Brendan Shea

In this article, I use science-fiction scenarios drawn from Dan Simmons’ “Hyperion Cantos” (Hyperion, The Fall of Hyperion, Endymion, The Rise of Endymion) to explore a cluster of issues related to the evolutionary history and neural bases of human moral cognition, and the moral desirability of improving our ability to make moral decisions by techniques of neuroengineering. I begin by sketching a picture of what recent research can teach us about the character of human moral psychology, with a particular emphasis on highlighting the importance of our evolutionary background as social mammals. I then consider how the moral psychology of intelligent machines might differ from our own, and argue that the differences would depend on the extent to which their evolutionary background resembled our own. I offer two very different case studies—the “Technocore AIs” that have evolved from early, parasitic computer programs, and the mysterious “Shrike,” who travels backward through time. I close by looking at the character of Aenea, a messianic figure that is a joint descendant of humans and machines. I argue that while the sort of “moral enhancement” she represents is far beyond the scope of either contemporary neuroscience or artificial intelligence research, it nevertheless represents a worthwhile goal.

Over the course of the Twilight series, Bella strives to and eventually succeeds in convincing Edward to turn her into a vampire. Her stated reason for this is that it will allow her to be with Edward forever. In this essay, I consider whether this type of immortality is something that would be good for Bella, or indeed for any of us. I begin by suggesting that Bella's own viewpoint is consonant with that of Leo Tolstoy, who contends that one could not have meaningful life without immortality, because only immortality could allow one to make a permanent difference in the world. I argue that this characterization of a meaningful life is problematic, however, insofar as (1) immortality is neither sufficient nor necessary for having such an impact and (2) there is little reason to think that having such an impact is constitutive of a meaningful life. I go on to consider Edward's fear that vampires lack a soul as it relates to Martha Nussbaum's claim that immortal beings would be less capable of certain paradigmatic human values and virtues such as courage, love, or self-sacrifice. I suggest, contra Nussbaum, that Carlisle provides an example of an immortal who displays recognizably human virtues. However, the possibility of Carlisle's being virtuous in this way depends on the existence of other creatures who are mortal. I close by considering the problem of boredom, as articulated by Bernard Williams. According to Williams, a meaningful human life is constituted by certain categorical desires such as the desire to raise children or to create art. The projects aimed at accomplishing these desires are necessarily finite in length, and cannot be repeated indefinitely without losing their value. I argue that many, though perhaps not all, of the immortals described in the series suffer from such boredom. For example, Edward and Rosalie struggle to find meaning in their lives and most werewolves choose to age and die normally after a certain time. Perhaps more significantly, many of the non-"vegetarian" vampires seem to have become entirely divorced from any recognizably human projects or values, and have become focused entirely on satisfying their immediate desires. These examples provide some reason to think that many of Bella's reasons for living, which are essentially tied to her mortality, are not likely to be met by becoming immortal. While this does not show that her choice to become a vampire will leave her ultimately unhappy, it does suggest that her doing so represents a considerable sacrifice.

Downton Abbey is, at its most basic, a story driven by intimate, romantic relationships: Mary and Matthew, Bates and Anna, Sybil and Branson, Lord and Lady Grantham, and many others. As viewers, we root for (or against) these characters as they fall in love, quarrel, break up, reconcile, have children, and deal with separation and death. But what do we get out of this? Is it merely an emotional “rush,” or is it something more meaningful? In this essay, I’ll attempt to answer this question by examining how the relationships portrayed in Downton Abbey might look to the characters of Plato’s Symposium, one of the first (and most famous) philosophical treatments of love. The residents of Downtown Abbey provide ideal models for exploring and critiquing the various “theories of love” offered by the Symposium’s characters. Thomas’s defense of James, for example, provides a great illustration of Phaedrus’s claim about the relationship between love and courage, while Mary’s early struggles illuminate Pausanias’s suggestion that “pure” love can be achieved only by following (well-designed) social rules. By contrast, Bates and Anna help give content to Aristophanes’ s idea that love involves finding your “missing half,” while Carson’s and Mrs. Hughes’ relationship exemplify the sort of “order” celebrated by Eryximachus. Edith, for her part, seems to have fallen for Agathon’s sophistical claim that romantic love can only truly be experienced by the young and beautiful. Finally, Socrates’s famous account of the “ladder of love” can be seen most vividly in the transformative relationship of Sybil and Bronson. Along the way, we’ll consider what is really meant by “Platonic love,” and consider what the characters of Downton Abbey can teach about this invaluable philosophical concept.