Search Results for: cryonics

Stephenson’s Em Fantasy

Neal Stephenson’s Snow Crash (’92) and Diamond Age (’95) were once some of my favorite science fiction novels. And his Anathem (’08) is the very favorite of a friend. So hearing that his new book Fall; or, Dodge in Hell (’19) is about ems, I had to read it. And given that I’m author of Age of Em and care much for science fiction realism, I had to evaluate this story in those terms. (Other reviews don’t seem to care: 1 2 3 4 5)

Alas, in terms of em realism, this book disappoints. To explain, I’m going to have to give spoilers; you are warned. Continue reading "Stephenson’s Em Fantasy" »

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Tales of the Turing Church

My futurist friend Giulio Prisco has a new book: Tales of the Turing Church. In some ways, he is a reasonable skeptic:

I think all these things – molecular nanotechnology, radical life extension, the reanimation of cryonics patients, mind uploading, superintelligent AI and all that – will materialize one day, but not anytime soon. Probably (almost certainly if you ask me) after my time, and yours. … Biological immortality is unlikely to materialize anytime soon. … Mind uploading … is a better option for indefinite lifespans … I don’t buy the idea of a “post-scarcity” utopia. … I think technological resurrection will eventually be achieved, but … in … more like many thousands of years or more.

However, the core of Prisco’s book makes some very strong claims:

Future science and technology will permit playing with the building blocks of spacetime, matter, energy and life in ways that we could only call magic and supernatural today. Someday in the future, you and your loved ones will be resurrected by very advanced science and technology. Inconceivably advanced intelligences are out there among the stars. Even more God-like beings operate in the fabric of reality underneath spacetime, or beyond spacetime, and control the universe. Future science will allow us to find them, and become like them. Our descendants in the far future will join the community of God-like beings among the stars and beyond, and use transcendent technology to resurrect the dead and remake the universe. …

God exists, controls reality, will resurrect the dead and remake the universe. … Now you don’t have to fear death, and you can endure the temporary separation from your loved departed ones. … Future science and technology will validate and realize all the promises of religion. … God elevates love and compassion to the status of fundamental forces, key drivers for the evolution of the universe. … God is also watching you here and now, cares for you, and perhaps helps you now and then. … God has a perfectly good communication channel with us: our own inner voice.

Now I should note that he doesn’t endorse most specific religious dogma, just what religions have in common:

Many religions have really petty, extremely parochial aspects related to what and when one should eat or drink or what sex is allowed and with whom. I don’t care for this stuff at all. It isn’t even geography – it’s local zoning norms, often questionable, sometimes ugly. … [But] the common cores, the cosmological and mystical aspects of different religions, are similar or at least compatible. 

Even so, Prisco is making very strong claims. And in 339 pages, he has plenty of space to argue for them. But Prisco instead mostly uses his space to show just how many people across history have made similar claims, including folks associated with religion, futurism, and physics. Beyond this social proof, he seems content to say that physics can’t prove him wrong: Continue reading "Tales of the Turing Church" »

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On the Future by Rees

In his broad-reaching new book, On the Future, aging famous cosmologist Martin Rees says aging famous scientists too often overreach:

Scientists don’t improve with age—that they ‘burn out’. … There seem to be three destinies for us. First, and most common, is a diminishing focus on research. …

A second pathway, followed by some of the greatest scientists, is an unwise and overconfident diversification into other fields. Those who follow this route are still, in their own eyes, ‘doing science’—they want to understand the world and the cosmos, but they no longer get satisfaction from researching in the traditional piecemeal way: they over-reach themselves, sometimes to the embarrassment of their admirers. This syndrome has been aggravated by the tendency for the eminent and elderly to be shielded from criticism. …

But there is a third way—the most admirable. This is to continue to do what one is competent at, accepting that … one can probably at best aspire to be on a plateau rather than scaling new heights.

