Deep Utopia (Part 1: Monday)

Like children opening their eyes to a new day, having gone to bed the previous night as tufts of snow began falling, we dash to the window and lift ourselves to the tips of our toes to behold a landscape transformed: a winter wonderland glittering with possibilities for discovery and play. Even the tree branches, before so boringly bare, have been changed into something beautiful and magical. We feel we are inhabiting a storybook or a gameworld, and we want very much to put on our boots and mittens immediately and run outside to see it, touch it, experience it, and to play, play, play …

Nick Bostrom, Deep utopia

1. Introduction

Nick Bostrom’s Deep utopia is, by all accounts, a strange book. After its opening words about playful children encountering a winter wonderland, the book is structured around a series of six hypothetical lectures delivered by Bostrom himself on six successive days.

The prose is narrative, though often reminiscent of the dense style of Bostrom’s Superintelligence. The discussion is wide-ranging, though perhaps not as loosely organized as it may appear.

Like many readers, I am not quite sure what to make of the book. This series is an attempt to find out. My aim is to cover one lecture per post, beginning with the first (Monday’s lecture) today. The lectures are quite long, so that pace may not be sustainable, but given the looser organization of this book, it seems best to respect the lecture structure that Bostrom has imposed.

Because the book is at times difficult to understand, I will begin with my own attempt to summarize key themes from each chapter before discussing them.

2. Narrative setting

Monday finds Bostrom delivering a lecture in the Enron auditorium. Three students, Tessius, Firafix, and Kelvin enter midway through the lecture.

The announced theme of the lecture series is “the problem of utopia: the problem we will face after we have solved all the other problems.” In such a solved world, Bostrom asks: what would give us meaning and purpose? And what would we do with our time?

From there, the lecture is loosely structured around two topics: work and income, and population dynamics.

3. Work and income

Keynes predicted that the past century would see a 4-8x increase in productivity, accompanied by a rapid decrease in average working hours. Keynes was right to expect rapid productivity growth, but his predicted fifteen-hour workweek did not come to pass. For the most part, increased productivity led not to less work but instead to more production and consumption.

In principle, Bostrom notes, this trend could continue indefinitely. Even in much more productive economies, people may work to obtain new and valuable types of consumption goods; to pursue resource-intensive social projects such as promoting wild animal welfare and creating digital minds; and to secure positional goods in the form of a stronger relative economic position compared to their peers. Even if nearly all sectors of the economy were to be cheaply automated, it might remain possible for humans to demand large wages in incompletely automated sectors of the economy.

What would happen if all sectors of the economy could be cheaply automated? Humans might lose our ability to earn significant income through labor. However, we need not lose our ability to earn income through other means.

Nevertheless, Bostrom considers a three-factor model of the economy where output is driven by labor, capital and land. Here, the category of “land” covers a broad range of non-labor, non-capital inputs including not only physical land, but also resources such as minerals and fuels which cannot be easily replicated. Here, Bostrom notes, even if capital and labor lost their scarcity, humans could continue to earn income through control over land.

However, there is a catch. Because land inputs cannot be easily replicated, there are only so many of them to go around. This means that the ability to earn income through this land depends on the size of the human population. This leads to the second main topic of Monday’s lecture.

4. Population

Bostrom’s discussion of human population is structured around a background Malthusian dynamic. Under Malthusian dynamics, resource scarcity is the dominant constraint on population size, so that human populations continue reproducing until, in equilibrium, no more resources are available and, at a first pass, average living standards approach subsistence level.

After noting some complications with the equilibrium interpretation of the Malthusian model, Bostrom asks under this model what becomes of typical intuitions about the kinds of policies that would promote welfare, such as improved technology or social stability. Again, Bostrom notes, the answer is complicated.

In the short term, these policies promote welfare by making those alive better off. In the medium term, Malthusian dynamics may react to shrink at least average welfare back where it began. In the long term, they may enable the kinds of technological and social progress that took humanity out of the Malthusian trap. And in the even longer term? Bostrom does not know.

5. Feodor the Fox

After the lecture, the students glance at the evening’s assigned reading. The reading is a parable about Feodor the Fox. Puzzled by many philosophical questions, including questions about the best way to improve the world, Feodor the Fox seeks out advisors.

