Lincoln Cannon

This Easter morning, while thinking about the hope of resurrection, a friend reached out to me with questions about Bible descriptions of the resurrection of Jesus Christ. He had asserted to some Christians that “Jesus was resurrected with his own flesh and bones.” The Christians disagreed, observing “the Bible says, ‘flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of heaven.’” How might a proponent of embodied immortality respond?

Despite some Christian contestation, the idea of material embodied resurrection is rooted deeply in Christian tradition. And the idea has seen a modern resurgence, particularly in dialogue with Transhumanism. This dialogue is especially prevalent among Mormon Transhumanists, who champion the complementarity of theology and technology.

Central to the dialogue are interpretations of Biblical references to resurrection. Of course, as cited by some Christians to my friend, Paul’s comments in 1 Corinthians 15 are noteworthy. Here’s the whole passage from the Bible:

“I declare to you, brothers and sisters, that flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of God, nor does the perishable inherit the imperishable.”

Luke 24 is also particularly noteworthy. There, Jesus describes his own resurrected body. Here’s the whole passage from the Bible:

“Look at my hands and my feet. It is I myself! Touch me and see; a ghost does not have flesh and bones, as you see I have.”

There’s a difference between Paul’s description of immortality and that offered by Jesus. Paul mentions “blood” whereas Jesus mentions “bones.” At first, the difference might seem trivial, or perhaps contradictory. But the metaphysical implications may be profound.

Contemplating these passages of scripture, early Mormon leaders speculated that the difference between “flesh and blood” mortal existence and “flesh and bones” immortal existence may be displacement of blood by spirit. To understand their perspective well, keep in mind that Mormon scripture characterizes spirit as material, and equates or tightly associates spirit with light and intelligence. So their speculation wasn’t about a change to immateriality, but rather about changing the material structure of the body. Blood, they supposed, could be replaced with a more robust substance, which could yet serve an analogous anatomical function.

More recently, a modern president of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, Howard W. Hunter, expressed support for this idea of flesh and bone immortality. He claimed that resurrection would involve a renewed combination of spirit and body into a form that is “quickened by the spirit instead of blood.” Here’s the context of President Hunter’s remarks:

“There is a separation of the spirit and the body at the time of death. The resurrection will again unite the spirit with the body, and the body becomes a spiritual body, one of flesh and bones but quickened by the spirit instead of blood. Thus, our bodies after the resurrection, quickened by the spirit, shall become immortal and never die. This is the meaning of the statements of Paul that ‘there is a natural body, and there is a spiritual body’ and ‘that flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of God.’ The natural body is flesh and blood, but quickened by the spirit instead of blood, it can and will enter the kingdom.”

Hope in physical resurrection of the body does not negate the spiritual aspects of hope in an afterlife. To the contrary, such hope frames spirituality in decidedly practical terms, provoking our imagination toward substantial pathways from human to superhuman existence. For Mormons, this hope reflects and reinforces other doctrines that integrate the physical with the spiritual, such as the physical embodiment of God, and the potential of Earth itself to become heaven. Resurrection can be associated with the soul’s heavenly ascent while also being associated with sublime physical revitalization.

Transfiguration and resurrection to immortality, conceived in both spiritual and materialistic terms, is an essential part of Mormon Transhumanist thought. We advocate for radical life extension and even detailed computer emulation of the human brain and body. We aspire to applying technology in ways that will facilitate and expedite transcendence of traditional notions of aging and death. And yet these are not negations of God or heaven, but rather embodied expressions of God and heaven – real expressions of God and heaven.

For Mormon Transhumanists, the pursuit of eternal life is the quest for superhuman existence, superhuman in capacity and virtue, and superhuman in very substance. We don’t use “eternal life” as a euphemism for death, as some Christians do. To the contrary, we aspire to eternal life that is as real as light and as warm as love. As part of that, we aspire to embodied immortality, as exemplified by Jesus.

Consequent to discussion about epistemology at a meetup of the Mormon Transhumanist Association, a friend asked me to remind her of my definitions of “truth” and “good.” This article will serve that purpose. It will also provide a brief account of esthetics. I use the concepts associated with these words, in relation to each other, as part of a holistic ontological matrix.

Epistemics

Let’s begin with “true.” As we discussed at the meetup, “true” has many meanings. My preferred definition is something like “shared knowledge,” or even “communal knowledge of experience of existence” – perhaps reminiscent of Joseph’s definition of “truth.” Truth is that which is to people-in-general as knowledge is to a single person, as experience is to a body, and as existence is to a world.

This account of truth is objective. But it’s not objective in the subject-negating sense. Rather, it’s objective in the inter-subjective sense. It may be understood as consensus, although in the most holistic sense conceivable – abstracting across the possibility space of all individuals, experiences, and environments, without insisting on (or rejecting) any rigid monistic coherence among them.

Being inter-subjective, truth is also ultimately a feeling or esthetic, as are all concepts. I’ll elaborate on esthetics a bit more later. But for now, I’ll just point out that truth, in the only way you or I could ever experience or know it, is something like a shared confidence. And truth, like knowledge, can prove over time to have been misplaced confidence.

