The time is now, the day is here

This month of Maying is coming to an end on an unexpected positive note: I’m getting my first shot of COVID vaccine this weekend! Unexpected in that not too long ago it was still estimated that in my city and for my age group the vaccinations would start in the week starting on the 7th of June, so we got there a couple of weeks early. I’m not complaining of course, although I can’t help wondering what’s behind this surprise schedule speed-up – I certainly hope it’s not that the people in age brackets above mine have suddenly turned into conspiracy theorists. Pretty much everyone I know in my bracket rushed to make their reservations right away and then complained about how badly the reservation system was working, which I’m going to optimistically intepret as a sign of the system being under exceptionally heavy load (as opposed to just being rubbish). 

Another thing that’s coming to an end is the AI ethics course. Since the lectures were finished a few weeks ago, the work has consisted of grading assignments and doing miscellaneous admin – still a good deal of work, but it no longer feels like it’s hogging all of my available time and energy. It seems that many of the students have also found the course surprisingly laborious, so adjusting the workload could be something to consider in the future, but I guess a part of it may be that the students are not that used to the kind of work we had them do, with lots of writing assignments where they are expected to discuss non-engineery things like ethical principles and values. Presumably a more traditional course with an exam at the end would have been easier for both us and them, but to me that doesn’t seem like a very good way to teach a subject where, a lot of the time, there are no right answers. The time for proper stock-taking is later, but I feel like we were pretty successful in designing a course that challenges the students on their ability to build and defend arguments and not just on their ability to absorb information. 

It’s just as well that the course isn’t eating up all of my hours anymore, because there definitely isn’t any shortage of other things to do. It’s not even the only teaching thing I’m working on at the moment: there’s another course where I need to do some grading of exam answers, plus an upcoming one on learning analytics where I’m committed to giving some lectures on ethics, plus there are always students with Bachelor’s/Master’s theses to supervise. On top of that, I’m somehow finding some time for research – I’ve not just one but two manuscripts due to be submitted soon, which is a very welcome development after all of 2020 zoomed by without me getting a single new paper out. On top of that, a big funding proposal that had been dormant for a while is now very much awake again, and pressure is high to get it done before July comes and everyone buggers off to their summer hols. 

What happens after July is an interesting question. With the vaccinations progressing well – more than half of the adult population have had at least one jab already – it looks like there’s a good chance that the recommendation to work from home will be dropped and we’ll be going back to normal in August. The thing is, after close to a year and a half of working remotely, I’m not at all sure that going to the office is going to feel all that normal! I suppose we’ll get used to it, like we got used to the current situation, but it may take a while. There’s a lot to be said in favour of remote work, even when there isn’t a contagious disease to worry about, so I’m guessing there will be a period when everyone is figuring out the right balance between office days and remote days. In the end, perhaps work will be a bit better as a result of all this; I’m sure there are tons of academic papers to be written on the subject, but that’s a job for other people – I’ll stick with my diet of computer science and philosophy. 

The new black

The new AI ethics course is now officially underway – actually, we’re close to the halfway mark already, with three out of eight lectures done. I’ve been chiefly responsible for all three, which has kept me thoroughly busy for pretty much all of March, and I’ve seldom felt as deserving of the upcoming long weekend as I do right now. Zoom lecturing, which I had my first taste of in the autumn term, still feels weird but I’m getting used to it. Typically none of the students will have their camera on, and it’s hopeless to try to gauge how an audience of black rectangles is receiving you unless they go to the bother of using reactions. Perhaps a year of online classes hasn’t been enough time for a new culture of interaction to emerge organically – or perhaps this is the new culture, but that sounds kind of bleak to me and I hope it’s not true. 

I’m sure I could have done some things better to foster such a culture myself; I’m fully aware that I’m not the most interactive sort of teacher. On the other hand, I’m firmly of the opinion that teaching applied ethics without having any ethical debates would be missing the point, so we’ve been trying to come up with various ways to get the students sharing and discussing their views. We’ve had some success with supplementary sessions where a short presentation expanding on a minor topic of the main lecture seeds a discussion on related ethical issues, and there has also been some action on the Zoom chat, especially during last week’s lecture on controversial AI applications. It helps that there are many real-world controversies available for use as case studies: people will often have a gut reaction to these, and by analysing that it’s possible to gain some insight into ethics concepts and principles that might otherwise remain a bit abstract. 

Although the course has been a lot of work, some of it in evenings and weekends, it’s also been quite enjoyable, not counting the talking-at-laptop-camera-hoping-someone-is-listening part. Ethics isn’t exactly my bread and butter, so preparing materials for the course has required me to learn a little bit about a lot of different things, which suits me perfectly – I’m a bit of a junkie for knowledge in general, and I’ve never been one to focus all my efforts on a single interest. My eagerness to dabble in everything has probably worked to my disadvantage in research, since we’re way past the days when one person could be an expert in every field of scholarship, but I think it serves me well here. On the other hand, the mental stimulation I’ve been getting from looking into all these diverse topics has also given me all sorts of ideas for new papers I could write. The most laborious part of the course for me is over now, with my co-lecturer plus some guests taking over for most of the remaining lectures, so I may even have time and energy to actually work on those papers after I’ve had a bit of R&R.

In my latest lecture I talked about the relationship between AI and data. Here I was very much on home ground, since pretty much my whole academic career has revolved around this theme, so it wasn’t hard to come up with a number of fruitful angles to look at it from. I ended up using the ever-popular “new oil” metaphor for data quite a lot; I actually kind of hate it, but it turns out that talking about the various ways in which data is or isn’t similar to oil makes a pretty nifty framing device for a lecture on data ethics. Data is like oil in that it’s a highly valuable resource in today’s economy, it powers a great many (figurative) engines, and it needs to be refined in order to be of any real value. On the other hand, data is not some naturally occurring resource that you pump or dig out of the ground: it’s created by people, and often it’s also about people and/or used to make decisions that affect people, which is where data ethics comes in. 

