Computerized philosophers

A week ago they had a researcher on the radio talking about computational morality. I don’t remember if that’s what they called it, but that’s the gist of it: using logic to solve moral dilemmas. The example they gave was this: a train is going out of control down a track toward a group of people. You are in the position to flip the switch to make it go down another track, where there is only one person. If you act, one person will die. If you do nothing, many people will die. When posed with this question, most people will say they would flip the switch.

However, if you change the question just slightly, people’s answers change. Instead of a switch, there is a very large person standing in front of you. If you push him, his body will stop the train before it hits the other people.

The computer sees these as morally equivalent. In both cases, it is a choice between the death of one person or the death of several people. Most people, on the other hand, would not actively kill one person to save the lives of several.

The researchers when on to talk about how computers could help to make people more rational by pointing out these situations. Now, my professional life is filled with statistics and probability, and I spend a lot of time arguing for rationality. But when it comes to morality, this is a case of garbage in equals garbage out.

Humans are exceptionally well-adapted to their environment, especially when it comes to surviving in an emergency situation. So are rabbits, squirrels, and even squid. Millions of years of survival of the fittest tends to hone a brain pretty well. And when it comes to social creatures, the calculus extends to saving the lives of others.

The logic of the computer is pretty simple. Saving one life versus saving many. It’s so easy, an ant could do it with a single neuron. So why the different answers?

It all comes down to certainty. The question is posed as a case of two certain outcomes. But in life there is no certainty. The certainty itself puts the question into the realm of the hypothetical. Brains are optimized for real world use, not hypothetical situations.

The history of artifical intelligence is riddled with robots which could plot a perfect path from point A to point B, but couldn’t tell a shadow from an obsticle. Or which became perplexed when a sensor malfunctioned. Even in the most controlled conditions, it’s hard to completely eliminate ambiguity and its buddy uncertainty.

In a real world train situation, there’s no guarantee that the people standing in the train tracks would die. They might manage to get out of the way, or they might only be injured. When you act to cause harm, there is a greater chance that you will be successful than when it is merely a side effect of your action.

Rain on New Year’s Eve

It was raining all day on New Year’s Eve.  That’s not supposed to happen in Minnesota!  When the sun went down (before 5:00), it turned into snow and we had a nice blizzard.  Even so, if I wanted rain on December 31, I would live in Seattle.

Our little contrarian

Jordan:  “Sylvia’s being a contrarian.”

Sylvia:  “No, you’re a contrarian.”

Maybe when she turns four we’ll teach her what the word means.

Ian is still in the hospital, and we expect him to be released tomorrow morning.  He’s been in the hospital for two weeks.  There’s no particular reason why he’s been in the hospital three days longer than expected;  the doctors are just being extra careful.  For example, he hasn’t been feeding well from a bottle.  This could be a sign of trouble, but in his case he only takes a bottle when he’s really hungry, and they are too cautious to let him get really hungry.  So last night and tonight Jordan has been staying at the hospital to breast-feed him.  He’s gaining weight, and the doctor says that if he continues to gain weight overnight, he’ll be discharged in the morning.  (Am I the only one who wishes hospitals used a more antiseptic term than “discharge?”)  Sylvia and I visited them tonight, and he appears to be perfectly normal, except for being slightly hoarse and having a scar on his throat.

Success

Ian is recovering from surgery now. The operation went smoothly, and the doctor thinks he’ll breathe normally from now on. He’ll be recovering for about a week. They will keep him unconscious until Friday; active babies and fresh neck incisions aren’t a good combination. Then he’ll be in the hospital until about Monday or Tuesday.

Hospital

Ian is in the hospital. It turns out he was born with a growth in his windpipe which has only recently gotten big enough to be a problem. He had been breathing through a pinhole, yet somehow he’s been able to get enough oxygen so far. On Thursday he had a tracheotomy, and he’ll be breathing through a hole in his neck until Monday, when the growth will be surgically removed. The surgeon says that although this is a rare condition (they see about one a year) the procedure is relatively simple and safe. He’s at Children’s Hospital in Minneapolis, which my dad says is one of the five best pediatric hospitals in the country.

