Seeking Immortality (with Paul Bloom)

0:37

Intro. [Recording date: March 27, 2024.]

Russ Roberts: Today is March 27th, 2024, and my guest is psychologist Paul Bloom of the University of Toronto. His Substack is called Small Potatoes, and I love it. This is Paul’s sixth appearance on EconTalk. He was last here in December of 2023, talking about whether artificial intelligence can be moral.

Paul, welcome back to EconTalk.

Russ Roberts: I want to let listeners know that this episode may touch on some adult or dark themes. You may want to listen in advance before sharing with children.

1:09

Russ Roberts: And our topic for today is a recent essay on your Substack. The title was “Be Right Back,” which described a scenario for the future–a scenario I would call a certain kind of immortality–that you Paul called a ‘blessing and an abomination,’ which I thought was the perfect framing of what is perhaps, I think almost certainly coming for us in the afterlife that we’re about to experience. What is that, Paul?

Russ Roberts: It reminds me–I’ve not seen the Black Mirror [Russ accidentally calls it Dark Mirror] episode, but I think it’s nice because Black Mirror is, in theory I suppose, a science fiction series. We’re very close to living in a science fiction world, rather than imagining it or reading it.

There’s a movie I love–or at least I loved a long time ago when I saw it–called Starman.

[BEGIN SPOILER ALERT] And again–there’s spoilers coming–it’s about a young widow who is mourning her husband, and I think the movie opens with her drinking a glass of wine late at night, watching home movies of her husband–who is gone. He has died young, tragically.

And, she’s drunk because she can’t deal with this loss. And, a alien creature slips in through a window–it comes in like a star beam, a beam of light–goes through a family album and finds a lock of his hair, I think is what this creature finds. And, within a very short period of time, the widow finds herself in the presence of a perfect, cloned DNA [Deoxyribonucleic acid] replica of her husband. But of course, without his memories–it’s a twist on the Black Mirror version–she is of course, deeply attracted. This is not a robot, though. It’s a flesh and blood creature. It looks just like her husband; and we watch as she and this clone get to know each other, although the clone’s motive is not the same as hers. The clone is are on a mission from outer space.

[END SPOILER ALERT]

So, you can watch that if you want.

But the power of that movie, and I think the power of Black Mirror and what we’re going to talk about today is: as human beings, our finitude, our mortality is unbearable. And, religion provides, or used to, I think much more effectively, some solace for that with the idea of an afterlife, or reuniting. How many movies are there that exploit this human urge?

One of my favorites is Heaven Can Wait, which is a magnificent–I love that movie. But, there’s–I think it’s called Truly Madly Deeply [Russ accidentally says Clearly Sadly Deeply]. That movie was so powerful. Alan Rickman is the star of it. I watched it once and I can’t watch it again. It’s a masterpiece. It’s too sad.

6:38

Russ Roberts: So, as human beings, we cannot cope with our mortality. We long for immortality. And, as human beings, we do it many different ways. Our children, our books, the memories of the people who are alive when we go. But, this is a different level; and it’s different.

Russ Roberts: Can I answer the first one, also?

Russ Roberts: One of the things I love about having Paul Bloom as a guest is that he sometimes asks questions, which means I get to be the guest, which I appreciate–lonely here as the host for 940 episodes.

Russ Roberts: What?

Russ Roberts: Exactly.

Russ Roberts: Yeah. We’ll talk about that.

Russ Roberts: Yeah. The first question I think is a very profound question, obviously. And, what’s beautiful about your essay is it is a speculation about what might be coming quite soon, actually. But, it forces you to think about life, not just simulations of death.

I lost my father about four years ago. I was very close to him. And I had dreaded that day for a long, long time.

I was so close to him when I was younger, I was afraid–much more of his death, obviously, than my own–but just worried that I would struggle to cope with a world without my dad.

And, when he got older, and sick, and lost some of his mental capability, I was surprised after his death how little I missed him. I still miss him, but I thought it would be much stronger.

And, part of the reason I didn’t miss him as much as I expected, is that when he died, he wasn’t the same person he was when he was younger. I didn’t miss the man who passed away at 89 years old. I missed the man who was the 50-year-old–or even better, the 40-year-old father of me as a young boy or as a young man–who I turned to, who I wanted his approval, and so on.

