Friday, September 4, 2026

The Parable of the Jurist

 After leaving that place The Teacher said to those gathered around (for he saw they were troubled by having lost former sureties):

A young jurist went on a journey once with two officers of his law. All three men were young and eager to leave the jurisdiction of their home valley. Their destination was a city in the desert without the laws forbidding games of chance or betting which were enforced among their own people. After a few days’ travel one of the bailiffs tried to poison the jurist (because of a slight from beforehand and because they were now outside the reach of the law) but he was interrupted in the process by an attack from robbers thereby leaving the jurist alive (the poison only half consumed). In fact, the jurist ended up saving the life of his would-be poisoner leaving him in a blood debt to the jurist, which is a deeper law beyond borders. The partial dose of poison allowed the jurist to see with fallow vision, which shook him sorely, but he recovered. By and by they arrived at the destination and found their lodgings and prepared to win their riches with games and betting. The next day one of the bailiffs had not returned to the suite from the previous night’s revelry, it was the kinder one who hadn’t tried to poison the jurist. For, despite what many gamblers believe, Justice is not woven into the weft of the world. And the other two searched for him as best they could but found him not. You see, he had been taken as collateral for his rapidly accrued gambling debts. His single night of profligate living had caught up with him. The other bailiff gave up easily and abandoned the lad, preferring himself to fight in the gladiatorial pits, for he loved violence more than his friend. The jurist, however, did not give up so easily and wandered the streets in search of a solution. He befriended a local, became successful as a chess playing shark, and considered never returning to his valley now that he had no escort for the return journey. He spoke to travellers from the south and learned that they consider this place the ultimate arena of justice which confused him greatly. But it was because they believe in Gods of luck who reward and punish the secrets of the heart, while his people reward and punish only actions and worshipped no gods. In the end he must leave the city alone thinking that both his companions are dead. From the desert outside the city he can have a birds' eye vantage point that reveals the impending downfall of the city itself. He saw both his former companions again now drafted into mercenary bands and at odds with each other. It's chaos but he also realises that it was, in a way, all inevitable. The house was built on sand. What surprised him is that he knew within himself now that he cannot return to his home, not without the other two. Honestly, he thought to himself, not with them either. So begrudgingly he began to walk north as a negation of east, west, and south. After a time he began to meet refugees from his home upon the road. It too was at war apparently and this gave him some sense of justification with regard to his choice to leave it behind. Finally, we presume, he takes up a life above the falls in a diasporic community with its own syncretic ways, whether or not he is able to embrace them and live out his days remains unknown.


This parable was not understood by most of the hearers due to its many details and ambiguous dichotomies. So, the senior initiate attempted to exegize to his siblings thusly: “surely the jurist is the Heart of man and the companions are Punishment and Reward. To fully be free from both the River (representing excessive stricture and severity) and the Wicked City (representing profligacy, lewdness and caprice) he must abandon his companions. To find his new home he must strike out alone, thus every student must walk this road. The Teacher smiled but did not nod.


Wednesday, July 12, 2023

What's a Robit?

 Some thoughts sparked by interacting a bit with chatgpt and stable image diffusion:

    One thought is that the generative process undertaken by both of these "ai" (I think they probably fall significantly short of intelligence but I might be wrong) is not too dissimilar from creativity. My experience of creativity anyway usually follows this sort of pattern- load up my mind with things I like aesthetically and thematically, which are drawn with a small amount of discrimination from a variety of sources, then remix them, shuffle them around, take the component parts and extrude them into something I can call "my own". The goal of this activity tends to be to create something which is more than the sum of its parts (on a good day). It also can produce a sort of vacuous performance of egoism (on a bad day). Its just a process and it is neutral as to the quality of the production.     

This process of remixing seems to be literally not far off from what a "large language model" does. More-or-less taking the processing power we now have and coupling with the ability to recombine something until it achieves the appearance of meaningfulness. That being said, it is better seen as a tool than an agent. The reason, I think, that it can be confused as such is that, as a tool, it ventures an extra step into the operators traditional aegis by gathering the fodder automatically that will provide the components for reassemblage. So, that part of the artist's pride in their "good taste" or prudent choice of which inter-generational conversation to join can be partially off-loaded to the tool. 

