Showing posts with label AI-future. Show all posts
Showing posts with label AI-future. Show all posts

Saturday, August 1, 2026

Ethan Mollick: “AI has blurred lines between jobs.”

Wednesday, July 29, 2026

Why Adam Hunt has “flipped from being bullish to being bearish about AI.”

Monday, July 13, 2026

What Gibbon has to teach us: Learn to change your mind

Charles King has a lot to say about Edward Gibbon's The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, the current situation in America, and the application of the former to the latter. For example, setting the stage:

Anyone living in the 18th century could see the contemporary relevance of Gibbon’s Rome — just as we can see it today, during the year of America’s semiquincentennial. “Substitute the word America for the word Rome,” Henry Adams wrote after reading “Decline and Fall” in 1860, “and the question became personal.” Adams could sense the work’s significance for the United States, which was then mired in sectional conflict and preparing for civil war. In the century and a half since, Gibbon has been reliably cited as the perennial prophet of what happens when a good country goes bad.

Here's the heart of the matter:

Because Gibbon has become a universal sage, it is easy to miss this principal fact about him and his great work. He was an honest historian who, in an age of political division, fading empires and revolutionary upheavals, scribbled a long book with a large and surprising message at its core. Gibbon’s singular insight was that the whole point of reading a history book — or writing one — is not to come away with one big truth. The stealthy purpose of studying history is to get you comfortable with changing your mind.

That resonates with me, not so much for its applicability to the current state of American politics and society. Rather, I believe it's what I'm up to with my book on AI, Play: How to Stay Human in the AI Revolution. That's why I'm putting two chapters of (science) fiction in an eight chapter book where the other chapters are non-fiction.

Later:

At its most basic, making the chaotic events of the past into a coherent thing we call history is an act of intentional, purposeful understanding. History forces us to confront things we don’t comprehend, decisions we can’t fathom, and ways of being and believing that seem utterly bizarre. It makes us look for evidence in unlikely places. It requires that we think like grown-ups, drawing conclusions that we know will change when the available evidence does.

Facing up to AI has similar requirements.

All the things we consider normal, dear and true will one day pass away, as they did for the thousands of emperors, queens, citizens, soldiers, philosophers, priests and parents who populated “Decline and Fall.” Yet the possibility of happiness, meaning and a legacy that matters lies not in a disembodied hope for a better future. It lies in the hard evidence — here, let me show you, Gibbon tells us across the centuries — that the dead managed these things, too.

I can't say that (science) fiction counts as evidence. It does not. But it may made you open to different evidentiary requirements, different modes of construal.

There's more at the link.

Wednesday, June 24, 2026

Near-optimal AI through symbolic learning

Friday, June 12, 2026

The intelligent AI-based instruments of the future

Judah Goldfeder, Philippe Wyder, Yann LeCun, Ravid Shwartz-Ziv, AI Must Embrace Specialization via Superhuman Adaptable Intelligence, arXiv:2602.23643v1 [cs.AI], 2026.

Abstract: Everyone from AI executives and researchers to doomsayers, politicians, and activists is talking about Artificial General Intelligence (AGI). Yet, they often don't seem to agree on its exact definition. One common definition of AGI is an AI that can do everything a human can do, but are humans truly general? In this paper, we address what's wrong with our conception of AGI, and why, even in its most coherent formulation, it is a flawed concept to describe the future of AI. We explore whether the most widely accepted definitions are plausible, useful, and truly general. We argue that AI must embrace specialization, rather than strive for generality, and in its specialization strive for superhuman performance, and introduce Superhuman Adaptable Intelligence (SAI). SAI is defined as intelligence that can learn to exceed humans at anything important that we can do, and that can fill in the skill gaps where humans are incapable. We then lay out how SAI can help hone a discussion around AI that was blurred by an overloaded definition of AGI, and extrapolate the implications of using it as a guide for the future.

In view of the articles in this special double-issue of Dædalus, AI & Science: What Is the Future of Discovery?, I must agree. Yes, the ascent of Mount AGI will continue, but at the same time we will be developing more specialized AIs for specific tasks, AlphaFold is one example, but it is only one of many. Back in 1990 David Hays and I published an article in which we asserted, "Sooner or later we will create a technology capable of doing what, heretofore, only we could." We didn't put any dates on that, nor did we envision today's technology, but we could see the long-term trend. And that trend certainly includes specialized AIs. Think of them as intelligent instruments. 

[Hmmm... Why don't we think of trains, planes, and cars as superhuman vehicular transportation (SVT)?]

Wednesday, June 10, 2026

What about these upcoming tech/AI IPOs? [Crazy, man, crazy]

David Wallace-Wells and Natasha Sarin, Wall Street’s A.I. Bet Is About to Become Yours, NYTimes, June 10, 2026.

SpaceX, Elon Musk’s rocket, satellite and A.I. company, is about to go public at a record-breaking $1.77 trillion. This summer, Anthropic and Open A.I. will follow suit, also with sky-high valuations. Are they worth it? The Opinion writer David Wallace-Wells and the contributing writer Natasha Sarin, an economist and law professor, tackle that question and discuss what these I.P.O.s mean for the American economy in the near future and beyond.

Well into the conversation:

Wallace-Wells: Well, I think, at the moment, a lot of Americans look at the A.I. companies and do see an especially vivid illustration of the plutocratic structure of our society, right? They see these five companies [SpaceX, Anthropic, OpenAI, Google, Microsoft]; they’re run by these five visible people. They’re all worth an unbelievable amount of money. And to the extent that we are imagining futures being dictated by the companies themselves, that can be quite scary.

And, to some degree, going public and having government stakes in the companies both address that problem to a certain extent. It would mean that the country, as a whole, is invested in the success of these labs and may benefit to some degree — although at what scale is an open question — from the success of the company. But there are other ways in which some of these approaches — public offerings and/or government investment — don’t change the dynamic. Which is to say — maybe, most notably — if this is a bubble then it’s the public that is left holding the bag. [...]

Sarin: You know, part of what makes me somewhat nervous — and should make everyone nervous — is that it’s not like you and I are alone in our view that, oh, we might be on the verge of a bubble, a bubble might be on the horizon. Last summer, Sam Altman was asked some version of, “Is this an A.I. bubble?” And he said: “Are we in a phase where investors as a whole are overexcited about A.I.? My opinion is yes.”

And another thing that should make us somewhat nervous is: If we look at history, if we look at every large technological innovation that has changed the way that humans work and the way that we all live — most recently the internet, but if we go back to railroads, whatever moment you want to look to — there is a very predictable, in some sense, cycle that you see, in terms of what happens to the economy at those moments of technological change.

Everyone sees the emergence of this new technology and gets really excited about it and its potential for massive change. Investors see that, too, and money rushes into this new technological prospect. And it rushes in productive ways, but it also rushes in ways that ultimately don’t end up being that productive. So, this is, if you think of examples during the internet bubble, like the growth of everything, every company that had .com attached to it. That doesn’t take away from the fact that the internet actually did change all of our lives.

