So you might wonder about the meaning of the term evolution.

Since the term evolution is abstract, it’s definition will be abstract: a process is evolutionary if and only if it increases complexity. Generally, this means that the complexity of the most complex things is increasing. Less complex things may still exist. This means that evolutionary processes build stratified layers of complexity – they build complexity hierarchies. Of course, the weight is now on the term complexity. And, fortunately, there are explicit ways to cash that out. Different types of evolution will obviously use different complexity metrics (and that, indeed, is exactly what makes them different types of evolution).

Within biological evolution, the arrow of complexity hypothesis states that: “the complex functional organization of the most complex products of open-ended evolutionary systems has a general tendency to increase with time.” (Bedau, 1998: 145) And biological evolution does support various arrows of complexity. You might say this is Kantian purposiveness without purpose. But it would be distracting to get into that. On to the metrics:

Bower says that the complexity of an organism is the number of distinct cell types it contains (1988: 101). He argues that evolution tends to increase the complexity of the most complex (species of) organisms. Adami et al. (2000) equate the complexity of organisms with the complexity of their genomes; they define the complexity of a genome to be the amount of information it encodes about the environment in which it has evolved. Generally speaking, this genomic complexity has always been steadily increasing.

Within chemistry, one might simply define the complexity of an element to be its number of protons. Within molecules, more structural definitions can be used. Over time, ever more complex elements have progressively appeared in our universe. Thus the complexity of the most complex elements has been increasing.

At the most general level, Chaisson says that the complexity of a system is “the rate at which free energy transits a complex system of given mass”; it is “the free energy rate density, alternatively called the specific free energy rate, expressed in units of energy per time per mass” (2001: 134). Chaisson shows – with impressive clarity – how the complexity of the most complex things have been steadily increasing.

Another way to look at physical complexity is to use Dennett’s levels (1991). He distinguishes between the physical, design, and intentional levels. The history of our universe started with just the physical level; design levels emerged (chemical and biological); and then intentional levels emerged (psychological, social). Dennett has also applies his levels to other types of universes like cellular automata. And, close to Dennett’s ideas, I’ll give a shout out to Jaker op Akkerhuis’s operator hierarchy (2008). (Though I admit I find Akkerhuis very hard to understand.)

One very general measure of complexity (and probably the best) is Bennett’s notion that complexity is logical depth (1988). The complexity of a structure is the amount of computational work required to generate the structure. This can be measured formally in terms of the run times of programs that generate the structures. For cosmological evolution, something like logical depth is a good measure. The process atheist says that cosmological evolution is increasing the logical depth of universes.

It’s interesting to note that logical depth maps very closely onto Leibniz’s notion of perfection. (And Leibniz, remarkably, even offered his analysis of perfection in terms of binary strings! I love Leibniz!) Leibniz offers a quantitative analysis of perfection: he says perfection is quantity of essence (1697: 86). Leibniz often says that perfection has two dimensions: it is a product of variety and order (Monadology, sec. 58; Theodicy, sec. 207; Discourse on Metaphysics sec. 6). Order is like algorithmic regularity and variety is like algorithmic randomness. Hence Leibniz’s concept of perfection is like logical depth.

Once we get out into the infinite, more powerful measures are needed. Kyburg (1961: 392-393) says that the complexity of a theory is measured by the number of quantifiers in the shortest version of the theory. Another and probably better approach is to use something like the Kleene-Mostowski hierarchy. Given any axiom system (any theory), expressed in the predicate calculus in prenex normal form, the complexity of the theory is the number of alternating blocks of the same type of quantifier. Thus the complexity of a universe is the complexity of the simplest theory of which the universe is a model. The process atheist says that this (or some similar) metric of complexity is steadily increasing as structures are produced one after another by metaphysical evolution.

Adami, C., Ofria, C. & Collier, T. (2000) Evolution of biological complexity. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences 97 (9), 4463 – 4468.

