, the founding manifesto of the Ascenders advocate removing “political, cultural, biological, and psychological limits to self-realization and augmentation.” However, their core documents also articulate several positions that are distinctive within transhumanist circles. The Ascenders are opposed to “eugenics” and permanent germline modification of the human genome, and concerned that future projects for human betterment and transcendence may leave behind the disabled. Further, and uniquely among transhumanists, they articulate a right to ascension for all:

Every human being has the right to ascension. So it is the duty of the group to constantly keep in mind the need to develop technology, equipment and procedures to counter such ‘incurable’ conditions and until such devices can be developed care for those who wish to benefit.

Transhumanists with disabilities face a much greater challenge with the growing bio-Luddite movement in disability rights circles. The assertion that people with disabilities, such as the deaf, have a unique and equally valid culture has led many disability rights activists to reject prenatal screening, genetic engineering and technologies such cochlear implants. The debate within the disability rights movement is sure to add much to democratic transhumanist theory and practice.

While the libertarian extropians celebrate the biotech and computing entrepreneurs and innovators, they occasionally have qualms about the effects that monopolists such as Microsoft and overly aggressive interpretations of intellectual property law may have on the pace of innovation. But libertarian ideology makes it difficult to argue for state intervention to break up monopolies, or to declare the genome and industrial innovations as public property. Libertarians have been more supportive of the voluntary, and partly market-driven, growth of the open source movement, such as the operating system Linux. The goal of the open source movement is challenge the monopolists from below, by building a community around the constant refining of hopefully more robust and cheaper information technologies.

David Berube is an example of a transhumanist who has worked out some of the implications for transhumanism of corporate control in his essays on “Nanosocialism” (Berube, 1996). Berube argues that socialist intervention would be required to create a full-featured nanotechnology since capitalist firms cannot be expected to develop a technology which would make households independent of their goods, and the market altogether. Secondly, the threat of malicious or accidental use of nanotechnology is so grave that strong state intervention would be required to ensure safe and secure use. Third, Berube repeats the post-work/guaranteed minimum wage argument. He argues that nanotech would destroy the market economy as we know it, along with the necessity to work.

Radical Speculative Fiction Writers
Not since the Nationalist movement that sprung up around Bellamy’s socialist vision in Looking Backward has there been a social movement so closely tied to speculative science fiction. The favorite authors of the transhumanists are those who depict explicit post-human societies and explore transhuman themes, such as Vernor Vinge, Greg Bear, Greg Egan, Ken MacLeod, and Linda Nagata. But the utopian genre is dead, and contemporary science fiction authors have a way of making their worlds complex, filled with tensions extrapolated from our own.

For instance, the work of Ken MacLeod is filled with political tensions around transhuman themes. In the 1990s, Ken MacLeod, a Scotsman and long-time friend of successful Scottish science-fiction author Iain Banks, gave in to pressure from Banks to attempt to write a novel. The result was the Star Fraction, in which a communist guerrilla mercenary negotiates the collapse of a radically decentralized Britain, while the Trotskyist artificial intelligence living in his computerized rifle plots global revolution. MacLeod had spent decades involved in Trotskyist and Communist politics, and then began to seriously engage with libertarian and transhumanist ideas in the 1990s. His six critically acclaimed novels have been hailed for their fascinating efforts to articulate “libertarias” and socialist utopias, and to deal with the threats posed by elitist extropians if they were ever to succeed in transcending their humanness. Although Macleod prefers to leave the serious work of articulating an anti-Luddite, pro-technology, libertarian socialism to those better qualified, his novels have become required reading for transhumanists.

Biopunk

Another genre that intersects with transhumanist concerns, and which has an generally radical and anti-corporate orientation, is biopunk (Quinon, 1997). Biopunk is a spin-off of cyberpunk (Person, 2000). Instead of exploring the human interface with technology, biopunks focus more on biotechnology and genetic enhancement of humans and animals. The central writer in this genre is Paul DiFilippo, author of the tongue-in-cheek 1994 “Ribofunk Manifesto”. DiFilippo argued for writers to embrace the coming biotechnological revolution as the central feature of future society. One ribofunk slogan proposed by DiFilippo is “Anatomy is destiny--but anatomy is malleable.”

Annalee Newitz (2002) detects an emergent biopunk ethos in the work of artists and anti-corporate genetics researchers.

Biopunk shares with cyberpunk a spirit of social critique in the sciences, and a commitment to limiting corporate control of data… Biopunks can therefore call on a venerable tradition of philosophical thought when they raise objections to how scientists are gathering and using genomic data. Moreover, biopunks often protest misuses of the human body and its reproductive functions, which makes biopunk a considerably more feminist and queer movement than straight-guy cyberpunk ever was… (Biopunk is) all about protesting both "bio-Luddites and apologists for the biotech industry."

Newitz writes about the biopunk Coalition of Artists and Life Forms (CALF), a loose network of artists who are excited about, even celebratory about biotechnology, but critical of its capitalist exploitation and limitations.

In the 1990s a number of cultural critics, notably the white progressive critic of extropianism Mark Dery in his 1995 essay “Black to the Future,” began to write about the features they saw as common in African-American science fiction, music and art. Dery dubbed this phenomenon “Afrofuturism,” launching a small movement (Thomas, 2000). The website www.afrofuturism.net explains that the movement is composed of African diaspora musicians, science fictions writers, film makers and artists who work explores their common experience of “abduction, displacement and alien-nation.” The afro-futurists posit that futurism an science fiction are the best ways to explore the black experience.

By contrast the engagement of feminism with technoutopian thinking and speculative fiction is quite venerable. Feminists have been writing speculative futurism and fiction for a hundred years, and now have their own journals, anthologies and awards. They have also been exploring the ways in which reproductive technologies may be liberatory for women. Shulamith Firestone proposed in her 1970 feminist classic The Dialectic of Sex The Case for Feminist Revolution that women would only be finally freed from patriarchy when artificial wombs were common place, freeing women from their necessary role as incubators. Joanna Russ’s 1975 The Female Man proposed lesbian separatist communities sustained by parthenogenesis (Russs, 1975; Pountney, 2001), and more recent feminist authors, such as biology professor Joan Slonczewski (1986), have envisioned all-female, genetically modified post-human species more egalitarian and in touch with nature. Although feminists today are generally Luddite and suspicious of the new reproductive technologies, there are contemporary technoutopian feminists, such as Dion Farquhar (1995, 1996), who see the liberatory potentials in reproductive technology, and who could be recruited to transhumanism.

As for queer futurism, there is also a thriving GLBT science fiction subculture. The most active pro-cloning activist in the United States, Randy Wicker, founder of the Clone Rights United Front [www.humancloning.org], is also a veteran of the gay rights struggle. Wicker has written about why gay activists should be interested in defending the broadest possible definition of reproductive rights, including access to reproductive technologies (Sherer, 2001; Datalounge, 1997; Wicker, 2000). As for the transgender community, what could be more transhuman than deciding to change one’s gender, or even more radically, to choose a new biological gender altogether? FM-2030 included androgyny as an aspect of transhumanity, and in a poll of extropians conducted in February/March 2002 8% of respondents listed their gender as “Other (neither, both, combination, changing, indeterminate, variable, complicated, etc.).” But the transcending of biological sex-gender is a little explored part of the transhumanist agenda.

In April 2000 Wired magazine published an essay by Bill Joy, the chief technologist and co-founder of Sun Microsystems, and inventor of the computer language Java. Joy’s essay, titled “Why the Future Doesn’t Need Us,” contemplated the potentially apocalyptic consequences of three emerging technologies, genetic engineering, nanotechnology, and robots imbued with artificial intelligence. The key and qualitatively different, threat that Joy said arises from these technologies is that they all can potentially self-replicate. While guns don’t breed other guns and go on killing sprees, gene-tailored plagues, future robots and nanophages can theoretically do just that. Because of this qualitatively different threat Joy insists that these technologies and research on them be “relinquished,” or banned worldwide.

The essay was especially arresting to transhumanists for having been written by a man with impeccable technologist credentials, adding to a growing sense of urgency about the growing strength and visibility of the Neo-Luddite movement (Bailey, 2001b). Also in 2000, a coalition of dozens of organizations joined with the Turning Point foundation to sponsor a series of full-page ads in national newspapers decrying species extinction, “genetic engineering,” “industrial agriculture,” “economic globalization,” and “technomania.” National and international efforts were launched to outlaw cloning and to stop federal funding of stem cell research. Anarchist Luddites involved in the anti-globalization movement were thrust into international prominence with the anti-WTO riots in Seattle in 1999, while anti-biotech activists lobbied the European Parliament and destroyed research facilities.

…we are in a very real sense completely encircled in the cultural, social and political realms. Furthermore, the battle-lines are becoming increasingly clear to the combatants. … open and direct conflict is unavoidable on each of the three fronts (religious, Green and socialist) opposed to our program…On the political front, we do not seek to force our plans on anyone, but ultimately, our basic values of individual autonomy are fundamentally incompatible with the kinds of limitations desired by Guardians of both culturally conservative and "progressive" tendencies, whether they espouse some limited "liberal" ideology or are more explicitly collectivist. (Burch, 2001)

The transhumanist perspective is indeed under attack by much better organized opponents, and the transhumanists are partly to blame. The ideologically narrow, apolitical, sectarian ahistoricality of most transhumanists is striking since their Luddite opponents, such as Jeremy Rifkin, have forged shrewd tactical, ad hoc alliances with bedfellows as strange as Greenpeace, feminists and the Christian Right. The Extropians’ Pro-PAC might nudge the group toward serious political engagement and coalition-building, but there is no sign that the project is more than a press release. The anarcho-capitalism of the extropian milieu makes it unlikely that they will ever be able to be successful in this project. While Burch and the extropians argue that they are fighting to save the natural goals of the Enlightenment from its twisted and mutated bastard children, environmental alarmism and socialist collectivism, in fact they are fighting to extol one third of the Enlightenment value legacy, liberty, against the other two thirds, equality and human solidarity, crippling their ability to defend all three in the process. Insisting that reason can only be expressed in market relations and not in rational civic debate and democratic self-governance leaves the extropians as shrill, self-absorbed and alienated in the public square.

By contrast, there is a much broader ideological spectrum of thought expressed in the World Transhumanist Association and to its left. For the transhumanists to emerge as a broad ideological movement, capable of inspiring activists and organizing a resistance to neo-Luddism, it must embrace the full range of liberal democratic and social democratic permutations. By making political equality and solidarity among the various species of post-humanity a core value, transhumanists can reassure publics scared by post-human possibilities. In the process of defining a positive, democratic political program for transhumanism the movement must also create boundaries which exclude the elitism and totalitarianism with which it has been associated.

Setting aside libertarian blinkers, the only way to reassure skittish publics about the consequences of new technology is publicly accountable state regulation. Rather than uncritically defending every new corporate-sponsored technology, while dismissing concerns about safety and equity with Panglossian assurances that all will work itself out in the Singularity, a democratic transhumanism could embrace the need for government action to ensure that transhuman technologies are safe, effective and equitably distributed. For instance, trade unions are less likely to oppose automation in industry when they are assured that their workers will be retrained and have a social safety net to fall back on. Citizen groups are less likely to oppose the building of new industrial sites, power plants and waste dumps when they are assured that government agencies are ensuring public safety. Public acceptance of expensive new life extension technologies will be far more likely if there is some provision that they will be subsidized and equitably available. Democratic politics and public policy can address and ameliorate public concerns, slowing innovation in the short term, but facilitating it in the long term.

One model for a transhumanist social policy is proposed in Warren Wagar’s (1989) A Short History of the Future, which projected a speculative global history of the next two centuries based on H.G. Wells and Immanuel Wallerstein’s world system theory. Although the future history was made quickly obsolete by the collapse of the Soviet Union, Wagar’s thoughts on policies towards genetics were far more programmatic and prescient. Wagar’s future world socialist government weighed the costs and benefits of allowing, subsidizing or banning various genetic enhancements and therapies, with an eye toward balancing individual liberty, general welfare of humanity, the equality of the enhanced and the non-enhanced. Access to genetic enhancements were introduced at a pace so that the majority of humanity could move forward together.

Since September 11, Americans have set aside their deep suspicion of government and begun to celebrate public sector employees and the state agencies which are the only feasible means to respond to terrorism. Rather than defining the majority of the citizens in the liberal democracies as the enemies of transhumanism, transhumanists could benefit from seeing their common cause with liberal and social democratic citizenries against the majority of the world which still lives under authoritarian rule. The empirical evidence is that Western liberal and social democracies, with mixed economies with public welfare systems, have the highest standard of living, and the strongest traditions of citizen participation and publicly accountable government, of any social form ever known. If transhumanists are conscerned about the persecution of transhuman minorities, such as disabled cyborgs or transsexuals, they should embrace the liberal and social democracies in which these minorities have been accorded the most rights and respect. Joining in the defense of Western liberal democracy against authoritarian and fundamentalist threats, transhumanists can begin to overcome their alienation from “normals.”

Another dimension of the strength of a more democratic transhumanism is its ability to mobilize collective energies for collective projects that cannot be accomplished by the market. For instance, the colonization of space is a project that requires political support and state sponsorship. While many of the technoutopians attracted to space colonization have been libertarians, there are no viable models for space exploration relying solely on private investment. The problem with building political support for space is that the majority of citizens see the space program as a waste of money compared to their own pressing needs. Only a movement which could force the wealthy and corporations to accept the requisite taxes, while reassuring the majority of people that their needs for social welfare have been assured - in other words, a technoutopian social democratic movement – would be able to organize deep support for space colonization.

For transhumanism to achieve its own goals it needs to distance itself from its anarcho-capitalist roots and its authoritarian mutations, clarify its commitments to liberal democratic institutions, values and public policies, and work to reassure skittish publics and inspire them with Big Projects. Building on the foundation laid by the World Transhumanist Association, and the disparate elements of democratic technoutopianism flickering in global intellectual landscape, the politics of the 21st century may yet see the return of a positive, progressive vision of a sexy, high-tech future.

Transhumanism and the future of capitalism: The next meaning of life
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steve-fullerAlthough there is no single definition of ‘transhumanism’, the term broadly relates to the idea that the human species should radically transform itself as it has the physical environment through the use of advanced technology. Steve Fuller writes on the link between transhumanism and capitalism, and elaborates on what it would mean to be a person in such a world.

Capitalism is not normally seen as an especially ‘humanistic’ ideology. Yet central to the legal innovations that enabled the rise of capitalism in the early modern West was a doctrine of the person as a being who is free to exchange goods and services. In the eighteenth century, this freedom was characterised as an ‘inalienable right’, which is to say, not transferable to another either by choice or under duress.

Thus, a strong normative distinction between people and property was institutionalised, which had not existed in slave or feudal societies. The sting of the Marxist critique of capitalism comes from observing that this distinction is not upheld in practice. Instead a supposedly inalienable right of the person becomes a site for exploitation, as asymmetrical power relations in the marketplace reduces human labour to inhuman capital inputs.

Transhumanism challenges the sense of humanity’s ontological stability shared by capitalists and socialists – which has rendered exploitation such a normatively charged issue in the modern era. To be sure, over the past 150 years the potential for exploitation has been mitigated by laws that circumscribe and regulate the role of work in life: While one may need to sell one’s labour to make a living, the buyer doesn’t have unconditional control over the seller’s life. In this context, welfare state legislation has operated as a safeguard against the realisation of Marx’s worst fears.

However, whatever sense of humanism has been presumed by such policies is being gradually eroded by the information-based mode of production that characterises what Jean-Francois Lyotard originally called the ‘postmodern condition’. In particular, as computers mediate both the work and non-work aspects of life, many of the phenomenological markers that created distance between the ‘worlds’ of work and non-work are rapidly disappearing.

An obvious case in point is the idea of ‘working from home’. People who operate this way typically shift back and forth between performing work and non-work activities on screen in an open-ended and relatively unstructured day. Meanwhile, all the data registered in these activities are gathered by information providers (e.g. Google, Facebook, Amazon), who then analyse and consolidate them for resale to private and public sector clients.

Is this exploitation? The answer is not so clear. The information providers offer a platform that is free at the point of use, enabling users to produce and consume data indefinitely. Of course, such platforms are the source of both intense frustration and endless satisfaction for users, but the phenomenology of these experiences is not necessarily what one might expect of people in a state of ‘exploitation’. On the contrary, there is reason to think that people increasingly locate ‘meaning’ in their lives in some cyber-projection (‘avatar’) of themselves, notwithstanding the third-party ownership of the platform hosting the cyber-projection.

Transhumanism is strongly implicated in this shift in the scope of one’s ‘personhood’. My own sense of identity may be tied to my having begun life as a member of Homo sapiens at a certain time and place. But that is largely a modern narrative convention, which is tied to what John Locke originally dubbed a ‘forensic’ sense of the person, which is enshrined in modern law – namely, the physical source of an action for whose effects the source is then accountable. Of course, there is scope for this individual to both extend and transfer his or her powers. Thus, the modern period has witnessed an expansion in the remit of corporate law and inheritance law. However, transhumanism takes the process of ‘extending’ and ‘transferring’ the powers of the person to a new level.

On the one hand, in the case of extension, the person might incorporate genetically or prosthetically, with the intent of conferring new powers on the original physical individual, as opposed to simply merging the interests of that individual with those of other individuals in the sorts of business arrangements we normally call ‘corporations’. On the other hand, in the case of transfer, the person might do more than simply bequeath various assets to already existing individuals and institutions – say, in a will which comes into force upon one’s death. Rather, the person might in his or her own lifetime invest energy and income in support of virtual agents, ‘second lives’, with the effect of turning one’s physical self into a platform for launching the more meaningful cyber-selves.

The state of humanity in such a state of transhumanised capitalism – ‘Capitalism 2.0’, if you will – is one of morphological freedom, as transhumanists themselves put it: It is the freedom not only to do what you want but also to be what you want. It is worth observing that this sense of freedom violates a key metaphysical assumption shared by liberals and socialists, namely, that humans are rough natural equals, not in the sense that everyone is naturally the same but that everyone has roughly the same mix of assets and liabilities, which in turn justifies a harmonious division of labour in society. The violation of this assumption implies that whatever problems of social justice relating to material inequality have emerged over the history of capitalism are potentially amplified by transhumanism, as the prospect of morphological freedom explodes stopgap liberal intuitions about the ‘natural equality’ of humans.

A reading course on what the ‘meaning of life’ might look like in such a world would do well to focus on the work of Robert Nozick and Derek Parfit, both of whom in somewhat different ways stretched philosophical thinking about the conditions for personal identity to capture the transhumanist prospects suggested above.

Steve Fuller recently gave a wide-ranging talk on ‘Transhumanism and the Future of Capitalism’ to the University of Birmingham’s Centre for Contemporary Philosophy of Technology, the video for which is here.

Note: This article gives the views of the author, and not the position of EUROPP – European Politics and Policy, nor of the London School of Economics. Featured image credit: Michael Coghlan (CC BY-SA 2.0)

The differences in the manner in which Reform and Orthodox Jews practice their tradition is grounded in their view of the Hebrew Scripture (Bible) and the status of other sacred texts, such as the Mishnah and Talmud. There are also law codes, such as the Mishneh Torah (by Moses Maimonides) and the Shulchan Arukh (by Joseph Caro) which guide the life of Orthodox Jews. For Orthodox Jews, the Hebrew Scriptures is a divinely-authored text and therefore every commandment contained therein must be obeyed. The Mishnah and Talmud are considered to have virtually the same status and are called Oral Torah. Reform Jews, however, understand the texts to have been written by human beings -- our ancestors. In my personal opinion, the texts are certainly divinely inspired and reflect our ancestors' best understanding of God and their covenant with God, as well as their view of God's will, but that is not the same as being divinely-authored. Hence, Reform Jews read the texts through the spectacles not only of a religious person, but those of the scholar as well. Some institutions are considered to be a product of the cultural milieu and societal norms of the ancient Near East when the Hebrew Scriptures were written down, and do not speak to our lives today. In addition, Reform Jews do not ascribe to the Mishnah and Talmud the same authority which Orthodox Jews do. While the Talmud and law codes guide the lives of Orthodox Jews, it is more accurate to say that they inform the lives of Reform Jews. These differences in perspective can be seen in every aspect of life: how holy days and festivals are celebrated, how kashrut (the laws of keeping kosher) are kept, how the prayer service is organized and conducted, etc. But it is not accurate to generalize and say "All Orthodox Jews do this..." or "All Reform Jews do that..."

