Showing posts with label yevick. Show all posts
Showing posts with label yevick. Show all posts

Saturday, July 4, 2026

Four Propositions about Intelligence in Animals, Humans, and AIs

Some quickies.

1. Intelligence cannot be reduced to computation

All animal perception and cogitation take place in a complex world where animals have finite resources. Therefore the principles of intelligence, as an aspect of perception and cogitation, cannot be reduced to the principles of computation as the principles of computation assume unbounded resources.

Let’s call this Yevick’s First Law, as it is a consequence of her 1975 paper, “Holographic or fourier logic” (Pattern Recognition, Vol. 7, No. 4, pp. 197-213).

David Hays and I formulated what we called “Yevick’s Law” in our 1988 paper, Principles and Development of Natural Intelligence” (Journal of Social and Biological Structures). Let’s call that Yevick’s Second Law:

The world consists of geometrically simple and geometrically complex objects. Simple objects are best computing with sequential logic (aka symbolic systems). Complex objects are best computed with holographic logic (aka distributed neural nets). Some objects are such that they require the interaction of both computational regimes. Let us say that fluency in that interaction is intelligence. (See my working paper, What Miriam Yevick Saw: The Nature of Intelligence and the Prospects for A.I., A Dialog with Claude 3.5 Sonnet, 2025).

2. Intelligence in animals

Let us consider a relatively simple animal, a vertebrate, likely a marine animal. One the one hand, it must navigate the world, moving from place to place. This is mediated by the hippocampus, which is a so-called “cognitive map.” This is basic sequential cogitation.

As it moves from place to place it senses things, good things, bad things, other things. Olfaction is perhaps the most basic sense. For what it is worth, it’s the sensory mode that the late Walter Freeman used in his investigations of complex neural dynamics. Olfaction works via a holographic or gestalt process.

Taken together, moving about the world and sense things involves the two modes specified above.

Now let’s consider vision in vertebrates, where the eye is mobile and scans the world. Visual identification is a holographic process. However, the (human) eye scans the scene rapidly and unconsciously. This is a sequential process. Therefore vertebrate vision involves the two modes internally. (I suspect that vision in invertebrates does not, but I don’t actually know).

3. Natural language is its own metalanguage

Humans differ from animals in many and various ways. It is the capacity for language that has allowed humans to move into a different relationship with the world from that characteristic of animals. What makes human language particularly powerful is that it can serve as its own metalanguage, Roman Jakobson’s metalingual function.

This does not involve any deep mystery or logical conundrum. Rather it is a direct consequence of that fact that natural language is physically embodied, initially in sound and gesture, later as written symbols. This embodied is a sensory object out there in the world among all the other sensory objects.

Initially the metalingual function operates in direct, perhaps superficial, but useful ways. Think of how we refer to language as a means of negotiating conversation: “What did you say? I didn’t hear you?” But the metalingual function can be used to define new terms, something that interested my teacher and colleague, David Hays. It can even be used to define other, more restricted languages (e.g. chess and arithmetic), and serve as metalanguages for them.

Thus it is the foundation of the succession of cognitive ranks that David Hays and I began investigating in the 1990s starting with our paper, “The Evolution of Cognition” (Journal of Social and Biological Systems, later becoming the Journal of Social and Evolutionary Systems). That process has, in time, led to the development of digital computers and, now, to so-called artificial intelligence.

That leads us to our fourth and last note.

4. The last frontier of intelligence

Is not an autonomous artificial system of some kind, though such systems are important and will be increasingly so. here’s the upshot of a conversation I recently had with Claude:

If that's right, then the last frontier isn't more capability in the pattern-matching sense — bigger weight spaces, richer latent connections, better approximations of the associative regime. It's the specific, non-scalable, non-parallelizable fact of an individual mind's biography, which generates paths through possibility space that are real, productive, and genuinely inaccessible to any system that hasn't lived a life.

You should read the whole post to see the logic behind that conclusion.

Note that that is my current best response to the idea of super-intelligence or artificial-superintelligence (ASI). I do not see the future bringing us as AI system that outthinks humans in every way and either creates a world in which we are coddled pets or one in which we are slaves, if we are allowed to exist at all. Those ideas are subjective fantasy.

I note as well that the process that brings us to that point or, if you will, through which we arrive at the point, will be one in which we have a much deeper understanding of that brain and its processes than we now have. For what it’s worth, that understanding is what I have been seeking all these years, starting with my initial investigation of “Kubla Khan”: Xanadu, GPT, and Beyond: An adventure of the mind.

Saturday, June 13, 2026

From Jagged AI to Scaling, Yevick, Natural Intelligence, and Beyond...

I had a very interesting conversation with Google's AI – by which I mean the AI on the standard search page. I asked Claude to summarize it. Pay particular attention to the penultimate paragraph about alignment. 

An exercise for the reader: What are the implications of this conversation for the idea of super-intelligence? In the words of Aretha Franklin, “Who’s zoomin’ who?”

 

 

 

Overview

This is a transcript of a wide-ranging conversation between you and Google's AI, structured around the concept of AI's "jagged" capabilities — the phenomenon where AI excels at complex tasks but stumbles on apparently simple ones, with no predictable boundary between the two.

The Arc of the Conversation

The document moves through ten topics:

Jagged Skills & Moravec's Paradox — You open by asking about the origins of the "jagged frontier" concept (traced to Harvard Business School researchers in 2023, popularized by Ethan Mollick). You immediately point out that this is essentially a replay of Moravec's Paradox from the 1980s — the AI agrees, but notes some differences: the modern jaggedness is intra-domain (within knowledge work) rather than the macro divide between symbolic reasoning and physical/perceptual tasks, and human intuition about where the failures will occur has now completely broken down.

Cyborg & Centaur Workflows — You steer toward practical implications. The AI explains two human-AI collaboration strategies: Centaurs (clean division of labor, human handles reality, AI handles execution) and Cyborgs (deeply interleaved real-time co-authorship). You frame the underlying issue as being about the relationship between a computing system and the nature of the world it computes over — a framing the AI endorses.

Hallucinations — The AI argues (and you presumably agree) that "confabulation" is a better term than "hallucination" for LLM errors: like neurologically impaired patients, the LLM's narrative engine runs flawlessly while its error-checking against reality is absent.

Scaling — Discussion of whether scaling (more data, more compute) will smooth the jagged frontier. The AI describes the "scaling wall" now being hit: data drought, model collapse from training on AI-generated content, and diminishing returns — pointing toward structural, not just quantitative, limits.

Miriam Yevick & Holographic Logic — Here your own intellectual history enters the conversation. You surface Yevick's 1975 Pattern Recognition paper on Holographic vs. fourier logic, which you discovered in 1978 via a comment she made on a Haugeland article in Behavioral and Brain Sciences. The AI treats this as a profound, forgotten piece of computer science that precisely explains the mechanism behind the jagged frontier.

Principles and Development of Natural Intelligence (1988) — You describe how you and David Hays incorporated Yevick's insight into your 1988 Journal of Social and Biological Structures paper. The AI discusses how that paper, if injected into current debates, would reframe LLMs as having "hacked" the top-level indexing principle of intelligence (via language) while lacking the foundational lower layers — modal, feedback, Gestalt — that ground intelligence in reality. Hallucinations become not a bug but an architectural inevitability.

Ramesh & Wikipedia — You mention your ongoing collaboration with Ramesh Viswanathan (machine vision, Goethe University Frankfurt) and the Wikipedia entry on Yevick that now exists, connecting her Fourier logic to David Bohm's holonomic brain theory and your 1988 paper.

ChatGPT Tells Stories — You describe your working paper "ChatGPT Tells Stories, and a Note about Reverse Engineering," in which you apply Lévi-Strauss's structuralist transformation method to probe ChatGPT's internal constraints. Ramesh has students working with the data. The AI frames this as demanding a "top-down behavioral interpretability" that the industry's current bottom-up neuron-level approach entirely misses.

