I feel confused, and am likely missing some bad assumption. For the purpose of working through the assumptions, I’ll keep arguing the anti-fiction side...
The part of me that feels like doing away with fiction could be a good idea also would be OK with doing away with many of those other things you mentioned. Eating ice cream is bad as a matter of fact (this doesn’t seem to require much argument). It’s just a superstimulus for “good food”, and furthermore, negatively impacts health. Noticing this (consciously noticing it on a repeated basis) can in fact move preferences away from ice cream and toward healthier food, to the point where ice cream doesn’t even feel tempting except socially.
(My actual motivational state is not like this, but rather flips back and forth between finding ice cream appealing and not. I have not decided to adjust my emotional state entirely toward the reality, largely because this change in motivational state would have some negative social consequences.)
Trips to beautiful natural sites do seem kind of silly to me. Looking at nice scenery is nice, but on the order of nice things, it seems like something I’m willing to pay significantly less for than what most people are. That’s neither here nor there for the debate, though. The part of me that is interested in doing away with fiction says that at least this experience is fact-oriented. There is something valuable about going and seeing real scenery—historical sites of importance, and things like that—which is not there when the scenery is entirely simulated. The part of me concerned with wireheading says that this is enough to distinguish between the kind of pleasure produced by visiting real places vs simulating pleasant scenery.
The difference between real and simulated scenery in this respect can easily be blurred. A natural landscape is very different from a landscape specifically optimized by human hands to be pleasant. The part of me concerned with wireheading starts to be concerned about the second. (My actual motivations don’t, though—if things have been arranged in what feels like good taste to me, I enjoy it. Highly optimized landscapes such as malls and theme parks rarely feel like they’re in “good taste” however.)
Casual sex isn’t desirable to me. The part of me which is concerned with wireheading-like things says that this is because it’s not connected to a wider web of meaning. This might be my actual reason. (I prefer a prolonged relationship—“just sex” sounds like a painful thing emotionally.)
Music is good. The part of me concerned with wireheading says it isn’t—it’s just an empty superstimulus.
Overall, I’d say the conclusion of this chain of thought is that to count things as actually-good rather than merely seemingly-good I’d like them to be connected to a wider web of meaning, rather than isolated. “fake” really means “shallow” (surface-level, lacking deeper connections). Taking things out of devil’s-advocate mode, this does not seem entirely damning to fiction. It suggests that fiction can in fact be valuable, to the degree that its meaning is interconnected with other things.
It also bears noticing that this argument applies rather heavily to me and my preferences, not necessarily to other people.
So fiction was just an example of a more general proposition: enjoyment is bad. Sensual pleasure of any sort is bad. These things are a snare and a delusion.
What are they a distraction from, that should be pursued instead?
There’s a big difference between saying wireheading and superstimulus are bad and saying enjoyment is bad. The way I’m framing it, that’s roughly like the difference between saying that counterfeit money is bad and saying money is bad.
In the view that you’re devils-advocating, fiction is fake, admiring nature is silly, casual sex is meaningless, and music is empty. If these are counterfeits, what are they counterfeits of?
I’d better climb out of the devil’s advocate position before I dig myself too deep a hole.
gjm’s reply is perfect in terms of describing the position being outlined.
I really do want to make a distinction between pleasurable things and terminally-valuable things, though. At least I think I do.
The way you’re reacting makes me think that you don’t—that you find it puzzling that I want to differentiate between superstimulus and actually good things at all, regardless of questions about fiction and such.
I think it would be unfortunate if future civilizations decided maximum wireheading was the greatest ethical good.
I think it would also be unfortunate (but less so) if future civilizations decided that finely crafted full sensory experiences, akin to movies, were the ultimate good.
I furthermore think it would be unfortunate (but significantly less so) if future civilizations decided that finely crafted interactive experiences, akin to 1-player games with only non-sentient NPCs, were the ultimate good.
(With significantly more uncertainty, I think it would be much worse if all of the movies or interactive experiences were identical. The image of billions or more identical clones (human-optimal in whatever sense) watching identical recordings of a single extremely well-crafted thousand-year movie does not appeal very much to me. I’m not sure it’s more preferable than a single human experiencing this best-of-all-possible-movies. Similarly, but less so, for interactive experiences.)
The ideal case seems much more like a massively multiplayer one, despite the fact that players will tend to clash with one another and it’s much harder to optimize properly (will have to be worse in other respects as a result).
Applying the intuitions from these rather distant scenarios to more everyday matters, the enjoyment from ice cream does fall rather far toward the beginning of the spectrum I’ve just outlined. It seems rather like a small dose of wireheading (except when enjoyed socially).
(I find it quite amusing that I’m getting push-back on the ice cream thing.)
I really do want to make a distinction between pleasurable things and terminally-valuable things, though. At least I think I do.