The confidence of truth transcends the individual, while still necessarily accounting for the confidence of individuals. I can have knowledge of (or confidence in) that which is not true in the most holistic sense. But it’s yet true in the most holistic sense that I know as I know, that some incoherence between knowledge and truth is part of truth. Something analogous is also the case within a single person and her body, as knowledge and experience aren’t ever entirely coherent.

Finally, I’ll emphasize that truth is not merely discovered, and not merely the result of reconciling passive observation. Truth is as much created as it is discovered. We can change each other’s knowledge, each other’s experience, and even the bodies and worlds in which we exist. And truth, to remain true, must account for all changes, suggesting the mechanism by which prophetic provocation may interact with truth.

Ethics

Now, let’s look at “good.” Like “true,” “good” has many meanings. My preferred definition of good is something like “shared joy,” or even “communal joy of pleasure of order,” to parallel the structure of my definition of “truth.” Good is that which is to people-in-general as joy is to a single person, as pleasure is to a body, and as order is to a world.

Good is inseparably connected to our shared rules, individual wills, anatomical desires, and environmental laws. Good is reconciliation (or atonement) of wills, within a context of desires and laws. But, as with truth, this reconciliation shouldn’t be understood as anything less that the most holistic conceivable. It’s not mere tolerance of pervasive egotistical hedonism.

Reconciliation, as the scriptures put it, must be “infinite and eternal.” Anything less is not good, but rather evil to some extent. Analogously, to the extent that wills and desires and laws are not reconciled, there is misery and pain and chaos. This doesn’t necessarily prescribe eventual annihilation of evil (which would simultaneously be annihilation of good), but only recognition of conceptual relationships and aspiration to a perpetual process.

Esthetics

“True” and “good” are both deeply related to esthetics. Truth reconciles knowledge, which reconciles experience, which, in the most raw sense, is essentially esthetics. As I mentioned previously, knowledge is ultimately confidence, no matter what else we might suppose it to be. After much effort at epistemic justifications, it’s often misrecognized as something like infallibility.

Likewise, goodness reconciles joy, which reconciles pleasure. And of course pleasure is essentially esthetics. In all our effort at ethical justifications, we are always and ultimately still appealing to feelings, at least implicitly, even if we suppose ourselves to be doing otherwise.

There is a special case of esthetics, an exceptional feeling (or even an exceptional composite of feelings), which I call the “sublime esthetic” – beauty at practical experiential limits. It’s not necessarily the same as that which is true or good in the most holistic senses of these concepts. Something can feel sublime and yet be associated with propositions that are broadly considered false. And something can feel sublime while being broadly considered evil.

The sublime esthetic is a functional name for that what the scriptures call the “Holy Ghost” or “Spirit of God.” Intentionally, it doesn’t entail anything metaphysical, nor does it connote common interpretations of “spirit” or “ghost,” so as to avoid baggage with which tradition often burdens the traditional terms. But it does have practical qualifications, notably holistic edification. With this as context, I can offer an example of how these concepts work together to illuminate the meaning of words in a practical way.

Moroni’s Challenge

For Mormons, a particularly notable reference to both “true” and “good” occurs in the last chapter of the Book of Mormon. There, Moroni challenges the reader to ponder and pray about “these things,” which is usually understood as a reference to the Book of Mormon as a whole. He claims that, if we do so “in the name of Christ, … with a sincere heart, with real intent, having faith in Christ,” God will “manifest the truth of it unto you, by the power of the Holy Ghost.” And he further claims that, “by the power of the Holy Ghost ye may know the truth of all things.”

Moroni’s use of “truth” in this passage, as judged by context, cannot reasonably be considered a reference to merely past and present truths, the kinds of truth that one can only discover. There are some complex textual reasons for this. But the most obvious comes in the very next verse. Moroni asserts that “whatsoever thing is good is just and true.”

At first, this may sound like nonsense. Is he saying that goodness and truth are the same thing? Aren’t many evils true, in the sense that we all experience and know evil? And, if so, wouldn’t that imply that good and evil are the same thing, which would be a fundamental incoherence in the application of these concepts?

We could choose to stop here. Some people do. Some are inclined to satisfy a desire to dismiss the whole Book of Mormon as nonsense. But for those of us who are inclined to satisfy a desire to take the Book of Mormon as seriously as we can, to read it in good faith as Moroni urges, there’s a reasonable path forward.

First, we can interpret Moroni to mean that there’s something of a unidirectional relation of identity between truth and goodness, rather than a bidirectional relation of identity. In other words, all goodness can be true without all truth being good. Truth can circumscribe both good and evil, while good is only one kind of truth. This solves the conceptual incoherence problem.

But it presents another problem. We can easily imagine good that isn’t true, at least in the present and past. For example, humanity is pervasively aging and dying, yet the scriptures encourage us to look forward to a day when death will be vanquished. We may feel that it’s a good idea, but it’s not yet true in the fullest sense that we may trust it will be some day.

The solution to this problem is to remember that truth is not merely something to discover. It’s also something to create, and even to destroy. Evil truths may be among those to destroy. Good truths may be among those to create.

To avoid confusion between good truths in the present and good truths in the future, we would usually refer to the former as “true” and the latter as something like “trustworthy.” That which would be good, if we could create it, is worthy of our trust. Future good is trustworthy. This in turn presents some additional, more subtle, conceptual challenges that we could explore fruitfully, but with substantial cost in time.

