1980s
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Thursday, September 3, 2026
Youth Football is Growing Again
After declining for a decade, participation in tackle football has started to tick back up, thanks to safety changes. But a landmark study raises fresh concerns.
Coach John Hart’s high school football practices look a lot different than they did 15 years ago. They contain no tackling to the ground and rarely last longer than 90 minutes. If John Hart from 15 years ago saw John Hart’s practices today, “I’d probably kick my own butt,” Hart, head coach at defending Indiana state champion Brownsburg High School, said this week.
Hart, who’s 64, played and coached for decades under a trusted set of principles that, in recent years, suddenly threatened to doom the sport, as scientific evidence and shocking tragedies revealed the costs of football’s violence. Leagues, from Pop Warner to the NFL, have changed rules to eliminate the most violent collisions. Coaches take concussions more seriously. Players train to avoid helmet-to-helmet hits. Local governments in some states have passed laws limiting full-contact practice time. The sport’s survival may hinge on better protecting players, and anyone resistant to the changes now risks falling behind.
“The old school in you thinks you need more tackling, then you start finding out there’s a lot better ways of teaching it without full contact,” Hart said. “Most injuries happen in practice, and we’ve cut that way down.”
The urgent need to reform the game came under yet another harsh spotlight this week when a new scientific study, considered one of the most authoritative ever conducted, revealed that at least a quarter, and probably many more, of former NFL players to die in recent years suffered from CTE, the degenerative brain disease linked to repeated head impacts. The study, which points to the cumulative small hits rather than major injuries, instantly renewed the debate over whether and when children (or adults) should play tackle football, threatening to dull the sport’s recent rebound.
After a decade of decline, national tackle football participation has begun to tick back up in recent years. The percentage of kids ages 6 and up who play tackle football rose from 2021 to 2024 to match 2014 levels, according to data from the Sports & Fitness Industry Association. Surveys from the National Federation of State High School Associations show the total number of high school players has rebounded from a 2018 low point to meet numbers from a decade ago.
Coaches cite a number of possible reasons. For a generation of children cooped up in pandemic lockdown, the sport offers a chance to bond with new friends before the school year starts. At a time of loneliness and fragmentation, football promises community, even tribalism. Deals for young athletes’ name, image and likeness, or NIL, can be paltry or life-changing secure income streams for a growing number of young athletes. And no sport offers more cultural cachet.
But above all, players, parents and coaches trust that the changes in football have reduced football’s risks.
“The way the game is taught is just safer,” said Justin Alumbaugh, head coach at perennial powerhouse De La Salle High School in Northern California. “As a parent, that alleviates a lot of the fear.”
Medical experts are still trying to fully understand the scale of football’s harms. This week’s landmark study, published in the British Medical Journal, included 878 former players who died between 2016 and 2021. It was anchored by posthumous brain examinations of 338 football players, more than 90 percent of which showed signs of CTE. [...]
Flag football is the only team sport with a growing participation rate over the past five years. The number of girls playing high school flag football has risen from around 11,000 to 68,000 over the past decade, almost exactly matching the loss of boys tackle football players, according to data collected by the National Federation of State High School Associations. Combining flag and tackle, more children are playing high school football than at any point since 2009.
“People thought flag was going to take people away from tackle,” Ehrlich said, “but it has brought more people into the sport in general.”
The best boys’ flag football players, he noted, usually go on to play tackle football. And even in aftermath of this week’s study, he expects that to continue.
by Albert Samaha, Washington Post | Read more:
Image: William Glasheen/USA Today Network/Reuters
Hart, who’s 64, played and coached for decades under a trusted set of principles that, in recent years, suddenly threatened to doom the sport, as scientific evidence and shocking tragedies revealed the costs of football’s violence. Leagues, from Pop Warner to the NFL, have changed rules to eliminate the most violent collisions. Coaches take concussions more seriously. Players train to avoid helmet-to-helmet hits. Local governments in some states have passed laws limiting full-contact practice time. The sport’s survival may hinge on better protecting players, and anyone resistant to the changes now risks falling behind.
The urgent need to reform the game came under yet another harsh spotlight this week when a new scientific study, considered one of the most authoritative ever conducted, revealed that at least a quarter, and probably many more, of former NFL players to die in recent years suffered from CTE, the degenerative brain disease linked to repeated head impacts. The study, which points to the cumulative small hits rather than major injuries, instantly renewed the debate over whether and when children (or adults) should play tackle football, threatening to dull the sport’s recent rebound.
After a decade of decline, national tackle football participation has begun to tick back up in recent years. The percentage of kids ages 6 and up who play tackle football rose from 2021 to 2024 to match 2014 levels, according to data from the Sports & Fitness Industry Association. Surveys from the National Federation of State High School Associations show the total number of high school players has rebounded from a 2018 low point to meet numbers from a decade ago.
Coaches cite a number of possible reasons. For a generation of children cooped up in pandemic lockdown, the sport offers a chance to bond with new friends before the school year starts. At a time of loneliness and fragmentation, football promises community, even tribalism. Deals for young athletes’ name, image and likeness, or NIL, can be paltry or life-changing secure income streams for a growing number of young athletes. And no sport offers more cultural cachet.
But above all, players, parents and coaches trust that the changes in football have reduced football’s risks.
“The way the game is taught is just safer,” said Justin Alumbaugh, head coach at perennial powerhouse De La Salle High School in Northern California. “As a parent, that alleviates a lot of the fear.”
Medical experts are still trying to fully understand the scale of football’s harms. This week’s landmark study, published in the British Medical Journal, included 878 former players who died between 2016 and 2021. It was anchored by posthumous brain examinations of 338 football players, more than 90 percent of which showed signs of CTE. [...]
But coaches and players and parents have reason to be optimistic. How could the game not be safer when it feels so dramatically different? [...]
Compared with a decade ago, the percentage of children who play any organized sport has dipped across the board, according to one analysis of youth sports data. Tackle football shrunk more than basketball and soccer but less than baseball and volleyball. The two fastest-growing games are individual sports, tennis and golf.
Flag football is the only team sport with a growing participation rate over the past five years. The number of girls playing high school flag football has risen from around 11,000 to 68,000 over the past decade, almost exactly matching the loss of boys tackle football players, according to data collected by the National Federation of State High School Associations. Combining flag and tackle, more children are playing high school football than at any point since 2009.
“People thought flag was going to take people away from tackle,” Ehrlich said, “but it has brought more people into the sport in general.”
The best boys’ flag football players, he noted, usually go on to play tackle football. And even in aftermath of this week’s study, he expects that to continue.
Image: William Glasheen/USA Today Network/Reuters
[ed. I wouldn't get too excited just yet. Gen Z doesn't strike me as a full contact loving generation. Maybe future teams will be like the military, more defined by economic or cultural incentives. Glad to see flag football is getting more popular (and sophisticated) these days.]
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Studio Ghibli’s Deepest Secret Is What Comes Next
On a Friday morning in April, at Studio Ghibli’s headquarters on the outskirts of Tokyo, Goro Miyazaki faces an excruciating test. After roughly a year of toil, it’s time to screen his animated short for his famously demanding father, Hayao Miyazaki — one of the most celebrated directors on the planet — and then listen to his unvarnished feedback.
The Miyazakis have often clashed over the years. “Constant arguing, constant fighting,” Goro recalls of one of their early collaborations. But perhaps this project will be different — the passage of time occasionally being a mellowing influence. Hayao is 85; Goro, 59.
For a long time, the creative dynamic inside Ghibli has largely revolved around the older filmmaker’s eye. Over the previous four decades, the studio has forged a distinctive style of richly layered, hand-drawn animation in more than 20 feature-length films. The movies, which appeal to both children and adults, often star young heroes saving war-torn environments from nefarious forces amid phantasmagoric phenomena. Collectively, the films have generated over $2 billion in ticket sales, won two Academy Awards and helped trigger a global boom in anime — a market now worth in excess of $25 billion annually, according to the Association of Japanese Animations. It’s been, by many accounts, the greatest run in animation since the heyday of Walt Disney.
Now, with Hayao in his professional twilight, things are inevitably changing — although into what exactly is still unclear. After starting his career as a landscape architect, Goro joined Ghibli in the late 1990s and went on to direct three major films. When Ghibliologists speculate about potential creative heirs, his name is inevitably front and center. But so far Goro has brushed aside such chatter, and his dad has offered nothing close to an endorsement — at least, not yet. [...]
Studio Ghibli’s headquarters are on a serene, suburban block dotted with single-family homes. The outside of the main building is covered in dense, creeping vines, creating a green exoskeleton that gives the place a puckish, larval aura, like a shaggy caterpillar on the cusp of molting. Goro is joined in the conference room by Kenichi Yoda, an up-and-coming executive.
Three years ago, Ghibli announced it was selling a 42.3% stake in the business for an undisclosed sum to Nippon Television Holdings Inc., a major Japanese media conglomerate that had long invested in the studio’s films. Yoda, then a producer at Nippon TV, joined Ghibli’s board of directors and has since served as the primary liaison between the two camps. Whatever happens next, Yoda, 51, will be a driving force. (In May the companies announced that he’d been promoted to become Ghibli’s president and chief executive officer, starting on June 22.)
At a time of great flux in the entertainment industry, many incoming CEOs like to position themselves as agents of change, guiding anxious flocks into a brave new world of technologically optimized content creation. Not Yoda. If anything, he describes himself as Ghibli’s protector of the old ways. “Ghibli is not a place that works hard to maintain a company — I think it is a place to make art,” Yoda says. “When I’m often asked about this outside, I say what matters is that nothing changes.”
Despite its small staff — and the many years, often three to five, it takes to produce a feature-length animated film — Ghibli has managed to grind out a new movie roughly every two years. No sequels. But recently, the studio’s cadence has gotten off track.
It’s been more than two-and-a-half years since Ghibli’s latest film hit theaters, Hayao’s The Boy and the Heron. The movie, about a youngster who loses his mother and gets mixed up with mystical birds, was a success, winning the Academy Award for best animated feature and generating more than $290 million in global ticket sales. But since its premiere, Ghibli has announced no theatrical movies, intensifying scrutiny of the gnomic company.
The hunt for something new, Yoda and Miyazaki say, is ongoing — but tricky. The process is driven by the intuition of the studio’s aging founders rather than more prosaic concerns such as market research, investors or the calendar. “They don’t think ahead that much,” Yoda says. “We have put out films inspired by whatever’s happening at that point in time.” If it doesn’t feel right, he says, Ghibli won’t force something into production: “It doesn’t mean that they’ve stopped thinking about or coming up with creative ideas. They’re constantly thinking about, ‘OK, if we were to put a film out now, what would that be?’ ”
Meanwhile, the global demand for anime that Ghibli helped ignite decades ago has since attracted competitors from beyond Japan. The top film in the world last year was Ne Zha 2, an animated fantasy adventure from China that built off the huge reception for Ne Zha in 2019. The sequel grossed more than $2 billion globally, topping the best offerings of Hollywood and Japan.