I’m missing a description of what those terminally-valuable goals might be, though.
I think it would be unfortunate if future civilizations decided maximum wireheading was the greatest ethical good.
I agree. But the fundamental question: what is the good of Man? is going unanswered. As it mostly has done on LessWrong, even in the Sequences. We spend our whole lives on two things: overcoming problems, and enjoying ourselves. Bread (the struggle to procure it) and circuses. In Paradise, the problems are gone, the bread is free; is anything left but lotus-eating?
I don’t have an answer to that either. One can talk about “eudaimonia”, or “flourishing”, or as Eliezer does, “fun”, but those are just names for whatever it is.
But casting this in terms of Paradise, whether the transhuman one or a religious one, removes the problem from the world around us and too easily leads into empty speculation. When you leave aside the irksome chores of keeping your body fed, clothed, and housed, and the rejected pleasures listed previously, what purposes should get someone out of bed in the morning? And when they are achieved, what then? Is there, in fact, such a thing as a terminal goal?
(I find it quite amusing that I’m getting push-back on the ice cream thing.)
gjm said that it’s “basically sugar and fat, neither of which is very good for your health when consumed in large quantities”. But the dose makes the poison; fat is an essential macronutrient, and carbohydrates all but.
I’m sceptical of the whole superstimulus idea, based partly on personal experience and partly on an understanding of control systems. I hinted at the former in speaking of having had an ice-cream “as recently as a month ago”. People speak of chocolate as another superstimulus. There’s usually a 200g block of Cadbury’s Fruit and Nut in my store cupboard. A block lasts about a month and is only there for quasi-medicinal purposes, to alleviate low blood sugar crashes (of causes unknown). From the point of view of control systems, if your satiety-sensing system is in order, you will never overeat. The “attractiveness” of food is irrelevant. I don’t care how “enjoyable” something is to eat, if I’m already full it is effortless to decline to eat more, and repugnant to do otherwise. Whatever is going wrong in the current surge of obesity, it isn’t extraordinarily attractive food.
Whatever is going wrong in the current surge of obesity, it isn’t extraordinarily attractive food.
Yeah, that’s true.
I agree. But the fundamental question: what is the good of Man? is going unanswered.
In terms of it going unanswered in the Sequences or wider lesswrong, I somewhat disagree. The sequences specifically argue that good is complex and fragile—complex meaning it would take a long time to write down all the details and they can’t just be summarized with a pattern that gives rise to them; fragile meaning that we need to get all the details right. This means, specifically, that Eliezer did not expect anyone to be able to write everything humans value down and get it right in one shot, even given considerable effort. Instead, some aspects were addressed which were particularly important to illustrate one point or another.
As for me, I also was not expecting to be able to fully articulate what it is that I, or humans, value. I’m trying to articulate my intuitions about this particular issue.
I’m missing a description of what those terminally-valuable goals might be, though.
I think the reason that you’re asking is because you think I’m pushing everything off the table, in trying to make a distinction between pleasurable things and actually-valuable things. At times in this conversation, under varying degrees of devil’s-advocacy, I’ve pushed things ranging from fiction to taking a walk in the park off the table. I can see why you’re concerned.
My intuition tends to say that nothing is very valuable in isolation. Things gain meaning by their connection to each other (beyond just instrumental value of being able to physically cause more value down the line). This is because value comes from patterns of things, and systems of interconnected structure. A thing like an ice cream cone is not totally devoid of this kind of beauty; it’s a matter of degree.
Fiction is counterfeit learning or counterfeit human relationships. Admiring nature is a side-effect of preferences that evolved to help us find good places to live or stay. Casual sex is a counterfeit of not-so-casual sex, which helps to make families (in at least two ways). Music is counterfeit pattern-spotting. Ice cream is basically sugar and fat, neither of which is very good for your health when consumed in large quantities.
Something along those lines, anyway.
(Full disclosure: I read fiction, admire nature, have not-so-casual sex because I’m married, spend an appreciable fraction of my life on music, and make my own ice cream.)
Admiring nature is a side-effect of preferences that evolved to help us find good places to live or stay.
That’s a fine just-so story, but if this (13 minute video of nature’s beauty, in the form of uninhabited and mostly uninhabitable places) isn’t a counterexample, it’s not clear what could be.
They’re all just-so stories. Any of them might turn out to be wrong.
(But I don’t think there’s any contradiction between “some very beautiful places are utterly uninhabitable” and “the tastes that make us find some places more beautiful than others evolved to help us find good places to live”. There can be natural as well as artificial superstimuli.)
That looks to me like a very uncharitable reading of (or extrapolation from) what abramdemski has said. I take it to be, rather: enjoyment is (to abramdemski, at least) less valuable than we are apt to think it and enjoyment of things that harm us is a snare and a delusion; the existence of superstimuli (and especially the fact that superstimuli can be engineered by others who don’t necessarily have our best interests in view) makes it more dangerous.
