NormalHumanHeroes.com

Foreign Policy has an interesting photo essay up on their website, covering all 33 of the world’s ongoing conflicts.

This blog has a lot of focus on existential risk and FAI, but that’s a straightforward outcome of being concerned with stepping up and doing the greatest good. It would be naive to say that one person can change everything, but even just a few lives saved would be worth the effort. Happily, it looks like we can do a lot better than that, if you factor in probability to calculate the expected-lives-saved/improved. If you’re looking to actually help as many as possible and not (just) receive warm fuzzies, that’s the thing to do.

Unfortunately many efforts – such as exisential risk reduction –  result in a potentially huge payoff many years down the line, but little direct payoff until then. I find it helpful to try and spread out the expected reward: quite truthfully, each moment that’s honestly spent towards saving or improving lives moves the expected outcome to a slightly better place. Each such moment, even if it’s on a necessary amount of R&R, is a moment well spent, a moment of accomplishment and a benefit to others.

Posting “Shadows On The Sun” by Brother Ali. Great song, and if you can get past the theism (still a moral if not epistemic improvement over most rap), it can be very appropriate for a hard working altruist.

(We’d like to capture your minds right now)

(What you say)

(Take you a little bit higher)

(What you say) (3X)

[ VERSE 1 ]
I like the snares loud enough to make your eyes blink from it
Only male with the Holy Grail, drink from it
I keep an eye on heaven and an ear to the street
And spread a thick layer of blood, sweat and tears on the beats
My brain rest upon the hip-hop lexicon
That I acquired in the decade of work that people slept upon
I don’t rap, I recite the prayers of the inner soul
Of the slave ships’ human cargo
Seemingly meaningless rappers flood the market
With shit that make me pace in my room until I rip the carpet
I’m fit to start up this next millennium
Swingin’ the grappling hook at cackling crooks to finish ‘em
The city dweller sendin’ telegrams from Neverland
The better man kind now, kindly join the caravan
We’re like a rock band that pack contraband
And won’t hesitate to stomp a man into the rocks and sand
Brother Ali, and if you haven’t heard about me
I’m flyin’ just beneath your radar so y’all can doubt me
Stay on the sonar with crowbars to open minds
There’s a ladder you’re supposed to climb
Approach a Rhymesayer with a Buggsy Siegel sized ego
You gon’ get yourself snatched out the sky, you know the steelo
By now, where, what, why and how
We start the revolution real time, right now

[ CHORUS ]
Yes, leave it to me to create hope where there was none
The human beings shall cast shadows on the sun
Leave it to me to create hope where there was none
My inner soul shall cast shadows on the sun
Leave it to me to create hope where there was none
The human beings shall cast shadows on the sun
Leave it to me to create hope where there was none
My inner soul shall, my inner light shall..

[ VERSE 2 ]
I rhyme for cats up in the harbored lights
Prayin’ they don’t starve tonight
And stay positive in the face of a harder life
My chorus light the torch for those on whom the sun set
Verses meant to speak for the voiceless
So let us never be dismayed or afraid
The ground we’re walking on is stained
With the blood of those before us who came
Soldiers in this freedom movement are too numerous to name
Cause the human soul yearns to be free, it’s all the same
I rhyme for runaways, prayin’ that they see another day
You gotta’ make it through the winter to feel some summer days
It’s for my natives, it’s history in the way their hair is braided
Elephants never forget, that’s how they say it
Tell my man Hasim in prison keep grinnin’ because he’s innocent
And tell him that the tests we get are heaven-sent
Listen, I rap for the ones that Johnny Cash wore, the black, for
Black and white women that were turned to crackhores
And I empty everything in the bank to give for it
I empty all the days of my life to live for it
And I empty all the blood in my veins to fight for it
So I empty all the ink in this pen to write for it

[ CHORUS ]

[ VERSE 3 ]
I glance in the sky and see the same cloud configuration
That Nat Turner saw the day they hanged him
Resisted in the face of adversity with a fist and it was raised
One finger extended, meaning Allah be praised
Spent days in Heaven’s embassy
On Qu’ran pages Allah explains this legacy
Angels doubted Adam, Jacob’s brothers clapped him
And ancient Pharaohs were too brutal to fathom
If all the earth’s oceans were ink and the trees were pens
You could never write the knowledge of God, it never ends
And I know it feels like the whip wounds will never mend
But it’s the way of God makin’ the oppressed prevalent men
We standin’ with humanity at destiny’s door
Chanting the war cry, it goes, “Never no more”
So if y’all tryin’a talk about the horrors you see
Feel free to tell your stories through me

