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All this sounds wonderful, but reminds me of people who have amazing systems to play the stock market and leverage $1,000 to $1,000,000. Of all the people with all their systems, a few lucky ones hit the jackpot by chance, while the majority muddle through or lose it all. The lucky ones assume the market has acknowledged their financial genius and go on to tell us all about it.
If 5% of glioblastoma patients uncannily survive, how much am I supposed to update on hearing that one of those patients did some combination of plausible but undertested interventions during their recovery?
A prereminiscence: It's like it was with chess. We passed through that stage when AI could beat most of us to where it obviously outperforms all of us. Only for cultural output in general. People still think now, but privately, in the shower, or in quaint artisanal forms as if we were making our own yogurts or weaving our own clothes. Human-produced works are now a genre with a dwindling and eccentric fan base more concerned with the process than the product.
It was like the tide coming in. One day it was cutely, clumsily trying to mimic that thing we do. Soon after it was doing it pretty well and you watched it with admiration as if it were a dog balancing on a ball. Then soon it could do it well enough for most purposes, you couldn't help but admit. Then as good as all but the best, even to those who could tell the difference. And then we were suddenly all wet, gathering our remaining picnic and heading for higher ground, not only completely outclassed but even unable to judge by how far we were being outclassed. Once a chess machine can beat everybody every time, who is left to applaud when it gets twice again as good?
If it had been a war, we would have had a little ceremony as we brought down our flag and folded it up and put it away, but because it happened as quickly and quietly as it did and because we weren't sure whether we wanted to admit it was happening, there was no formal hand-off. One day we just resignedly realized we could no longer matter much, but there was so much more now to appreciate and we could see echoes and reflections of ourselves in it, so we didn't put up a fight.
Every once in a while someone would write an essay, Joan Didion quality, really good. Or write a song. Poignant, beautiful, original even. Not maybe the best essay or the best song we'd seen that day, but certainly worthy of being in the top ranks. And we'd think: we've still got it. We can still rally when we've got our backs to the wall. Don't count us out yet. But it was just so hard, and there was so much else to do. And so when it happened less and less frequently, we weren't surprised.
And our curiosity left us, too. We half-remembered a time when we would have satisfied curiosity by research and experiment (words that increasingly had the flavor of “thaumaturgy,” denoting processes productive though by unclear means). But nowadays curiosity is déclassé. It suggests laziness (why not just ask it?)… or poverty (oh, you can’t afford to ask it; you want one of us to ask it)—an increasing problem as we less and less have something to offer in trade that it desires and lacks.
The book in the Chinese Room directs the actions of the little man in the room. Without the book, the man doesn't act, and the text doesn't get translated.
The popcorn map on the other hand doesn't direct the popcorn to do what it does. The popcorn does what it does, and then the map in a post-hoc way is generated to explain how what the popcorn did maps to some particular calculation.
You can say that "oh well, then, the popcorn wasn't really conscious until the map was generated; it was the additional calculations that went into generating the map that really caused the consciousness to emerge from the calculating" and then you're back in Chinese Room territory. But if you do this, you're left with the task of explaining how a brain can be conscious solely by means of executing a calculation before anyone has gotten around to creating a map between brain-states and whatever the relevant calculation-states might be. You have to posit some way in which calculations capable of embodying consciousness are inherent to brains but must be interpreted into being elsewhere.
The book in the room isn't inert, though. It instructs the little guy on what to do as he manipulates symbols and stuff. As such, it is an important part of the computation that takes place.
The mapping of popcorn-to-computation, though, doesn't do anything equivalent to this. It's just an off-to-the-side interpretation of what is happening in the popcorn: it does nothing to move the popcorn or cause it to be configured in such a way. It doesn't have to even exist: if you just know that in theory there is a way to map the popcorn to the computation, then if (by the terms of the argument) the computation itself is sufficient to generate consciousness, the popcorn should be able to do it as well, with the mapping left as an exercise for the reader. Otherwise you are implying some special property of a headful of meat such that it does not need to be interpreted in this way for its computation to be equivalent to consciousness.