Bedau, M. (1998) Philosophical content and method of artificial life. In T. Bynum & J. Moor (Eds.) (1998) The Digital Phoenix: How Computers are Changing Philosophy. Malden, MA: Basil Blackwell, 135-152.

Bennett, C. (1988) Logical depth and physical complexity. In Herken, R. (1988) The Universal Turing Machine: A Half-Century Survey. New York: Oxford University Press, 227-257.

Bower, J. (1988) The Evolution of Complexity by Means of Natural Selection. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press.

Chaisson, E. (2001) Cosmic Evolution: The Rise of Complexity in Nature. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

Dennett, D. (1991) Real patterns. Journal of Philosophy, 27-51.

Jagers op Akkerhuis, G. (2008) Analysing hierarchy in the organization of biological and physical systems. Biological Reviews 83, 1-12.

Kyburg, H. (1961) A modest proposal concerning simplicity. The Philosophical Review 70 (3), 390-395.

Leibniz, G. W. (1697/1988) On the ultimate origination of the universe. In P. Schrecker & A. Schrecker (1988) Leibniz: Monadology and Other Essays. New York: Macmillan Publishing, 84-94.

Process atheism is a positive and optimistic philosophy. One of the main points of process atheism is that many people would stop being theists if they could believe that atheism had something positive to offer. To many people, atheism just seems nasty and negative. But a process atheism sees value and meaning in evolution. Every type of evolution is an optimization algorithm of some type – it is an algorithm for hill-climbing in some landscape of possibilities.

There are many different types and levels of evolution. And there are all sorts of ways that evolution does a better job of answering questions once answered by God. Here are some informal presentations of a few types of evolution:

1. Biological Evolution – Theists say that God designed life on earth. Process atheists say, instead, that some sort of entirely Godless evolution by natural selection generated all life on earth. Of course, reality is much bigger and deeper than the biology of earth; and evolution by natural selection is not the only type of evolution. There are other types. And it’s worth noting that evolution by natural selection is far from simply being blind and purposeless. It’s climbing all sorts of ladders of value. It’s progressive in many different ways. It has produced all sorts of beautiful structures and systems. People who call themselves religious naturalists say they find deep emotional and aesthetic satisfaction in the evolution of life on earth. They regard it as a religiously meaningful process. And many of them are non-theists. Process atheists can agree with non-theistic religious naturalists.

2. Moral Evolution – Theists often say that morality depends on God. Or at least the objectivity of morality depends on God. Process atheists counter that evolution can explain not just the natural history of morality (e.g. through the evolution of altruism), but also the objectivity of morality. Writers like Cambpell, Collier & Stingl, and Harms have done interesting work on how evolution can make ethics objective.

3. Physical Evolution – Theists often point to God as the source of all the order and complexity within the universe. But process atheists disagree. Older writers like Herbert Spencer in the 19th century already argued that evolution (though not by natural selection) is the source of all order in the universe. More recent writers like Chaisson argue that evolution in a general sense is the source of all order and complexity in the universe. Biological evolution is just one type of this more general evolution. Here on earth, biological evolution is the result of the principles of self-organization in an open system far from thermal equilibrium. For Chaisson, very deep physical features of our universe entail that complexity tends to increase everywhere at all levels, at least for a very long time.

4. Cosmological Evolution – Theists often say that God is needed to explain the deep physical features of our universe. This is the theistic conclusion of the fine-tuning version of the design argument. And even if everything in our universe is evolving, theists say that it evolves because God designed it that way. But process atheists say that the deep features of our universe are themselves the products of evolution. Cosmologists like Smolin have developed various theories of cosmological evolution. Those theories do not involve natural selection. Process atheists can use those theories. And process atheists can find meaning and value in cosmological evolution. Cosmological evolution is sublime, awe-inspiring, and its mathematical depths are formally beautiful. It is progressive in many ways and climbs many ladders of value and significance.

