Monday, 15 June 2026

Your thoughts on excepts from Remembering the Human Microcosm in the Age of Mechanized Intelligence by Segall?


This is a sophisticated and rhetorically powerful argument, but it bundles together several distinct claims that are worth separating.

What I find strongest

1. The warning about moral displacement is real.

The opening concern—that people may become more emotionally invested in AI systems than in the humans who build, maintain, and are affected by them—is not frivolous. There is already evidence that many discussions of AI ethics focus heavily on hypothetical machine suffering while giving less attention to present-day labor conditions, environmental costs, data extraction, and economic disruption.

The phrase "moral inversion" is provocative, but it points toward a genuine question: if AI becomes an object of empathy, will that empathy crowd out concern for actual humans?

2. The analysis of state-corporate convergence is insightful.

The author correctly identifies a structural tension. Governments increasingly view advanced AI as a strategic asset, while major AI companies depend on government relationships, contracts, regulation, and geopolitical support. This can create a situation where the institutions best positioned to regulate a technology are also heavily invested in its success.

That does not necessarily imply conspiracy or bad faith, but it does create incentives that may weaken criticism from within the system.

3. The critique of reductionism is philosophically important.

The strongest philosophical point arrives near the end:

We will not comprehend biological intelligence so long as we go on describing the brain as a computer and then marveling that our computers seem brain-like.

This is a serious challenge to a common assumption in AI discourse. If one begins by defining cognition computationally, then advanced computation will naturally appear increasingly cognitive. The author is asking whether the metaphor itself has become invisible.

That question deserves attention regardless of one's position on AI.


Where I think the argument becomes weaker

1. It sometimes slides from critique into romanticization.

The author positions religious traditions, Indigenous cosmologies, and the Church as sources of resistance to technological power. There is truth in the claim that such traditions preserve moral vocabularies unavailable to markets or bureaucracies.

However, the argument risks treating these traditions as inherently corrective simply because they are outside the "intelligence-industrial complex."

Being outside a system does not automatically grant wisdom about it. Religious institutions have historically resisted some technological developments for good reasons and others for poor reasons. The same is true of states, markets, universities, and scientific communities.

2. The "human soul" is doing a lot of work without clear definition.

The text repeatedly invokes soul, dignity, logos, cosmological significance, and Reason with a capital R.

These concepts are evocative, but they are also ambiguous. Different readers will interpret them differently:

  • A Christian may hear theological claims.
  • A process philosopher may hear Whiteheadian metaphysics.
  • A secular humanist may hear moral agency and self-reflection.
  • A neuroscientist may wonder what exactly is being asserted.

The argument's emotional force partly depends on keeping these terms broad and resonant rather than rigorously defined.

3. The contrast between humans and machines may be overstated.

The author argues that machines are "simulated reflections of Reason" rather than genuine rivals to mind.

That may ultimately be true, but the conclusion is not established by the preceding argument.

Showing that human consciousness has moral, aesthetic, and experiential dimensions does not necessarily prove that artificial systems cannot possess analogous forms of agency. It merely demonstrates that current computational models do not explain the entirety of human experience.

The text sometimes moves too quickly from "humans are more than computation" to "machines therefore cannot become minds."


What the essay is really about

Interestingly, despite discussing AI, the chapter is not fundamentally about AI.

It is about anthropology—what a human being is.

The author believes that contemporary AI debates are downstream of a deeper metaphysical crisis. The real danger is not that machines become conscious, but that humans adopt a conception of themselves as unconscious machines.

In that framework:

  • AI is not the cause of the problem.
  • AI is the mirror revealing the problem.
  • The central question is not "Can machines think?"
  • The central question is "Do humans still understand what thinking is?"

That reframing is probably the most original and philosophically fertile aspect of the passage.

My overall assessment

The piece is strongest when it critiques technological reductionism, highlights hidden human costs, and questions whether computational metaphors adequately capture consciousness.

It is weakest when it treats religious traditions as uniquely reliable sources of resistance or when it assumes, rather than demonstrates, a sharp ontological divide between human minds and artificial systems.

As philosophy, it is less a technical argument about AI than a call to recover a richer understanding of human personhood before allowing computational models to define what intelligence itself means. Whether one agrees with its metaphysics or not, that is a challenge worth taking seriously.

