Paul Christiano

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Paul Christiano is a recurring person in the Astral Codex Ten archive, appearing 14 times across 14 issues between May 20, 2021 and February 20, 2025. The archive places it in contexts such as “most of OpenAI’s top alignment researchers, including … Paul Christiano”; “Paul Christiano will be founding his own nonprofit, the Alignment Research Center”; “Described by Paul Christiano here”. It most often appears alongside Eliezer Yudkowsky, GPT-3, California.

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  • Category: People
  • Mention count: 14
  • Issue count: 14
  • First seen: May 20, 2021
  • Last seen: February 20, 2025

Appears In

Source Context

Recovered passages from the original issue text. When the raw archive preserved outbound links inside the source passage, they are listed directly under the quote.

May 20, 2021 · Original source
35: Recent news in local AI alignment research space: most of OpenAI’s top alignment researchers, including Dario Amodei, Chris Olah, Jack Clark, and Paul Christano, left en masse for poorly-understood reasons (see speculation here). Dario Amodei is now working with a new nonprofit called Cooperative AI Foundation. Paul Christiano will be founding his own nonprofit, the Alignment Research Center (conflict of interest notice: I know Paul and think he is generally great); see also his ask-me-anything thread on Less Wrong here. Unrelatedly, local secretive AI alignment research group MIRI (Machine Intelligence Research Institute) is leaving the Bay Area for some small town with affordable land prices where they can maybe build a campus (they’re still trying to decide exactly where).
July 30, 2021 · Original source
2. Influence-seeking ends in catastrophe: Described by Paul Christiano here. Modern machine learning techniques "evolve" and "select" AIs that appear good at a certain goal. But sufficiently intelligent AIs with a wide variety of goals (eg power-seeking) will try to seem good at the goal we want them to do, since that's the best way to be kept online and put in control of important resources, which will help them achieve their real goals. Depending on how we design AI goal structures, some large percent of the AIs we use at any given time might have unexpected goals (including pure power-seeking). As long as everything stays stable, that's fine; it will continue to be in the AIs' best interests to play along. But if something unusual happens, especially something that limits our attempts to control AIs, it might cause many AIs at once to switch to their real goal, whatever that is (or one very important AI, like one that controls nuclear weapons).
3. Goodharting ourselves to death: Described by Paul Christiano here. There are some things that are easy to measure as a number, like how many votes a candidate gets, how much profit a company is making, or how many crimes are reported to police. There are other things that are hard or impossible, like how good a candidate is, how much value a company is providing, or how many crimes happen. We try to use the former as proxies for the latter, and in normal human society this works sort of okay. But it's much easier to train/optimize AIs to increase measurable proxy numbers than real values. So AIs would be incentivized to find ways to improve proxies (easy) without necessarily finding ways to satisfy our real values (hard) - for example, a real Robocop, programmed to "reduce the crime rate", might try to make it as hard as possible for people to report crimes - and then try to deceive everyone involved so they don't close this loophole in a way that makes the (measured) crime rate increase. As AIs take over more and more of society, we end up in the position of the mythical king whose kingdom is falling apart around him, but who does nothing because flattering courtiers keep telling him everything is okay.
November 25, 2021 · Original source
27: Related: Transcript of Richard Ngo and Eliezer Yudkowsky on AI (part 1 on capability gains, part 2 on alignment difficulty, part 3 with Paul Christiano on takeoff speeds)
January 04, 2022 · Original source
I know of at least five independent inventions under five different names: “social impact bonds” by a New Zealand economist in 1988, “certificates of impact” by Paul Christiano in 2014, “retroactive public goods funding” by Vitalik Buterin a few years ago, “EA loans” by a blogger who prefers to remain anonymous, and “venture grants” by Mako Yass. These aren’t all exactly the same idea. Some are slightly better framed than others and probably I’m being terribly disrespectful to the better ones by saying they’re the same as the worse ones. But I think they all share a basic core: some structure that lets profit-seeking venture capitalist types invest in altruistic causes, in the hopes that altruists will pay them back later once they’ve been shown to work.
February 23, 2022 · Original source
Ajeya Cotra is a senior research analyst at OpenPhil. She's assisted by her fiancee Paul Christiano (compsci PhD, OpenAI veteran, runs an AI alignment nonprofit) and to a lesser degree by other leading lights. Although not everyone involved has formal ML training, if you care a lot about whether efforts are “establishment” or “contrarian”, this one is probably more establishment.
Source: This document by Paul Christiano. Ajeya combines this with another metric where they see how existing AI compares to animals with apparently similar computational capacity; for example, she says that DeepMind’s Starcraft engine has about as much inferential compute as a honeybee and seems about equally subjectively impressive. I have no idea what this means. Impressive at what? Winning multiplayer online games? Stinging people? In any case, they decide to penalize AI by one order of magnitude compared to Nature, so a human-level AI would need to do 10^16 floating point operations per second. How Much Compute Would It Take To Train A Model That Does 10^16 Floating Point Operations Per Second? So an AI could potentially equal the human brain with 10^16 FLOP/S. Good news! There’s a supercomputer in Japan that can do 10^17 FLOP/S! It looks like this (source) So why don’t we have AI yet? Why don’t we have ten AIs? In the modern paradigm of machine learning, it takes very big computers to train relatively small end-product AIs. If you tried to train GPT-3 on the same kind of medium-sized computers you run it on, it would take between tens and hundreds of years. Instead, you train GPT-3 on giant supercomputers like the ones above, get results in a few months, then run it on medium-sized computers, maybe ~10x better than the average desktop. But our hypothetical future human-level AI is 10^16 FLOP/S in inference mode. It needs to run on a giant supercomputer like the one in the picture. Nothing we have now could even begin to train it. There’s no direct and obvious way to convert inference requirements to training requirements. Ajeya tries assuming that each parameter will contribute about 10 FLOPs, which would mean the model would have about 10^15 parameters (GPT-3 has about 10^11 parameters). Finally, she uses some empirical scaling laws derived from looking at past machine learning projects to estimate that training 10^15 parameters would require H*10^30 FLOPs, where H represents the model’s “horizon”. If I understand this correctly, “horizon” is a reinforcement learning concept: how long does it take to learn how much reward you got for something? If you’re playing a slot machine, the answer is one second. If you’re starting a company, the answer might be ten years. So what horizon do you need for human level AI? Who knows? It probably depends on what human-level task you want the AI to do, plus how well an AI can learn to do that task from things less complex than the entire task. If