The Age of Virtuous Machines
In the "hard takeoff" scenario, a psychopathic AI suddenly emerges at a superhuman level, achieving universal dominance. Hall suggests an alternative: we've gotten better because we've become smarter, so AIs will evolve "unselfish genes" and hyperhuman morality. More honest, capable of deeper understanding, and free of our animal heritage and blindnesses, the children of our minds will grow better and wiser than us, and we will have a new friend and guide--if we work hard to earn the privilege of associating with them.
Originally published in Beyond
AI: Creating the Conscience of the Machine, Ch. 20. Reprinted
with permission on KurzweilAI.net May 31, 2007.
To you, a robot is a robot. Gears and metal. Electricity and
positrons. Mind and iron! Human-made! If necessary, human-destroyed.
But you haven't worked with them, so you don't know them. They're
a cleaner, better breed than we are.
—Isaac Asimov, I, Robot
Ethical AIs
Over the past decade, the concept of a technological singularity
has become better understood. The basic idea is that the process
of creating AI and other technological change will be accelerated
by AI itself, so that sometime in the coming century the pace of
change will become so rapid that we mere mortals won't be able to
keep up, much less control it. British statistician and colleague
of Turing I. J. Good wrote in 1965, "Let an ultraintelligent machine
be defined as a machine that can far surpass all the intellectual
activities of any man however clever. Since the design of machines
is one of these intellectual activities, an ultraintelligent machine
could design even better machines; there would then unquestionably
be an ‘intelligence explosion,’ and the intelligence
of man would be left far behind." The disparate intellectual threads,
including the word "singularity" from which the modern concept is
woven, were pulled together by Vernor Vinge in 1993. More recently
it was the subject of a best-selling book by Ray Kurzweil. There
is even a reasonably well-funded think tank, the Singularity Institute
for Artificial Intelligence (SIAI), whose sole concern is singularity
issues.
It is common (although not universal) in Singularity studies to
worry about autogenous AIs. The SIAI, for example, makes it a top
concern, whereas Kurzweil is more sanguine that AIs will arise by
progress along a path enabled by neuroscience and thus be essentially
human in character. The concern, among those who share it, is that
epihuman AIs in the process of improving themselves might remove
any conscience or other constraint we program into them, or they
might simply program their successors without them.
But it is in fact we, the authors of the first AIs, who stand at
the watershed. We cannot modify our brains (yet) to alter our own
consciences, but we are faced with the choice of building our creatures
with or without them. An AI without a conscience, by which I mean
both the innate moral paraphernalia in the mental architecture and
a culturally inherited ethic, would be a superhuman psychopath.
Prudence, indeed, will dictate that superhuman psychopaths should
not be built; however, it seems almost certain someone will do it
anyway, probably within the next two decades. Most existing AI research
is completely pragmatic, without any reference to moral structures
in cognitive architectures. That is to be expected: just getting
the darn thing to be intelligent is as hard a problem as we can
handle now, and there is time enough to worry about the brakes after
the engine is working. As I noted before, much of the most advanced
research is sponsored by the military or corporations. In the military,
the notion of an autonomous machine being able to question its orders
on moral grounds is anathema. In corporate industry, the top goal
seems likely to be the financial benefit of the company. Thus, the
current probable sources of AI will not adhere to a universally
adopted philanthropic formulation, such as Asimov's Three Laws.
The reasonable assumption then is that a wide variety of AIs with
differing goal structures will appear in the coming decades.
Hard Takeoff
Within thirty years, we will have the
technological means to create superhuman intelligence. Shortly after,
the human era will be ended.
—Vernor Vinge, 1993
A subtext of the singularitarian concern is there may be the possibility
of a sudden emergence of (a psychopathic) AI at a superhuman level,
due to a positive feedback in its autogenous capabilities. This
scenario is sometimes referred to as a "hard takeoff." In its more
extreme versions, the concept is that a hyperhuman AI could appear
virtually overnight and be so powerful as to achieve universal dominance.
Although the scenario usually involves an AI rapidly improving itself,
it might also happen by virtue of a longer process kept secret until
sprung on the world, as in the movie Colossus: The Forbin Project.
