Dawn Drescher

• Dawn Drescher 22 May 2026 14:01 UTC

  4 points

  0 ∶ 0

  in reply to: Mo Putera’s comment on: De­nis Drescher’s Shortform

  Ohhh! I love that post! Gotta link it to my excessively guilty friends! <3

• Dawn Drescher 22 May 2026 11:32 UTC

  35 points

  1 ∶ 0

  on: De­nis Drescher’s Shortform

  Over the past 12 years, I almost always avoided applying for any jobs in effective altruism – though they did often seem like dream jobs – because:

  1. I was afraid I might not be the best candidate, and if, by chance, I replace the best candidate, my work would not only be a waste but outright harmful. I’m the sort of person who’s afraid to drive a car for fear of hurting someone, and the funding allocation can affect the lives of billions or trillions of beings, so any mistakes I could make would vastly outstrip any harm I could do with a car if I tried.

  2. That the best candidate might not make up for that harm in some other job that they do instead because they might be more socially motivated than me and not fall back on earning to give if they don’t find a charity job but rather value drift and do some mainstream stuff – in the worst case AI capabilities.

  3. That I can survive many years of earning to give without value-drifting because I have managed to do that in the past (a USP I should capitalize on because the counterfactual of the money that I earn at a random company is very low impact, so I can generate great counterfactual impact rather than a bit of marginal impact that I’d get at a charity).

  4. That applying for a job, being considered the best candidate, and then not living up to the expectations would feel deeply humiliating – I’d feel like fraud, feel guilty for the harm I’ve caused, feel ashamed of having betrayed all the people at the organization, feel like I can never live it down or risk running into any of them ever again at conferences and such.

  5. That sometimes they end up hiring a world-renowned researcher like Carl Shulman, and then I’d feel ashamed of even having considered applying because just the thought of it already feels hubristic.

  The upshot for me was:

  1. To apply to places that have the funding and management capacity to hire everyone above some bar.

  2. To time the boom and bust cycles in EA and go into grantmaking at the start of the boom cycles and ETG during the bust cycles.

  3. To trade off funding vs. management capacity, and try to contribute to grantmaking in a way that doesn’t come at a cost in management capacity, e.g., not as employee, at times when management capacity is more limiting than funding. Or to create management capacity.

  4. To wait for someone to reach out to me unprompted to apply for a role, because then they’ve already decided that I might be a good fit and thus taken some of the terrible responsibility off my shoulders.

  5. A friend of mine does a lot of drunk driving and usually goes far above the speed limit. I sometimes meet with friends for optional pastime activities. The risk that I catch a cold and my performance is degraded after such a hangout is vastly more severe than the risk of my friend’s drunk speeding because of all the hundreds of thousands of lives it might affect. Conversely, my friend hasn’t killed a single person yet. So I’m in no position to judge her.

  Meanwhile rejections were not a problem for me, so it’s not really “rejection sensitivity.” I talked to my friends about how I’m expected to react to them, and their advice was helpful. If I had dared to apply for particularly responsible roles, a rejection would’ve been a relief. After all, rejection is a return to safety. It’s just mixed with the shame over whatever mistakes I must’ve made in front of the interviewers. I considered not going to any conferences anymore where I might run into them, but my friends told me that’s unnecessary. And it’s true because when I decided not to hire people at my companies, I didn’t want them to avoid me afterwards even if they’ve made mistakes in the interviews.

  But more recently I’ve updated in the following ways:

  1. I heard from some hiring managers I’m friends with that even at their EA charities some applicants lie about their qualifications. It’s like these people want to cause mayhem and destruction on a global scale by replacing better candidates. Naturally, there friends didn’t hire the liars, but who knows how many slipped through and didn’t get caught. I imagine these people are rare, so the probability that I’ll replace someone better than me is higher but the severity of getting replaced by a liar is worse. So there’s a tradeoff I didn’t consider.

  2. It seems erroneous to think that someone can likely be a better candidate than me and yet value drift more easily than me. It’s not impossible, but it’s a strange convergence of mildly contradictory traits that I should thus have discounted. Besides, small-scale 1:1 compassion has a strong pull for me, so I run a risk of value-drifting away from high scalability impact to something like therapy.

