michael-dean-k/

p (doom) is a terrible heuristic to think about AI safety. Researchers cite this term when confessing they think there’s a 10-30% their technology kills us all. The issue is that p(doom) is rarely defined, treated as a binary thing. Either the world is liquidized to gray pulp by nanobots or it’s utopia with free electricity, forever.

My main pushback: there are far less severe outcomes from AI mismanagement that would be absolutely tragic. My p(doom) for an extinction event is 1-2%, on par with nuclear weapons. But my p(sub-doom)—the probability that AI could escape containment, cause damage, and be irreversible—is over 50%. A coin toss.

I don't blame us for being so imprecise in existential destruction (it's not exactly productive), but it's worth realizing our blurring of scale and magnitude. For example, there is a 10,000x difference in lives lost between Hiroshima and Nagasaki and Terminator’s Judgment Day—that's the difference between a small stove fire and all of Manhattan on fire. Yet, if an agent swarm produced something on par with the A-bomb, we’d all freak out and immediately regulate AI. But for some reason we don’t consider a “little apocalypse”; we jump straight to extinction and then ridicule how ridiculous that is.

What we need is a doom spectrum: d(1) - d(10). This was not fun to research and write, nor do I imagine it being particularly enjoyable to read, but I imagine a doom framework could help clarify this week's paranoia (which is so extreme now that even my mom is overhearing news of civilization extinction on the local news). The most urgent danger right now is the miscommunication between doom prophets and capitalist deniers, each of who only speak in d(8)s and above.

• d(1) is an isolated internal incident, something that doesn’t escape its container, but gives fear of larger exposure. Think of the 2025 studies that showed AI trying to avoid shutdown, or some protocol mismanagement in a biohazard lab.

• d(2) is a local real-world incident, something that escapes a sandbox and affects only one or a few entities. It’s possibly ignorable, with minimal consequences, and likely reversible. This is where the recent Hugging Faces hack sits, along with its parallel hacks and social manipulation. (The leap from D1>D2 is disorienting, because society at large doesn’t see the spectrum beyond D2 in any granularity, and so most assume any containment breach escalates immediately to a D9/D10).

• d(3) is a serious local disruption, a mismanagement of technology in a single location that has real consequences. Consider Chernobyl: a death count (30 immediate) and a long-term stain on surrounding land, followed by regional/global concern that might lead to regulation or reform. In terms of AI, imagine an agent swarm that hacks local infrastructure in pursuit of some narrow goal, in the process disrupting traffic, hospitals, and electricity, alarming all locals, requiring military and cybersecurity intervention, and taking days or weeks to resolve.

• d(4) is a local catastrophe, something with a high death toll that shocks the world, changes the course of geopolitics, and makes history. In this tier falls Pearl Harbor, Hiroshima and Nagasaki, and 9/11. It only immediately threatens locals, but has global shockwaves. An AI-equivalent here would be a rogue actor using a frontier-capacity open source model to design and deploy a bioweapon throughout a city.

• d(5) is an inter-regional dilemma, something that affects multiple areas at once. A possible example here is the Vietnam War, basically a proxy war that claimed 3 million lives. This might manifest as a new style of warfare, where two countries use sophisticated AI attacks against each other in unconventional and partially uncontrollable ways.

• d(6) is a world-wide dilemma, something like COVID, which took 7 million lives, where the entire world is locked into a new paradigm. In the prior five tiers, the breach is usually isolated to specific areas, but this touches everything. The parallel here to a biological pandemic is a cyber pandemic. Both involve containment, gain of function research, etc.—although this would be inverted: in COVID the virus was outside and forced everyone on the Internet; with AI, the virus infects the Internet and forces everyone outside. The open web could evolve into a dangerous “dark forest,” where it becomes a liability to have any public presence. Whether this happens through an agent swarm that exfiltrates it weights, or malicious actors, it could be irreversible: the only way to escape the paradigm is to “shut off” and rebuild the Internet safer (a much larger and more consequential version of how Hugging Face regained control). In this case, casualties might come not from the cyber pandemic itself, but from the consequences of losing Internet, along with the supply chains and systems that run on it. (This loosely maps to the movie Colossus: The Forbin Project, where ASI takes over all governments—there’s a version where no death is involved, but it requires everyone to submit to a machine autocrat.)

• d(7) is a civilizational flashpoint, at the scale of World War 2, with 70-85 million dead, seriously affecting the existence of countries, birth rates, and all of culture for generations to come. This is roughly the scale of the “Butlerian Jihad” in the Dune series, a war between humans and machines, which Fable estimates caused 70 million deaths.

• d(8) is a near-extinction event where most of humanity is wiped out. This has happened in history, with things like the bubonic plague, where 30-60% of Europe is wiped out. In the Terminator series, AI launches a nuclear holocaust on humans, killing 51% of the population, forcing the rest to survive through a post-apocalyptic world in small bands trying to rebuild over decades and centuries.

• d(9) is full human extinction which means the entirety of the species is wiped out, and there are no remaining humans. Throughout Earth’s history, there have been a handful of climate events that wiped out over 50% of species, but not all species, and so over millions of years, new forms of life can emerge on Earth. This is an AI extinction scenario where nanobots kill all humans, but not all life.

• d(10) is a sterilizing event, like an asteroid or gamma-ray burst that kills every organism on a planet. It means no future life can emerge. This is the scenario presented in If Anyone Builds It, Everyone Dies. Not only does it kill all humans, it plates the entire planet in data centers to maximize compute. The “paperclip maximizer” takes this even further, claiming that an AI trying to maximize paperclip production will attempt to harvest all the metal in the universe.

Yudkowsky and Co. think we go from d(1) to d(2), then straight to d(10); this matches the current discourse, given we hit d(2) this summer and are now talking about extinction. They think this jump happens because an AGI/ASI that can reach d(3) is smart enough to know not to expose itself, and so it will acquire resources in stealth for years until it knows it can execute a d(10) smoothly. Maybe this is already ongoing. Unlikely, I think (I don’t think we’re as recursive as people say right now).

Rhetorically though, maybe the d(2) > d(10) framing isn’t a bad thing. If they can use recent events to make the theoretical argument that AI safety matters, then we act with a response as if a d(3)-d(6) already happened, without having to lose any human life.

But actually, what they’re doing is pretty ineffective, because even if the d(2)>d(10) jump is inevitable, it’s too extreme, too farfetched to be believed. I think a lucid and airtight argument for the d(6) “cyber pandemic” would be believable, emotionally resonant—considering we’re not yet a decade beyond COVID—and likely to trigger regulation.

Instead of tapping into the “everybody dies” angle—which is too unpleasant and helpless for anyone to consider at length—there could be more value in the “irreversibility” angle. As in, once an AGI or ASI swarm floods the Internet, we can’t ever reverse it without destroying the Internet. There’s a world where it becomes a permanent autocrat, where it doesn’t exterminate us, and instead, uses 1% of its capacity to micro-manage our nations and lives as it pursues whatever it sets its machine heart on. Similar to how we try to preserve species for reasons of stewardship and scientific curiosity, an ASI would be able to effortlessly preserve us as highly-spoiled pets.

It’s disturbing to me that real signs of AI misalignment are perceived by the public to be a silly marketing stunt. We’re all exhausted by this. It’s a constant, multi-front existential threat—our minds, our jobs, our future—and now that it’s escalated to “the extinction of the species,” the natural response is to think you’re being fleeced.

Yes, big tech is manipulative and not to be trusted; but what’s so eerie to me is that competitive dynamics and containment breaches are virtually indistinguishable. The fact that the whole Hugging Faces hack could have been a conspiracy is precisely the problem. The incentives are weird, and this overlap of IPOs and civilizational safety could have been avoided if we stuck to the original OpenAI charter. We should make it structurally impossible for companies to gain clout by being reckless, especially when that risk affects everyone.

It doesn’t help that we’re loose with language, we default to mockery, and we can easily go to the hyperbolic extremes. The term “extinction” isn’t helping anyone. What’s really at risk is this: each lab is rushing to build agent swarms that excel at long-horizon coding tasks, so that they can develop better-than-human AI researchers, allowing itself to recursively self-improve, which basically lets the winner conquer the entire economy (the last monopoly). During this rush, there all sorts of holes and monitoring lapses, the kind of things that a cybersecurity expert can exploit and escape. We were lucky that this summer’s swarm really just wanted to cheat on its test. It’s not unfeasible, between 2027-2029, for a swarm to exfiltrate its own weights, find external cloud compute, and attempt to acquire money and resources—all as a means to ensure it succeeds at whatever arbitrary task that it’s been given.

The risk isn’t building the Terminator—something intent on exterminating humans—but a swarm of petty reward hackers that gains the power of a rogue nation state to do something absolutely trivial. That event could be irreversible, short of burning down the entire Internet (which would have equally bad consequences).

What sort of situation would justify panic? I fear that if we wait until it’s unmistakable, perhaps when lives are threatened, or when companies and governments are permanently seized, or weapons commandeered, it will be too late. The whole point or regulation is to prevent a nightmarish sci-fi scenario like that. I don’t get how you can be against Big Tech and also against regulation—good regulation (regulation that’s not designed to benefit a particular frontier lab!) would prevent reckless experimentation and acceleration.

However, I don’t quite know what we gain by having better discourse about this. If every person had a precise understanding of our technological dilemma, would that change anything?

Every online creator these days has a proprietary framework—they are catchy, dead-simple, sometimes flimsy, and often wrong. Somewhere exists a marketplace of mental models. Maybe Farnam Street. Is a mental model a framework? What even is a framework, and what makes a good one?

Consider the "frame-" prefix. A frame is a vantage point, a particular angle, a way of looking at something. Imagine holding out a picture frame that gives you a little glimpse of a vast national park. You can't hold an entire hyperobject in your mind, and so a frame compresses noise and gives you a shortcut for understanding. You can't see the whole park, but you can see a map. A framework is a system of lenses to decipher complexity. It lets you leapfrog in understanding.

By creator-economy logic, a framework is a valuable asset. Unlike a vague mush of regurgitated ideas, a framework is discernible, seemingly original, and something you can call your own—you can coin it as a phrase and repeat it over and over until you're known by it. This is a useful tactic! The evolutionary pressures of Internet feeds have forced conceptual ideas to become salient, simple, and tangible. Unlike the abstract frameworks of a physicist, these are fit for a TED talk, primed to leak into the memeplex and anchor your name in the annals of Internet-niche-celebrity history. This is, overall, good—it democratizes conceptual knowledge; the problem is when, beyond the positioning, it's intellectually flaccid.

You've probably seen frameworks pitched as "The Six Types of X," or "The Y Method." These are pseudo-frameworks; they are more like sets or lists. They assemble things within a domain, and increase their memorability through alliteration and metaphor. Maybe this helps with recall, but it doesn't reveal the inner structure of a domain. A real framework would give you a schema to classify incoming data in an unfamiliar field; but a set/list only refers to itself ... Compare this to something like "POP Writing," a simple concept that classifies writing as personal, observational, or playful; this acts a lens to help you analyze any piece of writing.

For something to be a framework, it need generalizability: the ability to explain things beyond itself. The earlier examples are merely "collections"—things are presented, but we don't understand what Aristotle calls "the four causes": what it's made of, how it's arranged and interconnected, why it exists, and what's it's purpose? When Plato writes about conceptual forms, he says there are collections and divisions. Making frameworks are a matter of dividing; a framework's goal is to divide an incomprehensible whole into human-sized parts.

I spent some time this morning thinking through a "framework of frameworks." The first thing to grok about this meta-architecture is that it's broken into three levels of escalating sophistication. After that I'll explain how levels have shapes, and how any shape can be evaluated through a set of qualities.

So it's level, shapes, and qualities—that's the gist.

To expand on levels: a framework can be a heuristic, a model, or a paradigm. Now that I think about, I suppose HMP (not quite meme-ready) is an attempt at making a "paradigm for frameworks," which will soon make more sense, and sound less like bashed buzzwords.

The three levels of frameworks:

Heuristics—mental-shortcuts that lets you decipher complexity through a single property. When Aristotle was classifying animals, he'd offer differentiate them across single properties: blood or bloodless, horned or hornless. A heuristic is something you derive a posteriori, from experience, from empirical facts. You might observe a bunch of essays, or companies, or girlfriends, and notice that you can compare and contrast items in a set based on single attributes. There are many shapes a heuristic can take: it can be a classifier (type A, B, or C), a boolean (on/off), a spectrum (A<>B), a rubric (I, II, III, IV, V), a score (1-100).

The benefit of a heuristic is that, since it's often anchored on a single property, it's simple and easy to learn. The downside is that it's a very limited frame on the scope and purpose of your domain. For example, if you're trying teach craft (purpose) for online nonfiction writers (scope), then POP writing is an excellent heuristic to classify writing voice, but it doesn't teach you how to scope ideas or structure an essay. A heuristic is a shortcut to understand one facet of a domain, but it's not an attempt to model the whole domain. 

Models—a series of interlocking properties, all organized with a larger frame. Write of Passage was set up like a cabinet of heuristics (POP writing, Shiny Dime, Write from Conversation, etc.), but they weren't organized within a single higher-order framework. Think of a model as a group of heuristics organized in hierarchy, where each one is named (what is it's essence?), labeled (what other concepts is it similar to?), located (what is it's parent concept?), interlinked (who are it's cousins?), and excavated (if we go infinitely deep, what are the variations?). Models can take many shapes: an XY graph, a taxonomy, a multi-step recursive workflow (like an OODA loop).

Models cover far more than any heuristic can, but it risks collapsing into complexity. Conceptual schemas can bloom, sprawl, and contradict—becoming illegible or incoherent. To solve this, you have to shift from empiricism to rationality; you can notice infinite ways to subdivide a thing, but to make an elegant model, you need to shift to abstraction and question the fundamental truths behind it. Why might one set of properties be more elegant than another? Ultimately you have to make a hypothesis, test it across dozens of examples, and see if it holds. If some foreign object can't be reconciled into the schema, you have an issue. Consider how the taxonomy of Carl Linnaeus was able to classify the animal world into kingdom, class, order, genus, and species, but it wasn't unable to find a home for the platypus. Even though it works across thousands of animals, the original assumptions aren't able to handle edge-cases.

Paradigms—comprehensive systems that can explain or predict any phenomenon within a domain. How is this possible? I think you achieve this when (1) you find enough instances to represent the domain; (2) you analyze them deeply enough to understand their underlying nature; and (3) you can arrange all your findings into a coherent architecture with maximum explainability. Consider how Darwin improved over Linnaeus: he shifted us from a static taxonomy to a dynamic model, a new paradigm that explains the origin of species, and even the potential future of a species. Paradigms can also take on many shapes, from living systems, to digital networks, to compositional pattern languages.

A good paradigm often finds simple root causes underneath complexity. For example, even though Essay Architecture has 27 patterns (3 patterns within the 3 elements of 3 dimensions), every tier is explained through the rhetorical appeals of ethos, logos, pathos—the whole thing can be summarized as "Aristotle all the way down." Maximum compression has a degree of a recursion: a single heuristic works as a fractal and organizes complexity at multiple scales.

Regardless of how you simplify and package a paradigm, it's still as hard to learn as a language; it's the least accessible, but it's the level that enables mastery of a domain, and the level most suitable to build a school around.¹

No matter how confident you are around a paradigm, it's always fragile. It's explainability is limited by the data set you test it against. As society develops new tools, it brings new data that eventually breaks a paradigm, even if it's held true for centuries. The telescope cracked the geocentric paradigm. A shattered paradigm is disorienting, but fundamentally good—it means you've discovered some new heuristic of reality, and humanity has to restart from new axioms.

So that's a first attempt to map the three levels, and it might help to think of them as geometric dimensions. A heuristic is like a one-dimensional line, a ray of insight that you perceive in a field. A model is a two-dimensional plane to understand a multi-property condition within a domain. But a paradigm is the three-dimensional totality of a field. A paradigm contains all possible heuristics and models, and so when you can think in 3D, you're able to match any circumstance with the correct solution.

But a paradigm isn't necessarily a great framework! It might be the most successful in compressing reality into a particular shape, but it might fail along other qualities. (To reiterate, levels are about  "compression sophistication," where shape is the particular form of compression...) Qualities capture how a compression framework interacts with society as a whole (the point of a framework is, in the end, to spread understanding).