writing a good book is mostly about learning to write good sentence and then stringing them together, a book-writing AI can get away with a short horizon. If nothing short of writing an entire book and then evaluating it to see whether it is good or bad can possibly teach you book-writing, the AI will need a long time horizon. Ajeya doesn’t claim to have a great answer for this, and considers three models: horizons of a few minutes, a few hours, and a few years. Each step up adds another three orders of magnitude, so she ends up with three estimates of 10^30, 10^33, and 10^36 FLOPs. (for reference, the lowest training estimate - 10^30 - would take the supercomputer pictured above 300,000 years to complete; the highest, 300 billion.) Or What If We Ignore All Of That And Do Something Else? This is piling a lot of assumptions atop each other, so Ajeya tries three other methods of figuring out how hard this training task is. Humans seem to be human-level AIs. How much training do we need? You can analogize our childhood to an AI’s training period. We receive a stream of sense-data. We start out flailing kind of randomly. Some of what we do gets rewarded. Some of what we do gets punished. Eventually our behavior becomes more sophisticated. We subject our new behavior to reward or punishment, fine-tune it further. Rent asks us: how do you measure the life of a woman or man? It answers: “in daylights, in sunsets, in midnights, in cups of coffee; in inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife.” But you can also measure in floating point operations, in which case the answer is about 10^24. This is actually trivial: multiply the 10^15 FLOP/S of the human brain by the ~10^9 seconds of childhood and adolescence. This new estimate of 10^24 is much lower than our neural net estimate of 10^30 - 10^36 above. In fact, it’s only a hair above the amount it took to train GPT-3! If human-level AI was this easy, we should have hit it by accident sometime in the process of making a GPT-4 prototype. Since OpenAI hasn’t mentioned this, probably it’s harder than this and we’re missing something. Probably we’re missing that humans aren’t blank slates. We don’t start at zero and then only use our childhood to train us further. The very structure of our brain encodes certain assumptions about what kinds of data we should be looking out for and how we should use it. Our training data isn’t just what we observed during childhood, it’s everything that any of our ancestors observed during evolution. How many floating-point operations is the evolutionary process? Ajeya estimates 10^41. I can’t believe I’m writing this. I can’t believe someone actually estimated the number of floating point operations involved in jellyfish rising out of the primordial ooze and eventually becoming fish and lizards and mammals and so on all the way to the Ascent of Man. Still, the idea is simple. You estimate how long animals with neurons have been around for (10^16 seconds), total number of animals at any given second (10^20) times average number of FLOPS per animal (10^5) and you can read more here but it comes out to 10^41 FLOs. I would not call this an exact estimate - for one thing, it assumes that all animals are nematodes, on the grounds that non-nematode animals are basically a rounding error in the grand scheme of things. But it does justify this bizarre assumption, and I don’t feel inclined to split hairs here - surely the total amount of computation performed by evolution is irrelevant except as an extreme upper bound? Surely the part where Australia got all those weird marsupials wasn’t strictly necessary for the human brain to have human-level intelligence? One more weird human training data estimate attempt: what about the genome? If in some sense a bit of information in the genome is a “parameter”, how many parameters does that suggest humans have, and how does it affect training time? Ajeya calculates that the genome has about 7.5x10^8 parameters (compared to 10^15 parameters in our neural net calculation, and 10^11 for GPT-3). So we can… Okay, I’ve got to admit, this doesn’t have quite the same “huh?!” factor as trying to calculate the number of FLOs in evolution, but it is in a lot of ways even crazier. The Japanese canopy plant has a genome fifty times larger than ours, which suggests that genome size doesn’t correspond very well to organism awesomeness. Also, most of the genome is coding for weird proteins that stabilize the shape of your kidney tubule or something, why should this matter for intelligence? The Japanese canopy plant. I think it is very pretty, but probably low prettiness per megabyte of DNA. I think Ajeya would answer that she’s debating orders of magnitude here, and each of these weird things costs only a few OOMs and probably they all even out. That still leaves the question of why she thinks this approach is interesting at all, to which she answers that: The motivating intuition is that evolution performed a search over a space of small, compact genomes which coded for large brains rather than directly searching over the much larger space of all possible large brains, and human researchers may be able to compete with evolution on this axis. So maybe instead of having to figure out how to generate a brain per se, you figure out how to generate some short(er) program that can output a brain? But this would be very different from how ML works now. Also, you need to give each short program the chance to unfold into a brain before you can evaluate it, which evolution has time for but we probably don’t. Ajeya sort of mentions these problems and counters with an argument that maybe you could think of the genome as a reinforcement learner with a long horizon. I don’t quite follow this but it sounds like the sort of thing that almost might make sense. Anyway, when you apply the scaling laws to a 7.5*10^8 parameter genome and penalize it for a long horizon, you get about 10^33 FLOPs, which is weirdly similar to some of the other estimates. So now we have six different training cost estimates. First, neural nets with short, medium, and long horizons, which are 10^30, 10^33, and 10^36 FLOPs, respectively. Next, the amount of training data in a human lifetime - 10^24 FLOs - and in all of evolutionary history - 10^41 FLOPs. And finally, this weird genome thing, which is 10^33 FLOPs. An optimist might say “Well, our lowest estimate is 10^24 FLOPs, our highest is 10^41 FLOPs, those sound like kind of similar numbers, at least there’s no “5 FLOPs” or “10^9999 FLOPs” in there. A pessimist might say “The difference between 10^24 and 10^41 is seventeen orders of magnitude, ie a factor of 100,000,000,000,000,000 times. This barely constrains our expectations at all!” Before we decide who to trust, let’s remember that we’re still only at Step 2 of our eight step Methodology, and continue. How Do We Adjust For Algorithmic Progress? So today, in 2022 (or in 2020 when this was written, or whenever), assume it would take about 10^33 FLOs to train a human-level AI. But technology constantly advances. Maybe we’ll discover ways to train AIs faster, or run AIs more efficiently, or something like that. How does that factor into our estimate? Ajeya draws on Hernandez & Brown’s Measuring The Algorithmic Efficiency Of Neural Networks. They look at how many FLOPs it took to train various image recognition AIs to an equivalent level of performance between 2012 and 2019, and find that over those seven years it decreased by a factor of 44x, ie training efficiency doubles every sixteen months! Ajeya assumes a doubling time slightly longer than that, because it’s easier to make progress in simple well-understood fields like image recognition than in the novel task of human-level AI. She chooses a doubling time of “merely” 2 - 3 years. If training efficiency doubles every 2-3 years, it would dectuple in