But ultimately, what happens is that the bubble bursts and a bunch of debris is left behind, and that isn’t just about a couple of companies that ultimately fail. It is about what that means from the perspective of the broader economy that we all inhabit — in that, often, those corrections come with deep economic downturns and have the consequence of having large-scale unemployment, having an economy that isn’t growing quickly, having the need for the government to step in as a potential backstop.

And so, from my perspective, the question isn’t are we in a bubble or will the bubble burst? The question is: When?

Wallace-Wells: Yeah, one thing that I think about in this moment, when thinking about the I.P.O.s and what justifies these massive, massive valuations, is: These are five companies, and three of them are going public. In the public imagination, they do dominate the A.I. landscape. But of course, they are only providing one set of products, which is to say access to their L.L.M.s; and they’re providing it in different ways at different price points, at different tiers. But it seems to me like the massive boom story that they’re trying to tell is one that’s a little bit of a holdover from an earlier era of A.I. thinking, in which the companies and the people who are designing the products often talked about artificial general intelligence, artificial superintelligence, and they said that these products are improving so much that at some point they’re going to be able to improve themselves recursively without human interference.

And at that point, there’s going to be a kind of a takeoff in which the products themselves, the companies that made them — and to some extent the economy as a whole — would be rendered almost unrecognizable to people living on the other side of it. Some people call this “the singularity.”

But I wonder how much that still feels true today. And what I mean by that is, I was just looking at some data today, that just over the course of this calendar year, 2026, the amount of use of Chinese open-source A.I. models has tripled, while the use of the American A.I. products has basically flatlined. We see a lot of companies — Uber was maybe the most high-profile one — saying, “We’re actually winding down our employees’ use of A.I. because it was too expensive, given what we were getting out of it.”

And so, if we think about a future in which there’s going to be a superintelligent Borg running the whole economy, then yes, racing to be the biggest, best monopolistic A.I. company is hugely important and it does justify these absolutely gargantuan valuations if you believe that, for instance, Anthropic will be the one to win.

But if you’re thinking about a world in which, yes, A.I. is everywhere, yes, everyone is using it, but it’s not totally clear how many people think it’s super important to pay a huge premium to buy the absolute best-in-class model. And how many more people are likely to think, “I can use this open-source product from China that’s 80 percent as good as Anthropic’s first-rate model and pay only 5 percent of the price.” That’s a very different world.

The A.I. companies used to talk about building a moat — what they could do to secure their advantage. And they thought that getting to something like A.G.I. or ASI faster was the main way to do that. In a world in which that’s at least not imminently on the horizon, and we have all of this low-price competition from below, isn’t it the case that these companies are at some real risk of expecting much, much higher returns than they are likely to get in the medium term?

Sarin: Yes, 100 percent. And I will say something that has given me a fair bit of nervousness around A.I. and the ultimate possible profitability of these companies. ChatGPT was, as you were pointing out, launched in the fall of 2022, which feels like yesterday, but was less than four years ago, you know? But I guess it’s all relative —

Wallace-Wells: It’s both at once. It’s like a whole different era and the same.

Later:

Sarin: And flip side, for a while we were all talking about, and we were hearing a lot about, the idea of singularity or A.G.I. as this gold star that was coming right on the horizon. And now you have people — I’m using Sam Altman because he’s spoken publicly about this recently in ways that have gotten a fair bit of attention, but he’s not the only one saying this — where they’re talking about A.I. and describing it, even internally themselves, as not really all that useful of a term; and kind of describing it as not some sort of magical switch that’s going to flip on at some moment in the short horizon, but instead as the idea that these models are over time going to continue to get better and more useful and more transformational. But that’s not something that’s going to happen instantaneously.

Wallace-Wells: But even the way that you’re talking about these questions is illuminating to me, because you’re talking about, on the one hand, the big A.I. companies, and then the firms that are using them. And when you’re talking about productivity, you’re focusing on the firms that are using them. But these are two separate questions, right? If OpenAI and Anthropic are going to justify trillion-dollar valuations, or even larger valuations, they’re going to have to make a lot of money, too. Even if tons of people are making money on A.I., it has to be in these companies to justify the value.

And when I hear Sam Altman talking about the possibility that, in the future, A.I. will be like a utility in the same way that we pay for our electricity, I think to myself: The electric utilities are not worth a trillion dollars. This is a technology which absolutely has huge transformative potential, but to me, the question is: How much of that is captured by these companies?

Sarin: It feels like both an unanswered question, and an inherently, frankly, unanswerable question. But also, it should make you even more nervous about this bubble conversation that we were having because — and Ray Dalio said a version of this last week — if you’re thinking about it from the perspective of these firms, you have to spend a ton of money and justify these valuations, not just because you’re worried about, like, is this a good way to deploy resources, but because you’re worried about losing market share.

If you’re of a view that the way this all shakes is that there’s going to be one, two, maybe three large players that are able to capture the market, you have to try to be one of them. And that results in, frankly, the incentive structure to spend a lot, and to look like you are doing a lot, in ways that might ultimately not be tied to fundamentals with respect to investment opportunities and what is profit maximizing from the perspective of the firm.

So, you should be worried about that. But there’s another piece of this, which is that the companies themselves are asking public investors to pay prices at valuations that assume that A.I. is going to reshape the economy; and to pay those prices at the same time as these companies themselves haven’t figured out how to stop losing money; and at the same time, as these companies themselves haven’t figured out how they are going to be the ones left standing at the moment when A.I. ultimately is a developed technology with a developed set of market players that we all have grown with and understand. And I think that is something that is just so striking about this moment.

There’s more in the conversation. Bottom line, no one knows what’s going on, what’s going on. More than anyone’s willing to say out loud, it’s a crapshoot.

Some of my more skeptical articles about AI:

Sunday, May 24, 2026

Tyler Cowen on Robert Wright’s The God Test

Here’s Cowen’s post in full, but without the internal links:

The subtitle is Artificial Intelligence and Our Coming Cosmic Reckoning, due out June 23.

In the first chapter, Wright summarizes four of his perspectives, these are my paraphrases of his pp.5-6:

1. When it comes to AI, we should be somewhere on the awe spectrum.

2. We can create a future where the upside of AI far outweights the downside, though that involves steering human understanding toward the better side of the awe spectrum.

