What Are We Enhancing?
Bostrom: Let me begin with a simple observation. Human beings have always used technology to enhance their capacities — writing extended memory, glasses corrected vision, antibiotics defeated pathogens that would have killed our ancestors. No one argues that glasses compromise the authentic human experience of seeing badly. The transhumanist project is not categorically different. It asks: why stop at glasses? If we can correct vision, why not enhance it beyond its natural range? If we can treat depression pharmacologically, why not pharmacologically cultivate sustained concentration or emotional resilience? The logic is continuous with the entire history of human self-improvement.
Vallor: The glasses analogy is the most seductive move in the transhumanist playbook, and it deserves careful scrutiny. Glasses correct a deficiency — they bring vision to the norm required for basic human functioning. They do not restructure the relationship between the person and the activity of seeing. What you describe — pharmacologically cultivating concentration, engineering emotional states — is different in kind. These are not corrections. They are redesigns. And the question is not whether the redesigned person is "better" by some metric. The question is whether the capacities being replaced were doing something the replacement cannot do: building the character that emerges from struggle, from limitation, from learning to pay attention when it is hard.
Bostrom: I recognise the concern about character — it is a serious one. But I think it rests on a romanticisation of limitation. Struggle is instrumentally valuable when it produces growth. When it merely produces suffering without growth, we call it disease and we treat it. The question is never "should we eliminate all struggle?" — obviously not. The question is which struggles are worth preserving and which are merely obstacles. A philosopher who loses a decade of creative work to treatment-resistant depression has not built character through that suffering. She has simply lost a decade. Enhancement that removes that obstacle is not a threat to human flourishing. It is human flourishing.
Vallor: I do not romanticise depression. But I want to push on who gets to define which struggles are "merely obstacles." The history of medicine is full of conditions that were once called diseases and are now called identities — and vice versa. ADHD medication improves test performance. It also changes the phenomenology of childhood. Grief, which pharmaceutical companies have periodically attempted to classify as a disorder, is a human response to loss that, when allowed its time, reorganises one's values and attachments in ways that sustained human bonds require. My concern is not that enhancement is always wrong. It is that we are making these decisions without a coherent account of what human flourishing actually is — and in the absence of that account, the market fills the gap.
Bostrom: Then we agree on the need for an account of flourishing. Where we disagree is on whether that account should constrain the range of enhancement available, or whether it should guide individual choice. I favour the latter. People have profoundly different conceptions of the good life, and a technology of enhancement that respects autonomy allows each person to pursue their own. Vallor's position, if I read it correctly, risks a kind of philosophical conservatism — defining human flourishing in terms of what present, unenhanced humans are capable of, and then using that definition to limit what future, enhanced persons might choose to become.