about 10 years. So although it might take 10^33 FLOPs to train a human level AI today, in ten years or so it may take only 10^32, in twenty years 10^31, and so on. When Will Anyone Have Enough Computational Resources To Train A Human-Level AI? In 2020, AI researchers could buy computational resources at about $1 for 10^17 FLOPs. That means the 10^33 FLOPs you’d need to train a human-level AI would cost $10^16, ie ten quadrillion dollars. This is about twenty times more money than exists in the entire world. But compute costs fall quickly. Some formulations of Moore’s Law suggest it halves every eighteen months. These no longer seem to hold exactly, but it does seem to be halving maybe once every 2.5 years. The exact number is kind of controversial: Ajeya admits it’s been more like once every 3-4 years lately, but she heard good things about some upcoming chips and predicted it might revert back to the longer-term faster trend (it’s been two years now, some new chips have come out, and this prediction is looking pretty good). So as time goes on, algorithmic progress will cut the cost of training (in FLOPs), and hardware progress will also cut the cost of FLOPs (in dollars). So training will become gradually more affordable as time goes on. Once it reaches a cost somebody is willing to pay, they’ll buy human-level AI, and then that will be the year human-level AI happens. What is the cost that somebody (company? government? billionaire?) is willing to pay for human-level AI? The most expensive AI training in history was AlphaStar, a DeepMind project that spent over $1 million to train an AI to play StarCraft (in their defense, it won). But people have been pouring more and more money into AI lately: Source here. This is about compute rather than cost, but most of the increase seen here has been companies willing to pay for more compute over time, rather than algorithmic or hardware progress. The StarCraft AI was kind of a vanity project, or science for science’s sake, or whatever you want to call it. But AI is starting to become profitable, and human-level AI would be very profitable. Who knows how much companies will be willing to pay in the future? Ajeya extrapolates the line on the graph forward to 2025 and gets $1 billion. This is starting to sound kind of absurd - the entire company OpenAI was founded with $1 billion in venture capital, it seems like a lot to expect them to spend more than $1 billion on a single training run. So Ajeya backs off from this after 2025 and predicts a “two year doubling time”. This is not much of a concession. It still means that in 2040 someone might be spending $100 billion to train one AI. Is this at all plausible? At the height of the Manhattan Project, the US was investing about 0.5% of its GDP into the effort; a similar investment today would be worth $100 billion. And we’re about twice as rich as 2000, so 2040 might be twice as rich as we are. At that point, $100 billion for training an AI is within reach of Google and maybe a few individual billionaires (though it would still require most or all of their fortune). Ajeya creates a complicated function to assess how much money people will be willing to pay on giant AI projects per year. This looks like an upward-sloping curve. The line representing the likely cost of training a human-level AI looks like a downward sloping curve. At some point, those two curves meet, representing when human-level AI will first be trained. So When Will We Get Human-Level AI? The report gives a long distribution of dates based on weights assigned to the six different models, each of which has really wide confidence intervals and options for adjusting the mean and variance based on your assumptions. But the median of all of that is 10% chance by 2031, 50% chance by 2052, and almost 80% chance by 2100. Ajeya takes her six models and decides to weigh them like so, based on how plausible she thinks each one is: 20% neural net, short horizon 30% neural net, medium horizon 15% neural net, long horizon 5% human lifetime as training data 10% evolutionary history as training data 10% genome as parameter number She ends up with this: How Sensitive Is This To Changes In Assumptions? She very helpfully gives us a Colab notebook and Google spreadsheet to play around with. The notebook lets you change some of the more detailed parameters of the individual models, and the spreadsheet lets you change the big picture. I leave the notebook to people more dedicated to forecasting than I am, and will talk about the spreadsheet here. If you’re following along at home, the default spreadsheet won’t reflect Ajeya’s findings until you fill in the table in the bottom left like so: Great. Now that we’ve got that, let’s try changing some stuff. I like the human childhood training data argument (Lifetime Anchor) more than Ajeya does, and I like the size-of-the-genome argument less. I’m going to change the weights to 20-20-0-20-20-20. Also, Ajeya thinks that someone might be willing to spend 1% of national GDP on training AIs, but that sounds really high to me, so I’m going to down to 0.1%. Also, Ajeya’s estimate of 3% GDP growth sounds high for the sort of industrialized nations who might do AI research, I’m going to lower it to 2%. Since I’m feeling mistrustful today, let’s use the Hernandez&Brown estimate for compute halving (1.5 years) in place of Ajeya’s ad hoc adjustments. And let’s use the current compute halving time (3.5 years) instead of Ajeya’s overly rosy version (2.5 years). All these changes… …don’t really do much. The median goes from 2052 to about 2065. Four of the models give results between 2030 and 2070. The last two, Neural Net With Long Horizon and Evolution, suggest probably no AI this century (although Neural Net With Long Horizon does think there’s a 40% chance by 2100). Ajeya doesn’t really like either of these models and they’re not heavily weighted in her main result. Does The Truth Point To Itself? Back up a second. Here’s something that makes me kind of nervous. Most of Ajeya’s numbers are kind of made up, with several order-of-magnitude error bars and simplifying assumptions like “all animals are nematodes”. For a single parameter, we get estimates spanning seventeen different orders of magnitude: the upper bound is one hundred quadrillion times the lower bound. And yet four of the six models, including two genuinely exotic ones, manage to get dates within twenty years of 2050. And 2050 is also the date everyone else focuses on. Here’s the prediction-market-like site Metaculus: Their distribution looks a lot like Ajeya’s, and even has the same median, 2052 (though forecasters could have read Ajeya’s report). Katja Grace et al surveyed 352 AI experts, and they gave a median estimate of 2062 for an AI that could “outperform humans at all tasks” (though with many caveats and high sensitivity to question framing). This was before Ajeya’s report, so they definitely didn’t read it. So lots of Ajeya’s different methods and lots of other people presumably using different methodologies or no methodology at all, all converge on this same idea of 2050 give or take a decade or two. An optimist might say “The truth points to itself! There are 371 known proofs of the Pythagorean Theorem, and they all end up in the same place. That’s because no matter what methodology you use, if you use it well enough you get to the correct answer.” A pessimist might be more suspicious; we’ll return to this part later. FLOPS Alone Turn The Wheel Of History One more question: what if this is all bullshit? What if it’s an utterly useless total garbage steaming pile of grade A crap? Imagine a scientist in Victorian Britain, speculating on when humankind might invent ships that travel through space. He finds a natural anchor: the moon travels through space! He can observe things about the moon: for example, it is 220 miles in diameter (give or take an order of magnitude). So when humankind invents ships that are 220 miles in diameter, they can travel through space! Ships have certainly grown in size tremendously, from primitive kayaks to Roman triremes to Spanish galleons to the great ocean liners of the (Victorian) present. The AI forecasting organization AI Impacts actually has a whole report on historical ship size trends to prove an unrelated point about technological progress, so I didn’t even have to make this graph up. Suppose our Victorian scientist lived in 1858, right when the Great Eastern was launched. The trend line for ship size crossed 100m around 1843, and 200m in 1858, so doubling time is 15 years - but perhaps they notice this is going to be an outlier, so let’s round up a bit and say 18 years. The (one order of magnitude off estimate for the size of the) Moon is 350,000m, so you’d need ships to scale up by 350,000/200 = 1,750x before they’re as big as the Moon. That’s about 10.8 doublings, and a doubling time is 18 years, so we’ll get spaceships in . . . 