Sex and the Posthuman Condition

M. Hauskeller

• Publisher: Palgrave Pivot
• Year: 2014
• ISBN:
  9781137393500
• Topic: Filosofia
• Subtopic: Filosofia etica e morale

This book looks at how sexuality is framed in enhancement scenarios and how descriptions of the resulting posthuman future are informed by mythological, historical and literary paradigms. It examines the glorious sex life we will allegedly enjoy due to greater control of our emotions, improved capacity for pleasure, and availability of sex robots.

1

After the Singularity: The Glorious Sex Life of the Posthuman

Abstract: It has been predicted that in a decade or two our computers will have become so powerful that we will finally be able to do and be whatever we like. The posthumans that we will have become in the wake of this event, commonly referred to as the singularity, will not only be super-intelligent, but also capable of experiencing pleasures that go far beyond anything we can experience now. Yet this emphasis on pleasure, and especially sexual pleasure, seems to be at odds with the logocentric outlook and the contempt for the human body that many transhumanists embrace. What resolves the apparent conflict is an instrumental understanding of the body and the conceptual transformation of the sexual partner into a masturbation device.

Keywords: hedonism; instrumentalisation; pleasure; posthuman; singularity; transhumanism

Hauskeller, Michael. Sex and the Posthuman Condition. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2014. DOI: 10.1057/9781137393500.0003.

Twenty years ago the computer scientist and science fiction novelist Vernor Vinge (1993) predicted that in 30 years (i.e. ten years from now) “we will have the technological means to create superhuman intelligence” and that “shortly after that, the human era will be ended.” Today, a fair amount of people seem to think that such a development is in fact inevitable, that there is some kind of natural law underlying technological progress, which makes it go faster and faster,¹ until one day very soon, most likely during our own life time, a point will be reached when all bets are off and literally anything can happen. This point (as well as the period following it) is commonly referred to as the singularity (Kurzweil 2005). Those who believe in it, let’s call them singularitarians, typically argue that just as the mindless forces of biological evolution have given rise to intelligent beings such as us, it stands to reason that we will eventually give rise to beings that are so vastly more intelligent than we currently are that we cannot even imagine what the world will be like for them and what they will be able to know and do. We will either be replaced by superintelligent (and hence superpotent) machines or become superintelligent (and superpotent) ourselves. Either way, what we used to call human and the human condition will no longer exist, and whatever will exist will be posthuman, in the sense that it will be very different from what human life is now. This is supposed to be a good thing, not to be feared, but to be eagerly expected, because being human is regarded as a deeply flawed condition, in which Nature, or whatever has created us, reveals itself not as the master engineer it is often thought to be, but as the blundering amateur that it really is (Buchanan 2011). The human is routinely conceptualised as the merely human, an ontological failure confined to an inherently defective mode of being, while the posthuman is envisaged as that which we were always meant to be, but never could be, a being that is free of all the limitations that make it impossible for us to really be and do what we aspire to be and do, and that, for this very reason, prevent us from leading a truly fulfilling life. Human life is by necessity tragic. In contrast, the life of the posthuman will be a happy one. Tragedy will be replaced by the happily-ever-after of a never-ending comedy, the present human hell or purgatory by an engineered naturalised or “biologically domesticated” heaven (Pearce 1995, 18). The singularity heralds a new era in the history of life and consciousness, a time in which we, or our successors,² will finally be able to realise all our dreams, here on earth, in this life, where there is no longer anything that would stand in the way of human, or rather posthuman, self-fulfilment. We will finally be like gods: immortal, all-knowing, all-powerful, and, perhaps most importantly, unimaginably happy. This divine happiness will partly result from the absence of all limitations, from the fact that we can then pursue the project of self-creation without being constricted in any way by conditions imposed on us by either the environment or our own nature (which constitute a permanent source of suffering), and partly because we will have found a way to not only eradicate all suffering, but also to get the utmost pleasure out of everything we do, which is nothing less than the “birth right of every creature” (Bostrom 2010, 6). Once we have passed through the singularity and become posthuman, we will in fact experience so much pleasure that we can “sprinkle it in our tea” (Bostrom 2010, 5).

