The brittle state

We’re now almost a year on from Rishi Sunak’s AI Summit, which failed to accomplish any of its most likely goals: cement his position as the UK’s prime minister; establish the UK as a world leader in AI fearmongering; or get him the new life in Silicon Valley some commentators seemed to think he wanted.

Arguably, however, it has raised belief that computer systems are “intelligent” – that is, that they understand what they’re calculating. The chatbots based on large language models make that worse, because, as James Boyle cleverly wrote, for the first time in human history, “sentences do not imply sentience”. Mix in paranoia over the state of the world and you get some truly terrifying systems being put into situations where they can catastrophically damage people’s lives. We should know better by now.

The Open Rights Group (I’m still on its advisory council) is campaigning against the Home Office’s planned eVisa scheme. In the previouslies: between 1948 and 1971, people from Caribbean countries, many of whom had fought for Britain in World War II, were encouraged to help the UK rebuild the economy post-war. They are known as the “Windrush generation” after the first ship that brought them. As Commonwealth citizens, they didn’t need visas or documentation; they and their children had the automatic right to live and work here.

Until 1973, when the law changed; later arrivals needed visas. The snag was that earlier arrivals had no idea they had any reason to worry….until the day they discovered, when challenged, that they had no way to prove they were living here legally. That day came in 2017, when then-prime minister, Theresa May (who this week joined the House of Lords) introduced the hostile environment. Intended to push illegal immigrants to go home, this law moves the “border” deep into British life by requiring landlords, banks, and others to conduct status checks. The result was that some of the Windrush group – again, legal residents – were refused medical care, denied housing, or deported.

When Brexit became real, millions of Europeans resident in the UK were shoved into the same position: arrived legally, needing no documentation, but in future required to prove their status. This time, the UK issued them documents confirming their status as permanently settled.

Until December 31, 2024, when all those documents with no expiration date will abruptly expire because the Home Office has a new system that is entirely online. As ORG and the3million explain it, come January 1, 2025, about 4 million people will need online accounts to access the new system, which generates a code to give the bank or landlord temporary access to their status. The new system will apparently hit a variety of databases in real time to perform live checks.

Now, I get that the UK government doesn’t want anyone to be in the country for one second longer than they’re entitled to. But we don’t even have to say, “What could possibly go wrong?” because we already *know* what *has* gone wrong for the Windrush generation. Anyone who has to prove their status off the cuff in time-sensitive situations really needs proof they can show when the system fails.

A proposal like this can only come from an irrational belief in the perfection – or at least, perfectability – of computer systems. It assumes that Internet connections won’t be interrupted, that databases will return accurate information, and that everyone involved will have the necessary devices and digital literacy to operate it. Even without ORG’s and the3million’s analysis, these are bonkers things to believe – and they are made worse by a helpline that is only available during the UK work day.

There is a lot of this kind of credulity about, most of it connected with “AI”. AP News reports that US police departments are beginning to use chatbots to generate crime reports based on the audio from their body cams. And, says Ars Technica, the US state of Nevada will let AI decide unemployment benefit claims, potentially producing denials that can’t be undone by a court. BrainFacts reports that decision makers using “AI” systems are prone to automation bias – that is, they trust the machine to be right. Of course, that’s just good job security: you won’t be fired for following the machine, but you might for overriding it.

The underlying risk with all these systems, as a security experts might say, is complexity: more complex means being more susceptible to inexplicable failures. There is very little to go wrong with a piece of paper that plainly states your status, for values of “paper” including paper, QR codes downloaded to phones, or PDFs saved to a desktop/laptop. Much can go wrong with the system underlying that “paper”, but, crucially, when a static confirmation is saved offline, managing that underlying complexity can take place when the need is not urgent.

It ought to go without saying that computer systems with a profound impact on people’s lives should be backed up by redundant systems that can be used when they fail. Yet the world the powers that be apparently want to build is one that underlines their power to cause enormous stress for everyone else. Systems like eVisas are as brittle as just-in-time supply chains. And we saw what happens to those during the emergency phase of the covid pandemic.