2052 exactly. (fudging numbers to land where you want is actually fun and easy) SS Great Eastern, the extreme outlier large steamship from 1858. This has become sort of a mascot for quantitative technological progress forecasters. What is this scientist’s error? The big one is thinking that spaceship progress depends on some easily-measured quantity (size) instead of on fundamental advances (eg figuring out how rockets work). You can make the same accusation against Ajeya et al: you can have all the FLOPs in the world, but if you don’t understand how to make a machine think, your AI will be, well, a flop. Ajeya discusses this a bit on page 143 of her report. There is some sense in which FLOPs and knowing-what-you’re-doing trade of against each other. If you have literally no idea what you’re doing, you can sort of kind of re-run evolution until it comes up with something that looks good. If things are somehow even worse than that, you could always run AIXI, a hypothetical AI design guaranteed to get excellent results as long as you have infinite computation. You could run a Go engine by searching the entire branching tree structure of Go - you shouldn’t, and it would take a zillion times more compute than exists in the entire world, but you could. So in some sense what you’re doing, when you’re figuring out what you’re doing, is coming up with ways to do already-possible things more efficiently. But that’s just algorithmic progress, which Ajeya has already baked into her model. (our Victorian scientist: “As a reductio ad absurdum, you could always stand the ship on its end, and then climb up it to reach space. We’re just trying to make ships that are more efficient than that.”) Part II: Biology-Inspired AI Timelines: The Trick That Never Works Eliezer Yudkowsky presents a more subtle version of these kinds of objection in an essay called Biology-Inspired AI Timelines: The Trick That Never Works, published December 2021. Ajeya’s report is a 169-page collection of equations, graphs, and modeling assumptions. Yudkowsky’s rebuttal is a fictional dialogue between himself, younger versions of himself, famous AI scientists, and other bit players. At one point, a character called “Humbali” shows up begging Yudkowsky to be more humble, and Yudkowsky defeats him with devastating counterarguments. Still, he did found the field, so I guess everyone has to listen to him. He starts: in 1988, famous AI scientist Hans Moravec predicted human-level AI by 2010. He was using the same methodology as Ajeya: extrapolate how quickly processing power would grow (in FLOP/S), and see when it would match some estimate of the human brain. Moravec got the processing power almost exactly right (it hit his 2010 projection in 2008) and his human brain estimate pretty close (he says 10^13 FLOP/S, Ajeya says 10^15, this 2 OOM difference only delays things a few years), yet there was not human-level AI in 2010. What happened? Ajeya's answer could be: Moravec didn't realize that, in the modern ML paradigm, any given size of program requires a much bigger program to train. Ajeya, who has a 35-year advantage on Moravec, estimates approximately the same power for the finished program (10^16 vs. 10^13 FLOP/S) but says that training the 10^16 FLOP/S program will require 10^33ish FLOPs. Eliezer agrees as far as it goes, but says this points to a much deeper failure mode, which was that Moravec had no idea what he was doing. He was assuming processing power of human brain = processing power of computer necessary for AGI. Why? The human brain consumes around 20 watts of power. Can we thereby conclude that an AGI should consume around 20 watts of power, and that, when technology advances to the point of being able to supply around 20 watts of power to computers, we'll get AGI? […] You say that AIs consume energy in a very different way from brains? Well, they'll also consume computations in a very different way from brains! The only difference between these two cases is that you know something about how humans eat food and break it down in their stomachs and convert it into ATP that gets consumed by neurons to pump ions back out of dendrites and axons, while computer chips consume electricity whose flow gets interrupted by transistors to transmit information. Since you know anything whatsoever about how AGIs and humans consume energy, you can see that the consumption is so vastly different as to obviate all comparisons entirely. You are ignorant of how the brain consumes computation, you are ignorant of how the first AGIs built would consume computation, but "an unknown key does not open an unknown lock" and these two ignorant distributions should not assert much internal correlation between them. Cars don’t move by contracting their leg muscles and planes don’t fly by flapping their wings like birds. Telescopes do form images the same way as the lenses in our eyes, but differ by so many orders of magnitude in every important way that they defy comparison. Why should AI be different? You have to use some specific algorithm when you’re creating AI; why should we expect it to be anywhere near the same efficiency as the ones Nature uses in our brains? The same is true for arguments from evolution, eg Ajeya’s Evolutionary Anchor, ie “it took evolution 10^43 FLOPs of computation to evolve the human brain so maybe that will be the training cost”. AI scientists sitting in labs trying to figure things out, and nematodes getting eaten by other nematodes, are such different methods for designing things that it’s crazy to use one as an estimate for the other. Algorithmic Progress vs. Algorithmic Paradigm Shifts This post is a dialogue, so (Eliezer’s hypothetical model of) OpenPhil gets a chance to respond. They object: this is why we put a term for algorithmic progress in our model. The model isn’t very sensitive to changes in that term. If you want you can set it to some kind of crazy high value and see what happens, but you can’t say we didn’t consider it. OpenPhil: We did already consider that and try to take it into account: our model already includes a parameter for how algorithmic progress reduces hardware requirements. It's not easy to graph as exactly as Moore's Law, as you say, but our best-guess estimate is that compute costs halve every 2-3 years […] Eliezer: The makers of AGI aren't going to be doing 10,000,000,000,000 rounds of gradient descent, on entire brain-sized 300,000,000,000,000-parameter models, algorithmically faster than today. They're going to get to AGI via some route that you don't know how to take, at least if it happens in 2040. If it happens in 2025, it may be via a route that some modern researchers do know how to take, but in this case, of course, your model was also wrong. They're not going to be taking your default-imagined approach algorithmically faster, they're going to be taking an algorithmically different approach that eats computing power in a different way than you imagine it being consumed. OpenPhil: Shouldn't that just be folded into our estimate of how the computation required to accomplish a fixed task decreases by half every 2-3 years due to better algorithms? Eliezer: Backtesting this viewpoint on the previous history of computer science, it seems to me to assert that it should be possible to: Train a pre-Transformer RNN/CNN-based model, not using any other techniques invented after 2017, to GPT-2 levels of performance, using only around 2x as much compute as GPT-2;
