Actual Intelligence

I wanted to put down some thoughts on Large Language Models (LLMs), or so-called artificial intelligence. I apologize that this post is not going to include any links or quotes or data. It’s just an effort to work something out in my own head – something that I don’t feel – tho it’s very likely I’ve overlooked it – has been spelled out in the discussion anywhere else.

It’s a point that is, on one level, obvious, but one that I feel does not get sufficiently foregrounded: LLMs are, as the name says, language models. Given a corpus of text, they create a set of probabilities such that, for any given input, you can calculate the probability that, following a certain input, a certain word should come next. They are, in other words, tools for transforming material that people have put up on the internet.

On one level, again, everyone knows this. It’s what critics mean when they call these programs“stochastic parrots.” It’s what the companies that make them are thinking about when they talk about the problem of training data. But I don’t think we think about it enough when we think about what these things actually are.

We’ve been primed by generations of science fiction stories to imagine machines that think, think well or poorly, helpfully or malevolently. But maybe we would have a better understanding of LLMs — of what they do well as well as what they do poorly or not at all – if we thought of them not as thinking machines but as windows: windows onto the thinking that people have already done.

There is no thinking going on when you enter a query into ChatGPT, in the sense of an abstract model of the world that can be manipulated and then expressed in words. With the LLM, the words are all there are. The reason an LLM can answer a factual question is because someone has posted text on that specific question. The reason they make nice pictures is because there are an immense number of pictures on the web, with descriptive text attached. The reason they are such good coding buddies is because people have posted immense numbers of code snippets (and also because code is so nicely grammatical.)

If you’re impressed that an LLM can give you a stat block for your DnD campaign (one genuinely positive use case I’ve seen) or answers to your economics homework or text for a form letter, what you should really be impressed by is that so many people have posted versions of exactly that over the past 30 years.

People talk about the software and the chips. And sure, it does need a whole lot of chips. But the real secret is that people have posted this immense amount of useful text on the web, for free. That’s where the magic comes from.

OK, they didn’t post it all for free – a lot of it was produced for money. But none of the text that LLMs draw on was produced for sale to LLMs. All of it is free from their point of view. What they are drawing on is the positive externalities of people communicating with each other, for their own reasons, on the web. What LLMs are doing, fundamentally, is reaping the benefits of a vast spontaneous, directly social, decommodified decentralized production of use values.

When we look at the useful stuff that LLMs give us, we should not think, how cool this technology is. We should think, what an amazing range of useful work people are willing to share online, freely, without any monetary compensation. The machine is the least interesting part. It’s just summarizing it for us.

What makes LLMs work as a business is precisely that all this text is decommodified, as far as they’re concerned, it’s free. As they themselves say, they’d have to shut down if they had to pay for their training data. Yet all that data is the product of human labor. This cutting edge of capitalism – the biggest part of new business investment – rests on a substrate of communism.

People who criticize OpenAI and the rest of these companies for not adhering to copyrights are completely correct about their hypocrisy, and about the inconsistent application of the law. But they mostly get the correct resolution backward, in my opinion. Where we want to get to is a world where information is free for everyone, not one where OpenAI and company also respect the gates. You might ask: why does that follow? To which I would say: LLMs themselves demonstrate the value of making content, in the broadest sense, universally available for free.

The lesson we should be taking from LLMs is the immense social value there is in having all kinds of material – all kinds of products of human intellectual labor – freely available online. They should be reminding us of the early utopian promise of the web.

But now we must turn this around. The other side, of course – of course! – is that the companies making LLMs are not doing so with the goal of more easily sharing the material that people have made freely available on the web. They are doing so with the goal of enclosing it, of converting the products of free human activity into commodities.

The problem we have to deal with is that these companies are selling access to the freely shared products of human social activity, as the product of their own particular capitals. (And also that they are encouraging people to use it for dumb or pointless or socially destructive purposes.)

Worse: The project of enclosing and commodifying the world of online communication destroys what made it valuable in the first place. It’s the opposite of the tragedy of the commons – as if the villagers’ animals grazing on the green were what fertilized it and made it valuable in the first place. This case, where joint use of common resources maintains rather than degrades them, is, I suspect, the more usual one in traditional farming and pastoral communities. In any case, it certainly applies to the information commons – private appropriation is incompatible with collective activity that maintains them. Can’t expect people to keep posting on Reddit if all they hear back is AI slop.

Still , I think it’s important – especially for those of us who are deeply skeptical of “AI” as a business – to not lose sight of the genuinely positive and transformative aspect of this technology: the window it gives onto the possibilities of free, decommodified cooperative production.