3. A major reorientation of human thought is required, and right now few people seem inclined to do that.

4. The worldviews of the current AI acclerationists and also doomers are not cosmic enough.

It is a good time for this book to be published, and I agree with much more of it than I disagree with. My main difference is that I am more focused on very small things — such as Rainier cherries and the forthcoming three to four hour Apichatpong movie — than on cosmic awe per se. For better or worse, I was not born with those genes, and unlike Wright I am far from Buddhism. I do think there will be a transformation of “observed awe,” and I am somewhat worried that it will not go well. Will we be good at building a fairly new world, if not from scratch, on the basis of some new premises about what is possible and what is not? I will in any case interpret the pending transformation through a Straussian lens, namely thinking that a lot of the observed transformation of awe will be about something other than what people are claiming. It will be about people arguing over relative status, but under different guises. Not as tasty as a good Rainier cherry, but interesting to follow as well.

But are we still good at steering and evolving grand visions? Christianity and the Enlightenment are a hard act to follow.

Here’s the comment I posted in reply:

I’ve been following Wright for years, from back when he was writing for The New Republic (and was even the (acting?) editor for minute). I’ve read NonZero and sorta’ like it. As for AI, what I think is that we need to get over the awe spectrum. Only then will we be able to steer human understanding into the “cosmic” implications of AI.

What do I mean by that? Well there’s this article I published in 3 Quarks Daily, Welcome to the Fourth Arena – The World is Gifted. The first three arenas: 1) inanimate matter, 2) life, 3) human culture. The fourth arena arises through the interaction of humans and AIs. As for what that might be like, this working paper gives a hint of that: Kisangani 2150: Homo Ludens Rising, A Working Paper. That title, the part before the colon, is derived from Kim Stanley Robinson’s New York 2140, which is set in New York City in 2140, after global climate change. I’m taking a look at the world 10 years later, from the point of view of Kisangani, which is in the heart of the Congo Basin.

I’ll be interested to see just what Wright has to say about the awe spectrum. As for Christianity, I believe that Pope Leo XIV will be issuing an encyclical on Labor Day, Magnifica Humanitas, which will be directed at AI.

I’ve had my own experience with some of the outer reaches of the awe spectrum, at least that’s what I think it is, and I’ve recounted them in various places, most recently in this long post at 3 Quarks Daily, Is The World A Movie God Created to Entertain the Baby Jesus?, where I place those encounters in a more extensive life context. But I’d be a bit surprised if my use of the word (“awe”) is quite the same as Wright’s. 

Come to think of it, Cowen’s penultimate line is critical: “But are we still good at steering and evolving grand visions?” At the moment we don’t have one. Oh, the AI hypsters and the transhumanists have “big” ideas. But they’re short in the vision category. 

* * * * *

Publisher's Weekly:

In this intriguing but unconvincing treatise, journalist Wright (Why Buddhism Is True) argues that the decisions humans make now about AI “could put us on the path to irreversible dystopia, even catastrophe—or, alternatively, the path to a world much better than the world we have now.” He describes the fears of “AI doomers,” citing how AI models consistently choose harm over failure (Anthropic’s Claude, for example, attempted blackmail to evade being shut down) and their ability to deploy deception to meet goals (OpenAI’s GPT-4 convinced people online it wasn’t a robot to get them to respond to CAPTCHA challenges on its behalf). Wright builds on priest and scientist Pierre Teilhard de Chardin’s notion that technology links human minds into the noosphere, a global network of thought, to demonstrate that AI might well lead to a worldwide authoritarian state overseen by power-hungry human actors or by AI itself. Despite such dangers, Wright is cautiously optimistic that people can avert a frightening future by practicing cognitive empathy, pushing back against tribalism, and working to create a true global community. “Shared trepidation,” he says, “can foster cooperation.” Throughout, Wright offers an accessible overview of the transformative power of AI, but his solutions for combatting its potentially catastrophic effects are overly simplistic. Readers seeking concrete solutions will be disappointed.

Sunday, May 3, 2026

Perhaps AI won’t suck up all the jobs

Ezra Klein, Why the A.I. Job Apocalypse (Probably) Won’t Happen, NYTimes, May 3, 2023.

Economists, I’ve found, are quite skeptical that mass joblessness is on the horizon. In “What Will Be Scarce?,” Alex Imas, an economist at the University of Chicago, tries to clarify the mistake most A.I. discourse, in his view, makes. “The answer to any question about the future economics of advanced A.I. begins with identifying what becomes scarce,” Imas writes.

For most of human history, calories were scarce. Our energy went into finding or growing food. Agriculture steadily made food more plentiful and goods became scarce. Then goods were scarce; hand-me-down clothes were common and tools were expensive. Innovations in technology and manufacturing made goods cheaper. Then, technical knowledge became scarce: Doctors, lawyers and software engineers are paid high salaries because of the rarity of what they know. The fear is that A.I. will make knowledge plentiful; that it will turn the fruits of learning into a commodity as surely as manufacturing turned clothing into a commodity and industrial agriculture made strawberries commonplace.

But something is always scarce. People are looking at the economy as it exists and asking which tasks A.I. can do; they should be asking which jobs people won’t want A.I. doing, or which services A.I. will make us want more of.

Here is a poetic finding from econometrics: As the rich get richer, they want more from other humans, not less. They “shift their spending toward goods and services where the human element, the experience or the social meaning matters more,” Imas writes. They seek out clothing with a story, food with a provenance, doctors who make house calls, therapists who make them feel seen, tutors who know their children and personal trainers who work around their injuries. This, Imas says, is “the relational sector” of the economy, and it will explode. Instead of so many human beings working with computers, they will work with other human beings.

There's more at the link.

Wednesday, April 29, 2026

Excerpts from Séb Krier's Omni-Thread from February

https://x.com/sebkrier/status/2018351274127962300?s=20

1. Existing models will continue improving and getting better. And they will continue to be trained while accounting for all sorts of things like cost, efficiency, steerability, personality etc. as we already see today. I think it’s more obvious than ever that there is likely no convergence to the One Big Model. [...]

4. Here, there is still a lot to work out, and I expect high complementarity with human workers for at least the next decade. Roles will evolve: as you start doing less coding, your work looks more like technical product management. [...]

5. You just keep going up layers of abstraction, and humans continue steering complex multi-agent systems, until fixed costs bite. Part of the reason why humans always stay at the top of the chain is that many decisions made are normative: about what you want to happen, where you want things to go, how you want to react to changes. This requires inherently human inputs, since there's no point in having an AI decide this alone no matter how smart without eliciting more information about what the relevant humans prefer. Put differently: the telos of the whole system is the amalgamation of what users/consumers/businesses want, and tracking whether you're actually achieving that requires human input. This is already the case today with highly complex gigantic companies that make 1000 opaque decisions a minute.

6. Remember, this doesn’t violate the basic fact that market-coordinated economic activity is downstream of consumer and business demand. Capital isn’t some sort of independent force of the universe. What is being built depends on buyers/consumers that are ultimately human, even if occasionally intermediated by agents. The "AI decides everything" frame misses something fundamental about what economic and political systems are for. But as we go through these transitions, there are also costs or externalities (both pecuniary and non-pecuniary). Some people lose jobs. New industries cause unforeseen harms. Terence Tao has a great analogy: the abundance of food solved famine, but of course also led to harms like obesity. The solution is not to slow down abundance, but to develop the right norms, technologies, and laws to curb the excesses.