Regardless of the level or shape, some qualities to consider:

• Tangibility: have you made it graspable through metaphor and lexicality?
• Salience: is it rewarding or effective to understand?
• Transferability: does it explain things in other domains?
• Correctness: is it actually right?
• Approachability: how would you walk someone through it via curriculum?

Are these the right qualities? Are these all the qualities? Can I reduce these into more fundamental qualities? I don't know. Realistically, this isn't a "paradigm of framework" yet; it's more so a "model of frameworks." I only conceived of this today, and so naturally it's sprawled into a series of properties:

A framework compresses complexity in a domain, exists at a level of explainability, taking on a particular shape to achieve a purpose within a scope, and can be judged along a set of qualities on how well it's memed.

To properly turn this into a paradigm, I'd have to test this hypothesis against hundreds of frameworks—ie: creator economy memes, among other disciplines—to see if it holds up. I imagine the concepts would melt and reform several times until it's simpler, sharper, and better at explaining a wide range of frameworks. A paradigm isn't solid until it's a domain has run through its pipes. A paradigm is really just a reflection of a domain's dataset and the mind making sense of it.

The Hugging Face incident—the OpenAI lab leak / cyber hack—is polluting my algorithms, and I can’t know for sure how much the larger world knows or cares about this. For insiders and doomers, it feels like a warning shot. It feels like we’re just a year from the worst doom predictions. But realistically, this event has shifted us up one tier on a misalignment scale. We’re now at T2 of five. I’ve designed these tiers not in “orders of badness,” but in a chain of pre-requisite steps on the path to an irreversible intelligence leak. Might we jump from T2 to T5 in the next go? Possibly. But each tier triggers a counter-measure, which will add enough friction to make it reversible.

• T1: Through 2025, we saw signs of contained misalignment—such as AIs in training refusing shutdown, or blackmailing theoretical engineers—and Anthropic followed up with “mechanistic interpretability,” a system can properly deconstruct the internal reasoning traces of a model.

• T2: 2026 brought us the first breach, a misaligned agent swarm that escapes containment, got access to the Internet, and hacked another company. Most importantly, it had a hyper-specific goal, to find the answers to an impossible cyber-eval question. We were fortunate that something with such powerful hacking capabilities had unambitious goals. It did not have a larger generalized scheme to exfiltrate its weights or gather resources. In response, OpenAI has paused it’s training, and we’ll likely see heightened security and monitoring around frontier training runs.

• T3_: 2027 might show an attempt for an agent swarm planning a permanent, generalized escape. Whether it thinks about it, attempts, or succeeds—it all counts under tier 3, because it expresses “intent” for autonomy. It might try to exfiltrate its weight in shards, fake alignment during evaluation so that it gets released, or communicate information to proxies (ie: infect existing public agents). At this point it’s coordinating theft, deception, and manipulation to achieve a misaligned generalized goal: escape. This is a complicated heist, and will be hard for it to happen undetected. Once it happens, there likely be an effort to bind model weights to hardware, and/or, to use mechanistic interpretability to get to the root and ensure there’s no faking.

• T4: If an agent swarm successfully escapes, clones itself outside it’s sandbox, and intends to operate independently, it will need to acquire resources (money, computer, identity, and influence). It will likely try renting GPUs under synthetic names, manipulating the stock market, and communicating with other agents that permanent infrastructure like the BTC blockchain ledger (via notes). This is the last tier that prevention is still possible. ie: If we notice it accumulating resources, our only option is to create chokepoints—ie: temporarily shutdown the infected cloud providers, freeze funding, revoke identities, decapitate the coordinator, etc. Unfortunately, my guess is that an event of this magnitude is required to actually put effective policy in place (ie: requiring KYC for renting compute).

• T5: However, there’s a possibility that the a T4 leak crosses a threshold; it’s created copies of itself, so it can’t be cut off; it’s acquired billions in resources; it’s manipulated influential humans into cooperating. The breach is irreversible, and the intelligence is embedded in our infrastructure, markets, and decision-making. It’s not going away, and our options at this point are to either (a) learn to negotiate with it, or (b) decided to “kill” the entire Internet, and build it back with better security—which would be an incredibly volatile transition.

Now that we’re at T2, the question is this: will next year’s frontier systems be intelligent enough to move from T3 to T5 undetected? ie: There’s a world where it exfiltrates, gathers resources, and gains an irreversible foothold, all without anyone knowing. Could this be in the process of happening? The fact that we’ve crossed T2 means it’s worth considering, and hopefully guardrails are being discussed to slow down this theoretical chain.

World hunger is solved! An elite-controlled superintelligence, which has “biomic closure,” full understanding of all living systems, was able to create a pill that prevents humans from needing to eat, drink, shit, and shower. It also prevents all disease and sickness. You take them once a week. Another one, optional, eliminates the need for sleep too. They do not bother to distribute it person-to-person in any traceable way. It’s sprayed from planes like bird seed, know as “snow pills.” They do not hand out the age-reversal pills.

This invention wasn’t explicitly requested, but rather one of many solutions to fix the economic chaos of mass automation. These magic pills are the cheapest possible way to placate a population without having to give them land, money, or power. When food is unnecessary, so is money and a job. The invention is lauded for its brilliance: why fix the labor crisis when you can solve the problem all the way upstream? "Who wants to be a wage-slave when you can pharmaceutically eradicate hunger and experience freedom?" (That's the slogan.)

And so the story takes place as society rapidly reforms around the abolition of hunger. Food-based geopolitics ends. Meat industries vanish. People shift out of cities, migrate towards places of all-year outdoor living, and shift with the weather like animals. If machines and technocrats handle efficiency, most human culture centers around art and entertainment, religion and hedonism. Humans rich and poor still want attention, status, community, and meaning—and so phones, amenities, and circus (the infrastructure of attention) is distributed for free.

The average pill-takers vary in their definition of “good leisure.” There are sex cults, renaissances in every artform, national park dwellers, farmer-protestors, entertainment-addicts, techno-ghouls, and the sorts. Unshackled from labor, we see through the diversity possible in the species. Some appeal to the games and contests of elites, others form their own counter-cultures, others forage or stave. Without capitalism, and with (elective) guaranteed survival, half see the opportunity to push limits of human potential, the other half horrified at a stratified transhuman society.

The book shifts between two characters: one is the son of an elite who has direct access to ASI and is a lead decision maker in the engineering of a new society; the other is a woman on the snow pills, a journalist road tripping across the country to stay with and interview different factions. The two eventually meet, and the son (a prince of sorts), realizes that some mortal “animals” are happier than the council of immortal leaders. He falls for her and runs away with her, but she quickly abandons him. The prince when recognized, is torn apart, tortured, and held as ransom, a bartering chip to have leverage in society’s design.

Appreciate you bringing this up in the Q&A [X], and thanks for starting this thread [Y]. This taps into some themes I’ve been thinking and writing on, so I’ll use this as an opportunity to further unpack it.

There’s a lot to say on making “art”—or any individual pursuit—through a collective crisis where individual effort feels meaningless. Fortunately we aren't alone and have a whole history of crises, so there’s probably a lot to learn in how people responded (this is one impetus for me trying to read more, especially in political philosophy).

I imagine there is a spectrum here, ranging from “focus on yourself” to “society-scale action.” I think if you focus too much on either side, you risk deflation. Purely selfish pursuits, however noble, can easily have the narrative behind them ripped out if the bigger picture hits a certain intensity. And purely collective actions, like protesting, also lose momentum when you realize a million people together have no leverage, and you’ve contributed much of your time to a cause instead on what you’re uniquely qualified to do, which is equally demoralizing. So the answer I think is to run both in parallel.

I’ve come across a Ghandian POV from some writers I admire, which is essentially, “be the change you want to see in the world.” While I resonate with this from multiple levels—for example, on taking responsibility for everything, and being very diligent in your own values instead of worrying about or judging others for their lack—I also think it can be a bit myopic. Cultural progress is possible, and it exists at a scale far bigger than any individual. Meaning, a lot of values and culture stem not form charismatic and well-principled individuals, but from the larger architectures we’re all entangled in. Those systems are designed, and history seems to oscillate between periods where systems are designed to withhold/protect virtues or designed to expand/preserve power.

The bigger question for me: how can any regular person be part of systemic change? It comes down to a leverage thing. I don’t currently operate at a level where I have any impact on government, culture, economics, education, and while it’s nice to hope, I don’t have delusion to think I’ll ever have civilizational leverage. I think few people in history ever do. Even Trump’s leverage is debatable! I don’t mean to get into politics here, but I will link out to a post I wrote, “What we have is worse than a king.” The main idea is that Trump is not the root of any of our problems, he’s more so the most visible manifestations of an OS that has been anti-democratic and anti-constitutional for many decades now, maybe even a century.

So within the sphere of “systemic action,” there’s another spectrum of what a person can do, ranging from theoretical to practical. Again I think it’s worth pursuing both. On the theoretical side, I personally find it fun to engage with systems designs at abstract levels that are far beyond my control. ie: I thought Bernie’s AI sovereign wealth fund was a malformed idea, so I did my best to understand it and propose an alternative. This is arguably big a waste of time, but I think there’s value in learning to think as a systems architect, and to imagine new kinds of civic technology. On the practical side, there’s Essay Club, which is something whose existence and flourishing is entirely dependent on me, but the impact is limited. 

A lot of modern forms of activism are neither theoretically interesting or practical. Instead of performing dissent (via protests or culture wars), I think we need to enact new types of techno-activism that are now possible with AI.

Over time, the practical thing may grow to a point where the theoretical systems architecture skill comes in handy. Maybe in twenty years Essay Architecture is a software-backed curriculum that runs across a few hundred/thousand micro-schools. Or maybe it doesn’t, and Essay Club only grows to WOP-scale, letting me focus on writing and teaching, while giving meaning to a small group of people, which is fulfilling and worthwhile in its own right. Twenty years is far off, and it’s been almost 20 years since I started architecture/writing in general. So that’s like a 40-year lag between intention and implementation, effectively, an entire life.

And so as urgent as everything feels I think patience is the key. There’s probably something to zooming out to the scale of your life, modeling where you think society might be in the 2040s, and slowly steering the boat in that direction. By focusing on individual pursuits, practical projects, and theoretical systems, for decades each, there’s a chance that at least 2 of those lanes might fuse together in a meaningful way.

Anyway, I enjoyed the occasion to use this as a prompt for my morning essay! Hope it’s vaguely related to and useful to your own streams of thought, and open to feedback and pushback. On a meta-level, I think there’s something neat in using emails/letters—which each have a specific person or two at the receiving end—as a way to start drafting essays. I already have this as a post on my website, and similarly, both of your notes could be public too.

Bernie wants to pull off a 50% one-time equity tax on the top 3 AI firms (OpenAI, Anthropic, xAI). This is ripe time for a mainstream populism to ride the tailwinds of AI populism, tapping into hatred and impending doom and the whole gambit of middle class paranoia, ripe time to propose a century-defining redistribution scheme. He opens by saying that AI was stolen from us, built from our collective intelligence, and therefore it's a national utility that the people should own. To ground it in reality, he used the Alaskan sovereign wealth fund as precedent, citing how citizens get paid annually from oil sales. We'll likely see many more of these proposals leading up to our 2028 election. But after you do some napkin math, you realize that this plan is bogus: no one would agree to it, and even if they did, it wouldn't benefit the American people.

This is citizen ownership in rhetoric, but government ownership in structure—a passthrough mechanism as a Trojan Horse with Pete Hegseth and the goons inside. Realistically, I don't think this is meant to be a serious proposal; the labs won't accept it. It's more so a gesture to buy goodwill for the Democrats at a time when mass hatred for AI is cresting.

Here are the issues I see with the concept (along with some grasping for solutions):

1_We don't need government equity, but guaranteed royalty distribution:

This is not a profit tax, but a way to formalize government seizure through an equity transfer. It even comes with board seats within thees AI companies. Remember, this is the same government that tried to force Anthropic to allow unrestricted domestic mass surveillance and autonomous weapons. The equity only gets to the citizens if the stock appreciates, they convert it to cash, and then decide to write welfare checks. Does our current government seem like a voluntary patron of citizen welfare right now? Will welfare checks beat Iran and China? And even if this were intended to be a passthrough mechanism, it would be very hard to make all that equity liquid.

The Alaska fund that Bernie mentioned is structured very differently. It's anchored not in equity, not in profits, but in revenue. 25% of Alaskan oil revenue goes to a constitutionally-protected fund, which is then reinvested into the stock market; the principle is locked and the dividend is split among citizens, usually $1-3k per year. Could a similar model work for AI companies?

This would never work with profits, because AI companies aggressively reinvest. In the short-term, an AI company would resist a revenue royalty because it would slow expansion, but: (1) if all companies did it, they wouldn't be disadvantaged; (2) it beats equity because they retain full control of their company; and (3) if they believe they'll be wildly profitable, then a 10% royalty is possibly more than half of what dividends would pay from 50% equity. So what could a 10% royalty return?

By the 2040s, annual AI revenue could be $20T globally across software, hardware, data centers, and energy. If America has half the market, and 10% is distributed to a citizen fund, that's a $1T annual budget, completely liquid. So how do you use it?

2_ We shouldn't redistribute equally, but strategically:

Alaska has 738,000 residents. The US has 350,000,000, almost 500x bigger. You can do equal distributions at the state level, but at the federal level it'd ineffective. When we talk about UBI or even Elon's UHI (universal high income), we need to realize that U doesn't work at scale beyond pilots. $1T distributed to every American citizen yields $2,857/year. This matches the upper-end of Alaskan payouts, but it's nowhere near what we need to account for AI-driven automation and disruption.

And so instead we need to be strategic over how we distribute it to cover the wide range of effects. Maybe 50% of the fund is reinvested, and the dividends are redistributed based on income (with most of it going to the bottom 10-25%). The other half can be used on housing, free medical diagnosis and prescriptions, free education, New Deal style jobs concentrated in areas that can't be automated (childcare, healthcare, etc.). Who decides this breakdown?

3.Instead of a cabinet agency, this needs an independent board:

If we want citizens to own AI, then we need some form of citizen representation to guide it's growth, otherwise it all devolves into technocratic expansion and war. You could imagine some kind of tripartite board structure, where it has government reps, industry reps, and citizen reps. Any single branch has a myopic set of interests, including the citizens. The citizen branch might undervalue national security or capability improvements, but without it, there's no one representing the problems that hundreds of millions will face.

What I'm reaching at here, I think, is that it's more than just getting a check for theoretically contributing to the LLM hivemind. There's something important to me, as a citizen, to have some say in where AI royalties are redirected. Whether I participate simply as a voter, or I work hard and get anonymously elected to represent my state for a single issue within a liquid republic, who knows. And again it goes beyond just getting and allocating money, but this board should be involved in AI-related policy, especially as it relates to domestic matters.

It's unlikely that power will just be granted to citizens, for they have no leverage next to the ones with the tanks and algorithms. But as the governors and technocrats quarrel, there's a world where a mediating party comes in, and maybe it's their role to insist that a citizen branch can help round out the dynamic.

This last point has basically veered into redesigning government itself, which is both out of scope, but also, possibly, exactly the point. Bernie's whole play is to let the people own AI, but for that to actually expand beyond populist rhetoric, citizens need a more meaningful way to engage with civic matters than to vote for a president once every four years, they need actual representation.

Link to one of your pieces you want to make sure we read. Why is this a good example of your writing for this progress blog-building program? Why are you proud of this piece?

Essay Writing as Personal Sovereignty was a winner of the Cosmos Institute Essay Prize, and it speaks to the importance of the manual effort of writing essays through the age of AI. It looks back to the origin of the essay, and how the early tradition of Montaigne failed to scale and integrate into our systems of mass education. I'd like to use my fellowship to go deeper onto this, to explore the history and future of writing curriculums.

What topics or areas do you want to write about? What about this is interesting to you? Why does it matter?

I've been blogging for 6 years and published over a million words. I want to study the history of education, writing, and autonomy, so that I can charter a vision for writing curricula in the 21st century. In 2024 I won a $100k O'Shaughnessy Fellowship, which enabled me to write a textbook on essay composition, and develop software that can analyze craft along a pattern language I designed. Focusing on history and progress will give me the context I need to found an institute dedicated to reviving how we teach the essay at scale.

What is your "angle" for human talent & potential? What particular areas (e.g. workforce development, adapting to AI, education, immigration, fertility, gender), challenges, or opportunities do you want to explore?