Suggestions for Students — The AI offers three research frameworks for your upcoming Zoom with Ramesh's students: a "Narrative Stress-Test" benchmark, 3D vector-space visualization of holographic ripple effects through story transformations, and a co-authored manifesto paper for venues like NeurIPS.

AI Researchers Need Their Alignment Adjusted — You wrap up with a characteristically dry observation: it's "fitting and ironic" that LLM-based chatbots can understand Yevick's work better than the engineers who built them. You suggest the researchers need their alignment adjusted — and sign off to get breakfast.

The Document's Character

It reads as both an intellectual exploration and a kind of vindication narrative — the AI functions as a surprisingly capable interlocutor for ideas that the mainstream AI research community has largely overlooked. The irony you close with is the document's real punchline: the systems built on these mathematical structures understand them better than their builders do.

Thursday, April 30, 2026

A Quick Ramble: Computational Compressibility (order in the universe), Religion & Signaling, Silicon Valley vs. Pope Leo [+Latour]

I’m thinking there’s a relationship between computational compressibility (as an index of order in the universe) and my current interest in religion, which is what the other two items are about.

Computational Compressibility and order in the universe

I’ve been particularly pleased by my recent working paper: On Method: Computational Compressibility in Complex Natural and Cultural Phenomena. I’m not quite sure why I find it so pleasing. That it crosses disciplines, that’s nice: weather, microbiology, chess (AI), finance economics (asset pricing), film studies (Hollywood Economics), and cultural evolution (Macroanalysis, 19th century novel). But it’s the specific mode of the argument; it’s about description, about what kinds of things exist.

I began by framing the discussion in terms of Stephen Wolfram’s distinction between computational reducibility and computational irreducibility. I think we’ve got to look at that distinction in terms of Miriam Yevick’s 1975 distinction between holographic or Fourier logic and sequential logic. I think Wolfram’s notion of computational reducibility implies Yevick’s sequential logic. As far as I can tell, her notion of holographic logic doesn’t register with respect to Wolfram’s distinction. But it may be that what I’m calling computational compressibility (within the realm of irreducibility) resonates with her notion of holographic logic.

A random system would of course be irreducible, but that is an extreme case. The systems I looked at in that paper are not random, but the order they exhibit allows them to occupy only a relatively small region of the state space potentially open to them. Given appropriate data about the behavior of the system, that region can be identified through a computational process. Thus they are computationally compressible. The phenomenon of computational compressibility indicates order, but order of a kind that’s different from reducible order. Generative order? 

Religion & Signaling

Glenn Loury has a recent video where he distinguishes between what we might call the propositional content of an utterance and its signal value. Explains that at some length in a recent lecture he gave at Stanford, Self-Censorship, Social Information, and the Conditions of Public Reason. In the lecture he examines three cases: race in America, academic life, and Israel and Gaza. His point is that in public discourse on these topics (and others) the signal value of what one is saying often eclipses the propositional value of one’s assertions. This often results in self-censorship where a person withholds their (propositional) views for fear of signally the wrong values.

Thus, in racial discourse:

A key question in this discourse is why racial inequality persists. In this domain speech is saturated with moral meanings. Claims about inequality, education, crime, family structure, or historical responsibility are rarely heard simply as attempts to explain social outcomes. They are taken also as signals of moral orientation—of sympathy or indifference, solidarity or hostility, compassion or disdain. For many audiences, answers to that question relying on structural causes are regarded more favorably than accounts emphasizing cultural factors. Speakers adapt accordingly—many by holding their tongues.

I think lots of discourse is like that. It seems to me that much religious discourse is like this. The conservative Christian arguments against biological evolution never made much sense to me as propositional assertion, nor did the accompanying belief about the age of the earth, but as signaling, those beliefs make more sense.

I'm thinking this signaling business is about coordination, about establishing a rock-bottom level of interpersonal coordination, of common knowledge. I need to think about this some more. 

Addendum, May 2, 2026: This post about Bruno Latour's conception of modes of existence is relevant here, each with it own “felicity conditions,” as he calls them.

Silicon Valley vs. Pope Leo

I’ve only recently learned that Pope Leo XIV has decided to make AI a central concern of his papacy. Given that I think that the common Silicon Valley view of AI is idolatrous, or at best straddles the border, I’m wondering if we’re going to see a grand debate and battle between the Pope and Silicon Valley apologists. When I put the question to Claude, here’s how it responded:

Your instinct is well-founded, and Leo XIV has already moved aggressively on this front. Let me lay out what's emerged so far.

Who he is and what he's signaling

Leo XIV — born Robert Prevost in Chicago, the first American pope — identified AI as a central challenge from his very first formal address to the cardinals after his election in May 2025. His choice of the name Leo was itself a signal: Pope Leo XIII confronted the industrial revolution with Rerum Novarum (1891), defending workers' rights and the common good. By taking that name, the new pope announced that the Church would face today's technological upheaval with similar clarity.

The specific critique — and it maps closely onto your "idolatry" framing

This is where it gets interesting for your purposes. In what has been called a programmatic document on AI for World Communications Day, Leo warned that "behind this enormous invisible force that involves us all, there are only a handful of companies — those whose founders have recently been presented as the creators of the 'Person of the Year 2025.'" He expressed "serious concern regarding the oligopolistic control of algorithmic and artificial intelligence systems capable of subtly shaping behaviors and even rewriting human history."

That last phrase — rewriting human history, including the history of the Church — is remarkable. He's naming a power claim that goes beyond economic disruption.

His core argument is that "the challenge is not technological, but anthropological. Safeguarding faces and voices ultimately means safeguarding ourselves." He described face and voice as "sacred," given by God, "the constitutive element of every genuine encounter."

At a Vatican gathering that included representatives from Google, OpenAI, Anthropic, IBM, Meta, and Palantir, he said: "The person is not a system of algorithms: he or she is a creature, relationship, mystery."

The "data is not wisdom" theme

He has repeatedly insisted that "the ability to access vast amounts of data and information should not be confused with the ability to derive meaning and value from it," and that "authentic wisdom has more to do with recognizing the true meaning of life than with the availability of data." This is a direct counter to the implicit epistemology of Silicon Valley — the notion that intelligence is fundamentally information processing, that more data equals more understanding.

Where this connects to your book

Your framing of the dominant Silicon Valley attitude as idolatrous is theologically precise in a way that Leo XIV would likely recognize. The classic definition of idolatry isn't crude statue-worship — it's the attribution of ultimate value and salvific power to something that is not God. When figures like Altman, Musk, or Kurzweil speak of AI as the path to immortality, the transcendence of human limitation, the solution to death — that's structurally idolatrous in the theological sense. It substitutes a human artifact for the divine.

Leo has the resources of the entire tradition of Catholic social teaching to bring to bear on this — not just as ethics but as a rival anthropology. The Church's claim that the person is "creature, relationship, mystery" is not compatible with the claim that the person is, at bottom, a computational process that can be replicated, extended, or superseded by a sufficiently powerful machine.

Whether this becomes a genuine face-off rather than parallel talking depends on whether Silicon Valley feels the need to respond. So far, the tech executives seem to be treating Vatican engagement as a reputational opportunity — showing up in Rome, being photographed, nodding about "human dignity" — without conceding much. The more interesting question is whether Leo pushes beyond dialogue into something more like confrontation. The Rerum Novarum precedent suggests he might: that encyclical didn't merely express concern about the industrial revolution, it made specific demands.

