Daily Archives: July 7, 2017

The bestselling bookHomo Deus: A Brief History of Tomorrowby Yuval Noah Harari argues that our species homo sapiens (man the wise) is evolving into homo deus (man the god).

Our technology is progressing at such a rate that human beings will merge with our machines. The resulting cyborgs will be omnipotent.

So far, this is just more fantasizing towards the new cyber-religion. But then Harari gets more original and more interesting: He says that the alliance between science and humanism that has held ever since the Enlightenment will break down.

The era of Homo Deus will no longer have a basis for justice, freedom, human rights, or any kind of moral ideals. So we will have to learn to live without them.

Harari takes for grantedthat religion has been disproven by science. Not only that there is no God, but that there is no soul, just the physical brain. And not only is there no soul, but there is no free will, no moral agency, and no meaning to existence.

That science has proven all of this is completely unfounded. But, as Michael Gerson points out in his review of the book (after the jump), Harari is at least intellectually honest in facing up to the implications of his ideas, which lead to utter nihilism: Omnipotence is in front of us, almost within our reach, Harari says, but below us yawns the abyss of complete nothingness.

From Michael Gerson, Humans reach for godhood and leave their humanity behind The Washington Post:

Much analysis of Yuval Noah Hararis brilliant new book, Homo Deus: A Brief History of Tomorrow, focuses on the harrowing dystopia he anticipates. In this vision, a small, geeky elite gains the ability to use biological and cyborg engineering to become something beyond human. It may upgrade itself step by step, merging with robots and computers in the process, until our descendants will look back and realize that they are no longer the kind of animal that wrote the Bible [or] built the Great Wall of China.. . .

Yet the predictions are not the most interesting bits of the book. It is important primarily for what it says about the present. For the past few hundred years, in Hararis telling, there has been a successful alliance between scientific thought and humanism a philosophy placing human feelings, happiness and choice at the center of the ethical universe. With the death of God and the denial of transcendent rules, some predicted social chaos and collapse. Instead, science and humanism (with an assist from capitalism) delivered unprecedented health and comfort. And now they promise immortality and bliss.

This progress has involved an implicit agreement, In exchange for power, says Harari, the modern deal expects us to give up meaning. Many (at least in the West) have been willing to choose antibiotics and flat-screen TVs over the mysticism and morality behind door No. 2.

It is Hararis thesis, however, that the alliance of science and humanism is breaking down, with the former consuming the latter. The reason is reductionism in various forms. Science, argues Harari, revealed humans as animals on the mental spectrum, then as biochemical processes and now as outdated organic algorithms. We have opened up the Sapiens black box and discovered there neither soul, nor free will, nor self but only genes, hormones and neurons.. . .

But Harari has one great virtue: intellectual honesty. Unlike some of the new atheists, he recognizes that science is incapable of providing values, including the humanistic values of Locke, Rousseau and Jefferson. Even Richard Dawkins, Steven Pinker and the other champions of the new scientific worldview refuse to abandon liberalism, Harari observes. After dedicating hundreds of erudite pages to deconstructing the self and the freedom of will, they perform breathtaking intellectual somersaults that miraculously land them back in the 18th century.

Harari relentlessly follows the logic of reductionism as it sweeps away individualism, equality, justice, democracy and human rights even human imagination. . . .

This is the paradox and trial of modernity. As humans reach for godhood, they are devaluing what is human. Omnipotence is in front of us, almost within our reach, Harari says, but below us yawns the abyss of complete nothingness.

[Keep reading. . .]

Illustration 2014 Luna Sea.Medusa Cyborg Vampire from Space. Licensed underCC-BY. Unchanged. via Sketchport.

See original here:

Omnipotence at the price of nihilism - Patheos (blog)

What are Coen Brothers films all about?

Nihilists. Fuck me. I mean, say what you will about the tenets of National Socialism, Dude at least its an ethos. Walter Sobchak, The Big Lebowski

The solution of the problem of life is seen in the vanishing of this problem. (Is not this the reason why those who have found after a long period of doubt that the meaning of life became clear to them have been unable to say what constituted that meaning?) Ludwig Wittgenstein, Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus

To write about the Coen Brothers is to confront, head on, lifes hardest problem. Im not talking about the problem of film criticism generally, nor of identifying why Joel and Ethan Coen are among our greatest living filmmakers. These problems, though they confront me presently, are not all that hard. But usually, when one studies a filmmaker, there emerges in the work a distinct perspective on life a philosophical point of view, which style and story jointly reveal. And although countless words have been spilled on the philosophy of the Coens films, no one has yet produced a summary that the Brothers themselves would endorse. Themes and motifs recur, but meanings are elusive. The most one can say is that the work is so meticulously well-crafted that it feels meaningful, even as conclusive statements of purpose escape us. Thus in a Coen Brothers film, as in life, were left asking: is all this meaning merely apparent?