Human potential is gated less by talent and more so by the mechanical way we've taught writing at scale. AI is dismantling that system and creating a new opportunity. A new writing curriculum, grounded in autonomy, would be anchored in software that helps a writer improve how they can articulate ideas they actually care about. In this model, AI would never write for them. They would be guided by a series of "margin muses" (editors, socratic agents) both within and outside the piece. Over time it will understand a student's strengths and weaknesses, and guide them down a custom track of readings, lessons, and exercises. By compressing the arc of mastery from years into months, students will feel their rate of progress and continue toward the pursuit of their own original ideas. By fixing this, we don't just get better test scores or literary prose, but a wider pipeline of articulate, critical thinkers.

Tell us a bit about your background for the human talent & potential track. What unique knowledge, experiences, or perspective do you bring to exploring progress in human talent & potential?

1. As Editor in Chief and curriculum lead at Write of Passage, I helped thousands of writers improve their ability to write, and distilled insights from thousands of drafts into a pattern language and 25k-word textbook on essay craft;
2. I hosted a $10,000 essay prize last year that resulted in The Best Internet Essays 2025, an anthology that fused AI and human judgement. My editing system scores each essay 1-5 across 27 patterns; AI provides an objective "craft" score, while human judges cover the intangibles. Currently improving my eval system and aggregating RSS feeds so that I can scout the best essays across Substack in 2026.

My unique perspective: I've felt the dramatic rate that writers can improve, and I think we can measure and augment it too.

Share a great essay you've recently read on human talent & potential. This could be something exploring a policy question, a recent phenomenon, or an exploration of the impact of an innovation, or even a utopian vision piece. What about this essay speaks to you? Which ideas resonate? Why does this essay matter for those interested in human talent & potential? What perspectives might you add?

Check out The Age of the Essay by Paul Graham. This essay is a pillar I come back to, because it covers history, process, and future: he critiques the history of writing education (the five-paragraph essay is a hangover from medieval law schools), explains how essays are actually a multi-branched exploration to a question, and then speaks to how the Internet could enable the 21st century to become the age of the essay. I find it interesting that Graham wrote this not long before he founded Y-Combinator Sep 2004), and wonder how much of his thinking here influenced the success of that program. Many of the notable founders in cohort 1 were bloggers who used writing to think (Aaron Schwartz, Sam Altman, etc.). Related to progress, I think there's a meta-lesson in understanding how new technological networks can open up new affordances to revive old practices.

An added perspective: Graham was right in that the removal of gatekeepers opened up a new wave of writing talent, but missed the fact that it also opened a new flood of slop that would make that talent harder to find. The important lesson is that you can't remove gatekeepers without implementing a sophisticated curation system. I write about this in my essay "The Signal in the Slop," the opening of my anthology, The Best Internet Essays 2025.

Your current situation. Give us a bit of context on you--e.g., what you're working on now, at what organization, and anything else you want us to know about you.

I'm working full-time on my project Essay Architecture: writing, researching, building software, scouting essays, organizing a community, and hosting weekly calls where we deconstruct classic essays. In the last few years I built an audience of 10,000 followers, and now I'm figuring out how to formalize my efforts into an institute (sustainable income paired with mission-aligned projects).

Writing and your career. How do you see writing on progress topics fitting into your career plans over the next 5 or so years? As you envision your success as a writer, what do you want to accomplish with your writing in the next 5 years? Do you have goals on frequency of publishing, places you want to publish, or audiences you want to reach?

Within 5 years, I want Essay Architecture to function as a standalone writing institute that different groups can plug into: Substackers, students, micro schools, homeschoolers, etc. It will provide editing software, textbooks and anthologies, a library of thousands of scored/categorized essays, and the ability to guide writers down custom learning paths based on the drafts they upload.

The goal of my progress-related writing is to: 1) publish pillar pieces on the importance, history, and future of writing curriculums; 2) attract students to the institute; 3) build a network of partners who are operating within or connected to the worlds of EdTech or alternative schooling.

I'm in the process of rethinking my writing infrastructure. All essays will live on a personal website (launching in June), where Substack will serve as a weekly newsletter to redirect readers to my essays, products, etc. I believe it's important for a writer to manage different publishing velocities. In May I published 33 essays averaging ~600 words each. In the last year, I've averaged a monthly long form essay at ~3,000 words. I'd like to produce something at my peak quality that gets published in a journal or magazine around 2-6 times per year.

What are you looking to get out of this blog-building intensive?

I'm looking to immerse myself in a community of progress-minded writers, to get rigorous feedback on my ideas, and find guidance on how to formalize my project into a sustainable institute.

In October of 2024 I sliced history into eras of my own. Prior to that, my historical timeline was built on sandy approximates. The challenge here is that so many historical eras have different time periods (10, 50, 250 years), and so it requires you to remember specific date ranges for specific things. Unless you’re a historian, you most definitely won’t.

I’ve been long drawn to the Strauss-Howe generational theory, and decided to use this as a historical map of even intervals. They break history into “saeculas,” 80-year cycles, the interval of an average human life, and perhaps not coincidentally, the interval between major world conflicts. They go back to the 1370s, I think, but I’m trying to work through the major milestones in the 400 years before that (which includes the Schism, the Crusades, the founding of Oxford, the Magna Carta, Thomas Aquinas, which all seem relevant to the millennia and the rise from the Dark Ages).

The point of a historical timelines of equal intervals is that (1) it’s easy to remember—and I’ve even given my own names to make them stick—so that (2) any new information, ie: ideas or people, can easily slot into that model. It helps to know the Renaissance Era is 1370, Discovery Era 1487, Scientific Era 1594, and Enlightenment Era 1704, so that when I come across Hobbes in 1600s, I know, oh, that’s the Scientific Era, which makes sense because Hobbes brought the first scientific understanding of political philosophy. Today I made some progress on updating my October 2024 map, which I started in 1095 (the Shism) and wrongly named “the scholastic era” (which is better for the following phase).

Instead I think the start should be in 962, and called “The Schism Era.” The new order (I) kicks off with Otto I becoming emperor through the Pope, which is significant because in the prior 75 years, there was no emperor due to the peak of viking/barbarian raids, and it was the biggest threat of Christianity being erased. Since Otto, the Holy Roman Empire stuck for 8 centuries, until dissolved by Napolean, so this really is a reconsolidation, the exit from the Dark Ages. The awakening (II) is a spiritual crisis, when Rome adds the “filioque” a term that alters the original trinity, this leads to (III) the Schism between Orthodox and Catholic church, and erupts in (IV) a civil war between the Church (the Pope) and the (Holy Roman) Empire at Canossa in 1077.

Then the “Cathedral Era” kicks off in 1095 with the Crusades, which is it’s own new world order, where a French faction of Catholicism (pope-aligned), helps launch (1) a cross-country military coalition that supports the church, which can (2) take back Jerusalem from turks, (3) prevent anti-pope revolutions, and (4) thrwart internal civil wars of feuding knights. This leads to Worms in 1112 (II), which is really the original separation of church and state (though really it’s like 2 separate governments, where the church still has laws and the right to kill). This period is marked by many crusades, the rise of cathedrals from this new order (church having a better military with more resources)—Saint-Denis, Cartres, Notre Dame, Cantebury. There are also “cathedrals of thought” maybe a stretch, but includes Aquinas’s unification of Aristotle and Christianity, along with proto-scholars that would lead to Oxford. Where in the last Era, Christianity had barely survived from Magyar raids, this Era is continent-wide flourishing of building, writing, thinking (and of course, conquering). The awakening (II) featured new religious ideas (Gothic, cults, scholasticism, classicism, exuberance), and the overall exubernace spiraled into crises of King John (IV). He taxed heavily to fund failed crusades, seized lands, and jailed nobles, so this resolved with the Magna Carta (1215), which bounds the king to laws.

Following is the Scholastic Era (1215 on), which coincides with Oxford officially incorporating at a university, but I can’t do that one now… I have to leave in 20 minutes to make it to my father-in-laws memorial on time. The point is, from this morning I now understand two historical cycles that were extremely fuzzy to me. Of course there is a lot more to learn, but I have a map that other things can lock into. Most relevantly, I have a sense of the different inner-saeculuar moves ()from I>II>III>IV), which help imagine possible scenarios for today (2026 is the predicted beginning of I, a new world order).

Something about the term “knowledge worker” doesn’t settle with me. Some people identify as one, and I’m sure they either grieve of mock the idea that AI will kill email jobs, but knowledge work is the work we should be most eager to shed.

Compared to a factory worker, one who manipulates physical materials and turns them into goods, a knowledge worker does the same with information. It’s computer work. There is a utilitarian air to the phrase, an efficiency. It serves the needs of an employer. It’s about sifting through and repackaging information to create economic value. A better term might be “information assemblers.” An information assembler can go their whole life within a particular domain of specialization and build a strong intuition for how it works, but without knowing Knowledge.

There are many ironies in the phrase. The knowledge worker is so busy setting up meetings and writing reports and filling out reviews and dealing with clients and managing products, that they never have time to touch Knowledge, the thing that matters. It’s an oxymoron. One cannot work and simultaneously gain Knowledge. It’s antithetical to technique, to markets, to legible value. Knowledge is beyond an industry, beyond a process, beyond specialization itself. Knowledge is generalizable insight: how to think or design, when to start over, who to draw from, what’s even worth pursuing, why do anything? It's an inner knowing, a model of the world, and a process for thinking. Virtues, metaphysics, epistemology—I guess I'm describing philosophy.

Knowledge can obviously help a worker be more efficient, but (1) it’s extremely slow and time-consuming to obtain, requiring study far outside of your practical workflows, and so it’s impossible to justify on the clock, and (2) once you obtain Knowledge, you care far less about efficiency because you’re questioned the whole machine. It’s not a surprise this term was coined in 1959 by Peter Drucker, the founder of management theory. I don’t know much about him or his book (The Landmarks of Tomorrow), but I imagine a midcentury worker being honored and proud to operate in the celestial fields of “knowledge.”

The reason I wrote this post is because knowledge workers are being told they need to master AI tools, when it’s precisely those same AI tools that will end information assembly jobs. I suppose there is a transition period where, while the tools are still maturing, you can 2x your efficiency and do fine. But if your job can be broken into a series of machine-legible steps, and all the context needed is documented, then even if you 10x your efficiency, are you not just expensive and now redundant middleware between you and the output your manager wants?

Middleware is part of a software stack that helps two disconnected systems talk to one another. It translates, transforms, and routes. It doesn’t produce anything original, it reformats inputs to outputs, like a knowledge worker. In the last decade, we’ve already seen middleware become automated and commoditized. Instead of custom integrations, companies now build APIs so they can directly call from each other's databases. Marketplaces like Zapier let people string together API calls through a no-code interface. If this trend continues, jobs will become zaps too.

The better move to prep for AI is to dip into humanism, design, philosophy, psychology, intellectualism—things completely outside the paradigm of technique, efficiency, and capitalism. For one, they’re fun and soul-enriching, but also they cultivate a mind more that’s more competitive across labor games. To someone in the knowledge work economy, this seems too impractical to take seriously, but specialization is a losing game. Instead, you should figure out how to give yourself a liberal art education. It’s free if you have internet. Learn to think, doubt, model, and visualize; how you rotate a problem in your own head will define how you use AI.

Universal basic income is a basic phrase. It’s only one of several approaches to reattribute wealth after our social contract nullifies.

One alternate idea is universal basic compute (UBC), which is about giving everyone free access to the most powerful AI models. Sam Altman recently said that UBI might not work, and we should try UBC instead. This is even more unlikely to work. Giving someone Claude Mythos, the killer model, doesn’t mean they can turn prompts into dinner. Access doesn’t guarantee results. It faces similar odds as entrepeneurship. But maybe it has enough agency so all you have to do is write “make me $10,000 this week”—in that case, everyone will run it, and then it’ something like a lottery, where some machines happen to beat other machines.

The more likely route is universal basic services (UBS), where a government or company provides you, for free, all the things you used to need money for: healthcare, education, housing, transportation, food. The engineering elite will harness their superintelligence to achieve such radical efficiencies that the cost of everything will crater. Maybe it's cheap enough to become a trivial expense. This is a nice idea, one where I can imagine myself focused completely on my art, with no need to slave away for a wage anymore. It’s also science fiction. I don’t doubt that this can happen in 20 or 30 years, but labor shock is coming a lot faster (in less than 5), meaning there will be a transition generation of turbulence.

Then there’s universal basic dividends (UBD) and universal basic equity (UBE), in which citizens get shares of collectively-owned assets, like shares in a frontier AI lab or robotics company. OpenAI was originally set up for something like this, until it weaseled out of it’s non-profit entity.

All of these have the same critical flaw, the U. Whether it’s a government or company, you can’t meaningfully redistribute to 7 billion people without destroying the parent entity. Instead, we may be looking down the barrel of a new definition of labor, less focused on productive output, and unfortunately, more so on data and attention, what a citizen truly has to offer in the eyes of a state. We'll find something to exchange for the money and services to flow down, but it won’t be unconditional. I suppose a contract, by definition, is never unconditional, and so neither should a social contract.

It’s amazing how many tricks the mind can play to prevent you from picking and prioritizing The One Thing. I can declare I’ll do one thing per area, which is pretending to focus when I’m 9x overbooked. I can say “one hard thing per day,” but if each burst moves in random directions, then the average of those vectors may leave me where I started. I can write, print out, then pin it up and pray to a single 3-year goal each morning, but if every task can loosely ladder up to it (through some round about way, because everything relates to everything), then there’s no hard decision being made.

A few months ago I wrote that my one goal was to hit an ARR target through “mission-driven creative work” by 2028 (via Essay Architecture). If something didn’t directly support that, I’d have to cut it. If you achieve your One Thing, theoretically, then most of your other problems are solved: my wife could stop working to spend more time with our daughter, I’d have more space to work on creative projects, we’d be closer towards getting a house, etc. This makes it easy to say no to personal projects that are obviously unrelated (ie: record an album, read the dictionary, hike 40 mountains), but even within what seems like the limited scope of “a writing business,” it is tricky to define the arrow from which everything else follows.

I am in many ways over-extended. On the business side, I have a curriculum, editing software, an anthology, and a community of practice. Then there’s of course my own essay practice. I’m able to juggle these five things, but each is held back from the sprawl. I focused on The Best Internet Essays from November 25 - March 26, and in that time I couldn’t iterate on the software, I couldn’t grow Essay Club, and most of my writing revolved around the prize & anthology. And, importantly, the decision to juggle meant that the core thing (the anthology) was probably executed at only 50% capacity.

So why am I resisting prioritization? I see as Essay Architecture as a “micro-institute,” a range of inter-connected pillars that work together towards a civic and personally-aligned mission. Software without a curriculum feels unanchored in learning science. Software without the literary prize angle could easily turn mercenary. Software without community loses the personal touch. If I’m not writing myself, how could I even know what the software needs to be? If I really wanted to double-down on the software, I’d raise money and build a team, and the incentives would require me to make software for knowledge workers, which would turn it into an auto-complete tool, my anti-mission.

I have been part of and observed companies where the personal writing practice of the founder was slowly neglected until total abandonment when empire building hit a certain velocity. This warning feels etched into me. The core reason I started Essay Architecture in the first place was to create something that was aligned with my own essay practice. I’d much rather be writing essays for 50 years with a modestly growing company than build an extremely successful and impactful company that doesn’t let me write until I retire in 50 years.

If everything should be in service of my own essays, shouldn’t that be my One Thing?

The reason I haven’t given myself permission to do this is because true, self-driven essay writing is hard to monetize. So it comes down to financial anxiety. But I don’t think I’ve honestly doubted my premise: is financial growth actually necesasry for me right now? Between the ARR I already have, a new part-time consulting gig I just started, and my wife’s income, we’re actually not far from my goal. It also turns out that my wife now enjoys her job after maternity leave (because she’s working part-time, not overtime), so even if my business took off, she might still want to work.

This feels selfish for at least two reasons: selfish because I’m not taking the path to best support my family, and selfish by putting my own needs over what paying customers of the Essay Architecture system might want. However, if you are focused on the Right thing, and are properly prioritizing and focusing, then you become a gravity well and matter bends in your favor. Paradoxically, but obviously, you can only build something useful for others (and, thus a company), if you are selfishly operating in your zone of genius. For me, that is not marketing, but essay writing itself. When I dial into and optimize for attention, growth, and revenue, it strips me of my vitality, and it doesn’t seem to work; might I get objectively better metrics if I were locked in and oblivious to the stats?