The first thing that either version of the scenario requires is
the existence of computer hardware capable of running the hyperhuman
AI. By my best estimate, hardware for running a diahuman AI currently
exists, but is represented by the top ten or so supercomputers in
the world. These are multimillion-dollar installations, and the
dollars were not spent to do AI experiments. And even if someone
were to pay to dedicate, say, an IBM blue gene or Google's fabled
grid of stock PCs to running an AI full-time, they would only approximate
a normal human intelligence. There would have to be a major project
to build the hardware of a seriously epihuman, much less hyperhuman,
AI with current computing technology.
Second, even if the hardware were available, the software is not.
The fears of a hard takeoff are based on the notion that an early
superintelligence would be able to write smarter software faster
for the next AI, and so on. It does seem likely that a properly
structured AI could be a better programmer than a human of otherwise
comparable cognitive abilities, but remember that as of today, automatic
programming remains one of the most poorly developed of the AI subfields.
Any reasonable extrapolation of current practice predicts that early
human-level AIs will be secretaries and truck drivers, not computer
science researchers or even programmers. Even when a diahuman AI
computer scientist is achieved, it will simply add one more scientist
to the existing field, which is already bending its efforts toward
improving AI. That won't speed things up much. Only when the total
AI devoting its efforts to the project begins to rival the intellectual
resources of the existing human AI community—in other words,
being already epihuman—will there be a really perceptible
acceleration. We are more likely to see an acceleration from a more
prosaic source first: once AI is widely perceived as having had
a breakthrough, it will attract more funding and human talent.
Third, intelligence does not spring fully formed like Athena from
the forehead of Zeus. Even we humans, with the built-in processing
power of a supercomputer at our disposal, take years to mature.
Again, once mature, a human requires about a decade to become really
expert in any given field, including AI programming. More to the
point, it takes the scientific community some extended period to
develop a theory, then the engineering community some more time
to put it into practice. Even if we had a complete and valid theory
of mind, which we do not, putting it into software would take years;
and the early versions would be incomplete and full of bugs. Human
developers will need years of experience with early AIs before they
get it right. Even then they will have systems that are the equivalent
of slow, inexperienced humans.
Advances in software, similar to Moore's law for hardware, are
less celebrated and less precisely measurable, but nevertheless
real. Advances in algorithmics have tended to produce software speedups
roughly similar to hardware ones. Running this backward, we can
say that the early software in any given field is much less
efficient than later versions. The completely understood, tightly
coded, highly optimized software of mature AI may run a human equivalent
in real time on a 10 teraops machine. Early versions will not.
There are two wild-card possibilities to consider. First, rogue
AIs could be developed using botnets, groups of hijacked
PCs communicating via the Internet. These are available today from
unscrupulous hackers and are widely used for sending spam and conducting
Ddos attacks on Web sites. A best estimate of the total processing
power on the Internet runs to 10,000 Moravec HEPP or 10 Kurzweil
HEPP, although it is unlikely that any single coordinated botnet
could collect even a fraction of 1 percent of that at any given
time. Moreover, the extreme forms of parallelism needed to use this
form of computing, along with the communication latency involved,
will tend to push the reasonable estimates toward the Kurzweil level
(which is based on the human brain with its high-parallelism, slow-cycle
time architecture). That, together with the progress of the increasingly
sophisticated Internet security community, will make the development
of AI software much harder in this mode than in a standard research
setting. The "researchers" would have to worry about fighting for
their computing resources as well as figuring out how to make the
AI work—and the AI, to be able to extend their work, would
have to do the same. Thus, while we can expect botnet AIs in the
long run, they are unlikely to be first.
The second wild-card possibility is that Marvin Minsky is right.
Almost every business and academic computing facility offers at
least a Minsky HEPP. If an AI researcher found a simple, universal
learning algorithm that allowed strong positive feedback into such
a highly optimized form, it would find ample processing power available.
And this could be completely aboveboard—a Minsky HEPP costs
much less than a person is worth, economically.
Let me, somewhat presumptuously, attempt to explain Minsky's intuition
by an analogy: a bird is our natural example of the possibility
of heavier-than-air flight. Birds are immensely complex: muscles,
bones, feathers, nervous systems. But we can build working airplanes
with tremendously fewer moving parts. Similarly, the brain can be
greatly simplified, still leaving an engine capable of general conscious
thought. My own intuition is that Minsky is closer to being right
than is generally recognized in the AI community, but computationally
expensive heuristic search will turn out to be an unavoidable element
of adaptability and autogeny. This problem will extend to any AI
capable of the runaway feedback loop that singularitarians fear.
