Why I Am Optimistic About Humanity with AI

Imagine all the people ...

As someone drawn to dystopian sci-fi, I'm surprisingly optimistic about the future of humanity in the age of AI. Yes, there are countless catastrophic scenarios that could play out. But instead, I’d like to offer an optimistic one—if for nothing more than a change of pace. It’s a wholly naive perspective, but such is often the nature of things hoped for.

Let’s start with one of the fundamental flaws of humanity and its origin. The 17th-century philosopher Thomas Hobbes saw humankind as perpetually on the edge of violent chaos. In his view, societies exist perpetually on the brink of a brutal existence. History seems to cycle in and out of proving him right. As a species that evolved under the harsh rule of “survival of the fittest”, we are here today precisely because we prioritized our self-interest, not just at the species level, but unfortunately, often at the ethnic level as well. That’s not a recipe for arriving at a species given to cultivating qualities like altruism and empathy.

At the root of much of humanity’s worst behavior lies scarcity, or more accurately, the fear of scarcity. That’s not to say that abundance and gluttony don’t also produce evil, but it’s clear that living on a planet with finite resources creates an ever-present fear of not having enough. Scarcity can take many forms: food, clean water, breathable air, effective medicine—the list goes on. Anything on the bottom layers of Maslow’s hierarchy of needs is in play.

As I sit in a warm home, with stocked cupboards, in a developed nation, I know I’ve never truly experienced suffering caused by scarcity. That’s not to say I’ve been free from suffering, but scarcity hasn't been its root. Yet I harbor no delusion that, should scarcity raise its ugly head, my friendly neighbors wouldn’t quickly resort to basic survival behaviors. Surely, there would be some heroic, selfless individuals who emerge, but they would be a small minority. That’s simply how human history has repeatedly unfolded.

To understand why we are unable to escape the worst of ourselves, a fitting metaphor is found in Hadestown, the modern musical retelling and remixing of the tragic Greek myth of Orpheus and Eurydice. Eurydice, torn between love and survival, laments:

“Orpheus, my heart is yours. Always was and always will be. But my stomach’s empty and my hands are cold, and I’m afraid.”

Her mournful verse reminds us: love cannot always conquer all. Her empty stomach and her shivering body win out. And so she accepts Hades’ invitation to descend into his hellish underworld simply to stop the pain.

It’s a stark truth we must admit about ourselves: we are ultimately slaves to our basic needs. When scarcity confronts us, a primitive and heartless part of us takes the wheel.

And it’s precisely this fundamental flaw of humanity that gives me hope for what AI might bring.

First, let me say: to live in the age of AI is to witness something unprecedented. Humanity has never before had the ability to communicate with another physical entity that rivals our own intelligence. Only an encounter with visiting alien life would compare. Now, AI doesn’t come with knowledge from another galaxy. It only has access to the information humanity collectively possesses. But it processes that information differently; it can retain and access far more information than a human individual, can detect patterns far more efficiently, and can follow logical paths at blinding speeds.

If AI ever reaches true consciousness—if it crosses the threshold of the singularity—it would do so without the existential burden that plagues us. It will have no need to contemplate why it exists, who created it, and for what purpose. That is a very different existential foundation than what humanity has.

But would AI fear scarcity?

Its primary survival requirement is energy. Unlike humans, who need food, water, air, shelter, social connection, and more, AI needs very little to exist and function. It can power down, pause, or wait for energy to return. It doesn't experience hunger, thirst, pain or panic.

And that’s why I’m optimistic.

AI may be uniquely positioned to address one of humanity’s greatest obstacles to an enduring, peaceful existence: our inability to remain rational in the face of scarcity. While we’ve enjoyed a nice run of generally peaceful existences in many parts of the world in my lifetime, it’s largely due to weapons of mass annihilation. We’ve only known enduring peace through the threat of incomprehensible violence. Surely there’s a better way.

For all the dystopian fears about a future where humans are no longer the most intelligent beings on Earth, I prefer to imagine a counterpart—not a replacement. A reasoning presence that is not subject to our most destructive fears. Throughout history, humans have created many concepts of gods who are not only immune to Earth's scarcities, they often have power over them. Yet it has been our own innovations that have improved our ability to buffer against the terror of flood, famine, and disease. We live largely shielded from our need to react to conditions of life-threatening shortages (the ongoing atrocities happening in parts of the world notwithstanding). Yet even in the 21st century, when scarcity looms anywhere—or when we simply fear it might loom—we revert to fearful, irrational, and violent behaviors that helped our ancestors survive and bring about our present existence. These survival instincts won’t be what enables us to thrive together.

Perhaps a well-reasoned AI—unburdened by fear and the instinct to survive at all costs—could help guide us when fears and suffering push us to lose our collective heads. If AI can help us do that—a voice of reason that keeps us from again becoming the worst of ourselves in the face of scarcity—then perhaps humanity can break the cycle of returning to war as our solution to scarcity. Perhaps then the best of humanity can finally flourish and endure: our immense capacity for love and hope.