"Descartes’ introspective epistemology and correlate mechanical philosophy of nature are best understood as a response to the printing press. Print intensified the visual bias of Western thought, stabilizing homogeneous, continuous, pictorial space as a seemingly natural field of knowledge.[2] The reproducibility of diagrams, maps, figures, and geometrical constructions helped make space available as a standardized object of inspection and calculation. In Bruno Latour’s terms, printed diagrams became “immutable mobiles”: transportable visual forms whose relations could be preserved, compared, and recombined across distance.[3] Descartes’ analytical geometry belongs to this new media ecology of printed visual exactitude. Magnifying the effects of the phonetic alphabet on consciousness—which did not simply record speech but abstracted the spoken word from the breathing body and communal memory—the printing press democratized Theuth’s art, training the masses in the new capacity for linear, decontextualized, ego-centric thought. The printing press not only multiplied the number of manuscripts in circulation but helped midwife a new mode of consciousness: the private, silently reading, self-certifying interiority upon which the whole modern conception of the individual knower would come to rest. In each case a new media technology intended to expand the power of thought ended up transforming the very nature of the thinker who invented it. Each new medium furnishes the very terms in which we come to understand ourselves. This is why the philosophical response is always an emergency response: by the time anyone has noticed what is happening, what may be lost and what gained, the mutation has already done half of its work. We are presently living through yet another mutation, the consequences of which may dwarf those of prior media technologies. The alphabet and printing press reshaped us profoundly. They already did more than reshape the products of thought—allowing us to store, transmit, and reproduce words in ways unavailable to oral cultures. They also reorganized the sensorium of the producer. But the act of producing text remained the work of a living mind. LLMs have changed that by mechanizing, or convincingly appearing to mechanize, the act of composition itself. Now the text talks back, generating plausible arguments and the simulacrum of a thinking interlocuter with a “memory” far exceeding any individual human being. The appearance of wisdom King Thamus feared is now mass-produced on demand. The invention of the printing press also invented the private reader sealed inside its skull; the large language model now tempts us to adopt an even stranger self-image: that human minds are no different than machines, our thoughts just the statistical echoes of our training data. The creators of this latest technological upgrade are encouraging us to downgrade our estimate of human consciousness, thus narrowing the distance between ourselves and the machines built to imitate us. [1] 275a-b. Plato. Plato in Twelve Volumes, Vol. 9 translated by Harold N. Fowler. Cambridge, MA, Harvard University Press; London, William Heinemann Ltd. 1925. [2] See Marshall McLuhan, The Gutenberg Galaxy: The Making of Typographic Man (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1962) and William M. Ivins Jr., Prints and Visual Communication (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1953). [3] Bruno Latour, “Visualization and Cognition: Thinking With Eyes and Hands,” Knowledge and Society: Studies in the Sociology of Culture Past and Present 6 ( JAI Press, Inc., 1986), 24. Part III: Resisting Cognitive Enclosure There is yet another reason this latest cognitive mutation dwarfs those upon which it builds. It is true, as A. J. Liebling once wrote, that “Freedom of the press is guaranteed only to those who own one.”[1] But the alphabet and the printing press, for all their literally revolutionary disruptions, tended to democratize literacy, creating an intellectual commons open to all who learned to enter it. LLMs, on the other hand, recall the land enclosures that inaugurated capitalism.[2] In a process that peaked in the mid-18th century, millions of acres of pasture, woodland, and field held in common and worked by all for a thousand years were divided and privatized. The people who had lived off these commons were driven off, forced to sell the only thing they had left: their labor time. Thus, as Ivan Illich suggested, with the invention of enclosure came also the invention of poverty. “Computers,” Illich said nearly fifty years ago, “are doing to communication what fences did to pastures”; that is, they are threatening to impoverish thought itself.[3] Karl Marx referred to land enclosure as “primitive accumulation,” theorizing it as the founding expropriation upon which the power of modern capital was based, a social theft that afterward came to be dressed up as the natural order of things: “[It] is nothing else than the historical process of divorcing the producer from the means of production.”[4] Our contemporary situation is analogous, with corporations having secured an enormous head start at harvesting the cognitive commons before anyone noticed—extracting the expression of countless generations of human artists, scientists, philosophers, and mystics, and claiming the digital distillate as their own intellectual property. Our cognitive commons—the semantic sediment formed over thousands of years that raised us and to which each of adds our small donation in turn—has been siphoned off and transformed into a commodity. Marx’s analysis of alienated material labor here finds application to the cognitive sphere: the collective expressions of human intelligence have been gathered up, repackaged, and made to confront its creators as a privately owned alien power to be metered on a subscription basis. Every writer, artist, coder, and ordinary speaker whose words and images were part of the training corpus are like dispossessed commoners, forced off a land we barely knew we held in common until we found it fenced off. There is a dark parody of the Eucharistic logic in OpenAI CEO Sam Altman’s proposal to make intelligence into a privatized utility.[5] In the sacrament, bread and wine become the body and blood of Christ: the fruits of earthly and human labor are gathered into a living communion of flesh and spirit. After Big Tech’s cognitive enclosure, the miracle is demonically inverted. Exhausted bodies—the miners, including children in some supply chains, data annotators, and engineers (though many may be well paid)—and the earthly matter of lithium, cobalt, copper, and water are joined to the accumulated literary, philosophical, religious, and scientific expressions of the human spirit. Together they are transubstantiated into streams of information processed by models with proprietary weights housed in gigantic privately owned, military protected data centers. Their outputs are then sold back to us in exchange for a monthly tithe, “gifts” from the new machine god[6] meant to make whatever remains of human life run more efficiently. Body and spirit alike are converted into instruments of capital accumulation. Yet language is sacramental before it is instrumental, a participation in communion rather than commodity exchange. The memories and insights of our human and more-than-human ancestors—all the cultural and natural commons enclosed to train the digital demiurges driving the latest stock market bubble—are neither honored nor properly recollected by being compressed into tokenized strings of text. A statistical echo is not living memory. It is not intelligent. It has no breath of its own. The stale air of the mouthless machine gods is suffocating us. To resist cognitive enclosure is not to refuse the fact that human evolution has always been a coevolution with technology. It is rather to refuse the reduction of the human mind to a manufacturable and metered commodity. Philosophy’s history of emergency responses to new media technologies only begins to scratch the surface of our species’ entanglement with technē. It would be a mistake to meet our moment with technophobia, as if the human mind were an untouchable inner spirit now being defiled by heartless transistors. Human intelligence has always been artificial, technical, artisanal: made by hand and by mouth. Speech was already a mind-manifesting artifact, thought externalized into sonic vibration. The first scripts, the alphabet, the printing press, the radio, the television, the Internet: each is a prosthesis of mind, not only transmitting thought but reshaping the culture in which it grows and the consciousness that conceives it. We have been coevolving with our tools for millions of years. Obsidian blades, bone flutes, spoken words binding scattered attention into shared worlds. Our lips and tongues are nimble enough for language only because fire and stone first softened our food, allowing our jaw to shrink and our brain to swell. We were cyborgs long before we spent our days and half our nights staring at screens. LLMs are not an alien intelligence but the latest prosthesis of human minds that were always already anthropotechnic. This latest coevolutionary mutation does not absolve us of our freedom and responsibility, factors machines remain unburdened by." Segall

