Art is a Superweapon

50 Cent Piece, by Basquiat50 Cent Piece, by Jean-Michel Basquiat

We generally think of art as beautiful, but perhaps nonessential. Or it’s essential for the soul, if you go for that sort of thing. “Man does not live by bread alone,” and so forth. But we don’t think of it as essential for survival. At a meetup the other day, an artist even told me that they thought art served needs fairly high on Maslow’s Hierarchy. But, you know, there is evolution and natural selection. And selection pressure doesn’t allow maladaptive traits to hang on. Why haven’t the fools who waste time and energy on art been outcompeted and removed from the gene pool by wiser, soulless working machines? It’s a conundrum, it is.

Go ask our venerable futurist thought leader, Robin Hanson, and he will tell you, oh well, this is the Dreamtime, don’t you know? This rich, industrialized era is an aberration and we will soon return to the Malthusian equilibrium that has dominated all human and animal life throughout time. Malthus envisions us as stupid animals, reproducing until we’ve eaten every spare scrap of food around us and are forced into abject misery. I get chafed at the very mention of Malthus and his empirically bereft theories, but that’s a battle for another day. I find it generally makes sense to listen carefully to Hanson, and I try to understand what he has to say.

But then Scott Alexander, the bard of the rationalists, came out with his Moloch piece a few years ago, and shaped an entire narrative incorporating these Malthusian and Hansonian ideas, and really it was just too much for me. He is a great writer, this Alexander, and the rationalists all around me consumed his narrative with relish, experiencing not the slightest indigestion. I was left to gnash my teeth quietly off in the hinterlands of Oakland, wrestling with my intuition. I tasted of this Moloch soup, but I could not keep it down.

How can art be a maladaptive thing? Evolution doesn’t allow maladaptive traits to persist in populations. Even if it’s only a very small handicap, evolution will remove a trait over time. But there are periods of relaxed selection, and these correspond to explosions of diversity. Weeds will grow while the gardener sleeps. So perhaps that explains it. Oh, sad story. That thing you value, that song that compels you to dance, that dance you do in spastic ecstasy, are all for naught. The gardener will soon awaken and trim such foolishness away. Selective pressure will increase once again, and all of us who wasted effort dancing will end up in the soup pots of those who didn’t squander their fitness on such frivolity.

And if we look at the world in a certain way, it looks like it’s filled with maladaptive behavior. Surely this is a time of superstimuli and dysgenic birth control and porn. The wise look sadly on and see relaxed selection at work. Tisk, tisk, such a pity. But, you know, a proper skeptic kicks the tires of his own conceptual framework now and then, and, hark, what is this we find? A crack in the narrative? Do you know what looks a lot like relaxed selection? I will tell you, it’s positive adaptation. How confident can we be that we actually know what’s adaptive and what isn’t? Surely having the most children possible is the most adaptive strategy, yes? Then how did we end up with various parental investment strategies? (Some people having lots of kids and giving them only a little attention, and some people having only a few kids and giving them lots of attention.) Hmm. Wait a minute! Maybe even frivolous art is a POSITIVE adaptation. Not a thing to feed the soul, but a thing to feed the belly.

Some people think that the only way that art could be adaptive is if it helped an artist personally by making them more attractive to mates or allowing them to trade art for food. But let’s look at very early human art, such as the drawings cavemen made when they were going to hunt large prey. These drawing might have been hunting plans. And, in that case, the tribes who made these drawings (art) would outcompete those that didn’t. And yes, like the biologist E.O. Wilson, I believe that there is such a thing as groups outcompeting other groups.

Art has beauty that draws us to it and this connects us as tribes. When we dance together, we form bonds. And this was as true around paleolithic campfires as it is today at Gilman Street punk rock shows. So here I will present to you some mechanisms by which art may be a positive adaptation.

