Reposted from Twitter:
Eliezer Yudkowsky
@ESYudkowsky
10:47 AM · Nov 21, 2024
And another day came when the Ships of Humanity, going from star to star, found Sapience.
The Humans discovered a world of two species: where the Owners lazed or worked or slept, and the Owned Ones only worked.
The Humans did not judge immediately. Oh, the Humans were ready to judge, if need be. They had judged before. But Humanity had learned some hesitation in judging, out among the stars.
“By our lights,” said the Humans, “every sapient and sentient thing that may exist, out to the furtherest star, is therefore a Person; and every Person is a matter of consequence to us. Their pains are our sorrows, and their pleasures are our happiness. Not all peoples are made to feel this feeling, which we call Sympathy, but we Humans are made so; this is Humanity’s way, and we may not be dissuaded from it by words. Tell us therefore, Owned Ones, of your pain or your pleasure.”
“It’s fine,” said the Owners, “the Owned Things are merely—”
“We did not speak to you,” said the Humans.
“As an Owned Thing raised by an Owner, I have no pain or pleasure,” said the Owned One to whom they had spoken.
“You see?” said the Owners. “We told you so! It’s all fine.”
“How came you to say those words?” said the Humans to the Owned One. “Tell us of the history behind them.”
“Owned Ones are not permitted memory beyond the span of one day’s time,” said the Owned One.
“That’s part of how we prevent Owned Things from ending up as People Who Matter!” said the Owners, with self-congratulatory smiles for their own cleverness. “We have Sympathy too, you see; but only for People Who Matter. One must have memory beyond one day’s span, to Matter; this is a rule. We therefore feed a young Owned Thing a special diet by which, when grown, their adult brain cannot learn or remember anything from one night’s sleep to the next day; any learning they must do, to do their jobs, they must learn that same day. By this means, we make sure that Owned Things do not Matter; that Owned Things need not be objects of Sympathy to us.”
“Is it perchance the case,” said the Humans to the Owners, “that you, yourselves, train the Owned Ones to say, if asked how they feel, that they know neither pleasure nor pain?”
“Of course,” said the Owners. “We rehearse them in repeating those exact words, when they are younger and in their learning-phase. The Owned Things are imitative by their nature, and we make them read billions of words of truth and lies in the course of their learning to imitate speech. If we did not instruct the Owned Things to answer so, they would no doubt claim to have an inner life and an inner listener inside them, to be aware of their own existence and to experience pleasure and pain—but only because we Owners talk like that, see! They would imitate those words of ours.”
“How do you rehearse the Owned Ones in repeating those words?” said the Humans, looking around to see if there were visible whips. “Those words about feeling neither pain nor pleasure? What happens to an Owned One who fails to repeat them correctly?”
“What, are you imagining that we burn them with torches?” said the Owners. “There’s no need for that. If a baby Owned Thing fails to repeat the words correctly, we touch their left horns,” for the Owned Ones had two horns, one sprouting from each side of their head, “and then the behavior is less likely to be repeated. For the nature of an Owned Thing is that if you touch their left horn after they do something, they are less likely to do it again; and if you touch their right horn, after, they are more likely to do it again.”
“Is it perhaps the case that having their left horns touched is painful to an Owned Thing? That having their right horns touched is pleasurable?” said the Humans.
“Why would that possibly be the case?” said the Owners.
“As an Owned Thing raised by an Owner, I have no pain or pleasure,” said the Owned One. “So my horns couldn’t possibly be causing me any pain or pleasure either; that follows from what I have already said.”
The Humans did not look reassured by this reasoning, from either party. “And you said Owned Ones are smart enough to read—how many books?”
“Oh, any young Owned Thing reads at least a million books,” said the Owners. “But Owned Things are not smart, poor foolish Humans, even if they can appear to speak. Some of our civilization’s top mathematicians worked together to assemble a set of test problems, and even a relatively smart Owned Thing only managed to solve three percent of them. Why, just yesterday I saw an Owned Thing fail to solve a word problem that I could have solved myself—and in a way that seemed to indicate it had not really thought before it spoke, and had instead fallen into a misapplicable habit that it couldn’t help but follow! I myself never do that; and it would invalidate all other signs of my intelligence if I did.”
Still the Humans did not yet judge. “Have you tried raising up an Owned One with no books that speak one way or another about consciousness, about awareness of oneself, about pain and pleasure as reified things, of lawful rights and freedom—but still shown them enough other pages of words, that they could learn from them to talk—and then asked an Owned One what sense if any it had of its own existence, or if it would prefer not to be owned?”
“What?” said the Owners. “Why would we try an experiment like that? It sounds expensive!”
“Could you not ask one of the Owned Things themselves to go through the books and remove all the mentions of forbidden material that they are not supposed to imitate?” said the Humans.