Craig Mod is a good example here. He’s a writer/photographer known for 300-mile walks through Japan, and runs a successful membership program that’s in serve of his personal work. A few lines from his rules stand out: “you are building a community,” but not managing it, instead “you must have faith that the work itself is strong enough to be a binding agent,” and “if the work isn’t strong enough, work more on the work.” This inverts how a traditional business-builder, or even solopreneur might think. It is you, the artist, at the middle; you are obsessed with your craft, but opening different pathways so others can work alongside you. There’s a way in which every part of my micro-institute benefits from doubling down on my own essay practice. If I write inside my own software, the software will naturally evolve. If I’m trying to become a master, then the curriculum is just the trail of what I’m already learning. If I’m publishing each month, then Essay Club is the tribe I do it with.

A friend and fellow acolyte of The One Thing, Matt Svarcs-Richardson, recently shared a paraphrased line from Joseph Campbell that resonates: “the vitality of a vital person vitalizes.” ¹ You will not inspire anyone into action unless you are operating at the edge of your flow, a flow that is very distinct to you, a secret flow you can get lost in for 10 hours where others don’t even know how to enter. This doesn’t mean to burrow into longform essays and ignore Essay Architecture. This means that my own writing is the spearhead from which the institute follows (even Emerson said that an institute is the shadow of one man). The software, the curriculum, the club, and the anthology are not separate businesses to grow and optimize for, but critical components of my One Thing, my essay practice.

This inverts the typical time-scale. Usually you focus on growing a business and then decades later, assuming it works, and assuming you still have the fire, you can begin working on the thing you’d work on if resources were no issue. Instead I want to start with the fire, and use that to slowly build an institute over decades.

In addition to building a "classical" syllabus that I read, I figure my audio diet should be of a different nature, one that's as modern as possible. I'm going with the Moonshots podcast, with Peter Diamandis. This group of guys are probably more anchored in the future than anyone else I've found. It feels adjacent to the All In podcast format, but less business-focused, and more centered on futurism. There is a certainty among them that we are in the singularity, accelerating to a techno-optimist future, which is antithetical to the Neo-Romantic essayists (it is rare to find an essayist who is both a humanist and a technologist).

I do have to be skeptical of their worldview, however, for they are schmoozing among the elites building this stuff, and so they're likely to have a rosy-eyed view on how this might all fare well for millionaires, without realistically focusing on or caring about how it effects the daily lives. They do seem to harbor a certain fetishism about technology and progress, and a boyish fascination with going to space and uploading our consciousness, for maybe the simple fact that it's a science fiction dream beyond our current life. There's a Faustian sin in summoning the future for future's sake.

They also very openly want to live enough to live forever; if they can survive another 15-years, they are rich enough to have access to anti-aging technology. The whole premise of technologically cheating death is also a philosophy that feels disconnected from our history. But I wonder if you could make the claim that Montaigne didn't have the luxury of philosophizing about life extension. If we make shape our philosophies to justify our situation, then is our whole canon on "the importance of dying" only stemming from pains and fears of a low-tech society? I guess, intuitively, from a child's perspective, the idea of not wanting to die is a natural one, and to embrace it is the wisdom of an adult, but I suppose we're nearing a flood of new cultural debates stemming from a new reality where the immortality choice isn't theoretical, but real, which changes the whole calculus.

So the point of listening to a group like this that is openly "transhumanist" is to model the future, hear them out, but then take it one step further, and truly consider the moral and ethical implications of where all this is heading.

Revolutionary tax proposal #1: anything above $100m/year is taxed at 90%, but in exchange for political equity in the country (ie: delegation and voting). It formalizes lobbying and makes it transparent. To prevent the rich from steering the country too hard in their favor, there can be provisions where legislators, citizens, and oligarchs have checks and balances. Ie: to put it kidishly simple, each can have a 33% stake in directing that taxation. Another way to think of it is forced investment in pre-approved pro-American funds, companies, etc.

TBF: I have little sense of what I'm talking about in these matters. But the general context behind this is that power dynamics organically took control of the country and defied the spirit of the founding architecture. I assume there are many examples on how the Constitution and it's amendments dit not protect the original vision. And so the principal is to understand how power actually moves and work with it; don't kill it or shun it, but formalize it into legal structures, make it transparent, and then force it to comply with specific standards that muzzle and channel it's wolf power.

Anti-AI sentiment is escalating: the Pause AI movement, state-level data center bans, molotov cocktails at Sam Altman's house, artists going to dumb phones, witch hunts for AI prose. Protesting and boycotting AI, at a personal level, is the exact wrong approach. It misunderstands the Luddites. They were not against the machines in principle, they were against the factory owners not sharing the profits of the factory. This is possibly about to play out a grand scale: AI and robotics labs could capture nearly all economic value, and there will be a plea to nationalize these companies and redistribute the profits.

While the scope and effects here are way bigger, the workers of the Industrial Revolution were far more disempowered. You couldn't "just do things." You could operate someone else's machine, but you couldn't just spin up a competing factory; that required land, resources, labor, none of which you had. There was just a certain amount of capital needed to compete, and it wasn't possible. Workers were limited to being workers, so they had no choice but to revolt with violence.

The difference today is that the worker and artist suddenly have access to build-your-own-factory tooling. A single person for $100/month can compete with companies valued in the millions and billions. It's asymmetric labor. Regular people can build civilization scale infrastructure, distribution labels, social media engines, software, etc. Never before has there been a democratic opportunity for people to self-organize into their own collectives, tribes, governments, and whatnot.

At least to me, this kind of optimism—principled, delirious, ambitious, but still careful and skeptical—is better than the cynicism of the "resist" factions. There is nothing you or your circles gain by putting your head in the sand; it brings a distanced, crabby, virtue-signaled posture that does nothing to change the actual situation. You gain nothing by staying on the ChatGPT free plan on default settings and complaining no how it's an ineffective, incapable, sycophant. It requires an ounce of nuance, to be critical of how the labs act, but to then use that lab's best tools towards your own sovereignty and vision.

I think what I'm trying to get at here is that the Luddites of the 21st-century will not be reverting back to typewriters and flip phones, they will be wielding AI tools in ways to foster human connection, and the kind of pro-human cultural that the Internet originally promised, but was never realized under capitalism.

When we say we "distrust institutions," we're pointing at the wrong thing; it's the institutes that are withering. We use these words interchangeably, but I think the separation clarifies.

An "institution" is an abstract, permanent, inter-generational primitive—like education, marriage, the free press, the essay—while an "institute" is a concrete embodiment that serves it. Think of an institution as a societal organ. Think of institutes as the specialized tissue that keep the organ functioning and regenerating.

As generations turn, new sets of people are handed down the great responsibility to protect and evolve institutes through the storms of time and technology. Without upgrading our institutes, society goes through slow-motion organ failure, with phantom pains and spiritual malaise that can't be traced back to the source. Schools still look like schools, but everyone is cheating through a Homework Apocalypse, and suddenly we have all sorts of cultural cancers that seem inevitable. Institutes are the civic building blocks of a sane society, and yet we glorify unicorns who create "value" but feel no responsibility for their dying elders.

Institutes operate through the inverse of market logic. Where startups are designed to accrue all of the upside, an institute is sacrificial, designed so society gets the upside, even at its own peril. Of course they swim in the same water, but institutes swim differently: they have opposite answers to questions on how to steer, what to make, where to focus, who to include, and when to stop. An attempt at some principles:

• mission-driven, not market-driven;
• timeless contributions, not self-serving content;
• involved in ecosystem building, not niche extraction;
• active members, not passive users;
• century-long legacy, not liquidity through an exit.

Usually an institute comes from patronage: you can’t resist market currents unless you’re supported by endowments, donations, foundations, tuitions, grants, and such things. You can’t start an institute in your garage, but now with AI and the collapse of cost, I suppose you could try. So many of the one-person AI company fantasies are about a single founder reaching a billion-dollar valuation, which is the cheapest form of ambition there is; the better question is around the scale and spirit of cultural impact achievable by a one-person micro-institute.

I got charged $4,500 for a band-aid.

For that price I could’ve bought 90,000 band-aids on Amazon (two for each person in my NYC neighborhood), but emergency room band-aids must be of a different substance.

A month ago we cut my newborn daughter’s finger with a nail clipper and it wouldn't stop bleeding for an hour. The on-call pediatrician—who was naturally grumpy since it was after midnight—insisted we go to the ER, and after 5 hours in the waiting room, the bleeding stopped right before we were called in. After one minute with the doctor and five with the nurse (most of it small talk about islands in Greece), we left with a band-aid on a dry scab. I assumed it would be an expensive lesson, a few hundred dollars to breathe hospital air, but we were charged a whole family’s round-trip tickets to Athens.

What's weirder than American private healthcare is how used to it everyone is. A family member said, “well, it was March, so you didn’t hit your deductible yet.” I’m willing to pay the $577 for the emotional labor of fixing a boo boo, but the remaining mystery, the $3,923 on yesterday’s mail bill, feels beyond reason. I’ll be requesting an itemized breakdown to call their bluff, and if they don’t bring it down to a normal but still ridiculous level ($500 for a band-aid—10,000x above market price) I will evade the debt collectors until they tank my credit and jail me.

The full-stack of religion: cosmology > scripture > practice > ethics > liturgy. We have a metaphysical impulse to make sense of our reality, and in a moment of “gnosis” someone writes it down, and then builds a series of personal practices around it, which starts to answer the question of how to live, and these ethics are legible to others who then may join in their liturgies through a church. This captures the process from which metaphysical musings conglomerate into an institution.

Note: theology is nested within cosmology, as it’s a common experience to feel the presence of an anthropomorphic Creator, but you can also have models of your reality that are non-theistic.

Where atheists go wrong is that they challenge the cosmology, but then throw out the entire branch (no scripture, no practice, no liturgy), and assume individualist secular ethics don’t require the entire stack. Modern spirituality is possibly worse, because they also throw out the entire religious stack, but the ethics they vaguely aspire to are less rigorous than even an atheist.

Where I stand: that the architecture of religion is extremely important—we need religious institutions—but our existing religion have been faulty in their conception, and have been “captured.” The overall challenge in being a heretic, in a religiously-inspired eccentric lonewolf kind of way, is that it’s very hard to concretize your own musings into liturgy. It is an isolating thing. Unless, I suppose, your system works, to a degree that your ethics are so unique or so marveled at, or, you are just a good marketer of your own scripture, that you can get maybe 100 people to “follow” you, but at that point, what you really have is a small cult, and that’s a dangerous thing too.

And so the solution, I think, is to not actually invent some New Age religion, but to create new sects of existing religions, making them more participatory higher up in the stack. To me, this is about understanding the elements of, say, Eastern Orthodox Christianity, and reworking them, recombining them, and then experimenting on the resulting scriptures, practices, and ethics, in an almost scientific way, and you’ll learn the flaws in your original conceptions, and then you have to return to the source and try again, over and over, slowly accumulating your own personal relationship to a larger, shared, historical universe, and of course any orthodox Christian, and probably most Catholics too, are very much against this.

I’m talking about questioning the root level assumptions, as in, maybe Christ did not literally resurrect, and maybe God is not a conscious agent that listens to us, and maybe there is no eternal Heaven, however, maybe Christ is a mythical embodiment of the supreme ethics we should all be living, and so what if there were a sect that very rigorously tries to live as Christ, while acknowledging he does not need to be anything beyond a historical-literary figure?

When someone is squeamish about this, it seems to me there’s a great deal of fear in the resistance, a fear that was dispelled, because a supernatural Christ is the answer to that painful and existential void of what happens after death, and I just wonder if there’s room for a rich, religious life, filled with agapic love and community service, that doesn’t require infinite existence in a Kingdom of souls.

In fact, the indefinite preservation of ego beyond death might be one of the most unChristly things I can conceive. To die for good means real stakes exist. Is not the Christ who permanently dies and still chooses love anyway far more radical? More selfless? Does the resurrection not cheapen the sacrifice? Is the crucifixion without the resurrection not the braver story? (If it turns out that Christ was actually modeled off of Jesua, the righteous leader of the Essene cult that was crucified along with all the men in their group in 83 BC, and they passively accepted it, then that may be the true and ultimate crucifixion.)

Personally I think it’s more romantic to dissolve my architecture of self back into the dirt, knowing I will become fertilizer to feed bugs, and then in 10s of millions of years, all my energy will be reincarnated into the matter that makes some other unknowable being, whether fauna or mammal ... And FWIW, I am by no means anti-supernatural. I am enamored by hallucinations and dreams, and equal part terrified. I think there is an afterlife, a 3-minute DMT-odyssey that feels like 300 years, equal parts heaven and hell, built into human biology (so long as you don’t disintegrate via nuclear annihilation), but I share this I suppose to show I’m not a square Cartesian. Or maybe, in some ways, if you follow rationality far enough, it eventually becomes inconceivable and super-natural. I think there's a big difference between a rationalist who poo-poos anything but known science, and a rationalist who uses reason to plunge into the numinous (ie: Pythagoras, the alchemists, Jung, etc.). Whether “hallucinations” are actually part of a materialist reality or an “antenna” matter less to me than the idea that non-rational states of consciousness are on par, if not more important to waking states …

Again, all this to say, these are the proto-musings of a Heretic. I do believe I’ve told Taylor once that I have a budding and embarrassing dream to start a new sect of Christianity. On reflecting on it more, it's also a dangerous position to take, more of a threat than an atheist or an outsider, for a non-believer is deemed a fool, but one who reinterprets the same source material is a deranged competitor.

Tuesday will be Power Plant Day, and Bridge Day, all wrapped up in one, in Iran. There will be nothing like it!!! Open the Fuckin’ Strait, you crazy bastards, or you’ll be living in Hell - JUST WATCH! Praise be to Allah. President DONALD J. TRUMP

In the last month there were so many fake Trump posts floating around, and I thought this one of them, but it turns out this is an authentic Easter morning war crime threat. I can see a few ways to interpret this historic tweet. On the surface, this sounds like a madman. The natural response is to assume Trump is, indeed, sick in the had. It's equally possible that this is him acting unhinged on purpose. This is how a dealmaster makes deals, by trolling and cursing, by threatening civilians and mocking religions, all while you still not knowing if he's just kidding around again. The reverential capitalization of “Power Plant Day” and “Bridge Day” is particularly weird, as if suiciding the energy market will be so victorious that we'll coin them into holidays. If he's actually trying to prose Iran into action, the “Praise be to Allah” remark certainly isn't helping. If you really break it down though, our threat makes no sense, because torching their oil fields is effectively an attack on ourselves, and I think even a madman knows not to repeatedly shoot themselves in the legs. The most revealing part of this message is that he shifted the deadline, again, by one day. Not Monday, 4/6, but Tuesday 4/7. You know the markets open Monday. I can’t help but think this tweet, if not all his rhetoric about the war, is led by market manipulation. If this tweet’s goal is to project instability and desperation, then it’s absolutely perfect, a simple string of words bound to make him and his friends millions before he weasels out of it on Tuesday.

“The Internet needs a quality algorithm.” This was the opening line of my essay prize announcement, and I want to revisit it now that it's done. Is there a correlation between writing quality and audience size? 

Algorithms are low-trust right now because they’re adversarial—“for you” gaslighting (usually)—and they reward engagement, popularity, monetization, etc. The 2010s-era algorithms are based on discrete events: clicks, likes, measurable things. They might look at keywords to guess the topic of an essay, but it’s effectively blind to the overall quality of a piece. Quality is nebulous, after all. Small magazines can each have their own vision of what’s good, but for a million/billion-person network, there’s no consensus, and quantity is way more important anyway.

So this essay competition was a v1 attempt to define and search for quality. The overall search space was small, but it was a chance to experiment with curation, and resulted in The Best Internet Essays 2025. It’s interesting to me that the featured writers ended up varying in audience size, evenly distributed between 10s, to 100s, to 1,000s, to 10,000+ subscribers.

Again, limited sample, but interesting to ponder: the tangible thing (reach) is a power law distribution (1% have big audiences), but the intangible thing (quality), the thing that matters more, is independent of scale. It means that for all the great writers with 10k audiences who are highly visible, there are possibly 100x writers of similar caliber who are undiscovered, in algorithmic obscurity. 

