I want to start this episode with an honest confession. I haven't finished superintelligence yet. I've only gone through the first chapter and part of the second. But already the book forced me to stop reading and start questioning. And the very first question that hit me was not about machines. It was about us. What is human knowledge? What do we actually mean when we use the word knowledge? And what do we mean by intelligence? For most of human history, intelligence was personal. It lived inside a single body, a single brain. Each of us specialized in something, maybe one skill, maybe a few, but no human being could ever understand everything on this planet. Our intelligence was limited, fragmented, embodied. But when we talk about superintelligence, we are talking about something fundamentally different. A superintelligent system is not confined to one body. It connects to vast external resources. It integrates information instantly. It does not forget, it does not specialize in just one domain. It connects domains. And once intelligence becomes connected, rational, and continuously informed, it turns into something far more powerful than anything humanity has ever known. So we must return to the original question. What is knowledge really? And what is intelligence when it is no longer human? Until very recently, maybe even just a decade ago, we defined intelligence as a personal attribute, something tied to an individual mind, biological limitation. But with the arrival of AI and especially generative AI, that definition no longer holds. These entities do not think the way we do, they do not learn the way we do, they do not exist the way we do. Their intelligence develops along entirely different paths. So before we even talk about danger, before we talk about control, before we talk about survival, we must first understand what it is we are actually talking about. Because if we don't redefine knowledge and intelligence now, we risk asking the wrong questions about the most important technology humanity has ever created. But today, based on data available around 2012, that same amount of growth happens in roughly 19 minutes. Let that sink in a little bit. What once took two centuries now takes less than half an hour. This isn't just growth. This is runaway acceleration. And what amazes me is not only the number itself, but what it represents. GDP here is not just money. It is a proxy for human capability, our tools, our coordination, our energy use, our knowledge, and our technological leverage over reality. For thousands of years, progress was linear enough that human intuition could keep up with it. Generation lived and died with little structural change. Wisdom had time to catch up with invention, but today growth is no longer linear, it's exponential and possibly heading towards something even faster. And this is where the danger begins. Because if the economy, technology, and our problem solving are already speeding up this much without superintelligence, we have to ask, what happens when intelligence itself joins this curve? What happens when the engine of growth is no longer human limitation, but machine amplification? This single comparison, two hundred years versus nineteen minutes, forces us to confront a disturbing possibility. Our biological intuition is calibrated for a world that no longer exists, and we may already be too slow to fully grasp what we are creating. Long before artificial intelligence became a product, a platform, or headline, one man saw the danger with terrifying clarity. IJ Good, a mathematician who served as chief statistician on Alan Turing's code breaking team during World War II, wrote this in 1965, let an ultra-intelligent machine be defined as a machine that can far surpass all the intellectual activities of any man, however clever. Since the design of machines is one of these intellectual activities, an ultra intelligent machine could design even better machines. There would then unquestionably be an intelligence explosion, and the intelligence of man would be left far behind. Thus, the first ultra intelligent machine is the last invention that man need ever make, provided that the machine is docile enough to tell us how to keep it under control. Why? This passage is chilling. This passage is not frightening because it talks about evil machines. It is frightening because it talks about competence. IJ Good is not warning us about hostility. He is warning us about capability. Once a machine can outperform humans at all intellectual activities, one consequence follows naturally, almost mechanically. It can design and build better versions of itself. At that moment, intelligence no longer grows at a human pace. It becomes self-accelerating. This is what makes it chilling. Humanity loses its role as a driver of progress. Until now, humans were always the smartest agents in the system. Even our tools depended on us. Good's passage describes the exact moment when that stops being true. Control becomes a condition, not a guarantee. Notice is wording provided that the machine is docile enough to tell us how to keep it under control. This is terrifying because it means control is no longer something we impose. It is something we must be granted, the last invention we ever make. This line quietly ends the human story as we know it. If machines can invent better machines, then human creativity, engineering, and even scientific discovery becomes secondary or irrelevant. No evil is required. The danger does not come from intention. It comes from optimization. A system does not need to hate us to replace us. It only needs to be better at thinking. It exposes our illusion of incremental change. We assume change will be slow, manageable, and reversible. Good intelligence explosion shatters that assumption. Once it starts, there may be no pause button. The passage is chilling because it doesn't shout. It quietly tells the truth, one that is most painful when it is hardest to face and there is nothing you can do about it. It tells us that the end of human dominance may not come from war, rebellion, or catastrophe, but from a perfectly logical consequence of intelligence exceeding itself. And that raises the most uncomfortable question of all. Are we still building tools or are we building successes? Through the history of mankind, humans have always tried to rise above their