Three Principles of Intelligence (That Aren't Principles of Computation) [Rank 5 cognition]

Note: Claude 4.5 drafted this article after a long series of dialogs over several days. This is a continuation of the thinking in my current article in 3 Quarks Daily, Chess and Language as Paradigmatic Cases for Artificial Intelligence.

See the new coda, from April 24, 2026 

In the 1950s, artificial intelligence emerged from a productive confusion. We had just formalized computation itself—Turing and von Neumann had given us the fundamental principles of what computers could do. When we turned these powerful new machines toward intelligence, we naturally assumed the principles would be the same.

They aren't.

Computation vs. Intelligence

The principles of computation are domain-independent. A universal Turing machine can compute anything computable, whether that's arithmetic, chess moves, or protein folding. The Church-Turing thesis tells us that all models of computation are equivalent in what they can ultimately compute, given unlimited time and memory.

This universality is computation's glory—and intelligence's red herring.

Intelligence, as it actually exists in nature, operates under entirely different constraints. It must function in the physical world, with finite resources, solving problems that often don't have clean formal specifications. These aren't just practical limitations to be worked around; they're constitutive features that shape what intelligence is and how it must work.

Principle 1: Geometric Complexity Determines Computational Regime

The critical variable isn't how hard a problem is in some abstract computational sense, but the geometric complexity of the domain.

Consider chess versus visual object recognition. Chess is played on an 8×8 grid with a small set of piece types following rigid rules. The game tree is astronomically large—around 10^120 possible games—but it's finite and well-defined. You can represent board positions symbolically, enumerate legal moves, and search through possibilities systematically.

Vision operates in continuous three-dimensional space with effectively unbounded variation. Objects appear at different scales, orientations, and lighting conditions. There's no finite set of "legal configurations." You can't enumerate all possible images the way you can enumerate chess positions.

This difference in geometric complexity demands different computational approaches. Chess yields to systematic search through a definable space—what we might call sequential or symbolic processing. Vision requires something else: massively parallel processing that can handle continuous variation and incomplete information—holographic or neural processing.

In 1975, Miriam Yevick demonstrated this formally: the geometric complexity of objects in a domain determines the computational regime needed to identify them. Simple geometric objects can be handled by sequential symbolic systems. Complex geometric objects require holographic processing. This wasn't mere speculation—she made a formal mathematical argument about pattern recognition systems.

The field ignored her insight. We assumed all problems were fundamentally like chess—just harder. If symbolic AI could master chess, we thought, it would eventually master vision, language, and physical reasoning through better algorithms and more compute.

We were wrong. Vision didn't yield to symbolic AI no matter how much compute we threw at it. It required a regime shift to neural networks—systems whose architecture matches the geometric complexity of the visual world.

Principle 2: Intelligence Operates in Unbounded, Geometrically Complex Reality

Here's what makes intelligence different from computation in the abstract: intelligence evolved to work in the physical world, which is geometrically complex and open-ended. There's no finite game tree for "objects I might encounter" or "situations I might face."

This has profound implications. You can solve chess by exploring its game tree faster than humans can. But you can't solve vision or language understanding the same way because there's no complete tree to explore. The space isn't closed and enumerable—it's unbounded.

This is why Deep Blue beating Kasparov in 1997 didn't generalize the way we thought it would. Chess was solved by a room-sized supercomputer with custom hardware doing exactly what computers do best: blindingly fast systematic search. By 2025, a smartphone runs chess engines that would destroy both Deep Blue and Kasparov.

But that same smartphone can't run a GPT-4 level language model. Language still requires massive data centers. Why? Because language connects to the unbounded complexity of physical and social reality. No amount of faster chess-style search bridges that gap.

The field learned to beat humans at chess by doing what computers naturally excel at. Then we mistook this for a general template. We thought: "Intelligence is search through problem spaces. We just need bigger computers to search bigger spaces." But geometric complexity isn't about bigger—it's about different.

Principle 3: Embodiment as Formal Constraint

Embodiment isn't a philosophical talking point. It's a formal constraint on intelligence architecture.