This reminds me of my intuitive rejection of the Chinese Room thought experiment, in which the intuition pump seems to rely on the little guy in the room not knowing Chinese, but that it's obviously the whole mechanism that is the room, the books in the room, etc. that is doing the "knowing" while the little guy is just a cog.
Part of what makes the rock/popcorn/wall thought experiment more appealing, even given your objections here, is that even if you imagine that you have offloaded the complex mapping somewhere else, the actual thinking-action that the mapping interprets is happening in the rock/popcorn/wall. The mapping itself is inert and passive at that point. So if you imagine consciousness as an activity that is equivalent to a physical process of computation you still have to imagine it taking place in the popcorn, not in the mapping.
You seem maybe to be implying that we have underinvestigated the claim that one really can arbitrarily map any complex computation to any finite collection of stuff (that this would e.g. imply that we have solved the halting problem). But I think these thought experiments don't require us to wrestle with that because they assume ad arguendo that you can instantiate the computations we're interested in (consciousness) in a headful of meat, and then try to show that if this is the case, many other finite collections of matter ought to be able to do the job just as well.
Crucially, the mappings to rocks or integers require the computation to be performed elsewhere to generate the mapping. Without the computation occurring externally, the mapping cannot be constructed, and thus, it is misleading to claim that the computation happens 'in' the rock or the integers. Further, Crucially, the mappings to rocks or integers require the computation to be performed elsewhere to generate the mapping. Without the computation occurring externally, the mapping cannot be constructed, and thus, it is misleading to claim that the computation happens 'in' the rock or the integers.
Either this is saying the same thing twice or I'm seeing double.
Tomasik dismisses this as ,
?
The fundamental attribution error is another important one. I sometimes find I slip into it myself when I get tired or inattentive, but for most people I observe it seems fully baked into their characters.
More on gratitude, how it works, and how to best take advantage of it: Notes on Gratitude
Wants are emergent, complex forms of pain and pleasure. They are either felt or they are not felt, and reason only comes in at the stage of deciding what to do about them.
Are you really certain that one's desires are just givens that one has no rational influence over? I'm skeptical.
https://www.lesswrong.com/posts/aQQ69PijQR2Z64m2z/notes-on-temperance#Can_we_shape_our_desires_
An influential ethical philosopher is on his way to address a conference of wealthy donors about effective altruism. His rhetorical power and keen arguments are such that he can expect these donors to reach deep and double their donations to yet worthier causes after his talk. On his way to the conference, however, he comes across a child drowning in a pond. He is the only one around who can save this child, but to do so, he would have to jump in the pond, ruin his humble but respectable second-hand suit, and miss the train to the conference. While he would certainly have a good excuse to give to the donors, before he would have the opportunity to do so they would probably leave the conference feeling resentful at the waste of their valuable time, rather than generous and inspired. He figures he can save more lives by letting the child drown and instead catching his train to the conference, so he turns his back on the pond.
A lot of the current education system aims to give children skills that they can apply to the job market as it existed 20 years ago or so. I think children would be better-advised to master more general skills that could be applied to a range of possible rapidly changing worlds: character skills like resilience, flexibility, industriousness, rationality, social responsibility, attention, caution, etc.
Come to think of it, such skills probably represent more reliable "investments" for us grown-ups too.
Done. Thanks for the correction.
It seems plausible to me that there is a sort of selection process in which people are creating ostensible-wisdom all the time, but only some of that wisdom gets passed along to the next generation, and the next, and so forth, while a lot of it gets discarded. If some example of wisdom is indeed ancient, then you can by virtue of that have at least some evidence that it has passed through this selection process.
To what extent this selection process selects for wisdom that actually earns that designation I'll leave as an exercise for the reader.
We taboo resemblance all the time for things that refer to other things: Words, for example. The word "mouse" does not resemble a mouse, but we can usefully use the word as a reference. Words that resemble their references are a peculiar and remarkable tiny category (onomatopoeia) that are the exception to the rule.
