I’m allowed to spend two days a week at Trajan House, a building in Oxford which houses the Center for Effective Altruism (CEA), along with a few EA-related bodies. Two days is what I asked for, and what I received. The rest of the time I spend in the Bodleian Library of the University of Oxford (about £30/year, if you can demonstrate an acceptable “research need”), a desk at a coworking space in Ethical Property (which houses Refugee Welcome, among other non-EA bodies, for £200/month), Common Ground (a cafe/co-working space which I’ve recommended to people as a place where the staff explicitly explain, if you ask, that you don’t need to order anything to stay as long as you like), a large family house I’m friends with, and various cafes and restaurants where I can sit for hours while only drinking mint tea.

I’m allowed to use the hot-desk space at Trajan House because I’m a recipient of an EA Long Term Future Fund grant, to research Alignment. (I call this “AI safety” to most people, and sometimes have to explain that AI stands for Artificial Intelligence.) I judged that 6 months of salary at the level of my previous startup job, with a small expenses budget, came to about £40,000. This is what I asked for, and what I received.

At my previous job I thought I was having a measurable, meaningful impact on climate change. When I started there, I imagined that I’d go on to found my own startup. I promised myself it would be the last time I’d be employed.

When I quit that startup job, I spent around a year doing nothing-much. I applied to Oxford’s Philosophy BPhil, unsuccessfully. I looked at startup incubators and accelerators. But mostly, I researched Alignment groups. I visited Conjecture, and talked to people from Deep Mind, and the Future of Humanity Institute. What I was trying to do, was to discern whether Alignment was “real” or not. Certainly, I decided, some of these people were cleverer than me, more hard-working than me, better-informed. Some seem deluded, but not all. At the very least, it’s not just a bunch of netizens from a particular online community, whose friend earned a crypto fortune. 

During the year I was unemployed, I lived very cheaply. I’m familiar with the lifestyle, and – if I’m honest – I like it. Whereas for my holidays while employed I’d hire or buy a motorbike, and go travelling abroad, or scuba dive, instead my holidays would be spent doing DIY at a friend’s holiday home for free board, or taking a bivi bag to sleep in the fields around Oxford.

The exceptions to this thrift were both EA-related, and both fully-funded. In one, for which my nickname of “Huel and hot-tubs” never caught on, I was successfully reassured by someone I found very smart that my proposed Alignment research project was worthwhile. In the other, I and others were flown out to the San Francisco Bay Area for an all-expenses-paid retreat to learn how to better build communities. My hotel room had a nightly price written on the inside of the door: $500. Surely no one ever paid that. Shortly afterwards, I heard that the EA-adjacent community were buying the entire hotel.

While at the first retreat, I submitted my application for funding. While in Berkeley for the second, I discovered my application was successful. (“I should hire a motorbike, while I’m here.” I didn’t have time, between networking opportunities.) I started calling myself an “independent alignment researcher” to anyone who would listen and let me into offices, workshops, or parties. I fit right in.

At one point, people were writing plans on a whiteboard for how we could spend the effectively-infinite amount of money we could ask for. Somehow I couldn’t take it any more, so I left, crossed the road, and talked to a group of homeless people I’d made friends with days earlier, in their tarp shelter. We smoked cigarettes, and drank beer, and they let me hold their tiny puppy. Then I said my thank-yous and goodbyes, and dived back into work.

Later, I’m on my canal boat in Oxford. For a deposit roughly the price of my flight tickets, I’ve been living on the boat for months. I get an email: the first tranche of my funding is about to be sent over, it’ll probably arrive in weekly instalments. I’ll be able to pay for the boat’s pre-purchase survey.

Then I check my bank account, and it seems like it wasn’t the best use of someone’s time for them to set up a recurring payment, and instead the entire sum has been deposited at once. My current account now holds as much money as my life savings.

I’m surprised by how negative my reaction is to this. I am angry, resentful. After a while I work out why: every penny I’ve pinched, every luxury I’ve denied myself, every financial sacrifice, is completely irrelevant in the face of the magnitude of this wealth. I expect I could have easily asked for an extra 20%, and received it.

A friend later points out that this is irrational. (I met the friend through Oxford Rationalish.) Really, he points out, I should have been angry long before. I should have been angry when I realised that there were billionaires in the world at all, not when their reality-warping influence happens to work in my favour. My feelings continue to be irrational.

But now I am funded, and housed, and fed (with delicious complementary vegan catering), and showered (I’m too sparing of water to shower on the boat). I imagine it will soon be cold enough on the boat that I come to the office to warm up; this will be my first winter. And so all my needs are taken care of. I am safe, while the funding continues. And even afterwards, even with no extension, I’ll surely survive. So what remains is self-actualisation. And what I want to do, in that case, is to explore the meaning of the good life, to break it down into pieces which my physics-trained, programmer’s brain can manipulate and understand. And what I want to do, also, is to understand community, build community, contribute love and care. And, last I thought about these things, I’m exactly where I need to be to be asking these questions and developing these skills.

(I realise, in this moment of writing, that I am not building a house and a household, not working with my hands, not designing spaces. I am also not finding a wife.)

I have never felt so obliged, so unpressured. If I produce nothing, before Christmas, then nothing bad will happen. Future funds will be denied, but no other punishment will ensue. If I am to work, the motivation must come entirely from myself.

My writing has been blocked for months. I know what I want to write, and I have explained it in words to people dozens of times. But I don’t believe, on some level, that it’s valuable. I don’t think it’s real, I don’t think that my writing will bring anyone closer to solving Alignment. (This is only partially true.) I have no idea what I could meaningfully offer, in return or exchange. And I can’t bear the thought of doing something irrelevant, of lying, cheating, stealing. Of distracting. Instead, I procrastinate, and – in seeking something measurable – organise an EA-adjacent retreat.