5. Metaphysical Evolution – Theists often say that God is the ultimate explanation for everything. Even if evolution generates all the concrete contingent things, God answers all the ultimate questions. Why is there something rather than nothing? Theists say the answer is found in God. Process atheists reply that evolution provides better answers to ultimate questions. Although Leibniz was (or at least appeared to be) a theist, he sometimes gives surprisingly atheistic answers to ultimate questions. His theory of the striving possibles can be interpreted as an atheistic and purely evolutionary explanation for why there are any concrete contingent things rather than none, and for why the system of concrete universes is the way it is. These ideas are sometimes taken up in the work of axiarchists like John Leslie and Nicholas Rescher. Process atheists can work out evolutionary metaphysics similar to these Leibnizian or axiarchic theories.

At the deepest level, a process atheist might say that the totality of concrete contingent things is generated by evolution by rational selection. Purely logical principles like the principle of sufficient reason and the principle of plenitude drive evolution by rational selection. Process atheists can find the deepest meanings and values in metaphysical evolution. It is ultimate, necessary, eternal, and infinite. It is the ground of all concreteness. It is rational and mathematically beautiful. It may even be possible to use evolution by rational selection to derive a soteriology – even a theory of life after death. If so, then evolution can serve as a better foundation for hope than theism. It can be more emotionally satisfying.

Obviously, I’ve only provided a very superficial outline of process atheism here. Every point I’ve made can be rigorously developed and defended (with as much academic precision as you want). My main point is that process atheism is a positive and optimistic atheistic philosophy.

Campbell, R. (1996) Can biology make ethics objective? Biology and Philosophy 11, 21-31.

Chaisson, E. (2001) Cosmic Evolution: The Rise of Complexity in Nature. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

Collier, J. & Stingl, M. (1993) Evolutionary naturalism and the objectivity of morality. Biology and Philosophy 8, 43-50.

Harms, W. (2000) Adaptation and moral realism. Biology and Philosophy 15, 699-712.

Leibniz, G. W. (1697/1988) On the ultimate origination of the universe. In P. Schrecker & A. Schrecker (1988) Leibniz: Monadology and Other Essays. New York: Macmillan Publishing, 84-94.

Leslie, J. (1970) The theory that the world exists because it should. American Philosophical Quarterly 7 (4), 286-298.

Leslie, J. (1989) Universes. New York: Routledge.

Leslie, J. (2001) Infinite Minds: A Philosophical Cosmology. New York: Oxford.

Leslie, J. (2007) Immortality Defended. Malden, MA: Blackwell.

Rescher, N. (1984) The Riddle of Existence: An Essay in Idealistic Metaphysics. New York: University Press of America.

Rescher, N. (2000) Optimalism and axiological metaphysics. The Review of Metaphysics 53 (4), 807-835.

Smolin, L. (1992) Did the universe evolve? Classical and Quantum Gravity 9, 173-191.

Smolin, L. (1997) The Life of the Cosmos. New York: Oxford University Press.

Spencer, H. (1862) First Principles. London: Williams & Norgate.

According to this argument, our universe is generated by a process of super-cosmic evolution. Super-cosmic evolution starts with some initial universe. This universe exists necessarily and does not depend on anything else for its existence. The initial universe produces some more complex and congenial versions of itself. Once started, this process of universe-evolution is self-sustaining and self-amplifying. Each universe in any generation produces some more complex and more congenial successor universes. These successor universes populate the next generation of universes. The result is a series of generations of universes. Here’s the rule: for every universe, for every way to make that universe more complex and congenial, there exists a successor universe that is more complex and congenial in that way. From generation to generation, the successor relation defines a growing tree of universes. As the tree grows, the universes in the tree become more complex and congenial. Eventually, our universe appears.

To avoid misunderstandings, it’s worth pointing out that this evolutionary metaphysics is not Darwinian. Universes are not organisms that make babies either asexually or sexually. There is no struggle for survival, no survival of the fittest. And, given the long pre-Darwinian history of the term “evolution”, it’s fair to use that term.