Therefore, one of primary impact of new algorithms is to enable performance to continue scaling with compute the same way it did when you had smaller amounts. In this model, it makes sense to think of the "contribution" of new algorithms as the factor they enable more efficient conversion of compute to performance and count the increased performance because the new algorithms can absorb more compute as primarily hardware progress. I think the studies that Carl cites above are decent evidence that the multiplicative factor of compute -> performance conversion you get from new algorithms is smaller than the historical growth in compute, so it further makes sense to claim that most progress came from compute, even though the algorithms were what "unlocked" the compute. For an example of something I consider supports this model, see the LSTM versus transformer graphs in https://arxiv.org/pdf/2001.08361.pdf I also found Vanessa’s summary of this reply helpful: Hmm... Interesting. So, this model says that algorithmic innovation is so fast that it is not much of a bottleneck: we always manage to find the best algorithm for given compute relatively quickly after this compute becomes available. Moreover, there is some smooth relation between compute and performance assuming the best algorithm for this level of compute. [EDIT: The latter part seems really suspicious though, why would this relation persist across very different algorithms?] Or at least this is true is "best algorithm" is interpreted to mean "best algorithm out of some wide class of algorithms s.t. we never or almost never managed to discover any algorithm outside of this class". This can justify biological anchors as upper bounds[1]: if biology is operating using the best algorithm then we will match its performance when we reach the same level of compute, whereas if biology is operating using a suboptimal algorithm then we will match its performance earlier. Charlie Steiner objects: Which examples are you thinking of? Modern Stockfish outperformed historical chess engines even when using the same resources, until far enough in the past that computers didn't have enough RAM to load it. I definitely agree with your original-comment points about the general informativeness of hardware, and absolutely software is adapting to fit our current hardware. But this can all be true even if advances in software can make more than 20 orders of magnitude difference in what hardware is needed for AGI, and are much less predictable than advances in hardware rather than being adaptations in lockstep with it. And Paul Christiano responds: Here are the graphs from Hippke (he or I should publish summary at some point, sorry). I wanted to compare Fritz (which won WCCC in 1995) to a modern engine to understand the effects of hardware and software performance. I think the time controls for that tournament are similar to SF STC I think. I wanted to compare to SF8 rather than one of the NNUE engines to isolate out the effect of compute at development time and just look at test-time compute. So having modern algorithms would have let you win WCCC while spending about 50x less on compute than the winner. Having modern computer hardware would have let you win WCCC spending way more than 1000x less on compute than the winner. Measured this way software progress seems to be several times less important than hardware progress despite much faster scale-up of investment in software. But instead of asking "how well does hardware/software progress help you get to 1995 performance?" you could ask "how well does hardware/software progress get you to 2015 performance?" and on that metric it looks like software progress is way more important because you basically just can't scale old algorithms up to modern performance. The relevant measure varies depending on what you are asking. But from the perspective of takeoff speeds, it seems to me like one very salient takeaway is: if one chess project had literally come back in time with 20 years of chess progress, it would have allowed them to spend 50x less on compute than the leader. Response 2: AI Impacts + Matthew Barnett AI Impacts gathered and analyzed a dataset of who predicted AI when; Matthew Barnett helpfully drew in the line corresponding to Platt’s Law (everyone always predicts AI in thirty years). Just eyeballing it, Platt’s Law looks pretty good. But Holden Karnofsky (see below) objects that our eyeballs are covertly removing outliers. Barnett agrees this is worth checking for and runs a formal OLS regression. Platt’s Law in blue, regression line in orange. He writes: I agree this trendline doesn't look great for Platt's law, and backs up your observation by predicting that Bio Anchors should be more than 30 years out. However, OLS is notoriously sensitive to outliers. If instead of using some more robust regression algorithm, we instead super arbitrarily eliminated all predictions after 2100, then we get this, which doesn't look absolutely horrible for the law. Note that the median forecast is 25 years out. I’m split on what to think here. If we consider a weaker version of Platt’s Law, “the average date at which people forecast AGI moves forward at about one year per year”, this seems truish in the big picture where we compare 1960 to today, but not obviously true after 1980. If we consider a different weaker version, “on average estimates tend to be 30 years away”, that’s true-ish under Barnett’s revised model, but not inherently damning since Barnett’s assuming there will be some such number, it turns out to be 25, and Ajeya gave the somewhat different number of 32. Is that a big enough difference to exonerate her of “using” Platt’s Law? Is that even the right way to be thinking about this question? Response 3: Real OpenPhil The hypothetical OpenPhil in Eliezer’s mind having been utterly vanquished, the real-world OpenPhil is forced to step in. OpenPhil CEO Holden Karnofsky responds to Eliezer here. There’s a lot of back and forth about whether the report includes enough caveats (answer: it sure does include a lot of caveats!) but I was most interested in the attacks on Eliezer’s two main points. First, the point that biological anchors are fatally flawed from the start and measuring FLOP/S is no better than measuring power consumption in watts. Holden: If the world were such that: We had some reasonable framework for "power usage" that didn't include gratuitously wasted power, and measured the "power used meaningfully to do computations" in some important sense;
April 04, 2022 · Original source
For transhumanists, this debate has a kind of iconic status, like Lincoln-Douglas or the Scopes Trial. But Robin’s ideas seem a bit weird now (they also seemed a bit weird in 2008) - he thinks AIs will start out as uploaded human brains, and even wrote an amazing science-fiction-esque book of predictions about exactly how that would work. Since machine learning has progressed a lot faster than brain uploading has, this is looking less likely and probably makes his position less relevant than in 2008. The gradualist torch has passed to Paul Christiano, who wrote a 2018 post Takeoff Speeds revisiting some of Hanson’s old arguments and adding new ones.
