Futurology is a notoriously difficult field; difficult to practice and difficult for the practitioner to be taken seriously. There is an art to avoiding both Nostromdamusian vagueness and the retrospective naivety of Thomas Watson’s mythic comment on the “world market for maybe five computers”. A good futurologists needs to be aware of the aims and abilities of modern technology and scientific research, but crucially must understand how the political and social environment could channel or outright block scientific and technological development. Futurology is more than simply predicting what shiny new inventions will be out in the next five years. Rather, it is the skill of locating the core philosophical underpinnings of modern technology, science and politics to predict what would happen if they were allowed to proceed to their logical conclusions, the tech being the means to this social end.This is Harari’s aim in Homo Deus, not to prophecy but rather to give a warning of there we are going. It is left to the reader whether we should, or can, fight this.
Early in the book, Harari defines the New Human Agenda as to achieve happiness, immortality and deification, or supreme knowledge and manipulation of nature. Harari argues that despite having mostly solved issues of famine, war and disease in the West and increasingly in the rest of the world, we are still not content. Rather we sapiens strive to achieve the next items on the list. In doing so, Harari notes sees many unknown unknowns opening up. With our measly sapiens brains, we struggle to comprehend what a future of cognitively enhanced Homo dei would be like, what Ray Kurzeweill terms the singularity. Such adherence to uncertainty is refreshing in a book about the future, but does not serve as a cop out for refusing to consider what the future may hold.
I disagree with Harari complacency over the eventual conquest of infectious disease. It rather reminds me of a review paper by Rodney Wishnow and Jesse Steinfeld published in 1976 entitled precisely The Conquest of Infectious Disease in the United States. After the emergence of the AIDS epidemic, Hughes and Berkelman gave their similarly titled 1993 paper the despairing blunt subtitle Who are we kidding? It would be fallacious to predict that no major infectious disease could emerge in the future and take a significant toll on the population. Rising anti-biotic resistance makes this a growing likelihood. But even many non-infectious diseases are caused, worsened or treated by the shared environment, so the effect of the person’s community in a future healthcare cannot be ignored. Whilst I do agree that happiness, immortality and deification will become major goals of the wealthy into the 21st century, the trials previous human civilizations – disease, famine and war – will be persistent problems, faced as we will be with dwindling natural resources and changing opportunities for pathogens to spread in a climate altered, post-antibiotic world.
Harari places the move from mass to personalized healthcare within a narrative of the diminishing of the value of individuals, in addition “Great Decoupling” of intelligence from consciousness and the decline of mass warfare could make many economically irrelevant. But the infectious and environmental aspects of healthcare will mean it will always be social, as Eula Biss writes “our bodies may belong to us, but we ourselves belong to a greater body composed of many bodies.” Precisely that we are all to a lesser extent custodians of the health of those around us would likely preserve the value of the group in the face of atomised personalized healthcare.
Harari is a professor of world history at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem. His previous work, Sapiens: A Brief History of Humankind, had the focus on broad historical themes expected by someone with that job title. He carries over this historical scholarship to Homo Deus, with a surprising about of the book given over to discussion of the past. But Harari does not use the past in the way endorsed by Santayana’s well-worn quote, “those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it”. Things are more complicated than this. As Harari so eloquently puts it; “Historians study the past not in order to repeat it, but in order to be liberated from it. […] It enables us to turn our head this way and that, and begin to notice possibilities that our ancestors could not imagine, or didn’t want us to imagine.” On this rationale, Harari spends a significant part of the book exploring the foundational ideology of modern society. Principally, this is humanism – the centering of the value of individual (human) subjective experience in politics, art and ethics, with sapiens rather than deus as the source of all meaning. However, Harari treats this as a religion, broadly defined, and as such holds its claims up to empirical scrutiny, and finds them lacking.
Harari presents a number of arguments drawing on experiments in the life sciences which threaten the idea of the indivisible self and free will key to the liberal religion. After two years of being told by my A-Level Philosophy teacher I do not have free will I am sure are not novel. But more interestingly, Harari argues that as living systems must be conceived of as a algorithmic system, if we are to abandon ideas of the immaterial soul, we can be causally predicted. Throughout human history, the difference between our experiencing and narrating selves in which the latter assess experience based only on the peak and end pleasure or pain means we are a poor judge of our subjective experience.
What Harari describes as the new religion of “dataism” therefore intends to jettison this reliance on the vagaries of our own assessments of our experience and go straight to the data. Human experience is defined as the data patterns that human generates, no messy, qualitative feelings needed. Whilst this description makes dataism sound like a cult from a sci-fi film, many people in the West do make feelings concede to data every day. Harari references the BRCA 1 and 2 mutation tests taken by the perfectly healthy Angelina Jolie, the data on her risk for breast and ovarian cancer lead to her deciding on a preventative mastectomy and ovariectomy. Nothing in her subjective experience told her she was in need of significant surgery, it was rather her genetic data and the population study data relating to her phenotype that lead to her decision.
Whilst reports of the New Human Agenda have been somewhat exaggerated, as the old one still persists, I find Harari to be most illuminating on the role of data in the future. Upon being explain to that I have no free will in my mid-teens, I was remarkably relaxed about this compared to my classmates. I am not alone in being a persistently inconsistent judge of my own feelings. I have often felt lost and confused in a sea of my own subjectivity, grasping for something stable and objective. I gladly concede that a powerful enough algorithm could know me better than I know myself, and maybe would consult such non-conscious, intelligent algorithms when making decisions.
My acceptance of the role of data to supplement human decision-making does not necessarily entail an acceptance of a future unemployable ‘underclass’. Harari grounds his projections for a dataist future upon the continuation of free market capitalism. Such a future is far from guaranteed. Harari makes a good case for the pacifying effects of global trade under capitalism making it a very stable political system. But given climate instabilities and the consequential political chaos will worsen, the future seems far from stable. It is understandable that Harari gives little space to predictions of political revolution given the aims of his book (and his reading of Marx), but the absence of the effects of climate change, given how it could indirectly hamper our attempts to achieve happiness, immortality and deification, is inexcusable.
Harari is honing a niche as a popular historian in the grandest sense, synthesizing much of global history for his readers but his respect for the readers own mind means he refrains from fable-like storytelling. His mind ranges far over history, both tunneling back into the deep past and sending tendrils into the future, giving him a sense of fore- and hindsight which we and our politicians could well learn from.