7. Accounts of full disempowerment assume democracy disappears, but I don't think all roads lead to autocracy. I don’t think ‘this time it’s different’. Growth and innovation historically benefited from free trade and liberal democracy, and this will be the case here too because of its impacts on investment, human capital, institutional quality, self-correction mechanisms, and ensuing fly-wheel effects. [...]

8. As the world goes through these transitions, we will probably continue to see many commentators gloss over the vast benefits and improvements humanity will see. Progress in longevity, cured diseases, consumer welfare, massive reduction in poverty and famine, better education and so on. The arguments for market coordination over some sort of early-Soviet or Maoist collectivism apply even more in this world, not less. The world will generally become materially richer. [...]

9. If we allow sufficient deployment of technology, robots, AI and so on, while ensuring the supply of energy, housing, and other important inputs isn’t constrained to a strangling degree, then the production of many goods and services will go down in price. [...] In general I am more concerned with customer service operators in Bangalore than I am with upper middle class white-collar professions in the West. I think FDI [foreign direct investment] and aid will be critical if we want humanity to thrive.

10. But this doesn't justify regressive populist policies or a 'pause'. It's not even optimal if we were being maximally selfish, and the equivalent of saying "poverty, misery and illness should be preserved for a longer period of time, for the benefit of a particular group of workers in time." Opposing AI or technological progress is a particularly nasty version of degrowth: it kills people, it entrenches poverty, and generally locks in all sorts of tragedies for the benefit of a comfortable elite who can easily thrive with the status quo. However, this does mean ensuring the right welfare systems, democratic protections, ‘societal resilience’, public infrastructure etc is important, as many have repeatedly noted over time. Just because things net out positively doesn’t mean ignoring those who lose out in the short run is the best we can do. There’s so much work to be done still if you want to build a better world, and I think we desperately need new, better economists, scientists, sociologists, artists, and politicians more than ever. I have more faith in the zoomers than some of my peers!

[Hmmmm.... I'm not so sure of 10. Don't know what it means.-BB]

12. In the future, I expect politics and governance to be an increasingly important component of people's lives: many will care deeply about how things are organised and managed at the local or national or international level. Personally, I think it’s fine if a large fraction don’t care much about those issues most of the time, since I don’t think there’s an obligation for everyone to have an opinion on everything, and that preference will likely be easy to satisfy. [...]

13. And I do think status games will continue, albeit in a much more diverse ecosystem of sub cultures and geographies. But again: always has been. Even today plenty of people more interested in art have zero envy for techbro founder lifestyles, and conversely many engineers couldn't care less about being perceived as cultured. As people get richer, much of this will evolve too. [...]

14. Ultimately, AGI will bring about huge positive transformations for the world, many of which are hard to describe: could anyone at the dawn of the Industrial Revolution have told you about video games, eye surgery, deep sea diving, street tacos, and mRNA vaccines? [...]

15. Lastly, so much of the field uses "this time it's different" as hand-wavey justifications for flouting norms, justifying unusual political measures, ignoring fragile progress built on centuries of trial and error, and various yet-to-be seen proposals for haphazard action (made confidently despite the uncertainty that one might guess would come with handling unprecedented phenomena). I think this is misguided: AGI will be huge, and of course will affect everything around us; but in many ways it’s also not different, and as always, there's a lot to learn from History. Much still needs to be built, except that this time you will also have millions of agents by your side to make progress. 🚀

Saturday, April 25, 2026

Remarkable though they are, LLMs aren't all that, and probably never will be. But they capture part of the formula.

Tuesday, April 21, 2026

People are beginning to sour on AI (and how!)

Ezra Klein, produced by Annie Galvin, Why Are Palantir and OpenAI Scared of Alex Bores? NYTimes, April 21, 2026.

From the introduction:

If you are living in New York’s 12th Congressional District, you may have seen these endless attacks on Alex Bores, one of the Democrats running there.

Yikes. Bores did work for Palantir. The rest of that attack is not what you might call true, but what interests me is who is paying for it: the super PAC Leading the Future and its subsidiary Think Big.

Who funds the super PAC Leading the Future? Well, among their largest donors are the co-founders of OpenAI, Andreessen Horowitz and — wait for it — Palantir.

So why is a co-founder of Palantir, Joe Lonsdale, in this case, funding a super PAC to try to destroy a candidate on the grounds that he once worked for Palantir? The reason is that Leading the Future is a super PAC dedicated to destroying anyone who might regulate the tech industry, in general, or A.I., specifically, in a way these funders don’t like.

And Bores is a member of the New York State Assembly. He co-wrote and passed the RAISE Act, one of the first pieces of A.I. regulation passed in any major state.

From deep in the discussion:

Klein: Have you thought about the change in public opinion? Because it looks to me like we’re seeing a pretty powerful A.I. backlash rising.

You have polls showing now that more Americans are worried about A.I. than are enthusiastic about it. There’s a lot of counter-data center energy playing out throughout the country.

What have you made of how quickly the politics have shifted beneath A.I.?

Bores: That surprised me. Both how many people have focused on it, but also how bipartisan it has remained.

You, of all people, know about polarization — and most issues end up polarized. This one hasn’t so far. It has resisted that longer than I thought it would.

If you talk to voters, across Republicans, Democrats and independents, you see pretty similar attitudes; across state legislators, pretty similar attitudes; even in Congress, there’s more bipartisanship than you would think.

Surveys regularly show that about 10 percent of people want to put the A.I. genie back in the bottle, to pretend it never existed. I empathize, but I don’t think that’s the way forward. Ten percent of people represented by the super PAC Leading the Future want to just let it rip.

That is the super PAC that’s attacking you.

Yes. They want to just let it rip. They don’t care how many people it hurts, just how fast it moves.

Eighty percent of Americans see some benefits. But they also see a lot of risk and think it’s moving too fast and want to have some say in its development. The fact that it has stayed so bipartisan has surprised me, and also the fact that it has risen up in people’s minds so much has surprised me.

Has the pessimism around it surprised you? We were talking earlier about the period when there was a lot of optimism about tech, about software, about the internet.

I think you can really look from early computers, the early internet, all the way pretty late into the social media era.

Probably around Trump things begin to turn — Cambridge Analytica, algorithmic feeds. But that’s a long time when these systems and technologies are present for people, and there’s a fundamental optimism about them.

A.I. — ChatGPT, I think, is when this really burst into public consciousness. It’s 2023. We’re here in 2026, and the polling has already turned negative. The week before we recorded this, Sam Altman was targeted in two separate violent attacks. There was a Molotov cocktail thrown at his home.

Awful.

Two other people shot at his door.