For sake of brevity, I’ll suggest that the best interpretation of Moroni’s challenge is that he’s claiming that you can know that the Book of Mormon is true in the sense that it’s worthy of your trust. By pondering and praying about its message in faith, which ultimately means acting on its message as an experiment to experience the results, you can gain confidence that its worthy of your trust. You can gain confidence that living in accordance with its message will generate a desirable result.

As characterized by the scriptures, the desirable result is ultimately transformation into Christ, as exemplified and invited by Jesus. Along the way, reflecting my own experience, the result is dependable cultivation of the sublime esthetic. For me, it’s a growing sense of illumination and connectivity and purpose, reinforcing itself in a virtuous cycle. It’s often subtle and mostly psychological, but it’s sometimes powerful and physically moving.

Conclusion

“True” and “good” are interconnected with esthetics in an ontological matrix that transcends traditional notions of objectivity or simple notions of imperative. Truth is both discovered and created, a communal confidence in a shared account of experience, actual and potential. Goodness is shared joy and pleasure, stemming from the reconciliation of wills and desires, or that which the scriptures call “atonement.” The sublime esthetic is a functional description of the Holy Spirit, provoking us to create good truths.

The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints published some statements about artificial intelligence (AI). The Church is by far the largest Mormon denomination – and that of which I’m a member. Its statements influence the perspectives and actions of millions of Mormons worldwide. Friends called the Church’s statements to my attention, asking for my thoughts.

A press release from the Church on its use of AI provides guiding principles introduced by Elder Gerrit W. Gong of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles and Elder John C. Pingree of the Seventy. They shared these principles with employees of the Church worldwide, aiming to cultivate ethical use of AI. Here’s a summary of the principles:

1. Spiritual Connection: AI should support and not replace the connection between humanity and God, and be used in ways that are constructive, maintaining standards of the Church.

2. Transparency: The Church will be clear when using AI to interact with people, and provide attribution for content created with AI to avoid misunderstanding.

3. Privacy and Security: The Church commits to using AI in a manner that protects sacred and personal information.

4. Accountability: The Church will use AI in accordance with its policies and applicable laws, with regular testing and review of AI outputs to ensure compliance and truthfulness.

The press release quotes Elder Gong, emphasizing balance in response to the potential of AI, avoiding extremes of unwarranted enthusiasm or undue alarmism. It quotes Elder Pingree, suggesting that the principles may also serve as helpful guidelines to members and friends of the Church as we navigate a world increasingly influenced by AI. The press release notes that the Church sees AI as having significant potential in family history work, process automation, and language translation. And it notes AI risk, especially associated with deepfakes.

Matthew Watkins, a Church employee who attended the meeting from which the press release originated, shared on X (formerly Twitter) some insider observations about the Church’s meeting about AI. By this account, Elder Gong demonstrated a good understanding of AI technology, including both opportunities and risks. Apparently, Elder Gong even shared a deepfake trained on his own speeches.

The Deseret News, owned by the Church, also published a news article on the Church’s statements about AI, with some additional insights. Elder Gong observed that emerging technology has always facilitated the work of the Church. He reminded Church employees about President Russell M. Nelson’s 2018 claim that inspired discernment will be essential for spiritual survival in the near future. And Elder Gong made this particularly intriguing statement – highlighted to me by Chris Bradford, a former president of the Mormon Transhumanist Association:

“We are going to need not be fearful. But embrace the possibilities in a careful way … because the intent, I believe, is for us to take our soul — which is composed of a physical body and a spirit — and bring body and spirit, the physicality with the spiritual, together in new ways that can be a blessing to all of us as children of our Father in Heaven.”

The guiding principles outlined by the Church’s leaders reflect values rooted deeply in Mormon faith. Faith without work is dead, as the Bible puts it. Mormons have always been avid adopters of technology, actively contributing to innovation, in our effort to participate in the work of God. And, of course, such work should accord with wisdom and inspiration, exemplifying honesty, cooperation with ethical governance, and compassion for all.

Mormons generally embrace a doctrine of eternal progression. The doctrine holds that growth and learning are essential aspects of human nature, now and forever – even if and when we attain to superhuman or divine capacity. So it’s not surprising that the Church has adopted a constructive stance toward AI, positioning it as an ally rather than a foe. If AI can help us grow and learn, we should consider it to be among the means of eternal progression, even among the means of eventual exaltation into Godhood.

The Church’s statements align with Mormon Transhumanism, envisioning a future in which humans transcend biological limitations via technology, blending scientific reasoning with spiritual enlightenment. Mormon Transhumanists esteem technological advancements that promise to transform human capacity, including but not limited to AI, as fulfillment of prophecy. They empower our active hope in a better world, beyond present notions of enmity, poverty, and death.

The critical issue, then, is not the compatibility of AI and Mormonism, but rather advocacy for ethical application of AI. The principles offered by Elder Gong and Elder Pingree, emphasizing transparency and security and accountability, are a good start to what must be persistent deliberation on the subject, among Church members and among humanity at large. As exemplified by these Church leaders, we can engage in such deliberation in ways that recognize both the opportunities and the risks of AI.

