Before rationality- a snapshot

This post is roughly analogous to the “before” photos that you see people use to demonstrate the effects of dieting, except I want to use it a sort of time capsule to compare my conception of myself as a thinker now to that conception in [some] years time, when I am further along in my studies of rationality and metarationality.

To contextualise the picture of a flabby, sad looking brain that I take today, I should probably describe my exploration of those concepts so far.

Rationality first: I study in a field that is somewhat based on principles of rationality but in terms of day to day thinking relies much more on pattern recognition and intuition based on experience than genuine reasoning from first principles. I’d like to start integrating Bayesian thinking into my study but I haven’t yet found a really good layman’s introduction.

In my own time, I’m involved in effective altruism, a field which highly prizes rational thinking, and as part of that I attend a weekly discussion group which explores, amongst other things, the philosophical basis of altruism and reason. In the last few months, I’ve also got really into Scott Alexander; his ability to imagine alternatives to systems and norms that are so widely accepted we don’t even realise we’re using them is incredibly impressive, and he’s also convinced me of the utility of using extreme hypothetical scenarios to help us solve problems in the actual real world. More and more of my sentences these days start with “I can/​can’t imagine a world in which…”, which is kind of a fun way to think about problems or values.

In terms of metarationality, I don’t think I’ve really even scratched the most superficial surface, but I also think I’ve progressed significantly since this time a few years ago. I had to study some very basic epistemology at school but I really didn’t enjoy it- I couldn’t really see how mulling over whether it was possible to know anything made any difference to anything I could practically achieve or change. I think it did affect me though, as compared to my peers I think I am somewhat more likely to ask how we know the things we’re taught.

It’s kind of weird that we can think and know without knowing how. I don’t think consciously think about walking anymore, but I guess at some point I did; thinking feels like the opposite, where I’ve just always been doing it and only now started to think about how. I get the sense that, as with walking, thinking about it too much increases the likelihood of tripping up, but I hope it will also take me in some interesting new directions.

From a cognitive point of view, I guess I see myself as basically a kind of information-processing machine, taking sensory input from the world and using it to create new and adapt existing models about the world, which I can then use to make predictions and instruct my behaviour. One of the valuable things we explored in this epistemology class was the idea that we all think and know in models, using differently detailed models at different times. Even this incredibly basic idea, in my experience, is under-utilised in science teaching- we get taught in a way that suggests “this is the way things are”, rather than “this is one way of thinking about the world which has a) a historical and social context and b) obvious restrictions or areas of deviation from observed experience”.

Given that lots of the discrepancies between our models and the real, observed world probably come from applying inappropriate models rather than wrong ones, this seems like a worthwhile idea. A clearer explanation of this might be that a 1:250,000 map is a correct representation of a certain area of land, but it might not be the right one to use when navigating in a snowstorm- in this case it’s not that the model itself is bad, wrong, or internally inconsistent, it’s just that it’s not being correctly applied.

The machine which makes and uses these models needs to be maintained, with things like sleep, food, exercise, and (especially) other people. It’s quite an unreliable machine; it’s processing power and ability to make good predictions about the world (and good decisions about it’s own maintenance) is highly variable. which is aggravating; on the other hand, it has a fairly un-machinelike ability to fix and in some ways improve itself.

To this end, I have a rough plan for my continued exploration of metarationality, and in particular the weaknesses and limitations of the highly positivist mechanisms that my field and culture rely on, to the point that we don’t even know we’re doing it.

I want to continue to explore the LessWrong sequences and the Slatestarcodex archive, and eventually meaningness.com; but I also want to learn about these ideas from a more traditional perspective as well, like through some university-level philosophy course; a continuing theme of my metacognitive growth in the past few years has been finding that basically none of my ideas are original and that, in almost all cases, some bearded guy in Ancient Greece has already completely destroyed my position. I think a weakness of the “New Rationalist” community, as embodied by places like LessWrong, is probably a lack of traditional, structured education that means they end up re-inventing the wheel or, less seriously, using their own idiosyncratic terms for ideas that are more widely known by something else, limiting the ability of outsiders to debate and critique their ideas and creating a nearly incesteuous culture of in-jokes and knowing nods (I’m not saying that this is how things are, or indeed that it would be a bad thing- cliques, in-jokes and incredibly niche references are all incredibly fun- but such a setup wouldn’t lend itself particularly well to actual intellectual progress).

By approaching the problem of what, how, and why we think from both traditional and more autodidactic angles (using my actually-not-that-useful superpower of being able to read really fast), I’m hoping to give myself a more broad and stable knowledge base to work with, and also the ability to sound impressive to people who aren’t members of tiny internet communities.

The other risk is of course completely losing my own grip on reality and sanity; different people (or machines) seem to have different tolerances of uncertainty, and I know that historically mine is relatively very low. Losing my ability to feel certainty about the most foundational aspects of my existence, and even about certainty itself, might have a highly deleterious impact on my emotional and psychological wellbeing- I’m sure that, like me, lots of people have experienced reading things that literally make their head spin and forced them to step away from the screen for a few minutes just to feel stable again. Mitigating this risk is largely by that stepping-away policy, engaging with other people and in activities like exercise that don’t really care what your epistemic confidence in them is- running really far hurts whether you think you exist or not. I’ve also found the “Replacing Guilt” series on mindingourway.com to be grounding, calming and encouraging in a way that no other “self-help”-y resource has really managed before, so I’d encourage you to check that out.

Of course, there’s a non-zero probability that this is the last thing I ever write on the matter and none of this is ever worth anything, but I’ve enjoyed writing it so that’s probably enough in and of itself.

NB this piece was crossposted from my personal blog, which can be found at jospus.com.