Tianqiao Chen, Founder, Chairman and CEO of Shanda Group, and Founder of Tianqiao & Chrissy Chen Institute (TCCI)

TMTPOST -- In 1492, what Columbus brought back from the ends of the deep blue was not merely gold from a few islands, but a civilizational capability profound enough to shatter the old world order: Coexistence with the Unknown.

The greatest contribution of the Age of Discovery was not simply "going further," but the invention of a foundational infrastructure that organized risk and standardized the unknown—investment provided fuel for adventure, insurance allowed disaster to be priced, accounting made expeditions auditable, maritime charters made rights and responsibilities deliverable, cartography and measurement made the world recordable, and ports and supply chains made expansion sustainable. From that moment on, exploration no longer relied on the guts of heroes, but on a machine capable of collaboration, financing, division of labor, and review: turning uncertainty from luck into engineering.

Today, we stand at a node of equal magnitude. The new boundary is no longer beyond the horizon, but within our own biology.

For the past century, the governance logic in the biological field has almost defaulted to a single, defensive justification: Treatment. I call this the "Medical Paradigm." In this paradigm, the legitimacy of intervention requires "disease" as a pass: if you are sick, repair is ethical; if you are healthy, any attempt closer to "enhancement," "life extension," or "brain optimization" immediately triggers a quagmire of unresolved governance issues—how to set standards of evidence, how to attribute liability, how to distribute long-term risks, how to execute exit mechanisms, and especially how to protect group equity. Consequently, regulation instinctively tightens, and ethics instinctively guards—not because enhancement is inherently evil, but because we lack an institutional structure that makes enhancement governable, auditable, revocable, and accountable, just like maritime navigation.

This is, in essence, an invisible "Biological Sea Ban".

It resembles the old empires before the Age of Discovery: fearing that long voyages would disrupt internal order, they preferred to mandate that "not a single plank goes into the sea." We lock our doors to conduct internal governance, narrowly equating "health" with the "absence of disease," believing this ensures safety. But this safety is often just an illusion of stagnation, because the ban seems reasonable only because it is built on an implicit assumption: There is no stronger sea power on the other side of the ocean.

However, the explosion of Artificial Intelligence is thoroughly ending this assumption.

We must honestly face a reality: AI has entered our ecological niche competition like an "invasive species." It has no physical constraints, possessing faster iteration speeds, broader cognitive bandwidth, and an accumulation advantage approximating immortality. More critically: it is driving the marginal value of a vast amount of "cognitive labor" down to near zero—thus, the distribution logic of meaning, status, and resources in human society will be forced to rewrite.

In the face of such an opponent, humanity's true shortcoming is not a specific skill, but the upper limits of the carbon-based individual: lifespan, bandwidth, and healthspan determine the time scale of "learning—accumulating—judging." We run desperately, perhaps just to avoid being left behind by AI.

If we still view biology merely as a "repair shop" and treat enhancement as a forbidden zone, then so-called "holding the ethical line" is likely just defending old sovereignty with old weapons: ironclads and cannons have appeared on the horizon, yet we insist on guarding the harbor with swords and spears. Without setting sail, the British Empire could not have ruled the world; without evolution, sovereignty in the AI-Native era will have nothing to do with humanity. Maintaining the status quo is no longer a haven; it may be the greatest risk.

So, do we need a thorough paradigm shift: from mere "Curing" to true "Evolution"?

But it must be immediately declared: the channel of human evolution is equally fraught with danger. What we need is not reckless personal adventure (biohacking), but a revival of the "Discovery Mechanism" that truly changed history in the Age of Discovery—upgrading exploration from personal gambling to civilizational collaboration; turning the unknown from a forbidden zone into a governable engineering object.

