Does transhumanism mesh with humanist values?

the articles Better Living Through Transhumanism" and "The Future of Immortality" (Humanist, May/June 2004), highlight a problem that has plagued me since the day I first realized I was a Humanist: how exactly does one combine a concern for the environment with a positive view of humanity achieving its goals? Humanist Manifesto III maintains that it is our "planetary duty to protect nature's integrity, diversity, and beauty in a secure, sustainable manner." Then in the next paragraph it declares the necessity "that humanity has the ability to progress toward its highest ideals" Maybe I'm missing something here, but it seems to me that these two wonderful sounding ideas simply aren't compatible.

Take George Dvorsky's article, "Better Living Through Transhumanism," as an example. The whole concept of transhumanism, in my opinion, is imbued with a disregard for environmental issues. It's fine if you want to talk about the idealistic benefits of some type of symbiotic merging of silicon and carbon intelligence or physical structure, but does anybody know what the environmental impact of developing the sort of computer power necessary for this would be? I remember reading what the impact of manufacturing a single personal computer was and feeling aghast. I cannot even fathom the impact of what it would take to produce the technology Dvorsky promotes.

And what about Brian Trent's solution to overpopulation in "The Future of Immortality"? Carl N. McDaniel and John M. Gowdy write in Paradise for Sale: A Parable of Nature: "One way or another, modern humanity must resolve its resource challenges here; emigration to another planet is not an option." The problem, as I see it, isn't that it can't be done but, rather, if it is, there will be no stopping. As scientist and Humanist Isaac Asimov pointed out in a wonderful 1957 article entitled "Fecundity Limited" based upon estimates that there are 135 billion stars in the Milky Way Galaxy, 100 billion galaxies in the universe, and ten planets that can sustain life for every star, at the rate of Earth's population growth in 1957 it would take only 9,000 years for the human race to expand to the point where each living being would have only one-eighth of a square foot to live on. Asimov concludes with this chilling thought: "There is no room, you see, and science can do nothing. The rate of population increase must decrease, and this can be done in one of two ways--either by increasing the death rate or decreasing the birth rate. Take your pick."

For those convinced we aren't alone in this universe, what will we do if we meet another life form along the way? Will we feel justified once again in invoking our "divine right" and perform yet another ethnic cleansing?

But even supposing we get a handle on the expansion rate of our numbers, immortality has an even greater drawback, one that is addressed by Trent only in passing. In another short article by Isaac Asimov entitled "The Price of Life" this problem is laid bare:

An individual's brain is of prime importance to humanity only until he is thirty-five. If by then, he has not shown clear evidence of great talent, he is not likely ever to show it. If by then he has shown such evidence, he will probably spend the rest of his life mining the great concepts of his youth. If he were to die at thirty-five, other lesser men could mine those same concepts without much greater difficulty.

Here's the problem: if people live longer and if we are to solve the population problem, it means there will be fewer new brains brought into existence in each time frame. This translates into fewer new ideas and fewer new ways of thinking about old problems, ultimately resulting in fewer problems being solved. In an environment that is constantly changing, this could lead to evolutionary disaster.

Please understand, I am no Luddite--heck, I am writing this letter on a fairly new computer that has powers undreamt of even five years ago. I understand technology and its place in our existence and I am not ashamed or afraid to use it. I have no desire to live in a cave and eat raw meat. I am convinced that, once humans stood erect, atomic bombs became inevitable. I am also convinced that, whenever there is a conflict between human needs and the environment, the environment will always lose. Perhaps we can learn to control or redirect our insatiable appetite for advancement as we have our use of atomic weapons (of course, even this restraint has become dicey these days).

These issues bring up the contradictions and incompatibilities of our basic thinking. Either we give up the idea of our "planetary duty to protect nature's integrity, diversity, and beauty in a secure, sustainable manner" or we forget about pursuing humanity's "ability to progress toward its highest ideals." I don't see how we can do both.

Michael L. Giancola is a member of the AHA and lives in Pacific Palisades, California.