We Are Bad Algorithms
Here’s one last way to look at the history of the world:
The difference between life and stuff is that life is stuff that self-replicates.
Life is made out of cells and DNA that spawn more and more copies of
themselves.
Over the course of hundreds of millions of years, some of these primordial
life forms developed feedback mechanisms to better reproduce themselves.
An early protozoon might evolve little sensors on its membrane to better
detect amino acids by which to replicate more copies of itself, thus giving it
an advantage over other single-cell organisms. But then maybe some other
single-cell organism develops a way to “trick” other little amoeba-like things’
sensors, thus interfering with their ability to find food, and giving itself an
advantage.
Basically, there’s been a biological arms race going on since the beginning
of forever. This little single-cell thing develops a cool strategy to get more
material to replicate itself than do other single-cell organisms, and therefore it
wins the resources and reproduces more. Then another little single-cell thing
evolves and has an even better strategy for getting food, and it proliferates.
This continues, on and on, for billions of years, and pretty soon you have
lizards that can camouflage their skin and monkeys that can fake animal
sounds and awkward middle-aged divorced men spending all their money on
bright red Chevy Camaros even though they can’t really afford them—all
because it promotes their survival and ability to reproduce.
This is the story of evolution—survival of the fittest and all that.
But you could also look at it a different way. You could call it “survival of
the best information processing.”
Okay, not as catchy, perhaps, but it actually might be more accurate.
See, that amoeba that evolves sensors on its membrane to better detect
amino acids—that is, at its core, a form of information processing. It is better
able than other organisms to detect the facts of its environment. And because
it developed a better way to process information than other blobby cell-like
things, it won the evolutionary game and spread its genes.
Similarly, the lizard that can camouflage its skin—that, too, has evolved a
way to manipulate visual information to trick predators into ignoring it. Same
story with the monkeys faking animal noises. Same deal with the desperate
middle-aged dude and his Camaro (or maybe not).
Evolution rewards the most powerful creatures, and power is determined
by the ability to access, harness, and manipulate information effectively. A
lion can hear its prey over a mile away. A buzzard can see a rat from an
altitude of three thousand feet. Whales develop their own personal songs and
can communicate up to a hundred miles away from each other while
underwater. These are all examples of exceptional information-processing
capabilities, and that ability to receive and process information is linked to
these creatures’ ability to survive and reproduce.
Physically, humans are pretty unexceptional. We are weak, slow, and frail,
and we tire easily.
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But we are nature’s ultimate information processors. We
are the only species that can conceptualize the past and future, that can
deduce long chains of cause and effect, that can plan and strategize in abstract
terms, that can build and create and problem-solve in perpetuity.
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Out of
millions of years of evolution, the Thinking Brain (Kant’s sacred conscious
mind) is what has, in a few short millennia, dominated the entire planet and
called into existence a vast, intricate web of production, technology, and
networks.
That’s because we are algorithms. Consciousness itself is a vast network
of algorithms and decision trees—algorithms based on values and knowledge
and hope.
Our algorithms worked pretty well for the first few hundred thousand
years. They worked well on the savannah, when we were hunting bison and
living in small nomadic communities and never met more than thirty people
in our entire lives.
But in a globally networked economy of billions of people, stocked with
thousands of nukes and Facebook privacy violations and holographic Michael
Jackson concerts, our algorithms kind of suck. They break down and enter us
into ever-escalating cycles of conflict that, by the nature of our algorithms,
can produce no permanent satisfaction, no final peace.
It’s like that brutal advice you sometimes hear, that the only thing all your
fucked-up relationships have in common is you. Well, the only thing that all
the biggest problems in the world have in common is us. Nukes wouldn’t be a
problem if there weren’t some dumb fuck sitting there tempted to use them.
Biochemical weapons, climate change, endangered species, genocide—you
name it, none of it was an issue until we came along.
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Domestic violence,
rape, money laundering, fraud—it’s all us.