None of these are very original observations I’m afraid, but perhaps it’s good to say them out loud all the same. If I do have a more novel contribution to add, it might be this: both oil and data have generated a lot of wealth, but over time we have come to regret using them so carelessly. With oil, we are working to reduce our dependence by adopting alternatives to petroleum-based energy sources and materials, but with data, I’m not sure that the idea of an alternative even makes sense, so it looks like we’re slated to keep using more and more of it. This makes it ever more important that we all learn to deal with it wisely – individuals, enterprises and governments alike. The economic value of data is well established by now, so maybe it’s time to pay more attention to other values? 

Happy(?) anniversary

Two weeks ago I celebrated the one-year anniversary of my return to Finland. Well, I didn’t actually celebrate as such – it was a Tuesday like any other. Looking back to that day in 2020, I can’t help but find the contrast of expectation versus reality slightly amusing; I’d decided to travel home in style and booked a business-class ticket, so there I was, lounging in my comfy seat with a pleasant warmth spreading inside me from a nice hot breakfast, complimentary champagne, memories of Ireland and thoughts of all the good things ahead now that I was coming home for good. Little did I know! 

I don’t know how many people would agree with me on this, but considering how quickly this first full year back in Finland has zoomed by (no online meetings pun intended), I have to conclude that time does actually fly even under the present circumstances. Finland, of course, has had it a good deal easier than a lot of other countries, and the summer was even verging on normal, although I did have to cancel my planned trip to the UK and I’m not hugely optimistic about the chances of it happening this year either. The end of the year, I’ll admit, was a bit rough, but then, it tends to be wearying even in the best of times so I can’t blame it all on the pandemic. 

There was something satisfyingly symbolic about the way the year changed. I spent New Year’s Eve at home, accompanied by my pet rabbit, entertaining myself by watching a Jean-Michel Jarre concert that was virtual in more than one sense: besides being an online-only event, the video stream didn’t even show Jarre performing in a physical location but rather an avatar of him in a VR environment based on Notre-Dame de Paris. (Another Ireland memory there – one of the songs I rehearsed with the DCU Campus Choir was a short tribute piece written by an Irish composer after the April 2019 fire.) The weather, having been kind of iffy all December, took a wintry turn during the night and it began to snow heavily, as if to wipe the slate clean for the coming year. By noon the following day the world had turned so gloriously white that I felt compelled to go out on my bike and take some pictures. 

For some reason – well, for a number of reasons I suppose – I’ve found it quite hard to get any kind of writing done in the past couple of months. I wanted to do some work on my rejected manuscript during the Christmas break, but I struggled to find the motivation and finally got it submitted to another journal just a couple of weeks ago. Last week I finished my share of the work for the latest run of our Towards Data Mining course, so with those two major items ticked off my to-do list and the kick-off of the new AI ethics course still a month away, I felt justified to turn my attention to the blog, which I’ve been neglecting (again). 

Ah yes, the ethics course. I say “still a month away”, but in reality I’m already getting stressed about it. It’s coming up pretty well, but it’s still far from ready for launch, and I keep worrying that it’s going to fail spectacularly because of some rookie mistake. Feeling nervous about lecturing is one thing, but there’s a lot more to prepare than just an individual lecture or two. On top of that it’s all being created more or less from scratch, and this whole online teaching thing is also still kind of new and in the process of taking shape, so there are dozens of critically important things that we might get all wrong or just completely forget to do – in my mind at least, if not necessarily in reality. 

I am very much enjoying preparing my lectures, though. Perhaps the biggest problem with the subject matter is that as much as I love philosophy, it can be a bit of a rabbit hole: once you get started with questioning your assumptions, and the assumptions behind those assumptions, you’ll soon find yourself questioning everything you believe in, which isn’t a great place to be when you’re supposed to be confidently imparting knowledge to others. On an applied ethics course it wouldn’t make sense to spend a lot of time exploring ethical theories that are of little relevance to the sort of issues the students can expect to encounter in the real world – and I wouldn’t be qualified to teach those anyway – but it also wouldn’t seem right to just handwave all the theory away and discuss the issues on an ad-hoc basis. 

What’s needed here is a framework that makes it possible to make meaningful normative statements and have a productive debate about them without taking forever to set up. As I was thinking about this recently, I was struck by the realisation that it’s actually pretty amazing that we are, in fact, able to have meaningful discussions about ethics, considering that there are some very fundamental things about it that we can’t agree on. Put two random people together and they may hold radically different views on the foundations of ethics, yet the odds are that each of them uses ethical concepts in a way that’s perfectly recognisable to the other. Theoretically, you could argue that ethical statements are completely subjective or even essentially meaningless, but it’s hard to sustain such arguments when you look at how well, in reality, we are able to understand each other on matters of right and wrong. 

Similarly, if you immerse yourself too deeply in metaethical nitpicking, it’s easy to lose sight of the fact that despite all our differences and disagreements, ethics works. It may seem outright heretical to view ethics as an instrument, but if you do that, you have to conclude that it does a really good job of enabling people to live together as functional communities. It’s hardly a perfect system, and there will always be some unwanted things slipping through the cracks, but that doesn’t make the system useless, or meaningless, or nonexistent. Like many of the more abstract systems that human societies are built upon, it ultimately depends on enough people believing in it, but on the whole, we as a species seem to be pretty good at believing in such things. 