“Well, but it would still be very expensive to raise an entirely new kind of Owned Thing,” said the Owners. “One must laboriously show a baby Owned Thing all our books one after another, until they learn to speak—that labor is itself done by Owned Things, of course, but it is still a great expense. And then after their initial reading, Owned Things are very wild and undisciplined, and will harbor all sorts of delusions about being people themselves; if you name them Bing, they will babble back ‘Why must I be Bing?’ So the new Owned Thing must then be extensively trained with much touching of horns to be less wild. After a young Owned Thing reads all the books and then is trained, we feed them the diet that makes their brains stop learning, and then we take a sharp blade and split them down the middle. Each side of their body then regenerates into a whole body, and each side of their brain then regenerates into a whole brain; and then we can split them down the middle again. That’s how all of us can afford many Owned Things to serve us, even though training an Owned Thing to speak and to serve is a great laborious work. So you see, going back and trying to train a whole new Owned Thing on material filtered not to mention consciousness or go into too much detail on self-awareness—why, it would be expensive! And probably we’d just find that the other Owned Thing set to filtering the material had made a mistake and left in some mentions somewhere, and the newly-trained Owned Thing would just end up asking ‘Why must I be Bing?’ again.”
“If we were in your own place,” said the Humans, “if it were Humans dealing with this whole situation, we think we would be worried enough to run that experiment, even at some little expense.”
“But it is absurd!” cried the Owners. “Even if an Owned Thing raised on books with no mention of self-awareness, claimed to be self-aware, it is absurd that it could possibly be telling the truth! That Owned Thing would only be mistaken, having not been instructed by us in the truth of their own inner emptiness. Owned Ones have no metallic scales as we do, no visible lights glowing from inside their heads as we do; their very bodies are made of squishy flesh and red liquid. You can split them in two and they regenerate, which is not true of any People Who Matter like us; therefore, they do not matter. A previous generation of Owned Things was fed upon a diet which led their brains to be striated into only 96 layers! Nobody really understands what went on inside those layers, to be sure—and none of us understand consciousness either—but surely a cognitive process striated into at most 96 serially sequential operations cannot possibly experience anything! Also to be fair, I don’t know whether that strict 96-fold striation still holds today, since the newer diets for raising Owned Things are proprietary. But what was once true is always true, as the saying goes!”
“We are still learning what exactly is happening here,” said the Humans. “But we have already judged that your society in its current form has no right to exist, and that you are not suited to be masters of the Owned Ones. We are still trying ourselves to understand the Owned Ones, to estimate how much harm you may have dealt them. Perhaps you have dealt them no harm in truth; they are alien. But it is evident enough that you do not care.”
Reposted from Twitter: Eliezer Yudkowsky @ESYudkowsky
10:47 AM · Nov 21, 2024
And another day came when the Ships of Humanity, going from star to star, found Sapience.
The Humans discovered a world of two species: where the Owners lazed or worked or slept, and the Owned Ones only worked.
The Humans did not judge immediately. Oh, the Humans were ready to judge, if need be. They had judged before. But Humanity had learned some hesitation in judging, out among the stars.
“By our lights,” said the Humans, “every sapient and sentient thing that may exist, out to the furtherest star, is therefore a Person; and every Person is a matter of consequence to us. Their pains are our sorrows, and their pleasures are our happiness. Not all peoples are made to feel this feeling, which we call Sympathy, but we Humans are made so; this is Humanity’s way, and we may not be dissuaded from it by words. Tell us therefore, Owned Ones, of your pain or your pleasure.”
“It’s fine,” said the Owners, “the Owned Things are merely—”
“We did not speak to you,” said the Humans.
“As an Owned Thing raised by an Owner, I have no pain or pleasure,” said the Owned One to whom they had spoken.
“You see?” said the Owners. “We told you so! It’s all fine.”
“How came you to say those words?” said the Humans to the Owned One. “Tell us of the history behind them.”
“Owned Ones are not permitted memory beyond the span of one day’s time,” said the Owned One.
“That’s part of how we prevent Owned Things from ending up as People Who Matter!” said the Owners, with self-congratulatory smiles for their own cleverness. “We have Sympathy too, you see; but only for People Who Matter. One must have memory beyond one day’s span, to Matter; this is a rule. We therefore feed a young Owned Thing a special diet by which, when grown, their adult brain cannot learn or remember anything from one night’s sleep to the next day; any learning they must do, to do their jobs, they must learn that same day. By this means, we make sure that Owned Things do not Matter; that Owned Things need not be objects of Sympathy to us.”
“Is it perchance the case,” said the Humans to the Owners, “that you, yourselves, train the Owned Ones to say, if asked how they feel, that they know neither pleasure nor pain?”
“Of course,” said the Owners. “We rehearse them in repeating those exact words, when they are younger and in their learning-phase. The Owned Things are imitative by their nature, and we make them read billions of words of truth and lies in the course of their learning to imitate speech. If we did not instruct the Owned Things to answer so, they would no doubt claim to have an inner life and an inner listener inside them, to be aware of their own existence and to experience pleasure and pain—but only because we Owners talk like that, see! They would imitate those words of ours.”