Illustrations: Empty supermarket shelves in March 2020 (via Wikimedia).

Wendy M. Grossman is the 2013 winner of the Enigma Award. Her Web site has an extensive archive of her books, articles, and music, and an archive of earlier columns in this series. She is a contributing editor for the Plutopia News Network podcast. Follow on Mastodon.

Beware the duck

Once upon a time, “convergence” was a buzzword. That was back in the days when audio was on stereo systems, television was on a TV, and “communications” happened on phones that weren’t computers. The word has disappeared back into its former usage pattern, but it could easily be revived to describe what’s happening to content as humans dive into using generative tools.

Said another way. Roughly this time last year, the annual technology/law/pop culture conference Gikii was awash in (generative) AI. That bubble is deflating, but in the experiments that nonetheless continue a new topic more worthy of attention is emerging: artificial content. It’s striking because what happens at this gathering, which mines all types of popular culture for cues for serious ideas, is often a good guide to what’s coming next in futurelaw.

That no one dared guess which of Zachary Cooper‘s pair of near-identicalaudio clips was AI-generated, and which human-performed was only a starting point. One had more static? Cooper’s main point: “If you can’t tell which clip is real, then you can’t decide which one gets copyright.” Right, because only human creations are eligible (although fake bands can still scam Spotify).

Cooper’s brief, wild tour of the “generative music underground” included using AI tools to create songs whose content is at odds with their genre, whole generated albums built by a human producer making thousands of tiny choices, and the new genre “gencore”, which exploits the qualities of generated sound (Cher and Autotune on steroids). Voice cloning, instrument cloning, audio production plugins, “throw in a bass and some drums”….

Ultimately, Cooper said, “The use of generative AI reveals nothing about the creative relationship to work; it destabilizes the international market by having different authorship thresholds; and there’s no means of auditing any of it.” Instead of uselessly trying to enforce different rights predicated on the use or non-use of a specific set of technologies, he said, we should tackle directly the challenges new modes of production pose to copyright. Precursor: the battles over sampling.

Soon afterwards, Michael Veale was showing us Civitai, an Idaho-based site offering open source generative AI tools, including fine-tuned models. “Civitai exists to democratize AI media creation,” the site explains. “Everything has a valid legal purpose,” Veale said, but the way capabilities can be retrained and chained together to create composites makes it hard to tell which tools, if any, should be taken down, even for creators (see also the puzzlement as Redditors try to work this out). Even environmental regulation can’t help, as one attendee suggested: unlike large language models, these smaller, fine-tuned models (as Jon Crowcroft and I surmised last year would be the future) are efficient; they can run on a phone.

Even without adding artificial content there is always an inherent conflict when digital meets an analog spectrum. This is why, Andy Phippen said, the threshold of 18 for buying alcohol and cigarettes turns into a real threshold of 25 at retail checkouts. Both software and humans fail at determining over-or-under-18, and retailers fear liability. Online age verification as promoted in the Online Safety Act will not work.

If these blurred lines strain the limits of current legal approaches, others expose gaps in the law. Andrea Matwyshyn, for example, has been studying parallels I’ve also noticed between early 20th century company towns and today’s tech behemoths’ anti-union, surveillance-happy working practices. As a result, she believes that regulatory authorities need to start considering closely the impact of data aggregation when companies merge and look for company town-like dynamics”.

Andelka Phillips parodied the overreach of app contracts by imagining the EULA attached to “ThoughtReader app”. A sample clause: “ThoughtReader may turn on its service at any time. By accepting this agreement, you are deemed to accept all monitoring of your thoughts.” Well, OK, then. (I also had a go at this here, 19 years ago.)

Emily Roach toured the history of fan fiction and the law to end up at Archive of Our Own, a “fan-created, fan-run, nonprofit, noncommercial archive for transformative fanworks, like fanfiction, fanart, fan videos, and podfic”, the idea being to ensure that the work fans pour their hearts into has a permanent home where it can’t be arbitrarily deleted by corporate owners. The rules are strict: not so much as a “buy me a coffee” tip link that could lead to a court-acceptable claim of commercial use.