Life is fundamentally built on algorithms. We just happen to be the most
sophisticated and complex algorithms nature has yet produced, the zenith of
about one billion years’ worth of evolutionary forces. And now we are on the
cusp of producing algorithms that are exponentially better than we are.
Despite all our accomplishments, the human mind is still incredibly
flawed. Our ability to process information is hamstrung by our emotional
need to validate ourselves. It is curved inward by our perceptual biases. Our
Thinking Brain is regularly hijacked and kidnapped by our Feeling Brain’s
incessant desires—stuffed in the trunk of the Consciousness Car and often
gagged or drugged into incapacitation.
And as we’ve seen, our moral compass too frequently gets swung off
course by our inevitable need to generate hope through conflict. As the moral
psychologist Jonathan Haidt put it, “morality binds and blinds.”
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Our Feeling
Brains are antiquated, outdated software. And while our Thinking Brains are
decent, they’re too slow and clunky to be of much use anymore. Just ask
Garry Kasparov.
We are a self-hating, self-destructive species.
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That is not a moral
statement; it’s simply a fact. This internal tension we all feel, all the time?
That’s what got us here. It’s what got us to this point. It’s our arms race. And
we’re about to hand over the evolutionary baton to the defining information
processors of the next epoch: the machines.
When Elon Musk was asked what the most imminent threats to humanity
were, he quickly said there were three: first, wide-scale nuclear war; second,
climate change—and then, before naming the third, he fell silent. His face
became sullen. He looked down, deep in thought. When the interviewer asked
him, “What is the third?” He smiled and said, “I just hope the computers
decide to be nice to us.”
There is a lot of fear out there that AI will wipe away humanity. Some
suspect this might happen in a dramatic Terminator 2–type conflagration.
Others worry that some machine will kill us off by “accident,” that an AI
designed to innovate better ways to make toothpicks will somehow discover
that harvesting human bodies is the best way.
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Bill Gates, Stephen Hawking,
and Elon Musk are just a few of the leading thinkers and scientists who have
crapped their pants at how rapidly AI is developing and how underprepared
we are as a species for its repercussions.
But I think this fear is a bit silly. For one, how do you prepare for
something that is vastly more intelligent than you are? It’s like training a dog
to play chess against . . . well, Kasparov. No matter how much the dog thinks
and prepares, it’s not going to matter.
More important, the machines’ understanding of good and evil will likely
surpass our own. As I write this, five different genocides are taking place in
the world.
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Seven hundred ninety-five million people are starving or
undernourished.
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By the time you finish this chapter, more than a hundred
people, just in the United States, will be beaten, abused, or killed by a family
member, in their own home.
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Are there potential dangers with AI? Sure. But morally speaking, we’re
throwing rocks inside a glass house here. What do we know about ethics and
the humane treatment of animals, the environment, and one another? That’s
right: pretty much nothing. When it comes to moral questions, humanity has
historically flunked the test, over and over again. Superintelligent machines
will likely come to understand life and death, creation and destruction, on a
much higher level than we ever could on our own. And the idea that they will
exterminate us for the simple fact that we aren’t as productive as we used to
be, or that sometimes we can be a nuisance, I think, is just projecting the
worst aspects of our own psychology onto something we don’t understand
and never will.
Or, here’s an idea: What if technology advances to such a degree that it
renders individual human consciousness arbitrary? What if consciousness can
be replicated, expanded, and contracted at will? What if removing all these
clunky, inefficient biological prisons we call “bodies,” or all these clunky,
inefficient psychological prisons we call “individual identities,” results in far
more ethical and prosperous outcomes? What if the machines realize we’d be
much happier being freed from our cognitive prisons and having our
perception of our own identities expanded to include all perceivable reality?
What if they think we’re just a bunch of drooling idiots and keep us occupied
with perfect virtual reality porn and amazing pizza until we all die off by our
own mortality?
Who are we to know? And who are we to say?
Nietzsche wrote his books just a couple of decades after Darwin’s On the
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