The great debate going forward is not about this specific technology. (Though it is, to be clear, about its enormous energy demands. The real question is the about the conditions under which people will continue to be able to share the products of intellectual work with each other on the web. The issue is not what “AI” will or will not do. The issue is how we can take advantage for the tremendous opportunities for sharing the products of actual human intelligence, which were opened up by the internet, but have been increasingly closed off by its commercial overlords.

At Substack: Hello World

I barley keep up this blog any more; do I really need a new format for (not) writing online? The problem, from my point of view, is that, these days, the only way people see blogs (or most other things one writes) is via twitter. And relying on twitter does not, at this point, see like a great idea. I’m moderately hopeful that an email newsletter can offer an alternative way.

In any case, my new substack is here. It’s pretty no-frills at the moment. I’ve pasted the first post below. For the moment I plan on cross-posting everything, but depending on how the substack goes I may revisit that.


What is this? This is an email newsletter, delivered through Substack. You probably get some others like it already. This one is from me, Joshua William Mason, or J. W. Mason as I usually write it. It’s called Money and Things. This specific email or post is the first one.

Why am I getting this? Either you signed up for it, or I added you. I subscribed a few people who I thought might be interested in hearing from me now and then. I hope you don’t mind! If you do, there’s an unsubscribe button somewhere. I promise I won’t add you again.

Thanks for reading Money and Things! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work.

What’s the point of it? My main goal with this is to share things I’ve said or written in other settings, along with some interesting things I have read. I write a fair amount in a fair number of venues, and am in the news now and then. So it seems worth having one place to share it all with people who might like to see it. And then, despite the firehouse of content constantly aimed at each of our heads, it still can be nice to have someone point out something worth reading that you might not have run across otherwise.

The other goal is to have a structure for comments on things that are happening in the world. There are always things going on that I don’t have the time or energy or confidence to write about at length, but might have something interesting to say about in a more informal setting. Will a substack be any better for this than the blog I’ve been keeping for the past dozen years? I don’t know, but it seems worth a try.

So, a lot like a twitter feed, then? Yes, very much. I want to use the newsletter to share material that right now I use twitter for. Not everyone is on twitter, after all. And while I can’t see myself getting off twitter entirely – there are still too many interesting people there – I would like to spend less time on it, for all the familiar reasons.

How often will you be sending these? I’m vaguely hoping for once a week. I’m sure it won’t be more often than that; it could be much less. I will at least try to send one out whenever I publish something.

Why is the newsletter called Money and Things? Well, that captures the range of my interests. I write a lot about money, finance, central banks, credit and debt, inflation and other money-related and money-adjacent topics. But I also write about other things.

Also, Money and Things is the working title of the book that Arjun Jayadev and I are working on. This book has been in progress for longer than I care to think about, but it’s now mostly written and should be coming out from the University of Chicago Press  sometime in the next year. So I also want to use this email to share material from the book, and, down the road, to encourage people to read it.

What is the book about? Oof, I hoped you wouldn’t ask that. Well, it’s about money … and things.

Can you be more specific? The book is an effort to pull together some different strands of thinking around money that Arjun and I have been grappling with since we were students at the University of Massachusetts 20 years ago. One place to start is the tendency — both in economics and everyday common sense — to think of money either as just one useful object among others, or as a faithful reflection of a material world outside itself. Whereas to us it seems clear we should think of it as constituting its own self-contained world, a game or a logic, that in some ways responds to external material and social reality, but also evolves autonomously, and reshapes that external world in its turn. Economists like to think that when we measure things in terms of money, that is capturing some pre-existing “real” value or quantity. (Like, when you see a figure like GDP, you assume in some sense it reflects a quantity of stuff that was produced.) But in fact — our argument goes — while money is a yardstick that allows all sorts of things to be numerically compared, it doesn’t reflect any underlying quantity except money itself.

Keynesians have been criticizing the idea that money is neutral, just a veil, for decades. But we think there’s still space to spell out what the positive alternative looks like, and why it matters. You might say it’s an attempt to elevate the argument of our “Fisher dynamics” papers — where we argued that movements in debt-income ratios have more to do with interest rates and inflation than change in borrowing behavior — into a worldview or paradigm.