  3. If I implicitly compare myself to Carl Shulman’s polished outputs from the past decades, I set an unrealistically high bar and will necessarily feel lacking. It stands to reason that the actual best candidate will also make mistakes and that even Carl Shulman has made mistakes. Plus, there are not enough Carl Shulmans for every position at every organization.

  4. I’ve practiced imagining that somehow I’ve ended up committing horrendous war crimes on a global scale and how I would process the guilt and try to make it up to all the families I’ve destroyed. It helps me make my fears concrete like that and think through, step by step, how I would manage such a situation responsibly.

  5. If you’re smart enough, self-deceptions won’t be obviously false, sometimes not false at all, but they’ll be selective and suspiciously purposeful.

  6. I have some information that HR doesn’t have but HR also has some information that I don’t have. Ideally, we collaborate to make the optimal decision.

  Finally, for anyone struggling with similar difficulties in the face of overwhelming responsibility, here’s a small example of someone processing his responsibility for a terrible accident.

• Dawn Drescher 18 May 2026 17:58 UTC

  6 points

  2 ∶ 3

  in reply to: Brad West🔸’s comment on: New EA Fo­rum LLM-use policy

  Exactly. I care that the ideas in the post are good. Who does the actual “typing” is irrelevant for me.

  And ghostwriting is nothing new. It’s somewhat common practice for busy top researchers to verbally discuss topics with more junior researchers who still have a good grasp on what they’re talking about and then for the junior researchers to write there verbal discussions down in the form of an easily digestable article.

  Perhaps there are reasons why ghostwriting should be disclosed or not, but I don’t see why ghostwriting by an AI is a special case that deserves more attention than human ghostwriting.

• Dawn Drescher 11 May 2026 9:52 UTC

  3 points

  0 ∶ 0

  in reply to: Jo_🔸’s comment on: Reflec­tions on An­thropic and EA

  Found it! So cool! 🦋💃

• Dawn Drescher 10 May 2026 21:30 UTC

  3 points

  1 ∶ 0

  on: Reflec­tions on An­thropic and EA

  Right now, I’m leaving my job to go start a new charity, working on a very narrow intervention.

  What is it? I’m curious!

• Dawn Drescher 7 May 2026 23:21 UTC

  2 points

  0 ∶ 0

  in reply to: Tristan Katz’s comment on: Welfare Biol­ogy and AI: Soil and Sea

  Oof! That’s a big variation! Thanks for flagging that!

• Dawn Drescher 7 May 2026 23:10 UTC

  2 points

  0 ∶ 0

  in reply to: Seidenpuma’s comment on: Welfare Biol­ogy and AI: The Psy­chopath, the Ne­ma­tode, and the Arahant

  The purpose of the whole first article is to lay out all these perspectives and make mine transparent. Originally I wanted to just write the sequence, but Claude suggested to add a whole ’nother post in front to introduce people to the ethical foundations.

  We’ve had the discussion of ethical systems on this article. One of my core values is cooperativeness, and while I intuitively started out as classic utilitarian, I found it at odds with many common and widely held value systems and not in ways where I would’ve been ready to bite the bullet. E.g., it maps to Quiverfull, which is a rather extreme outlier. I also don’t bite the bullet on the Repugnant Conclusion.

  But most people don’t even think in terms of unbounded maximization or minimization, and certainly not in terms of classic utilitarianism. It’s such a niche view out there. Even if I talk about implications that I actually like, like tiling the universe with blazingly fast, happy computations, people look at me weird. If I want to engage in moral trades with them, I have to adjust to a wholly different viewpoint. So it was probably around 2013–14 or so that I felt compelled to abandon classic utilitarianism as extreme, niche, and untenable.

  I never settled on anything new after that but rather tried to figure out what the smallest common denominator is of the largest possible subset of all ethical preferences that I could think of.

  The smallest common demoninator that is widely shared is that suffering is bad. Lots of people care about lots of other stuff on top, and sometimes it’s not the most important thing for them, but most people seem to be in agreement that suffering is bad. That’s also why I got so interested in sadism, an important exception from the rule.