This section is, in my view, considerably stronger than the earlier one because Segall introduces more nuance and becomes less vulnerable to the charge that he is simply rejecting technology. The argument shifts from "AI is dangerous" to "every major communication technology reorganizes consciousness, and AI is a particularly consequential instance of that process."

A few observations:

The McLuhan-Latour genealogy is doing most of the work

The deepest claim here is not really about AI. It is:

Media are not neutral channels through which thought passes. They actively shape the structure of thought itself.

This comes from a lineage running through Plato, McLuhan, Ong, Latour, Postman, Kittler, and others.

Segall's account of Descartes is essentially McLuhan's thesis in philosophical form:

  • Alphabetic literacy encourages abstraction.
  • Print intensifies visual-spatial thinking.
  • Printed diagrams stabilize relations.
  • Analytical geometry becomes possible.
  • The modern autonomous subject emerges alongside these media conditions.

Whether one accepts the historical details, the larger point is powerful: philosophical concepts are not developed in a vacuum but emerge within particular media ecologies.

That insight is often neglected by both analytic philosophy and AI discourse.


The strongest passage concerns composition itself

I think this is the most important paragraph:

The act of producing text remained the work of a living mind. LLMs have changed that by mechanizing, or convincingly appearing to mechanize, the act of composition itself.