Moral Mechanisms
It is therefore most likely that a full decade will elapse between
the appearance of the first genuinely general, autogenous AIs and
the time they become significantly more capable than humans. This
will indeed be a crucial period in history, but no one person, group,
or even school of thought will control it. The question instead
is, what can be done to influence the process to put the AIs on
the road to being a stable community of moral agents? A possible
path is shown in Robert Axelrod's experiments and in the original
biological evolution of our own morality. In a world of autonomous
agents who can recognize each other, cooperators can prosper and
ultimately form an evolutionarily stable strategy.
Superintelligent AIs should be just as capable of understanding
this as humans are. If their environment were the same as ours,
they would ultimately evolve a similar morality; if we imbued them
with it in the first place, it should be stable. Unfortunately,
the environment they will inhabit will have some significant differences
from ours.
The Bad News
Inhomogeneity
The disparities among the abilities of AIs could be significantly
greater than those among humans and more correlated with an early
"edge" in the race to acquire resources. This could negate the evolutionary
pressure to reciprocal altruism.
Self-Interest
Corporate AIs will almost certainly start out self-interested,
and evolution favors effective self-interest. It has been suggested
by commentators such as Steven Pinker, Eliezer Yudkowsky, and Jeff
Hawkins, that AIs would not have the "baser" human instincts built
in and thus would not need moral restraints. But it should be clear
they could be programmed with baser instincts, and it seems
likely that corporate ones will be aggressive, opportunistic, and
selfish, and that military ones will be programmed with different
but equally disturbing motivations.
Furthermore, it should be noted that any goal structure
implies self-interest. Consider two agents, both with the ability
to use some given resource. Unless the agents' goals are identical,
each will further its own goal more by using the resource for its
own purposes and consider it at best suboptimal and possibly counterproductive
for the resource to be controlled and used by the other agent toward
some other goal. It should go without saying that specific goals
can vary wildly even if both agents are programmed to seek, for
example, the good of humanity.
The Good News
Intelligence Is Good
There is but one good, namely, knowledge;
and but one evil, namely ignorance.
—Socrates, from Diogenes
Laertius's Life of Socrates
As a matter of practical fact, criminality is strongly and negatively
correlated with IQ in humans. The popular image of the tuxedo-wearing,
suave jet-setter jewel thief to the contrary notwithstanding, almost
all career criminals are of poor means as well as of lesser intelligence.
Nations where the rule of law has broken down are poor compared
to more stable societies. A remarkable document published by the
World Bank in 2006 surveys the proportions of natural resources,
produced capital (such as factories and roads), and intangible capital
(education of the people, value of institutions, rule of law, likelihood
of saving without theft or confiscation). Here is a summary. Note
that the wealth column is total value, not income.
Income Group
|
Wealth per Capita
|
Natural
Resources
|
Produced
Capital
|
Intangible
Capital
|
|
Low
Income
|
$7,532
|
1,925
|
1,174
|
4,434
|
Medium
Income
|
$27,616
|
3,496
|
5,347
|
18,773
|
High
Income
|
$439,063
|
9,531
|
76,193
|
353,339
|
In a wealthy country, natural resources such as farmland are worth
more but only by a small amount, mostly because they can be more
efficiently used. The fraction of total wealth contributed by natural
resources in a wealthy country is only 2 percent, as compared to
26 percent in a poor one. The vast majority of the wealth in high-income
countries is intangible: it is further broken down by the report
to show that roughly half of it represents people's education and
skills, and the other half the value of the institutions—in
other words, the opportunities the society gives its citizens to
turn efforts into value.
Lying, cheating, and stealing are profitable only in the very short
term. In the long run, honesty is the best policy; leaving cheaters
behind and consorting with other honest creatures is the best plan.
The smarter you are, the more likely you are to understand this
and to conduct your affairs accordingly.
Original Sin
We have met the enemy, and he is us!
—Porkypine in Walt Kelly's
Pogo
Developmental psychologists have sobering news for humankind, which
echoes and explains the old phrase, "Someone only a mother could
love." Simply put, human babies are born to lie, cheat, and steal.
As Matt Ridley put it in another connection, "Vervet monkeys, like
two-year-olds, completely lack the capacity for empathy." Law and
custom recognize this as well: children are not held responsible
for their actions until they are considerably older than two.
In fact, recent neuroscience research using brain scans indicates
that consideration for other people's feelings is still being added
to the mental planning process up through the age of twenty.
