Anthropic negatives

Stuart Armstrong has come up with another twist on the anthropic shadow phenomenon. If existential risk needs two kinds of disasters to coincide in order to kill everybody, then observers will notice the disaster types to be anticorrelated.

The minimal example would be if each risk had 50% independent chance of happening: then the observable correlation coefficient would be -0.5 (not -1, since there is 1/3 chance to get neither risk; the possible outcomes are: no event, risk A, and risk B). If the probability of no disaster happening is N/(N+2) and the risks are equal 1/(N+2), then the correlation will be -1/(N+1).

I tried a slightly more elaborate model. Assume X and Y to be independent power-law distributed disasters (say war and pestillence outbreaks), and that if X+Y is larger than seven billion no observers will remain to see the outcome. If we ramp up their size (by multiplying X and Y with some constant) we get the following behaviour (for alpha=3):

(Top) correlation between observed power-law distributed independent variables multiplied by an increasing multiplier, where observation is contingent on their sum being smaller than 7 billion. Each point corresponds to 100,000 trials. (Bottom) Fraction of trials where observers were wiped out.

As the situation gets more deadly the correlation becomes more negative. This also happens when allowing the exponent run from the very fat (alpha=1) to the thinner (alpha=3):

(top) Correlation between observed independent power-law distributed variables (where observability requires their sum to be smaller than seven billion) for different exponents. (Bottom) fraction of trials ending in existential disaster. Multiplier=500 million.

The same thing also happens if we multiply X and Y.

I like the phenomenon: it gives us a way to look for anthropic effects by looking for suspicious anticorrelations. In particular, for the same variable the correlation ought to shift from near zero for small cases to negative for large cases. One prediction might be that periods of high superpower tension would be anticorrelated with mishaps in the nuclear weapon control systems. Of course, getting the data might be another matter. We might start by looking at extant companies with multiple risk factors like insurance companies and see if capital risk becomes anticorrelated with insurance risk at the high end.

Galactic duck and cover

How much does gamma ray bursts (GRBs) produce a “galactic habitable zone”? Recently the preprint “On the role of GRBs on life extinction in the Universe” by Piran and Jimenez has made the rounds, arguing that we are near (in fact, inside) the inner edge of the zone due to plentiful GRBs causing mass extinctions too often for intelligence to arise.

This is somewhat similar to James Annis and Milan Cirkovic’s phase transition argument, where a declining rate of supernovae and GRBs causes global temporal synchronization of the emergence of intelligence. However, that argument has a problem: energetic explosions are random, and the difference in extinctions between lucky and unlucky parts of the galaxy can be large – intelligence might well erupt in a lucky corner long before the rest of the galaxy is ready.

I suspect the same problem is true for the Piran and Jimenez paper, but spatially. GRBs are believed to be highly directional, with beams typically a few degrees across. If we have random GRBs with narrow beams, how much of the center of the galaxy do they miss?

I made a simple model of the galaxy, with a thin disk, thick disk and bar population. The model used cubical cells 250 parsec long; somewhat crude, but likely good enough. Sampling random points based on star density, I generated GRBs. Based on Frail et al. 2001 I gave them lognormal energies and power-law distributed jet angles, directed randomly. Like Piran and Jimenez I assumed that if the fluence was above 100 kJ/m^2 it would be extinction level. The rate of GRBs in the Milky Way is uncertain, but a high estimate seems to be one every 100,000 years. Running 1000 GRBs would hence correspond to 100 million years.

Galactic model with gamma ray bursts (red) and density isocontours (blue).

If we look at the galactic plane we find that the variability close to the galactic centre is big: there are plenty of lucky regions with many stars.

Unaffected star density in the galactic plane.

Affected (red) and unaffected (blue) stars at different radii in the galactic plane.

When integrating around the entire galaxy to get a measure of risk at different radii and altitudes shows a rather messy structure:

Probability that a given volume would be affected by a GRB. Volumes are integrated around axisymmetric circles.

One interesting finding is that the most dangerous place may be above the galactic plane along the axis: while few GRBs happen there, those in the disk and bar can reach there (the chance of being inside a double cone is independent of distance to the center, but along the axis one is within reach for the maximum number of GRBs).

Density of stars not affected by the GRBs.

Integrating the density of stars that are not affected as a function of radius and altitude shows that there is a mild galactic habitable zone hole within 4 kpc. That we are close to the peak is neat, but there is a significant number of stars very close to the center.

