Nick Bostrom: Pleasure in a Solved World
Nick Bostrom discusses pleasure as the first ring of defence of meaning in a plastic utopia.
5-ringed defence:
- Hedonic Valence (Pleasure)
- Experience Texture (Aesthetic and Cognitive Richness)
- Autotelic Activity (Engaging for Its Own Sake)
- Artificial Purpose (Creating Meaning)
- Sociocultural Entanglement (External Constraints on Automation)
Transcript:
Like imagine working your way through that point where you think this actually doesn’t look appealing at all, this kind of solved world where we like, what’s the point? But then we can start to rebuild and look at some basic values that actually could be realised in a solved world. And that’s where this five ringed defence idea. So the first is pleasure or like hedonic well-being in the fullest and richest sense of the word, which certainly would be possible in this whole world. And not just possible, you could get this to extreme degrees, right? Like people could really, really enjoy and feel good and just cherish every moment of existence. This is like a consequence of advanced neurotechnology. You know, whether it’s like through genetic engineering or pharmacology or presumably more actually direct ways of adjusting and nudging and altering the patterns of our instantiations that would be accessible with sufficiently advanced technology.
Nick Bostrom’s Deep Utopia presents a vision of life at technological maturity, where the traditional drivers of human existence—scarcity, struggle, and instrumental purpose—might dissolve into a post-instrumental haze. In Chapter X, Bostrom constructs a “Five-Ringed Defence” to counter the creeping dread of redundancy and purposelessness that such a future might provoke. This multilayered fortress of arguments aims to reassure us that life could remain not just tolerable but extraordinarily desirable, even if we’re no longer scrabbling for survival.
In the interview, Bostrom focusses on Hedonism, where pleasure reigns supreme. In the book Deep Utopia, he’s quick to bat away the dismissive label of “mere pleasure-blobs,” a phrase that conjures images of gelatinous humans wobbling in a narcotic stupor. Far from being a reductive slur, Bostrom argues that a life suffused with positive hedonic valence—artificially induced contentment—deserves more respect than our knee-jerk cynicism allows. It’s not the whole utopian pie, perhaps, but it’s a hefty slice, and one worth savouring.
We often judge futures by how interesting they seem from our current vantage point, rather than how good they’d be to live in. A life of constant contentment might not fuel gripping Netflix dramas—there’s no third-act twist in a world without conflict—but Bostrom suggests that “interesting times” are overrated. History’s most fascinating eras were often hellish for their inhabitants; a stable, pleasurable existence, even if it lacks narrative heft, could be a paradise to dwell in. Hedonism here isn’t a shallow puddle but a deep, still lake—untroubled, yet profoundly satisfying.
Traditional wisdom paints chasing pleasure as a fool’s errand, like an addict in a desperate downward spiral chasing the dragon. It’s true that the addict’s life is a cautionary tale for today – yet in a plastic utopia; a world of advanced mind-engineering, where pleasure can be reliably dialled up without the crash, this wisdom looses it’s relevance. Imagine a super-pleasure—clean, enduring, side-effect-free. Why wouldn’t we want that?
We’re currently guessing at super-pleasure’s appeal without having tasted it. Bostrom posits that direct acquaintance might convert even the sternest sc(k)eptic. If we experienced this “surpassing bliss and delight,”—tears of gratitude overflowing rivers—we’d likely clamour to keep it. Hedonism, in this light, isn’t a grubby indulgence but a transformative possibility, one that could anchor a life of technological maturity.
In the book Deep Utopia, the second ring of five, Experience Texture, gilds the lily. Pleasure needn’t be a monotonous hum; it can come wrapped in rich, varied sensations; aesthetic and cognitive richness—utopian landscapes of heartrending beauty, music that captivates, or abstract mathematical realms explored with deer-like grace. This isn’t the junkie on a flea infested mattress but the connoisseur of existence, their senses and sensibilities upgraded to match their surroundings. Hedonism here gets a makeover, from blunt force to fine art.
The third ring, Autotelic Activity, adds action to the mix. Utopians needn’t be passive blobs; they can engage in activities for their own sake—think football played not to win bread but to enrich life. One might ask that if pleasure’s on tap, why bother? Because activity itself might hold intrinsic value, and neurotech can juice up the motivation if needed.
Artificial Purpose, the fourth ring, tackles the curmudgeon’s lament: where’s the meaning? Bostrom suggests crafting stakes—whether through a footballer’s burning desire to win or a climber’s self-imposed peril. It’s hedonism with an edge, pleasure paired with effort, though some might quibble it’s utopia with training wheels.
Finally, Sociocultural Entanglement, the outer rampart, hints at natural purposes persisting—like crafting a gift by hand—offering a social dimension to complement the inner glow of hedonic valence.
There is a cameo in Deep Utopia dialogue between Bostrom and “Dave”—David Pearce – they are transhumanist co-conspirators. Pearce, the Hedonistic Imperative’s architect, dreams of a biomedical happiness revolution, a fitting compliment to Bostrom’s Deep Utopia. Their banter in the book is light—vegan ice cream, coffee plans—but it’s a nod to shared roots. Their history with the creation of the World Transhumanist Association adds a layer of irony: two old allies, casually plotting paradise over a brew.