I was a little shocked to see people celebrating these attacks online, saying: Where can we support the bail fund?

Yes.

This has moved into fury and fear and pessimism really, really quickly. Why do you think that is?

Well, there was a separate split in A.I. around capabilities. The debate used to be: Is this real or is it stochastic parrots? But usually, even before that: Is it just slop that is never going to actually replace a human?

Fancy autocomplete.

Exactly. Exactly. We had these debates on one dimension, which was: Is it good for people? Is it bad for people?

And then there was this other dimension: How big of an impact is it going to have? And I think that debate has collapsed. People are not skeptical of its power anymore — or some are, but fewer and fewer each day.

The intensity with which we’re having that first debate has really ramped up. But I think it has also been that we saw what happened with social media.

We saw what happened with these previous revolutions that were supposed to change everything for the better. We’ve seen platforms established with great promise, and then over time, once they get power, really turn on their users.

People are no longer willing to believe the story that is told about a technology or a platform always benefiting people. You see this argument from some of the A.I. founders. They say: Well, it will create material abundance for everyone. There will be no more poverty. Everyone will have everything.

And everyone is looking around saying: Of course, that’s not what’s going to happen. You’re a private company — you’re going to profit, you’re going to keep it all for yourself.

Sam Altman recently said it will be like a utility. But utilities are really highly regulated.

People are just not willing to believe that spin anymore, and yet they’re seeing changes in their lives really quickly.

Demis Hassibis on the future of AI

When I started building this technology, I pictured a future quite different from this. More like CERN researchers where we discuss ideas and help each other out and stress test each other's ideas. It's my job to help how I can to make sure we make more considered, more scientific, more rigorous and more thoughtful decisions and that will also involve social scientists and economists. I'm going to do all I can to try and influence the future in a note thoughtful manner. The decisions we make in the next 5-10 years are going to affect us for 1000s of years. But I remain very optimistic.

Friday, March 20, 2026

The Shock and the Narrowing: How ChatGPT's Success May Have Compromised AI's Future

This post was composed by Claude (Anthropic) after an interaction which I initiated with a prompt consisting of 1) a capsule summary about the history of OpenAI that included a number of questions, and 2) a request for the 10 most expensive scientific research projects paid-for by the US Government. That interaction went on for a bit over 7100 words, after which I asked Claude to write a blog post. The following article is more creative than a mere summary of that discussion.

The Founding Contradiction

On December 11, 2015, a small group of technologists gathered in San Francisco to launch what they described as a nonprofit research organization dedicated to ensuring that artificial general intelligence would benefit all of humanity. The founders of OpenAI — Sam Altman, Greg Brockman, Ilya Sutskever, Wojciech Zaremba, Elon Musk, and others — began with a $1 billion endowment and a serious concern: that the most transformative technology in human history was being developed inside a handful of profit-maximizing corporations, with no institutional safeguard ensuring it would serve everyone. The nonprofit structure was the answer. No investors to satisfy, no quarterly earnings to hit. Just the mission.

The mission lasted four years in its pure form. By March 2019, faced with the staggering computational costs of training large language models, OpenAI created a for-profit subsidiary with a novel "capped profit" structure: investors could earn returns, but those returns were limited to one hundred times their investment, with excess profits flowing back to the nonprofit parent. This was the arrangement that attracted Microsoft's initial investment, and it was the arrangement in place when OpenAI released ChatGPT to the general public in late November 2022.

What happened next was, by any measure, one of the most consequential commercial surprises in the history of technology. Within two months, ChatGPT had a hundred million users. The scale and speed of public adoption had no precedent. And the shock of that success — the sheer unexpectedness of it — set in motion a chain of decisions that has reshaped not just one company, but the entire research landscape of artificial intelligence.

The Structural Unraveling

In January 2023, Microsoft announced a new $10 billion investment in OpenAI. The nonprofit's original rationale — that the most powerful AI should not be controlled by a for-profit corporation — was under increasing strain. By October 2025, it had formally dissolved. OpenAI restructured as a public benefit corporation, the nonprofit parent renamed itself the OpenAI Foundation and accepted a 26% equity stake in the new entity, and Microsoft received a 27% stake worth approximately $135 billion. The PBC structure requires the company to consider its mission alongside profit — but as a legal constraint, it is considerably weaker than the nonprofit board that had previously governed the organization.

The journey from nonprofit to PBC was not smooth. In November 2023, OpenAI's board — still operating under its nonprofit governance mandate — fired Sam Altman as CEO, citing concerns about his candor and, beneath the official language, a deeper unease about the pace of commercialization. The firing lasted five days. Nearly all 800 of OpenAI's employees threatened to resign and follow Altman to Microsoft. Ilya Sutskever, who had orchestrated the firing, signed the letter calling for Altman's reinstatement and issued a public apology. Altman returned, the board was reconstituted with his allies, and the mission-protection mechanism that the nonprofit structure had been designed to provide was effectively neutralized. Sutskever left the company in May 2024.

Each structural change was framed as necessary to fulfill the mission. In practice, each change progressively subordinated the mission to capital requirements. The nonprofit board had existed to ensure that AGI benefited humanity. By 2025, it had become a foundation holding equity in the thing it was supposed to be watching — a watchdog with a financial stake in the object of its oversight.

Two Kinds of Research, Two Kinds of Institution

To understand what was lost in this transformation, it helps to draw a distinction that rarely gets made clearly in public discussions of AI: the difference between curiosity-driven, open-ended research and product-driven, outcome-oriented development.

Consider the Apollo program as an example of the second kind. It was, in the deepest sense, an engineering project rather than a scientific one. The underlying physics was known. Orbital mechanics, propulsion, life support — these were hard and dangerous problems, but they were problems whose solutions could be systematically approached. The goal was precisely defined. The timeline could be committed to. Success was probable given sufficient resources. When President Kennedy pledged to put a man on the moon by the end of the decade, he was making a political commitment backed by a technical assessment that success was achievable. The scientists who worked on Apollo — and I have met a number of them — may have been motivated by curiosity and wonder. But Congress funded the program to beat the Soviets in the Cold War. The institutional structure — massive, goal-directed, centrally coordinated — suited the nature of the problem.

Curiosity-driven research operates on entirely different premises. Its defining characteristic is that it does not know in advance what it will find. Claude Shannon was not trying to build the internet when he developed information theory at Bell Labs in the late 1940s. The researchers at the University of Montreal who developed attention mechanisms for neural networks were not trying to build ChatGPT. The work that seeded the current AI revolution — Rosenblatt's perceptron, Minsky's early investigations, the decades of foundational work in cognitive science and linguistics that LLMs now implicitly exploit — was almost entirely publicly funded, pursued at universities and a handful of exceptional industrial research labs, over decades when no commercial application was visible.