This is of course not a professional model; it is a slapdash Matlab script done in an evening to respond to some online debate. But I think it shows that directionality may matter a lot by increasing the variance of star fates. Nearby systems may be irradiated very differently, and merely averaging them will miss this.

If I understood Piran and Jimenez right they do not use directionality; instead they employ a scaled rate of observed GRBs, so they do not have to deal with the iffy issue of jet widths. This might be sound, but I suspect one should check the spatial statistics: correlations are tricky things (and were GRB axes even mildly aligned with the galactic axis the risk reduction would be huge). Another way of getting closer to their result is of course to bump up the number of GRBs: with enough, the centre of the galaxy will naturally be inhospitable. I did not do the same careful modelling of the link between metallicity and GRBs, nor the different sizes.

In any case, I suspect that GRBs are weak constraints on where life can persist and too erratic to act as a good answer to the Fermi question – even a mass extinction is forgotten within 10 million years.

Happy Petrov Day!

On Practical Ethics I blog about Petrov Day: the anniversary of an avoided nuclear cataclysm.

The lovely thing about this incident is that there is a person to focus on, making existential risk dramatically real. The LessWrong community has developed a ritual to commemorate the event and make our individual responsibility for reducing existential risk more vivid.

Averted disasters are hard to see, so we need more and bigger monuments to people who averted things.

Objectively evil technology

George Dvorsky has a post on io9: 10 Horrifying Technologies That Should Never Be Allowed To Exist. It is a nice clickbaity overview of some very bad technologies:

Weaponized nanotechnology (he mainly mentions ecophagy, but one can easily come up with other nasties like ‘smart poisons’ that creep up on you or gremlin devices that prevent technology – or organisms – from functioning)
Conscious machines (making devices that can suffer is not a good idea)
Artificial superintelligence (modulo friendliness)
Time travel
Mind reading devices (because of totalitarian uses)
Brain hacking devices
Autonomous robots programmed to kill humans
Weaponized pathogens
Virtual prisons and punishment
Hell engineering (that is, effective production of super-adverse experiences; consider Iain M. Banks’ Surface Detail, or the various strange/silly/terrifying issues linked to Roko’s basilisk)

Some of the these technologies exist, like weaponized pathogens. Others might be impossible, like time travel. Some are embryonic like mind reading (we can decode some brainstates, but it requires spending a while in a big scanner as the input-output mapping is learned).

A commenter on the post asked “Who will have the responsibility of classifying and preventing “objectively evil” technology?” The answer is of course People Who Have Ph.D.s in Philosophy.

Unfortunately I haven’t got one, but that will not stop me.

Existential risk as evil?

I wonder what unifies this list. Let’s see: 1, 3, 7, and 8 are all about danger: either the risk of a lot of death, or the risk of extinction. 2, 9 and 10 are all about disvalue: the creation of very negative states of experience. 5 and 6 are threats to autonomy.

4, time travel, is the odd one out: George suggests that it is dangerous, but this is based on fictional examples, and that contact between different civilizations has never ended well (which is arguable: Japan). I can imagine a consistent universe with time travel might be bad for people’s sense of free will, and if you have time loops you can do super-powerful computation (getting superintelligence risk), but I do not think of any kind of plausible physics where time travel itself is dangerous. Fiction just makes up dangers to make the plot move on.

In the existential risk framework, it is worth noting that extinction is not the only kind of existential risk. We could mess things up so that humanity’s full potential never gets realized (for example by being locked into a perennial totalitarian system that is actually resistant to any change), or that we make the world hellish. These are axiological existential risks. So the unifying aspect of these technologies is that they could cause existential risk, or at least bad enough approximations.

Ethically, existential threats count a lot. They seem to have priority over mere disasters and other moral problems in a wide range of moral systems (not just consequentialism). So technologies that strongly increase existential risk without giving a commensurate benefit (for example by reducing other existential risks more – consider a global surveillance state, which might be a decent defence against people developing bio-, nano- and info-risks at the price of totalitarian risk) are indeed impermissible. In reality technologies have dual uses and the eventual risk impact can be hard to estimate, but the principle is reasonable even if implementation will be a nightmare.