Agata Bielik-Robson
First published 2014
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A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data
Bielik-Robson, Agata.
Jewish cryptotheologies of late modernity : philosophical Marranos /
Agata Bielik-Robson.
pages cm -- (Routledge Jewish studies series)
Includes bibliographical references and index.
1. Jewish philosophy--20th century. I. Title.
B5800.B54 2014
181’.06--dc23
2013049988

6 The ﬁre and the lightning rod: Tarrying with
the apocalypse 213
viii Contents

7 The promise of the name: ‘Jewish nominalism’ as the critique
of idealist tradition 233

I would like to thank Karen Kilby for her constant encouragement; Christopher
Thornhill for his wonderful editorial job and great patience; Adam Lipszyc
for his harsh intellectual friendship; my husband, Cezary Michalski, for long
and inspiring discussions; and, last but not least, Oliver Leaman for his help
and support without which this book would not have appeared.
A smaller version of the chapter “‘Job-like Questions’: The Place of
Negativity in Rosenzweig” appeared as “Oedipus Meets Job. On Neighbourly
Relations between Jews and Greeks in Franz Rosenzweig’s Star of Redemption,”
in Dialogsphilosophie, Rosenzweig Jahrbuch No. 7, Münich: Herder Verlag,
2013.
A part of the chapter “The Revolution of Trauma: Walter Benjamin and the
Tragic Gnosis” appeared as “The Unfallen Silence. Kinah and the Other Origin
of Language” in Lament in Jewish Thought. Philosophical, Theological, and
Literary Perspectives, eds. Illit Ferber and Paula Schwebel, Haag: de Gruyter,
2014.
A fragment of the chapter “The Identity of the Spirit: Taubes between
Apocalyptics and Historiosophy” appeared as “Modernity: The Jewish
Perspective,” in New Blackfriars, No. 1 (2013), Oxford: Blackwell.
A smaller version of the chapter “The Fire and the Lightning Rod: Tarrying
with the Apocalypse” appeared as “Tarrying with the Apocalypse. The Wary
Messianism of Rosenzweig and Lévinas,” Journal for Cultural Research No. 3
(2009).
An earlier version of the chapter “The Promise of the Name: ‘Jewish
Nominalism’ as the Critique of Idealist Tradition” appeared in Bamidbar.
Journal of Jewish Thought and Philosophy, No. 3 (2012), Vienna: Passagen
Verlag.
I would like to thank all these publishers for allowing me to reuse the
fragments of my work in the book.
List of abbreviations

CC Jacob Taubes, From Cult to Culture: Fragments Towards a
Critique of Historical Reason, ed. Aleida Assmann, Stanford:
Stanford University Press, 2009
DE Max Horkheimer and Theodor W. Adorno, Dialectic of
Enlightenment: Philosophical Fragments, trans. Edmund Jephcott,
ed. G. Schmid Noerr, Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2002
GP Emmanuel Lévinas, ‘God and Philosophy’, in Of God Who
Comes to Mind, trans. Bettina Bergo, Stanford: Stanford
University Press, 1998
GS Walter Benjamin, Gesammelte Schriften. Sieben Bände, Vol. I–VI,
ed. Rolph Tiedemann and Hermann Shweppenhäuser, Frankfurt
am Main: Suhrkamp, 1972–1991
IL Walter Benjamin, Illuminations: Essays and Reﬂections, trans.
Harry Zohn, New York: Schocken Books, 1968
JJC Gershom Scholem, On Jews and Judaism in Crisis: Selected
Essays, ed. Werner Dannhauser, New York: Schocken Books,
1976
LMA Hans Blumenberg, The Legitimacy of the Modern Age, trans.
Robert M. Wallace, Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 1985
LY Gershom Scholem, Lamentations of Youth: The Diaries of
Gershom Scholem, 1913–1919, ed. and trans. Anthony David
Skinner, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2007
MIJ Gershom Scholem, The Messianic Idea in Judaism: And Other
Essays on Jewish Spirituality, New York: Schocken Books,
1995
MM Theodor W. Adorno, Minima Moralia. Reﬂections on a
Damaged Life, trans. E. F. N. Jephcott, London: Verso, 2005
MT György Lukács, ‘Metaphysics of Tragedy’, in Soul and Form,
trans. Anna Bostock, Merlin Press: London, 1974
ND Theodor W. Adorno, Negative Dialectics, trans. E. B. Ashton,
London: Routledge, 1990
NTR Emmanuel Lévinas, Nine Talmudic Readings, trans. Annette
Aronowicz, Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1990
List of abbreviations xi
OB Emmanuel Lévinas, Otherwise than Being or Beyond Essence,
trans. Alphonso Lingis, The Hague: Martinus Nijhoﬀ, 1981
OE Jacob Taubes, Occidental Eschatology, trans. David Ratmoko,
Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2009
OG Walter Benjamin, The Origin of German Tragic Drama, trans.
John Osborne, London: Verso, 1998
R Walter Benjamin, Reﬂections: Essays, Aphorisms, Auto-
biographical Writings, New York: Schocken Books, 1978
RR Hermann Cohen, Religion of Reason: Out of the Sources of
Judaism, trans. Simon Kaplan, Atlanta, GA: Scholars Press,
1995
SR Franz Rosenzweig, The Star of Redemption, trans. William W.
Hallo, Notre Dame and London: University of Notre Dame
Press, 1985
SW1–4 Walter Benjamin, Selected Writings, vols. 1-4, ed. Howard
Eiland and Michael W. Jennings, Cambridge, MA.: Harvard
University Press, 1996–2003
SU Ernst Bloch, The Spirit of Utopia, trans. Anthony Nassar,
Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2000 (translation based
on the second revised edition of Der Geist der Utopie, 1923)
TB Gershom Scholem, Tagebücher nebst Aufsätzen und Entwürfen
bis 1923. 2 Halbband 1917–1923, Frankfurt am Main: Jüdischer
Verlag, 2000
TI Emmanuel Lévinas, Totality and Inﬁnity: An Essay on Exter-
iority, trans. Alphonso Lingis, The Hague: Martinus Nijhoﬀ,
1991
TO Emmanuel Lévinas, ‘The Trace of the Other’, trans. Alphonso
Lingis, in Deconstruction in Context: Literature and Philosophy,
ed. Mark C. Taylor, Chicago: University of Chicago Press,
1986
TP Jacob Taubes, The Political Theology of Paul, trans. Dana
Holänder, Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2003
U Walter Benjamin, Ursprung des deutschen Trauerspiels,
Frankfurt am Main: Suhrkamp, 1978
UL James Joyce, Ulysses, New York: Vintage International, 1990
USH Franz Rosenzweig, Understanding the Sick and the Healthy:
A View of World, Man, and God, trans. Nahum Glatzer,
Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1999
Introduction
Jewish clinamen, or the third language
of Jewish philosophy

Let me begin with two poems.
The ﬁrst was created by Judah Halevi, the legendary 12th-century Jewish-
Spanish poet writing both in Hebrew and Arabic, and a great defender of
Jewish faith against Hochmat Yevanit, the false ‘Greek wisdoms’ of philoso-
phy. The title of this poem is Your Words Are Perfumed Like Myrrh, where
God is the addresse, and the fragment in which Halevi criticizes the Greeks
goes as follows:

Let not Greek wisdom entice thee
Which bears no fruit but only blossoms.
Its upshot is that the earth was never stretched forth
That the tents of heaven were not extended,
That there is no beginning to creation,
And no end to renewal of the moons.
Hear the words of her confused sages,
Built on shallow and hollow foundation,
And you will turn away with heart empty and shaken,
But with a mouth full of triﬂing phrases.
Wherefore, then, shall I seek crooked paths,
And forsake the open highway?1

What is this dubious ‘Greek wisdom’ which, according to Judah Halevi,
should not entice a Jewish ear? It is a teaching of being that knows no
beginning and no end; a teaching of nature, physis, which, unlike creation,
beriah, rolls in the eternal return of the same, oﬀering no hope and no respite
from its monotonous rhythm of endless repetition.
According to the classical deﬁnition of Aristotle, physis is a system of all
beings that fall under the inexorable rule of cyclical alternation between genesis
kai phtora, generation and corruption; the tragic rule that knows no exception.
This is precisely the gist of the Greek wisdom against which Halevi protests
the strongest: the tragic sense of life that ‘has no fruit but only blossoms’, and
where everything that has come into existence can only blossom for a while,
for it is doomed from the start to wither, before it can truly begin to be, and
2 Introduction
truly mature in being. Only seemingly, therefore, is Greek philosophy focused
on being, on what really exists, ontos on. In fact, as Halevi suggests, it is a
science without foundation, perplexed and confused, where everything solid
melts into air and all being is tinged with nothingness from which it can never
separate itself properly. For it is only the teaching of creation, and God as the
creator, which can lay a proper foundation for our understanding of what
truly exists. The very concept of being as such, apparently the most cherished
centre of Greek thought, becomes possible and tenable only within the
metaphysics which bases itself on the notion of creation.
In this manner, Halevi, although he writes his poem against all philosophy
originating in ‘Greek wisdoms’, nonetheless makes a strong philosophical
statement of his own. Without wanting it, he philosophizes. Despite the overt
declaration, which refuses to engage with ‘shallow and hollow’ Greek words
and promises to listen only to the divine words perfumed like a myrrh, the
poet becomes seduced by the power of the philosophical form, if not the
content, and produces an argument. He does not just listen to the word of
God, and does not just comment; the form in which he opposes the Greek
wisdom of the endless and timeless universe is already contaminated by this
very wisdom’s mode of reasoning.2
Thus, even the most pious Jew gets dragged, against his will, into philoso-
phizing. It will be my argument here that this poem – on the surface ﬁercely
anti-philosophical, but deep down rather counter-philosophical – can be trea-
ted as a paradigm of all intellectual attempts that come under the heading of
‘Jewish philosophy’. The mixture of anti-philosophy, which explicitly declares
war against the Greek genre of thinking, and counter-philosophy, which
implicitly engages in creating counter-arguments, aimed to oppose the Greek
vision of the uncreated cosmos, will become a characteristic feature of this
uneasy, deeply troubled thing we call, for the lack of a better name, ‘Jewish
philosophy’, from the Hellenistic times of Philo of Alexandria up to the
postmodern, neo-Alexandrian times of Lévinas and Derrida.
Judah Halevi’s famous treatise The Kuzari, written in 1140, is the best
example of this paradoxical fusion. Using the story of the dialogue between
the pagan King of Khazars and the Jewish Rabbi, who managed to convert
the former to Judaism, Halevi produces a string of beautifully rounded
philosophical arguments in favour of creatio ex nihilo and against the whole
of Greek philosophy, which, as we are told again, should not entice the ear of
a true believer.3 It is not an accident that Halevi is often compared to the
Islamic thinker Al-Ghazali and is thought to occupy an analogical position
within Judaism; just as Al-Ghazali, the celebrated theologian of the Islamic
kalam, rallied all the arguments he learned from Aristotle to turn them
against the Greek sage and thus to defend ‘the God of theologians’ against
‘the God of philosophers’, so did Halevi, who used the whole philosophical
arsenal to bring it to self-destruction. But, the question immediately arises,
can one borrow the argumentative form of the ‘Greek wisdom’ without taking
any of its content? Can this split between form and content be as clear-cut as
Introduction 3
it appears to Al-Ghazali or Halevi? Or, can one ‘marry the speech of stran-
gers’, in this case the speech of Greek philosophy, and still maintain all the
innocence and freedom of a single bachelor, monolingual in his faithfulness to
Jewish religion?
The second poem, where the phrase ‘marrying the speech of strangers’
appears, was written by the contemporary Jewish-American poet Charles
Reznikoﬀ. Reznikoﬀ, himself a descendant of East European Jewry, who
spoke some Yiddish but not Hebrew, created in the 1960s the poetic cycle
Jerusalem the Golden, which oﬀers a modernized rereading of the Tanakh, the
Hebrew Bible. Being a poet, moreover an emphatically Jewish poet, but
unlike Halevi no longer safely rooted in the knowledge of Hebrew, Reznikoﬀ
was acutely aware of the linguistic problem posed by such identiﬁcation. This
is why, already in the ﬁrst part of the cycle, Reznikoﬀ gives us his own version
of The Song of Songs where the nuptial celebration between Solomon and the
Shulamite becomes a symbol of the linguistic marriage between the poet,
‘Hebrew by heart’, and the English language, the passive matter of words
ready to be impregnated by the foreign impulse, or an empty form ready to be
ﬁlled with a foreign spirit:

Like Solomon,
I have married and married the speech of strangers;
None are like you, Shulamite.4

The marriage between the Hebrew heart, ardent yet mute, and the English
Shulamite, the Shakespearian vocabulary of words, which is like no other in
its eloquence, is a true marriage; it creates an oﬀspring which is a ‘third lan-
guage’, not to be reduced to the separate identities of its parents. It is pre-
cisely the idea of this ‘third language’ that becomes the guiding motif of
Reznikoﬀ’s poetry. In the part 77th of Jerusalem the Golden, entitled ‘Joshua
at Shechem’, he writes about the Jews condemned to live in the linguistic
diaspora:

And God scattered them –
Through the cities of Medes, beside the waters of Babylon.
And God looked and saw the Hebrews,
Citizens of the great cities,
Talking Hebrew in every language under the sun.5

The situation of ‘Jewish philosophy’ is exactly like the one described by
Reznikoﬀ: it is the singular predicament of the ‘third language’ in which
Jewish thinkers talk Hebrew in words, concepts and arguments bequeathed to
them by Greek philosophers.6 Some of them, like Judah Halevi, would still
claim that they can keep the elements safely separate and always tell the
Hebrew and Greek wisdom apart, but most of them, in fact, would rather
admit that the fusion is inseparable, as indeed in a true marriage, and that
4 Introduction
‘talking Hebrew in every language under the sun’ does not leave the Jewish
component untransformed.

Philosophical Marranos
We can thus see ‘Jewish philosophy’ as a primarily linguistic problem: speak-
ing one language with the help of another, a case of an instantaneous bilin-
gualism. This brings us immediately to yet another metaphor coming from
the Jewish tradition, namely that of Marranos, the Spanish Jews forced to
convert to Christianity, who nonetheless preserved their secret Jewish faith:
the Marranic ‘Judaism undercover’, where the unspoken Hebrew shines
through but also subverts the overtly spoken dialect of the imposed ‘speech of
strangers’, in this case the Christian religion. It is not an accident that the ﬁrst
Jewish thinkers who entered the world of modern Western thought were
mostly of Marrano origin: not just the radical followers of Sabbatai Zevi, the
17th-century false Messiah, who proclaimed the messianic revolution and,
having converted to Islam and Christianity, left Jewish ghettos of Eastern and
Southern Europe to spread the revolutionary news, which eventually led some
of them to take active part in the French Revolution – but also such eminent
individuals as Uriel da Costa, Isaac la Peyrère and Baruch Spinoza.7 The last
one of this great philosophical line, Jacques Derrida, openly claimed to be ‘a
sort of marrane of French Catholic culture’,8 and this declaration prompted
him to articulate this peculiar experience of the ‘third language’, which we
would like to call a ‘philosophical Marranism’ – to denote a type of thinker,
like himself, who will never break through the Joycean ‘Jew-Greek, Greek-Jew’
confusion, but nonetheless will try to turn it into his advantage. That is, to
marry the speech of strangers and let the Hebrew talk through it: to do
counter-philosophy with the help of philosophy.9
There are many ways to approach the phenomenon of ‘Jewish philosophy’,
but the way I ﬁnd most convincing focuses precisely on the linguistic aspect of
this problem. I say ‘problem’, for even the very existence of such a practice as
‘Jewish philosophizing’ remains highly problematic, a fact which is so well
testiﬁed by Halevi’s rejection of philosophy as ‘the wisdom of the Greeks’.
Yet, despite Halevi’s warning, a hybrid entity called ‘Jewish philosophy’
nonetheless emerged, giving rise to many doubts and questions concerning its
status and legitimacy. These doubts only intensiﬁed with the birth of modernity
when many Jewish thinkers, who still considered themselves Jewish despite
the fact that they had lost their footing in the traditional Jewish culture,
entered the Western intellectual world. For the medieval Jewish philosophers,
such as Saadia or Moses Maimonides (but also Halevi in his philosophical
phase, while writing The Kuzari), thinking according to Aristotle or Plotinus
was mostly a matter of appropriation, which would leave the essential struc-
ture of Jewish thought intact, or at least so they thought. Yet for these
modern thinkers, so often already acquainted with the Marrano experience,
‘philosophizing’ meant a confrontation with a radically foreign linguistic
Introduction 5
medium, which would issue in a wholly new reﬂection on the language of
philosophy; ﬁrst of all, putting in doubt its alleged and self-professed uni-
versality. Always accused of particularism, the Jewish thinkers started to turn
tables and throw the same objection against the Western philosophy that
formulated it in the ﬁrst place.
But they rarely do it openly under Jewish auspices. Franz Rosenzweig bit-
terly protested when The Star of Redemption landed as a ‘Jewish book’ on the
same shelf with other pious and educational Bar Mitzvah presents for young
boys.10 He feared that his ambitious eﬀort to create neues Denken, ‘new
thinking’, would be thwarted the moment it opened itself defencelessly to the
objection of non-universality. Walter Benjamin’s celebrated image of the
puppet and the dwarf, in which the former represents the public philosophical
discourse and the latter stands for hidden ‘ugly and wizened’ theology, goes
even deeper in the ‘Marrano’ direction by encoding the strategy of deliberate
secrecy and ruse; once fully revealed, the Jewish theological message would
lose all its conceptual force.11 Still later, Max Horkheimer, asked during an
interview for German radio about the shortest possible deﬁnition of the
Frankfurt School (in a manner similar to the question famously posed to
Rabbi Hillel who oﬀered the most concise deﬁnition of Judaism ‘while
standing on one foot’), answered immediately that it was a ‘Judaism under-
cover’.12 But the true master of the secret turns out to be Jacques Derrida in
whom the ‘Marrano tendency’ culminates and at the same time ﬂips over to
the other side, becoming a secret du Polichinelle, a non-secret secret secretly
known by everybody where the phrase ‘but don’t tell anyone’ (used by
Derrida in Archive Fever) ironically turns into positive, though still indirect,
communication.13
Derrida is particularly useful here, mostly because of his openly declared
linguistic promiscuity. By discarding faithfulness to any monolingual tradi-
tion, he stands ﬁrmly on the post-Babelian grounds of the dispersion of
idioms that can approach universality only horizontally: not by assuming a
transcendent and superior meta-position, but by engaging in clashes and
stormy ‘marriages’. There is no such thing as a homogenous universal
language. Yet universality can be approached by ‘marrying the speeches of
strangers’, which completes the broken whole on the horizontal level, without
usurping the God-like point of view hovering over the clamour of diﬀerences.
As Walter Benjamin says in ‘The Task of the Translator’ (the essay which
serves Derrida as the canvas of his Babel variations), the only possible strat-
egy of universalization rests on the awareness of particularity of all languages,
which then lend themselves to the practices of translation (Übersetzung)
and completion (Ergänzung). The universal can only be made out of the
patchwork of mutually strange idioms that are forced into ‘marriage’ by the
translator.
Elaborating on the metaphor of Babel, Benjamin argues that, while lan-
guages are foreign in their dispersion, they also are not complete strangers to
one another because they all hide the memory trace of ‘pure language’, which
6 Introduction
is the true universal language spoken only in the paradise, but no longer
allowed in the post-paradisiac and post-Babelian condition of the Fall. The
ultimate goal of Benjamin’s musings on the nature of translation is precisely
the exposition of the horizontal idea of pure language:

[ … ] all suprahistorical kinship between languages consists in this: in
every one of them as a whole, one and the same thing is meant. Yet this
one thing is achievable not by any single language but only by the totality
of their intentions supplementing one another: the pure language.14

The Benjaminian pure language, strangely resembling Frege’s idea of truth as
one and the same denotation ‘meant’ by all the sentences in all the languages,
is indeed synonymous with the Truth of Revelation. Hence, translations only
assists ‘the growth of languages’ by pushing their hidden meaning towards
becoming manifest. ‘It is the task of the translator to release in his own lan-
guage that pure language which is exiled among alien tongues,’ says Benjamin
(ibid., p. 261, emphasis added). And then, by almost stumbling on Reznikoﬀ’s
metaphor of ‘marrying the speeches of strangers’, Benjamin approvingly
quotes Pannwitz, a German theoretician of translation: ‘He [the translator]
must expand and deepen his language by means of the foreign language’
(ibid., p. 262).
And while Benjamin still remains ambivalent as to the dispersion of lan-
guages, unsure whether to treat it as a blessing or a curse, Derrida – pushing
strongly into the ‘Marrano’ direction – interprets ‘the task of the translator’ in
a decidedly non-nostalgic manner. In ‘Tours de Babel’, the essay partly
devoted to Benjamin, he declares an impossibility of a ‘universal tongue’15
and praises the Babelian dissemination as the ﬁrst move of deconstruction:

The ‘tower of Babel’ does not merely ﬁgure the irreducible multiplicity of
tongues; it exhibits an incompletion, the impossibility of ﬁnishing, of tota-
lizing, of saturating, of completing on the order of ediﬁcation, architectural
construction, system and architechtonics.
(Ibid., p. 104)