What we’re mainly interested in is the interface or boundary between money-world and the concrete world outside of it. (One jokey summary is that we’re starting from Keynes’ General Theory of Money, Interest and Employment, and writing about the “and”.) The idea is that by focusing there, we can connect some long-standing theoretical questions around the nature of money with contemporary debates about policy and politics, and with historical developments like the shareholder revolution or the euro crisis. We’re aiming for a spot in intellectual space somewhere between Jim Crotty, Perry Mehrling, Doug Henwood and David Graeber, if that makes sense.

Will you have a better answer to this question by the time the book comes out? I hope so!

Getting back to the newsletter — will there be free and paid versions? No, there will not. If someone wanted to give me money for it, I wouldn’t say no. If I got a little, I’d buy my kids ice cream. If I got a significant amount, which seems unlikely, then I might put more time into writing it. If I get none at all, that’s perfectly fine.

My personal view – which I know not everyone shares – is that if you are a tenure-track academic, it’s a bit unethical to charge money for a newsletter or similar product. The job of an academic is not just teaching; we are being paid to think about the world and share what we learn. So to me – again, I know many people feel differently – when you turn your work as a scholar into a kind of private business venture, that’s almost a form of embezzlement. Perhaps you saw Inside Job, that movie about economists and the financial crisis. Remember how eagerly someone like Frederic Mishkin turned his stature as a big-name monetary economist into big checks for himself? I don’t want to be that guy. Of course I’m not under any illusion that my integrity carries anything like the market price of a Mishkin’s. But it’s still worth something to me.

To be clear, this doesn’t apply to people who make a living as journalists or writers. If you are a professional writer your readers need to be paying you one way or another, and subscriber-only newsletter content is a legitimate way to make that happen. But as an academic, I’m already being compensated for this kind of work.

Does this mean your book will also be distributed for free? Well, no. The publishers will charge whatever they normally do for a book like this, and Arjun and I will get whatever (presumably small) royalties we’re entitled to out of that.

So how is that different? I don’t know. I feel like it’s different? Of course producing a physical book is costly, and the publisher has their own employees, whose services are valuable, and other costs that have to be paid. On the other hand, it would be technically feasible to just put the book up online as a pdf, and let anyone download it. So making people pay is in some sense a choice we are making. Still, if Inside Job had merely caught Mishkin admitting he’d published a book about financial crises, I don’t think that would have been much of a gotcha. Although then again, on the other hand, the textbook-writing business does seem a bit morally compromised. (Personally I try not to assign anything I can’t distribute a free pdf of.) I do hope our book will be used in the classroom. But I wish students could get excerpts of it in xeroxed course packets, they way I did when I was in college.

Anyway. Money and Things, the newsletter, will always be entirely free. Money and Things, the book, will not be.

You seem to have strong feelings on this topic. Do you have anything else to say about it? Yes, I do. I’ve always found it infuriating that so much scholarly work is hidden behind paywalls. It goes against the whole idea of scholarship, especially if you think of your academic work as part of some political project or as otherwise useful. During the six-seven years between my two stints in graduate school, I was intermittently engaged in online economics discussions, and I found it deeply frustrating that there were so many interesting articles that, without an academic affiliation, I was not permitted to read. I hope someday we recognize IP as applied to academic work for what it is, a comprehensive regime of censorship. (And Alexandra Elbakyan, the creator of sci-hub, as one of humanity’s heroes.)

A bit more recently, but still some years ago, I joined the steering committee of the Union for Radical Political Economics in large part to see if I could convince them to convert URPE’s journal, the Review of Radical Political Economics, to open access. Here you are, I thought, doing work that’s supposed to be part of a larger transformative project, that is relevant not just for other academics but for workers and activists. So why are you enlisting the power of the state to stop people from reading it?

As is often the case, what seemed unanswerable in principle turned out to be less straightforward in practice. The leadership of URPE the organization is largely separate from that of the journal; there’s a multi-year contract with the publisher; and even if open access were allowed, URPE’s share of the subscription revenue is basically the organization’s entire budget. If we went open-access, how would we pay the editor, or award fellowships to students in heterodox programs, or fly people out for the steering committee meetings? Maybe, I suggested, allowing people to read the journal is more important than flying people to meetings. Easy for you to say, someone replied, you live in New York; for others, if they can’t come out and meet in person, they won’t be part of this community at all. Besides, are there really so many non-academics who want to read RRPE?

Maybe if I’d pushed harder I could have got somewhere. But the obstacles were real, and no one seemed to agree with me, so I gave up, and eventually left the steering committee. (Life is too short to be on too many committees.) But I still think I was right.

Anything else? No, I think that’s it for now. But don’t worry – there will be another post coming shortly after this one.