The part about actually signing up may also be key—that’s probably a ten-to-one or worse filter among people who “get” cryonics. (I put to Bill Faloon of the old guard that probably twice as many people had died while planning to sign up for cryonics eventually, than had actually been suspended; and he said “Way more than that.”) Actually signing up is an intense filter for Conscientiousness, since it’s mildly tedious (requires multiple copies of papers signed and notarized with witnesses) and there’s no peer pressure.<
Comment: there’s that, but if that was all it was, it wouldn’t be harder than doing your own income taxes by hand. A lot more people manage that, than do atheists who can afford it manage to sign up for cryonics.
So what’s the problem? A major one is what I might term the “creep factor.” Even if you have no fears of being alone in the future, or being experimented upon by denizens of the future, there’s still the problem that you have to think about your own physical mortality in a very concrete way. A way which requires choices, for hours and perhaps even days.
And they aren’t comforting choices, either, such as planning your own funeral. The conventional funeral is an event where you can imagine yourself in a comfortable nice casket, surrounded by people either eulogizing you, or kicking themselves because they weren’t nicer to you while you were alive. These thoughts may comfort those contemplating suicide, but they don’t comfort cryonicists.
No, you won’t be in any slumber-chamber. Instead they’ll cut your head off and it will push up bubbles, not daisies. At the very least they’ll fill your vessels with cold dehydrating solution and you’ll end up upside down and naked at 321 F. below zero, like some shriveled up old vampire.
Will you feel any of this? No. Is it any more gruesome than the alternatives of skeletonizing in a flame, or by slow decay? No. But the average person manages to mostly avoid thinking of the alternatives, and the funeral industry helps them do it. But there’s no avoiding thinking hard about this nitty-gritty physical death stuff, when you sign up for cryonics.
There’s even some primal primate fear involved, something like the fear of snakes. Except that cryonics taps into fears about being alone and alienated in the future, along with primal fears of decapitation (monkeys hate seeing monkey parts, particularly monkey heads). My illustration of the power of these memes is Washington Irving’s short stories: out of the very many he wrote, only two are now remembered, and yet, at the same time, remarkably almost everyone knows those two. They are Rip Van Winkle and The Legend of Sleepy Hollow. There’s a reason for this.
The psychological factors can surprise the most dyed-in-the-wool atheists who have experience with death. I myself came to cryonics as a physician, already having spent most of a year dissecting corpses, and later seeing much real-time dying. It didn’t completely fix the problem of my own physical mortality. When I came to actually signing up for cryonics, already having been convinced of it for some time, I felt significant psychological resistance, even so. There’s a difference between what you know intellectually and what your gut tells you. Cryonics is like skydiving in that regard.
At this point, it’s worth repeating two of my favorite cryonics stories (the intellectual world is composed of stories, as somebody said, in the same way the physical world is composed of atoms).
Story #1 involves the winner of the Omni magazine essay contest of Why I Want To Be Cryonically Suspended. The prize: a free sign-up to Alcor, no money needed. The young man who won with the best essay about why he wanted to do it, was duly offered the prize he’d eloquently convinced himself, and everyone else, that he wanted. And when it came down to doing it, he couldn’t make himself do it. Interesting.
Story #2 is about Frederik Pohl, atheist S.F. writer of a lot of good tales, including one of the better cryonics stories, The Age of the Pussyfoot. Thirty years ago Pohl was approached by a cryonics organization about signing up, on the basis of his novel and known beliefs. He gave the usual counter argument about the chance not being worth the expense. The return was an offer to cryopreserve him free, for the publicity. He was taken aback, and said he’d have to think about it. Later, after much prodding, he produced what he admitted (and hadn’t realized before) was the real reason: he couldn’t get past the creep factor. Pohl is still alive as of this writing (he’s 90), but he’ll eventually die and won’t be cryopreserved, even though his intellect tells him (and has long told him) that he should.
