All That Friction
+ A philosopher and an Anthropic founder talk AI
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AI, Human Nature, and the Humans We Want to Be
What do we risk overlooking when we treat AI primarily as a technology problem rather than a social and philosophical one? As AI becomes more capable, what aspects of being human will become even more important to cultivate?
These are a couple of questions I asked Samuel Kimbriel, Founder and Director of Philosophy & Society at Aspen Institute, ahead of his conversation next week with Anthropic’s Jack Clark. His responses, which include the following, are part of a longer interview on the Aspen Institute blog.
We need space to argue about what humans are and what it means to live full, deep, vivacious lives rather than small and cramped ones. The question about AI is whether we are going to be able to find a deep enough visions of human nature, such that the technology ends up fitting and, in fact, facilitating those deepest human capacities.
To make that concrete with regard to education—does AI replace the difficulty of thinking, and the confidence that comes through working through that difficulty? Does it make possible newer modes of challenge in which the restless human capacity for curiosity or judgment can actually grow? Or does it enfeeble our capacities—lulling us into a kind of well-fed slumber in which we don’t actually have to develop such resilience or agency?
I’m really looking forward to this event and will share some stuff here after the talk. In the meantime, go and read our full conversation over on the Aspen Institute site.
All that Friction
There’s a lot of talk these days about friction. There’s an idea that we need annoying, difficult situations in our lives to be better adjusted humans. Our phones, technology, and everything are making us soft. Our devices make it too easy. AI makes it too easy. When everything is too easy, once something is hard or difficult, the brain can’t manage. It gives up.
Friction is good. Waiting in line without looking at your phone is good. Going to college and doing the homework is good. Studying for the exam is good. Reading a long book? Great thing. All this friction makes us smarter because that potato inside our skulls is getting a little workout. Without it, the potato softens and starts growing sprouts. Eventually, it turns into compost.
But here’s the thing. What happens when the whole world feels like friction? Our whole existence is friction. Hiking up the subway stairs, averting your eyes at the guy who looks like he needs mental help. He’s screaming. Hustling to bring your kids to that birthday party. Reading about the layoffs, the people who can’t find jobs. The wars. The incompetence in the government. The anger. All that noise is friction for the mind. Bad friction.
When the potato is overcome with this kind of friction, how do you find the good kind again? That’s where I’m at. In my heart, I know difficult situations make us stronger. I learned resilience and self-reliance on a 30-day hiking trip in Alaska, hiking 20 miles a day above the Arctic Circle. I learned what the body and mind are capable of when they work together.
But these days, with everything going on, this idea of rewilding yourself and embracing friction seems like a luxury. I’m not an optimizer, so I can’t tell you how to get through this, but I can tell you a couple of things I’m doing right now.
Identifying the good friction and separating it from the bad. When it comes down to it, the good friction is voluntary, and the bad friction is foisted on us. We have to make some tasks for ourselves to feel the reward. Maybe it’s making dinner. For me, it usually involves tools and little projects. I spent a year looking at the peeling toe kick in the kitchen of my new apartment and finally did something about it a couple weeks ago. It took two nights to make them all white again. No one else will notice, but it’s not pissing me off anymore and I feel good about myself, like a productive human who can do more than sit on a computer all day. Find the tasks and the projects and do them, no matter how small. I have so much respect for people who are constantly feathering the nest. I get it.
Giving myself permission to take it local. Very local. Turning off NPR. Saying goodbye to the NYT for a bit. Picking up a magazine, but really, looking instead for a book written in a different time. I just read Warlock, which somehow felt like it could have been written yesterday. It made me feel connected to eternal human struggles and foibles, to a man in midlife losing his mind in the best possible way. It also made me laugh and took me to the woods of Michigan and to Key West. I’ll remember that much longer than another article about the reflecting pool in DC.
Sweating it off. If I’m not getting my blood pumping at least three days a week, all bets are off. Long walks don’t count.
These are just blowoff valves, though. The real truth is that when we’re drowning in the kind of friction we feel today, small things won’t fix it. You can’t optimize your way out of it. You just have to hike through it.