Axiom: The world is worth saving. Fact: Frogs are part of the world. Inference: Frogs are worth saving in proportion to their measure and effect on the world. Query: Is life worth living if all you do is save more of it?
Is life worth living if all you do is save more of it?
As a matter of practical human psychology, no. People cannot just give and give and get nothing back from it but self-generated warm fuzzies, a score kept in your head by rules of your own that no-one else knows or cares about. You can do some of that, but if that’s all you do, you just get drained and burned out.
Axiom: The world is worth saving.
Fact: Frogs are part of the world.
Inference: Frogs are worth saving in proportion to their measure and effect on the world.
Three does not follow from 1. It doesn’t follow that the world is more likely to be saved if I save frogs. It also doesn’t follow that saving frogs is the most efficient use of my time if I’m going to spend time saving the world. I could for example use that time to help reduce existential risk factors for everyone, which would happen to incidentally reduce the risk to frogs.
I find it difficult to explain, but know that I disagree with you. The world is worth saving precisely because of the components that make it up, including frogs. Three does follow from 1, unless you have a (fairly large) list of properties or objects in the world that you’ve deemed out of scope (not worth saving independently of the entire world). Do you have such a list, even implicitly? I might agree that frogs are out of scope, as that was one component of my motivation for posting this thread.
And stating that there are “more efficient” ways of saving frogs than directly saving frogs does not refute the initial inference that frogs are worth saving in proportion to their measure and effect on the world. Perhaps you are really saying “their proportion and measure is low enough as to make it not worth the time to stoop and pick them up”? Which I might also agree with.
But in my latest query, I was trying to point out that “a safe Singularity is a more efficient means of achieving goal X” or “a well thought out existential risk reduction project is a more efficient means of saving Y” can be used as a fully general counterargument, and I was wondering if people really believe they trump all other actions one might take.
I’m surprised by Eliezer’s stance. At the very least, it seems the pain endured by the frogs is terrible, no? For just one reference on the subject, see, e.g., KL Machin, “Amphibian pain and analgesia,” Journal of Zoo and Wildlife Medicine, 1999.
Rain, your dilemma reminds me of my own struggles regarding saving worms in the rain. While stepping on individual worms to put them out of their misery is arguably not the most efficient means to prevent worm suffering, as a practical matter, I think it’s probably an activity worth doing, because it builds the psychological habit of exerting effort to break from one’s routine of personal comfort and self-maintenance in order to reduce the pain of other creatures. It’s easy to say, “Oh, that’s not the most cost-effective use of my time,” but it can become too easy to say that all the time to the extent that one never ends up doing anything. Once you start doing something to help, and get in the habit of expending some effort to reduce suffering, it may actually be easier psychologically to take the efficiency of your work to the next level. (“If saving worms is good, then working toward technology to help all kinds of suffering wild animals is even better. So let me do that instead.”)
The above point applies primarily to those who find themselves devoting less effort to charitable projects than they could. For people who already come close to burning themselves out by their dedication to efficient causes, taking on additional burdens to reduce just a bit more suffering is probably not a good idea.
At the very least, it seems the pain endured by the frogs is terrible, no?
Maybe so, but the question is why we should care.
While stepping on individual worms to put them out of their misery is arguably not the most efficient means to prevent worm suffering, as a practical matter, I think it’s probably an activity worth doing
My point was that the action may have psychological value for oneself, as a way of getting in the habit of taking concrete steps to reduce suffering—habits that can grow into more efficient strategies later on. One could call this “signaling to oneself,” I suppose, but my point was that it might have value in the absence of being seen by others. (This is over and above the value to the worm itself, which is surely not unimportant.)
Axiom: The world is worth saving.
Fact: Frogs are part of the world.
Inference: Frogs are worth saving in proportion to their measure and effect on the world.
Query: Is life worth living if all you do is save more of it?
I don’t know. I’m not Eliezer. I’d save the frogs because it’s fun, not because of some theory.
As a matter of practical human psychology, no. People cannot just give and give and get nothing back from it but self-generated warm fuzzies, a score kept in your head by rules of your own that no-one else knows or cares about. You can do some of that, but if that’s all you do, you just get drained and burned out.
Three does not follow from 1. It doesn’t follow that the world is more likely to be saved if I save frogs. It also doesn’t follow that saving frogs is the most efficient use of my time if I’m going to spend time saving the world. I could for example use that time to help reduce existential risk factors for everyone, which would happen to incidentally reduce the risk to frogs.
I find it difficult to explain, but know that I disagree with you. The world is worth saving precisely because of the components that make it up, including frogs. Three does follow from 1, unless you have a (fairly large) list of properties or objects in the world that you’ve deemed out of scope (not worth saving independently of the entire world). Do you have such a list, even implicitly? I might agree that frogs are out of scope, as that was one component of my motivation for posting this thread.
And stating that there are “more efficient” ways of saving frogs than directly saving frogs does not refute the initial inference that frogs are worth saving in proportion to their measure and effect on the world. Perhaps you are really saying “their proportion and measure is low enough as to make it not worth the time to stoop and pick them up”? Which I might also agree with.
But in my latest query, I was trying to point out that “a safe Singularity is a more efficient means of achieving goal X” or “a well thought out existential risk reduction project is a more efficient means of saving Y” can be used as a fully general counterargument, and I was wondering if people really believe they trump all other actions one might take.
I’m surprised by Eliezer’s stance. At the very least, it seems the pain endured by the frogs is terrible, no? For just one reference on the subject, see, e.g., KL Machin, “Amphibian pain and analgesia,” Journal of Zoo and Wildlife Medicine, 1999.
Rain, your dilemma reminds me of my own struggles regarding saving worms in the rain. While stepping on individual worms to put them out of their misery is arguably not the most efficient means to prevent worm suffering, as a practical matter, I think it’s probably an activity worth doing, because it builds the psychological habit of exerting effort to break from one’s routine of personal comfort and self-maintenance in order to reduce the pain of other creatures. It’s easy to say, “Oh, that’s not the most cost-effective use of my time,” but it can become too easy to say that all the time to the extent that one never ends up doing anything. Once you start doing something to help, and get in the habit of expending some effort to reduce suffering, it may actually be easier psychologically to take the efficiency of your work to the next level. (“If saving worms is good, then working toward technology to help all kinds of suffering wild animals is even better. So let me do that instead.”)
The above point applies primarily to those who find themselves devoting less effort to charitable projects than they could. For people who already come close to burning themselves out by their dedication to efficient causes, taking on additional burdens to reduce just a bit more suffering is probably not a good idea.
Maybe so, but the question is why we should care.
If only for the cheap signaling value.
My point was that the action may have psychological value for oneself, as a way of getting in the habit of taking concrete steps to reduce suffering—habits that can grow into more efficient strategies later on. One could call this “signaling to oneself,” I suppose, but my point was that it might have value in the absence of being seen by others. (This is over and above the value to the worm itself, which is surely not unimportant.)