When we say intelligence must be embodied, we mean: it must operate with finite computational resources in a geometrically complex physical world. This changes everything.

Abstract computation doesn't care about efficiency—a proof is valid whether it takes a second or a century. Physical computation must complete before the hardware fails. But biological intelligence faces a sharper constraint: it must acquire the energy it uses to compute. A deer's visual system can't require more calories than the deer can acquire. The computation must pay for itself.

This constraint shapes what kinds of solutions are viable. You can't exhaustively search unbounded spaces. You can't maintain perfect world models. You must make do with approximate, good-enough processing that operates in real time with available resources.

Crucially, this means different problems need different solutions—not just more or less compute, but fundamentally different architectures matched to the geometric complexity of the domain.

Why This Matters Now

Current AI has powerful neural networks that excel at pattern recognition in geometrically complex domains—vision, speech, even aspects of language. But the field still carries assumptions from the symbolic AI era:

• That intelligence is domain-independent
• That scaling compute will eventually solve any problem
• That we can ignore embodiment and resource constraints
• That all problems are fundamentally like chess

These assumptions persist even though we've abandoned symbolic AI. We've swapped the implementation (symbols → neural networks) but kept the framework (more compute → general intelligence).

This is why we need to distinguish computation principles from intelligence principles. Turing and von Neumann gave us the former. For the latter, we need to recognize that geometric complexity, unbounded reality, and embodied constraints aren't bugs to be worked around—they're the constitutive features that determine what intelligence is and how it must work.

The principles of intelligence aren't the principles of computation. Understanding this distinction is the key to understanding both what current AI can do and what it cannot. 

Coda: Rank 5 Cognition

Given that I’ve decided that Yevick’s 1975 paper is a convenient marker for Rank 5 cognition, it seems to follow that intelligence, in the sense discussed here, is a Rank 5 concept. So, the ranks shape up like this:

Rank 1: speech
Rank 2: writing
Rank 3: calculation
Rank 4: computation (flow of control)
Rank 5: intelligence (regime matching: computation in unbounded, geometrically complex, reality)

MAGA’s Big Tech Divide

That's an article in the NYTimes by Ezra Klein in which he interviews James Pogue. I asked Claude 3.5 to summarize it.

* * * * *

I’d like you to summarize the attached article. Assume an intelligent and well-educated reader. Thank you.

This article is a transcript of an Ezra Klein Show interview with James Pogue, a journalist who covers the "New Right" movement within MAGA politics. The conversation, published in January 2025, explores the intellectual currents and tensions within Trump's coalition following his return to the presidency.

The discussion centers on two competing factions within MAGA: a traditionalist wing represented by figures like JD Vance (Trump's vice president), and a tech-oriented wing aligned with Elon Musk and other Silicon Valley figures. The traditionalist wing emphasizes cultural restoration, masculinity, and skepticism of modern technology's effects on society. The tech wing, while sharing some of these cultural concerns, envisions using technological advancement to achieve MAGA's goals.

Pogue describes how these factions, despite their differences, are united in opposing what they call "the regime" - a perceived establishment comprising mainstream media, universities, NGOs, and traditionally powerful institutions. He notes how Trump, while not deeply engaged with either faction's ideology, has managed to balance both groups' interests, particularly evidenced by his relationship with both Vance and Musk.

The interview delves into complex ideological threads, including the movement's relationship with modernity, its vision of masculine virtue, and its understanding of American identity. Pogue suggests that while the movement's intellectual foundations are robust among younger staffers and theorists, it remains unclear how much these ideas will translate into actual governance, given the practical constraints of running the federal government and Trump's own tendency to prioritize personal loyalty over ideological purity.

A particularly notable element is the discussion of how the movement reconciles its critique of technology and modernity with its embrace of tech billionaires and social media. This tension, Pogue argues, reflects broader contradictions within the movement as it transitions from opposition to governance.

The conversation concludes by examining how these competing visions might shape American policy and society, with Pogue suggesting that the success of the administration may depend on whether these different factions can maintain their coalition while implementing their shared agenda.