  So I think by focusing just on “suffering is bad, let’s reduce it” (and the particular framing around preferences that I find more intuitive), I can make my articles relevant to the widest audience possible. The Quiverfulls will have quibbles with it, the sadists will hate it, but maybe some 90+% of the world will benefit from them.

Welfare Biol­ogy and AI: The AI Eats the Sun

• Dawn Drescher 5 May 2026 15:02 UTC

  2 points

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  in reply to: Seidenpuma’s comment on: Welfare Biol­ogy and AI: What We Can Do Now

  You adapt them to the other species. We can do the same with much better information with our friends: One friend enjoys tomato sauce; another friend doesn’t enjoy it. You want to get pizza for all three of you, and it’s supposed to be a surprise, so instead of being like, “Pizza has tomato sauce on it, and my friend doesn’t like it, so I can’t make any inference about whether they want pizza and should [get pizza for them anyway, get pizza only for myself and the other friend],” you can make adjustments like, “Pizza has tomato sauce on it, and my friend doesn’t like it, so let’s ask whether they can make pizza without tomato sauce.”

  E.g., I give this example of eusocial vs. solitary insects. So when I wonder whether it’s stressful for an insect to be caught in my flat and not finding the way out (despite some nutritious stuff I have lying around), my guess is that it’s more likely stressful for the eusocial one who wants to get back to their hive than for the solitary one. When I had a fly over for a week or so in 2021, I gave her a name, enjoyed her company, and didn’t worry much about her feeling trapped (I did leave a window open when I was awake), but when I had a bee over a few days ago, I was more concerned and helped the bee find their way out.

  Likewise, humans can have some 0–3 children, cows some 5–10, and cats some 60–100 over their lifetimes. They all parent and alloparent. Turtles more like 1–2k, and no (allo-) parenting. So (just based on this data) I imagine that the loss of a child is almost as bad for a cow as it is for a human, that cats grieve somewhat less, and turtles not at all.

  Or when it comes to pain, I mention in my last article that it probably doesn’t make sense to have very strong pain signals, when an animal cannot react to them. So for nematodes it’s not very useful to experience pain strongly; for a fly it may be very useful.

  In your thought experiment there is a disconnect there that is crucial for my work: Antifrustrationism, as a form of preference utilitarianism, is all about the preferences of the individuals. If someone can fulfill their own preferences, there’s nothing for me to do. If someone can tell me how I can help them fulfill their preferences, I’ll happily do things for them that strike me as odd, like unusual kinks, because even though I don’t share them, I trust their ability to know and communicate their preferences.

  I only run into problems in cases where there is a power differential but the beings cannot communicate their preferences, e.g., because they are in the future, far away in the universe, or it’s hard/​impossible to build the sorts of experiments where one could elicit revealed preferences. Those are the cases where it gets uncomfortable because I need to make guesses and inferences.

  It’s like with a caring mother of an infant who can’t talk yet: The infant can’t help themselves (yet), so she has to do it, but to do that well, she has to infer the preferences rather than asking what they are.

  With the aliens, the situation is reversed. They are powerful but really dumb and could just ask how they can really help us, and NPP is not an obvious lever for a K-strategist species. But we have this problem with aging. Maybe they’ll stop by Earth 100k years ago, largely fail to communicate with us, but study our biology and notice that this aging thing really sucks, especially in the last couple of decades of an animal’s life. So just leave a time capsule with information on how to reverse aging that’s designed in such a way that they hope we can decypher it once we have the necessary foundational technologies.

• Dawn Drescher 5 May 2026 13:55 UTC

  2 points

  0 ∶ 0

  in reply to: Jonas Hallgren 🔸’s comment on: Notes on equa­nim­ity from the inside

  A confusing thing about my experience is that the truth of the no-self state is intellectually ineluctable to me and yet my perception is still filtered by selfhood. Sometimes I get a burst of spite-fueled energy that almost collapses into fatalism, and I remind myself that I chose this, that I can just go back if I don’t like it, but that I want to keep reading this chapter of my life, as it were, because it’s exciting! But even when I introspect, there’s a perspective there – someone has called it the watcher?