1) Art Speaks the Language of the Subconscious
A few years ago, I went to a rationality workshop put on by CFAR. At this workshop, there was much talk of Kahneman’s model of two major ways in which the mind works. System 1 roughly corresponds to the subconscious or the preconscious mind, and is the realm of fast, effortless thinking, intuition, and emotions. System 2 is conscious thought and is slow and effortful and where we expect logic and planning to occur. Surprisingly to me, CFAR seemed more concerned with System 1 than with System 2. System 1 seems to be where motivation comes from. So a lot of effort was devoted to getting System 1 to align with System 2 goals, so that you actually feel motivated to do things today which have payoffs far in the future.

What the hell does this have to do with art being adaptive? I’m glad you asked. See, the instructors at CFAR think one way of getting messages into System 1 is to use very exaggerated and sense-based imagery. So if you want to remember to check the mail when you get home, perhaps you should picture a massively distorted mailbox and imagine the crisp scent of paper. Isn’t it interesting how much art has these same properties? Novels contain a lot of exaggerated language about sensory experiences and vocals contain exaggerated emotion. It may be that art is memorable to the degree that it takes advantage of this exaggerated, System 1 communication. And it is a unique channel in this regard. Scientific or mathematical writing is fairly bereft of this.

2) Art Populates the Database of Experience with Novel Patterns
Another interesting CFAR exercise was CoZE (Comfort Zone Expansion). The goal was to get everyone to try new things and gain new experiences. System 1 functions as a pattern matcher, and populating your subconscious with more patterns will make it more powerful. So you can go and try new things all the time, which is hard. OR you can go and virtually gain new experience by reading stories, listening to songs, or looking at crazy paintings and sculptures. And who knows what use these strange patterns will end up serving? Musk disdains such metaphorical thinking, but see how much technology mimics the things we observe in nature. Bell’s telephone was inspired by the workings of the inner ear, and deep learning is patterned after the neural networks of our own brains.

Perhaps reading about how a love affair goes awry in Shakespeare will inform our own love lives. In The Better Angels of Our Nature, Pinker suggests that one mechanism of our evolving morality might be literature and the arts, which gives us insights into the minds of others. Or, stranger yet, perhaps we will hear some weird pattern in a song that inspires us to create a new technology that no one has imagined yet.

3) Art Reduces Communication Costs
Aside from the raw potential of art to populate our subconscious with patterns and inspire us, art often serves as a substrate for coordination. Entire subcultures have arisen around shared admiration for music or comic books. How does art facilitate this coordination at punk rock shows or cosplay conventions? One mechanism is the reduction of communication costs. Art provides narratives that allow people to situation themselves within. Punk rock is an expression of postmodern dissatisfaction with the fakery of conformist, consumer culture. Punks don’t need to explain all of this to one another (although they certainly delight in doing so) because they can refer to a single song to express an entire range of ideas.

Eliezer Yudkowsky has used art to good effect to coordinate an entire subculture of rationalists around his HPMOR fan fiction. I haven’t read it myself, but I don’t know how many times I’ve heard a rationalist refer to Quirrel and have seen the others in the group nod sagely. If only I had read HPMOR, I could have gotten the point. Entire modes of approaching problems can be summed up in a single fictional character.

We even see narratives at work coordinating corporate culture. Peter Thiel is famous for this, naming his companies after artifacts from Tolkien’s world. Palantir is a seeing stone in Tolkien’s fiction, created for good, but turned to evil. Palantir, the company, offers analytic software to the government and perhaps Thiel wants to warn his people to heed the cautionary tale that Tolkien intended. Mithril Capital references Tolkien’s precious metal, which has a beauty that never tarnishes or grows dim. Not hard to see what sort of investments they would be seeking.

Of course every field has shared jargon that compacts a lot of bigger ideas and serves the purpose of reducing communication costs. But the beauty of art is that its metaphorical nature makes this jargon more generalizable, allowing it to cut across disciplines.

4) Art Appreciation Demonstrates Shared Values
Art has also served as a way to demonstrate shared values. See how closely art was tied to the church in the Middle Ages. Or how gospel songs bound together the protesters of the Civil Rights Movement. It seems a shame that modern artists aren’t providing the Black Lives Matter movement with more compelling art to disarm their right wing opponents. And of course this is true in subcultures as well. Fellow goths know that darkness lives in your soul when you display your Joy Division t-shirt.