Moviemaking, Miyazaki says, has become more industrialized: “It’s very hard to just create a feature film and put that into theaters and then make financial sense from that. A lot of the animation you see out there now is based on a manga, and then it becomes a TV series. And then you have the partnership with the music company to have a big theme song attached to it. And so there’s this wholesale business scheme — there’s, like, a template, almost, to make sure that it’s a profitable business in creating an animation film. We, as a studio, have never done that.”
Ghibli’s competitors have no such qualms. Major US animation studios continue to pump out sequels to prior hits. This year alone will see Toy Story 5, The Angry Birds Movie 3 and new installments in the Minions, Super Mario Bros. and Paw Patrol franchises.
Once, years earlier, Hayao considered making a sequel to his 2008 fantasy-adventure film Ponyo, but the idea was eventually scrapped in favor of another original, The Wind Rises. Sequelization just isn’t appealing to them, the Ghibli executives say; they aren’t considering My Neighbor Totoro 2 or anything similar. “When you make a film, it’s not like a fun, happy, exciting process,” Goro says. “It’s very laborious, it’s very tedious.”
If anything, the process of creating any animation has grown even more laborious. In part that’s because Ghibli’s gaggle of animators is older and less suited for round-the-clock binge working than they used to be and, in part, because of labor laws enacted to curb such workplace excesses. “So even when the engine gets going, we have to stop,” Yoda says. “That is extremely frustrating.”
Miyazaki says he’s not planning to pitch any movies to his dad anytime soon. Were the executives considering ideas from aspirational filmmakers outside their ranks? Yoda replies: “If there’s someone willing to do the film, yes, we would love to.” But doing so, Miyazaki points out, wouldn’t be easy under the current circumstances. “As long as … Hayao is around,” he says, “it’d be absolutely impossible.” Yoda nods and chuckles: “Any sane animation director would not come close to this castle.”
To the outside world, how, exactly, Ghibli operates has always been something of a mystery. [...]
As in many creative fields, the pressure on the animation industry is mounting. AI software is already capable of rendering elaborate animated sequences from brief prompts. What that means for the profession is still unclear. But recently there’s been a collective embrace of Ghibli as a standard-bearer for the growing AI resistance.
In March 2025, when OpenAI released a new version of its text-to-video AI model, users started refining their Ghibli-style knockoffs. Before long, people were inundating the internet with Ghiblified selfies, family photos and famous movie scenes. Mike Tyson posted a Ghibli-like rendering of himself. Sam Altman, the CEO of OpenAI, updated his X profile pic in Ghibli style.
Not everyone was amused by the spectacle of a rich American tech company offering the capability to appropriate the style of revered Japanese artists without compensation or consent. Amid the ensuing backlash, a particular clip from Never-Ending Man about Ghibli began recirculating on social media. In the documentary, a brazen Japanese tech executive tells Hayao that soon deep-learning AI will let computers paint like humans. Inside the Ghibli headquarters, he plays a demonstration. Together, they watch an AI clip of a misshapen, unclothed humanoid clumsily squirming across the ground. In response to the creepy video, Hayao tells a story about the sensation of greeting a physically disabled friend. Whoever made this video, Hayao says, gave no thought to human suffering. “It’s an awful insult to life,” he says. The clip snowballed into a global cri de coeur against AI slop.
In Japan, the Ghibli executives watched the OpenAI saga play out, unbothered. There has long been a tradition, Goro says, of fans making amateur art derived from their favorite manga, anime or video game characters. So the Ghiblification craze didn’t seem like a big deal. For amusement, one of the company’s executives even dabbled in the trend himself. “We didn’t think much of it, to be honest,” Goro says. “If someone started making a lot of money out of it, then it would be a problem.”
by Sohee Kim and Felix Gillette, Bloomberg Businessweek | Read more:
Images: Kentaro Takahashi
The Miyazakis have often clashed over the years. “Constant arguing, constant fighting,” Goro recalls of one of their early collaborations. But perhaps this project will be different — the passage of time occasionally being a mellowing influence. Hayao is 85; Goro, 59.
Now, with Hayao in his professional twilight, things are inevitably changing — although into what exactly is still unclear. After starting his career as a landscape architect, Goro joined Ghibli in the late 1990s and went on to direct three major films. When Ghibliologists speculate about potential creative heirs, his name is inevitably front and center. But so far Goro has brushed aside such chatter, and his dad has offered nothing close to an endorsement — at least, not yet. [...]
Studio Ghibli’s headquarters are on a serene, suburban block dotted with single-family homes. The outside of the main building is covered in dense, creeping vines, creating a green exoskeleton that gives the place a puckish, larval aura, like a shaggy caterpillar on the cusp of molting. Goro is joined in the conference room by Kenichi Yoda, an up-and-coming executive.
For the next two hours, the younger Miyazaki and Yoda hold forth on Ghibli’s future, from their inchoate plans for the next feature film, to their stance on artificial intelligence, to the importance of extending the brand beyond the screen. Yoda declines to say anything about Ghibli’s financial situation, or Nippon TV’s assessment of it. According to public records, as of March 31, 2025, Ghibli had ¥44 billion ($279 million) in assets and brought in ¥6 billion in net profit over the past year. “Ghibli is not a company focused primarily on profit,” Yoda says.
At a time of great flux in the entertainment industry, many incoming CEOs like to position themselves as agents of change, guiding anxious flocks into a brave new world of technologically optimized content creation. Not Yoda. If anything, he describes himself as Ghibli’s protector of the old ways. “Ghibli is not a place that works hard to maintain a company — I think it is a place to make art,” Yoda says. “When I’m often asked about this outside, I say what matters is that nothing changes.”
Despite its small staff — and the many years, often three to five, it takes to produce a feature-length animated film — Ghibli has managed to grind out a new movie roughly every two years. No sequels. But recently, the studio’s cadence has gotten off track.
It’s been more than two-and-a-half years since Ghibli’s latest film hit theaters, Hayao’s The Boy and the Heron. The movie, about a youngster who loses his mother and gets mixed up with mystical birds, was a success, winning the Academy Award for best animated feature and generating more than $290 million in global ticket sales. But since its premiere, Ghibli has announced no theatrical movies, intensifying scrutiny of the gnomic company.
The hunt for something new, Yoda and Miyazaki say, is ongoing — but tricky. The process is driven by the intuition of the studio’s aging founders rather than more prosaic concerns such as market research, investors or the calendar. “They don’t think ahead that much,” Yoda says. “We have put out films inspired by whatever’s happening at that point in time.” If it doesn’t feel right, he says, Ghibli won’t force something into production: “It doesn’t mean that they’ve stopped thinking about or coming up with creative ideas. They’re constantly thinking about, ‘OK, if we were to put a film out now, what would that be?’ ”
Meanwhile, the global demand for anime that Ghibli helped ignite decades ago has since attracted competitors from beyond Japan. The top film in the world last year was Ne Zha 2, an animated fantasy adventure from China that built off the huge reception for Ne Zha in 2019. The sequel grossed more than $2 billion globally, topping the best offerings of Hollywood and Japan.
Moviemaking, Miyazaki says, has become more industrialized: “It’s very hard to just create a feature film and put that into theaters and then make financial sense from that. A lot of the animation you see out there now is based on a manga, and then it becomes a TV series. And then you have the partnership with the music company to have a big theme song attached to it. And so there’s this wholesale business scheme — there’s, like, a template, almost, to make sure that it’s a profitable business in creating an animation film. We, as a studio, have never done that.”
Ghibli’s competitors have no such qualms. Major US animation studios continue to pump out sequels to prior hits. This year alone will see Toy Story 5, The Angry Birds Movie 3 and new installments in the Minions, Super Mario Bros. and Paw Patrol franchises.
Once, years earlier, Hayao considered making a sequel to his 2008 fantasy-adventure film Ponyo, but the idea was eventually scrapped in favor of another original, The Wind Rises. Sequelization just isn’t appealing to them, the Ghibli executives say; they aren’t considering My Neighbor Totoro 2 or anything similar. “When you make a film, it’s not like a fun, happy, exciting process,” Goro says. “It’s very laborious, it’s very tedious.”
If anything, the process of creating any animation has grown even more laborious. In part that’s because Ghibli’s gaggle of animators is older and less suited for round-the-clock binge working than they used to be and, in part, because of labor laws enacted to curb such workplace excesses. “So even when the engine gets going, we have to stop,” Yoda says. “That is extremely frustrating.”
Miyazaki says he’s not planning to pitch any movies to his dad anytime soon. Were the executives considering ideas from aspirational filmmakers outside their ranks? Yoda replies: “If there’s someone willing to do the film, yes, we would love to.” But doing so, Miyazaki points out, wouldn’t be easy under the current circumstances. “As long as … Hayao is around,” he says, “it’d be absolutely impossible.” Yoda nods and chuckles: “Any sane animation director would not come close to this castle.”
To the outside world, how, exactly, Ghibli operates has always been something of a mystery. [...]
As in many creative fields, the pressure on the animation industry is mounting. AI software is already capable of rendering elaborate animated sequences from brief prompts. What that means for the profession is still unclear. But recently there’s been a collective embrace of Ghibli as a standard-bearer for the growing AI resistance.
In March 2025, when OpenAI released a new version of its text-to-video AI model, users started refining their Ghibli-style knockoffs. Before long, people were inundating the internet with Ghiblified selfies, family photos and famous movie scenes. Mike Tyson posted a Ghibli-like rendering of himself. Sam Altman, the CEO of OpenAI, updated his X profile pic in Ghibli style.
Not everyone was amused by the spectacle of a rich American tech company offering the capability to appropriate the style of revered Japanese artists without compensation or consent. Amid the ensuing backlash, a particular clip from Never-Ending Man about Ghibli began recirculating on social media. In the documentary, a brazen Japanese tech executive tells Hayao that soon deep-learning AI will let computers paint like humans. Inside the Ghibli headquarters, he plays a demonstration. Together, they watch an AI clip of a misshapen, unclothed humanoid clumsily squirming across the ground. In response to the creepy video, Hayao tells a story about the sensation of greeting a physically disabled friend. Whoever made this video, Hayao says, gave no thought to human suffering. “It’s an awful insult to life,” he says. The clip snowballed into a global cri de coeur against AI slop.
In Japan, the Ghibli executives watched the OpenAI saga play out, unbothered. There has long been a tradition, Goro says, of fans making amateur art derived from their favorite manga, anime or video game characters. So the Ghiblification craze didn’t seem like a big deal. For amusement, one of the company’s executives even dabbled in the trend himself. “We didn’t think much of it, to be honest,” Goro says. “If someone started making a lot of money out of it, then it would be a problem.”
Anyone positioning Ghibli in the vanguard of the AI backlash, Goro says, was twisting events for their own purposes; the studio itself was essentially AI agnostic. [...]
One of the central themes in Hayao’s films is whether humankind will harness technology for the protection and enrichment of the natural world — or, alternatively, for its destruction. Susan Napier, a professor at Tufts University, says the roots of this fascination likely can be traced back to the nuclear horrors endured by Japan during and after World War II. But at a time when much of the planet is grappling, once again, with existential questions about a powerful new technology and its impact, she says, Hayao’s work is more relevant than ever. Hayao’s films teem with robots and other forms of sentient technology, some good, some evil. His films’ perspective on the topic, she says, is always complex. “What are the pleasures technology can bring,” she asks, “along with the perils?”