The ice cream example aside, I think it would be wrong to say fiction is something that harms us even as we enjoy it, except in the sense of opportunity costs, which is what abramdemski seems to be arguing. Fiction can use superstimuli to manipulate people, but so can lots of other things.
There’s nothing especially wrong with ice cream, that I know of. But abramdemsky disagrees:
Eating ice cream is bad as a matter of fact (this doesn’t seem to require much argument). It’s just a superstimulus for “good food”, and furthermore, negatively impacts health.
The part of me that feels like doing away with fiction could be a good idea also would be OK with doing away with many of those other things you mentioned.
If you did away with all those things and everything like them, what would be left? It feels like so little would be left you should be able to give a pretty complete list.
to count things as actually-good rather than merely seemingly-good I’d like them to be connected to a wider web of meaning, rather than isolated.
A popular piece of fiction that many people enjoy creates bonds and shared experiences and ideas. It’s connected to a lot of things many people think and do, and it helps give meaning to their lives. I feel I could replace “fiction” with “culture” here and the argument would be much the same.
What is it you want human activities to be connected to? Fiction is very well connected to other human activities.
You seem to be saying sex in a prolonged relationship is a good thing. That’s sex that builds on and reinforces the relationship. But shared experience of fiction can also build on and reinforce a relationship. People watch movies together, they talk about books they’ve read, they share their opinions and bond over shared opinions. What’s the difference between sex and fiction as relationship tools? What’s special about a relationship in the first place that makes it “less like wireheading” and “more connected” (to what)?
Yes, my actual position on this is much closer to “fiction is bad if it’s not a social activity” rather than “fiction is bad”.
This does not work as an argument against the extremist position, however. Continuing the devil’s-advocate line of thought, I say: if fiction is just good as a social activity because I have friends who like fiction, isn’t that just me being the elephant tied with a chain to a non-optimal social situation?
I am not saying you’re wrong—in fact I think you are right. What concerns me is that I think we should be striving for something better, not justifying the status quo. That’s why I think this is a useful exercise. I’m very skeptical that our current behavior here would just happen to be anywhere near the best we can do. In fact I think fiction is very often more like the ice cream. Our motives for binge-watching an entire series or such are more often self-defeating than good, in any plausible interpretation of the word “good”.
As for the final question—what makes fiction feel more like wireheading than a relationship—my answer is that there’s a real person as opposed to the projected image of a non-real person. The difference is somewhat analogous to the difference between visiting your bank’s website and seeing a large sum of money in the account, and visiting a fake banking website whose sole purpose is to simulate the experience of seeing a large sum of money in your account. The actual relationship with an actual person is good in that it not only creates a sequence of feelings and impressions in the brains of both people, but furthermore creates a richly interconnected dance between the two people which is lacking in fiction.
What concerns me is that I think we should be striving for something better, not justifying the status quo.
That’s begging the question: what’s better and why?
Our motives for binge-watching an entire series or such are more often self-defeating than good, in any plausible interpretation of the word “good”.
Many good things are best consumed in moderation. Very few things have no upper limit on ‘more is better’. The very name binge-watching labels it as an injurious behavior akin to binge drinking. That doesn’t say anything much about fiction generally. (And I think the same applies to ice cream.)
The actual relationship with an actual person is good in that it not only creates a sequence of feelings and impressions in the brains of both people, but furthermore creates a richly interconnected dance between the two people which is lacking in fiction.
That seems like a fully general argument against any solitary activity, and even some activities that are done together (like watching movies) that aren’t about complex interpersonal interaction. (Well, it’s not an argument, it’s a value statement.) You’re free of course to have such values in your own life, but why do you recommend them to others? Plenty of people, like me, enjoy some time apart from others. And there is no social activity which produces the experience of consuming fiction, which I value.
“Fiction considered harmful” sounds like it should mean more than “I, the poster, enjoy / prefer other things to fiction”. There are good arguments that we wouldn’t want everyone to wirehead. But I don’t see a good argument why we wouldn’t want everyone to consume some fiction, as indeed most people do.
What concerns me is that I think we should be striving for something better, not justifying the status quo.
That’s begging the question: what’s better and why?
It’s not begging that particular question… the implicit assumption is that the current state of affairs is far from optimal, not that my particular definition of optimal is correct. In fact part of the point is to explore what values we might hold (and still hold after reflection on those values) that would value fiction. I feel this is a valuable exercise largely because when I do reflect on it, arguments to the effect that fiction is something I reflectively value are rather difficult to make. If I were to discover that I don’t in fact value fiction on reflection, that would be good news: easy life improvement by no longer acting as if I value fiction.
Many good things are best consumed in moderation. [...] The very name binge-watching labels it as an injurious behavior akin to binge drinking.