Finally, I want to comment briefly on the statement from Elder Gong that I characterized as “intriguing.” It’s intriguing, in part, because it seems that he wanted to say more than he was comfortable saying, or perhaps more than he was prepared to say at the time. He said we should “bring body and spirit … together in new ways.” I think he was hinting at spiritual procreation, that our work to develop artificial intelligence is repetition of God’s work to create us, participation in the eternal work of God to bring about immortality and eternal life – without beginning, spirit children maturing into new Gods, worlds without end.

After watching a demonstration of Sora, Tyler Perry canceled plans for an $800 million expansion of his movie studio. “It’s shocking to me.”

Sora is an AI that converts text into video. It’s the latest iteration of development from OpenAI, the creators of ChatGPT. If you haven’t yet seen what it can do, take a look at Sora’s demonstration videos. Even for many who aren’t experts in the film industry, who may not intimately know the complexity of the art, it’s shocking.

Referring to the film industry, Perry observed, “I just don’t see how we survive.”

For better and worse, it’s just the beginning. Artificial intelligence will continue to change our world in unprecedented, unexpected, and challenging ways. And the rate of change will probably accelerate, as long as we survive it. Future shock is coming for you.

“Future Shock” is a term that was popularized by Alvin Toffler in his 1970 book of the same name. It’s a psychological state of individuals or entire societies that are subject to an overload of rapid social and technological change. Its symptoms can include disorientation, stress, and the straining of social norms. It may feel like being forcefully and relentlessly thrust through change that seems increasingly convoluted.

Future shock is coming for us all, even those of us who are anticipating it. But understanding and anticipating it, and developing strategies to cope with it, can be helpful. To that end, some world views are better positioned than others.

Transhumanism is a cultural movement that advocates for the ethical use of technology to enhance human abilities, potentially extending life, expanding physical capabilities, and accelerating human intelligence. Transhumanists view technology as a means to overcome present human limitations. Singularitarianism, a subset of Transhumanism, specifically focuses on speculation associated with eventual creation of artificial intelligence that exceeds all human capabilities. Known as the Technological Singularity, the emergence of superhuman intelligence is anticipated to thrust humanity into a period of rapid and perhaps uncontrollable change.

Anticipation of future shock is built in to Transhumanist and Singularitarian world views. Turbulent change brought about by technological evolution, as Toffler predicted, is nearly the definition of Transhumanism, or at least an inseparable practical consequence of our aspirations.

But, for Transhumanists, such change isn’t only a source of fear. Of course there can be, and arguably should be, some reasonable amount of fear. After all, Transhumanism is about ethics and not merely technological cheerleading. Rather, turbulent change through technological evolution is also a source of excitement, reinforcing our hope for transcending present limits, improving lives, and potentially even conquering death itself.

Anticipation of future shock is also built in to Mormon world views, particularly in prophecies related to the Dispensation of the Fullness of Times. In Mormon theology, the Dispensation of the Fullness of Times refers to the present epoch, when the work of God is accelerating. According to the prophecies, God will restore all the truths and blessings of past epochs, while revealing “many great and important things” to facilitate future epochs. Much like the accelerating change anticipated by Singularitarians, Mormons envision a swift and comprehensive unfolding of God’s work.

Indeed, we can draw specific parallels between Transhumanist ideas and Mormon theology. For example, Joseph Smith’s teachings on eternal progression and human potential to become like God resonate with the Transhumanist vision of self-directed evolution and enhancement. And the millennial era of peace and abundant life, as prophesied in Mormonism, bears striking similarities with Singularitarian hopes for a post-scarcity future, featuring radically improved living conditions and extended life spans.

Perhaps the most striking parallel is the Mormon concept of worlds without end, and the idea of living in a computed reality, as argued by Transhumanist philosopher Nick Bostrom. Like computer simulations that replicate our world with increasing detail, our mortal life is an emulation of God’s life, designed to help us become like God in both compassionate and creative capacities. That includes the capacity to participate with God in the ongoing creation of worlds without end, the eternal cultivation of creators.

So how can we cope with Future Shock? Mormon Transhumanism suggests an integration of secular and spiritual adaptations. On the secular side, this involves promoting education and understanding of technological evolution, advocating for ethical development and use of technology, and persistent improvement of socioeconomic systems toward universal distribution of the benefits of technology.

From a spiritual perspective, faith communities like the Mormon Transhumanist Association offer a foundation for interpreting and even operationalizing rapid change in a way that facilitates comfort, inspires hope, and increases our capacity for purposeful action. By incorporating seismic shifts of technological evolution into a well-established ideological framework, we can navigate future shock in a manner that is constructive, productive, and spiritually rewarding.

As our world accelerates toward futures that will be shocking, and sometimes frightening, an ability to reconcile our trajectory with the powerful esthetics of religious tradition may prove to be an antidote to the worst of future shock. Mormon Transhumanism is an invitation to curiosity, speculation, and creation, with courage and compassion. It’s not a map for our journey into the future, but it’s a blueprint, the spiritual creation that precedes the physical.

Not for the passive or fatalistic, Mormon Transhumanism is for those who would terraform that which others may eventually map. It’s for those who would not merely cope, but rather conduct future shock. Mormon Transhumanism is for those who would become Gods, the same as all other Gods have done before.