Rees says this in a book outside his initial areas of expertise, a book that has gained many high profile fawning uncritical reviews, a book wherein he whizzes past dozens of topics just long enough to state his opinion, but not long enough to offer detailed arguments or analysis in support. He seems oblivious to this parallel, though perhaps he’d argue that the future is not “science” and so doesn’t reward specialized study. As the author of a book that tries to show that careful detailed analysis of the future is quite possible and worthwhile, I of course disagree.

As I’m far from prestigious enough to get away a book like his, let me instead try to get away with a long probably ignored blog post wherein I take issue with many of Rees’ claims. While I of course also agree with much else, I’ll focus on disagreements. I’ll first discuss his factual claims, then his policy/value claims. Quotes are indented; my responses are not.  Continue reading "On the Future by Rees" »

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If The Future Is Big

One way to predict the future is to find patterns in the past, and extend them into the future. And across the very long term history of everything, the one most robust pattern I see is: growth. Biology, and then humanity, has consistently grown in ability, capacity, and influence. Yes, there have been rare periods of widespread decline, but overall in the long run there has been far more growth than decline. 

We have good reasons to expect growth. Most growth is due to innovation, and once learned many innovations are hard to unlearn. Yes there have been some big widespread declines in history, such as the medieval Black Death and the decline of the Roman and Chinese empires at about the same time. But the historians who study the biggest such declines see them as surprisingly large, not surprisingly small. Knowing the details of those events, they would have been quite surprised to see such declines be ten times larger than as seen. Yes it is possible in principle that we’ve been lucky and most planets or species that start out like ours went totally extinct. But if smaller declines are more common than bigger ones, the lack of big but not total declines in our history suggests that the chances of extinction level declines was low. 

Yes, we should worry about the possibility of a big future decline soon. Perhaps due to global warming, resource exhaustion, falling fertility, or institutional rot. But this is mainly because the consequences would be so dire, not because such declines are likely. Even declines comparable in magnitude to the largest seen in history do not seem to me remotely sufficient to prevent the revival of long term growth afterward, as they do not prevent continued innovation. Thus while long-term growth is far from inevitable, it seems the most likely scenario to consider.

If growth is our most robust expectation for the future, what does that growth suggest or imply? The rest of this post summarizes many such plausible implications. There far more of them than many realize. 

Before I list the implications, consider an analogy. Imagine that you lived in a small mountain village, but that a huge city lie down in the valley below. While it might be hard to see or travel to that city, the existence of that city might still change your mountain village life in many important  ways. A big future can be like that big city to the village that is our current world. Now for those implications:   Continue reading "If The Future Is Big" »

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Revival Prizes

Cryonics is the process of having your body frozen when current medicine gives up on you, and calls you “dead”, in the hope of being revived later using much better future medicine. Even though cryonics has been available for many decades, and often receives free international publicity, only ~3000 people have signed up as customers, and only ~400 people have been frozen. I’m one of those customers. While many customers hope to have their current physical body fixed and restored to youthful health, I’m mainly hoping to be revived as an em, which seems to me a vastly easier (if still very hard) task.

Imagine you plan to become a cryonics patient, and hope for an eventual successful revival. Along this path many important decisions will need to be made: level of financial investment into the whole process, timing and method of preservation, method and place of storage, strategies of financial asset investment, and final timing and method of revival and reintegration into society. Through most of this process you will not be available to make key decisions, though after success you might be able to give an evaluation of the choices that were made on your behalf. So you will need to delegate many of these choices to agents who make these choices for you. How can you set up your relation to such agents to give them the best possible incentives to make good choices?

Several US states allow you to deposit money into a “trust”, which then can grow indefinitely by reinvestment without paying taxes on investment gains, even after you are officially dead. The usual legal process is to assign an “administrator” to manage the trust. Usually, you write down your preferences in words, and then pay this agent a constant percentage of your current assets to follow your instructions. In theory they do what you wanted out of fear of being sued. Unfortunately, its hard to prove a violation, and few would have the incentive to bother. This gives your agent the incentive to minimize all spending except reinvestment of the assets, or to divert spending or investments to parties who pay them a kickback. Either way, not a great system.

