ON BECOMING POST HUMAN

QUICK THOUGHTS AROUND ON BECOMING POSTHUMAN BY MAX MORE 

BY CAZ WALLACE

On Becoming Posthuman by Max More is kind of like a Swedish Made Penis Enlarger Pump in the future…[you fill in the blank]…

He writes “Aging victimizes all humans” in an attempt to lay foundation for his type of Posthumanism- one that strives for endless life under the guise of human existence. But what is human existence but the cycle of life and death? There is no human in his humanism. If he is truly arguing a techno reaffirmation in a new form of life then it is necessary is to more closely examine and redefine life and what is human. Existentialism is a swamp we may drown in.

He is the president and CEO of a cryogenic “non profit.” Why would you preserve the flesh when a true avocation of Posthumanism is question and rework the question, what is flesh? What does it encompass and what line is drawn between the objects that are dressed in it and the objects that aren’t. Without asking these questions, isn’t it a bit like rubbing one out?

The flesh of my keyboard and the flesh of my hands are both temperamental entities. I neither own nor understand either of them but I can surmise that attempting to freeze them to beat death is a misguided act perpetuated by the fear of mortality.

As carnal modes of life are replaced by ones more technological than biological, where does our time begin again? Is our eternity immaterial? Is my history, my history as everything thing ascribed to a name and date to temporal? And what is temporal, is it eternal?

Do we think of software updates as funerals? There should be no sadness is being outmoded because their will always be two wings on our angel.

In search for life outside of our planet we open our definitions of life to the possibility or probability of life, and the discourse of what is life is lifted from the circular arguments of abortion to ancient bacteria. It seems the more we zoom out, the more absurd the hierarchization of man becomes.

I believe it ghosts- alternate realities or refractions of emotions and memories- a break or defiance of linearity, like in the movie Solaris. Or Linklater’s verbal meanderings at the beginning of Slacker. How can I use my brain and technology to live and feel the life in which I turned right instead of left or said yes instead of no? Are the lights on or off?

More writes about natural progress… “Life and intelligence should never be stagnant,” but it seems to me that trying to freeze dry something so it can “live forever” is more of the definition of stagnation. Rather than trying to halt the deterioration of the body as More purports, Transhumanism is about linking up with the rhythm of the time of technology. Cryogenics didn’t even work for Austin Powers and who is groovier than him? The international man of mystery found himself outdated and displaced in the future. Transhumanism and Posthumanism should be about the acceptance of the evolution of life and the furtive symbiosis between biological and technological life, like Zoe or The Singularity.

Im sorry dude, but you may not pack your Swedish Made Penis Enlarger pump as we race into the future. With time we must flow. Our future is a void- a vortex of correspondence, multiplicities and potentialities. And I get that my criticism is flaccid without any suggestions of how to do so, so that is where I project myself to be.

I will leave off with a poem by Unamuno. I think he is someone whose work delicately crafts a flowing with time, a soft reboot to where I hope to be.

 

The Atheist’s Prayer by Miguel de Unamuno

Translated by Gaël Rozière and Patrice Vecchione

Hear my plea you, God who doesn’t exist,

and in your nonexistence gather these, my grumblings.

You who never leave poor humans

without false comfort. You don’t resist

our pleas and you disguise our desires.

The more you move yourself away from my mind,

the more I remember the calm fairy tales

my nursemaid told me to sweeten sad nights.

How vast you are, my God! You are so vast

that you are nothing but an Idea; reality is so narrow

however much it expands itself

to meet you. I suffer at your cost,

nonexistent God. For if you did exist

I too would truly exist.

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