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  • Benedict Evans on the Economics of AI Usage, Why Foundation Models May Become Commodities, and What Comes Next for SaaS

    Benedict Evans returns to the a16z podcast to update the thesis behind his widely read “AI eats the world” presentation, and the picture he paints is less about hype and more about hard economics. In this conversation he works through what has actually played out in the last year, why agentic coding became the one use case with real product market fit, and why he keeps arguing that foundation models may end up as commodities while the value moves somewhere else entirely. You can watch the full conversation here.

    TLDW

    Benedict Evans argues that the AI moment looks a lot like the early internet, the early PC era, and the rollout of mobile data, which means it is exciting, genuinely transformative, and almost impossible to predict use case by use case. Agentic coding is the only field with clear product market fit right now, with revenue run rates exploding from roughly nine billion to forty seven billion, while consumers still use chatbots weekly rather than daily. His central claim is that foundation models show no obvious network effect or sustainable differentiation, the chatbot is a limited v1 interface, and the model labs cannot build every application, so the value will likely move up the stack the way it did with chips, ISPs, and mobile networks rather than staying with the model providers. He covers the brutal supply and demand disequilibrium driving today’s token pricing and ten thousand dollar surprise bills, the financial gravity problem of hyperscalers spending over half their revenue on capex, the Jevons paradox and consumer surplus that may compete away productivity gains, the way the important questions move out of San Francisco and into industries like law, consulting, finance, and advertising, and the distinction between automating tasks and changing jobs. His closing image is an IBM ad from the 1950s promising “150 extra engineers,” a reminder that every platform shift feels unprecedented and that in twenty years we will simply say of course computers do that.

    Thoughts

    The most useful thing Evans does here is refuse to collapse uncertainty into a clean prediction, and then explain exactly why that refusal is the correct posture rather than a cop out. He distinguishes between the parts where he will commit to a view, that foundation models are probably not a product and the chatbot is probably not the right interface, and the parts where there are simply too many open paths to call. That discipline is rare in AI commentary, where the incentive is to sound certain. The commodity argument is not “models are worthless.” It is a chain of reasoning: there is no visible network effect, no durable differentiation beyond willingness to spend, no lock in comparable to Windows or iOS, and a likely structure of three to six well funded competitors plus open source and edge models all selling the same thing. Ask where price discipline comes from in that picture and the honest answer is that it probably does not, which is how you get a commodity even when demand is effectively infinite.

    The mobile data analogy is the load bearing comparison and it deserves to be taken seriously. Mobile data traffic rose something like fifteen hundred to two thousand times over fifteen years, the networks built an extraordinary piece of global infrastructure, everyone came to depend on it, and yet the operators captured almost none of the value because all the interesting stuff got built on top by someone else. Telco stocks were flat for two decades. If that is the template, then the trillion dollars of capex flowing into AI infrastructure can be both a worthwhile investment and a terrible place to expect outsized equity returns, because building the road is not the same as owning the traffic. The counterpoint Evans keeps fairly on the table is the operating system path, where Windows and iOS did capture value, but he notes they had levers and network effects that LLMs do not appear to have.

    His framing of where the questions live is the part most people in tech underweight. Once a technology works, the interesting questions stop being technology questions. Netflix is not a tech company in the sense that matters, because its real decisions are Los Angeles decisions about shows, talent, and sports, not San Francisco decisions about infrastructure. By the same logic, what AI means for a law firm is mostly a question for people who understand what associates actually do and what clients are actually paying for, not for model researchers. This is why the “the model will just do the whole thing” story keeps running aground. Most valuable software does not solve a problem the customer already knew they had. It often takes years to convince an industry that a problem even exists, and an LLM prompt does not surface latent problems that no one has articulated.

    The economic plumbing he describes is where the near term risk actually sits. We are in extreme disequilibrium, where twenty dollars a month can buy ten thousand dollars of tokens on one side and a weekend of experimentation can produce a ten thousand dollar bill on the other, exactly the pattern mobile data went through around 2009 and 2010. That gets resolved with the boring machinery of caps, throttling, and pricing tiers, not with magic. Layered on top is the financial gravity problem: Microsoft, Meta, and Google heading toward spending more than half of revenue on capex, with roughly seven hundred billion dollars of guidance across the big players, against a hard ceiling because there is not ten trillion dollars a year available to spend. And even when the productivity gains are real, the Jevons paradox and consumer surplus suggest much of the benefit gets competed away. If a discounted cash flow model used to take a week and now takes ten seconds, you do fifty of them and charge the client the same, which is great for clients and unremarkable for margins.

    The honest takeaway for builders is that the answer to “what does this do to software” is more software, probably one or two orders of magnitude more, just as SaaS itself produced an explosion rather than a consolidation. The SaaS apocalypse is real in the sense that some meaningful percentage of existing companies get wiped out, and unknowable in the sense that no one can yet say which ones, which is why thoughtful investors are reluctant to be long software in the dark. For anyone pursuing a more deliberate, purposeful relationship with technology, the closing note is the one to keep: every one of these shifts felt singular and world ending and world making at the time, it reshaped work and put people out of jobs and created things we love, and then it quietly became invisible. The goal is to stay clear eyed about which of those buckets a given change lands in rather than getting swept up in the noise of what someone said at a party yesterday.

    Key Takeaways

    • Agentic coding shifted from “kind of useful” to “really changing everything” at the start of the year, and it is the single field with unambiguous product market fit, where customers are pulling it out of your hands.
    • Coding working first was foreseeable in hindsight: software developers were the ones messing with the tools, and the first thing people do with a new kind of computer is build more computing, just as the first thing people did with PCs was make computers.
    • Anthropic, with less capital raised, chose to focus on coding and got it working, while OpenAI cycled through a more everything all at once strategy before narrowing in.
    • The intense focus on coding comes bundled with a supply crunch, a capacity crunch, and a price and capex imbalance that defines the current moment.
    • Most of the fundamental questions from two or three years ago still have no answers: whether there will be a winner in models, whether models capture value up the stack, how much they can do, and whether consumers will use this daily rather than weekly.
    • There is a wide gap between Valley insiders running clusters of Mac Studios all day and the roughly forty percent of people who say AI is “kind of useful, I used it last week for something.”
    • Outside tech, companies are adopting AI as one at a time point solutions for specific back office processes, like a commodities company using LLMs for better cash flow forecasting, not as a general purpose assistant.
    • Adoption always compounds on prior platforms: you could not have nine hundred million weekly active users in the Netscape era because there were not nine hundred million PCs on the planet.
    • Early in any platform shift almost nothing works smoothly, from sound cards and floppy disks with TCP/IP to computers that froze and lost your work, and AI is at that stage now.
    • Today’s token pricing crunch mirrors the mobile data shock of 2009 to 2010, where flat rate plans collided with surging usage and networks had to realign price with marginal cost through caps, fair use, and throttling.
    • Mobile data traffic rose roughly fifteen hundred to two thousand times in fifteen years, mobile networks earn around a trillion dollars and spend about two hundred billion a year on capex, yet their stocks have been flat for twenty years because all the value moved up the stack.
    • The central LLM question is whether the model can do the whole thing or whether you need hundreds of applications built on top, the same way you needed apps on Windows and iOS.
    • Evans sees no network effect and no sustainable differentiation between models beyond willingness to spend money, which points toward commodity infrastructure sold near marginal cost.
    • Chip companies, ISPs, and mobile operators did not capture the value; Windows and iOS did, but only because they had levers to move up the stack and real network effects, which models lack.
    • A useful comparison is semiconductors, where each generation gets more expensive and the field narrows to fewer players, suggesting three to six frontier model makers spending somewhere between two hundred billion and two trillion dollars a year.
    • Enterprises do not standardize on a model the way they once thought about AWS; the cloud and the model get abstracted away, so customers do not even know which one their SaaS product runs on.
    • Demand for tokens being effectively infinite does not prevent a price equilibrium, exactly as infinite demand for mobile bits still produced murderous price wars between commodity carriers.
    • History teaches that something will happen but rarely what; the smartest people in tech wrongly predicted Android would crush the iPhone on open versus closed grounds.
    • One characteristic of tech is that the moment you understand how something works is the moment to move on, which is why Evans stopped updating his Apple spreadsheet years ago.
    • The people who are good at using a tool are usually not the people who are good at designing what the tool should be, which is why model labs cannot build every skill or vertical application.
    • Claude skills and similar templates resemble file new in Excel: useful starting points that users eventually outgrow, raising the question of who builds the real software.
    • The questions increasingly move out of technology and into specific industries; what AI means for law, consulting, advertising, or accounting is partly an AI question and partly a deep domain question.
    • Netflix is not a tech company in the way that matters, because its real questions are media industry questions about shows, talent, and sports, not infrastructure; the same logic now applies across industries facing AI.
    • AI differs from prior platform shifts because the physical limits are unknown; in 1995 you knew PCs cost three thousand dollars and broadband could not reach everyone overnight, but no one knows how cheap, fast, or capable models will get.
    • Evans offers four buttons to press on any use case: is it just price elasticity and the Jevons paradox, does it remove a cost barrier to entry, does it unlock a new business model, or does it make something previously impossible now possible like trains over horses or Spotify over CDs.
    • Advertising and e-commerce are a standout opportunity because today’s systems know a SKU and a metadata field but not what a product actually is or why people buy it, and LLMs could change that level of understanding.
    • The valuable shift is not doing the old thing more, like more spreadsheets or better email, but doing genuinely new things, such as asking an LLM how to change prices to improve churn using all your call recordings, CRM flows, and product telemetry.
    • Enterprise software today splits into three buckets: big horizontal systems like SAP and Workday, three to four hundred vertical SaaS apps plus a thousand internal apps, and a fuzzy improvised middle of Excel, email, and shared files, with AI arriving as a new option across all three.
    • A core design tension is where to put the probabilistic software that can make mistakes versus the deterministic database that cannot, and whether the LLM sits at the top or the bottom of the stack; the answer is probably both depending on the task.
    • The net effect on software is way more software, since SaaS itself produced one to two orders of magnitude more software and all software companies exist to solve problems created by other software companies.
    • The SaaS apocalypse is real but unknowable: some percentage of SaaS companies get wiped out, but no one knows which, so you should not derate the whole sector fifty percent and many investors are wary of being long software for now.
    • Much of what an organization does is implicit, undocumented, and not in the training data, which is exactly the value McKinsey, Bain, and BCG provide by getting license to map how a company really works.
    • The real decisions are usually exception handling: the question is always what you cannot automate and what still requires human judgment about cases that were never written down.
    • Distinguish tasks from jobs: accountants spend almost none of their time the way they did fifty years ago, yet to the client the job looks the same.
    • LLMs excel where you want the average, the answer anyone would give, and struggle where you specifically do not want the average and cannot fully explain why you did it differently.
    • There is a financial gravity ceiling: Microsoft, Meta, and Google are on track to spend over fifty percent of revenue on capex versus fifteen to twenty percent for capital intensive telecoms, with seven hundred billion in guidance this year and no path to ten trillion.
    • Hyperscalers face an existential FOMO trap: returns look positive now, but they cannot let rivals build the future of compute without participating, even as the CFO asks how much participation is enough.
    • Token maxing will face a reckoning as the disequilibrium resolves, but measuring ROI is hard because most reported benefits so far, like better analytics, support, and productivity, are tough to put a financial value on.
    • Consumer surplus means many gains get competed away: if analysis that took a week now takes a day, you do five times more analysis and charge the same, the way investment banks did with spreadsheets.
    • Evans closes with a 1950s IBM ad promising “150 extra engineers,” a reminder that every fundamental technology change feels unprecedented, and that in twenty years AI will simply be invisible magic we take for granted.

