Tech And Statesmanship
“Many of the technical choices we’re about to make will be strikingly political. Who has access to what data? Where is the line between human choice and machine intelligence? Why is one computer architecture better than another? These decisions — and the people who make them — will determine power’s new aspects. Banal technical choices will reverberate through the our future with the same influence that the Bill of Rights, the Magna Carta, the Analects of Confucius, and the Koran retain long after they were first written down. The real contests ahead will concern networks — but this means, in fact, a deeper conflict over values. Networks are like churches or schools or congresses; they reflect the aims and ethics of the people who build them. The price of meshing so many passionately held aims and sensibilities, hopes and hatreds, will be high.” — The Seventh Sense, pages 51-52.
“Your assignment is to write an essay on the ethics of editing human DNA,” my biology teacher said.
As some of you know, I started going to a charter school, Leadership Academy of Utah (which sounds a lot better than it actually is) when I entered highschool. I dutifully took the classes I was supposed to take, did the assignments I was supposed to be, and said what I was supposed to say. The first year was fantastic. The second year was frustrating. The third year was bad enough that I dropped out and dedicated myself wholly and completely to TJEd.
I took biology in my second year, during Tenth grade. The teacher was spectacular, the class itself was fine. But mostly, it just felt completely irrelevant. Especially once we started talking about editing human DNA and creepy stuff like that. So when I was assigned to write an essay on the ethics of editing human DNA, I balked. That’s just for scientists, I thought, and I’m definitely never going to be a scientist.
So I raised my hand and asked that eternal question: “Why? When am I ever going to use this in real life?”
Now, my teacher knew me pretty well. ‘Teacher’ doesn’t really even describe him; he is a mentor first, and a teacher second. So he just looked at me with wide, horrified eyes for a second, then said, “You want to be a politician, right?”
“Yeah,” I said. “So what?”
What he said next completely changed my perspective: “The future and limits of science are not created by the scientists, but by the government. Scientists push the limits of reality, but the government decides what science is ethical.”
Hmm… well, when it’s put that way… let’s just say that essay was written with gusto.
#MentorMoment
This doesn’t just apply to the ethics of editing human DNA. It also extends to the ethics of technology and networks. To paraphrase The Seventh Sense, congresses reflect the aims and ethics of the people who build them. So while the people have a ton of sway in the debate, in one sense, the verdict is up to the legislature.
So of course, it’s going to be a deeply political argument. Everything that happens in the government is deeply political at this point. Censorship? Political. The Bill of Rights? Political. The Constitution? Political. Education? Political. Technology? Political.
Though they may seem inconsequential or trivial now, these decisions – decisions that will be made in a fourth turning – will change the course of history. They will play a major role in the cycles of history; their answers will help determine whether we have a forceshift or a freedomshift.
However, “The price of meshing so many passionately held aims and sensibilities, hopes and hatreds, will be high.”
There is danger to letting the government make the decision. If they choose wrong – a forceshift, and a precedent for even more government control. If they choose right – a freedomshift, possibly; but along with it, the creation of a precedence that says yes, the government is allowed to legislate about these sorts of things.
It kinda feels like there is no right answer, only dozens of wrong ones.
But, well, that’s the intricacies of freedom.
And that’s the power of statesmen.
“Your assignment is to write an essay on the ethics of editing human DNA,” my biology teacher said.
As some of you know, I started going to a charter school, Leadership Academy of Utah (which sounds a lot better than it actually is) when I entered highschool. I dutifully took the classes I was supposed to take, did the assignments I was supposed to be, and said what I was supposed to say. The first year was fantastic. The second year was frustrating. The third year was bad enough that I dropped out and dedicated myself wholly and completely to TJEd.
I took biology in my second year, during Tenth grade. The teacher was spectacular, the class itself was fine. But mostly, it just felt completely irrelevant. Especially once we started talking about editing human DNA and creepy stuff like that. So when I was assigned to write an essay on the ethics of editing human DNA, I balked. That’s just for scientists, I thought, and I’m definitely never going to be a scientist.
So I raised my hand and asked that eternal question: “Why? When am I ever going to use this in real life?”
Now, my teacher knew me pretty well. ‘Teacher’ doesn’t really even describe him; he is a mentor first, and a teacher second. So he just looked at me with wide, horrified eyes for a second, then said, “You want to be a politician, right?”
“Yeah,” I said. “So what?”
What he said next completely changed my perspective: “The future and limits of science are not created by the scientists, but by the government. Scientists push the limits of reality, but the government decides what science is ethical.”
Hmm… well, when it’s put that way… let’s just say that essay was written with gusto.
#MentorMoment
This doesn’t just apply to the ethics of editing human DNA. It also extends to the ethics of technology and networks. To paraphrase The Seventh Sense, congresses reflect the aims and ethics of the people who build them. So while the people have a ton of sway in the debate, in one sense, the verdict is up to the legislature.
So of course, it’s going to be a deeply political argument. Everything that happens in the government is deeply political at this point. Censorship? Political. The Bill of Rights? Political. The Constitution? Political. Education? Political. Technology? Political.
Though they may seem inconsequential or trivial now, these decisions – decisions that will be made in a fourth turning – will change the course of history. They will play a major role in the cycles of history; their answers will help determine whether we have a forceshift or a freedomshift.
However, “The price of meshing so many passionately held aims and sensibilities, hopes and hatreds, will be high.”
There is danger to letting the government make the decision. If they choose wrong – a forceshift, and a precedent for even more government control. If they choose right – a freedomshift, possibly; but along with it, the creation of a precedence that says yes, the government is allowed to legislate about these sorts of things.
It kinda feels like there is no right answer, only dozens of wrong ones.
But, well, that’s the intricacies of freedom.
And that’s the power of statesmen.
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