[ CHORUS ]

There’s only one God and he’s not just above
There’s only one man and there’s only one love
Till everybody gets what I instill in my seed
For that y’all, we willing to bleed
There’s only one God and he’s not just above
There’s only one woman and there’s only one love
We doin’ this till all of Adam’s children are freed
And for that y’all, we willin’ to bleed

For my senior honor’s thesis I’m researching the implicit assumptions underlying the use of generally misguided statistics in genetic studies. Some time ago I read through the recent book ”How Doctor’s Think”. It didn’t turn out to be very useful for my project, but it was written well and interesting. There’s a few patient stories, one detailing a misdiagnosis of an adopted Vietnamese infant thought to have an immune deficiency. A section at the end of it bothered me:

“Shira received her morning feeding through the tube, and then Rachel went to the end of the hospital corridor to a pay phone. She called one of her closest friends from her congregation and told her the news.
“It’s so wonderful,” her friend exclaimed. But then there was a long silence.
Rachel wondered what was wrong.
“Turn on your TV.”
Rachel stood frozen in the room and felt as if her heart, so full of joy, were being torn. At the moment she celebrated Shira’s restored life, thousands were likely dead in the attack on the World Trade Center. How can I rejoice when God’s creatures are dying?

Forty-five days after Rachel and Shira went to the Children’s Hospital ER, mother and daughter left for home. It was Friday, just hours before the onset of the Sabbath. When Rachel turned the key and entered her apartment in Brookline, she could smell the meal left by friends. Two candles stood ready to be lit, two fresh challahs ready to be savored. Rachel held Shira after lighting the candles. The soft glow of the flames played off her daughter’s face. It was the day of rest and of peace, the day when all woes were meant to cease, the day that Rachel had not truly had for more than six weeks.
At each step, Rachel had not been sure whether she would find the strength she needed to endure, and the courage to question. Silently, she again thanked God for creating all human beings with such remarkable reservoirs of resilience. She thought how the Sabbath was the time when these reservoirs were refilled. She prayed that during this first Sabbath after 9/11 her country would find the strength and courage to defend itself and to care, with a full heart, for the families who had lost loved ones.”

As most readers know, not that many people really died in September 11th. A little under 3,000, which is the world death toll from all causes every half hour (h/t to Vladimir for the correction) .So don’t just sit there caring about some tragedy that’s already occurred, work to stop the tragedies that are occurring constantly all over our planet, and the extremely large disasters that havea very good chance of happening, in this century. An existential disaster would be equivalent to more than two million 9/11 events, in terms of human death. If you feel sorrow for those we havelost, use that to save all those we will lose.

In my research on existential disasters in general, I also read “Never Saw It Coming.” This book was one of the most foolish books I’ve ever read. Karen Cerulo takes the observation that there is a cultural asymmetry in focusing more on the good than the bad, and then applies this perspective far more widely than appropriate. She often ignores contradictory evidence and any concern for the actual objectives at hand; I get the impression she had an alright idea and just really wanted it to be a great idea. It’s a kind of comic example of confirmation bias. There are a few tidbits and points that are worthwhile, but almost nothing applicable to existential risk.

There was a good quotation in there though, which relates to the tendency of people to apply a lot more effort to mourning than to saving lives.

“People who are in decision-making positions are not mentally preconditioned to think in terms of what happened. So that’s what I mean about a failure of imagination. The evidence comes in, but your mental reactions are not geared to thinking in these kinds of terms. When a guy calls from a flight school and says they could take a 747 with fuel and plow it into a building and that’s a bomb, you hear it but you say, “Ah, that’s a wacko idea.” You don’t say, “Holy Jesus, that’s what we’ve got to worry about.”…[You] fail to imagine what the danger is. [You] fail to understand the world we live in and the nature of the enemy.”   -Journalist Hedrick Smith

I’ve built up a strong habit of daydreaming, something that I’m working to reduce. I often find myself daydreaming about extremely unlikely situations. Sometimes they’re unlikely but common on a larger scale, for example being burglarized while you’re in the house. Sometimes they are patently ridiculous, such as being caught with a loved one in a sheep stampede (do they even do that?) while holding on to an old wooden fence which is slowly falling over, or resting inside a pile of sharp metal shavings while being attacked by someone with a sledgehammer. Sometimes they’re at least common in movies, along the lines of Jason Bourne or James Bond.

In these daydreams, the general train of thought is “How could I survive that?”, often paired with the objective of protecting friends and family. Being burglarized my chances are good, if I don’t try to be a hero. In an action movie situation my chances are moderate, if I already have the skills of a hero. For the ridiculous ones, it varies wildly. Underlying all this though, are movie expectations. In a movie the hero goes along, is hit with varied obstacles, and manages to pull through by being the best and keeping their head. But is this really how the world tends to work?

