Biology & meaning in an increasingly computational world
Unreliable parts make a reliable whole
All of us are made of building blocks which have an autonomy of their own, but which nonetheless work together to create an integrated system that functions consistently. Cells, proteins, chemical cascades, and neurons all have an element of chaos to them—they don’t behave in easily predictable ways—and yet your heart beats three billion times, continuously, until you die.
Kasra, Bits of Wonder
ChatGPT and the meaning of life
I feel sad thinking about Shanks, but I don’t feel grief for the loss of calculation by hand. The invention of the typewriter, and the death of handwritten notes seemed closer to the loss I imagined we might feel. Handwriting was once a part of your style, a part of who you were. With its decline some artistry, a deep and personal form of expression, may be lost. When the bots help with everything we write, couldn’t we too lose our style and voice?
Humans could still have meaningful projects, too. In 1976, about a decade before any of Altman, Amodei or even I were born, the Canadian philosopher Bernhard Suits argued that “voluntary attempts to overcome unnecessary obstacles” could give people a sense of purpose in a post-instrumental world. Suits calls these “games”, but the name is misleading; I prefer “artificial projects”. The projects include things we would call games like chess, checkers and bridge, but also things we wouldn’t think of as games at all, like Amundsen’s and Scott’s exploits to the Pole. Whatever we call them, Suits—who’s followed here explicitly by Danaher, the antiwork utopian and, implicitly, by Altman and Amodei—is surely right: even as things are now, we get a lot of value from projects we choose, whether or not they meet a need. We learn to play a piece on the piano, train to run a marathon, or even fly to Antartica to “ski the last degree” to the Pole. Why couldn’t projects like these become the backbone of purpose in our lives?
And we could have one real purpose, beyond the artificial ones, as well. There is at least one job that no machine can take away: the work of self-fashioning, the task of becoming and being ourselves. There’s an aesthetic accomplishment in creating your character, an artistry of choice and chance in making yourself who you are. This personal style includes not just wardrobe or tattoos, not just your choice of silverware or car, but your whole way of being, your brand of patience, modesty, humor, rage, hobbies and tastes. Creating this work of art could give some of us something more to live for.
Harvey Lederman, Shtetl-Optimized