During Sunday School, I led the congregation in a discussion about chapters 16 through 18 of First Nephi in the Book of Mormon. While preparing for and during the discussion, I was again inspired by the way these chapters repeatedly position technology in service of divine goals.

Lehi finds a brass compass or Liahona, of “curious workmanship,” which serves to guide his family through the wilderness, pointing the right path forward. Nephi fashions a bow, and follows instruction from the Liahona to find prey, saving his family from starvation. God commands Nephi to build a ship, also of “curious workmanship,” despite lacking experience or even knowledge of shipbuilding, using tools he also crafts himself. These episodes depict progress, spiritual and practical, that is dependent on readiness to employ new tools and technologies, guided by inspiration, and aligned with our divine potential.

The Liahona is, of course, reminiscent of modern technological breakthroughs that guide us. The GPS in our mobile device shows us the blind alleys and the quickest routes, while detailed weather forecasts assist in our travel plans. AI tools have even begun to help us identify and diagnose disease. Like the Liahona, these artifacts of modern technology offer guidance, support, and aid during our journey through life.

Life often resembles the arduous journey that Lehi’s family takes through the wilderness. It is full of unexpected turns, stumbling blocks, and a constant need for adaptation and resilience. The trek through the wilderness in these chapters can be seen as a metaphor for life, where we navigate through challenges, learn from our mistakes, and hopefully, grow wiser and kinder in the process.

Taking the metaphor farther, we can understand the sea at the end of the journey through the wilderness as a poignant symbol for death – something that appears far too great for us to overcome. And we can understand the ship to be a symbol of technologies that may one day facilitate ordinances of transfiguration and resurrection. Just as the ship, built through divine inspiration and human skill, carries Lehi’s family safely across the mighty sea, so may future technologies of “curious workmanship” help us transcend mortality.

The Mormon tradition emphasizes the idea that “the glory of God is intelligence,” encouraging education, learning, and the application of knowledge – including technology and its creative uses. This isn’t a passive waiting for salvation, but rather an active engagement with the means that God provides for us to participate in and achieve divine goals. And those goals, God’s work and glory as expressed explicitly in scripture, are to bring about the immortality and eternal life of humanity.

Critics might ridicule such an audacious investment in technology, aimed at human enhancement, radical life extension, and overcoming death. Nephi was also ridiculed by his brothers when he took God’s commands to build a ship seriously. “Our brother is a fool,” they supposed.

However, like Nephi, we can persist in trust that God has given and yet will give us the means. And we can insist on acting to console and heal and raise the dead, as Jesus commands his disciples. And, perhaps like Nephi, our persistent trust and insistent action may prove our critics wrong. More importantly, we may ultimately experience realization of the most beautiful visions of prophecy.

We now stand before the prospect of staggering technological advances. Life extension, greatly enhancing mental and physical capabilities, arguably even technological resurrection, are becoming distinct possibilities. Like tools and shipbuilding for Nephi, these technologies can seem strange and intimidating. But they may also operate as divine gifts, helping us navigate the seas of mortal peril towards a promised land of sublime life and superintelligence.

If we still believe, if we can still manage to believe, that God will yet reveal many great and important things, we should not shy away from the possibility of applying technology to participate in achieving divine goals. Nephi asserts, after explaining how the Liahona works, “thus we see that by small means the Lord can bring about great things.” By extrapolation, we see that by small tools God can bring about great works.

Philosophers and scientists have pursued truth for at least millennia. Most seem to want something rigid that we might associate with “the whole truth and nothing but the truth.” But I contend that pursuit of truth, depending on how we conceive it, may be and often is less important than the pursuit of what works and what creates, contextualized by our shared goals, ultimately informed by our harmonizing esthetics.

Truth, as commonly conceived, is that which corresponds to “reality” or something like an actual state of affairs beyond any appearance or supposition. And it’s something that we can only approach through discovery, if at all. But a pragmatist will point out that there’s an important kind of truth that is created rather than merely discovered. While a common conception of truth is merely static and would be objective through negation of the subjective, the pragmatic conception of truth is dynamic and creative and yet still objective through reconciliation of the subjective.

Trust or faith is necessary for any pursuit of created truth. The creations toward which we work, from personal aspirations to expansive communal projects, are founded in our belief that they are possible. If we suppose something to be impossible, we don’t strenuously pursue it, if we pursue it at all. But if we trust in possibility enough to act, we may gain the knowledge and power we need for realization.

This has been repeatedly demonstrated throughout history. Countless times, individuals and groups have changed the trajectory of civilization (not always for the better) when they dared to imagine and pursue that which others deemed impossible. This form of hope, perhaps ultimately nothing short Herculean in character, has a potent practical power. It’s the lever long enough to move the world.

Such audacity rightly provokes concern about epistemic balance between being less wrong versus more right. Conventional wisdom might wish to err on the side of caution, supposing less wrong to be the better course of action. But life, in all its contingency and complexity, always demands some risk - a perpetual embrace of, or at least allowance for, uncertainty with hope of becoming more right. Prioritizing less wrong over more right leads us to a practical dead end, stifling possibility, and even suffocating life itself.

