Preface

Posted on by wanderer

¿What does Humanity Want? seems like a simple, obvious question to ask. However, what is most striking is that we ask this question at all. The fact that we can even pose such a question reveals a complex set of circumstances that have emerged for the first time in human history. The question is a product of the unique times we live in—shaped by global interconnectedness, globalisation, conceptual homogenisation, and the dominance of a single philosophical and legalistic strain over the rest of the world. These circumstances establish a minimal set of elements that are either shared or imposed on virtually all creatures we call “humans.” By asking this question, we are exploring what defines us, what makes these times special, and what historical and temporal currents have allowed us to even contemplate what humanity wants.

If we break the question down, it revolves around two key terms: humanity and want. The concept of “humanity” is relatively recent, although it has deep historical roots. On one hand, the idea of what it means to be human is, while intuitive, not perfectly defined. In this text, we will examine how the concept of “humanity” came into being, what it represents, who created it, and what status “humanity” holds in the modern world. We will explore who is included within this term, who might not be, who defends it, who opposes it, who speaks “in the name of humanity,” and what that entails.

On the other hand, there is the term want. If defining “humanity” is challenging, “want” is infinitely more complex. Determining what the aggregation of these “humans” living on this planet (or orbiting it) “want” is nearly impossible. We will focus on who within humanity has the agency to “want” something, what is meant by “wanting,” how these wants are determined, and how resources are allocated—or not allocated—to fulfil them. By “want,” we refer to all actions related to a shared consciousness. These actions are taken by individuals, groups, or institutions who claim to represent humanity. We will explore what they “want” to do with this concept of humanity—or whether they can do anything at all. Along the way, we will discuss the limits and capacities of these groups to decide on humanity’s wants, the resources available to them, and the obstacles they face. Finally, we will consider a few possible paths forward, alongside the difficulties inherent in pursuing any of them—or none at all.

Before addressing the core question, this text will first tackle another fundamental one: Why? Why are we even able to ask this question at all? To answer this, we will embark on a journey through time and space. We will begin with humanity’s deep roots in biology and evolution, examining what we share—and do not share—with our fellow living beings. Our journey will navigate geography, science, philosophy, linguistics, academia, history, politics, economics, narratives, and fictions to situate us within this unique moment in time. The aim is to inspire both reflection and action. So, buckle up and enjoy the ride!

We live in extraordinary times. When viewed through the long lens of history, it becomes clear how exceptional this moment is. We are riding the upward curve of exponential growth in all attributes that define humanity. This growth brings with it unprecedented opportunities and challenges, forcing us to rethink how we honour the past, live in the present, and plan for the future. For the first time, these considerations can occur at the level of a collective imagination. Planetary-scale decision-making—a concept only recently conceivable, such as Psychohistory from Asimov—is now part of our reality.

This unique awareness allows us to ask the question central to this text, which compels us to consider what it means to exist in this state of affairs.

This is not an entirely new idea. In 1933, George Orwell observed in Down and Out in Paris and London that humanity was already living in a time where technological development could ensure that the global population was adequately fed, with resources to spare. For Orwell, the fact that this was not happening was a crime. While Orwell may not have explicitly framed his argument in terms of “humanity,” he recognised that resources were being misallocated due to misplaced priorities—especially by those who controlled production and logistics.

In the following essays, we will unwrap how we arrived at the point of asking this unique question: Who can ask it? How? Why? We will explore potential answers, possible solutions, and whether there are any viable alternatives to this trajectory of planetary, collective resource allocation.

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Foreword

Posted on by wanderer

In this work, you will not find the answer to this question. However, you should come to appreciate the beauty and uniqueness of the time in which we can ask it at all.

This work is not unlike the age-old philosophical questions: “Where do we come from?”, “Where are we going?”, and “Why are we here?” These questions have been asked countless times over generations, and you will not find their answers here. Instead, I aim to frame these timeless questions in the context of “humanity” as a new, emergent concept—one that, on the light I will be describing it, has never existed before in the history of our species at a Global scale.

I approach this inquiry from my particular background. I was raised in a Mediterranean, European cultural context, deeply influenced by Greco-Roman philosophy and state-building traditions, as well as by the values and narratives of the Abrahamic religions.

On top of that, my education has shaped my worldview and the sources of information I draw upon. I hold a bachelor’s degree in Physics and a PhD in Cosmology. My academic and professional pursuits have included projects in neuroscience, astrophysics, dynamical systems, perturbations, information theory, causality, human evolution, and the cultural dynamics of loss and survival. These areas of study form the framework on which the ideas in this text are based.