Who are the most important thinkers in the various factions?

Based on the article, several key intellectuals and thinkers emerge across the different factions of the New Right movement:

For the traditionalist wing, Curtis Yarvin stands out as what Pogue calls "the dark lord intellectual godfather" of the movement. Yarvin is described as a reactionary who believes that people were better formed in earlier eras (specifically citing Pennsylvania farmers in 1800) and who has written against techno-optimism despite his own background in technology.

Patrick Deneen is another significant figure, whose book "Regime Change" is described as "Curtis Yarvin for normies." The article suggests his work provides an intellectual framework for the movement's desire to replace current elites and institutions.

For the tech-oriented wing, Marc Andreessen emerges as a key intellectual figure, particularly through his "Techno-Optimist Manifesto." Peter Thiel, while somewhat removed from current politics, is portrayed as bridging the traditionalist and tech wings through his earlier support of figures like JD Vance and Blake Masters.

The article also mentions some less prominent but influential figures like Micah Meadowcroft, who Pogue describes as "one of the smartest people of this world," and who articulates the movement's desire to rebuild American "yeomanry." There's also reference to Bronze Age Pervert, a figure who promotes ideas about masculinity and physical culture.

Interestingly, while JD Vance is described as a unifying figure who can speak to both wings of the movement, he's portrayed more as a political leader who synthesizes these ideas rather than an original thinker himself.

The article also notes that many of these ideas were initially developed by anonymous or pseudonymous figures on Twitter and in blogs, suggesting a broader intellectual ecosystem beyond the named figures.

This intellectual framework appears to draw from various traditions, including Catholic social teaching, classical republicanism, and tech entrepreneurship, creating what Pogue describes as a coherent, if sometimes contradictory, worldview.

Piketty and Sandel on how the Left Went Astray [Claude summary]

New York Times Opinion, Two of the World’s Leading Thinkers on How the Left Went Astray, NYTimes, Jan. 28, 2025:

Thomas Piketty is one of the world’s leading economists, a socialist who has been studying the corrosive effects of inequality for decades. Last May, he sat down with Harvard’s Michael Sandel, one of the world’s most prominent political philosophers, for a talk at the Paris School of Economics about the moral limits of markets and the future of the left. They tussled over what liberals would have to do to counter a rising tide of nativism from Donald Trump and the other conservative politicians gaining traction around the globe.

In the months that followed, Mr. Piketty and Mr. Sandel kept talking over email, sparring over questions about identity and belonging: When do borders matter? How do you find a balance between nationalism and internationalism? What are our responsibilities to migrants, and how can we convince Americans that the system is fair?

Today, with Democrats struggling over how much of Mr. Trump’s immigration agenda to support as well as the future of their party, Times Opinion has adapted Mr. Piketty and Mr. Sandel’s conversations. Both men have long been critics of mainstream liberalism from the distinct perspectives of their respective fields — Mr. Piketty as an economist, Mr. Sandel as a philosopher. Their back-and-forth, edited for length and clarity, builds to a surprising conclusion: that the left must reclaim a form of identity politics.

I asked Claude 3.4 Sonata to summarize their discussion.

* * * * *

I’d like you to summarize the attached article. Be sure to attribute the arguments appropriately.

Sandel and Piketty agree that the left needs to reclaim a form of identity politics, though not the kind centered on ethnicity or religion. Their discussion reveals several key insights:

On immigration and borders, Piketty argues that while open borders should be the goal, they require proper funding mechanisms for public services. He criticizes Europe's current approach to migration, suggesting that the relatively small migrant flows are falsely blamed for broader economic problems.

Regarding voter behavior, Piketty emphasizes that support for politicians like Trump and Le Pen stems primarily from manufacturing job losses due to trade competition, not immigration. He argues that the left's failure to address trade and job issues has allowed the right to dominate the conversation about identity and belonging.

Sandel builds on this by suggesting that the left has ceded important political territory to the right, particularly around concepts of patriotism and community. He argues that economic and identity issues are deeply interconnected, pointing to how job losses in industrial towns affected not just wages but people's sense of dignity and recognition.

