Meteuphoric

Crossposted from world spirit sock puppet.

An odd aspect of discussing serious threats is the amount of concern people express about you causing other people to be concerned. This kind of makes sense for interlocutors who don’t believe in the threat itself, or think it is overblown (though in that case it is perhaps strange to focus on altruistic concern for potential frightened onlookers rather than the object-level disagreement). But often the person is not actually disputing the threat, they purportedly just want to protect the public from fear, or avoid causing ‘panic’.

A memorable case: on what was to be one of the last normal weekends in 2020, I took an Uber with a friend to an event. On the way we discussed the rising warnings of an international pandemic and our preparations. But my friend wanted us to talk more discreetly, lest we scare the Uber driver.

Why on Earth would it be bad to scare the Uber driver? My friend believed as much as I did that a real and deadly virus was spreading and there was an imminent risk of this affecting us all, including the Uber driver. Didn’t the Uber driver have an interest in knowing about it? Wasn’t it, if anything, our responsibility to tell the Uber driver? Is the concern that, as a normal person, the Uber driver is incompetent to manage himself, and will just scream and run around or buy poorly selected prepper equipment?

In conversations about AI risk, I sometimes see the same thing. Geoffrey Hinton says he thinks there’s a 10-20% chance of human extinction, and some people seem genuinely most concerned is that maybe the press didn’t add enough disclaimers about the process by which he reached that number, and the public may get unnecessarily worried. I agree it would be non-ideal if people were 20%-level worried when they would only endorse being 7% worried on further methodological inspection. But among non-ideal aspects of a situation where most of the relevant scientists believe their field is heading toward a modest-to-strong shot at killing us, it’s interesting to rate “maybe people will be too concerned” as a top concern.

What is going on? In this particular case, I could imagine behaving this way if the original communication seemed dishonest. But finding this dishonest seems similar to complaining if someone yells “fire!” that they should have yelled “I subjectively guess that it’s highly likely there’s a fire because of the smoke and flames but I’m not an expert”. And it seems like there’s something else going on with wanting that.

A related phenomenon: people casually mention ‘causing a panic’ as a thing that is assumed to be too terrible. Like, yes there’s some upside to warning people that there is a major threat to their lives that they can do something about. Maybe doing that will help stop the world from ending. But! What if they get all emotional? They may not act in the most clear-eyed and rational way. They may talk to each other in epistemically unvirtuous fashions and get even more concerned. They may buy too much toilet paper or run on a perfectly functional bank or protest for poorly designed policies.

I mean, indeed this is all worse than them addressing threats in the most rational and optimal way. But how is it a problem that even ranks compared to them not addressing threats because they don’t know about them? And who are you to not tell people about genuine risks to them that they would act on, to protect their feelings or because they would be more upset than you want?

Crossposted from world spirit sock puppet.

Crossposted from world spirit sock puppet.

Some things you might learn from games are pretty blatant: Trivial Pursuit might teach you trivia, MasterType might teach you about typing, Grand Theft Auto might teach you about driving or crime.

But sometimes games teach people less obvious things—things that are more experiential or ineffable, things that you didn’t know you didn’t know, concepts that stick in your mind, deep things. Here’s my list of games and their interesting real-world updates, as experienced by me or my friends:

Dominion: Don’t invest for eternity. When casually improving or protecting or investing in things, it’s easy for me to treat life (and perhaps even the present period) as basically eternal. In fact I shouldn’t, but it can take many years of living to really feel how likely it is that you’ll leave your perfectly wonderful house within two years, or just keep on aging. Dominion lets me feel that in a matter of hours, by tempting me to invest in a beautiful and effective deck that will do amazingly for the rest of eternity, then making the other player win by haphazardly buying a handful of provinces before I’m done. Which is very annoying, and I do hold against it.

**The Witness: **there is nothing in The Witness (at least near the start, I haven’t played it all) that you can pick up and take with you. No objects, no points, no manna, no health. It’s just you, walking around in a world. Something about that feels like it would be deeply unsatisfying—like what is a game, if you can’t get, y’know, things, dings? Part of me thinks that GETTING is equivalent to satisfaction, in spite of all the evidence to the contrary I keep pointing out to it. And The Witness is not where I came to realize that. What The Witness made me feel is that knowledge is a REAL thing you can GET, like an object. Not some hand-wavey second-rate bullshit thing that philosophers pretend to get off on. In The Witness, while your character walks around, impermeable to the world, you come to know more things. And knowing more things lets you go to places you couldn’t go to when you knew fewer things. The game on the computer concretely changes from you picking up knowledge, that ethereal thing in your mind. This is of course how everything is, but I suppose the absence of any other form of ‘picking up things’ in The Witness made me actually feel it.

**Minecraft: **How many of my difficulties in life are not this-life specific. How to live as a creature with different boundaries of personal-identity, e.g. the world spirit. Much more about these in my previous post, Mine-craft.

Return of the Obra Dinn: If at an event where lots of people are saying their name and what they do or something, I am usually bored and don’t expect to remember these things. Return of the Obra Dinn is a game where you have to figure out from minute clues the names and causes of death of a lot of characters. Once at a networking event, I decided to think of it as like a sequel of Return of the Obra Dinn—I could see all these people sitting around the table, and my quest was to pin a name and a deal to each of them, and this introductory section was currently showing me crucial information. I found that this was a very different mental state. So I suppose I learned that whatever I was normally doing in ‘trying to learn’ things about the other attendees, it is an extremely pale cousin of the curiosity I can feel in a different mental state, and that different mental state is actually fairly different, and naturally invoked in RotOD and not networking introductions.