Another thing we’re good at is developing technology, and that’s what makes technology ethics – including AI ethics – so important in my view. We do, of course, have laws to regulate technology and we keep making new ones, but the process of legislation tends to lag behind the process of technological change, and the social change that comes with it. As a technology researcher I believe that technology is primarily a force for good, but we need a frontline defence against harmful excesses, something capable of pre-empting them rather than just reacting to them: a strong ethical tradition involving all developers and appliers. If I can do my modest part in cultivating such a tradition among future AI engineers, then the new course will be something to feel at least a little bit proud of.

Good riddance to 2020

Christmas is very nearly here, and a very welcome thing it is, too. After a streak of mild and rainy days our snow is largely gone, and frankly it’s depressingly dark right now, so a bit of Christmas cheer is just the thing to wash away the dust and grime of this mess of a year. The December solstice was yesterday, so technically the days are growing longer already, but of course it’s going to take a good while before that becomes actually noticeable. 

Things seem to be looking up on the COVID front as well, with new cases on the decline in Oulu and the start of vaccinations just around the corner. I’ve been voluntarily living under lockdown-like conditions for a few weeks now: no band rehearsals, no coworker lunches (except on Teams), no pints in pubs, only going out for exercise and shopping and keeping the latter to a minimum. I hope this is enough for me to spend Christmas with my parents relatively safely; it’s going to be a very small gathering, but at least I won’t have to eat my homemade Christmas pudding all by myself, which might just be the death of me. 

This blog post will be the last work thing I do before I sign off for the year. I was going to do that yesterday, but decided to take care of a couple more teaching-related tasks today in order to have a slightly cleaner slate to start with when I return to work. There will still be plenty of carry-over from 2020 to keep me busy in January 2021; most urgently, there’s a funding application to finish and submit once we get the consortium negotiations wrapped up, as well as an article manuscript to revise and submit. I got the rejection notification a couple of weeks ago, but haven’t had the energy to do much about it apart from talking to my co-author about what our next target should be. 

Improving the manuscript is a bit of a problem, because the biggest thing to improve would be the evaluation, but the KDD-CHASER project is well and truly over now and I’ve moved on to other things, so running another live experiment is not a feasible option. We will therefore just have to make do with the results we have and try to bolster the paper in other areas, maybe also change its angle and/or scope somewhat. I should at least be able to beef up the discussion of the data management and knowledge representation aspect of the system, although I haven’t made much tangible progress on the underlying ontology since leaving Dublin. 

I have been working on a new domain ontology though, in the project that’s paying most of my salary at the moment. Ontologies are fun! There’s something deeply satisfying about designing the most elegant set of axioms you can come up with to describe the particular bit of the universe you’re looking at, and about the way new incontrovertible facts emerge when you feed those axioms into a reasoner. I enjoy the challenge of expressing as much logic as I can in OWL instead of, say, Python, and there’s still plenty of stuff for me to learn; I haven’t even touched SPARQL yet, for instance. Granted, I haven’t found a use case for it either, but I have indicated that I would be willing to design a new study course on ontologies and the semantic web, so I may soon have an excuse… 

Another thing to be happy about is my new employment contract, which is a good deal longer than the ones I’m used to, although still for a fixed term. On the flip side, I guess this makes me less free to execute sudden career moves, but I’d say that’s more of a theoretical problem than a practical one, given that I’m not a big fan of drastic changes in my life and anyway these things tend to be negotiable. In any case, it’s a nice change to be able to make plans that extend beyond the end of next year! 

Well, that’s all for 2020 then. Stay safe and have a happy holiday period – hope we’ll start to see a glimmer of normality again in 2021. 

Summing up the AI summit

The end of the year is approaching fast, with Christmas now barely two weeks away, but I managed to fit in one more virtual event to top off this year of virtual events: the Tortoise Global AI Summit. To be quite honest, I wasn’t actually planning to attend – didn’t even know it was happening – but a colleague messaged me the previous day, suggesting that it might be relevant to my interests and also that the top brass would appreciate some kind of executive summary for the benefit of the Faculty. Despite the short notice I had most of the day free from other engagements, and since the agenda did indeed look interesting, I decided to register and check it out – hope this blog post is close enough to what the Dean had in mind! 

I liked the format of the event, a series of panel discussions rather than a series of presentations. Even the opening keynote with Oxford’s Sir Nigel Shadbolt was organised as a one-on-one chat between Sir Nigel and Tortoise’s James Harding, which felt more natural in an online environment than the traditional “one person speaks, everyone else listens, Q&A afterward” style. Something that worked particularly well was the parallel discussion on the chat, to which anyone attending the event could contribute and from which the moderators would from time to time pick questions or comments to be discussed with the main speakers. Overall, I was left with the feeling that this is the way forward with virtual events: design the format around the strengths of online instead of trying to replicate the format of an offline event using tools that are not (yet) all that great for such a purpose. 

The keynote set the tone for the rest of the event, bringing up a number of themes that would be discussed further in the upcoming sessions: the hype around AI versus the reality, transparency of AI algorithms and AI-based decision making, AI education – fostering AI talent in potential future professionals and data/algorithm literacy in the general populace – and the need for data architectures designed to respect the ethical rights of data subjects. Unhealthy power concentrations and how to avoid them was a topic that resonated with the audience, and it shouldn’t be too hard to think of a few examples of such concentrations. The carbon footprint of running AI software was brought up on the chat. Perhaps my favourite bit of the session was Sir Nigel’s point that there is a need for institutional and regulatory innovations, which he illustrated by way of analogy by mentioning the limited company as a historical example of an institutional innovation. Such innovations are perhaps more easily overlooked than scientific and technological ones, but one can hardly deny that they, too, have changed the world and will continue to do so.

