Spengler,
Where were we? Oh yeah, paradigms and people, myths and reality.
We were talking about the way a mythic narrative, including a religion, can bind human beings — not to mention characters in stories — to narrow, generalized roles that obscure and restrict their individuality.
And, of course, such roles are baked into the human pie. We all go through — or opt out of — certain natural stages that create a beginning, middle and end to the story of our lives. We’re children, young adults, spouses, parents, and finally we become bald but shockingly attractive sages of almost infinite wisdom before ascending into heaven on chariots of fire. Or something.
Out of that common human journey arises the beautiful fact that we can recognize ourselves in one another. I wrote a memoir, The Great Good Thing, which chronicles my path from unbelieving suburban Jew of the 1960’s to an urban novelist and screenwriter embracing faith in Christ. There is nothing more gratifying to me than the many letters I’ve received that say essentially: “Amazing! Your story is exactly like my story! I too am a Methodist farmer born in 1990 who believes in God. The similarities are astounding!”
I exaggerate a little. But the point remains true. We are each completely different and yet all much alike.
This has vast ramifications for the subject of our conversation: faith in the transhuman moment. If technology is to make better selves, what constitutes our selves? Where do we seek them? In our similarities, our differences, or both? And which similarities? Which differences? Where does individuality end and sin begin?
When we were planning this substack, I wondered aloud: “Who are the living intellectuals we admire?” We both answered simultaneously, “Carl Trueman,” and then fell into a disturbingly long silence before we finally came up with a few other names. I interviewed Carl this week. He rejects the destructive modern idea he calls expressive individualism: “It is the notion that every person is constituted by a set of inward feelings, desires, and emotions. The real ‘me’ is that person who dwells inside my body, and thus I am most truly myself when I am able to act outwardly in accordance with those inner feelings.”
I see how this notion might validate every degrading kink of selfish desire, especially when, as T.S. Eliot said, “the most imperative of instincts may be strong enough to simulate to perfection the voice of the Holy Spirit.”
At the same time, I feel there actually is a “real me,” a unique version of the image of God, toward which the Holy Spirit draws me. Through experience, reading scripture and my interactions with Christ, I’ve come to believe that inner person is centered, not on desire — nor intelligence nor even wisdom — but on agape love.
I have to admit I am strongly doubtful we can, or need to, increase our capacity for love through technological means.
But maybe that’s just… well, me.
Dad
Mr. Klavan, I noticed you were writing about me, but I still have my hair. Well, most of it.
Transhumanism will take Christ out of all of those who partake. Look at us now. We’ve practically eliminated God from the West, as it is. It is as if we are falling ever faster and faster to a bottom, where the impact will be most undesirable. And what we have already is.
Computers do so much for us now that; instead of aiding us, they are replacing us. In his last Good Friday homily (I believe), Bishop Sheen talked about suffering. And I think that hits on a key point with what is wrong in the West: we don’t suffer enough. The last two generations have not lived under an existential threat. Oh, to be sure, they THINK global warming is a threat, but they have no inkling of life where you could be vaporized with a 24 minute launch-detonation window. A warming planet is a suffering out in the future, to them, not an imminent threat. We have more machines to do manual work, computers to make every computation, and Common Core math to dumb down the students, and make parents suffer, if only a little.
And transhumanism is just the next process to eliminate suffering, a process to take up the Cross for us, so we are not burdened. Suffering breeds character. It brings us closer to Christ and his suffering, and two generations have shown the West that neither Christ nor character are any of their concern.
No wonder they’ll be saying as-salamu alaykum soon.
Loved the T.S. Eliot line -- how do I know when I'm listening to that small inner voice within that I haven't disguised my own selfish desires with the cloak of respectability conferred by the Holy Spirit. Something to think about!