So, in summary, I’m happy that Eliezer spent some time in Florida socializing with happy yuppies who had already made it past the barrier to signing up for cryonics. But for those out in the world who haven’t actually done that yet—signed and notarized—there is one more test of mettle for the Hero, which even they may not realize yet awaits them. This is a test of the power of will over emotion, and it’s not for the faint of spirit. In some ways it’s like the scene from the Book of the Dead where the dead person’s heart is weighed, except that this is where the would-be cryonicist finds that his or her courage is being weighed. It’s like doing the long tax return while signing yourself up for organ donation or medical school dissection, or the like.
I wish them luck. I wonder if anybody asked people at the conference what their own experiences had been, in getting past the tests of the underworld, or the under-MIND, to gain that strange chance to be your own Osiris.
there’s still the problem that you have to think about your own physical mortality in a very concrete way. A way which requires choices, for hours and perhaps even days.
I’m baffled that this is the stumbling block for so many people. I can understand being worried about the cost/uncertainty trade-off, but I really don’t understand why it’s any less troublesome than buying life insurance, planning a funeral, picking a cemetery plot, writing a will, or planning for cremation. People make choices that involve contemplating their death all the time, and people make choices about unpleasant-sounding medical treatments all the time.
Is it not less gruesome than the alternatives of skeletonizing in a flame, or by slow decay? No. But the average person manages to mostly avoid thinking of the alternatives, and the funeral industry helps them do it.
Well, maybe more people would sign up if Alcor’s process didn’t involve as much thinking about the alternatives? I had thought that the process was just signing papers and arranging life insurance. But if Alcor’s process is turning people away, maybe that needs to change.
Maybe I’m just deluding myself: I’m not in a financial position to sign up yet, and I plan on signing up when I am. But I can’t see the “creep factor” being an issue for me at all. I have no idea what that would feel like.
For what it’s worth, I’ve heard people initially had many of the same hangups about life insurance, saying that they didn’t want to gamble on death. The way that salespeople got around that was by emphasizing that the contracts would protect the family in event of the breadwinner’s death, and thus making it less of a selfish thing.
I wonder if cryo needs a similar marketing parallel. “Don’t you want to see your parents again?”
there’s that, but if that was all it was, it wouldn’t be harder than doing your own income taxes by hand. A lot more people manage that, than do atheists who can afford it manage to sign up for cryonics.
I live in the UK, and when I was self-employed I had an accountant do my taxes. I’m looking into signing up, and it looks to be much, much harder than that; not an “oh, must get around to it” thing but a long and continuing period of investigation to even find out what I need to sort out. This bar currently seems very, very high to me; if it were as simple as getting a mortgage I’d probably already be signed up.
The quote I was given for whole-life (constant coverage, constant premiums, no time limit) is $1900 per year (I’m 40, male and healhty), for a payout of $200K.
The more problematic news is that the life insurance company may start requiring a US Social Security number.
Steve I didn’t know that story about Frederik Pohl-thank you for posting it, fascinating. Also, they weren’t all yuppies at the FL teens & twenties cryonicist conference, there were representatives from all sorts of backgrounds/classes. Personally my motivation in signing up for cryonics is that I think the amount of knowledge that we have to learn about the Universe pales in comparison to my short natural lifespan, that keeps me in awe-as I currently learn all that I can, and all the new things I realize I don’t know. That said, I’m perfectly happy with my own life, with my family, friends and community work and if I get more time, an “extreme lifespan” to see what is out there in the billions of light years of space, if I get more time to help end inequality if it still exists—or to move on to other goals, then so be it-I got lucky that cryonics worked ;-)
This is an awesome comment.
I plan to sign up for cryonics when I can, and I’m really hoping I have the guts to go through with it for myself and any children I may someday have. I hope it really is comparable to signing up to be an organ donor, because I did that without a second thought. On the other hand, that was just one of many boxes on the driver’s license paperwork.
January 21, 2010
Eliezer Yudkowsky writes (in Normal Cryonics):
Comment: there’s that, but if that was all it was, it wouldn’t be harder than doing your own income taxes by hand. A lot more people manage that, than do atheists who can afford it manage to sign up for cryonics.
