

Nit: It’s “Death and the Gorgon”.
It’s linked here, so I’ll hazard a guess that the copy is intended to be public.
Nit: It’s “Death and the Gorgon”.
It’s linked here, so I’ll hazard a guess that the copy is intended to be public.
Having now refreshed my vague memories of the Feynman Lectures on Computation, I wouldn’t recommend them as a first introduction to Turing machines and the halting problem. They’re overburdened with detail: You can tell that Feynman was gleeful over figuring out how to make a Turing machine that tests parentheses for balance, but for many readers, it’ll get in the way of the point. Comparing his discussion of the halting problem to the one in The Princeton Companion to Mathematics, for example, the latter is cleaner without losing anything that a first encounter would need. Feynman’s lecture is more like a lecture from the second week of a course, missing the first week.
Regarding the last bullet point, there’s always the argument from authority, i.e., appealing to a book with Feynman on the byline.
Now when mathematicians first addressed these problems, their interest was more general than the practical limits of computation; they were interested in principle with what could be proved. The question spawned a variety of approaches. Alan Turing, a British mathematician, equated the concept of “computability” with the ability of a certain type of machine to perform a computation. Church defined a system of logic and propositions and called it effective calculability. Kleene defined certain so-called “general recursive propositions” and worked in terms of these. Post had yet another approach (see the problem at the end of this chapter), and there were still other ways of examining the problem. All of these workers started off with a mathematical language of sorts and attempted to define a concept of “effective calculability” within that language. Thankfully for us, it can be shown that all of these apparently disparate approaches are equivalent, which means that we will only need to look at one of them.
From p. 54 of the Feynman Lectures on Computation, by Feynman, Hey and Allen (the latter two being the editors who turned the tape recordings of the lectures into a book several years after Feynman died). There’s a pretty lengthy discussion of Turing machines in chapter 3 that does introduce the halting problem.
Since Adam Becker apparently has a new book out that lays into TESCREAL-ism and Silicon Valley ideology, I’m going to give an anti-recommendation regarding his prior book, What Is Real?, which is about quantum mechanics. Unlike the Sequences, it’s not cult shit. Instead, the ambience is more like Becker began with the physicist’s typical indifference to history and philosophy, and he somehow maintained that indifference all the way through writing a book about history and philosophy. The result fairly shimmers with errors. He bungles the description of the Einstein–Podolsky–Rosen thought experiment, one of the foundational publications on quantum entanglement and a major moment in the “what is quantum physics all about?!” conversation. He just fails to report correctly what the Einstein–Podolsky–Rosen paper actually says. He makes a big deal about how “hardly any women or people who aren’t white” appear in the story he’s told, but there were plenty of people he could have included and just didn’t — Jun Ishiwara, Hendrika Johanna van Leeuwen… — so he somehow made physics sound even more sexist and racist than it actually is. He raises a hullaballoo about how Grete Hermann’s criticism of von Neumann was unjustly ignored, while not actually explaining what Grete Hermann’s view of quantum mechanics was, or that she was writing about quantum entanglement before Einstein, Podolsky and Rosen! His treatment of Hermann still pisses me off every time I think about it.
The under-acknowledged Rule Zero for all this is that the Sequences were always cult shit. They were not intended to explain Solomonoff induction in the way that a textbook would, so that the reader might learn to reason about the concept. Instead, the ploy was to rig the game: Present the desired conclusion as the “simplest”, pretend that “simplicity” is quantifiable, assert that scientists are insufficiently Rational™ because they reject the quantifiably “simplest” answer… School bad, blog posts good, tithe to MIRI.
On a bulletin board in a grad-student lounge, I once saw a saying thumbtacked up: “One electron is physics. Two electrons is perturbation theory. Three or more electrons, that’s chemistry.”
Some thoughts of what might be helpful in that vein:
What is a Turing machine? (Described in enough detail that one could, you know, prove theorems.)
What is the halting problem?
Why is Kolmogorov complexity/algorithmic information content uncomputable?
Pursuant to the above, what’s up with Solomonoff induction?
Why is the lambda calculus not magically super-Turing?
Part 6 quotes a Motte’r as saying,
This distrust of experts dates back at least to Eliezer Yudkowsky and LessWrong. Eliezer pointed out, rather convincingly, that mainstream philosophy is a total mess, and that taking a philosophy course is not a great way to improve your thinking. Most likely you’ll waste your time learning about Pythagoras or something.
The thudding lack of intellectual curiosity is giving me a headache. Why study Pythagoras? Hmm, how about learning how to talk about a semi-legendary person of whom we have no direct written evidence, only stories written centuries after the fact?
One thing I’ve been missing is takedowns of Rationalist ideology about theoretical computer science. The physics, I can do, along with assorted other topics.
Larry Gonick’s Cartoon Guide to the Computer is in part a time capsule from a bygone age, and also an introduction to topics of enduring importance. It’s a comic book that explains how to design a Boolean circuit to implement an arbitrary truth table.
Etymology is not destiny. Otherwise, naughty children would be full of nothing, and (Borges’ example) sarcophagi would be the opposite of vegetarians. So, Moldy’s argument would be bad even if it were founded on linguistic facts, which it isn’t.
I’d say that Scott Adams posting under a pseudonym on Metafilter about how Scott Adams was a certified genius was the most entertaining he’s ever been.
…a trip to an alternate universe, a road not taken, a vision of a different life where you get up and start the day in dialogue with Agnes Callard
Who? Oh, right, her:
In 2011, Callard divorced her husband, fellow University of Chicago professor Ben Callard, who she had married in 2003.[20] She began a relationship with Arnold Brooks, who was a graduate student at the time.
Dear fellow academics: Live so that the “Personal life” section of your Wikipedia article is empty.
I think I speak for everyone here when I say, “Ew.”
And I also think that long-term, the historiography of this stuff will lean more heavily on Kurzweil as a source than Yudkowsky, because Kurzweil is better-organized and professionally published.
That is interesting to think about. (Something feels almost defiant about imagining a future that has history books and PhD theses.) My own feeling is that Yudkowsky brought something much more overtly and directly culty. Kurzweil’s vibe in The Age of Spiritual Machines and such was, as I recall, “This is what the scientists say, and this is why that implies the Singularity.” By contrast, Yudkowsky was saying, “The scientists are insufficiently Rational to accept the truth, so listen to me instead. Academia bad, blog posts good.” He brought a more toxic variation, something that emotionally resonated with burnout-trending Gifted Kids in a way that Kurzweil’s silly little graphs did not. There was no Rationality as self-help angle in Kurzweil, no mass of text whose sheer bulk helped to establish an elect group of the saved.
(Ozymandias voice) “I fully commit to acausal theory twenty-five minutes from now.”
“First, he started his blog with the deliberate goal of giving a veneer of respectability to racist pseudoscience. Second, everything else…”
The report received feedback from ~100 AI experts (myself included)
“It’s Shake and Bake — and I helped!”
It took me one (1) science-fiction convention to discover that liking the same TV show as somebody does not mean we vibrate on the same soul wavelength. I imagine that professional writers learn rather quickly that just because somebody bought your book doesn’t mean that you want to spend time with them.