True. The point I was trying to make is that when I talk to people about this, they tend to give rather high-minded justifications of the value of fiction (usually as a means to other ends, not as an end in itself). While these high-minded justifications may in fact be correct, they seem very different from the motivation which actually causes people to consume fiction. The result of this difference is that the kind of fiction which is readily available on the market is more often “potato chip fiction” as opposed to “baked potato fiction”: still food, but awfully greasy.
This point may not be that relevant to the overall set of questions.
That seems like a fully general argument against any solitary activity
I feel like this remark ignores the part before the text you quote (“there’s an actual person”) which is very much not a fully general argument, but rather an argument against solitary activities which are misleading superstimulus telling system 1 it’s achieving things it’s not.
There’s also a big difference between creative activities (spending solitary time writing a book, say) and consumptive activities. It’s certainly possible to spend alone time without the activity being “isolated” in the sense that I mean.
It’s also possible for someone to be entirely creative and not engage in fiction at all while still being “isolated” in the sense I mean. When I imagine a version of me or someone else toiling away at something they love with plans to totally burn it without showing anyone before they die, I feel like something is lost in this sense; not interconnected with the web of life.
Perhaps that’s just a bad intuition I have about my values, and/or perhaps it’s not a thing many other people value. I don’t know.
Beyond that, I think the difference I’m pointing to is that fiction feels disproportionately like a good thing (because it’s designed to). If there is any distinction to be made between what feels immediately valuable and what I’d find valuable on reflection, fiction will tend to optimize for the first. (This is also true of other types of information I might consume, but fiction has particularly large freedom to optimize these differences.)
I think people (not just me) generally develop a kind of “memetic immune system” defense against the types of superstimulus which are present in abundance in their culture. We have a much higher bar for humor on television than in real life, because funny things happen with much greater frequency on television. No matter how much more attractive the people on television are, we adjust our expectations (somewhat, at least) and are able to find the people we meet in person relatively attractive. And so on. This generally gives us the ability to not waste too much time on the superstimulus. (It also means that they may not have similar defenses against superstimulus available in other places; an example is people over-doing recreational drugs when they visit places where more things are legal. The native population of those places is not prone to the same excess.)
the implicit assumption is that the current state of affairs is far from optimal, not that my particular definition of optimal is correct. In fact part of the point is to explore what values we might hold (and still hold after reflection on those values) that would value fiction.
Again, this doesn’t feel like it relies on any attribute specific to fiction. You could say about almost any aspect of the world or our activities that it’s unlikely to be optimal (whatever your goals may be), and so it’s useful to question things—I agree with that. But the rest of your argument does try to be specific to fiction.
I feel this is a valuable exercise largely because when I do reflect on it, arguments to the effect that fiction is something I reflectively value are rather difficult to make.
Speaking for myself, I like consuming (reading, watching) fiction because it’s enjoyable in the moment. I’m quite sure I reflectively endorse this as a positive value; that doesn’t mean there aren’t other things I could be doing with even greater value, but I don’t know what they are, and I don’t think I can find out by questioning the value of fiction.
I feel like this remark ignores the part before the text you quote (“there’s an actual person”) which is very much not a fully general argument, but rather an argument against solitary activities which are misleading superstimulus telling system 1 it’s achieving things it’s not.
Thanks for the correction.
Why or how do you think fiction misleads system 1? When I read a book, I don’t feel like I’m imagining being one of the characters, it feels like I’m watching them from the side. When I suffer from loneliness or sadness or depression, it doesn’t help to read or watch fiction about happy socially fulfilled people; on the contrary, it sometimes causes me pain because it forcibly reminds me about my problems, and the disconnect between me and the heroes is too great.
I do enjoy “escapism” in the sense that fiction can help me forget, while I’m reading it, about my cares and troubles (except in cases like the above). This simply feels like focusing intently on one thing prevents me from thinking about the other in the background. It’s a similar experience, in that sense, to playing a game, holding a mentally challenging conversation, or focusing on a programming problem.
I realize, of course, that I’m describing my personal experiences, nothing more. Yours are different.
There’s also a big difference between creative activities (spending solitary time writing a book, say) and consumptive activities. It’s certainly possible to spend alone time without the activity being “isolated” in the sense that I mean.
A friend of mine really enjoys drawing. From a young age, whenever she had a minute free she’d sketch something, and she’s gotten very good at it by now. She doesn’t care much about giving drawings to people, or keeping most of them; she enjoys the process of drawing, composition, etc.
Is that “creative” in your sense? She values the act of creation more than the finished work. But you think the main value lies in sharing the finished work with others. It’s not surprising that two people happen to have different values. I’m sure there are others who feel like you, and others who feel like her, or like me. But do you think you’re presenting arguments for others to adopt your values? Because if so, I’m not sure I understand them at this point.
fiction feels disproportionately like a good thing (because it’s designed to).