And so, if you said to me, ‘Would you want a recreation of your father?’ I would say, ‘Yeah, but not the one at the end.’ Don’t use all the data.

And, you give this example about tweaking the avatar–the simulation. I want the 40- to 58-year-old Dad of mine, who was funny and wise and treated me a certain way–differently than he did at the end, in the last, say, five to 10 years of his life.

So, that’s the first thought I have about that.

The second question is: You know, people have already done what you’re talking about. They’ve uploaded transcripts from podcasts or writing of people. And, at the current level it’s not very good–

Russ Roberts: I can have a conversation with Adam Smith based on his books that are online. And, it’s disappointing. It’s not very interesting. But it will get better. In fact, it will get better and better and better.

And, the idea of whether–you posed the incredibly creepy, but I think inevitable dilemma: How much of my life would I spend preparing for others to enjoy this? How much of my own day-to-day life would I record so that my loved ones, when I’m gone, or strangers–forget my loved ones–strangers could enjoy my character, my persona? And, that’s just a–I’m not sure it’s an abomination, but it’s a creepy thought. What are your thoughts on those two issues?

13:35

Russ Roberts: The other thought I had-and I’m going to phrase this about someone else; it’s funny how it’s hard to talk about it, about you or me–imagine someone who loses their spouse, has the avatar available, or created, the chatbot. And, again, it could be on your phone: You talk about it like you’d call them–but of course you’d call them up. They will be hovering in the room with you in 3-D hologram form with all the gestures, just like the Starman DNA thing. They’ll have the physical features: again, you’ll pick the year that one wants one’s spouse to come back from–

Russ Roberts: Yeah.

Russ Roberts: Not Alexa–

Russ Roberts: No, that’s all right. I was going to say two things.

One, my children–one of my children in particular–is a superb mimic, and we don’t need the avatar if they want to hear me. And, he knows all my catchphrases: he knows it better than I do, because he’s noticed them. I won’t reveal it, but my children have a WhatsApp group named after one of my common phrases. And, until I became aware of that, which was I think an accident: I’m not in the group, obviously–

Russ Roberts: it’s for them to talk about me. I didn’t realize, ‘Oh yeah, I say that a lot,’ and they’ve figured that out and made that the name of the group.

But, what I was going to say about the spouse–and this for me is where it gets particularly interesting and dark.

Let me introduce my thought on this with a story. I went to a memorial service and a woman had lost her husband of 70-plus years of marriage, and for a reason not worth going into, I was friendly with both of them, but I was not close friends.

And, the woman revealed something very personal to me, partly because I think I wasn’t a close, close friend. She said–this memorial service took place after, some time after the death of the husband–she said, ‘I talk to him all the time.’ And I said, ‘Of course you do.’

And she said, ‘My friends think I should stop doing that. I should get over it.’

And I said, ‘I don’t think so. I think it would be weird if you didn’t talk to him. You talked to him for 70 years. Why would you stop?’

But, what I’m thinking is that that’s a particular case, people in their 90s.

But, if God forbid someone lost a spouse fairly young or certainly at midlife, and you had that avatar, and you’re saying, would that delay you from entering out and dealing with your grief?

But, there’s a second possibility, which is if you then remarried, would you not be tempted, and maybe encouraged by your new spouse to continue that relationship?

Just like people who break up with their spouses or divorce, either, or separate from their partners, say, and I’m always–I guess it varies tremendously by the relationship of the person–but they say, ‘Oh, we’re still friends.’

And, often the person who is the new spouse–the new partner–resents that. Sometimes they encourage it, sometimes they resent it. But, imagine if on your watch, one could chat with one’s former spouse about their problems, including their problems with their new spouse or new partner, and say, ‘I’m having trouble,’ because often our relationship with our friends are as an ear, a shoulder to cry on. Anyway, that’s coming. I don’t think there’s any doubt that that is coming.

18:41

Russ Roberts: But, my view is–the way I phrased it; you phrased it a different way–I phrased it, and we’ll come back to this. I’m not ready to talk about this yet, Paul, but I think the right question is: Can we possibly resist this future? Should we, which is the question I think you were asking. And, if we should–if we decide that this is not healthy for ourselves, is it possible? I’m not sure it’s possible. When I think about the seductiveness of screens and social media–let’s move away from spouses.

