Zuckerberg: Missing Life's True Meaning?

The vision of an AI-driven future often conjures images of efficiency and seamlessness, yet it risks fostering relationships that are remarkably streamlined, and ultimately, devoid of genuine connection.

I recently shared a rock-climbing session with an acquaintance who proudly recounted his use of AI to generate a motivational poster for his bedroom wall. It depicted a bear navigating a slackline across a canyon, holding a sign emblazoned with the words, “Do cool shit.” My response was a noncommittal, polite murmur. What specific reaction was he seeking? Likely, he hoped for an affirmation of its coolness or inspiration. It appeared I wasn't the first to hear about this creation. He confessed, “You know, it’s funny. No one ever says anything about it.”

This anecdote has lingered in my thoughts for days. It encapsulates a peculiar confluence of elements I find unsettling: the blend of counter-culture aesthetics, motivational clichés, and the phenomenon of AI-generated "art." Yet, the collective response to this poster seems to be universally muted, polite acknowledgments.

But what is the appropriate reaction when presented with such a creation? No human hand crafted it. Even poorly executed human art, for instance, a hand-drawn version of that same poster, demands an artist's effort and reflects their unique perspective, both in its content and the physical skill required to manifest lines on a page. It represents an investment of a person's time and attention. AI "art," conversely, requires merely typing a prompt and perhaps refining the output a few times. There is, fundamentally, nothing to truly react to.

Mark Zuckerberg is now attempting to position himself as a calming authority figure in the tech world.

I raise this point because Mark Zuckerberg recently published a 6,500-word manifesto, presumably penned by him, his communications team, or perhaps even an AI. The document's core purpose is to articulate a positive future for artificial intelligence. It strikes me as an inauspicious sign that a purportedly world-changing and value-creating technology requires such an extensive defense, particularly given the recent negative press surrounding AI. Public sentiment has soured over data centers and their associated rise in electricity costs. Dario Amodei, CEO of Anthropic, has warned that the technology could lead to "unusually painful" job losses across various sectors. Meanwhile, OpenAI CEO Sam Altman's residence has been targeted, first by a Molotov cocktail, then by gunfire.

The essay states, “It is surprising that the discourse from many developing AI is so filled with doom. I do not understand why anyone who believes that AI will eliminate most jobs and much of humanity’s relevance would rush to build that future.”

I find it hard to believe that Zuckerberg lacks Amodei’s or Altman’s contact information. I am aware he has Elon Musk’s, having seen their texts in court. Perhaps a simple message could have clarified his understanding.

Regardless, Zuckerberg is striving to be the reassuring tech guru, assuring us that all will be well. He is, albeit belatedly, addressing the considerable public apprehension surrounding AI. His essay includes sections on data centers—with Meta reportedly developing future power sources for some facilities, though without a commitment to renewable energy—and "preventing government tyranny." This entire document serves as an implicit effort to quell the growing AI backlash, even if it never explicitly states this intention.

Love transcends mere feeling; it is an active form of attention.

We will set aside the discussion of "superintelligence," Zuckerberg’s preferred term for what the industry largely calls "artificial general intelligence," and for the sake of this analysis, stipulate its potential creation. I will also disregard the rather absurd defense of "pervert glasses" (Meta's smart glasses) within the piece, as they remain indefensible. As for the inherent risks of AI, I believe those are best explored elsewhere. My focus here is on what Zuckerberg, or his ghostwriter, genuinely believes will enhance our lives.

His initial proposition is: “Everyone will have an exceptionally capable personal agent that understands you, your goals, and everything you care about. Your agent will work 24/7 on your behalf to improve your relationships, health, career, finances, home management, hobbies, and more.” The inclusion of "relationships" and "hobbies" in this list is particularly striking.

What truly fortifies a relationship? Almost invariably, it is personal investment. While an AI agent might predict my father’s birthday wishes more accurately than I can, it is fundamentally incapable of offering him *my* time and consideration. Love is not merely an emotion; it is a dedicated form of attention.

Zuckerberg’s productivity-maximizing vision comes at the expense of genuine human experience.