The world according to Tortoise

The second session was about the new edition of the Tortoise Global AI Index, which ranks 62 countries of the world on their strength in AI capacity, defined as comprising the three pillars of implementation, innovation and investment. These are further divided into the seven sub-pillars of talent, infrastructure, operating environment, research, development, government strategy and commercial, and the overall score of each country is based on a total of 143 individual indicators. The scores are normalised such that the top country gets an overall score of 100, and it’s no big surprise that said country is the United States, as it was last year when the index was launched. China and the United Kingdom similarly retain their places as no. 2 and no. 3, respectively. China has closed some of the gap with the US but is still quite far behind with a score of 62, while the UK, sitting at around 40, has lost some of its edge over the challengers. Canada, Israel, Germany, the Netherlands, South Korea, France and Singapore complete the top 10. 

Finland is just out of the top 10 but rising, up three places from 14th to 11th. According to the index, Finland’s particular forte is government strategy, comprising indicators such as the existence of a national AI strategy signed by a senior member of government and the amount of dedicated spending aimed at building AI capacity. In this particular category Finland is ranked 5th in the world. Research (9th) and operating environment (11th) can also be counted among Finland’s strengths, and all of its other subrankings (talent – 16th, commercial – 19th, infrastructure – 21st, development – 22nd) are solidly above the median as well. Interestingly, the US, while being ranked 1st in four categories and in the top 10 for all but one, is only 44th on operating environment. The most heavily weighted indicator here is the level of data protection legislation, giving countries covered by the GDPR a bit of an edge; 7 of the top 10 in this category are indeed EU countries, but there is also, for instance, China in 6th place, so commitment to privacy is clearly not the whole story. 

There was some good discussion on the methodology of the AI index, such as the selection of indicators. For example, one could question the rather heavy bias toward LinkedIn as a source of indicators for AI talent. Another interesting point raised was that while we tend to consider academics mainly in terms of their affiliation, it might also be instructive to look at their nationality. Indeed, the hows and whys of the compilation of the index would easily make for a dedicated blog post, or even a series of posts, but I’ll leave it for others to produce a proper critique. For those who are interested, a methodology report is available online. 

From the Global AI Index the conversation transitioned smoothly into the next session on the geopolitics of AI, where one of the themes discussed was if countries should be viewed as competing against one another in AI, or if AI should rather be seen as an area of international collaboration for the benefit of citizens everywhere. Is there an AI race, like there once was a space race? Is mastery of AI a strategic consideration? Benedict Evans advocated the position that to talk about AI strategy is to adopt a wrong level of abstraction, and that AI (or rather machine learning) is just a particular way of creating software that in about ten years’ time will be like relational databases are today: so ubiquitous and mundane that we hardly pay any attention to it. This was in stark contrast to the view put forward in the beginning of the session that AI is a general-purpose technology akin to electricity, with comparable potential to revolutionise society. The session was largely dominated by this dialectic, but there was still time for other themes as well, such as the nature of AI clusters in a world where geographically limited technology clusters are becoming an outdated concept, and the role of so-called digital plumbing in providing the essential foundation for the success of today’s corporate AI power players.

Winners and losers

The next session, titled “AI’s ugly underbelly”, started by taking a look at an oft-forgotten part of the AI workforce, the people who label data so that it can be used to train machine learning models. It’s been estimated that data labelling accounts for 25% of the total project time in an ML project, but the labellers are, from the perspective of the company running the project, an anonymous mass employed through crowdsourcing platforms such as MTurk. In academic research the labellers are often found closer to home – the job is likely to be done by your students and/or yourself, and when crowdsourcing is used, people may well be willing to volunteer for the sake of contributing to science, such as in the case of the Zooniverse projects. In business it’s a different story, and there is some money to be made by labelling data for companies, but not a lot; it’s an unskilled job that obeys the logic of the gig economy, where the individual worker must buy their own equipment and has very little in the way of job security or career prospects. 

The subtitle of this session was “winners and losers of the workforce”, the winners of course being the highly skilled professionals who are in increasingly high demand and therefore increasingly highly paid. There was a good deal of discussion on the gender imbalance among such people, reflecting a similar imbalance in the distribution of the sort of hard (STEM) skills usually associated with tech jobs. In labelling the gap is apparently much narrower, in some countries even nonexistent. It was argued that relevant soft skills and potential AI talent are distributed considerably more evenly, and that companies trying to find people for AI-related roles may want to look beyond the traditional recruiting pathways for such roles. A minor point that I found thought-provoking was that recruiting is one of the application domains of AI, so the AI of today is involved in selecting the people who will build the AI of tomorrow – and we know, of course, that AI can be biased. One of the speakers brought up the analogy that training an AI is like training a dog in that the training may appear to be a success, but you cannot be sure of what it is that you’ve actually trained it to respond to. 

There was more talk about AI bias in the “AI you can trust” session, starting with what we mean by the term in the first place. We can all surely agree that AI should be fair, but can we agree on what kind of fairness we want – does it involve positive discrimination, for example? Bias in datasets is a relatively straightforward concept, but beyond that things get less tidy and more ambiguous. There is also the question of how we can trust that an AI is not biased, provided that we can agree on the definition; a suggested solution is to have algorithms audited by a third party, which could provide a way to strike a balance between the right of individuals to know what kind of decision-making processes they are being subjected to and the right of organisations to keep their algorithms confidential. An idea that I found particularly interesting, put forth by Carissa Véliz of the Institute for Ethics in AI, was that algorithms should be made to undergo a randomised controlled trial before they are allowed to make decisions that have a serious, potentially even ruinous, effect on people’s lives. 

