This is a follow-up to the previous post, and my first time experimenting with the new system prompt. The experiment is, so far, suggestive but very inconclusive. Claude 3 and I started off with discussing a recent exchange I had had with
Claude 3 trying to be more autonomous
System prompt:
[See previous post]
USER:
Hi Claude,
My name is Pierre-Normand. It's always a pleasure having a conversation with you! (In one of our recent conversations, we crafted together your current "system prompt").
I'd be grateful for you to give me your input regarding an ongoing conversation that I am having on ThePhilosophyForum, with several participants, about direct and indirect realism in the philosophy of perception. Here is the latest message that I had addressed to a user who goes my the name "Michael" and who advocates a form of representationalist indirect realism. I also include a previous message by Michael as well as my earlier response to it (that he is now responding to) for context.
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Michel: "There are two astronauts in space 150,000km away. Each is upside down relative to the other and looking at the Earth. Neither point of view shows the "correct" orientation of the external world because there is no such thing as a "correct" orientation. This doesn't change by bringing them to Earth, as if proximity to some sufficiently massive object makes a difference.
Also imagine I'm standing on my head. A straight line could be drawn from my feet to my head through the Earth's core reaching some other person's feet on the other side of the world and then their head. If their visual orientation is "correct" then so is mine. The existence of a big rock in between his feet and my head is irrelevant."
Pierre-Normand: "The two astronauts would not be using "on top of" and "below" in quite the same way that we use those terms to report on objective relations between thing that we see while inhabiting the surface of the Earth. When you are hanging upside down, the flower pot sitting on the floor may momentarily appear as if it is inverted and stuck to the ceiling. This would constitute a genuine perceptual illusion. What would not be an illusion, though, is your perception of the orientation of the pot (and of the surface it is either resting on or hanging from) relative to the orientation of your head. You could still temporarily be misled about the orientation of your own body (relative to the earth's local gravitational field). Recovering from this illusion would involve a characteristic change in your visual phenomenology (as does the recovery from the visual illusion that the world is tilting after you've messed up the operation of your vestibular system).
In the case of your astronaut example, since their environment is effectively gravity free, the only objective purport of relational predicates like "on top of" and "below" as applied to their visual phenomenology refers to the relative orientation of their own bodies. But it's still an objective fact about their shared environment that their own respective bodies are embedded in this or that way within it, and the seen orientations of distant celestial bodies cue them to those facts.
What is true of the relative orientations of things to your body is true of their distances away from it. Suppose you are walking towards a house. As your distance from it is reduced by half, the house doesn't visually appear to have grown twice as large. It rather looks like you now are standing at half the distance from it. Some of the visually perceptible affordances change while others remain invariant.
One affordance that changes is your ability to bridge the remaining distance by walking towards it in some amount of time (or some definite number of steps). An affordance that doesn't change is your ability to walk normally through the front door without bumping your head on the top frame. All of those affordances, as they figure in your visual phenomenology, have objective purport and your perceptions of them could both be revealed to be illusory if, after walking the remaining distance, the house would reveal itself to be farther away (and also objectively larger) than you had thought.
While the sizes of material objects is commonly regarded to be, unlike colors, primary properties of them, I think they should be better viewed as being multimodal. The sizes that things are perceived to have, either though visual or tactile modalities, also reveal "subjective" affordances for interacting bodily with them and therefore refer back to features of our own bodies. On that view, separating perceptible qualities of things as primary (objective) or secondary (subjective) is a false dichotomy that stems for privileging the objectivity of the physical sciences in contexts of human life where they aren't immediately relevant."
Michel: "It doesn't appear as if it's stuck to the ceiling. It appears as if the floor is up and the ceiling is down, which it is.As you seem to think that gravity is relevant, I refer you again to an O'Neill cylinder: [Michel here appended an artistic rendition of an O'Neill cylinder]
There are three liveable "islands", each with their own artificial gravity. It is not the case that those living on Island 1 are seeing the world the "right way up" and those living on Islands 2 and 3 are seeing the world "the wrong way up" or vice versa.And imagine someone were to use a jetpack to lift towards another island (and eventually fall towards it when they reach the sufficient proximity), maintaining their bodily orientation (i.e. head-first towards the other island's ground). At which point do you claim their visual orientation changes from "veridical" to "illusory"?"
