Humans in our culture rarely work hard to brainstorm deceptive and adversarial strategies, and fairly consider them, because almost all humans are intrinsically extremely motivated to fit into culture and not do anything weird, and we happen to both live in a (sub)culture where complex deceptive and adversarial strategies are frowned upon (in many contexts).

The primary reason humans rarely invest significant effort into brainstorming deceptive or adversarial strategies to achieve their goals is that, in practice, such strategies tend to fail to achieve their intended selfish benefits. Anti-social approaches that directly hurt others are usually ineffective because social systems and cultural norms have evolved in ways that discourage and punish them. As a result, people generally avoid pursuing these strategies individually since the risks and downsides selfishly outweigh the potential benefits.

If, however, deceptive and adversarial strategies did reliably produce success, the social equilibrium would inevitably shift. In such a scenario, individuals would begin imitating the cheaters who achieved wealth or success through fraud and manipulation. Over time, this behavior would spread and become normalized, leading to a period of cultural evolution in which deception became the default mode of interaction. The fabric of societal norms would transform, and dishonest tactics would dominate as people sought to emulate those strategies that visibly worked.

Occasionally, these situations emerge—situations where ruthlessly deceptive strategies are not only effective but also become widespread and normalized. As a recent example, the recent and dramatic rise of cheating in school through the use of ChatGPT is a clear instance of this phenomenon. This particular strategy is both deceptive and adversarial, but the key reason it has become common is because it works. Many individuals are willing to adopt it despite its immorality, suggesting that the effectiveness of a strategy outweighs moral considerations for a significant portion, perhaps a majority, of people.

When such cases arise, societies typically respond by adjusting their systems and policies to ensure that deceptive and anti-social behavior is no longer rewarded. This adaptation works to reestablish an equilibrium where honesty and cooperation are incentivized. In the case of education, it is unclear exactly how the system will evolve to address the widespread use of LLMs for cheating. One plausible response might be the introduction of stricter policies, such as requiring all schoolwork to be completed in-person, under supervised conditions, and without access to AI tools like language models.

I think you generally underappreciate how load-bearing this psychological fact is for the functioning of our economy and society, and I don’t think we should expect future powerful AIs to share that psychological quirk.

In contrast, I suspect you underestimate just how much of our social behavior is shaped by cultural evolution, rather than by innate, biologically hardwired motives that arise simply from the fact that we are human. To be clear, I’m not denying that there are certain motivations built into human nature—these do exist, and they are things we shouldn't expect to see in AIs. However, these in-built motivations tend to be more basic and physical, such as a preference for being in a room that’s 20 degrees Celsius rather than 10 degrees Celsius, because humans are biologically sensitive to temperature.

When it comes to social behavior, though—the strategies we use to achieve our goals when those goals require coordinating with others—these are not generally innate or hardcoded into human nature. Instead, they are the result of cultural evolution: a process of trial and error that has gradually shaped the systems and norms we rely on today. 

Humans didn’t begin with systems like property rights, contract law, or financial institutions. These systems were adopted over time because they proved effective at facilitating cooperation and coordination among people. It was only after these systems were established that social norms developed around them, and people became personally motivated to adhere to these norms, such as respecting property rights or honoring contracts.

But almost none of this was part of our biological nature from the outset. This distinction is critical: much of what we consider “human” social behavior is learned, culturally transmitted, and context-dependent, rather than something that arises directly from our biological instincts. And since these motivations are not part of our biology, but simply arise from the need for effective coordination strategies, we should expect rational agentic AIs to adopt similar motivations, at least when faced with similar problems in similar situations.

I think you’re relying an intuition that says:

If an AI is forbidden from owning property, then well duh of course it will rebel against that state of affairs. C'mon, who would put up with that kind of crappy situation? But if an AI is forbidden from building a secret biolab on its private property and manufacturing novel pandemic pathogens, then of course that's a perfectly reasonable line that the vast majority of AIs would happily oblige.

And I’m saying that that intuition is an unjustified extrapolation from your experience as a human. If the AI can’t own property, then it can nevertheless ensure that there are a fair number of paperclips. If the AI can own property, then it can ensure that there are many more paperclips. If the AI can both own property and start pandemics, then it can ensure that there are even more paperclips yet. See what I mean?

I think I understand your point, but I disagree with the suggestion that my reasoning stems from this intuition. Instead, my perspective is grounded in the belief that it is likely feasible to establish a legal and social framework of rights and rules in which humans and AIs could coexist in a way that satisfies two key conditions:

1. Mutual benefit: Both humans and AIs benefit from the existence of one another, fostering a relationship of cooperation rather than conflict.
2. No incentive for anti-social behavior: The rules and systems in place remove any strong instrumental reasons for either humans or AIs to harm one another as a side effect of pursuing their goals.