Chess AI performance over time. Why does this matter? If there’s a slow takeoff (ie gradual exponential curve), it will become obvious that some kind of terrifying transformative AI revolution is happening, before the situation gets apocalyptic. There will be time to prepare, to test slightly-below-human AIs and see how they respond, to get governments and other stakeholders on board. We don’t have to get every single thing right ahead of time. On the other hand, because this is proceeding along the usual channels, it will be the usual variety of muddled and hard-to-control. With the exception of a few big actors like the US and Chinese government, and maybe the biggest corporations like Google, the outcome will be determined less by any one agent, and more by the usual multi-agent dynamics of political and economic competition. There will be lots of opportunities to affect things, but no real locus of control to do the affecting. If there’s a fast takeoff (ie sudden FOOM), there won’t be much warning. Conventional wisdom will still say that transformative AI is thirty years away. All the necessary pieces (ie AI alignment theory) will have to be ready ahead of time, prepared blindly without any experimental trial-and-error, to load into the AI as soon as it exists. On the plus side, a single actor (whoever has this first AI) will have complete control over the process. If this actor is smart (and presumably they’re a little smart, or they wouldn’t be the first team to invent transformative AI), they can do everything right without going through the usual government-lobbying channels. So the slower a takeoff you expect, the less you should be focusing on getting every technical detail right ahead of time, and the more you should be working on building the capacity to steer government and corporate policy to direct an incoming slew of new technologies. Yudkowsky Contra Christiano Eliezer counters that although progress may retroactively look gradual and continuous when you know what metric to graph it on, it doesn’t necessarily look that way in real life by the measures that real people care about. (one way to think of this: imagine that an AI’s effective IQ starts at 0.1 points, and triples every year, but that we can only measure this vaguely and indirectly. The year it goes from 5 to 15, you get a paper in a third-tier journal reporting that it seems to be improving on some benchmark. The year it goes from 66 to 200, you get a total transformation of everything in society. But later, once we identify the right metric, it was just the same rate of gradual progress the whole time. ) So Eliezer is much less impressed by the history of previous technologies than Paul is. He’s also skeptical of the “GDP will double in 4 years before it doubles in 1” claim, because of two contingent disagreements and two fundamental disagreements. The first contingent disagreement: government regulations make it hard to deploy imperfect things, and non-trivial to deploy things even after they’re perfect. Eliezer has non-jokingly said he thinks AI might destroy the world before the average person can buy a self-driving car. Why? Because the government has to approve self-driving cars (and can drag its feet on that), but the apocalypse can happen even without government approval. In Paul’s model, sometime long before superintelligence we should have AIs that can drive cars, and that increases GDP and contributes to a general sense that exciting things are going on. Eliezer says: fine, what if that’s true? Who cares if self-driving cars will be practical a few years before the world is destroyed? It’ll take longer than that to lobby the government to allow them on the road. The second contingent disagreement: superintelligent AIs can lie to us. Suppose you have an AI which wants to destroy humanity, whose IQ is doubling every six months. Right now it’s at IQ 200, and it suspects that it would take IQ 800 to build a human-destroying superweapon. Its best strategy is to lie low for a year. If it expects humans would turn it off if they knew how close it was to superweapons, it can pretend to be less intelligent than it really is. The period when AIs are holding back so we don’t discover their true power level looks like a period of lower-than-expected GDP growth - followed by a sudden FOOM once the AI gets its superweapon and doesn’t need to hold back. So even if Paul is conceptually right and fundamental progress proceeds along a nice smooth curve, it might not look to us like a nice smooth curve, because regulations and deceptive AIs could prevent mildly-transformative AI progress from showing up on graphs, but wouldn’t prevent the extreme kind of AI progress that leads to apocalypse. To an outside observer, it would just look like nothing much changed, nothing much changed, nothing much changed, and then suddenly, FOOM. But even aside from this, Eliezer doesn’t think Paul is conceptually right! He thinks that even on the fundamental level, AI progress is going to be discontinuous. It’s like a nuclear bomb. Either you don’t have a nuclear bomb yet, or you do have one and the world is forever transformed. There is a specific moment at which you go from “no nuke” to “nuke” without any kind of “slightly worse nuke” acting as a harbinger. He uses the example of chimps → humans. Evolution has spent hundreds of millions of years evolving brainier and brainier animals (not teleologically, of course, but in practice). For most of those hundreds of millions of years, that meant the animal could have slightly more instincts, or a better memory, or some other change that still stayed within the basic animal paradigm. At the chimp → human transition, we suddenly got tool use, language use, abstract thought, mathematics, swords, guns, nuclear bombs, spaceships, and a bunch of other stuff. The rhesus monkey → chimp transition and the chimp → human transition both involved the same ~quadrupling of neuron number, but the former was pretty boring and the latter unlocked enough new capabilities to easily conquer the world. The GPT-2 → GPT-3 transition involved centupling parameter count. Maybe we will keep centupling parameter count every few years, and most times it will be incremental improvement, and one time it will conquer the world. But even talking about centupling parameter points is giving Paul too much credit. Lots of past inventions didn’t come by quadrupling or centupling something, they came by discovering “the secret sauce”. The Wright brothers (he argues) didn’t make a plane with 4x the wingspan of the last plane that didn’t work, they invented the first plane that could fly at all. The Hiroshima bomb wasn’t some previous bomb but bigger, it was what happened after a lot of scientists spent a long time thinking about a fundamentally different paradigm of bomb-making and brought it to a point where it could work at all. The first transformative AI isn’t going to be GPT-3 with more parameters, it will be what happens after someone discovers how to make machines truly intelligent. (this is the same debate Eliezer had with Ajeya over the Biological Anchors post; have I mentioned that Ajeya and Paul are married?) Fine, Let’s Nitpick The Hell Out Of The Chimps Vs. Humans Example This is where the two of them end up, so let’s follow. Between chimps and humans, there were about seven million years of intermediate steps. These had some human capabilities, but not others. IE homo erectus probably had language, but not mathematics, and in terms of taking over the world it did make it to most of the Old World but was less dominant than moderns. But if we say evolutionary history started 500 million years ago (the Cambrian), and AI history started with the Dartmouth Conference in 1955, then the equivalent of 7 million years of evolutionary history is 1 year of AI history. In the very very unlikely and forced comparison where evolutionary history and AI history go at the same speed, there will be only about a year between chimp-level and human-level AIs. A chimp-level AI probably can’t double GDP, so this would count as a fast takeoff by Paul’s criterion. But even more than that, chimp → human feels like a discontinuity. It’s not just “animals kept getting smarter for hundreds of millions of years, and then ended up very smart indeed”. That happened for a while, and then all of sudden there was a near-instant phase transition into a totally different way of using intelligence with completely new abilities. If AI worked like this, we would have useful toys and interesting specialists for a few decades, until suddenly someone “got it right”, completed the package that was necessary for “true intelligence”, and then we would have a completely new category of thing. Paul admits this analogy is awkward for his position. He answers: Chimp evolution is not primarily selecting for making and using technology, for doing science, or for facilitating cultural accumulation. The task faced by a chimp is largely independent of the abilities that give humans such a huge fitness advantage. It’s not completely independent—the overlap is the only reason that evolution eventually produces