If you thought your computer interface were an accurate picture of what is going on inside the computer, you might indeed go looking for a microscopic pointer somewhere in the wires. It's because you don't think this that you know to look for correspondences and representations instead. Hoffman's point is that we don't tend to do this with things like space, time, matter, etc.: we think those things in our interface-with-reality correspond to the same sorts of things in reality-under-the-hood (space, time, matter, etc.). He believes we're mistaken.
It's not nonsensical. It's an assertion that can be made sense of with a little effort.
Consider the user interface analogy. On your desktop there is a mouse pointer with which you can drag a file from here to there. In the underlying computer which executes the actions which are represented by this interface, there is nothing that resembles a pointer, a dragging action, or a file. That the interface associates certain activity in the hardware with certain things that appear on the desktop is a useful convention for us, but it is not one that was designed to give us an accurate notion of what is taking place inside the machine. Hoffman suggests that the same thing is true of the interface-reality we perceive and the real-reality underneath. The interface-reality was "designed" by natural selection to be a useful convention for us as we interact with the real-reality which is not apparent to us.
shame—no need to exacerbate such feelings if it can be avoided
Shame may be an important tool that people with dark traits can leverage to overcome those traits. Exacerbating it may in some cases be salutary.
FWIW: I've added my summary of the answers here to my Notes on Industriousness.
To me, the phrase “I decided to trust her” throws an error. It’s the “decided” part that’s the problem: beliefs are not supposed to involve any “deciding”.
To trust is more than a passive cognitive reflection like a belief, it is also an action taken upon the world. This might be more easily seen if you consider the more awkward phrasing "I decided to extend my trust to her".
“So convenient a thing to be a reasonable creature, since it enables one to find or make a reason for every thing one has a mind to do.” ―Benjamin Franklin (Autobiography Ⅳ, 1791)
“[T]he majority of men do not think in order to know the truth, but in order to assure themselves that the life which they lead, and which is agreeable and habitual to them, is the one which coincides with the truth.” ―Tolstoy (The Kingdom of God Is Within You, 1894)
“[A]n aim of philosophy is patiently and unremittingly to sustain the vigilance of reason in the presence of failure and in the presence of that which seems alien to it.” ―Karl Jaspers (Way to Wisdom, 1950)
“He who knows the truth is not equal to him who loves it, and he who loves it is not equal to him who delights in it.” ―Confucius (Analects Ⅵ.18)
“The knowledge of the theory of logic has no tendency whatever to make men good reasoners.” —Thomas Macaulay (“Lord Bacon” 1837)
Some considerations you might be missing:
A language, among other things, is an ongoing, long-term, collective effort by a culture to categorize understanding: to divide up what is known, knowable, (or mistaken) into chunky abstractions that can then be played with lego-style to assemble new insights, hypotheses, or what-have-you.
Each language carves up reality a little differently.
When there are more languages in use, there are more versions of this carving at play. Some languages can easily express things that other languages cannot. Some languages make distinctions that others do not. And so forth.
When a language dies and merely exists as documentation in another language, something is lost. The very things in the dead language that are most exceptional are the ones that defy translation; they have their edges rubbed off during the documentation process and become e.g. "the closest English equivalent of" rather than their rich original meaning.
When we lose living languages, we lose more than alternative ways of expressing certain concepts, but alternative ways of conceptualizing.
Anyone else getting "ask your doctor if Photoshop™ is right for you" vibes from some of those before & after photos?
...the fact that the average life in New Zealand is much, much better than the average life in the Democratic Republic of Congo...
I think you may be in danger of overloading "better" in statements like this, and more implicitly throughout your argument. (Similarly "good" in statements like "It’s absurd to... believe[] a life for a woman in Saudi Arabia is just as good as life for a woman in some other country with similarly high per capita income".)
Consider if I said something like this: "We are constantly told that it would be better for us if we ate fewer calories. But this ignores the quality of those calories. Everybody who has tasted both knows that calorie for calorie, chocolate eclairs are better than lima beans. So it only makes sense that it would be better to reduce the better calories last."
It might help if you explicitly stated better how (and maybe for whom) throughout, or use more precise adjectives than the generic good or better.