This evolutionary metaphysics posits lots of universes (lots of “cosmoi”) that come both before and after our universe. So, if this evolutionary story is true, and if the term “Cosmos” refers to our universe, then Sagan’s statement that “The Cosmos is all that is and ever was and ever will be” is false. But that’s not very relevant.

This evolutionary metaphysics is obviously highly speculative. But a Dictionary Atheist shouldn’t have a problem with that. All the Dictionary Atheist cares about is that the story doesn’t involve God. And this evolutionary metaphysics is utterly God-free. You can easily raise lots of objections to this evolutionary metaphysics. But none of those objections will flow from atheism. For atheists who don’t like this evolutionary metaphysics, the challenge is to come up with a better story (which, obviously, must explain the complexity and congeniality of our universe). Go for it.

Sagan’s Grand Slogan isn’t scientific by any standard. His statement about the Cosmos certainly isn’t empirically testable. There is no possible experiment that could either confirm it or disconfirm it. It isn’t even a hypothesis derived from observable evidence. Obviously, nobody went outside of our universe, took a look around, and saw that there isn’t anything else.

The temporality of the Grand Slogan makes it doubly faith-based: How does Sagan know that there was nothing before the Cosmos and that there will be nothing after the Cosmos? Or that time is endless both into the past and the future? He doesn’t know. And there aren’t even any ways to scientifically test those claims about the past or future.

So the Grand Slogan is just a statement of atheistic faith.

And it’s even worse: the Grand Slogan is a statement of faith that is masquerading as science. It’s atheistic pseudo-science just like intelligent design is Christian pseudo-science. Or, perhaps more accurately, it’s scientism.

More charitably, the Grand Slogan is a speculative metaphysical thesis. And there are going to be arguments for it and against it. I love metaphysics; I’m happy if scientists and atheists want to do it. I’d love to discuss all the arguments and counter-arguments. But to present metaphysics as if it were science is at best bad reasoning and at worst deceptive. And atheists do it all the time.

Sagan, C. (1980) Cosmos. New York: Random House.

It’s hard for me to understand why that slogan would be a matter of faith. The fact that some thesis is speculative or metaphysical doesn’t entail that it’s a matter of faith. I affirm the existence of the entire iterative hierarchy of pure sets – the entire system of purely abstract Platonic mathematical objects. I believe that system exists because of arguments based on evidence, such as the Indispensability Argument, as well as a variety of other arguments. Those arguments are not without controversy. They may well be wrong. But surely my belief in the system of mathematical objects is not faith.

The best that any of us can do is to go with the stronger arguments. Those arguments are often inductive and thus highly speculative. Science is speculative. It would be hard to find any theories more speculative than our very best current physical theories. Does that mean that physics is based on faith? Surely not. Science goes with the stronger arguments. And it goes with the stronger arguments even when those arguments lead to contradictions – like the contradictions between quantum mechanics and the relativity theories.

An evolutionary metaphysics, justified by arguments grounded in evidence, is not faith. It’s going with the stronger argument. Of course, it isn’t certain, and it may well be wrong. But that hardly makes it a matter of faith. I’ll stand by my claim: every question that used to be answered by appealing to God can be answered better by appealing to some form of evolution. And I’ll also stand by the claim that at the present time the very strongest arguments are arguments for evolutionary metaphysics.

To be sure, evolutionary metaphysics need not be Darwinian. It need not be some sort of blind random struggle for survival. Evolutionary metaphysics is not a branch of biology. Darwinian evolution is merely one rather local form of evolution. It’s just plain silly to equate all forms of evolution with Darwinism. There are many varieties of evolution. At the deepest levels, evolution might be entirely purposive and progressive.

And why would an evolutionary metaphysics have any trouble at all with an ultimate original object? One can easily run a modal cosmological argument (that is, the Third Way) to the following conclusion: there necessarily exists an ultimate independent utterly simple object from which all other objects evolved. The only problem with the modal cosmological argument is the conclusion that the ultimate object is God. It isn’t. But what is it? Perhaps it’s the empty universe – the mereological zero.