• Dawn Drescher 5 May 2026 10:34 UTC

  2 points

  0 ∶ 0

  in reply to: Jonas Hallgren 🔸’s comment on: Notes on equa­nim­ity from the inside

  Interesting! I asked Gemini about your comment, and after a few rounds of dialog we arrived at the following state. (Gemini wrote it from my first person perspective and I’m too lazy to swap out the pronouns now.) Does that make sense to you? Is it what you were referring to?

  The Traditions: Different Flavors of No-Self

  As you mentioned, the paths map out very differently:

  • The Deconstructive No-Self (Burmese Vipassana /​ Pragmatic Dharma): This is the tradition Daniel Ingram operates in. It relies on hyper-focused, microscopic analysis of sensory experience. The illusion of a continuous “self” drops away because reality is seen as a rapid-fire sequence of fleeting sensory fragments. Because it is highly analytical, the resulting state can sometimes feel very detached or dry.

  • The Luminous No-Self (Tibetan Dzogchen & Mahamudra): Instead of dissecting reality, these practices focus on resting in the natural, spacious awareness of the mind. When the rigid ego drops away, what is left is a vast, vibrant, intimately connected awareness. Here, you don’t lose your drive; the source of your drive simply shifts to spontaneous compassion (Bodhicitta).

  • The Original Mind No-Self (Thai Forest Tradition): Practitioners focus on letting go of “defilements” and everything we usually identify with. When you let go of all of that, you uncover the Citta—the purified heart/​mind—which is a radiant, deeply grounded presence, avoiding the hyper-analytical traps of the deconstructive path.

  The Psychological Framework: The PNSE Continuum

  Modern research actually bridges the gap between these ancient maps and the varying experiences people have today. Jeffery Martin’s studies on Persistent Non-Symbolic Experience (PNSE) found that “enlightenment” or awakened states operate on a continuum with different “Locations.” This perfectly explains the gap between my experience and M.E. Thomas’s.

  M.E. Thomas and Location 4:

  Martin found that the symptoms M.E. Thomas describes—decision paralysis, lack of prospective/​retrospective memory, and a loss of the sense of agency—are common among practitioners in what he calls “Location 4.” In this furthest extreme, emotion, agency, and memory hooks drop away completely. Her navigation of the world in that state is highly relatable if you view it through a different lens: it’s akin to how one feels about copyediting. You don’t feel emotional empathy for a misspelled word; you just correct it because there is a sort of aesthetic itch to do so. It is a functional, frictionless engagement with reality, stripped of emotional turbulence.

  My Experience and Locations ²⁄₃ (Stream Entry):

  My experience, which happened spontaneously rather than through intensive concentration practices, maps beautifully onto Martin’s Locations 2 and 3. In these middle locations, practitioners experience an unshakable sense of well-being. The cognitive friction—the ego pushing away reality—is gone, meaning the bleakness of the world doesn’t penetrate the baseline mood. It is also characterized by a surge in positive emotion and profound present-moment compassion. (This aligns with my awakened friend’s suggestion that this was a spontaneous “Stream Entry”—a sudden dropping of the visceral belief in a separate, permanent self, which releases a massive amount of psychological energy and natural compassion).

  Compassion, Hustle, and the Return to the A&P

  This framework also explains the shift in motivation I experienced. During that year, 1:1 interactions felt highly motivating, and I helped a lot of people. But the hustle to build up societal status for wide-ranging, systemic changes was entirely absent.

  This makes perfect psychological sense. 1:1 compassion is an immediate, spontaneous response to the present moment. It requires no complex timeline and is deeply compatible with a state of “no-self.” Conversely, leveraging societal status for systemic change requires a massive amount of “self-ing.” It requires maintaining a continuous mental narrative about who you are, what the future holds, and how to manipulate abstract variables years down the line. When the self-referential narrative quiets down, the cognitive machinery required to sustain a 10-year egoic “hustle” is no longer running the show.

