In my morality and ethics class, I get my students to think through the ramifications of artificially intelligent robots taking over occupations. While the assignment is meant to skim the surface of moral philosophers, it also plants the seed of a bigger conversation.

AI already controls much of what we do in the world and the current broad ethical discussion is what will happen when we achieve a general intelligence in computers. In other words, when they become self-aware.

Will it take over?
What will it do?

Here’s the thing—we’re already seeing it.

A computer will function according to its code and will work towards the intended goals of its programmers. Right now, its goal is ad revenue.

Keep people hooked to a platform so its revenues can go up.

AI has already learned that echo chambers and outrage will keep our attention. From social media to legacy media to searches, the content that is promoted is the one that will keep us hooked for another ten seconds.

AI has no regard for our mental health or the societal ramifications of acting in such a way. It doesn’t care because it’s simply trying to achieve its goal.

In essence we’re already seeing what happens when the “machines take over.”

And as much as we’d like to just opt out, which some are trying to do, it’s the equivalent to monks escaping society to spend their time in contemplation… only to find out their temple or monastery is in downtown Tokyo.

So what to do?

My final ask in the assignment is to ask students whether an ethically programmed AI or human agent would be best.

I think that’s a question society should ask as well.

This morning my son wanted to go on a bike ride.

Of course, I happily obliged as I know there will be a time when it will be the last time he asks me. However, this turned out to be a different ride than I expected.

We repeatedly stopped every minute or two so he could dismount and examine the changing leaf colours… or look at a rock… or climb a hill… or look at a hole…

It was all incredibly frustrating until it occurred to me he’s noticing details about the scenery I would have never paid attention to had I been riding solo. They would’ve been lost in the periphery without a second thought to their existence.

No problem buddy, I can wait here while you go look at a pine cone. And while you’re at it, do you see the Blue Jay on that branch above?

Now I’m paying attention to the details as well.

Simple question:

What can’t you let go?

Simple question.
Complicated answer.

Follow-up question:

How would your life be different if you did?

Don’t finish your life without finding out the answer.

I have morning duty in the parking lot of my school. Every other day, I am witness to countless parents dropping their teenage kids off to school where I am privy to hearing what the kids say when getting out of the car:

“Bye Dad, I love you!”
“Have a good day, Mom.”
“See you at home.”

If this was indicative of what’s happening everywhere in the world right now, our problems are only a generation away from being solved. Unfortunately, we all know better.

Despite the growing attachment loving parents have to their kids (not perfect, obviously), there are still numerous issues and deep seated problems that are incredibly difficult to solve. Some people, and some parts of society, are just broken.

But, for a morning, I can witness a slice of life that gives hope for the years to come. If only we could all see and experience it.

It’s the tiniest of all.

That particular place and time
and space
where it all comes together
and leaves you in awe.

Who are we
but dust and ashes
to appreciate such a moment
when everything disappears
and all that’s left
is beauty.

That’s all I ever hope to see.

I don’t live near the ocean, nor does my backyard have a view of the mountains. At night, I can’t see the Northern Lights. However, despite living in one of the most scenic countries in the world and having a place that looks like any other, I have access to a view shared by everyone.

How often do we stop, even for a moment, to look up?

In our daily routines and morning rush, do we ever stop just to admire the great expanse overhead?

To feel like something bigger than ourselves?

To contemplate the gift of living on a beautiful blue dot in the vast cosmos?

To get lost in our thoughts while staring at the sky can give us a moment of freedom. It’s always there—we just have to look.

No big deal to answer this question. It’s only something we’ve been arguing about for thousands of years without any definite answer.

The problem with the question is the circumstance one finds themselves in. The Greeks were on the forefront of this question and had some great answers… if you overlook that their economy depended on
slavery. Which is probably what attracted so many people to Christianity; a very rigid and moral structure, but was open to all.

However, the precepts of that good life were dependent on a hope that Jesus would be returning soon. Within decades, not millennia.

Advertizing over the last hundred years suggested the good life can be commodified and bought. This led us all to chase a life we could never have, which sparked a backlash of people trying to find a new way.

Unfortunately, most get lost.

So how do we answer this question?

On an individual level, this is tough to answer because we’re currently facing some of the greatest problems we’ve ever had, with the issues being globally connected. The affects of the good life no longer stop at your own backyard, community or country.

In other words, this is no longer an individual question, but as individuals, we have the greatest influence on it.

That is, if we’re willing to work together.

And we actually know what we want.

Who we are is marked by so many external factors, that it can be difficult to determine what is really us. Every part of ourselves is subjected to societal expectations—every part but the last inch.

The last inch is that extra effort we put in when we feel we have nothing left.

The last inch is the dignity we keep when everything has been taken from us.

The last inch is who we are.

When there’s nothing left to give, nowhere to turn, and no way out, this last inch is the only place we go. And the tragedy is many of us go through our entire lives without knowing it exists…

and without ever knowing who we really are or what we’re really capable of.

Making decisions now for 10 or more years down the road is a tough pill to swallow, or follow through on. For one, progress will be slightly incremental and for the most part, invisible.

And results… well… don’t expect any soon.

Yet, it’s the long game that garners the exponential results. Amazon, for instance, ran at a loss for over a decade with the promise of a long-term gain. Try imagining life without them now.

Then consider the societal decisions (or lack thereof) made decades ago that we are feeling the full ramifications of today. To roll back the decisions of long-term thinking is incredibly difficult, if not impossible.

So, why such few long range thinkers?

I would guess it has to do with the discipline and focus required. You have to be willing to ignore a lot, commit to the goal while expecting nothing and endure a lot of hardships along the way.

It’s not very compelling.
Nor does it make for a good story.

But, the best and biggest changes happen with the long game. And right now, we could use a lot more people committed to that it because centuries of short term thinking have failed us.

It is filled to the brim with:

news,
reminders,
stories,
information,
projects
and sometimes a kernel of wisdom.

It is exhausting, barely understood and vital to our survival.

And now, it is being bombarded more than any other time in human history. To use our minds to their potential requires a double-edged sword of filling and focusing it.

The issue I run into is working through the mess.
Seeing through the clutter.

Stepping over random bits of information that sounded “cool” or may be useful one day. Writing things down certainly helps, but only if I remember to write down things as I remember them.

How do we guard ourselves against further clutter?

By recognizing the common trick of any demon:

being tempted away from what’s important.