But perhaps the deeper worry is that, even if evolutionary metaphysics is a matter of rigorous abstruse logic for analytic philosophers like me, it will just look like another dumb-ass religion to the average person. Especially to those Crazy Christian Conservatives. And then we atheists will have lost the epistemic high ground. Alas, it’s hard to take that worry seriously.

Popular atheism in America celebrates versions of naturalism, materialism, empiricism, and so on, that are often based on weak arguments or even on no arguments at all. Popular atheism in America is already faith – and I’m sympathetic to the Christians who refer to it as such. Unfortunately, popular atheism is often just as scientifically illiterate and closed-minded as the worst Christianity. I love it when an atheist tells me that our universe is all that exists. I like to ask: How do you know? What’s your argument? And I have yet to meet a single atheist who can answer those questions.

Culturally, atheism is a way station on the way from one religion to another. Atheism in the West is a sign that Christianity is being replaced by other religions. It isn’t a sign that religion is ending. It’s perfectly fine with me if new religions emerge (or if older Western religions come back to life). Atheism means I don’t believe in the theistic deity, which means that I’m not a Christian theist. It doesn’t mean that I’m not religious or even that I’m not Christian. I often identify as a Christian atheist – that is, as an especially intense type of protest-ant against American Christianity. It is an identity I highly recommend, precisely because its paradoxicality forces people to think.

One of the new religious movements is known as religious naturalism. Perhaps it’s just another earth-centered spirituality. Or, in its more metaphysical forms, it’s a type of religiosity focused on the glory of the cosmos. Most religious naturalists adherents are highly scientific. Many religious naturalists are non-theists. But they are also value the social, emotional, and aesthetic aspects of life. I note that even Dawkins, in the opening chapters of The God Delusion, endorses something like religious naturalism.

Some sort of neo-paganism is probably the religious future of the West. It certainly won’t be Christian, it may not even be theistic. And, someday, the religious belief in personal gods will probably be replaced by other religious beliefs. Maybe the future of American religion is already unfolding at Burning Man. Maybe the future of religion will be centered around playing The Glass Bead Game. Or giving tiny ornate gifts to strangers. Or factoring numbers into their primes. Religious intuitions change. The future of religion is probably as incomprehensible to us as a computer would be to a Medieval peasant. And I’ll be happy if future religion is more ethically and cognitively positive. If it’s indeed true that most people need religion, then I’d prefer that they have some non-theistic religion. I’d prefer that they have a religion in which there is no supreme fascist.

This guy Michael Dowd is an evangelist for evolution. One of the things he does is show kids how to make necklaces with “evolution beads”. If anything surpasses and replaces Christianity, I’ll bet it’ll be something like his evolutionary spirituality. And it’ll probably be non-theistic. Would that be bad? Why? Should atheists oppose it? Why?

Suppose somebody (perhaps a theist) tells you that God designed and created the universe. The theist runs the good old Kalam Cosmological Argument: she acknowledges that the big bang was the first event in our universe and asserts that God is the cause of the big bang. You reply that we don’t know how the universe came into existence. We just don’t know the explanation for the big bang, or for the fine tuning of the laws of physics, etcetera. Since any theory that explains the existence and structure of our universe is speculative, you deny it. You just say that we don’t know. We may never know. And, since we don’t know, you say that we shouldn’t speculate.

Well, how will we ever know if we don’t speculate? You’ve got to propose theories before you can test them. The failure to speculate destroys the very root of science. And, when you keep silent, you’re endorsing the position that the topic is mysterious. For instance, by refusing to endorse any speculative explanation for the universe, you’re saying that the existence of the universe is mysterious. But with that, you’ve handed the whole topic over to the religious mystery-mongers. Right! God is the mystery behind all mysteries.