This mechanism requires at least three types of roles:

The First Role: The Navigators and Sailors.
Those who use their bodies to survey the boundaries.
They are not consumables in a lab, but should be understood as the sailors and cartographers of the Age of Discovery: led by captains (scientists, doctors, engineers), they enter frontier trials, turning the unknown deep sea into readable charts. They use the risks they personally bear to exchange for path information for all mankind—where the reefs are, where the currents flow, where is safe to land, and where must be bypassed. Such explorers should not be viewed as monsters, nor should they be morally shamed; they are the survey team of civilization. We must design a set of institutional guarantees for them: medical support, long-term follow-up, the right to exit, risk compensation, and profit sharing, making "exploration" no longer a forced sacrifice, but a respected, traceable, and redeemable contribution.

The Second Role: The Investors and Insurers.
Those who distribute risk into bearable portions.
The rise of the Age of Discovery relied not on courage alone, but on the financialization and institutionalization behind courage: capital, insurance, partnerships, and the affordability of failure. Today’s capital should not stare only at traffic algorithms cashable in the next quarter, but should support those attempts that can elevate the energy level of humanity, yet inevitably come with high failure rates. We need a true "Exploration Insurance System": failure compensation funds, tiered risk pools, and long-term liability insurance—a bottom-line mechanism for unforeseen damages—turning exploration from a personal "all-in" bet into a civilizational synergy where costs are shared and risks are hedged.

The Third Role: The Legislators.
Those who write the Maritime Charter.
They are not here to block the channel, but to draw red lines, define responsibilities, and establish an auditable order. I advocate not for "letting everything go," but for "turning evolution into a governable engineering project." The charter should establish at least four hard rules:

• First, Continuity of Personality and Responsibility: No matter how technology enhances us, the continuous existence of the "bearer" must be preserved. Technology cannot be used to erase regret, evade responsibility, or delete emotions, causing the subject to degenerate into a tool.

• Second, Authenticity of Cost and Externality Constraints: Gains cannot be premised on innocents bearing the cost; risk cannot be outsourced to the weak, nor can dividends be solidified into class barriers. The evolutionary channel must be diverse and open; otherwise, so-called "enhancement" will only become new armor for class solidification.

• Third, Reversibility First: Prioritize interventions that are exit-able, revocable, and repairable; set higher thresholds and stricter supervision for irreversible modifications.

• Fourth, Mandatory Public Disclosure of Information: Risk can be organized precisely because information can be public, audited, and reused: measurement—recording—pricing—collaboration—review; none can be missing.

Of course, in this exploration of the biological deep sea, technological propulsion is a necessary condition, just like the revolution in hulls, artillery, latitude, and navigation during the Age of Discovery. And today, one of the most critical thrusters is Artificial Intelligence itself.

But the AI I speak of here is not the "Generative AI" everyone is familiar with—they mostly write poems, answer questions, do housework, and work on assembly lines within known knowledge bases, fighting for current human jobs and opportunities.

The intelligence truly worthy of being a "Maritime Thruster" should act like a scientist in the ocean of unknown data, doing three things: proposing falsifiable hypotheses, conducting logical verification, and completing causal deduction. It should help expedition teams lock onto possible "New World Channels" amidst vast genomes, metabolic pathways, molecular interactions, and clinical phenomena: the energy secrets of mitochondria, the metabolic black box behind cell aging, the misjudgment mechanisms of the immune system, the ultimate limits of materials and energy... It is not here to replace human meaning, but to expand the space in which humans can bear meaning—providing a foundation for "shouldering" with longer lifespans, broader bandwidth, and more stable healthspans.

"I Choose, I Shoulder."

This is not just a personal credo, but a civilizational courage that humanity as a species must possess: When external sea power has arrived, we cannot trade stagnation for a fleeting ethical peace; we need to use institutions to make adventure governable, use datasets to make failure reusable, and use charters to make red lines enforceable.

Our flesh should not just be old parts waiting to be repaired; it should be a flagship waiting to set sail. We should reawaken the spirit of exploration, equip it with insurance, write the charter, and hoist the sails of Discoverative Intelligence—we will eventually find that "New World": allowing carbon-based life to possess future sovereignty alongside silicon intelligence, while maintaining its unique humanity and responsibility.