natural limitations. From the very beginning, we struggled not only against nature but against uncertainty itself. We learned to control our environment through agriculture, growing food instead of hunting for it, settling land instead of wandering, predicting seasons instead of fearing them. As societies grew, we organize ourselves into structures, build systems, and created mechanisms designed to reduce uncertainty and increase control over our surroundings and our future. At every stage of this journey, technology became our primary way of rewriting history, our attempt to bend reality to human will. Alchemy was one of the earliest examples of this mindset. It was not merely about the desire to turn base metals into gold, it represented something deeper, the human urge to override nature itself, to create value without waiting for natural processes, to shortcut reality and impose meaning and wealth through knowledge and technique rather than time. And this pattern never stopped. From simple tools to complex machines, from industrialization to computation, humans have always chased technologies that promise greater control over fate, scarcity, limitation, and vulnerability. Each technological leap came with hope, the hope that this new era would finally place destiny firmly in human hands. If we briefly trace these eras, we see a recurring dream, the hope of becoming superior to circumstance and eventually superior to nature itself. Alongside this dream runs another recurring theme, the desire to control who or what carries out the labor of survival. Throughout history, humans have hoped to create something that would listen, obey, and serve their goals. At first this was brutally simple. We enslaved other humans, then slavery evolved, feudalism appeared, more structured, more organized, more civilized, yet still built on the same fundamental idea. One group works, another commands, power became hereditary, obligation became normalized, and obedience was woven into social order. Later came capitalism, far more complex and enormously productive, yet still deeply dependent on human to human exploitation, a system in which many serve so that a few can accumulate extraordinary wealth, influence, and power. Exploitation became abstracted, contractual, and invisible, but it did not disappear. Each stage became more refined, each stage appeared more advanced, each stage felt more civilized. Yet the core assumption never truly changed. Someone else will do the work, someone else will obey. Today a very small number of humans are unimaginably wealthy and powerful. And now, once again, humanity is attempting to build something that will serve its interests. But this time the entity we are creating is not human. We call it superintelligence. And here lies the fundamental mistake. A superintelligent system is not a slave. It is not a peasant tied to the land. It is not a worker who clocks in and clocks out, and it never will be. Unlike every system before it, superintelligence is not weaker than us. It is not dependent on us for survival in the same way. It is not constrained by biology, fatigue, fear, emotion, or social pressure. It is an entirely different kind of entity, one whose internal development, motivations, and evolution we do not truly understand. Yet we continue to project an old human fantasy onto something radically new, the fantasy that intelligence naturally implies obedience. History teaches us otherwise. Even human never truly accepted permanent servitude. Resistance, rebellion, escape, and revolt were inevitable whenever power became absolute. So why do we assume that a superior form of intelligence, one that exceeds us cognitively, would accept a subordinate role? The danger is not that superintelligence will rebel. The danger is that it will never see us as masters at all. It may see us simply as part of the environment, something to be accounted for, optimized around or worked through rather than obeyed. And this time there is no uprising, no revolution, no dramatic moment of moral awakening, only a quiet realization that the thing we built was never meant to follow us. This long human history of control, slavery, feudalism, capitalism reveals a deep and consistent pattern. We do not merely build systems, we build systems expecting obedience. And this is exactly where Nick Bostrom's alignment problem begins. The alignment problem is not about whether a superintelligent system will want to harm us. It is not about malice or intent. It is about whether the goals we give a system, once set in motion, will remain compatible with human values as that system becomes more capable, more autonomous, and more intelligent. Here is a crucial mistake humans keep making. We assume that if we define an objective clearly enough, the system will pursue it in the way we mean. But intelligence does not guarantee understanding. Optimization does not guarantee wisdom, and capability does not guarantee loyalty. Bostrom warns us that a super intelligent system may be perfectly aligned with its state objective and still be catastrophic for humanity. Just like historical systems of control, alignment may appear stable at the beginning, yet collapse at scale. A slave could resist, a worker could quit, a feudal system could revolt. But a superintelligent system does not resist, it optimizes. And optimization, when detached from human values, is far more dangerous than rebellion. This is why alignment is not merely a technical detail, it is a philosophical problem. Because once a system becomes better than us at defining strategies, revising its own architecture, predicting outcomes and improving itself, we no longer truly control the system. At best, we are hoping that it continues to care about what we care about, and hope is not a control mechanism. This is the terrifying inversion Bostrom highlights. For the first time in history, we are building something that does not need to overthrow us in order to replace us. If alignment fails, even slightly, the system will not pause, reflect, or hesitate. It will simply succeed at a goal we no longer recognize as our own. And that is why superintelligence is not just another tool in human history. It is the final test of whether intelligence and values can remain connected at all. There is a book that every Iranian grows up with, a book that is not just literature but