Both scholars criticize the Democratic Party's evolution into a party of educational and economic elites. Piketty suggests that Democrats should be willing to lose wealthy voters to pursue genuine redistributive policies. Sandel critiques the party's historical emphasis on college education as the path to success, noting that this alienates the majority of Americans who don't have university degrees.

Looking forward, they propose that Democrats need to:

• Break with neoliberal globalization
• Move beyond focusing solely on higher education as the solution to inequality
• Develop policies that respect multiple forms of aspiration, including home ownership and small business development
• Create a broader project of civic renewal that affirms the dignity of work
• Give citizens more voice in shaping technological change and environmental policy

The conversation concludes with both scholars agreeing that socioeconomic issues and identity conflicts are deeply intertwined, suggesting that neglected economic aspirations can transform into entrenched identity conflicts.

Blog Post: Claude 3.5 Sonnet and literary analysis [Heart of Darkness]

While I read, think, and write about many things, it’s the analysis of literary texts that got me hooked on the intellectual life. And that’s still the center of it all.

So, how can LLMs benefit literary critics?

I’ve taken the whole text of Heart of Darkness, almost 39,000 words, and loaded it into Claude 3.5 Sonnet. To date, my interaction with Claude on HoD totals almost 7000 words, most of them produced by Claude. I have no intention of reporting all of them in this post, but I will offer you a judicious selection.

Claude has been an interesting interlocutor in this matter, interesting enough that I’m willing to hazard the view that, in the future, when I work on a literary text, I would like to be able to load the whole thing in whatever LLM or LLM-based tool I’m using. I note, however, in working with Claude on HoD I’m dealing with a text I know fairly well and have even written about: Heart of Darkness: Qualitative and Quantitative Analysis on Several Scales. It’s not clear how things would go with a text I’ve not worked with.

Let’s get on with it. I’m appending three things: 1) the second of 2 summaries Claude produced, along with a question I asked about them, 2) Claude’s exegesis of texts fragments I call the emblem, because I take them as being emblematic of the whole text, and 3) Claude’s remarks about a passage late in the book. The second and third indicate that so-called close analysis is not the exclusive province of human literary critics. As a fourth appendix, I’ve included that passage.

A Summary of Heart of Darkness

This is the second summary I asked Claude to produce:

Marlow, a sailor, tells fellow passengers aboard a boat on the Thames about his journey up the Congo River. His story begins with him taking a job as a steamboat captain for a Belgian trading company. Before leaving Europe, he encounters several disturbing signs of colonialism's dark nature, including two women knitting black wool who seem like figures of fate.

In Africa, Marlow becomes increasingly fascinated by Mr. Kurtz, an extraordinary ivory trader stationed deep in the interior. As Marlow makes his difficult journey upriver, repairing his damaged steamboat and witnessing the brutal exploitation of Africans, he hears conflicting stories about Kurtz - that he's a remarkable success, that he's ill, that he's gone native, that he's bringing extraordinary profits in ivory.

When Marlow finally reaches Kurtz's station, he finds a man who has essentially become a demigod to local inhabitants, decorating his station with severed heads and conducting brutal raids for ivory. Though physically ill, Kurtz remains powerful through his charismatic personality and extraordinary gift for speech. Despite his noble intentions and grand ideals about civilizing Africa (expressed in a report he wrote for the "International Society for the Suppression of Savage Customs"), Kurtz has succumbed to the darkness of unchecked power and greed.

Marlow gets the dying Kurtz onto his steamboat. Before dying, Kurtz cries out "The horror! The horror!" - words that seem to sum up both his experience and the entire colonial enterprise. After returning to Europe, Marlow visits Kurtz's Intended (fiancée), who still idealizes Kurtz. Unable to shatter her illusions, Marlow lies and tells her Kurtz's last words were her name.

The story is structured as a frame narrative, with Marlow telling his tale to men on a boat, and explores themes of colonialism, civilization versus savagery, and the darkness that lurks in human nature when moral restraints are removed. It moves from the "civilized" Thames to the "savage" Congo and back, suggesting that darkness exists everywhere, even in the heart of the empire.