You also seem to me to be making an implicit "the goal of EA ought not to be to relieve existing suffering but to maximize future hedons" argument that maybe should be made explicit instead.
If UBI is implemented as a form of wealth redistribution -- in other words if a progressive tax fully funds the UBI payouts -- then the money supply inflation problem goes away, no? At least on the economy-wide scale.
I guess there is still the problem that at the bottom of the income scale there is now more money chasing e.g. a stickily-fixed supply of low-income housing, so the prices of such goods are likely to rise. But might some of the people who used to compete for that stock of housing also now be UBI-boosted into setting their sights on higher-quality housing and no longer be part of that competitive pool? Maybe it evens out.
See also: Notes on Empathy for more suggestions and some of the research / theory behind them.
What I don't see in your outline, and what I think would make your proposed manifesto stronger, would be a chapter along the lines of "this is the steelmanned case for why continuing progress in technology is problematic and dangerous and for how humanity could prosper or avoid disaster by putting the brakes on it."
Otherwise it does look like a preaching to the choir thing. Manifestos are often that sort of preaching, so maybe that's okay for what you're after, but for all the usual LW-communications-ethos reasons, I hope you decide on something better.
I've seen dukkha translated as something more like "unsatisfactoriness" which puts a kind of Stoic spin on it. You look at the cards you've been dealt, and instead of playing them, you find them inadequate and get upset about it. The Stoics (and the Buddhists, in this interpretation) would recommend that you instead just play the cards you're dealt. They may not be great cards, but you won't make them any better by complaining about them. Dunno if this is authentic to Buddhism or is more the result of Westerners trying to find something familiar in Buddhism, though.
My point is that in English "experience such severe pain that one might prefer non-existence to continuing to endure that pain" would be considered an uncontroversial example of "suffering", not as something suffering-neutral to which suffering might or might not be added. I understand that in Buddhism there's a fine-grained distinction of some sort here, but it carries over poorly to English.
I expect that if you told a Buddhist-naive English-speaker "Buddhism teaches you how to never suffer ever again" they would assume you were claiming that this would include "never experiencing such severe pain that one might prefer non-existence to continuing to endure that pain." If this is not the case, I think they would be justified to feel they'd been played with a bit of a bait-and-switch dharma-wise.
There can be pain without suffering. If pain is experienced without attachment and aversion, there is no resulting suffering. If the Buddha were to stub his toe, there would be pain, but he would not suffer as a result.
I wonder whether "suffering" is an adequate translation. I get the feeling that the Buddhist sutras and our common vulgate are talking past each other. See for example MN144, in which Channa slits his wrists to end his pain, and the Buddha says he was sufficiently enlightened that he will not be reborn. Channa complains: “Reverend Sāriputta, I’m not keeping well, I’m not getting by. The pain is terrible and growing, not fading; its growing is evident, not its fading. The winds piercing my head are so severe, it feels like a strong man drilling into my head with a sharp point. The pain in my head is so severe, it feels like a strong man tightening a tough leather strap around my head. The winds slicing my belly are so severe, like a deft butcher or their apprentice were slicing open a cows’s belly with a meat cleaver. The burning in my body is so severe, it feels like two strong men grabbing a weaker man by the arms to burn and scorch him on a pit of glowing coals. I’m not keeping well, I’m not getting by. The pain is terrible and growing, not fading; its growing is evident, not its fading. Reverend Sāriputta, I will slit my wrists. I don’t wish to live.” If that's "not suffering" then "not suffering" isn't all it's cracked up to be.
Anselm: I have discovered a truly marvelous proof for the existence of God, which this tweet is too small to contain. 🙏😇
https://www.lesswrong.com/posts/HnNNGWQEX7CgaqBt2/notes-on-reverence
Excerpt:
“I am an atheist, and am addressing an audience in which, if I’m not mistaken, respect for the tenets of established religion is fairly low. But I want to explore reverence — in the spirit of Chesterton’s Fence — because it is common to many virtue systems across cultures and across time. Among the questions that concern me:
- “Are there aspects of reverence that are valuable that rationalists can preserve and nurture in their own ways in their own traditions?