Moreover, Derrida goes as far as to claim that Babel is, in fact, one of the
divine names and that ‘the proper name of “confusion” will be his [God’s]
mark and his seal’ (ibid., p. 107). The legend of Babel, therefore, tells an alter-
native story of God’s revelation where ‘confusion’ turns out to be His proper
name, perhaps even more real than the one revealed at Sinai.16 To reach
universality does not mean to escape the confusion in a vertical manner but to
stay at its level and work through the diﬀerences it creates.
This is precisely the paradox of what we will call here a ‘Marrano strategy’.
The uneasy and deeply problematic discipline of thought called ‘Jewish phi-
losophy’ became gradually so unhappy with its own nomenclature that it
Introduction 7
began to claim universality, a true universality, so far unmatched by any lan-
guage declaring to be universal: philosophy or Christianity. These ‘philoso-
phical Marranos’, always accused of soiling the universal form of philosophy
and its Christian avatar with parochial Hebrew content, eventually turned
this accusation to their own advantage and formulated their standpoint as
follows: at least we know we are particular and can start from there, while
you, our accusers, remain mistaken as to your own alleged universality and
thus can never know or doubt your presuppositions. In fact, the whole evo-
lution of modern Jewish thought can be seen as the shift in regard to the issue
of universality. Initially, this issue would arouse an envy and desire to be
‘properly’ universal, to imitate philosophers as well as Christians, who, as it is
stated very clearly in Spinoza, seem to oﬀer two distinct ways to achieve
rational transparency: in knowledge and in morals. Then it would gradually
provoke a protest against such one-sided claims and, as in Hermann Cohen,
would give rise to counter-claims, arguing that ‘the language of prophets’ is,
in fact, as universal as ‘the language of philosophers’. And ﬁnally, the issue of
the universal meta-language would simply dissolve by giving way to the
‘horizontal’ view that grants particular biases to all languages, and – as in
Benjamin and Derrida – desires only that they should play against each other
in the movement of both mutual deconstruction and completion.
In this manner, the Marrano strategy matures from its beginnings as a
negative tactic of envy and resentment to become in the end a positive tactic
of the ‘true’ universalization of philosophical discourse, which openly draws
out of the sources of Jewish messianism. We can understand this Jewish-
Marrano messianism as an after-Babel project to mend the broken whole
from within, horizontally, without assuming the lofty and proud position of a
general meta-language, but through the eﬀort of bi- or even multilingualism.
Just like many Marranos before, who embraced Christianity more than they
would like to admit, these ‘philosophical Marranos’ would not mind being
addressed by the famous phrase of Paul, whom they regarded as, in fact, one
of the best representatives of Jewish messianism (simply following here
Deuteronomy and Jeremiah): ‘circumcised by heart’. For only this mute yet
ardent Hebrew heart, when talking through the languages of strangers, tes-
tiﬁes to the surviving presence of the ‘true Israel’. At the same time, however,
their eﬀort could not be perceived only in terms of giving in to the Christian
‘speech of strangers’. On the contrary, their linguistic messianism is not a
repetition of the Paulian gesture of universalization; although it aims at the
same goal, it wants to achieve it diﬀerently, better, wiser and more truthfully
to the Jewish messianic tradition. The ‘philosophical Marranos’ know that
the true universalism cannot be founded by declaration – ‘neither Jew, nor
Greek’ – and then sealed with the acceptance of the philosophical meta-
language, as it happened in Christianity. The road to universality does not
lead through the puriﬁcation of ‘neither, nor’ but through the ‘marriages’, that
is, the confusions and conjunctions, of the Joycean ‘Jew-Greek; Greek-Jew.’
Not through subtractions, which want to reach the deep naked core of a
8 Introduction
purely universal human nature, but through collisions of diﬀerences, which
happen all the time on the surface of linguistic encounters.17

The Jewish clinamen: From indiﬀerence to concern
In creating a more intriguing version of the problem called ‘Jewish philoso-
phy’, I am following Harold Bloom and his theory of clinamen as the ﬁrst
stage of creative revision of the original, as presented in The Anxiety of
Inﬂuence and A Map of Misreading. The notion of clinamen, the Latinized
name of Democritean parenklisis, the swerve of atoms producing an accident
of newness in the otherwise determined universe, serves Bloom as a blueprint
for the revisionary eﬀorts of the poets who struggle with their powerful
precursors in order to win the trophy of originality. Now, if we apply Bloom’s
revisionary scheme for the purposes of Jewish philosophy, we shall see that
the clinamen with which the modern Jewish thinkers swerve away from the
body of Western thought is not so much a helpless local declension or a
parochial lessening of the universal paradigm (producing such limited intel-
lectual phenomena as ‘Jewish Romanticism’, ‘Jewish Enlightenment’ or ‘Jewish
Marxism’) as it is a deliberate act of rivalry. The stake of this competition is,
just like in Bloom, validity. The only diﬀerence between the poets and the
thinkers here is that while the former ﬁght for originality, i.e. a place in the
poetic lineage closer to the foundational origins, the latter ﬁght for uni-
versality by questioning the very rules of universality as set by the dominant
idiom.18
So far I have been very skilful in avoiding one distinction that, in the con-
text that occupies me here, appears rather unavoidable, alas. It is the clichéd,
worn out distinction between Athens and Jerusalem, which came into
existence thanks to Tertullian, the 2nd-century Church Father who famously
exclaimed: ‘What indeed has Athens to do with Jerusalem?’ This was
obviously a rhetorical question, for the answer was already implied: nothing.19
In this manner, Tertullian inaugurated the whole line of Christian thinkers
who have either opposed or found problematic the massive borrowing that
Christian theology has taken from the Greek philosophy, most of all from
Plato and Aristotle. Tertullian was kept in the shadows during the Patristic
and Scholastic times, but re-emerged as an important precursor in modernity,
inspiring such thinkers as Blaise Pascal, Søren Kierkegaard, Matthew Arnold
and Lev Shestov. It was thus Tertullian who gave impulse to the further ela-
boration of the Athens versus Jerusalem motif along the lines of the following
modern distinctions: the Pascalian diﬀerence between raison d’esprit et raison
du coeur; the Kierkegaardian contrast between rational logic and the leap of
faith; the Arnoldian cultural tension between Greek ‘sweetness and light’ and
Jewish ‘fanaticism of heart’; and the Shestovian reason against revelation.
I have been avoiding this Tertullianesque lineage mostly because it is a very
Christian version of the events, which Jewish thinkers approach with justiﬁed
Introduction 9
misgivings. Not that they do not have their own variant of this opposition;
Judah Halevi’s poem gives a good account of the tension between Shem and
Yaphet, or between Torah and Sophia, the ‘teaching’ and the ‘wisdom’, as
seen precisely from the Jewish perspective.20 But what diﬀers in these two
approaches is the criterion. In the line inaugurated by Tertullian, it is always
rationality versus irrationality; the mundane logic of Greek philosophers
opposed to the scandalous, absurd, and surreal event of God’s cruciﬁxion. It
ascribes reason to the Greeks and revelation – the more irrational, the more
authentic – to the Jews and, a fortiori, to the Christians. And it is precisely
this particular criterion, turning faith into an emphatically irrational decision
which severs rationality from religiosity, that is met by such a strong protest
on the Jewish side. As Lévinas says in ‘God and Philosophy’: ‘It is to doubt
that this opposition constitutes an alternative’ (GP, p. 57).
For the Jews have no problem whatsoever with calling Judaism, in
Hermann Cohen’s words, a ‘religion of reason’, i.e., a religion that deﬁned
revelation as the ﬁrst enlightenment, disenchanting the world from the pagan
cosmic gods. One of the most interesting aspects of ‘Jewish philosophy’, as
I want to see it here, is that by mixing and marrying diﬀerent languages, it
can also subvert and undermine its clichéd distinctions and introduce phrases
that sound meaningless on the well-trodden monolingual paths of Western
thought, as precisely this one: ‘religion of reason’. This formulation is an
oﬀense to those Christians, who, especially in modernity, usually do not see
themselves on the side of the Enlightenment – and a scandal to the radical
secularists who wish to purge their thought from the last remnants of theism.
Yet it is the most apt deﬁnition of Judaism ever provided and, at the same
time, the most accurate deﬁnition of the subject of the so called ‘Jewish
philosophy’, which, at its best, reﬂects on this peculiar, alternative rationality
coming ‘out of the sources of Judaism’, not to be conﬂated with the Greek
logos and its cosmic, unrevealed hochmat yevanit.
Let us focus now on two concrete examples: two illustrations of how
modern Jewish thinkers reﬂect on their own status as thinkers, or as repre-
sentatives of what we call here, very tentatively, ‘Jewish philosophy’. The ﬁrst
example will be oﬀered by Leo Strauss. A great specialist in Plato and all
things Greek, he wrote a few essays on Jewish matters, among them
‘Jerusalem and Athens: Some Preliminary Reﬂections’, written in 1967. Many
contemporary American acolytes of Strauss strive nowadays to turn him into
an eminent and dedicated Jewish scholar, yet it seems to me that the only
diﬀerence in this essay, which sets Strauss just an inch apart from the tradi-
tionally Christian approach to the Athens-Jerusalem question, is the bold
reversal of the title: ‘Jerusalem and Athens’. Strauss begins:

All the hopes that we entertain in the midst of the confusions and dan-
gers of the present are founded positively or negatively, directly or indir-
ectly on the experiences of the past. Of these experiences the broadest and
deepest, as far as we Western men are concerned, are indicated by the
10 Introduction
names of the two cities Jerusalem and Athens. Western man became what
he is and is what he is through the coming together of biblical faith
and Greek thought. In order to understand ourselves and illuminate our
trackless ways into the future, we must understand Jerusalem and
Athens.21

So far, so good. But the diﬀerence itself, which Strauss subsequently elucidates,
will sound very disappointing to the Jewish ear:

We must then try to understand the diﬀerence between biblical wisdom
and Greek wisdom. We see at once that each of the two claims to be true
wisdom, thus denying to the other its claim to be wisdom in the strict and
highest sense. According to the Bible, the beginning of wisdom is fear of
the Lord; according to the Greek philosophers, the beginning of wisdom
is wonder. We are thus compelled from the very beginning to make a
choice, to take a stand. Where then do we stand? We are confronted with
the incompatible claims of Jerusalem and Athens to our allegiance. We
are open to both and willing to listen to each. We ourselves are not wise
but we wish to become wise. We are seekers for wisdom, philosophoi. By
saying that we wish to hear ﬁrst and to act to decide, we have already
decided in favour of Athens against Jerusalem.
(Ibid., pp. 379–380)

On Strauss’ account, even the smallest doubt, indecision, reﬂecting vacillation –
all these attributes of a questing (Strauss would say zethetic) attitude, already
betray our allegiance to the paradigm of philosophical Athens, for Jerusalem
requires nothing less than an absolute obedience, a humble hearkening to the
word of revelation (‘Let us never forget that there is no biblical word for
doubt,’ ibid., p. 381). Can there be any common land between these two
cities, any form of a double allegiance that could create a ‘Jewish philosophy’?
No, says Strauss. There is no such thing; only the strict Kierkegaardian
‘either, or.’ But not even this; we are merely deluding ourselves that we stand
in front of any alternative. Already perceiving this situation as a possibility of
choice places us inescapably on the side of Athens. Modern men, living in the
condition of questing, given multilingual choices, alternatives, possibilities,
are already philosophers. The simple childlike faith of Jerusalem is lost to
them forever.
If we follow Strauss (and many contemporary Jewish scholars unfortunately
do so), the very concept of ‘Jewish philosophy’ will become an oxymoron, a
contradiction in terms; perhaps even the less charged formulation ‘Jewish
thought’ will become highly problematic too, because the absence of alter-
natives, which Strauss ascribes to Jewish faith in revelation, precludes any
possibility of thinking. No parochial declension is possible here, not to men-
tion even more serious competitive clinamen; any ‘marrying’ of these two
idioms is doomed to fail by producing only stillborn hybrids. But those who
Introduction 11
follow Strauss on this point fail to see his Socratic irony; they do not take full
account of his diagnosis according to which no one can choose the simple way
of Jerusalem in modern times, even the most devoted believing Jew. His
apparent defence of Jerusalem as a separate wisdom of harkening to the
revealed Word turns out to be the ﬁnal stroke, the last nail to the coﬃn of the
religious paradigm in modernity. Imagining himself as a ‘Jewish Socrates’,
Strauss makes a deliberate conversion to philosophy, all the more determined
precisely because of his previous religious upbringing, which he knows he
must leave behind. Strauss, whom so many Jewish scholars nowadays hail
as the greatest Jewish thinker of the 20th century, practically declares our
discipline impossible. What an irony indeed.
Yet there is another contender to the title of the greatest Jewish thinker of
the 20th century, and this one should be much closer to us, the hopeful
representatives of ‘Jewish philosophy’: Franz Rosenzweig, an older colleague
of Leo Strauss, whom he acquainted at the Jewish Free Learning House in
Frankfurt. Rosenzweig’s Star of Redemption oﬀers the best example of the
‘third language’, a true child of the stormy marriage between philosophy and
religion. Despite his oﬃcial ‘return to Judaism’, Rosenzweig does not pretend
that the modern world, in which languages marry one another and choices
abound, can be erased; he is determined to practice precisely what Strauss
deems impossible: ‘modern Jewish thought’. But he knows that in order to do
so he cannot rely on the classical opposition of Jerusalem and Athens, as it
re-emerges – albeit in a strange Jewish-Tertullianesque variation – in the essay
of Leo Strauss. In Rosenzweig’s highly innovative approach, the usual vector
of the relation between ‘the Hebrews and the Hellenes’ becomes reversed. It is
not the Greek philosophy that delivers categories to capture the speciﬁcity of
Jerusalem by privation or negation (as lacking rationality, freedom of thought
and wonder), but the other way round: Athens, and the whole philosophical
formation ‘from Ionia to Jena’ is perceived and interrogated from the position
of Rosenzweigian ‘new thinking’, deriving – to use Hermann Cohen’s phrase
again – straight ‘out of the sources of Judaism’.
This dialogue is not so much a philosophical symposium as a religious
encounter. Now it is not the two systems of thought – one free to seek
wisdom, the other restrained from the start by the revealed word, that stand
against one another – but rather two forms of religion, two types of faith and
decision, which rely on two diﬀerent models of obedience. Rosenzweig wants
Athens to defend and prove its own form of religiosity in the face of Jewish
revelation. This ingenious reversal of the perspective constitutes the ﬁrst part
of The Star of Redemption, where Rosenzweig, inspired by Nietzsche, exam-
ines ‘Greek religiosity’ as the tragic religion of the natural sublime, with
which no man can argue, and juxtaposes it with the Jewish revelation which
oﬀers the possibility of a new, truly revolutionary change in our attitude
towards the deity, conceived now in terms of dialogue, loving exchange and
the partnership of the covenant. Athens, therefore, stands not so much for a
questing freedom of philosophy as for a tragic decision to see life as
12 Introduction
constrained by fate, death, and natural necessity, from which there is no
escape. Jerusalem, on the other hand, stands not so much for fanatical obe-
dience as for a religious revolution that allows an Exodus from the Egypt of
self-enclosed nature and liberates life from the power of death. It is not the
pairing of reason versus unreason that delivers the right criterion of diﬀerence,
but the opposition of two fundamental decisions: life against death, which
also happens to be the opposition of life against being or, in the last instance,
love against indiﬀerence.
Rosenzweig’s case shows very clearly that apart from its formal character-
istics (the ironic reversal of the claim to universality), the Jewish clinamen
possesses a very palpable content value that we can describe, in its original
atomistic terms, as a swerve of concern against the free-fall of indiﬀerence.
From Halevi to Heschel, Rosenzweig, Benjamin, Lévinas, and Derrida, there
continues a ‘crooked path’ of thinking that breaks with the ‘open highway’ of
the neutrality that constitutes Greek ontos on. In Thorleif Boman’s words, it is
a ‘dynamic strain of Hebrew thought’22 that tries to breathe life into the stony
cosmos of indiﬀerence, and with it care, concern, complaint, but also a pos-
sibility of aﬃrmation, of saying an emphatic yes, yes … Thus, even Strauss,
who otherwise has no trust in Hebrew thought, conceiving of it as a simple
form of belief, will claim that ‘the Presence of God or His Call elicits a con-
duct of His creatures that diﬀers strikingly from their ordinary conduct; it
enlivens the lifeless, it makes ﬂuid the ﬁxed’.23 This is precisely the pivot on
which Rosenzweig builds his practice of Neues Denken: a ‘life-centred view’
(Lebensanschauung) that privileges the perspective of the living and sees in
their precious and particular life a possibility of aﬃrmation in which being,
shaken out of its indiﬀerence, can ﬁnally say ‘yes’ to itself. The clinamen,
which becomes so visible in Rosenzweig, but can also be applied to the whole
modern Jewish thought, can thus be called messianic; it oﬀers itself as a
redemptive correction/alternative to the predominantly tragic ‘worldview’
(Weltanschauung) which accompanies the philosophical discourse from the
moment of its inception.24
This ‘new thinking’ – the function of which is to tell stories, or, to be more
precise, to tell dynamic and ‘warm’ Hebrew stories within the immobile and
indiﬀerent structure of Greek concepts; to breathe in possibility into necessi-
tarian universe – locates itself on the very antipodes to the silence that
surrounds the ‘religious man’ in Tertullian, Pascal and Kierkegaard. Nothing
is further from the Rosenzweigian opening of philosophical language to the
living word of story than the Tertullianesque gesture of rejecting all logos in
the name of the ineﬀable, blind obedience to revelation. Tertullian’s credo quia
impossibile, Pascal’s ‘sacriﬁce of the intellect’, Kierkegaard’s ‘leap of faith’, or
Strauss’ ‘faithfulness to the word’ do not look for another language; having
transgressed the discourse of philosophy, they fall into silence, where hear-
kening obedience replaces all speech. Rosenzweig, however, chooses a radi-
cally diﬀerent approach that produces a surprising reversal of this traditional
motif of talkative logos and silent faith. When interrogated by the vital
Introduction 13
questions of life, death, and better life, venturing ‘beyond being’ and its static
indiﬀerence, the idiom of the Hebrews bursts with eloquence, while the lan-
guage of the Hellenes turns strangely mute, chocking on the never asked,
indeed non-askable, questions.
It is precisely for this reason that Rosenzweig protested so vehemently when
some commentators classiﬁed The Star of Redemption as a ‘Jewish book’. For
the book he had written (mostly in the trenches of the First World War on the
Serbian front) is one of the most universal works that has ever been created
by Western thought; a true guide for the perplexed modern man who lives the
Babel-like life, constantly shifting grounds between Athens, Jerusalem, and
Rome – to name just three cities and three diﬀerent languages he must learn
to speak. Its universality, however, is not that of a transparent meta-language;
if there is a Jewish thinker who truly ‘married the speech of strangers’, it was
certainly Rosenzweig who understood Greeks better than they could ever
understand themselves, but also changed the way in which Jews, projected
into the corner of their imposed particularism, were forced to perceive, or
rather misperceive, their vocation. If he achieves the messianic ‘neither Jew,
nor Greek’, it is not through the discursive tower of Babel, but through the
horizontal dialogue of languages that all become richer in this confrontation,
tending not towards the hostility of mutual contradiction, as in Strauss, but
towards friendship of mutual completion. Franz Rosenzweig ‘marries the
speech of a stranger’, which also means that he manages to turn the stranger
into a neighbour, thus giving Reznikoﬀ’s nuptial metaphor the truly Jewish
ﬂavour of ‘neighbourly love’. In Rosenzweig, the Bloomian agon comes its
full circle: from the initial anxiety of rivalry into a loving reconciliation in
which the hierarchy between the mighty precursor (Greek thought ‘from
Ionia to Jena’) and the aspiring ephebe (new thinking) becomes ﬁnally
ﬂattened and all idioms seem to ﬁnd themselves in the same horizontal
Babelian ﬁx.25
The Rosenzweigian clinamen, which we detected here as characteristic of
all ‘philosophical Marranos’ of Western modernity – to push thinking
‘beyond being’, unmoved and unconcerned, into new areas of transontological,
messianic unrest and anxiety – ﬁnds its ultimate formulation in Emmanuel
Lévinas. His thought, as Robert Gibbs has already shown, is indeed strictly
correlated with Rosenzweig’s anti/counter/philosophical strategy, which aims
at redeﬁning thinking as a category wider than philosophy or, alternatively, at
changing the meaning of the term ‘philosophy’, so it can comprise also das
neue Denken, deriving from the biblical imagination.26 Thus ‘God and Philo-
sophy’, Lévinas’ late methodological manifesto from 1975, begins by exposing
the parochiality of Greek ontological thought as founded on the arbitrary
gesture of being:

This dignity of an ultimate and royal discourse comes to Western philo-
sophy by virtue of the rigorous coincidence between the thought in which
philosophy stands and the reality in which this thought thinks. For
14 Introduction
thought, this coincidence signiﬁes the following: not to have to think
beyond that which belongs to the gesture or movement of being.27
(GP, 55)

