From what I can tell on the outside, the MIRI approach seems to be: (1) find a practical theory of FAI; (2) design an AGI in accordance with this theory; (3) implement that design; (4) mission accomplished!

Yes, dear, some of us are programmers, we know about waterfalls. Our approach is more like, "Attack the most promising problems that present themselves, at every point; don't actually build things which you don't yet know how to make not destroy the world, at any point." Right now this means working on unbounded problems because there are no bounded problems which seem more relevant and more on the critical path. If at any point we can build something to test ideas, of course we will; unless our state of ignorance is such that we can't test that particular idea without risking destroying the world, in which case we won't, but if you're really setting out to test ideas you can probably figure out some other way to test them, except for very rare highly global theses like "The intelligence explosion continues past the human level." More local theses should be testable.

See also Ch. 22 from HPMOR, and keep in mind that I am not Harry, I contain Harry, all the other characters, their whole universe, and everything that happens inside it. In other words, I am not Harry, I am the universe that responded to Harry.

[anonymous]6y1

See also Ch. 22 from HPMOR, and keep in mind that I am not Harry, I contain Harry, all the other characters, their whole universe, and everything that happens inside it. In other words, I am not Harry, I am the universe that responded to Harry.

Badass boasting from fictional evidence?

Yes, dear, some of us are programmers, we know about waterfalls.

If anyone here knew anything about the Waterfall Model, they'd know it was only ever proposed sarcastically, as a perfect example of how real engineering projects never work. "Agile" is pretty god... (read more)

5[anonymous]6yI'll have to review Ch. 22 later as it is quite long. If a stable self-modifying agent + friendly value-loading was the only pathway to a positive singularity, then MIRI would be doing a fine job. However I find that assumption not adequately justified. For example, take oracle AI. The sequences do a good job of showing how a black box AI can't be safely boxed, nor can any of its recommendations be trusted. But those arguments don't generalize to when we can see and understand the inner workings of the AI. Yes engineering challenges apply as you can't demand a computational trace of the entire returned result, as that would require an even more powerful AI to analyze, and then it'd be turtles all the way down. However you can do something like the Fiat-Shamir transform for selecting branches of the computational trace to audit. In essence, use the cryptographic hash of the result in order to choose which traces of the audit log to reveal. This allows the audit log to be only a tiny, tiny slice of the entire computation, yet it can be shown that faking such an audit log is computationally infeasible, meaning that it requires a large multiple more computation than went into the original result, which means it would be energetically detectable. Of course you would also have to have the AI be written for a virtual machine which is pure, strongly typed and directly supports the native abstraction primitives of the AGI design (e.g. if it were OpenCog, the virtual machine would exist at the abstraction level of the atomspace), and have a computational stack underneath that which prevents VM breakout, and other protective measures. But these are surmountable engineering challenges, the difficulty of which can be realistically quantified. So how much more or less difficult would it be to accomplish such an untrusted oracle AI vs the stable self-modifying agent and value-loading approach? Which one is more likely to occur before the "competition"? I'm not demanding a ful

On Terminal Goals and Virtue Ethics

by Swimmer963 4 min read18th Jun 2014207 comments

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Introduction

A few months ago, my friend said the following thing to me: “After seeing Divergent, I finally understand virtue ethics. The main character is a cross between Aristotle and you.”

That was an impossible-to-resist pitch, and I saw the movie. The thing that resonated most with me–also the thing that my friend thought I had in common with the main character–was the idea that you could make a particular decision, and set yourself down a particular course of action, in order to make yourself become a particular kind of person. Tris didn’t join the Dauntless cast because she thought they were doing the most good in society, or because she thought her comparative advantage to do good lay there–she chose it because they were brave, and she wasn’t, yet, and she wanted to be. Bravery was a virtue that she thought she ought to have. If the graph of her motivations even went any deeper, the only node beyond ‘become brave’ was ‘become good.’ 

(Tris did have a concept of some future world-outcomes being better than others, and wanting to have an effect on the world. But that wasn't the causal reason why she chose Dauntless; as far as I can tell, it was unrelated.)

My twelve-year-old self had a similar attitude. I read a lot of fiction, and stories had heroes, and I wanted to be like them–and that meant acquiring the right skills and the right traits. I knew I was terrible at reacting under pressure–that in the case of an earthquake or other natural disaster, I would freeze up and not be useful at all. Being good at reacting under pressure was an important trait for a hero to have. I could be sad that I didn’t have it, or I could decide to acquire it by doing the things that scared me over and over and over again. So that someday, when the world tried to throw bad things at my friends and family, I’d be ready.