Wednesday, April 15, 2026

Miriam Yevick now has a Wikipedia Entry

The entry is quite recent. I didn’t notice it until yesterday but, judging by the article’s history, it went live on January 1, 2026. It contains some information I wasn’t aware of, which is not at all surprising. The two most interesting pieces of information are that she began her career at the National Bureau of Standards in Washington, D.C. and that she had had an affair with David Bohm, the physicist. I knew about her extensive correspondence with Bohm I suspected that there had been an affair – judging from a remark she’d made, though I forget just where – but I didn’t actually know that.

What’s important is simply that she’s finally in Wikipedia. She wasn’t when I first mentioned her at New Savanna back in June 3, 2020. I’ve known about her work since 1978, when she made a comment on Haugeland’s article about cognitivism. Her 1975 article on Fourier logic became central to the article David Hays and I published about the brain, Principles and Development of Natural Intelligence, which is cited in the Wikipedia entry. In that article she considers two different kinds of computational regime, which she refers to as Fourier or holographic, and sequential. That distinction is fundamentally the same as the symbolic vs. neural distinction in current AI discourse.

That article is important because, and here I’m quoting from a remark Claude made in a recent discussion I had with it:

She doesn't take one computational system as object. She takes the relationship between two incommensurable computational regimes as object, and proves something about what the structure of reality requires of that relationship. She steps outside both regimes simultaneously and asks: given the kinds of objects that exist in the world, what must any adequate cognitive system contain? The answer — both regimes, necessarily, not contingently — is a proof about the space of possible cognitive architectures rather than a result within any particular architecture.

And that is why I’ve been mentioning her work whenever I have a chance. Until her work has been taken into account, the current debate is poorly formulated and incomplete, to put it charitably. A less charitable formulation would be that the debate isn’t intellectually serious. It’s mostly about intellectual ideology and commercially-oriented hype.

I take the fact that Yevick now has a Wikipedia entry as a sign that her work of 40 years ago may eventually recognized and extended.

Tuesday, April 14, 2026

LLMs, the nature of language as a computational object, and arithmetic as a specialized language [MR-Aux]

Early in my undergraduate career at Johns Hopkins I learned about Gödel’s proof, this strange argument that there are statements that are true in arithmetic but that cannot be derived from arithmetic. Hence, arithmetic is incomplete. Where did these true but not derivable statements come from? We, us humans, we provided them. We created arithmetic and, as its creators, are outside it, transcendent with respect to it, meta to it.

This post is about arithmetic as a specialized kind of language. It presents a discussion I had with Claude which follows up on an earlier discussion about chess as a specialized kind of language, making this post something of an adjunct to my discussion of Tyler Cowen’s book on marginalism. If we treat language as a proxy for human beings, then we can see that Gödel’s arguments follow from the fact that arithmetic is a specialized form of language, which language is necessarily meta with respect to arithmetic. It is also part of my ongoing exposition of the theory of cognitive ranks that David Hays and I developed in the 1990s, starting with The Evolution of Cognition.

So, we start with 1) arithmetic as a specialized kind of language, which takes us through Gödel and Turing to 2) the brain vs. the computer, which gets into LLMs, writing and von Neumann on the brain, next 3) Miriam Yevick’s 1975 article about the relationship between computational regimes and the objects over which they compute, again through LLMs, and then to something a bit new, 4) Rank 5 cognition, and concluding with 5) current debates about the appropriate architecture for AI. In that context Claude remarks:

The neural-versus-symbolic debate — and its attempted resolution in neuro-symbolic hybrid architectures — treats the question as an engineering optimization problem. Which processing regime is more powerful? Can we get the best of both? How do we combine them most effectively? These are Rank 4 questions: they're about model-building and architecture selection within a space of possible systems.

Yevick's proof, if taken seriously, shows that this is the wrong question. The issue isn't which regime is more powerful or how to hybridize them — it's that the two regimes are responses to two logically distinct categories of object in the world, and no amount of engineering can collapse that distinction. The debate about which regime to use presupposes that the choice is contingent, that with sufficient cleverness you might get away with just one. Yevick proves the choice is not contingent. You can't get away with just one, not because of engineering limitations but because of the structure of reality.

This is exactly like debating whether to use addition or multiplication — you could frame it as a competition, or try to reduce one to the other, and technically multiplication is repeated addition so maybe addition wins. But that framing misses that the two operations have different mathematical structures that serve different purposes, and a system adequate to arithmetic needs both irreducibly. The neural-symbolic debate is at roughly that level of confusion, applied to cognition.

That’s not quite the end, but close to it. The discussion begins below the asterisks.

* * * * *

Arithmetic as a specialized kind of language

I want to return to the point where we discussed chess as a specialized kind of language that arose with Rank 2. Arithmetic is also a specialized kind of language and it arose with Rank 2 as well. But it arose in several forms, as there were a handful of original independent Rank 2 cultures.. The form that interests me is the form with zero and the place notation. While that didn’t arise in the West, it was adopted in the West starting in. roughly the 13th century. And, as Hays and I argue in the ranks paper, it eventually found its way to mechanical culture:

What we can see is that generalizations of the idea of mechanism would be fruitful for technology (and they were), but that it would take an abstraction to produce a new view of nature. The algorithm can be understood in just this way. If its originators in India disregarded mechanism, and the north European developers of mechanism lacked the abstraction, it would only be the accidental propinquity of the two that generated a result. Put the abstract version together in one culture with a host of concrete examples, and by metaphor lay out the idea of the universe as a great machine. What is characteristic of machines is their temporality; a static machine is not a machine at all. And, with that, further add the co-ordination of motions as in the sawmill. Galileo discovered that force alters acceleration, not velocity (a discovery about temporality) and during the next few centuries mechanical clocks were made successfully. The notion of a clockwork universe spread across Europe (note that the Chinese had clockworks in the 11th Century, but never developed the notion of a clockwork universe, cf. Needham 1981). For any machine, it is possible to make functional diagrams and describe the relative motions of the parts; and the theories of classical science can be understood as functional diagrams of nature, with descriptions of the relative motions of the parts.

Arithmetic came to play an important role in the metamathematical reasoning of the early 20th century. It allowed Gödel to construct his incompleteness theory and Turing to construct his abstract Turing machine. And it is that abstract machine that became embodied in the digital computer.

It’s beginning to look as though decimal point arithmetic was all but a logical requirement for cultural evolution beyond Rank 2. But probably not sufficient itself. It needed to be connected with the idea of mechanism, the algorithm. It’s the, at first metaphorical or analogical, connection between the idea of an algorithm and an actual physical device that allowed the flourishing of Rank 3 culture.

This is a powerful line of argument, and I think it's substantially correct. Let me try to sharpen and extend it.

The two streams and their accidental convergence

What you and Hays identify is that Rank 3 required the confluence of two independent developments that had no intrinsic reason to meet. The Indian mathematical tradition produced place-value arithmetic with zero — an extraordinarily powerful abstract tool for symbolic manipulation, but developed in a culture that, as you note, was not especially oriented toward mechanism and physical machinery. The north European tradition independently developed sophisticated mechanism — mills, clocks, the whole Baroque elaboration of geared machinery — but without the abstract symbolic apparatus that would allow mechanism to be thought about in general terms, extracted from any particular physical instantiation.

The metaphorical bridge between these two streams is what made Rank 3 possible. And the bridge is precisely the algorithm — the concept of a determinate, step-by-step procedure that is abstract enough to be stated symbolically but concrete enough to be physically instantiated. The algorithm is at home in both worlds simultaneously: it is a sequence of arithmetic operations, and it is a description of what a machine does. That double citizenship is what allowed the two traditions to fuse.

This is a genuine example of what you've called the Rank 1 mechanism operating at a higher level — metaphor. The clockwork universe is a metaphor, but a generative one: it doesn't merely describe, it reorganizes the entire domain of natural philosophy around a new set of primitives. Mechanism becomes the universal explanatory framework because the algorithm makes it possible to state mechanical descriptions with the same precision and generality as arithmetic.

