Hello there, reader. It’s a Sunday morning and I’m writing the introduction to another issue of Kat’s Kable–this is a routine that I missed during my break. In trying to keep with more of “me” in the newsletter, I’ve tried to organize this week’s edition across some broad themes. It seems close enough to the way I used to curate articles last year, but there is a subtle shift in terms of how I choose what I want to share. There’s two broad themes today, or even one broad theme if you want to think of it that way–it’s about brains, digital brains, and our brains in a digital age. I’m obviously open to feedback on the way this is organized, so as always, feel free to hit reply to this email.
Something I’ve started to do in the past few months is make cooking and fermenting reels on Instagram. I started doing it as a joke–wouldn’t it be funny for me to make short amateur videos in my kitchen? I’ve realized, however, that I like it. I like the validation, of course, and I can’t deny that, but I also like this alternate way of documenting. I think it’s really important for all of us to find our own ways of sharing our experiences, and for me, Instagram reels seem to open up another avenue for me to do so. If you want to see mine, they’re on my account. I don’t know how long I’ll keep this up as a regular habit, really, but it’s been fun and satisfying so far. I do feel bad, in a way, for contributing to the “Instagram-ization” of my generation–super short attention spans, not letting ourselves get bored, and reaching for constant (but almost fake) social stimulation. Oh well. Such is the age we live in, I suppose.
If you got this from a friend and want to subscribe, here’s the link. Also, if any of the links are paywalled and if you don’t want to pay for a subscription, try opening the link in incognito mode in your browser. This works if the website has a “soft” paywall. If that doesn’t work, you can access the website using a different browser on the same device, or use a different device altogether. Another, slightly involved, method is to try to disable JavaScript and reload the page. This works on some websites for me.
I suppose that there’s always some sort of contemporary panic that we’re dealing with as a people. Right now, it feels like we’re all panicking about generative AI models (like GPT-3/Chat-GPT/Bing Search). I personally don’t know if I feel panic per se.. for now, I am just confused. I’m sharing a couple of things about generative AI in general plus another few things on our digital age.
1. AI And The Limits Of Language - Noema Magazine
This is an essay from August 2022 co-authored by Yann LeCun about large language models (LLMs) and their limits. GPT-3 is an example of an LLM. It sounds scary good right now, but due to its fundamental nature, it has certain fundamental limitations too.
The underlying problem isn’t the AI. The problem is the limited nature of language. Once we abandon old assumptions about the connection between thought and language, it is clear that these systems are doomed to a shallow understanding that will never approximate the full-bodied thinking we see in humans. In short, despite being among the most impressive AI systems on the planet, these AI systems will never be much like us.
2. Beyond Hyperanthropomorphism - Ribbonfarm
I’ve read this once and didn’t fully understand the arguments put forth, so I’ll have to read it again, but I think it’s a good perspective on why the author can’t relate to “being scared” of AI or robots. The argument is centered around defining things like “sentience” or “intelligence”, which are termed as pseudo-traits. Further, these are defined by something called “something it is like to be” an entity (SIILTBness). That is, if you believe that Chat-GPT is sentient or intelligent in a relatable way, we should be able to describe what it feels like to be Chat-GPT. It is difficult (or even invalid) to construct this for contemporary AIs, so we aren’t even able to anchor or define their “intelligence”. I haven’t been able to condense the argument perfectly here, so if you’re interested to know more about this, I highly recommend reading the post!
3. 52 Blue - Atavist Magazine
This took me a solid 40 minutes to get through, but it was a very satisfying read. It’s about 52 Blue, who is a… whale. Blue whales’ song typically clocks in between 15 and 20 hertz, but this one particular whale sings at 52. 52 Blue has inspired a whole cult-like following, with a lot of anthropomorphizing going on in terms of loneliness, not being heard, doing your own thing, and so on. The essay is really long because it weaves together some of the human stories revolving around 52 Blue too–members of Facebook forums, naval researchers who followed the whale’s sound across the world, and in particular focuses on Leonora, a woman from New York City, who “bonds” with 52 Blue in a unique way.
