Essays by Harari and Chiang

Both about technology, about AI.

The Sapiens author has a new book out next week: Nexus: A Brief History of Information Networks from the Stone Age to AI. This is an excerpt.

NY Times, Yuval Noah Harari, 4 Sep 2024: Yuval Noah Harari: What Happens When the Bots Compete for Your Love? [gift link]

As always, Harari does 30,000-foot overviews really well. The excerpt begins:

Democracy is a conversation. Its function and survival depend on the available information technology. For most of history, no technology existed for holding large-scale conversations among millions of people. In the premodern world, democracies existed only in small city-states like Rome and Athens, or in even smaller tribes. Once a polity grew large, the democratic conversation collapsed, and authoritarianism remained the only alternative.

Large-scale democracies became feasible only after the rise of modern information technologies like the newspaper, the telegraph and the radio. The fact that modern democracy has been built on top of modern information technologies means that any major change in the underlying technology is likely to result in a political upheaval.

This partly explains the current worldwide crisis of democracy. In the United States, Democrats and Republicans can hardly agree on even the most basic facts, such as who won the 2020 presidential election. A similar breakdown is happening in numerous other democracies around the world, from Brazil to Israel and from France to the Philippines.

In the early days of the internet and social media, tech enthusiasts promised they would spread truth, topple tyrants and ensure the universal triumph of liberty. So far, they seem to have had the opposite effect. We now have the most sophisticated information technology in history, but we are losing the ability to talk with each other, and even more so the ability to listen.

The focus of this excerpt is how algorithms are interfering with communications, including texts, images, and videos used in dating apps. It ends:

Information technology has always been a double-edged sword. The invention of writing spread knowledge, but it also led to the formation of centralized authoritarian empires. After Gutenberg introduced print to Europe, the first best sellers were inflammatory religious tracts and witch-hunting manuals. As for the telegraph and radio, they made possible the rise not only of modern democracy but also of modern totalitarianism.

Faced with a new generation of bots that can masquerade as humans and mass-produce intimacy, democracies should protect themselves by banning counterfeit humans — for example, social media bots that pretend to be human users. Before the rise of A.I., it was impossible to create fake humans, so nobody bothered to outlaw doing so. Soon the world will be flooded with fake humans.

A.I.s are welcome to join many conversations — in the classroom, the clinic and elsewhere — provided they identify themselves as A.I.s. But if a bot pretends to be human, it should be banned. If tech giants and libertarians complain that such measures violate freedom of speech, they should be reminded that freedom of speech is a human right that should be reserved for humans, not bots.

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And another New Yorker appearance by the esteemed science fiction author Ted Chiang.

The New Yorker, Ted Chiang, 31 Aug 2024: Why A.I. Isn’t Going to Make Art, subtitled “To create a novel or a painting, an artist makes choices that are fundamentally alien to artificial intelligence.”

But — I would anticipate — I bet AI is really good at creating generic “art” that people who put up paintings of tigers on black velvet in their living rooms will like. Or perhaps generic thrillers that follow the basic formulas of such novels and films. (There’s generic science fiction, too.) Because true “art,” almost by definition, is about new and different perspectives, and challenges to conventional thinking. Not more of the same.

But let’s see what Chiang has to say. He begins by recalling a 1953 Roald Dahl story that imagines a fiction-writing machine. Then,

Is there anything about art that makes us think it can’t be created by pushing a button, as in Dahl’s imagination? Right now, the fiction generated by large language models like ChatGPT is terrible, but one can imagine that such programs might improve in the future. How good could they get? Could they get better than humans at writing fiction—or making paintings or movies—in the same way that calculators are better at addition and subtraction?

Art is notoriously hard to define, and so are the differences between good art and bad art. But let me offer a generalization: art is something that results from making a lot of choices. This might be easiest to explain if we use fiction writing as an example. When you are writing fiction, you are—consciously or unconsciously—making a choice about almost every word you type; to oversimplify, we can imagine that a ten-thousand-word short story requires something on the order of ten thousand choices. When you give a generative-A.I. program a prompt, you are making very few choices; if you supply a hundred-word prompt, you have made on the order of a hundred choices.

And he considers how photography was initially not considered art, because people didn’t appreciate the vast number of choices a photographer could make. The essay follows with many more examples, much more insight. He concludes with a point I’ve considered, that most humans aren’t particularly original or thoughtful, most of the time.

Some individuals have defended large language models by saying that most of what human beings say or write isn’t particularly original. That is true, but it’s also irrelevant. When someone says “I’m sorry” to you, it doesn’t matter that other people have said sorry in the past; it doesn’t matter that “I’m sorry” is a string of text that is statistically unremarkable. If someone is being sincere, their apology is valuable and meaningful, even though apologies have previously been uttered. Likewise, when you tell someone that you’re happy to see them, you are saying something meaningful, even if it lacks novelty.

Something similar holds true for art. Whether you are creating a novel or a painting or a film, you are engaged in an act of communication between you and your audience. What you create doesn’t have to be utterly unlike every prior piece of art in human history to be valuable; the fact that you’re the one who is saying it, the fact that it derives from your unique life experience and arrives at a particular moment in the life of whoever is seeing your work, is what makes it new. We are all products of what has come before us, but it’s by living our lives in interaction with others that we bring meaning into the world. That is something that an auto-complete algorithm can never do, and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.

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