From Watts' Everything is Obvious:
a management scientist named Steven Schnaars tried to quantify the accuracy of technology-trend predictions by combing through a large collection of books, magazines, and industry reports, and recording hundreds of predictions that had been made during the 1970s. He concluded that roughly 80 percent of all predictions were wrong, whether they were made by experts or not.
Nor is it just forecasters of long-term social and technology trends that have lousy records. Publishers, producers, and marketers—experienced and motivated professionals in business with plenty of skin in the game—have just as much difficulty predicting which books, movies, and products will become the next big hit as political experts have in predicting the next revolution. In fact, the history of cultural markets is crowded with examples of future blockbusters—Elvis, Star Wars, Seinfeld, Harry Potter, American Idol—that publishers and movie studios left for dead while simultaneously betting big on total failures. And whether we consider the most spectacular business meltdowns of recent times—Long-Term Capital Management in 1998, Enron in 2001, WorldCom in 2002, the near-collapse of the entire financial system in 2008 — or spectacular success stories like the rise of Google and Facebook, what is perhaps most striking about them is that virtually nobody seems to have had any idea what was about to happen. In September 2008, for example, even as Lehman Brothers’ collapse was imminent, Treasury and Federal Reserve officials — who arguably had the best information available to anyone in the world — failed to anticipate the devastating freeze in global credit markets that followed. Conversely, in the late 1990s the founders of Google, Sergey Brin and Larry Page, tried to sell their company for $1.6M. Fortunately for them, nobody was interested, because Google went on to attain a market value of over $160 billion, or about 100,000 times what they and everybody else apparently thought it was worth only a few years earlier.
More (#4) from Everything is Obvious:
...Another nonmarket approach to harnessing local knowledge that is increasingly popular among governments and foundations alike is the prize competition. Rather than allocating resources ahead of time to preselected recipients, prize competitions reverse the funding mechanism, allowing anyone to work on the problem, but only rewarding solutions that satisfy prespecified objectives. Prize competitions have attracted a lot of attention in recent years for the incredible amount of creativity they have managed to leverage o
One open question in AI risk strategy is: Can we trust the world's elite decision-makers (hereafter "elites") to navigate the creation of human-level AI (and beyond) just fine, without the kinds of special efforts that e.g. Bostrom and Yudkowsky think are needed?
Some reasons for concern include:
But if you were trying to argue for hope, you might argue along these lines (presented for the sake of argument; I don't actually endorse this argument):
The basic structure of this 'argument for hope' is due to Carl Shulman, though he doesn't necessarily endorse the details. (Also, it's just a rough argument, and as stated is not deductively valid.)
Personally, I am not very comforted by this argument because:
Obviously, there's a lot more for me to spell out here, and some of it may be unclear. The reason I'm posting these thoughts in such a rough state is so that MIRI can get some help on our research into this question.
In particular, I'd like to know: