Dangerous replicators could easily be too tough, small,
and rapidly spreading to stop - at least if we make no
preparation. We have trouble enough controlling viruses
and fruit flies.1
Behold a human. There he is, readying himself for
death. He does not know that he is readying himself, but
what else is life if not dying a bit more each day? We say that
we are living a life but it would be more precise to say that
we are dying one. Every day, our bodies work less well, or
we are pulled out of existence abruptly: in both cases, this
life of ours seeps out of us into the cosmos, polluting its
fabric, embroidering bits of us into the universe. Of course,
we do not think about this very often. The low hum of panic
- the anxiety of dying a life - is the background of our days,
accepted peacefully at the level of abstract reasoning but
greeted with panic by our bodies, which cannot forever
repress
1
the
sensation
of
their
own
disintegration.
Eric K. Drexler. "Engines of Creation: The Coming Era of Nanotechnology." Anchor Book, 1986.
Subconscious fear is processed passively in the body as a
host of mystifying symptoms: rashes, illnesses, pains,
cramps, aches. It is also processed actively as reproduction:
making copies of ourselves as a practice of partial
immortality.
“What does the fish think when he is jerked up by the
mouth through the silver limits of existence and into a new
universe where the air drowns him and the light is blue
madness?”2 The fish thinks: extinction, tornado, eternal life,
end of the world, heaven, hell, alien abduction, nuclear war.
The number of eschatologial scenarios created by human
civilisations from time immemorial to now would take days
to list.3 These scenarios are a marvel of biology: we are a
species that evolved to think not only of our individual
demise, but the end of life itself, or the end of the very
substance of the universe. Nanotechnological existential risk
scenarios
concerning
tiny
self-replicating
machines
Stephen King. The Dark Tower I: The Gunslinger. Vol. 1. Simon and Schuster, 2017.
Bogna Konior. "Apocalypse Memes for the Anthropocene God: Mediating Crisis and the Memetic Body
Politic."Post-Memes: Seizing the Memes of Production, ed. Bown and Bristow. Punctum Press, 2019, 45 76.
2
3
consuming the Earth's ecosystem lie somewhere between
science-fiction, scientific hypothesis, tech gossip, and policy
recommendation. Now disproved, they speculate that
nanotechnological
molecules
could
exponentially
self-replicate until they consume all biomass on Earth, a
scenario known as “ecophagy,” the act of consuming the
environment wholesale, like a Titan in ancient Greek
mythology. Indeed, paleontologist Peter Ward coined the
“Medea Hypothesis” to describe a theory of life on Earth that
tends towards death on Earth.4 In contrast to the benevolent
Gaia hypothesis, in which the planet is a collaborative,
life-sustaining organism, Ward proposes that life on Earth is
suicidal, and most extinctions were caused by reactionary
microbes who want to restate their microbial dominance over
the rest of life on the planet.
The idea of autonomous, microscopic, self-replicating
machines reached the height of popularity around the 1980s
in the United States. Four decades prior, mathematician
Peter Ward. The Medea Hypothesis: Is Life on Earth Ultimately self-destructive? Princeton University
Press, 2009.
4
Joseph
von
Neumann
proposed
that
macro-scale
self-replicating machines will one day exist. Speculating on
machine self-replication, von Neumann discovered that
evolution requires that an agent is able to pass on
information to offspring separately from itself, an insight that
foreshadowed the discovery in the 1950s of DNA translation
and replication by the cell. With advancements in
nanotechnology,
hypothetical von Neumann machines
became more elusive and smaller, and in K. Eric Drexler’s
book
Engines
of
Creation:
The
Coming
Era
of
Nanotechnology, the gray goo hypothesis was described for
the first time. Many still blame the popular book for stalling
research in nanotechnology.
Hypothetically able to convert ‘host’ mass to nanomass,
therefore turning the whole ecosystem into themselves,
nanobots resembled a hi-tech virus. Both viruses and
nanobots show us that “evolution only needs three things to
occur: variation, selection, and replication.” 'Life' is not on
the list.5 It is difficult to overstate just how astounding it is
that humans are capable of not only decoding but utilizing
principles of reproduction different to ours. Some roboticists
look to viral self-replication as a template for developing
self-replicating robots (though not very small ones).