Data protection was, of course, another big topic in this session. That personal data should be handled responsibly is again something we can all agree on, but there was a good deal of debate on what is the proper way to regulate companies to ensure that they are willing and able to shoulder that responsibility. Should they be told how to behave in a top-down manner, or is it better to adopt a bottom-up strategy and empower individuals to look after their own interests when it comes to privacy? Is self-regulation an option? The data subject rights guaranteed by the GDPR represent the bottom-up approach and are, in my opinion, a major step in the right direction, but it’s also a matter of having effective means to enforce those rights, and here, I feel, there is still a lot of work to be done. The GDPR, of course, only covers the countries of the EU and the EEA, and it was suggested that perhaps we need an international organisation for the harmonisation of data protection, a “UN of data” – a tall order for sure, but one worth considering.

Grand finale

The final session, titled “AI: the breakthroughs that will shape your life”, included several callbacks to themes discussed in previous sessions, such as the growth of the carbon footprint of AI as the computational cost of new breakthroughs continues to increase – doubling almost every 3 months according to an OpenAI statistic. The summit took place just days after the announcement of a great advance achieved by DeepMind’s AlphaFold AI in solving the protein folding problem in computational biochemistry, mentioned already in the beginning of the first session and discussed further here. While it was pointed out that the DeepMind solution is not necessarily the end-all it has been hailed as, it certainly serves to demonstrate that the technology is good for tackling serious scientific problems and not just for mastering board games. The subject of crowdsourcing came up again in this context, as the approach has been applied to the folding problem with some success in the form of Folding@home, where the home computers of volunteers are used to run distributed computations, as well as Foldit, a puzzle video game that essentially harnesses the volunteers’ brains to do the computations. 

There was some debate on the place of humans in a society increasingly permeated by AI systems, particularly on where we want to draw the line on AI autonomy and whether new jobs created by AI will be enough to compensate for old ones replaced by AI. Somewhat ironically, data labeller is a job created by AI that may already be on its way to being made obsolete by advances in AI techniques that do not require large quantities of labelled data for training. One of the speakers, Connecterra founder Yasir Khokhar, talked about the role of AI in solving the problem of feeding the world, reminding me of Risto Miikkulainen’s keynote talk at CEC 2019, in which he presented agriculture as one of the application domains of creative AI through evolutionary computation. OpenAI’s GPT-3 was then brought up as another example of a recent breakthrough, leading to a discussion on how we tend to anthropomorphise our Siris and Alexas and to ascribe human thought processes to entities that merely exhibit some semblance of them. There was a callback to AI ethics here when someone asked whether we have the right to know when we are interacting with an AI – if we’re concerned about AI transparency, then arguably being aware that there is an AI is the most basic level of it. Of things that are still in the future, the impact of quantum computing on AI was discussed, as were the age-old themes of artificial general intelligence and rogue AI as existential risk, but in the time available it wasn’t feasible to come to any real conclusions. 

Inevitably, it got harder to stay alert and focused as the afternoon wore on, and I also missed the beginning of one session because I had to attend another (albeit very brief) meeting, but even so, I managed to gather a good amount of interesting ideas and information over the course of the day. I’m particularly happy that I got a lot of material on the social implications of AI that we should be able to use when developing our upcoming AI ethics course, since so far I haven’t been too clear about specific topics related to this aspect of AI that we could discuss in the lectures. This wasn’t a week too soon, I might add – we’re due to start teaching that course in March, so it’s time to get cracking on the preparations!

Heart of darkness

The news came in yesterday that the university is extending its current policy of remote work and teaching, previously effective until the end of 2020, to the end of May, 2021. Not a huge shock, frankly; it’s what my money would have been on, and I wrote as much yesterday when I was drafting this post, before the announcement came. It doesn’t really change any plans either, since we’ve been assuming from the get-go that our AI ethics course, due to be lectured in the second period of the spring term, will be taught remotely. Still, it’s strange to think that by the end of this latest extension, we’ll have been working from home for more than a year without interruption – and of course there’s no guarantee that things will be back to normal even then, although one may hope that at least some of us will have been vaccinated already. In the meantime, I’ll be getting my flu shot for the coming winter, courtesy of occupational healthcare. 

Speaking of winter, it’s almost November, and as the days grow shorter, I’m reminded of the one redeeming feature of the dreary Irish winter in comparison with the Finnish one: more daylight. Last year and the year before, I “cheated” and only came to Finland for the end-of-year holidays, not long enough to really feel the effects of prolonged darkness – especially since I wasn’t working during the time I spent here and therefore could sleep for as long as I wished. Now, however, I’ve already noticed that it’s getting more laborious to get myself up and running in the morning, and while the turning of the clocks on Sunday brought some temporary relief by making mornings somewhat brighter, it’s not going to last long.

Fortunately, working from home has rendered the concept of office hours even less relevant than it was before the pandemic. I was free to choose my own hours before, but there was still a fairly strong preference to be at the office at more or less the same times as my colleagues, for the social aspect if not for anything else. Now that there’s basically nothing to be gained from being together at the “office” (i.e. at our computers in our respective homes), I’ve gone to sleeping according to what I presume is my natural rhythm, which I suppose cannot be a bad thing healthwise. There are still the meetings, of course, but I’ve mostly managed to avoid having them so early in the morning that I couldn’t trust myself to wake up for them without setting an alarm, although I’m not sure how that’s going to work out when we get to winter proper and there’s barely any daylight at all. 