Proper epistemic balance, balance that is true to life, necessitates a conception of truth that expands beyond that which can be discovered to include that which may depend on our creation. This is practical truth, the sort of truth that actually matters. A merely abstract truth, unchangeable and transcendent, does nothing for us unless someone uses it. Then, when someone finally uses it to create, it transforms us and our world.

We move forward not only by understanding what is, but more importantly by acting on what is. The difference between our civilization and that of our prehuman ancestors is the result of action, at least as much as understanding. An insistence on truth for truth’s sake, severed from the practical, the good, and the beautiful, is nothing more than inaction and stagnation at best.

A pragmatic conception of truth need not, and should not, discard or demean objective truth. For example, applied mathematics can provide awesome power that’s perfectly compatible with and complementary to heroic narratives. Complementarity is not negation, but rather syncretization, as true stories are not merely an accurate accounting of facts, but also a trustworthy empowerment of goals. And, perhaps even more poignantly for those with concerns for objectivity, any “truth” that fails to account for each nuance of subjectivity in the infinite worlds of experience is something less than fully objective.

Discovery of truth, in the pragmatic sense, can and should involve scientific and rational methods. But basic epistemics aren’t enough. We also need courage, compassion, and creation. We need active trust toward potential, and sure commitment toward reconciliation, in all that that is useful, good, and beautiful.

This is the crux of truth. The will to truth, so far as any of us really cares about it, is relentless striving not only to make sense of the world, but to achieve our goals – to create. And, hopefully, our goals include that of raising each other together. Hopefully we care about truth because we recognize that objective reality, our subjective realities, are intricately interwoven stories that we can perpetually recreate for mutual benefit.

By definition, nothing is more important than our goals. Pragmatic truth enables a cognitive flexibility that facilitates continued progress toward achieving our goals. Can we ever know the whole truth and nothing but the truth, the truth in itself? If that’s among our goals, and if it’s possible, we will achieve it only because we embraced the practical reality that at least some truth is created, is continually reshaped by intention and action, and indeed must be so shaped to achieve any of our goals.

Good scientists, we ought not merely uncover what is, but also strive toward what can be. Shed the fear of being more wrong. Dare to hope for being more right. Small certainties, even if possible, are hardly worthy of our aspiration to be knowers.

Good philosophers, let’s drive the perpetual creation of better truth. In the eternal dance between discovery and creation, we actualize ourselves. We do this not as passive observers, but as participants in the dance, as genuine lovers of that wisdom for which we have confessed our love.

The future is at once promising and uncertain. May we not merely be pulled toward it hesitantly, but rather venture into it boldly. May we imagine every good and beautiful truth, and strive unwaveringly toward creating them.

An important kind of truth is created. An important kind of created truth depends on our intention and action for its creation. The future of our civilization is undoubtedly such truth.

Humanity will soon embark on an unprecedented journey – or at least our technology will soon go where none of it has gone before. As described by Pam Weintraub writing for Aeon, someone will probably launch an automated spacecraft that initiates a recursive process that eventually saturates the universe with intelligent life. The spacecraft would be a von Neumann probe, designed to replicate itself using resources found in the cosmos, expanding exponentially across star systems and ultimately even between galaxies. Yet again, science fiction is poised to become fact. Religion May Drive Cosmic Expansion Pam contends that cosmic expansion is most likely to be initiated by a religious group. Here’s a summary of her reasons: Moral Imperative: Cosmic expansion would probably require a powerful moral justification. Religion commonly provides justification for expansion, and could esteem cosmic expansion as the ultimate fulfillment of its moral imperatives. Grand Narrative: Cosmic expansion would probably require a grand narrative that spans cosmic time and space. Religion commonly generates such narratives, spanning human origins and epochal change and ultimate potential, which could motivate cosmic expansion. Strenuous Commitment: Cosmic expansion would probably require strenuous commitment to overcome rivals. Religion commonly provokes fervor, and sometimes even a sense of absolute certainty, that could sustain and expedite competitive efforts at cosmic expansion. Human Significance: Cosmic expansion would probably require attributing great significance to humanity. Unlike trends among irreligious ideologies that have increasingly marginalized esteem for human significance, religion commonly elevates humanity’s role in the cosmos. Mormon Transhumanism Can Drive Cosmic Expansion Among religious movements, Mormon Transhumanism stands out as exceptionally well-positioned to drive cosmic expansion. Mormon Transhumanism advocates the ethical use of technology to enhance human abilities in a holistic sense, for the betterment of humanity both as individuals and as communities, as well as for the betterment of our environments. A moral imperative of cosmic expansion, qualified by sublime compassion, is implicit in such advocacy. In Mormon theology, the work and glory of God is to bring about human immortality and eternal life. And humanity is called to participate in that work, becoming co-creators with God, becoming God with God, engaging in eternal progression and helping others to do the same, eternally and universally. The grand narrative essential for cosmic expansion is intrinsic to Mormon theology. This narrative is not just about a particular past or present or future of humanity. It is about eternal progression of countless intelligent agents of diverse kinds and degrees, without beginning, throughout endless worlds and heavens. Mormon Transhumanism amplifies this narrative, envisioning futures where technological advancements and religious aspirations converge, and intelligent potential is realized throughout the universe at divine magnitudes. Mormon culture is an example of religion’s ability to provoke the confidence and strenuous acton that are crucial for sustained competitive efforts. We have a history of overcoming adversity and a strong pioneering spirit. Mormon Transhumanism remains grounded in this culture of religious conviction, while simultaneously embracing pragmatic and transhumanist visions of work- and tech-enabled futures. This is a powerful practical combination, which could not only facilitate but also greatly accelerate efforts aimed at cosmic expansion. In contrast to irreligious ideologies that may marginalize human significance, Mormon Transhumanism places human potential at the top of cosmic importance. We view humans not just as passive observers of the cosmos, but as active participants and potentially sublime creators, even Gods, in the cosmic narrative. Importantly, this esteem for humanity is ne ...