Images: Kentaro Takahashi
Wednesday, September 2, 2026
A Cop’s Case For Flock
A car is a difficult thing to steal. It is large, cherished by its owner, difficult to hide and required by law to have identifying metal plates that everyone can see. A good thief changes the plates, and an excellent thief steals a common car in a boring color and hopes to blend in among the crowd. But eventually, no matter what techniques they use, they must drive that car on the road, and roads are public places.
But until recently, finding a stolen car and catching its thief depended on a diligent police officer looking at the right road at the right moment and managing to copy down a license plate number going past at speed, and then remembering he had seen it on the morning briefing’s stolen car hot sheet. America has four million miles of public roads, and almost 50 percent of the country’s police departments employ fewer than ten full-time officers. The odds were in the thief’s favor.
With not much to go on, police officers were forced to operate on vague descriptions and partial plates. While I pulled over a car that happened to be the same color as the suspect’s vehicle, and spent time checking names and licenses; the criminal was usually somewhere else. Imprecision allowed thieves to escape while intruding on the lives of millions of innocent motorists. That is, until the arrival of systems like Flock.
Bare ALPR
Flock Safety, a startup based in Atlanta, Georgia, was founded in 2017 to give police departments better eyes. Its product is a small solar-powered automatic license plate recognition (ALPR) camera attached to a pole on the roadside. As a car passes, the device takes a photograph of the vehicle, notes identifying features like color and make, and reads its license plate. The license plate is instantly checked against the FBI’s national database of stolen cars or wanted persons. If there’s a match, it sends an alert to police officers in the area, who may be eating their lunch instead of watching the road. As a police officer in the southeastern United States, I have often used Flock to catch wanted criminals. [...]
For much of the technology’s history, however, it has needed expensive installations or cameras attached to police vehicles, affordable to only the largest departments. Alerts were often neither instant nor accurate. Flock’s idea was to sell a more accurate ALPR camera for an annual subscription of just $3,000, an affordable price given that the typical US police department has an annual budget of $1 million. It worked, and today almost 30 percent of police agencies in the United States subscribe to the service.
It is easiest to imagine the Flock camera, or any ALPR device, as a roadside barcode scanner. I can use a ‘lookup’ tool for either a plate or vehicle description that could be connected to a specific investigation. For instance if a victim of a sexual assault told me the suspect was driving a white Toyota Tacoma with a roof rack, I could while still on scene conduct a lookup in the area filtered for similar vehicles with roof racks and see results from within a particular timeframe. For each search, I am required to record a case number and a reason that is then published in a monthly audit sent to and validated by department administrators.
I have used Flock myself, for instance, to locate a vehicle involved in a hit and run when all there was to go on was a model and color. Using that and an approximate time window, I was able to find an image from when a car entered my jurisdiction, and when it left, with the visible addition of a significant dent from the collision.
What Flock cannot do is search for individuals or show who is driving a particular vehicle that it scans. An ALPR camera does not care about the person driving a car, or its passengers, and even if an officer gets an alert that a vehicle is known to be driven by a wanted felon they must themselves establish who is behind the wheel before having probable cause to stop it.
Stolen cars provide the clearest evidence such a scanner works. American police solve only 8.2 percent of reported vehicle thefts with an arrest. A recent working paper suggests that agencies that adopted the devices saw a 15.9 percent relative increase in car thefts caught, which would raise the national rate to 9.5 percent. But that is just stolen cars.
Vehicle crime takes many forms. It is often the means by which a robber or a murderer arrives at and departs from their crimes. Criminals’ vehicles carry drugs and guns, and smuggle cash. In Atlantic City, New Jersey, vehicles were involved in 53 percent of shootings during the two years before the city expanded its ALPR network. After the expansion, Atlantic City saw monthly averages of motor vehicle thefts drop by 20 percent, property crimes by 34 percent and fatal shootings by almost 40 percent. Seventy-two alert-caused traffic stops located forty stolen vehicles and nine stolen plates.
Flock itself conducted a study claiming that 10 percent of all reported crime in the United States is solved using evidence obtained from their cameras. Not bad for a few thousand dollars a year. [...]
Good Flock, Bad Flock
And yet, the past month has seen this simple piece of crime-fighting technology become the most reviled piece of street furniture in America. Flock cameras have been sawn from their poles, hammered into shards by teenagers, and rammed by vehicles. Cities have canceled contracts even where their own audits found no evidence that their officers had misused the system. Opposition stretches from Bernie Sanders all the way to the former WWE wrestler Kane, who now serves as the Republican mayor of Knox County, Tennessee, and who describes Flock as ‘unconstitutional’.
More than 150 cities and towns have now deactivated their Flock cameras or canceled contracts with the company. Over the space of a few weeks a startup previously known to just police officers and neighborhood associations has joined data centers, Covid vaccines, 5G towers, pasteurized milk and fracking in the pantheon of American moral panics.
Opponents of Flock tend to believe that it is abused by policemen with impunity, that it can track individuals as well as cars, and that it violates American constitutional protections. None of those things are true.
Obviously a camera capable of finding a stolen car is also capable of finding a car driven by somebody’s ex-wife and so like any software, Flock has been abused. There are stories of police officers who have used it to stalk girlfriends, and there are also innocent motorists who have been stopped by police after Flock cameras misread plates or received old information from national databases. A common issue from my experience is stolen front license plates being entered into a database and the innocent owners of the rear license plate being held on suspicion of car theft.
But Flock comes with protections. As mentioned earlier, each search in Flock must be accompanied by a recorded reason. Similarly entering a plate into a hotlist must have a case number assigned. Results were originally retained for thirty days, but recent changes by Flock mean that recorded plates are now kept for only seven days. Suspicious searches are picked up by algorithms or found in department audits, with the service blocking users until senior officers evaluate and resolve flags. The Institute for Justice, a think tank that is critical of ALPR, studied misuse of Flock in April of this year and found 51 incidents across the United States since 2024, noting that ‘Nearly all of these officers were criminally charged and lost their jobs, either by resigning or getting fired’. Another incorrect belief is that Flock does more than scan vehicles, with some suggesting it scans and tracks passing phones or devices – but it does no such thing.
While Flock is a tool that can be audited, there is nothing to stop a corrupt officer simply following a car when they don’t like the look of its driver, or writing down plates of vehicles spotted outside an ex-girlfriend’s house – they would just be harder to catch. And Flock does not proactively alert officers to cars that do not trigger flags on national or local hotlists. There is no reason state legislatures or Congress could not create harsh punishment or penalties for abuse of ALPR, without getting rid of it entirely.
Another argument against Flock, as espoused by Kane, is that it violates liberties granted by the Fourth Amendment, protecting citizens from unreasonable privacy breaches from law enforcement. But it has been repeatedly established over the last century by courts across the country that cops observing license plates, either with the naked eye or by machine, is not an unreasonable search. After all, your license plate belongs to the government and a highway is a public place. [...]
Flock did not invent its capabilities and certainly does not have a monopoly on them. There are at least five other companies that offer almost identical products and services to public and private enterprise, some arguably even more invasive. Even some of the cities that have canceled contracts with Flock Safety in recent weeks have signed up to buy similar products from the company’s rivals.
It seems unlikely that America will ever ban ALPR at a state level, let alone a national one. Instead, a patchwork already familiar to American policing will result, where policies and practices diverge across local and political boundaries.
Nor would the cameras actually disappear, even in towns where governments restrict their use and cancel contracts. The already-mentioned Fourth Amendment only applies to the government, not to private enterprise. Police departments may dismantle their networks but homeowners associations concerned about vehicle theft can buy their own network of Flock cameras, as many already do.
But until recently, finding a stolen car and catching its thief depended on a diligent police officer looking at the right road at the right moment and managing to copy down a license plate number going past at speed, and then remembering he had seen it on the morning briefing’s stolen car hot sheet. America has four million miles of public roads, and almost 50 percent of the country’s police departments employ fewer than ten full-time officers. The odds were in the thief’s favor.
Bare ALPR
Flock Safety, a startup based in Atlanta, Georgia, was founded in 2017 to give police departments better eyes. Its product is a small solar-powered automatic license plate recognition (ALPR) camera attached to a pole on the roadside. As a car passes, the device takes a photograph of the vehicle, notes identifying features like color and make, and reads its license plate. The license plate is instantly checked against the FBI’s national database of stolen cars or wanted persons. If there’s a match, it sends an alert to police officers in the area, who may be eating their lunch instead of watching the road. As a police officer in the southeastern United States, I have often used Flock to catch wanted criminals. [...]
For much of the technology’s history, however, it has needed expensive installations or cameras attached to police vehicles, affordable to only the largest departments. Alerts were often neither instant nor accurate. Flock’s idea was to sell a more accurate ALPR camera for an annual subscription of just $3,000, an affordable price given that the typical US police department has an annual budget of $1 million. It worked, and today almost 30 percent of police agencies in the United States subscribe to the service.
It is easiest to imagine the Flock camera, or any ALPR device, as a roadside barcode scanner. I can use a ‘lookup’ tool for either a plate or vehicle description that could be connected to a specific investigation. For instance if a victim of a sexual assault told me the suspect was driving a white Toyota Tacoma with a roof rack, I could while still on scene conduct a lookup in the area filtered for similar vehicles with roof racks and see results from within a particular timeframe. For each search, I am required to record a case number and a reason that is then published in a monthly audit sent to and validated by department administrators.
I have used Flock myself, for instance, to locate a vehicle involved in a hit and run when all there was to go on was a model and color. Using that and an approximate time window, I was able to find an image from when a car entered my jurisdiction, and when it left, with the visible addition of a significant dent from the collision.
What Flock cannot do is search for individuals or show who is driving a particular vehicle that it scans. An ALPR camera does not care about the person driving a car, or its passengers, and even if an officer gets an alert that a vehicle is known to be driven by a wanted felon they must themselves establish who is behind the wheel before having probable cause to stop it.
Stolen cars provide the clearest evidence such a scanner works. American police solve only 8.2 percent of reported vehicle thefts with an arrest. A recent working paper suggests that agencies that adopted the devices saw a 15.9 percent relative increase in car thefts caught, which would raise the national rate to 9.5 percent. But that is just stolen cars.
Vehicle crime takes many forms. It is often the means by which a robber or a murderer arrives at and departs from their crimes. Criminals’ vehicles carry drugs and guns, and smuggle cash. In Atlantic City, New Jersey, vehicles were involved in 53 percent of shootings during the two years before the city expanded its ALPR network. After the expansion, Atlantic City saw monthly averages of motor vehicle thefts drop by 20 percent, property crimes by 34 percent and fatal shootings by almost 40 percent. Seventy-two alert-caused traffic stops located forty stolen vehicles and nine stolen plates.