So art really has all sorts of traits that make it seem like a positive adaptation, not just a maladaptive trait that survives due to weak selection pressure. So what? Well, I know that I have neglected art in my own life recently, and this thesis makes me see it in a new light. Art isn’t merely a pleasant diversion. Art appreciation binds us to others in our tribe and populates our subconscious with powerful experiences. It serves as a substrate for coordination that sinks deeply into our souls (err, System 1’s) and can inspire and motivate us like no mere mission statement. So we should take up art, not only for its beauty, but also with a proper concern for our own self-interest. Art is a powerful superweapon. Take that, Moloch.

The Robot Lord Scenario – Chapter 5 (Mira)

Chapter 4 here.

Mira was in her glory. It was a little weird how she couldn’t quite tell her friends the whole story, even when she swapped to a different visor. The hacker boy had somehow put a filter on her account and she couldn’t describe him, his drone, or his mother. But the holes in her story only made it more interesting to her social network. And there was no denying that she had been offline for a crazy amount of time with no record anywhere of her activity. As word spread of her strange adventure and Mira’s status rose, she was able to start acquiring more Bling for her avatar.

As her social status points soared, Mira and her friends eagerly scanned the Bling catalog together. They chattered madly, high on the prospect of disposable status. Each of her pals started tagging accessories they thought Mira should get for her avatar to wear. She added an animated rainbow feather boa, a giant rhinestone cowboy hat, and some ruby slippers, for good measure. Some snarky comments about her taste level started showing up on third degree of separation boards, but Mira just blurred those windows out so that she wouldn’t have to see them, while her friends loudly defended their recommendations.

Some local boys heard about her story and flew a drone into the building she had described. They confirmed that there was an apple tree and a mini forest there. They attached their footage to Mira’s thread and soon both they and Mira were getting more attention and more status. People with lots of followers were tagging her story and she was surfing on the network effect, riding it higher than she ever had before.

Even with all of this Bling though, Mira still needed actual money, so she continued her original plan and headed for the blood bank. She followed the green dots absentmindedly, while reveling in her notoriety. But she was forced to lift her visor when it showed her a boy firing his gun into the air. He was a skinny Hispanic kid. The recoil of his rifle nearly knocked him over as he shot at a formation of drones patrolling the area around the clinic. Mira had never seen this sort of thing before and she took cover behind a burnt out gasoline car as she fed the sight into a feed for her newfound social audience.

The boy managed to knock down one of the drones, but not before it released a stream of tiny bots, which converged on the little gangster like a swarm of insects. Mira almost felt bad for the kid as he waved his arms about frantically, trying to drive them away. But his efforts were futile, and he dropped his gun and ran, howling with pain as the tiny bots stung and harassed him. Mira wondered if she should wait until another gangster came to replace this one, so she could make sure she paid her tax. The tiny bots must have drugged the boy, because he dropped to the ground and lay still. A few moments later, a police autocar appeared, scooped the kid up into its hopper, and then sent out a crablike bot to collect his gun before peeling away. This was something Mira had seen only once or twice before. There wasn’t much law enforcement in the refugee zones normally. And none of the other blood banks operated drones out here, either. This must be a pretty fancy clinic.

Now Mira’s ChatTime feed was exploding and a huge flame war was erupting as the leftists screamed about due process and how these new automated detention procedures were unconstitutional. Mira wanted to complain that the kid had been there to shake her down and must have murdered someone with a knife or a club in order to earn his rifle, which was the standard initiation for the gangs around there, but she bit her tongue. Talking shit on gangsters on social media was a good way to get hung from a bridge. So she let the leftists battle it out with the New Right Front assholes and just collected her status from both groups of idiots.