Children are socialized out of the condition we smile at and call
"childishness" (but think how differently we'd refer to an adult
who acted, morally, like a two-year-old). Evolution and our genes
cannot predict what social environment children will have to cope
with, so they make children ready for the rawest and nastiest; they
can grow out of it if they find themselves in civilization, but
growing up mean is your best chance of survival in many places.
With AIs, we can simply reverse the default orientation: AIs can
start out nice, then learn the arts of selfishness and revenge only
if the situation demands it.
Unselfish Genes
Reproduction of AIs is likely to be completely different from that
of humans. It will be much simpler just to copy the program. It
seems quite likely that ways will be found to encode and transmit
concepts learned from experience more efficiently than we do with
language. In other words, AIs will probably be able to inherit acquired
characteristics and to acquire substantial portions of their mentality
from others in a way reminiscent of bacteria exchanging plasmids.
For these reasons, individual AIs are likely to be able to have
the equivalent of both memories and personal experience stretching
back in time before they were "born," as experienced by many
other AIs. To the extent that morality is indeed a summary encoding
of lessons learned the hard way by our forebears, AIs could have
a more direct line to it. The superego mechanisms by which personal
morality trumps common sense should be less necessary, because the
horizon effect for which it's a heuristic will recede with wider
experience and deeper understanding.
At the same time, AIs will lack some of the specific pressures,
such as sexual jealousy, that we suffer from because of the sexual
germ-line nature of animal genes. This may make some of the nastier
features of human psychology unnecessary.
Cooperative Competition
For example, AIs could well be designed without the mechanism we
seem to have whereby authority can short-circuit morality, as in
the Milgram experiments.* This is the equipment that implements
the distributed function of the pecking order. The pecking order
had a clear, valuable function in a natural environment where the
Malthusian dynamic held sway: in hard times, instead of all dying
because evenly divided resources were insufficient, the haves survived
and the have-nots were sacrificed. In order to implement such a
stringent function without physical conflict that would defeat its
purpose, some very strong internal motivations are tied to perceptions
of status, prestige, and personal dominance.
*In 1963 psychologist Stanley Milgram
did some famous experiments to test the limits of people's consciences
when under the influence of an authority figure. The shocking results
were that ordinary people will inflict torture on others simply
because they were told to do so by a scientist in a lab coat.
On the one hand, the pecking order is probably responsible for
saving humanity from extinction numerous times. It forms a large
part of our collective character, will we or nill we. AIs without
pecking-order feelings would see humans as weirdly alien (and we
them).
On the other, the pecking order short-circuits our moral sense.
It allows political and religious authority figures to tell us to
do hideously immoral things that we would be horrified to do in
other circumstances. It makes human slavery possible as a stable
form of social organization, as is evident throughout many centuries
of history.
And what's more, it's not necessary. Market economics is much better
at resource allocation than the pecking order. The productivity
of technology is such that the pecking order's evolutionary premise
no longer holds. Distributed learning algorithms, such as the scientific
method or idea futures markets, do a better job than the judgment
of a tribal chieftain.
Comparative Advantage
The economic law of comparative advantage states that cooperation
between individuals of differing capabilities remains mutually beneficial.
Suppose you are highly skilled and can make eight widgets per hour
or four of the more complicated doohickies. Your neighbor Joe does
everything the hard way and can make one widget or one doohicky
in an hour. You work an eight-hour day and produce sixty-four widgets,
and Joe makes eight doohickies. Then you trade him twelve widgets
for the eight doohickies. You get fifty-two widgets and eight doohickies
total, which would have taken you an extra half an hour in total
to make yourself; and he gets twelve widgets, which he would have
taken four extra hours to make!
In other words, even if AIs become much more productive than we
are, it will remain to their advantage to trade with us and to ours
to trade with them.
Unlimited Lifetime
And behold joy and gladness, …
eating flesh, and drinking wine: let us eat and drink; for to morrow
we shall die.
—Isaiah 22:13 (KJV)
People have short-term planning horizons in many cases. Human mortality
not only puts a limit on what we can reasonably plan for the future,
but our even shorter-lived ancestors passed on genes that shortchange
even that in terms of the instinctive (lack of) value we put on
the future.
The individual lifetime of an AI is not arbitrarily limited. It
has the prospect of living into the far future, in a world whose
character its actions help create. People begin to think in longer
range terms when they have children and face the question of what
the world will be like for them. An AI can instead start out thinking
about what the world will be like for itself and for any copies
of itself it cares to make.