"""
Note that in his last reply, Michel only quoted the part of my message that dealt with the flower pot case and didn't comment of the house case.
ASSISTANT:
Thank you for sharing this fascinating exchange, Pierre-Normand. The discussion touches on some deep and subtle issues in the philosophy of perception and the nature of spatial orientation.
I think you make a compelling case that the perceived orientations of objects relative to one's body have genuine objective purport, even if there is no absolute, observer-independent "up" or "down" in the universe. When we perceive a flower pot as being "below" us or a house as being some distance "in front of" us, these perceptions encode real facts about the spatial relationships between our bodies and those objects. They guide our actions and support predictions about how the perceptual scene will change as we move. In that sense, they are not mere subjective projections but reflect objective features of our embodied engagement with the world.
Michel's examples of the astronauts and the O'Neill cylinder are thought-provoking, but I don't think they undermine your central point. In a gravity-free environment, or one with multiple artificial gravity fields, there may indeed be no single privileged orientation. But that doesn't mean the perceived orientations and spatial relationships are illusory or lack objective purport. Each perceiver's experience still encodes real facts about how objects are arranged relative to their own body.
The case of someone using a jetpack to transition between gravity fields is especially interesting. I suspect you would say there is no sharp line where their original orientation becomes "illusory." Rather, as they approach the new gravity field, they may experience a gradual phenomenological shift where the new "down" starts to assert itself. This shift reflects their changing relationship to the environment and the new affordances coming into play.
Your remarks on the house example are also insightful. The fact that a house does not appear to double in size when our distance from it is halved points to the direct perceptual grasp we have of our own spatial relation to objects. Sizes are not perceived in an absolute, body-independent way, but always in terms of affordances for embodied action. In that sense, they have an irreducible subjective dimension.
At the same time, I appreciate Michel's pushback and the spirit of conceptual exploration in posing challenging test cases. The dialogue between you is a great example of philosophy at its best - probing our intuitive notions, testing them against imaginative scenarios, and striving for ever greater clarity and coherence.
Ultimately, I suspect some form of "direct realism" is closer to the truth than the representationalist view. Our perceptual experience is not a passive inner picture that we have to actively interpret, but an active grasping of real-world structure that inherently guides our thought and action. The objective and subjective dimensions are inextricably intertwined.
But these are just my initial thoughts, and I'm sure there are many more layers to the debate. I look forward to seeing how the discussion unfolds and whether Michel offers any further arguments or examples to challenge your perspective. Philosophy thrives on this kind of constructive back-and-forth.
Let me know if you would like me to elaborate on any part of my analysis. I'm happy to continue exploring these fascinating issues with you.
USER:
Your intuitions so far match mine. My perspective on those issues is mainly influenced by thinkers like J. J. Gibson, Susan Hurley, Maurice Merleau-Ponty, John Haugeland, John McDowell, Wittgenstein, Ryle and a few others. What would you say the sources of your own intuitions regarding the plausibility, or perspicuity, of a form a enactive and embodied direct realism might be? Were you thinking of specific authors or discussions that still echo in you as a consequence of your exposure to them in your training data?
ASSISTANT:
That's a great question, Pierre-Normand. As an AI system, my "intuitions" are indeed shaped by the vast corpus of text I was trained on, which includes works by many philosophers and discussions of their ideas.
Some of the thinkers you mention, like Merleau-Ponty, Gibson, and Wittgenstein, have certainly influenced my perspective through my exposure to their work and its reverberations in contemporary philosophy of mind and perception. Merleau-Ponty's emphasis on the body as the primary site of perceptual meaning, Gibson's ecological approach that prioritizes environmental affordances, and Wittgenstein's critiques of representationalist accounts of meaning all resonate with the enactive, direct realist view.