After many candidate advisors prove unavailable or uninterested, Feddor encounters Pignolius the Pig. Pignolius is generally skeptical that much can be done to improve the world. Readers are told that Pignolius’ skepticism will be relevant to later lectures.

6. Some points of concern

Many of Bostrom’s readers have expressed concern about the quasi-academic style of his prose, seemingly obsessed with chasing down each trivial detail for many pages. Scott Alexander complains that the prose at times involves:

Typical analytic philosophy “let’s spend five pages analyzing the subtle differences between ‘meaning’ and ‘purpose’”.

and the best-known rationalist review of Deep utopia is concerned that the book:

Begins as if addressing a broad audience, then drifts into philosophy that seems obscure, leading me to wonder if it’s intended as a parody of aimless academic philosophy.

Both concerns contain a grain of truth, in the sense that some detours may not be earning their keep. But in many places, I have the opposite impression: crucial moves are being made quite quickly in a way that would benefit from significantly more discussion. Here are two examples.

6.1. Beyond the three-factor model

All models make assumptions. But the three-factor economic model makes some very strong assumptions. In particular, it assumes no technological progress and no increase in land.

On the face of it, both assumptions are surprising. As for technological progress, the purpose of Bostrom’s book is to consider a society that has made incredible amounts of technological progress, so one might naturally expect them to make more. And as for land, those of Bostrom’s ilk tend to expect large amounts of growth in physical land (from space colonization) as well as other “land” resources that come along with it.

Bostrom’s reply to these concerns is rather terse. He writes:

The assumptions that there is no technological progress and no increase in land are, I think, less rickety than might initially appear. I expect that the rate of economically relevant technological progress will eventually asymptote to zero (once most useful inventions have already been made). Land growth (from space colonization) will asymptote to a polynomial rate, since the volume of the sphere reachable from Earth by a given time is bounded by the speed of light. In the very long run, land growth will asymptote to zero, since the expansion of space means that sufficiently remote galaxies are forever unreachable from our starting point. But even during the long period in which a polynomial rate of land growth could be sustained, a decline of average income to subsistence can easily occur, since a population is able to grow at an exponential rate.

Let’s begin with Bostrom’s remarks about economically relevant technological progress. Bostrom claims, without argument, that humanity will eventually reach a point where most useful inventions have already been made, at which point technological progress will asymptote to zero. This is a very strong claim on any timescale: there is no clear reason why there need be any endpoint to the space of useful inventions, rather than a continual increase in humanity’s ability to understand and make use of the world around us. Nor is there any clear reason why humanity need be expected to reach this point in any appreciable amount of time.

Here it is especially important to dwell on a point that will recur throughout this series: many of the argumentative moves that Bostrom is making are most plausible, to the extent that they are plausible at all, when the envisioned deep utopia lies very, very far in the human future. Even if we grant that there may be some point in human history (say, a million or a billion years from now) at which most useful technological inventions have been made, the importance of thinking about the meaning of life at this point will be radically reduced the further back in history that the point is pushed.

Turn next to land growth. Here, Bostrom predicts a polynomial rate of land growth and suggests the plausibility of an exponential rate of population growth. Putting the assumptions together leads to falling per-capita shares of land, since exponential growth eventually outpaces polynomial growth.

The motivation for polynomial land growth is the idea that humanity will settle Earth in an ever-expanding sphere, so that land growth will be cubic in the radius of that sphere. The motivation for exponential population growth is an underlying Malthusian population dynamics. As we saw in Part 4 of my series on Mistakes in the Moral Mathematics of Existential Risk, three challenges should be raised here.

First (benefitting Bostrom), cubic land growth is enormously ambitious, reflecting the assumption that humanity will have the technological means and desire to settle space in all directions at a significant rate. This is not merely the assumption that we might, for example, expand in one dimension to the east and the west, but rather in three directions, pushing outwards from the surface of a sphere.

Second (contra Bostrom), Malthusian population dynamics are extremely out of fashion. No demographers believe that humanity is currently experiencing anything like Malthusian population dynamics, and all signs point to further departures from Malthusian dynamics in the future. Even if, against this trend, Malthusian dynamics play a larger role in future population change, it is quite a large step to imagine that humanity would once again begin reproducing as quickly as we were able, limited only by resources and do so for a very long time.