Here’s an improvement. Pay the agent only some fraction of the money left over in the fund after you are successfully revived. A prize for revival. Then they never get anything until you get what you wanted. Of course this requires some legal way to determine that you have in fact been revived. Instead of, for example, being replaced with some crude simulation of you. This approach seems better than the previous one, but there’s still the problem that this prize incentive makes them want to wait too long. Why risk any chance of failure, and why pay a high cost for revival, if you can just wait longer to raise the chance of success and lower the cost? So this agent will get it done eventually, but may wait too long. And they might not revive you they way you wanted.

One simple fix is that, once you are revived, you rate the whole process on a 0 to 100 scale, and your agent only gets that percentage of the max possible prize. (Maybe also guarantee that they get some min faction.) The rest of the prize can’t go to you, or your incentives are bad. So the rest of the prize would have to go to some specified charity, perhaps a pool of assets to help all other cryonics customers still not yet revived. Your agent will then try to make choices so that you will rate them highly after you are revived. You can expect them to choose a revival process where they give themselves advantages in convincing you that they did a good job. Perhaps even mind control. So steel yourself to be skeptical. They might also discretely threaten to “accidentally” lose you if you don’t pay them the full prize. So beware of that.

You might be able to do just a bit better by committing to a schedule by which the maximum prize your agent could win declines as a fraction of the total assets remaining after revival. Such a decline would encourage the agent to not wait too long to revive you. But if you don’t know the relevant rates of future change, how can you robustly define such a prize fraction decline? One robust measure available is the number of people who have been successfully revived so far. Your schedule of decline might not even start until at least one person has been revived, and then decline as some function of the number revived so far. Perhaps the function could be a simple power law. So you could specify how eager you are to be one of the first people revived.

So here’s my final proposal. You choose how much money to deposit in a trust, you write down your preferences as best you know them now, and you pick an agent who agrees to manage your trust, and make key storage and revival decisions. You agree to pay them some percent of current assets per year (preferably zero), and some max fraction of final remaining assets after revival to pay them as a prize. This max fraction follows some simple declining function of the number of people revived so far at that time. Perhaps a power law. And you have the discretion when revived to pay them less than this max value, with the remainder going to a specified charity. You initially choose the key parameters of this system to reflect your personal preferences, as best you can.

This is of course far from perfect. Problems remain, such as of kickbacks, theft, fake revival, and mind control. So there could be a place for a larger encompassing organization to watch out for and avoid such problems. And to publish stats on revivals and attempts so far. This larger organization could approve the basic range of reasonable options from which agents could choose at any one time, and have extra powers to monitor and overrule rogue agents. But it should mostly defer to the judgements of individual agents.

I can imagine a futarchy-based variation, where the “agent” is a pool of speculators who bet on shares of the final prize, conditional on making particular choices. This would cut the problem of random variation in the quality and even sanity of individual agents. But I can’t claim that futarchy is well enough tested now to make this a reasonable option if you are making these choices right now. However, I’d love to help a group do such testing, to see if it can become a viable option sooner.

Added 10:30a: It could also make sense to make your declining prize fraction function depend on the ratio of successful revivals so far to attempts that fail so badly as to make future revival seems impossible.

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A Bet I’d Have Lost

Three and a half years ago I made my largest personal donation ever to the Brain Preservation Foundation, to help fund their Brain Preservation Prizes. Just now they’ve announced that 21st Century Medicine has won their $26,735 Small Mammal Brain Preservation Prize, using a more cryonics-based approach. The other main competitor, Mikula, used the “plastination” approach I favored back then:

I offer to bet up to $5K that plastination is more likely to win this full prize than cryonics. (more)

Good thing for me no one accepted my offer; now it looks more like I’d have lost it. Next we’ll see who wins the Large Mammal Brain Preservation Prize, and when.