Following Rosenzweig, Lévinas wants to venture ‘beyond being’, just like he
wants to undermine the seemingly universal discourse of philosophy, which
based its claim to validity on mirroring reality as it is. For both of them, being
is not a neutral, abstract, all-encompassing category. Rather, it implies an
ontological choice, which is also a choice of indiﬀerence; a certain gesture,
and as such a bias that calls into question ‘the dignity of the ultimate and
royal discourse’ of philosophy originating in Greece. In this manner, by
exposing the ontological gesture as such, Lévinas wishes to return to the place
of origination (the Bloomian place of both originality and universality) that
precedes Heidegger’s seemingly ultimate ‘return to the Greeks,’ zurück zu den
Griechen:

The problem that is posed, and which shall be our own, consists in asking
ourselves whether meaning is equivalent to the esse of being; that is,
whether the meaning which, in philosophy, is meaning is not already a
restriction of meaning; whether it is not already a derivation or a drift
from meaning [ … ] This supposition can only be justiﬁed by the possi-
bility of going back, starting from this allegedly conditioned meaning, to
a meaning that would no longer express itself in terms of being, nor in
terms of beings.
(GP, p. 57, emphasis added)

Here is the culmination of what we can ﬁnally dub as the Marrano herme-
neutics of suspicion towards the philosophical idiom, which it aimed to
expose precisely as an idiom: particular, local, itself a product of a self-unaware
decision, a biased gesture, a declension. In his provocative attempt to ‘think
beyond being’, Lévinas makes a clinamen which is to correct the initial
clinamen of the Greek thought and thus open a space of a true universality
before or in-between the decision to follow either the ﬁnite being or the inﬁ-
nite life. But he can show this place of origination only due to the faithfulness
to his own bias, his own messianic thrust that, unlike the Greek dispassionate
and contemplative mind that mirrors the neutral status quo of what is, ﬁlls
itself with anxious attempts to press new meanings out of the masses of being
and move it ‘beyond’, into the promise of ‘more life’.
At the same time, however, Lévinas seems to be caught in the ironic
ambivalence of the diagnosis he himself wishes to subvert at the very begin-
ning of his essay, and which we should quote in its original inverted commas:
‘Not to philosophize is still to philosophize.’ It would appear that just like
Halevi, who professed his hatred of all philosophy in immaculately philoso-
phical terms, Lévinas, being far more conscious of his uneasy entanglement,
does precisely what he wished to undermine. For just like Halevi, who
Introduction 15
attempted to convince the non-Jewish audience about the superiority of his
own faith, Lévinas plays the philosophical game of universality even as his
play consists in the radical correction of the rules as initially set in ancient
Greece. Or, to put things more paradoxically: he still plays the game of uni-
versality, even if he shows that the ambition of the universal, ‘ultimate and
royal’ language as such is in itself impossible. By denouncing philosophy’s
desire to represent one necessary language of rational mankind, Lévinas does
not renounce universality altogether; he rather looks for it in the clashes of
idioms, which reveal ‘many’ under the alleged ‘one’, as well as plastic possi-
bilities under the rigid necessity. He may not be happy with the Pascalian
opposition between God of Believers and God of Philosophers, but he none-
theless wants to preserve an alternative; to make ﬂuid what seemed ﬁxed,
i.e., sealed within the ontological idiom of being’s self-suﬃciency.28

The antinomian spectre
But there is yet another feature of the Marrano strategy, which plays no lesser
part in its subversive games against all seemingly solid and homogeneous
philosophical languages; the antinomian spectre.
It is because of this hovering spectral presence that, throughout this book, I
want to keep the Marrano metaphor as open as possible in order to preserve
the mesmerizing and symbolic force that it exerted on many Jewish thinkers
of late modern times and lent justiﬁcation to their ‘cryptotheological’ eﬀorts.
This metaphor, therefore, is to work in Hans Blumenberg’s sense of the word,
that is, as a ﬂexible vivid image that can attract new meanings depending
on the changing historical circumstances. The signiﬁcant exception here was
obviously Gershom Scholem who not only felt spellbound by the Marrano
metaphor, but also delved in detail into what he called ‘Marrano theology’.
The fascination with which so many 20th-century diasporic Jews approached
the ‘Marrano theology’ as a living hypothesis is thus clearly indebted to
Scholem’s not purely historical work devoted to present it as a still actual
phenomenon within the Jewish world. Now, thanks to Scholem, we bestow
the Marrano idea with a rich symbolic potential, far surpassing the sorry fate
of the Sephardic Jewry who were converted by force to Christianity but kept
their Jewish identity under cover as a ‘hidden faith’. We link it rather to the
Sabbatians who, as Scholem has shown, were mostly Marranos. And probably
the most famous of them, Abraham Miguel Cardozo, wrote an entire treatise,
Magen Abraham (The Star of Abraham), devoted to the messianic signiﬁcance
of Marranism, in which the seeming vice of secrecy cunningly turns into a
virtue of deeper truth. For, says Cardozo, the true faith can only be hidden.
Only what is concealed can be an authentic faith; what becomes positively
revealed is nothing but an oﬃcial religion. Hence the real faith needs to pro-
tect its subversive-antinomian character by avoiding open pronouncement
and articulation. It was thus mostly due to this Marrano inﬂuence that
16 Introduction
Sabbatai’s conversion to Islam became almost immediately interpreted as an
act of free will, demonstrating that only ‘hidden faith’ can be genuine: inner,
unconcerned and unhindered by oﬃcial norms and religious institutions.
Cardozo believed that Marranos are the truly chosen people, ‘the righteous
remnant of a true Israel’, destined to save the world and spread the divine
message through all the nations by subverting their pagan institutions from
within. Sabbatai, therefore, not only followed the way of those reﬂexive
Marranos, but also justiﬁed it and showed its deeper spiritual meaning; now,
to convert to Christianity or Islam meant to be able to expand the messianic
practice of ‘lifting the sparks’ from the realm of kelipot, the ‘broken vessels’,
and to penetrate the darkest regions of the created world (such as the Islam,
at that time no longer so hospitable to the Jews or Roman-Catholic Edom). To
choose faith in a hidden way meant a deliberate eﬀort to keep the antinomian
impulse opposed to all oppressive laws of this world, both secular and reli-
gious, from contamination with a fallen reality; to maintain it in a form of a
hovering spectre, distanced from any direct positive realization.29
In presenting what may seem to be a purely historical interest in Marrano
theology, Scholem comes to the fore as a thinker whose ambitions far surpass
the merely historical. In his characteristically titled ‘Ten Non-Historical Theses
on Kabbalah’ (emphasis added), Scholem, who no longer wishes to pass for a
neutral historian of the Jewish world, says in deceptively simple words:

The kabbalist claims that there is a tradition (Tradition) of truth which
can be handed over (tradierbar). This is a very ironic claim since the
truth, of which it speaks, is anything but capable of being handed over
(tradierbar). The truth can become known but not passed on, for pre-
cisely in what can be passed on, the truth is no longer. The authentic
tradition remains hidden; the falling tradition stumbles upon an object
and shows its greatness only in the fact that it falls.30

In his wonderful essay on Scholem, Harold Bloom – following Scholem’s own
desire to become ﬁnally ‘unhistorical’ – lovingly ‘exposes’ him as a secret
follower of Abraham Miguel Cardozo, only barely masquerading as a
disinterested scholar of Jewish history:

Gershom Scholem, masking truly as a historical scholar, was the hidden
theologian of Jewish Gnosis for our time [ … ] Rarely unmasking, Scholem
sometimes hinted his truest desires. One of these hints is his sequence
of ‘Ten Unhistorical Aphorisms on Kabbalah,’ ﬁrst printed in 1938:
Authentic tradition remains hidden.31

Although Bloom, as he himself avows, is ‘delighted’ by this ‘sublimely
outrageous’ thesis (ibid., p. 59), he also immediately spots the paradox that
attaches itself to any Marrano declaration of a similar kind. For, ‘if authentic
tradition must remain hidden, then not only institutional Judaism becomes
Introduction 17
inauthentic’ (ibid., p. 56), this predicament must befall ‘Scholem’s own speech
and writing’ too. Yet this paradox is not the end of the story, for it merely
calls us to read Scholem ‘in between the lines’ – to brush his texts against the
grain and pull out from them all the ‘secrets’ they protect better than any
‘uncharacteristic silence could have done’ (ibid.). We shall soon see that
Scholem’s silence was indeed anything but ‘uncharacteristic’: for him, it was
an equivalent of the via negativa through which every tradition must pass in
order to renew itself. More than that, it was also a point of break or crisis
approaching destruction and oblivion – a ‘ﬁne line between religion and
nihilism’32 – in which the Marrano experience could dialectically turn to an
advantage. Himself a ‘product of the purgatory of assimilation and secular-
ization’,33 Scholem, via his highly characteristic ‘Hebrew silence’, attempted
the experiment of reset and renewal: the near-death experience of the dis-
appearing tradition from which it would rise once again, strengthened and
invigorated.34
Yet, as I have already indicated, the true contemporary champion of the
Marrano strategy, cunningly playing with the ‘revealment and concealment’
of the secret antinomian spectre, is Jacques Derrida. Unlike Lévinas – ‘the
last true Jew’ in theory, a philosophical Marrano in practice – Derrida
performs his tricky Marrano identiﬁcation in full. He performs it, but, being a
‘true’ Marrano (which, as Bloom rightly observes, is a paradox in itself), he
never – or very rarely – talks about it openly. There are but few instances in
his work where he alludes to his ‘secret’. In Archive Fever, Derrida playfully
divulges his Marrano sympathies, while referring to Yerushalmi’s essay on
the photographs of ‘last Marranos’ in Portugal made by Frederic Brenner.
While watching the portraits of the Portuguese Marranos, Yerushalmi asks:
‘But are they really the last?’ and this question receives a kind of oblique reply
from Derrida: no, they are not; this secret tradition will continue. And not
only does he assert that he has ‘always secretly identiﬁed’ with the Marrano
heritage (immediately adding in the joking parenthesis: ‘but don’t tell anyone’),
but also drags into this heritage of Jewish secrecy the father of psychoanalysis
himself by saying that ‘this crypto-Judaic history greatly resembles that of
psychoanalysis after all’.35 Then, on the next few pages, Derrida gives us a
brief prolegomena to any future Marrano strategy, which he identiﬁes with
messianicity, ‘radically distinguished from all messianism’ (ibid., p. 72): a
universal form of Jewishness which, in distinction to the ‘terminable Judaism’
of the rabbinic formation, remains interminable, inextinguishable, indestructible,
eternal:

It can survive Judaism. It can survive it as a heritage, which is to say, in a
sense, not without archive, even if this archive should remain without
substrate and without actuality [ … ] This is what would be proper to the
‘Jew’ and to him alone: not only hope, not only a ‘hope for the future’,
but ‘the anticipation of a speciﬁc hope for the future’.36
(Ibid., p. 72)
18 Introduction
This is what ‘constitutes Jewishness beyond all Judaism’: ‘To be open toward
the future would be to be Jewish, and vice versa [ … ] In the future, remem-
ber to remember the future’ (ibid., pp. 74, 76). And although Derrida quotes
Yerushalmi’s deﬁnitions of the ‘Judaism interminable’ not without an irony,
he nonetheless conﬁrms that what counts in this whole enormous archive,
accumulated obsessively by the Jewish archons of memory, is the unique
index of its imperative to remember: it is not past-oriented towards the acts
of grounding and legitimating a supposedly distinct ‘Jewish identity’ (for
which he gently reproaches Yerushalmi), but future-oriented, proleptic and
unprecedentedly open – a futurité.37
This messianic index, although maintained only by the archive of tradition,
is thus also something that destroys the archive in its function of preserving
and guarding the nation’s particularity. So, if Yerushalmi says: ‘Only in Israel
and nowhere else is the injunction to remember felt as a religious imperative
of an entire people,’38 Derrida will immediately twist this identiﬁcatory
sentence with its pathos of distinction into a messianic formula of a promised
universalization which, in the future, will abolish ‘the alternative between the
future and the past, or between “hope” and “hopelessness”, the Jew and the
non-Jew, the future and repetition’ (ibid., p. 79). The messianic futurity cannot
but be universal and thus an-archive/an-archic; even if it grows within a par-
ticular archive-tradition, it cannot but aim at the transcendence of this parti-
cularity. To turn the archive into ashes is thus the secret vocation of this very
archive, just as, according to the Sabbatian-Marrano wisdom, the fulﬁlment
of the Torah was nothing but the ﬁnal destruction of the Torah: ‘The secret is
the very ash of the archive’ (ibid., p. 100).39
The hyper-formulaic power of zakhor, the incantation of the phrase that
impresses with the force of ‘the strong light of the canonical’ emerges again in
Derrida’s later essay ‘Abraham, the Other’. And once again it associates
itself immediately with the motif of secrecy. Following the theme of the
‘Freudian impression’, the Niederschrift of the unconscious which keeps its
inscriptions intact in their materiality but also beyond signiﬁcation, Derrida
talks about zakhor in terms of a deeply hidden code, heavy and material with
the weight of a sheer impression, Eindruck. As such it comes closer to what
he calls the bodily archive of circumcision; a kind of an inner circumcision – a
‘circumcised heart’ – yet without the Paulian connotations of pure spirituality;
it remains material, despite the fact of being secret and inward:

Hence this law that comes upon me, a law that, appearing antinomian,
dictated to me, in a precocious and obscure fashion, in a kind of light
whose rays are unbending, the hyper-formalized formula of a destiny
devoted to the secret – and that is why I play seriously, more and more,
with the ﬁgure of the marrano: the less you show yourself as jewish, the
more and better jew you will be. The more radically you break with
the certain dogmatism of the place or of the bond, the more you will be
faithful to the hyperbolic, excessive demand, to the hubris, perhaps, of a
Introduction 19
universal and disproportionate responsibility towards the singularity of
every other.40

This hyper-ethical, hyper-political, hyper-philosophical responsibility ‘burns
at the most irredentist core of what calls itself “jew”’ (ibid.). Secret, spectral,
remnant-like; refusing to be captured in any philosophical idiom ‘belonging
to being’; antinomian in its injunction to break every law and attend to sin-
gularity only; universal in its eﬀervescent indeﬁnability – this ‘core of what
calls itself a “jew”’ will burn ‘interminably’ until, according to the meaning of
‘irredentism’, it recovers what had been lost: the sense of a messianic justice,
buried under so many archives and so many overt identiﬁcations of the oﬃcial
‘Abrahamic religions’.41
In ‘Faith and Knowledge’, Derrida, again secretly assuming the elusive
Marrano in-between, will thus describe his messianicity as deliberately non-
identiﬁable: ‘This messianic dimension does not depend on any messianism. It
does not follow any determinate revelation. It does not belong properly to any
Abrahamic religion’42 – while belonging to all of them at the same time.
Strangely echoing the esoteric teaching of the lost ring as we know it from
Lessing’s Nathan the Wise, Derrida’s messianicity also comes about as a
common, yet invisible, spectral part, simultaneously belonging to and exclu-
ded from the Abrahamic religions. We shall often return here to the spectral
dimension of the messianic Spirit – the last Marrano incarnation of the
Hebrew ruach, passing through many historical disguises as pneuma, Spiritus,
Geist, and ﬁnally the Derridean le spectre – so, for the moment, I suspend the
prolonged discussion on the proper identity of Derrida’s messianic ghost.43
Suﬃce it to say that Derrida is very much concerned in preserving the anti-
nomian features of the spectre, which he strongly contrasts with anything
utopian. In a polemic with Fredric Jameson apropos his book on Marx,
Derrida says:

Nothing would seem to be at a further remove from Utopia or Utopian-
ism, even in its ‘subterranean’ form, than the messianicity and spectrality
which are at the heart of Specters of Marx [.] Messianicity (which I regard
as a universal structure of experience, and which cannot be reduced to
religious messianism of any stripe) is anything but Utopian: it refers, in
every here-now, to the coming of an eminently real, concrete event, that
is, to the most irreducible heterogenous otherness. Nothing is more ‘rea-
listic’ or ‘immediate’ than this messianic apprehension, straining forward
toward the event of him who/that which is coming. I say ‘apprehension,’
because this experience, strained forward toward the event, is at the
same time a waiting without expectation an active preparation, anticipa-
tion against the backdrop of a horizon, but also exposure without
horizon, and therefore and irreducible amalgam of desire and anguish,
aﬃrmation and fear, promise and threat [ … ] Anything but Utopian,
messianicity mandates that we interrupt the ordinary course of things,
20 Introduction
time and history here-now; it is inseparable from an aﬃrmation of other-
ness and justice.44

Anything but utopian, where utopia may suggest a certain domestication of
our messianic hopes and levelling them to the sober demands of reality prin-
ciple (which has always been the practice of philosophy),45 the messianic
apprehension contains the antinomian moment in which promise and threat,
desire and anxiety, cannot become disentangled. ‘Apocalypse’ rightly has two
meanings that both preserve the antinomian ambivalence: revelation and
destruction – or, putting things more mildly, more in the Derridean vein:
aﬃrmative disclosure and violent interruption. The otherness and justice
cannot be separated either, for justice is precisely what is not: as iustitia aliena,
wholly alien from being, it does not (yet) belong to the laws of this world.

The science of anti-being
We will ﬁnd a similar intuition in many of the twentieth-century philoso-
phizing Jews – Scholem, Rosenzweig, Benjamin, Bloch, Taubes, Lévinas – who,
despite all the diﬀerences between them, attempt to maintain the antinomian
spark and associate it with the most precious ideatic core of Jewish revelation.
The clinamen from ontology and its central concept of being, which we have
detected in their Marrano strategy of writing with and simultaneously against
the philosophical idiom, reaches its culmination in the counter-science of anti-
ontology; a ﬁrm conviction that being cannot be left to its own devices and
that the false calm of the Parmenidean tautology – being is, nothingness is
not – must be disturbed by the antinomian message coming from somewhere
else. This ‘somewhere else’ is an admittedly tricky notion, easily dismissed by
the philosophical ‘science of what is’ (Adorno), yet the whole eﬀort of our
philosophical Marranos goes precisely in the direction of the paradoxical
securing its original insecurity; in making it operative within the mechanisms
of being.46
The recent vogue in Jewish thought is not very favourable towards the
antinomian idea. The works of Paul Mendes-Flohr, Anson Rabinbach, Peter
Elli Gordon, Benjamin Lazier, Michael Fagenblat, Robert Gibbs, Eric Jacobson,
Moshe Idel or Martin Kavka – to name just a few magniﬁcent authors in
this ﬁeld – tend to downplay it or marginalize it as a momentary surge of
revolutionary apocalypticism, which they attribute to the historically speciﬁc
situation of the interwar generation of German Jewry, disappointed with their
predecessors’ haskalic belief in reason and progress and opting for a more
violent and decisive break in the continuum of Western history.47 My book
goes very much against this assumption; contrary to their socio-reductive
theses I remain convinced that the antinomian emphasis of the last generation
of philosophical Marranos (from Scholem, via Lévinas, to Derrida) is the
absolute intellectual peak in the evolution of Jewish thought. After centuries
Introduction 21
of not always successful tarrying with the power of the philosophical, these
Jewish thinkers ﬁnally come to a formula that puts them ﬁrmly on the map of
universal speculation: revelation is a science of anti-being. This formula revo-
lutionizes the diﬀerence between Athens and Jerusalem, which once again
emerges with a new ideatic force; far from being, as Martin Kavka has put it
recently, ‘our pet mosquito sucking our lifeblood’,48 this opposition not only
does not weaken the contemporary speculative thought, but supplies it with a
new vigour.
Kavka’s attempt to level Athens and Jerusalem on the basis of their
common meontology, i.e., the ‘science of non-being’, which eventually develops
into negative theology, is particularly adversarial to my intentions. Kavka’s
instinct is to go for a universal – or, to put it more precisely, universally
messianic – notion of nothing, which appears on both sides of the cultural
divide, and bestow it with a common sense of potentiality, disenclosure, and
open development. In both traditions, being, surrounded and pervaded by
nothing, opens itself to a becoming in the positive sense of the word as
historical self-perfection; on the grounds of such messianically reinterpreted
meontology, Plato, Hegel and Lévinas can ﬁnally shake hands. It is a bold
enterprise, in which Kavka, following Lévinas’ appropriation of Plato, actively
messianizes philosophical tradition, yet, just as it was the case of his predecessor,
this venture must soon meet its limits. For in these two traditions, the ‘meon-
tological conundrum’, as he himself calls it, takes on rather incompatible
forms.
Using Kavka’s terms, we could say that there is a speciﬁcally Jewish clina-
men on the theme of Greek meontology, which turns the latter’s neutral
non-being into an active anti-being and as such parallels the Jewish ‘concerned’
swerve on the Greek theme of the eternal indiﬀerence of ontos on. Contrary
to Kavka’s conviction, I tend to believe that there are two very diﬀerent paths
leading to the discovery of the most general, all-encompassing categories that
medieval thought called transcendentalia: the philosophical and the revela-
tory. While the pinnacle of early Greek thought is constituted by Parmenides’
seemingly tautological being is, non-being is not, the very pinnacle of the
revelatory thought is achieved with the antinomian intuition of the divine anti-
being, which precisely because of this opposition is called ‘divine’. While the
former is reached via contemplative neutrality, the latter is captured in an
aﬀective pathos that rebels against the submission to the rules of existence;
while the former derives its nothing out of reasoning on the conditions of
being, the latter forms its notion of nothing out of the emotional distance
towards everything that exists and its inherent ontological laws, verging, as in
Lévinas’ almost Manichaean case, on horror and disgust. And while the
former looks for the transcendental possibilities of being in the conditioning
realm of ‘beyond-being’, the latter looks for the ethical alternative to the dis-
contents of existence given as it is. Once again, it is Lévinas who formulates the
essentially antinomian, ethico-subversive nature of the revealed transcendence
in the most precise terms:
22 Introduction
God is not simply the ‘ﬁrst other,’ or ‘the other par excellence,’ or the
‘absolutely other,’ but other than the other, other otherwise, and other
with an alterity prior to the alterity of the other, prior to the ethical
obligation to the other and diﬀerent from every neighbour, transcendent
to the point of absence, to the point of his absolute confusion with the
agitation of there is [il ya] [ … ] In order that the formula ‘transcendence
to the point of absence,’ not signify the simple explication of an excep-
tional word, it was necessary to restore this word to the meaning of every
ethical intrigue, to the divine comedy without which this word could not
have arisen.49
(GP, p. 69)