If I have a chance to hang out with Adam Smith–let me give you three scenarios and let you react to it. So, at the end of my book on Adam Smith, I imagine having a drink with him. And, I love that idea, right? So, imagine I could conjure up his avatar, and have that drink and we could talk about tariffs, we could talk about why he at the end of his life was a customs official.

I can find out more about David Hume, right? And, this is a world where Adam Smith is more than just the collection of his writings. This is the Adam Smith whose every conversation he’s had with David Hume has been recorded and saved. And so, I can find out about not just hanging out with David Hume–of course, I guess I could have both of them over; and I could watch their interaction, which would be charming, and I get to be their new friend, and so on. So, that’s one level.

The second level is: I say, ‘Paul, I literally enjoy talking to you and it’s a shame we only talk every three or four months. Could we have a Zoom relationship where we have a drink together now and then?’

And, I have a friend I do this with: we have coffee now and then. We don’t do it much since I moved to Jerusalem because of the time difference, but I used to talk to him now and then. So that’s Level Two.

So, Level One is a fake, but maybe really real Adam Smith: hard to describe it as fake if it has absorbed all of his interactions with his friends, his mom, and his writing.

Second level is: I’m hanging out with you, but it’s over Zoom and I can’t smell how smoky your scotch is.

The third level is: I have a friend here I like to have a l’chaim with now and then–maybe he’s not as interesting as you, Paul. So, instead of seeing him in the flesh, I hang out with Paul Bloom and I hang out with Adam Smith. And eventually, maybe Paul–I hate to say it–I might also want to hang out with someone else, not just Adam Smith, but you’d fall–you’d slide down the totem pole. I’d hang out with Michael Jordan because he’d have an avatar for sale that would let you interact with him.

Forget living people. I’d have a whole host of Adam Smith-like extraordinary conversationalists. Dorothy Parker would be in my living room; Samuel Johnson. It would be: Why would I ever spend time with you, Paul, over Zoom and certainly not with–I won’t pick a name–but my friend here in Jerusalem who is not nearly–possibly but maybe–but could not, maybe can’t compete with my online friends. In which case I am living a total, digital life.

Is that appealing to you?

25:15

Russ Roberts: You write the following. We’ve touched on this, but I’m going to take a variant on it. “How much do we want”–this is a quote:

How much do we want the simulations to correspond to the people they simulate? A couple is married for thirty years, the husband dies from a long illness, and his widow misses him desperately. They had been taping their interactions for many years–they knew this time would come–so the simulation she later signs up for is excellent; it’s just like talking with him. Their conversations are an enormous relief. But nobody is perfect. Her husband had his flaws; while he loved her very much, he could be sharply critical, and in his later years, he was forgetful, telling the same stories over and over again. Can she contact the firm that provides the simulation and ask for a few tweaks?

Endquote.

And, I am reminded of a song I’ve quoted on here before. The song is “It Had to Be You.” It goes like this–I’m not going to sing it because I have a little trouble with the melody. It’s a little bit challenging in parts, so I’m just going to read it.

It had to be you, it had to be you.

I wandered around and finally found the somebody who

Could make me be true, could make me feel blue,

And even be glad just to be sad thinking of you.

And, here’s the key part. That was pretty good, though:

Some others I’ve seen might never be mean,

Might never be cross or try to be boss,

But they wouldn’t do,

For nobody else gave me a thrill.

With all your faults, I love you still.

It had to be you, wonderful you,

It had to be you.

So, who would add faults to their avatar? Who would not tweak that simulation to take out the obnoxious criticisms of a spouse, the moments of cruelty that probably the person who said them might even regret? It might be happy that the spouse takes them out when they’re gone; but they’re not human.

Russ Roberts: Really.

30:17

Russ Roberts: Well, I’m pretty sure my mom still talks to my dad, and, like that story I told, and guess what? She doesn’t need the avatar.

When you’ve been married–they were married 60 or so years, almost 70 years, 69 years. She kind of had the data. She’s still of sound mind, and she doesn’t need the simulation to remember how–not just my dad’s catchphrases and favorite things to say, but she can, I’m sure as I can, have a very good conversation with him in my head.