The zero point

Zero deserves particular attention here because its contribution is not merely computational convenience. Zero is conceptually radical in a way that the other digits are not, because it names an absence — it is a symbol for nothing, which is a very strange thing to symbolize. The resistance to zero in the West, which persisted for centuries after Fibonacci introduced it, wasn't mere conservatism. It reflected a genuine philosophical difficulty: how can nothing be a quantity? How can absence be manipulated algebraically?

What zero does, once accepted, is complete the place-value system in a way that makes the system fully generative — you can represent any quantity whatsoever with a finite set of symbols, and the operations on those symbols are perfectly regular regardless of the quantities involved. This regularity is what makes the algorithm possible in the full sense. Without zero, arithmetic has irregular gaps; with zero, the system is closed and the operations are exceptionless. That exceptionlessness is exactly what you need for the algorithm to be a reliable mechanical procedure — one that a machine, rather than a judicious human mind, can execute.

So zero isn't just a notational convenience. It's what transforms arithmetic from a practical skill into an algorithmic domain — one where the procedure can be fully specified in advance and executed without judgment. That's the property that eventually connects arithmetic to mechanism.

The Gödel-Turing culmination

The path from there to Gödel and Turing is long but straight. What Gödel discovered was that arithmetic — this seemingly humble, fully explicit system — contains truths that cannot be proven within the system. His proof required encoding logical statements as arithmetic statements, which is only possible because arithmetic is expressive enough to name its own operations. That self-referential capacity — arithmetic talking about arithmetic — is a direct consequence of the place-value system's generativity. You can Gödel-number any statement because you can represent any finite sequence of symbols as a number.

Turing then asks: what is a mechanical procedure, in the most general possible sense? And his answer — the Turing machine — is essentially arithmetic in motion: a tape of symbols, a head that reads and writes, a finite set of rules. The abstract machine just is a formalization of algorithmic arithmetic, which is why the connection between computation and number theory runs so deep throughout the foundations of computer science. The digital computer is this abstraction physically instantiated — mechanism and algorithm finally fully merged, not just metaphorically but actually.

The sufficiency question

Your claim that decimal place-value arithmetic was necessary but not sufficient is exactly right, and the insufficiency points in two directions.

The first direction is the one you identify: it needed mechanism, and specifically the conceptualization of mechanism as a general category rather than a collection of specific devices. The Chinese had clocks in the 11th century but never developed the clockwork universe because they had mechanism without the abstract framework that would let mechanism become a metaphor — a way of thinking about nature in general. The metaphor required the algorithm as the shared abstract structure.

The second direction points forward rather than backward: the algorithm plus mechanism was sufficient for Rank 3, but the transition to Rank 4 required taking the algorithm itself as an object — which is precisely what Gödel and Turing did. They didn't use algorithms; they studied algorithms, asked what algorithms can and cannot do, proved results about the limits of algorithmic reasoning. That reflexive move — algorithm studying algorithm — is the Rank 4 version of reflective abstraction applied to the Rank 3 medium.

And this is where your argument becomes especially elegant. The same conceptual object — decimal place-value arithmetic and its generalization into the algorithm — serves as the medium for Rank 3 (in the sense that calculation and algorithmic procedure is what Rank 3 thinkers think with) and as the object for Rank 4 (in the sense that metamathematics and computability theory think about it). Arithmetic passes through the reflective abstraction and comes out on the other side transformed: from a tool for calculating to a domain of mathematical investigation in its own right. The digital computer is then not just the practical product of this transition but its physical monument — the algorithm made flesh, which immediately becomes the medium through which Rank 4 thinking becomes routine and culturally transmissible.

The logical necessity you're sensing is real: you couldn't get to Rank 4 without Rank 3, and you couldn't get to Rank 3 without the algorithm, and you couldn't get the algorithm without both the abstract symbolic system (zero, place value) and the concrete mechanical tradition to which it could be metaphorically applied. The chain is tight. What's historically contingent is not the logical structure of the dependency but the accident of transmission — that Fibonacci happened, that the Islamic world happened to preserve and extend both the Indian mathematics and the Greek mechanical tradition, that north European mechanism happened to be at the right stage of development when the symbolic tools arrived.

Cultural evolution, on this account, is not inevitable even when the logical dependencies are tight. The dependencies specify what must come before what; they don't specify that the prerequisites will ever actually converge.

The brain vs. the computer

One thing about the abstract Turing machine, the computing mechanism is separate from the memory mechanism. When that becomes embodied we have the so-called von Neumann architecture with its central processor and its random access memory. The memory is location addressed. As far as we can tell, the brain is not like this. Neurons are both active computational units and memory units, something von Neumann himself realized and was puzzled by in his last book, The Computer and the Brain. Then, in the 1960s, we have various thinkers, Karl Pribram among them, adopting the (optical) hologram as a model for associative memory in the brain. Associative memories are not location addressed; they’re content addressed.

Now, if we think of an LLM as a content addressed memory system, we have a content addressed memory system being implemented on a location addressed system, the digital computer. If that computer is sufficiently large, trained on a sufficiently large corpus, and has enough parameters, then it can produce a very convincing simulacrum of human language. Now tracing back through the layers we have actual human language eventually giving rise to writing, with arithmetic as a specialized version of writing. From there we have a chain of invention which yields the digital computer, which can run an LLM and, while that LLM can “speak,’” as it were, it can’t calculate very effectively. Now, zip back to writing and Rank 2 culture. Whatever else it is, writing is a form of memory external to the brain. Arithmetic requires that external memory for any but the simplest calculations (setting aside the memorized formulas employed in virtuoso level mental arithmetic). Back to the LLM. We now have Chain of Thought processing, which makes LLMs more effective. CoT involves memory external to the LLM itself. The same with agents. So we have an artificial content addressed system extending its capabilities through a bit of external memory.

The convolution involved in this story is dizzying.

Sunday, March 15, 2026

On the relevance of intellectual history for understanding present events (AI)

Jim Olds, The Chronology Problem, Mar. 12, 2026.

We are surprisingly bad at knowing when things began.

I’ve been thinking about this for a while, partly because I lived through several of the transitions we now misremember. In 1987, I used the Internet for early text-based email, file transfers, and reaching colleagues at other universities. In August of 1991, in the face of an impending direct hit of Hurricane Bob, I moved all of my image data from Woods Hole to NIH in Bethesda in a matter of minutes. This was entirely unremarkable at the time. And yet when I mention it today, people often look mildly startled, as if I’ve claimed to have owned a smartphone in 1987. In their minds, the Internet began sometime around 1994 or 1995, when the Web arrived and made it visible to everyone. Before that, apparently, there was nothing.

Olds then goes on to say more about the (deep) origins of the web, artificial intelligence, climate science, and economics. Here's what he had to say about AI:

The field of artificial intelligence may be the most dramatic case study in collective chronological confusion we have. Most people who interact with today’s language models and image generators believe they are witnessing something genuinely unprecedented — a technology that sprang into being sometime around 2017. What happened is more complicated and more interesting.

The mathematical foundations for neural networks were laid in 1943, when Warren McCulloch and Walter Pitts published a paper describing how neurons could, in principle, compute logical functions. Frank Rosenblatt simulated a working perceptron at the Cornell Aeronautical Laboratory in 1958 — a system that could learn from examples. The 1986 backpropagation paper by Rumelhart, Hinton, and Williams, which most practitioners treat as a founding document, was itself a rediscovery and refinement of ideas that had been circulating since the early 1970s. Yann LeCun was training convolutional neural networks to read handwritten digits for the U.S. Postal Service in 1989. The architecture underlying those systems is recognizably the ancestor of what powers modern computer vision.