Greek meontology will always lack this antinomian dimension. Non-being, as
in Heidegger’s variation on ‘the early Greek thought’, will be rather imagined
as a cradle of beings, the abyss of Seyn from which all particular phenomena
emerge only in order to return to it. We encounter the same idea in the
Neoplatonic notion of the divine superessentia: the otherwise-than-being or
hyper-being which is nonetheless an aﬃrmative more-than-being, a nourishing
source of everything that is. The Hebrew anti-ontology, on the other hand,
will always imagine God as a nihilizing counter-principle to the world, which
threatens and traumatizes the creaturely being to its very core. ‘Apocalypse’,
let’s repeat it again, rightly has two meanings: revelation and destruction.
What it reveals is not a maternal cosmic womb of superessentia that holds
being in its nourishing pleroma, but a radical otherness that views the enter-
prise of being with accusatory suspicion, undermining its seemingly self-
evident right to be. The antinomian feeling that engenders this alternative
perspective is originally and inescapably ethical: as Benjamin says, it is a
vague, yet determined, presentiment that man is better than his gods who
are the law-giving gods of this world; a hunch that eventually leads to the
anticipation of an unknown distant God who is yet too good to be.50
But the greatest speculative challenge of this anti-ontology is to make it
work. The antinomian ﬂame, guarded by the otherness of revelation, can
either remain absolutely transcendent to the world or can destroy the world,
but it is hard to conceive how it can be made operative within the world: to
be present, active and capable of transforming being from the inside. Again,
no one understood the risky dialectics of the messianic-antinomian message
better than Scholem:

Nothing seems simpler that the messianic idea – the vision of redemption
and liberation – which the prophets of Israel revealed to the people of
Israel, all creatures in His image and the whole cosmos in general. How
‘simple’ seems the sublime truth of this message – and how complex,
controversial, even tragic, it turns out to be as soon as it enters the world
and begins its work! Suddenly, the abysses opened themselves in the idea,
Introduction 23
in the very moment there appeared the ﬁrst attempt to exhaust its meaning
and ground it in reality.51

All philosophical Marranos wrestle with this abyssal problem, trying to ﬁnd a
space for the antinomian works in between Barthian diathesis and Hegelian
dialectics. Karl Barth and Hegel are more than just their historical inspira-
tions; philosophically speaking, they indeed constitute two opposite poles of
the antinomian speculation. While Barth formulates an extreme, almost
‘Marcionite’, version of the diathetical opposition between God and world
that makes it passive and static, Hegel incorporates the antinomian impulse
into the immanent history of being to such an extent that it loses its critical
‘power of the negative’. The twentieth-century philosophical Marranos move
on the scale between diathesis and dialectics, emerging as, alternatively,
Jewish Barthians (early Benjamin, Lévinas52) or Jewish Hegelians (Rosenzweig,
Adorno, Fackenheim), but most of the time as a troubled mixture of both
(later Benjamin, Bloch, Taubes, Derrida). Convinced that the antinomian
message constitutes the very essence of their ‘hidden faith’, the philosophical
Marranos protect it from disappearing from the face of modernity always
endangered by, in Adorno’s and Horkheimer’s words, falling back into the
immanentist ‘myth of what is’. They want to guard it, but they also want it to
work. And this double bind – a very Derridean predicament indeed – determines
their various paths; though rarely victorious in formulating solutions, they are
always challenging in their eﬀorts to pose one of the most important – if not
the most important tout court – philosophical problem of our times.

Synopsis
As all contestants in the Bloomian revisionary agon, those modern philoso-
phical Marranos wish to go back to the very source, reset the conditions of
the game, and play it again, only this time play it better. By marrying the
speeches of strangers, turning them to their own advantage, and then learning
how to ‘talk Hebrew in every language under the sun’, they do not just express
their ‘hidden faith’, which couldn’t have found more direct articulation, they
renew and renegotiate the conditions of modern Western thinking – by chan-
ging it not just on the margins, but at the very centre, at its core and origin.
Nor should it be thought that they leave only enigmatic traces of their exotic
formation on the neutral corpus of thought. By challenging the very notion of
contemplative neutrality and indiﬀerence, and pressing for their own all-
moving, dynamic, anxious and restless life-centred – or singularity-centred –
view, always based on choices and decisions, they challenge the very idea of
an abstract universality. Having always been accused of parochiality and thus
acutely conscious of their own idiom, they ﬁnally turn their own idiomacity
into a virtue and project it onto other languages, which in the end are exposed
as nothing else but simply ‘speeches of strangers’, equally other, mixed and
24 Introduction
idiomatic. Pace the ideological conviction of philosophy that it represents the
unmoved being under the auspices of the Unmoved Mover, this ultimate God
of Philosophers, the philosophical Marranos see all thought as ultimately
springing from fundamental moves and gestures, which then leave an indelibly
biased idiomatic trace on every discourse, be it ontological or transontological,
tragic or messianic. The universality they envisage is not the one of the con-
templative paralysis that would still all that moves; rather, it is the one that
resides in letting these myriad moves and gestures come to the fore, no longer
pretending to hide behind the seemingly presuppositionless and unconditioned
thought.
This book is going to explore the intricacies of the ‘Marrano’ revisionary
agon in modern philosophy. Yet it is not a book in the history of ideas, rather
it is a speculative intervention, the aim of which is to cut into the very middle
of actual philosophical debates. The Jewish clinamen, due to which modern
Jewish philosophy uses and abuses the fundamental categories of Western
thought, is predominantly cryptotheological. But I do not use here the word
‘theology’ in a sense which ﬁgures in Lévinas’ ‘God and Philosophy’, i.e. as a
being-biased science of God, whose history is the same as ‘the history of the
destruction of the transcendence’ (GP, p. 56). I use it in a much more neutral
way, which can also embrace the special slant of Jewish religious thinking,
which I have already named as the swerve from the free-fall of indiﬀerence
towards concern and anxiety, refashioning the world in dynamic terms of
ontological insuﬃciency and the need for redemption. The preﬁx ‘crypto’
reﬂects here the Marrano stance of our thinkers in question, who rarely dis-
close fully their Judaic sources of inspiration and if so, then usually for the
non-religious purposes aiming at the renewal of Western modes of thinking.
The following chapters will demonstrate how the Jewish clinamen works in
speciﬁc ﬁelds; how it slants the major concept of Western tradition: tragedy,
negative theology, the sublime, messianism, vitalism, Enlightenment, disen-
chantment, atheism, reason, negativity, nominalism, dialectics and – last but
not least – post-secular thought. All these guiding themes of Western culture,
once submitted to the cryptotheological misreadings of philosophical Marranos,
emerge out of their agons thoroughly transformed. Bestowed with what
Lévinas calls ‘new meaning’, deriving from the wider, fresher, original, still
unrestricted place of sense-giving, they begin to tell an alternative story of
modernitas. A story still vibrant with an unfulﬁlled promise, still ongoing, still
hopeful – truly an ‘unﬁnished project of modernity.’
The three chapters that comprise Part I, ‘Myth, tragedy, revelation’, form a
quite separate and not at all minor revisionary agon that we could also title as
‘Jewish (mis)readings of Greek tragedy’. It starts with Chapter 1 and Hermann
Cohen, who ﬁrst introduced the conceptual triad – the mythic, the tragic
and the messianic – which concentrates on the middle term, Greek tragedy
as an intermediary category, poised between the pagan universe of the all-
encompassing Oneness and the messianic universe of an individuated multi-
tude. Cohen, who opposes prophets and philosophers with ease, nonetheless
Introduction 25
has a problem with the idea of tragedy which escapes the neat antagonism of
Hebrews and Hellenes, for tragedy also tells the story of individuation,
although merely in negative and in vain. Cohen focuses on the notion of the
tragic sacriﬁce and then radically transforms it in his reading of Ezekiel,
where it becomes an ‘inner sacriﬁce’, aiming at the puriﬁcation of sins and an
individuated working through of one’s yetzer (desire). This triad – the mythic,
the tragic and the messianic – oﬀering a new schematization of Western
thought, will then prove absolutely crucial for Cohen’s direct descendants,
Rosenzweig and Benjamin. Additionally armed with their strong reading of
Gyorgy Lukàcs’ ‘Metaphysics of Tragedy’, they take their Jewish agon with
Greek tragedy to new speculative heights, where it becomes a decoy for a
fundamental revision of the whole modern philosophical paradigm, which
they perceive as insolubly mixed with the ‘tragic worldview’: to them, Benjamin
especially, the whole span of thought ‘from Ionia to Jena’ is thus coextensive
with the transformations of the tragic ‘from Aeschylus to German Trauerspiel’.
Chapter 2, ‘“Job-like questions”: The place of negativity in Rosenzweig’,
continues the reading of Rosenzweig from the introduction, by focusing on his
misprision of the tragic hero as standing on the threshold of revelation. As in
Cohen, tragedy appears here as a transition between the mythic and the
religious world and marks the moment in which the self is born: already
individuated, yet still non-dialogic, ‘mute as a marble’. At the same time I
attempt a critical reading of Rosenzweig whom I reproach for neglecting the
ﬁgure of Job, most of all Job the rebel, who – logically speaking – should be
present in The Star as the true ‘dialogic hero’, and as such the Hebrew
counterpart for Oedipus. I argue that without taking into account Job’s
negativity – his complaint against God and the world he created – there can
be no true and convincing passage from the mythic to the messianic, which is
precisely the subject of The Star.
Chapter 3, ‘The revolution of trauma: Walter Benjamin and the Tragic
Gnosis’, closely follows Benjamin’s interpretation of ancient tragedy from his
Trauerspiel book. Tragedy, to which he gives his own peculiar spin, or his
own cryptotheological clinamen, emerges out of his reading as a Tragic
Gnosis: a vague premonition of the messianic, all the more valuable precisely
for its being secret and inarticulate. I argue that in his gnosticizing misreading
of the tragic hero, Benjamin projects most of his peculiar ‘Marrano metho-
dology’: the hidden faith in the hidden God, which remains ‘true’ as long as it
stays concealed, silent or (as Derrida would have it later) ‘spectral’, and as
such immune to the contamination by the mythic powers of being. In Benjamin’s
elaboration, the tragic hero – a magnet of fascinated attraction to the philo-
sophical German Jewry of the 1920s and 1930s – turns into an honorary ﬁrst
Marrano avant la lettre, hiding the messianic message even before it became
manifest.
Part II, ‘The antinomian spectre’, opens with Chapter 4, ‘The antinomian
symptom’, devoted mostly to Lévinas, in which I dwell precisely on the issue
of Jewish negative theology manifesting itself in active antinomianism: the
26 Introduction
eternal ‘somewhere else’ of radical transcendence which cannot reveal itself in
being directly, only leaving an aporetic and subversive trace. This aporia
appeared already in the chapter on Benjamin and tragedy, but in the case of
Lévinas it becomes particularly acute, forming a kind of an unresolved syn-
drome. I argue that Lévinas’ more or less conscious failure to integrate the
idiom of revelation and the idiom of philosophy is projected by him on the
level of theory itself and thus distorts the idea of radical transcendence, which
consequently becomes too synonymous with the traumatic, all-shattering
encounter with the Other. Though otherwise quite sympathetic to the asso-
ciation of revelation with ‘traumatic break’, I argue that Lévinas pushes the
traumatic aspect of the Divine Other too far, leaving us (and himself) in the
condition of an unworked-through symptom. By juxtaposing Lévinas with
Rosenzweig, I attempt to show that the latter is much more aware of the
necessary clash of idioms and protects his thought from projecting this antag-
onism on the level of content. While Lévinas’ narrative of the trace bounces
back and forth between the two non-dialectical extremes of immanent atheism
and self-prostrating mysticism, Rosenzweig builds a dialectical story of a
messianic vocation that can be inscribed into what Scholem calls a typically
modern Jewish theological position, the ‘pious atheism’.
The issue of the antinomian messianism returns in Chapter 5, ‘The identity
of the spirit: Taubes between apocalyptics and historiosophy’, in which I try
to reconstruct Jacob Taubes’ consciously anti-Hegelian and anti-Heideggerian
interpretation of the ruach as a subversive and elusive energy that cannot be
captured by the pagan opposition of Eros and Thanatos. At the same time,
Taubes’ struggles to save the speciﬁcity of the Hebrew Spirit, making him
constantly oscillate between Karl Barth’s diathesis and Hegel’s dialectics, oﬀer
the best illustration of the diﬃculty that gets in the way of any thinker con-
cerned about the workability of the antinomian impulse. The identity of the
Spirit waltzes through its historical manifestations – Biblical ruach, Gnostic
pneuma, Trinitarian Spiritus, Hegelian Geist and Derridean spectre – never
capable of resting in any single one of them.
Chapter 6, ‘The ﬁre and the lightning rod: Tarrying with the apocalypse’,
takes on once again the problem of Jewish antinomianism, which it divides
into two streams: the ‘hot’ or ‘impatient’ messianism of the openly apocalyptic
thinkers (Benjamin, Taubes, Bloch) and the ‘wary’ messianism of the thinkers
who tarry with the apocalypse and try to bring the ﬁre of the revelatory love
down to earth, turning it into ‘works of law’ (Lévinas and Rosenzweig).
Feeling far more sympathetic to the latter position (which I also ﬁnd more
authentically Jewish), I focus here on the Rosenzweigian dialectics of love and
law, which, as I argue, derives from Hegel’s famous deﬁnition of work as a
‘delayed destruction’. If apocalypse/revelation is to work within the creaturely
condition, and not simply destroy it, it must be delayed, postponed and partly
negated by the system of ‘lightning rods’, which defend against the divine
violence, yet, at the same time, render it operative here and now in the form
of divine legislation. By reverting Scholem’s critique of Rosenzweig, in which
Introduction 27
the former accuses the latter of taming too much the apocalyptic power in
Judaism, I try to argue that it is actually Rosenzweig’s greatest theoretical
achievement. His notion of the Jewish law as a defence mechanism and a
‘lightning rod’ that partly neutralizes the revelatory ﬁre, is the best and most
convincing apology of law (and not just Jewish law) known in modernity; it
can only be matched by Moses Mendelssohn’s famous defence of the ‘religion
of legislation’ against the monopolistic claims of Christian love in his
Jerusalem.
Part III of this book moves into more general ﬁelds while exploring the
characteristic of Jewish modernity. Chapter 7, ‘The promise of the name:
“Jewish nominalism” as the critique of the idealist tradition’, explores the
motif of the ‘transformation of speech’ as the most vital operation of the Hebrew
Spirit. It wishes to demonstrate that the Jewish clinamen in contemporary
linguistic philosophy resides in its unique interest in the name as, in Benjamin’s
words, ‘the true call of language’. I propose to call this position a ‘Jewish
nominalism’, which, again, diﬀers radically from all forms of modern nomin-
alism, for it skilfully avoids two extreme standpoints: instrumental conven-
tionalism on the one hand, and ‘speech magic’ (Sprachmagie) on the other
(which I attribute to late Heidegger, especially from the period of Unterwegs
zur Sprache). In Jewish nominalism, the name ﬁgures as the seal of the ﬁnite
creaturely condition and the mark of the singularity of the living, which, as
Adorno says, ‘cannot be deduced from thought’ but must always remain the
ultimate horizon of all thinking.
Then, in Chapter 8, ‘Another nihilism: Disenchantment in Jewish perspec-
tive’, I deal with the positive uses of ‘disenchantment’ as a religious category.
Against the widespread Christian prejudice, according to which modernity is
the nihilistic age of the destruction of the sacred, I argue – following Cohen
and Scholem – that modernity can also be perceived as the most ‘religious’ of
all epochs, which has ﬁnally realised the imperative of Entzauberung as
demythologization and purged the material world of the last remnants of the
magical immanent sacrum. This chapter attempts, therefore, to oﬀer a strong
Jewish redeﬁnition of modernity, understood as a religious category and in
religious terms, but also a defence of modernity against its religious and irre-
ligious critics who accuse it of the nihilistic desacralization of being (from
Nietzsche to Deleuze and, strangely enough, Radical Orthodoxy). Needless to
say, for the philosophical Marranos being as such cannot be desacralized, for
it can never become sacred in the ﬁrst place. Holiness resides somewhere
else – always somewhere else and ‘otherwise than being’.
And ﬁnally, Chapter 9, ‘Jewish Ulysses: Post-secular meditations on the
loss of hope’, in a way a coda to the whole volume takes on the subject of
post-secular thought which I want to see in an alternative manner to Habermas,
Žižek, Badiou, and Milbank; as a religious correction to modernity, which
does not annul its secular self-deﬁnition but only adds – or rather enhances –
the dimension of the messianic promise and hope, which fell into oblivion due
to the ‘dialectic of enlightenment’. In juxtaposing Horkheimer’s and Adorno’s
28 Introduction
Dialectic of Enlightenment and Joyce’s Ulysses, the two works that sport the
ﬁgure of ‘Jewish Odysseus’, I attempt to demonstrate the duplicity hidden in
the concept of Enlightenment as, at the same time, the Greek ‘myth of
coming out of myth’ and the Hebrew Exodus. While Joyce’s reading of mod-
ernity plunges it into the unconquerable dominion of myth, Adorno and
Horkheimer leave at least a trace of hope, by pointing to its overshadowed
double: the still ongoing project of Exodus and its still unfulﬁlled messianic
promise. In the end, I regard the ‘post-secular option’ as a choice of idiom
characteristic of all philosophical Marranos, detectable in all their writings
avant la lettre. In their attempt to infuse modern Western philosophy with
‘other meanings’, deriving out of the sources of Judaism, the ﬁrst religion of
revelation (or, as Cohen claims, simply ‘religion per se’), they had always been
realising what the post-secularists wish to do now explicitly, often merely
opening the already opened doors. Alternative modernity, alternative ration-
ality, alternative materialism, alternative disenchantment, alternative theology,
alternative dialectics – all these post-secular motives had long been present in
Cohen, Rosenzweig, Benjamin, Taubes and Adorno. Their in-betweens and
thirds, oﬀering optional ways out in the seemingly closed conceptual system
without exit – between tragedy and messianism, between diathesis and dialectics,
between sacred and profane, between religion and enlightenment – have been
supplying contemporary philosophical thought with an urgency and vigour
for a long time already.
The main purpose of the book is to articulate what has always been present
in Western thought merely implicitly, secretly, caught in too many agonistic
interplays of forces – too ‘Marrano’ in a way. It wishes to make this unique
revisionary agon, played by modern philosophical Marranos, at least partly
explicit, and by making it overt, to show how it changed the modern thought
forever – not just on the margins, but by cutting into its very core. The desire
for this uncovering, which this book ventures to realize, was born from a
sense of frustration that overwhelmed me every time I read one of the many
excellent and deeply learned studies of Benjamin, Adorno, Bloch, Bloom or
Lévinas that take no account whatsoever of their indebtedness to a diﬀerent
conceptual heritage and play out their thought only on the familiar grounds
of a well-established institution called ‘philosophy’: from Ionia to Jena, and
from Heidelberg to Paris. This frustration was akin to the deep sense of
estrangement one feels in front of a perfect behaviourist description that gives
a full but ultimately senseless account of human actions, because it lacks
these few central categories – will, motivation, aﬀect – that breathe subjective
life into what we do. In the case of philosophical Marranos, the omission of
the few central categories deriving from the Jewish heritage amounts to a
similar eclipse of meaning; without them their thinking loses structure and
driving force, lacks breath and liveliness.
There is, however, one worry that remains: that by making this strategy so
articulate, we will only spoil the hide-and-seek game of the philosophical
Marranos and their deeply treasured ‘secret’, the Derridean supreme irony
Introduction 29
of whispering ‘but don’t tell anyone’. Yet, considering all the Babel-like con-
fusions in which our contemporary thought abounds, we are ready to take
this risk.