She didn’t know what she was going to do with all of this Bling, and she was giddy with excitement as she approached the entrance to the blood bank. She knew this was a special place when a smiling avatar appeared before her, welcoming her into the clinic as the door slid open to admit her. All of the other blood banks made her take off her visor and deal with the attendants in meatspace. But here, a pretty anime nurse led her to a machine to scan her vital signs. Mira lifted her visor briefly, but there were no humans to be seen. This was a fully automated lab. She felt pretty special to be admitted to such a place, and she hoped that she hadn’t picked up any diseases along the way that would prevent her from donating.

Mira heaved a sigh of relief as a big green check mark appeared before her and a pleasant chime sounded in her ears, letting her know that she was healthy enough to donate.

“You are a perfect candidate, Mira,” said the anime nurse with a fantastically enthusiastic smile.  “We can offer you a special rate if you will donate 2 litres of plasma today.”

Mira let her closest friends have access to her feed pretty much all the time and her pal Rebo pinged her right away.

That’s a LOT of blood, Mira, is it SAFE?

“We use a special blood replacement that is fully FDA approved,” said the anime nurse at that moment. Mira had to double check her privacy settings, but the nurse shouldn’t have been able to hear what Rebo said. Maybe it was just good at guessing the cause of her hesitation. The amount on offer was displayed before her in kaosKoin or USD, and Mira gasped. They were offering as much as she would make from two months of weekly donations at the other blood banks. She readily signed the waiver over the worried murmurings of Rebo and her other close friends.

The nurse gave her a cute smile and led her to a big machine, where she could lay down. One cuff went over each arm, slipping into place automatically. One to pull out her whole blood and one to put back her red blood cells, along with the synthetic blood replacement, explained the nurse. And this machine was just as painless as the injection. Mira couldn’t believe it. She saw the cheerful cartoon readout displaying how much blood was being withdrawn, as a big red heart slowly filled up from the bottom. But she hardly felt anything. Normally, it was an uncomfortable procedure for her, and Mira was acutely aware of the metal spike embedded in her arm, but this process was practically painless. The cuffs inflated around each arm and squeezed her tight, and there was just a tiny prick at the beginning, but then nothing but the tightness of the cuff.

Mira went deeper into the Bling catalog than she had ever gone before. Her friends thrashed with excitement like a pack of sharks with chum in the water. For the first time, Mira could afford an assistant with some decent AI, so she chose a yellow boa constrictor to wear around her avatar’s shoulders. She could give the boa simple commands to complete, and it would give her shopping advice, since it was partially sponsored.

The next thing she knew, Mira felt the cuffs loosen. She swiped away most of her social feeds and saw that the cartoon clinic’s readouts were showing her a list of green checkmarks.

“Well done, Mira!” chirped the friendly anime nurse. “You didn’t complain a bit. And I like your new boa too, by the way. I have transferred your kaosKoin now, you should see it any moment.”

“Thanks so much,” said Mira. She checked her kaosKlutch app and found that her new balance was safely frozen. “I’m rich!”

Way to go, Mira! chimed Rebo.

And the newly rich Mira emerged back into the blazing wasteland of the abandoned plaza, totally oblivious to the rubble and destruction all around her, as the virtual boa entertained her and her friends with a musical mashup that it had devised itself from the latest hit songs. Her eyes filled with the flashing glitter of her Bling, as the blue line safely guided her around the blasted area where the drone had attacked the gangster. She was on her way back to the squalid camp under the overpass that she called home.

Chapter 6 here.

A Futurist Gentleperson’s Club: Part 3

under-the-pergolaUnder the Pergola at Naples, Umberto Boccioni

This is part of a series of posts outlining my ideas for a Futurist Gentleperson’s Club.  See Part I and Part II for background.

I am trying to promote the idea of a private club for futurists in the Bay Area, and I have gotten a lot of criticism for my choice of aesthetics and narrative framing. I don’t want to get too sidetracked by these things, so in this post I want to describe what I envision as a typical “day in the life” of the Futurist Gentleperson’s Club.