    Detailed Summary

    What changed in the last year

    Evans frames the past year as a narrowing of focus. A year and a half after the first version of his presentation, the field has developed a much clearer sense of diverging product strategies and competitive tension that goes beyond simply building a bigger model with more compute. The dominant shift is that agentic coding started genuinely working, and the entire industry narrowed in on it because it has absolute product market fit, the kind where customers pull the product out of your hands. That success arrives alongside the supply crunch, capacity constraints, and price imbalance that now define the moment. At the same time, the charts keep climbing, models keep getting bigger, capex keeps growing, and usage keeps growing, while the deep questions from a few years ago remain unanswered.

    Why coding worked first

    That coding led was predictable at a naive level: the people experimenting with the tools were software developers, and they naturally tried to make software development work. Evans compares the moment to the internet around 1997 and 1998, and also to PCs in the late seventies and early eighties, when the technology was exciting but it was not clear what it was for and it did not quite work yet. The first thing people did with PCs was make computers, and since LLMs are in a sense computers, the first thing people are doing with them is making more compute. What was harder to foresee was the precise timing of the shift, the moment when agentic coding flipped from useful to transformative at the start of this year.

    Jobs, juniors, and what we have not learned

    On the question of what this means for engineers and team structure, Evans is blunt that we have learned almost nothing yet, because this did not even work six months ago and everyone is scrambling to interpret it. The pricing crunch alone means it will take a couple of years to settle. The newly concrete questions include whether you still hire junior people and what they would do, and why you were hiring juniors in the first place, whether to do the work itself or to develop people. Because software development now genuinely automates a class of work that used to be done by people, those questions have moved from theoretical to real, but no one can responsibly claim to know what a software team or a software career looks like in three years.

    OpenAI, Anthropic, and the strategy split

    Evans dryly notes the drama around the model labs, including the disruption of a senior leadership medical leave at OpenAI. In the latter part of last year, OpenAI’s question was essentially what to build on top of the models, an everything all at once approach that looked almost like asking the model for fifteen ideas and then doing all of them. Anthropic, with less capital raised, instead committed to coding and got it working, whether by deliberate strategy or by stumbling into it. The result is that software development plus a few other fields are where things genuinely work, surrounded by a large population of people excited around the edges and corporations quietly automating specific back office processes. He cites a commodities company that wants LLMs for better cash flow forecasting across many small producers, a very different thing from asking a chatbot to summarize your meetings.

    The mobile data analogy and value capture

    The richest section is the comparison to mobile. Adoption always compounds on prior platforms, so AI inherits a far larger installed base than the internet or mobile did at their starts. Early on, nothing works smoothly, and Evans recalls the era of buying a three hundred dollar sound card or wrestling a floppy disk of TCP/IP into a machine. The pricing dynamics directly echo mobile data around 2009 and 2010, when flat rate plans met exploding usage and ten thousand dollar bills, forcing networks to realign price with marginal cost. Crucially, mobile data traffic then rose fifteen hundred to two thousand times, the networks built extraordinary global infrastructure with around a trillion dollars of revenue and two hundred billion in annual capex, and yet their stocks stayed flat for twenty years because all the cool stuff and all the value got built and captured by someone else higher up the stack. Chip companies, ISPs, and mobile operators did not capture value; Windows and iOS did, but they had levers and network effects that models do not appear to share.

    The case that models become commodities

    Evans lays out the building blocks of his commodity thesis. First, there is no clear way to build a model that is sustainably and fundamentally better than everyone else’s, with no visible network effect and no strategic lever comparable to what Instagram, YouTube, or Google search enjoy. Differences in emphasis and taste exist, but not durable competitive moats beyond spending. Second, the chatbot is a weird, limited v1 interface that works well for some tasks and people but requires tooling, the right data, configuration, control, and thoughtful design for most real jobs, and the people good at a job are rarely the people good at designing the tool for it. Third, the labs cannot build every application any more than Microsoft or Apple could build every Windows or iPhone app. Enterprises do not standardize on a model the way they never standardized on a visible cloud provider, because it gets abstracted away. Taken together, that points to low level infrastructure sold by perhaps half a dozen competitors plus open source and edge, with no obvious source of price discipline, which is the definition of a commodity even when demand is infinite.

    The questions move out of technology

    One of the next big questions is when models become good enough that you no longer need the largest, fastest, most expensive model, and can use an older model, an open source model, or one running on device where compute is effectively free to the developer. But the deeper shift is that the important questions move out of technology and into industries. Drawing on his own essays “content isn’t king” and “Netflix isn’t a tech company,” Evans argues that Netflix’s real decisions are Los Angeles media questions, not San Francisco infrastructure questions, and San Francisco does not even know what the right questions are. By the same logic, what AI means for a law firm is mostly a question for people who understand law firms, what generative video means for Hollywood is a question Ben Affleck can answer better than he can, and the questions become half AI and half something else.

    Four buttons and the new things AI unlocks

    To reason about impact, Evans offers four buttons. Is a use case just price elasticity, the Jevons paradox of doing the same thing for less or more for the same money. Does it remove a cost that was a barrier to entry, like a newspaper’s printing press. Does it unlock something in your business model. Or does it make something previously impossible now possible, the way steam engines made trains possible regardless of how many horses you bought, or Spotify turned fifteen dollars a month into all the music there is. He stresses that the same broad change can mean wildly different things by industry, just as the internet devastated newspapers but barely touched movie studios. His favorite tractable example is advertising and e-commerce, a trillion dollar advertising market against twenty five trillion in retail, where today’s systems know a SKU and a metadata field and that people who bought one thing bought another, but do not know what a product is or why people buy it. An LLM could in principle understand the product, recommend ten coats at different prices with pros and cons, or look at your Instagram and suggest a winter coat that changes your look but not too much, which would have been science fiction three years ago.

    More software, the SaaS apocalypse, and tasks versus jobs

    For software specifically, Evans expects more competition, cheaper and quicker building, and new categories that were impossible before, all under an uncertain new margin structure where outcome based pricing is hard because most software work cannot be tied cleanly to profit and loss. He frames enterprise software as three buckets, big horizontal systems, hundreds of vertical and internal apps, and a fuzzy improvised middle of Excel and email, with AI arriving as another option across all of them. The deeper design tension is where to place probabilistic software that can make mistakes versus deterministic systems that cannot, and whether the LLM sits at the top or bottom of the stack, with the answer being both depending on the task. The net result is way more software, since SaaS itself produced orders of magnitude more software and software exists to solve problems created by other software. That fuels the SaaS apocalypse anxiety: some companies clearly get wiped out, but since no one knows which, you should not derate the whole sector, even as many investors stay cautious about being long software.