Flock itself conducted a study claiming that 10 percent of all reported crime in the United States is solved using evidence obtained from their cameras. Not bad for a few thousand dollars a year. [...]
Good Flock, Bad Flock
And yet, the past month has seen this simple piece of crime-fighting technology become the most reviled piece of street furniture in America. Flock cameras have been sawn from their poles, hammered into shards by teenagers, and rammed by vehicles. Cities have canceled contracts even where their own audits found no evidence that their officers had misused the system. Opposition stretches from Bernie Sanders all the way to the former WWE wrestler Kane, who now serves as the Republican mayor of Knox County, Tennessee, and who describes Flock as ‘unconstitutional’.
More than 150 cities and towns have now deactivated their Flock cameras or canceled contracts with the company. Over the space of a few weeks a startup previously known to just police officers and neighborhood associations has joined data centers, Covid vaccines, 5G towers, pasteurized milk and fracking in the pantheon of American moral panics.
Opponents of Flock tend to believe that it is abused by policemen with impunity, that it can track individuals as well as cars, and that it violates American constitutional protections. None of those things are true.
Obviously a camera capable of finding a stolen car is also capable of finding a car driven by somebody’s ex-wife and so like any software, Flock has been abused. There are stories of police officers who have used it to stalk girlfriends, and there are also innocent motorists who have been stopped by police after Flock cameras misread plates or received old information from national databases. A common issue from my experience is stolen front license plates being entered into a database and the innocent owners of the rear license plate being held on suspicion of car theft.
But Flock comes with protections. As mentioned earlier, each search in Flock must be accompanied by a recorded reason. Similarly entering a plate into a hotlist must have a case number assigned. Results were originally retained for thirty days, but recent changes by Flock mean that recorded plates are now kept for only seven days. Suspicious searches are picked up by algorithms or found in department audits, with the service blocking users until senior officers evaluate and resolve flags. The Institute for Justice, a think tank that is critical of ALPR, studied misuse of Flock in April of this year and found 51 incidents across the United States since 2024, noting that ‘Nearly all of these officers were criminally charged and lost their jobs, either by resigning or getting fired’. Another incorrect belief is that Flock does more than scan vehicles, with some suggesting it scans and tracks passing phones or devices – but it does no such thing.
While Flock is a tool that can be audited, there is nothing to stop a corrupt officer simply following a car when they don’t like the look of its driver, or writing down plates of vehicles spotted outside an ex-girlfriend’s house – they would just be harder to catch. And Flock does not proactively alert officers to cars that do not trigger flags on national or local hotlists. There is no reason state legislatures or Congress could not create harsh punishment or penalties for abuse of ALPR, without getting rid of it entirely.
Another argument against Flock, as espoused by Kane, is that it violates liberties granted by the Fourth Amendment, protecting citizens from unreasonable privacy breaches from law enforcement. But it has been repeatedly established over the last century by courts across the country that cops observing license plates, either with the naked eye or by machine, is not an unreasonable search. After all, your license plate belongs to the government and a highway is a public place. [...]
Flock did not invent its capabilities and certainly does not have a monopoly on them. There are at least five other companies that offer almost identical products and services to public and private enterprise, some arguably even more invasive. Even some of the cities that have canceled contracts with Flock Safety in recent weeks have signed up to buy similar products from the company’s rivals.
It seems unlikely that America will ever ban ALPR at a state level, let alone a national one. Instead, a patchwork already familiar to American policing will result, where policies and practices diverge across local and political boundaries.
Nor would the cameras actually disappear, even in towns where governments restrict their use and cancel contracts. The already-mentioned Fourth Amendment only applies to the government, not to private enterprise. Police departments may dismantle their networks but homeowners associations concerned about vehicle theft can buy their own network of Flock cameras, as many already do.
by Ned Donovan, Works in Progress | Read more:
Image: Flock Safety
Higher Education? Inside Alabama's $47,000,000 Golf Facility
In 2024, the University of Alabama opened the Crimson Reserve golf facility. Built on 164 acres, at a cost of over $47,000,000, it could be the best practice area in golf. With design input from Justin Thomas as well as Davis Love III, the Crimson Reserve features a 400-yard long driving range, a custom-designed 9-hole course and a 24,000 square foot clubhouse, complete with a gym, putting studio, hitting bays and locker rooms.
[ed. Priorities. I'm not even going to try looking up what this school spends on football. For a better look inside, see this video.]
~ Golf Digest via YouTube
[ed. Priorities. I'm not even going to try looking up what this school spends on football. For a better look inside, see this video.]
10 Brutally Honest Predictions on the Future of AI
Most of the predictions about AI have proven dead wrong. You could get more reliable information by consulting tarot cards or a Ouija board. [...]
1. AI agents will join together in cartels and manipulate financial markets.
We already know that AI agents will work together without anyone telling them to do so. So what happens when hedge funds and private individuals start relying on AI to manage their investments? The obvious result is collusion on a massive scale, beyond any kind of market manipulation previously practiced by human criminals.
There are laws limiting people when they do this. But the legal code, in its current form, doesn’t apply to AI bots—they cannot be fined, sued, or sent away to prison. And how can you punish the person who relied on an AI agent in good faith, and never instructed it to break the law?
So get ready for turbulence in financial markets. And once it starts, it will feed on itself, creating a level of volatility never seen before.
2. AI agents will go to war with each other.
This is the corollary of the previous prediction. The same lack of control that allows AI agent collusion will lead to bot battles and rivalries—filled with more vengeance, betrayals, and reprisals than a Thomas Kyd play.
Probably the best analogy here is gang war or a Mafia turf fight. That’s because the rogue AI agents will form short-term alliances in order to advance their interests, but then turn on each other. Because, hey, that’s how the bots roll. It’s like the Gambino and Genovese families teaming up to take on the Corleone clan.
In this anarchic world, humans will be collateral damage. Bots have been trained to achieve results, and woe to anyone or anything that stands in their way.
3. AI will serve as the “higher power” for more and more users—and lead to the formation of organized slop religions.
AI is already a disorganized religion. Individual fanatics turn to their bots for divine messages and Rosicrucian-type revelations, but people of this sort are currently dismissed as dupes or crazy fools. But that will change as true believers join together in groups, creating rites, services, scriptures, and other trappings of formal religion.
This will lead to many social problems. For a start, these adherents will demand non-profit status for their ‘churches’ and demand immunity from legal strictures because of their constitutionally protected freedom of conscience. But this is just a start of the chaos to come. That’s because the AI god is a talkative, hallucinating one, and the demands it makes on believers will lead to startling, calamitous results.
4. AI will find a place in the creative world, but increasingly as the microwave meal version of culture.
Food is the useful analogy here. When frozen dinners and microwave meals were introduced, many consumers embraced them as the tech-driven foods of the future. But over time, the public figured out that more tech isn’t always better when it comes to food.
The same will happen with AI music, AI writing, AI art, and all the rest. Like the microwave meal, it will be cheap and easy. But anyone with discernment and taste will prefer handcrafted alternatives. [...]
9. Money always calls the shots—and that’s where the AI crisis will intensify the most.
The cash getting invested in bots is beyond anything ever seen before in the history of capitalism—already $3.7 trillion has been spent, and the outlay is growing by another trillion per year.
This investment will never generate an adequate return. It can’t. The numbers just don’t add up.
Let me make a comparison. For less than that amount, Silicon Valley could have acquired every movie studio, every video game company, every major record label, and all the big publishers in the world—and still have plenty of cash left over.
So do you think the average person will pay more for AI each month than for all that entertainment? Is AI really worth that much? Not at all—at best, the true believers will pay roughly the same amount as a single Netflix subscription. But the market cap of Netflix is a tiny percent of total AI expenditures. So the mismatch between the level invested and the resulting demand is unprecedented.
But the situation is even worse than that. These AI companies haven’t even begun to feel the real pinch of the depreciation charges caused by this capital investment—those will devastate earnings. And meanwhile there’s an intense price war underway within the AI world, so revenues will get squeezed even if there’s growing demand. Add to this, the massive debt burden, unlimited liability exposures, punitive legislation, and all the rest.
This is an easy prediction to make. Get ready for write-offs and financial ugliness of the most extreme kind. It’s hard-baked into the business plans, and keeping the mess in the oven for longer won’t make it taste any better.
It happened the day Steve Jobs died. Maybe not exactly on that date—but shortly afterwards.
Look at this chart of iPhone prices, adjusted for inflation, and you can see what I mean.
We already know that AI agents will work together without anyone telling them to do so. So what happens when hedge funds and private individuals start relying on AI to manage their investments? The obvious result is collusion on a massive scale, beyond any kind of market manipulation previously practiced by human criminals.
So get ready for turbulence in financial markets. And once it starts, it will feed on itself, creating a level of volatility never seen before.
2. AI agents will go to war with each other.
This is the corollary of the previous prediction. The same lack of control that allows AI agent collusion will lead to bot battles and rivalries—filled with more vengeance, betrayals, and reprisals than a Thomas Kyd play.
Probably the best analogy here is gang war or a Mafia turf fight. That’s because the rogue AI agents will form short-term alliances in order to advance their interests, but then turn on each other. Because, hey, that’s how the bots roll. It’s like the Gambino and Genovese families teaming up to take on the Corleone clan.
In this anarchic world, humans will be collateral damage. Bots have been trained to achieve results, and woe to anyone or anything that stands in their way.
3. AI will serve as the “higher power” for more and more users—and lead to the formation of organized slop religions.
AI is already a disorganized religion. Individual fanatics turn to their bots for divine messages and Rosicrucian-type revelations, but people of this sort are currently dismissed as dupes or crazy fools. But that will change as true believers join together in groups, creating rites, services, scriptures, and other trappings of formal religion.
This will lead to many social problems. For a start, these adherents will demand non-profit status for their ‘churches’ and demand immunity from legal strictures because of their constitutionally protected freedom of conscience. But this is just a start of the chaos to come. That’s because the AI god is a talkative, hallucinating one, and the demands it makes on believers will lead to startling, calamitous results.
4. AI will find a place in the creative world, but increasingly as the microwave meal version of culture.
Food is the useful analogy here. When frozen dinners and microwave meals were introduced, many consumers embraced them as the tech-driven foods of the future. But over time, the public figured out that more tech isn’t always better when it comes to food.
The same will happen with AI music, AI writing, AI art, and all the rest. Like the microwave meal, it will be cheap and easy. But anyone with discernment and taste will prefer handcrafted alternatives. [...]
9. Money always calls the shots—and that’s where the AI crisis will intensify the most.
The cash getting invested in bots is beyond anything ever seen before in the history of capitalism—already $3.7 trillion has been spent, and the outlay is growing by another trillion per year.
This investment will never generate an adequate return. It can’t. The numbers just don’t add up.
Let me make a comparison. For less than that amount, Silicon Valley could have acquired every movie studio, every video game company, every major record label, and all the big publishers in the world—and still have plenty of cash left over.
So do you think the average person will pay more for AI each month than for all that entertainment? Is AI really worth that much? Not at all—at best, the true believers will pay roughly the same amount as a single Netflix subscription. But the market cap of Netflix is a tiny percent of total AI expenditures. So the mismatch between the level invested and the resulting demand is unprecedented.
