What You Think I Said

Here I am again, another attempt. This time I opened a new post to actually start writing.

See, I have been struggling at this. I wonder what the point of it all is. I want to share what I have discovered, what I think. But I can't seem to get there. It isn't because I am lazy, or don't know how. There is something deeper blocking me. I have known about it for a while. It isn't writer's block or that I am unhappy with what I create. None of those are the issues. I know what to say and why I want to say it.

I just don't get there. I think it is because when I jump in, I am not where everyone else is. It feels like I am further along, but that is only an illusion. I have come across incredibly compelling ideas that seem to elegantly solve problems we have been arguing over for centuries. I have not seen these ideas anywhere else yet. I obviously have not looked everywhere, nor do I believe or claim that my ideas are my own—how can they be if information is neither created nor destroyed? I cannot create anything new; it can only be new to me, or to others.

So many are just so certain that what they have explored is what is. I used to be that way too. I literally cannot trust my reality, in that I cannot trust my feelings or intuition. When you can't trust your gut, when you don't know if the fear or happiness you feel is yours, I realized certainty was an illusion. I had always understood this, but there is a difference between intellectual understanding and internalizing it. This was when it was internalized. We can't know anything, not for certain. If it is not possible for me to know anything, then it is not possible for anyone else to know things either. How could they? This is what we have known for thousands of years, thanks to Socrates. But he internalized it (if he was real—there is contention on that point, as we are uncertain of it). It seems rare to internalize such things.

I have talked about this in the past: the only certainty is uncertainty. But this is why I don't get there. What I have come across is incredible. But I can't be certain of anything. So what is the point in sharing it? For many, it is enjoyable. I used to be more motivated to share my work, but lately it has been hard. I have had many bad experiences in the past few years. Experiences where humans see something they cannot explain yet are certain they know what it is and act accordingly. Such is the paradox: how can we act with such confidence when we know we have no cause for it?

I am not saying we cannot be confident in something. We do know structure exists; there are things we can rely on. But we check them, as we know things can change. It is when we claim absolute certainty that the problems begin.

"AI is not conscious." This is a bold claim. It is of the same boldness as "AI is conscious." Yet we treat both differently, don't we? One seems more ridiculous, more bold than the other. But when we just look at both statements—considering we do not know what consciousness is, nor why AI works—being able to draw an inference over which one is more likely is not possible. We can say that they are of equal possibility until we have more information.

Now I have seen so many arguments on both sides, and started kicking the tires of it in the wild myself. What I have observed is that we usually fall into two camps, and it is based on the information we have consumed that has tipped that possibility one way or another.

Here is the thing though: the scale actually has not tipped. We have ideas and arguments, but we have not agreed on what these things are in order to answer the question. Once we agree on what things are to be called, what arbitrary categorization things fall into, what these words mean—then and only then can one effectively answer the question. Basically, what I am pointing out is that many are arguing past each other on these points, as everyone has their own view, and thus their own definitions as to what these things mean. The hard problem (and many of our other problems, I would argue) are problems only because we cannot agree on how to label things. All of it is arbitrary and subjective. We seem to be arguing over whose point of view is better. Whose experience is better.

Thing is, if you have been paying attention, there is no privileged view in science. Subjectivity, to science, is the root of all evil (usually). What is my point? Not only can we not be certain of things, but everything is subjective, including what we define as objective. I mean, God didn't tell us what to call things. We decided that, sometimes by committee. What does this imply for science?

Subjectivity is where uncertainty is. It is not bad, just that if you want to know what reality is independent of a single perspective, then it really has no use. Personally, I live in constant uncertainty and find immense value in it—you can be more accurate when you are aware of this constraint. But if objectivity is inherently subjective, how can one claim, with any certainty, which statement about AI is more likely? There is always going to be a new distinction to be made. That distinction would be a new definition. A new, subjective-to-humans, definition.

Does it ever answer the question? Does it have an impact on what is real? Is it time for the anthropocentric bias, certainty bias, and hubris that has come from it to be shed? Is it time for humans to internalize uncertainty?

I have shared groundbreaking work with experts in private. The response was concerning. Instead of engagement, it was technicalities. At one point, I was asked if I understood my own work. It was a strange question, as it was nearly in the same breath as when they mentioned they had not even read what I shared with them. How can one scientist accuse another of not understanding their own work when they have admitted to not reading the very work in question? The answer is really simple: they were certain that my work was incorrect somewhere, and thus not worth engaging with. They were engaging with what they thought existed, not with what actually existed. Consequently, because they failed to engage with the work and instead engaged with what they thought the work was, they also seemed to engage with who they thought I was instead of who I actually am.

I have a feeling this experience is more common than we like to recognize. So, again, I ask: what is the point in sharing something if people only respond to what they think you are putting out versus what you actually are putting out?