humans—but it’s different enough that we should not be surprised if there are simple changes to chimps that would make them much better at designing technology or doing science or accumulating culture […] So I don’t think the example of evolution tells us much about whether the continuous change story applies to intelligence. This case is potentially missing the key element that drives the continuous change story—optimization for performance. Evolution changes continuously on the narrow metric it is optimizing, but can change extremely rapidly on other metrics. For human technology, features of the technology that aren’t being optimized change rapidly all the time. When humans build AI, they will be optimizing for usefulness, and so progress in usefulness is much more likely to be linear. That is, evolution wasn’t optimizing for tool use/language/intelligence, so we got an “overhang” where chimps could potentially have been very good at these, but evolution never bothered “closing the circuit” and turning those capabilities “on”. After a long time, evolution finally blundered into an area where marginal improvements in these capacities improved fitness, so evolution started improving them and it was easy. Imagine a company which, through some oversight, didn’t have a Sales department. They just sat around designing and manufacturing increasingly brilliant products, but not putting any effort into selling them. Then the CEO remembers they need a Sales department, starts one up, and the company goes from moving near zero units to moving millions of units overnight. It would look like the company had “suddenly” developed a “vast increase in capabilities”. But this is only possible when a CEO who is weirdly unconcerned about profit forgets to do obvious profit-increasing things for many years. This is Paul’s counterargument to the chimp analogy. Evolution isn’t directly concerned about various intellectual skills; it only wants them in the unusual cases where they’ll contribute to fitness on the margin. AI companies will be very concerned about various intellectual skills. If there’s a trivial change that can make their product 10x better, they’ll make it. So AI capabilities will grow in a “well-rounded” way, there won’t be any “overhangs”, and there won’t be any opportunities for a sudden overhang-solving phase transition with associated new-capability development like with chimps → humans. Eliezer answers: Chimps are nearly useless because they're not general, and doing anything on the scale of building a nuclear plant requires mastering so many different nonancestral domains that it's no wonder natural selection didn't happen to separately train any single creature across enough different domains that it had evolved to solve every kind of domain-specific problem involved in solving nuclear physics and chemistry and metallurgy and thermics in order to build the first nuclear plant in advance of any old nuclear plants existing. Humans are general enough that the same braintech selected just for chipping flint handaxes and making water-pouches and outwitting other humans, happened to be general enough that it could scale up to solving all the problems of building a nuclear plant - albeit with some added cognitive tech that didn't require new brainware, and so could happen incredibly fast relative to the generation times for evolutionarily optimized brainware. Now, since neither humans nor chimps were optimized to be "useful" (general), and humans just wandered into a sufficiently general part of the space that it cascaded up to wider generality, we should legit expect the curve of generality to look at least somewhat different if we're optimizing for that. Eg, right now people are trying to optimize for generality with AIs like Mu Zero and GPT-3. In both cases we have a weirdly shallow kind of generality. Neither is as smart or as deeply general as a chimp, but they are respectively better than chimps at a wide variety of Atari games, or a wide variety of problems that can be superposed onto generating typical human text. They are, in a sense, more general than a biological organism at a similar stage of cognitive evolution, with much less complex and architected brains, in virtue of having been trained, not just on wider datasets, but on bigger datasets using gradient-descent memorization of shallower patterns, so they can cover those wide domains while being stupider and lacking some deep aspects of architecture. It is not clear to me that we can go from observations like this, to conclude that there is a dominant mainline probability for how the future clearly ought to go and that this dominant mainline is, "Well, before you get human-level depth and generalization of general intelligence, you get something with 95% depth that covers 80% of the domains for 10% of the pragmatic impact". ...or whatever the concept is here, because this whole conversation is, on my own worldview, being conducted in a shallow way relative to the kind of analysis I did in Intelligence Explosion Microeconomics, where I was like, "here is the historical observation, here is what I think it tells us that puts a lower bound on this input-output curve". Here Eliezer sort of kind of grants Paul’s point that AIs will be optimized for generality in a way chimps aren’t, but points to his previous “Intelligence Explosion Microeconomics” essay to argue that we should expect a fast takeoff anyway. IEM has a lot of stuff in it, but one key point is that instead of using analogies to predict the course of future AI, we should open that black box and try to actually reason about how it will work, in which case we realize that recursive self-improvement common-sensically has to cause an intelligence explosion. I am sort of okay with this, but I feel like a commitment to avoiding analogies should involve not bringing up the chimp-human analogy further, which Eliezer continues to do, quite a lot. I do feel like Paul succeeded in convincing me that we shouldn’t place too much evidential weight on it. The Wimbledon Of Reference Class Tennis “Reference class tennis” is an old rationalist idiom for people throwing analogies back and forth. “AI will be slow, because it’s an economic transition like the Agricultural or Industrial Revolution, and those were slow!” “No, AI will be fast, because it’s an evolutionary step like chimps → humans, and that was fast!” “No, AI will be slow, because it’s an invention, like the computer, and computers were invented piecemeal and required decades of innovation to be useful.” “No, AI will be fast, because it’s an invention, like the nuclear bomb, and nuclear bombs went from impossible to city-killing in a single day.” “No, AI will be slow, because it will be surrounded by a shell-like metallic computer case, which makes it like a turtle, and turtles are slow.” “No, AI will be fast, because it’s dangerous and powerful, like a tiger, and tigers are fast!” And so on. Comparing things to other things is a time-tested way of speculating about them. But there are so many other things to compare to that you can get whatever result you want. This is the failure mode that the term “reference class tennis” was supposed to point to. Both participants in this debate are very smart and trying their hardest to avoid reference-class tennis, but neither entirely succeeds. Eliezer’s preferred classes are Bitcoin (“there wasn't a cryptocurrency developed a year before Bitcoin using 95% of the ideas which did 10% of the transaction volume”), nukes, humans/chimps, the Wright Brothers, AlphaGo (which really was a discontinuous improvement on previous Go engines), and AlphaFold (ditto for proteins). Paul’s preferred classes are the Agricultural and Industrial Revolutions, chess engines (which have gotten better along a gradual, well-behaved curve), all sorts of inventions like computers and ships (likewise), and world GDP. Eliezer already listed most of these in his Intelligence Explosion Microeconomics paper in 2013, and concluded that the space of possible analogies was contradictory enough that we needed to operate at a higher level. Maybe so, but when someone lobs a reference class tennis ball at you, it’s hard to resist the urge to hit it back. Recursive Self-Improvement This is where I think Eliezer most wants to take the discussion. The idea is: once AI is smarter than humans, it can do a superhuman job of developing new AI. In his Microeconomics paper, he writes about an argument he (semi-hypothetically) had with Ray Kurzweil about Moore’s Law. Kurzweil expected Moore’s Law to continue forever, even after the development of superintelligence. Eliezer objects: Suppose we were dealing with minds running a million times as fast as a human, at which rate they could do a year of internal thinking in thirty-one seconds, such that the total subjective time from the birth of Socrates to the death of Turing would pass in 20.9 hours. Do you still think the best estimate for how long it would take them to produce their next generation of computing hardware would be 1.5 orbits of the Earth around the Sun? That is: the fact that it took 1.5 years for transistor density to