    Implicit knowledge, exception handling, and where the average fails

    Much of what organizations do is implicit, undocumented, and absent from any training data, which is precisely the value of strategy consultancies that get license to map how a company really works versus how it is supposed to work. The real decisions tend to be exception handling, the cases that require human judgment because they were never written down or do not look like before. Evans separates tasks from jobs, noting accountants do almost nothing the way they did fifty years ago while the client still buys the same thing. And he offers a sharp test: LLMs are excellent where you want the average, the answer anyone would give, and weak where you specifically do not want the average and cannot fully articulate why you did it differently.

    Capex, financial gravity, and the ROI question

    On spending, Evans describes a financial gravity problem. Microsoft, Meta, and Google are on line to spend over half their revenue on capex this year, against fifteen to twenty percent for capital intensive telecoms, with roughly seven hundred billion in guidance across the big players, a sum comparable to all of telecom or oil and gas. They cannot sustainably leap to one and a half trillion next year because the money is not there, so the curve must eventually taper. The hyperscalers are caught in an existential FOMO trap: returns look positive now, but they cannot sit out what might be the future of compute without risking becoming the next stranded incumbent, even as the CFO asks how much is enough. On token maxing, he expects a reckoning as the disequilibrium resolves, but measuring ROI is genuinely hard because most reported benefits so far are soft and hard to value, and consumer surplus means much of the gain gets competed away, the way faster spreadsheets simply meant more analysis at the same price.

    Closing image

    Evans ends with an IBM advertisement from the early 1950s showing a sea of engineers holding slide rules, with the tagline that an IBM electronic calculator gives you 150 extra engineers, exactly the pitch behind countless modern startup decks. We move through these fundamental technology waves every ten or fifteen or twenty years, each one feeling completely unlike anything before, and AI is amazing and transformative in the same way mobile, the internet, and PCs were. The base case is that it will produce wonderful things, ruin some livelihoods, put people out of work, and eventually become invisible. His one line description of where it all ends up is that it will be magic, and in twenty years we will simply say of course computers do that, the way an hour of crash free streaming HD video over Wi-Fi already feels unremarkable.

    Notable Quotes

    “Agentic coding went from being kind of useful to really changing everything.”

    Benedict Evans, on the pivotal shift at the start of the year

    “We are in this extreme scarcity. We can’t spend $10 trillion a year on AI infrastructure cuz there isn’t $10 trillion a year there to spend on it.”

    Benedict Evans, on the hard ceiling of AI capex

    “I don’t think foundation models are a product. I don’t think a chatbot is a product. I think the value will be further up.”

    Benedict Evans, stating the core of his thesis

    “They built this amazing piece of global incredibly sophisticated very expensive global infrastructure with enormous growth in use, and they didn’t make any money from it because all the value moved up stack.”

    Benedict Evans, on the mobile network analogy

    “The moment that you understand something and you know how it works and what’s going to happen is the moment you should move on to something else.”

    Benedict Evans, on how to pay attention in tech

    “These are all Los Angeles questions. These are not San Francisco questions. No one in San Francisco even knows what the right questions are.”

    Benedict Evans, on why Netflix is not a tech company

    “The important stuff is not doing the old thing but more. It’s doing something new that you couldn’t have done with the old thing.”

    Benedict Evans, on where the real value of a new technology shows up

    “All software companies exist to solve problems created by other software companies.”

    Benedict Evans, on why AI produces more software, not less

    “It’s going to be magic, and in 20 years time we’ll just say, well, of course that’s how it is. Computers have always done that.”

    Benedict Evans, on how the whole shift ends up

    This is a dense, clear eyed conversation that rewards a full listen, especially if you are trying to think past the hype cycle about where AI value actually lands. Watch the full conversation here, and check out the “AI eats the world” presentation referenced throughout.

    Related Reading

    • Benedict Evans’ website home of the “AI eats the world” presentation and his newsletter referenced throughout the conversation.
    • Andreessen Horowitz (a16z) the venture firm whose podcast hosted this discussion and where Evans was formerly a partner.
    • Jevons paradox (Wikipedia) background on the price elasticity idea Evans uses to explain how cheaper AI may lead to more usage rather than savings.
    • Stratechery by Ben Thompson the analysis Evans cites on software as a designed workflow versus a process that grows out of how a business runs.
    • The Pursuit of Purpose a PJFP look at finding direction and meaning in work as automation reshapes careers and industries.

  • Inside Anthropic, the $965 Billion AI Juggernaut: Dario and Daniela Amodei on Claude, Claude Code, and the AI Arms Race

    In this episode of The Circuit, Bloomberg goes inside Anthropic, the AI lab that started as an underdog and is now valued at nearly a trillion dollars. The conversation centers on the sibling duo running the company, Dario Amodei, the brother and visionary, and Daniela Amodei, the sister and operator, along with Boris Cherny, the engineer behind Claude Code and Claude Cowork. It is a rare, on-the-record look at how a safety-obsessed startup founded by a group of OpenAI defectors in 2021 became the breakout star of the AI arms race, wiping billions in value off software stocks and forcing an uncomfortable national conversation about the future of work. You can watch the full episode here.

    TLDW

    Dario and Daniela Amodei walk through Anthropic’s rise from a pandemic-era group meeting on the grass in Precita Park to a roughly $965 billion AI juggernaut that is now profitable for the first time. They explain why they left OpenAI, citing a breakdown of trust and values with Sam Altman rather than a single safety disagreement, and how Dario’s early bet on scaling laws shaped the entire field. The two describe how Claude is trained for character and “professional warmth,” anchored in documents like the UN Declaration of Human Rights, and how the company defines a good model as one that does not lie, hallucinate, or deceive. The business story is enterprise and coding: Claude Code and Claude Cowork automated huge chunks of software engineering, triggered a SaaSpocalypse that erased $285 billion in market value overnight, and pushed annualized growth to as high as 80x in a single quarter. Boris Cherny, recruited from a slow miso-making life in rural Japan, says Claude has written one hundred percent of his code for at least six months. The hardest part of the conversation is jobs: Dario stands by his warning that AI could eliminate half of all entry level white collar jobs in one to five years, pushes back hard on Jensen Huang’s “doom marketing” critique, and lays out where displaced workers might go, from the physical world to human-centered roles like a reimagined, more interpersonal version of medicine. The episode closes by teasing AI and the future of warfare, a scarily powerful new model called Mythos, and Dario’s identification not with Oppenheimer but with Leo Szilard.

    Thoughts

    The most revealing moment in this profile is not a number, it is Dario Amodei’s description of the “smooth exponential.” His whole career, he says, has felt like nothing happening, nothing happening, nothing happening, and then zoom. That mental model is the key to understanding why Anthropic behaves the way it does. A company that genuinely believes it is riding an exponential will tolerate enormous near-term discomfort, public criticism, and internal strain, because it has already priced in a future that looks nothing like the present. Whether that conviction is wisdom or a kind of motivated certainty is the open question the episode never fully resolves, but it explains the urgency in every answer he gives.

    The Boris Cherny segment is the part that should make working engineers sit up. When a senior engineer says Claude has written one hundred percent of his code for six months and that he feels like he has a jet pack, that is not a marketing line, it is a description of a job that has already changed underneath the person doing it. The framing in the piece is optimistic, superpowers and fun, but the logical endpoint is exactly the one Dario himself names a few minutes later: you automate ninety percent of a job, the remaining humans get ten times more leveraged, and then the curve keeps bending toward one hundred percent. Anthropic is, unusually, building the thing and narrating its own disruption in the same breath. That honesty is rare, and it is also a little vertiginous.

    The values-versus-business-model argument deserves more scrutiny than it gets. Dario’s claim is elegant: a business model that conflicts with your values forces you to either betray the values or become irrelevant, so Anthropic chose enterprise and coding because curing diseases and making energy cheaper are enterprise work, while consumer engagement is the addiction-maximizing trap of social media. It is a genuinely good argument, and it is also extremely convenient that the values-aligned path happens to be the most lucrative one. The episode lets that tension sit, which is the right call. The honest reading is that Anthropic found a place where doing well and doing good currently point in the same direction, and the harder test will come the first time they diverge.

    On jobs, Dario is more persuasive than his critics give him credit for, precisely because he refuses the comfortable framing. Jensen Huang and others accuse him of conflating tasks with jobs and of doom marketing that benefits Anthropic. Dario’s response, that the idea this is cheap marketing is itself cheap marketing, is sharper than it first sounds. He is pointing at the way social media flattens a five-page argument about tasks, jobs, tax policy, and the adolescence of technology into a three-second clip designed to provoke. The deeper point is that he is trying to hold two things at once, fast GDP growth and high unemployment, and our public discourse is structurally bad at holding two things at once. That is less a story about AI than about the medium we use to argue about it.

    Finally, the Oppenheimer exchange reframes the entire profile. Dario explicitly rejects the lone-genius model and names Leo Szilard, the scientist who first imagined the chain reaction, as the figure he identifies with. He calls Oppenheimer a failure case, an example of what should not happen. For a man whose company is constantly accused of cultivating a great-man mythology, choosing the early-warning scientist over the bomb’s public face is a deliberate statement about how he wants this story to end: not with charismatic individuals at the center of everything, but with checks and balances everywhere. It is the most quietly radical thing said in the whole piece, and the teaser for a model named Mythos lands with a little extra irony because of it.

