Transcending Time
The Transhumanist Challenge To Mortality
“Do you really want to live forever, forever, and ever?” — These lyrics from the song “Forever Young,” (1984) by the German synth-pop band, Alphaville, touch on what’s perhaps one of the oldest and deepest philosophical quandaries: mortality. Since man first became conscious of himself, since he first began to gaze inward, he has been faced with the horror of his own mortality. Everyone dies. Entire religions and philosophical movements exist to provide comfort and hope in the face of this grim, singular reality; the common thread between them being the ability to accept and reconcile this universally shared fate.
Originating in ancient Greece and Rome, humanism is a philosophical stance that emphasizes the value and agency of human beings, individually and collectively. Humanists prefer critical thinking and evidence over acceptance of dogma and tradition.
Building upon this, one more modern, and perhaps more obscure philosophical movement, known as transhumanism, screams a resounding “No!” in the face of humanity’s shared fate, and answers Alphaville with a resounding “Yes!”. Transhumanism is a philosophical and scientific movement that seeks to enhance and continuously improve the human condition through ever-evolving technologies. The term has been around since the late 1950s, but began to take on increased significance in the 1980s and beyond with the growth of computer technology.
A bit of an umbrella term, transhumanism is particularly interested in a range of futuristic technologies and ideas — such as AI, space exploration, life extension, and bioengineering — that hold potential for enhancing human capabilities. At its heart, transhumanism leverages the sobering realm of science to shepherd the human race into transcending its current biological limitations.
The prefix “trans” originates from Latin and means “through,” “across,” and “beyond.” It’s been used in the English language to form various words that convey the idea of moving or changing e.g. transport, transfer, transcend…the list goes on.
Transhumanist thinking indeed encourages man to think through, across, and beyond. Transhumanist ideals are deeply rooted in modern scientific thought, especially within cutting-edge fields. Calico, a research and development company funded by Google (through the holding company Alphabet Inc.) seeks to unravel the fabric of aging, with the goal of developing new technologies to combat age-related diseases and potentially extend human longevity.
With essentially unlimited money from Google and assistance from AI, Calico has carte blanche. There are a number of other companies with the same, or similar goals: Human Longevity Inc., Unity Biotechnology, SENS Research Foundation, BioViva, Insilico Medicine, and Gero.
The most prevalent counterargument to life extension is the fear of overpopulation. Elon Musk is well known for boldly asserting that population decline is the single greatest threat to humanity. While nuclear armageddon and climate change may be solid rivals to this claim, Musk’s observations are grounded in data. Human beings are reproducing at much slower rates than in previous generations. The citizens of many developed nations are reproducing at a rate below the replacement level, or not enough to maintain stable population numbers. Globally, humanity is still maintaining its numbers by reproducing slightly above the replacement level. However, global fertility rates have been steadily declining for decades. According to the Pew Research Center, the world’s population is projected to nearly stop growing by the end of the century.
As humanity takes its first steps into uncharted territory, the question remains: “Do you really want to live forever?” It would seem the answer is “yes,” given the extraordinary sums of money being spent to find out if humanity can indeed extend its collective lifespan. With the tools and technologies at its disposal, settling for the status quo is a regressive slap in the face to the aspiring human condition.
The average lifespan for humans in 2023 is somewhere between 70 and 75 years. Given the incomprehensibly vast expanse of the cosmos, and the 13.7 billion years that the known universe has existed, 75 years isn’t that long. Confronted with their transitory existence, humans have developed numerous systems to pacify their existential dread in the face of their own cosmic insignificance. In his Pulitzer Prize winning book, The Denial of Death (1973), Ernest Becker writes, “Man cannot endure his own littleness unless he can translate it into meaningfulness on the largest possible level.”
For some, 75 years is indeed long enough. Their religious framework incorporates death effectively, infusing it with meaning. They’ve made peace with an eventual transition to the other side. They’re confident a divine reward awaits them, an eternity in a celestial realm free from strife and turmoil.