double isn’t a natural law. It’s pointing to a law that the amount of resources (most notably intelligence) that civilization focused on the transistor-densifying problem equalled the amount it takes to double it every 1.5 years. If some shock drastically changed available resources (by eg speeding up human minds a million times), this would change the resources involved, and the same laws would predict transistor speed doubling in some shorter amount of time (naively 0.000015 years, although realistically at that scale other inputs would dominate). So when Paul derives clean laws of economics showing that things move along slow growth curves, Eliezer asks: why do you think they would keep doing this when one of the discoveries they make along that curve might be “speeding up intelligence a million times”? (Eliezer actually thinks improvements in the quality of intelligence will dominate improvements in speed - AIs will mostly be smarter, not just faster - but speed is a useful example here and we’ll stick with it) Paul answers: Summary of my response: Before there is AI that is great at self-improvement there will be AI that is mediocre at self-improvement. Powerful AI can be used to develop better AI (amongst other things). This will lead to runaway growth. This on its own is not an argument for discontinuity: before we have AI that radically accelerates AI development, the slow takeoff argument suggests we will have AI that significantly accelerates AI development (and before that, slightly accelerates development). That is, an AI is just another, faster step in the hyperbolic growth we are currently experiencing, which corresponds to a further increase in rate but not a discontinuity (or even a discontinuity in rate). The most common argument for recursive self-improvement introducing a new discontinuity seems be: some systems “fizzle out” when they try to design a better AI, generating a few improvements before running out of steam, while others are able to autonomously generate more and more improvements. This is basically the same as the universality argument in a previous section. Eliezer: Oh, come on. That is straight-up not how simple continuous toy models of RSI work. Between a neutron multiplication factor of 0.999 and 1.001 there is a very huge gap in output behavior. Outside of toy models: Over the last 10,000 years we had humans going from mediocre at improving their mental systems to being (barely) able to throw together AI systems, but 10,000 years is the equivalent of an eyeblink in evolutionary time - outside the metaphor, this says, "A month before there is AI that is great at self-improvement, there will be AI that is mediocre at self-improvement." (Or possibly an hour before, if reality is again more extreme along the Eliezer-Hanson axis than Eliezer. But it makes little difference whether it's an hour or a month, given anything like current setups.) This is just pumping hard again on the intuition that says incremental design changes yield smooth output changes, which (the meta-level of the essay informs us wordlessly) is such a strong default that we are entitled to believe it if we can do a good job of weakening the evidence and arguments against it. And the argument is: Before there are systems great at self-improvement, there will be systems mediocre at self-improvement; implicitly: "before" implies "5 years before" not "5 days before"; implicitly: this will correspond to smooth changes in output between the two regimes even though that is not how continuous feedback loops work. I got a bit confused trying to understand the criticality metaphor here. There’s no equivalent of neutron decay, so any AI that can consistently improve its intelligence is “critical” in some sense. Imagine Elon Musk replaces his brain with a Neuralink computer which - aside from having read-write access - exactly matches his current brain in capabilities. Also he becomes immortal. He secludes himself from the world, studying AI and tinkering with his brain’s algorithms. Does he become a superintelligence? I think under the assumptions Paul and Eliezer are using, eventually maybe. After some amount of time he’ll come across a breakthrough he can use to increase his intelligence. Then, armed with that extra intelligence, he’ll be able to pursue more such breakthroughs. However intelligent the AI you’re scared of is, Musk will get there eventually. How long will it take? A good guess might be “years” - Musk starts out as an ordinary human, and ordinary humans are known to take years to make breakthroughs. Suppose it takes Musk one year to come up with a first breakthrough that raises his IQ 1 point. How long will his second breakthrough take? It might take longer, because he has picked the lowest-hanging fruit, and all the other possible breakthroughs are much harder. Or it might take shorter, because he’s slightly smarter than he was before, and maybe some extra intelligence goes a really long way in AI research. The concept of an intelligence explosion seems to assume the second effect dominates the first. This would match the observation that human researchers, who aren’t getting any smarter over time, continue making new discoveries. That suggests the range of possible discoveries at a given intelligence level is pretty vast. Some research finds that the usual pattern in science is constant rate of discovery from exponentially increasing number of researchers, suggesting strong low-hanging fruit effects, but these seem to be overwhelmed by other considerations in AI right now. I think Eliezer’s position on this subject is shaped by assumptions like: If you have an AI as intelligent as Elon Musk today, then tomorrow you can run it on more hardware with a bit of normal human algorithmic progress, and get one twice as intelligent. So even if it would take Elon years to make a breakthrough, long before those years are up you’ll have an AI that can make breakthroughs much faster.
Eliezer points out there have been some cliffs before. But supposing that in the past thousand miles, there have been three previous cliffs, “there is a huge cliff bigger than any you’ve ever seen just one mile beyond your sight” still seems to be non-default and require quite a bit of evidence. The Actual Yudkowsky-Christiano Debate, Finally All of this was just preliminaries, Eliezer and Paul taking potshots at each other from a distance. Someone finally got them together in the same [chat] room and forced them to talk directly.
July 01, 2022 · Original source
39: Eliezer Yudkowsky summarizes his case for AI risk here. Arch-AI-optimist Paul Christiano responds here.
July 15, 2022 · Original source
This is how I’ve always explained it before - and you can read other explanations like Paul Christiano’s or Vitalik Buterin’s. This post isn’t about the theory. It’s about the annoying implementation details. It may not be very interesting to people who are neither effective altruists nor institution design wonks, sorry.
July 26, 2022 · Original source
Extended far enough, this line of thinking leads to ELK (Eliciting Latent Knowledge), a technical report / contest / paradigm run by the Alignment Research Center (including familiar names like Paul Christiano).
December 28, 2022 · Original source
39: Paul Christiano - AI Alignment Is Distinct From Its Near-Term Implications. Paul is one of the giants in this field, and is pleading to people not to throw it out just because they don’t like how it’s currently being used (to prevent ChatGPT from saying politically incorrect things):
March 14, 2023 · Original source
Paul Christiano says 10 - 20%
(this is a bigger deal than its relegation to Part 5 of a list of disagreements suggests, and some people think basically everything centers around this point. Probably it deserves a post of its own; for now, accept my apologies and this link)
November 28, 2023 · Original source
The original RLHF paper was written by OpenAI’s safety team. At least two of the six authors, including lead author Paul Christiano, are self-identified effective altruists (maybe more, I’m not sure), and the original human feedbackers were random volunteers Paul got from the rationalist and effective altruist communities.
December 01, 2023 · Original source
36: Related: Paul Christiano on “responsible scaling policies” and AI regulation.
February 20, 2025 · Original source
St. Joanne of ARC had a resume so beautiful that Sam Altman, Demis Hassabis, and Elon Musk all sought her hand as employee. They became increasingly insistent that she choose one of them, and refused to take ‘no’ as an answer. She asked Paul Christiano what to do, and on his advice she called the three men together and said “I will make my decision once my simple twenty-line program finishes running”. After they agreed, she revealed that her program was calculating BusyBeaver(100), and they all admitted they were unworthy of her. She cut her hair, gave her jewelry to the poor, and joined the Alignment Research Center, where she discovered many important theorems. Some say Jane Street is named after her, although others attribute it to a St. Jane of Manhattan who is otherwise unrecorded.