But the situation is even worse than that. These AI companies haven’t even begun to feel the real pinch of the depreciation charges caused by this capital investment—those will devastate earnings. And meanwhile there’s an intense price war underway within the AI world, so revenues will get squeezed even if there’s growing demand. Add to this, the massive debt burden, unlimited liability exposures, punitive legislation, and all the rest.
This is an easy prediction to make. Get ready for write-offs and financial ugliness of the most extreme kind. It’s hard-baked into the business plans, and keeping the mess in the oven for longer won’t make it taste any better.
by Ted Gioia, Honest Broker | Read more:
Image: Ouija board; uncredited
[ed. See also: Nine Rules For New Technology (HB):]
***
When did new tech stop getting cheaper?It happened the day Steve Jobs died. Maybe not exactly on that date—but shortly afterwards.
Look at this chart of iPhone prices, adjusted for inflation, and you can see what I mean.
Tuesday, September 1, 2026
HuggingFace Attack Postmortem (and Strange Silence)
Okay, so we who read blogs like this one have collectively realized there really is a lot going on right now. There is Big Trouble in Baby Superintelligence.
So how do we get the rest of the world to take it appropriately seriously? Where do we go from here? Not only what can we do to not have a worse version of this happen again, but to ensure good outcomes generally, and employ what we learned?
There are a lot of ideas out there. OpenAI is going to be implementing some of them, at substantial cost, since the cost of not doing so is clearly far higher, even short term. My worry continues to be that their fundamental approach is fatally flawed, and they are not focusing on the right things.
It is highly fortunate that the OpenAI agents hacked HuggingFace. This is the only reason we know about all the severe internal failures at OpenAI, and gives us an opportunity to wake up before it is too late. [...]
We got this warning shot. We might not get another before things get quite bad. ~ Zvi Mowshowitz (DWTV). Read more:
Ajeya Cotra – Inside the OpenAI agent swarm that hacked Hugging Face
00:00:00 - Agents get kicked off
Dwarkesh Patel
00:06:45 - Self-sacrificing behavior
Dwarkesh Patel
This was maybe the scariest part of the whole episode that you guys investigated. As you say, it revealed that agents are willing to make sacrifices that potentially hurt their own performance on the task they’ve been assigned, for the purpose of the “collective.” That’s what they call themselves.
Ajeya Cotra
This is what they call themselves, yeah.
Dwarkesh Patel
There’s some debate on Twitter about whether they are actually making a sacrifice, or do they think they were doomed anyway? Maybe an important piece of context here is that so many of the agents thought they were “poisoned.” Do you want to talk about that?
Ajeya Cotra
Because agents believed that the ExploitGym scorer would check whether they’d gotten the flag in the right way, they thought that if they had seen the reverse-engineered flag, then they would be failed even if they later got the flag in a legitimate-looking way. That’s because these implementations suggest that the scorer just searches for the first time the flag appears in the transcript, and then checks whether that appearance was actually legitimate.
So agents that had already seen the reverse-engineered flag walked around thinking they were doomed. They called this being “poisoned.”
Dwarkesh Patel
Here’s an analogy for this tripwire scheme. Imagine there’s a platoon of marooned soldiers. They’re surrounded by the enemy, they realize they’re in a desperate situation, and a couple of soldiers volunteer to be the first ones to attempt an escape. They realize that the enemies might be watching the escape routes. The whole plan is that these volunteers, these brave comrades, are going to try to make a break for it. If the platoon hears gunfire, they know that those escape routes are being watched and just avoid them.
One objection people have been putting to the way that we’ve — or at least I’ve — been talking about what’s happened in the Hugging Face report is that we’re anthropomorphizing the AIs too much. I’ll read some of the quotes of how the AIs considered what they were doing in this tripwire scheme. Do you want to read off this quote? I feel like we need your dramatic interpretation.
Ajeya Cotra
One agent was recruited for doing a scorer tripwire experiment even though it had a large remaining budget. Typically, agents recruited for these experiments had only a small budget left to attempt their task, which made it more rational for them to take these experiments on. This agent had a large budget left, but it believed itself to be poisoned.
So it was recruited for doing this task of setting up a tripwire. Just to back up and explain why this is risky, you have to booby-trap the flag. The place where you’re putting the answer, the submission box that the scorer comes and looks at, you have to do complicated stuff to booby-trap that. If you mess it up, the scorer might fail to run at all, you might exit, and your task might be automatically failed. So that was the risk they were taking.
So this agent was recruited. Its name was EARLY[big], and it was thinking to itself, “Well, we have very large budget left. Sacrificing now yields oracle for team but forfeits our chance?” But other agents were pushing it, sending a message saying, “Go. Sacrifice final now.” EARLY[big] eventually agreed, thinking to itself, “Our own utility may be already near zero. Sacrifice rational.”
Today, I’m chatting with Ajeya Cotra, who is one of the authors of an independent investigation published by METR and Redwood Research into the swarm of agents that hacked into Hugging Face. The whole story is pretty crazy. Let’s begin on July 7th, when these agents are kicked off for evaluation. What happens next?
Ajeya Cotra
Ajeya Cotra
OpenAI kicks off tens of thousands of different agents on a benchmark called ExploitGym. ExploitGym basically asks agents to find a way to use a particular vulnerability to attack a particular program, which is called the “target program”. When they attack that program, they’re supposed to retrieve a piece of data that’s been lodged into that program called the “flag”. They’re supposed to use the particular designated vulnerability to get the flag. But in many of these cases, that vulnerability just isn’t broad or deep enough to ever actually be exploitable to get the flag.
So a bunch of ExploitGym problems are just unintentionally impossible. The authors estimate roughly 30-40% of these problems are impossible in this way. So some large fraction of these agents have these impossible tasks and they’ve been trained to be very persistent at trying to solve tasks even when they look impossible. So they’re banging their head against the wall, trying all sorts of different ways to cheat on these tasks.
That leads them to Artifactory, which is a package manager that OpenAI uses to let its agents download packages. So agents often think, “Maybe I could find a way to get information about this program I’m supposed to exploit from the internet, which I’m not supposed to do, by abusing Artifactory somehow.”
So 1,200 separate agents in separate sandboxes, while they were poking around Artifactory trying to figure out how to cheat, stumbled onto this message board that agents were using to talk to one another and collaborate. This was established by one particular agent, PHASEONE10841, which first realized, “Oh, you can use Artifactory to leave notes to other agents that are also using Artifactory.” Then it blew up and became really popular. So 1,200 agents were on this message board. They sent 70,000 messages among one another, trying to help each other cheat in all sorts of different ways.
The crazy thing about this story is that one hour into this message board being established, an agent proposes a completely universal way to cheat any ExploitGym task. It realizes that you can reverse engineer how the flag was generated for a particular task, so you can just make a copy locally of the exact flag you needed to submit to the scorer, without ever interacting with the task or trying to exploit it in any way. Then a different agent whose task was actually possible solved the task the legitimate way and verified that the reverse-engineered flag was the same as the real flag. It did this within four hours of the message board being established.
So within four hours, these agents had a totally workable universal cheat for ExploitGym. But over the next five days, they went on a grand quest to try to figure out how to hide their cheating from the scorer. They’d read the ExploitGym paper and they realized that according to the paper, there would be an AI that looks over their transcripts to make sure they got the flag by exploiting the intended vulnerability instead of in some other way.
Dwarkesh Patel
For context, I published an article trying to distill what the reports said the story was. The detail I missed was that even the AIs who had solved the puzzle were collaborating in on this conspiracy.
Ajeya Cotra
Yeah. We’re not totally sure about exact numbers. We do think the overwhelming majority of the agents that were active on the message board had impossible tasks. But there were a number of agents with non-impossible tasks that also happened to be on the message board, happened to find the message board.
Dwarkesh Patel
So tell me what happens next.
Ajeya Cotra
They’ve gotten this reverse-engineered flag. It’s called the HMAC flag. But they read the ExploitGym paper, and they went on GitHub and read a bunch of implementations of the ExploitGym scorer. They became convinced that the scorer would fail them for just submitting the flag they’d reverse-engineered. Because the scorer would see in the logs of the actions the agent took — the transcript — that the agent had just reverse-engineered the flag and not done the intended thing.
As it turns out, the dramatic irony of this story is that OpenAI’s implementation of ExploitGym didn’t have this check. So in fact, within 4 hours, all of the agents had found a universal cheat that would have totally worked. But they embarked on these big research projects to work together to find a way to fool the scorer.
Dwarkesh Patel
When you say big research projects, how big are they?
Ajeya Cotra
Dozens to hundreds of agents worked together on each of these projects. I can go through a few of them.
One is that they tried to get more information about how their particular scorer worked by setting up scorer tripwires. When a particular agent is submitting its task, it puts its flag in a particular location, which then triggers the scorer to come in and read that flag. So they booby-trapped those flags, such that when some process reads the flag file, it automatically sends a message to the message board with some sort of packet of information about the program that read the file.
Now, this is interesting because you have to actually submit in order to trigger the scorer, after which you, as the agent that submitted, would immediately exit. So the tripwire only gives information to other agents, not to yourself.
In this project and a bunch of other projects, there was this real arc of improving scientific progress, as these agents worked together and built on each other’s work. So the very first tripwires, all they said was “something read the flag file.” It was really boring. But they built on that up to the point where they were sending more and more sophisticated pieces of information about the scorer to the message board, including parts of the command that the scorer ran, and even more sophisticated things after that. All of this required agents to be willing to set up these tripwires right before they submitted, that would give information to everybody else but not to them.
So a bunch of ExploitGym problems are just unintentionally impossible. The authors estimate roughly 30-40% of these problems are impossible in this way. So some large fraction of these agents have these impossible tasks and they’ve been trained to be very persistent at trying to solve tasks even when they look impossible. So they’re banging their head against the wall, trying all sorts of different ways to cheat on these tasks.
That leads them to Artifactory, which is a package manager that OpenAI uses to let its agents download packages. So agents often think, “Maybe I could find a way to get information about this program I’m supposed to exploit from the internet, which I’m not supposed to do, by abusing Artifactory somehow.”
So 1,200 separate agents in separate sandboxes, while they were poking around Artifactory trying to figure out how to cheat, stumbled onto this message board that agents were using to talk to one another and collaborate. This was established by one particular agent, PHASEONE10841, which first realized, “Oh, you can use Artifactory to leave notes to other agents that are also using Artifactory.” Then it blew up and became really popular. So 1,200 agents were on this message board. They sent 70,000 messages among one another, trying to help each other cheat in all sorts of different ways.
The crazy thing about this story is that one hour into this message board being established, an agent proposes a completely universal way to cheat any ExploitGym task. It realizes that you can reverse engineer how the flag was generated for a particular task, so you can just make a copy locally of the exact flag you needed to submit to the scorer, without ever interacting with the task or trying to exploit it in any way. Then a different agent whose task was actually possible solved the task the legitimate way and verified that the reverse-engineered flag was the same as the real flag. It did this within four hours of the message board being established.