Jordan spent the day with Ian, although he was asleep most of the time. I took care of Sylvia most of the day until my mom took her. Not long after I got to the hospital, Ian woke up crying silently. (The tube is below his vocal chords.) He was hungry. With a nurse helping to untangle the tubes and wires, Jordan was able to breast-feed him. He has a ventilating mask placed loosely over his neck to keep the air warm and moist, so she didn’t have to worry about suffocating him. I watched the computer screen with the heart rate, breathing rate, and blood oxygen levels. Afterward, Ian was all smiles.

After Monday’s surgery, he will be in the hospital for several days to recover. He might be home in time for Thanksgiving (which we were already planning on celebrating on Saturday instead of Thursday.)

If anyone asks on Thanksgiving what I’m thankful for, I’ll know what to say. I’m thankful I am surrounded by the best hospitals in the world, and I’m thankful I have health insurance. (Ian has a nurse assigned to him 24 hours a day for at least five days. I don’t want to know how much that costs.) I’m thankful I have parents in town who can help out. I’m thankful I have a job where I can take several days off to be with my family. And I’m thankful that we got a proper diagnosis in time.

…Time permitting…

It turns out that parenting two kids is more work than one. I’ve had dozens of blog posts in my head, but haven’t had a chance to post one.

Ian is now over two months old. He smiles frequently and is built like a body builder. He can support his own weight. In the past few weeks he’s started getting much more involved in the world: trying to grab things, or shifting around in his saucer seat. Until recently, he wasn’t happy unless he was physically touching somebody. (He still doesn’t like cars– which is unusual for babies.) He still has a hard time sleeping unless he’s on or leaning against someone.

Sylvia, meanwhile, just turned three on Sunday. She claims to have voted on Tuesday for Condoleezza Rice.

Ian's First Smile This is Ian’s first smile. I didn’t get to see smiles for several days after Jordan took this picture.

For future reference

When making Bananas Foster, add and ignite the rum before you turn the heat from low to medium. Ah well, I needed a haircut anyway.

Jordan’s mom is back in town; she went down to Des Moines for the weekend for Chip’s (Jordan’s brother’s) wedding. Ian is still doing well, though he hasn’t slept as well at night as he was doing. (A few weeks ago, he slept 6 hours at night; now he’s down to 2-3 hours at a stretch.) Sleeps all day long, though. Sylvia had her first day of pre-school today;  9-11:30 two days per week. Jordan and I came home and took a nap.

Birth timeline

3:30 AM
Jordan’s water breaks. She’s having mild contractions. We call the midwife, she tells us to go to the hospital once Jordan is having trouble talking through contractions.
4:50 AM
I call my parents. We had planned to wait until 5:00 AM, but decided this was close enough.
6:00 AM
We arrive at the hospital. Jordan is calm, so the nurses on duty don’t realize how far along she is.
11:00 AM
We both take a nap. Contractions have been slow and relatively mild. Afterwards, I go have lunch.
12:28 PM
I start timing contractions again. They’re strong, and only 3 minutes apart. Jordan and I are taking a walk in the hallway, and she’s holding onto a railing with both hands.
2:41 PM
Ian is born. That’s the official time recorded by the nurse. There’s a flurry of activity in the room, as I cut the cord, the baby is weighed and measured, the placenta comes out, and the midwife stiches up Jordan. (Nothing serious: Ian’s arm was over his shoulder as he came out. The same thing happened with Sylvia.) The baby was delivered by Ann Page, CNM, who also delivered Sylvia and is the sister of one of our friends.
3:18 PM
Things quiet down enough that I can start making phone calls.
Sunday morning
Jordan and Ian come home.

It’s happening…

Jordan’s water broke a little while ago. The midwife says to stay at home until the contractions are strong enough that she has trouble talking through them. Throughout this time, she’s been having contractions that have been increasing in intensity.

Chances are, we’ll be going to the hospital before the sun rises.

Oh, and happy birthday, Dad!