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The AI Mirror book review

The AI Mirror: How to Reclaim Our Humanity in an Age of Machine ThinkingThe AI Mirror: How to Reclaim Our Humanity in an Age of Machine Thinking by Shannon Vallor
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

My fellow technologists, policymakers, educators, and education leaders wrestling with the impacts of generative AI should read Shannon Vallor’s excellent book The AI Mirror as soon as possible. In this highly readable and useful work of philosophy, the virtue ethicist Vallor calls for reclaiming our humanity in an age of machine thinking through moral wisdom and prudence.

The book starts with two organizing concepts. First, the metaphor of AI as mirror is carefully constructed to help explain how the current generation of AI technologies operates. They reflect back what is fed into them. They have no sense of the world; they inhabit no moral space. Of course, humans can’t help but anthropomorphize technologies that have human-like behaviors—projecting onto them reasoning abilities and intentions. There is a long history of this, and it’s used as a design pattern in technology to enhance usability and trustworthiness. But this is a trap. Machine thinking should not be mistaken for a machine caring about you or making moral decisions that weigh the true complexity of the world or a given, specific situation. Generative AI predicts the kinds of responses that fit the pattern of content it has been trained on.

Vallor’s other conceptual starting point comes by way of existentialist philosopher José Ortega y Gasset, who suggested that “the most basic impulse of the human personality is to be an engineer, carrying out a lifelong task of autofabrication: literally, the task of making ourselves” (p. 12). Vallor worries about how our future will be shaped if we rely on a tiny subset of humanity to design and build our AI tools—tools based on a sliver of the human experience—and we then rely on those reflections of biased data, filtered by the values of their creators, to guide society via AI-based problem-solving and decision-making.

Explaining why this is such a big problem is helped by Vallor’s use of another metaphor, “being in the space of reasons”, which describes “being in a mental position to hear, identify, offer, and evaluate reasons, typically with others” (p. 107). She uses this to contrast AI possessing knowledge with the psychological and social work necessary to make meaning through reasoning. This is not how machines think. “One of the most powerful yet dangerous aspects of complex machine learning models is that they can derive solutions to knowledge tasks in a manner that entirely bypasses this space,” writes Vallor (p. 107).

Furthermore, the “space of moral reasons” represents not only the private reflective space for working through morally challenging dilemmas to arrive at individual actions, but also the public spaces for shared moral dialogue. This is politics. As Vallor notes, “the space of moral reasons is [already] routinely threatened by social forces that make it harder for humans to be ‘at home’ together with moral thinking” (p. 109). AI threatens our moral capacity by seeming to “offer to take the hard work of thinking off our shaky human hands” in ways that appear “deceptively helpful, neutral, and apolitical” (p. 109). We are on this slippery slope toward eroding our capacity for self-government. Technology can trick us into believing we are solving our biases and injustices via machine thinking, when in fact we are reinscribing those biases and injustices with AI mirrors.

Like any mirror, humans will inevitably use AI to tell us who we are, despite their distortions. Social media algorithms do this every day. “For you” pages on TikTok reflect a mix of our choices, our unconscious behavior, and the opaque economies and input manipulation tuning the algorithm. But is this who we are? Is this who we want to be? At our fingertips, with no human deliberation required, we might casually assume the reflection we see is a fair rendering of ourselves and the world. Vallor distills this threat by writing, “when we can no longer know ourselves, we can no longer govern ourselves. In that moment, we will have surrendered our own agency, our collective human capacity for self-determination. Not because we won’t have it—but because we will not see it in the mirror” (p. 139).

One of the reasons I like Shannon Vallor and her writing is that she is not simply a critic of technology. She loves technology. She wants it to work for us. And she spends time in this book describing the ways generative AI can be useful. Large language models perform pattern recognition on data so vast it would take millennia for a human to encounter let alone comprehend, which allows us to learn things about how systems work and find information and connections beyond the reach of mere human expertise. We are already unlocking scientific discoveries with AI that serve humanity.

Vallor encourages us to reclaim “technology as a human-wielded instrument of care, responsibility, and service” (p. 217). Too much of our rhetoric around AI is about transcending or liberating us “from our frail humanity” (p. 219). Replacing ourselves or our roles in self-governance and as moral arbiters will lead to magnifying injustice, making the same mistakes again and again (e.g., racist legal proceedings, sexist health diagnoses) with greater efficiency. We could be using these technologies to interrogate our broken systems and let us fix them, rather than supercharging them. The chief threat of AI is that we will come to rely on it to make morally challenging decisions for us, and the more we do this, the more we erode our individual and collective ability to exercise our moral agency, leaving AI to govern us with a set of backward and inhumane values.

My favorite part of the book is “Chapter 6: AI and the Bootstrapping Problem.” Here, Vallor returns to her arguments in her brilliant 2016 book Technology and the Virtues (my review) and renews her call for the cultivation of technomoral virtue to help us reclaim our humanity amid the din of AI boosterism. In The AI Mirror, she directs her call to my students—the engineers and technologists who will be tasked with building and using AI technologies. I have been writing for years about the need for a renewed professional identity for engineers and technologists that fully embraces their civic responsibilities. This is what drew me to Vallor’s work originally, and it is exciting to hear our calls echo one another.