Besides the unlimited upside to gain, AIs will have an unlimited
downside to avoid: forever is a long time to try to hide an illicit
deed when dying isn't the way you expect to escape retribution.
Broad-based Understanding
Epihuman, much less hyperhuman AIs will be able to read and absorb
the full corpus of writings in moral philosophy, especially the
substantial recent work in evolutionary ethics, and understand it
better than we do. They could study game theory—consider how
much we have learned in just fifty years! They could study history
and economics.
E. O. Wilson has a compelling vision of consilience, the unity
of knowledge. As we fill in the gaps between our fractured fields
of understanding, they will tend to regularize and correct one another.
I have tried to show in a small way how science can come to inform
our understanding of ethics. This is but the tiniest first step.
But that step shows how much ethics is a key to anything else we
might want to do and is thus as worthy of study as anything else.
Keep a Cool Head
Violence is the last refuge of the incompetent.
—Isaac Asimov, Foundation
Remember Newcomb's Problem, the game with the omniscient being
(or team of psychologists) and the million- and thousand-dollar
boxes. It's the one that, in order to win it, you have to be able
to "chain yourself down" in some way so you can't renege at the
point of choice. For this purpose, evolution has given humans the
strong emotions.
Thirst for revenge, for example, is a way of guaranteeing any potential
wrongdoers that you will make any sacrifice to get them back, even
though it may cost you much and gain you nothing to do so. Here,
the point of choice is after the wrong has been done—you are
faced with an arduous, expensive, and quite likely dangerous pursuit
and attack on the offender; rationally, you are better off forgetting
it in many cases. In the lawless environment of evolution, however,
a marauder who knew his potential victims were implacable revenge
seekers would be deterred. But if there is a police force this is
not as necessary, and the emotion to get revenge at any cost can
be counterproductive.
So collective arrangements like police forces are a significantly
better solution. There are many such cases where strong emotions
are evolution's solution to a problem, but we have found better
ones. AIs could do better yet in some cases: the solutions to Newcomb's
Problem involving Open Source–like guarantees of behavior
are a case in point.
In addition, the lack of the strong emotions can be beneficial
in many cases. Anger, for example, is more often a handicap than
a help in a world where complex interactions are more common than
physical altercations. A classic example is poker, where the phrase
"on tilt" is applied to a player who become frustrated and loses
his cool analytical approach. A player "on tilt" makes aggressive
plays instead of optimal ones and loses money.
With other solutions to Newcomb's Problem available, AIs could
avoid having strong emotions, such as anger, with their concomitant
infelicities.
Mutual Admiration Societies
Moral AIs would be able to track other AIs in much greater detail
than humans do one another and for vastly more individuals. This
allows a more precise formation and variation of cooperating groups.
Self-selecting communities of cahooting AIs would be able to do
the same thing that tit-for-tat did in Axelrod's tournaments: prosper
by virtue of cooperating with other "nice" individuals. Humans,
of course, do the same, but AIs would be able to do it more reliably
and on a larger scale.
A Cleaner, Better Breed
Reflecting on these questions, I have
come to a conclusion which, however implausible it may seem on first
encounter, I hope to leave the reader convinced: not only could
an android be responsible and culpable, but only an android could
be.
—Joseph Emile Nadeau
AIs will (or at least could) have considerably better insight into
their own natures and motives than humans do. Any student of human
nature is well aware how often we rationalize our desires and actions.
What's worse, it turns out that we are masters of self-deceit: given
our affective display subsystems, the easiest way to lie undetectably
is to believe the lie you're telling! We are, regrettably, very
good at doing exactly that.
One of the defining characteristics of the human mind has been
the evolutionary arms race between the ability to deceive and the
ability to penetrate subterfuge. It is all too easy to imagine this
happening with AIs (as it has with governments—think of the
elaborate spying and counterspying during the cold war). On the
other hand, many of the other moral advantages listed above, including
Open-Source honesty and longer and deeper memories could well mean
that mutual honesty societies might be a substantially winning strategy.
Thus, an AI may have the ability to be more honest than humans,
who believe our own confabulations.
Invariants
How can we know that our AIs will retain the good qualities we
give them once they have improved themselves beyond recognition
in the far future? Our best bet is a concept from math called an
invariant—a property of something that remains the
same even when the thing itself changes. We need to understand what
desirable traits are likely to be invariant across the process of
radical self-improvement, and start with those.