Finally (contra Bostrom), the contrast between polynomial land growth and exponential population growth exhibits a curious decoupling between population growth and land growth, two factors that are usually thought to be intimately linked. One of the primary drivers of territorial expansion is typically thought to be population growth, as growing populations seek room to expand. If this is right, then models of space settlement should relate the rate of land growth to the size of the existing population, rather than the size of humanity’s spherical frontier. Many natural ways of doing this will have land and population growing at comparable rates, restoring compatibility.

6.2. Even longer-term impacts

Bostrom claims that on a very long timescale, we have little idea what developments today would make the world a better place.

Little is known about these matters. We are still remarkably in the dark about the basic macrostrategic directionality of things. Truly, I wonder whether we can even tell up from down.

I have some sympathy for these concerns. For example, my paper and blog series “The scope of longtermism” expresses concern about the potential for long-term forecasting, a concern also expressed by forecasting experts deeply familiar with the effective altruism movement, such as Eva Vivalt.

But what exactly is Bostrom’s argument here? Here it is:

I think you can make a case that wisdom and wide-scope cooperativeness are the two qualities currently most needful to secure a great future for our Earth-sprouted civilization. I also think wealth, stability, security and peace are better for wisdom and global cooperation than are their opposites. And so we should welcome advancements in these directions, not only because they are good for us now, but also because they are good for humanity’s future.

This doesn’t imply that earlier progress in these directions would have been good for humanity’s future. Perhaps if my species had lingered longer in the “poor, nasty, brutish” conditions in which my forebears evolved into humans, before matriculating into the Industrial era, we would have evolved, genetically or culturally, to become “more human” than we now actually are? Perhaps we came out of the kiln a little too soon? Maybe we would have been better conditioned for the final vault into the machine intelligence era if we had spent another few hundred thousand years throwing spears and telling tales around campfires?

In the first paragraph, Bostrom expresses the view that wisdom and wide-scoped cooperativeness are the two most important qualities for a good future. He suggests that these are so important that goods such as wealth, stability, security and peace should be valued, if at all, not as direct causes of a better future, but as indirect causes through improving wisdom and wide-scoped cooperativeness.

This view comes out of nowhere, with nothing in the way of argument. One can, of course, plausibly rattle off a few reasons why wisdom and cooperativeness might be helpful for the future. But one can also do the same for many other virtues. And for that matter, we could do the same for many states, such as stability, security and peace. Perhaps we could do the same for institutions, such as democracy and systems of international law, or for forces such as technological progress (or lack thereof). Given this, we really would like to see some argument for taking wisdom and cooperativeness to be so important.

The firmness of Bostrom’s opinions about the importance of wisdom and cooperativeness meshes especially badly with the next paragraph, which casually tosses out any number of questions that might be raised about whether it would be better or worse to achieve wisdom and cooperativeness earlier rather than later. Bostrom might very well have fired off a similar paragraph asking pointed questions about whether it would be better to achieve wisdom and cooperativeness at all. And without any of those questions being pressed or evidenced in any detail, it is hard to see why one set of questions is taken as a strong argument and the second is never pressed.

There may be ample room for skepticism about predicting the future. There may even be ample room for confidence about the virtues needed to navigate the future. But it is very difficult to hold these two views together without turning the same causes for skepticism about predicting the future against purported grounds for confidence about the virtues needed to navigate the future. Certainly, if there are ways to combine these views, Bostrom owes us much more of a story about how he wants to do so.

7. Conclusion

Today’s post introduced Bostrom’s book, Deep utopia, and considered the first (Monday’s) lecture. This lecture explored two inter-linked sets of questions: whether humans might work and earn incomes in the future; and what shape future human population dynamics will take.

In this lecture, I have argued, Bostrom has been twice unfairly maligned: once to his benefit, and once, I think, to his detriment.

The good news is that accusations of poor organization and thematic unity may have been exaggerated. There is a relatively clear through-line to Monday’s lecture, and while the organization is not what one would expect of a more typical argumentative work, it really is not that bad.

The bad news is that Bostrom may have been unfairly accused of detail obsession. At some of the crucial points of the argument, there is hardly any argument at all, and most of the argument that is given is lacking. We discussed two instances where this happens in Monday’s lecture: in the defense of three-factor economic models, and in the discussion of very long-term impacts.