You could call that an awfully passive way to look at things. It reveals a deep-seated belief that I’m not in control, that the world is big and complicated and beyond my ability to understand and predict, much less steer–that I am not the locus of control. But this way of thinking is an algorithm. It will almost always spit out an answer, when otherwise I might get stuck in the complexity and unpredictability of trying to make a particular outcome happen.


Virtue Ethics

I find the different houses of the HPMOR universe to be a very compelling metaphor. It’s not because they suggest actions to take; instead, they suggest virtues to focus on, so that when a particular situation comes up, you can act ‘in character.’ Courage and bravery for Gryffindor, for example. It also suggests the idea that different people can focus on different virtues–diversity is a useful thing to have in the world. (I'm probably mangling the concept of virtue ethics here, not having any background in philosophy, but it's the closest term for the thing I mean.)

I’ve thought a lot about the virtue of loyalty. In the past, loyalty has kept me with jobs and friends that, from an objective perspective, might not seem like the optimal things to spend my time on. But the costs of quitting and finding a new job, or cutting off friendships, wouldn’t just have been about direct consequences in the world, like needing to spend a bunch of time handing out resumes or having an unpleasant conversation. There would also be a shift within myself, a weakening in the drive towards loyalty. It wasn’t that I thought everyone ought to be extremely loyal–it’s a virtue with obvious downsides and failure modes. But it was a virtue that I wanted, partly because it seemed undervalued. 

By calling myself a ‘loyal person’, I can aim myself in a particular direction without having to understand all the subcomponents of the world. More importantly, I can make decisions even when I’m rushed, or tired, or under cognitive strain that makes it hard to calculate through all of the consequences of a particular action.

 

Terminal Goals

The Less Wrong/CFAR/rationalist community puts a lot of emphasis on a different way of trying to be a hero–where you start from a terminal goal, like “saving the world”, and break it into subgoals, and do whatever it takes to accomplish it. In the past I’ve thought of myself as being mostly consequentialist, in terms of morality, and this is a very consequentialist way to think about being a good person. And it doesn't feel like it would work. 

There are some bad reasons why it might feel wrong–i.e. that it feels arrogant to think you can accomplish something that big–but I think the main reason is that it feels fake. There is strong social pressure in the CFAR/Less Wrong community to claim that you have terminal goals, that you’re working towards something big. My System 2 understands terminal goals and consequentialism, as a thing that other people do–I could talk about my terminal goals, and get the points, and fit in, but I’d be lying about my thoughts. My model of my mind would be incorrect, and that would have consequences on, for example, whether my plans actually worked.

 

Practicing the art of rationality

Recently, Anna Salamon brought up a question with the other CFAR staff: “What is the thing that’s wrong with your own practice of the art of rationality?” The terminal goals thing was what I thought of immediately–namely, the conversations I've had over the past two years, where other rationalists have asked me "so what are your terminal goals/values?" and I've stammered something and then gone to hide in a corner and try to come up with some. 

In Alicorn’s Luminosity, Bella says about her thoughts that “they were liable to morph into versions of themselves that were more idealized, more consistent - and not what they were originally, and therefore false. Or they'd be forgotten altogether, which was even worse (those thoughts were mine, and I wanted them).”

I want to know true things about myself. I also want to impress my friends by having the traits that they think are cool, but not at the price of faking it–my brain screams that pretending to be something other than what you are isn’t virtuous. When my immediate response to someone asking me about my terminal goals is “but brains don’t work that way!” it may not be a true statement about all brains, but it’s a true statement about my brain. My motivational system is wired in a certain way. I could think it was broken; I could let my friends convince me that I needed to change, and try to shoehorn my brain into a different shape; or I could accept that it works, that I get things done and people find me useful to have around and this is how I am. For now. I'm not going to rule out future attempts to hack my brain, because Growth Mindset, and maybe some other reasons will convince me that it's important enough, but if I do it, it'll be on my terms. Other people are welcome to have their terminal goals and existential struggles. I’m okay the way I am–I have an algorithm to follow.

 

Why write this post?

It would be an awfully surprising coincidence if mine was the only brain that worked this way. I’m not a special snowflake. And other people who interact with the Less Wrong community might not deal with it the way I do. They might try to twist their brains into the ‘right’ shape, and break their motivational system. Or they might decide that rationality is stupid and walk away.

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