Book Review: The Precipice

I have titled my annual blog post summarizing where I donate my charitable budget as “How can we use our resources to help others the most?” This is the fundamental question of the Effective Altruism movement which The Precipice‘s author, Toby Ord, helped found. For a while, Toby Ord focused on figuring out how to fight global poverty, doing the most good for the worst off people in the world. Now, he is focusing on the long term future and existential risk.

The Precipice is fantastic. It’s incredibly well written, engaging, and approachable. It covers a lot of ground from why we should care about the world, what risks humanity faces in the future, how we might think about tackling those risks, and what the future might look like if we succeed.

The Precipice eloquently interweaves fairly philosophical arguments with more empirical analysis about the sources of existential risk and tries to statistically bound them. The book discusses a pretty concerning topic of the potential end of humanity, but it does so with an eminently reasonable approach. The complexities of philosophy, science, probability, epidemiology, and more all are brought into the narrative, but made easily digestible for any reader. I honestly wish Toby Ord could teach me about everything, his writing was so clear and engaging.

The main discussion is never overwhelming with technical details, but if you ever find a point interesting, even the footnotes are amazing. At one point I came up with a counterpoint to Ord’s position, wrote that down in my notes, only to find that the next several paragraphs addressed it in its entirety, and there was actually a full appendix going into more detail. Honestly, this will be less of a book review and more of a summary with a couple final thoughts, because I think this book is not only excellent, but its content is perhaps the most important thing you can read right now. You are welcome to read the rest of this blog post, but if you have found this compelling so far, feel free to stop reading and order Toby Ord’s book posthaste.

Existential Risk

The consequences of 90% of humans on Earth dying would be pretty terrible, and given our relatively poor response to recent events, perhaps we should better explore other potential catastrophes and how we can avoid them. But The Precipice goes further. Instead of 90% of humans dying, what happens if 100% of us die out? Certainly that’s strictly worse with 100>90, but in fact these outcomes are far apart in magnitude: if all humans die out today, then all future humans never get to exist.

There’s no reason we know of that would stop our descendants from continuing to live for billions of years, eventually colonizing the stars, and allowing for the existence of trillions of beings. Whatever it is that you enjoy about humanity, whether that’s art, engineering, or the search for truth, that can’t continue if there aren’t any humans. Full stop. As far as we know, we’re the only intelligence in the universe. If we screw up and end humanity before we get off this planet, then we don’t just end it for ourselves but perhaps we end all intelligent life for the remaining trillions of years of the universe.

Even though I was aware of the broad thesis of the book, I was continually impressed with just how many different angles Ord explores. He early on notes that while we might normally think of a catastrophic extinction event, like an asteroid impact, as the thing we are keen on avoiding, in fact there are several scenarios that would be similarly devastating. For example, if humanity were to suffer some calamity that did not kill everyone but left civilization stuck at pre-industrial technology, that would also preclude humanity from living for trillions of years and colonizing the stars. A 1984 style global totalitarian state would also halt humanity’s progress, perhaps permanently.

Ord also discusses the fundamental moral philosophy implications of his thesis. The natural pitch relies on utilitarian arguments as stated above; if humanity fails to reach its potential, this not only harms any humans currently alive but all future generations. Other arguments against extinction include a duty to our past and what we owe to our ancestors, the rights of those future generations who don’t get to decide for themselves, and the simple fact that we would lose everything we currently value.

The book categorizes three types of risk: natural, anthropogenic, and future risks. Natural includes asteroids, supervolcanoes, and stellar explosions. These are pretty diverse topics, and Ord is quite informative. The story about asteroid risk was particularly fascinating to me. In the 90s, the relatively new discovery of the dinosaurs’ demise led Congress to task NASA with identifying all the largest near-Earth asteroids to see if they pose a threat to Earth. They allocated some money, and NASA tracked every near-Earth asteroid over 10 km in length, and determined that none pose a threat in the next century. They then moved on to 1 km asteroids and have now mapped the vast majority of those as well. The total cost of the program was also quite small for the information provided — only $70 million.

This is one of the rare successes in existential risk so far. Unfortunately, as Ord points out several times in the book, current foundational existential risk research at present is no more than $50 million a year. Given the stakes, this is deeply troubling. As context, Ord points out that the global ice cream market is about $60 billion, some 1000x larger.

