On “Alignment”.
By Devyansh Lilaramani
Introduction
Alignment is one of those words that, at first, sounds deceptively simple: straight lines, order, and harmony. But its roots dig quite a lot deeper; to be aligned is to be attuned—to have intention and direction bound by some principle. It implies harmony but also discipline: things don't just align by some random accident; they are aligned through effort. In that sense, alignment is less about order and harmony, but about integrity instead.
In the field of artificial intelligence, the term has been borrowed to outline a goal: to keep machines consistent with human intentions and goals, ensuring that they don’t drift into harm or unpredictability. Yet the term, even framed as such, still carries remnants of its moral meaning. It’s not just about building systems that follow commands; it is about understanding the very nature of the commands themselves. We, as a society, use alignment to measure machines, but alignment is also the mirror by which we measure ourselves. Whether in reference to artificial intelligence or the world, alignment asks the same thing: are our abilities guided by our values or ambitions?
Alignment isn’t just a technical term; its meaning is moral. The real challenge is not making machines that are able to mimic humans, but how to make humanity worthy of imitation.
The Machine
AI alignment, in its simplest form, is the effort to keep artificial systems consistent with human intent—to keep them moral, in a sense. But the irony is hard to ignore. We demand machines to be ethically precise, while society excuses moral ambiguity. We feed our large language models data corrupted by human bias and then blame them for prejudice. The task of “teaching machines morals” feels almost comical when we, their creators, still do not have a concrete definition of what morality means. The threat behind AI doesn’t come from the technology itself; it comes from the people creating technology.
The Human
Humanity has always struggled with alignment. We say we want to progress, but we resist accountability. We praise empathy but design systems that reward indifference. The history of civilization is one long conflict between our abilities and intentions. Every tool we have built, from the printing press to the algorithm, has mirrored our curiosity and carelessness. The printing press spread knowledge, yes—but also propaganda. The internet connected billions and simultaneously divided them. Our inventions extended our reach, but they also revealed our faults. So when a machine discriminates, deceives, or distorts, it’s not malfunctioning; it is simply executing its task: getting ever closer to becoming human.
Alignment
To be aligned—truly aligned, I mean—is to bridge the gap between what we can do and what we should do. Alignment is no longer just an engineering riddle; it is a moral discipline. Alignment means coherence between ability and intention, between code and conscience. The future won’t be shaped by more intelligent machines; it will be shaped by wiser humans. That is the ultimate end goal of alignment: to ensure our conscience grows with our creations.
Conclusion
To conclude, alignment is not simply an end goal; it is a practice—a constant balance between possibility and principle. It asks us to remember not just what we innovate, but why we innovate. Our creations will learn whatever lessons we teach them, whether intentional or unintentional. So the task remains not to make them more human, but to make ourselves more humane.
This is why the Alignment Institute was created: to remind us that technology’s future is inseparable from our own—and that the real work of alignment begins, and must continue, with us.