So what’s the problem? A major one is what I might term the “creep factor.” Even if you have no fears of being alone in the future, or being experimented upon by denizens of the future, there’s still the problem that you have to think about your own physical mortality in a very concrete way. A way which requires choices, for hours and perhaps even days.
And they aren’t comforting choices, either, such as planning your own funeral. The conventional funeral is an event where you can imagine yourself in a comfortable nice casket, surrounded by people either eulogizing you, or kicking themselves because they weren’t nicer to you while you were alive. These thoughts may comfort those contemplating suicide, but they don’t comfort cryonicists.
No, you won’t be in any slumber-chamber. Instead they’ll cut your head off and it will push up bubbles, not daisies. At the very least they’ll fill your vessels with cold dehydrating solution and you’ll end up upside down and naked at 321 F. below zero, like some shriveled up old vampire.
Will you feel any of this? No. Is it any more gruesome than the alternatives of skeletonizing in a flame, or by slow decay? No. But the average person manages to mostly avoid thinking of the alternatives, and the funeral industry helps them do it. But there’s no avoiding thinking hard about this nitty-gritty physical death stuff, when you sign up for cryonics.
There’s even some primal primate fear involved, something like the fear of snakes. Except that cryonics taps into fears about being alone and alienated in the future, along with primal fears of decapitation (monkeys hate seeing monkey parts, particularly monkey heads). My illustration of the power of these memes is Washington Irving’s short stories: out of the very many he wrote, only two are now remembered, and yet, at the same time, remarkably almost everyone knows those two. They are Rip Van Winkle and The Legend of Sleepy Hollow. There’s a reason for this.
The psychological factors can surprise the most dyed-in-the-wool atheists who have experience with death. I myself came to cryonics as a physician, already having spent most of a year dissecting corpses, and later seeing much real-time dying. It didn’t completely fix the problem of my own physical mortality. When I came to actually signing up for cryonics, already having been convinced of it for some time, I felt significant psychological resistance, even so. There’s a difference between what you know intellectually and what your gut tells you. Cryonics is like skydiving in that regard.
At this point, it’s worth repeating two of my favorite cryonics stories (the intellectual world is composed of stories, as somebody said, in the same way the physical world is composed of atoms).
Story #1 involves the winner of the Omni magazine essay contest of Why I Want To Be Cryonically Suspended. The prize: a free sign-up to Alcor, no money needed. The young man who won with the best essay about why he wanted to do it, was duly offered the prize he’d eloquently convinced himself, and everyone else, that he wanted. And when it came down to doing it, he couldn’t make himself do it. Interesting.
Story #2 is about Frederik Pohl, atheist S.F. writer of a lot of good tales, including one of the better cryonics stories, The Age of the Pussyfoot. Thirty years ago Pohl was approached by a cryonics organization about signing up, on the basis of his novel and known beliefs. He gave the usual counter argument about the chance not being worth the expense. The return was an offer to cryopreserve him free, for the publicity. He was taken aback, and said he’d have to think about it. Later, after much prodding, he produced what he admitted (and hadn’t realized before) was the real reason: he couldn’t get past the creep factor. Pohl is still alive as of this writing (he’s 90), but he’ll eventually die and won’t be cryopreserved, even though his intellect tells him (and has long told him) that he should.
So, in summary, I’m happy that Eliezer spent some time in Florida socializing with happy yuppies who had already made it past the barrier to signing up for cryonics. But for those out in the world who haven’t actually done that yet—signed and notarized—there is one more test of mettle for the Hero, which even they may not realize yet awaits them. This is a test of the power of will over emotion, and it’s not for the faint of spirit. In some ways it’s like the scene from the Book of the Dead where the dead person’s heart is weighed, except that this is where the would-be cryonicist finds that his or her courage is being weighed. It’s like doing the long tax return while signing yourself up for organ donation or medical school dissection, or the like.
I wish them luck. I wonder if anybody asked people at the conference what their own experiences had been, in getting past the tests of the underworld, or the under-MIND, to gain that strange chance to be your own Osiris.