History, the science fiction writer Charles Stross has said, is the science fiction writer’s secret weapon. Also at Gikii: Miranda Mowbray unearthed the 18th century “Digesting Duck” automaton built by Jacques de Vauconson. It was a marvel that appeared to ingest grain and defecate waste and that in its day inspired much speculation about the boundaries between real and mechanical life. Like the amazing ancient Greek automata before it, it was, of course, a purely mechanical fake – it stored the grain in a small compartment and released pellets from a different compartment – but today’s humans confused into thinking that sentences mean sentience could relate.

Illustrations: One onlooker’s rendering of his (incorrect) idea of the interior of Jacques de Vaucanson’s Digesting Duck (via Wikimedia).

Wendy M. Grossman is the 2013 winner of the Enigma Award. Her Web site has an extensive archive of her books, articles, and music, and an archive of earlier columns in this series. She is a contributing editor for the Plutopia News Network podcast. Follow on Mastodon.

Service Model

Service Model
By Adrian Tchaikovsky
Tor Publishing Group
ISBN: 978-1-250-29028-1

Charles is a highly sophisticated robot having a bad day. As a robot, “he” would not express it that way. Instead, he would say that he progresses through each item on his task list and notes its ongoing pointlessness. He checks his master’s travel schedule and finds no plans, Nonetheless, he completes his next tasks, laying out today’s travel clothes, dusting off yesterday’s unused set, and placing them back in the wardrobe, as he has every day for the 2,230 days since his master last left the house.

He goes on to ask House, the manor’s major-domo system, to check with the lady of the house’s maidservant for travel schedules, planned clothing, and other aspects of life. There has been no lady of the house, and therefore no maidservant, for 17 years and 12 days. An old subroutine suggests ways to improve efficiency by eliminating some of the many empty steps, but Charles has no instructions that would let him delete any of them, even when House reports errors. The morning routine continues. It’s tempting to recall Ray Bradbury’s short story “There Will Come Soft Rains”.

Until Charles and House jointly discover there are red stains on the car upholstery Charles has just cleaned…and on Charles’s hands, and on the master’s laid-out clothes, and on his bedclothes and on his throat where Charles has recently been shaving him with a straight razor…

The master has been murdered.

So begins Adrian Tchaikovsky’s post-apocalyptic science fiction novel Service Model.

Some time later – after a police investigation – Charles sets out to walk the long miles to report to Diagnostics, and perhaps thereafter to find a new master in need of a gentleman’s gentlebot. Charles would not say he “hoped”; he would say he awaits instructions, and that the resulting uncertainty is inefficiently consuming his resources.

His journey takes him through a landscape filled with other robots that have lost their purpose. Manor after manor along the road is dark or damaged; at one, a servant robot waits pointlessly to welcome guests who never come. The world, it seems, is stuck in recursive loops that cannot be overridden because the human staff required to do so have been…retired. At the Diagnostics center Charles finds more of the same: a queue of hundreds of robots waiting to be seen, stalled by the lack of a Grade Seven human to resolve the blockage.

Enter “the Wonk”, a faulty robot with no electronic link and a need to recharge at night and consume food, who sees Charles – now Uncharles, since he no longer serves the master who named him – as infected with the “protagonist virus” and wants him to join in searching for the mysterious Library, which is preserving human knowledge. Uncharles is more interested in finding humans he can serve.

Their further explorations of a post-apocalyptic world, thinly populated and filled with the rubble of cities, along with Uncharles’s efforts to understand his nature, form most of the rest of the book. Is Wonk’s protagonist virus even a real thing? He doubts that it is. And yet, he feels himself finding excuses to avoid taking on yet another pointless job.

The best part of all this is Tchaikovsky’s rendering of Cbarles/Uncharles’s thoughts about himself and his attempts to make sense of the increasingly absurd world around him. A long, long way into the book it’s still not obvious how it will end.