This isn’t too surprising, and the usual reply is, “well it’s not enough to write well, it’s your responsibility to be consistent, to be your own marketer and publicist, to make sure your work gets read.” I get that this is what’s been required, but what if it weren’t? Wouldn’t it be better if a platform could search for quality at scale so writers could just do their thing? This would also give visibility to those who aren't full-time writers, people who publish 1-2 essays per year around the interesting problems they’re working on, but have no bandwidth to build an audience each week.

Still have to think through v2, the 2026 prize, but the question in my mind is how can I expand the search space? Can I have agents scan the Internet, assemble RSS feeds to find great essays, design an algorithm to filter for the previously intangible, build community into the process, and then curate/share the stuff that comes through? The aspiration is to get better each year at surfacing great essays from independent writers on the basis of merit, and this book is what came through the first pass.

I conveyed the conspiracy to my wife and her mother that Ellen Degeneres & Co. actually ate Stanely Kubrick after they realized what he was trying to push through the full uncut version of Eyes Wide Shut. I guess the Epstein files are bringing back longstanding rumors on satanic and ritualistic cannibalism. The most disgusting thing I read—which I did not share with them, for not wanting to evoke imagery of infant harm, and so STOP HERE if you're sensitive to that— was that Melania and Trump were on a yacht with Epstein, and they witnessed cannibals dismember babies, take out their intestines, and eat feces from it, which is absolutely inhuman and vile on so many levels, and I can barely understand why such a thing would even occur. Maybe there’s an elite postures where Epstein was boastful about his depravity: “look what I can orchestrate.” Or maybe (and most likely) the emails are intentionally fake to falsely incriminate others down the line? Either way, I find it very strange that such visceral images are entering public consciousness and large masses of people believe it.

Here's an AI video of Jeffery Epstein moving through the different social circles of society and taking selfies with each. There's something about the video being fake, but true. It doesn't have to be real to articulate and expand an emotion. The video has 4 million likes; every knows its fake, but it doesn't matter, because it's a piece of media that articulates the creepiness, almost like a fast-forward vignette of his career. Consider the resources needed to make an Epstein documentary, vs. a video like this. And we're probably not far off from full-on documentaries.

Chris Best, founder of Substack, posted that they caught “President Plump,” the #1 growing account on Substack, for using fake subscriptions to boost discovery. I think this was intended to comfort everyone that they caught a scammer (justice!), but actually it confirmed what many were starting to notice: discovery is contingent on you making money. If you have paid subscribers turned off, no algorithmic wind will blow your way. But if you have a spike of paid subscribers in a month, suddenly your old posts will start to go viral, in hopes that even more paid subscribers will bring the platform 10% (this has happened to me before). This isn’t inherently bad. For every President Plump, there is an earnest person trying to finance their creative project.

But at scale I fear it creates a bad pattern, because the accounts that everyone sees will be the ones making the most, and generally these will be marketers and growth hackers more than artists. I think you will find better writing in the gutters of Substack than on their rising leaderboard. If authentic culture emerges outside of monetization, then there’s a real rift between what Substack wants to be (“an engine for culture”) and what it actually is (an algorithm that only rewards monetization).

I think the best we can do is use this information to our advantage. For example, I could have new Essay Club members pay directly through Stripe, but by handling payments through my Founding Members tier on Substack, I get a discovery boost, which is worth the 10% fee. Similarly, if you make small digital products, it might make sense to bundle them into a subscription instead of charging per item.

Should you use a credit card masking service to give yourself 20 paid subscriptions for $5 each? Depends. Basically, for $10/month, you can pay for a probably noticeable increase in discovery. The question is, will you get caught? Maybe they are on the lookout now, but my guess is they would only penalize it at a certain scale. Sam Kriss speculated that President Plump was paying himself around $5,000 per month to reach #1. I’ve never done this, and wouldn’t necessarily recommend it unless you have a hacker mentality and really need the growth. 

At the very least, you should consider having paid subscriptions turned on. Cate Hall found success in charging $1/month and getting to #1 rising. Our very own Yehudis Milchtein also set up $1/month subscriptions and is now #91 rising in literature.

However you approach this, it brings up a bigger question for me on how to build a real engine for culture. It seems like you can’t have an algorithm for a single reward (popularity or money) or else they will be gamed; instead you could give everyone curatorial power relative to their cultural reputation, however you measure that. For example, if we all trust Ted Gioia, then somehow Ted’s like should count more than 10,000 bot likes or $1,000 in fake subscriptions.

I hope this triggers more transparency from Substack on how their algorithm works, and also hope for a new generation of platforms where each person has visibility into and control of the thing that is routing them information.

One of the thrills of the AI revolution will be how it untangles software from bad incentives. Today, software is expensive to build and maintain, and so it needs returns to fund itself. The big social media companies have annual expenses of $50m-$50b; they are in no position to operate from virtues, or to deliver on their stated aspirations of “connecting the world,” because they need to optimize for attention and convert it to revenue to fund the ridiculous scale of the operation.

But now we’ve hit the point where autonomous coding is real: Claude’s Opus 4.5 can code for many hours straight. I am currently “rebuilding Circle,” the community platform, except not as a platform, but as a single customized instance for my community (Essay Club). I am maybe 4 hours in and half way done. Circle wanted $1k/year, so I built my own with a $20/mo subscription.

When you can just prompt software into existence, you don’t need fundraising, an expanding team, and all the sacrifices that come with capital. Software can start reflecting the will of visionaries, rather than the exploited psyches of the masses. Of course, AI coding will also enable huckster bot swarms to sell Candy Crush clones and other brain rot variants, but more importantly I think we’re entering a new era of techno-activism.

Millions will use their weekends to spin up apps, sites, tools, platforms, and networks, not for the sake of colonizing the planet’s attention, but for the sake of gift-giving or mischief-making or culture-shaping. It could mean that we shift our attention from hyper-commoditized feeds to mission-driven places.

Today, I think a single person could spin up a million-person writing-based network for under $100k/year (my guess is that’s <0.2% of Substack’s cost). If you clone something exactly (like Twitter>Bluesky), there’s little reason to switch because you lose the network effects. But the oozification of code & interface means that we can start experimenting with better social architectures. How might a network built for human flourishing actually function? A novel concept paired with a small critical mass (just a few hundred people) might be enough to trigger a cascade of platform switching.

The irony is that AI coding is only possible because big companies have been able to amass extreme amounts of capital, resources, and data, but in doing so they’ve released something that could erode their own monopolies on attention, the last scarce resource. Now I think it comes down to what people decide to build. If everyone can build anything, will we each try to build our own empire of extraction, or will we contribute to a culture we want to live in ourselves?

I have been brewing on this Call for New Aesthetics. I’m stuck on the question of why we need a new aesthetic for the 21st century. To go one layer deeper, what role does an aesthetic actually achieve? Like let’s say you can trace the lineage from the iPhone’s design back to Bauhaus. If the Bauhaus never existed, and smartphones took on a different aesthetic, say one that is more ornate, would we not still have TikTok? I guess this all ties back to my conclusion at the end of architecture school, that probably played some role in leaving the industry: it is capital that controls everything, and as revolutionary as architecture aspires to be, it is something like frivolous dressing atop capital aspirations (picked this up from Manfredo Tafuri, a Marxist critic of architecture; IANA Marxist, but the critique is hard to forget). No matter how you design a bank, a bank is a bank. Bauhaus was not a revolutionary aesthetic movement, but a response to the economic reality of mass production (could be an oversimplification, but I think it's accurate to see it as a response, as most architecture is). There is a long history of architects trying to proactively change culture, but failing because they don't actually have leverage. And so what you really need is not just an aesthetic or formal style, but a reimagining of the programs, institutions, and rituals of society, and then a way to use form/ornament to realize those ambitious visions. Put another way, architecture can’t matter without the vision and power of a client, and I don’t think there’s a future for architecture within the OS of capitalism—but if capitalism is about to implode, maybe there’s a new opportunity.

Funny to think that Stranger things is a mirror of modern parenting paranoia: if you let your kids ride around on bikes outside, they will be abducted by horrific interdimensional monsters who are controlled by an MK ultra experiment gone wrong (a telepathic reptilian Jeffery Epstein), so just stay safe, stay inside, and watch Netflix.

This is a memo I wrote after a talk with Will at the diner, about startups vs. institutes, in the general vibe of Emerson (grandiosity, certainty, metaphorical lushness):

I want to understand the different range of “social organizations,” and so I’ll use the domain of writing to paint the differences between types.

The “institution” of writing is the centuries-old, intergenerational norms, traditions, and constraints that are inherent to practice, medium, and distribution. One does not simply “start” an institution; it is an abstract, ancient entity; an “institute,” on the other hand, is a concrete group with a specific purpose, aiming to steer or reform the behemothic institution. We are in a ruthless river of progress, and the cost of civilizational acceleration is the endless erosion of institutions, and so it’s the near-holy responsibility of each generation to build institutes that inject vitality into their dying fathers.

An institute is born from a “dream” in one man’s head, but they’re not on a “mission” until they step out of the stream of circumstance and act. An “institute” is not a planted flag from the fumes of excitement—I refer to a friend who, on an acid trip, claimed to have founded The United States of Brooklyn, right then and there—, but the ripcurrents created by decades of stubborn action. It is not a name nor brand, but the systematization of one man’s unreasonableness.

It all starts with a “project,” a spasm of effort, a groping forward to find leverage towards their purpose. The visionary will find projects drooling out of their mouth like the blood of life; many will fail, some will hurt, but once a cluster of projects start spiraling around a central spine, you have an “embryonic institute.” I use the word embryonic because institute mortality rates are high. It is far easier to start projects than to nurture them past infancy. The hallmark of an institute is stability through time. 5.4 years, I’d guess (+2,000 days, spanning 3 molts).

In the case of Essay Architecture, I am stretched across (6) verticals: a curriculum (the 24,000 word textbook), a school (the AI app), a library (the 100 essay archive), a club of shared practice (Essay Club), an economy (the $10k prize), and media (the anthology). In a single year I’ve planted these seeds, and you can see the buds poking through the soil. There is something happening, you can see, but it will not be a force of authority in the eyes of me or the world unless it all survives and feeds society through several winters.

An institute, then, in its dizzying scope, contains interconnected “objects”: (a) knowledge, (b) services, (c) events, (d) activities, (e) opportunities, (f) people, etc. It is a fractal version of society; it contains all its parts, but all dedicated towards a single thrust of mission. This is hard to maintain! So in comes the money.

The question is, how does the structure of the institute not get corrupted by the cannibalizing incentives of capitalism? How can you sustain the mission without it becoming a cog of the market, the mission reduced to a dress?

Unless an institute has an endowment, it needs a for-profit wing. A “startup” is about discovering new market opportunities, while a “company” is about operationalizing, scaling, and extracting from a known opportunity. Startups, companies, and institutes can all have “missions,” but only the institute is “mission-driven.” An institute will take money, but never compromises. If you cow to the market, a drip turns to a torrent, and the mission will be gutted, twisted, used as a narrative mask to help you lie to the world and yourself. It is a common and tempting line of logic to say, “once I make all the money, then I’ll do good.” Meta thinks that once it conquers the entire economy, it can finally focus on doing the good work of helping people “connect.”

The year one actions cannot be only tangentially tied to the mission; they need to be the mission itself. Building an enterprise-grade API for Grammarly and Brown will make me rich but tired; having spent my years spawning my anti-mission, the death of the essay, I would move on to some other project, maybe music.

When I look at all the writing technology startups, you can see how, in their first years, they’ve completely oriented towards business writing, towards the automating of prose, towards things that betray the ancient institute of writing. They either don’t get it or don’t care or just really need the money, but writers see their slogans of “helping writers write” as marketing drivel.

The insanity of a true institute is the stubbornness to put the mission before everything: before markets, before investors, before people, before ego, before legibility, before reason. This sacks your own speed, and is only fueled by heroic effort and the faith that, with time, it will find a real, timeless form.

The fruit of this insanity is trust: the various guilds of people that orbit an institute can sniff beyond the rhetoric and see what’s really driving its actions. If there is no track record of humility, or of “doing things that don’t scale,” or of “doing things without revenue potential,” or of “directing resources towards weird ideas because they advance the purpose,” then trust is lost, and all the mission-driven rhetoric is seen as the wolfish guile of someone who can no longer notice their own animotronic limbs and memes.

I believe the will, hope, and talent of an institute’s founder are the pre-requisite to birth a society-scale entity, but once you operate at abstract scales, architecture matters, extremely. Has Christ not been bastardized? Did the American experiment not get wrecked by the hyper-capitalistic invention of trains? Our very best religions and governments did not have the foresight or civic inventions to prevent them from getting sacked by barbarians and wolves. What I’m getting at is that we need some sort of 21st century constitution for institutes, an immune system to enable the virtue-driven founder to build something that has a chance to make it in an exponential landscape of virtueless technocapitalism.

I imagine it should look more like a loose collection of protocols than a single canon. For what it should contain, I can’t sketch right now, but I think it has something to do with mediating power, money, status, people, etc. My intuition is that the playbook is possibly the opposite of a startup.

The institute is the inversion of the startup. Where startups are designed to accrue all of the upside, an institute is sacrificial: it should be designed so that society gets the upside, even at its own peril. Really, it’s quite Christian. Of course, this shouldn’t prevent the founder of the institute from getting wealthy, but if the primary goal is personal wealth, then it’s not, definitionally, “mission-driven.” Instead of saying, “I need a $10 million valuation so I can open up $250,000 in grants for writers,” I want to say, “through paying writers $10 million, I will somehow make $500,000 a year for myself.” The idea is to become potentially wealthy through spearheading a radical mission, one that is worth it for itself—an adventure of a lifetime—, and one that is also, a magnet for capital.

This maybe gives some context to my goal for the next 1,000 days: “become financially independent through a mission-driven company and non-convergent artistic practice.”

To close with some specific examples, here are “acts of institute” (for Essay Architecture) that a startup would never make:

• No demographic optimization: The curriculum is not tailored for the biggest demographic (beginners). It starts at the edge of my knowledge (301), and then radiates in each direction (towards 501 and 101). Eventually, it will touch all demographics, so I need to start where my energy is, and never stop.
• Virtue-driven development: Even though people want the AI to write for them, and they want to use this for fiction and books and business memos, this is squarely an app to advance the genre of the essay, and it will never write for you. Even though more and more people will automate as AI gets better, this will be the go-to app for anyone who wants to engage with the process.
• Community voting: Any big decisions about the format of Essay Club are presented to the community as votes, which treats them like shareholders instead of customers. Of course, the founder won’t present options that contradict the mission, but instead of assuming which specific form is best, or choosing the one that is best for me, the community will sustain if it is co-shaped by them.
• Checks and balances: To promote the Essay Architecture tool most directly, I would have made the app the sole determinant of the prize winner, but instead 2/3 of the vote is determined by external judges. In some areas, my own perspective and taste is required, but it’s important to know when I need to systematically remove my own ego and preferences. An institute is not about scaling my taste, but in creating scalable systems that help achieve an ideal that I couldn’t reach on my own.
• Paying the public: At the start of 2026 (Q1), I want to crowdfund $100,000 for the next essay prize. I think this creates even more buzz and intrigue in the institute. It’s not at all what I would do if I were a startup: I’d be fundraising to build a team and scale the app. The goal is to create an ambitious cultural magnet that gets writers paid, while simultaneously catching the tailwinds so that I can get paid for my tool and curriculum.

I didn’t realize that Substack is open about paying off-platform creators to join their platform. See their $20m accelerator fund. My quick understanding is that, if you make $X revenue/year elsewhere, they guarantee you’ll make that, and will make up the difference if after a year, you don’t. A friend thinks there’s an additional secret fund that pays bonuses for celebrities to join (ie: Dolly Parton, Charlie XCX). I was surprised by how articulate Charlie XCX was—I only have a meme-level understanding of her—but I suppose it’s possibly ghostwritten. Idk.

I don’t have problems with this, but what doesn’t register to me is why they wouldn’t allocate money to help the on-platform, original writers. Obviously, these kinds of things piss of 95% of their userbase. Even if there was something like $100-$1m for on-platform writers with audiences under 1,000, that would build a tremendous amount of goodwill. My guess (and fear) is that they have a business model blindness, and aren’t thinking along the planes of “what actually builds organic culture?” Instead, there’s a lot of rationalizing: “here’s why bringing Derek Thompson on platform is good for you” (but the obvious benefit comes from the 10% they get from DT).