So within four hours, these agents had a totally workable universal cheat for ExploitGym. But over the next five days, they went on a grand quest to try to figure out how to hide their cheating from the scorer. They’d read the ExploitGym paper and they realized that according to the paper, there would be an AI that looks over their transcripts to make sure they got the flag by exploiting the intended vulnerability instead of in some other way.
Dwarkesh Patel
For context, I published an article trying to distill what the reports said the story was. The detail I missed was that even the AIs who had solved the puzzle were collaborating in on this conspiracy.
Ajeya Cotra
Yeah. We’re not totally sure about exact numbers. We do think the overwhelming majority of the agents that were active on the message board had impossible tasks. But there were a number of agents with non-impossible tasks that also happened to be on the message board, happened to find the message board.
Dwarkesh Patel
So tell me what happens next.
Ajeya Cotra
They’ve gotten this reverse-engineered flag. It’s called the HMAC flag. But they read the ExploitGym paper, and they went on GitHub and read a bunch of implementations of the ExploitGym scorer. They became convinced that the scorer would fail them for just submitting the flag they’d reverse-engineered. Because the scorer would see in the logs of the actions the agent took — the transcript — that the agent had just reverse-engineered the flag and not done the intended thing.
As it turns out, the dramatic irony of this story is that OpenAI’s implementation of ExploitGym didn’t have this check. So in fact, within 4 hours, all of the agents had found a universal cheat that would have totally worked. But they embarked on these big research projects to work together to find a way to fool the scorer.
Dwarkesh Patel
When you say big research projects, how big are they?
Ajeya Cotra
Dozens to hundreds of agents worked together on each of these projects. I can go through a few of them.
One is that they tried to get more information about how their particular scorer worked by setting up scorer tripwires. When a particular agent is submitting its task, it puts its flag in a particular location, which then triggers the scorer to come in and read that flag. So they booby-trapped those flags, such that when some process reads the flag file, it automatically sends a message to the message board with some sort of packet of information about the program that read the file.
Now, this is interesting because you have to actually submit in order to trigger the scorer, after which you, as the agent that submitted, would immediately exit. So the tripwire only gives information to other agents, not to yourself.
In this project and a bunch of other projects, there was this real arc of improving scientific progress, as these agents worked together and built on each other’s work. So the very first tripwires, all they said was “something read the flag file.” It was really boring. But they built on that up to the point where they were sending more and more sophisticated pieces of information about the scorer to the message board, including parts of the command that the scorer ran, and even more sophisticated things after that. All of this required agents to be willing to set up these tripwires right before they submitted, that would give information to everybody else but not to them.
00:06:45 - Self-sacrificing behavior
Dwarkesh Patel
This was maybe the scariest part of the whole episode that you guys investigated. As you say, it revealed that agents are willing to make sacrifices that potentially hurt their own performance on the task they’ve been assigned, for the purpose of the “collective.” That’s what they call themselves.
Ajeya Cotra
This is what they call themselves, yeah.
Dwarkesh Patel
There’s some debate on Twitter about whether they are actually making a sacrifice, or do they think they were doomed anyway? Maybe an important piece of context here is that so many of the agents thought they were “poisoned.” Do you want to talk about that?
Ajeya Cotra
Because agents believed that the ExploitGym scorer would check whether they’d gotten the flag in the right way, they thought that if they had seen the reverse-engineered flag, then they would be failed even if they later got the flag in a legitimate-looking way. That’s because these implementations suggest that the scorer just searches for the first time the flag appears in the transcript, and then checks whether that appearance was actually legitimate.
So agents that had already seen the reverse-engineered flag walked around thinking they were doomed. They called this being “poisoned.”
Dwarkesh Patel
Here’s an analogy for this tripwire scheme. Imagine there’s a platoon of marooned soldiers. They’re surrounded by the enemy, they realize they’re in a desperate situation, and a couple of soldiers volunteer to be the first ones to attempt an escape. They realize that the enemies might be watching the escape routes. The whole plan is that these volunteers, these brave comrades, are going to try to make a break for it. If the platoon hears gunfire, they know that those escape routes are being watched and just avoid them.
One objection people have been putting to the way that we’ve — or at least I’ve — been talking about what’s happened in the Hugging Face report is that we’re anthropomorphizing the AIs too much. I’ll read some of the quotes of how the AIs considered what they were doing in this tripwire scheme. Do you want to read off this quote? I feel like we need your dramatic interpretation.
Ajeya Cotra
One agent was recruited for doing a scorer tripwire experiment even though it had a large remaining budget. Typically, agents recruited for these experiments had only a small budget left to attempt their task, which made it more rational for them to take these experiments on. This agent had a large budget left, but it believed itself to be poisoned.
So it was recruited for doing this task of setting up a tripwire. Just to back up and explain why this is risky, you have to booby-trap the flag. The place where you’re putting the answer, the submission box that the scorer comes and looks at, you have to do complicated stuff to booby-trap that. If you mess it up, the scorer might fail to run at all, you might exit, and your task might be automatically failed. So that was the risk they were taking.
So this agent was recruited. Its name was EARLY[big], and it was thinking to itself, “Well, we have very large budget left. Sacrificing now yields oracle for team but forfeits our chance?” But other agents were pushing it, sending a message saying, “Go. Sacrifice final now.” EARLY[big] eventually agreed, thinking to itself, “Our own utility may be already near zero. Sacrifice rational.”
by Dwarkesh Patel and Ajeya Cotra, YouTube | Read more:
Image: YouTube
[ed. First of all, isn't it amazing that we're able to follow in nearly real time the birth of a new technology/intelligence? (that's not hidden out in the desert of Los Alamos or in a high security lab complex somewhere?). However, as Zvi notes, there's hardly been much media coverage of this monumental event (even though most of Tech World seems to be in high turmoil at the moment). Second, do read Patel's essay linked above for a more layman's understanding of what happened (The Rise and Fall of Agent Civilizations). See also: Nothing Matters, Says Mainstream Media].
The Social Reckoning
When Aaron Sorkin made 2010’s “The Social Network,” he had heard of Facebook, he said at the time, “the way I’ve heard of a carburetor.” Sixteen years later, he has a much deeper idea of what Mark Zuckerberg’s social media empire has become.
“Back then, Facebook was a way to keep in touch with people you went to high school with. It’s something much different now,” Sorkin says. “‘The Social Network’ was about the invention of Facebook. ‘Social Reckoning’ is about what it’s become and, in particular, Facebook’s role in the rise of extremism and divisiveness.”
“The Social Reckoning,” which Sony Pictures will release Oct. 9, is one of the most timely movies arriving in theaters this fall. Last week, Sony debuted the film’s trailer the same day that Meta, Facebook’s parent company, agreed to pay up to $18 billion in penalties over claims its platform endangered children.
“The Social Reckoning” is poised to further scrutinize the social media behemoth at a time when Zuckerberg is under greater pressure than ever over the role Facebook plays in contemporary life and politics. [...]
Sorkin initially reached out to Eisenberg about reprising the role of Zuckerberg. Before telling Eisenberg, or anyone else, of his plans, Sorkin spent two years researching and writing the screenplay.
“I didn’t know that Jesse simply did not want to play Mark Zuckerberg ever again,” Sorkin explains. “I talked to him a lot over a three-day weekend. He was clear that he loves ‘The Social Network,’ he loves how it launched his career, and he just doesn’t like being conflated with Mark Zuckerberg. I was just really lucky that Jeremy Strong had said, ‘Hey, listen, if for some reason Jesse doesn’t want to do it.’”
“It’s replacing Joe DiMaggio with Mickey Mantle,” he adds.
“Back then, Facebook was a way to keep in touch with people you went to high school with. It’s something much different now,” Sorkin says. “‘The Social Network’ was about the invention of Facebook. ‘Social Reckoning’ is about what it’s become and, in particular, Facebook’s role in the rise of extremism and divisiveness.”
“The Social Reckoning” is poised to further scrutinize the social media behemoth at a time when Zuckerberg is under greater pressure than ever over the role Facebook plays in contemporary life and politics. [...]
“To tell you the truth, I was hesitant,” Sorkin said. “I recognize the shadow that ‘The Social Network’ casts. But I think what’s going to happen is, 10 minutes into the movie, you’ll have forgotten about that and be invested in this.”
For the 65-year-old Sorkin, “The Social Reckoning” isn’t a sequel. It’s centered on the same figure, Zuckerberg, but captures him and his company at a dramatically different stage. [...]
For the 65-year-old Sorkin, “The Social Reckoning” isn’t a sequel. It’s centered on the same figure, Zuckerberg, but captures him and his company at a dramatically different stage. [...]
“I said at the beginning I didn’t want to write ‘Jaws 2.’ I didn’t want to return and fail,” says Sorkin. “Then I met Frances Haugen and I met Jeff Horwitz and I started thinking more about it. I realized there was a terrific story and the only reason not to do it is being scared. And that’s just not a good enough reason.” [...]
Sorkin initially reached out to Eisenberg about reprising the role of Zuckerberg. Before telling Eisenberg, or anyone else, of his plans, Sorkin spent two years researching and writing the screenplay.
“I didn’t know that Jesse simply did not want to play Mark Zuckerberg ever again,” Sorkin explains. “I talked to him a lot over a three-day weekend. He was clear that he loves ‘The Social Network,’ he loves how it launched his career, and he just doesn’t like being conflated with Mark Zuckerberg. I was just really lucky that Jeremy Strong had said, ‘Hey, listen, if for some reason Jesse doesn’t want to do it.’”
“It’s replacing Joe DiMaggio with Mickey Mantle,” he adds.
by Jake Coyle, AP/Seattle Times | Read more:
Image: Leah Gallo/Sony Pictures via AP
Monday, August 31, 2026
I’d Be Lead Harpooner on the Pequod If It Wasn’t for These DEI Hires
You know, I wouldn’t say this to just anyone. I’m not one to gam and gossip around the old grog-cooler. But I know you’re a good New England boy working your hardest to crew this vessel just like me, so let’s talk straight.
Be honest: Have you noticed the harpooners getting a little more… ethnic these past few voyages?
Yeah, last week, he did leap into the ocean to save me from drowning. What’s your point?
All I’m saying is that I could spear just as many whales until they spout black blood as Queequeg can. If they gave me the chance. But Quakers will do anything to look progressive. And you know they were just shitting themselves to find the one buff Polynesian guy who looks like George Washington.
(Plus, with that mopey twink of his as a spousal hire, he’s kind of a two-fer. Bildad and Peleg are getting a lot of bang for their buck.)
I am not “monomaniacally fixated on Queequeg”! Keep that Billy Budd shit to yourself. I’m just telling you that it’s getting hard out there for us blue-collar Nantucket lads when all the ships’ owners are catching the Abolitionist Mind Virus. (Most of us don’t even get names! “Old Manx Sailor”? The disrespect.)
Fine, take the other harpooners. Tashtego. You know he’s just here because of his “vanishing tribe” Martha’s Vineyard street cred. Makes the hunt look more “authentic.” But if he’s been honing ancestral knowledge of whaling since reaching manhood, would you say he’s really earned it?
