My colleague Paul Diduch recently shared the video of a TED Talk by Imran Chaudhri and asked “What Would Socrates Say?”
The TED YouTube channel’s breathless blurb wasn’t a good start. It touts an “exclusive preview of groundbreaking, unreleased technology” and an explanation of “how it could change the way we interact with tech and the world around us.” This was a blatant company pitch that reminded me of the demo work I used to do for a software company. Marketing, sure; prophetic, not so much. (The reassuring and terrifying reality is that no predictions, especially about technology futures, are accurate.) It didn’t help that Chaudhri didn’t seem comfortable mouthing his speech, either.
A couple of months earlier, Paul had led a conversation about the parable of Thamus and Theuth in Plato’s dialogue Phaedrus in our CU Boulder tech & mythology group. The exchange between Thamus and Theuth is often taken as a salutary example of dangerous overpromising by inventors and the need for government to control innovation. (For what it’s worth, I don’t think the dialogue addresses those points in any depth.)
TED Talks in general, and this one in particular, illustrate technoworriers’ worst fears. Reflecting on Chaudhri’s presentation, I imagine
- Socrates being contemptuous of a carefully crafted, tightly scripted speech;
- Plato detesting the prospect of technology innovation he couldn’t control.
As for myself, I’m deeply skeptical about calling something “good AI in action,” as Chaudhri did, suggesting we can easily distinguish between good and bad consequences, not to mention reach a consensus on the definitions of “good” and “bad.”
When it came to writing, Plato’s paradigmatic inventor Theuth claims that it would make the Egyptians wiser and give them better memories—a claim that Thamus contests and Socrates debunks, arguing that dialogue is the path to wisdom not writing and speeches. Chaudhri channels Theuth with slogans like “Your AI effectively becomes an ever-evolving, personalized form of memory.”
Similarly cringe-worthy, Chaudhri asserts, “But what’s cool is my AI knows what's best for me, but I'm in total control.” Chaudhri is the caricature-Theuth of critiques of technophilia such as Neil Postman’s Technopoly (1992).
Paul wondered how the average viewer or listener would receive this TED Talk. How critical are they? What does audience applause signify—agreement, hope, praise? Do they buy into such unreflective hype?
I can’t claim expertise on the demographics of TED attendees or TED Talk viewers. My guess is that the audience in the room at TED and the YouTube viewer are different. For both, however, the level of criticality is low. These experiences are not about critical analysis, so it’s not an appropriate requirement.
TED attendees, typically affluent executives paying $10,000 for a 5-day conference, see themselves as philanthropic innovators. Many of them also value wealth but frame it as “doing well by doing good.” In short: New York Times meets Silicon Valley. For these people, TED is like going to church, or perhaps better, an annual religious revival. The talks are sermons that provide affirmation, hope, celebration, encouragement, community. Their applause endorses and expresses those feelings.
Those who watch the videos are like mid-level managers reading self-help business books. They aren’t as engaged with the material as conference attendees, but they’re also looking for encouragement and validation. For them, TED Talk videos are like scrolling through inspirational social media.
I suspect that while the general audience may feel some affinity with the ideas presented, it’s not a deep-seated conviction, any more than someone who goes to midnight mass once a year on Christmas Eve buys into Catholic dogma. There is probably a weak affiliation with the ideas expressed. They’d be open to criticism without feeling personally attacked, the way elites attending TED might.
The live TED attendees, however, probably align more strongly with the ideologies presented, given that these align with their identity and self-image. They subscribe to “Doing well by doing good tech.” I suspect that many of them are aware of the risks and downsides of new tech and are bothered by it in their quieter moments. However, they probably feel that the risk can be managed, especially if conscientious people like them are involved. (Something like Sam Altman supposedly said about managing AI.)
I’ll go back to the religious analogy. Ordinary churchgoers don't constantly grapple with their faith; they attend services without much introspection. Pastors and religious leaders, on the other hand, often struggle with doubt, like Mother Theresa’s crisis of faith and CG Jung’s father. It’s not just religion, though.
This phenomenon occurs in most, if not all, fields. The best informed are most aware of the feet of clay. One can see it in cynicism about the scientific method—e.g., the flaws of peer review—among scientists, and about democracy among politicians.
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