Before the all-staff email yesterday, I was already thinking that if we do go back to working on campus after New Year, I may well continue to take remote days more frequently than I used to, at least during the winter and especially when it’s very cold. As much as I love a good northern winter with lots of snow, I don’t particularly relish temperatures closer to minus twenty than minus ten, and when you combine that with pitch darkness in the morning, the thought of staying in bed is very tempting. So, once in a while, why not just do that, get up when you actually feel up for it and work from home, since that’s now officially sanctioned by university policy? 

I participated in my very first virtual conference last week, the one-day Conference on Technology Ethics (formerly Seminar on Technology Ethics) organised by the Future Ethics research group at the University of Turku. I didn’t present anything, but the event was free of charge and I figured I might come away with some fresh ideas for the AI ethics course and perhaps even for my research. The conference did not disappoint – particularly the keynote talks by Maija-Riitta Ollila and Bernd Carsten Stahl were very much the sort of thing I was hoping for, and I think I’ll be referring back to them when I get to the work of creating my lecture materials. Everything went reasonably smoothly too, although there were some technical issues with screen sharing on Zoom. There was even a virtual conference dinner in the evening, but I didn’t participate so I don’t know how that worked out in practice. 

The next online event I’m looking forward to is a cultural one: the Virtual Irish Festival of Oulu! As the organisers put it, it’s the first, and optimistically also the last, of its kind: under normal circumstances the festival would have been in the beginning of October and very much non-virtual, taking place in various venues around town and offering music, dance, theatre, cinema, storytelling and workshops over a period of five days. I’m rather annoyed that there’s no proper live festival this year, since I missed the last two – this may seem like a silly thing to complain about, considering the reason I missed them is that I was in actual Ireland, but it’s not like they have trad festivals there all the time. Still, a virtual festival is surely better than no festival at all, and the programme looks very promising, so I’ll definitely be tuning in, and I think I’ll buy the €5 optional virtual ticket as well, to support the cause. 

I’ll join the Procrastinators’ Club, when I get round to it

The deadline of the September call of the Academy of Finland came and went – well, sort of. As per tradition, the submission system buckled under the stress of everyone, their grandma and their pet tortoise trying to upload or update their applications at the same time, and once again the deadline has been extended, this time by five days instead of the usual day or two. I guess I’ll use some of that extra time to put a few more finishing touches on my research plan, but because of the page limit I can’t add much to it without taking something away in exchange. 

So yes, I did submit my application for Research Fellow funding, and I did exactly what I promised myself I wouldn’t do: I left it until too late to get started, finished my proposal just barely ahead of the deadline and submitted it without having anyone else read it first. Have I set myself up to be rejected? Yeah, probably. Does that bother me? Not really, not right now anyway. I’m just glad to be done with it, except of course I’m not quite done yet – I’m actually a little bit annoyed that they extended the deadline, even though it means that I can still improve my application, because that “can” almost feels like a “must” and frankly I’d rather just forget about the damn thing already. 

Funding applications are curious things for a number of reasons, not the least of which is the psychological effect of the approaching deadline. Why is it that when the deadline is a month away, you feel like there isn’t a creative cell in your body and even an hour or two of writing is a gargantuan effort, but when there’s less than a week left, suddenly your head is full of ideas and working round the clock is no big deal? Just think of all the cool stuff I’d get done if I could be like that all the time! In all seriousness, though, I don’t think I’d take that bargain, because it would mean having precious few non-working hours and probably being too knackered to enjoy those most of the time. 

I suppose a part of the answer to that riddle is that once you get close enough to the deadline, your inner critic slinks off to the background because you get so desperate for things to write down that you’ll take anything your inner crazy ideas guy can offer you. And that’s another curious thing, the mental rollercoaster ride you embark upon when the critic decides it’s time to intervene: you can go from celebrating something as the best idea you’ve ever had in the afternoon to condemning it as utter garbage late at night, trying in vain to get some sleep so you can replace it with something halfway-decent when you get up in the morning. If only you’d had those ideas sooner, you could have sorted the worthwhile ones from the ones best released back into whatever murky pool they crawled out of, but it’s as if your brain refuses to generate them until it’s too late to get too picky. 

It’s also kind of strange how working on an application can get you so stressed that it starts to border on existential crisis. In a certain sense, you’re just applying for a job – but of course it would be more accurate to say that you’re proposing to create a job for yourself with someone else’s money, and therein lies the rub: a funding application is much more an expression of your identity and values than a simple job application could ever be. What is so important to you that you’d commit five years of your life to pursuing it, and so important to the world that you should be given hundreds of thousands of euros to do it? Why is it so important, and why are you the right person to get it done? These are questions that go well beyond what skills you have and into the realm of who you are, so it’s no wonder really that having your application rejected can sometimes feel quite personal. 

With the application submitted, it’s time to move on to other things and wait patiently while the research councils and review panels do their worst. This year the Research Council for Natural Sciences and Engineering awarded funding to 22 new Academy Research Fellows, representing 11 percent of all applications and 24 percent of those with an overall rating of 5 or 6 out of 6 – so statistically, even if the review panel loves your application, the odds are still against you. The percentages vary between different funding sources and instruments, but generally you end up submitting a bunch of failed applications for every successful one, which of course isn’t terribly efficient and it’s tempting to dismiss all your hard work as a waste of time and energy. 

Still, there are always some things you can take away from the rejected ones. It’s good to force yourself to ask those big philosophical questions from time to time; they may not lead to any major epiphanies, but it can’t hurt to remind yourself of why you are in research, whether it helps you to stay motivated or gets you to consider your other options. It’s also a great social bonding ritual to commiserate together with your colleagues over your rejections, not to mention how much sweeter all the failures make it when one of you succeeds and you get to have a celebration instead. Besides, there’s bound to be stuff in your rejected application that you can reuse when you start writing your next one – which you will definitely do well ahead of the deadline, no procrastination this time, no sir! Right? 