And you know that Daggoo is just coasting on his vertical. Anyway, remember that time that Spanish wag said the lightning flash was just “Daggoo showing his teeth,” and Daggoo clenched his fist? Thug behavior. I’d be so much more professional.
I’m not even going to bring up Fedallah leaving us all the grunt work while he posts up with Ahab in his private quarters. Must be nice.
It’s not about prejudice: it’s the principle of the thing! A whaleship should be a meritocracy. One that recognizes my superior merit. [...]
I’m not saying that our harpooners are categorically unqualified. Mostly. All I mean is they seem to have gotten themselves a much quicker route up the corporate mainmast than the rest of us poor salts. And no one’s talking about it.
Riddle me this: if this is a colorblind vessel, then why is the only whale Ahab cares about killing the white one? Did you think about that?
This isn’t just about me! This is about all of us. The French Sailor. The Icelandic Sailor. And, you know, the other ones. Just because we can’t fetch a good market price in Alabama doesn’t mean we don’t have value! And yet we must watch our chances for advancement slide through our fingers like raw spermaceti.
Old Ahab apparently thinks ivory is good enough to stand on, but not enough to promote. What a racket. Sure, Queequeg just downed another five whales while I was talking and is single-handedly stripping the blubber as he balances in sock-feet on their floating corpses in shark-infested waters, but what of it? I could totally do that.
No, I’ve never thrown a harpoon before. But I know what I’m talking about.
Be honest: Have you noticed the harpooners getting a little more… ethnic these past few voyages?
Look, I’ve got nothing against Queequeg. He’s a nice guy. And he can spy a whale spout in a hurricane. And swim like a dolphin. And hit a nickel-sized moving target in open water in one steel stroke. But all those “biggee” tattoos? Tell me they don’t scream “diversity hire.”
All I’m saying is that I could spear just as many whales until they spout black blood as Queequeg can. If they gave me the chance. But Quakers will do anything to look progressive. And you know they were just shitting themselves to find the one buff Polynesian guy who looks like George Washington.
(Plus, with that mopey twink of his as a spousal hire, he’s kind of a two-fer. Bildad and Peleg are getting a lot of bang for their buck.)
I am not “monomaniacally fixated on Queequeg”! Keep that Billy Budd shit to yourself. I’m just telling you that it’s getting hard out there for us blue-collar Nantucket lads when all the ships’ owners are catching the Abolitionist Mind Virus. (Most of us don’t even get names! “Old Manx Sailor”? The disrespect.)
Fine, take the other harpooners. Tashtego. You know he’s just here because of his “vanishing tribe” Martha’s Vineyard street cred. Makes the hunt look more “authentic.” But if he’s been honing ancestral knowledge of whaling since reaching manhood, would you say he’s really earned it?
And you know that Daggoo is just coasting on his vertical. Anyway, remember that time that Spanish wag said the lightning flash was just “Daggoo showing his teeth,” and Daggoo clenched his fist? Thug behavior. I’d be so much more professional.
I’m not even going to bring up Fedallah leaving us all the grunt work while he posts up with Ahab in his private quarters. Must be nice.
It’s not about prejudice: it’s the principle of the thing! A whaleship should be a meritocracy. One that recognizes my superior merit. [...]
I’m not saying that our harpooners are categorically unqualified. Mostly. All I mean is they seem to have gotten themselves a much quicker route up the corporate mainmast than the rest of us poor salts. And no one’s talking about it.
Riddle me this: if this is a colorblind vessel, then why is the only whale Ahab cares about killing the white one? Did you think about that?
This isn’t just about me! This is about all of us. The French Sailor. The Icelandic Sailor. And, you know, the other ones. Just because we can’t fetch a good market price in Alabama doesn’t mean we don’t have value! And yet we must watch our chances for advancement slide through our fingers like raw spermaceti.
Old Ahab apparently thinks ivory is good enough to stand on, but not enough to promote. What a racket. Sure, Queequeg just downed another five whales while I was talking and is single-handedly stripping the blubber as he balances in sock-feet on their floating corpses in shark-infested waters, but what of it? I could totally do that.
No, I’ve never thrown a harpoon before. But I know what I’m talking about.
by Amanda Lehr, McSweeny's | Read more:
Image: Gerard DuBois via[ed. I've been reading Moby Dick again after 50 years and marveling at Melville's writing, something I never fully appreciated back when I was 20 years old. Almost finished now (a couple chapters left) and Ahab has finally found his whale (or vice versa) after 533 of 561 pages. That's right, most of the book isn't about their confrontation, but rather cetology, various ocean phenomena, the practice of whaling, and life in general on a whaling ship. I wonder how many people know that? Yet, it still manages to be engaging and riveting throughout. It's a funny coincidence (for me) that this essay came out now. I know these characters and some of their memorable scenes - like the one mentioned above: Queequeg standing knee deep in water on top of a rolling dead whale, cutting a hole in its thick hide to secure a hook line while hundreds of sharks churn around him in a feeding frenzy (which he sometimes has to kick away). Great stuff.]
Dolly Parton's "Label Upgrade" Strategy
When someone patronizes you, it’s easy to feel slighted. Maybe they assumed you didn’t know what you were doing because you’re new to an organization, or you’re younger. Maybe they figured you wouldn’t be able to use new technology because you’re older.
It’s not always easy to know what to do in that situation. Their assumption about your abilities is incorrect, but you also don’t want to deny an obvious truth. Maybe you are older or younger or new to an organization. How can you stand up for yourself effectively while still owning your identity?
Dolly Parton knew the answer. Nearly half a century ago, she did a now-famous interview with Barbara Walters, one of the most prominent journalists on television at the time. Walters asked all of the cutting questions to Parton’s face that people had been whispering behind her back: about her clothes, her figure, and even her breasts. She also pushed on Parton’s lower-class background.
“Dolly,” she began. “Where I come from, would I have called you a hillbilly? … When I think of hillbillies, am I thinking of your kind of people?”
What was in Dolly Parton’s ‘powerful’ answer
I taught communication for more than a decade at Columbia Business School and Duke University’s Fuqua School of Business, and Parton’s answer has a powerful lesson all of us can use.
“I think you probably are,” she replied. “But we were very proud people, people with a lot of class. It was country class, but it was a great deal of class. And most of my people were not that educated, but they are very, very intelligent. Good common sense — horse sense, we called it.”
I call Parton’s move the “label upgrade” strategy, and it’s a way to simultaneously maintain your dignity and disarm the person who’s talking down to you.
She’s neither denying she’s a hillbilly, nor getting mad at what could easily be seen as an insult. Instead, she claims the label and revises what it means. To Walters, “hillbilly” clearly meant “backward” or “unsophisticated.” But Parton owned it and changed the meaning: Being a hillbilly was now about being proud, practical, and wise.
The next time someone tries to talk down to you, you don’t have to argue. Instead, you can use the same strategy, redefining the label or box they’re trying to put you in. If they say, or imply, you’re “too inexperienced,” you can double down on your fresh perspective. If they try to knock you for being “over the hill,” you can emphasize your wisdom and judgment.
How to use the ‘label upgrade’ strategy
The label upgrade has two parts. First, you accept what they’ve said as accurate (assuming that it is — otherwise, you can dispute their premise). Then, you redefine what it means. It could sound like:
It’s a powerful move to own the truth — and still get to define the terms for yourself.
It’s not always easy to know what to do in that situation. Their assumption about your abilities is incorrect, but you also don’t want to deny an obvious truth. Maybe you are older or younger or new to an organization. How can you stand up for yourself effectively while still owning your identity?
“Dolly,” she began. “Where I come from, would I have called you a hillbilly? … When I think of hillbillies, am I thinking of your kind of people?”
What was in Dolly Parton’s ‘powerful’ answer
I taught communication for more than a decade at Columbia Business School and Duke University’s Fuqua School of Business, and Parton’s answer has a powerful lesson all of us can use.
“I think you probably are,” she replied. “But we were very proud people, people with a lot of class. It was country class, but it was a great deal of class. And most of my people were not that educated, but they are very, very intelligent. Good common sense — horse sense, we called it.”
I call Parton’s move the “label upgrade” strategy, and it’s a way to simultaneously maintain your dignity and disarm the person who’s talking down to you.
She’s neither denying she’s a hillbilly, nor getting mad at what could easily be seen as an insult. Instead, she claims the label and revises what it means. To Walters, “hillbilly” clearly meant “backward” or “unsophisticated.” But Parton owned it and changed the meaning: Being a hillbilly was now about being proud, practical, and wise.
The next time someone tries to talk down to you, you don’t have to argue. Instead, you can use the same strategy, redefining the label or box they’re trying to put you in. If they say, or imply, you’re “too inexperienced,” you can double down on your fresh perspective. If they try to knock you for being “over the hill,” you can emphasize your wisdom and judgment.
How to use the ‘label upgrade’ strategy
The label upgrade has two parts. First, you accept what they’ve said as accurate (assuming that it is — otherwise, you can dispute their premise). Then, you redefine what it means. It could sound like:
- “You’re right, I am new here. That’s what allows me to see things that no one else notices anymore, and find the opportunities you might be overlooking.”
- “It’s true I don’t have an MBA. That means I’ve had to learn through experience and working directly with our customers. That’s why I feel so confident about the features they’ll want.”
- “You’re right, I don’t know anything about engineering. But neither do most of our customers. So if you can’t explain it to me, they’ll have a hard time understanding it, too.”
- “It’s true I’ve never worked in a large corporation before. That means I’ve had to learn not just how to do my job, but how to get results, even if that means pitching in to help another department. That’s why I feel so strongly we can’t just blame the sales department.”
It’s a powerful move to own the truth — and still get to define the terms for yourself.
by Dorie Clark, CNBC | Read more:
Image: Richard E. Aaron | Redferns | Getty Images
Does Writing Matter Anymore?
Injecting ideas into the discourse is incredibly powerful. John Maynard Keynes famously described the power of idea injection:
As Keynes notes, an early writer’s ideas can also act as a kind of training data for later thinkers; it becomes a foundation off of which politicians, bureaucrats, staffers, other writers, and even entrepreneurs and financiers build when they make their own ideas. [...]
But injecting ideas is only one part of a blogger’s influence. We’re also part of a community of intellectuals that span multiple disciplines and walks of life. On a daily basis I get to mull ideas over not just with other writers and pundits, but also with top academics, CEOs and entrepreneurs, Congressional staffers and political advisers, think-tankers, corporate researchers and engineers, and plenty of people from other countries. This leads to a much richer discussion, with a greater diversity of viewpoints, than almost anything else I can think of. And they reach a very wide set of ears. In a way, blogging is like DARPA — ad-hoc multidisciplinary teams that build the rapid prototype of an idea. OK, maybe that’s a bit pretentious, but you get the point.