That’s a feature, not a bug! The value of fiction, and the immediate reason for consuming it—for me and I think for most people—is the direct enjoyment of it, not any second-order effects. Since fiction exists in a market, and consumers choose the fiction they enjoy most, and it’s produced by smart people, of course it evolves towards feeling like a good thing. It’s not disproportionate because there’s nothing to be proportionate to—fiction’s stated goal is exactly to make people feel good.
If there is any distinction to be made between what feels immediately valuable and what I’d find valuable on reflection, fiction will tend to optimize for the first.
This tends to be true of any market product, because people are impulsive and irrational buyers who don’t reflect much. But for people like me who value fiction mostly for the fun experience of consuming it, reflection doesn’t necessarily suggest something else. The conflict may arise mostly if you think you’re consuming fiction for purposes other than having fun—because, indeed, it’s not optimized for those other purposes.
I think people (not just me) generally develop a kind of “memetic immune system” defense against the types of superstimulus which are present in abundance in their culture.
That’s true. I should point out that fiction is a much more ancient superstimulus than e.g. modern supertasty food or superattractive actors. Audiovisual special effects are new, but fiction as text and fiction as theater have existed for millenia.
I feel confused, and am likely missing some bad assumption. For the purpose of working through the assumptions, I’ll keep arguing the anti-fiction side...
The part of me that feels like doing away with fiction could be a good idea also would be OK with doing away with many of those other things you mentioned. Eating ice cream is bad as a matter of fact (this doesn’t seem to require much argument). It’s just a superstimulus for “good food”, and furthermore, negatively impacts health. Noticing this (consciously noticing it on a repeated basis) can in fact move preferences away from ice cream and toward healthier food, to the point where ice cream doesn’t even feel tempting except socially.
(My actual motivational state is not like this, but rather flips back and forth between finding ice cream appealing and not. I have not decided to adjust my emotional state entirely toward the reality, largely because this change in motivational state would have some negative social consequences.)
Trips to beautiful natural sites do seem kind of silly to me. Looking at nice scenery is nice, but on the order of nice things, it seems like something I’m willing to pay significantly less for than what most people are. That’s neither here nor there for the debate, though. The part of me that is interested in doing away with fiction says that at least this experience is fact-oriented. There is something valuable about going and seeing real scenery—historical sites of importance, and things like that—which is not there when the scenery is entirely simulated. The part of me concerned with wireheading says that this is enough to distinguish between the kind of pleasure produced by visiting real places vs simulating pleasant scenery.
The difference between real and simulated scenery in this respect can easily be blurred. A natural landscape is very different from a landscape specifically optimized by human hands to be pleasant. The part of me concerned with wireheading starts to be concerned about the second. (My actual motivations don’t, though—if things have been arranged in what feels like good taste to me, I enjoy it. Highly optimized landscapes such as malls and theme parks rarely feel like they’re in “good taste” however.)
Casual sex isn’t desirable to me. The part of me which is concerned with wireheading-like things says that this is because it’s not connected to a wider web of meaning. This might be my actual reason. (I prefer a prolonged relationship—“just sex” sounds like a painful thing emotionally.)
Music is good. The part of me concerned with wireheading says it isn’t—it’s just an empty superstimulus.
Overall, I’d say the conclusion of this chain of thought is that to count things as actually-good rather than merely seemingly-good I’d like them to be connected to a wider web of meaning, rather than isolated. “fake” really means “shallow” (surface-level, lacking deeper connections). Taking things out of devil’s-advocate mode, this does not seem entirely damning to fiction. It suggests that fiction can in fact be valuable, to the degree that its meaning is interconnected with other things.
It also bears noticing that this argument applies rather heavily to me and my preferences, not necessarily to other people.
So fiction was just an example of a more general proposition: enjoyment is bad. Sensual pleasure of any sort is bad. These things are a snare and a delusion.
What are they a distraction from, that should be pursued instead?
There’s a big difference between saying wireheading and superstimulus are bad and saying enjoyment is bad. The way I’m framing it, that’s roughly like the difference between saying that counterfeit money is bad and saying money is bad.
In the view that you’re devils-advocating, fiction is fake, admiring nature is silly, casual sex is meaningless, and music is empty. If these are counterfeits, what are they counterfeits of?
And what’s the thing about ice-cream?
I’d better climb out of the devil’s advocate position before I dig myself too deep a hole.
gjm’s reply is perfect in terms of describing the position being outlined.
I really do want to make a distinction between pleasurable things and terminally-valuable things, though. At least I think I do.
The way you’re reacting makes me think that you don’t—that you find it puzzling that I want to differentiate between superstimulus and actually good things at all, regardless of questions about fiction and such.
I think it would be unfortunate if future civilizations decided maximum wireheading was the greatest ethical good.
I think it would also be unfortunate (but less so) if future civilizations decided that finely crafted full sensory experiences, akin to movies, were the ultimate good.