Steve Harris, M.D. Alcor member since 1987
I’m baffled that this is the stumbling block for so many people. I can understand being worried about the cost/uncertainty trade-off, but I really don’t understand why it’s any less troublesome than buying life insurance, planning a funeral, picking a cemetery plot, writing a will, or planning for cremation. People make choices that involve contemplating their death all the time, and people make choices about unpleasant-sounding medical treatments all the time.
Well, maybe more people would sign up if Alcor’s process didn’t involve as much thinking about the alternatives? I had thought that the process was just signing papers and arranging life insurance. But if Alcor’s process is turning people away, maybe that needs to change.
Maybe I’m just deluding myself: I’m not in a financial position to sign up yet, and I plan on signing up when I am. But I can’t see the “creep factor” being an issue for me at all. I have no idea what that would feel like.
For what it’s worth, I’ve heard people initially had many of the same hangups about life insurance, saying that they didn’t want to gamble on death. The way that salespeople got around that was by emphasizing that the contracts would protect the family in event of the breadwinner’s death, and thus making it less of a selfish thing.
I wonder if cryo needs a similar marketing parallel. “Don’t you want to see your parents again?”
This is the exact sentence that crossed my mind upon reading the original comment.
I often find that my reactions and feelings are completely different from other people’s, though.
Speaking as someone who tried getting a concrete price estimate, the process can stand to be much improved. I had/will have to (if I follow through):
Get convinced that cryo is worth digging into (maybe call this step “0”).
Figure out where to get price info (this took another chunk of time until I ran across some useful Less Wrong posts) for life insurance related stuff.
Contact a life insurance person (as a cold call)
Hand over some personal info.
Get a pile of PDFs in return along with finding out that I still have to...
Decide between different cryo organizations. 6 a) Find out info about the organizations’ recurring fees. 6 b) Do research into each organization
Decide which cryo approach to take.
Read over all the stuff from step 5.
Talk to the organization from step 6 about the physical logistics such as the wrist band thingy.
Make a final Y/N decision
Hunt down notary(ies) and witness(es) (?) 11 a) Make appointments with everyone
Fill out the papers from the life insurance people
Fill out the papers from the cryo organization.
Sign stuff.
Sign more stuff.
Mail everything
At any time between steps 1 and 16, the process can fall completely apart.
I live in the UK, and when I was self-employed I had an accountant do my taxes. I’m looking into signing up, and it looks to be much, much harder than that; not an “oh, must get around to it” thing but a long and continuing period of investigation to even find out what I need to sort out. This bar currently seems very, very high to me; if it were as simple as getting a mortgage I’d probably already be signed up.
Rudi Hoffman has sent word back.
The quote I was given for whole-life (constant coverage, constant premiums, no time limit) is $1900 per year (I’m 40, male and healhty), for a payout of $200K.
The more problematic news is that the life insurance company may start requiring a US Social Security number.
Wow, that’s a lot. Thanks!
Yes. The major conclusion here is—if you are going to sign up, sign up early.
Steve I didn’t know that story about Frederik Pohl-thank you for posting it, fascinating. Also, they weren’t all yuppies at the FL teens & twenties cryonicist conference, there were representatives from all sorts of backgrounds/classes. Personally my motivation in signing up for cryonics is that I think the amount of knowledge that we have to learn about the Universe pales in comparison to my short natural lifespan, that keeps me in awe-as I currently learn all that I can, and all the new things I realize I don’t know. That said, I’m perfectly happy with my own life, with my family, friends and community work and if I get more time, an “extreme lifespan” to see what is out there in the billions of light years of space, if I get more time to help end inequality if it still exists—or to move on to other goals, then so be it-I got lucky that cryonics worked ;-)
This is an awesome comment. I plan to sign up for cryonics when I can, and I’m really hoping I have the guts to go through with it for myself and any children I may someday have. I hope it really is comparable to signing up to be an organ donor, because I did that without a second thought. On the other hand, that was just one of many boxes on the driver’s license paperwork.