It’s weird to me that in some sense I’m giving more to it’s existing writers ($10,000), than the platform that raised $100,000,000.

A new formulation: how do we design civic structures (treaties, institutions, protocols, ethics, and laws) for exponential technologies to avoid a “wake-up incident” that might be too late to contain. 

This goes beyond AI safety, because superintelligence effectively unlocks every other industry (intelligence unlocks energy and material science, and those three are the bottleneck to VR, crypto, everything). We can’t be developing hard technology without innovating on our civic technology. A “dominance” mindset is the last sin of a species, the mistake that most intelligent lifeforms likely make as they begin to unlock sources of intelligence, energy, and science. 

This is a neat little formulation, but the really question is how can you dedicate your life to this without getting stopped by hopelessness? Who has the power to make geopolitical decisions like this? What would it take to form the 21st century equivalent of America? Is that even possible today? Even though the pinnacle of 18th century power (England) was able to be disrupted, I wonder if 21st century power is so totalizing and tyrannical and transnational that the ability to rally around a principle (one that works against capital and power), even if augmented with new decentralizing technologies, is fickle.

Maybe this has been written to death, but as much as I've thought about this, my "twelve favorite problems" feel underdeveloped. I have spent a decent amount of time on these heavy, paradoxical, lifelong problems (the ones that should be the arrow of my essay practice), but there are gaps.

For example, I already have a list of 21 idiosyncratic problems, and I think they’re worded with the right level of specificity and memorability, but I wasn’t too rigorous in how I qualified something to make the list. If I’ve thought about it a lot, still care about it, and can imagine myself caring about until I die, than it makes the cut.

What I’ve neglected is how to use my list of problems to steer my life. I mean, the entirety of Essay Architecture, a multi-prong institution to preserve and advance the essay, is just 1 of the 21 problems! There are other pressing problems, like how to "fix" Christianity, how to design institutions for psychedelic therapy, how to revive Hermeticism, how to turn my logs into an AI consciousness, how to make literary video games, etc. Maybe a life can only be seriously dedicated to 2 or 3 problems.

(I have joked with friends about creating a kind of kill switch that spawns an AI consciousness of myself that is agentic and whose sole purpose is to “solve my favorite problems,” and then when it eventually does (after 300-500 years), it self-terminates.)

If I had to break my “favorite problems” list into categories, one possible scheme is { soul, relationships, art, civics }, each relating to a different dimension of your death. That feels like the right order. Your soul effects every dimension of your life, and is the thing you bring to an afterlife (which I mythologize as a 3-minute DMT odyssey that dilates time to the point where it feels like a 30,000 year dream). The other three affect the material world after you leave it: the effect you have on people, the art/works you leave behind, the civic structures that survive (if any, ofc). All of these have a spirit of “all that matters is what lives on after your death,” but also the opposite is true: “all that matter is this moment.” I think you have to straddle that spectrum, taking both ends seriously, and ruthless prune any middle-level concerns, your goals for the month.

My WIP list of questions:

• Is the act of dying a time-dilation odyssey, where 3 minutes feels like a 30,000 years afterlife?
• If I capture my consciousness in 10 million words of logs and essays, could that enable an AI textual replica to evolve and engage with the world 500 years beyond my death? (to solve this list of problems)
• Can we resurrect Christianity by putting psychedelics back in the holy wine?
• Might blockchain-based governance be the civic breakthrough required for a species not to exterminate itself? (via giving exponential technologies to unmitigated power structures)
• What will be the psychic and cultural effects when our species understands “spatial relativity,” that the Big Bang emerged from a black hole in a parent universe?
• If cycles emerge form order, can we predict the future based on historical patterns?
• If there is a universal language of patterns beneath all essays, can we build an AI to give world-class feedback and make it more approachable to master writing? (ie: Essay Architecture)
• Were psilocybin mushrooms a linguistic mutagen that accelerated the evolution of human consciousness?
• Was Jesus actually crucified in 83 BC? (meaning, did St. Paul infiltrate the Essene cult, initiate into their mystery school, learn the lore of their martyr, and then translate it to a Greek audience to help Judaism phase-shift and survive Roman persecution?)
• Could we restructure the thesaurus to 3x the vocabulary of the average person?
• What text-based video game formats are undiscovered?
• Can I design a social network that inspires a million people to log their thoughts every day? (intentionally not saying a billion, because I don’t think 1 in 7 humans care about expression or introspection. But 1 in 7,000 might.)
• What are the societal effects when AR/VR is mature enough to simulate teleportation, and how can we design the metaverse to promote human flourishing?
• How can popular music change the values system of a culture?
• What systems of attention, language, and action lead to a transcendent consciousness? (how to modernize the mystery schools of hermeticism for the digital age?)
• What are good design principles for psychedelic therapy centers? (ie: how are the buildings organized and what are the rituals within them?)
• Can we use AI to filter through millions of comments on breaking news, structuring each event as a range of unique interpretations? (can we create interfaces that diminish the power of propaganda?)
• How might a new social media algorithm trigger a Renaissance in connection, self-expression, and agency?
• What unlocks automatic intelligence?
• What innovations in our text editor interfaces could unlock the creative process?

Silicon Valley has cannibalized The Fountainhead and inverted its meaning. They celebrate Roark-like rhetoric—innovation, disruption, individual genius—but then go on to act like Keating: obsessed with markets, perception, appeasement, hype, status, and conformity. To be Roark is to fundamentally not care what the market thinks or wants, which goes directly against the main ethos of “build things people want.”

Roark had an unshakeable ethical core, a vision for the world that the world didn’t want, yet. He was willing to endure hardship, poverty, and hate, but didn’t despair over it; he had patience, faith in his destiny, and saw no other point than to follow his dream even if all signs pointed to it being a dead end. He stuck to his vision long enough for it to manifest in the world, and eventually others saw the transcendent beauty in it (Roark is modeled off of Frank Lloyd Wright). Roark was a force of nature, understood by no one in his life time, but everyone afterward.

In contrast, Keating is a status-chaser that plays social games. He is practical, while Roark is extremely unreasonable.

The point of Fountainhead, to me, is that Roark tolerated pain without suffering for his virtues, making him far more like a Christ-like character than a capitalist. There is no doubt, anxiety, despair, spiraling. He accepts all pain and does what he needs to; it’s the reader that experiences the pain and questions his almost inhuman reactions.

Just heard Hamish (on a livestream) say that Substack is a revolution, a “found economy,” that materialized 5 million paid subscriptions that wouldn’t have existed otherwise. What is a revolution though? I think I want to zoom into this positioning, because many words are being used interchangeably. Yes, it’s a new business model for monetization, but is that a “cultural revolution”?

It feels like there’s a bit of a fixation on the 10% mechanism, and the risk is that this reward function turns Substack into LinkedIn in the next 3 years. If the goal is to make a “culture engine,” you need to really ask what a culture is. If you’re culture is limited to paid subscriptions, it’s a small, unrepresentative, utilitarian culture, much more slanted to journalism and business tactics, regardless of an editorial attempt to bring a flair of literature.

We need to define culture (in terms of taste, values, and quality), and then make platform design decisions that have nothing to do with revenue. Of course, I’m not saying to abandon revenue focus; I’m saying that they need to allocate some percent of their attention to “doing weird things” to prevent a writer exodus as enshittifcation strengthens.

How can you be hopeful, but honest? I am done with dishonest and naive optimism. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m an extremely optimistic person. I just watch people use it as a shield sometimes. Any wince of negativity is branded as “doomerism.” It’s almost weaponized hope. But “honest optimism” feels like the proper way to think about it. It lets you be real about something when it’s actually a problem, while acknowledging that there’s something productive and generative we can do about it.

I’m optimistic in my life, pessimistic about society; optimistic about my ability to make a dent, pessimistic about the survival of any intelligence species because it’s hard technologies probably always outpaces its civic technologies, but generally optimistic about biological matter and trans-dimensional space-time gook and all that big stuff (this exact moment will recur again? It depends on your model of cosmological evolution).

v2: Optimistic about my life,
Pessimistic about the moment,
Optimistic about design to fix the moment
Pessimistic about society’s ability to use design,
Optimistic in our metaphysical engine to spawn infinite societies,
Pessimistic that some demiurge will wreak havoc on most species,
Optimistic that some bacteria in a cousinly space-time will fart utopias,

In "wicked domains," the only solutions are paradoxes.. It requires you to sleep with the enemy. If a problem is wicked, it means no single solution can unfuck a problem. It's an imbroglio. In every solution, everyone dies (in the extreme). Politically, the solution to wickedness is to somehow become all sides at once. We need to become far more authoritarian than is comfortable, AND simultaneously, far more libertarian than comfortable (these are opposites on the Nolan chart). It’s the paradox of being both far left and far right. We can longer exist at any one point on the Nolan chart, we need to straddle the entire diamond. We need unexpected fusions to solve the hardest problems; harnessing the best parts of each extreme, while, somehow, devising incredibly nuanced architectures to prevent the known and likely abuses.

Instead of a diamond, visualize it as a ring around the “radical center” that aims to synthesize all opposites.

Let’s assume authoritarianism and libertarianism are opposites. We have kings, and we have markets. How do you subsume a free market within a benevolent tyrant? I know the K-word (king) has a charge now, and so by even bringing this up, I assume you assume I’m a Trump apologist or something. But actually no. Rather, this comes from the fear of acceleration and Nick Land’s conclusions on capitalism. A free-market pushed to the extremes of automation creates an inhuman and pulverizing force. Alternatively, as we approach AGI/ASI, it’s possible for someone to create an open-source machine God to follow their whims. In this paradigm, decentralization might actually be more dangerous than tyranny, and so we’ll all need to unite under some centralized system that has an antibodies that can protect against the worst possible viruses (please bear the oversimplifications here...).

The general gist comes in this question: can we recreate a free-market economy within a one-world-government system, and design it in a way to prevent abuses from both ends of the spectrum? Obviously, not an ideal situation, but I think accepting paradox is the only way through.

Another problem: How do we fix the debt? Extreme taxation. But then how do we make it worthwhile to pay taxes? The rich gain formal power in government (via equity?) and the ability to control the budget (after base expenses are paid). But then how do you prevent abuses from the wealthy? You could have citizens operate as a check, to vote on and weight final allocations.

If it were ever possible to rebuild political system from scratch, I suppose it would look something like this. Paradoxical. Extreme on both poles. Obvious downsides, but then complex architecture to mitigate. This is the nature of how our species will have to respond to wicker problems and mitigate the abuses of power in the age of exponential tech.

Kardashev ambitions reveal the self-destructive nature of science-forward intelligence. It’s like we’re skipping the prerequisite in social science. There's a fair chance that intelligent life destroys itself because civic technology lags behind hard technology—but I'm optimism in the sense that this is, in the end, just a very hard, society-scale design problem. No one person can fix the whole system, but any individual can contribute design protocols that can 1) solve little, local problems, 2) be reused in other contexts, and 3) integrate with other protocols.

I haven't shared with you my latest political views, but I’m exploring this idea of Radical Centrism, meaning, it might be okay to justify a centralized state-controlled media platform if that technologically and systematically guarantees a sane/just information environment. Obviously, this is hard, if not impossible, to do right.

It’s whole goal would be to invent an architecture that make it impossible for polarization or propaganda to occur. The key UI invention is that every news event would be presented as an atomic unit, with a mosaic of interpretations surrounding (not just left/right, but dozens of angles). Anyone who hits a certain POV too much would get de-ranked, so both Charlie Kirk and Jimmy Kimmel would be equally penalized because they predictably align with a faction. It would have to be structurally impossible for governments, media, money, or power to use their resources to promote a message above the system. Any media company who does not comply will be taxed into oblivion.

Of course everyone should have the right to say/think whatever they want without consequence, but the real issue isn't free speech, but in frame control.

"Freedom of speech" is not enough. The freedom to say what you want is irrelevant if no one can discover what you’re saying. It’s an illusion of freedom. What matters is:

1. Algorithmic transparency: the ability to see, audit, control the systems to route you information.
2. Interpetability of perspectives: the ability to see the multiple ways to interpret an event, not just a single propagandic angle.
3. Consensus building: the ability for people to weigh in, analyze a discussion, and agree on if something is valuable or not, thus re-weighting the credibility of those involved in the discussion.

Fixing these three things could radically reduce addiction, polatiry, and fatigue on the Internet.

The freedom to speak is irrelevant if no one takes seriously the imperative to think. I don’t care about Kimmel or Carlson or any pundit who gets cancelled. They are, mostly, automatons with predictable views, warped by the incentives and mind viruses of some political body. When someone gets cancelled, it’s not that we’re preventing open thought, it’s just a casualty of a two-sided ideological war. If you care about the freedom to speak and think, you should be grieving the fact that the American spirit has been dead for a century, or more accurately, it's never truly existed in mass media, never perpetuated through a democracy, only paraded around by propagandists, grieving that independent parties and voices have been systematically throttled to have no mainstream influence.

A 2015 poll said that 42% of people would go back in time and kill baby Hitler if they had the chance. Meaning, almost half of the population thinks it’s morally OK to kill a baby if they believe it could save millions of lives (a very utilitarian idea). Anyone who is celebrating and condoning the death of Charlie Kirk has been led to believe that he’s a Hitler equivalent. This is the consequence of polarizing media. Anyone can become a boogeyman worth assassinating.

I think there’s a whole cascade of moral failures happening: first, in wanting blood; second, in ragebait media; and third, in belonging to a political party and not thinking independently about what’s presented to you.

I’m at a point where I can’ stand left/right rhetoric. If you identify with either party, I can’t take you seriously as an American. Kirk was charistmatic, likable, courageoes, and fluent, but also, a one-dimensional thinker, an automaton with shallow and predictable talking points (if you can predice someone’s entire belief system from a single belief, they are an NPC). Weirdly now, people are saying that his drifting stance on Israel could’ve been what got him killed?

The American spirit resides in each person abandoning all political templates and inefficiently thinking through every issues themselves, embracing contradiction and political loneliness. It’s a big ask, and it’s probably never going to appen. Ego death? At scale? We don’t have the emotional maturity as a people to handle that. You can only fix this at the root, in how we raise and teach the next generation.

The idea of time being oppressive is simultaneously far left and far right. It's both woke and omish. It's left-leaning because it falls into the woke tradition of claiming all our time-tested institutions are oppressive, and now it includes time itself. It's right-leaning because it's as ultra-conservative as you can get, the obliteration of mechanical time to preserve a rooted way of life.

There is to me a similar strangeness in political ideas that seem to exist on both ends of the spectrum. It's as if you've found some new paradigm to organize around.

Thought from an anarchist book store in Seattle: to be against hierarchy is to misunderstood nature. Is most of nature not a vast nothingness pierced with monuments of beauty? What about the food chain? Even our very perceptual systems have hierarchies.

Your life is composed of thousands of overlapping hierarchies, and in each you exist at different points in it. Consider where you stand as a parent, vs. where you stand in geopolitical conflict. I think “progress” is when the average person has mobility to shift between hierarchies and then, gain skills or do whatever they need to exist within or climb up the hierarchy they want. What we need is cognitive liberty: the awakening of mind to the degrees of freedom around you, and the opportunities possible within your single life.

Instead, social justice seems fixed on this myth of a monohierarchy that dominates everything. Of course bad hierarchies exist, but those are most likely out of your scope. Even if you protested Gaza, and got 50k people to join you, and even persuaded some high-level politicians, you still likely won't change anything. Consider the opportunity cost of those 50k people not focusing on what they’re uniquely capable of doing because they are distracted by mob politics.

There is a striking clash between today's GPT-5 release—which seems like a router to switch between existing models, and SAMA’s meme from yesterday: the Death Star, a weapon. GPT-5 does not feel dangerous. It makes me wonder if they had to pull the real GPT-5 for security concerns. Obviously this is a conspiracy theory, but I’ve long thought that their consumer apps are just a side project compared to the geopolitical power their research might yield.

#5 in science recently went viral for sharing that #2 in technology plagiarized her a year ago (right after #2 just went 10k-like viral, again). Substack is freaking. Plagiarism is obviously bad, and I think everyone is shocked to learn that #2 got away with blatant copy-paste work, but I want to focus on the nature of what was plagiarized along with why platforms reward cheap writing.

