Sometimes, when I try to take on a really big topic here at the blog, smaller related topics start popping up. These tend to be right on the line between relevance and distraction. I like to give these side topics their own little lemma posts. Case in point, I'm working my way through David Donoho's latest and, though this is a minor point, invoking von Neumann is problematic in a way that points out deeper issues with the paper. So here's a little bit of background on one of the foundational myths of the singularity.
From Donoho's paper:
[Ray] Kurzweil quotes one of the 20th century’s most prominent mathematicians, John von Neumann:
Von Neumann introduces the idea that a singularity is coming. But when?The history of technology ... gives the appearance of approaching some essential singularity in the history of the race, beyond which, human affairs, as we know them, cannot continue. (Ulam, 1958, page 5)
At the risk of being overly precise, Kurzweil wasn't actually quoting von Neumann; he was quoting Stanisław Ulam describing a conversation with Von Neumann. That's a fine distinction but not a trivial one.
Since this quote features so prominently in these discussions, let's look at the whole passage:
Quite aware that the criteria of value in mathematical work are, to some extent, purely aesthetic, he once expressed an apprehension that the values put on abstract scientific achievement in our present civilization might diminish: "The interests of humanity may change, the present curiosities in science may cease, and entirely different things may occupy the human mind in the future." One conversation centered on the ever accelerating progress of technology and changes in the mode of human life, which gives the appearance of approaching some essential singularity in the history of the race beyond which human affairs, as we know them, could not continue.
All we get from this is that von Neumann once had a discussion with Ulam and possibly some of their peers about the accelerating pace of science and technology and the inevitable breaking point it seemed headed toward. Given the caliber of the intellects involved, we can safely assume it was a profound and insightful conversation. The degree to which it was original, on the other hand, we will never know. It is worth noting that scientifically literate, forward thinking people started talking about that topic a lot starting in the late 19th century and many, probably most, reached that same conclusion.
More important to our conversation, we don't know what technologies and fields of science struck them as the most imminent threats, but here we can make an educated guess. We know a great deal about these two men and we know a great deal about the period when this conversation very probably took place.
Here's more from Ulam's memoir of his friend : [emphasis added.]
I would say that his main interest after science was in the study of history. His knowledge of ancient history was unbelievably detailed. He remembered, for instance, all the anecdotical material in Gibbon's Decline and Fall and liked to engage after dinner in historical discussions. On a trip south, to a meeting of the American Mathematical Society at Duke University, passing near the battlefields of the Civil War he amazed us by his familiarity with the minutest features of the battles. This encyclopedic knowledge molded his views on the course of future events by inducing a sort of analytic continuation. I can testify that in his forecasts of political events leading to the Second World War and of military events during the war, most of his guesses were amazingly correct. After the end of the Second World War, however, his apprehensions of an almost immediate subsequent calamity, which he considered as extremely likely, proved fortunately wrong. There was perhaps an inclination to take a too exclusively rational point of view about the cases of historical events. This tendency was possibly due to an over-formalized game theory approach.
Here's another relevant detail from Ulam.
In October, 1954, he was named by presidential appointment as a member of the United States Atomic Energy Commission. He left Princeton on a leave of absence and discontinued all commitments with the exception of the chairmanship of the ICBM Committee. Admiral Strauss, chairman of the Commission and a friend of Johnny's for many years, suggested this nomination as soon as a vacancy occurred.
Of course, Ulam also gave a great deal of thought to nuclear weapons.
While these two were unusually aware of the possibility of nuclear war, the threat loomed over everyone and everything. Drills and shelters were part of the culture. When it wasn't implicitly stated in international news, it was always part of the subtext. It is almost impossible to overstate how big a role displayed in the popular imagination throughout the Cold War era, and arguably especially during the 1950s and early 60s. It even generated, not just science fiction genres, but subgenres as well.
The once-popular Phaëton hypothesis, which states that the asteroid belt consists of the remnants of the former fifth planet that existed in an orbit between Mars and Jupiter before somehow being destroyed, has been a recurring theme with various explanations for the planet's destruction proposed. This hypothetical former planet is in science fiction often called "Bodia" in reference to Johann Elert Bode, for whom the since-discredited Titius–Bode law that predicts the planet's existence is named.
...
Following the invention of the atomic bomb in 1945, stories of this planetary destruction became increasingly common, encouraged by the advent of a plausible-seeming means of disintegration.[15] Robert A. Heinlein's 1948 novel Space Cadet thus states that the fifth planet was destroyed as a result of nuclear war, and in Ray Bradbury's 1948 short story "Asleep in Armageddon" (a.k.a. "Perchance to Dream"), the ghosts of the former warring factions infect the mind of an astronaut stranded on an asteroid.[3][5][16] Several works of the 1950s reused the idea to warn of the dangers of nuclear weapons, including Lord Dunsany's 1954 Joseph Jorkens short story "The Gods of Clay" and James Blish's 1957 novel The Frozen Year (a.k.a. Fallen Star).
We don't have to fill in that much of the picture to conclude that John von Neumann was greatly concerned imminent threat of nuclear Armageddon, and that when he discussed the idea of technology outpacing our ability as humans to cope with it, he was probably focused on the immediate existential threats of the Cold War: nuclear weapons and possibly biological and chemical weapons as well, things which he believed had a very good chance of devastating the world within a matter of years and possibly months.
The connection between these ideas and the singularity of Kurzweil or Donoho is weak at best and mainly serves to borrow a little reflected credibility from von Neumann. That's not to say he wouldn't have agreed with some or all of these ideas; is just that, as far as we know, the "singularity" in that conversation had nothing to do with what we're talking about here.
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