Messy values

However, extinction risk is an easy category – even if some of the possible causes like superintelligence are weird and controversial, at least extinct means extinct. The value and autonomy risks are far trickier. First, we might be wrong about value: maybe suffering doesn’t actually count morally, we just think it does. So a technology that looks like it harms value badly like hell engineering actually doesn’t. This might seem crazy, but we should recognize that some things might be important but we do not recognize them. Francis Fukuyama thought transhumanist enhancement might harm some mysterious ‘Factor X’ (i.e. a “soul) giving us dignity that is not widely recognized. Nick Bostrom (while rejecting the Factor X argument) has suggested that there might be many “quiet values” important for diginity, taking second seat to the “loud” values like alleviation of suffering but still being important – a world where all quiet values disappear could be a very bad world even if there was no suffering (think Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World, for example). This is one reason why many superintelligence scenarios end badly: transmitting the full nuanced world of human values – many so quiet that we do not even recognize them ourselves before we lose them – is very hard. I suspect that most people find it unlikely that loud values like happiness or autonomy actually are parochial and worthless, but we could be wrong. This means that there will always be a fair bit of moral uncertainty about axiological existential risks, and hence about technologies that may threaten value. Just consider the argument between Fukuyama and us transhumanists.

Second, autonomy threats are also tricky because autonomy might not be all that it is cracked up to be in western philosophy. The atomic free-willed individual is rather divorced from the actual neural and social matrix creature. But even if one doesn’t buy autonomy as having intrinsic value, there are likely good cybernetic arguments for why maintaining individuals as individuals with their own minds is a good thing. I often point to David Brin’s excellent defence of the open society where he points out that societies where criticism and error correction are not possible will tend to become corrupt, inefficient and increasingly run by the preferences of the dominant cadre. In the end they will work badly for nearly everybody and have a fair risk of crashing. Tools like surveillance, thought reading or mind control would potentially break this beneficial feedback by silencing criticism. They might also instil identical preferences, which seems to be a recipe for common mode errors causing big breakdowns: monocultures are more vulnerable than richer ecosystems. Still, it is not obvious that these benefits could not exist in (say) a group-mind where individuality is also part of a bigger collective mind.

Criteria and weasel-words

These caveats aside, I think the criteria for “objectively evil technology” could be

(1) It predictably increases existential risk substantially without commensurate benefits,

or,

(2) it predictably increases the amount of death, suffering or other forms of disvalue significantly without commensurate benefits.

There are unpredictable bad technologies, but they are not immoral to develop. However, developers do have a responsibility to think carefully about the possible implications or uses of their technology. And if your baby-tickling machine involves black holes you have a good reason to be cautious.

Of course, “commensurate” is going to be the tricky word here. Is a halving of nuclear weapons and biowarfare risk good enough to accept a doubling of superintelligence risk? Is a tiny probability existential risk (say from a physics experiment) worth interesting scientific findings that will be known by humanity through the entire future? The MaxiPOK principle would argue that the benefits do not matter or weigh rather lightly. The current gain-of-function debate show that we can have profound disagreements – but also that we can try to construct institutions and methods that regulate the balance, or inventions that reduce the risk. This also shows the benefit of looking at larger systems than the technology itself: a potentially dangerous technology wielded responsibly can be OK if the responsibility is reliable enough, and if we can bring a safeguard technology into place before the risky technology it might no longer be unacceptable.

The second weasel word is “significantly”. Do landmines count? I think one can make the case. According to the UN they kill 15,000 to 20,000 people per year. The number of traffic fatalities per year worldwide is about 1.2 million deaths – but we might think cars are actually so beneficial that it outweighs the many deaths.

Intention?

The landmines are intended to harm (yes, the ideal use is to make people rationally stay the heck away from mined areas, but the harming is inherent in the purpose) while cars are not. This might lead to an amendment of the second criterion:

(2′) The technology intentionally increases the amount of death, suffering or other forms of disvalue significantly without commensurate benefits.

This gets closer to how many would view things: technologies intended to cause harm are inherently evil. But being a consequentialist I think it let’s designers off the hook. Dr Guillotine believed his invention would reduce suffering (and it might have) but it also led to a lot more death. Dr Gatling invented his gun to “reduce the size of armies and so reduce the number of deaths by combat and disease, and to show how futile war is.” So the intention part is problematic.

Some people are concerned with autonomous weapons because they are non-moral agents making life-and-death decisions over people; they would use deontological principles to argue that making such amoral devices are wrong. But a landmine that has been designed to try to identify civilians and not blow up around them seems to be a better device than an indiscriminate device: the amorality of the decisionmaking is less of problematic than the general harmfulness of the device.

I suspect trying to bake in intentionality or other deontological concepts will be problematic. Just as human dignity (another obvious concept – “Devices intended to degrade human dignity are impermissible”) is likely a non-starter. They are still useful heuristics, though. We do not want too much brainpower spent on inventing better ways of harming or degrading people.

Policy and governance: the final frontier

In the end, this exercise can be continued indefinitely. And no doubt it will.