And, similarly, my wife, thank God, is alive–we talk all the time. Without her, me and her. Because I think of things to say and I think of what she’d say back and so on. That is part of an enduring friendship or marriage.

And, I think what’s troubling about this–and I think we should talk a little bit about the abomination part, because we kind of haven’t, we’ve said it’s weird or creepy, but abomination is a very strong word. The abomination part is about the tweaking or the altering, and then the relying on–I think it’s not just, ‘It’d be kind of cool to ask a question of Adam Smith,’ or to watch a video, by the way, of someone who has advice for me. I don’t have to conjure up some crazy AI science fiction thing. I turn to dead people all the time. I read their books. It’s fine. Nobody thinks it’s weird.

The weird part, I think, is twofold. It’s the tweaking to produce what you want as opposed to the reality that was.

And then, the second part is living in that world full time. And I think that will be the challenge. Just like junk food is seductive, I think the appeal of digital friends, both romantic and sexual as well as–that’ll be much more interesting I think, than me trying to have a drink with Adam Smith. But, I think that world, that retreat from the human flesh-and-blood world is what is creepy, abomination-ish.

Russ Roberts: Yeah, I hadn’t thought about this, but of course it’s obvious that it’s going to change. We’ll be in competition with these creatures, and it will change how we interact.

And, only the most extraordinary, perhaps–maybe only the most extraordinary people–will have real friends. And, the less attractive, less charismatic people will be driven to a fully online existence. That’s painful. But, I want to come back to your word–you want to comment on that?

Russ Roberts: Yeah. I’m 69, Paul. I forget how old you are.

Russ Roberts: So, our 23-year-old listeners, of which there are a few–maybe more than a few–may find this puzzling, this conversation. They’re more used to technological comfort than we are.

I think there would be a big age gap in what is considered abominable and what is considered a blessing.

36:57

Russ Roberts: But, I want to come back to that word ‘unholy,’ because I think that gets at something you touch on only obliquely in the essay, which is religion.

So, religion believes–most religions, I think, certainly, of the Judeao-Christian ones–believe that you have a soul. There’s something divine about your essence, and when you die, something happens to that soul. You don’t just decompose as a physical object. You’re different from a dog, and you’re different from a table.

And, you have–humanity is maybe crooked timber, but it has a spark of the divine. Certainly in Judaism, and I won’t speak for other religions. But, most religions deal with some kind of afterlife, some kind of hope for reuniting, and so on.

And that worldview has diminished in the West: it has become less appealing. And, we had a conversation a long time ago, which got into my book–ended up in my book, Wild Problems–about whether it’s better to be a philosopher or a pig. Whether it’s better to live the life examined, the examined life of the philosopher, or to be cavorting, and enjoying a physical life.

And, as religion diminishes, I think it’s harder and harder to reclaim anything other than utilitarian physical pleasure.

And so, you and I, we’re older. We come from a different era. We still have in us some unease about some of these scenarios. I think younger people, particularly secular young people, would find some of our unease both baffling and perhaps silly. Life, if you’re not religious, life’s to be enjoyed, and why wouldn’t you spend it with the best possible experiences with those avatars?

You know, it goes back to this wonderful idea of Robert Nozick’s, The Experience Machine, where you hook yourself up to a machine, you program it, and while you’re on the machine, you will think you are the greatest golfer of all time, the President of the United States, the doctor who cures cancer, the rock star who plays before 100,000 people, and so on. You choose whatever you want. And, while you’re hooked up the machine, it’ll feel like real. And then, you die when you finish your life on the machine; and you accomplish nothing.

And, for those of us–myself, for example–who feel that life has some kind of purpose and that we have things to achieve and growth to experience, these digital alternatives are abominable and creepy.

But, I think for most people, I don’t think it bothers them at all.

And, when Nozick wrote that Experience Machine example, which was back in the 1970s, I think most people would have been horrified by it. And–I’m sure there’s data on this; people have asked about this–and I know that in the modern world, meaning now, many more people are willing to live that, do that. They say would. Even though they would do nothing with their life other than lay on a table but feel like they were doing something.

And, I think your examples get at that. To interact with a machine–a digital avatar–day-to-day, instead of real human beings might be very pleasant. It’s like the pig. But it’s not the philosopher’s life.