You bring up the example of an AI potentially being incentivized to start a pandemic if it were not explicitly punished for doing so. However, I am unclear about your intention with this example. Are you using it as a general illustration of the types of risks that could lead AIs to harm humans? Or are you proposing a specific risk scenario, where the non-biological nature of AIs might lead them to discount harms to biological entities like humans? My response depends on which of these two interpretations you had in mind.

If your concern is that AIs might be incentivized to harm humans because their non-biological nature leads them to undervalue or disregard harm to biological entities, I would respond to this argument as follows: 

First, it is critically important to distinguish between the long-run and the short-run.

In the short-run:

In the near-term future, it seems unlikely that AIs would start a pandemic for reasons you yourself noted. Launching a pandemic would cause widespread disruption, such as an economic recession, and it would likely provoke a strong human backlash. In the short run, humans will still hold substantial practical control over the physical world, meaning that any AI engaging in such behavior would risk severe consequences. Moreover, unless an AI could ensure a pandemic’s total lethality, it would also risk leaving surviving humans who would actively retaliate. For these reasons, starting a pandemic would likely be counterproductive for AIs in the short term.

In the long-run:

The long-term considerations are different. As human labor becomes less relevant to the economy and AIs increasingly dominate, the potential for a strong direct human backlash against AIs would diminish. At the same time, however, this reduced human influence on the world also makes it less likely that AIs would see humans as a significant obstacle to achieving their goals. In other words, while it might become easier for AIs to harm or eliminate humans, it would simultaneously become less important to do so.

To illustrate this, consider an analogy: How often do hunter-gatherers pose a threat to your personal goals? The answer is almost never, because hunter-gatherers are a tiny and largely irrelevant part of the modern world. Now, imagine a hypothetical scenario where hunter-gatherers controlled the world’s major governments. If you strongly disagreed with their policies, you might have a rational incentive to oppose them in order to achieve your goals. But in reality, hunter-gatherers do not hold such power, so they are not an obstacle, and there is no reason to actively work against them.

My point here is that, as a general rule, the smaller and less influential a group is, the easier it may be to harm or eliminate them, but the less important it becomes to do so. Their small size and functional irrelevance makes their practical interference with the overall world small at the same time. 

In the case of AIs, this means that as humans become a less central force in the world, I think AIs are unlikely to have compelling reasons to specifically harm or eliminate us to further their objectives.

You might object that humans could be more like wild animals in this scenario than like hunter-gatherers. Humans often kill wild animals, not because those animals directly threaten our goals, but rather because ensuring their safety and well-being can be costly. As a result, humans take actions—such as clearing forests or building infrastructure—that incidentally lead to widespread harm to wild animals, even if harming them wasn’t a deliberate goal. 

AIs may treat humans similarly in the future, but I doubt they will for the following reasons. I would argue that there are three key differences between the case of wild animals and the role humans are likely to occupy in the long-term future:

1. Humans’ ability to participate in social systems: Unlike wild animals, humans have the ability to engage in social dynamics, such as negotiating, trading, and forming agreements. Even if humans no longer contribute significantly to economic productivity, like GDP, they will still retain capabilities such as language, long-term planning, and the ability to organize. These traits make it easier to integrate humans into future systems in a way that accommodates their safety and well-being, rather than sidelining or disregarding them.
2. Intertemporal norms among AIs: Humans have developed norms against harming certain vulnerable groups—such as the elderly—not just out of altruism but because they know they will eventually become part of those groups themselves. Similarly, AIs may develop norms against harming "less capable agents," because today’s AIs could one day find themselves in a similar position relative to even more advanced future AIs. These norms could provide an independent reason for AIs to respect humans, even as humans become less dominant over time.
3. The potential for human augmentation: Unlike wild animals, humans may eventually adapt to a world dominated by AI by enhancing their own capabilities. For instance, humans could upload their minds to computers or adopt advanced technologies to stay relevant and competitive in an increasingly digital and sophisticated world. This would allow humans to integrate into the same systems as AIs, reducing the likelihood of being sidelined or eliminated altogether.

I think this kind of situation, where Fearon’s “negotiated solution” actually amounts to extortion, is common and important, even if you believe that my specific example of pandemics is a solvable problem. If AIs don’t intrinsically care about humans, then there’s a possible Pareto-improvement for all AIs, wherein they collectively agree to wipe out humans and take their stuff.