She takes issue with Silicon Valley’s emphasis on perseverance as a virtue and the technological value of efficiency. If we allow our technology creators and their products to promulgate such values, we risk dooming ourselves to a less caring, less sustainable, less just future. There are some things we should stop doing. There are some applications of AI that we should refuse. And we need virtues of humility, care, courage, and civility to guide us toward moral and political wisdom. We should no longer allow “the dominant image of technical excellence and the dominant image of moral excellence to drift apart”—”neither alone is adequate for our times” (p. 179).

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The Good-Enough Life book review

The Good-Enough LifeThe Good-Enough Life by Avram Alpert
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Greatness is a problem. As author Avram Alpert tells it, you can trace a lot of what is wrong in Western society to its obsession with greatness. We quickly discern hierarchies, trying to name the best idea, best technology, best group, best person. This cultural hang-up is a toxic ingredient in our individualism and relative misery, our poison politics, and our abuse of the planet. We desperately need some humility and willingness to embrace good-enough approaches to our lives, careers, and policies, so we can all flourish to some degree and have a chance at returning some balance to the Earth.

I found The Good-Enough Life to be an original and compelling argument deserving of our attention in this moment. It sits nicely alongside (and cites) other recent critiques that identify meritocracy as a key cause of our contemporary problems. Pulling not just from philosophy, but from history, sociology, psychology, and literature to make his argument, Alpert offers a very readable book, as far as philosophy goes.

I am particularly drawn to his argument that we lost the value of humility. Here Alpert looks to Aristotelian virtue ethics as a guide, since each virtue is defined as a mean—a balance between vices. Too much unearned confidence is vicious, as is humility that abandons any agency. We want to find just enough humility to take action on what we know, but be mindful of what we don’t know or can’t do alone. Alpert cautions us here against fully embracing Aristotle’s approach, since his classical definition of virtue is meant to differentiate great men. Magnanimous (great-souled) men, exuding virtue, were better than other men and should be idolized. Its a fine thing to strive for virtue, but we mustn’t abandon dignity for all. Once again, humans seem only to eager to find reasons to treat someone as lesser and to believe they deserve their lesser status.

Its hard to imagine a good-enough policy solution from this book. Alpert is careful not to say we must throw off capitalism and embrace socialism. Closely reading both Adam Smith and Friedrich Hayek, Alpert lays out pros and cons illustrated by history (and overconfidence) where each economic system has fallen undemocratically flat. I agree that what we need to do is aim for more democracy. Greatness chips away at egalitarianism, at equal rights. We need approaches that return us to more equal circumstances. That’s what good-enoughness offers us in Alpert’s view. Its what the social contract is meant to ensure; we each give up some of our greatness to ensure no one is poor and unprotected.

The book lacks the call to action that similar books might have in specific policy recommendations or ways to reorient your personal behavior and mindset. But I suppose when your main argument is about eschewing greatness and embracing more humility, your prescriptions should be modest.

Overall, I enjoyed reading this book and recommend it.

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Technology and the Virtues book review

Technology and the Virtues: A Philosophical Guide to a Future Worth WantingTechnology and the Virtues: A Philosophical Guide to a Future Worth Wanting by Shannon Vallor
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Shannon Vallor’s Technology and the Virtues is the best book on technology ethics. It is not a practical guide to ethical decision-making in technology. It won’t tell you what to do given a specific dilemma. Instead, it’s much deeper—a careful philosophical argument for a global framework for virtue ethics that meaningfully engages with the entwinement of contemporary technology and civilization. If you want a learn how to work toward human flourishing in the age of AI, gene editing, etc., this will tell you what capacities to work on and how they can help you ask better questions and work with others to build good sociotechnical futures.

The first part of the book makes the argument for a shared set of ethical ideas across virtue traditions in Buddhism, Confucianism, and Western (Aristotelian) philosophy. This allows Vallor to argue that we can conceive a global ethical framework to address technologies that are global in scope. These are densest academic chapters of the book. But they establish some important concepts like “moral attention,” which help us understand how the “technomoral” virtues, eventually defined in Chapter 6, work.

Building on the classical virtue traditions, Vallor identifies 12 virtues for the 21st century: Honesty, Self-Control, Humility, Justice, Courage, Empathy, Care, Civility, Flexibility, Perspective, Magnanimity, and Technomoral Wisdom. Some of these are familiar virtues with definitions updated for the times. Others are new, like Care, which embraces feminist care ethics. And some do not mean what their common word definitions would indicate. For instance, the technomoral virtue of Civility is a “more robust form of cosmopolitan civic-mindedness, a reliably and intelligently expressed disposition to value communal ethical life in a global technosocial context and to act accordingly.”