Taken by itself, this emphasis on pleasure is quite understandable, not the least because it is very human. We, that is, humans, are all natural born hedonists. Yet given the enormous scope of the ambitions that the idea of the singularity represents, there is also something odd and almost quaint about it. What is being heralded is, after all, nothing less than a radical transformation not only of the human condition, but of everything else as well. The singularity is supposed to be a literally world-changing event, where our own transformation into super-intelligent, post-biological and essentially limitless entities is only the starting point of a spiritualisation that encompasses nothing less than the entire universe. For this is “the ultimate destiny of the Singularity and of the universe”: that our own super-intelligence will prove to be so expansive that it will “saturate the matter and energy in its midst” and thus transform the very mechanisms of the universe “into exquisitely sublime forms of intelligence” (Kurzweil 2005, 21). After reaching that point, anything will be possible and nothing will be as it used to be. Yet apparently pleasure is here to stay, and not only what John Stuart Mill used to call the “higher” pleasures of the mind and heart, but also, and perhaps even primarily, the most basic pleasures of the body, which we share with many animals. Unlike their early 19th century utilitarian predecessors, today’s transhumanists do not seem to fear the accusation that what they are preaching is essentially a “philosophy for swine.” In an opinion poll carried out in 2009 by Humanity Plus Magazine (the main publicity organ of Humanity Plus, formerly the World Transhumanist Association), in which several thinkers in the radical tech community were asked whether there will still be sex in the posthuman or singularian future, Alex Lightman (who at that time was the WTA’s executive director) replied, incredibly: “The primary purpose of the Singularity will be seen, after the fact, to be Awesome Sex. There will be exponentially more sex, with exponentially more interfaces and with exponentially more measures of pleasure” (Lightman 2009). I am not sure whether Lightman was entirely serious when he said that. It is hard to believe that a transhumanist should really think that the singularity is, ultimately, all about sex. On the other hand, there is a certain logic to it. If it is being assumed that the ultimate goal of existence is happiness, that one’s happiness is to be measured by the amount of pleasure that one experiences, and that the greatest or most intense pleasures we know are sexual in nature, then we should indeed expect the singularity to finally open the doors to a life that is filled to the brim with sexual pleasures. That would at least explain why sex plays such a surprisingly large role in transhumanist and related visions of the posthuman future that awaits us. David Pearce for instance, in his now classic internet manifesto The Hedonistic Imperative (1995), describes what he calls our post-Darwinian future in the following manner: “What we will ultimately turn into is hard to imagine. One may predict merely that it will be utterly sublime. (...) Effectively, we’ll be able to have anything we’ve always wanted and more.” And what would that be? Well, we will for instance

discover that what had previously passed for passionate sex had been merely a mildly agreeable piece of foreplay. Erotic pleasure of an intoxicating intensity that mortal flesh has never known will thereafter be enjoyable with a whole gamut of friends and lovers. This will be possible because jealousy, already transiently eliminable today under the influence of various serotonin-releasing agents, is not the sort of gene-inspired perversion of consciousness likely to be judged worthy of conservation in the new era. (Pearce 1995, sections 1.6 and 1.7)

In this passage we find all the key elements of the usual transhumanist rhetoric: the confident assertion that the future will be so different from the present that we cannot even imagine it, the hyperbole (“utterly sublime”), the wish-fulfilment fantasy, the devaluation of the present, the relativisation of the good (passionate sex only appears to be a wonderful thing because we don’t have anything better yet and cannot compare it to the really good stuff that will be available to us in the future), and the contempt for the flesh-and-guts human body and the human condition as a product of natural evolution (“gene-inspired perversion”). We are being told that although the future is going to be unlike anything we could ever imagine (with our very limited human brains), there is one thing we can be sure of and that is its utter sublimity. Never mind how we can be sure of that if we cannot be sure of anything else. We are also being told that what will make our future lives so utterly sublime is that we will finally get what we really want (or what we would have wanted if we only had been able to think of it) and that what we really want is not, apparently, to fully understand the nature of the universe and the meaning of existence, or to become someone who has risen above the petty concerns and base desires that govern much of our present lives, or something equally lofty and awe-inspiring in the long tradition of classic Western philosophy. Instead, what we really want is mostly great sex, and the future will be so “utterly sublime” precisely because we will get so much more of it. And what exactly does great sex consist in? Not in, say, a more complete bodily and spiritual communion with another human being, but simply in the attainment of more intense pleasures and the ability to enjoy those pleasures to the greatest possible extent, without any internal or external constraints. That is why we should use all possible means to increase the intensity of pleasure and to get rid of all obstacles to pleasure such as jealousy (and presumably other emotions that favour pair bonding, which limits the range of sexual activities that we can engage in and that must, therefore, be overcome).³

This emphasis on bodily, especially sexual pleasures seems to be at odds with the strong logocentric outlook that pervades transhumanism and the accompanying hatred of the flesh-and-blood body, which is usually portrayed as messy, control-defying, limitative, and deadly. It is associated with nature, which is almost per definition bad.⁴ Getting rid of the organic body is a primary goal for all those who wish to leave the human condition behind. This is the reason why many transhumanists are so fond of the idea that very soon we will be able to upload our minds to a computer (naturally that, too, will be possible after the singularity) and then live a virtual (but at the same time very real, or in fact, to use the term Baudrillard brought into fashion, hyperreal) life that is completely free of all the constraints that an organic body imposes on us and that allows us, finally, to go on living forever. For transhumanists, mind-uploading is the ultimate survival technique. So how does that mesh with the endorsement of sexual pleasures?

I think the key to resolving that tension is an instrumental understanding of the body. The body is conceived as a mere (pleasure-generating) tool: a body-to-go. It is a (replaceable) means of pleasure, but in no way identity-defining, as it used to be. As Ray Kurzweil (2005, 203) once remarked:

Actually, I often do have a problem with all the limitations and maintenance that my version 1.0 body requires, not to mention all the limitations of my brain. But I do appreciate the joys of the human body. My point is that AIs can and will have the equivalent of human bodies in both real and virtual-reality environments.