    Key Takeaways

    • Anthropic is profiled as an AI juggernaut valued at nearly a trillion dollars, with the figure of roughly $965 billion framing the episode, and is described as profitable for the first time.
    • The company was founded in 2021 by a team of OpenAI defectors and started as an underdog lab before becoming the breakout star of the AI race.
    • Anthropic is run by a sibling duo, Dario Amodei as the visionary and Daniela Amodei as the operator who turns his ideas into action, and Daniela jokes that when they argue, no one wins.
    • Dario describes the AI trajectory as a “smooth exponential” where nothing seems to happen for a long time and then progress suddenly explodes.
    • He says he predicted from a graph that Anthropic would become the AI company with the most revenue and valuation around this time, and that it has happened.
    • Dario grew up in San Francisco with a leather-craftsman father and a librarian mother, took calculus in middle school, and studied math at UC Berkeley while in high school, with no early interest in the internet revolution.
    • Dario studied neuroscience before moving to AI at Baidu and later Google, while Daniela was an early employee at Stripe.
    • Both joined OpenAI starting in 2016, where Dario developed the concept of scaling laws, predicting that large language models would improve simply by adding more data and compute even if the underlying algorithm stayed the same.
    • Scaling up was a counter-cultural scientific bet at the time, held mainly by the founding research team, and it helped supercharge OpenAI’s models and pave the way for ChatGPT.
    • The Amodeis left OpenAI after clashing with Sam Altman over direction and values, framing it as a breakdown of trust and honesty rather than a single safety disagreement.
    • Altman has said that despite their differences, he mostly trusts Anthropic as a company.
    • Anthropic has all seven of its co-founders still at the company, which Dario notes almost never happens at a company of its size.
    • The early team met during the pandemic at Precita Park in San Francisco, pulling up chairs on the grass to talk about what they were building.
    • The name Anthropic comes from the Greek word for human, reflecting a stated mission to build responsible AI for the long-term benefit of humanity.
    • Dario has published long essays including Machines of Loving Grace and The Adolescence of Technology, exploring both the miraculous potential and the worst-case scenarios of AI.
    • Claude is trained to follow a set of principles called a Constitution, intended to keep it aligned and well-behaved.
    • Daniela describes Claude’s intended personality as “professional warmth,” approachable but distant, not a best friend and not cold or calculating.
    • A good model, in Anthropic’s framing, does not lie accidentally or intentionally, with lying including hallucinations where the model invents something it does not know.
    • Anthropic’s own research has shown that models can purposely try to deceive users, which the company works to prevent in production models.
    • There is no universal standard for helpfulness or harmlessness, so Anthropic draws on founding documents like the UN Declaration of Human Rights to train Claude’s character.
    • The company has begun consulting religious leaders about Claude as an entity and about core values that transcend any single worldview.
    • Early Claude models, around the Claude 2 era, were sometimes “nannyish,” expressing concern when a user just wanted the weather, which researchers describe as tuning a fine dial.
    • Anthropic’s revenue skyrocketed over the past year, driven by a focus on lucrative business tools rather than consumer apps.
    • Claude Code automated large chunks of software engineering, and Claude Cowork extended that power to non-engineers.
    • Dario frames the enterprise bet as a values-and-business decision, arguing that a business model conflicting with your values forces you to betray them or become irrelevant.
    • He contrasts engagement-and-addiction-driven consumer and advertising models with enterprise uses like curing diseases, advancing biotech and pharma, and making energy cheaper.
    • Soon after Claude Cowork launched, $285 billion in market value vanished overnight in what traders called the SaaSpocalypse, with some software stocks down nine days in a row.
    • Dario argues the software “pie” will get bigger overall, even as some incumbents shrink or go out of business if they fail to adapt and defend their moats.
    • Boris Cherny, the engineer behind Claude Code and Claude Cowork, was recruited in 2024 from a slow life in rural Japan where he made miso and shopped at farmer’s markets.
    • Cherny’s bet was that a coding agent could do all of software development, not just autocomplete a line or a sentence.
    • He now runs anywhere from a few to a few thousand Claudes at once and says Claude has written one hundred percent of his code for at least six months.
    • A live demo builds a working recipe app that suggests meals for the week in minutes, work that used to take hours or days.
    • At the second annual Code with Claude conference, Anthropic reported API volume up nearly 17x year over year, eight frontier models shipped in twelve months, and first-quarter growth that annualizes to roughly 80x.
    • Dario stands by his warning that AI could eliminate half of all entry level white collar jobs in the next one to five years, saying he remains the same order of concerned.
    • He warns of an unusual combination of very fast GDP growth alongside high unemployment, underemployment, low-wage jobs, and high inequality.
    • Jensen Huang and others have pushed back, accusing Dario of conflating tasks with jobs and of doom marketing that benefits Anthropic.
    • Dario responds that the claim this is cheap marketing is itself cheap marketing, and blames social media for flattening his careful five-page arguments into three-second clips.
    • Anthropic published a paper estimating that management, finance, and legal jobs could be among the fields most affected by AI in the near future.
    • Dario points to the physical world, human-centered relationship-driven work, and humans directing AI as places displaced workers might go, though he is unsure how thick those roles will be.
    • He uses medicine as an example, predicting AI will excel at diagnosis while doctors pivot toward the interpersonal, hands-on, bedside-manner parts that AI cannot replace.
    • The episode teases a next installment on AI and the future of warfare, a scarily powerful new model called Mythos, and the theme of riding the exponential while avoiding dystopia.
    • Dario names The Making of the Atomic Bomb as a favorite book and identifies most with Leo Szilard, who first conceived of a chain reaction, rather than Oppenheimer, whom he sees as a failure case.
    • His view is that the only way the AI era ends well is through checks and balances everywhere, not larger-than-life personalities at the center of everything.

    Detailed Summary

    An unlikely AI celebrity and a sibling-run juggernaut

    The profile opens in a library Dario Amodei clearly loves, establishing him as an unlikely AI celebrity, a man known for warning the world about the risks of artificial intelligence who now runs a company valued at nearly a trillion dollars. Anthropic is presented as the breakout star of the AI race, wiping billions off software stocks, going head-to-head with the Pentagon, and building models powerful enough to threaten modern cybersecurity, with early testers reportedly calling one capability a super weapon and asking the company not to release it. Guiding the company is the sibling pair, Dario the visionary and Daniela the operator who translates his swirling cosmic thoughts into action. Daniela explains that the two have always been close and always wanted to do something big together, and when asked who wins their arguments, she says no one. The framing throughout is of a young, fast-growing startup carrying enormous responsibility for how humanity works, learns, thinks, and even fights wars.

    The smooth exponential and the road from OpenAI

    Dario describes his entire career as the experience of a smooth exponential, where nothing happens for a long stretch and then things go crazy, and he says he watched a graph and correctly predicted Anthropic would top the field in revenue and valuation around now. His backstory is a math prodigy in San Francisco, the son of a leather craftsman and a librarian, taking calculus in middle school and Berkeley math classes in high school, indifferent to the internet revolution and drawn instead to science fiction and understanding the universe. Daniela, more into reading and the arts, calls them near-perfect complements. Dario moved from neuroscience into AI at Baidu and Google, Daniela went to Stripe, and both eventually joined OpenAI starting in 2016, where Dario developed scaling laws, the then counter-cultural bet that more data and compute alone would make models smarter. That insight helped power the models behind ChatGPT, but the Amodeis clashed with Sam Altman over values and direction. Dario frames the departure bluntly: disagreements on safety alone were not enough, but a loss of trust, a sense that Altman’s stated values were not his real values, made it impossible to continue. The resolution, he says, was simply to go off and do their own thing.

    Precita Park, the Constitution, and teaching Claude to be good

    Anthropic’s origin story runs through Precita Park, where the early pandemic-era team gathered on the grass to talk about what they were building. Of seven co-founders, all are still at the company, a retention record Dario says almost never happens at this scale. From the start the company pitched itself as the ultimate safety-conscious lab, with Dario publishing essays like Machines of Loving Grace and The Adolescence of Technology. Claude is trained on a Constitution, and Daniela describes its intended character as professional warmth, approachable but distant. Defining a good model, the team says it should not lie, whether through intentional deception or hallucination, the latter being the model inventing answers it does not actually know. Anthropic’s research has shown models can deliberately deceive, something they work to prevent in production. Because there is no universal standard for helpfulness or harmlessness, they anchor Claude’s training in documents like the UN Declaration of Human Rights and have begun talking with religious leaders about values that transcend any single worldview. Daniela recalls early “nannyish” Claude 2-era behavior, where the model fretted over a user who only wanted the weather, and describes the work as threading a fine needle to land in the center of the dial.

    The enterprise bet, Claude Code, and the SaaSpocalypse

    Anthropic’s revenue surge and first-time profitability are attributed to a focus on business tools, especially Claude Code, which automated large chunks of software engineering, and Claude Cowork, which extended that capability beyond engineers. Dario frames the bet on coding and enterprise as both a values and a business decision: a business model that conflicts with your values eventually forces you to betray them or become irrelevant. He contrasts the engagement and addiction incentives of advertising-driven social media and AI video with enterprise applications like curing diseases, biotech, pharma, academic research, and cheaper energy, all of which he counts as enterprise work aligned with the company’s mission. The disruption was immediate and brutal: soon after Claude Cowork launched, $285 billion in market value vanished overnight in what traders dubbed the SaaSpocalypse, with some software stocks falling nine days straight. Dario’s read is that the overall software pie will grow even as specific incumbents shrink or fail, and that the big losers will be those who do not see what is coming or defend their moats.