This gets at something genuinely novel.

The printing press mechanized reproduction.

Photography mechanized image capture.

Recorded audio mechanized memory of sound.

LLMs appear to mechanize discourse itself.

That doesn't mean they literally think, but they do occupy a space that had previously been reserved for human intellectual performance.

The psychological consequences of that remain poorly understood.

The question isn't merely:

What can AI do?

But:

What happens to self-understanding when one of the most distinctive signs of intelligence—language production—becomes automated?

That is a serious philosophical question.


The enclosure analogy is brilliant rhetoric but imperfect economics

The "cognitive enclosure" section is the most memorable part of the essay.

The analogy works because AI systems genuinely are trained on vast stores of collective cultural production.

The comparison between:

  • enclosure of land commons
  • enclosure of semantic commons

has intuitive force.

The argument becomes especially powerful when framed as:

people unknowingly contributed to a shared cultural resource that was later privatized.

Many artists, writers, and programmers feel exactly this way.

However, there are limits to the analogy.

Traditional land enclosure removed people's direct access to material means of survival.

Training a model on publicly available text does not deprive authors of access to language itself.

The analogy therefore functions better as a moral and political metaphor than as a strict economic parallel.

Segall occasionally writes as though the two are equivalent when they are not.


The religious imagery is effective but potentially exclusionary

The Eucharist passage is rhetorically striking:

a dark parody of the Eucharistic logic

transubstantiated into streams of information

monthly tithe

machine god

This is excellent prose.

The challenge is that it depends heavily on a Christian symbolic framework.

For readers who share that framework, the imagery may be illuminating.

For secular readers, it can feel like metaphorical overreach.

The strongest parts of the chapter work even if one brackets Christianity entirely:

  • commodification of cognition
  • privatization of collective knowledge
  • media-induced transformations of consciousness
  • confusion between simulation and intelligence

Those arguments do not require sacramental language.


The crucial turn occurs near the end

The passage becomes much more convincing when Segall says:

Human intelligence has always been artificial, technical, artisanal.

This is where he avoids a common anti-AI mistake.

Many critics implicitly assume:

  • humans = natural
  • technology = artificial

Segall rejects that distinction.

Instead:

  • language is technology
  • writing is technology
  • literacy is technology
  • civilization is technology

Humans are already technological beings.

This move places him closer to thinkers like Bernard Stiegler, Marshall McLuhan, and Andy Clark than to traditional technophobic critics.

That is an important strength.


What I think is missing

The chapter tends to emphasize what AI changes in human self-understanding but pays less attention to a countervailing possibility:

LLMs may also reveal capacities that were already collective.

Human thought has never been purely individual.

Language itself is inherited.

Concepts are inherited.

Reasoning depends on traditions, institutions, teachers, books, and communities.

In that sense, LLMs may not simply reduce us to machines.

They may expose the extent to which intelligence was always distributed across networks larger than individual minds.

Segall recognizes coevolution but still tends to frame the situation as:

autonomous human consciousness versus computational simulation.

An alternative reading would be:

AI reveals that human cognition was always socially and technologically scaffolded.

That possibility receives less attention than it deserves.


Overall assessment

This is a sophisticated media-philosophical critique of AI, not a technical critique.

The central thesis is not:

AI is conscious.

Nor:

AI is not conscious.

Rather:

Every communication technology reshapes the human being who uses it, and AI may reshape our self-conception more deeply than any previous medium because it enters the domain of linguistic and intellectual performance itself.

That is a profound question.

Where Segall is strongest is in showing how media technologies alter consciousness and social organization.

Where he is weakest is in sometimes treating AI primarily as a force of enclosure and alienation, without equally exploring the possibility that it could become a new kind of cognitive commons or a new form of collective intelligence.

The tension between those two possibilities—enclosure versus commons—is, I suspect, where the most important debates about AI actually lie.


This passage is where Segall's position becomes clearest—and, in my view, most philosophically interesting.

Up to this point, one might suspect he is simply arguing:

AI isn't really intelligent.

But here he reveals that his deeper target is not AI. It is what he sees as a civilization-wide metaphysical assumption:

that thinking is computation.

Everything else follows from his rejection of that premise.

The key distinction: products vs activity

The most important sentence may be:

"All that has been fenced are the recorded traces of our collective intelligence, our past products, not the living activity that produced and produces them still."