4. I Didn’t Want It to Be True, but the Medium Really Is the Message - The New York Times (soft paywalled)
This is an essay from last year by Ezra Klein. It’s not about AI, not directly at least, but more about social media platforms and paradigms. Again, I’m not going to be able to do a good job of summarizing Klein’s ideas here, but I will say that the essay is broadly about social media platforms shaping our behaviour, and how this comes from the way they are designed ground-up. Klein quotes from Jenny Odell’s book How to Do Nothing: Resisting the Attention Economy , and I love the quote, so you get to see it too.
When you spend enough time with someone who pays close attention to something (if you were hanging out with me, it would be birds), you inevitably start to pay attention to some of the same things. I’ve also learned that patterns of attention — what we choose to notice and what we do not — are how we render reality for ourselves, and thus have a direct bearing on what we feel is possible at any given time. These aspects, taken together, suggest to me the revolutionary potential of taking back our attention.
5. The Virtue of Noticing - Comment Magazine
I’ve shared essays by L.M. Sacasas in the past (his newsletter The Convivial Society is fantastic) and here I am with another one. It’s related, in a way, to the previous article, and I love reading essays like this because they help me construct and integrate my view on what it is to participate in the world (how do we pay attention, how can we immerse ourselves genuinely into things around us, and so on).
But, perhaps more importantly, it is not just an encounter with the world that we might miss. We also shield ourselves from encountering our neighbour. We might intentionally turn to a screen to avoid making eye contact with those we pass on the street. Or, without intending it, we might never glance at the face of the restaurant server who takes an order from us. Even our encounters with those we love are often at the remove occasioned by a documenting device. We miss in these cases the opportunity to register the uniqueness of the human being before us, to recognize that there is no other creature in the universe quite like our neighbour. And, because so much of our self-understanding is the gift of the other, we may even miss how miraculous it is that we, in turn, exist. In the absence of such wonder, we may be, as Heschel feared, in danger of forfeiting our humanity, and that of our neighbour, simply by failing to notice it.
Well, that was a bit of a broad theme across AI and observation and our current digital age that we’ve wandered through. Somewhat related, I have a few more pieces on how our brains work.
6. How working on his mind helped Shane Watson access his technical skills better - The Cricket Monthly
I didn’t know that the cricketer Shane Watson wrote a book called Winning the Inner Battle! I find that quite cool. This is a great interview where Watson talks us through his processes while playing cricket, and how those changed and evolved throughout his career. A lot of what he said reminded me of this book called The Inner Game of Tennis by Timothy Gallwey. The premise of the book is that each sport (and even other facets of life) are comprised of two parts: one part played with the opponent and the other part within our own mind. The “inner” game, then, involves getting into the “zone”, avoiding self-doubt and anxiety, and so on. It’s been a while since I read it, maybe it’s time for a revisit. Here’s what Watson has to say on that.
And that inner dialogue that’s always going on, you are in control of it if you want to be. If you want to take control, you can redirect the script to the right thing at the right time. So by me understanding that, I knew that when that voice on my shoulder came in, and it was the wrong thing, I had the control to be able to grab it, and say no, and just redirect it to, “Okay, what do I need to focus on right now to be at my best?”
7. When athletes share their battles with mental illness - USA Today
I read this a long time ago, but never got around to sharing it. It’s not the kind of content that I generally share on the Kable, but this is as good a time as any. It’s a nice compilation of the experience of some American athletes’ struggles with mental health issues.
8. Motherhood brings the most dramatic brain changes of a woman’s life - The Boston Globe
This was quite illuminating for me. I knew of postpartum depression, but the article says that one in five mothers will develop postpartum mood disorders some point after giving birth. There hasn’t been much awareness of it, unfortunately–partly because these things aren’t explained during pregnancy, and partly because research has been lacking or falling behind.
9. In Praise of Cravings - Vittles (Substack)
Really nice. I don’t know how to describe this essay–the best I can do is that it’s as a guided tour of the different ways cravings for food manifest, whether it’s for colour, texture, or even the memory of a loved one.
Craving is a mode of expression, and food is how I translate it. Sometimes it is through texture: I want to hear the operation of my jaws echoing in my head. To crunch is to be reminded of the mechanical reality of being embodied. I want the strange communion of eating ice cream, the way it melts on the tongue, dissolving into the body’s internal knitted network of streams. Sometimes it is the eating equivalent of a sauna or plunge pool I’m after: hot, crisp lasagne collapsing into chopped iceberg lettuce.