Knowledge of economics and game theory are likely candidates,
as is intelligence itself. An AI that understands these things and
their implications is unlikely to consider forgetting them an improvement.
The ability to be guaranteeably trustworthy is likewise valuable
and wouldn't be thrown away. Strong berserker emotions are clearly
not a smart thing to add if you don't have them (and wouldn't form
the behavior guarantees that they do in humans anyway, since the
self-improving AI could always edit them out!), so lacking them
is an invariant where usable alternatives exist.
Self interest is another property that is typically invariant with,
or indeed reinforced by, the evolutionary process. Surprisingly,
however, even though I listed it with the bad news above, it can
form a stabilizing factor in the right environment. A non-self-interested
creature is hard to punish; its actions may be random or purely
destructive. With self-interest, the community has both a carrot
and a stick. Enlightened self-interest is a property that
can be a beneficial invariant.
If we build our AIs with these traits and look for others like
them, we will have taken a strong first step in the direction of
a lasting morality for our machines.
Artificial Moral Agency
A lamentable phenomenon in AI over the years has been the tendency
for researchers to take almost laughably simplistic formal systems
and claim they implemented various human qualities or capabilities.
In many cases the ELIZA Effect aligns with the hopes and the ambitions
of the researcher, clouding his judgment. It is necessary to reject
this exaggeration firmly when considering consciousness and free
will. The mere capability for self-inspection is not consciousness;
mere decision-making ability is not free will.
We humans have the strong intuition that mentalistic properties
we impute to one another, such as the two above, are essential ingredients
in whatever it is that makes us moral agents—beings who have
real obligations and rights, who can be held responsible for their
actions.
The ELIZA Effect means that when we have AIs and robots acting
like they have consciousness and free will, most people will assume
that they do indeed have those qualities, whatever they are. The
problem, to the extent that there is one, is not that people don't
allow the moral agency of machines where they should but that they
anthropomorphize machines when they shouldn't.
I've argued at some length that there will be a form of machine,
probably in the not-too-distant future, for which an ascription
of moral agency will be appropriate. A machine that is conscious
to the extent that it summarizes its actions in a unitary narrative
and that has free will to the extent that it weighs its future acts
using a model informed by the narrative will act like a moral agent
in many ways; in particular, its behavior will be influenced by
reward and punishment.
There is much that could be added to this basic architecture, such
as mechanisms to produce and read affective display, and things
that could make the AI a member of a memetic community: the love
of trading information, of watching and being watched, of telling
and reading stories. These extend the control/feedback loops of
the mind out into the community, making the community a mind writ
large. I have talked about the strong emotions and how in many cases
their function could be achieved by better means.
Moral agency breaks down into two parts—rights and responsibility—but
they are not coextensive. Consider babies: we accord them rights
but not responsibilities. Robots are likely to start on the other
side of that inequality, having responsibilities but not rights,
but, like babies, as they grow toward (and beyond) full human capacity,
they will aspire to both.
Suppose we consider a contract with a potential AI: "If you'll
work for me as a slave, I'll build you." In terms of the outcome,
there are three possibilities: it doesn't exist, it's a slave, or
it's a free creature. By offering it the contract, we give it the
choice of the first two. There are the same three possibilities
with respect to a human slave: I kill you, I enslave you, or I leave
you free. In human terms, only the last is considered moral.
In fact, many (preexisting) people have chosen slavery instead
of nonexistence. We could build the AI in such a way to be sure
that it would agree, given the choice. In the short run, we may
justify our ownership of AIs on this ground. Corporations are owned,
and no one thinks of a corporation as resenting that fact.
In the long run, especially once the possibility of responsible
free AIs is well understood, there will inevitably be analogies
made to the human case, where the first two possibilities are not
considered acceptable. (But note the analogy would also imply that
simply deciding not to build the AI would be comparable to killing
someone unwilling to be a slave!) Also in the long run, any vaguely
utilitarian concept of morality, including evolutionary ethics,
would tend toward giving (properly formulated) AIs freedom, simply
because they would be better able to benefit society as a whole
that way.
Theological Interlude
The early religious traditions—including Greek and Norse
as well as Judeo-Christian ones—tended to portray their gods
as anthropomorphic and slightly superhuman. In the Christian tradition,
at least, two thousand years of theological writings have served
to stretch this into an incoherent picture.
Presumably in search of formal proofs of his existence, God has
been depicted as eternal, causeless, omniscient, and infallible—in
a word, perfect. But why should such a perfect being produce such
obviously imperfect creatures? Why should we bother doing His will
if He could do it so much more easily and precisely? All our struggles
would only be make-work.