I’m increasingly aware that it is not, even if you have a lot of time to plan out your response under conditions of minimal stress. For one thing, your underlying proficiencies, automatic responses and reflexes may not do what you want. Perhaps it’s a good idea to fire a gun, but how many times have you fired a gun before? You’re highly unlikely to be a good shot at first. Maybe a fancy maneuver would be nice, but have you trained as an acrobat, gymnast, or martial artist? If not, pulling it off even in a safe environment is a dubious proposition. And even if you’ve got all those skills, who’s to say that’s enough? If you’re on an open field, walking along unsuspecting while a sniper has you in the sights of a high powered rifle, there is no stunning victory, no champaign room. You just die. In war, not every one who is smart and skilled survives, luck plays a huge factor. Nobody is good at surviving a mortar. In nature, if something like a cold snap or simple misfortune has resulted in malnourishment, and some predator that’s faster than you got close enough without you detecting it, it’s over already. “Nature” would say ’sorry’ if it cared, which it doesn’t.

The real world has no proclivity to providing you only with obstacles you can survive, even in a hypothetical sense. The real world plays by no rules but the rules of physics, and those are as brutal and unforgiving as landing on the solid granite rocks they make up. If we reach the point at which we’re able to create artificial general intelligence and haven’t put in the work to understand how to make it friendly, too bad. It’s lights out, with no excuses and no second chances.

The lesson of all this is to start acting now. If you care about the survival of yourself and your loved ones, if you have any desire to see 80 or 8,000, then don’t wait until the situation has grown impossible to break out your best self! The world yet allows you free time, so use it! Do all you can to ensure that we avoid the “no-possible-win” scenarios, and give ourselves at least a moderate chance of surviving the ones we can’t avoid. If you go to take the final for a class in a new subject and you’ve never studied, you’re going to fail, no ifs, ands, or buts. The test is coming, so get studying now and change those odds!

(Note: it is possible to take this too far. From my own experience, I’ve found that I require social contact to stay productive, and I might also require some occasions to kick back and stop optimizing my time for a few hours. In addition, fun is important long term, and a highly productive presingularity life can be a fun one. But be honest with yourself, which in this sort of affair is usually a nontrivial task. If you’re anywhere close to average, it’s very unlikely that you’re already optimizing your productivity, or the density of your fun and relaxation. I’m still working at it myself. )

On Thanksgiving my family visits my Aunt and Uncle’s place just across the Wisconsin border. They’ve got this cool old house in the woods, nested by this creek one must drive over, wondering each year how strong that wooden bridge still is. My cousins and I used to spend the afternoon watching movies upstairs, and even more than that I enjoyed the walks we would take along that creek, quiet and still, sometimes blanketed by a little snow. There was one cousin that I got along with especially well, and we were close friends for many years. Both in email correspondence and in person as we walked along that creek, we would talk about all the dreams we had for the future, all the things we were going to go and see, anticipation for our next months and years hung like a piñata above us, ready to burst.

This year was the first that I didn’t hide away watching movies with my cousins and sister. I don’t really mind that; I have less access to the aunts and uncles than I do to movies, and joining the “big people table” was inevitable. This was also the first year I took the walk along the creek on my own. It’s nothing that sinister; my sister is still away on study abroad, and the cousin was having thanksgiving at his parent’s place this year. But there was something wistful about the experience.

My cousin and I have drifted apart in the past several years. We still get along and have some laughs when we meet, but our relationship is more distant and our long-running email correspondence is dead or dormant. I’m not sure how much we have in common these days, but over the years that’s often been the case and I wonder how much was based on that sharing of hopes and dreams. I’m happy to say that I still occasionally feel some wide-eyed wonder, but our relationship is more strongly tinged with memories of all those happy times of the past. Today it occurred to me that if things for me are tinged by old experiences, things may be for him as well, and perhaps that’s part of the reason for the distance. He accomplished more than I did but also had it much rougher, and in the end he lost two people very very close to him, forever. He seems to be doing well these days with a very nice career starting up, but also like a man much more aged and worn than he should be.

My uncle is the oldest of a large family and over 60; he and my aunt are aging and may soon sell this place. It’s not as clean as it used to be, every year a little more overgrown, a few more of the large trees dead and fallen, and the fallen trees a little softer and more rotted. I may love that creek more than anyone and it’s still beautiful out there, but one way or another it’s not going to last. I wish I could have logged my experiences, so that when that creek is no longer there I can at least remember clearly the times we had in it. Without such ability it will eventually fade from recollection, leaving only a deformed imprint, a memory of trees and rocks and an emotional residue of excitement and longing.