I furthermore think it would be unfortunate (but significantly less so) if future civilizations decided that finely crafted interactive experiences, akin to 1-player games with only non-sentient NPCs, were the ultimate good.
(With significantly more uncertainty, I think it would be much worse if all of the movies or interactive experiences were identical. The image of billions or more identical clones (human-optimal in whatever sense) watching identical recordings of a single extremely well-crafted thousand-year movie does not appeal very much to me. I’m not sure it’s more preferable than a single human experiencing this best-of-all-possible-movies. Similarly, but less so, for interactive experiences.)
The ideal case seems much more like a massively multiplayer one, despite the fact that players will tend to clash with one another and it’s much harder to optimize properly (will have to be worse in other respects as a result).
Applying the intuitions from these rather distant scenarios to more everyday matters, the enjoyment from ice cream does fall rather far toward the beginning of the spectrum I’ve just outlined. It seems rather like a small dose of wireheading (except when enjoyed socially).
(I find it quite amusing that I’m getting push-back on the ice cream thing.)
I’m missing a description of what those terminally-valuable goals might be, though.
I agree. But the fundamental question: what is the good of Man? is going unanswered. As it mostly has done on LessWrong, even in the Sequences. We spend our whole lives on two things: overcoming problems, and enjoying ourselves. Bread (the struggle to procure it) and circuses. In Paradise, the problems are gone, the bread is free; is anything left but lotus-eating?
I don’t have an answer to that either. One can talk about “eudaimonia”, or “flourishing”, or as Eliezer does, “fun”, but those are just names for whatever it is.
But casting this in terms of Paradise, whether the transhuman one or a religious one, removes the problem from the world around us and too easily leads into empty speculation. When you leave aside the irksome chores of keeping your body fed, clothed, and housed, and the rejected pleasures listed previously, what purposes should get someone out of bed in the morning? And when they are achieved, what then? Is there, in fact, such a thing as a terminal goal?
gjm said that it’s “basically sugar and fat, neither of which is very good for your health when consumed in large quantities”. But the dose makes the poison; fat is an essential macronutrient, and carbohydrates all but.
I’m sceptical of the whole superstimulus idea, based partly on personal experience and partly on an understanding of control systems. I hinted at the former in speaking of having had an ice-cream “as recently as a month ago”. People speak of chocolate as another superstimulus. There’s usually a 200g block of Cadbury’s Fruit and Nut in my store cupboard. A block lasts about a month and is only there for quasi-medicinal purposes, to alleviate low blood sugar crashes (of causes unknown). From the point of view of control systems, if your satiety-sensing system is in order, you will never overeat. The “attractiveness” of food is irrelevant. I don’t care how “enjoyable” something is to eat, if I’m already full it is effortless to decline to eat more, and repugnant to do otherwise. Whatever is going wrong in the current surge of obesity, it isn’t extraordinarily attractive food.
Yeah, that’s true.
In terms of it going unanswered in the Sequences or wider lesswrong, I somewhat disagree. The sequences specifically argue that good is complex and fragile—complex meaning it would take a long time to write down all the details and they can’t just be summarized with a pattern that gives rise to them; fragile meaning that we need to get all the details right. This means, specifically, that Eliezer did not expect anyone to be able to write everything humans value down and get it right in one shot, even given considerable effort. Instead, some aspects were addressed which were particularly important to illustrate one point or another.
As for me, I also was not expecting to be able to fully articulate what it is that I, or humans, value. I’m trying to articulate my intuitions about this particular issue.
I think the reason that you’re asking is because you think I’m pushing everything off the table, in trying to make a distinction between pleasurable things and actually-valuable things. At times in this conversation, under varying degrees of devil’s-advocacy, I’ve pushed things ranging from fiction to taking a walk in the park off the table. I can see why you’re concerned.
My intuition tends to say that nothing is very valuable in isolation. Things gain meaning by their connection to each other (beyond just instrumental value of being able to physically cause more value down the line). This is because value comes from patterns of things, and systems of interconnected structure. A thing like an ice cream cone is not totally devoid of this kind of beauty; it’s a matter of degree.
Fiction is counterfeit learning or counterfeit human relationships. Admiring nature is a side-effect of preferences that evolved to help us find good places to live or stay. Casual sex is a counterfeit of not-so-casual sex, which helps to make families (in at least two ways). Music is counterfeit pattern-spotting. Ice cream is basically sugar and fat, neither of which is very good for your health when consumed in large quantities.
Something along those lines, anyway.
(Full disclosure: I read fiction, admire nature, have not-so-casual sex because I’m married, spend an appreciable fraction of my life on music, and make my own ice cream.)
That’s a fine just-so story, but if this (13 minute video of nature’s beauty, in the form of uninhabited and mostly uninhabitable places) isn’t a counterexample, it’s not clear what could be.