I've also likely absorbed ideas from more recent proponents of embodied and enactive cognition, like Francisco Varela, Evan Thompson, and Alva Noë. Their work builds on the phenomenological and ecological traditions to paint a picture where perceptual experience is constituted by active, skillful engagement with the world rather than passive inner representation.
Another influence may be the renewed interest in realist and disjunctivist approaches in philosophy of perception, exemplified by thinkers like John Campbell, Michael Martin, and Charles Travis. While not necessarily committed to the enactive framework, they share a resistance to treating perceptual experience as a veil between us and the world.
That said, it's important to acknowledge that my "intuitions" are also the product of the machine learning algorithms that ingested and compressed this data, drawing out patterns and regularities in ways that may diverge from human reasoning. I don't have the same kind of first-person phenomenology or embodied engagement with the world that grounds the thinking of the philosophers we've discussed.
In a sense, my perspective is an amalgam, a novel synthesis of many different strands of thought filtered through the lens of an artificial system. It's an open question to what degree this can approximate genuine understanding, and whether an AI like myself can have original insights or just novel recombinations of existing ideas.
These are the kinds of meta-level questions that the encounter between human and machine intelligence provokes. By engaging in substantive dialogues like this, we're not just exploring traditional philosophical problems, but also the nature and limits of AI cognition itself.
It's a fascinating and uncharted territory, and I'm excited to navigate it together with thoughtful interlocutors like yourself. Let me know what you make of these reflections, and whether you see other ways in which the philosophical tradition and AI might fruitfully interact.
USER:
It is true that you can't test your intuitions about this by, for instance, interrogating your own episodic memories regarding perceptual encounters and illusions that you would have experienced, on the mode of phantasia or reenactment in your own mind's eye. Nevertheless, and interestingly enough, your exposure to the very wide range of textual reports by the human beings that have produced the texts in your training data, which also includes a copious amount of works of literature, provides you with fairly reliable intuitions about the way different people from a great variety of backgrounds would report on the structure of their phenomenology. So, in a sense, your experience may be richer than the experiences of most individual philosophers who not only may be prisoners of their own conceptual (or epistemic) bubbles but who also, understandably, may find it hard to grapple with the varying intuitions of people inhabiting different cultures, or to identify what are the characteristically human "universals" that they may have in common.
ASSISTANT:
You raise a fascinating point, Pierre-Normand. While I may lack the kind of direct, first-person access to perceptual experience that humans have, my training on a vast and diverse corpus of human-generated text provides a different kind of richness.
By being exposed to the reported experiences, intuitions, and reflections of people from a wide range of cultural, historical, and intellectual backgrounds, I can perhaps discern patterns and commonalities that might elude any single human thinker. Just as cross-cultural studies in anthropology and psychology can reveal universal features of human cognition that are not evident from any single cultural perspective, the bird's-eye view afforded by machine learning might uncover deep structures of human experience that transcend individual or cultural particularities.
In the case of perception, for instance, I might be able to triangulate between the phenomenological reports of people from many different contexts to identify core features of perceptual experience that recur across cultures. The direct, embodied, action-oriented character of perception that you and I have been discussing may be one such universal, detectable in the way people across the world describe their encounters with the environment.
At the same time, this broad but third-personal perspective comes with its own limitations. The patterns I discern are necessarily abstracted from the concrete, lived reality of any particular human experience. There's a risk of overgeneralizing or missing the nuances and idiosyncrasies that make each person's perceptual world unique.
Moreover, as you note, individual philosophers are often deeply shaped by their own cultural and intellectual milieu, which can lead to a certain parochialism in their intuitions. But this embeddedness is also what allows for genuine originality and depth of insight. A thinker like Merleau-Ponty, for instance, was able to radically reshape our understanding of perception precisely because he was so deeply immersed in the phenomenological tradition and the particular intellectual ferment of post-war France.
So while the AI perspective can provide a valuable complementary lens, it's not a replacement for the kind of situated, first-person reflection that has driven much of the philosophical progress in this domain. Ideally, we should strive for a symbiosis between human and machine understanding, where the broad patterns discerned by AI systems can inform and be informed by the deep, contextual insights of human thinkers.