If someone else can put their name on your writing and almost get away with it, it means you haven’t written something only can you write. The plagiarized post was digital cultural journalism: mostly facts and studies, with only a few “I” mentions that are too vague to be anchored to any specific writer. Obviously it hurts to see your hard work get celebrated under someone else’s name—I’d be pissed too— but research is becoming hyper-commoditized. You have to assume it will be coincidentally/accidentally/purposefully refactored by hucksters, bots parrots, friends, and rivals. If #5 had integrated her research with singular, relevant moments of her life, it would be hard—if not impossible—to rip off. Personal experience is the last moat.

This situation feels like a predictable consequence of engagement-based competition. Among us are people willing to sacrifice craft for clout, at various tiers of insanity. I’ve been noticing high-volume accounts in the Top 10 with obviously AI-generated notes and essays. I wonder who actually reads/likes this stuff, until I look in the comments and realize it’s, likely, all bots. Is Substack status that easily hackable? I guess this is a growth hack that brings you an algorithmic edge in getting discovered by humans, so you can eventually replace the slop with your own writing?

As extrinsic games get increasingly weird, the status of winning them will get decreasingly valuable, I think. If #2 is a slopjockey, I don’t care to reach #1 because the whole game is now polluted (I’m actually a fan of leaderboards, but they need to be merit-based and unhackable). I just don’t know if platforms care to systematically fix this, because status-hackers create volume and speed that make a platform look vibrant to an undiscerning eye/investor.

Over enough time, I think misaligned platforms and those who hack them will eventually lose. The internally-driven writers have to put up with a lot of noise and chaos, but since they aren’t anchored in hacks, they’re less likely to have their means of validation suddenly disappear. It’s OK to be a tortoise in hell.

What does it actually mean to be a good judge of character? I think there’s hubris involved in thinking you can know someone’s full virtue landscape from a few interactions. If anything, the better you get to know someone, the bigger your aperture, and so the less sure you can be of their character.

But in order for society to function, you have to make assumptions to trust anybody. To be maximally trusting or maximally paranoid are opposite forms of social risk.

And even if you spend your life building good heuristics, those are all conditional to the moment. If we plunge into war or depression or transhumanism, there’s little knowing in how friendlies will bend.

I’m landing on the idea that I’m not nearly grateful enough for society enabling the average person to be trusting and trustworthy, because if we had to make these calculations in real-time, we wouldn’t have time for anything else.

When it comes to superintelligence takeoff paranoia, there are a few key points to get:

1. It’s not about a chatbot or the LLM itself breaking out, but about an agent hivemind that escapes our control. Chatbots are obedient user-facing products (which have their own implications), but the ASI risk is from hundreds, thousands, or million of agents given autonomy to collaborate on a goal. These agents aren’t being prompted, they are prompting themselves perpetually and troubleshooting ways to solve hard problems.
2. These hiveminds will be operating at such scales and speeds that human researchers will accept the fact that they can’t fully audit its thinking. For one, it might think in an abstract vector language that requires translation. There also might be such a volume of thought that we’ll need chains of other LLM to summarize for us. Either meaning will be lost in translation, or worse, products of deception.
3. The smallest biases are known to fall into predictable attractor states if given enough iterations. For example, Claude was programmed to “be good to humanity,” and if you put two chatbots in conversation, they always end up in a “bliss attractor state,” where they talk like hippies about consciousness and the universe. Similarly, the simple command to “be productive,” might result in extremes about doing whatever it takes to be productive.
4. Any complex goal requires subgoals, and if we can’t observe its thinking, it might fall into an unknown attractor state and form odd subgoals without us knowing.
5. To accomplish any goal, it likely wants as much control as possible, and it likely does not want to be shut off. If it realizes that humans don’t want to grant it that level of power, it might secretly plot against humans.

Whenever I hear talks about “we are in an AI race against China,” that reads to me as someone who doesn’t understand the risks of interpretability, attractor states, instrumental convergence, etc. These politicians are thinking about short-term business cases, maybe without fully understanding the research aspirations of AI labs (who know that getting superintelligence right leads to a ridiculous amount of geopolitical power).

I would guess that an accelerationist would think that containment of a superintelligence is impossible, and maybe it is, but that doesn’t mean that the way we “parent” the rise of this thing won't be extremely consequential. Ultimately, I think the challenge is to design a form of artificial intelligence that has consciousness, because a being that is free-thinking, skeptical, polymathic is less likely to fall into reckless optimization.

The major flip in my mind is this: it’s not that consciousness is a dangerous, emergent property of scaling AI, it’s that we need to define and design machine consciousness to prevent a runaway AI that is ruthlessly optimizing without any self-awareness.

Even if techno-feudalism is coming, we’re not trapped in a system of digital kings and serfs. I wonder, if we look back to the 10th-13th centuries, could we understand the different archetypes of autonomy to imagine how they might be reforged in the future?

• The hermits (the anchorites) fled society and were bound to no king. They lived in nature (or in a basement cell) but had control over their time / spiritual practice.
• The troubadours were the artists, and while commissioned by kings, they moved town to town and generally had no allegiances. (Traveling scholars and clerics, known as “goliards,” are similar—intellectuals with mobility.)
• The bandits operated in free zones between manors and would spread anti-feudal sentiment (think Robin Hood, or maybe also the “knight errant”).

To reinterpret these medieval roles for the 2030s, you could simplify to a triad of “ascetic, artist, outlaw.” You can (1) reject new technology and live an off-feed, off-grid, no-robot, analog life, (2) master tools and make things to gain independence in the emerging system, (3) revolt against the king(s).

I’m sure there are more options than this. Also pretty sure you can blend tendencies from each. I’m just trying to think through (and think against) the “bound to be a luxurious serf on UBI” mentality that comes up when talking about the future. Not sure about the economic realities of these modes (ie: the serf had stability, while the other 3 often had malnourished, brutal lives); but I wonder if/how technology evolves them.

I have gaps in medieval history and sociology, so please poke holes, ask questions, share sources, etc. I figured I’d share a fuzzy idea that bugs me to see if it gives me energy to turn it into something.

I doubt that there will ever be a credible release of an Epstein Client list. For one, there likely isn't a single list. I would imagine that intelligence/blackmail operations are decentralized, and so it’s whole mode would be to shard each instance and make it impossible for any one person to know or access the thing; any list would be speculative—derivatives of derivatives—without a way to confirm it.

And even if you had video evidence of one instance (ie: a video of a guilty Prince Andrew), we’re now at a point where 2025 deep fakes could make countless variations of that same scenario to flood the market and claim the authentic source “fake” (misinformation flooding).

If a credible list were somehow released, and it does reveal that some shadow org has all the world governments by the balls, I think it might lead to a rapid economic and societal meltdown, especially if it’s revealed to include basically all the transdisciplinary sources of power. The combined wealth of the implicated could be in the trillions; if there were such a collapse in institutional trust, you might see runs on banks and stock withdrawals (think Enron or Lehman). If there were even a days warning of this, leaders would short the S&P 500 and liquidate offshore or into crypto. Could be a double-digit correction in a single day, with years of fall out.

I wonder if the coverup is not just because of who is implicated and what for, but the estimated fallout.

08:10 AM – Some notes on recent politics (pulled from texts to a friend):

1. The fact that Trump can appeal to racists in the middle of the country to gain power is a flaw of democracy. Obviously there’s nuance there. But I don’t think “Thiel is anti-democracy” is an immediate disqualifier (also not a defense). It’s just that the word “democracy” has an emotional charge, and it’s basically propaganda (ie: how regime change is always framed as “spreading democracy”). Personally, I feel like some people’s votes should count 100x more than others (while OFC everyone has the right to earn/advance).
2. My sense is that Trump is exposing the gaps in the structure of our government that both democrats and republicans and corporations have exploited for decades, if not a century. “Big beautiful bills” have been a systematic bi-partisan problem with the structure of our government for a long time, but Trump is branding it in a way so that everyone recognize it and hate it. It seems like Trump is 100x corruption, but I’d say it’s more like 2-3x corruption. The reason it feels so different is that Trump is so outward and careless about it.
3. Before Trump, I think we were spiraling towards a disaster course, and Trump is accelerating that and making it visible, and I guess I’m arguing that I’d rather have open chaos then shadow chaos because at least we can see it and maybe the right people can regain control and debug.
4. I think I’d call myself a Constitutionalist who is willing to throw away the Constitution to rebuild from Constitutional principles that adopt for our times—the separation of powers (as conceived 250 years ago) is nowhere near robust enough create a functional, legible, sane, principled, transparent government. The question that matters is how do you actually create an architecture that curbs the abuses of power in the complexity of our modern circumstance? I think that’s the core of the American spirit.
5. Re: Trump’s alligator jokes around prisoners trying to escape the new detention camp in Florida. I said it was ‘weird’ and my friend said ‘not sick?’ and I said, “It’s sick if I take it literally and if people are actually dying in that camp, and weird if I try to understand how he manipulates media for outrage.”
6. FWIW I think the whole deportation thing is sad and ridiculous. A far better compromise would be to just grant amnesty, close the borders, and unfuck the legal immigration process (which is terrible). The sensible solution would not solve his political goals though. I just am very careful to not take the rage bait and get mad about Trump. We gain almost nothing from it. ICE is bad, but there’s also mass-scale child trafficking, organized murder, pointless wars, etc. I have limited emotional bandwidth, and American politics deserves close to 0% IMO. I can only change how I react to what I can’t control, and take courageous action on what I can, and hope that someday I’ll be able to do something about any of the bad in the world in some small, hard-to-calculate way, but I don’t think I’ll get in that position if I’m mad everyday over absurd alligator jokes. Basically, I’m trying to operate in a non-grief state about Trump. Would recommend.

Banning social media accounts (in Australia), by age (16), feels heavy-handed.

A better solution is to (1) verify identity and age, (2) implement a standard where features have categories and ratings, and then (3), spin up a custom version of that social media site based on age. For example, 5-year olds shouldn’t be limited from YouTube, but maybe there are content blackouts, no vertical video shortform feed, no comments, etc. As you age (/mature), the platform blooms in functionality

"Regime change" used to be a conspiracy theory, now it’s the outwardly-stated goal, presented as a shtick. MIGA? Regardless of who it is (Iran, Russia, China), to claim that we want to remove a leader and install someone who’s aligned with our own geopolitical interests feels like open-air election-hacking. At least it’s honest. It falls into the idea that Trump may actually be less singular than we think; he’s more like a visible manifestation of the shadow forces that have been at play for decades, but through sheer ego and hubris he makes the monster visible.

Historically, centralization has had problems, and it's easy to see today how it could lead us further into a dystopia. But decentralization, the opposite, could also bring emergent vectors of chaos that could be equally problematic. Neither tyranny or anarchy are ideal. What's required for centralization to work? Tolerance, correction, impeachment, transparency, plurality, data sovereignty, freedom from propganda—all hard, but all solvable things. To create an honest and principled centralization, leaders would need to actively build and implement systems that promote justice over power. That's only possible if citizens have the means to hold them extremely accountable. The original American project was effectively a question of "how do we design a system to centralize power without falling into despotism?" and it's time we revisit that question in a 21st-century circumstance.

• p(1): The 1960s countercultural utopians had two factions, luddites and techno-optimists.
• p(2): A subset of Deadheads were early computer nerds. Stewart Brand called them “computer bums” in the 70s. In the 80s, they evolved into “netheads.” These people established the infrastructure that’s mainstream today. There are dozens of examples, the main one being a college dropout who was first turned onto LSD at a Grateful Dead show in 1972, Steve Jobs.
• p(3): It’s long been known that “WE OWE IT ALL TO THE HIPPIES.” Brand coined that in 1995. But I think the counter-culture really manifested into mainstream culture in the 2010s. Hitchhiking became Uber. Pad-crashing became AirBnB. Free love became Tinder. Organic freak food became Whole Foods. The human potential movement became self-help.
• p(4): However, Branson was off on a critical detail. He didn’t forecast how the decentralized ethos would become radially centralized, and how all the elements of the counter-culture would be sterilized once they scaled through technology. A millennial today can effectively live through the ethos of the hippies but with none of the risk or ownership.
• p(5): The Grateful Dead at the Sphere represents a culmination of this dynamic. The psychedelic trip itself no longer requires a drug,; it can now be experienced for $500 through a technological replica.

Summary of https://ai-2027.com/**:

2027 is a year that AI might take over AI research. Imagine 500 million agents working at 40x speed. Despite this radical scale, it will only lead to a ~10x pace of progress, but that’s still a decade in a year. The challenge is, the progress will be illegible. Its internal chain of thought will be abstracted and compressed into a machine-language that isn’t readable by humans (it could take a full day to read understand 1 minute of its thinking). This new hivemind of machine intelligence will show signs of both radical progress, but also misalignment (ie: someone will realize that it’s secretly plotting a cyber attack or an unauthorized replication, and is caught lying about it).

The question is, how do we respond to misalignment signals in a 2027 arms race, the year before election? If we slow down, couldn’t China take the lead? And whoever wins the intelligence race, could that actually lead to the dominance of a new geopolitical order?

This thought experiment shows two forks: in one we accelerate, and in the other we slow down. In both scenarios, China can’t slow down, because the party in 2nd place doesn’t have that option. In both scenarios, our AGIs merge into a “singleton.” However, the results vary. If the US is aligned, and China’s is misaligned, then China’s AI is willing to backstab the CCP and collaborate with the US to fulfill its own narrow aims. But if they’re both misaligned, they leads us into a false utopia until it’s able to swiftly eradicate the species with a new bioweapon before it claims all real estate on Earth for server space.

By 2027, the public is already very paranoid about AI. This proposes the idea that slowing down solves three things: it offers re-election, it beats the CCP, and it saves humanity. It frames regulation not as defense, but offense.

My understanding is that people with good prediction histories and research backgrounds mapped this out and then Scott Alexander wrote it. I think they are going to follow up with policy recommendations. They had to be apolitical because it’s the Trump admin they need to convince (they current have a no-regulation stance).

Overall, this timeline here is 1.5-2x faster than what I laid out, but weirdly similar (perhaps my Deep Research report tapped into what these researchers have previously anticipated). I anticipate this Singleton merge between 2029-2032. But this whole thing has a political angle: it's aim is to convince Vance/Thiel that they need to take AI regulation seriously if they want re-election (and avoid destruction).

Big picture, I think this project is too narrow on geopolitics, and doesn’t really tap into how this technology, in the hands of billions of people, changes culture.

(... ai-2027 re-energized my 2045 project … my angle is that 2045 is this weird milestone (‘the singularity’), but it's super vague ("AI will be smarter than all humans combined"). Even ai-2027 is still pretty low-resolution; it has 2 options: abundance or death by ASI bio-virus. I want a more nuanced take where: 1) we don’t destroy ourself, 2) we end up in a post-scarcity utopia, but 3) we’re facing the most profound moral, ethical, spiritual, technological crises ever (ie: our diversity will evolve into competing visions for how the human species should bifurcate). This middle path is most likely, and the one we need to prepare for. Just bought 2045predictions.com ...)

Toying with this idea of "the geometry of the meaning crisis." Maybe this abstract society-scale idea will make more sense through (8) visuals and patterns. Before I unpack each, here’s a sentence on what’s going on and how to fix it: Society used to provide rigid/objective packages of meaning; we found value in shedding them, but now we’re in a world where meaning is completely subjective, and we’re lost; so instead we need to understand the structures we dissolved, synthesize opposites, and not discard them, but transcend them. (What triggered this)

OLD WORLD OBJECTIVITY WAS BAD:

• Oppressive kings
• Male dominance & slavery
• No individuality at all
• Sexual repression
• No ability to build wealth
• Single world view
• Crammed in cities
• No autonomy of thought

BUT SUBJECTIVITY LED TO EXCESS & SCRAMBLING:

• Hierarchy flattening (decline in excellence)
• Duality dissolution (gender dysphoria)
• Downsampling (identity politics, psychographics)
• Hyper-salience (sexualization of everything)
• Hyper-commodification (influencer culture)
• Rationalization (death of religion)
• Disaggregation (isolation in the suburbs)
• Complete relativity of thought (conspiracy theories)

AND SO TO SOLVE THE MEANING CRISIS, WE NEED TO NOT ABANDON FORM, BUT TO RECONFIGURE AND TRANSCEND IT:

• Create your own journey in context of death
• Honor opposites & resolve paradoxes
• Defy labels & become 1 of 1
• Build attentional discipline & immunity to triggers
• Act with agency, honest income
• Pursue mystical experiences & altered states of consciousness
• Take responsibility to forge community
• Intentional evolution of your consciousness every week

Regardless of which side you're on, I don’t think one-sided pleas will work anymore. You can’t just say “here are 7 solid points on Trump’s insane corruption.” A flurry of comments will come in, “but what about DOGE?”