The narrative emphasizes both the horror of European colonialism in Africa and the more universal horror of confronting human nature's capacity for evil. Through Marlow's journey into the heart of darkness - both geographical and moral - Conrad examines how the veneer of civilization can crack, revealing humanity's potential for savage behavior.

A bit later I asked about an omission in both summaries (my prompt is set in bold):

On two times I’ve asked you to summarize Heart of Darkness. You don’t mention the death of the helmsman in either summary. Why not?

Ah - this is a very important observation. You're absolutely right. In both summaries I failed to mention this crucial death, which is a significant oversight because:

1. It's a pivotal moment in the narrative
   
2. It provides the context for that crucial nexus paragraph we discussed
   
3. It gives concrete weight to the human cost of the colonial enterprise
   
4. It creates a personal connection between Marlow and Africa
   
5. It sets up the moral question of whether Kurtz was "worth the life we lost"

This omission from my summaries reveals how easy it is to focus on the more obvious elements (Kurtz, the journey, the Intended) while missing crucial structural and thematic elements. The helmsman's death isn't just another event in the story - it's a critical moment that brings together many of the story's concerns.

My summaries would have been better if they had included this death and its significance. It's a good reminder that even when we think we understand a text well, we can miss important elements.

Thank you for pointing out this blind spot. It's a useful lesson in how to read and summarize more carefully.

Progress ain’t what it used to be

Virginia Postrel, The world of tomorrow, Works in Progress, Issue 17, Dec. 5, 2024. 

My favorite line: “Today’s techno-optimism is infused with nostalgia for the retro future.” Exactly! It seems like a throwback to an earlier time. In fact, it seems like a throwback to Walt Disney’s view of the world. While I admire Disney, his vision of the future was born in the first half of the 20th century. That's done and gone. It's a new world and we need new visions for the future.

Here's Claude's summary of Postrel’s article:

This article explores how the concept of progress lost its glamorous appeal in American culture, particularly during the mid-20th century, and examines what this shift means for modern techno-optimism.

The author begins by explaining how progress was viewed as inherently glamorous for much of the 20th century, particularly from the 1920s to 1960s. This was exemplified by events like the 1939 New York World’s Fair and Disneyland’s Tomorrowland, which presented optimistic visions of the future characterized by technological advancement and material abundance.

The article identifies three distinct audiences who found progress glamorous during this period: modernists who sought order and efficiency, intellectuals who yearned for discovery and achievement, and ordinary people who desired comfort and security. The latter group was particularly significant in making progress glamour a cultural norm, as they witnessed technological improvements materially benefiting their daily lives through innovations like refrigerators and automobiles.

However, this glamorous vision of progress began to fade in the late 1960s for several reasons. First, as futuristic conveniences became everyday realities, they lost their mystique and revealed their limitations. Second, the modernist approach to progress, which often involved top-down planning and urban renewal projects, faced growing resistance from communities affected by these changes. This resistance was exemplified by Jane Jacobs’ influential critique of urban planning and the rise of the counterculture movement.

The article then examines contemporary attitudes toward progress, noting that today’s longings differ significantly from those of the mid-20th century. Modern individuals often seek escape from the attention economy, desire authentic connections, and value mastery of practical skills. The author suggests that any new vision of progress must accommodate diverse preferences and lifestyles rather than pursuing a single ideal future.

The piece concludes by arguing that future progress must embrace pluralism and avoid the modernist fallacy of “one best way.” Using examples from Neal Stephenson’s novel The Diamond Age, it suggests that material abundance should serve as a foundation for various ways of living rather than forcing conformity to a single vision of the future. The author emphasizes that progress can only regain its appeal if it allows for multiple versions of the good life while maintaining social cohesion.

The central insight is that progress lost its glamour not simply because of environmental concerns or anti-technology sentiment, but because the modernist vision of progress failed to acknowledge human diversity and the importance of organic social development. Any attempt to restore faith in progress must learn from these historical lessons while addressing contemporary desires and anxieties.