I’ll skip the other natural risks here, but the book bounds natural risk quite skillfully; humans have been around for about 200,000 years, so it seems natural risk can’t be much higher than 0.05% per century. Even then, we’d expect our technologically advanced civilization to be more robust to these risks than we have been in the past. Many species survived even the largest mass extinctions, and none of them had integrated circuits, written language, or the scientific method.

That doesn’t mean that all risk has declined over time. On the contrary, according to Ord, the vast majority of existential risk is anthropogenic in origin. Nuclear weapons and climate change dominate this next section. It’s remarkable just how callous early tests of nuclear weapons really were. Ord recounts how there were two major calculations undertaken by a committee of Berkeley physicists before the Manhattan project got underway in earnest. One was whether the temperature of a sustained nuclear reaction would ignite the entire atmosphere in a conflagration (the committee believed it would not). The other was whether Lithium-7 would contribute to a thermonuclear explosion (it was believed it would not). It turns out that Lithium-7 can contribute to a thermonuclear explosion as was found out when the Castle Bravo test was about three times larger than expected, irradiating some 15 nearby islands.

It turned out the other calculation was correct, and the first nuclear explosion in 1945 did not ignite the atmosphere. But clearly, given the failure of the other calculation, the level of confidence here was not high enough to warrant the risk of ending all life on Earth.

Luckily, current risk from nuclear weapons and climate change that would wipe out humanity seems quite low (although not zero). Even a nuclear winter scenario or high sea level rise would not make the entire Earth uninhabitable, and it is likely humans could adapt, although the loss of life would still be quite catastrophic.

Instead, the bulk of the risk identified by Toby Ord is in future technologies which grow more capable every year. These include engineered pandemics from our increasingly powerful and cheap control over DNA synthesis, as well as artificial intelligence from our increasingly powerful and integrated computer systems.

The threat of engineered pandemics is particularly prescient as I write this in August 2020 where SARS-CoV-2 is still sweeping the world. Ord notes that even given quite positive assumptions about whether anyone would want to destroy the world with a virus, if the cost is cheap enough, it only takes one crazy death cult to pull the trigger. Even an accidental creation of a superweapon is a serious risk, as production is cheap and there are many examples of accidental leakages of bioweapons from government laboratories in the past. Unfortunately, we are also woefully unprepared on this front. The Biological Weapons Convention had a budget of $1.4 million in 2019, which Ord notes is less than most McDonald’s franchises.

Risks from unaligned artificial intelligence are similarly related to technical advancements. Ord notes that artificial intelligence has had some impressive achievements recently from photo and face identification to translation and language processing to games like Go and Starcraft. As computer hardware gets better and more specific, and as we discover more efficient algorithmic applications of artificial intelligence, we should expect this trend to continue. It therefore seems plausible that sometime in the future, perhaps this century, we will see artificial intelligence exceed human ability in a wide variety of tasks and ability. The Precipice notes that, were this to happen with some sort of general intelligence, humanity would no longer be the most intelligent species on the planet. Unless we have some foresight and strategies in place, having a superior intelligence with it own goals could be considerably dangerous.

Unfortunately, we are already quite poor at getting complex algorithms to achieve complicated goals without causing harm (just take a look at the controversy around social media and misinformation, or social media and copyright algorithms). The use of deep learning neural networks in more high stakes environments means we could be facing opaque algorithmic outcomes from artificial intelligence that we don’t know if we’ve correctly programmed to achieve the goals we actually want. Throw in the fact that human civilizational goals are multifaceted and highly debated, and there is a great deal of mistakes that could occur between what humans “want” and what a superior intelligence attempts to accomplish. While Toby Ord doesn’t think we should shut down AI research, he does suggest we take this source of risk more seriously by devoting resources to addressing it and working on the problem.

So What Do We Do?

I’ve spent a lot of time on enumerating risks because I think they are a concrete way to get someone who is unfamiliar with existential risk to think about these ideas. But Ord isn’t writing a book of alarmism just to freak out his audience. Instead, starting with the high levels of risk and adding the extremely negative consequences, Ord details how we might begin to tackle these problems. Unprecedented risks come with modeling challenges: if an existential risk cannot by definition, have ever occurred, how can we know how likely it is? We have to acknowledge this limitation, use what incomplete knowledge we can have access to (number of near misses is a good start), and start building institutions to focus on solving these hard problems.