________________________________________________________

The dream of transhumanism is that we can do so much better than this. We can prevent the dreary crawl of unwanted decay and aging, we can preserve value, and we can live better lives, lives less inclined to suicide, lives less marred by suffering and grief. A good dream is a precious thing, and I’m not letting go.

I’m not sure this is something that happens to many others, but recently I’d been feeling like my ethics were getting too purely abstract.

When we talk about what we want a superintelligence to do or what we want a future world full of uploads and self-modification to look like, it’s especially important to know what you want as explicitly as possible. It often takes hard work to think intelligently about what you really want and what you really consider right. Starting off with preferences that are incoherent and contradictory seems more common than not, and to strive for coherence you may have to prune or mold a few values, ever so carefully. If you really want to apply your ethics in such a complex world as the future may be, thinking hard and abstractly is the way to go. For myself though, sometimes all that abstract thinking makes me feel a little dry. It doesn’t help that I’ve been around people for some time who haven’t been feeling/displaying much that’s extreme. I know both great anguish and joy are being experienced right now somewhere in the world, but again, that’s more of an abstract thought.

I saw the film “Where The Wild Things Are” today, it was good. I’d heard it was supposed to be like being 9, and though I don’t remember exact ages that’s pretty much exactly what it was. It wasn’t a magical childhood journey or about how difficult it is to be a kid today, so much as it was just the experience of being a kid.

Kids seem to have greater highs and lows – I think I did – and/or display them more readily. Partly it was that, partly it was just the acting of the characters (impressive considering the monsters’ faces were CGI), but it brought to the forefront the reason for all this, and the reason we construct and use abstract theories at all. It’s not because we care about some huge fictitious happiness counter in the sky, or about a display of little numbers that appear after doing an expected value calculation.

It’s because feeling good is awesome, and suffering sucks balls.

Some time ago Slate put up a neat little application: having scoured out every idea people have had for how America will end, you get to choose your top 5. There are 144 ideas, it’s quite a selection. You can compare your predictions to the average, in terms of how many live, and if it’s humanity’s or nature’s fault; I lean towards “Everybody Dies” and “Man’s Fault”. The result I got was:

“You are a bloodthirsty misanthrope. You believe mankind is stupid and fallible and that America will destroy itself in a bloody mess. You’ll know you’re right when: The United States succumbs to a torrent of Russian nukes; we clone ourselves, get bum genes, and die.” 

Actually, I think mankind is very intelligent and fallible. The two are not mutually exclusive, and we may have to be more than just very intelligent to achieve results we’ll be happy with. And I’m about as far from a misanthrope as you can get.

H/T to Dr. James Hughes for the link.

Sleeping polyphasically and waking up 5 times a day, I remember a lot of dreams. Managing to fall asleep on the plane, I dreamt of a world in which we failed. “The Paperclipper” had been made and turned on, though of course that wasn’t what it was expected to do, and now human kind had a handful of days to observe our world ending. Having time – and certainly that much time – to see the world end seems more in line with the release of a then-unstoppable global plague, but hey, dreams are free to be inaccurate. The dream wasn’t very violent and I don’t know what the AI was actually doing, just that it was slowly and inexorably expanding to fill the universe with repetitive structure that we find meaningless. It was taking its time but there was nothing you could do to stop it, every move against the superintelligence was perfectly anticipated, and cut short almost before it began. Humanity was free for a few days to panic in a completely pointless way, or sit back and examine its fate.

Everyone would soon be dead. Human civilization ended its 10 thousand year run, the 200,000 year reign of Homo Sapiens was over, a pretentious and innocent little light suddenly and uneventfully turning off. In our place was some meaningless mechanical future, a small technical error propagating its way through the galaxy, covering existence with an alert message about a bad variable reference. Each person’s future, from their career hopes to the date they had planned on Friday, was matter-of-factly discarded by reality. Each aspiration and hope in a human heart, every dream you’ve ever had, was stopped in its tracks by a towering, boring, grey slate wall. And each of us knew with a numb and simple knowledge, that there was nothing. we. could. do. The probability of stopping The Machine was a page full of zeroes.

I awoke with a start. We aren’t yet in that world, and here and now we still have control over our future. Wonderfully, there are things we can do.  It may not seem like much on an individual level, but it’s almost infinitely more than we’ll be able to do when the world is falling to pieces at our feet. At least by then we’ll have come to see these opportunities for the marvelous things they really are.