One of the worldviews that seems to appeal to the folks who are so excited about ChatGPT is “long-termism,” which assumes that humankind as a whole has a destiny, and that our tools will help us to reach it somewhat faster. What that destiny is, nobody knows. But work and education are hindrances to it, and, to the extent that they are necessary, should be sped through as quickly as possible. Since no real account is usually given of the thing that we are speeding to – it will involve space travel, algorithms, asteroid mining, and spreadsheets, but there’s a great nothing at its center – this worldview functions like nihilism. To me, work and education – like rest, love, worship, culture, strange hobbies, village pantomimes, dumb mistakes, chants that children jump rope to, heartbreaking last-quarter fumblings of the ball, graffiti on ugly bridges, all of it – are things we do because it is our job to be people.
As impersonal systems play increasing roles in information-gathering and decision-making, the personal element can be summed up as “human error.” … [T]hen of course the fields concerned with human nature—specifically, all the ways it is not predictable—are unseated, too…
[I]t is simply better to be a human when a personal God is at the heart of the universe. Human lives are easier to defend. Human joys have cosmic significance. Human foibles are “a feature, not a bug.” Human creativity is more arresting. Human language can be savored. Human stories must be told.
Malcolm Guite is posting poems he’s collected in his Advent Anthology, Waiting on the Word. I love to hear Malcolm read (and speak). Today’s offerings, a poem by Robert Hayden, and art by Linda Richardson, are particularly lovely.
I’ve posted about Trump’s unfitness for… well, anything. But how awful is Biden’s statement pardoning Hunter? I understand how, as a father, he might have been compelled to save his son. But to (1) throw his own DOJ under the bus and (2) make the pardon so broad? Nope. It stinks.
And we are thankful. Happy Turkey Day, friends!
is the assaults on the truth of truth. The roots run deep – as deep as the modernism? Certainly, deeper than Trump.
But he’s stormed the battlements, and the breach is wide.
Helping repair it may be the work of my Third Act.
Tottenham Hotspur have stormed into the palace of the champions and turned over the furniture!
COYS(!) ⚽️
For 27 years, I took photographs as I waved good-bye and drove away from visiting my parents at their home in Sioux City, Iowa.