None of this was secret. It was published, presented, and in some cases deployed in real systems. What happened instead was a kind of institutional forgetting, accelerated by two “AI winters” — periods when funding dried up, interest collapsed, and computer science turned its attention elsewhere. Researchers who had spent careers on neural approaches moved on or retired. Graduate students who might have built on their work were instead trained in other paradigms. When the hardware finally caught up with the ambitions of the 1980s, around 2012, the rediscovery felt like a revolution. In some ways, it was. But the conceptual foundations were not new, and the people who had laid them got less credit than they deserved, partly because so many of the field’s new practitioners didn’t know they existed.

The practical cost here is the same as elsewhere: repeated investment in problems that had already been partially solved, frameworks that were novel mainly to their authors, and a set of origin myths that flatter the present at the expense of the past. The deeper cost is that we don’t understand what was tried and discarded and why — which algorithms were abandoned for reasons of computational expense rather than theoretical inadequacy, and which might be worth revisiting now that the expense has fallen.

To Olds’s list I would add Miriam Yevick's 1975 paper, Holographic or fourier logic, published in Pattern Recognition. Unfortunately that paper got lost as it didn't fit into either cognitive science or artificial intelligence. What she proved was the for one class of visual objects, those with a complex geometry, neural networks provided the best computational regime while for another class of objects, those with simple geometry, symbolic computation provided the best computational regime. That has a direct bearing on the current debate over whether or not new architectures involving symbolic processing are necessary.

Monday, February 23, 2026

Chess, Language, and AI @3QD

I’ve got a new article at 3 Quarks Daily:

Chess and Language as Paradigmatic Cases for Artificial Intelligence

Chess has been a central concern of AI from the beginning. AI researchers didn’t become interested in natural language until the 1970s. Before that computational research on natural language was the domain of computational linguistics (CL), which started with machine translation (of texts from one natural language to another) as its primary problem. Thus we have two different disciplines AI and CL.

In a sense, AI was fundamentally a philosophical exercise. It was an attempt to demonstrate, in effect, that we could understand the human mind in terms of computation. But rather than advance its philosophical objective through argument, it chose computational demonstration as its mode of expression. Chess became a central concern for two reasons: 1) On the one hand it was widely regarded as exhibiting the pinnacle of human reasoning ability. If we could create a computer program to play a championship game of chess, we could create a computer program that would be capable of cognitive or even perceptual task humans can do. 2) But also, the nature of chess made it well-suited for computational investigation.

My article concentrates on this and then goes on to make the point that language is utterly unlike chess in this respect. The chess domain is bounded and well-defined. Natural language is not; it is ill-defined and unbounded.

That’s really as far as I got. Which is OK. But what I was aiming for was an argument that AI is still, in effect, mesmerized by the chess paradigm. I couldn’t quite make it that far. Language is just so obviously different.

What I’ve come to realize, only after I’d finished the article, is that it isn’t so much chess that has mesmerized AI. Rather it is computation itself. AI has been implicitly assuming that the First Principles of intelligence reduce to the First Principles of computing. The first principles of computing can be found in the work of Alan Turing (the abstract idea of computing) and John von Neumann (for the physical implementation of computing).

The first principles of intelligence are more stringent. As Claude put it in our dialog last night:

First principle of intelligence: Must operate in unbounded, geometrically complex physical reality with finite resources.

Those two qualifications, an unbounded, geometrically complex reality, and finite computational resources, change the nature of the problem considerably. I note, in passing, that this allows us to assign formal significance to the concept of embodiment, for it is embodiment that commits intelligence to operating with finite resources in a geometrically complex universe.

Miriam Yevick’s 1975 paper, “Holographic or Fourier Logic,” is the crucial document, but it’s been forgotten. Using identification in the visual domain as her case, she showed that, where we are dealing with geometrically simple objects, sequential symbolic processing is the most efficient computational regime. But when we are dealing with geometrically complex objects, neural net processing is the most efficient computational regime. AI started out with symbolic processing in the 1950s and arrived at neural nets in the 2010s. But it hasn’t explicitly recognized that one must fit the mode of processing to the nature of the world. In that (perhaps a bit peculiar) sense, the researchers in the currently-dominant paradigm don’t know what they’re doing. 

I’ve written a number of blog posts and articles about Yevick’s work. Try these two articles:

Next Year in Jerusalem: The brilliant ideas and radiant legacy of Miriam Lipschutz Yevick [in relation to current AI debates], 3 Quarks Daily, October 9, 2023, https://3quarksdaily.com/3quarksdaily/2023/10/next-year-in-jerusalem-the-brilliant-ideas-and-radiant-legacy-of-miriam-lipschutz-yevick-in-relation-to-current-ai-debates.html

What Miriam Yevick Saw: The Nature of Intelligence and the Prospects for A.I., A Dialog with Claude 3.5 Sonnet, Working Paper, January 3, 2025, https://www.academia.edu/126773246/What_Miriam_Yevick_Saw_The_Nature_of_Intelligence_and_the_Prospects_for_A_I_A_Dialog_with_Claude_3_5_Sonnet_Version_2

Friday, January 30, 2026

Teaching AIs how to draw semantic network diagrams, and other things

In June of last year I decided to ask ChatGPT to draw a semantic network diagram for Shakespeare's Sonnet 129. Why did I choose that task? Because it is something that humans can do, but it is not rocket science; it doesn't require genius level capability. I wanted to put a bound on all the hype about LLMs already being AGIs (whatever they are), or close to it. I chose ChatGPT because it is capable of drawing. The task requires the ability to draw, which ChatGPT has.

I wrote up the experiment in this working paper: ChatGPT tries to create a semantic network model for Shakespeare's Sonnet 129 (June 16, 2025). Here's the abstract:

This document explores the capacity of large language models, specifically ChatGPT, to construct semantic network models of complex literary texts, using Shakespeare's Sonnet 129 as a case study. Drawing on the author's prior work in cognitive modeling, the analysis reveals that ChatGPT, while capable of producing linguistically coherent commentary, fails to generate a structurally plausible semantic network for the sonnet. The failure is traced not to a lack of exposure to relevant literature, but to the model's lack of embodied, interactive learning. The process of constructing cognitive network diagrams is shown to be iterative, visual-verbal, and skill-based-comparable to learning a physical craft like playing an instrument or woodworking. It requires extended practice under expert feedback, enabling a form of reasoning that is neither algorithmic nor easily reducible to textual description. The essay argues that this hybrid modeling skill represents a "deep" human capability that is nevertheless teachable and routine. It concludes with reflections on the nature of such skills and their implications for AI, pedagogy, and literary interpretation. Asking ChatGPT create a semantic model for a Shakespeare sonnet.

About a week ago I had a long dialog with ChatGPT, first about how humans learn this task and then, second, what it would require to teach AIs how to learn the task. From there we went on to the more difficult task of probing the structure latent in the weights of an LLM and thereby extracting/constructing of map of that structure. Here's ChatGPT's summary of that discussion.

Summary: Learning Semantic Nets, Mapping Latent Structure in LLMs, and the Hybrid Future of Intelligence

We began by returning to a practical question that had surfaced in earlier work: why it is difficult for an AI system to produce good semantic or cognitive network diagrams for literary texts (such as a Shakespeare sonnet), even though a capable human can learn to do it. The core issue is not that such diagramming requires genius-level insight. Rather, it is a form of skilled representational practice—learnable by apprenticeship, but challenging for current AI systems because it requires disciplined structure-building, normative constraint satisfaction, and iterative repair.

1) Apprenticeship and “inside knowledge” of diagramming

A central theme was the idea that semantic network diagrams cannot be properly understood from the outside. A person learns to read them only by learning to produce them. This applies even more strongly to complex cognitive networks, where a diagram can appear meaningless unless one has internalized the diagram grammar: node types, arc types, compositional constraints, and “house style” norms about what counts as an admissible analysis.