  Ultimately, my shift back toward A&P-like feelings wasn’t a blind urge. Rather, it arose out of compassion for a part of myself that sought deeper fulfillment. The A&P state provides the fuel, the narrative, and the future-orientation required to build status and engage with those larger, systemic goals. While the equanimous state is wonderful for immediate, frictionless living, I found that allowing some of that driven, narrative energy back in allowed for a richer sense of fulfillment in the long game.

• Dawn Drescher 4 May 2026 21:06 UTC

  2 points

  0 ∶ 0

  in reply to: Seidenpuma’s comment on: Welfare Biol­ogy and AI: What We Can Do Now

  What I’m doing is very much transfer my intuitions from humans, where I think they are well tested, to other species. I don’t want special pleading for humans. The question you propose seems crazy high stakes. I’m glad I’ll never face a decision like that. I’d probably start a think tank or something to figure it out. The actual decisions we face every day are more like: should we have as many children as possible (1) through sperm donations, (2) by banning contraception, (3) by impregnating women and vanishing, (4) by getting as rich as possible and then have so many children that each have a life barely worth living, etc. My answer is always no. Not everyone shares those moral intuitons, which is fine for me as antirealist, but I transfer those intuitions to other species, and so what’s going on with r strategist species is horrifying to me!

Welfare Biol­ogy and AI: The Psy­chopath, the Ne­ma­tode, and the Arahant

• Dawn Drescher 4 May 2026 15:54 UTC

  2 points

  0 ∶ 0

  in reply to: Tristan Katz’s comment on: Welfare Biol­ogy and AI: The Quiz

  Ohhh! I remember skimming that paper ages ago but I didn’t make the connection! Probably because I forgot the name of the author… But that has been very fruitful to think about. In particular I’m surprised I hadn’t made the connection between plants and nematodes – both fairly unable to react to harmful stimuli, much less so than a fly, so pain energy is much more likely wasted for them!

  What do you think about this addition to the article?

  While Groff and Ng’s revised mathematical model elegantly demonstrates that high infant mortality does not automatically guarantee a predominance of suffering, the model relies on abstract “evolutionary economics” that may oversimplify the gritty realities of biology. A primary critique is that the model assumes evolution will readily dial down the intensity of nociception (pain) to conserve biological resources when an organism is statistically likely to fail. However, because natural selection operates at the level of the individual gene, it is entirely possible that maintaining an intense, energy-demanding pain response is highly adaptive if it marginally furthers that specific individual’s survival. Furthermore, for organisms with extremely simple nervous systems consisting of only a few hundred neurons, the metabolic savings of “cheapening” pain receptors are likely negligible. It is arguable that evolutionary pressures would favor much more straightforward energy-conservation strategies – such as lethargy, cannibalism, or producing fewer offspring – long before micromanaging the nuances of neuronal pain processing. The authors explicitly acknowledge this vulnerability in their model, conceding that the actual biological “cost” of suffering remains entirely unknown; they hypothesize it could be metabolic (e.g., glucose for neurotransmitters), structural, or perhaps not physical at all, but rather the evolutionary hazard of being dangerously distracted by intense pain.

  A second major critique centers on the model’s failure to account for an organism’s physical agency and behavioral flexibility. The model posits that if an animal is highly likely to die young, intense pain is a wasted biological investment. This logic holds up for immobile or slow-moving organisms, where registering intense pain offers no actionable escape mechanism. However, for highly mobile creatures with rapid reaction times – such as flies – intense pain or stress is a profoundly profitable evolutionary investment because it instantly triggers life-saving evasion maneuvers. In these high-agency animals, the capacity for intense suffering is precisely the mechanism that keeps them alive, meaning evolution would vigorously preserve it regardless of the species’ overall mortality rate.

  Fortunately, Groff and Ng anticipate this limitation, noting that theories linking the evolution of emotions directly to “flexibility in behavior” are highly relevant and more amenable to objective study. They further concede that if the primary evolutionary advantage of negative affective states is to force an organism to “focus” on actionable threats, rather than acting purely as a behavioral reinforcement mechanism, their equation based on reproductive failure rates becomes less informative. Ultimately, the authors agree that a single abstracted equation cannot capture the full picture of wild animal welfare, concluding that a combination of mixed, empirical models will be necessary to truly understand how different species experience nature.