So the idea is that bodies might still be there to be enjoyed, to be used at will, in any form that will suit us. We might have bodies, but no longer be them. We (i.e. our roving minds) will have a choice which body to use when and where and for which purpose, or not at all. We will be able to wear bodies like garments that can be changed, embellished and also taken off completely. What is important is that we no longer need a body, and as soon as that happens, as soon as we are able to change bodies as we are now able to change our socks, the body ceases to be a threat and can be appreciated for all the things that we can do with it. For what is being hated and despised by transhumanists is not the organic body as such, but the fact that we are so dependent on it. Once we are free to use them or not to use them, there is nothing wrong with bodies. The plural form makes all the difference. A single body is a deadly fate. A plurality of bodies is an opportunity. However, very likely we will not even need a body to experience certain pleasures, at least not a real one. An imagined or virtual body will do just fine. Perhaps we don’t even need that. The pleasures of the body may eventually be completely disconnected from the actual body as its (necessary) source, which would of course be desirable since it would increase our autonomy even further. And disconnected not only (or perhaps not even primarily) from our own body, but also from the body of the other. To enjoy the great sex that will be available to us in our posthuman future, neither we nor our partner needs a real body. Nor do we actually need a real partner: a real person whose virtual body engages sexually with our own. It’s all in our head anyway. Thus the glorious sex life of the posthuman is essentially masturbatory.

In support of this claim, let us have a look at what James Hughes, executive director of the Institute for Ethics and Emerging Technologies and a leading transhumanist, has got to say about the issue, in an article entitled “The Future of Sex” (Hughes 2003). According to Hughes, we will learn to control our sexual desires, turn them on or off, depending on how desirable we find being sexually aroused in certain situations, or redirect them to other objects. Lust and love are, after all, biochemical phenomena and as such are “amenable to manipulation.” Such manipulation is desirable because more control will naturally lead to greater happiness. Furthermore, since we are “genetically inclined to have multiple partners,” it is unnatural to suppress “our non-monogamous biological natures” (despite the fact that most people and cultures do actually favour monogamy, but that simply shows “the power of culture over nature”), and hence we should return (presumably because by doing whatever we are genetically inclined to do we will increase our overall happiness and well-being) “to some modern version of polygamy, some form of open, acknowledged sexual sharing, as advocated by the sexual revolution and the polyamory movement.” This is advisable especially since the expected radical extension of life span will make it much harder to stay with one person throughout one’s life. We are also already able to mix and match all aspects of sexual dimorphism, but by “the 22nd century, when we are facing indefinite life spans, tweaks to biological gender will become increasingly common, to stay in fashion, to improve our chances in life and love, or just out of curiosity.” Then we will have to ask ourselves: “Why stop with just a cosmetic enhancement, or swapping your genitals for those of another sex, when you could have a penis with the responsiveness of a clitoris, or some entirely new sexual organ? The possibilities will be endless.” Clearly, this is already a stage where the body is no longer a given and where it can, in theory, be transformed and recreated any way we like. But for Hughes this doesn’t seem to be enough. Sex, he believes, will eventually have to transcend the body altogether: “Body sex itself is likely to become a minor and infrequent aspect of our erotic experience. There are some short-term reasons and some long-term reasons for the declining use of the meat-puppet in romantic play.” Note the choice of words. ‘Meat-puppet’ is just one of several disparaging terms that transhumanists routinely use to express their disdain for the human body.⁵ A puppet is a thing that can be played with, that has no life of its own and therefore no intrinsic value. It is there to be used, perhaps to entertain us, but is in itself of no great significance. Meat, even more so, is something that exists to be consumed, not to be preserved and treasured. And if you don’t use it up quickly, it will quickly begin to rot and stink. The body as a meat puppet has its expiry date written all over it. The metaphor is designed to express and invite disgust, to persuade us that the body is a despicable thing that we cannot get rid of soon enough. Hughes can see no reason (at least no sexual reason) why we should want to hold on to it: body sex is dangerous (think of all the sexually transmitted diseases), old people find it increasingly difficult to have it (which is very unfair to them), it is no longer necessary for reproduction, and last but not least virtual reality will soon provide alternatives that are far superior to the kind of body-dependent sex that we are used to. “Doing the nasty in nano-neuro VR will be far more intimate than in the flesh. We will be able to morph our genders, species, ages and numbers in VR, and open ourselves up to forms of tactile and e...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Title
• 1  After the Singularity: The Glorious Sex Life of the Posthuman
• 2  Sexbots on the Rise
• 3  Three Literary Paradigms: Pygmalion, The Sandman and The Future Eve
• 4  Promethean Shame and the Engineering of Love
• 5  The Rehabilitation of the Human Body: Lawrence and Houellebecq
• 6  The Marquis de Sade on Happiness, Nature and Liberty
• 7  Synthetik Love Lasts Forever
• 8  Kissengers and Surrogates
• Bibliography
• Index