Zuckerberg offers a rather telling, if somewhat bleak, example: he tasked an AI with selecting a "personalized" recipe for baking with his daughter. He could have instead considered his daughter's baking preferences, her skill level, and what he might teach her, then chosen a recipe himself. Perhaps he would have picked a less-than-ideal recipe, leading to a botched attempt—but that might have yielded a memorable, even humorous, experience and a good story. Or he might have chosen a cherished family recipe, providing an opportunity to share tales from his own childhood or memories of his grandmother. While he is undoubtedly a busy individual, wouldn't the gift of his focused attention on her hobby be even more precious? Perhaps he might have deepened his understanding of her by dedicating more thought to her interests. Without that personal attention, their shared baking activity appears to prioritize accomplishment over meaningful quality time.

Similarly, the essence of a hobby lies in the act of doing it. Many of my own hobbies involve physical engagement—hiking, running, yoga, rock climbing (even with those who dabble in questionable AI art). Yet, an AI cannot read a book for me, because the act of reading involves absorbing words into my own mind; a summary cannot replicate the impact of Renata Adler’s opening lines from *Speedboat*: “Nobody died that year. Nobody prospered. There were no births or marriages. Seventeen reverent satires were written — disrupting a cliché and, presumably, creating a genre.” A summary cannot evoke the mood or the sheer pleasure of engaging with the words themselves. An AI cannot replicate the soothing sensation of knitting my own scarf; the very act of knitting is what provides comfort.

Zuckerberg suggests that AI assistance in these tasks will enable greater accomplishment, which is likely true. However, I always understood the purpose of a hobby to be relaxation and enjoyment, not the maximization of productivity. Zuckerberg’s vision of optimizing productivity, in this context, invariably diminishes the richness of personal experience.

This is the individual who, despite having every conceivable resource at his disposal, witnessed the failure of his metaverse initiative.

Zuckerberg’s second proposition is that “Everyone will have incredible tools for creation to express your ideas.” I would contend that everyone already possesses incredible tools for creative expression, and mastery merely requires practice and dedication. The joy of, for instance, learning to produce a video stems first from the act of creation itself—who hasn't enjoyed collaborating and experimenting with friends during filming? But it also encompasses the satisfaction of improving one's proficiency with the tools and reflecting on one's progress as one's directorial eye sharpens. Certainly, this is time-consuming and demands effort—it cannot be achieved in a single evening—but isn't that precisely what makes it so rewarding?

In a similar vein, Zuckerberg introduces the rather underwhelming concept that everyone will gain “powerful tools to create new businesses.” This assertion comes from the very individual who, despite possessing unparalleled resources, saw his metaverse venture falter. While more ideas might indeed transform into businesses, not every idea will yield a successful enterprise, and the sheer volume of competition could make success significantly harder. This assumes, of course, that these "powerful tools" function as promised. After all, Meta recently disclosed that its AI had successfully hacked another company, echoing similar incidents involving OpenAI and Anthropic. Consequently, your personal company might not only contend with such cyber threats but could also inadvertently engage in corporate espionage itself. Is this truly what every aspiring entrepreneur desires?

Let us proceed to another preposterous notion presented in the manifesto: Everyone will receive a “personalized tutor and coach with a PhD in every subject.” Again, for the purpose of this discussion, let us assume such a feat is possible. We already experimented with computerized learning in 2020, and if memory serves, it proved to be a spectacular failure. People disliked it. Children disliked it. Educators are still grappling with the repercussions. And, at the risk of reiterating an ancient truth, it appears that having a human mentor (a *phronimos*) is profoundly important for learning, whether ethical or otherwise. The social dimension of education—be it the peer pressure of a classroom setting or the desire to impress someone you admire—seems utterly indispensable to the learning experience.

In the realm of AI, everyone is equal, but some (those with financial means) are more equal than others.

In my assessment, Zuckerberg's most compelling suggestion is the idea that everyone can both benefit from and contribute to scientific advancements. Now, I personally benefited from the polio vaccine, among other scientific breakthroughs, largely because Jonas Salk chose to make it universally accessible without seeking financial gain. But setting that aside, I am curious about what it truly means to contribute to scientific advancements in this context.