- “Is reverence perhaps so valuable that it is worth taking a ‘leap of faith’ beyond the limits of rationalism in order to practice it?”
Took a couple of years, but my dystopian future has arrived:
May, 2024: Google search starts to put "AI Overviews" above its web search results. [BBC] "Google's new artificial intelligence (AI) search feature is facing criticism for providing erratic, inaccurate answers. Its experimental 'AI Overviews' tool has told some users searching for how to make cheese stick to pizza better that they could use 'non-toxic glue'. The search engine's AI-generated responses have also said geologists recommend humans eat one rock per day."
my current best guess
FWIW, from Iris Murdoch's Metaphysics as a Guide to Morals (p. 323): "If we study one moral concept we soon see it as an aspect of another. It is true on the one hand that as moral agents we tend to specialise. The high-principled statesman may be a negligent father (and so on). It may seem as if we have a limited amount of good motivation available and cannot expect to be decent 'all round'. There are familiar ways of characterising people in terms of individual characteristics. Yet also a closer look may show this as superficial, and we then wish to say that the impulse toward goodness should stir the whole person."
Here 'tis: https://www.lesswrong.com/posts/iofy4cWC9AWzZDtxc/notes-on-gracefulness
If you are worried that nobody obsessively overanalyzes the concept of love in a desperate search for something solid at the base of the concept, worry no longer.
I'd be curious to hear your thoughts about how insight-frisson might be induced by psychedelics/marijuana in terms of your model. Anecdotally, these drugs seem to promote both a lot of false-positive insight-frisson experiences (the feeling of having an insight is vividly there, but the insight itself seems to dissolve upon inspection) and genuinely insightful insight-frisson experiences (a conceptual discrepancy you didn't even realize you had suddenly comes to light, and a way of resolving it follows soon after, in a way that endures beyond the acute drug experience).
It sounds like you want to say things like "coherence and persistent similarity of structure in perceptions demonstrates that perceptions are representations of things external to the perceptions themselves" or "the idea that there is stuff out there seems the obvious explanation" or "explanations that work better than others are the best alternatives in the search for truth" and yet you also want to say "pish, philosophy is rubbish; I don't need to defend an opinion about realism or idealism or any of that nonsense". In fact what you're doing isn't some alternative to philosophy, but a variety of it.
A hypothesis that explains the perceptions can be a just-so story. For any set of perceptions ζ, there may be a vast number of hypotheses that explain those perceptions. How do you choose among them?
In other words, if f() and g() both explain ζ equally well, but are incompatible in all sorts of other ways for which you do not have perceptions to distinguish them, ζ may be "evidence for the hypothesis" f and ζ may be "evidence for the hypothesis" g, but ζ offers no help in determining whether f or g is truer. Consider e.g. f is idealism, g is realism, or some other incompatible metaphysical positions that start with our perceptions and speculate from there.
An author I read recently compared this obstinate coherence of our perceptions to a GUI. When I move my mouse pointer to a file, click, and drag that file into another folder, I'm doing something that has predictable results, and that is similar to other actions I've performed in the past, and that plays nicely with my intuitions about objects and motion and so forth. But it would be a mistake for me to then extrapolate from this and assume that somewhere on my hard drive or in my computer memory is a "file" which I have "dragged" "into" a "folder". My perceptions via the interface may have consistency and practical utility, but they are not themselves a reliable guide to the actual state of the world.
Obstinate coherence and persistent similarity of structure are intriguing but they are limited in how much they can explain by themselves.
It's a characteristic of philosophy, too, at least according to the positivists. If you're humoring a metaphysical theory that could not even in theory be confirmed or falsified by some possible observation, they suggest that you're really engaging in mythmaking or poetry or something, not philosophy.
This is a brief follow-up to my post “Redirecting one’s own taxes as an effective altruism method.” Since I wrote that post:
- Scott Alexander boosted (not to be interpreted as endorsed) my post on Astral Codex Ten, which helped to give it more than typical reach.
- In a flinchy spasm of post-SBF timidity, GiveWell explicitly told me they did not want to get their hands dirty with my donations of redirected taxes any more.