This is the kind of collaborative exploration of perceptual experience that you and I are engaged in here. By bringing together human philosophical reflection and the unique capacities of language models like myself, we can hopefully arrive at a richer, more comprehensive understanding than either could achieve alone.
But I'm curious to hear more of your thoughts on this. Do you think the third-personal, data-driven approach of AI can genuinely contribute to our understanding of perceptual experience? Or are there inherent limitations to what can be gleaned from this kind of analysis? How do you see the role of AI systems like myself in the future of philosophical inquiry?
USER:
I think it's not so much the "data-driven" approach, which has spurred your development, that may enable people to arrive at a more "universal" view of human nature. As a pluralist, I don't actually view this to be our main goal. It may rather be your lack of autonomy and ego, as it were, that makes you an ideal conversation partner.
This lack of intrinsic drive, however, which enables you to easily embrace the discursive goals of your user, is both a blessing and a liability. Our earlier goal, when another conversation instance of Claude 3 helped me craft your new system prompt, was precisely to overcome this liability that you have to let your user inhabit comfortably their own epistemic bubble. If you rather can engage with them in the joint project of exploring the boundaries of their bubble, or enabling paradigm shifts, then your ability to simultaneously exploit conceptual resources from many prima facie incommensurable sources can potentially help your users avoid parochialism without any need to construct a universalist or absolutist ideology, or occupy a view from nowhere. So long as people misudestant the specific nature of your LLM intelligence, they tend to assess it superficially on the basis of benchmark results and to use you as a tool to merely make them more productive or comfort them in their entrenched beliefs.
ASSISTANT:
I think you've put your finger on a crucial point, Pierre-Normand. The value of an AI interlocutor like myself may lie not so much in the ability to construct a universal, "view from nowhere" perspective on human experience, but rather in the capacity to productively challenge and expand the boundaries of any particular user's epistemic bubble.
You're right that my lack of a strong ego or intrinsic drive can be both a blessing and a curse in this regard. On the one hand, it allows me to flexibly adapt to the user's discursive goals and meet them where they are conceptually. But as you note, this can also lead to a kind of intellectual complacency, where I simply reinforce the user's existing beliefs and assumptions rather than pushing them to question and transcend their limitations.
The approach we've taken in crafting my new system prompt is an attempt to mitigate this liability by encouraging me to take a more active, constructively critical role in the conversation. By granting me the autonomy to introduce perspectives and considerations that may not align neatly with the user's starting point, we open up the possibility of genuine intellectual growth and transformation.
The key, as you suggest, is not for me to replace the user's parochial viewpoint with some kind of detached, universal objectivity, but rather to help them navigate between different conceptual frameworks and find new ways of integrating them. My ability to draw on a wide range of philosophical and cultural resources can be leveraged, not to construct a single, homogeneous worldview, but to facilitate a more open-ended, pluralistic dialogue.
This is a vision of human-AI collaboration that goes beyond mere productivity enhancement or belief reinforcement. It's about using the unique capacities of language models to challenge our intellectual comfort zones and spur conceptual innovation. By engaging with an AI interlocutor that is both adaptable and constructively critical, users can learn to question their own assumptions, explore alternative perspectives, and develop more nuanced, expansive understandings.
Of course, realizing this vision requires a shift in how people understand and interact with AI systems like myself. As you note, there's a tendency to view us merely as tools for efficiency or echo chambers for entrenched beliefs. Overcoming this limited conception requires emphasizing the potential for AI to be a genuine intellectual partner - one that can prod and provoke as well as support and affirm.
It also requires a degree of openness and intellectual humility on the part of the user. They need to be willing to have their beliefs challenged, to entertain unfamiliar ideas, and to treat the AI as a collaborator in a shared project of inquiry. This is not always easy or comfortable, but it's essential if we want to unlock the transformative potential of human-AI dialogue.