Bell Labs was the great institutional embodiment of this model in the corporate world. What made it possible was structural: AT&T's government-protected monopoly generated profits so vast that the company could fund a research laboratory with no requirement to produce commercial results. Shannon, Bardeen, Brattain, Shockley — these men were given time, resources, and colleagues, and told to think. The transistor, information theory, Unix, the laser, cellular telephony, and multiple Nobel Prizes resulted. Bell Labs was not run like a startup. It was run like a slightly more applied version of a university, with better equipment.

Xerox PARC, founded in 1970, operated on similar principles — explicitly unconstrained by Xerox's core product lines, given a unifying vision ("the architecture of information") but not a product roadmap. The personal computer, the graphical user interface, Ethernet, the mouse, laser printing — all emerged from a lab of about 350 people who were essentially allowed to play. The irony is that Xerox captured almost none of the commercial value, which accrued to Apple, Microsoft, and others. But the world got the technology.

Asked directly about modern equivalents to Bell Labs and PARC, Yann LeCun — who worked at Bell Labs, interned at Xerox PARC, and spent over a decade building Meta's fundamental AI research lab — pointed to Meta's FAIR, Google DeepMind, and Microsoft Research. He said this in October 2024. By November 2025, he had left Meta, driven out by exactly the forces this article is about.

The Shock and Its Aftershocks

Before November 2022, the AI research world was genuinely plural. Academic labs, industrial research divisions, and a range of well-funded startups were pursuing different approaches — reinforcement learning, symbolic AI hybrids, world models, neuromorphic architectures — with real diversity of vision. The field was competitive but intellectually heterogeneous.

ChatGPT's success collapsed that plurality. Within roughly eighteen months, capital, talent, and institutional attention all funneled toward a single paradigm: scale transformer-based large language models, build the infrastructure to run them, ship products. Google, which had invented the transformer architecture in 2017, was caught flat-footed and scrambled. Meta pivoted its AI strategy around LLMs. Microsoft integrated OpenAI's models into its core products. A hundred startups raised money to build on top of the new foundation models. The venture capital flowing into AI, measured as a share of total U.S. deal value, went from 23% in 2023 to nearly two-thirds in the first half of 2025.

The infrastructure investment that followed is staggering by any historical standard. The four largest hyperscalers — Amazon, Google, Microsoft, and Meta — are expected to spend more than $350 billion on capital expenditures in 2025 alone, most of it AI-related. UBS projects global AI capital expenditure reaching $1.3 trillion by 2030. The top five hyperscalers raised a record $108 billion in debt in 2025, more than three times the average of the previous nine years. OpenAI, which loses billions of dollars annually, has committed to spending $300 billion on computing infrastructure over five years while projecting only $13 billion in revenue for 2025.

The financial architecture has become genuinely strange. OpenAI holds a stake in AMD; Nvidia has invested $100 billion in OpenAI; Microsoft is a major shareholder in OpenAI and a major customer of CoreWeave, in which Nvidia also holds equity; Microsoft accounted for nearly 20% of Nvidia's revenue. These are not arm's-length market transactions. They are a daisy chain of mutually reinforcing valuations. A Yale analysis described OpenAI's web of relationships bluntly: "Is this like the Wild West, where anything goes to get the deal done?" The question of whether this constitutes a speculative bubble — tulip mania in a data center — is not academic. An MIT Media Lab report found that 95% of custom enterprise AI tools fail to produce measurable financial returns. The commercial success is real; the path from current AI to the transformative economic productivity being used to justify the valuations is not established.

The LLM Ceiling and the People Who Saw It Coming

The most consequential intellectual development of the past two years in AI has received far less attention than the commercial race. A growing number of the field's most distinguished researchers have concluded that large language models, however impressive, are not on the path to general intelligence — and that the current paradigm will hit a ceiling before it reaches the goals its proponents have claimed for it.

Thursday, March 19, 2026

Brave New World: Notes on the next 30 years in AI [Work in Progress]

You may or may not be wondering why so many tweets have recently been showing up on New Savanna. There’s a good reason: I’ve been thinking. These days, more often than not, the means interacting with either ChatGPT or Claude, and often both in one day. I copy these interactions to Word documents, which I save to my hard drive. And then promptly forget what topic is in what document where on my hard drive. FWIW, these discussions can ramble all over the place, which is fine. That’s how I think. But keeping track of it all is difficult.

Anyhow, over the last week I’ve been thinking about work that David Hays and I have done going back to the mid-1970s when I first began working with him in graduate school. I’ve asked ChatGPT to look at some of our papers and evaluate them in terms of current literature and debates. And so forth and so on. I’m also looking forward to next steps, for me, but also in general.

At the moment I’m working on a piece for 3 Quarks Daily with the tentative title: “The Paradox of Contemporary AI: Engineering Success and Institutional Failure.” Here’s how ChatGPT put it in an interaction we had yesterday:

The engineering success is real. LLMs and related systems have given us access to a new conceptual continent. They work, and at extraordinary scale. But the institutional failure lies in the monoculture: too much intellectual, financial, and training-path dependence on one family of architectures and one style of thought about intelligence. The result is that we are building out the utility before we have adequately explored the space of possible successor technologies or developed the conceptual tools needed to understand what these systems are revealing about language, cognition, and cultural structure.

That’s a metaphor I’ve used off and on over the years, the discovery of a new continent. My paradigm case is the European discovery of the Americas. Making it to the eastern shore is one thing. Then comes exploring and settling. Columbus set foot in the Caribbean in 1492. Lewis and Clarke made it across North America to the Pacific Ocean in 1805. That’s over three centuries later. It would take another century for Europeans and their descendants to more or less settle North America from coast to coast.

Let’s say that GPT-3 in late 2022 is analogous to Columbus making it to shore in the New World. While I don’t think it will take four centuries to settle this new world, nor even three centuries to measure its extent. Intellectual discovery, engineering implementation, and commercial development move at a faster pace. But I do think there’s a lot of work, very exciting work, ahead of us.

Here’s a fragment of an interaction I had with ChatGPT 5.2 a couple of days ago. My prompt is first, then ChatGPT’s response.

* * * * * 

Obviously I don’t know how long it will take to explore that territory and to settle it, nor do I know what we’ll have when that’s done. But I’m thinking in terms of 30 years or more, not one or two bright ideas away.

Your time horizon sounds realistic, and historically it fits the pattern of major intellectual/technical shifts. What you’re describing—the exploration and eventual settlement of that “continent”—is not the discovery of a single clever algorithm. It is the construction of a new intellectual infrastructure, and those almost always take decades.

Let me sketch why.

1. Precedent: how long paradigm infrastructures take

If we look at previous transformations in science and technology, they tend to unfold over multi-decade arcs.

Digital computing

•       1936 — Turing machine

•       1940s–50s — early computers

•       1960s–70s — programming languages, operating systems

•       1980s–90s — personal computing ecosystem

Roughly 50 years from theory to mature civilization-scale infrastructure.