**Dungeons and Dragons: **Caitlin Elizondo says DnD has given her a few concepts that make a difference to her thinking more generally. The concept of ‘will saves’ has given her more empathy for situations where someone wanted to but failed to do something. The six DnD stats helps her access the framework where there are different types of competency that are valuable for different tasks—obvious in theory, but easier to think in terms of with this structure.

**Poker: **the feeling of being ‘on tilt’

Boggle, Set, Ragnarock: the feeling of flow. Ragnarock is mine, and I would have said I’d experienced ‘flow’ elsewhere, but Ragnarock is sometimes more like an altered state than other such experiences I’ve had.

Civilization IV: I used to lose at a scenario then go back and play it again over and over changing things slightly until I won, which gave me a vivid sense of how suboptimal my native strategy is, presumably also in life. Which is obvious in theory, but it’s different to really feel how much better I would live this day if I was doing it the twentieth time with a laser focus on winning.

Games in general: the experience of addiction, sadly. I’ve always struggled to keep up habits of taking addictive substances, so I infer I’m unusually safe from chemical addictions (I used to play Civilization for five minutes as a reward if I remembered to take my amphetamines). Games are I think the thing I find most seriously addictive. Which has definite downsides, but it is certainly also an interesting experience that helps me understand the wider world better, and where I would be missing something if I just read about addiction in the abstract.

Do you have any to add?

[ETA May 1: I’m adding more I hear in the above list, and also see many good additions in the comments!]

Crossposted from world spirit sock puppet.

I’ve really wanted more good short accounts of why AI poses an existential risk. Working on one myself has been one of those incredibly high priorities I keep putting off.

Meanwhile award-winning journalist Ben Bradford of NPR has made a podcast version of my case for AI x-risk that I am thrilled with!

(Bonus within the 39 minutes: what Hamza Chaudhry of FLI thinks we should do about it—who I was delighted to later meet as a consequence!)

If you or anyone you know could do with a quick and gripping rundown of why this is a problem, try this one.

Get it on any podcasting app here: https://pod.link/1893359212

The NPR press release has more context on the rest of the series, assessing different possible sources of doom.

Crossposted from world spirit sock puppet.

often worry that people are being too deferential about their beliefs. I also hear others worrying about this, and nobody seemingly worrying about the reverse, except perhaps my friends and therapists (and I guess honestly people who know cranks, so that’s a bit troubling).

Which leads me to wonder, supposing it’s true that many people are too deferential, what might people do to change it? And can I offer them useful advice, as a person who might be not deferential enough?

Tonight I talked to Joe Carlsmith about this; here are some ideas mostly from the conversation:

1. A thing that has discouraged me from having independent views and broadcasting them is the concern that my views are extremely ignorant. At the normal pace of new information appearing, I am just too slow a reader to be acceptably up on it. At the AI-news rate, it’s very hopeless. And even if you recognize that situation at a high level, it can be easy to get to thinking ‘I want to write something about W, but I’ll need to read X, Y and the sequence on Z and all the responses to it first’.

It was helpful to me to give up on this kind of expectation, and accept that I’m going to be ignorant and have views anyway. I think this is the right thing to do because a) everyone is fairly ignorant and we don’t want the public discussion to be only the few people who don’t realize they are ignorant or care, and b) saying what you guess is true then letting people point you to why you are wrong is often more efficient than scouring all writing on the topic, and c) there’s value from more independent thinking on a topic, and being informed comes with being less independent. Bringing us to—

1. Being sufficiently out of the loop can actually help, as long as you are bold enough not to be silenced by this—if you don’t know what others’ views are, you have to come up with your own.
2. Focus on having your own beliefs at a relatively high level. For instance, “Shouldn’t we be stopping AI though?.. Wait, does that argument make sense?” is the kind of thing you can think about and discuss reasonably well without needing to know a lot of technical or fast-moving details, until a more manageable few are brought up in the argument. And my sense is that these kinds of questions—e.g. is our basic strategy what it should be?—are actually neglected.
3. Which brings us to status. Intellectual deference probably follows normal patterns of status-based deference. So it probably helps to be either high status or arrogant. That’s a lot of effort, but you can have the experience of being high status or arrogant by talking to people who are relatively lower status or deferential, such as children.
4. It probably helps to be brought up in a situation where you learned to distrust the thinking of everyone around you. It’s probably ideal to be taught by your parents that everyone else around is an idiot, then to come to distrust your parents opinions also.
5. That’s hard to get later in life. But perhaps you can get something similar from experiencing apparently venerable intellects confidently asserting things, then later observing them to be false.
6. If you are in conversations where it seems like the other person isn’t making sense, try to assume that is what’s going on, rather than the potentially much more salient explanation that you are a fool.
7. Give esteem to people asking potentially silly questions. It can help to expose yourself to impressive people who do this.

Niels Bohr quotes are helpful (HT Wikiquote)

1. Refuse to ‘understand’ things unless they are very clear. I don’t really know how to do this, because I don’t know what the alternative is like—being steadfastly confused about things seems to come naturally to me and I don’t know how else to be, but maybe you have both affordances available here and could lean one way or the other.
2. Something something do real thinking versus fake thinking. Ironically, this point I am deferring on, because I haven’t finished listening to Joe’s (so far very interesting) post.
3. If you are going to pass on information that you don’t deeply understand, track that it is a different thing, for instance by saying ‘something something…’