International coordination is a major factor here. Many of these problems are collective action problems. Humanity has found ways around collective action issues with international institutions before (nuclear arms treaties), and so we need to replicate those successes. Of course, we can’t establish new or better institutions unless we get broad agreement that these issues are major problems that need to be solved. Obviously, that’s why Ord wrote this book, but it’s also why I feel compelled to blog about it as well. More on that momentarily.

In this section of the book, The Precipice outlines preliminary directions we can work towards to improve our chances of avoiding existential catastrophes. These include obvious things like increasing the funding for the Biological Weapons Convention, but also discussions on how to think about technological progress, since much of our future existential risk rises as technology improves. We also obviously need more research on existential risk generally.

Finally, I want to wrap up discussing Appendix F, which is all of Ord’s general policy recommendations put into one place. As policy prioritization has long been an interest of mine, I found Toby Ord’s answer to be quite fascinating. I wrote a post a few months back discussing the highest impact policies actually being discussed in American politics in this election cycle. Comparing it to Toby Ord’s recommendations, the overlap is essentially nonexistent except for some points on climate change, which most democrats support such as the U.S. rejoining the Paris Climate Agreement. There’s also a point about leveraging the WHO to better respond to pandemics, and given Trump has essentially done the exact opposite by removing U.S. funding for the WHO, I suppose I should at least include that as relevant policy debate.

I want to emphasize that Ord has 9 pages of policy ideas, and many of them are likely uncontroversial (improve our understanding of long period comets, have the Biological Weapons Convention have a real budget), but our political system is failing to even address these challenges, and I think it’s important to highlight that.

There is room for optimism; human knowledge is improved by discussion and research, and that includes reading and blogging. If you find these ideas interesting, or even more broadly, if you think there are valuable things in the world, one of the most effective activities you could do this year might be to just read The Precipice. Even without the weight of humanity, the concepts, problem solving, and prose are worth the read all by themselves. This is definitely by favorite book I’ve read this year, and I’ve skipped over summarizing whole sections in the interests of time. Ord even has a whole uplifting chapter about humanity’s future potential, and is overall quite positive. Please attribute any gloominess on this topic to me and not the book.

And if you do read this book, it also just makes for intriguing conversation. I couldn’t help but tell people about some of the ideas here (“are supervolcanoes a national security threat?” ), and the approach is just wonderfully different, novel, and cross-disciplinary.

For more on this, but slightly short of reading the whole book, I also recommend Toby Ord’s excellent interview on the 80000 Hours Podcast. On that page you can also find a host of awesome links to related research and ideas about existential risk. I’ll also link Slate Star Codex’s longer review of The Precipice, and places to buy it.

We’re All State Capacity Libertarians Now

Tyler Cowen kicked off this year with a heavily discussed blog post defining what he calls “State Capacity Libertarianism“.

I didn’t get it.

Cowen described a moderate libertarianism while adding the nebulous concept of “state capacity”, in particular noting that a capable or powerful state was different from a tyrannical state. I read the words, but I assumed he was describing a “left libertarianism“, where a typical position might be to push for the government to collect efficient taxes, and then distribute those to everyone via a basic income, and avoid otherwise messing in the economy. I’m open to engaging with something like that, but I didn’t grok how Cowen’s take was different or what this view offered.

And then there was the worst pandemic we’ve seen in the 21st century. Huge swaths of the American economy have been shut down, and this disease is still likely to kill the equivalent of an entire year’s worth of influenza fatalities in a single month. Pandemics are an obvious market failure scenario, with difficult to control externalities, and thus we have state institutions to deal with this and pick up the slack. They failed.