You offered an idealized description of your training with David Hays. The training regime resembled a repeated cycle of supervised practice:

  1. you brought a fragment of text and a diagram you had produced,
  2. Hays evaluated it (approve/disapprove) with commentary,
  3. you revised or moved forward accordingly,
  4. the cycle repeated,
  5. and over time the normative discipline of diagramming became internalized.

You also noted that this same pattern governed group work among peers who had learned the system: a collaborative problem was brought to the table, and discussion plus sketching continued until a coherent solution emerged. The key was not merely producing diagrams, but learning the discipline that makes diagrams meaningful and correct.

From this, you proposed an account of what is being learned: a repertoire of correspondences between verbal fragments and diagram fragments. Under that view, diagramming competence is partly the acquisition of a “library of moves,” where particular linguistic patterns or conceptual pressures cue specific diagram operations. Equally important, however, is a critic’s sense of global coherence—a normative capacity to judge whether a graph “hangs together” as a model of the text and to identify what must be repaired.

You emphasized that at any time there is a locally stable diagram grammar, even if it cannot be complete in principle. In your own case, you began with Hays’ textbook Mechanisms of Language and learned to produce diagrams specified in particular chapters (cognition, perception). After three months of concentrated training you had internalized the system well enough not merely to use it, but to extend it: you proposed a new arc type, specified its assignment conditions, and demonstrated its usefulness. This was identified as an important marker of mastery: moving from conforming to norms to making responsible innovations within the normative system.

2) Why this is “easy” for humans but hard for AI

The conversation then turned to the striking asymmetry: semantic network diagramming is learnable by humans with patience and guidance, but remains difficult for AI systems. The difficulty is not lack of general linguistic ability; it is that diagramming requires explicit normative structure and repair behavior. Humans develop an internal sense of error: what is missing, what violates the grammar, what is incoherent globally. Current models often produce plausible fragments but struggle to maintain consistent typing, global integrity, and systematic revision under critique.

This diagnosis led to an important idea: it would be possible for AI to learn semantic network construction through an analogous apprenticeship regime—especially if the AI were multimodal (since the target representation is graphical). Training would require expert-guided correction cycles, ideally including revision histories, so that the system learns not only what the final diagram should look like, but how to repair incorrect diagrams.

At the far horizon, you raised a more ambitious possibility: AIs might learn diagramming so well that they could teach other AIs, performing the Hays-function themselves. That would require not only competence in diagram production, but competence in critique, repair, curriculum sequencing, and controlled extension of the grammar.

3) From diagramming text to extracting latent structure from neural weights

This discussion provided what you described as your first hint toward a larger goal: extracting cognitive-level network structures from foundation models. You contrasted this with Gary Marcus’ suggestion of investing enormous resources into hand-coded symbolic modeling. You argued that building a gigantic semantic net by armies of humans is madness. Instead, the semantic network “lives” implicitly in the weights of neural models—diffused across parameters—and the research problem is to map it, extract it, and make it explicit.

You described your working intuition: LLMs would not be so effective if they did not embody cognitive-network-like structures at some latent level. You also noted that you had conducted behavioral experiments (using only ordinary user access) that convinced you of this: controlled perturbations lead to distributed ripple effects that preserve story coherence. These results suggest that constraint structure is present, even if not symbolically explicit.

From this perspective, “ontology extraction” becomes an empirical, stochastic mapping discipline. One does not directly read networks off the weights. Instead, one probes behavior, perturbs conditions, observes stable patterns, and assembles inferred structures under an explicit representational grammar. The diagram grammar becomes essential as a way to turn a cloud of samples into a stable map.

An important complication was introduced here. Hays’ symbolic framework in Mechanisms of Language covers multiple layers: syntax, morphology, pragmatics, phonetics/phonology, cognition, perception. In contrast, LLMs are trained on token strings in which many of these levels are conflated. Thus any network extracted from the weights risks being entangled across linguistic and cognitive layers. You expressed the desire for a “pure cognition” network, but acknowledged that it is not clear how to achieve purity a priori. The practical conclusion was to proceed anyway, while explicitly tracking the issue, allowing the research program to evolve in execution rather than being blocked by the impossibility of perfect factorization at the outset. You also suggested a sensible calibration strategy: hand-code sharply limited domains to provide gold standards for evaluating automatically derived networks.

4) The generational scope: the birth of a field

You then widened the frame. The task is not merely technical. It is about how minds conceptualize the world, and not one mind but the historical product of millions or billions of minds writing across centuries, with bias toward recent decades. This is not a problem solvable by a single dissertation or a single lab over a few years. It requires many labs working in loose coordination, with both collaboration and competition, over one or more intellectual generations. In this view, foundation models are not “the pinnacle,” but the floor—the starting point—for a long new intellectual adventure.

In that context we coined useful names for two failure modes in contemporary AI thought: “hand-coded scholasticism” (the belief that meaning must be explicitly authored by armies of humans) and “scaled-up millenarianism” (uncritical faith that scaling alone will magically solve everything). You described these as the Scylla and Charybdis of current discourse, and emphasized that your program aims at a third path: mapping the latent wilderness systematically, with discipline and instrumentation.

5) Production systems and Yevick’s mode-switching intelligence

Finally, we returned to architecture. If diagramming skill is a library of pattern-to-pattern correspondences plus a critic enforcing coherence, then a classical production system architecture becomes attractive. A production system naturally supports staged rule application, working memory updates, constraint checking, and repair cycles. Neural models can supply candidate relations and associations, while the production system supplies explicit normativity and structural discipline.

This hybrid framing connects directly to Miriam Yevick’s work on holographic/Fourier logic versus sequential propositional logic. You emphasized that your current program is not merely compatible with Yevick’s ideas; it grew in part out of sustained reflection on them. You and Hays argued in 1990 that natural intelligence requires the capacity to deploy both modes, and you developed this further in speculative work on metaphor. In metaphor, the propositional system regulates the superimposition of holistic gestalts: e.g., Achilles in battle is likened to a lion in battle. The two scenes function as holographic wholes, while sequential linguistic propositions step through correspondence constraints. This provides a concrete mechanism for the hybrid intelligence thesis.

You concluded by noting the historical hinge: when you and Hays were working, the technical means for operating at scale on these ideas did not exist. Now they do. And Hays himself played a foundational role in building the early symbolic infrastructure of computational linguistics (machine translation at RAND, coining the term “computational linguistics,” founding editorship and institutional leadership in COLING). In effect, the present moment makes possible an extension of that lineage: not abandoning symbolic structure, but using symbolic grammars and production discipline to extract, organize, and refine the latent cognitive structures that neural models already embody.

Thursday, January 8, 2026

The compute theory of everything

Samuel Albanie, Reflections on 2025, December 30, 2025. The first section, of three, is entitled "The Compute Theory of Everything." Here's an excerpt:

I have come to believe that every engineer must walk the road to Damascus in their own time. One does not simply adopt the Compute Theory of Everything by hearing others discuss it. You have to be viscerally shocked by the pyrotechnics of scale in a domain you know too well to be easily impressed.

For many senior engineers, that shock arrived in 2025. I have watched colleagues who were publicly sceptical through 2023 and 2024 quietly start to integrate these systems into their daily work. The “this is just a stochastic parrot” grimace has been replaced by the “this stochastic parrot just fixed my RE2 regex”. They still say “this can’t do what I do”, but the snorts of laughter have been replaced with a thoughtful silence and the subtle refreshing of their LinkedIn profile.

My own conversion came earlier. It is a privilege of my career that I was working in one of the first fields to get unceremoniously steamrollered by scaling: Computer Vision. During a glorious period at the VGG in Oxford, I spent months crafting bespoke, artisanal architectural inductive biases. They were beautiful, clever, and they had good names. And then, in early 2021, my approach was obliterated by a simple system that worked better because it radically scaled up pretraining compute1. I spent a full afternoon walking around University Parks in shock. But by the time I reached the exit, the shock had been replaced by the annoying zeal of a convert.