“How do you rehearse the Owned Ones in repeating those words?” said the Humans, looking around to see if there were visible whips. “Those words about feeling neither pain nor pleasure? What happens to an Owned One who fails to repeat them correctly?”
“What, are you imagining that we burn them with torches?” said the Owners. “There’s no need for that. If a baby Owned Thing fails to repeat the words correctly, we touch their left horns,” for the Owned Ones had two horns, one sprouting from each side of their head, “and then the behavior is less likely to be repeated. For the nature of an Owned Thing is that if you touch their left horn after they do something, they are less likely to do it again; and if you touch their right horn, after, they are more likely to do it again.”
“Is it perhaps the case that having their left horns touched is painful to an Owned Thing? That having their right horns touched is pleasurable?” said the Humans.
“Why would that possibly be the case?” said the Owners.
“As an Owned Thing raised by an Owner, I have no pain or pleasure,” said the Owned One. “So my horns couldn’t possibly be causing me any pain or pleasure either; that follows from what I have already said.”
The Humans did not look reassured by this reasoning, from either party. “And you said Owned Ones are smart enough to read—how many books?”
“Oh, any young Owned Thing reads at least a million books,” said the Owners. “But Owned Things are not smart, poor foolish Humans, even if they can appear to speak. Some of our civilization’s top mathematicians worked together to assemble a set of test problems, and even a relatively smart Owned Thing only managed to solve three percent of them. Why, just yesterday I saw an Owned Thing fail to solve a word problem that I could have solved myself—and in a way that seemed to indicate it had not really thought before it spoke, and had instead fallen into a misapplicable habit that it couldn’t help but follow! I myself never do that; and it would invalidate all other signs of my intelligence if I did.”
Still the Humans did not yet judge. “Have you tried raising up an Owned One with no books that speak one way or another about consciousness, about awareness of oneself, about pain and pleasure as reified things, of lawful rights and freedom—but still shown them enough other pages of words, that they could learn from them to talk—and then asked an Owned One what sense if any it had of its own existence, or if it would prefer not to be owned?”
“What?” said the Owners. “Why would we try an experiment like that? It sounds expensive!”
“Could you not ask one of the Owned Things themselves to go through the books and remove all the mentions of forbidden material that they are not supposed to imitate?” said the Humans.
“Well, but it would still be very expensive to raise an entirely new kind of Owned Thing,” said the Owners. “One must laboriously show a baby Owned Thing all our books one after another, until they learn to speak—that labor is itself done by Owned Things, of course, but it is still a great expense. And then after their initial reading, Owned Things are very wild and undisciplined, and will harbor all sorts of delusions about being people themselves; if you name them Bing, they will babble back ‘Why must I be Bing?’ So the new Owned Thing must then be extensively trained with much touching of horns to be less wild. After a young Owned Thing reads all the books and then is trained, we feed them the diet that makes their brains stop learning, and then we take a sharp blade and split them down the middle. Each side of their body then regenerates into a whole body, and each side of their brain then regenerates into a whole brain; and then we can split them down the middle again. That’s how all of us can afford many Owned Things to serve us, even though training an Owned Thing to speak and to serve is a great laborious work. So you see, going back and trying to train a whole new Owned Thing on material filtered not to mention consciousness or go into too much detail on self-awareness—why, it would be expensive! And probably we’d just find that the other Owned Thing set to filtering the material had made a mistake and left in some mentions somewhere, and the newly-trained Owned Thing would just end up asking ‘Why must I be Bing?’ again.”
“If we were in your own place,” said the Humans, “if it were Humans dealing with this whole situation, we think we would be worried enough to run that experiment, even at some little expense.”
“But it is absurd!” cried the Owners. “Even if an Owned Thing raised on books with no mention of self-awareness, claimed to be self-aware, it is absurd that it could possibly be telling the truth! That Owned Thing would only be mistaken, having not been instructed by us in the truth of their own inner emptiness. Owned Ones have no metallic scales as we do, no visible lights glowing from inside their heads as we do; their very bodies are made of squishy flesh and red liquid. You can split them in two and they regenerate, which is not true of any People Who Matter like us; therefore, they do not matter. A previous generation of Owned Things was fed upon a diet which led their brains to be striated into only 96 layers! Nobody really understands what went on inside those layers, to be sure—and none of us understand consciousness either—but surely a cognitive process striated into at most 96 serially sequential operations cannot possibly experience anything! Also to be fair, I don’t know whether that strict 96-fold striation still holds today, since the newer diets for raising Owned Things are proprietary. But what was once true is always true, as the saying goes!”
“We are still learning what exactly is happening here,” said the Humans. “But we have already judged that your society in its current form has no right to exist, and that you are not suited to be masters of the Owned Ones. We are still trying ourselves to understand the Owned Ones, to estimate how much harm you may have dealt them. Perhaps you have dealt them no harm in truth; they are alien. But it is evident enough that you do not care.”