The question underneath Homo Deus is whether liberalism can survive its own laboratory. Harari's argument, stated plainly: having reduced famine, plague, and war from acts of God to budget lines and logistics problems, humanity will turn next to immortality, happiness, and divinity, and the sciences it recruits to get there will take apart the belief in an indivisible inner self that the whole modern order rests on. That is a large claim. He spends roughly two hundred pages establishing his right to make it and the last hundred and fifty cashing it in.
The chapters I would defend hardest are not about the future at all. Harari's account of domestication as a catastrophe for the animals involved is precise and unsparing. He works through Harry Harlow's wire-mother experiments from the late 1950s to argue that mammals carry emotional needs no feeding schedule addresses, then turns that finding on the industry producing most of the meat on earth. The chapter on consciousness is better still, mostly because of what he refuses to do with it. He is careful about the limits of what brain imaging demonstrates and declines the easy move of announcing the mind solved.
The load-bearing idea arrives late, and Harari calls it the Great Decoupling. Intelligence and consciousness have always shipped together in human beings, and nothing guarantees they must stay that way. A system can drive better than you without experiencing the road. If markets pay for intelligence and have no particular use for consciousness, then a substantial class of people becomes economically superfluous while remaining fully awake inside their own lives. The American edition came out in February 2017, before most readers had a chatbot in their pocket, and those pages land very differently now than the surrounding futurism does. Harari is not the first person to make the observation and he shows little interest in the engineering behind it. What he does well is follow the consequence past the point where it stops being comfortable, into the question of what a society owes people it has stopped needing.
The book's weakness is structural, and readers name it constantly. The subtitle promises tomorrow. The first two-thirds deliver yesterday, a good deal of it retracing ground Sapiens already covered, and anyone who came for the forecast will pass through the humanist revolution and the history of organized religion before Harari reaches the point. He also has a habit of disclaiming prophecy and then constructing scenarios detailed enough to work as one. Dataism, the argument that information flow is becoming the supreme value and human beings its sensors, closes the book on exactly that note: an arresting proposition carried by rhetoric rather than by evidence.
Why you should read
- Great if Sapiens left you wanting the argument pushed forward
- Great if you want big-history sweep aimed at artificial intelligence
- Great if you enjoy being argued out of your own assumptions
- Great if the ethics of industrial farming interest you
What to expect
- Two-thirds history before any forecasting begins
- Clear confident prose with almost no jargon
- Sweeping claims carried by illustration more than citation
- 455 illustrated pages with the strongest material at the end
What survives is the set of questions he leaves standing at the end, and they are sharper than most of his answers. Are organisms in fact algorithms. Which is worth more, intelligence or consciousness. What happens to democratic politics when a system reads your preferences more reliably than you can. Harari is a stronger historian than forecaster, and this book works best where it turns the cold eye of Sapiens on the present rather than the middle distance. Four hundred and fifty-five pages is a great deal to spend on a maybe. The questions alone repay it.