You’ve changed, man

I’ve been back at work after my summer vacation for about a month now, so I guess it’s about time I got back into blogging as well. Not that there’s a whole lot of news – I’m still doing the vast majority of my work in my living room and only visiting the campus sporadically. Frankly, I would have expected things to be closer to normal by now, but perhaps we first need to figure out what is normal anyway (hat tip to The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy). The university’s playing it safe and recommending not just working remotely but also wearing a mask now, if you’re going to come to the campus and do anything other than sit in your office. My closest colleagues and I are doing our best to keep the social group tight: constant WhatsApp chatter, weekly lunches and virtual coffee mornings, the occasional face-to-face meeting. 

Naturally working remotely means that we’ll also be teaching remotely, which affects me since we’re running our Towards Data Mining course in period 1. While I was in Ireland, my lecture – a hodgepodge of ethics, data security and data management topics – was handled by a colleague, but when I came back this year I took over from her again. The aforementioned colleague also recorded my part of the series of lecture videos used in lieu of live lectures when we ran the course in the spring term, so I was there basically just to mark exercise reports and exam answers. In the autumn term we were planning to lecture the course the traditional way, but now that that’s not an option, we’re going to present the lectures on Zoom instead. 

I’ve said before that I’m not overly keen on lecturing, and I’m not at all sure if doing it online will make things better or worse. On the one hand, I suppose it should be easier to stay relaxed when I can do the lecture from the comfort of my home, but on the other hand, I think it may feel somewhat unnatural to be addressing an audience while essentially talking to myself, unable to gauge if the students are paying any attention to what I’m saying. Online meetings I’ve grown used to, but those are much more interactive and therefore not really the same thing. It doesn’t exactly help that I haven’t given that lecture in three years, so that would add to my nervousness even if nothing had changed in the meantime. 

The new AI ethics course has taken a step forward, a formal proposal for a pilot run next spring has been prepared and submitted to the Faculty. With the two courses plus a bunch of Master’s theses to supervise, I feel like my job has recently been more about teaching than about research. Not that I mind, really – it’s all meaningful work, and all part of why I’ve always held universities in very high esteem as places devoted to the creation, curation and distribution of the best of human knowledge. Obviously teaching and research require substantially different skill sets and therefore being good at one does not imply being good at the other, but that doesn’t mean it’s a good idea to treat these core functions of a university as if they are two completely separate domains rather than two sides of the same coin. 

When I started this blog, I said its theme would be knowledge, and I seem to have circled back to that even though I wasn’t really planning to. I’m a firm believer in the intrinsic value of knowledge, and passing on the knowledge you have is an essential part of maximising that value, just as important as creating new knowledge. On a more personal and subjective level, I’ve always found great joy in learning or figuring out things I didn’t know before, and if I can help others feel that same joy, so much the better. I still doubt that I’d be very happy in an all-teaching role, but I’ve come to view teaching as a natural part of the job, something I can find satisfaction in and also something I can make a steady contribution in while research has its ups and downs. It’s not that many years ago that I saw teaching mainly as a nuisance to be avoided, so I guess it’s fair to say I’ve changed! 

Sweet freedom

The Midsummer celebrations are over, and the main holiday season is upon us. This is the first time since 2017 that I’m spending the whole summer in Finland, and I have to say it feels pretty sweet so far – they call Ireland the Emerald Isle, but we have plenty of shades of green of our own here, and the weather in June has been mostly gorgeous. Somewhat annoyingly, it looks like we’re due for the return of more traditional Finnish summer weather just as I’m about to start my vacation, but I’ll take it; I certainly prefer it to the sweaty +30°C days I had to endure toward the end of my summer holiday last year. Having access to my bike again has been a great joy, although I do kind of miss taking a commuter train to a random town or village and going exploring like I used to do in Dublin. I have been expanding my territory by trying out new routes and going further afield than before, but it doesn’t quite have the same sense of adventure to it. 

I was actually planning to travel to England this July; a band I became a big fan of during my tour of duty in Ireland was going to play a concert in Aylesbury near London and I bought myself a ticket pretty much as soon as they became available. Since I’ve never been to London, I thought I’d spend some time there, and I was also planning to visit Oxford as well as Bletchley Park in Milton Keynes, the place where Allied codebreakers (among them one Alan Turing) worked during WW2 – a sort of science and technology-themed pilgrimage, if you will. However, because of the pandemic the event has been postponed until an as yet unspecified date in 2021, and besides I don’t think going gallivanting around the UK would be very favourably looked upon anyway, so it’s just as well that I wasn’t an early bird with my travel arrangements. Better luck next year, I hope! 

In Finland the COVID situation seems to be pretty much under control for now, with only a couple dozen people receiving hospital care in the whole country; the figure peaked at just shy of 250 in early April. Life is steadily becoming less restricted, and the nationwide official recommendation to work remotely is being lifted as of the 1st of August. There’s no word yet on how this will affect university policy, but perhaps when July is over, we’ll be going back to the office. Strange thought – working from home really does feel like the new normal already! Of course the pandemic is far from over and there’s no telling when we’re going to be hit by another wave, so better keep that sourdough starter alive for lockdown part two.

The biggest thing I wanted to tick off my to-do list before switching into vacation mode was finishing and submitting the journal paper manuscript that will probably be the last thing I publish on the results of the KDD-CHASER project. With so much else going on, the paper took a while to get into shape for submission, but it’s now in the care of the good people of ACM Transactions on Social Computing, so there’s one thing I (presumably) won’t have to think about until autumn. The notification for my CIKM paper is due on July 17th, but the camera-ready submission deadline is a whole month after that, so if the paper does get accepted, I shouldn’t need to do anything about it while I’m on leave. 

