Guidepost Eight: The Power of Responsibility (Aka Episode 51)
A Whackadoodle lesson on this week's guidepost, in which I make it up to my student from last week's post by writing myself as the idiot and her as the guide, along with some thoughts about Bing's AI.
“What’s got you so upset?” she asked, settling herself into her usual seat across from me.
“Artificial intelligence.”
“What?” She immediately started laughing.
“I was updating the links on our website like usual. I typed the words, ‘Whackadoodle World Table of Contents’ into Bing, so I could find the post that needed updating fast, and I happened to notice what Bing was saying about our work. It frankly got me pissed.”
“Why? At least Bing is noticing us.”
“I’m pissed because Bing’s artificial intelligence has taken liberty with my words and ideas, turning them into something they are not. Navigating a Whackadoodle World is not "a whimsical realm where logic pirouettes and reason tap-dances," and I would never write, "let us embark on a journey of peculiar wisdom." I showed her the top of the page I was reading.
She looked at the first few lines, then glanced up confused, “Well, at least Bing spelled Whackadoodle right, and it didn’t send people to river rafting sites like Google did with your first book because you called it A River Worth Riding.”
“Don’t remind me.”
“So what’s so bad about it?”
“Other than the first line, ‘In the whimsical realm of **Whackadoodle World**, where logic pirouettes and reason tap-dances, let us embark on a journey of peculiar wisdom?’”
“Sounds kind of nice,” she informed me.
“Whackadoodle World is not some ‘whimsical realm,’” I countered. “It’s about right here, right now. It’s about the real world and fourteen guideposts to help people navigate it. Bing makes it sound like I’m writing some fantasy novel.”
“I like fantasy novels, and you have to admit that creating a character with three heads is kind of whimsical.”
“Strategy has three parts,” I informed her with a glare. “How could I not give strategy three heads? And have you seen how Bing explains the rest of the guideposts? Here! Look!”
1. **Prologue**: *Boats float for a reason.* If you can decipher that reason, perhaps you too can defy gravity and float along the currents of life².
2. **Episode One**: We set sail, my student and I, unraveling the first of fourteen lessons. Our compass? Curiosity. Keep asking "why," for therein lies the map to understanding³.
3. **Episode Two**: Imagine treacherous rapids ahead—dangerous, tumultuous. Yet, I see exhilaration, an adventure. Perception shapes reality, my friend¹.
4. **Episode Thirteen, Part One**: The power of persuasion and influence. A Whackadoodle lesson on rapport, where name-calling yields to the second rule of persuasion¹.
5. **Epilogue**: Benjamin Franklin's quest for moral perfection, with a delightful Whackadoodle twist. Two hundred years ago, he charted a course; now, we add our own annotations¹.
So, my fellow traveler, fasten your seatbelt (or life jacket, if you prefer), and let's navigate this topsy-turvy world—one episode at a time.
Source: Conversation with Bing, 3/28/2024
(1) Navigating a Whackadoodle World: Table of Contents. https://whackadoodleworld.com/navigating-a-whackadoodle.../.
(2) Navigating a Whackadoodle World: Episode One. https://whackadoodleworld.com/navigating-a-whackadoodle.../.
(3) Whackadoodle World - Let us help you Navigate it..
https://whackadoodleworld.com/
“Oh,” she said after reading. “I think I get why you’re pissed. And I think that I’m starting to feel that way myself. What Bing is calling the prologue, is really Guidepost One, which has nothing to do with deifying gravity, or floating above currents. Guidepost One is about understanding cause and effect. I mean why would it even talk about defying gravity?”
“I think that it’s because of how I ended Guidepost One,” I told her and showed her the passage from my book:
People who do not understand cause and effect say things like, “If men were intended to fly, they would have wings.”
But people who do understand cause and effect, look at birds flying and think, “If birds can fly, then so can I. All it takes is understanding the cause of flight.”
What causes flight?
Not wings, but the effect that wings have on air.
Simulate the effect, and you’re flying to Paris.
“Makes sense,” she nodded. “I can see why some computer AI would turn those words into people defying gravity. I don’t think computers really understand metaphor.” She squinted towards my computer and added, “Yet.”
“But can you understand why I’m so upset?” I asked. “Guidepost One has nothing to do with defying gravity. It’s about understanding Cause and Effect. And look at what the second item says:”
2. **Episode One**: We set sail, my student and I, unraveling the first of fourteen lessons. Our compass? Curiosity. Keep asking "why," for therein lies the map to understanding³.
I found myself pontificating. “I mean, come on! Curiosity as a compass? Don’t get me wrong. I have nothing against curiosity. I’m all for curiosity. I think curiosity is essential to a full life and critical thinking. I love curiosity. Without curiosity, we would never learn anything; but curiosity is not a compass for life. I do write about how we need to find a moral compass in guidepost five, but not in guidepost one.” Again, I showed her the passage about a moral compass from my old book:
Nevil Shute, one of the finest novelists of the twentieth century, wrote a book called Round the Bend. In the book, his protagonist recounts a fable about Moses and Mohammed. This fable has haunted me since I first read it at the age of twelve.
