AI And Agency Again: Hidden Dangers And Open Failures

by Jochen Szangolies

What is left of art in the face of its automatic production? With duly noted irony. Image credit: public domain

We have entered a versioned world. A new release of a major AI model (GPT-5) triggers the subsequent release of new versions of articles variously hyping and disparaging the progress it represents. How does it stack up in benchmarks against earlier models? How well can it code? Can you feel the AGI (even more)? Will this take my job, or skip that step and directly declare war on its creators?

We are reminded, in each iteration of the cycle, of both the promises and perils of ongoing AI developments. For every article touting a supposed productivity increase, there is one warning against mass unemployment. Every voice decrying the still-unsolved fundamental problems of generative AI is matched by one breathlessly updating their priors for imminent human-equivalent AGI (or alternatively, increasing their ‘P(doom)’, the estimated likelihood that AI will kill us all). In their predictably incremental nature, they mirror the releases they chronicle: the miracle of AI progress is beginning to grow stale.

This article is itself, in parts at least, an iteration of an earlier one. My excuse for writing it is that I think the concerns raised there, of how AI threatens to diminish the meaning of human creativity, is still not quite appreciated in the right way. Mass production, copyright infringement, oversaturation: these are real issues, but fail to get to the heart of it. Read more »

Monday, June 28, 2021

Absent Absences And Tool-Breaking: On Language Inclusivity

by Jochen Szangolies

Figure 1: Sometimes, tools must be broken to unveil what is absent. Image credit: Peregrin.st, CC BY-SA 4.0, via Wikimedia Commons.

It’s getting late, and your friends are leaving; however, you decide to linger for a bit at the bar, enjoying a last drink, perhaps quietly observing the people around you. As your gaze sweeps the room, it suddenly locks onto another’s, and your idle attention snaps into focus. You feel a strange fluttering sensation in your stomach intensifying as they hold your gaze, and your tentative smile is returned. Emboldened by the smile and the effect of the drinks before this ‘last’ one that will not remain the last, you move over and strike up a conversation. You end up leaving the bar together.

The following months are love and bliss. The harmony is effortless and immediate. Getting to know each other becomes intimacy, becomes familiarity. You move in together, pick out wallpaper and dishware, begin the work of crafting a life together.

But in the end, it doesn’t last. Small irritations become fault lines, become trenches. The mood sours; perhaps you suspect there may be someone else involved. Otherwise, how to explain this sudden coldness? The turning away with downcast eyes?

Yet when they leave you, it hurts more than you thought it would. It hurts for a long time, too, and although the wound eventually scabs over, then scars, it leaves a tender spot that will be with you for the rest of your life, occasional flare-ups indicating a change in cosmic weather you don’t quite understand. You lie awake at night sometimes, wondering how things might be if you still were together—or even, if you’d never met them. Would you be happier? Or would there be something intangible, yet profound, missing in your life? Read more »