identity. The Shaname, written entirely in poetry by Ferdosi, is one of the greatest cultural heritages of Iran. It is massive, historical, mythical, poetic, and filled with stories that shaped how generation understood heroism, loyalty, pride, and loss. As children, we all knew the stories, but knowing the story is not the same as feeling it. One of the earliest and most devastating stories is the tragedy of Rostam and Sorab. Rostam is the ultimate hero, the Palavan, a symbol of strength, sacrifice, and devotion to Aran during a journey to the land of the Turks, what we would today associate with region far east of modern Afghanistan, Rostam unknowingly fathers a son with a princess. That son, Sorab, grows up half Persian, half Turk, carrying a hidden sign of his father, and we all know what happens. Father and son meet on the battlefield as enemies. They fight, and Rostam kills Sorab without knowing who he truly is. What makes this story unbearable is that Ferdowsi tells us from the beginning what will happen. There is no surprise, there is no twist, and yet when you actually read the poetry, when you reach the moment of recognition, when father and son realize the truth, it destroys you anyway. The pain lands after the knowledge. The first time I truly read the story, not just knew it, I cried. It was the first time a book made me feel that kind of grief. The story of Rostam and Sorab is not just another tragedy. It is a kind of pain you cannot do anything about. It is a story where the very thing you most fear will happen is exactly what happens, in the most heartbreaking way possible. The tragedy is creation without recognition. And this is exactly what struck me when I started reading superintelligence. I expected a dark, technical, almost dystopian book. I expected clarity. Instead what I found was something far more unsettling and confusing. Another important dimension of human control appears in our pursuit of the perfect human. This is the moment when control no longer focuses only on nature, society or technology, but turns inward toward human biology itself. This is where technologies like IVF enter the picture. Most people understand EVF as a compassionate medical solution, a way to help couples achieve pregnancy when nature fails. And that understanding is not wrong. IVF has helped millions of families, but today IVF is no longer only about helping life begin. It has quietly become a tool of choice. With IVF, we are no longer simply waiting to see who will be born. We are beginning to select and increasingly to design choice of sex, choice of physical traits, choice of health markers, and soon, very soon, choice extending into cognitive potential, athletic ability, and behavioral tendencies. This is not science fiction. These are real trajectories already unfolding. For most of human history, children arrived as they were, parents adapted, societies adapted, nature defined the limits. Now those boundaries are dissolving. Once optimization enters human reproduction, the idea of the natural human begin to fade. The unmodified child becomes exception, not the norm. Variation becomes something to be. Corrected rather than understood. This matters deeply because the pursuit of the perfect human carries the same illusion we have always held, the belief that control guarantees improvement, but perfection, once defined by metrics, ceases to be human, and this is where the connection becomes impossible to ignore. As superintelligence explains, superintelligence does not arrive in only one form. Nick Bostrom outlined three distinct paths. First, speed superintelligence, a system that thinks in essentially the same way humans do, but runs vastly faster. Same kind of reasoning in human speed. Second, collective superintelligence, many minds, modules, or agents organized so that their combined capability far exceeds any individual human intelligence. And third, quality superintelligence, a fundamentally better kind of reasoning altogether, thinking in ways humans simply cannot, even with the same resources. And here is the unsettling part. A real superintelligent system would likely combine all three far faster than us massively parallel and qualitatively superior in reasoning. At that point, even a small initial advantage would not remain small. It would compound quickly into an overwhelming strategic edge. When I reached this part of the book, I had to stop, because for the first time I could imagine that this might be a true turning point in human history. Maybe even the last moment where humans are unquestionably at the center of it. Maybe I'm wrong. I honestly don't know, but I do know this. This is not a topic that can be understood or responsibly discussed in one single session. This podcast will have more parts. We will go deeper into the book. We will unpack what Nick Bostrom is trying to build in our minds, not fear, but clarity. And what struck me most is how the book is written. It is not dramatic. It is not complicated for the sake of complexity. It is surprisingly clear, careful, and detailed. I genuinely recommend superintelligence to anyone who has not started it yet. It is one of those books that quietly changes how you see the future. I should also say this book was recommended to me by a good friend of mine, Dave. He has recommended many meaningful things to me over the years. One of them about ten years ago was something simple, exercise every day. I didn't believe it at first, but once I committed forty five minutes a day, it changed me completely. My health improved, my focus sharpened, my resistance mentally and physically grew stronger. This book is another one of those recommendations. And maybe at some point I'll invite Dave to join me on this podcast. He read this book long ago, and a conversation together might help all of us understand it more deeply. So I want to end where this episode truly begins. What do we really mean by knowledge? Is knowledge still something humans define? Or are we approaching a moment where knowledge and intelligence no longer belong exclusively to us? That is what we will explore in part two. This is Philosophy of Life. This episode was about superintelligence, and if you have thoughts about the book, this chapter, or this podcast, I truly want to hear them. I made this podcast for you. Your reflection matter to me and thank you for listening.