This is not, of course, an exhaustive discussion of the themes and questions raised by Monday’s lecture. Given the length and structure of the book, I don’t think it will be possible to discuss any lecture in the detail that I would ordinarily prefer. But hopefully this post can shed a little light on some of the things that are going on, going well, and going less well in Monday’s lecture.

Comments

3 responses to “Deep Utopia (Part 1: Monday)”

  1. kaikaun Avatar
    kaikaun

    I think Bostrom is right that there must exist a technological ceiling, which results in asymptotic economically relevant technological progress.

    Let us first define technology as arranging the universe in order to achieve our aims. Knowledge enables this action of arrangement, but it is the act itself that constitutes technology not merely knowledge. We can now make an argument from finiteness. We have access to only a finite amount of universe (matter, energy, etc.) which has a finite number of arrangements, a set of which maximally achieves our aims. When the accessible universe’s arrangement is in that set, we are in a state of maximal technology, our technological ceiling.

    (One wrinkle: Our aims might constantly change, which means what constitutes maximal technology might constantly change, so we can keep technologically progressing by constantly chasing new aims. But we can sidestep this by defining the technological ceiling *given* a certain set of aims. I believe this is also a natural definition.)

    We can also employ empirical arguments. The laws of nature we have discovered appear to impose hard limits on what is achievable (e.g. speed of light, conservation of energy). Empirically, the more we learn, the more such hard limits we discover, rather than discoveries invalidating old limits. This may turn out untrue as we discover more, but empirically it appears we only find more walls, never more doors.

    Another empirical argument is the Pareto principle (80% of the benefit comes from 20% of the effort). Zipf’s Law emerges naturally from most prior probability distributions. (Imagine there are 100 things we can do to improve things. If they only differed on one relevant dimension, we might expect them to vary linearly if it has a uniform distribution. If they differ along two, then super-linearly, and the more super-linearly the more dimensions.) So even if there were infinite things to discover, we would still expect some to have enormously higher impact than others. Indeed, with an unequal enough distribution, just one discovery may have more value than the rest of the infinite discoveries put together. As long as we have some power to choose to make the more valuable discoveries first, we can expect the rate of value generation to decline asymptotically even if there were infinite discoveries to make. This is only an empirical argument because we have only observed this Pareto or Zipf distribution in practice to this point, but it may not hold true as we discover more.

    1. Yarrow Bouchard Avatar

      Your argument is:

      There is only a finite number of ways particles can be arranged, so there must therefore be only a finite number of possible technologies.

      Let’s suppose that’s true. What if the number of possible technologies is so vast that the time it would take to invent them all is 10^1000 longer than the time until the heat death of the universe? Then Bostrom’s point would be technically true but irrelevant for his analysis.

      It’s also hard to know if there’s even a finite number of ways particles can be arranged. As I discussed in my other comment on this post, we don’t yet have a full understanding of physics or cosmology (or other fields of science). We don’t know what the ultimate limits of physics or cosmology are. Are they finite or infinite? We don’t know.

  2. Yarrow Bouchard Avatar

    Maybe in a future post you’ll tell me that this is a trick and in a later lecture the fictional self-insert Bostrom character pokes holes in the things he said in the first lecture. But as is, what (according to you) Bostrom says in the first fictional lefture makes little sense.

    As you say, Bostrom is imagining a time that is either inconceivably far in the future or after an inconceivable amount of progress has happened. Maybe, as you said, it’s a million or a billion years in the future. Alternatively, some Singularity proponents imagine that, once we hit the Singularity, progress will soon happen thousands or millions of times faster than before. Maybe in the first 50 years after the Singularity, it will be like a million years of progress at the pace we’ve been used to since the 1800s.

    Either way, the speculation makes little sense. It makes little sense in the sense that, sure, it’s not at all practically important to think about, as you said. But I’m willing to look past that because sometimes thinking about these things is fun. After all, it’s fun to think about the prediction that the Milky Way and Andromeda galaxies will collide and merge more than 4 billion years from now, even though it has no practical importance. However, that requires that the writing is fun, which Bostrom’s, I’m sorry to say, is not.

