The first philosophical thought I remember having (we were living in the old house, so I would have been ten or a little under) had to do with solipsism. It suddenly occurred to me that though I was aware of my own thoughts and feelings, I had no access to the thoughts and feelings of others. How could I prove that they were the same as I was, had the same interiority? (Ten-year-old me wouldn’t have used that word, of course.) What if I was the only person like this?

I wouldn’t have used these words to express the feeling, of course, and as I wasn’t equipped to resolve this particular solipsistic worry, I don’t think I dwelt on it for long. The fact is that none of us can prove that others feel or think in the same way that we do. We can infer it by observing them, but that’s as far as that goes. This missing link affects how we view humanity and why we create art. I’ll get to the art later, but let’s talk about humanity first.

Because we have first-hand access only to our own thoughts and feelings, we have to grant others equal status to ourselves in our estimation. That’s done naturally enough with family and friends, who share so much with us, and even to others like us, but there are many who we may not think of enough to even consider it. And there are plenty of examples in the past, and sadly now, of whole populations being taught to think of “others” as lesser, unworthy, unwholesome, or simply not human at all.

I was brought up Roman Catholic, and repeated many times across the lives of Christ in the gospels is the insistence that everyone is worthy of the same consideration and care, no matter their age or origin. It’s not a sentiment that survived those who came after with their legions of “You see, what he really meant was” but it’s a good lesson to learn, and many have. Despite no longer holding to that or any faith, I imagine it’s where I got the idea from.

If I hold to one belief about humanity, it’s this: we are all unique, possessed of untold abilities, and here on this planet for a limited time. If there is any purpose to our existence, it’s has to be a purpose we create for ourselves. In the decades since that first philosophical thought, the only purpose that has ever made sense to me was ensuring that we and those we share a span of time and space with feel as much joy as possible during our time together. Joy being a catch-all word for fulfilment, pleasure, tranquility, what have you.

If I believe that, and I believe that all of humanity is deserving of the same respect, then I can’t exactly be happy at the current state of the world, can I? An ongoing slaughter in Palestine, of people who have been deliberately dehumanised for decades by both the occupying power doing the slaughtering and those who are supporting and funding their efforts. A seemingly worldwide effort to push fascism as a valid ideology; fascism of course being all about “othering” outgroups and favouring violence as a solution to all of life’s problems. All against the backdrop of market-driven capitalism winding itself into its planet-destroying death throes.

Because, yes, the quarterly profit figures won’t look so good when there’s no market left to admire them. The latest folly to cross the news is that Amazon and Microsoft are planning to buy their own nuclear power plants in order to meet the wild increase in power needed to fuel new “AI” services.

Now, there’s a conversation to be had about nuclear energy’s role in a sane energy policy. But this is not that conversation, nor is it anything approaching sane. I watched an episode of Chernobyl before setting off on my current holiday, and as bad as Soviet employment practices might be, I shudder to contemplate Amazon management getting their hands on some control rods.

They’d probably let an AI manager run it anyway. That’s the point of all this. Not to provide better services to customers but to remove all human expense, to remove as entirely as possible all jobs that lie below the executive line. Perhaps AI Wrangler might remain as an entry level post in some businesses.

This is why, when the first inklings of AI burst upon the public consciousness, it did so in the form of “AI art.” Nothing is quite so indicative of humanity, of what we might call a soul, as art. Art is, after all, an effort to communicate the secrets of one heart so that another can understand it. If this AI could make art, didn’t that mean there was something at its heart? Didn’t that elevate it in worth?

Well, no and no. “AI” doesn’t understand its “art.” It’s not trying to communicate anything. It’s taking whatever instructions it’s given and matching them against the actual art it was trained on, then tossing out a guess of what the instructor wants. That’s why it’ll throw out multiple guesses, never the same twice. It’s why any factual accuracy in AI-generated text is the result of refined guessing, not innate knowledge.

AI is only half accurate. It’s certainly artificial, but it’s not intelligent by any useful meaning of that word. It’s a well-trained parrot, regurgitating phrases it doesn’t understand. The Large Language Models currently being passed as AI may have massive potential as productivity tools. But so did capitalism, and we made the mistake of letting that run everything too.

These days, I’ll gladly grant any other human being the same interiority and worth as myself. It feels to me like the best way to live. I don’t have to do that to what’s being sold to us as AI. Perhaps I will, someday. I hope we all live that long.

Health Update

This is the fourth of these thirteen-monthly updates that I’ve provided. Once again, despite the nature of my initial diagnosis, I hit this arbitrary celebration in good shape. As I type this, I’m passing through a Pyreneean tunnel on a bus from Barcelona to Andorra. The first lengthy solo trip I’ve been on since I went to Chile to see an eclipse in 2019.

Covid had more to do with that hiatus than ill health, but I will admit to some trepidation. I’m not as fit as I was in 2019, and the medications I take require an extra regime of care. The cancer, thankfully, remains as quiescent as it’s been since the last update, but the new medication I shifted to in January 2023 did a number on my thyroid, resulting in swollen feet and sweating.

Medication for the thyroid has brought both under control, but dialing in the dose is a tricky matter, and it’s an issue that has to be observed over the long term. I worry a bit about my physical capability being slowly whittled away over time, but I’m still up for a day of tramping around Barcelona (with a siesta) and I’m looking forward to the cooler climes of Andorra and the walls of Carcassonne.

So as we descend toward La Seu d’Urgell, I’ll just say that I’m happy to be in good health and good spirits. I’m glad I still get to travel this way and enjoy a job that my younger self would have dreamed of. I’m less glad to be living in a world that has horrors like the Gaza Genocide and the prospect of Trump II in it, but we can work against those things. In fact, I think we have to.