Arthur C. Clarke, a distinguished science fiction writer and futurist, made significant contributions to literature that continue to inspire countless dreamers and thinkers. Clarke’s ability to combine astute observations of the present with thrilling speculations of the future has, directly or indirectly, influenced how many of us perceive human progress. I was reminded of Clarke’s insights recently by a friend. He shared with me a recording from the BBC archives, in which Clarke makes several predictions, including the eventual development of superintelligence. That reminded of an idea that I’ve mentioned before and merits elaboration. [ Visit the webpage to view the media. ] Central to Clarke’s philosophical legacy are his Three Laws: “When a distinguished but elderly scientist states that something is possible, he is almost certainly right. When he states that something is impossible, he is very probably wrong.” “The only way of discovering the limits of the possible is to venture a little way past them into the impossible.” “Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.” Consider with me Clarke’s third law, in particular. It is, of course, the stuff of science fiction. But it also has theological implications. Implicit in Clarke’s Third Law is a revolutionary reconceptualization of sublime events, magic or miracles, and even the existence of God. Traditionally, at least in modern times, many imagine God as a metaphysical being, described as “omnipotent” and “omniscient,” perhaps altogether transcending the material world. In contrast, Clarke’s Third Law suggests that the attributes and actions that we ascribe to God could have another explanation. They could be consequences of technology so advanced that it is indistinguishable, not only from magic, but also from miracles. With that in mind, we can derive a corollary of Clarke’s Third Law: any sufficiently advanced intelligence is indistinguishable from God. To understand this corollary, we must first rescue “God” from the bondage of anti-natural metaphysics. We can imagine God, liberated, as a highly advanced intelligence –- an intelligence so vast that its capabilities are, from our perspective, incomprehensible and practically indistinguishable from traditional notions of God. Some religious traditions argue that God’s miracles are supernatural events that defy any possible natural laws – anti-naturalism. But from the lens of Clarke’s Third Law and its derived corollary, such miraculous events could be interpreted as the application of advanced natural science. For example, consider superintelligent extraterrestrials, whose probable existence is posited by renowned atheist Richard Dawkins. In what sense would the most advanced interstellar civilizations not constitute Gods? Such civilizations could possess technologies that seem supernatural to us – “god-like in ways that exceed anything a theologian could possibly imagine,” Dawkins supposes. But, he emphasizes, their astounding abilities wouldn’t make them supernatural, but rather advanced agents that are still the product of evolutionary processes. In any case, distinctions between conceptions of superintelligence and God will always depend on the particularities of the conceptions. What is God? What are intelligence and technology? And are we prepared to accept possibilities that challenge our traditions and preconceptions? I think we are prepared, or at least increasing numbers of us are. Indeed, the function of theology may already be in the process of transforming into a science of superintelligence. Assuming this proves true, it would parallel earlier paradigm shifts, when astrology gave way to astronomy, and alchemy developed into chemistry. Transhumanism encourages the exploration of these possibilities. It suggests that human beings may eventually evolve, through technology, to become superintelligent agents that some may perceive as divine. Arguably, glimpses of such possibilities ...