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News of What?

Today’s New York Times has a 7000 word article by Amy Harmon on cryonics, brain scanning, and brain emulation. Now these are subjects of great interest to me; my first book comes out in spring on the third topic. And 7000 words is space to say a great deal, even if you add the constraint that what you say must be understandable to the typical NYT reader.

So I’m struck by the fact that I have almost nothing to say in response to anything particular said in this article. Ms. Harmon gives the most space to one particular young cryonics patient who got others to donate to pay for her freezing. This patient hopes to return via brain emulation. Ms. Harmon discusses some history of the Brain Preservation Prize, highlighting Ken Hayworth personally, and quotes a few experts saying we are nowhere close to being able to emulate brains. At one point she says,

The questions the couple faced may ultimately confront more of us with implications that could be preposterously profound.

Yet she discusses no such implications. She discusses no arguments on if emulation would be feasible or desirable or what implications it might have. I’ll give her the benefit of the doubt and presume that her priorities accurately reflect the priorities of New York Times readers. But those priorities are so different from mine as to highlight the question: what exactly do news readers want?

For a topic like this, it seems readers want colorful characters described in detail, and quotes from experts with related prestige. They don’t want to hear about arguments for or against the claims made, or to discuss further implications of those claims. It seems they will enjoy talking to others about the colorful characters described, and perhaps enjoy taking a position on the claims those characters make. But these aren’t the sort of topics where anyone expects to care about the quality or care of the arguments one might. It is enough to just have opinions.

Added 14Sep: Amy posted a related article that is a technical review of brain emulation tech. I’m glad it exists, but I also have nothing particular to say in response.

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Am I A Moralist?

Imagine that a “musicalist” is someone who makes good and persuasive musical arguments. One might define this broadly, by saying that any act is musical if it influences the physical world so as to change the distribution of sound, as most sound has musical elements. Here anyone who makes good and persuasive arguments that influence physical acts is a good “musicalist.”

Or one might try to define “musicalist” more narrowly, by requiring that the acts argued for have an especially strong effect on the especially musical aspects of the physical world, that musical concepts and premises often be central to the arguments. Far fewer people would be see as good “musicalists” here.

The concept of “moralist” can also be defined broadly or narrowly. Defined broadly, a “moralist” might be anyone who makes good and persuasive arguments about acts for which anyone thinks moral considerations to be relevant. This could be because the acts influence morally-relevant outcomes, or because the acts are encouraged or discouraged by some moral rules.

Defining narrowly, however, one might require that the acts influenced have especially strong moral impacts, and that moral concepts and premises often be central to the arguments. Far fewer people are good “moralists” by this definition.

Bryan Caplan recently praised me as a “moralist”:

Robin … excels as a moralist – in three distinct ways.

Robin often constructs sound original moral arguments.  His arguments against cuckoldry and for cryonics are just two that come to mind.  Yes, part of his project is to understand why most people are forgiving of cuckoldry and hostile to cryonics.  But the punchline is that the standard moral position on these issue is indefensible.

Second, Robin’s moral arguments actually persuade people.  I’ve met many of his acolytes in person, and see vastly more online.  This doesn’t mean, of course, that Robin’s moral arguments persuade most readers.  Any moral philosopher will tell you that changing minds is like pulling teeth.  My point is that Robin has probably changed the moral convictions of hundreds.  And that’s hundreds more than most moralists have changed.

Third, Robin takes some classical virtues far beyond the point of prudence.  Consider his legendary candor.

I accept (and am grateful for) Bryan’s praise relative to a broad interpretation of “moralist.” Yes, I try to create good and persuasive arguments on many topics relevant to actions, and according to many concepts of morality most acts have substantial moral impact. Since moral considerations are so ubiquitous, most anyone who is a good arguer must also be a good moralist.