Notes
1 See Selected Poems of Jehudah Halevi, ed. Heinrich Brody and Nina Salaman,
Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society of America, 1946, pp. 16–17.
2 In his essay on Halevi’s use of philosophical argumentation, Barry S. Kogan
demonstratively shows that, despite his reluctance towards it, Halevi knows his
philosophy very well: ‘The philosophical reader will surely recognize that behind
the explicit reference to conclusive, demonstrative claims lies the well-known clas-
siﬁcation scheme of dialectical, rhetorical, poetic and sophistical premises and
arguments.’ Barry S. Kogan, ‘Judah Halevi and His Use of Philosophy in the
Kuzari’, in The Cambridge Companion to Medieval Jewish Philosophy, ed. Daniel
H. Frank and Oliver Leaman, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003, p. 118.
3 This time the main target of Halevi’s objections against Greek metaphysics is the
absolute indiﬀerence of the First Cause and the aimlessness of the whole enterprise
of being: ‘With God there is no being pleased and no feeling hatred, because He, may
He be exalted, is beyond desires and aims [ … ] Likewise, according to the philo-
sophers, He is beyond the knowledge of particulars because they change with the
times, whereas there is no change in God’s knowledge. Therefore, He is not aware
of you, let alone of your intentions and actions, nor does He hear your prayers [ … ]
Everything goes back to the First Cause, not because of an aim it has, but rather
because of an emanation from which a second cause emanated, then a third, and
then a fourth set of causes. These causes and their eﬀects are necessarily connected
to one another and have become a part of a continuous chain. Their necessary
connection is eternal, just as the First Cause is eternal; it has not beginning.’ Judah
Halevi, The Book of Refutation and Proof on Behalf of the Despised Religion (The
Kuzari), trans. B. Kogan and L. Berman, in Oliver Leaman, Daniel H. Frank and
Charles Maneking, The Jewish Philosophy Reader, London and New York: Routledge,
2000, p. 204. It is exactly on the same, typically Halevian, impulse that Abraham
Joshua Heschel, one millennium later, will distance himself violently from the
Aristotelian Neoplatonism and call the Jewish God ‘the most moved mover’: ‘In
the prophets the ineﬀable became a voice, disclosing that God is not a being that is
apart and away from ourselves [ … ] that He is not enigma, but justice, mercy [ … ]
He is not the Unknown, He is the Father, the God of Abraham; out of stillness of
endless ages came compassion and guidance.’ Abraham Joshua Heschel, Man Is
Not Alone: A Philosophy of Religion, New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1997,
p. 133 (emphasis added).
4 See The Poems of Charles Reznikoﬀ: 1918-1975, ed. C. Reznikoﬀ and S. Cooney,
Jaﬀrey, New Hampshire: Black Sparrow Books, 2005, p. 93.
5 Ibid., p. 113.
6 The term ‘third language’, which I am going to explore in greater detail later,
derives from Derrida’s interpretation of the letter of Gershom Scholem to Franz
Rosenzweig of 1926, known under the title Bekenntnis über unsere Sprache (‘Con-
fession on the Subject of Our Language’), in which Scholem issues a warning
against the rapid profanation of the lashon ha-kodesh, the holy language of Hebrew,
as the untoward consequence of the creation of the secular ivrit, the everyday
speech of Jews in Israel. Derrida claims that the letter itself is written in a ‘third
language’, neither German nor Hebrew, neither profane nor sacred, which, pre-
cisely because of its indeterminacy, allows a mediation, a middle ground, between
30 Introduction
the two; a passage, as well as a translation: ‘One might let oneself be tempted here
by what I take the risk of calling a hypothesis of the third language. By these words
I do not mean a foreign language, German, in which will be formulated a warning
that would concern two practices of Hebrew, the sacred and the secular. The
expression third language would rather name a diﬀerentiated and diﬀerentiating
element, a medium that would not be stricto sensu linguistic, but a middle/milieu of
an experience of language that, being neither sacred nor profane, permits the passage
from one to the other.’ ‘The Eyes of Language: The Abyss and the Volcano’, in
Jacques Derrida, Acts of Religion, trans. Gil Anidjar, London and New York:
Routledge, 2001, p. 200. On the category of the ‘third language’ as the mediator
between the sacred and the profane, theology and philosophy, see also Karen
Underhill, Bruno Schulz and Jewish Modernity, unpublished doctoral dissertation,
defended at the University of Chicago (June 2011), available as http://gradworks.
umi.com/3460247.pdf.
7 Scholem comments: ‘The crisis [of tradition], which took the form of the phe-
nomenon called Spinoza, merely made manifest to the outside world the traumatic
impact of the Sabbatian movement within the Jewish world.’ Gershom Scholem,
‘Die Theologie des Sabbatianismus im Lichte Abraham Cardosos’, in Judaica 1,
Frankfurt am Main: Suhrkamp Verlag, 1963, p. 121.
8 See Jacques Derrida, Circumfession, in Jacques Derrida and Jeﬀrey Bennington,
Jacques Derrida, Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1993, p. 170.
9 On this see mostly Jacques Derrida, ‘Violence and Metaphysics’, in which he takes
on Joyce’s pun on ‘Jewgreek is greekjew. Extremes meet’ and concludes in the
manner which already anticipates the idea of the ‘third language’: ‘Are we Jews?
Are we Greeks? We live in the diﬀerence between the Jew and the Greek, which is
perhaps the unity of what is called history.’ In Writing and Diﬀerence, trans. Alan
Bass, Chicago: University of Chicago Press 1978, p. 153. The Marrano position,
which I want to expose in this book, is therefore a complex dialectical strategy,
mediating between Isaac Deutcher’s famous ‘non-Jewish Jews’ or George Steiner’s
‘meta-rabbis’, i.e. Jewish intellectuals striving against their particularistic back-
ground in order to achieve a universal validity, and those Jewish thinkers who are
fully content to write nothing but, to use Rosenzweig’s chagrined formulation,
‘Jewish books’. It comes closest to what Paul Mendes-Flohr in his inﬂuential book,
Divided Passions, calls ‘bi-valence’. Mendes-Flohr explains: ‘I am principally
interested in Jewish intellectuals for whom Judaism and Jewishness remain a source
of pride and salient dimension of their lives marking a meaningful spiritual, cul-
tural and ethnick aﬃliation. In contrast with those Jewish intellectuals who ﬁnd
themselves caught ‘between ambivalent borders,’ these intellectuals seek to tread
upon a ‘bivalent way’ in which Judaism and ‘the universal’ will enjoy equal valence.’
Paul Mendes-Flohr, Divided Passions: Jewish Intellectuals and the Experience of
Modernity, Detroit: Wayne State University Press, 1991, p. 15. The Marrano
strategy is indeed bi-valent or bilingual, but harbours an even more ambitious
goal – to demonstrate an ongoing appeal of Judaic motives and thus to oppose the
widespread ‘supersessionist’ prejudice of Jewish anachronism.
10 See most the preface to the second edition of The Star of Redemption where
Rosenzweig complains about the misplaced reception of his book.
11 See Walter Benjamin, ‘Theses on the Concept of History’, in Illuminations: Essays
and Reﬂections, trans. Harry Zohn, New York: Schocken Books, 1968.
12 See Max Horkheimer, ‘Die Sehnsucht nach dem ganz Anderen [Gespräch mit
Helmut Gumnior 1970]’, in Gesammelte Schriften in 19 Bände, Vol. VII: pp. 385–404,
Frankfurt am Main: Fischer Verlag, 1985–1996.
13 In emphasizing the role of the Marrano metaphor in the development of modern
Jewish thought, I am developing the ideas which I ﬁrst formulated, together with
Adam Lipszyc, in the introduction to our collection of essays Judaism in
Introduction 31
Contemporary Thought: Traces and Inﬂuence, London: Routledge, 2014. On the
issue of Derrida’s ‘Marranism’ see also two contributions from this book: Yvonne
Sherwood, ‘Specters of Abraham’ and Urszula Idziak-Smoczyńska, ‘Deconstruction
between Judaism and Christianity’.
14 Walter Benjamin, ‘The Task of the Translator’, in Selected Writings, Vol. I., ed.
Howard Eiland and Michael W. Jennings, Cambridge, MA.: Harvard University
Press, 1996–2003, p. 257 (emphasis added).
15 Derrida, Acts of Religion, p. 107.
16 This strong (mis)reading of Derrida’s ‘Marrano’ (mis)reading of Benjamin is
oﬀered by Adam Lipszyc in his chapter on Derrida in Traces of Judaism in 20th
.
Century Philosophy (Ślad judaizmu w ﬁlozoﬁi XX wieku), Fundacja im. Mojzesza
Schorra, Warszawa 2009, to which I am heavily indebted.
17 The most extreme Marrano strategy was applied by Jacob Frank, the Polish
apostate Messiah, who thought about himself as an improved incarnation of Jacob
the Patriarch. As a second Jacob, Frank came to ‘wipe away the tears of Esau’ and
stage the promised, yet missed, encounter between the patriarch of Israel and the
lord of the pagan Edom (in Frank’s understanding, Roman Catholicism in general
and Catholic Poland in particular). This encounter was the crux of the Frankist
secret doctrine concerning the ultimate messianic event, which consisted in con-
quering-befriending Edom without losing any of the vitality of Jewish faith
(obviously not to be confused with the ‘deadness’ of Rabbinic Judaism, completely
discarded by Frank as an empty shell). This vitality spoke to Scholem and con-
tinues to speak to Polish Jews today, who ﬁnd in Frankism a vivid inspiration in
their intellectual engagement with modern thought. See, for instance, an energetic
pronouncement by one of the leading Polish Jewish philosophers of the younger
generation, Adam Lipszyc, who in his review of Paweł Maciejko’s Mixed Multitude
(the best and most authoritative account of the Frankist movement to date), says:
‘Perhaps, it would be possible to demonstrate that Frank and his ‘words’ determine
the crucial point of an alternative Jewish modernity: modernity suﬀused with an
eerie, both fulﬁlled and unfulﬁlled, messianism; modernity simultaneously faithful
and unfaithful to tradition, which would consist in a complete exodus from the
ghetto and an equally complete participation in the surrounding un-Jewish world,
and yet, at the same time, would remain detached from it. This alternative Jewish
modernity could be viewed as the truly “unﬁnished project” which outlined the
most proper manner of being and continuing to be a Jew [ … ] We, the Polish
Frankists, are true to this idea. We are not particularly entranced by the personal
features of our master, or by his aggressive reluctance towards the world of mean-
ings, which he attempted to replace with his own divinised body (or, to me more
precise, with his miraculously self-augmenting and self-multiplying phallus), even-
tually with the body of his daughter, Eva. Yet, we treat his intervention as the
source of our modern existence and our modern identity. What we ﬁnd constitutive of
our identity today is the Frankist exodus from the name Israel and the entrance
into Edom-Poland; both identical and non-identical with assimilation, diﬀering
from it by an inﬁnitesimally narrow fold of detachment. Unlike Gershom Scholem,
we don’t think that the only result of the Frankist exodus was the shallow world of
the 19th century reform, which, for him, constituted a negative incentive to oppose
it dialectically in the form of the Zionist movement. As the House of Bondage and
the Promised Land are one and the same place, we, the Polish Frankists, do not
intend to go anywhere. The Frankist exodus annulled the straightforward geo-
graphical dimension of the messianic idea, which depended on the distinct aware-
ness of the uprooted people. But it doesn’t mean that we simply decided to grow
roots and give up on messianism. Our singular condition cuts into the dualism of
nomadic life and rootedness, of messianism fulﬁlled and unfulﬁlled: we live in the
space and culture of Edom, but we do not accept it in the form in which it appears
32 Introduction
to us. We do not believe in other places, where the Kingdom could emerge; we do
not believe in any historical moment, when the Redeemer could come, because
Jacob Frank – without saving us and without even giving us an autonomous area
in Podolia – led us out of the space of expectation into the domain of Edom.
Secretly committing our messianic gestures, we deform and transform the world
that surrounds us, for we know that the redeemed world is already right here,
merely looking a little bit diﬀerent. Totally disinherited, deprived of our own
rituals, covered in Esau’s rags, we do not have our own distinct identity. As Jacques
Derrida said, we have only one language and this is not our language.’ Adam
Lipszyc, ‘The Confession of the Multitude (A Red Letter)’, in Literatura na Świecie,
No. 9–10, 2012, pp. 446–447.
18 It would also be tempting to see Harold Bloom himself and his revisionary theory
of poetry as a perfect example of such Jewish intellectual rivalry in modernity,
positioning itself on the very opposite of the humble parochial modes of declension.
On this see Agata Bielik-Robson, The Saving Lie: Harold Bloom and Deconstruction,
Evanston, IL: Northwestern University Press, 2011.
19 See Tertullian, ‘On the Prescription against Heretics’, in The Writings of Quintus
Sept. Flor. Tertulianus, Vol. II, trans. Peter Holmes, Edinburgh: T & T Clark,
1870, p. 246.
20 On the Jewish variant of this opposition see the recent collection of essays: Orietta
Ombrosi, ed., Torah e Sophia: Orrizonti e frontiere della ﬁlosoﬁa ebraica, Genova-
Milano: Casa Editrice Marietti S.p.A., 2011.
21 Leo Strauss, ‘Jerusalem and Athens: Some Preliminary Reﬂections’, in Jewish
Philosophy and the Crisis of Modernity: Essays and Lectures in Modern Jewish
Thought, ed. Kenneth Hart Green, Albany: SUNY Press, 1997, p. 377.
22 See Thorleif Boman, Hebrew Thought Compared with Greek. New York and
London: W. W. Norton & Company, 1970, p. 27.
23 Strauss, ‘Jerusalem and Athens’, p. 381 (emphasis added).
24 In his reﬂections on the Book of Job, Ernst Bloch will thus say simply that ‘the
[Jewish] dichotomy is not between good and evil, Ormuz and Ahriman, but
between indiﬀerence, so to speak, and love [ … ] Here evil and trouble seem to be
not realities willed by Yahweh or by a God opposed to him, but realities in their
own right, which exist and ﬂourish in and through the distance kept by God. They
are fate, let loose in complete indiﬀerence, and indiﬀerently frustrating man’s
concerns – like the cosmic nature-demon at the end of the Book of Job.’ Ernst
Bloch, Atheism in Christianity, trans. J. T. Swann, London: Verso, 2009, pp. 104–105.
25 In his great book on Rosenzweig, Peter Eli Gordon describes his intellectual strategy,
while writing The Star of Redemption, as a ‘performance of Jewish diﬀerence’: ‘For
Rosenzweig as for a number of other Weimar intellectuals, Jewish philosophical
and national “distinctiveness” was the fruit of imagination, a performance of dif-
ference that gained its very identity in borrowing from the German philosophical
tradition; it was not the somehow natural expression of a self-suﬃcient Jewish
identity and an integral Jewish canon of ideas. Thus a careful investigation of
Rosenzweig’s philosophy must leave behind any commitment to the idea that it
truly belongs to an isolable canon of modern Jewish thought. Or rather, it does
belong to such a canon, but only because it performs this isolation as a philosophical
doctrine.’ Peter Elli Gordon, Rosenzweig and Heidegger: Between Judaism and
German Philosophy, Berkeley: University of California Press, 2005, pp. 120–121. This
description is absolutely correct, yet it is somehow wrong in its overall tone,
implying an unfavourable comparison between the assimilated and partly dis-
oriented Weimar Jewry and a German philosophical tradition, supposedly
well-entrenched in its identity. Whereas the Marrano strategy, which I want to
attribute to Rosenzweig (who once obliquely compared himself in a letter to a friend
to those ‘charged of Judaising in Spain a couple of centuries ago’, ibid., p. 104), is
Introduction 33
far bolder in turning this seeming vice into a virtue. Not only does it say yes to the
performance of its own diﬀerence, but also imposes this performative principle on
other traditions, refusing to see them as uniform and self-suﬃcient, the German
philosophical tradition included. Thus Rosenzweig would not only approach the
Hebrew narrativism via the lenses of Schelling’s erzählende Philosophie, but would
also approach Schelling as a late pupil of kabbalah, who introjected its haggadic
element into his own idealist idiom. Any identity and any diﬀerence must, there-
fore, be performed: there are no natural expressions and no isolated canons
anywhere in the post-Babelian world, either Jewish or German.
26 See Robert Gibbs, Correlations in Rosenzweig and Lévinas, Princeton: Princeton
University Press, 1994.
27 Compare also the fragment from Lévinas’ Talmudic readings: ‘It is doubtful that a
philosophical thought has ever come into the world independent of all attitudes
or that there ever was a category in the world which came before an attitude’
(NTR, 102).
28 To emphasize this ambivalence was precisely the critical point made by Derrida
who, in ‘Violence and Metaphysics’, accused Lévinas of not taking seriously
enough the rules of the philosophical game he himself plays. Yet ‘God and Philo-
sophy’, published in 1975, already takes into account Derrida’s deconstructive
criticism and makes of this ambivalence a conscious weapon of choice.
29 Scholem writes: ‘For Cardozo the apostasy of the Messiah represented a kind of
highest justiﬁcation of the apostasy of the Spanish Marranos in 1391 and 1492.’
Gershom Scholem, ‘The Crisis of Tradition in Jewish Messianism’ (MIJ, p. 64). In the
following essay, ‘Redemption through Sin’, Scholem shows the link between
Cardozo’s Marrano theology and the later radical development of the Sabbatian
movement in which ‘messianism was transformed into nihilism’: ‘The psychology
of the “radical” Sabbatians was utterly paradoxical and “Marranic.” Essentially its
guiding principle was: Whoever is as he appears to be cannot be a true “believer.”
In practice this means the following: The “true faith” cannot be a faith which men
publicly profess. On the contrary, the “true faith” must always be concealed. In
fact, it is one’s duty to deny it outwardly, for it is like a seed that has been planted
in the bed of the soul and it cannot grow unless it is ﬁrst covered over. For this
reason every Jew is obliged to become a Marrano’ (MIJ, p. 109).
30 Gershom Scholem, ‘Zehn Unhistorische Sätze über Kabbalah’, in Judaica 3, Studien
zur jüdischen Mystik, Frankfurt am Main: Suhrkamp Verlag, 1973, p. 264.
31 Harold Bloom, ‘Scholem: Unhistorical or Jewish Gnosticism’, in The Strong Light
of the Canonical: Kafka, Freud and Scholem as Revisionists of Jewish Culture and
Thought, New York: The City College Papers, No. 20, 1987, p. 55. Seeing himself
as a grateful heir of Scholem the non-historian, Bloom then continues his praise,
which I can only fully endorse: ‘Indeed, for a host of contemporary Jewish intellec-
tuals, the Kabbalah of Gershom Scholem is now more normative than normative
Judaism itself. For them, Scholem is far more than a historian, far more than a
theologian. He is not less than a prophet, though his prophecy is severely limited
by his evasiveness’ (ibid., 76).
32 Gershom Scholem, ‘Zehn Unhistorische Sätze über Kabbala’, p. 271.
33 As Paul Mendes-Flohr characterizes both Scholem and Benjamin in ‘The Spiritual
Quest of the Philologist’, in Gershom Scholem. The Man and His Work, Albany,
NY: SUNY Press, 1997, p. 14.
34 Scholem says in his diaries: Wer Hebräisch schweigen kann … , ‘But the one who
could keep silent in Hebrew … ’ (TB2, 164). The whole fragment, from which I
took this quote, evolves round the importance of silence as the only right expres-
sion of the Teaching that should guide the Zionist youth: ‘Hebrew must be the
superlative of the Teaching’s silence. The person able to be silent in Hebrew surely
partakes in the quite life of youth. There is no one among us who can do this. We
34 Introduction
cannot use our existence as an argument precisely because silence, or more accu-
rately stillness (die Stille), is the step in which a life can become an argument,’
entry from 1 April 1918 (LY, p. 219). Probably the ﬁrst person to notice Scholem’s
‘duplicity’ was his favourite pupil Joseph Weiss who in 1947, in an essay com-
memorating Scholem’s 50th anniversary, wrote: ‘Scholem’s esoterism is not an
absolute silence, it is an art of a camouﬂage [ … ] The secret metaphysician parades
in the clothes of a strict scientist. Science is Scholem’s incognito,’ quot. after Ellettra
Stimilli, ‘Der Messianismus als politisches Problem’, in Jacob Taubes, Der Preis
des Messianismus, Würzburg: Königshausen & Neumann, 2006, p. 139. For more
on Scholem’s inclination towards secrecy, see the essay ‘The Revolution of Trauma’,
which contains a section on Scholem’s early piece on ‘the unfallen silence’, also in
this volume.
35 Jacques Derrida, Archive Fever: A Freudian Impression, trans. Eric Prenowitz,
Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1996, p. 70.
36 The internal quotes refer to Yosef Hayim Yerushalmi, Freud’s Moses. Judaism
Terminable and Interminable, Yale University Press: New Haven, 1991, p. 95. This
‘interminability’ chimes well with Rosenzweig’s notion of ‘eternity,’ which he ascri-
bed to a Jew as an ‘eternal remnant’: a revealed, universal, and not yet realised
potentiality of being, which the Jew carries in himself, even when enmeshed in the
very midst of historical existence. See also Gerard Bensussan’s great interpretation
of the remnant motif in Rosenzweig and Derrida, in Judeities.
37 The necessary connection between messianicity, futurity and universality was ﬁrst
fully endorsed by Ernst Bloch who (perhaps in less subtle terms than Derrida)
criticized the Christian thinkers for the destruction of the radical futurum by their
reliance on the Platonic notion of anamnesis: ‘It is simply that their systems are
bound together with Greek thought, which is being-oriented and anti-historical,
instead of which the historical thought of the Bible, with its Promise and its
Novum – with the Futurum as an open possibility for the deﬁnition of being, right
up to the point of Yahweh himself [ … ] Hence too the diﬀerence between epi-
phany and apocalypse, and between the mere anamnesis of truth (remembering,
circular line) which stretches from Plato to Hegel, and the eschatology of truth as
of something still open within itself, open with Not-yet-being.’ Bloch, Atheism in
Christianity, pp. 44–45.
38 Yosef Hayim Yerushalmi, Zakhor: Jewish History and Jewish Memory, Seattle and
London: University of Washington Press, 1996, p. 9.
39 This is why I cannot agree with Robert Gibbs who, in his otherwise very clever
essay on messianic epistemology, somewhat ﬂattens Derrida’s subtle reasoning by
concluding that Derrida’s rendering of ‘in the future, remember to remember the
future’ amounts to a ‘formal claim’ that fully ‘decontextualizes it from the Jewish
people’. Robert Gibbs, ‘Messianic Epistemology’, in Yvonne Sherwood and Kevin
Hart, eds., Derrida and Religion: Other Testaments, New York and London: Routledge,
pp. 123–124. This decontextualization, if it indeed occurs, never completely leaves
the Jewish realm; rather, it is a recontextualization in which Jewish revelation
regains a universal appeal, solely on the grounds of what it says, and a such cannot
remain limited to ‘Jewish people’ only.
40 Jacques Derrida, ‘Abraham, the Other’, in Judeities: Questions for Jacques Derrida,
ed. Joseph Cohen and Raphael Zagury-Orly, trans. Bettina Bergo and Michael B.
Smith, New York: Fordham University Press, 2007, p. 13 (emphasis added).
41 In the preface to Judeities, the editors of the volume, Joseph Cohen and Raphael
Zagury-Orly, explain why they chose this rather unusual term: ‘We have chosen the
term judeity to express a certain equivocation, an undeﬁnable and undeterminable
diversity, that may well constitute the interiority of Judaism today. In other words,
judeity, as we evoke it, should in no way be understood as a more ‘authentic’
reformulation of Jewish identity [ … ] That is the dual possibility of simultaneously
Introduction 35
questioning what is understood under the term judaism and interrogating the rela-
tionship (if there is one) between Jacques Derrida’s writing – itself invariably
inscribed in the tension of the undeﬁnable – and those multiple judeities’ (Judeities,
p. xi, emphasis added). Again, it is a wonderful description of Derrida’s extremely
delicate intentions of abstaining from a clear Judaic identiﬁcation, but as in the
case of Peter Eli Gordon depicting the intellectual condition of the Weimar Jewry,
it lacks the component of bold assertiveness, equally present in Derrida’s ‘Jewish’
writings, which I call here the Marrano strategy. As far as I know, only Helene
Cixous goes as far as to attribute to Derrida openly ‘a desire to be a Marrano’
which she, in ‘This Stranjew Body,’ compares to the Kafkan desire to be an Indian
(Judeities, p. 56). Derrida ‘marinates himself ’ in his ‘Jewfeint’ mode (ibid.): ‘nor-
catholic norjew midjew midsame midindian midhorse [ … ] He ﬁnds himself, ﬁnds
himself anew, in feint and truth, a marrano. An adoption that sits well with his
essential way of assenting to the secret, of giving to secrets their incalculable share’
(ibid., p. 55). Also John Caputo called Derrida ‘Jewish without being Jewish’. See
John D. Caputo, The Prayers and Tears of Jacques Derrida: Religion without
Religion, Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1997, p. xvii.
42 Jacques Derrida, ‘Faith and Knowledge’, trans. Samuel Weber, in Religion, Stanford:
Stanford University Press, 1998, p. 18.
43 This will be the topic of Chapter 5, ‘The identity of the Spirit’.
44 Jacques Derrida, ‘Marx & Sons’, in Ghostly Demarcations: A Symposium on
Jacques Derrida’s ‘Specters of Marx’, ed. Michael Sprinker, London: Verso, 1999,
pp. 248–249 (emphasis added).
45 See Derrida’s rejoinder to the contemporary Spinozists, Montag and Negri, who
wish to do ‘new ontology’, i.e. stick to the actual, the present, and the reasonably
possible – ‘at the risk of restoring everything to order, to the grand order, but to
order’ (ibid., 257).
46 The antinomian intuition, which is the main speculative hero of this book, is
probably best explained by Horkheimer’s Sehnsucht nach dem ganz Anderem which
he very clearly elucidates in his already-mentioned interview for German radio.
Asked by the interlocutor: ‘Is this utter caution in dealing with the unknown
derived from Jewish heritage?’ Horkheimer replies: ‘Yes, and in the same way this
utter caution has become an element of our social theory which we called the
Critical Theory. “Thou shalt not make a graven image of God,” says the Bible.
You cannot depict the absolute good [ … ] Should we not ask ourselves why this
shyness exists? No other religion apart from Judaism knows it.’ Quoted in Paul
Mendes-Flohr, Divided Passions, p. 374. The ‘shyness’, which avoids a full positive
representation of the ‘good-to-come’ is thus a particular and characteristic feature
of Jewish heritage, yet at the same time, a feature that can – should – be commu-
nicated universally, for it contains a valid ethical intuition that runs contrary to the
Christian (or post-Christian) sense of an imminent fulﬁlment. On the latter issue, see
most of an inspired reply of Martin Buber to his Protestant interlocutor, Reverend
Schmidt, who accused Jews of ‘blindness’ in regard to the divine incarnation of
Jesus Christ: ‘We, Israel, understand in another fashion our inability to accept
the Gospel [ … ] We know that universal history has not been rent to its founda-
tions, that the world has not yet been redeemed.’ Martin Buber, ‘Church, State,
Nation, Jewry’, in David W. McKain, ed., Christianity: Some Non-Christian
Appraisals, New York: McGraw Hill, 1964, p. 180; my emphasis.
47 The only signiﬁcant exception to this overwhelming tendency to mute the high
apocalyptic tone of this particular Jewish generation is Michael Löwy whose
works – Redemption and Utopia, as well as Elective Aﬃnities – strongly champion
the revolutionary schwung of the German-speaking Central European Jewry. Yet
the problem with Löwy is that while very pro-revolutionary, he is not at all anti-
nomian; his model of social utopia remains ﬁrmly entrenched in what he calls the
36 Introduction
Bachofenian speculation of Walter Benjamin, i.e. the image of the pre-historical
golden age of the anti-hierarchical and promiscuous Muterrecht. In case of Löwy,
therefore, we do not deal with the antinomian revolution, but with a ‘chthonian
revolution’ (which is a very apt name given to this phenomenon by Ned Lukacher
in ‘Walter Benjamin and the Chthonian Revolution’, boundary 2, Vol. 11, No. 1–2,
Autumn 1982–Winter 1983, pp. 41–57). There is, however, another important
exception, whom we can list as an ally without any doubts: Kenneth Seeskin, whose
Cohen inﬂuenced work consistently paves way for the modern understanding
of Jewish messianism with a strong antinomian twist. For instance, see his recent
Jewish Messianic Thoughts in an Age of Despair, Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 2012.
48 See Martin Kavka, Jewish Messianism and the History of Philosophy, Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 2004, p. 2: ‘As a result, this book vigorously rejects
the Athens-Jerusalem problem that has been our pet mosquito, sucking our life-
blood since the third century CE,’ i.e. from the times of Tertullian’s dramatic
question.
49 Thus, when Kavka says that the change which occurred in Lévinas’ thought and
which consisted in him dropping the term ‘meontology’ for the sake of ‘metaontology’
is irrelevant, we can only say the contrary is true. It rather means that Lévinas, no
longer satisﬁed with his never fully successful appropriation of Plato, gave up on
the meontological interpretation of his autremont qu’être and moved decisively
towards a new idiom which – passing via the meta stage of separation – should
eventually be called anti-ontology. It is precisely this anti-ontological, extremely
antinomian standpoint, rebelling against all nomos of the Earth, all possible laws of
being as such, which gives the severe, trenchant ﬂavour to what Michael Fagenblat
rightly calls Lévinas’ ‘ethical negative theology’ (see Michael Fagenblat, A Cove-
nant of Creatures: Lévinas’ Philosophy of Judaism, Stanford: Stanford University
Press, 2010, pp. 111–139). Kavka, however, is right, when he points to Lévinas’
hesitations on that point (on the problems of Lévinas’ antinomianism, which never
actually reached the mature phase of an active anti-ontology, see Chapter 4 in this
volume, ‘The antinomian symptom’). On the Hebrew anti-ontological pathos, see
also critical remarks of Jean-Francois Lyotard who, in his essay ‘Figure Fore-
closed’, compares Jewish (and Lévinas’ particularly) wholesale rejection of being to
a psychotic foreclosure. Jean-Francois Lyotard, ‘Figure Foreclosed’, in Lyotard
Reader, trans. Andrew Benjamin, Oxford: Blackwell, 1989. It is also worth men-
tioning here the ultra-critical position of Phillip Blond, the co-creator of Radical
Orthodoxy, who openly accuses Lévinas of Manichaeism: Phillip Blond, ‘Emmanuel
Lévinas: God and Phenomenology’, in Phillip Blond, ed., Post-Secular Philosophy:
Between Philosophy and Theology, London: Routledge, 1998, pp. 103–120.
50 The theme of Jewish messianism as diﬀering radically from the Christian one,
precisely because of its antinomian dimension, occurs frequently in Scholem who
links it with the radical openness of the Jewish concept of the future, unconstrained
by any image of the already fulﬁlled messianic time: ‘[The Christian] world is built
on the principle that redemption already took place and the Redeemer had already
appeared, so even if the work of redemption itself is not yet completed, it none-
theless had begun and does not oﬀer a hope in a wholly other distant future
[ein ferne Zukunfthoﬀnung]’: Gershom Scholem, ‘Ursprünge, Widerspruche und
Auswirkungen des Sabbatianismus’, in Judaica 5, Frankfurt am Main: Suhrkamp
Verlag, 1992, p. 123. The same motif emerges in the recent work of Willi Goetschel
who also focuses on the open future horizon of the Jewish messianic thought as the
most characteristic ‘Jewish diﬀerence’ which modern Jewish philosophy guards and
develops: ‘In reclaiming the messianic as a project of philosophy in opposition
to theology, Jewish philosophy from Spinoza to Derrida foregrounds the task to
respond to the messianic philosophically rather than contain and discipline it
Introduction 37
theologically. More than a border dispute between philosophy and theology or
between Jewish and Christian claims, the issue is to open philosophy to innovation,
change, and the open future to come.’ Willi Goetschel, The Discipline of Philosophy
and the Invention of Modern Jewish Thought, New York: Fordham University
Press, 2013, p. 15. And when I talk about the ‘antinomian spectre’ as hovering both
menacingly and messianically over the all too ‘positive’ modern thought, Goetschel
ingeniously pseudonames this ghost as dybbuk: ‘Jewish philosophy then, it could be
said, is philosophy’s dybbuk: the marginalized, muted, and repressed that returns
and haunts the claim to universalism that excludes and silences what could enrich
it’ (ibid., 7).
51 Scholem, ‘Ursprünge, Widerspruche und Auswirkungen des Sabbatianismus’, p. 120
52 On the Barthian inspiration of Lévinas, compare, for instance, this fragment from
The Epistle to the Romans: ‘The decision lies in our answer to the question – Do
we, in the unknowable, apprehend and love the Unknown God? Do we, in the
complete Otherness of the other [ … ] hear the voice of the One? [.] If I hear in the
neighbour only the voice of the other and not also the voice of the One [ … ] – then,
quite certainly, the voice of the One is nowhere to be heard.’ Karl Barth, The
Epistle to the Romans, trans. Edwyn C. Hoskyns, Oxford: Oxford University Press,
1968, pp. 494–495 (emphasis in original).