One might level a criticism that it feels like cheating to be able to steer the engine with a prompt like "In the style of Ernest Hemmingway" or "Caravaggio" or "archival footage of traditional Indonesian percussion" without ever having consumed the body of work in question. To this criticism I might be tempted to respond with a "Yes and No". The truth is that the producer is cheating, in the sense that they are cheating themselves of the enjoyable part of the process which is consuming the inspiration for digestion and subsequent regurgitation. That being said, I don't think there is "cheating" in the game of creativity. Contrariwise, cheating is often a very fecund activity when building a minotaur out of a bike-seat or some other sort of amelioratory cargo-cult. This leads me into another observation...

A distinct line-of-thought that these tools have sparked in me is one of Form and Content. At first the notion came to me that the ais seemed to be able to reproduce a form, say the structure of a 3 act play or a pop song, but how could they posses the faculties to populate that format with rich content? But the whole thing becomes more troubled the more one mulls it over, for what exactly is content? Is it the moral of the story, and is it maybe too delicate for a robot to handle with aplomb? Yet, we all know that "the medium is the message". 

I was thinking of Eco's The Name of The Rose, its form is that of a detective mystery drawing heavily on the Holmes/Watson archetypes but its content is a thick and nutrient dense sludge of semiotics and scholastic philosophy. The overall effect of the novel is a rewarding sense of having "slummed it" in the trenches of our dubious cultural heritage, due in no small part to the interplay of the very "genre" elements with the many passages of complex highly abstract thought. All that to say, I'm torn between the idea of content as the very human touch of genius or inspiration on a essentially lifeless golem of form, and the notion that content is an emergent property of either form itself or the audience's bestowal thereof. Maybe sometimes it is one and sometimes the other, I don't need to be dogmatic about it. 

Ephemerality: I'm not sure how to segue into it so I'll just start... The infinite monkeys tapping out their infinite typewriters will necessarily produce huge mountains of wasted paper. There is a point where the limited resource of human ability to digest and regurgitate cultural content becomes overwhelmed by the seemingly unending ability of the bots to emulate this process with great efficiency. By removing themself  from the deep and slow research a human artist may surf the wave of brutal processing power, this may be thrilling. You can "compose" 10,000 words a day of legible prose or make 300 images of Rembrandt-level etchings (I hasten to underscore here that this glut of production is not the same thing as a physical etching or leatherbound book, quite the contrary it is only a medium resolution jpg or pdf or whatever), in a society that fetishizes productivity to the degree that we do this is indeed a thrill. I suppose my point here is to acknowledge the fleeting nature of a discreet piece of production at this stage. The production of high volumes must be seen as severely devaluing. The valuable skill may be that of sifting out the dross rather than cultivating anything new.       


Ok, so I got Chat Gpt to edit the post and this is the new version:

Exploring Creativity and AI: Reflections on ChatGPT and Stable Image Diffusion

As I've interacted with ChatGPT and stable image diffusion, I've noticed intriguing similarities between their generative processes and the creative process. While I hesitate to label these AI systems as truly intelligent, their ability to remix and recombine elements resonates with how human creativity often unfolds. Personally, my own creative journey follows a similar pattern: gathering aesthetic and thematic inspirations from various sources, remixing them, and transforming them into something unique. The goal is to create something greater than the sum of its parts, although sometimes it can devolve into self-indulgence. Ultimately, this process is neutral, neither guaranteeing quality nor lacking potential.

Remixing and reassembly, key components of these AI systems, closely resemble the activities of an artist. However, it's important to view them as tools rather than autonomous agents. One reason they can be mistaken for more is that they automate the gathering of source material for reassembly. Consequently, the artist's pride in their discerning taste or ability to engage in inter-generational conversations is partially offloaded onto the tool.

Critics may argue that it feels like cheating to steer the AI engine with prompts like "In the style of Ernest Hemingway" or "Caravaggio" without having consumed their respective bodies of work. My response to this criticism would be both "yes" and "no." Admittedly, the producer misses out on the enriching part of the creative process, which involves consuming and digesting inspirational material before giving it a fresh spin. However, I don't believe there is inherent cheating in the game of creativity. In fact, cheating can often be a catalyst for novel ideas, like building a minotaur out of a bike seat or experimenting with amelioratory cargo-cult concepts. Thus, the act of cheating can both hinder and inspire creativity.

Another fascinating aspect to consider is the distinction between form and content. At first, it seemed AI could replicate the form of creative works, such as the structure of a three-act play or a pop song. However, questions arose about its ability to infuse rich content into these formats. What exactly constitutes content? Is it the moral of the story, something too delicate for a robot to handle adeptly? Yet, we all acknowledge that "the medium is the message."