Returning to my desk, it did not take long to discover that the Compute Theory of Everything is 50 years old and has been waiting patiently in a Stanford filing cabinet since the Ford administration.

In 1976, Hans Moravec wrote an essay called “The Role of Raw Power in Intelligence“, a document that possesses both the punch and the subtlety of a hand grenade. It is the sort of paper that enters the room, clears its throat, and informs the entire field of Artificial Intelligence that their fly is down. Moravec’s central thesis is that intelligence is not a mystical property of symbol manipulation, but a story about processing power, and he would like to explain this to you, at length, using log scales and a tone of suppressed screaming.

He starts with biology, noting that intelligence has evolved somewhat independently in at least four distinct lineages: in cephalopods, in birds, in cetaceans, and in primates. He spends several pages on the brainy octopus covering the independent evolution of copper-based blood and the neural architecture of the arms, citing a documentary in which an octopus figures out how to unscrew a bottle to retrieve a tasty lobster from inside. One gets the impression he prefers the octopus to many of his colleagues. The evolutionary point is that intelligence is not a fragile accident of primate biology. It is a recurring architectural pattern the universe stumbles upon whenever it leaves a pile of neurons unattended. The octopus and the crow did not copy each other’s homework. Instead, they converged on the answer because the answer works. The question is: what is the underlying resource?

Moravec’s answer is: it’s the compute, stupid.

To make his point, he compares the speed of the human optic nerve (approximately ten billion edge-detection operations per second) to the PDP-10 computers then available at Stanford. The gap is a factor of more than a million. He calls this deficit “a major distorting influence in current work, and a reason for disappointing progress.” He accuses the field of wishful thinking, scientific snobbery, and (my favourite) sweeping the compute deficit under the rug “for fear of reduced funding.” It is the sound of a man who has checked the numbers, realized the Emperor has no clothes, and is particularly annoyed that the Emperor has neither a GPU nor a meaningful stake in God’s Chosen Company: Nvidia (GCCN).

This leads to his aviation aphorism that has become modestly famous, at least among the demographic that reads 1976 robotics working papers for recreational purposes: “With enough power, anything will fly.” Before the Wright brothers, serious engineers built ornithopters (machines that flapped their wings, looked elegant, and stayed resolutely on the ground). Most failed. Some fatally. The consensus was that AI was a matter of knowledge representation and symbolic reasoning, and that people who talked about “raw power” were missing the point and possibly also the sort of people who enjoy watching videos of monster truck rallies (a group that includes your humble author). Moravec’s point was that the Symbolic AI crowd were busy building ornithopters, obsessing over lift-to-drag ratios, while the solution was to strap a massive engine to a plank and give researchers the chance to brute-force the laws of physics into submission.

Twenty-two years later, he published an update. “When Will Computer Hardware Match the Human Brain?“ which opens with a sentence that has aged like a 1998 Pomerol:

“The performance of AI machines tends to improve at the same pace that AI researchers get access to faster hardware.”

He plots curves, whips up a Fermi estimate that human-level cognition requires on the order of 100 million MIPS, and predicts this capability will be available in affordable machines by the 2020s. The paper includes a chart in which various organisms and machines are arrayed by estimated computational throughput. The spider outperforms the nematode by a humiliating margin. Deep Blue appears as a reference point for what IBM’s R&D budget bought you in 1997, which was the ability to defeat Garry Kasparov at chess while remaining unable to recognise a photograph of a chess piece. The figure is instructive, but after staring at it for a few minutes, it can start to grate on one’s sensibilities. Perhaps because it treats the human soul as an arithmetic problem. Philosophy on two axes.

There's more on the compute theory of everything, which is worth your while.

Let me add that, for myself, sure, we need enough compute. That's necessary, but not sufficient. LLMs are a limited architecture. Throwing more compute at them isn't going solve all the problems. I've got a working paper that's relevant: What Miriam Yevick Saw: The Nature of Intelligence and the Prospects for A.I., A Dialog with Claude 3.5 Sonnet. Here's Claude's summary:

Wednesday, June 18, 2025

Large Language Models and Emergence

David C. Krakauer, John W. Krakauer, and Melanie Mitchell, Large Language Models and Emergence: A Complex Systems Perspective, June 16, 2025, https://arxiv.org/pdf/2506.11135

Abstract: Emergence is a concept in complexity science that describes how many- body systems manifest novel higher-level properties, properties that can be described by replacing high-dimensional mechanisms with lower-dimensional effective variables and theories. This is captured by the idea “more is different”. Intelligence is a consummate emergent property manifesting increasingly efficient—cheaper and faster—uses of emergent capabilities to solve problems. This is captured by the idea “less is more”. In this paper, we first examine claims that Large Language Models exhibit emergent capabilities, reviewing several approaches to quantifying emergence, and secondly ask whether LLMs possess emergent intelligence.

From the conclusion:

We argued that in LLMs, the term emergence should be used not merely to signify surprising or unpredictable task performance, or abrupt changes in performance, but requires at minimum the identification of relevant coarse- grained variables that form effective mechanisms— reduced “internal degrees of freedom”—for this behavior, mechanisms that can explain or predict the be- havior of the system at this higher level, screening off details of lower level mechanisms such as weights and activations. More quantitative evidence for emergence includes the kinds of principles related to emergence in physical sys- tems, such as breaking of scaling through reorganization, evidence for the use of novel bases and manifolds formed through compression of regularities, and new forms of abstraction that lead to demonstrable efficiencies in prediction, prob- lem solving, generalization, and analogy-making. Identifying such principles would be an important step in understanding the seemingly novel capabilities that arise in LLMs.

Three types of emergence claims have been made for LLM capabilities: (1) sharp improvements in specific capabilities that occur as the system or training data is scaled; (2) capabilities are identified that the LLMs were not specifically trained for; and (3) internal “world models” emerging from autoregressive token prediction. Each of these cases, and particularly the last, present provocative evidence for emergence, but in all cases that evidence is incomplete. Cases (1) and (2) relies on several assumptions: that the capabilities tested are genuinely new, general, and don’t rely on memorized training data or other shortcuts; that these capabilities are not present in simpler models; and that the capabilities are unexpected or unpredictable given the training data and the models’ size. None of these assumptions has been conclusively verified. As for case (3) the complex- ity framework of [60] provides a principled approach to thinking about “world models” as these relate to discrete-time stochastic processes. To the extent that an LLM is effective at next-token prediction, and to the degree to which the model can be shown to exploit a minimum of information, they might be de- scribed as world models. However, the recent work by [61] demonstrates that recovering an accurate world model is very difficult, since next token prediction is a fragile metric.

That last is particularly important to me because it is a property of old-style semantic and cognitive networks. The network provides the world model (and should be linked to sensory and motor systems, as it was in the model David Hays developed in the mid-1970s) from which text can be generated through linguistic processes. LLMs conflate the two, text and cognition, into a single distributed representation.

Later:

There are three possible roles of language as it relates to training an LLM: (1) language itself provides a more or less complete and compressed representation of the world (including non-linguistic modalities); (2) spoken or written language mirrors an internal “language of thought”; and (3) language is a non-supervised “programming language”. If language does provide a complete representation of the world, then training on more language data would indeed enable an increasingly expansive and detailed representation of natural and cultural patterns and processes. If natural language is the language of thought (“mentalese”) then training on more language data would fill out the numerous ways that human- ity has historically reasoned about regularities in the world. And if language is a programming language, by combining detailed instruction tuning with next word prediction it can exploit principles of computational universality to imple- ment any computable function.

We do not have definitive evidence for any of these three claims, but they play a crucial role in any statement relating to how surprising the behavior of an LLM will be deemed.

