I take a prescription drug called Rybelsus to help regulate my blood sugar. It’s from a class of drugs called GLP-1s, which also includes injectable drugs such as Ozempic and Wegovy. You’ve probably seen the commercials on TV or know someone who takes one of these medications.
I lost about 35 pounds using Rybelsus, and my blood sugar numbers have improved to a goal set by my doctor. So, win-win.
I was listening to a podcast the other day about how GLP-1 drugs work. The well-sourced report noted that these drugs turn down the volume on desires in our brains — specifically the desire to overeat. The physical side effects seem to be minimal, aside from some stomach distress.
I find this analysis to be 100% true. For example: I love fried catfish. I’m a baby boomer from the South, after all. I can get a takeout plate from my favorite meat-and-three restaurant and make it last two meals. Besides a bran muffin for breakfast, that catfish plate — split between lunch and dinner — might be my only caloric intake of the day.
In a perfect world, GLP-1 drugs such as Rybelsus would make us want to eat only healthy food. But that’s not the way it works.
The drug simply makes us eat less of the food we like. It’s hard to argue with the results, though.
The idea of turning down desires in our brains intrigues me. And indeed, research shows that the GLP-1 drugs temper other cravings such as for alcohol and caffeine. It even seems to blunt some bad habits such as fingernail chewing.
Hmm, I thought when I heard this. What happens if you extrapolate this? What if modern medicine — with a little assist from AI — could craft a pill that made almost all temptation obsolete? What if this pill tempered desire from all the things that are bad for our bodies, our minds and our souls? Talk about medical miracles.
I’ve often thought that most of human failings can be traced to the so-called seven deadly sins, a list formulated centuries ago by a Christian monk. Desire drives most of what we call sin. Pride is the desire to be selfish. Greed, a desire for worldly possessions. Wrath, a desire for vengeance. Envy, a desire for another’s belongings. Lust, desires of the flesh. Gluttony, an unhealthy desire for food. Sloth, the desire to do nothing.
In the Lord’s Prayer, it says “lead us not into temptation.” Now imagine popping a baby-aspirin-size pill each morning and getting precisely that effect. Would the world be better? Would we feel better? Would a world with less temptation — and therefore less sin — be good or bad for religious institutions?
For me, asking an AI bot a question like this is like asking some know-it-all for advice. The bot will make up an answer that sounds good, but it really has no human experience to draw on, and so its insights will also be both generic and dubious.
Which brings me to the modern innovation that I find smarter — so far — than AI. It’s called crowd-sourcing. Example: If I have a leak in my pickup truck, I can go to a Facebook page for owners of my particular make and model and get informed answers within minutes. If I don’t know how to do a particular task, I can watch 10 YouTube videos, shared by others, with step-by-step instructions.
My point: We’ve been sharing human intelligence online for years. This is information based on the experience and learning of other humans. It’s pretty easy to filter out the best answers.
So, when I was wondering about my theoretical “anti-temptation” pill the other day, I took it to a crowd source I trust on spiritual matters, my Sunday School class.
The consensus was that while it sounds interesting, human desires — good and bad — are too numerous and nuanced to be satiated with pharmaceuticals alone.
“There’s always another, bigger sin a person will turn to,” one of my church friends said.
My life experience makes me think this is true. But I like creatively thinking about questions like this as a mental exercise.
And I pity those who seek the truth from a silicon source, which has never even sniffed oxygen.
Email Mark Kennedy at mkennedy@timesfreepress.com.