Roboticists working at Hod Lipson’s Lab art Cornell
University
write code following
principles
of viral
replication, creating "[a] digital universe filled with
numerical organisms that reproduced, had numerical sex,
repaired ‘genetic’ damage and parasitised one another." They
observed computer programs swapped code as they engaged
in algorithmic reproduction. Virologist Nils Barricelli uses
the term “symbioorganisms” to describe self-reproducing
entities in binary code.6
Self-replication is an ancient competitor of sexual
reproduction: humans and viruses have been in competition
since time immemorial.7 If we have a semblance of ancestral
5
Lucca Fraser, “Disengagement and Drift,” 2019,
https://feralmachin.es/posts/parasitic_disengagement.md
Emily Monosson, “Robot Evolution,” 2013, https://aeon.co/essays/can-life-evolve-from-wires-and-plastic
Katherine Hayles, “Novel Corona: Posthuman Virus,” 2020,
https://critinq.wordpress.com/2020/04/17/novel-corona-posthuman-virus/
6
7
memory, it is only natural that we might be anxious about
self-replication. We might use our sophisticated prefrontal
cortex to trick ourselves into thinking that evolutionary
competition is not the main goal of all life on Earth, but we
are in a deadly battle with other forms of being. Parallels
between technological and biological evolution are as
terrifying as they are awe-inspiring; some would say,
sublime. As Emily Monosson puts it, “if viruses can evolve
within hours, computer code can do it within fractions of a
second. Viruses are dumb; computers have processors that
might some day surpass our own brains."8 While put to rest
as an existential threat on policy level, the gray goo
hypothesis tells us much about today's existential fears of
extinction
and
inhuman
invasion.
Biotechnology,
autonomous weapons, the plague, ‘we are polluting the
planet!’,
have
Psychologically
your
pick
of
end-of-days
alienated
both
from
scenarios.
‘nature’
and
‘technology,’ man experiences both as a threat. Having
inoculated himself from nature with technology, and having
8
Monosson, “Robot Evolution.”
subsequently made that technology functional to the point of
being natural, man, in a paranoid posture that he assumed for
many centuries, perceives himself as if in a fortress and
under assault. Planetary state change is experienced as an
invasion when both poles of the transition - ‘nature’ and
‘technology’ - appear to us in forms of macro- and
microscopic replicators, alien to our human logic of sexual
reproduction.
For Drexler, the gray goo scenario would be a
depressing ending to humanity because it could “stem from a
simple laboratory accident.”9 No malice, evil, or moral
judgment on the failings of humanity would need to be
exerted. In a much discussed article by historian of
modernity Dipesh Chakravarty, climate change is similarly
described as an accident produced by our industrial culture.
In an extraordinary argument, he sketches how we have
‘stumbled’ into what is now called the Anthropocene (the
Age of Man), a product of a contingent cosmic shift:
9
Drexler, Engines of Creation.
Take the case of the agricultural revolution, so called, of
ten thousand years ago. It was not just an expression of
human inventiveness. It was made possible by certain
changes in the amount of carbon dioxide in the
atmosphere, a certain stability of the climate, and a
degree of warming of the planet that followed the end of
the Ice Age (the Pleistocene era)—things over which
human beings had no control . . . “There can be little
doubt,” writes one of the editors of Humans at the End
of the Ice Age, “that the basic phenomenon—the waning
of the Ice Age—was the result of the Milankovich
phenomena: the orbital and tilt relationships between the
Earth and the Sun.” Without this lucky “long summer”
or
what
one
climate
scientist
has
called
an
“extraordinary” “fluke” of nature in the history of the
planet, our industrial-agricultural way of life would not
have been possible.10
And
so,
studying
the
convergence
between
technological and ecological changes presents us with no
10
Dipesh Chakrabarty. "The Climate of History: Four Theses." Critical inquiry 35, no. 2 (2009): 217-218.