I wander over to the library bookshelves in Trajan House. I pick up a book about community-building, which looks interesting. I see a notice: “Like a book? Feel free to take it home with you. Please just scan this QR code to tell us which book you take :)” I’m pleased: I assume that they’ll ask for my name, so they can remind me later to return the book. This seeming evidence of a high-trust society highlights what I like about EA: everyone is trying to be kind. Then I scan the QR code, and a form loads. But I’m not asked for my name, nor is my email shared with them. They only ask for the title of the book. I realise that – of course – they’re just going to buy a replacement. Of course. It would be ridiculously inefficient to ask for the book back: what if I’m still reading it? What if I’m out of town? And whose time would be used to chase down the book? Much better to solve the problem with money. This isn’t evidence of a high-trust society, after all, only of wealth I still haven’t adjusted to. I submit the form, and pocket the book.

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13 comments, sorted by Click to highlight new comments since: Today at 10:14 PM

Thanks for sharing your experiences here Sam.

Something that I find quite difficult is the fact that all of these things are true, but hard to 'feel' true at the same time:

  1. We have increased available funding by an order of magnitude over the past decade and increased the rate at which that funding is being deployed
  2. We don't want lack of funds to be the reason that people don't do important and ambitious things; and yet
  3. We are still extremely funding constrained in most cases

You're experiencing a bit of #1 and #2 right now. And I think that the huge upsides to that is (a) we're have good a shot of doing a lot more good; and (b) EA is less likely to be the pursuit of the already privileged (e.g. those who can afford to fly to a conference in SF or London or quit their job to pursue something that the world doesn't compensate for its value).

I'm glad that access to funding hasn't been a barrier for your pursuit of doing a lot of good.

Regarding #3.

It still stings every time I hear the funding situation talked about as if it's perpetually solved.

I'm glad that a promising AI safety researcher is likely to find the funding they need to switch careers and some of the top projects are able to absorb that talent without needing to beg for funding from everyday donors...

But I still feel very deeply the opportunity cost of not funding more bednets while AMF still has a funding gap. I sometimes struggle to sleep based on the fact that we haven't yet transferred at least 1 trillion dollars to the extreme poor to double their income and get them above  the extreme poverty line. I still feel very deeply the anxiety of being unprepared for the next superpandemic and that we don't have nearly have enough resources for the kinds of megaprojects needed to build resilience. And I haven't even touched on animals and how far we could go if we had the resources.

I'm going to write about this soon.

people were writing plans on a whiteboard for how we could spend the effectively-infinite amount of money we could ask for.

It's a common exercise when doing ambitious brainstorming to start with the premise of "if money was no object" and then later come back through the ideas and think about feasibility. Turning off the critical brain can sometimes help with creativity and this is one way of doing that. 

I've run sessions like this within EA and also within other organisations/communities. However, as a facilitator it's always important to be clear that you're not giving people the impression that there are no constraints, but that you don't want them to think about the constraints while being ambitious and creative.

I did write about this, but decided to mostly write it in poem format followed by a postscript.

There’s a hunger in EA for personal stories - what life is like outside of forum posts for people doing the work, getting grants, being human. Thank you for sharing.

(Note: personal feelings below, very proud of / keen to support your work)

I’m struck by how differently I felt reading about this funding example, coming from my circumstances. I work in private sector with job stability and hope to build a family. The thought of existing on 6-month grants / frequently changing locations, is scary to me. Health insurance (US), planning financial future, kids, etc. I’ve spoken to many EAs who are in a way more transient living situation than I could handle. Suspect that’s true for many, but not all, mid-career folks.

You're very welcome, I'm glad you like it :)

It possibly worth me mentioning that my level of transience is pretty whole-heartedly chosen: I gave up job stability for this (startup was successful). I picked 6 months because that seemed like a good amount of time to explore the possibility of doing this for longer, I considered applying for 12 months (which I don't think would have negatively affected my application) but mainly worried about over-committing. I know people  at TH who have 4 year contracts, which I'd consider relatively stable.

While I live on a boat, the boat doesn't move that fast & I'm planning on Oxford being my UK base for the next decade (with some months abroad). Health insurance is a non-issue here, and since I now own the boat I don't pay rent either. So I feel pretty stable, really, even though my home sways when the rowers come past.

I have the same feeling about the idea of subsisting on short-term grants -- it sounds awesome, but way too transient and unstable for me to really consider. I wrote a post about this here: https://forum.effectivealtruism.org/posts/KdhEAu6pFnfPwA5hf/grantees-how-do-you-structure-your-finances-and-career

Thanks for writing this. I've had very little in-person interaction with EAs, but even having only read about it on the forum the whole class/wealth/money issue is something that has often made me feel weird, too.

The book, in case anyone is wondering, is The Art of Community by Charles H. Vogl, and is very good. I'm grateful to the CEA.

What did you state for appropriate "research need" when applying for the Bodleian Library of the University of Oxford?

I am currently looking for working spaces within Oxford, and think I would benefit from access. But the form seems to indicate one needs quite a strong reason for access, such as for a particular book.

This comment is slightly tangential from the post contents, but I thought it would be better as a comment than a private message where the knowledge is lost forever. Thanks for writing this post - I enjoyed the tone and statement of observations.

I basically told them I was researching AI safety, and could point to a handful of relevant books which I genuinely wanted to read, which were in the Bodleian but not in e.g. the county library.  I think you can search their catalogue at https://solo.bodleian.ox.ac.uk even without an account, which is quite helpful.

Common Ground on Little Clarendon Street is a good shout in the meantime, and the Country Library in Westgate is a decent change of scenery.

This was really well-written, thanks.

Thanks for writing this Sam. I think there's a lot of value in hearing people's stories in this way