Zuckerberg offers vague allusions to personalized therapies, a long-standing aspiration in medicine. Again, let's assume AI can even achieve this. However, I observe that true personalization is only feasible when doctors have sufficient time to genuinely listen to their patients. It also implies that patients must possess the financial means to afford personalized medicine, whether through insurance or other resources. Yet, this segment of the essay is sufficiently ambiguous that he might actually be suggesting AI will enable researchers to more rapidly collect and test samples from all of us, which carries its own chilling privacy implications, especially coming from Mark Zuckerberg.

For his final point, Zuckerberg outlines the prevailing reality: In the AI landscape, everyone is equal, but some individuals (specifically, the wealthy) are demonstrably more equal than others. The most advanced models will remain behind paywalls, accessible only to the affluent. But what if everyone had free access, he muses? You mean, like they do right now, Mark? How, precisely, does perpetuating the status quo genuinely enhance our lives?

Consider all of this against Terence Tao’s more circumscribed vision for AI in mathematics. He asks us to contemplate the following premise: “AI tools will, reasonably soon, become capable of performing a reasonable fraction of research-level mathematical tasks, with reasonable levels of success, quality, supervision, and cost.” Tao then pauses to pose a critical question: What are our overarching goals?

I am increasingly convinced that we require a more sophisticated caliber of AI advocate.

This is the fundamental question that Zuckerberg’s vision of the future conspicuously avoids. For every possibility Zuckerberg outlines, the implied outcome is some form of accomplishment. The potential for pleasure, for profound experience, for self-knowledge, or for authentic self-expression is conspicuously absent from this perspective.

In contrast, one of the possibilities Tao sketches for the field of mathematics—if an AI can effortlessly solve mathematical problems—is that its ultimate goal should be to help people understand and engage with mathematics. This accomplishment might seem somewhat less tangible than "solving a problem," but only because it is far more profound. It speaks to our understanding of what knowledge truly entails: not merely a compilation of answers, but a deep comprehension of *why* those are the answers—a more profound way of connecting with the world and with ourselves. This, remarkably, sounds suspiciously like the humanities, doesn't it?

Indeed, I am growing to believe we need a better quality of AI booster. While I understand that Zuckerberg’s statement primarily serves to champion Meta’s own AI investments, I have heard remarkably similar sentiments from individuals who lack comparable financial stakes. Is the sole purpose of life merely to accumulate accomplishments? If this is the prevailing belief in Silicon Valley, it's no wonder so many billionaires seem perpetually discontent! They have, in essence, traded genuine experience for the pursuit of accomplishment, thereby shortchanging themselves out of their own lives. They continue to chase more wealth and more influence, mistakenly believing it will finally be enough—but as long as they do not personally experience life, nothing will ever truly suffice.

What defines a life well-lived?

When I engage with a book, immerse myself in music, or watch a film, I am not simply consuming a resource. I am experiencing the minds of other individuals. Artists cultivate distinct styles not merely as branding exercises, but because they are articulating something fundamental about their worldview, their perception of beauty, and their conviction regarding the purpose of art. In prose, word choices act as a unique fingerprint of a specific person. In music, phrasing serves a similar role. In visual art, it is the distinctive brush or pen strokes. Part of the encounter lies in appreciating the aesthetic vision; the quality of another person's attention. Another part is your own attention: Does the artist’s aesthetic resonate with you? What insights have you gained about your own aesthetics from it? What does beauty signify to you? What is pleasure?

If AI truly can deliver on all the promises made—a significant assumption, but let's entertain it—then we are confronted with a pivotal question: What does its use genuinely accomplish? If you are not required to pay attention or exert effort to achieve your goal, does that goal retain any intrinsic meaning? In a way, this forces us back to some of the most ancient and profound questions our species has ever grappled with: What does it mean to live a good life? How do we genuinely love others? What does it mean to love ourselves?

Which brings me back to my climbing companion’s motivational poster. What meaningful commentary can be offered about something he did not create? It expresses very little of his individuality. It took mere seconds to generate and demanded no attention, no devotion, not even genuine thought. The primary takeaway for me was that he apparently needs a reminder to "do cool shit"—which, in my personal opinion, hardly requires a reminder at all.