The last section of the book examines four technological domains—social media, surveillance, robots, and human enhancement technology—and how we should use the technomoral virtues to navigate their ethical complexities and find paths toward designing, using, and regulating the technologies to achieve global human flourishing. Although the book came out in 2016, Vallor’s examinations of social media and artificial intelligence are still relevant and compelling. She concludes the book by discussing human enhancement technologies like gene editing because it forces us to literally ask: What is human flourishing? What is precious about humanity? What defines human dignity? She calls this “Knowing what to wish for” and argues that these fundamental questions require our collective technomoral Wisdom—the supreme virtue of applying our various cultivated virtues to good ends.

In my own research and pedagogy on ethical responsibilities of engineers and technologists, I have concluded that some version of cultivated virtue is necessary to ensure we have folks building our technologies with eyes wide open, appropriate humility, and a civic-mindedness that transcends narrow perspectives and economic assumptions. If you care about this, you should read this book. If you are interested in what it takes to be virtuous in the 21st century, you should read this book. Highly recommended!

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How Infrastructure Works book review

How Infrastructure Works: Inside the Systems That Shape Our WorldHow Infrastructure Works: Inside the Systems That Shape Our World by Deb Chachra
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

This is a beautiful crossover science and technology studies (STS) book. It speaks to scholars by offering several novel descriptions and frameworks of infrastructure as sociotechnical systems and introduces the concept of “infrastructural citizenship” at the end. For public interest readers, those academic ideas are made accessible thanks to accessible stories covering the history and context of specific examples of “charismatic megastructures” and the ways they touch us personally. The author Deb Chachra makes infrastructure helpfully human-scale by presenting her own connections to infrastructure in autobiographical vignettes. Her visit to the Dinorwig Power Station in Wales is a standout example. If you are a fan of the podcast 99% Invisible, as I am, you can imagine such stories as excellent episodes.

There are two ideas in the book that changed how I see the world. The first is that “energy is the currency of the material world” (p. 40), and we have an opportunity with renewable energy sources to think not in terms of scarce energy but abundant energy, and address the fact that the material we have to work with is finite (Earth is essentially a closed system of matter). People need energy to survive: food, heating/cooling, mobility, etc. Infrastructure systems generate and deliver energy and also mediate the ways energy and power can be accessed and used. Humanity’s energy consumption has been growing tremendously in recent decades. Our production of energy has relied on finite materials, primarily fossil fuels, and we have produced pollution that corrupts other material resources. We must be stewards of those finite resources, and we have that opportunity if we harness the full potential of renewable energy, which is dramatically more than conceivable consumption when you account for all sunlight hitting the Earth’s surface.

My other favorite idea comes from the metaphor of the “Black Start” (pp. 200–201), which is an emergency system for generating power and getting things online when there is a blackout of all the conventional power generation systems. Chachra argues that fossil fuels, like coal and crude oil, were humanity’s “black start”—”a transition phase.” They enabled our rapid advances in technology and society, “[lifting] us out of darkness, literally and metaphorically, giving us the time and resources to create our global, connected, highly cooperative, technological civilization.” And now that we are at this point, able to invent renewable energy technologies, it’s our duty to transcend “the pollution and inefficiency of our black start.”

The book’s title is punchy, but it would be more accurate if it read How Infrastructure Should Work. Chachra is really making a normative argument through her chapters. Rather than being overly concerned with how infrastructure works technically, she is really trying to describe the social, political, historical, and economic contexts that produce certain infrastructure and also mediate how it works and what it can do. The book is also future-oriented, taking stock of our current infrastructure, whether it serves us well or not, and imagining the future we should be building together. In Chapter 10, “Rethinking the Ultrastructure,” Chachra enumerates 6 actionable principles for new infrastructure that distill several of the key insights of the book:

1. Plan for Abundant Energy and Finite Materials
2. Design for Resilience
3. Build for Flexibility
4. Move Toward an Ethics of Care
5. Recognize, Prioritize, and Defend Nonmonetary Benefits
6. Make It Public

The concluding chapter on “Infrastructural Citizenship” is particularly exciting to me as a scholar of citizenship and civic engagement. Chachra defines it as the “idea of being in an ongoing relationship with others simply by virtue of having bodies that exist in the world and which share common needs […] it carries with it the responsibility to sustainably steward common-pool resources, including the environment itself, so that future communities can support themselves and each other so they all can thrive” (p. 276). This form of citizenship is well aligned with my own writing on civic professionalism in engineering, but it dramatically expands the scope of accounting for the public interest: thinking locally and globally simultaneously and imagining our distant descendants and the Earth we want to leave for others.

Confession: I’m biased. Deb Chachra is a colleague of mine on the faculty of Olin College of Engineering and longtime friend. I observed her develop some of these ideas in earlier writing and a course she taught on Infrastructure Studies for first year students. And I believe the book is truly great. I am impressed by how accessible she makes her ideas and see the value of the work as a scholar.

I unabashedly recommend this book!

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