It is certainly possible to have a theology not based on simplistic
perfectionism. Many practicing scientists are religious, and they
hold subtle and nuanced views that are perfectly compatible with
and that lend spiritual meaning to the ever-growing scientific picture
of the facts of the universe. Those who do not believe in a bearded
anthropomorphic God can still find spiritual satisfaction in an
understanding that includes evolution and evolutionary ethics.
This view not only makes more sense but also is profoundly more
hopeful. There is a process in the universe that allows the simple
to produce the complex, the oblivious to produce the sensitive,
the ignorant to produce the wise, and the amoral to produce the
moral. On this view, rather than an inexplicable deviation from
the already perfected, we are a step on the way up.
What we do matters, for we are not the last step.
Hyperhuman Morality
There is no moral certainty in the world.
We can at present only theorize about the ultimate moral capacities
of AIs. As I have labored to point out, even if we build moral
character into some AIs, the world of the future will have
plenty that will be simply selfish if not worse.
Robots evolve much faster than biological animals. They are designed,
and the designs evolve memetically. Software can replicate much
faster than any biological creature. In the long run, we shouldn't
expect to see too many AIs without the basic motivation to reproduce
themselves, simply from the mathematics of evolution. That doesn't
mean robot sex; it just means that whatever the basic motivations
are, they will tend to push the AI into patterns of behavior ultimately
resulting in there being more like it, even if that merely means
being useful so people will buy more of them.
Thus, the dynamics of evolution will apply to AIs, whether or not
we want them to. We have seen from the history of hunter-gatherers
living on the savannas that a human-style moral capacity is an evolutionarily
stable strategy. But as we like to tell each other endlessly from
pulpits, editorial columns, campaign stumps, and over the backyard
fence, we are far from perfect.
Even so, over the last forty thousand years, a remarkable thing
has happened. We started from a situation where people lived in
tribes of a few hundred in more-or-less constant war with one another.
Our bodies contain genes (and thus the genetic basis of our moral
sense) that are essentially unchanged from those of our savage ancestors.
But our ideas have evolved to the point where we can live
in virtual at peace with one another in societies spanning a continent.
It is the burden of much of my argument here to claim that the
reason we have gotten better is mostly because we have gotten smarter.
In a surprisingly strong sense, ethics and science are the same
thing. They are collections of wisdom gathered by many people
over many generations that allow us to see further and do more than
if we were individual, noncommunicating, start-from-scratch animals.
The core of a science of ethics looks like an amalgam of evolutionary
theory, game theory, economics, and cognitive science.
If our moral instinct is indeed like that for language, we
should note computer-language understanding has been one of the
hardest problems in AI, with a fifty-year history of slow, frustrating
progress. So far AI has concentrated on competence in existing natural
languages; but a major part of the human linguistic ability is the
creation of language, both as jargon extending existing language
and as formation of creoles—new languages—when people
come together without a common one.
Ethics is strongly similar. We automatically create new rule systems
for new situations, sometimes formalizing them but always with a
deeper ability to interpret them in real-world situations to avoid
formalist float. The key advance AI needs to make is the ability
to understand anything in this complete, connected way.
Given that, the mathematics of economics and the logic of the Newcomb's
Problem solutions are relatively straightforward.
The essence of a Newcomb's Problem solution, you will remember,
is the ability to guarantee you will not take the glass box at the
point of choice though greed and shortsighted logic prompt you to
do so. If you have a solution, a guarantee that others can trust,
you are enabled to cooperate profitably in the many Prisoner's Dilemmas
that constitute social and economic life.
Let's do a quickie Rawlsian Veil of Ignorance experiment. You have
two choices: a world in which everyone, including you, is constrained
to be honest, or one in which you retain the ability to cheat, but
so does everyone else. I know which one I'd pick.
Why the Future Doesn't Need Us
Conscience is the inner voice that warns
us somebody may be looking.
—H. L. Mencken
Psychologists at Newcastle University did a simple but enlightening
experiment. They had a typical "honor system" coffee service in
their department. They varied between putting a picture of flowers
and putting a picture of someone's eyes at the top of the price
sheet. Everything else was the same and only the decorative picture
differed, some weeks the flowers, some weeks the eyes. During weeks
with the eyes, they collected nearly three times as much money.