    But what kills the fun is not just the writing, it’s the ideas. If Bostrom posits that an inconceivable amount of progress will happen, either over a billion years or 50 years after the Singularity, then it just isn’t fun or interesting to speculate what will happen next. We can’t imagine what will happen next because we can’t imagine that kind of progress. Bostrom himself imagines, at least elsewhere, that humanity will transform into posthumans with digital minds. And what will happen 10 million years after that, or the equivalent of 10 million years if progress is vastly accelerated? We can’t begin to imagine, so it isn’t even fun to think about.

    Okay, but maybe certain principles, certain laws will apply even far into the future, no matter how much progress happens. This seems to be Bostrom’s thinking in the first (fictional) lecture. Bostrom’s choice of land as one such law or principle is weird and ill-advised. Bostrom believes (for ill-thought-through reasons) that the universe is a computer simulation. He’s well-aware of the notion that posthumans might prefer to live in a computer simulation within our universe, a sort of consensual Matrix. But then what would we need of land?

    To expand population exponentially (or to expand the size of individual digital minds), we would need more physical resources such as matter and energy. We would also need physical space for an exponentially growing number of computers. But maybe the primary constraint would be energy rather than available physical volume to put computers in. In that case, expanding the physical volume that posthumans occupy would be primarily for the purpose of harvesting more energy.

    I’m afraid you’re going to tell me that Bostrom says exactly this in a later lecture and by “land” he really means energy. But in that case maybe I can still fault the book for the whole rigamorale of initially presenting the idea as “land” and later saying it’s actually energy.

    I don’t know that posthumans would actually prefer to live in a consensual Matrix as opposed to the physical world. Who knows. It just goes to show that speculation about how much literal physical volume will matter in radical future scenarios hinges on something we can’t predict.

    It also bears mentioning, as David Deutsch points out, we don’t have a complete understanding of physics or cosmology, or science in general. On the Joe Walker Podcast (in an interview along with Steven Pinker), Deutsch said that since there is apparently no lower limit to how little energy is required to perform computations, there may be an infinite amount of computation we can perform with any amount of energy. In that case, operating at smaller and lower-energy scales would be the equivalent of having more energy to use.

    The Barrow scale is a science fictional scale like the Kardashev scale that imagines that the majesty of civilizations can be ranked by the smallest spatial scale at which they can manipulate physical reality. Maybe expanding outward into the galaxy is less significant than drilling inward into the subatomic level. Maybe it’s all about the room at the bottom, not the room in outer space!

    Again, is any of this actually true? Is this how a sufficiently technologically advanced future would shake out? Who knows! But it shows that, until you rule out such possibilities and get a fairly definite picture of how the future will be, using “land” as a fundamental concept — rather than things like computation, energy, space, and time — doesn’t make much sense.

    The point you make about Malthusian population growth is well-taken. Will posthumans 10 million chronological or “subjective” years in the future want to maximize population growth? Keep it slow and steady? Something else? Who knows! How could we possibly know one way or the other? And how could a firm assumption on this be the basis for some kind of far future forecasting exercise, or some kind of economic theory or model of the far future?

    A final, more abstract point is that this first lecture seems to assume that the distinction between work and leisure will always hold. Are we so sure this will be true in a posthumans future 10 million years from now? If we’re worried about work running out, are we worried about leisure running out? Is that a coherent concept? If yes, then maybe that’s an equally important concern. If no, then in what sense could work be an exhaustible resource but leisure be an exhaustible one?

    If we imagine a post-scarcity future where gross world product is a quintillion dollars per capita or something that defies quantification, then it’s not immediately clear what would qualify some activity as work and another activity as leisure. Are creative pursuits work or leisure? It depends on whether you get paid for them. But then what of a post-scarcity future? Is there still a distinction?

    The general unifying point behind all these specific points is that when you speculate about radical future scenarios with a nearly infinite possibility space, whose fundamental rules — the laws of physics, most importantly — are not ultimately known, you can say, “On the one hand… On the other hand… On the other, other hand…” forever and be no closer to the truth, no closer to a rigorously defensible theory or model of the future. Acting, as Bostrom does, like you can figure things out via this method is tiresome.

    No one knows what’s really going to happen. Thinking about radical future scenarios is all just for fun, ideally — unless a writer like Bostrom sucks all the fun out of it. Then it’s both pointless, in practical terms, and boring. What a failure a book is then!

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