The Brute Force Of IBM Deep Blue And Google DeepMind

There are interesting parallels between one of this week’s milestones in the history of technology and the current excitement and anxiety about artificial intelligence (AI). Bottom line: Beware of fake AI news and be less afraid.

On February 10, 1996, IBM’s Deep Blue became the first machine to win a chess game against a reigning world champion, Garry Kasparov. Kasparov won three and drew two of the following five games, defeating Deep Blue by a score of 4–2. In May 1997, an upgraded version of Deep Blue won the six-game rematch 3½–2½ to become the first computer to defeat a reigning world champion in a match under standard chess tournament time controls.

Deep Blue was an example of so-called “artificial intelligence” achieved through “brute force,” the super-human calculating speed that has been the hallmark of digital computers since they were invented in the 1940s. Deep Blue was a specialized, purpose-built computer, the fastest to face a chess world champion, capable of examining 200 million moves per second, or 50 billion positions, in the three minutes allocated for a single move in a chess game.

To many observers, this was another milestone in man’s quest to build a machine in his own image and another indicator that it’s just a matter of time before we create a self-conscious machine complex enough to mimic the brain and display human-like intelligence or even super-intelligence.

An example of such “the mind is a meat machine” (to quote Marvin Minsky) philosophy is Charles Krauthammer’s “Be Afraid” in the Weekly Standard, May 26, 1997. To Krauthammer, Deep Blue’s win in the 1996 match was due to “brute force” calculation, which is not artificial intelligence, he says, just faster calculation of a much wider range of possible tactical moves.

But one specific move in Game 2 of the 1997 match, a game that Kasparov based not on tactics, but on strategy (where human players have a great advantage over machines), was “the lightning flash that shows us the terrors to come.” Krauthammer continues:

What was new about Game Two… was that the machine played like a human. Grandmaster observers said that had they not known who was playing they would have imagined that Kasparov was playing one of the great human players, maybe even himself. Machines are not supposed to play this way… To the amazement of all, not least Kasparov, in this game drained of tactics, Deep Blue won. Brilliantly. Creatively. Humanly. It played with -- forgive me -- nuance and subtlety.

Fast forward to March 2016, to Cade Metz writing in Wired on Go champion Lee Sedol’s loss to AlphaGo at the Google DeepMind Challenge Match. In “The AI Behind AlphaGo Can Teach Us About Being Human,” Metz reported on yet another earth-shattering artificial-intelligence-becoming-human-intelligence move:

Move 37 showed that AlphaGo wasn’t just regurgitating years of programming or cranking through a brute-force predictive algorithm. It was the moment AlphaGo proved it understands, or at least appears to mimic understanding in a way that is indistinguishable from the real thing. From where Lee sat, AlphaGo displayed what Go players might describe as intuition, the ability to play a beautiful game not just like a person but in a way no person could.

AlphaGo used 1,920 Central Processing Units (CPU) and 280 Graphics Processing Units (GPU), according to The Economist, and possibly additional proprietary google Tensor Processing Units, for a lot of hardware power, plus brute force statistical analysis software (processing and analyzing lots and lots of data) known as Deep Neural Networks, or more popularly as Deep Learning.

Still, Google’s programmers have not dissuaded anyone from believing they are creating human-like machines and often promoted the idea (the only Google exception I know of is Peter Norvig, but he is neither a member of the Google Brain nor of the Google DeepMind teams, Google’s AI avant-garde).

IBM’s programmers, in contrast, were more modest. Krauthammer quotes Joe Hoane, one of Deep Blue's programmers, answering the question "How much of your work was devoted specifically to artificial intelligence in emulating human thought?" Hoane’s answer: "No effort was devoted to [that]. It is not an artificial intelligence project in any way. It is a project in -- we play chess through sheer speed of calculation and we just shift through the possibilities and we just pick one line."

So the earth-shattering moves may have been just a bug in the software. But that explanation escaped observers, then and now, preferring to believe that humans can create intelligent machines (“giant brains” as they were called in the early days of very fast calculators) because the only difference between humans and machines is the degree of complexity, the sheer number of human or artificial neurons firing. Here’s Krauthammer:

You build a machine that does nothing but calculation and it crosses over and creates poetry. This is alchemy. You build a device with enough number-crunching algorithmic power and speed—and, lo, quantity becomes quality, tactics becomes strategy, calculation becomes intuition… After all, how do humans get intuition and thought and feel? Unless you believe in some metaphysical homunculus hovering over (in?) the brain directing its bits and pieces, you must attribute our strategic, holistic mental abilities to the incredibly complex firing of neurons in the brain.

We are all materialists now. Or almost all of us. Read here and (especially) here for a different take.

If you are not interested in philosophical debates (and prefer to ignore the fact that the dominant materialist paradigm affects—through government policies, for example—many aspects of your life), at least read Tom Simonite excellent Wired article “AI Beat Humans at Reading! Maybe not” in which he shows how exaggerated are recent various claims for AI “breakthroughs.”

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44,386 views|Mar 3, 2020,09:00am EST
Listening To Today’s Students
Civic Nation
Amber M. BriggsBrand Contributor
Civic NationBRANDVOICE| Paid Program
Leadership
Today's college students have changed: they are older and more racially diverse. They are parents and veterans. They don’t necessarily live on campus. They are financially independent from their parents and work while in school. They struggle with food and housing insecurity.

Students are rapidly changing, but the higher ed system has yet to catch up—resulting in students struggling to thrive in a system that wasn’t designed for them. Consider the following:

You’re a student of color on a predominantly white campus and a racist graffiti pops up around campus. Your campus doesn’t respond.
You’re a low-income student and while your campus provides a stipend to attend paid events, you have to stand in a different entrance line than all of the other students.
You’re a parent but a campus administrator keeps referring to you as a “kid.”
If you’re a policymaker or leader in higher education, you might have thoughts about how students feel about these scenarios and the best way to respond. But if you don’t include your students in the solution—if you don’t actively solicit their options and make space for their voices—you will never really know.

This is why we need to listen to students, especially those who have been historically marginalized, or systematically excluded from the design and implementation of higher education, policies and practices. We need to put students at the center of the conversation.

This is why Leadership Enterprise for a Diverse America (LEDA), an organization dedicated to diversifying our nation’s leadership pipeline, launched the LEDA Policy Project in 2017 and why we’re bringing students to the 2020 SXSW EDU Conference.

LEDA Policy Corps in Washington, DC.
Amber Briggs, Director of the LEDA Policy Project, with the 2019-2020 LEDA Policy Corps in Washington, DC. LEDA
During our session, three LEDA Scholars who are current college students, will discuss how having a sense of belonging in college can impact students’ ability to succeed and thrive. This conversation will be moderated by Eric Waldo, the Executive Director of Reach Higher. Over the next few days, and in advance of our session, these students will be sharing their stories about their experiences in higher education right here on Forbes and on Reach Higher’s Instagram. By elevating student stories, our goal is to give higher education leaders and policymakers the perspectives and information they need to successfully adapt the system for today’s students.

If you’re planning on being at SXSW EDU, we hope you join us at our panel on March 9th. If you’re not able to attend the conference, we hope that you read our student’s stories. Most importantly, if you work with students, we hope you provide them with opportunities to provide input about policies and practices.

This article is more than 2 years old.

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Don’t worry. The machines will never take over, no matter how much progress will be made in artificial intelligence

Arnold Schwarzenegger is back in 'Terminator Genisys' (FRANCOIS GUILLOT/AFP/Getty Images)

Everywhere you turn nowadays, you hear about the imminent triumph of intelligent machines over humans. They will take our jobs, they will make their own decisions, they will be even more intelligent than humans, they pose a threat to humanity (per Stephen Hawking, Bill Gates, and Elon Musk). Marc Andreesen recently summed up on Twitter the increased hubbub about the dangers of Artificial Intelligence: “From ‘It's so horrible how little progress has been made’ to ‘It's so horrible how much progress has been made’ in one step.”

Don’t worry. The machines will never take over, no matter how much progress will be made in artificial intelligence . It will forever remain artificial, devoid of what makes us human (and intelligent in the full sense of the word), and what accounts for our unlimited creativity, the fountainhead of ideas that will always keep us at least a few steps ahead of the machines.

