My blog about philosophy, coding, and anything else that interests me.
Edwin de Wit’s Comments
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Yes, you bring up a good point that in-the-moment awareness is a better time to detect what’s going on. I do think it’s tricky to know exactly what kind of “push-through” scenario you’re facing. There’s this idea of a Goldilocks zone of challenge that leads to flow (or fun) —where you are in flow when it’s right at the edge of your competence. Too far above or below your skill level, and the challenge turns into conflict. Staying in that flow state without some degree of nudging or self-coercion to guide you back does seem difficult (but not impossible).
Thank you again for sharing that definition—it's a great one, and I agree with it. When I first started writing this reply, I was trying to justify micro-coercions in service of genuine long-term goals. While that’s probably how many of us operate—and I know I’m guilty of it—it also carries a troubling implication: that certain inner conflicts are things we must just push through.
After some reflection, I don’t think I agree with that. I tend to self-coerce reflexively, forcing my attention toward what I should be doing instead of trying to understand the conflicting impulse in the moment. Justifying coercion for the sake of a greater goal feels like a crude, imperfect solution—and there must be better ways to handle these inner tensions.
Through some experimentation, I’ve noticed that simply acknowledging the impulse—without acting on it—often reduces the tension more than expected. Maybe that’s because the conflict is created by the should-impulse itself, rather than the competing desire. And even when the other impulses remain, finding a common preference—or just taking a break—can be more effective, and less harmful, than pushing through.
This has been a calming and empowering insight for me, and I’ve been trying to remind myself of it whenever I catch myself drifting or self-coercing. Your writing—and Lulie Tallot’s—has been especially helpful, and I’d be keen to read more if you ever decide to write further on the subject.
Great article! I’m curious exactly when we can consider something self-coercion. My interpretation of Schwarzenegger’s philosophy of “needing a vision” is primarily about establishing a sufficiently meaningful problem that you’ll enjoy working towards most of the time. Even when there are road bumps along the way, that problem is still rewarding enough that you choose to keep working despite not feeling like it in the moment. I’d posit that it only becomes self-coercion when the vision you’re working toward no longer genuinely interests you—not necessarily when you push through a bad day. The litmus test could be to see whether, after pushing through, you feel good about it or not. What do you think?
Hi Dennis, Impressive theory! A lot resonates and I've been enjoying the book as well. I do have a couple of parts of the theory that I'm struggling to understand:
1. The Relationship Between Knowledge and Functions
My current understanding is that knowledge (a theory) is information with a potential causative effect. Examples include conscious beliefs, feedback from reinforcement learning, memes, feelings, intuitions, emotions, preferences, desires, internal state signals, and external stimuli. I see knowledge being used by our minds in two broad ways:
As part of a function. If we define a function as consisting of inputs (initial conditions), an expression, and outputs (which may include side effects or actions), then knowledge comes into play in the following ways:
As inputs (initial conditions) for functions.
Within expressions, shaping logic such as: If X complies with theory Y, then Z is true (which I believe is also referred to as a "policy" or "criterion" in the book).
To compare theories and identify contradictions in the Popperian sense. I recognize that “comparison” is itself a function—checking whether both theories are true, and if not, identifying a problem.
From this, I conclude that knowledge on its own is not a function, but for it to be enacted (and replicated), it must be embedded within one. Does this align with your perspective? I’ve come across passages in the book that clash with this, such as:
"We do not need to carefully examine different kinds of knowledge such as emotions, hopes, goals, desires, and preferences to conclude that they are all functions: we know this from the universality of computation. The brain is a computer, so everything it runs must be a function (that includes the ever so elusive qualia)."
2. Persistence of Non-Embedded Knowledge
This question depends on whether we indeed see knowledge as different from functions. If we do, then some non-ephemeral knowledge might exist without being embedded in a function, enacted, or replicated.
For example, let’s say I firmly believe Cats is the best movie ever. What sustains this delusion inside me if it’s not part of a functional self-replication process?
3. Composition of the Function Pool
What exactly does the function pool contain in your view? Does it include:
Run-time generated thoughts?