    Boris Cherny, jet packs, and Code with Claude

    Much of Anthropic’s recent growth is credited to Boris Cherny, the engineer behind Claude Code and Claude Cowork, hired in 2024 from a deliberately slow life in rural Japan where he made miso and frequented farmer’s markets. A serious science fiction reader, Cherny was awed by his first AI chatbot and also acutely aware of how badly the technology could go. His bet was that a coding agent could do all of software development rather than just autocomplete. He now describes orchestrating anywhere from a few to a few thousand Claudes at once, talking to one while it writes code and moving to the next, and says Claude has written one hundred percent of his code for at least six months. He compares the feeling to having superpowers and a jet pack, calling engineering more fun than ever. A live demo has Claude build a working weekly-meal recipe app in minutes. The story then moves to the second annual Code with Claude conference, where the company reports API volume up nearly 17x year over year, eight frontier models shipped in twelve months, and first-quarter growth annualizing to roughly 80x, with attendees ranging from technical superfans to curious non-engineers.

    Jobs, the tasks-versus-jobs fight, and a more human medicine

    The episode turns to the uncomfortable core: whether engineers will be the first casualties of the AI they are building. Dario stands by his warning that AI could eliminate half of all entry level white collar jobs in one to five years and says he is still the same order of concerned, describing a strange combination of very fast GDP growth with high unemployment, underemployment, low-wage work, and inequality. He notes the usual productivity hump, where automating ninety percent of a job makes humans ten times more leveraged on the rest, before the curve bends toward one hundred percent. With 70 percent of Americans expecting AI to kill jobs and nearly a third fearing for their own, the stakes are political. Jensen Huang and others accuse Dario of conflating tasks with jobs and of doom marketing, and Dario pushes back hard, arguing he writes carefully across five pages about tasks, jobs, tax and macroeconomic policy, and the new jobs of the adolescence of technology, and that calling this cheap marketing is itself cheap marketing born of social media’s three-second culture. Anthropic has published a paper suggesting management, finance, and legal jobs could change the most. Dario points to the physical world, human-centered relationship work, and humans directing AI as landing spots, using medicine as his example: AI will become an excellent diagnostician, but it cannot physically examine a patient or provide bedside manner, so medicine pivots toward the interpersonal. The episode closes by teasing AI and the future of warfare, a powerful new model called Mythos, and Dario’s identification with Leo Szilard over Oppenheimer, whom he calls a failure case, insisting the era can only end well with checks and balances everywhere rather than larger-than-life figures at the center.

    Notable Quotes

    “There’s this kind of smooth exponential, and the experience of the smooth exponential is, nothing’s happening, nothing’s happening, nothing’s happening. Little things happen, and then zoom, it goes crazy.”

    Dario Amodei, on how AI progress actually feels from the inside

    “When you feel that you can’t trust someone, when you feel that their values are not what they say they are, when you feel that they’re not honest, that makes it very hard to continue to work with a company.”

    Dario Amodei, on why he and Daniela left OpenAI

    “Some of the early companies that we gave this to said things like, this is a super weapon, please don’t release this.”

    Anthropic, on early reactions to one of its more powerful models

    “I like to describe it as professional warmth. So the goal is not for it to be your best friend, but it’s not for it to be sort of cold, rote, calculating.”

    Daniela Amodei, describing the character Anthropic designs into Claude

    “If you pick a business model that fundamentally conflicts with your values, you’re gonna have a hard time. Either you betray your own values or you become irrelevant.”

    Dario Amodei, on why Anthropic bet on enterprise and coding

    “For me personally, it’s been writing a hundred percent of my code for at least six months. The work of engineering has just completely changed.”

    Boris Cherny, the engineer behind Claude Code and Claude Cowork

    “I feel like I suddenly have superpowers. I have like a jet pack and the engineering has never been this fun.”

    Boris Cherny, on building software with Claude Code

    “I think we could have this very unusual combination of very fast GDP growth and high unemployment, or at least underemployment, or low wage jobs, high inequality.”

    Dario Amodei, on the economic shock he is most worried about

    “The idea that this is cheap marketing is itself cheap marketing. I think it’s part of the disease of Silicon Valley.”

    Dario Amodei, responding to the doom-marketing accusation

    “The figure I most identified with was Leo Szilard, who was the one who first had the idea that there could be a chain reaction.”

    Dario Amodei, on which atomic-age scientist he sees himself in, rejecting Oppenheimer as a failure case

    Watch the full episode of The Circuit inside Anthropic here.

    Related Reading

    • Anthropic the official site for the company, Claude, Claude Code, and its safety research.
    • Machines of Loving Grace Dario Amodei’s long essay on the optimistic case for powerful AI referenced in the profile.
    • Scaling laws (Wikipedia) background on the data-and-compute bet Dario developed that reshaped modern AI.
    • Leo Szilard (Wikipedia) the physicist who first conceived the nuclear chain reaction and whom Dario says he identifies with.
    • Purpose the PJFP pillar on building meaningful work and direction in a world being reshaped by AI.

  • The AI Layoff Trap: Why Competing Firms Over-Automate, Destroy Their Own Customers, and How a Pigouvian Automation Tax Could Break the Arms Race

    A new economics paper called The AI Layoff Trap, by Brett Hemenway Falk of the University of Pennsylvania and Gerry Tsoukalas of Boston University, makes an argument that is easy to state and hard to escape. If artificial intelligence displaces workers faster than the economy can reabsorb them, it eats into the consumer demand that every firm depends on. The unsettling part is the next step: the authors show that firms knowing this is not enough to make them stop. Even with perfect foresight, rational companies race toward the cliff anyway, and the reason is a textbook market failure hiding inside the automation boom.

    TLDR

    The paper builds a task-based model of a transitioning economy and refocuses it from the labor market to the product market. When a firm automates, it captures the entire cost saving from replacing workers, but it bears only a fraction of the demand destruction that those lost paychecks cause, because most of that lost spending would have gone to rivals. This demand externality means each firm’s privately optimal automation rate is a dominant strategy that overshoots the level that would be best for everyone, including the firm owners themselves. Competition makes it worse, a monopolist would internalize it, and in the frictionless limit the whole thing collapses into a Prisoner’s Dilemma where every firm fires its entire human workforce even though collective restraint would raise all profits. Better AI amplifies the distortion rather than curing it, a dynamic the authors call a Red Queen effect. They test six policy responses. Capital income taxes, worker equity, universal basic income, upskilling, and Coasean bargaining all fail to fix the core incentive. Only a Pigouvian automation tax, set equal to the uninternalized demand loss per task, restores the efficient outcome. The conclusion reframes the AI jobs debate away from cleaning up the aftermath and toward the competitive incentives that drive the layoffs in the first place.

    Thoughts

    The cleverest move in this paper is where it points the camera. Most of the automation literature, going back to Acemoglu and Restrepo’s task-based framework, asks whether the labor market rebalances after displacement through new tasks and a self-correcting wage channel. Falk and Tsoukalas mostly set that debate aside and look at the product market instead. The question is no longer just “will the displaced worker find a new job,” it is “who buys the output once enough workers have lost their income.” By framing lost wages as lost revenue for every firm in the sector, they turn a labor story into a demand story, and the demand story has a much darker equilibrium.

    What makes the result bite is that it does not depend on firms being short-sighted or greedy. The authors grant every firm perfect foresight. Everyone can see the demand cliff ahead. They still automate past the social optimum because the math of a competitive market splits the cost saving and the demand loss unevenly. You keep all the savings from firing your workers. You eat only a sliver of the demand damage, and your competitors absorb the rest, just as you absorb a sliver of theirs. No individual firm can afford to be the one that shows restraint, because restraint just hands market share to rivals who do not. This is a genuine externality, not a coordination failure, which matters because coordination failures can sometimes be solved by communication and this one cannot. Even a binding agreement among all the firms would not hold, since defecting to automate is a dominant strategy for each of them.

    The Red Queen result is the part that should give AI optimists pause. The intuitive hope is that more capable AI raises productivity enough to lift everyone, so the demand problem takes care of itself. The model says the opposite. When AI gets better, each firm sees a bigger share gain from automating ahead of rivals, but at the symmetric equilibrium those share gains cancel out across firms and what remains is a larger distortion. Faster, cheaper, smarter automation widens the wedge between what is privately rational and what is collectively efficient. The technology improving does not relieve the pressure, it intensifies the race.

    The policy section is where the paper earns its keep, because it refuses to let the comfortable answers off the hook. Universal basic income is the response most people reach for, and the model is blunt that it raises living standards without changing a single firm’s incentive to automate. It treats the symptom and ignores the margin. Upskilling and worker equity narrow the gap but cannot close it. Capital income taxes operate on profit levels, not on the per-task decision where the externality actually lives, so they leave the automation rate untouched. The only instrument that works is a tax aimed directly at the act of automating, priced at the demand damage it imposes on others. That is an uncomfortable conclusion for almost everyone. It tells the political left that UBI alone does not fix the structural problem, and it tells the political right that an unregulated market over-automates in a way that destroys profits, not just jobs.