simple moral causality, and offers no clear villains and
heroes. Judging from existing eschatological scenarios, we’d
much prefer it if civilisation ended by way of punishment
than by chance or by an inhuman logic. From religious to
secular upheaval, end of the world scenarios are usually
accompanied by feverish moral panic and scapegoating,
where one group is blamed, practically metaphysically, for
all evil in the world: ‘evil’ scientists, capitalists and
technocrats, or corporate greed. A rarely considered gray goo
scenario under the name “malicious ecophagy” stages a
conflict between human and bot reproduction instead. In this
hypothesis,
nanobots
purposefully
and
maliciously
self-replicate in order to attack animals that reproduce
sexually. We have “goodbots” and “badbots,” the former
defending humanity and the latter attacking it. Tellingingly,
in Freitas’ review of this scenario, the badbots enter the
human body like a virus, and drill through animal tissues: a
deadly explosion of self-replication within a mammal body.
There are also more spiritual iterations. It is interesting to
read Greg Bear’s 1985 novel Blood Music alongside serious
policy recommendations from the same decade. In the novel,
the gray goo hypothesis is also a parable of artificial
intelligence. What begins as an immunological invasion of
the human body ends in a transcendent finale as trillions of
single-cells nanobots become intelligent. The novel works
from the premise that reality is the function of its observers,
so when the nanobots become intelligent, they mutate the
whole terran ecosystem just by registering it in their
hivemind. The book's ending, when humanity is terraformed
by the nanobots, is glorious in its ecstatic species-wide phase
change.
As dated or fantastical as nanotechnological risk may
look to us today, its implications are distinctly contemporary.
In a paper dating back to 2000, one of the first to present a
systematic overview of the gray goo existential risk scenario,
“Some
Limits
to
Global
Ecophagy
by
Biovorous
Nanoreplicators, with Public Policy Recommendations,”
Robert A. Freitas Jr. already makes the connection between
nanobots and climate change.11 If there are too many
nanobots replicating at once, they will accelerate biosphere
warming. In addition, nanobots would perceive all biomass
as accumulators of energy to be ‘eaten:’
Ecophagic nanorobots would regard living things as
environmental carbon accumulators, and biomass as a
valuable ore to be mined for carbon and energy. Of
course, biosystems from which all carbon has been
extracted can no longer be alive but would instead
become lifeless chemical sludge.
Ironically, Freitas' description of what nanobots could
do to biomass is what humans are (kind of) doing to biomass.
Humans convert biomass to energy to reproduce not only
ourselves in the flesh but also in artifice: if we consider
technology as the extension of human bodies and senses, we
are replicating ourselves through our technologies and
cultures, rather than only by having children. Philosopher
Patricia MacCormack criticises human sexual reproduction
Robert A. Freitas Jr. “Some Limits to Global Ecophagy by Biovorous Nanoreplicators, with Public Policy
Recommendations,” Foresight Institute, 2000, https://foresight.org/nano/Ecophagy.php
11
as a form of transhumanism, that is, seeking immortality.12
But what about human asexual reproduction? If we take the
proposition of media theorists like Marshall McLuhan
seriously - that media are the extensions of man - we are also
reproducing by converting biomass into artifice, not unlike
what the nanobots are imagined to do in the gray goo
hypothesis.13 When we convert biomass into cultural and
technical artefacts, we are reproducing asexually - is this not
simply a slightly different reading of the well-accepted
theory of memetics, of how ideas and cultures evolve
through selection, variation, and replication? Are we the von
Neumann machines?
Von Neumann’s self-replicating machines are, of course,
a machine counterpart of life, which is by default able to
reproduce. To consider humans as von Neumann machines is
to consider technological evolution as part of human
reproduction. Technological reproduction, be it through
artificial life, artificial intelligence or simply cultural
Patricia MacCormack in a recorded debate, available here:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2b5fn5JhFhk
13
Marshall McLuhan. Understanding Media: The Extensions of Man. MIT press, 1994.
12
artifacts, is not about making exact copies. Neither is sexual
reproduction, unless we speak about cloning rather than
having babies. When we convert biomass into technology,
we
are
self-replicating: extending
ourselves
through
selection, repetition and alternation. Just like the hypothetical
nanobots, we are converting biomass into artifice as a way of
extending the lifespan of our species. The result of this
ecophagy remains to be seen, but in this scenario, rather than
speculating about microbots invading our bodies, we are the
bots invading the ecosystem and converting it into
technology.