Moreover, within this “Western” perspective, I come from València, born into a Catalan-speaking family. Both of my grandfathers hailed from the same town in which I was born, Sagunt, and were Catalan-speaking. My grandmothers, however, emigrated to Sagunt in the 1940s, during the post-Civil War period, from the interior of València. They came from a region that had historically spoken Aragonese but had since transitioned to Castilian. Like many mixed families, my linguistic landscape is varied. My maternal grandmother did not adopt Catalan in the family environment, while my paternal grandmother did.

Economically, my grandparents’ livelihoods were tied to the land: farming, orange orchards and related industries, baking, and later neighborhood retail shops. Their social standing ranged from lower to upper-middle class.

Although I grew up in a predominantly Catholic society, my parents raised me as a free thinker. They were agnostic, and my natural inclination toward skepticism, empiricism, and atheism was both allowed and encouraged in my family and educational circles. Even my paternal grandmother, the most religious and spiritual person in my family, supported my questioning nature. Despite being a Christian believer, she was skeptical of the Catholic Church as an institution, often remarking, “Do what the Church says, not what the Church does.” My interactions with the Catholic Church were minimal, limited mostly to festivities and a brief period of religious education when I was six or seven years old to prepare for my first communion. Even then, my early atheism led me to openly express my doubts—sometimes at the cost of being made to face the wall for extended periods.

Politically, my parents aligned with left-leaning Catalan/Valencian nationalism, which advocates for self-determination within the historical boundaries of the former Kingdom of València. They moved away from the land and family businesses, pursued higher education, and worked in government positions—one in city hall taxation and the other as a school counselor and head teacher.

València itself is a land of historical significance, renowned for its fertile, irrigated grounds that date back centuries. It has supported industrial-level agricultural production, particularly of fruits like grapes and oranges.

Culturally, Valencian and Catalan traditions are distinct within the Iberian Peninsula. The peninsula is home to three states (Andorra, Spain, Portugal) and part of the United Kingdom (Gibraltar). Spain itself is a multilingual nation with four main languages—Euskara (Basque), Catalan/Valencian, Castilian (Spanish), and Galician/Portuguese—as well as several smaller, rapidly disappearing Romance languages like Aragonese and Asturian.

The history of València is one of successive cultural layers: Iberians, Celts, Phoenicians, Carthaginians, Greeks, Romans, Germanic tribes, Arabs, and Berbers. Catalans were the last colonisers, arriving in the 13th century to a land that had been predominantly Arab in culture. For centuries, the region was home to the three main Abrahamic religions: Judaism, Christianity, and Islam. However, under the Spanish monarchy, the Jewish and Muslim populations were expelled—the Jews in 1492 and the Muslims in 1609. In my hometown, Sagunt, it is estimated that Jews once constituted 20% of the population and Muslims 20-30%. Within three or four generations, nearly half of the town’s inhabitants were forced to leave their ancestral lands.

Those who remained faced strict scrutiny, forced conversion to Catholicism, and severe punishment for any violations of its practices. This era gave rise to the infamous Spanish Inquisition. My homeland, therefore, is one depleted of its historical religious and cultural diversity, with a language brought by colonisers and later persecuted. Despite centuries of suppression, our language endures, albeit in decline.

València is also known for its vibrant cultural traditions, such as the Falles de València, Fogueres d’Alacant, and Moros i Cristians d’Alcoi, correfocs, among many others. These festivities highlight the resilience and creativity of our people.

This framing is intended to underscore that, in a different sociocultural context, with different formative experiences and interests, the themes of this text could be entirely different. Humans are the only animals (as far as we know) capable of sitting under the stars and pondering the universe’s future—imagining what it might look like in 100, 1,000, or even a trillion years—and questioning whether “humans” will exist at all in such distant times. Remarkably, these thoughts inspire actions in the present.

Beyond these star-gazing, future-oriented humans, we have created something entirely new: the concept of “humanity.”

This text encourages the question of “humanity” to be explored by as many diverse perspectives as possible. Willingly or not, we are living in the age of “humanity”, the Anthropocene. We are no longer merely individuals or groups; we are now “humanity,” understood as a collective that seeks to include every individual of our species on equal terms under universal rules. These rules, of course, arise largely from the cultural context in which I was raised. Still, we must critically examine the limits and implications of this universal view.

This work is not about humans but about “humanity”: how it came to be, how it can “think,” and whether it, too, can look to the stars, recognise the beauty of this question, and act now in light of it.

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