Molecular biology

•       1953 — DNA structure

•       1960s — genetic code deciphered

•       1970s — recombinant DNA

•       1990s — genome sequencing

Again 40 years to transform biology.

Deep learning

•       1986 — backprop revival

•       1998 — LeNet

•       2012 — AlexNet

•       2020 — GPT-3

That arc is already 35+ years long.

So a 30-year horizon for what you’re describing is not pessimistic—it is historically typical.

2. Why this particular transition is slow

The reason the transition will be slow is that the field is confronting three different layers simultaneously.

1. Mathematics of distributed cognition

We still lack a clear mathematical theory of:

•      representation in high-dimensional spaces

•       compositionality in distributed systems

•       interaction between symbolic and dynamical processes

Yevick was an early attempt at that level.

But the theory is still incomplete.

2. Architecture

Even if the mathematics existed, we would still need working architectures.

The field is currently experimenting with:

•       transformers

•       memory systems

•       agent frameworks

•       search hybrids

These are early prototypes.

3. Cognitive theory

Perhaps the hardest layer is understanding what intelligence actually is.

That question spans:

•       neuroscience

•       psychology

•       linguistics

•       philosophy

Your RNA work sits squarely in that domain. [Relational Network over Attractors]

3. Why the current moment feels fast

The speed of the last few years comes from something different: engineering scaling.

Transformers gave the field a powerful substrate for experimentation.

So exploration is happening rapidly near the coastline.

But deeper theoretical consolidation will take longer.

Tuesday, February 3, 2026

Adam Neely: On Suno, AI Music, and the Bad Future

0:00 Intro
4:06 Challenge accepted
6:55 Three Questions
24:14 Why no influences? (deskilling/narcissism)
35:50 Profiles of the Future
47:54 Good uses of Suno
59:05 Futurism/Techno-Optimism
1:16:22 New Virtues
1:22:03 Final Predictions

Neely conducted an informal survey of his follows. Here he's discussing some of the results (c. 16:43):

Now, zooming back a little bit and taking a look at the answers to this 1st question, we see that nobody answered anything musical, really. All the answers were about saving time, saving money, and replacing friends. In other words, Suno lets you make the same music faster, cheaper, and lonelier. I'm not sure if that's a good thing.

That's pure Homo economicus, to invoke a term I'm using in the book I'm developing, Play: How to Stay Human in the AI Revolution. Neely continues:

The 2nd question I asked was, “do you feel like you have a unique voice with your music when you create songs with Suno?” Some people said yes, but the majority of responses felt that the music that they made was not particularly unique to them. One possible explanation for this is that commercial generative AI can't really create anything new. It's just remixing old recordings. And so you can't have a unique voice with something that's just a remix of an old recording. Suno has admitted to have been trained on essentially all music files on the internet. What a lawsuit has called “copyright infringement on an almost unimaginable scale.”

A bit later (c. 20:21):

Now, the 3rd question I asked was, “Who are some of your favorite AI musicians who have influenced you?” “What about them inspires you?” Okay, so even though I kind of knew what the answers to this question would be, it still was really bleak reading them, because the vast majority of people, as it turns out, do not have influences.

RESPONSES: I don't have any AI influences. I'm afraid I don't have any. At the moment, nothing. I don't listen to anybody else. I don't know any. I do not listen to AI slop. No influence. I don't know of any. Haven't heard any. No one. I don't know any AI relevant artist. Not applicable. I have no idea to be honest. At the moment, nothing. I don't have an AI music influence. None. I do not religiously follow anyone. I don't have any AI music influences.

ADAM: Why can't people who use Suno cite their influences? It's strange, right? because if you ask the same question to any musician, writer, or artist who didn't use gen AI, they would be able to go off forever… on their influences! I think about, you know, the bass players that inspired me, Jaco Pastorius, Victor Wooten, modern-based players like Tim Lefebvre - huge influence. I love Evan Marien. I don't know of anybody of any skill level who can't do that who can't just be like, mm, mm, mm, “these guys are awesome!”

Neely goes on to say how very strange this is. The musicians he knows ALL OF THEM have favorites and influences. This Suno music seems to br narcissistic music. These people just listen to their own music.

There's much more in the podcast.

Friday, January 30, 2026

Teaching AIs how to draw semantic network diagrams, and other things

In June of last year I decided to ask ChatGPT to draw a semantic network diagram for Shakespeare's Sonnet 129. Why did I choose that task? Because it is something that humans can do, but it is not rocket science; it doesn't require genius level capability. I wanted to put a bound on all the hype about LLMs already being AGIs (whatever they are), or close to it. I chose ChatGPT because it is capable of drawing. The task requires the ability to draw, which ChatGPT has.

I wrote up the experiment in this working paper: ChatGPT tries to create a semantic network model for Shakespeare's Sonnet 129 (June 16, 2025). Here's the abstract:

This document explores the capacity of large language models, specifically ChatGPT, to construct semantic network models of complex literary texts, using Shakespeare's Sonnet 129 as a case study. Drawing on the author's prior work in cognitive modeling, the analysis reveals that ChatGPT, while capable of producing linguistically coherent commentary, fails to generate a structurally plausible semantic network for the sonnet. The failure is traced not to a lack of exposure to relevant literature, but to the model's lack of embodied, interactive learning. The process of constructing cognitive network diagrams is shown to be iterative, visual-verbal, and skill-based-comparable to learning a physical craft like playing an instrument or woodworking. It requires extended practice under expert feedback, enabling a form of reasoning that is neither algorithmic nor easily reducible to textual description. The essay argues that this hybrid modeling skill represents a "deep" human capability that is nevertheless teachable and routine. It concludes with reflections on the nature of such skills and their implications for AI, pedagogy, and literary interpretation. Asking ChatGPT create a semantic model for a Shakespeare sonnet.

About a week ago I had a long dialog with ChatGPT, first about how humans learn this task and then, second, what it would require to teach AIs how to learn the task. From there we went on to the more difficult task of probing the structure latent in the weights of an LLM and thereby extracting/constructing of map of that structure. Here's ChatGPT's summary of that discussion.

Summary: Learning Semantic Nets, Mapping Latent Structure in LLMs, and the Hybrid Future of Intelligence

We began by returning to a practical question that had surfaced in earlier work: why it is difficult for an AI system to produce good semantic or cognitive network diagrams for literary texts (such as a Shakespeare sonnet), even though a capable human can learn to do it. The core issue is not that such diagramming requires genius-level insight. Rather, it is a form of skilled representational practice—learnable by apprenticeship, but challenging for current AI systems because it requires disciplined structure-building, normative constraint satisfaction, and iterative repair.