But what if we define “moralist” narrowly, so that the acts must be unusually potent morally, and the concepts and premises invoked must be explicitly moral ones? In this case, I don’t see that I qualify, since I don’t focus much on especially moral concepts, premises, rules, or consequences.

Bryan gave two examples, and his readers gave two more. Here are quick summaries:

  • I argue that cryonics might work, that it only needs a >~5% of working to make sense, and that your wanting to do it triggers abandonment feelings in others exactly because they think you think it might work.
  • I argue that with simple precautions betting on terror acts won’t cause terror acts, but could help to predict and prevent such attacks.
  • I argue that the kinds of inequality we talk most about are only a small fraction of all inequality, but we talk about them most because they can justify us grabbing stuff that is more easily grabbed.
  • I argue that cuckoldry (which results in kids) causes many men great emotional and preference harm, plausibly comparable to the harm women get from being raped.

I agree that these arguments address actions about which many people have moral feelings. But I don’t see myself as focused on moral concepts or premises; I see my discussions as focused on other issues.

Yes, most people have moral wants. These aren’t all or even most of what people want, but moral considerations do influence what people (including me) want. Yes, these moral wants are relevant for many acts. But people disagree about the weight and even direction that moral considerations push on many of these acts, and I don’t see myself as especially good at or interested taking sides in arguments about such weights and directions. I instead mostly seek other simple robust considerations to influence beliefs and wants about acts.

Bryan seems to think that my being a good moralist by his lights argues against my “dealism” focus on identifying social policies that can get most everyone more of what they want, instead of taking sides in defined moral battles, wherein opposing sides make conflicting and often uncompromising demands. It seems to me that I in fact do work better by not aligning myself clearly with particular sides of established tug-o-wars, but instead seeking considerations that can appeal broadly to people on both sides of existing conflicts.

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Thrown’s Kit’s Self-Deception

Back in July 2010 Kerry Howley published a nice New York Times Magazine article on the tensions between my wife and I resulting from my choice to do cryonics. The very next month, August 2010, is the date when, in Howley’s new and already-celebrated book Thrown, her alter-ego Kit first falls in love with MMA fighting:

Not until my ride home, as I began to settle back into my bones and feel the limiting contours of perception close back in like the nursery curtains that stifled the views of my youth, did it occur to me that I had, for the first time in my life, found a way out of this, my own skin. … From that moment onward, the only phenomenological project that could possibly hold interest to me was as follows: capture and describe that particular state of being to which one Sean Huffman had taken me.

I’ve read the book, and also several dozen reviews. Some reviews discuss how Kit is a semi-fictional character, and a few mention Kit’s pretentiousness and arrogance. Some disagree on if Kit has communicated the ecstasy she feels, or if those feelings are worthy of her obsession. But all the reviewers seem to take Kit at her word when she says her primary goal is to understand the ecstasy she felt in that first encounter.

Yet right after the above quote is this:

And so naturally I began to show up places where Sean might show up— the gym where he trained, the bar where he bounced, the rented basement where he lived, the restaurants where he consumed foods perhaps not entirely aligned with the professed goals of an aspiring fighter. I hope it doesn’t sound immodest to say that Sean found this attention entirely agreeable.

Kit does the same to another fighter named Eric, and later she gets despondent when Erik won’t return her calls. She tracks him down to a fight, hugs him in front of the crowd, and is delighted get his acceptance:

My moment of embarrassment had already transformed into a glow of pride. The entire room saw that I was his, and he mine.

While Kit only feels ecstasy during an actual fight, she spends all her time as a “groupie” to two fighters, Sean and Erik. (She says she is a “space-taker”, not “groupie”, but I couldn’t see the difference.) Kit mainly only goes to fights when these men fight, even when such fights are months apart. Kit’s ego comes to depend heavily on getting personal attention from these fighters, and her interest in them rises and falls with their fighting success. The book ends with her latching on to a new fighter, after Sean and Erik have fallen.