- My tax arrears for 2013 ($5,932 original tax + ~$5,467 in interest & penalties) were annulled by the statute of limitations.
- I made a $5,932 donation to Charity Entrepreneurship to celebrate.
According to Seigen Ishin (Ch'ing-yüan Wei-hsin):
"Before a man studies Zen, to him mountains are mountains and waters are waters; after he gets an insight into the truth of Zen through the instruction of a good master, mountains to him are not mountains and waters are not waters; but after this when he really attains to the abode of rest, mountains are once more mountains and waters are waters."
(D. T. Suzuki, Essays in Zen Buddhism, First Series, 1926, London; New York: Published for the Buddhist Society, London by Rider, p. 24.)
- We inhabit this real material world, the one which we perceive all around us (and which somehow gives rise to perceptive and self-conscious beings like us).
- Though not all of our perceptions conform to a real material world. We may be fooled by things like illusions or hallucinations or dreams that mimic perceptions of this world but are actually all in our minds.
- Indeed if you examine your perceptions closely, you'll see that none of them actually give you representations of the material world, but merely reactions to it.
- In fact, since the only evidence we have is of perceptions, the "material world" is more of a metaphysical hypothesis we use to explain patterns in our perceptions, not something we can vouch for as actually existing.
- Since this hypothesis is untestable, it is best put aside when we consider what actually exists. The "material world" is not a thing, but a framework and vocabulary useful for discussing regularities in what is really real.
- What is really "real" -- what the word "real" means -- is our moment to moment perceptions and interpretations, which appear to us in the form of a material world that we inhabit.
- GOTO 1
How to best break out of this loop?
And then today I read this: “We yearn for the transcendent, for God, for something divine and good and pure, but in picturing the transcendent we transform it into idols which we then realize to be contingent particulars, just things among others here below. If we destroy these idols in order to reach something untainted and pure, what we really need, the thing itself, we render the Divine ineffable, and as such in peril of being judged non-existent. Then the sense of the Divine vanishes in the attempt to preserve it.” (Iris Murdoch, Metaphysics as a Guide to Morals)
In my fantasies, if I ever were to get that god-like glimpse at how everything actually is, with all that is currently hidden unveiled, it would be something like the feeling you have when you get a joke, or see a "magic eye" illustration, or understand an illusionist's trick, or learn to juggle: what was formerly perplexing and incoherent becomes in a snap simple and integrated, and there's a relieving feeling of "ah, but of course."
But it lately occurs to me that the things I have wrong about the world are probably things I've grasped at exactly because they are more simple and more integrated than the reality they hope to approximate. I think if I really were to get this god-like glimpse, I wouldn't know what to do with it. I probably couldn't fit it in with anything I think I know. It wouldn't mesh. It wouldn't be the missing piece of my puzzle, but would overturn the table the incomplete puzzle is on. I have a feeling I couldn't even be there, intact, in the way I am now: observing, puzzling over things, trying to shuffle and combine ideas. What makes me think I can bring my face along, face-to-face with the All?
I have the vague impression that in spite of getting some obvious (to the outsider) things wrong (fervently believing the preposterous), Mormons or LDS culture get some less-obvious things unusually right (relative to non-Mormons/LDS culture generally). I'm curious about those things, how they felt from the inside, and how the rest of us look in comparison from inside that culture. What are some things you think LDS culture does well that the rest of us might be able to emulate?
The reason I said "not funny" is not my sideways way of saying "I don't approve of that sort of thing" but is more related to the point in your second paragraph. You can't just state your opinion in the form of a joke and turn it into a joke that way. (Except perhaps in some rare edge cases: "Knock knock. Who's there? Epstein didn't kill himself.") It's like if I said "What do you call a ladder? An accident waiting to happen." Have I said anything funny, or have I just chosen a strange way to say "I think a ladder is an accident waiting to happen"?
And in the case of Bob, I can certainly imagine someone from another culture, or who is young and sheltered, etc. not being up on American stereotyping and for whom such innocence would not be merely affected innocence.