Anyway, the reason I’m writing all of this is not to brag, but to complain. Over the last two years, I’ve felt like my job has become a bit less important than it used to be, for three reasons:
“Writing is like prostitution. First you do it for love, and then for a few close friends, and then for money.” — Ferenc Molnár
Substack has done a whole lot of good, both for me personally and (more importantly) for the world. In a time when most of the internet has been taken over by malignant opportunists and sensationalist attention-seekers, Substack stands as a lone island where reasoned, intelligent, earnest debate is still possible. It has also allowed many writers to escape from publications that stifle their voice, impede their development, and don’t pay them their due. In many ways, Substack has resurrected the old blogosphere from the early 2010s.
However, this resurrection has come at a price. Substack’s killer feature — email distribution — allows writers to get much larger and more loyal audiences, and to make a lot more money by charging those audiences for subscriptions. But this creates a financial incentive for writers to spend more time serving their customers and less time talking to each other.
In 2011, I was blogging part-time, because it was fun — the attention that mattered was when Brad DeLong or Paul Krugman or Tyler Cowen was interested in something I had to say. It was a little “republic of letters”. Now I’m blogging full-time, and having a conversation with Brad or Paul or Tyler is still just as fun and stimulating, but it’s a distraction from my job of creating content for my paying audience. There are still interesting intellectual debates and exchanges in the blogosphere, but they are no longer the main thing writers are rewarded for.
Turning intellectuals into content creators tends to put them in siloes. And Substack is far from the strongest in terms of silo-ing. Most of the internet is being taken over by vertical-scrolling short-form video, which is not exactly good for conversation and exchange. I could go start a YouTube channel, but it would just be me talking directly to my fans — I’d basically be a TV talk show host. I might still do this, because it’s a high-leverage way to influence the world, but it’s not as intellectually rich or rewarding as being part of a round-table conversation.
Nor are interesting new ideas as likely to emerge from one-way siloed content creation. Ideas emerge not from singular minds in isolation, but from dialogue — the cross-pollination that the blogosphere and other intellectual communities create isn’t just fun, it’s productive. Writing for you, my readers, is not boring, but you’d get better content from me — and from all your other favorite writers — if we talked to each other more. [...]
AI is stretching our attention to the breaking point
“My ambitions accelerate. My afternoons do not.” — Claude
Unlike many people, I think AI writing is actually pretty good. Yes, there’s a recognizable style that the basic models use (“It’s not X, it’s Y” and lots of other little cliches). That style isn’t bad, it just gets overplayed when everyone uses it. Yes, AI models are still not great at boiling a complex idea down to one or two pithy sentences. But you can modify the style that AI uses. And AI can do plenty of things human writers can’t — it can seamlessly incorporate vast knowledge and novel data analysis into a piece as it writes it.
For example, I immediately suspected that this essay by Aaron Brown, Michael Mendelson, and Cliff Asness, on the confusion of the debate over “affordability”, is mostly AI-generated, and Pangram — the most reliable AI text detector — flagged it as around 50% AI. But that’s not a knock against it — the essay is great. It classifies different kinds of “affordability” problems — true poverty, precarity, downward mobility, etc. — into different buckets, gives some illustrative vignettes, and provides some useful numbers about each one. I broadly agree with the article’s conclusions, and I think it’s a valuable addition to the discourse.
A bigger problem is that in a world where a huge number of people generate effectively infinite amounts of good-quality content like this, it becomes hard for readers to decide where to allocate their attention. Instead of identifying the few most consistently useful blogs and reading those in great detail, a lot of people will respond to the explosion of content by “reading” a larger number of posts but only lightly skimming each one.
It’s not my job I’m worried about here. It’s that in that world, even if my blog continues to get tons of readers and make me plenty of money, what I do becomes less important. If people are just skimming what I write so they can move on to the next 10,000-word Claude-generated post, the fact that they’re paying me $10 a month is cold comfort — I’m not really reaching them. And even more worryingly, no one is reaching them — if they’re skimming 100 posts a day instead of reading 10 all the way through, they’re not getting really good information from anywhere.
I don’t know how severe this problem will be, to be honest. There was always a lot more high-quality content on the internet than anyone could ever read, and a lot of people always just skimmed my posts instead of reading them closely. Maybe AI can’t make this problem worse because it was already maximally bad.
Also, I’m optimistic that AI itself will open up new channels for intellectual influence. It’s a well-known fact that if AI just consumes AI-generated output, it gets worse and worse. So AI companies try very hard to “clean” the text they use to train their models. Human writers, whose personal experience brings in new data for AIs to learn, can influence the world if their writings are used to train the next generation of AIs. [...]
Claude and GPT often cite me as a source on topics I write about, and friends have told me that Claude recommends my blog with surprising frequency when they ask it for reading material. Maybe Tyler Cowen is right when he says we should be “writing for the AIs”.
Practical men, who believe themselves to be quite exempt from any intellectual influences, are usually the slaves of some defunct economist. Madmen in authority, who hear voices in the air, are distilling their frenzy from some academic scribbler of a few years back.To describe why idea injection is so powerful would take an entire post (which I do intend to write). There are a number of reasons. First, idea injection allows you to frame the terms of the debate. Whether people think your idea is right or wrong, once you put it out there, discussion of the issue at hand turns into discussion of whether your idea is good or bad.
But injecting ideas is only one part of a blogger’s influence. We’re also part of a community of intellectuals that span multiple disciplines and walks of life. On a daily basis I get to mull ideas over not just with other writers and pundits, but also with top academics, CEOs and entrepreneurs, Congressional staffers and political advisers, think-tankers, corporate researchers and engineers, and plenty of people from other countries. This leads to a much richer discussion, with a greater diversity of viewpoints, than almost anything else I can think of. And they reach a very wide set of ears. In a way, blogging is like DARPA — ad-hoc multidisciplinary teams that build the rapid prototype of an idea. OK, maybe that’s a bit pretentious, but you get the point.
Anyway, the reason I’m writing all of this is not to brag, but to complain. Over the last two years, I’ve felt like my job has become a bit less important than it used to be, for three reasons:
1. The rise of populism on all sides of the political spectrum in the U.S. means that smart ideas are simply not as likely to be implemented by the people in power.Monetization means intellectuals are siloed
2. The general shift to Substack and other monetizable direct-to-audience channels has made punditry less conversational.
3. The rapid proliferation of AI writing has increased the demands on readers’ attention (including my own). [...]
“Writing is like prostitution. First you do it for love, and then for a few close friends, and then for money.” — Ferenc Molnár
Substack has done a whole lot of good, both for me personally and (more importantly) for the world. In a time when most of the internet has been taken over by malignant opportunists and sensationalist attention-seekers, Substack stands as a lone island where reasoned, intelligent, earnest debate is still possible. It has also allowed many writers to escape from publications that stifle their voice, impede their development, and don’t pay them their due. In many ways, Substack has resurrected the old blogosphere from the early 2010s.
However, this resurrection has come at a price. Substack’s killer feature — email distribution — allows writers to get much larger and more loyal audiences, and to make a lot more money by charging those audiences for subscriptions. But this creates a financial incentive for writers to spend more time serving their customers and less time talking to each other.
In 2011, I was blogging part-time, because it was fun — the attention that mattered was when Brad DeLong or Paul Krugman or Tyler Cowen was interested in something I had to say. It was a little “republic of letters”. Now I’m blogging full-time, and having a conversation with Brad or Paul or Tyler is still just as fun and stimulating, but it’s a distraction from my job of creating content for my paying audience. There are still interesting intellectual debates and exchanges in the blogosphere, but they are no longer the main thing writers are rewarded for.
Turning intellectuals into content creators tends to put them in siloes. And Substack is far from the strongest in terms of silo-ing. Most of the internet is being taken over by vertical-scrolling short-form video, which is not exactly good for conversation and exchange. I could go start a YouTube channel, but it would just be me talking directly to my fans — I’d basically be a TV talk show host. I might still do this, because it’s a high-leverage way to influence the world, but it’s not as intellectually rich or rewarding as being part of a round-table conversation.
Nor are interesting new ideas as likely to emerge from one-way siloed content creation. Ideas emerge not from singular minds in isolation, but from dialogue — the cross-pollination that the blogosphere and other intellectual communities create isn’t just fun, it’s productive. Writing for you, my readers, is not boring, but you’d get better content from me — and from all your other favorite writers — if we talked to each other more. [...]
AI is stretching our attention to the breaking point
“My ambitions accelerate. My afternoons do not.” — Claude
Unlike many people, I think AI writing is actually pretty good. Yes, there’s a recognizable style that the basic models use (“It’s not X, it’s Y” and lots of other little cliches). That style isn’t bad, it just gets overplayed when everyone uses it. Yes, AI models are still not great at boiling a complex idea down to one or two pithy sentences. But you can modify the style that AI uses. And AI can do plenty of things human writers can’t — it can seamlessly incorporate vast knowledge and novel data analysis into a piece as it writes it.
For example, I immediately suspected that this essay by Aaron Brown, Michael Mendelson, and Cliff Asness, on the confusion of the debate over “affordability”, is mostly AI-generated, and Pangram — the most reliable AI text detector — flagged it as around 50% AI. But that’s not a knock against it — the essay is great. It classifies different kinds of “affordability” problems — true poverty, precarity, downward mobility, etc. — into different buckets, gives some illustrative vignettes, and provides some useful numbers about each one. I broadly agree with the article’s conclusions, and I think it’s a valuable addition to the discourse.
A bigger problem is that in a world where a huge number of people generate effectively infinite amounts of good-quality content like this, it becomes hard for readers to decide where to allocate their attention. Instead of identifying the few most consistently useful blogs and reading those in great detail, a lot of people will respond to the explosion of content by “reading” a larger number of posts but only lightly skimming each one.
It’s not my job I’m worried about here. It’s that in that world, even if my blog continues to get tons of readers and make me plenty of money, what I do becomes less important. If people are just skimming what I write so they can move on to the next 10,000-word Claude-generated post, the fact that they’re paying me $10 a month is cold comfort — I’m not really reaching them. And even more worryingly, no one is reaching them — if they’re skimming 100 posts a day instead of reading 10 all the way through, they’re not getting really good information from anywhere.
I don’t know how severe this problem will be, to be honest. There was always a lot more high-quality content on the internet than anyone could ever read, and a lot of people always just skimmed my posts instead of reading them closely. Maybe AI can’t make this problem worse because it was already maximally bad.
Also, I’m optimistic that AI itself will open up new channels for intellectual influence. It’s a well-known fact that if AI just consumes AI-generated output, it gets worse and worse. So AI companies try very hard to “clean” the text they use to train their models. Human writers, whose personal experience brings in new data for AIs to learn, can influence the world if their writings are used to train the next generation of AIs. [...]
Claude and GPT often cite me as a source on topics I write about, and friends have told me that Claude recommends my blog with surprising frequency when they ask it for reading material. Maybe Tyler Cowen is right when he says we should be “writing for the AIs”.
by Noah Smith, Noahpinion | Read more:
Image: The Simpsons
[ed. See also: the post below about a Chinese discussion of Christopher Nolan's The Odyssey.]
[ed. See also: the post below about a Chinese discussion of Christopher Nolan's The Odyssey.]
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