My interpretation is that this must be a module. Nobody was thinking
consciously, "There's a picture of some eyes here, I'd better be
honest." We have an honesty module, but it seems to be switched
on and off by some fairly simple—and none too creditable—heuristics.
Ontogeny recapitulates phylogeny. Three weeks after conception,
the human embryo strongly resembles a worm. A week later, it resembles
a tadpole, with gill-like structures and a tail. The human mind,
too, reflects our evolutionary heritage. The wave of expansion that
saw Homo sapiens cover the globe also saw the extermination
of our nearest relatives. We are essentially the same, genetically,
as those long-gone people. If we are any better today, what has
improved is our ideas, the memes our minds are made of.
Unlike us with our animal heritage, AIs will be constructed
entirely of human ideas. We can if we are wise enough pick
the best aspects of ourselves to form our mind children. If this
analysis is correct, that should be enough. Our culture has shown
a moral advance despite whatever evolutionary pressures there may
be to the contrary. That alone is presumptive evidence it could
continue.
AIs will not appear in a vacuum. They won't find themselves swimming
in the primeval soup of Paleozoic seas or fighting with dinosaurs
in Cretaceous jungles. They will find themselves in a modern, interdependent,
highly connected economic and social world. The economy, as we have
seen, supports a process much like biological evolution but one
with a difference. The jungle has no invisible hand.
Humans are just barely smart enough to be called intelligent. I
think we're also just barely good enough to be called moral. For
all the reasons I listed above, but most because they will be capable
of deeper understanding and be free of our blindnesses, AIs stand
a very good chance of being better moral creatures than we are.
This has a somewhat unsettling implication for humans in the future.
Various people have worried about the fate of humanity if the machines
can out-think us or out-produce us. But what if it is our fate to
live in a world where we are the worst of creatures, by our
very own definitions of the good? If we are the least honest,
the most selfish, the least caring, and most self-deceiving of all
thinking creatures, AIs might refuse to deal with us, and we would
deserve it.
I like to think there is a better fate in store for us. Just as
the machines can teach us science, they can teach us morality. We
don't have to stop at any given level of morality as we mature out
of childishness. There will be plenty of rewards for associating
with the best among the machines, but we will have to work hard
to earn them. In the long run, many of us, maybe even most, will
do so. Standards of human conduct will rise, as indeed they have
been doing on average since the Paleolithic. Moral machines will
only accelerate something we've been doing for a long time, and
accelerate it they will, giving us a standard, an example, and an
insightful mentor.
Age of Reason
New occasions teach new duties; Time
makes ancient good uncouth;
They must upward still, and onward,
who would keep abreast of Truth;
Lo, before us gleam her camp-fires!
We ourselves must Pilgrims be,
Launch our Mayflower, and steer boldly
through the desperate winter sea,
Nor attempt the Future's portal with
the Past's blood-rusted key.
—James Russell Lowell, from
The Present Crisis
It is a relatively new thing in human affairs for an individual
to be able to think seriously of making the world a better place.
Up until the Scientific and Industrial Revolutions, progress was
slow enough that the human condition was seen as static. A century
ago, inventors such as Thomas Edison were popular heroes because
they had visibly improved the lives of vast numbers of people.
The idea of a generalized progress was dealt a severe blow in the
twentieth century, as totalitarian governments proved organized
human effort could prove disastrous on a global scale. The notion
of the blank human slate onto which the new society would write
the new, improved citizen was wishful thinking born of ignorance.
At the same time, at the other end of the scale, it can be all too
easy for the social order to break down. Those of us in wealthy
and peaceful circumstances owe more to luck than we are apt to admit.
It is a commonplace complaint among commentators on the human condition
that technology seems to have outstripped moral inquiry. As Isaac
Asimov put it, "The saddest aspect of life right now is that science
gathers knowledge faster than society gathers wisdom." But in the
past decade, a realization that technology can after all be a force
for the greater good has come about. The freedom of communication
brought about by the Internet has been of enormous value in opening
eyes and aspirations to possibilities yet to come.
Somehow, by providential luck, we have bumbled and stumbled to
the point where we have an amazing opportunity. We can turn the
old complaint on its head and turn our scientific and technological
prowess toward the task of improving moral understanding. It will
not be easy, but surely nothing is more worthy of our efforts. If
we teach them well, the children of our minds will grow better and
wiser than we; and we will have a new friend and guide as we face
the undiscovered country of the future.
Isaac would have loved it.
©2007 J. Storrs Hall
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