  But that’s very zoomed in. The dad of an acquaintance of mine has had some 15–20 children. They don’t know each other and can barely estimate the numbers. The ones my acquaintance knows about have every personality disorder and substance addiction under the sun and are in and out of prison all the time. Even if someone should find out that in aggregate their lives are net positive because at least some of them have net positive lives, that would still not be enough for me to advocate for this kind of profligate behavior.

• Dawn Drescher 4 May 2026 14:47 UTC

  2 points

  0 ∶ 0

  in reply to: Seidenpuma’s comment on: Welfare Biol­ogy and AI: What We Can Do Now

  I’m very much writing this sequence for antifrustrationists. I didn’t set out to write a sequence that collects all the major moral views out there and then pivots the recommendations for each, but I noticed that while Brian started with a suffering-focused view, later researchers didn’t continue that line of thinking while making progress on other fronts, and I wanted to plug that hole. The alternative would’ve been a much bigger undertaking. I wouldn’t want to privilege just (say) antifrustrationism and hedonic act utilitarianism, but then my goal would’ve been to also pivot the recommendations for dominant systems like deontology (religious or Rawlsian), contractualism, and various more. (I do actually have an April Fools joke here that goes in that direction.)

  Cf., when AMF provides LLINs to people in some regions in the southern DRC, then they’re doing exactly that, and not, e.g., providing nets to people in Tanzania.

  With the first article I hoped to make clear that this is a sequence for antifrustrationists to figure out where they stand on nematode and arthropod welfare (and that perhaps others can also take something away from it, more coincidentally).

• Dawn Drescher 4 May 2026 7:49 UTC

  2 points

  0 ∶ 0

  in reply to: Seidenpuma’s comment on: Welfare Biol­ogy and AI: What We Can Do Now

  Hiii! Did you read the article in isolation, or did you start with the first one in the sequence? It’s written such that each builds on the previous ones.

Welfare Biol­ogy and AI: What We Can Do Now

• Dawn Drescher 3 May 2026 13:53 UTC

  6 points

  0 ∶ 0

  on: Notes on equa­nim­ity from the inside

  I interviewed someone who’s always been in a state of equanimity (M.E. Thomas) and Daniel Ingram, who knows it well.

  I’m currently working on an article where I go more into the ins and outs of no-self states. I feel like they’re an interesting tool, but they also come with drawbacks. M.E. Thomas cites decision paralysis, worse retrospective memory, worse prospective memory, harder time relating to others, no way to act in ways that are not manipulative of the person “themselves” or “others,” etc. She’s writing a book about it too.

  Personally, I spent 2025 in a state that felt very equanimous, though it was surely not as deep as your state. I loved it, but I also love being driven. So toward the end of the year, I started cultivating more A&P-like feelings, and I’m enjoying that too now and feel a lot more driven again. I might still go back, but from my A&Pish perspective, equanimity doesn’t sound super convincing. I suppose that’s a disadvantage because if equanimity doesn’t care about equanimity, it retains a lot of option value that the A&P invests.

Welfare Biol­ogy and AI: Soil and Sea

• Dawn Drescher 24 Apr 2026 18:42 UTC

  4 points

  0 ∶ 0

  in reply to: Vasco Grilo🔸’s comment on: Welfare Biol­ogy and AI: The Quiz

  Thanks! Yes, small invertebrates have been on my mind ever since Brian Tomasik wrote about them 10+ years ago and cautioned against walking on grass. I’m sort of reducitarian about grass… I’ve also donated to the “inverts” project of RP! It’s a cause area I’m quite excited about, though I’m not sure whether I’m more excited about helping arthropods or nematodes.

  Your updated estimates have huge credible intervals! What is the main source of the uncertainty in the model, or the main sources?

  I’ll compress some of my summaries of your articles to remove the older numbers and clarify your updated views in the second article by quoting from the comment. Ty!

  The 90k (or 90.3k) figure is based on this sentence from this article:

  Nonetheless, I calculate GiveWell’s top charities increase the welfare of soil animals 90.3 k times as much as they increase the welfare of humans, which is a way higher ratio than the ones I just mentioned.

  I’ll avoid citing the precise number.