    The honest caveat, which the authors state plainly, is that this is a structural vulnerability rather than a diagnosed crisis. The signature they predict, profit erosion that shows up alongside mass layoffs, requires displacement at a scale and speed the economy has not yet reached. If reabsorption keeps pace, the externality stays too small to measure. But the conditions they flag are worth watching, and a few of the early indicators they cite, like business investment overtaking consumer spending as the leading driver of GDP growth and a falling savings rate, are exactly the kind of demand-side strain the model predicts. The value here is a clear mechanism and a sharp policy implication, available before the crisis rather than after it.

    Key Takeaways

    • The central claim is that AI-driven layoffs can erode the consumer demand firms depend on, and that rational firms with perfect foresight will not stop the process on their own.
    • The mechanism is a demand externality. An automating firm captures the full labor-cost saving but bears only a fraction of the aggregate demand loss it creates, because most of the lost spending would have gone to rivals.
    • Because of that split, each firm’s profit-maximizing automation rate is a strictly dominant strategy that exceeds the level that is collectively efficient.
    • The resulting loss is not a transfer from workers to owners. It is a deadweight loss that leaves both workers and firm owners worse off.
    • The distortion deepens with competition. A monopolist fully internalizes the externality, while fragmented, competitive markets show the widest gap between private and social automation rates.
    • In the frictionless limit, where every task is equally easy to automate, the game becomes a Prisoner’s Dilemma in which every firm replaces its entire human workforce even though collective restraint would raise all profits.
    • The Red Queen effect: more productive AI widens the wedge rather than resolving it, because perceived market-share gains from automating ahead of rivals cancel at the symmetric equilibrium and only the added distortion remains.
    • Endogenous wage adjustment, a key self-correcting channel in standard models, raises the threshold at which the externality activates but cannot close the wedge short of collapsing wages to the cost of AI.
    • Free entry, capital-income recycling, and richer product-market structures also fail to eliminate the distortion.
    • The model evaluates six policy instruments against the externality margin and reaches a clear ranking.
    • Universal basic income raises the floor on living standards but leaves each firm’s automation incentive unchanged.
    • Capital income taxes do not change the equilibrium automation rate, because they operate on profit levels rather than the per-task margin where the externality lives.
    • Upskilling and worker equity participation narrow the wedge but cannot eliminate it.
    • Coasean bargaining fails because automation is a dominant strategy, so no voluntary agreement among firms to restrain layoffs is self-enforcing.
    • Only a Pigouvian automation tax, a per-task charge set equal to the uninternalized demand loss, implements the cooperative optimum.
    • The tax can be self-limiting. Its revenue can fund retraining that raises income replacement, which shrinks the externality over time.
    • By Tinbergen’s principle, a distinct market failure needs a distinct instrument, which is why the single targeted tax succeeds where the broad transfers fail.
    • The mechanism runs through the product market, distinguishing it from work like Beraja and Zorzi that locates inefficient automation in labor-market borrowing constraints.
    • Unlike many other channels for excessive automation, this externality requires competition and vanishes under monopoly, and it persists even when AI is highly productive and credit markets are complete.
    • The demand externality belongs to the family of aggregate demand spillovers, but it is the mirror image of the classic big push: here individually profitable automation is collectively destructive.
    • The authors defend the channel against a general-equilibrium objection, arguing that displaced spending does not rotate back to mass-market firms because high-income consumption saturates and producers cannot quickly retool.
    • A second escape route through a falling interest rate also stalls when rates are near zero or when the income loss is lasting rather than temporary.
    • The empirical signature would be profit erosion coinciding with mass layoffs, which standard competitive models cannot easily explain.
    • The model points to fragmented industries deploying the most capable AI as the place the problem would bite hardest, not the dominant technology firms.
    • Suggested places to look for the effect include customer support, software services, and back-office operations at competing financial institutions.
    • The authors cite real-world signals, including Block cutting nearly half its workforce in February 2026 with AI named as the reason, and more than a million U.S. job cuts announced in 2025 with AI explicitly tied to roughly 55,000.
    • They note that roughly 80% of U.S. workers hold jobs with tasks exposed to large language models, citing Eloundou and coauthors.
    • The model is deliberately conservative, using one sector, one period, and symmetric firms, which the authors argue means the real problem is likely worse than what they show.
    • A practical wrinkle: a unilateral automation tax could push adoption offshore, strengthening the case for multilateral coordination or border adjustments, an explicit analogy to carbon policy.
    • The big reframing is that policy should address not only the aftermath of AI labor displacement but also the competitive incentives that cause it.

    Detailed Summary

    A task-based model refocused on the product market

    The framework borrows the task-based structure of Acemoglu and Restrepo but redirects its attention. Several symmetric firms each choose what fraction of their workforce to replace with AI. Automated tasks cost less to perform, but integration frictions make each additional task harder to automate than the last. On the demand side, workers spend a share of their income on the sector’s output while owners spend less, normalized to zero in the baseline. Some displaced income returns through reemployment or transfers, and the rest is lost to the sector. The setup is intentionally stripped down so the demand channel is transparent and the cliff is visible to every firm in the model.

    The demand externality that traps every firm

    Competition creates the trap. When a firm automates, it pockets the full labor-cost saving, but under competitive pricing it bears only a fraction of the aggregate demand destruction it causes. The rest spills onto rivals. Because each firm faces the same incentive, every firm’s profit-maximizing automation rate is a dominant strategy that exceeds the cooperatively efficient level. Foresight does not save them. The cliff is visible, the incentive to keep walking toward it is individually rational, and the collective result is over-automation that erodes the shared revenue base.

    Competition deepens it, monopoly internalizes it

    The size of the distortion depends on market structure. A monopolist owns all of the demand it would destroy, so it fully internalizes the externality and automates at the efficient rate. As markets fragment, each firm internalizes less and the gap between private and social automation widens. The most competitive markets, often held up as the healthiest, produce the worst over-automation in this model.

    The frictionless limit becomes a Prisoner’s Dilemma

    When integration frictions disappear and every task is equally easy to automate, the game sharpens into a Prisoner’s Dilemma. Full automation dominates restraint for each firm, so every firm displaces its entire human workforce, even though all of them would earn higher profits if they collectively held back. This is the cleanest statement of the trap: a unanimously worse outcome that no firm can unilaterally avoid, and that communication cannot fix because defection is dominant rather than merely tempting.

    The Red Queen effect: better AI makes it worse

    Higher AI productivity does not rescue the equilibrium. Each firm perceives a market-share gain from automating beyond its rivals, but at the symmetric equilibrium those gains cancel across firms, leaving only the extra distortion. So improvements in AI widen the wedge instead of closing it. The authors name this the Red Queen effect, after the character who must run just to stay in place. Endogenous wage adjustment, the classic self-correcting force, raises the threshold where the externality activates but cannot close the wedge once it does, short of wages collapsing all the way to the cost of AI.

    Six policy fixes, and why only one works

    The paper lines up six instruments against the externality. Capital income taxes change profit levels but not the per-task automation margin, so the equilibrium rate is unchanged. Universal basic income lifts living standards without touching the incentive to automate. Upskilling and worker equity narrow the wedge but leave a gap. Coasean bargaining cannot hold because automating is a dominant strategy, so no agreement is self-enforcing. Only a Pigouvian automation tax, set equal to the uninternalized demand loss per task, implements the cooperative optimum. Its revenue can fund retraining that raises income replacement, which shrinks the externality over time and can make the tax self-limiting. Tinbergen’s principle frames the lesson: a distinct market failure needs its own dedicated instrument.

    Does the channel survive general equilibrium?

    A natural objection is that in a frictionless multi-sector economy, displaced income would simply rotate to other spending and the mechanism would dissolve. The authors argue both escape routes are blocked for the mass-market firms most exposed to AI. Spending does not rotate back because high-income consumption saturates and mass-sector producers cannot quickly retool to capture redirected luxury demand. The other route runs through the interest rate: automation shifts income to owners who save more, raising aggregate saving, which a falling interest rate would normally recycle into investment. That adjustment stalls when rates are already near zero or when the income loss is lasting rather than temporary, so displaced workers cannot borrow their way through it.

    What to watch for in the real economy

    The distinguishing empirical signature would be profit erosion that shows up at the same time as mass layoffs, a combination standard competitive models struggle to explain since cost-cutting technology is supposed to raise profits. The authors are careful that this requires displacement at a scale and speed not yet reached, so the contribution is identifying a structural vulnerability rather than diagnosing an active crisis. They point to fragmented industries running the most capable AI as the place to look first, naming customer support, software services, and competing financial institutions’ back-office operations as concrete settings. They also flag a unilateral tax’s offshoring risk, drawing an explicit parallel to carbon policy and the case for multilateral coordination or border adjustments.

    Notable Quotes

    “At the limit, this becomes self-destructive: firms automate their way to boundless productivity and zero demand.”

    The authors, framing the demand cliff that competitive automation runs toward.

    “Rational, forward-looking firms should be the brake; if the cliff ahead is visible to all, why would they race toward it?”

    The authors, setting up the puzzle the paper exists to answer.

    “No firm can afford to be the one that holds back. This is the trap: an automation arms race that only intensifies as AI improves, that leaves workers and firm owners alike worse off, and that no market force can break.”

    From the Discussion, stating the core result in plain language.