Others believe this life isn’t the only one, but one of many. They’ve lived before and will live again, reincarnating on an endless cosmic wheel, until they’ve transcended their egotistical shortcomings and can then transition to the celestial garden promised initially to the first group.
There are still others unconvinced of any certainty beyond the corporeal. For them, the terror of death is ever-present. It isn’t so much the fear of leaving this life, but the horror of non-being that petrifies them. They aren’t convinced they’ll reincarnate, or gain entry into a celestial utopia. The lack of tangible evidence for either creates a bleak picture, horrifying them. The prospect of non-being leaves them bitter, grim and sober. Non-being is existential cosmic horror of the first order.
Objectively, horror at non-being seems absurd. To quote the late German philosopher Arthur Schopenhauer, “After your death, you will be what you were before your birth.” The logic is sound. It’s totally irrational to fear death. Yet, this logical appeal makes absolutely no difference in how people feel. They don’t know why they fear it, they just do.
Each human being has an ego, a sense of conscious identity that separates them from their fellows. It is a byproduct of sentience, a consequence of the evolutionary predilection for intelligence. Everybody is somebody, separate and unique. This separation is what many eastern spiritual traditions assert is the root cause of all conscious suffering. Having an ego presupposes a fear of losing it, losing one’s false sense of self. And still, knowing they have egos doesn’t change how people feel. Humans need to feel, on a visceral level, that they are going to be taken care of after death. It cannot be the end. It just can’t.
One of the knee-jerk reactions that can be heard when people first hear of transhumanist ideas about life extension is that they can’t imagine continuing in an existence where they’re old and feeble, indefinitely. Though the term “age regression” is, in itself, rather self-explanatory, it’s worth addressing this common concern. The concepts of life extension and age-regression go hand in hand, presupposing a speculative future where one could hypothetically achieve a chronological age of 150, 200, or 300 years at the physiological equivalent of roughly a 25 year old, or the prime of adult youth. The goal isn’t to maintain an elderly status indefinitely, but to rejuvenate and restore youthfulness.
This idea is uncanny, often provoking confusion and resistance in those confronted with it. It challenges the scientific and philosophical paradigms that conditioned their psyches. What would one do with all this time? It truly is an unfathomable, otherworldly concept.
Humans construct their lives around an itinerary that presupposes a finite term of 70–90 years. They’re born. They go to school. They get married. They reproduce. They work. They retire and die. They choose one career, one area to specialize in, because that’s all there is time for. Some don’t even get to choose. The socioeconomic hand that fate deals them chooses for them. The concept of “free time” is paradoxical by definition. Legions of humans spend the majority of their waking hours working unfulfilling jobs simply to provide themselves with basic living necessities. Time spent on leisure and self-interest is bought and paid for, dearly.
People do not stop to ask themselves if 75 years is enough time, because heretofore the question was irrelevant. From the perspective of a transhumanist thinker, it is a painfully short amount of time. For those free spirits demanding more from their cosmic allotment, transhumanism’s resounding “No!” in the face of fixed mortality rings louder and louder. It’s a war cry, an assault upon the chains of time.
Imagining a world where the average lifespan is 300 seems far-fetched. But if one were to suspend his disbelief, and entertain this futurist notion, he may come to the conclusion that 300 years is a far roomier timeline for human development and self-actualization. The old adage “youth is wasted on the young,” might lose its gravitas in a world where age-regression technologies could keep humans in their prime for extended periods. The wisdom of age could coexist with the vitality of youth. In the face of the vast expanse of the universe, accepting a mere 75 years as the entirety of human experience is not just limiting — it’s a grave injustice to human potential.
Religious or secular, there is one common fear that unites humanity: the fear of death. How humans reconcile that fear varies. For the most ambitious, progressive, audacious, and forward-thinking of humanity, it means tackling the erosion of time head-on. Transhumanism battles the horror of non-being boldly, directly, without attempting to deny it or push its significance aside in favor of the next life’s unproven promises. It answers Alphaville with a resounding “Yes!”