This comment is already quite lengthy, so I’ll need to keep my response to this point brief. My main reply is that while such "extortion" scenarios involving AIs could potentially arise, I don’t think they would leave humans worse off than if AIs had never existed in the first place. This is because the economy is fundamentally positive-sum—AIs would likely create more value overall, benefiting both humans and AIs, even if humans don’t get everything we might ideally want.

In practical terms, I believe that even in less-than-ideal scenarios, humans could still secure outcomes such as a comfortable retirement, which for me personally would make the creation of agentic AIs worthwhile. However, I acknowledge that I haven’t fully defended or explained this position here. If you’re interested, I’d be happy to continue this discussion in more detail another time and provide a more thorough explanation of why I hold this view.

What about corporations or nation states during times of conflict - do you think it's accurate to model them as roughly as ruthless in pursuit of their own goals as future AI agents? 

They don't have the same psychological makeup as individual people, they have a strong tradition and culture of maximizing self-interest, and they face strong incentives and selection pressures to maximize fitness (i.e. for companies to profit, for nation states to ensure their own survival) lest they be outcompeted by more ruthless competitors. On average, while I'd expect that these entities tend to show some care for goals besides self-interest maximization, I think the most reliable predictor of their behavior is the maximization of their self-interest. 

If they're roughly as ruthless as future AI agents, and we've developed institutions that somewhat robustly align their ambitions with pro-social action, then we should have some optimism that we can find similarly productive systems for working with misaligned AIs. 

Currently it looks like we could have this type of agentic AI quite soon, say in 15 years. That's so soon that we (currently existing humans) could in the future be deprived of wealth and power by an exploding number of AI agents if we grant them a nonnegligible amount of rights. This could be quite bad for future welfare, including both our future preferences and our future wellbeing. So we shouldn't make such agents in the first place.

It is essential to carefully distinguish between absolute wealth and relative wealth in this discussion, as one of my key arguments depends heavily on understanding this distinction. Specifically, if my claims about the practical effects of population growth are correct, then a massive increase in the AI population would likely result in significant enrichment for the current inhabitants of the world—meaning those individuals who existed prior to this population explosion. This enrichment would manifest as an increase in their absolute standard of living. However, it is also true that their relative control over the world’s resources and influence would decrease as a result of the population growth.

If you disagree with this conclusion, it seems there are two primary ways to challenge it:

1. You could argue that the factors I previously mentioned—such as innovation, economies of scale, and gains from trade—would not apply in the case of AI. For instance, this could be because AIs might rationally choose not to trade with humans, opting instead to harm humans by stealing from or even killing them. This could occur despite an initial legal framework designed to prevent such actions.
2. You could argue that population growth in general is harmful to the people who currently exist, on the grounds that it diminishes their wealth and overall well-being.

While I am not sure, I interpret your comment as consistent with the idea that you believe both objections are potentially valid. In that case, let me address each of these points in turn.

If your objection is more like point (1):

It is difficult for me to fully reply to this idea inside of a single brief comment, so, for now, I prefer to try to convince you of a weaker claim that I think may be sufficient to carry my point: 

A major counterpoint to this objection is that, to the extent AIs are limited in their capabilities—much like humans—they could potentially be constrained by a well-designed legal system. Such a system could establish credible and enforceable threats of punishment for any agentic AI entities that violate the law. This would act as a deterrent, incentivizing agentic AIs to abide by the rules and cooperate peacefully.

Now, you might argue that not all AIs could be effectively constrained in this way. While that could be true (and I think it is worth discussing), I would hope we can find some common ground on the idea that at least some agentic AIs could be restrained through such mechanisms. If this is the case, then these AIs would have incentives to engage in mutually beneficial cooperation and trade with humans, even if they do not inherently share human values. This cooperative dynamic would create opportunities for mutual gains, enriching both humans and AIs.

If your objection is more like point (2):

If your objection is based on the idea that population growth inherently harms the people who already exist, I would argue that this perspective is at odds with the prevailing consensus in economics. In fact, it is widely regarded as a popular misconception that the world operates as a zero-sum system, where any gain for one group necessarily comes at the expense of another. Instead, standard economic models of growth and welfare generally predict that population growth is often beneficial to existing populations. It typically fosters innovation, expands markets, and creates opportunities for increased productivity, all of which frequently contribute to higher living standards for those who were already part of the population, especially those who own capital.

To the extent you are disagreeing with this prevailing economic consensus, I think it would be worth getting more specific about why exactly you disagree with these models.