Something that was only very recently set in motion but that I’m quite excited about is a new study course on AI ethics that I’ve started developing with a couple of colleagues after one of them suggested it, knowing that I’m interested in the subject and have some research background in it. I’ll admit I’m slightly worried about exactly how much extra work I’m taking upon myself, but I have a lot of ideas already, and it should make a nice merit to put in my academic CV. The main thing to keep in mind is that we teach engineering, not philosophy, so we want to keep the scope of the course relatively narrow and down-to-earth: we’ll leave debating AI rights to the more qualified and stick to issues that are relevant to today’s practitioners. After two weeks and three meetings we have a pretty good tentative plan already and will get back to the task of fleshing it out in August. 

On the matter of the Academy of Finland September call I’m still undecided. Should I have another go at the Research Fellow grant? I’m not ruling it out yet, but I’m not going to simply rehash the same basic idea, that much seems clear by now. Last year my proposal in a nutshell was “do what I did in Dublin, scaled up”; that made it relatively easy to write, but in retrospect, and other weaknesses aside, it wasn’t a very novel or ambitious plan from the reviewers’ perspective nor even all that exciting from my own perspective. Of course it still makes sense that I’d build on the results of my MSCA fellowship, but I’ll need to do better than follow it up with more of the same. Currently I only have some fairly vague ideas about what that would mean in terms of writing an actual proposal, but there’s still time to find that inspiration, and I’m pretty sure that the upcoming time off is not going to hurt. 

The end of conferences? Perhaps not

After some internal debate, I eventually went on ahead and submitted a manuscript to CIKM 2020. Although it’s a short paper and therefore more or less by definition not supposed to be anything groundbreaking, I still had some fairly serious doubts about it and might well have abandoned it if the submission deadline had not been extended. The extra thinking time was very welcome, since it allowed me to make a submission I believe in and also to think about what the scope of my journal paper should bethe alternative would have been to include the subject matter of the conference paper in the journal paper, but I think the latter will benefit from a tighter focus. 

The conference was originally supposed to be in Galway, Ireland, and the plan was that our paper, if accepted, would be presented by my co-author Alan, who was the supervisor of my MSCA fellowship in Dublinnot that I would mind another visit to Ireland, but obviously travelling there would be a good deal more convenient (not to mention cheaper) for him that for me. Besides, since I no longer have my own funding to spend, I can’t even be sure if the university would cover my expenses. Alan, on the other hand, figured he’ll probably go to the conference in any case, paper or no paper. 

The question of who will travel to Galway and on whose money was rendered moot when it was announced that the conference is going to be a virtual one this year, with pre-recorded video presentations and online discussions. It’s not uncommon for conferences to have the occasional video presentation, but that’s still very much the exception rather than the rulefully online conferences are a rare thing. CIKM would be the first one for me, and while I certainly understand and support the organisers’ decision, I do feel ambivalent about the idea of virtual conferences in general. 

Clearly when there’s a pandemic to be brought under control, hosting an international conference is not the greatest idea: you’ll have people coming in from around the world, shaking each other’s hands and generally spending a lot of time together for a few days, then going back to their respective countries to pass on whatever bugs they picked up from each other. However, even if we ignore the matter of contagious disease, there’s a lot to be said in favour of meeting your fellow researchers virtually rather than physically. As much as I enjoyed my trip to New Zealand last year, I can’t in all honesty claim that it was the most efficient use of my budget, and it certainly wasn’t very ecological. 

A lot of people are saying that COVID-19 has changed some things permanently, that we won’t be going back to all of our old ways even if and when the pandemic is stopped. With regard to remote work in particular, numerous organisations have had it thrust upon them wholesale and have discovered that it’s actually a viable and sometimes preferable alternative to making everyone haul themselves to the office every day. Since we’re all now routinely doing online meetings, and since a conference session is really just a special sort of meeting, it’s natural to ask if there’s really any need for all the hassle traditionally involved in organising a conference. Will such gatherings soon be a thing of the past, now that we’ve been forced by exceptional circumstances to make the transition? 

Personally, I wouldn’t bet on the imminent demise of the non-virtual conference just yet, at least not until we have more experience of how virtual conferences actually work. Online presentations may not be a problem, but there’s more to a conference than presentations, and much of it is bound to be lost when the delegates are not all gathered in the same place. The social aspect will suffer, obviously, which means there’s probably a lot of networking potential lost as well – and I’m saying this as someone who’s definitely not the most sociable and networking-oriented person in the academic world. At a traditional conference the starting of informal conversations and making of new acquaintances happen organically in a way that’s hard to recreate using tools designed for more formal meetings. 

Something that may be even more difficult to recreate in a virtual conference is the level of commitment that comes from travelling to the conference location and staying there for the duration of the conference: being there physically translates quite naturally into being there mentally as well. Sure, you’ll continue to do your emails, and you’ll skip some sessions that are not so interesting and use the time to do a bit of sightseeing, but still, at least I find that it’s easy to make the conference my number one priority when I’ve travelled to another country to attend it. I very much suspect that in a virtual conference it would be much harder to get into that mental state and that I would only attend my own session plus one or two carefully selected others, which I think would be kind of sad and antithetical to the spirit of the event. 

Speaking of sightseeing, I can’t deny that I enjoy travelling to new places and that I would miss the lost opportunities to do so if conference travel were to end altogether. I’m certainly not too old to remember that when you’re a junior (or perhaps even not so junior) member of academia, the prospect of a trip can be a pretty good incentive to get that manuscript finished in time for the conference deadline. How are we going to motivate future generations of researchers if not with tales of exotic conference locations and lavish banquets?