The fable begins with Moses and his journey up the mountain, where he is asked by God to have his people pray fifty times a day. This request is quickly seen as unrealistic, what with the golden calf and all, so God relents and simply asks that his people keep the Sabbath holy. A few thousand years later, Mohammed has his own version of that conversation on the mountain, where he is asked by God to have his people pray fifty time a day. As he returns from his journey, Mohammed meets Moses, and after discussing God’s request, Mohammed is convinced by Moses to return to God and ask for an easier burden. Again, God relents, and this time requires that his people only pray five time a day. At this point in the fable, the storyteller turns to his audience and asks, “But what if we did pray fifty times a day? What if every time we completed a task, we simply prayed, ‘Have I done well?’ If we did,” concludes the storyteller, “We could easily fulfill God’s request for fifty prayers each day.”
Well, I tried it. I was twelve years old; I’d just finished reading the story; my mother asked me to clean the kitchen; and I decided to try it. I washed one dish, then I prayed, “Have I done well?” An amazing thing happened. I felt an answer. I clearly knew that I had done well. After washing each dish, I prayed again. Each time I prayed, I knew instantly whether I had done well, or whether I hadn’t. And by the time I finished cleaning that kitchen, it gleamed.
We all have the gift of conscience; we just forget to listen to it.
“I get why you’re angry,” she assured me. “You have never said to me ‘Keep asking "why," for therein lies the map to understanding.’ And I think I know why you’re upset by item three,” she added, and then read the aforementioned passage. ‘Imagine treacherous rapids ahead—dangerous, tumultuous. Yet, I see exhilaration, an adventure. Perception shapes reality, my friend.’”
“And why am I upset by that?”
“Because you don’t teach anything about ‘perception shaping reality.’ You’ve always taught me that while our perceptions can shape our actions, it’s our actions that can shape our reality, so Bing got the guidepost totally wrong. Besides, I remember what you actually did write. ‘You see dangerous rapids ahead while I see an exciting ride. We all see the river not as it is, but as we believe it to be.’ Your words are much more poetic than Bing’s.”
“I think that’s why I’m so upset,” I said, finally taking a breath. “I take great care in the words I write, and Bing has merged my words with ideas I don’t even believe. Plus, Bing’s words are just trite. I mean really? Would I ever write, ‘So, my fellow traveler, fasten your seatbelt (or life jacket, if you prefer), and let's navigate this topsy-turvy world—one episode at a time.’ And just look at items four and five! I don’t even know what they mean. My guidepost thirteen is about persuasion and influence. I do write that influence requires rapport, and that name-calling does nothing to create rapport. But there is no ‘second rule of persuasion.’ It was just a second episode!”
She placed her hand on my shoulder as I covered my face with my hands and spoke about item five. “And what Bing says about the epilogue. ‘Benjamin Franklin's quest for moral perfection, with a delightful Whackadoodle twist. Two hundred years ago, he charted a course; now, we add our own annotation.’ Those are not my words, and I certainly didn’t add an annotation to his! I simply explained his advice, and then explained how I have chosen to take his advice.”
“Why do you care about what Bing thinks?” she asked suddenly. “Bing doesn’t think. He’s just a stupid AI who obviously doesn’t understand anything about you or your work. He’s just feeding back what he’s been taught. He will never understand the real world because he only understands ones and zeros.”
Her hand on my back felt warm, as I mumbled through my hands, “I suppose I’m upset because Bing is not a real person that I can reach out to and ask for corrections. I am not even sure it matters. Who listens to Bing anyway?”
“Let’s look it up,” she suddenly laughed and reached past me to open a new search tab. After she found the answer, she laughed even harder, “Don’t worry, according to Bing, it’s only one hundred million every day.”
I groaned.
“Oh, come one,” she patted my shoulder. “This is the week that we’re supposed to be focused on Guidepost Eight. ‘An innocent may attempt to dry himself midstream, but only a fool blames water for being wet: The Power of Responsibility.’ So what are we responsible for? What can we control or influence? Everything else is waste of our precious time and energy, and I don’t think that even you can control what Bing says about you.”
“You’re right,” I sat back with a sigh. “The only thing that I can control is my reaction to what happens around me. Writing this post is probably a pointless use of my time. I have no influence over Bing. I mean, it’s not like Bing is a human reviewer that I can contact, and I’m pretty sure that the techs at Microsoft wouldn’t give a rat’s ass about Bing’s review of my work.”
“I wouldn’t call it exactly pointless,” she replied. “Your reaction gave you a chance to vent. It gave you a chance to set the record straight, at least in your own mind and with your readers. It might even be a good reminder for others about the power of responsibility.”
“How so?”
“That they can’t depend on Bing, or any one thing, to get the truth right. That they are always responsible for discovering the truth of things on their own.”
“So you think I should share it?”
“Yes, I do. It is, after all, something you can actually control.”
I was about to hit continue and publish the post, when she suddenly stopped me.
“Hang on,” she said, placing her hand over mine. “This might also be a good time to share your actual book, and let people meet that whimsical three-headed-guy themselves.”
“Don’t make fun of Strategy,” I warned her. “I love how he turned out.”
“I love him too,” she grinned. “So let’s add a link to that Amazon read a sample of this book thing, so people can actually sample some of that ‘topsy-turvy world.’ Who knows. After reading the first few chapters, they might even like it enough to buy the whole book. It would kind of like taking something bad, and turning it into something good.”
“I don’t think I have a choice because you already posted the link.”
“Think of it like a bookstore,” she winked. “Where people can go in and read a bit before deciding if they would like to purchase.”
“You’re getting far too commercial,” I sighed and hit publish.