In an ancient grove, Jesus and Socrates sit across from each other, embraced by olive trees and bathed in golden light from the slowly setting sun. Socrates’ gaze is penetrating. Jesus’ regard is peaceful. They begin to converse. Science and Faith Socrates: Greetings, Jesus. I have heard much about your teachings and the faith you inspire. It seems to me that Christianity, your way, is deeply rooted in faith, while future times will find their foundation in science. How do you reconcile these seemingly divergent paths? Jesus: Socrates, it is good to speak with you. While it is true that Christianity is often perceived through the lens of faith, in contrast to the lens of science, they are not as separate as they appear. Science, much like faith, requires a form of trust. Think of it as trust in the principles of non-contradiction, the uniformity of space and time, and causality. Socrates: Intriguing assertion, Jesus. You suggest that science, which prides itself on empirical evidence and rational analysis, operates on a form of faith? Is this trust not different from the faith you advocate, one that often transcends empirical understanding? Jesus: The faith I speak of is not a blind leap into the unknown, Socrates, nor an abandonment of reason. Rather, it is a recognition of the limits of human knowledge. We, as finite beings, cannot answer every question, nor can we fully comprehend the vastness of the universe. This faith is a practical necessity, a way to navigate the unknown while seeking greater understanding. Socrates: So, if I understand correctly, you propose that both life and scientific endeavor inherently involve faith, for we often act without absolute certainty or complete knowledge. Science, like religion, must start from certain basic assumptions that cannot be empirically proven? Jesus: Precisely. In science, principles such as causality and the uniformity of the universe are foundational, yet they are not empirically proven. They are assumed. This is a form of faith. Empirical evidence has its limits, and even in logical systems, there are axioms and methods that we must accept without proof. Socrates: It is a compelling point, Jesus. The reliance on unproven assumptions in science does mirror the faith you speak of in religion. But does this not lead us to a perplexing dilemma? If both science and faith are built on unproven premises, how do we discern truth and navigate our lives effectively? Jesus: The key, Socrates, lies in understanding that faith is not the abandonment of reason or inquiry, but rather a component of our continuous search for truth. We must embrace our limitations and strive to expand our knowledge and understanding, always open to learning and growing. The Nature of Faith Socrates: Jesus, you make a compelling case for the existence of faith within the scientific method. However, let us delve deeper into the nature of faith itself. Isn’t faith often equated with blind trust or adherence to dogma without question? Jesus: Socrates, faith is frequently misunderstood in that manner. Yet, in its true essence, faith is not merely blind trust or unthinking adherence to dogma. Rather, it is a response to the inherent limitations of human knowledge. We cannot have answers to all questions, and thus, at times, we must act without complete knowledge. This is where faith becomes a practical necessity, guiding us through the unknown. Socrates: So, you propose that faith is an integral part of both life and scientific endeavor. Are you suggesting that we operate in faith regularly, making decisions and forming beliefs based on incomplete knowledge? Jesus: Exactly, Socrates. In life, just as in science, we are often in situations where absolute answers are not available. In these moments, faith guides us. It is a principle that enables us to act, to decide, and to continue our search for understanding and truth. Socrates: Interesting. So faith, in your view, is not an abandonment of reason but a co ...

In the heart of Salt Lake City, not far from where the spires of the Salt Lake Temple pierced the night sky, Eli Cannon worked in solitude. His mechanical fingers moved with precision over a holographic interface, adjusting security protocols for the temple. A monument of faith and advanced engineering, the temple stood as a testament to the blend of religion and science that was redefining the city in the fifth decade of the twenty-first century. Eli’s father, Ezra, had been Chief Information Officer for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. When Eli was born with severe genetic defects, his mother, Sarah, had pled with Ezra to save their son’s life through cybernetic enhancements. Now, Eli’s body was more than a biological machine, with integrated cognitive and AI capabilities that made him invaluable to the Church. “Eli, you’ve been at this for days,” a gentle voice echoed in the nearly-empty control room. It was Gideon, Eli’s uncle, and the president of the temple. He had served as Eli’s court-appointed guardian after Sarah and Ezra died, victims of a computational virus that jumped to humans. And, although now legally an adult, Eli still esteemed Gideon as a father and his only living family, for all practical purposes. Eli turned, his cybernetic eyes adjusting to the dim light. “Uncle Gideon, I didn’t hear you come in.” Gideon approached, his expression a mix of awe and unease at Eli’s part-mechanical movement. “You need to rest. And get some fresh air. You can’t keep isolating yourself like this.” Eli smiled faintly, a sense of loneliness shadowing his features. “This is where I belong, Uncle. Among these circuits and data. Out there,” he gestured toward the city, “people see me as a … as something else.” Gideon sighed, placing a hand on Eli’s shoulder. “You are more than what they see, Eli. You are my nephew, a brilliant mind, and a faithful disciple of Christ.” Eli nodded, appreciating the sentiment but knowing the reality of his existence. As a cyborg, he was revered for his capabilities but shunned for his appearance. His life was confined to the temple grounds and nearby archives, where he served as a computational genealogist, constructing detailed data models of the ancestors of countless Church members. The conversation was interrupted by a sudden flicker on security monitors. Eli’s attention snapped back to the screens, his fingers flying over the controls. “What’s happening?” Gideon asked, concern evident in his voice. “It’s nothing, just a stray cat triggering the perimeter alarms. I’ve got it,” Eli reassured, his enhanced vision zooming in on the small creature outside. Gideon watched Eli work, marveling at his nephew’s expertise yet saddened by the life of isolation he led. “Eli, tomorrow there’s a cultural event in the conference center. Dancing! Why don’t you come with me? It would do you good to be among people.” Eli hesitated, the thought of facing a crowd always sent a wave of anxiety through him. “I … I’ll think about it, Uncle.” Gideon smiled, knowing the likelihood of Eli accepting was slim. “I hope you do. Goodnight, Eli.” “Goodnight, Uncle Gideon,” Eli replied, turning back to his work as Gideon left the room. Alone again, Eli’s thoughts wandered to the life he might have had if not for his condition. A life where he could walk among others without fear or judgment. A life where he wasn’t just an echo of humanity, but a part of it. Seraph’s Dance Across the street from Temple Square, amidst a crowd of curious onlookers near the entrance of City Creek Center, stood Seraph. An android designed to assist in humanitarian missions, Seraph’s empathetic algorithms and human appearance made her an embodiment of the city’s aspirations of techno-powered compassionate service. “Seraph, are we on schedule for the food distribution?” asked Sister Mariah, a Church missionary coordinating the day’s outreach program. “Yes, Sister Mariah. The supplies will be distributed efficiently,” Seraph replied ...