They’re all just-so stories. Any of them might turn out to be wrong.
(But I don’t think there’s any contradiction between “some very beautiful places are utterly uninhabitable” and “the tastes that make us find some places more beautiful than others evolved to help us find good places to live”. There can be natural as well as artificial superstimuli.)
That looks to me like a very uncharitable reading of (or extrapolation from) what abramdemski has said. I take it to be, rather: enjoyment is (to abramdemski, at least) less valuable than we are apt to think it and enjoyment of things that harm us is a snare and a delusion; the existence of superstimuli (and especially the fact that superstimuli can be engineered by others who don’t necessarily have our best interests in view) makes it more dangerous.
The ice cream example aside, I think it would be wrong to say fiction is something that harms us even as we enjoy it, except in the sense of opportunity costs, which is what abramdemski seems to be arguing. Fiction can use superstimuli to manipulate people, but so can lots of other things.
What is it about ice-cream? I had one as recently as a month ago, and, well, what?
There’s nothing especially wrong with ice cream, that I know of. But abramdemsky disagrees:
If you did away with all those things and everything like them, what would be left? It feels like so little would be left you should be able to give a pretty complete list.
A popular piece of fiction that many people enjoy creates bonds and shared experiences and ideas. It’s connected to a lot of things many people think and do, and it helps give meaning to their lives. I feel I could replace “fiction” with “culture” here and the argument would be much the same.
What is it you want human activities to be connected to? Fiction is very well connected to other human activities.
You seem to be saying sex in a prolonged relationship is a good thing. That’s sex that builds on and reinforces the relationship. But shared experience of fiction can also build on and reinforce a relationship. People watch movies together, they talk about books they’ve read, they share their opinions and bond over shared opinions. What’s the difference between sex and fiction as relationship tools? What’s special about a relationship in the first place that makes it “less like wireheading” and “more connected” (to what)?
Yes, my actual position on this is much closer to “fiction is bad if it’s not a social activity” rather than “fiction is bad”.
This does not work as an argument against the extremist position, however. Continuing the devil’s-advocate line of thought, I say: if fiction is just good as a social activity because I have friends who like fiction, isn’t that just me being the elephant tied with a chain to a non-optimal social situation?
I am not saying you’re wrong—in fact I think you are right. What concerns me is that I think we should be striving for something better, not justifying the status quo. That’s why I think this is a useful exercise. I’m very skeptical that our current behavior here would just happen to be anywhere near the best we can do. In fact I think fiction is very often more like the ice cream. Our motives for binge-watching an entire series or such are more often self-defeating than good, in any plausible interpretation of the word “good”.
As for the final question—what makes fiction feel more like wireheading than a relationship—my answer is that there’s a real person as opposed to the projected image of a non-real person. The difference is somewhat analogous to the difference between visiting your bank’s website and seeing a large sum of money in the account, and visiting a fake banking website whose sole purpose is to simulate the experience of seeing a large sum of money in your account. The actual relationship with an actual person is good in that it not only creates a sequence of feelings and impressions in the brains of both people, but furthermore creates a richly interconnected dance between the two people which is lacking in fiction.
That’s begging the question: what’s better and why?
Many good things are best consumed in moderation. Very few things have no upper limit on ‘more is better’. The very name binge-watching labels it as an injurious behavior akin to binge drinking. That doesn’t say anything much about fiction generally. (And I think the same applies to ice cream.)
That seems like a fully general argument against any solitary activity, and even some activities that are done together (like watching movies) that aren’t about complex interpersonal interaction. (Well, it’s not an argument, it’s a value statement.) You’re free of course to have such values in your own life, but why do you recommend them to others? Plenty of people, like me, enjoy some time apart from others. And there is no social activity which produces the experience of consuming fiction, which I value.
“Fiction considered harmful” sounds like it should mean more than “I, the poster, enjoy / prefer other things to fiction”. There are good arguments that we wouldn’t want everyone to wirehead. But I don’t see a good argument why we wouldn’t want everyone to consume some fiction, as indeed most people do.
It’s not begging that particular question… the implicit assumption is that the current state of affairs is far from optimal, not that my particular definition of optimal is correct. In fact part of the point is to explore what values we might hold (and still hold after reflection on those values) that would value fiction. I feel this is a valuable exercise largely because when I do reflect on it, arguments to the effect that fiction is something I reflectively value are rather difficult to make. If I were to discover that I don’t in fact value fiction on reflection, that would be good news: easy life improvement by no longer acting as if I value fiction.
True. The point I was trying to make is that when I talk to people about this, they tend to give rather high-minded justifications of the value of fiction (usually as a means to other ends, not as an end in itself). While these high-minded justifications may in fact be correct, they seem very different from the motivation which actually causes people to consume fiction. The result of this difference is that the kind of fiction which is readily available on the market is more often “potato chip fiction” as opposed to “baked potato fiction”: still food, but awfully greasy.