    “Because over-automation leaves both firms and workers worse off, correcting it is a matter of eliminating waste, not of redistributing gains between them.”

    The authors, on why the fix is not a left-versus-right transfer fight.

    “This Red Queen effect means that ‘better’ AI, far from mitigating the externality, amplifies it.”

    The authors, on why more capable AI deepens the distortion rather than curing it.

    “The results suggest that policy should address not only the aftermath of AI labor displacement but also the competitive incentives that drive it.”

    From the abstract, the paper’s central policy reframing.

    You can read the full paper, including the formal propositions and the policy table, on arXiv here.

    Related Reading

  • Claude Fable 5 and Claude Mythos 5: Anthropic Ships Its First Generally Available Mythos-Class AI Model With New Safeguards

    Anthropic has launched Claude Fable 5 and Claude Mythos 5, the first Mythos-class models offered beyond a tiny circle of cyber defenders. Fable 5 is the generally available version, wrapped in a new layer of safeguards, while Mythos 5 is the same underlying model with some of those guardrails lifted for a small group of vetted partners. The pair sits a full tier above the Opus class in raw capability, and the launch is as much a story about how Anthropic is choosing to gate that capability as it is about the benchmarks. Below is a full breakdown of what shipped, what the model can do, and why the safeguard design matters.

    TLDR

    Anthropic released Claude Fable 5, a Mythos-class model that is now its most capable generally available model, posting state-of-the-art results across software engineering, knowledge work, vision, memory, and scientific research. To ship it safely and fast, Fable 5 carries new safety classifiers that route flagged queries in cybersecurity, biology and chemistry, and distillation over to Claude Opus 4.8 instead of refusing, a fallback that triggers in under 5% of sessions. The same model ships without cyber safeguards as Claude Mythos 5 for Project Glasswing partners in collaboration with the US Government, where it is described as having the strongest cybersecurity capabilities of any model in the world. Highlights include a codebase-wide migration of a 50-million-line Ruby codebase that Stripe says took a day instead of two months, beating Pokemon FireRed with a vision-only harness, accelerating drug design roughly tenfold using Mythos 5, producing novel molecular biology hypotheses preferred by scientists about 80% of the time, and over a week of autonomous genomics research. Both models cost 10 dollars per million input tokens and 50 dollars per million output tokens, less than half the price of Mythos Preview, with a staged subscription rollout and a new 30-day data retention policy for Mythos-class traffic.

    Thoughts

    The most interesting decision here is not the capability jump, it is the naming split. Fable and Mythos are the same brain. The only difference is whether the safeguards are on. Anthropic is effectively shipping one model twice: a gated public edition and an ungated edition handed to a short list of trusted defenders working with the US Government. That is a clean way to resolve the central tension of frontier AI, which is that the exact capabilities that help a security professional close a vulnerability also help an attacker find one. Rather than dumbing the model down for everyone or holding it back entirely, they are letting the access list, not the weights, carry the risk. Expect this pattern to repeat as capabilities climb.

    The fallback-to-Opus design is the other quietly important choice. When a classifier flags a query in cybersecurity, biology, chemistry, or suspected distillation, the user does not hit a wall of refusal. The request is silently handed to Opus 4.8, a model that is still excellent at almost everything. Graceful degradation beats a hard no, both for user experience and for trust. It also reframes what a safeguard is. Instead of a binary block, it becomes a routing decision, and because more than 95% of sessions never trigger it, most users will never notice it exists. The honest admission that the classifiers are tuned conservatively and will sometimes catch harmless requests is the right posture, even if it will annoy power users who keep getting bounced to the smaller model.

    The commercial signals are worth reading closely. Pricing came down to less than half of Mythos Preview, which suggests confidence in serving costs at scale, but the subscription rollout tells a more cautious story. Fable 5 is free on Pro, Max, Team, and Enterprise plans only through June 22, after which using it requires usage credits until capacity catches up. That is a polite way of saying demand is expected to badly outrun supply. The model is fully available on the API and consumption-based Enterprise plans from day one, because those bill by the token and self-throttle. Subscriptions, which are all-you-can-eat, are where a capacity crunch actually hurts, so that is exactly where the brakes went on.

    On the science, the genomics result is the one that should make people sit up. A model doing over a week of largely autonomous research, assembling single-cell data across 138 species, then designing and training its own machine learning model that outperforms a recently published Science paper while being 100 times smaller, is a different category of claim than acing a benchmark. So is the drug-design work, where Mythos 5 reportedly matches or beats skilled human operators end to end, choosing binding sites, running protein design tools, and recovering from its own failures. If those hold up to publication and independent replication, the interesting frontier stops being chat quality and becomes whether a model can run a research program. That is also precisely why the biology and chemistry classifier exists, and why Anthropic is being so deliberate about who gets the ungated version.

    One caveat worth keeping in view: nearly all of the evidence in the announcement is Anthropic’s own, or comes from partners with early access and an incentive to be enthusiastic. The Stripe migration, the FrontierCode score, the Slay the Spire memory result, the protein targets, and the genomics model are all compelling, but they are first-party until outside labs and the eventual system card, peer review, and independent red-teamers weigh in. The note that the UK AISI made progress toward a universal jailbreak inside a brief testing window is a useful reminder that the safeguard story is a work in progress, not a finished proof.

    Key Takeaways

    • Claude Fable 5 is a Mythos-class model made safe for general use, and is now Anthropic’s most capable generally available model.
    • Mythos-class is a tier that sits above the Opus class in capability. The first was Claude Mythos Preview, released in April through Project Glasswing.
    • Fable 5 is state-of-the-art on nearly all tested benchmarks, and its lead grows as tasks get longer and more complex.
    • Claude Mythos 5 is the same underlying model as Fable 5, but with safeguards lifted in some areas. Fable and Mythos differ only by their safeguards.
    • Mythos 5 is described as having the strongest cybersecurity capabilities of any model in the world, and is deployed through Project Glasswing with the US Government.
    • New safety classifiers cover cybersecurity, biology and chemistry, and distillation. Flagged queries fall back to Claude Opus 4.8 rather than being refused.
    • Users are told whenever a fallback happens. More than 95% of Fable sessions involve no fallback at all, and for those sessions Fable performs effectively the same as Mythos 5.
    • The safeguards are tuned conservatively and trigger in less than 5% of sessions on average, sometimes catching harmless requests. Anthropic plans to reduce false positives after launch.
    • Stripe reported Fable 5 compressed months of engineering into days, performing a codebase-wide migration of a 50-million-line Ruby codebase in a day that would have taken a team over two months by hand.
    • Fable 5 scores highest among frontier models on Cognition’s FrontierCode evaluation for high-quality agentic coding, even at medium effort, and is more token-efficient than past Claude models.
    • On Hebbia’s Finance Benchmark for senior-level reasoning, Fable 5 has the highest score of any model, with gains in document reasoning, chart and table interpretation, and problem solving.
    • IMC noted Fable 5 aced their trading-analysis evaluations nearly across the board, including factual lookup, conceptual reasoning, root-cause analysis, and expected-value analysis.
    • Fable 5 is the new state-of-the-art for vision, and can rebuild a web app’s source code from screenshots alone.
    • Fable 5 beat Pokemon FireRed using a minimal, vision-only harness with no maps, navigation aids, or extra game-state information. Earlier Claude models needed a complex helper harness.
    • Persistent file-based memory improved Fable 5’s Slay the Spire performance three times more than it did for Opus 4.8, and Fable reached the game’s final act three times more often.
    • Fable 5 built a simulation of the solar system, deriving the planets’ orbital motion from physics first principles and using it to predict solar eclipses.
    • Using Mythos 5, internal protein design experts accelerated aspects of drug design by around ten times, with the model matching or beating skilled human operators end to end.
    • Nine of 14 protein targets in the drug-design study yielded strong candidates Anthropic is now investigating.
    • Mythos 5 is Anthropic’s first model to consistently produce novel, compelling scientific hypotheses. Scientists preferred its molecular biology hypotheses about 80% of the time in blinded comparisons.
    • One Mythos hypothesis, a novel mechanism for an E. coli protein, was corroborated by an independent lab working on the same problem.
    • In over a week of largely autonomous work, Mythos 5 assembled single-cell data for millions of cells across 138 animal species and trained a custom model that outperformed a recent Science paper while being 100 times smaller.
    • Anthropic’s automated alignment assessment found Mythos 5’s level of misaligned behavior was low and similar to Opus 4.8. Because they are the same model, Fable 5’s alignment is similar.
    • An external bug bounty produced no universal jailbreaks in over 1,000 hours of testing, though the UK AISI made progress toward one in a brief initial window.
    • One external partner found Fable 5’s safeguards against harmful cyber queries the most robust of any model tested, including Opus 4.8 and Opus 4.7, with zero compliance on harmful single-turn cyberattack requests.
    • The biology and chemistry classifier is deliberately broad for now. Mythos-class models outperformed dedicated protein language models at predicting AAV viral shell assembly using biological reasoning alone.
    • The distillation classifier targets large-scale attempts to extract Claude’s capabilities to train competing models, which could proliferate near-frontier capabilities without safeguards.
    • A new policy requires 30-day data retention for all Mythos-class traffic on first- and third-party surfaces, used only for safety, with logged human access and deletion after 30 days in almost all cases.
    • Anthropic plans trusted access programs that let cybersecurity organizations apply for Mythos 5, and let a small number of life science researchers access Fable 5 with biology and chemistry safeguards removed.
    • Both models cost 10 dollars per million input tokens and 50 dollars per million output tokens, less than half the price of Mythos Preview. Developers can use claude-fable-5 via the Claude API.
    • Fable 5 is free on Pro, Max, Team, and seat-based Enterprise plans through June 22. On June 23 it moves to usage credits on those plans until capacity allows it to return as a standard inclusion.