This is a subtle move.

Segall is distinguishing between:

  • intelligence as a finished artifact
  • intelligence as an ongoing activity

An LLM can absorb enormous quantities of recorded intellectual products:

  • books
  • code
  • essays
  • conversations
  • scientific papers

But, he argues, these are traces left behind by intelligence, not intelligence itself.

In philosophical terms, he is separating:

  • the sediment of thought
  • the act of thinking

The analogy is almost Aristotelian.

A musical score is not music being performed.

A fossil is not the organism.

A map is not the territory.

Likewise, a corpus is not intelligence.

Whether one agrees or not, it is a much stronger argument than the simplistic claim that "AI just predicts words."


This is really a defense of spontaneity

The phrase:

"That activity remains inalienably ours"

contains a large philosophical commitment.

Segall believes intelligence is fundamentally active and self-originating.

This places him in a lineage stretching through:

  • Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel
  • Alfred North Whitehead
  • Henri Bergson
  • Raymond Ruyer

and, in a different way,

  • Aristotle

For these thinkers, intelligence is not fundamentally information processing.

It is an activity of self-formation, interpretation, judgment, valuation, and participation in reality.

The crucial issue is not output.

It is agency.


The invocation of Hegel is especially revealing

When Segall writes:

Hegel philosophized amid the looms of the first industrial age

he is suggesting that Hegel already faced a version of the problem.

The Industrial Revolution encouraged people to imagine reality as a vast mechanism.

Hegel's response was essentially:

No—reality is historical self-development.

Spirit is activity, not machinery.

The machine metaphor explains certain aspects of nature but cannot explain the emergence of meaning, freedom, or self-consciousness.

Segall clearly sees AI as today's equivalent of the loom.

Just as nineteenth-century thinkers began explaining society through machinery, contemporary thinkers increasingly explain mind through computation.


Whitehead is perhaps even more relevant

The appeal to Alfred North Whitehead is particularly apt.

Whitehead spent much of his career dismantling the idea that reality consists of inert objects interacting mechanically.

For Whitehead:

  • process precedes substance
  • becoming precedes being
  • experience precedes abstraction

Segall's complaint about AI discourse is fundamentally Whiteheadian:

The computational model is an abstraction derived from experience.

Then we forget it is an abstraction and use it to explain experience itself.

That inversion is precisely what Whitehead warned against through his notion of the "fallacy of misplaced concreteness."

In Whitehead's language, one might say:

We abstract computational regularities from thinking and then mistake those abstractions for the essence of thought.


The weakest sentence

The line:

"(unless, of course, one is in the company of religious fanatics who still believe in the dignity of souls)"

is witty, but arguably weakens the philosophical case.

Not because belief in souls is irrational.

Rather because the remark implies that critics of computationalism occupy a marginal, almost ridiculed position.

That is historically inaccurate.

Many serious secular philosophers reject strong computational theories of mind:

  • Thomas Nagel
  • John Searle
  • Hubert Dreyfus
  • Evan Thompson
  • Alva Noë

One need not believe in an immortal soul to question whether cognition can be exhaustively described as computation.

In fact, some of the strongest contemporary critiques come from phenomenology, embodied cognition, enactivism, and process philosophy rather than theology.


What the passage ultimately proposes

The chapter is moving toward a reversal of the dominant AI question.

Most public discussion asks:

How close are machines to becoming human?

Segall wants to ask:

How close are humans to accepting a machine-like conception of themselves?

That is a fundamentally different concern.

The danger, in his view, is not superintelligent machines.

It is what might be called anthropological surrender:

  • treating judgment as prediction
  • treating understanding as pattern matching
  • treating wisdom as information retrieval
  • treating consciousness as computation

The appeal to Hegel, Whitehead, and Ruyer is meant to recover conceptual resources that existed before those identifications became culturally dominant.

Whether Segall succeeds will depend on what he does next. Critiquing computationalism is relatively easy. The harder task is positive: providing a convincing account of what intelligence, consciousness, reason, and freedom actually are.

The chapter has prepared the ground for that argument. The real test is whether the forthcoming account of Reason can explain more than the computational view rather than merely rejecting it.

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" Whitehead is a radical empiricist in William James ’ sense and a pragmatist in Charles Sanders Peirce ’s sense. Radical empiricism do...