In a word, intelligent machines will never have culture, our unique way of transmitting meanings and context over time, our continuously invented and re-invented inner and external realities.

Today In: Tech

When you stop to think about culture—the content of our thinking—it is amazing that it has been missing from the thinking of the people creating “thinking machines” and/or debating how much they will impact our lives for as long as this work and conversation has been going on. No matter what position they take in the debate and/or what path they follow in developing robots and/or artificial intelligence, they have collectively made a conscious or unconscious decision to reduce the incredible bounty and open-endedness of our thinking to computation, an exchange of information between billions of neurons, which they either hope or are afraid that we will eventually replicate in a similar exchange between increasingly powerful computers. It’s all about quantity and we know that Moore’s Law takes care of that.

Almost all the people participating in the debate about the rise of the machines have subscribed to the Turing Paradigm which basically says “let’s not talk about what we cannot define or investigate and simply equate thinking with computation.”

The dominant thinking about thinking machines, whether of the artificial or the human kind, has not changed since Edward C. Berkeley wrote in Giant Brains or Machines that Think, his 1949 book about the recently invented computers: “These machines are similar to what a brain would be if it were made of hardware and wire instead of flesh and nerves… A machine can handle information; it can calculate, conclude, and choose; it can perform reasonable operations with information. A machine, therefore, can think.” Thirty years later, MIT’s Marvin Minsky famously stated: “The human brain is just a computer that happens to be made out of meat.” Today, Harvard geneticist George Church goes further (reports Joichi Ito), suggesting that we should make brains as smart as computers, and not the other way around.

Still, from time to time we do hear new and original challenges to the dominant paradigm. In “Computers Versus Humanity: Do We Compete?” Liah Greenfeld and Mark Simes bring culture and the mind into the debate over artificial intelligence, concepts that do not exist in the prevailing thinking about thinking. They define culture as the symbolic process by which humans transmit their ways of life. It is a historical process, i.e., it occurs in time, and it operates on both the collective and individual levels simultaneously.

The mind, defined as “culture in the brain,” is a process representing an individualization of the collective symbolic environment. It is supported by the brain and, in turn, it organizes the connective complexity of the brain. Greenfeld and Simes argue that “mapping and explaining the organization and biological processes in the human brain will only be complete when such symbolic, and therefore non-material, environment is taken into account.”

They conclude that what distinguishes humanity from all other forms of life “is its endless, unpredictable creativity. It does not process information: It creates. It creates information, misinformation, forms of knowledge that cannot be called information at all, and myriads of other phenomena that do not belong to the category of knowledge. Minds do not do computer-like things, ergo computers cannot outcompete us all.”

The mind, the continuous and dynamic creative process by which we live our conscious lives, is missing from the debates over the promise and perils of artificial intelligence. A recent example is a special section on robots in the July/August issue of Foreign Affairs, in which the editors brought together a number of authors with divergent opinions about the race against the machines. All of them, however, do not question the assumption that we are in a race:

A roboticist, MIT’s Daniela Rus, writes about the “significant gaps” that have to be closed in order to make robots our little helpers and makes the case for robots and humans augmenting and complementing each other’s skills (in “The Robots Are Coming”).
Another roboticist, Carnegie Mellon’s Illah Reza Nourbakhsh, highlights robots’ “potential to produce dystopian outcomes” and laments the lack of required training in ethics, human rights, privacy, or security at the academic engineering programs that grant degrees in robotics (in “The Coming Robot Dystopia”).
The authors of The Second Machine Age, MIT’s Erik Brynjolfsson and Andrew McAfee, predict that human labor will not disappear anytime soon because “we humans are a deeply social species, and the desire for human connection carries over to our economic lives.” But the prediction is limited to “within the next decade,” after which “there is a real possibility… that human labor will, in aggregate, decline in relevance because of technological progress, just as horse labor did earlier” (in “Will Humans Go the Way of Horses?”).
The chief economics commentator at the Financial Times, Martin Wolf, dismisses the predictions regarding the imminent “breakthroughs in information technology, robotics, and artificial intelligence that will dwarf what has been achieved in the past two centuries” and the emergence of machines that are “supremely intelligent and even self-creating.” While also hedging his bets about the future, he states categorically “what we know for the moment is that there is nothing extraordinary in the changes we are now experiencing. We have been here before and on a much larger scale” (in “Same as It Ever Was: Why the Techno-optimists Are Wrong”).

Same as it ever was, indeed. A lively debate and lots of good arguments: Robots will help us, robots could harm us, robots may or may not take our jobs, robots—for the moment—are nothing special. Beneath the superficial disagreement lies a fundamental shared acceptance of the general premise that we are not different from computers, only have the temporary and fleeting advantage of greater computing power.

No wonder that the editor of Foreign Affairs, Gideon Rose, concludes that “something is clearly happening here, but we don’t know what it means. And by the time we do, authors and editors might well have been replaced by algorithms along with everybody else.”

Let me make a bold prediction. Algorithms will not create on their own a competitor to Foreign Affairs. No matter how intelligent machines will become (and they will be much smarter than they are today), they will not create science or literature or any of the other components of our culture that we have created over the course of millennia and will continue to create, in some cases aided by technologies that we create and control.

And by “we,” I don’t mean only Einstein and Shakespeare. I mean the entire human race, engaged in creating, absorbing, manipulating, processing, communicating the symbols that make our culture, making sense of our reality. I doubt that we will ever have a machine creating Twitter on its own, not even the hashtag.

I’m sure we will have smart machines that could perform special tasks, augmenting our capabilities and improving our lives. That many jobs will be taken over by algorithms and robots, and many others will be created because of them, as we have seen over the last half-century. And that bad people will use these intelligent machines to harm other people and that we will make many mistakes relying too much on them and not thinking about all the consequences of what we are developing.

But intelligent machines will not have a mind of their own. Intelligent machines will not have our imagination, our creativity, our unique human culture. Intelligent machines will not take over because they will never be human

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materialism

Eliyahu Stern’s Jewish Materialism is an intellectual history of a group of Russian Jews communicating with one another publicly and privately in the 1870s. For Stern, the debates among these “roughly twenty-five intellectuals born in the northwestern provinces of the Russian Empire” (6) mark a pivotal turning point in the history of Jewish self-imagination. Their attempts to reconcile Jewish theology with empirical science, ontological materialism, and Marxism created a way for Jewish religion and Jewish peoplehood to stand independently of Jewish theism. Wanting to improve the material conditions of Jewish people living in the Russian Pale of Settlement, these intellectuals catalyzed an imagined community of Jews. It is in this broad political-economic sense of concern for material conditions that Stern locates his own understanding of the distinctiveness of “Jewish materialism” as an intellectual movement: it is “the assumption that Judaism is primarily rooted in people’s material well-being and the distribution of resources in society” (190).

Stern adapts the emic category of “materialism” that pervades the conversations among his sources for his own etic purposes in order to argue that the Jewish materialism of the 1870s led to the development of a Jewish self-understanding that underpins both cultural Zionism and, more broadly, a transnational Jewish identity. Stern’s etic definition of “materialism” as merely a concern for material well-being enables him to extend beyond a narrower, yet fascinating argument that a synthesis of materialist philosophy and Judaism laid the groundwork for secular ways of being Jewish in the 20th and 21st centuries. Instead, he makes the more ambitious claim that Jewish materialism helped effect the notion that Jews are a single people, regardless of individuals’ (lack of) beliefs or practices. Stern’s strategic shift to a more capacious definition thus mirrors his argument that the Jewish materialists of the 1870s were responsible for a far broader impact on the material conditions of Jews than scholars have thus far acknowledged. This semantic slippage can be frustrating for a reader interested in how the perspectives that Stern has excavated from Hebrew, Yiddish, and German sources understand themselves. These disparate senses of “materialism” often connect only weakly, and as Stern guides his narrative thread, his broad analytic definition sometimes elides the more specific usage of his subjects. The question of what’s in a name thus haunts Stern’s endeavor. Is the fact that these intellectuals used the term “materialism” in various ways, even if only to disagree with it, enough to unify them into a “Jewish materialism,” which in turn leads to a global Jewish peoplehood?

In the book’s first chapter, Stern describes the socio-economic conditions of Jews living in the Russian Pale of Settlement in the 19th century in order to explain the appeal of empirical approaches to politics and economics for Jewish intellectuals. For reformers, including the Russian aristocracy that sought to extract more value from lands occupied by Jews, traditional Jewish ways of life impeded economic development. The book’s second chapter examines the efforts of intellectuals like Moses Leib Lillienblum to reinterpret Jewish tradition in order to merge it with “the principles of rational egoism and a materialist calculus for making life decisions” (58). This reinterpretation relied on empirical economic studies like those of Ilya Orshanski and Abraham Uri Kovner. Kovner’s writings were anticlerical in the sense that they criticized as wasteful the tremendous financial resources that Jews living in the Pale dedicated to religious education. Lillienblum shared some of Kovner’s concerns, though unlike Kovner, who converted to Christianity, he sought to reform Jewish tradition by turning to 19th-century socialist thought and to the calculating positivism of John Stuart Mill. This intellectual labor helped create a hybrid of materialism and Judaism, but as with the German higher criticism’s impact on Christianity, Lillienblum’s synthesis posed a significant challenge to traditional Jewish theology.

In chapters 3 and 4, Stern looks at thinkers like Joseph Sossnitz and Tsvi Hirsch Rabinowtiz, who wrestled directly with the theological implications of ontological materialism and suffered criticism for their views. Both Sossnitz, with his scientific materialism, and Rabinowitz, with his positivism, turned away from a supernatural conception of God and reworked Judaism to make it more compatible with materialist philosophy. Sossnitz’s arguably most well-known student, Mordecai Kaplan, went on to co-found Reconstructionist Judaism and articulated a Jewish naturalism that takes Jewish “tradition seriously without taking it literally” (Kaplan, Judaism Without Supernaturalism, Reconstructionist Press, 1958, 29). Unlike the scientists Sossnitz and Rabinowitz, Judah Leib Levin and Aaron Shemuel Lieberman averred a more political materialism in the form of Marxism, which eschewed ontological claims as too much “metaphysics” and focused instead on empiricist methods of inquiry and the improvement of material conditions. Lieberman translated Marx into Hebrew and “proposed a new theory of history that merged Marx’s insights with Jewish ideas” (125). Though unlike Marx, Lieberman argued for the importance of a temporary imaginary of Jews as a distinct people in order to propagandize them, like Marx, he also thought Judaism would dissolve along with other religions and national identities through the achievement of communism.

In the book’s fifth chapter, Stern focuses on the “forefather of Cultural Zionism, Peter Smolenskin” (147), who was not a materialist in the scientific or Marxian senses, though he published the writings of several of the most prominent Jewish materialists in his newspapers The Dawn and The Truth. Engaging Smolenskin enables Stern to pivot away from the more modest thesis that appears to follow from the preceding chapters—namely that the challenges posed by scientific empiricism and ontological and Marxian materialisms led to the development of a kind of secular Judaism that does not require belief in the supernatural or observance of Jewish religious practices in order to be part of the Jewish people. Rather than merely extend the Jewish materialism of the 1870s into forms of naturalistic Judaism that flourished in the 20th century, such as Kaplan’s Reconstructionism or Felix Adler’s Ethical Culture movement, Stern argues that Jewish materialism made possible an imagined community of Jews who share something really (i.e., materially) distinctive even if they do not share religious beliefs or practices. It was the idealist Smolenskin who developed a theory of Jewish Geist, or a cultural spirit shared by all Jews, in sharp contrast to Lieberman’s view that Jewish national identity was a social construction at an intermediary stage on the way to universal human unity. With Smolenskin, the non-materialist publisher of many of the Jewish materialists, Stern finds a fulcrum capable of connecting the Jewish materialism of the 1870s to secular Jewish nationhood. Though this more ambitious thesis at times obscures the fascinating trajectory that Jewish Materialism charts into secular Judaism, scholars who build on Stern’s research will ultimately decide which of the two arguments will prove the most significant.

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Scholem Franksim

https://www.jaymichaelson.net/20131217/

Gershom Scholem posited Frankism as the crucial link between Sabbateanism and modernity. Sabbateanism’s anti-authoritarian stance inspired the anti-authoritarian Haskalah, Scholem said, much more than did the non-Jewish Enlightenment. And Frankism, by way of Prague, is the missing link.

Yet Scholem’s conclusion was based on an incomplete understanding of Frankism. Like other scholars, Scholem regarded Frank as a false messiah, a Kabbalist, and a Sabbatean. Unfortunately, Frank is none of these things. By the recording of Zbior Słow Panskich (“The Collection of the Words of the Lord”), Frank is quite clear that he is not the messiah; his program is one of personal immortality, not communal redemption, even though his followers revived communal messianic rhetoric immediately after his death. Likewise, Frank reviles Kabbalah throughout ZSP, rejecting its other-worldliness in favor of this-worldly materialism and magic. And Frankism bears but one of Scholem’s five characteristics of Sabbateanism, while Frank mocks Sabbetai Zevi and insisting that his (Frank’s) mission is a different one.

Was Scholem wrong, then, about Frankism? Ironically, he was unintentionally right. As a species of Western Esotericism, Frankism is indeed a halfway-house between religion and secularism. Late Frankism was part of a Western Esoteric tradition that, in its materialist metaphysics and in its presenting of an alternative body of knowledge to religion, helped lay the groundwork for the Enlightenment, the Scientific Revolution, and the Industrial Revolution. Scholem was puzzled that Frankist superstition could persist at the time of the French revolution, but this “superstition” was in fact a set of Western Esoteric myths that helped lay the groundwork for the French Revolution itself. In sum, Frankism was, in fact, part of the movement that birthed modernity – the Western Esoteric movement – and Scholem got it unintentionally right.

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Frankism

HE MIXED MULTITUDE: JACOB FRANK AND THE FRANKIST MOVEMENT, 1755–1816
By Pawel Maciejko
University of Pennsylvania Press, 360 pages, $65

“History is written by the winners.” Whether or not Napoleon Bonaparte first uttered this, the sentiment behind it applies to the arch-heretic Jacob Frank, who died while Napoleon was still an obscure lieutenant colonel in Corsica. Frank was one of the most enigmatic and bizarre figures in modern Jewish history — a combination of charlatan, opportunist and Jewish religious critic. He grew up as part of the growing Sabbatean movement in Poland, and after numerous incarnations he began his own heretical movement, converting to Christianity with many of his disciples in 1759.

Sabbatai Zevi was an charismatic figure from mid-17th-century Smyrna who was believed by a mass of Jews and some prominent rabbis to be the Messiah. In 1666, under duress from the Sultan of Turkey, he converted to Islam. His followers interpreted this conversion as part of his messianic vocation, and thus the Sabbatean movement remained strong, especially in Poland, well into the 18th century. Some scholars argue that it had a direct impact on early Hasidism. But by the mid-19th-century it had seemingly disappeared from the Jewish community.

Few in the English-speaking world had heard of Sabbatai Zevi until Gershom Scholem’s magisterial 1973 biography, and even fewer had heard of Frank. Indeed, until Pawel Maciejko’s new study, there has been no serious analysis of Frank in English. Many more know of the great heretic Benedict (Baruch) Spinoza and have heard of the great Reformers, from Moses Mendelssohn and Abraham Geiger to Isaac Mayer Wise and Mordecai Kaplan.

The Sabbateans and Frankists on the one hand, and the Reformers on the other, were considered heretics by the traditional rabbis of their day. We know of the latter because their critique developed into non-Orthodox Judaism, but the Sabbateans and Frankists were the forgotten losers, because they converted to either Islam or Christianity, meaning that to modern Diaspora Jews they became irrelevant.

Zionists, however, were infatuated with Sabbatai Zevi and Frank, inspired by their heresy, their messianism and their subversion of rabbinic authority. Important studies of both figures exist in Hebrew, and various Zionist revolutionaries considered both to be either heroes or villains (and sometimes both). For Diaspora Jews, Reform Judaism reframed part of the Sabbatean critique of tradition and Hasidism absorbed and normalized the other part. Even if we reject attempts made by Scholem and his student Isaiah Tishby to draw historical links among Sabbateanism, Hasidism and the Reform movement, it is not a stretch to say that they all share, in different ways, a critique of rabbinic authority and the belief that Jewish law is the exclusive expression of divine will.

Maciejko’s “The Mixed Multitude: Jacob Frank and the Frankist Movement, 1755–1816,” is a brilliant study of Frank and the Frankist movement. It is the product of meticulous archival research in Polish, German, Hebrew and Yiddish, and it brims with sharp observations as it sweeps through its thesis. It convincingly argues that Frankism was a far more pervasive movement in Poland than originally thought, not only in the Jewish community, but also among the Polish aristocracy and clergy. Originally from Poland, Maciejko was trained at Oxford University and is now a lecturer at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem. In “The Mixed Multitude” he argues that without Frank, the history of Judaism and modernity is missing a crucial chapter. The Frankists were not a marginal sectarian movement but a tremendous force in parts of Poland, a force that resulted in the conversion to Christianity of thousands of Jews in the late 18th century.

The movement attracted the attention of Polish kings, noblemen, clergy and intellectuals, and some of the greatest Jewish minds of the time. It had among its ranks such figures as the alleged Sabbatean Jonathan Eybeschutz, who was the rabbi of the prestigious Three Communities (Altona, Hamburg, and Wandsbeck), and his son, Wolf, who was openly Frankist. The Frankists’ conversion to Roman Catholicism forced Jews to rethink their relationship to Christianity. For example, Maciejko suggests that Rabbi Jacob Emden’s famous positive appraisal of Christianity, where he deems the church an “assembly for the sake of heaven,” was written largely to force the Frankists — heretics who had converted but retained some allegiance to Judaism — out of Judaism. In short, more than an expression of tolerance for Christianity, Emden wanted to create an alliance between Jews and the church against the Frankists.

Maciejko argues that contemporary readers have mistakenly viewed Frank simply as a wayward Sabbatean. In fact, in his major theological work, “Words of the Lord,” he has only disparaging things to say about Sabbatai Zevi. While after Frank’s death, many of his disciples merged with Sabbatean communities, Frank set himself apart, claiming that Sabbatai Zevi “did not accomplish anything.” Rather, Frank claimed that he “came to this world to bring forth into the world a new thing of which neither your forefathers nor their forefathers heard.”

We are also mistaken to think that Frank’s heresy, like Sabbatai Zevi’s, was founded on Kabbalah. While certain kabbalistic ideas were certainly used by Frank, and he was called a “zoharist” and “kabbalist” by rabbis such as Emden, he was no kabbalist and had little regard for mysticism in general. Frank was dangerous not because he was a mystic, but because he rejected rabbinic authority, initially calling his group the “Contra-Talmudists.” He used Christianity as a tool to subvert the rabbis, to the point of ostensibly instigating Christian blood libels against the Jews.

Frankism also highlights the importance of gendered attributes of God in Kabbalah and the way those attributes need to manifest themselves in actual women. Ada Rapoport Albert’s new “Women and the Messianic Heresy of Sabbatai Zevi 1666–1816” documents the Sabbatean roots of the ostensibly increased role of the feminine in Hasidism and particularly Frank’s position that the Messiah must be a woman. Maciejko shows that Frank was one of the most outspoken in this regard, even more so than the Sabbateans. On this he writes, “Frank’s rejection of normative Judaism was rooted precisely in the failure of the Jewish religion to truly appreciate the female facet of the Godhead and the messianic dimensions of femininity.” The role of women in Frankism far exceeds anything in the traditional Judaism of its time.

More tangibly, Maciejko notes that while Sabbatai Zevi “ascended to the status of bridegroom of the true word of God, in Frankism the true word of God descended into the palpably material female flesh [of his daughter Eve].” The literality of Frank’s interpretation led to the antinomian and allegedly orgiastic ritual that became known as “the Lanckoronie affair.” Maciejko notes astutely that until then, the rabbis in Poland maintained a peaceful status quo with Sabbatean communities, perhaps even more so than with the Reformers.

Although the details are sketchy, in the town of Lanckoronie, in January 1756, Frank and a group of his disciples ostensibly spent the night in an orgiastic ritual of a mystical marriage with the Torah. Maciejko suggests that this incident “shattered the status quo between the Sabbateans and the rabbinate and caused the abandonment of the ‘don’t ask don’t tell’ policy, preferred up to that point by most Polish rabbis.” If not for this incident, the war against Sabbateanism in Europe that became so prominent in the 18th century might never have taken place, and Sabbatean communities might still exist as a normative part of Judaism.

Aside from an impressive example of historical scholarship, Maciejko has given us a detailed roadmap of Frankism and its importance to modern Judaism. Franks’s solution to the crisis of Judaism and modernity may not be ours. And Frank was certainly a diabolical figure. But his critique of Judaism, even as it failed miserably, may have had more of a lasting impact than we would like to believe.

Breaking News: Humans Will Forever Triumph Over The Machines

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