Genetically determined functions?
Acquired memetic functions?
Reinforcement learning functions and their results?
Or are some of these functions located elsewhere?
4. Competition Within the Function Pool
What prevents critical functions—such as primal hunger instincts or the autonomic nervous system—from being outcompeted by highly effective self-replicating functions?
This is especially relevant for functions that remain mostly dormant and rarely execute, such as a fight-or-flight response. If they don’t get triggered often, and thus don’t replicate regularly, what ensures their persistence?
5. Genetically Determined Functions in Humans vs. Animals
Do you see a fundamental difference between how a dog and a human experience and act on hunger?
Are both experiencing a conflict between two competing theories, or is that a uniquely human capability? I wonder if a dog simply has a hunger-alleviation function that is blindly triggered when hunger arises, or if they also have some ability to evaluate conflicting theories.
(P.S. I align with the view that humans are non-deterministic, while dogs are deterministic.)
6. The Evolution of Function Replication
I’m curious about the early evolution of function replication. In the book, you mention that some functions do not have side effects (actions), such as general relativity.
What exactly do you mean by that? If a function has no side effects, what is its output?
Wouldn’t it still invoke an action of some kind? If it does, then it would lead me to two possible replication mechanisms:
Replicating the output function itself.
Replicating the physical action that the function’s output produces.
I believe the book primarily focuses on (1), drawing a parallel with the RNA world hypothesis. However, I struggle with that theory because I can't show how an output of a function would make a copy of the original function. It could be an input for another function, trigger a loop, or cause a chain reaction. But for me, it's hard to imagine how a function would directly produce an imperfect copy of itself.
On the other hand, you also hint at the alternative approach (2) in the book:
"If your program can copy a function’s implementation without reading it, based solely on inputs and outputs it tries out and perhaps some clues about its implementation, you may be on your way to building AGI."
This raises an interesting possibility: Could early function replication have been driven by parsing and mimicking actions rather than directly copying functions?
If so, this aligns with the hypothesis of behavior parsing and memetic evolution. It’s conceivable that our ancestors evolved self-replication mechanisms in the same way that animals developed meme-parsing abilities—to improve survival at runtime relative to competing gene-machines.
Perhaps the earliest function replication was not self-replication but rather an attempt by another part of the body or mind to parse and reverse-engineer an action into a new function. If so, this could imply that function replication initially emerged as a function-copying function rather than a self-replicating function. Perhaps this is part of the meta-algorithm itself?
Yes, you bring up a good point that in-the-moment awareness is a better time to detect what’s going on. I do think it’s tricky to know exactly what kind of “push-through” scenario you’re facing. There’s this idea of a Goldilocks zone of challenge that leads to flow (or fun) —where you are in flow when it’s right at the edge of your competence. Too far above or below your skill level, and the challenge turns into conflict. Staying in that flow state without some degree of nudging or self-coercion to guide you back does seem difficult (but not impossible).
Thank you again for sharing that definition—it's a great one, and I agree with it. When I first started writing this reply, I was trying to justify micro-coercions in service of genuine long-term goals. While that’s probably how many of us operate—and I know I’m guilty of it—it also carries a troubling implication: that certain inner conflicts are things we must just push through.
After some reflection, I don’t think I agree with that. I tend to self-coerce reflexively, forcing my attention toward what I should be doing instead of trying to understand the conflicting impulse in the moment. Justifying coercion for the sake of a greater goal feels like a crude, imperfect solution—and there must be better ways to handle these inner tensions.
Through some experimentation, I’ve noticed that simply acknowledging the impulse—without acting on it—often reduces the tension more than expected. Maybe that’s because the conflict is created by the should-impulse itself, rather than the competing desire. And even when the other impulses remain, finding a common preference—or just taking a break—can be more effective, and less harmful, than pushing through.
This has been a calming and empowering insight for me, and I’ve been trying to remind myself of it whenever I catch myself drifting or self-coercing. Your writing—and Lulie Tallot’s—has been especially helpful, and I’d be keen to read more if you ever decide to write further on the subject.
