Dear past-me of [exact time glomarized; .5-5 years ago],
You are about to be recruited to a secret world-saving org. (Y'know, like Leverage, except it's a member of the dark forest of Leverage-likes that operate even less publicly than Leverage).
Don't join.
They will give you very compelling reaons to join. Don't ignore them. But take into account that I, your future self, also heard all of those things, decided to join, and now regret it.
Don't. Instead, please continue that other thing you were doing, before they asked you to join there thing. The other thing will probably have better results for you and the world.
This warrants a longer post, but on pain of that post sitting in my obsidian with a "draft" tag for ages, having approximately zero causal impact on the outside world, I'm posting this now.
(all of my replies to messages concerning this will be delayed by 0 or more months for glomarization purposes)
3I'd categorize that as an exfohazard rather than an infohazard.
Info on how to build a nuke using nothing but parts of a microwave doesn't harm the bearer, except possibly by way of some other cognitive flaw/vulnerability (e.g. difficulty keeping secrets)
Maybe "cognitohazard" is a closer word to the thing I'm trying to point towards. Though, I would be interested in learning about pure infohazards that aren't cognitohazards.
(If you know of one and want to share it with me, it may be prudent to dm rather than comment here)
Luna tapped the Hufflepuff Common room entrance to the tune of "fish and chips" and it dosed her in vinegar.
*doused
Convex agents are practically invisible.
We currently live in a world full of double-or-nothing gambles on resources. Bet it all on black. Invest it all in risky options. Go on a space mission with a 99% chance of death, but a 1% chance of reaching Jupiter, which has about 300 times the mass-energy of earth, and none of those pesky humans that keep trying to eat your resources. Challenge one such pesky human to a duel.
Make these bets over and over again and your chance of total failure (i.e. death) approaches 100%. When convex agents appear in real life, they do this, and very quickly die. For these agents, that is all part of the plan. Their death is worth it for a fraction of a percent chance of getting a ton of resources.
But we, as concave agents, don't really care. We might as well be in completely logically disconnected worlds. Convex agents feel the same about us, since most of their utility is concentrated on those tiny-probability worlds where a bunch of their bets pay off in a row (for most value functions, that means we die). And they feel even more strongly about each other.
This serves as a selection argument for why agents we see in real life (including ourselves) tend to be concave (with some notable exceptions). The convex ones take a bunch of double-or-nothing bets in a row, and, in almost all worlds, eventually land on "nothing".
If you're thinking without writing, you only think you're thinking.
-Leslie Lamport
This seems..... straightforwardly false. People think in various different modalities. Translating that modality into words is not always trivial. Even if by "writing", Lamport means any form of recording thoughts, this still seems false. Often times, an idea incubates in my head for months before I find a good way to represent it as words or math or pictures or anything else.
Also, writing and thinking are separate (albiet closely related) skills, especially when you take "writing" to mean writing for an audience, so the thesis of this Paul Graham post is also false. I've been thinking reasonably well for about 16 years, and only recently have I started gaining much of an ability to write.
Are Lamport and Graham just wordcels making a typical mind fallacy, or is there more to this that I'm not seeing? What's the steelman of this claim that good thinking == good writing?
Interesting. I have thought about these questions a lot, and came to a possibly different conclusion about verifying the reality of a tree.
<spoiler?>
All you can be certain of is the existence and content of your own experience, in the present moment. You currently experience looking at a tree. Now you experience remembering looking at that tree as you ponder the question "How do I know if the tree is real?"
Your present experience comes with access to this think you seem to call "memory". In particular, some memory is "episodic". The type signature of "episodic memory" feels vaguely similar to that of an experience. This, and your intuitive sense of mostly-linear time, are enough to reasonably guess that past memories actually correspond to experiences, and that these experiences seem to form a linear order called "time". By observing memories of having observed memories, you conclude that an experience only has access to those before it on its time-curve, and that these memories are somewhat unreliable and imprecise.
You notice that the "visual sensory input" part of your experience contains data on multiple levels of abstraction, spanning from the texture of a red smudge on a ball to the fact that there is a ball in the first place. You call the latter type of data "object detection". You notice that nearby time-slices of experience mostly share detected objects (object permanence).
Based on memories of experiences containing observations of "humans" and on experiences of interacting with these humans and of observing your own physical body in various ways (e.g. via mirrors, generalizing their apparent effect on your viewing of other objects to yourself), you notice that your physical presence is of a similar type to these "humans", and conclude that the experience that is you is simply that of a human, and so other humans have similar experience. Thus, experiences interact with one another in at least two ways: first is through episodic memory, and second is through physical interaction between the carriers of said experience.
You notice that the medium through which both kinds of these interactions, along with most sensory observations, seem to occur, ("physical reality") very stably obeys certain rules, including a more general form of object permanence, which you refer to as "existence" of a particular object.
You note that the way you conceptualize and use language was pretty much entirely learned from interaction with other nearby humans, and conclude that, at least for the most basic things like object detection, humans mostly use the same words to describe the same things. Thus, the exact meaning of "existence" as it relates to the tree is pretty much agreed upon.
According to your memory you saw the tree. You also touched and felt the tree. You noticed that the tree grants you the ability to remain suspended above the ground for a lot longer than you otherwise could, via you climbing it. You talk to others and confirm that they also observed the tree through multiple channels. You conclude that the tree exists.
</probably-not-much-of-a-spoiler>