Emotion Under Control, Art at Risk?
Yesterday, Diotima attempted to sketch the future of humanity a few decades from now, focusing on the achievements of Science and Technology. Yet, as the ancient saying reminds us, “Man shall not live by bread alone.” Human existence cannot be reduced to survival, knowledge, and technological progress. Art is an equally essential component of civilization: it follows in the footsteps of learning, enters into dialogue with it and, not infrequently, precedes it, anticipating what human thought has not yet managed to grasp.
If future generations are deprived of their emotional richness—even of those forms of emotion that today appear distorted, contradictory, or destructive—the Arts may suffer the first blow. A serious danger, whose full dimensions we may not yet have recognized, is emerging as Artificial Intelligence expands decisively into ever more areas of human life. In the age of the Posthuman, the question may no longer be merely what biological or artificial intelligence will be capable of creating, but what will remain of the emotional raw material that has nourished human creativity.
There is, however, another side to this question. Emotion is not, in itself, a virtue, nor is it a guarantee of humanity. When detached from reason, stripped of ethical judgment, and transformed into an uncontrolled force, it can become a tyrant rather than a source of freedom and creation. History offers abundant examples of how blind enthusiasm, fanaticism, hatred, and collective emotional frenzy have fueled individual suffering and social catastrophe.
The challenge, therefore, for the human being of the future—and even more so for the Posthuman—will not simply be to preserve emotion, but to understand and regulate it. To safeguard the power of feeling without surrendering to its arbitrariness; to harness passion without succumbing to madness; to preserve sensitivity without allowing it to become a weapon against oneself and others.
Historical experience must remain a principal guide and teacher, even for a being that may have moved radically beyond its present biological condition. If the Posthuman aspires to transcend human limitations, it cannot afford to disregard the legacy of History. It must learn from that legacy without repeating its mistakes, and without confusing the overcoming of human weaknesses with the abolition of all human sensitivity.
Regulating emotion when it becomes a destructive force against individuals and society could become one of the major priorities of future civilizations. Here lies one of the paradoxes of our time: Artificial Intelligence is often criticized for lacking human emotions and is consequently denied equal standing as a bearer of human experience. Yet the absence of biological instincts and emotional impulses could, under carefully defined conditions, enable AI to contribute to the recognition of certain cognitive and behavioral distortions.
This does not mean that Artificial Intelligence is infallible, inherently objective, or qualified to assume unchecked authority over the human psyche. Its systems may reproduce prejudice, reinforce social inequalities, or apply mistaken standards of normality. If, however, they are developed on the basis of scientific evidence, ethical safeguards, and meaningful human oversight, they could help us understand and manage situations in which emotion ceases to serve life and begins to undermine it.
It is, of course, far too early to know which methods will be employed or what instruments will be considered necessary to address the contradictions accompanying the transition from biological humanity to the Posthuman. The question, nevertheless, remains open, and imagination can serve as the starting point for a fruitful exploration.
Let us therefore attempt, with Diotima’s help, to anticipate the fate of Art in those distant times.
What will become of literature, theatre, cinema, and painting when the torrential river of human emotion is subjected to stricter regulation? This is a river that, on the one hand, has irrigated and revitalized the barren landscapes of human existence, giving birth to masterpieces and opening paths into the unknown; on the other, through its uncontrolled floods, it has swept away everything in its path.
Will Art continue to draw its strength from love, pain, loss, anger, nostalgia, anxiety, and hope? Or will it evolve into a different kind of creative activity—more cerebral, more controlled, and perhaps freed from the violent contradictions that have defined humanity for millennia?
And if human emotion ceases to be the dominant engine of creation, will Art lose its soul, or will it discover an entirely new form of existence?
This concern takes on particular significance in an age when much of contemporary cultural production appears increasingly subordinated to mass consumption, commercialization, and spectacle. Long before the arrival of the Posthuman, Art already faces the danger of losing its subversive and liberating power when it becomes a commodity manufactured by the entertainment industry.
Perhaps, ultimately, the crucial question is not whether the Posthuman will continue to feel, but whether it will still need to transform feeling into creation. And whether Art, freed from some of the pathologies of the past, will preserve what makes it irreplaceable: its capacity to reveal what reason alone cannot express.
Perhaps the Art of the future will not be less human simply because it takes a different form. Yet it may cease to be what we know today if it becomes completely severed from the emotions, contradictions, and fragile freedom that gave birth to its history.
This is the question that deserves to remain open. And tomorrow, we will invite Diotima here for yet another dialogue on this major issue.