This point may not be that relevant to the overall set of questions.
I feel like this remark ignores the part before the text you quote (“there’s an actual person”) which is very much not a fully general argument, but rather an argument against solitary activities which are misleading superstimulus telling system 1 it’s achieving things it’s not.
There’s also a big difference between creative activities (spending solitary time writing a book, say) and consumptive activities. It’s certainly possible to spend alone time without the activity being “isolated” in the sense that I mean.
It’s also possible for someone to be entirely creative and not engage in fiction at all while still being “isolated” in the sense I mean. When I imagine a version of me or someone else toiling away at something they love with plans to totally burn it without showing anyone before they die, I feel like something is lost in this sense; not interconnected with the web of life.
Perhaps that’s just a bad intuition I have about my values, and/or perhaps it’s not a thing many other people value. I don’t know.
Beyond that, I think the difference I’m pointing to is that fiction feels disproportionately like a good thing (because it’s designed to). If there is any distinction to be made between what feels immediately valuable and what I’d find valuable on reflection, fiction will tend to optimize for the first. (This is also true of other types of information I might consume, but fiction has particularly large freedom to optimize these differences.)
I think people (not just me) generally develop a kind of “memetic immune system” defense against the types of superstimulus which are present in abundance in their culture. We have a much higher bar for humor on television than in real life, because funny things happen with much greater frequency on television. No matter how much more attractive the people on television are, we adjust our expectations (somewhat, at least) and are able to find the people we meet in person relatively attractive. And so on. This generally gives us the ability to not waste too much time on the superstimulus. (It also means that they may not have similar defenses against superstimulus available in other places; an example is people over-doing recreational drugs when they visit places where more things are legal. The native population of those places is not prone to the same excess.)
Again, this doesn’t feel like it relies on any attribute specific to fiction. You could say about almost any aspect of the world or our activities that it’s unlikely to be optimal (whatever your goals may be), and so it’s useful to question things—I agree with that. But the rest of your argument does try to be specific to fiction.
Speaking for myself, I like consuming (reading, watching) fiction because it’s enjoyable in the moment. I’m quite sure I reflectively endorse this as a positive value; that doesn’t mean there aren’t other things I could be doing with even greater value, but I don’t know what they are, and I don’t think I can find out by questioning the value of fiction.
Thanks for the correction.
Why or how do you think fiction misleads system 1? When I read a book, I don’t feel like I’m imagining being one of the characters, it feels like I’m watching them from the side. When I suffer from loneliness or sadness or depression, it doesn’t help to read or watch fiction about happy socially fulfilled people; on the contrary, it sometimes causes me pain because it forcibly reminds me about my problems, and the disconnect between me and the heroes is too great.
I do enjoy “escapism” in the sense that fiction can help me forget, while I’m reading it, about my cares and troubles (except in cases like the above). This simply feels like focusing intently on one thing prevents me from thinking about the other in the background. It’s a similar experience, in that sense, to playing a game, holding a mentally challenging conversation, or focusing on a programming problem.
I realize, of course, that I’m describing my personal experiences, nothing more. Yours are different.
A friend of mine really enjoys drawing. From a young age, whenever she had a minute free she’d sketch something, and she’s gotten very good at it by now. She doesn’t care much about giving drawings to people, or keeping most of them; she enjoys the process of drawing, composition, etc.
Is that “creative” in your sense? She values the act of creation more than the finished work. But you think the main value lies in sharing the finished work with others. It’s not surprising that two people happen to have different values. I’m sure there are others who feel like you, and others who feel like her, or like me. But do you think you’re presenting arguments for others to adopt your values? Because if so, I’m not sure I understand them at this point.
That’s a feature, not a bug! The value of fiction, and the immediate reason for consuming it—for me and I think for most people—is the direct enjoyment of it, not any second-order effects. Since fiction exists in a market, and consumers choose the fiction they enjoy most, and it’s produced by smart people, of course it evolves towards feeling like a good thing. It’s not disproportionate because there’s nothing to be proportionate to—fiction’s stated goal is exactly to make people feel good.
This tends to be true of any market product, because people are impulsive and irrational buyers who don’t reflect much. But for people like me who value fiction mostly for the fun experience of consuming it, reflection doesn’t necessarily suggest something else. The conflict may arise mostly if you think you’re consuming fiction for purposes other than having fun—because, indeed, it’s not optimized for those other purposes.
That’s true. I should point out that fiction is a much more ancient superstimulus than e.g. modern supertasty food or superattractive actors. Audiovisual special effects are new, but fiction as text and fiction as theater have existed for millenia.
So fiction was just an example of a more general proposition: enjoyment is bad.
What do you want instead?
It sounds like you don’t want enjoyment.
What do you value?