Policy Failures

I looked up my first tweet about COVID-19 (back then it was just novel coronavirus or nCoV). It was on January 30 in a reply to Robert Wiblin. My first standalone tweet was a few days later:

Now, I wasn’t warning people that this would be bad or telling people to start prepping. But it was certainly something occupying my mind, as I tweeted about it a dozen times in February. I did start mildly stockpiling food and household items starting in mid-February. Ultimately, I consider my actions to be a failure. I didn’t short the market (although I didn’t buy any index funds either), I didn’t warn enough of my close friends and family to start gathering supplies, and I didn’t advocate loudly for changes in government policy. I was partially concerned about looking alarmist, which in retrospect was a really silly thing to be concerned about.

Nonetheless, this blog is a hobby. I have a day job which isn’t concerned about government policy. My question is about the people whose day job is pandemic preparedness. If an anonymous blogger with a few hundred twitter followers can be concerned about a possible pandemic, then where were the people who are paid specifically to deal with this eventuality?

Why didn’t the CDC and FDA start a program to quickly approve new COVID testing in mid-February instead of mid-March? In an exponential growth situation, that is a long time. Why didn’t they start pushing hospitals to create new isolation wards in February? Why didn’t the CDC start putting together lists of events it strongly urged local governments to cancel when the first case appeared at local hospitals? Why did the NBA have to unilaterally suspend its season only after a player was diagnosed in March? Why was there confusion between who was in charge and what steps should be taken?

Beyond lack of distancing and lockdowns, there were several other failures. Firstly, the CDC created their own test which differed from previously used ones in the world. It was shipped to public labs around the country and…didn’t work. The FDA compounded the problem, disallowing any tests except the one the CDC had created. The University of Washington virology lab was able to create their own test and applied to the FDA for approval. The FDA said it couldn’t approve the test until the lab had demonstrated it wouldn’t return false positives for other dangerous coronaviruses. Perhaps this would be a good idea in more normal circumstances, but it was an asinine requirement if you were trying to head off a pandemic where every day saw exponential growth in a virus spreading across the country. The lab started using the test through a research loophole, but the story gets crazier:

Still, Greninger complied. He called the CDC to inquire about getting some genetic material from a sample of SARS. The CDC, Greninger says, politely turned him down: the genetic material of the extremely contagious and deadly SARS virus was highly restricted.

“That’s when I thought, ‘Huh, maybe the FDA and the CDC haven’t talked about this at all,’” […] “I realized, Oh, wow, this is going to take a while, it’s going to take several weeks.”

By this point, there were already over 50 confirmed cases of COVID-19 in the United States and still, nobody but the CDC was permitted to conduct testing.

It was on February 28th, a full 8 days after the UW virology lab had applied for their test to the FDA, that the agency finally allowed other tests besides the CDC’s. Of course, most other labs hadn’t started making a test yet. What a disaster.

What’s interesting to me about the testing fiasco was its independence from President Trump. I think Trump is a bad leader, incompetent, unintelligent, a bad judge of character, and has terrible policies, but ultimately the point of a capable bureaucracy would be to have experts on hand with the proper plans in place to implement them regardless of political leaders. We shouldn’t have to recreate all the accumulated knowledge of the government every time there is a new president. Here, Congress had created agencies to oversee health and pandemic responses, the scenario arose…and then those agencies actively made things worse.

Of course, we can’t allow President Trump off the hook. He decided to dismantle the NSC pandemic response team which Susan Rice had set up, combining it into a single directorate with arms control, weapons of mass destruction terrorism, and global health. The president is entitled to manage the National Security Council bureaucracy as he wants, as it’s part of the EOP. It was claimed that there was too much bloat leftover from Obama’s NSC, and so this should have streamlined communication, which may have sounded reasonable. Nonetheless, whatever changes Trump implemented were a colossal failure. Managing the CDC, FDA, FEMA, and National Institute of Allergy and Infectious Diseases to coordinate in a pandemic is crucial, and it did not occur until weeks after it should have. We should ask if the NSC, which varies from president to president, should even have this coordination power or if Congress should implement a more permanent response hierarchy.

Moreover, the president himself downplayed concerns about the virus the entire month of February, and even promised that 15 cases would soon be down to “close to zero”. This is an idiotic statement but is not unexpected. Trump has long ignored expert advice, lied to the public, and spoken erratically about how his administration will execute at his direction. The difference is that while the first 3 years of his presidency had few crises that weren’t self created, a pandemic actually requires decision making and policy implementation. Trump claimed that he would surround himself with good managers, and yet his White House has been plagued with scandals, including one that resulted in his impeachment. Ultimately, Trump is responsible for the leaders of the agencies that failed so spectacularly to manage this crisis. When asked about the testing fiasco, Trump said “I don’t take responsibility at all”.

