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384 pages, Hardcover
First published April 22, 2025
"McAskill is evidently comfortable with ways of talking that are familiar from the exponents of global capitalism: the will to quantify, the essential comparability of all goods and all evils, the obsession with productivity and efficiency, the conviction that there is a happy convergence between self-interest and morality, the seeming confidence that there is no crisis whose solution is beyond the ingenuity of man," writes [Amia] Srinivasan."There is a seemingly unanswerable logic, at once natural and magical, simple and totalising, to both global capitalism and effective altruism." At the core of that logic, for both capitalism and effective altruism, is the need for quantification. Any human activity that can be quantified is grist for the optimizing machinery of this worldview, and anything that can't be quantified is dismissed as unimportant. This is how the longtermists, ultimately, are forced to see people: as numbers. And those numbers, in turn, need to be maximized and optimized, so they can be plugged into the grand longtermist plan to squeeze as much utility as possible out of the universe before its inevitable end.This sort of reasoning is pushing money away from things like mosquito netting to fight malaria, and towards fighting nonexistent artificial general intelligence that will supposedly be smarter than all of humanity, but only wants to turn all material in the universe into paperclips, or something similar, before Musk and friends can strip mine it instead. (Aside: I think many of these Silicon Valley people have taken superhero comics too seriously. Their AGI is a classic comic book villain.)
It's true that the universe will end. But for now, we are alive, here on Earth. This planet is our home. Billions of years of evolution have ensured our adaptation to it, its hospitability for us. There is natural beauty on this planet beyond anything the human imagination could devise. There are whales the size of passenger jets, tardigrades half the width of an eyelash, and gnarled trees hidden in the mountains that are older than the pyramids at Giza. There are snow-covered volcanoes in the permanent winter of Antarctica; there are rifts a mile under the Pacific teeming with life; there are clear rivers wandering through subalpine meadows, with water-smoothed rocks beside them that stay warm all afternoon in summer. There are also eight billion other people on this planet who need our regard, our care, and our love, right now. Our actions and feelings—the help we give each other, the pleasure we take in the splendor of this world—will not lose their meaning or value with the passage of time. The impermanence of the universe does not make existence meaningless—it will always be true that we were here, even after all trace of us has been erased. We are here now, in a world filled with more than we could ever reasonably ask for. We can take joy in that, and find satisfaction and meaning in making this world just a little bit better for everyone and everything on it, regardless of the ultimate fate of the cosmos. (pp. 181-2)
On it everyone you love, everyone you know, everyone you ever heard of, every human being who ever was, lived out their lives. The aggregate of our joy and suffering, thousands of confident religions, ideologies, and economic doctrines, every hunter and forager, every hero and coward, every creator and destroyer of civilization, every king and peasant, every young couple in love, every mother and father, hopeful child, inventor and explorer, every teacher of morals, every corrupt politician, every 'superstar,' every 'supreme leader,' every saint and sinner in the history of our species lived there—on a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam.And why would I ever want to leave that?