Notoriously resistant interview subjects, the Coens have managed to ascend through the ranks of the cinematic canon without ever showing their philosophical hand. Theyve now claimed every accolade: Oscars for Best Picture, Director, Original Screenplay, and Adapted Screenplay; the Palme DOr, Best Director, and Grand Jury Prizes at Cannes; Best Director from the DGA; Original and Adapted Screenplay from the WGA. Their films have inspired multiple books, including one that explicitly claims to deal with their philosophy. But when pressed for insights about their work, they tend to downplay its significance. one that explicitly claims to deal with their philosophy. But when pressed for insights about their work, they tend to downplay its significance. Asked in 1998 about his philosophy of filmmaking, Ethan replied, I dont have one. I wouldnt even know how to begin. Asked in 2001 about his creativity, Joel quipped, I guess it beats throwing trash for a living.

So what are we to make of the fact that these masters of the craft claim, or at least imply, that they have nothing to say? One option is to let the work speak for itself. Beginning with their startlingly assured 1984 debut, Blood Simple, the Coens have produced three decades worth of highly distinctive work. Their films span many genres and tones, yet all retain the clear signature of their makers. That Coen style, such as it is, has more to do with rhythm, tone, and characterization than visual flair. Its a feeling of faint tragedy amid the humor or faint humor amid the tragedy. Consider Anton Chigurhs sardonic use of the word friendo for his future victims in No Country for Old Men, or the Folgers tin used to hold Donnys ashes in The Big Lebowski.

One topic about which the Brothers are forthcoming in interviews is the many influences that feed into their work. Although they dont consider themselves film fanatics of the Tarantino variety, their love of Old Hollywood noir and screwball in particular is everywhere on display. 2003s Intolerable Cruelty is an out-and-out screwball film, while 2000s O Brother, Where Art Thou? takes its title from Sullivans Travels, directed by the great screwball master Preston Sturges. Aided by longtime collaborator Roger Deakins, the Brothers elegantly revived the black-and-white noir in 2001s The Man Who Wasnt There. And just last year, they released Hail, Caesar! a noir-screwball film about Old Hollywood.

Though theyve made many period pieces, the Coens use the past in much the same way as their genre predecessors, as fantasy rather than historical reality. Its not about reminiscence, they have said, because our movies are about the past we have never experienced. Its more about imagination. Such fantasizing makes the problem of meaning all the more vexing because the Coens cant be accused of commenting on a history they never claimed to represent. Hail, Caesar! in particular, was accused of ignoring topics like race and gender in the 1950s altogether a critique that the Brothers rebuffed by claiming this is not how they think of stories. It often seems that the Coens wish their films could be seen in a vacuum, as self-contained pockets of meaning without reference to the larger world.

And yet their two greatest films (at least by award-count) Fargo and No Country for Old Men are also among their most realistic. Both films invite the viewer, in their opening sequences, to regard the films as more than mere stories. Fargo bears an opening placard announcing, This is a True Story a choice the brothers made specifically so that audiences wouldnt see the movie as just an ordinary thriller. And Sheriff Ed Tom Bell in No Country concludes his opening monologue with the evocative phrase, OK, Ill be a part of this world.

No Country, in particular, is worth dwelling on, not only because its a perfect piece of filmmaking, but also because it provides insight into the brothers ambivalence about meaning. Ed Tom Bells speech at the films opening expresses a fear that the Coens seem to share: namely that, if he agrees to engage with the violence and tragedy of the world, it may overcome him. It may force him to say, as he does, I dont know what to make of that. Similarly, it would seem that the more of the real worlds senselessness they allow into their work, the harder it might become for the Coens to make meaning. Such meaning might not be there at all.

Of late, the Coens appear to be rebounding back and forth between addressing and ignoring this problem. No Country was followed by the farcical Burn After Reading. A Serious Man, the Coens most direct treatment of meaninglessness, gave way to True Grit, a downright pious film. And Inside Llewyn Davis, which directly mocks arts pretensions of meaning, was followed by Hail, Caesar!, which embodies that very mockery, by being (seemingly) meaningless itself. If the trend holds, we should expect the Coens next outing to tackle the question of meaning head-on once more, trying again to be a part of this world.

There is wisdom to be found, perhaps unsurprisingly, in The Big Lebowski. Many mistook that films sage ethos of acceptance for nihilism, but the Coens resisted this label. For us, the nihilists are the bad guys, Joel told Michael Ciment and Hubert Niogret in 1998, and if theres a preferred moral position, itd be that of Jeff Bridges, though its difficult to define! Though theyve grown to doubt it in recent films, the Dudes fluid perseverance his abidance, as it were might be a solution to the specter of nihilism that haunts the Coens. Not unlike Marge Gundersons down-home goodness in Fargo, it does not oblige one to make sense of the horrors of the world only to persist in being good despite them.

Jeff Bridges summarized it well: I think [The Big Lebowski]s a film about grace, how amazing it is that were all allowed to stay alive on this speck hurled out into space, being as screwed up as we all are. Like, Fargo had a moral resonance to it. This one, I think, does as well. It may not be apparent to most people at first. But working in it, kind of bathing in this thing, it rang for me. Its not a real clear thing that you can say, Thats what it means. Its a little different. Perhaps we can say, then, that the Coens philosophy is summarized in the Wittgenstein quote above (Ethan wrote his thesis at Princeton on Wittgenstein). Or, less pretentious, and more concise: the Dude Abides.

More:

The Philosophy of the Coen Brothers - Film School Rejects - Film School Rejects