Harari and Attia
The times are weird. Much to say – much to read. In my bookmarks, there's Y.N Harari's latest book, Nexus. The topic is appealing due to AI salience in the current landscape. He offers a broad historical and opinionated take on human communication, digestible for dumb dumbs like me, who want to go beyond the TED talk. That was what convinced me to read his first two books (and my wife insisting). It’s entertaining to read, with memorable nuggets, typical of the now-common, science populism genre. Without even reading it, the cover is pretty evocative: a pigeon — who used to be our messengers as an image of the many flaws and iterations of human communication.
I read an hour of it on a quiet morning after reading a critique of Harari, initially just to make sure I would not leave it to someone's interpretation. I'm aware it was an odd biased-trying-not-to-be way to get into it. I learned more about my recent intellectual journey than anything else. My limited scientific knowledge won’t be significantly uplifted by reading one book (however good the book is). It may be entertaining and material for discussion, which in itself, are good reasons to read. However, it is not going to make me the expert my ego thinks I am after finishing the book. That is an instinct very hard to fight. It’s too easy to explain: reading a book is a big cognitive investment that must be rewarded, and since I’m not getting a diploma, my ego gives himself a nice “I read about it” badge. Intellectual evangelists like Harari and Attia cultivate our curiosity while our egos feel way too emboldened by, still, very partial knowledge. That is commonly called “influence”. The tease of self-improvement, cognitive and physical is irresistible for monkeys like me (and everyone considering statistics). Every mammal wants an easier, better, longer life, right?
I didn’t experience a sudden interest in longevity after getting kids. My interest started years ago and progressively faded. Reading Outlive by Peter Attia crystallized everything that turns me on and off about longevity. Attia makes a comprehensive and compelling proposition for optimizing the process of aging. It’s easy to get convinced that optimizing is the logical thing to do. We’ve all accepted industrial pragmatism: if we can improve something, we should do so. That simple motto is what got us here as a species.
Attia is giving me a taste of Harari’s vision in 21 lessons for the 21st century, extended in Nexus. A future where the elites outlive the masses. Fancy gyms, supplements, cybernetics, and all sorts of (expensive) protocols already available are a mere preview. The product range of today is already starting to compete with recent science fiction (or at least promises to). Attia offers a new take on an ancient obsession: longevity.
He knows the nature of the beast and embraces an agreeable techno/pragmatic approach. Though “squaring the curve” and skipping the decline seems an unhealthy mental model that will fuel the already competitive fitness culture growing all over the world. The premise is honest and rooted in avoiding the main causes of death. The theoretical basis is explained by the lofty goals of our elites for their 70s or 80s (apparently they still want to ski, drive race cars, deadlift…), telling of a state of denial of the reality of aging itself. These goals then require incredible standards and arsenal leading to the barrage of #longevity content. Outlive’s last chapter, on mental health, gave me the final blow. The honest and personal story of Peter's emotional development is relatable, and a dramatic end-cap to the book. Meaning and emotional connection are base of a good life. Without them, everything before has no substance. That’s why parents smile at their kids asking for a gym membership, and why old people smile at the midlife crisis joggers. It’s all part of the process.
I arrived in California primed for my bro years to be spent consuming all sorts of bio-hacking and self-improvement content. I was a clean slate coming from countryside France, easy to influence, and boy, I got my dose (morning run, cold shower, skip breakfast, anyone?). Now, I contemplate how I went full circle. From the countryside to the tech epicenter, I am now craving a return to a quieter environment where the sirens are avoidable. Like Heidegger seeking a return to a peasant-like original state. The philosophical “good life” is consistently in opposition to contemporary trends. There are also those bending schools of thought like stoicism, promising to conjugate wisdom from the past with the world of today.
This rhetoric has appeared in parallel to camouflage dissonance with the traditional view of aging. Growing old is trading physical capacity for something else equally rewarding. The decline of traditional lifestyles and the weakening of family structures, make this view less enticing. Modern individuals want to milk life until the end and delay the end as much as possible. But our gregarious software won’t let us feel good about it. The ones who fared the best (live long and happy), haven’t rigged the game or broke out of the matrix. They chill in the margins. In Contrast with modern influencers, traditions from all ages and cultures urge us to free ourselves of our own manufactured anxieties.
Our technology, as brilliant as it is, won’t satisfy our deepest needs. Health shouldn’t be reduced to metrics. It’s how you feel when you wake up. It’s what you look like in the mirror. Care is attention – to oneself and everything around. Aging adjusts priorities and reduces options, inevitably. Some beauty can only be perceived at a slow pace, allowing the senses to appreciate the ease of simply being.
Jim Gaffigan jokes “We all want to live longer… but how long? Should having to pay for a wedding in 20 years make me want to live longer?” – I’m getting to an age where humor stings as much as it soothes. Seeing some old folks deep wrinkles and perpetual frown proves Gaffigan’s point. There is no great wisdom or insight in how to live, eat, think, or age well. Certainly not in “New York Times best seller”.
Before enlightenment, chop wood and carry water. After enlightenment, chop wood and carry water. That’s it. The pragmatic minds won’t like the metaphorical rhetoric. That’s not material for a book or even a decent joke. It’s not helpful either. That’s the curriculum of human life. Use the body that you are. Balance software and hardware and you’ll be fine. I’m sure Attia and Harari agree.
← Index Published on 2025-01-28