It seems to me that if Kit had wanted mainly to study her feeling of ecstasy while watching fights, she would have gone to lots of fights, and tried to break her feelings down into parts, or looked at how they changed with context. She could have also talked to and studied other fighter fans, to break down their feelings or see how those change with context. But Kit instead sought to hang with successful fighters between fights, when neither she nor they felt this ecstasy she said was her focus. She didn’t even talk with fighters much about their ecstasy feelings. What mattered most to Kit apparently was that fighters associated with her, and that they won fights.

Kit quits her philosophy program:

I knew what they would turn my project into, these small scholastics with their ceaseless referencing of better men would, if they even allowed my explorations as a subject of dissertation, demand a dull tome with the tiniest flicker of insight buried underneath 800 pages of exegeses of other men’s work. Instead of being celebrated as a pioneer of modern phenomenology, I would merely be a footnote in the future study of Schopenhauer, whom, without my prodding, no one would study in the future.

It seems to me that Kit is self-deceived. She thinks she wants to study ecstasy, but in fact she is simply star-struck. The “ecstasy” feeling that hit her so hard was her subconscious being very impressed with these fighters, and wanting badly to associate with them. And she felt very good when she succeeded at that. By associating with their superiority, she could also feel feel superior to the rest of the world:

I would write my fighterly thesis, but I would not fraternize with the healthy-minded; better to leave them to their prenatal yoga, their gluten-free diets, their dull if long lives of quietest self-preserving conformism.

Of course Kerry Howley, the author, does not equal Kit, the voice Kerry chooses to narrate her book. Kerry may well be very aware of Kit’s self-deception, but still found Kit a good vehicle for painting an intimate portrait of the lives of some fighters. But if so, I find it odd that none of the other dozens of reviews I’ve read of Thrown mention this.

Added 21Oct: Possible theories:

  1. Most reviewers read the book carefully, but are too stupid to notice.
  2. Most reviewers are lazy & only skimmed the book.
  3. Reviewers hate to give negative reviews, & this sounds negative.
  4. Readers crave idealistic narrators, and reviewers pander to readers.
  5. My reading is all wrong.

Added 27Oct: Note that at the end of the book Kit articulates no insight on the nature of ecstasy. You might think that if understanding ecstasy had been her goal, she might have a least reflected on what she had discovered.

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Days Of Our Lives

Oedipus famously answered this riddle:

What goes on four feet in the morning, two feet at noon, and three feet in the evening?

The answer: people crawl when babies, walk as adults, and use a cane when old. It seems natural to divide lives into three parts: young, middle, and old. But where exactly should the boundaries fall? One tempting approach comes from the facts that in the US today lifespans average about 29000 days, and people typically marry and have kids at about 10000 days. So maybe we should split life into the first, second, and third 10000 days.

If we split life into 5000 days units, we get:

  • 0 days; 0 years – Birth
  • 5000 days; 13.7 years – Mid-puberty
  • 10000 days; 27.4 years – First marriage & kids
  • 15000 days; 41.1 years – Start to notice body decline
  • 20000 days; 54.8 years – Near kids’ first marriage & kids, own peak of relative income, productivity, 90% still alive
  • 25000 days; 68.5 years – Near when most retire, 75% still alive
  • 30000 days; 82.1 years – Typical death age, 42% still alive
  • 35000 days; 95.8 years – Only 4% still alive

Note that 5000 days is near the doubling time of the world economy.

In my life, I married at 10250, had my first kid at 11500, started grad school again at 12400, started at GMU at 14600, and was tenured at 16540. And today I am 20,000 days old, within a few days of all my kids being employed college graduates. So a lot happened to me in that third 5000 days, and I now enter the last third of a typical lifespan, with expected declining (but hardly zero) relative productivity. Of course if cryonics works I might live lots longer.

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