Given the general impotence of ethical arguments to change policy (it usually picks up the pieces and explains what went wrong once it does go wrong) a more relevant question might be how a civilization can avoid developing things it has a good reason to suspect are a bad idea. I suspect the answer to that is going to be not just improvements in coordination and the ability to predict consequences, but some real innovations in governance under empirical and normative uncertainty.

But that is for another day.

Truth and laughter

Slate Star Codex has another great post: If the media reported on other dangers like it does AI risk.

The new airborne superplague is said to be 100% fatal, totally untreatable, and able to spread across an entire continent in a matter of days. It is certainly fascinating to think about if your interests tend toward microbiology, and we look forward to continuing academic (and perhaps popular) discussion and debate on the subject.

I have earlier discussed how AI risk suffers from the silliness heuristic.

Of course, one can argue that AI risk is less recognized as a serious issue than superplagues, meteors or economic depressions (although, given what news media have been writing recently about Ebola and 1950 DA, their level of understanding can be debated). There is disagreement on AI risk among people involved in the subject, with some rather bold claims of certainty among some, rational reasons to be distrustful of predictions, and plenty of vested interests and motivated thinking. But this internal debate is not the reason media makes a hash of things: it is not like there is an AI safety denialist movement pushing the message that worrying about AI risk is silly, or planting stupid arguments to discredit safety concerns. Rather, the whole issue is so out there that not only the presumed reader but the journalist too will not know what to make of it. It is hard to judge credibility, how good arguments are and the size of risks. So logic does not apply very strongly – anyway, it does not sell.

This is true for climate change and pandemics too. But here there is more of an infrastructure of concern, there are some standards (despite vehement disagreements) and the risks are not entirely unprecedented. There are more ways of dealing with the issue than referring to fiction or abstract arguments that tend to fly over the heads of most. The discussion has moved further from the frontiers of the thinkable not just among experts but also among journalists and the public.

How do discussions move from silly to mainstream? Part of it is mere exposure: if the issue comes up again and again, and other factors do not reinforce it as being beyond the pale, it will become more thinkable. This is how other issues creep up on the agenda too: small stakeholder groups drive their arguments, and if they are compelling they will eventually leak into the mainstream. High status groups have an advantage (uncorrelated to the correctness of arguments, except for the very rare groups that gain status from being documented as being right about a lot of things).

Another is demonstrations. They do not have to be real instances of the issue, but close enough to create an association: a small disease outbreak, an impressive AI demo, claims that the Elbonian education policy really works. They make things concrete, acting as a seed crystal for a conversation. Unfortunately these demonstrations do not have to be truthful either: they focus attention and update people’s probabilities, but they might be deeply flawed. Software passing a Turing test does not tell us much about AI. The safety of existing AI software or biohacking does not tell us much about their future safety. 43% of all impressive-sounding statistics quoted anywhere is wrong.

Truth likely makes argumentation easier (reality is biased in your favour, opponents may have more freedom to make up stuff but it is more vulnerable to disproof) and can produce demonstrations. Truth-seeking people are more likely to want to listen to correct argumentation and evidence, and even if they are a minority they might be more stable in their beliefs than people who just view beliefs as clothing to wear (of course, zealots are also very stable in their beliefs since they isolate themselves from inconvenient ideas and facts).

Truth alone can not efficiently win the battle of bringing an idea in from the silliness of the thinkability frontier to the practical mainstream. But I think humour can act as a lubricant: by showing the actual silliness of mainstream argumentation, we move them outwards towards the frontier, making a bit more space for other things to move inward. When demonstrations are wrong, joke about their flaws. When ideas are pushed merely because of status, poke fun at the hot air cushions holding them up.

Thunderbolts and lightning, very very frightning

On the Conversation, I blog about the risks of electromagnetic disruption from solar storms and EMP: Electromagnetic disaster could cost trillions and affect millions. We need to be prepared.

The reports from Lloyds and the National Academies are worrying, but as a disaster it would not kill that many people directly. However, an overall weakening of our societal and global systems is nothing to joke about: when societies have less resources they are less resilient to other threats. In in this case it would both information processing, resources and ability to do stuff. Just the thing to make other risks way worse.

As a public goods problem I think this risk is easier to handle than others; it is more like Y2K than climate since most people have aligned interests. Nobody wants a breakdown, and few actually win from the status quo. But there are going to be costs and inertia nevertheless. Plus, I don’t think we have a good answer yet to local EMP risks.

Andart II

Part of Anders' Exoself

Risk