Finally, the Obama administration had even created a “pandemic playbook”, a 69 page document you can review at this link which details decision making rubrics, key agencies that need to be consulted, and which questions need to be asked. It’s apparently unclear if senior leaders at government agencies even knew the playbook existed.

“State Capacity”

The typical consequentialist libertarian critique runs something like “the government doing things is bad because the state has poor incentives”. However, with this pandemic, we have instances where the state did too much, like where the FDA got in the way of scaling life-saving testing, but also where the state did too little, like coordinating responses of expert state agencies, or providing guidelines to local governments. A consequentialist libertarian critique would have a hard time dealing with these two failure types, and as somewhat of a consequentialist libertarian, I didn’t understand Cowen’s “state capacity libertarianism” until I was faced with these current government failures.

In a pandemic, every individual and company wants to continue working and consuming as much as possible, but each action also endangers non-parties to the transaction (e.g. other grocery shoppers or attendees at a basketball game). Here was a role for government to play, and yet it completely failed in that role. While a more typical libertarianism might treat the state as a necessary evil from which helpful action is capricious and rare, state capacity libertarianism suggests there is an expected duty for the state to play where there are negative externalities like the spread of a pandemic. The government’s failure here should thus be taken more seriously under state capacity libertarianism.

This also opens up a discussion about “state management” that previously I have often avoided. For example, it’s quite onerous to file taxes in the United States. Some libertarians argue that this is actually a good thing, and in fact making these state interactions difficult helps to convey to citizens how useless the state is, and they will thus be supportive in making the state smaller. Other libertarians might argue that added difficulty in the form of coerced taxation is adding additional rights violations on top of an already immoral action. A state capacity libertarian approach wouldn’t have this confusion; in this view, taxes ought to be collected in the most economically efficient way possible (land value tax or Pigouvian externality taxes would be a good start), and that method should be carried out competently and easily by the state. The IRS would just calculate your Pigouvian externality tax and send you a bill without requiring each citizen to compile their own information, spend hundreds on tax advice and then be punished when the amount is incorrect.

Relatedly, the management ability of electoral candidates sometimes comes up, and I think I may have even argued in the past that if congress or the president are less capable, then they would pass fewer laws. If most laws are net negative, then perhaps this incompetence would be good. However, elected officials do not just pass laws, they impact how government services are carried out. When a high risk, externality-laden scenario arises, like a pandemic, the management aspect of governance rises in importance.

Many presidents, especially Trump, have campaigned on the idea that they are good managers. Until now, I mostly shrugged at these claims, since governing is most often about policy and posturing than actual management. Yet the rare scenarios where management is required have outsized impacts; having fire insurance doesn’t matter until you actually have a fire, but then it matters a great deal. If we are concerned about catastrophic risk, then government management is a vital skill to be evaluated. State capacity libertarianism strongly favors evaluating this skill.

Libertarian Critiques Remain

Finally, we should quickly cover that a strong libertarian critique of government intervention into markets remains. Private property based markets with competition have much better incentives for rapid development and innovation. The FDA’s intervention to thwart testing probably killed thousands, especially compared to an alternate world where additional testing kits were explicitly allowed beginning in mid-February. Libertarians have been criticizing FDA policy on slow drug approval for decades though, and COVID patients will not be the FDA’s only victims this year.

And that’s not the only place where the state is dangerous: the War on Drugs, for example, has resulted in the deaths of hundreds of thousands as prohibition empowers organized crime, makes drugs more dangerous, incarcerates people for non-violent crimes, creates more violent interactions between citizens and police forces, and on and on. U.S. government policy has also resulted in long-lasting deadly wars in the Middle East with little to no concrete benefits for the U.S. globally, and I’m sure your local libertarian could continue on with a very long list.

This pandemic places into stark realization that government both needs to get out of the way in some areas to save lives, and also competently carry out the tasks only it can do. A Cowenian marriage of state capacity and libertarianism is the way forward.