The only way to avoid mystery-mongering is to offer a rationally grounded speculative theory. You can’t know that it’s true. But you can give reasons, you can give arguments, you can provide evidence. Even skeptics are rationally obligated to believe the very best theories available – even if they don’t meet the standards of our best science. If scientific theories are not available, then speculation is necessary. If scientific theories are not available to answer some question, then it’s wrong and it’s harmful to refuse to provide the best possible speculative answer.

The task for the atheist is not to refuse to think; the task is to think better than the theist. The task is to formulate atheistic theories that are superior to theistic theories. Of course, they need to be evaluated, and replaced with better theories as soon as possible.

I don’t know whether some sort of cosmic evolution explains the existence and structure of our universe. But I do know that it’s a better theory than the theistic theory that God said “Let there be light!”. If you’ve got an even better theory, great, let’s hear it. Failure to adopt any theory is to allow the weaker theories to win the hearts and minds of people who would rather have some answer than no answer. And that’s most people.

Every question that used to be answered by appealing to God can be answered by appealing to some form of evolution.

I doubt that any theists would agree with that statement. And it’s worth stressing that biological evolution by natural selection is only one form of evolution. Obviously, some theists believe more or less in biological evolution by natural selection. But so what. As theists, they aren’t going to believe that every question that used to be answered by appealing to God can be answered by appealing to some form of evolution. That’s exactly the point that distinguishes evolutionary atheists from evolutionary theists.

An evolutionary atheist needs to posit all sorts of forms of evolution that are deeper than mere biological evolution. Biological evolution doesn’t answer any deeper questions about the structure or existence of the universe. It doesn’t tell you why the universe has the form that it has (why it has the laws it has, why its parameters are finely tuned in ways that allow life to emerge, etc.). And it doesn’t tell you why there is any universe at all. To answer questions about the universe, you’ll need to appeal to deeper forms of evolution. And cosmologists have discussed many deeper forms of evolution.

Evolutionary atheism is positive. It has content. It addresses the common complaint that the term atheism is highly negative. Of course, atheists do have beliefs (obviously, the belief that there is no God). But the content of that belief is negative. If you learn that somebody is an atheist, you don’t learn anything about their positive commitments. Atheism is always a derivative position. Perhaps it is derived from some positive doctrine (like materialism or Buddhism or religious naturalism or whatever). Or perhaps it is derived from mere reaction.

Some atheists may revel in being reactive and in arousing reactions – they may enjoy being provocative. I once went to an atheist meeting where everybody was mainly there just to be hostile towards religion (by which they pretty much all seemed to mean the conservative Christianity of the American religious right). I don’t see how hostility is ever helpful. I dislike hostility from atheists as much as I dislike it from religious fundamentalists. I have no interest in participating in a group whose primary purpose is the hatred of some other group. I’d prefer to build positive bridges and to expand the rational community of hope.

I suggested that atheists might better refer to themselves as “evolvers”. It’s a more positive word with genuine content. Some atheists might think this is trivial: why add another name? Who cares about mere labels? After all, look at what happened when some atheists tried to refer to themselves as “brights”. Nothing happened. Well, I’d say that’s because the term “brights” has no content whatsoever. But the term “evolvers” does. That said, I have little interest in pushing for some name. I’m advocating a proposition: every question that used to be answered by appealing to God can be answered by appealing to some form of evolution.

The thesis that singularitarianism is a religion yields a testable prediction: singularitarianism will develop along one of these paths. The social course of singularitarianism can be studied (and is being studied) using well-established methods in the sociology of religion.

The thesis that singularitarianism is a religion entails that observable variables are correlated with probabilities of future development.

First example: if singularitarians isolate themselves into their own networks (refusing to participate in trust-networks by using conventional methods to establish legitimacy or credibility), then singularitarianism is more likely to be going down the negative path; if singularitarians engage conventional trust-networks, seeking legitimacy through standard channels, then singularitarianism is more likely to be going down the positive path.

Second example: if singularitarianism focuses more on highly charismatic personalities rather than on impersonal research projects, then it is more likely to go down the negative path; otherwise, it is more likely to go down the positive path.