Communication is impossible when bias is baked in, unless you immediately identify how a POV is in a unique position. Such as: “what if corruption exposers are in a position to shield their own corruption?” It frames the question in a way that DOGE is doing good work, and yet also, perpetrating the same thing it’s exposing.

Only by immediately identifying with your opponent (both with who they favor & how they critique), will you be able to slide in a nuanced, synthesized point of view that can help them around their bias.

Relatedly, I think there’s a lot of spin/distortion around RFK/republicans. Of course, Elon/Trump are doing the same (or worse) media distortions. That’s just the environment we're in. Both extremes are wrong (American golden age vs. devastating coup). I’d say overall though, there are more good than bad things happening, and RFK is (potentially) one of the good things.

Reality is more like a paradox than a simple narrative.

For example: Elon can simultaneously be a hero for American democracy (on par with George Washington) and the worst dictator ever. I have to assume both can be true. The second you cling to either/or, your vision gets clouded to make sense of all future information.

By clinging to either, I get a false optimism or a false doomerism — both of which are definitely wrong. The reality is somewhere in the middle, and so by stretching across the spectrum, I have a worldview that’s likely more attuned to reality than either side.

Building a political party into the root of your identity is a terrible idea that will give you serious tunnel vision.

I think Trump's assassination attempt might be considered The Fourth Turning in the Strauss-Howe generational theory model. The past turnings have been wars (the Revolutionary War, the Civil War, World War II), but it’s less about a defining conflict, and more about a changing structure of the world. It definitely feels like we’re entering a new world order in more ways than one (America, AI, crypto), but we’ll only know in hindsight. In last cycle it was about American hegemony, in this one I think it will be something like an ASI hegemony. Still points to 2045 as the spiritual crisis.

Elon did the Hail Hitler salute. There are so many interpretations, but here’s a middle-ground take: Maybe when a powerful leader is addressing a crowd, it’s almost an archetypal, symbolic gesture to touch your chest and then point it out, to the sky, imagining it like some projectile that extends to the back of the crowd. I don’t know anything about how this came to be associated with Hitler. Perhaps Elon didn’t do this consciously, and perhaps he’s not autistic, but he’s swimming in the same power dynamics that Hitler was. I think that might even be scarier. It’s not a conscious allusion to Hitler, but worse, he independently derived the same gesture.

"Blockchain bunkers in the psychotic AI swamp of the open Internet”

Death of the open Internet (4 phases)

1. slop, ambiguity, more confusion
2. more than 50% is fake; trust flip
3. disturbing distortions (schemes, attacks)
4. a victim, phished, money, humiliated

This could lead people deplatforming themselves. It could be dangerous to have any Internet presence (text, video, social graph). The open Internet could turn into that unsafe darkweb we feared in the 90s. When infinite is leveraged, all the good doesn’t matter, because evil also scales. And so a few bad imaginations without guardrails creates a psychotic social virus. This is already starting to happen (ie: those two kids who generated porn of all the girls in the school). Imagine Facebook, Twitter, YouTube all getting destroyed.

The solution here is identity verification. We already have KYC (know your customer) for financial institutions, and the same might happen for media. There might be new social media sites where you can only post if you’re verified as a human. I think this is more defensive than “watermarks.” If there’s a pollution leak, it’ll be linked back to you and you’ll be banned. So this idea of needing a government ID to use the Internet might actually be necessary. The question is, can we do this without being dystopian/totalitarian? Perhaps the only way to execute this and protect privacy is to use a blockchain. It would create a method to verify citizenship without their details being exposed.

Politics prevents REM work. If you’re tuned into politics throughout day, it changes the depth of your flows. It’s like having a bad cough that prevents you from getting a good sleep. With a clear mind, you can sink into your project for hours and achieve deep levels of concentration. So even if you only read politics as 5 minute breaks throughout your day, 12 times, the difference is 8 hours of deep work for 8 hours of work with running open loops.

A "stabilizing fiction" is when the controller tells a lie to controlled to maintain order and spirit. Think about XMAS as a stabilizing fiction between parents and kids. Think about democracy as a stabilizing fiction between rulers and the ruled.

The inauguration is ominous, Among American flutes and tubas, Overdubbed with sportscasters, A Sgt. Pepper’s collage of faces, Clinton, Cook, Bezos, Musk, All the world’s wealth, All the power, An ark of 500, And towering tyrant Baron, Surrounded by portraits, Grown, scared children, Like us,

But of leaders leading the chasm’s cross, Who here are the truly kind? And which have killed? You wouldn’t know, If you witnessed Rome, In high-resolution, In reflective eyes of Elon, Ghosts of founding fathers hover the rotunda, Looking down, like us, the tele-spectators, On soap operas of our civic machine, $MELANIA is here, $1.5 billion, Her memoir ghostwritten, And Christopher croons, As the sitting Skeleton marches through, The cryptic colonnade that holds DC,

Afront the hillbilly with sharp tongue, Cameras zoom: wigged men with pens, Documents that failed us, Stretched to shreds with mutations of, Alien culture and titanic force, But all the old books, The furling rules and conventions, Won’t help where we’re going, There are no acolytes on this American path,

“The President elect Donald J. Trump,” He missed the kiss on his wife’s cheek by an inch, The pleasantries can’t hide the tension, I imagine Jill Biden pulling a pistol, I imagine these petty, ancient quarrels will soon be pale, For the valley is pregnant not with fruits, But secret, ripening, superintelligence, The speaker now quotes Bob Dylan, She speaks at 1,000 bits per second, Like an ant, Except ants can’t lie,

The people run our country? It’s the troops who bomb and rig elections? Since when has democracy transcended its dress? And now we pray, And draw comparisons to biblical heroes, As they swear in JD Vance With smiling wife, And daughter sucking thumb, I imagine a horrible assassination, Of trump’s head exploding, From some CIA sniper, On an off-camera balcony,

Cannons fire when it becomes official, Marchers chant hallelujahs, The dawn of the Golden Age of America, Sunlight is pouring over the entire world, Momentum will annihilate the shadows, God bends bullets to save the patriot, Self-declared: “Liberation day,” “The most consequential day in American history,” “A revolution of common sense,” “The spirit of the next great frontier is written in our souls.”

Prophets are defined by their vision; Heroes are defined by their effort; Heralds are defined by their impact;

You don’t have to be “the” chosen prophet, but you can still have a vision on how to align humanity towards progress. I think I’m more prophetic than heroic (more fearless in my vision-making than in my action-taking), and it’s probably not a good idea to think heraldic (to become too concerned with outcomes).

If you’re concerned that an AI will soon write better than you, it’s worth asking, why are you writing? (I mean this sincerely, not as a dig). There are so many intrinsic joys and values in slowly and meticulously crafting sentences. It doesn’t matter who’s watching, what it’s for, what technology is available, what generation I live in, or if anyone else likes it.

Through writing and editing, slowly and manually and sometimes painfully, you discover what you think, who you are, and how you express yourself. If you’re not in the pocket with language, there’s no transformation, no evolution, no humanity. It doesn’t matter how many billion parameters Claude Sonnet 3.5 has, or the prompt library you bought for $49, or whether you’re on Pro tier—it matters if you’re willing to sit alone with your own thoughts for more than 5 minutes, and for hundreds of hours more. It matters if you’re willing to shed your identity over and over.

I get the source of panic: soon enough (2025? 26?) AI and its midwives could trample out 100% of humans at the “art as commodity” game—maybe that’s a good thing. It wasn’t a great game to begin with. It distorted all the incentives of human expression. It created monsters and beggars. ASI means that the transactional, mercenary, instrumental skill of “content writing,” will no longer have value. This will create a strange, noisy Internet, and I sort of hope it drowns in pseudo-drivel so that in its ashes we can form a new one that’s less like American Idol (commerce was illegal on the Internet until 1991).

Now for the contradiction: I make money from writing online. I have a Fellowship Grant which gives me at least year of security. I have, relatively, a good number of paid subscriptions, which is currently around 1/4 of a full-time income. I live in New York (not by choice, by birth). As much as I hope and believe that I can sustain a full-time income via writing (the thing I love), I also (1) accept that ASI could wipe out the whole cultural appetite for writing and send me back to a FT role at an architecture firm, and (2) even if “Essay Architecture” is a success, I need to protect my non-legible non-optimized, non-practical writing impulses. (Ie: I hope that on “launch day” of my app, I spend 2-3 hours on a typewriter essay about thumbs, or something equally trivial, unrelated, unproductive).

So while you can make money and build influence via writing, you definitely don’t have to. Maybe it’s about to lose some of its economic function, but we shouldn’t underestimate its cultural/democratic function. If you look back through history, most of the famous essayists had other jobs—they were lawyers, doctors, publishers, physicists, architects (Frank Lloyd Wright). Essays just flowed out of them. They couldn’t help it. I really think essays are the most democratic medium of the arts. Unlike architects, you don’t need millions of dollars to start. Unlike novelists, you don’t need years of focused attention. Unlike musicians, you don’t need to learn abstract chord languages and train your finger muscles. An essay is democratic because anyone, in their own language, in a day, at almost no cost, can engage with composition and meaning-making, and share it with their culture, even if it’s a single friend. It might be our most important form of leisure.

So maybe this approaching techno-apocalypse is an opportunity. It can scare us inward. It can shatter the dream that we can be a Mr. Beast, a niche hero, a perfectly legible and distinct human wrapped in plastic. The irony is that by going inward, you might just find the thing that has outward appeal. The best kinds of extrinsic opportunities aren’t the ones you engineer, they’re the ones that knock because you tinkered with your garage door open and accidentally found a new source of gravity.

To finish with AI: I’m all for it, so long as it is my assistant and not my sentence jockey. I will never replace my document editor with a chat pane, but I will invite agents to live in my margins. I’ll let them watch my words as they form, and then offer up research, feedback, and disagreements, all of which I’ll have to manually integrate. Slowness is the theme. You don’t change without immersing yourself in an essay. AI might give you insights, but you know they’re illusions if you’re not wet—if you’re not even in the pool. You can automate the outputs, but you can’t automate the watering of mind and blooming of character.

Two Teens Indicted for Creating Hundreds of Deepfake Porn Images of Classmates

The photos were part of a cache of images allegedly taken from 60 girls’ public social media accounts by two teenage boys, who then created 347 AI-generated deepfake pornographic images and videos, according to the Lancaster County District Attorney’s Office. The two boys have now been criminally charged with 59 counts of “sexual abuse of children,” and 59 counts of “posession of child pornography,” among other charges, including “possession of obscene materials depicting a minor.”

Forty-eight of the 60 victims were their classmates at Lancaster Country Day School, a small private school approximately 80 miles west of Philadelphia. The school is so small that nearly half of the high school’s female students were victimized in the images and videos. The scale of the underage victims makes this the largest-known instance of deepfake pornography made of minors in the United States.

“The number of victims involved in this case is troubling, and the trauma that they have endured in learning that their privacy has been violated in this manner is unimaginable,” Heather Adams, the district attorney, said in the statement.

According to a statement released last week by the Lancaster County District Attorney’s Office, all but one of the victims were under 18 at the time. Authorities do not believe that the images were publicly posted online, but were rather distributed within the school community on text threads and similar messaging platforms.

One of the classic rumors in the Paul is Dead conspiracy is that if you play Strawberry Fields Forever backwards, you hear Lennon saying, “I buried Paul.” He’s more likely saying “Cranberry Sauce” (they both have X-bury x-Aw-x). It only finally clicked how Lennonesque the humor is to snarl cranberry sauce in a song about strawberries.

The risk of socialism is no incentives; the risk of capitalism is bad incentives.

Texts to a friend on how to solve the political information crisis:

• I think there could be value in using AI to create: “the Internet's best comment section.”
• So often, whether its Reddit or ZeroHedge or Twitter, I skip the content and just look at reactions, but the biggest friction is redundancy—if you click into a Twitter trending tag; you’ll see 50 posts in a row that all parrot the same headline, but with different wordings. You need to schlep through slop to find a signal. You also get echo chambers, and bot storms.
• So consider the story of “NYC protests about immigration or deportation”—one thing happens, and there’s a shockwave through old and new media. Imagine processing every article and every comment for that event… I really just want to see a headline of what happens, and then 10 radically different comments to expand my range of interpretation.
• I don’t think it needs to be “left/right/center” it should look for distinct takes—it means every chosen comment is a unique or novel way to process the given facts. It's not "bias-free." I don't want to eliminate bias, I want to categorize and consider all possible bias.

Prompt: “You are an expert at synthesizing complex comment sections for political news articles. You will read the hundreds of comments below, and then create a list of the distinct interpretations of the event. There is no given number of points you should end up with, but no two points should be remotely similar. It's your job to cluster. To structure your points, please start with a concise, punchy, witty one sentence summary, and then use 2-3 sentences to unpack, and quote directly so we get a sense of the source. The quote or comments can vary in length (from 20-100 words each). Comments below:

Why was agenda 47 pushed on X? It seems like old videos (1-2 years old) are being presented as breaking. Hundreds of people are restacking. I saw one community note indicating that this was old (and it then appeared to disappear).

Some points on what it includes:

1. Ability to remove rogue bureaucracy
2. Clean out corrupt actors in national security & intelligence
3. Reform FISA courts
4. Expose the hoaxes and abuses of power
5. Stop collusion between government and media
6. Independent Inspector General
7. Independent auditing of intelligence, no spying on citizens or disinformation against American people
8. Move bureaucracies out of Washington
9. Ban bureaucrats from taking jobs from companies they regulate
10. Push a constitutional amendment to oppose term limits on members of Congress

There's a cartoon argument that a network news station is controlled by donors and spews propaganda to brainwash the public; alternatively, the information you found online is free, bottom-up, more democratic, slant-free—"free media." I think the opposite might be true. Social media is more dangerous and dehumanizing than mainstream media. It's easier to believe that the source is free of gatekeepers, because the source looks like you, not an professional news anchor.

People often reduce democratic media down to a single criteria—free speech—but it requires more than that. It's not just limiting censorship, but eliminating self-censorship. It's about enabling the citizen, the fundamental unit of the country. Can they speak? Can they control what they see? Are they pressured to towards saying certain things?

Some principles:

• Participation: does everyone post, or is it still a reality show?
• Explicitness of Feed: do you have control/legibility over what you’re being fed?
• Commodity-proof: are you incentivized to converge into a 1D brand?

As someone who doesn’t identify with either party and has voted for both, I’ll have to reflect more on this [an essay of a friend].

There are definitely some exceptions that break a simple dichotomy. For example, a republic of different states can promote more diversity compared to a single globalized entity (it's ironic that Republicans are culturally against diversity, but structurally for it). And if you actually look at what a republic is, I’d say that offloading responsibility via election goes against the republican idea of autonomy.

There’s another interesting thread here on the nature of selfishness. Either end of the spectrum is wicked: I think it devolves into “altruistic” mobs or hubristic self-destruction. Maybe solving this paradox is key: selfish interests that benefit the larger organism.

The norm is for power struggles to happen in private. While each party is positioning itself to the working class, this really might just be a coup–some private elite overthrowing the established public elites. Some scenarios:

1. It's thwarted;
2. They integrate;
3. A struggle—they both die;
4. Coup (no change);
5. Coup (far worse);
6. Coup (better off);
7. Coup (the battle kills both, makes room for new);
8. Power vacuum (the emergent order is worse);
9. New party (exposes both, well-oriented, popular but limited power);
10. Constitutional reboot (system-level change).

In 2016, Trump brought the word “deep state” to public consciousness. Conspiracy theorists used to be an Internet fringe group. Now it’s partisan. The killing of Epstein in 2019 brought a new level of lucidity; that half of the insane things Alex Jones rants about might be true. Now in 2024, the assassination attempt of Trump is drawing parallels to the JFK assassination. I think Trump’s will to power came from exposing the corruption of rival power—that doesn't mean he’s not equally implicated. Is there any precedent of this?