Think of Umberto Eco's "The Name of the Rose." It follows the form of a detective mystery, drawing heavily on Holmes/Watson archetypes, but its content delves into semiotics and scholastic philosophy, resulting in a dense and intellectually nourishing experience. The interplay between genre elements and passages of complex, abstract thought enhances the overall impact of the novel. This leaves me torn between the idea of content as a human touch of genius or inspiration imposed upon a lifeless form, and the notion that content emerges as an inherent property of the form or through the audience's interpretation. Perhaps it varies, and there's no need to adopt a dogmatic stance.

Now, let's shift our focus to the concept of ephemerality. The metaphorical infinite monkeys, tirelessly typing away on their typewriters, will inevitably produce mountains of wasted paper. There comes a point where the limited capacity of human beings to consume and regurgitate cultural content is overwhelmed by the seemingly endless efficiency of AI in emulating this process. By stepping away from deep and slow research, human artists can ride the wave of brute processing power, which can be exhilarating. One can "compose" 10,000 words a day of legible prose or create 300 images akin to Rembrandt-level etchings (although it's important to note that this glut of production exists primarily in digital formats like medium-resolution JPGs or PDFs). In a productivity-obsessed society like ours, this thrill holds a certain allure. However, it's crucial to acknowledge the fleeting nature of such creations at this stage. High-volume production must be seen as devaluing, and the valuable skill lies in sifting through the mass to extract the gems rather than merely cultivating more output.

In conclusion, reflecting on the creative process alongside AI tools like ChatGPT and stable image diffusion opens up intriguing avenues of thought. By incorporating examples, engaging with counterarguments, and considering ongoing debates surrounding AI and creativity, we can delve deeper into the impact of these tools. As we navigate the evolving landscape of AI-assisted creativity, we should strive to strike a balance between harnessing the power of these tools and maintaining the unique human perspective that brings depth and meaning to our creative endeavors.


Sunday, February 11, 2018

The bells of the city

Two towers in the north, two to the south, one east, one west. The eastern and western tolling at sunrise and set respectively, the other four tolling, in a tumbling cacophony throughout the city, at the zenith of the day. As the clamour of the chimes intensifies there is a crush of people in the plazza before the tower and the iron bound doors swing open. A figure of unnaturally large aspect strides forth, cloaked in layers of  brightly coloured silks contrasting and pinned between the thick felted festoonery. The size of the hooded being suggests that their ancestry may contain visitors from the plane of Zerasel, which is in keeping with the following actions, as they strew ceremonial salt from within the odd raiment. A blessing upon the crowd, pebbles of variegated colour and size but all baring the faint mineral aroma of yellow mountain salt. Sacred to the old ones of the region but foul to eat it is said to bring good luck within the city. There is another rumour that the pilgrim  leaving the confines of that city without the proper ablutions, their luck turns into the vilest curse. This, it is said, was the root of  Arr-Bshla the boy-king's madness.

Saturday, February 10, 2018

Er-Arr-Banyan

Er-Arr-Banyan, is Directly translated as "city of the two-faced god". Not the divinity some called Yanoos (who's two faces see the future and the past simultaneously) but an older one worshiped only by the decendents of salt-demons and cave folk, a god of luck and unluck, with one face smiling and another scowling. This God's faces grace both sides of the city's coin. Some cities are built at the mouths of rivers, nurtured and cleansed by the waters. Others, surrounded by rich fields and girded by fecund fruit trees, are situated along routes of trade or political significance. Er-Arr-Banyan, it was said, was only a place to flip a coin with neither beautiful situation, convenient location or any blessing or favour from the acknowledged pantheon of human civilizations. Perched on a basalt configuration at the end of an evil road it nonetheless reached upward with garishly tiled spires and six belltowers casting their long shadows through the delineated boroughs of the city. With no industry, trade or craft the economy of the city was solely based on games of chance and the worship of the twofaced god of furtune, Arbaniban.

Thursday, February 9, 2017

Seed idea


In a single sentence: economic picaresque set in mythic Central Asia.


Inevitable pitfall: orientalism…


Monday, July 4, 2016

Wisdom of the All-Mother

Pride and rage are two splendid oxen. Use them often but never on the same yoke.