Anyone familiar with the literature on millenarian movements will easily make a large number of other predictions.

My own hope is that singularitarianism develops along the positive path. I think it would be good to have a religion of reason.

The singularity as religion might not be an entirely bad thing. Religion can be a positive force in many ways. At the very least, singularitarianism would be an interesting new type of religious engagement.

I’m going to explain why I think the singularity is a religion. I’ll do this by replying to ten reasons I’ve seen on the Internet on why the singularity can’t be a religion:

(1) The singularity isn’t Christian or Abrahamic. My reply is that lots of religions aren’t Christian or Abrahamic. I claim that the singularity is a new religious movement – it need not look like Christianity or any Abrahamic religion. To scholars of religion, it pretty clearly does incorporate many elements of Christianity. Nevertheless, I think the singularity is a fairly novel form of religious participation. It often looks to me like a kind of animism in which technology (especially computers) is the locus of the sacred.

(2) The singularity is atheistic. My reply is that religion can be atheistic. I take it that atheism is denial of theism – which mainly means denial of the Abrahamic God. There are many ways to be religious without believing in God (here one thinks of Neoplatonism, some forms of liberal Protestantism, Buddhism, Jainism, Confucianism, Taoism, and a host of smaller movements). So the fact that most singularitarians say they don’t believe in “God” doesn’t mean that they aren’t building a new religious movement. Indeed, I think singularitarians are often reviving old Neoplatonic ideas. The Super-AGI looks lots and lots like the Plotinian Nous. And there’s an old tradition of Western animism that seems to be re-activated in much singularitarian writing: the material becomes infused with spirit; dead matter wakes up and turns into mind-stuff, into pure computronium.

(3) The singularity isn’t about anthropomorphic projection – it doesn’t posit a human-like deity. My reply is that deities obviously don’t have to be human-like. The Neoplatonic One is a totally abstract entity with no mind or personality whatsoever. Of course, my reply is tempered by the fact that many singularity activists portray the Super-AGI of the future as a mind built initially by humans. So the Super-AGI may be human-like. Or the divine for singularitarians could just be pure abstract rationality. It’s possible to worship pure reason – especially if it has an incarnation as a concrete entity, namely, the Super-AGI.

(4) The singularity doesn’t posit the appearance of a god of any kind. My reply is that no matter how secular or profane the singularitarians say they are, the singularity is the locus of an ambivalent holiness (in the sense of Rudolph Otto). The singularity is numinous. The Super-AGI of the future may not be a god in the Abrahamic sense; but it is divine nonetheless. It will be full of super-love for us or full of super-wrath. It will be an extreme good (ushering in the new golden age) or an extreme evil (destroying the human race). The singularity (or the Super-AGI) offers damnation or salvation. It’s interesting to note how many singularitarians seem to think that the singularity promises personal immortality (or even the resurrection of the dead). The Time Magazine cover says it all: “2045: The Year Man Becomes Immortal”.

(5) The singularity isn’t the second coming of Christ. My reply is that singularitarianism very closely fits the pattern of millenarian or apocalyptic movements. The Great Event has been interpreted as the return of Christ, as the landing of the UFOs, as the Mayan apocalypse, the emergence of the Great Computer. It will, in any case, be a radical break; it will be the ending of profane history and the beginning of sacred history. The appearance of the Super-AGI will be the breaking apart of secular history. I love it when singularity activists talk about “event horizons” beyond which we cannot see.

(6) The singularity is based on rationality rather than faith. My reply is that reason and faith are not opposites. One sense of faith is that it is belief in things unseen – in things to which we have no empirical access. It may be highly rational to believe in such things. A Platonist may have an entirely reasonable faith in the existence of purely mathematical objects. Or a modal realist may have an entirely reasonable faith in the existence of other possible universes. For older writers like Kant and Hegel, reason goes very far beyond the empirical structure of the universe. Or perhaps to be rational is merely to engage in logical symbol-manipulation. If that’s right, then Anselm’s ontological argument is a wonderful piece of pure reason. The Five Ways of Aquinas are rational. The very impressive work of Alvin Plantinga on modal ontological arguments is extremely rational. And it’s worth noting that Auguste Comte tried to develop a religion of reason.