Great article! I’m curious exactly when we can consider something self-coercion. My interpretation of Schwarzenegger’s philosophy of “needing a vision” is primarily about establishing a sufficiently meaningful problem that you’ll enjoy working towards most of the time. Even when there are road bumps along the way, that problem is still rewarding enough that you choose to keep working despite not feeling like it in the moment. I’d posit that it only becomes self-coercion when the vision you’re working toward no longer genuinely interests you—not necessarily when you push through a bad day. The litmus test could be to see whether, after pushing through, you feel good about it or not. What do you think?
Hi Dennis, Impressive theory! A lot resonates and I've been enjoying the book as well. I do have a couple of parts of the theory that I'm struggling to understand:
1. The Relationship Between Knowledge and Functions
My current understanding is that knowledge (a theory) is information with a potential causative effect. Examples include conscious beliefs, feedback from reinforcement learning, memes, feelings, intuitions, emotions, preferences, desires, internal state signals, and external stimuli. I see knowledge being used by our minds in two broad ways:
As part of a function. If we define a function as consisting of inputs (initial conditions), an expression, and outputs (which may include side effects or actions), then knowledge comes into play in the following ways:
To compare theories and identify contradictions in the Popperian sense. I recognize that “comparison” is itself a function—checking whether both theories are true, and if not, identifying a problem.
From this, I conclude that knowledge on its own is not a function, but for it to be enacted (and replicated), it must be embedded within one. Does this align with your perspective? I’ve come across passages in the book that clash with this, such as:
2. Persistence of Non-Embedded Knowledge
This question depends on whether we indeed see knowledge as different from functions. If we do, then some non-ephemeral knowledge might exist without being embedded in a function, enacted, or replicated.
For example, let’s say I firmly believe Cats is the best movie ever. What sustains this delusion inside me if it’s not part of a functional self-replication process?
3. Composition of the Function Pool
What exactly does the function pool contain in your view? Does it include:
Or are some of these functions located elsewhere?
4. Competition Within the Function Pool
What prevents critical functions—such as primal hunger instincts or the autonomic nervous system—from being outcompeted by highly effective self-replicating functions?
This is especially relevant for functions that remain mostly dormant and rarely execute, such as a fight-or-flight response. If they don’t get triggered often, and thus don’t replicate regularly, what ensures their persistence?
5. Genetically Determined Functions in Humans vs. Animals
Do you see a fundamental difference between how a dog and a human experience and act on hunger?
Are both experiencing a conflict between two competing theories, or is that a uniquely human capability? I wonder if a dog simply has a hunger-alleviation function that is blindly triggered when hunger arises, or if they also have some ability to evaluate conflicting theories.
(P.S. I align with the view that humans are non-deterministic, while dogs are deterministic.)
6. The Evolution of Function Replication
I’m curious about the early evolution of function replication. In the book, you mention that some functions do not have side effects (actions), such as general relativity.
What exactly do you mean by that? If a function has no side effects, what is its output?
Wouldn’t it still invoke an action of some kind? If it does, then it would lead me to two possible replication mechanisms:
I believe the book primarily focuses on (1), drawing a parallel with the RNA world hypothesis. However, I struggle with that theory because I can't show how an output of a function would make a copy of the original function. It could be an input for another function, trigger a loop, or cause a chain reaction. But for me, it's hard to imagine how a function would directly produce an imperfect copy of itself.
On the other hand, you also hint at the alternative approach (2) in the book:
This raises an interesting possibility: Could early function replication have been driven by parsing and mimicking actions rather than directly copying functions?
If so, this aligns with the hypothesis of behavior parsing and memetic evolution. It’s conceivable that our ancestors evolved self-replication mechanisms in the same way that animals developed meme-parsing abilities—to improve survival at runtime relative to competing gene-machines.
Perhaps the earliest function replication was not self-replication but rather an attempt by another part of the body or mind to parse and reverse-engineer an action into a new function. If so, this could imply that function replication initially emerged as a function-copying function rather than a self-replicating function. Perhaps this is part of the meta-algorithm itself?