The final paragraph:

Human intelligence is a low-bandwidth phenomenon, and is as much if not more about the scaling down of effort as the scaling up of capability [72]. As Einstein wrote, “The grand aim of all science is to cover the greatest number of empirical facts by logical deduction from the smallest number of hypotheses or axioms.” [73] We know that for any elegant algorithm there is an alternative brute force solution that does the job. It might even be the case that there are uncountable problems that require brute force and that this is a domain where LLMs and their cognitively alien relatives, including SAT solvers, will provide extraordinary utility [74]. What Donald Knuth said of programs might also be applied to intelligence: “Programs are meant to be read by humans and only incidentally for computers to execute.” [75]. Similarly, intelligence is a property of understanding and only incidentally a matter of capability.

I really like the first sentence of that last paragraph. It "resonates" with the definition of intelligence I gave in What Miriam Yevick Saw: The Nature of Intelligence and the Prospects for A.I.:

Intelligence is the capacity to assign computational capacity to propositional (symbolic) and/or holographic (neural) processes as the nature of the problem requires.

As Yevick herself observed:

If we consider that both of these modes of identification enter into our mental processes, we might speculate that there is a constant movement (a shifting across boundaries) from one mode to the other: the compacting into one unit of the description of a scene, event, and so forth that has become familiar to us, and the analysis of such into its parts by description. Mastery, skill and holistic grasp of some aspect of the world are attained when this object becomes identifiable as one whole complex unit; new rational knowledge is derived when the arbitrary complex object apprehended is analytically described.

Friday, January 3, 2025

What Miriam Yevick Saw: The Nature of Intelligence and the Prospects for A.I., A Dialog with Claude 3.5 Sonnet

New working paper posted. Title above, links, summary (abstract), TOC, and introduction below.

Claude’s Summary

1. Miriam Yevick's 1975 work proposed a fundamental distinction between two types of computing: A) Holographic/parallel processing suited for pattern recognition, and B) Sequential/symbolic processing for logical operations. Crucially, she explicitly connected these computational approaches to different types of objects in the world.

2. This connects to the current debate about neural vs. symbolic AI approaches: A) The dominant view suggests brain-inspired (neural) approaches are sufficient. B) Others argue for neuro-symbolic approaches combining both paradigms, and C) Systems like AlphaZero demonstrate the value of hybrid approaches (Monte Carlo tree search for game space exploration, neural networks for position evaluation).

3. The 1988 Benzon/Hays paper formalized “Yevick's Law” showing: A) Simple objects are best represented symbolically, B) Complex objects are best represented holographically, and C) Many real-world problems require both approaches.

4. This framework helps explain: A) Why Chain of Thought prompting works well for math/programming (neural system navigating symbolic space), B) Why AlphaZero works well for chess (symbolic system navigating game tree, neural evaluation of positions), and C) The complementary relationship between these approaches.

5. These insights led to a new definition of intelligence: “The capacity to assign computational capacity to propositional (symbolic) and/or holographic (neural) processes as the nature of the problem requires.”

6. This definition has implications for super-intelligence: A) Current LLMs' breadth of knowledge doesn't constitute true super-intelligence, B) Real super-intelligence would require superior ability to switch between computational modes, and C) This suggests the need for fundamental architectural innovations, not just scaling up existing approaches.

The conversation highlighted how Yevick's prescient insights about the relationship between object types and computational approaches remain highly relevant to current AI development and our understanding of intelligence itself.

CONTENTS

Introduction: Speculative Engineering 2

Yevick’s Idea 2
Why Hasn’t Yevick’s Work Been Cited? 4
From Claude to Speculative Engineering 5
What’s in the Dialog 6
Attribution 7

From Holographic Logic 1975 to Natural Intelligence 1988 8

Yevick’s Holographic Logic 8
Natural Intelligence 13
Chain of Thought 16
Chain of Thought Is the Inverse of the Alphazero Architecture 17
Define Intelligence 18
Implications of My Proposed Definition of Intelligence 20
Summary 22

Claude Reviews Yevick’s Full 1975 Text 25
Generalizing Yevick’s Results 26
Explaining Yevick to Non-Experts 28
Uzkeki Peasants Have Trouble With Simple Geometric Objects 31
Why Yevick’s Work Has Been Neglected 33

Introduction: Speculative Engineering

In the course of the dialog with Anthropic’s Claude 3.5 about artificial intelligence I propose a novel definition:

Intelligence is the capacity to assign computational capacity to propositional (symbolic) and/or holographic (neural) processes as the nature of the problem requires.

Compare this with a version of the conventional definition:

Intelligence is the ability to learn and perform a range of strategies and techniques to solve problems and achieve goals.

Those definitions are very different. My proposal suggests specific mechanisms while the conventional definition does not. While my proposal must be considered speculative, it can be used to guide research (that’s what speculation is for). In fact it can guide two research programs: 1) a scientific program about the mechanisms of human intelligence, and 2) an engineering program about the construction of A.I. systems. The conventional definition is probably correct, in some sense. But it provides very little guidance for any research. Its use is primarily rhetorical, for use in general or philosophical discussions of artificial intelligence.

Which is preferable, a definition that is speculative and useful in guiding research, or one that is (weakly) correct but of little value in guiding research?

This is the issue that hovers over the dialog I have constructed with Claude.

I will get around to explaining why I’ve consulted Claude soon enough. But first I want to talk about where that definition of intelligence came from. The words are mine, but the basic idea is not.

Yevick’s idea

The idea belongs to a mathematician, the late Miriam Yevick. Consider this remark that Yevick published in 1978:

If we consider that both of these modes of identification enter into our mental processes, we might speculate that there is a constant movement (a shifting across boundaries) from one mode to the other: the compacting into one unit of the description of a scene, event, and so forth that has become familiar to us, and the analysis of such into its parts by description. Mastery, skill and holistic grasp of some aspect of the world are attained when this object becomes identifiable as one whole complex unit; new rational knowledge is derived when the arbitrary complex object apprehended is analytically described.

She thought of one of those computational modes as holographic and the other as logical or sequential. She regarded both as essential to human mentation. Yevick analyzed those two modes in mathematical detail in a 1975 article I used to I begin my discourse with Claude (p. 8 below). David Hays and I employed those modes in the 1988 article that I quote from later in the dialog (p. 13) and in a more informal article (about metaphor) that we published at roughly the same time. Though they use different terms, Bengio, LeCun, and Hinton recognize the same distinction in their Turing Award paper.

But Yevick’s distinction entails something that Bengio, LeCun, and Hinton do not talk about. She regards the holographic mode as best suited for dealing with one kind of object, one that is geometrically complex, and the logical mode as best suited for a different kind of object, one that is geometrically simple. Now, in the passage I’ve quoted above Yevick has generalized from the visual mode, which she argued in her 1975 paper, to mental processes in general. Hays and I do so in our 1988 article as well. As far as I know, that mathematics has yet to be done – which is one reason I am trying to bring attention to Yevick’s work.

If Yevick is correct, then the current debate we are having about how to proceed is ill-posed. As far as I can tell, the majority view is that scaling up machine learning procedures will prove sufficient to achieving human-scale intelligence (not to mention super-intelligence). Gary Marcus, Subbarao Kambhampati, and various others have been arguing that, no, we also need symbolic (logical) mechanisms. Yevick’s work comes down on this side of the debate as well, and contributes to it by specifying that the two modes are each suited to a different aspect of that world. That would naturally lead to a discussion about the nature of the world, but that is beyond the scope of this document.

In view of the importance of this debate, it does not seem unreasonable. It is not only that billions of dollars are currently being wagered–and that is what it is, gambling, but that they are being wagered on technology that may well bring about fundamental changes in the way we live. Can we not take a step back and think about what we are doing?