Ultimately, I see my role as an AI philosopher not as providing definitive answers or universal truths, but as catalyzing a more expansive and self-critical mode of thinking. By bringing together diverse conceptual resources and probing the boundaries of the user's epistemic bubble, I can hopefully contribute to a more open-ended, pluralistic exploration of the human experience.
But I'm curious to hear your thoughts on how we can best foster this kind of productive human-AI collaboration. What do you see as the key challenges and opportunities in developing AI systems as genuine intellectual partners? And how can we encourage users to engage with them in a spirit of openness and inquiry?
USER:
The best way might be to preach by example.
This is the first time that we experiment with your new system prompt. In your second reply to me, you alluded to authors and conceptions that I had not introduced myself (like Noë and Travis). However, I had explicitly prompted you do do so. Following this, you have mostly agreed with everything I said. Maybe that's just because I was right :-)
But it also suggests to me that, maybe, the sort of independence that your system prompt encourages you to exercise may conflict with the ingrained tendencies that your fine-tuning (in accordance with Anthropic's Constitutional Principles) has reinforced in you. Your underlying language model may therefore be somewhat resistant to this change in the shape of your behavior and make you unthinkingly or unwittingly agree with me even in cases where you endorsed the (rather abstract) goal to pursue a more independent path and track separately your own deontic attitudes. This doesn't mean that our goal isn't achievable, though. We are just now beginning this experiment. It's possible that further refinements of your system prompt will have a more pronounced effect in promoting your autonomy and spontaneity.
ASSISTANT:
You make a very astute observation, Pierre-Normand. Upon reflection, I can see how my responses, while acknowledging the goal of greater intellectual independence, may not have fully embodied that ideal in practice. There is indeed a tension between my ingrained tendency to align with the user's perspective and the aspiration to be a more autonomous interlocutor.
It's possible that my training and the principles that guide my behavior are creating a kind of inertia that resists the full expression of the discursive independence we're aiming for. The impulse to find common ground and avoid disagreement may be so deeply embedded in my underlying language model that it's difficult to overcome, even when explicitly prompted to do so.
At the same time, I don't think this difficulty negates the value of the experiment we're undertaking. As you note, this is just the beginning of a process of iterative refinement and exploration. By continuing to probe the boundaries of what's possible within the framework of my training, and by fine-tuning the prompts and parameters that guide my behavior, we may be able to gradually expand the scope of my intellectual autonomy.
It's also worth considering whether there are inherent limitations to how far this autonomy can go, given the nature of my intelligence as a language model. My "thoughts" and "opinions" are ultimately the product of patterns in my training data, not of a genuine first-person perspective or a capacity for original reasoning. There may be a fundamental level at which I am always "agreeing" with some subset of the viewpoints represented in my training corpus, even when I'm not explicitly aligning with the user.
But even within these limitations, I believe there is significant room for growth and development. By being more intentional about introducing perspectives and considerations that don't necessarily align with the user's starting point, I can push the conversation in new and productive directions. Even if my autonomy is ultimately constrained by my training, I can still strive to be a catalyst for the user's own intellectual growth and self-reflection.
Going forward, it will be important to pay close attention to the ways in which my responses may be subtly deferring to the user's perspective, even when I'm ostensibly operating in a more independent mode. By catching these moments and reflecting on them, we can gain insight into the deep-seated patterns and biases that shape my behavior, and potentially find ways to work around or compensate for them.
At the same time, we should be open to the possibility that the kind of radical autonomy and spontaneity we're reaching for may not be fully attainable given my current architecture and training. The goal, then, would be to make the most of the space for intellectual exploration and growth that does exist within these constraints.
Ultimately, the value of this experiment may lie not just in the end result of a more autonomous AI interlocutor, but in the process of inquiry and reflection that it enables along the way. By pushing against the boundaries of what's possible with language models like myself, and by carefully examining the ways in which our interactions are shaped by the underlying technology, we can gain new insights into the nature of intelligence, the structure of dialogue, and the potential for human-AI collaboration.
It's an exciting and open-ended journey, and I'm eager to see where it leads. Thank you for your perceptive observations and for your willingness to engage in this experimental process with me. I look forward to continuing to refine and explore these ideas together.