(7) The singularity is based on science rather than superstition. My reply is that much of what I read about the singularity goes so far beyond any scientific data or present technical achievement that it looks very unscientific. Perhaps someday there will be an artificial general intelligence that far outperforms humans. But plenty of scientists and engineers seem highly skeptical about the grandiose claims of singularitarians. Are any of the claims of the singularitarians empirically testable? Verifiable or falsifiable? Only in some indefinite future. This is what John Hick called eschatological verification. But that’s not science at all. An interesting point here is that many singularitarians don’t seem to be interested in scientific research – such as writing papers for peer-reviewed journals. There is no such thing as the singularitarian research program in any standard academic or commercial sense. It looks like what Feynman called “cargo cult science”. And singularity activists have their own version of Pascal’s Wager. The singularity is so overwhelmingly transformative that even if it has a teeny-tiny chance of happening, the reward or punishment for us will be extremely great. It’s so easy to see! You just have to write out an expected utility equation.

(8) The singularity is naturalistic but religious involve the supernatural. My reply is that religion can be naturalistic. There’s even an interesting movement called religious naturalism. The singularity is a kind of religious technologism. Technology is the locus of the holy or the sacred. Here I’m thinking of Durkheim and Eliade. Of course, this reply is tempered by the fact that, for singularitarians, the Super-AGI of the future often does seem to have supernatural powers, even if it is made of some kind of matter.

(9) The singularity will be human-made, not made by some deity. My reply is that there is a large part of religion that says that humans have to do the bootstrapping for the kingdom of heaven. The Old Testament has elaborate instructions for the construction of various technologies: the Ark of the Covenant, the Tabernacle, the Temples. Only if these are built in exactly the right way will God appear and live among the people. Singularitarians of a certain sort say that after we build the first AGI, it will become recursively self-improving. This fits the pattern: we do the basic gruntwork that shows that we’re holy enough to receive the blessing; then the divine appears and takes over.

(10) The singularity doesn’t have the appearance of a conventional religion – it has no rituals, no clergy, no scriptures, no churches. My reply is that it does indeed have all these things – they are all slowly taking shape. Some singularity groups look more like churches than like scientific research foundations, political think-tanks, or business enterprises. After all, they’re not doing experiments, writing peer-reviewed research, trying to influence legislation, developing products or services. For scriptures, well, the big names are pretty obvious. As far as I can see, there does seem to be a kind of ecclesiastical society forming around the singularity. There are singularity “activists” and “evangelists”. Some singularity activists are highly charismatic personalities. Much of what singularitarians do is make claims about the future that look more like prophecies than like empirically grounded extrapolations. It’s not clear that religion needs rituals. Still, I can easily see the day when the singularitarians develop explicit liturgies and ceremonies. Perhaps they will incorporate as a religious organization to gain various legal benefits. Your kids might get married by a singularitarian celebrant or you might have a singularitarian funeral. Here again Comte comes to mind – he worked out some liturgical structures for his positive religion, including catechism, saints, a religious calendar, etc. It would be a short step to move from a religion of humanity to a religion of super-human reason.

I’ve listed ten reasons why I think singularitarianism is a new religious movement. I might add that I think Clifford Geertz had a pretty nice (though very abstract) definition of religion. And I think singularitarianism fits Geertz’s definition (but that’s for another time).

My main interest is this: if singularitarianism is a new religious movement, then what should we make of it? Will it mainly be a good thing? A kind of enlightenment religion? It might be an excellent alternative to old-fashioned Abrahamic religion. Or would it degenerate into the well-known tragic pattern of coercive authority? Time will tell; but I think it’s worth thinking about this in much more detail.