We are considering a range of spaces, from a single large meeting room to a house, but, for the purpose of this article, I assume that we will at least have a suite with some sort of food service capacity. Ideally, we would have a set of suites and some outdoor space. Many private clubs even have bedrooms, where members can sleep after staying too late, or have guests stay who are visiting from out of town. We have yet to see what we can fund with our subscriptions.

Morning
I’m not personally a morning person, but perhaps others would want to do “Breakfast at the Club.” If enough people RSVP, then a catered breakfast would be provided in the dining room. Each breakfast might have a dedicated topic such as, “What does sustainable development of the Global South look like?” Others might prefer to use one of the available rooms to do a group meditation or something. This is the Bay Area, after all.

From mid-morning until lunch time, the club could be an excellent coworking space for members who are self-employed. Why go to some random coffeeshop when you can code side by side with fellow futurists? The casual conversation is bound to be easier. Having a shared interest should always provide a conversation starter for meeting new people. Coworking spaces are very popular now, and they are not cheap. Working at the club might be an excellent alternative.

Afternoon
The club will provide lunch whenever enough people RSVP, until we get big enough to provide regular meal service. I also like the idea of “learning lunches,” scheduled once a week, during which a speaker talks on a specific futurist topic that they are an expert on. Maybe we can get some longevity or AI researchers to discuss their latest work. Meeting and learning over food and drink should be the primary function of this club.

After lunch, coworking would continue. The club can also serve as a venue for other groups who are aligned with futurists, such as a science fiction book club or an AI Meetup. Hosting regular events, which welcome the public, will provide a good way to recruit new members and bring in fresh ideas. I would certainly like to hold my East Bay Futurist Meetups in such a club. Coffeeshops are loud, have terrible food, and generally terrible decor. Proper interior design and food service would make this a wonderful venue.

Evening
Evening dinner and drinks at the club are a time honored tradition that we futurists would be sorely amiss to neglect. I’m sure we can find an excellent chef to plan and prepare outstanding and healthy meals tuned to the odd tastes of futurists, which I expect swerve strongly towards paleo or some such direction. Again, a weekly dinner event could serve as an anchor to bring people in.  

After dinner, the club would host weekly evening salons with speakers or perhaps debates. Possible topics might include:

  • Providing food, water, and energy to a growing world
  • A review of the simulation argument, for and against
  • Bostrom’s (Eliezer’s) Superintelligence
  • Consciousness uploading for fun and profit
  • AI safety: opportunity costs or human extinction?
  • Longevity research: pros and cons
  • Futurist ethics: human genome hacking, wireheading, and ad blocking augmented reality
  • Automated unemployment: the end of the Luddite Fallacy or more unsubstantiated hand wringing?
  • You get the picture.

And, on nights when nothing is planned, I hope that we can encourage a lively nightlife of unstructured drinking, arguing, and games.

Unstructured Time
The greatest value of a club is to have a place to go when you have nothing else planned, just a place where you will be welcome. David Schneider-Joseph sees parallels between this and a Sudbury school. Just show up and let’s learn together. Bert compared it to a punk house, where people are free drop in and be themselves. (Though I will insist that it be kept cleaner than a punk house, of course.) But a persistent place, always open and welcoming, will be what sets this apart from all of the various Meetups and salons that we might attend. This is a home away from home for futurists.

For these unstructured times, I envision a web application that will allow members to RSVP for specific timeslots in which they will be planning to attend the club. These RSVPs will be visible to other members, making it easier for us to reach critical mass or avoid crowded times, as might suit our preferences.

Maybe you will just want to curl up with a good book in the library. We should be able to stock a pretty decent collection of excellent futurist titles, based on member’s suggestions. This is one of the things I think The Battery gets right, by the way, asking members to suggest titles for the library. Maybe you will want to have a drink with your fellow futurists. Or maybe you enjoy playing games like Settlers of Catan or some such. We should have a place for that. Where you can just show up and see what happens and feel perfectly at home.

Can you think of any activities or topics of discussion that I have overlooked? Questions, criticism, and suggestions are welcome, comment below.  If you are interested, please take this poll.