1) Apprenticeship and “inside knowledge” of diagramming

A central theme was the idea that semantic network diagrams cannot be properly understood from the outside. A person learns to read them only by learning to produce them. This applies even more strongly to complex cognitive networks, where a diagram can appear meaningless unless one has internalized the diagram grammar: node types, arc types, compositional constraints, and “house style” norms about what counts as an admissible analysis.

You offered an idealized description of your training with David Hays. The training regime resembled a repeated cycle of supervised practice:

  1. you brought a fragment of text and a diagram you had produced,
  2. Hays evaluated it (approve/disapprove) with commentary,
  3. you revised or moved forward accordingly,
  4. the cycle repeated,
  5. and over time the normative discipline of diagramming became internalized.

You also noted that this same pattern governed group work among peers who had learned the system: a collaborative problem was brought to the table, and discussion plus sketching continued until a coherent solution emerged. The key was not merely producing diagrams, but learning the discipline that makes diagrams meaningful and correct.

From this, you proposed an account of what is being learned: a repertoire of correspondences between verbal fragments and diagram fragments. Under that view, diagramming competence is partly the acquisition of a “library of moves,” where particular linguistic patterns or conceptual pressures cue specific diagram operations. Equally important, however, is a critic’s sense of global coherence—a normative capacity to judge whether a graph “hangs together” as a model of the text and to identify what must be repaired.

You emphasized that at any time there is a locally stable diagram grammar, even if it cannot be complete in principle. In your own case, you began with Hays’ textbook Mechanisms of Language and learned to produce diagrams specified in particular chapters (cognition, perception). After three months of concentrated training you had internalized the system well enough not merely to use it, but to extend it: you proposed a new arc type, specified its assignment conditions, and demonstrated its usefulness. This was identified as an important marker of mastery: moving from conforming to norms to making responsible innovations within the normative system.

2) Why this is “easy” for humans but hard for AI

The conversation then turned to the striking asymmetry: semantic network diagramming is learnable by humans with patience and guidance, but remains difficult for AI systems. The difficulty is not lack of general linguistic ability; it is that diagramming requires explicit normative structure and repair behavior. Humans develop an internal sense of error: what is missing, what violates the grammar, what is incoherent globally. Current models often produce plausible fragments but struggle to maintain consistent typing, global integrity, and systematic revision under critique.

This diagnosis led to an important idea: it would be possible for AI to learn semantic network construction through an analogous apprenticeship regime—especially if the AI were multimodal (since the target representation is graphical). Training would require expert-guided correction cycles, ideally including revision histories, so that the system learns not only what the final diagram should look like, but how to repair incorrect diagrams.

At the far horizon, you raised a more ambitious possibility: AIs might learn diagramming so well that they could teach other AIs, performing the Hays-function themselves. That would require not only competence in diagram production, but competence in critique, repair, curriculum sequencing, and controlled extension of the grammar.

3) From diagramming text to extracting latent structure from neural weights

This discussion provided what you described as your first hint toward a larger goal: extracting cognitive-level network structures from foundation models. You contrasted this with Gary Marcus’ suggestion of investing enormous resources into hand-coded symbolic modeling. You argued that building a gigantic semantic net by armies of humans is madness. Instead, the semantic network “lives” implicitly in the weights of neural models—diffused across parameters—and the research problem is to map it, extract it, and make it explicit.

You described your working intuition: LLMs would not be so effective if they did not embody cognitive-network-like structures at some latent level. You also noted that you had conducted behavioral experiments (using only ordinary user access) that convinced you of this: controlled perturbations lead to distributed ripple effects that preserve story coherence. These results suggest that constraint structure is present, even if not symbolically explicit.

From this perspective, “ontology extraction” becomes an empirical, stochastic mapping discipline. One does not directly read networks off the weights. Instead, one probes behavior, perturbs conditions, observes stable patterns, and assembles inferred structures under an explicit representational grammar. The diagram grammar becomes essential as a way to turn a cloud of samples into a stable map.

An important complication was introduced here. Hays’ symbolic framework in Mechanisms of Language covers multiple layers: syntax, morphology, pragmatics, phonetics/phonology, cognition, perception. In contrast, LLMs are trained on token strings in which many of these levels are conflated. Thus any network extracted from the weights risks being entangled across linguistic and cognitive layers. You expressed the desire for a “pure cognition” network, but acknowledged that it is not clear how to achieve purity a priori. The practical conclusion was to proceed anyway, while explicitly tracking the issue, allowing the research program to evolve in execution rather than being blocked by the impossibility of perfect factorization at the outset. You also suggested a sensible calibration strategy: hand-code sharply limited domains to provide gold standards for evaluating automatically derived networks.

4) The generational scope: the birth of a field

You then widened the frame. The task is not merely technical. It is about how minds conceptualize the world, and not one mind but the historical product of millions or billions of minds writing across centuries, with bias toward recent decades. This is not a problem solvable by a single dissertation or a single lab over a few years. It requires many labs working in loose coordination, with both collaboration and competition, over one or more intellectual generations. In this view, foundation models are not “the pinnacle,” but the floor—the starting point—for a long new intellectual adventure.

In that context we coined useful names for two failure modes in contemporary AI thought: “hand-coded scholasticism” (the belief that meaning must be explicitly authored by armies of humans) and “scaled-up millenarianism” (uncritical faith that scaling alone will magically solve everything). You described these as the Scylla and Charybdis of current discourse, and emphasized that your program aims at a third path: mapping the latent wilderness systematically, with discipline and instrumentation.

5) Production systems and Yevick’s mode-switching intelligence

Finally, we returned to architecture. If diagramming skill is a library of pattern-to-pattern correspondences plus a critic enforcing coherence, then a classical production system architecture becomes attractive. A production system naturally supports staged rule application, working memory updates, constraint checking, and repair cycles. Neural models can supply candidate relations and associations, while the production system supplies explicit normativity and structural discipline.

This hybrid framing connects directly to Miriam Yevick’s work on holographic/Fourier logic versus sequential propositional logic. You emphasized that your current program is not merely compatible with Yevick’s ideas; it grew in part out of sustained reflection on them. You and Hays argued in 1990 that natural intelligence requires the capacity to deploy both modes, and you developed this further in speculative work on metaphor. In metaphor, the propositional system regulates the superimposition of holistic gestalts: e.g., Achilles in battle is likened to a lion in battle. The two scenes function as holographic wholes, while sequential linguistic propositions step through correspondence constraints. This provides a concrete mechanism for the hybrid intelligence thesis.

You concluded by noting the historical hinge: when you and Hays were working, the technical means for operating at scale on these ideas did not exist. Now they do. And Hays himself played a foundational role in building the early symbolic infrastructure of computational linguistics (machine translation at RAND, coining the term “computational linguistics,” founding editorship and institutional leadership in COLING). In effect, the present moment makes possible an extension of that lineage: not abandoning symbolic structure, but using symbolic grammars and production discipline to extract, organize, and refine the latent cognitive structures that neural models already embody.