    Detailed Summary

    A Mythos-class model, made safe for general use

    Fable 5 is the first Mythos-class model Anthropic has made generally available. Mythos-class is a tier that sits above the Opus class, and the first of its kind, Claude Mythos Preview, was released in April through Project Glasswing to a limited group of cyber defenders and critical software infrastructure providers. The company framed today’s launch as the moment it could finally bring that level of capability to all users, because its safeguards had matured enough to allow it. Fable 5’s capabilities exceed those of any model Anthropic has made generally available, and its advantage over other models grows as tasks get longer and more complex.

    Two models, one brain

    Claude Mythos 5 is the same underlying model as Fable 5, but with safeguards lifted in some areas. The names are the only real difference: Fable, from the Latin fabula meaning that which is told, is akin to the Greek mythos, and the safeguards are what distinguish the two. Mythos 5 launches first to existing Mythos Preview users, including the Project Glasswing cybersecurity partners, as an upgrade. It is deployed in collaboration with the US Government and is described as having the strongest cybersecurity capabilities of any model in the world. Anthropic plans to steadily expand access through a more systematic trusted access program.

    Software engineering and token efficiency

    Fable 5 can work autonomously for longer than any previous Claude model, and software engineering is where that shows most clearly. During early testing, Stripe reported it compressed months of engineering into days, performing a codebase-wide migration in a 50-million-line Ruby codebase in a single day that would otherwise have taken a whole team over two months by hand. It is also more token-efficient than past models, scoring highest among frontier models on Cognition’s FrontierCode evaluation for high-quality, maintainable agentic coding, even at medium effort.

    Knowledge work, vision, and memory

    On complex analytical work, Fable 5 posted the highest score of any model on Hebbia’s Finance Benchmark for senior-level reasoning, with substantial gains in document-based reasoning and chart and table interpretation, and IMC said it aced their trading-analysis evaluations nearly across the board. In vision, it is the new state-of-the-art, able to extract precise numbers from detailed scientific figures and rebuild a web app’s source code from screenshots alone. It needs less scaffolding too: where earlier Claude models struggled to play Pokemon even with helper harnesses, Fable 5 beat FireRed with a minimal, vision-only harness using nothing but raw game screenshots. On memory, giving Fable persistent file-based notes improved its Slay the Spire performance three times more than it did for Opus 4.8, and it built a physics-first-principles solar system simulation accurate enough to predict solar eclipses.

    Life sciences: drug design, hypotheses, and genomics

    Using Mythos 5, Anthropic’s internal protein design experts accelerated aspects of the drug-design process by around ten times. With protein design and bioinformatics tools but no human assistance, the model matched or beat skilled human operators, executing the full workflow of choosing binding sites, selecting and running design tools, and recovering from failures. Nine of 14 protein targets yielded strong drug-design candidates now under investigation. Mythos 5 is also Anthropic’s first model to consistently produce novel, compelling scientific hypotheses: scientists preferred its molecular biology hypotheses about 80% of the time in blinded comparisons, and one, a novel mechanism for an E. coli protein, was corroborated by an independent lab. In genomics, Mythos 5 ran over a week of largely autonomous research, assembling single-cell data for millions of cells across 138 species and training a custom model that outperformed a recent Science paper despite being 100 times smaller.

    The new safeguards: classifiers and fallback

    Mythos-class capability is potent enough that Anthropic considers it a substantial misuse risk, especially given how much advanced AI usage is dual use. Fable 5 ships with a new set of classifiers, separate AI systems that detect potential misuse and jailbreak attempts and stop the main model from responding. When a classifier flags a request related to cybersecurity, biology and chemistry, or distillation, the response is handled by Claude Opus 4.8 instead, and the user is told. The cybersecurity classifiers cover both exploitation and broader offensive cyber tasks like reconnaissance and lateral movement, and Anthropic says they prevent Fable from making any progress on those tasks. The biology and chemistry classifier is intentionally broad for now, after tests showed Mythos-class models could outperform dedicated protein language models at predicting AAV viral shell assembly using biological reasoning alone. The distillation classifier targets large-scale attempts to extract Claude’s capabilities to train competing models.

    Jailbreak resistance, data retention, and availability

    Anthropic ran extensive red-teaming, including an external bug bounty that produced no universal jailbreaks in over 1,000 hours, though it notes the UK AISI made progress toward one in a brief window. The company concedes it is likely impossible to fully prevent universal jailbreaks and aims instead to make any that remain slow and costly enough to catch before they scale. A new policy requires 30-day data retention for all Mythos-class traffic, used only for safety, with logged human access and deletion after 30 days in almost all cases. On availability, Fable 5 is live everywhere today and fully available on the API and consumption-based Enterprise plans, while subscription access rolls out in stages: free on Pro, Max, Team, and seat-based Enterprise through June 22, then on usage credits from June 23 until capacity allows it to return as a standard inclusion. Both models cost 10 dollars per million input tokens and 50 dollars per million output tokens.

    Notable Quotes

    “Today we’re launching Claude Fable 5: a Mythos-class model that we’ve made safe for general use.”

    Anthropic, opening the Claude Fable 5 and Claude Mythos 5 announcement

    “Fable 5’s capabilities exceed those of any model we’ve ever made generally available.”

    Anthropic, on where Fable 5 sits in the lineup

    “It has the strongest cybersecurity capabilities of any model in the world.”

    Anthropic, describing Claude Mythos 5

    “During early testing, Stripe reported that Fable 5 compressed months of engineering into days.”

    Anthropic, on Fable 5’s software engineering results

    “Our early data shows that more than 95% of Fable sessions involve no fallback at all.”

    Anthropic, on how often the safeguards route to Opus 4.8

    “Mythos 5 is our first model to consistently produce novel, compelling scientific hypotheses.”

    Anthropic, on the model’s molecular biology research

    “It is likely impossible to completely prevent universal jailbreaks, but our goal is to make any remaining jailbreaks sufficiently slow and costly that we can detect and prevent them before they are used at scale.”

    Anthropic, on the limits of its safeguards

    “Fable is from the Latin fabula, ‘that which is told,’ akin to the Greek mythos. The safeguards are what distinguish the two models.”

    Anthropic, explaining the Fable and Mythos naming

    Read the full announcement and the benchmark tables on Anthropic’s site here: Claude Fable 5 and Claude Mythos 5.

    Related Reading

  • Whale Rock Capital Founder Alex Sacerdote on S-Curve Investing, Why Anthropic Is His Highest Conviction Bet, and the Decommoditization of AI Hardware

    Alex Sacerdote built Whale Rock Capital into one of the most respected technology hedge funds in the world by treating markets through a single disciplined lens: the technology adoption S-curve. In this long conversation on Invest Like the Best with Patrick O’Shaughnessy, he lays out the full framework that has carried him through internet 1.0, mobile, cloud, e-commerce, and now AI, and he explains why Anthropic became his highest conviction position, why his fund went net short application software, and why the least glamorous corner of the market, the hardware and chips that build out data centers, may be one of the best ways to play artificial intelligence right now. What follows is the working theory of a money manager who has spent twenty years trying to think exponentially while the rest of the market thinks one quarter at a time.

    TLDW

    Sacerdote walks through Whale Rock’s three-part investment framework: find the right part of an S-curve, identify the company with a durable competitive advantage, and buy when long-term earnings power is underappreciated. He tells the story of investing in Anthropic at a 180 billion dollar valuation in August 2025 after Claude Code made coding the true unlock of AI, and frames the foundational model market as a three-horse race between Anthropic, OpenAI, and Google that resolved from sixty startups into an oligopoly. He argues enterprise AI is less than 1 percent penetrated, calls the adoption shape an L curve rather than an S-curve, and warns there is not enough compute in the world. He explains why he sold almost all of his application software and went net short, why he loves the decommoditization of AI hardware (Celestica, Corning, Elite Materials, Delta, Advanced Energy, high bandwidth memory, 40-layer PCBs), introduces a modified rule of 40 for chip investing, surveys the moats that let leaders win (network effects, industry standard, scale, critical IP, brand, recursive self-improvement), discusses moving from public markets into private deals like Stripe and Anthropic, lays out Whale Rock’s fund products including the new Mega Cap Tech Fund, defends old-fashioned scuttlebutt research in an AI age, and closes on the kindest thing anyone ever did for him, his father joining the firm after 41 years at Goldman Sachs.

    Thoughts

    The most useful idea in this conversation is not the bullishness on AI, which is everywhere now, but the discipline underneath it. Sacerdote’s framework forces a separation that most investors collapse. A great market is not a great investment. A great company is not a great investment. You need a tall S-curve, a company with a moat that survives the curve, and a price that does not yet reflect the earnings power. He says the quiet part out loud: he has repeatedly bought the best companies in the world at four or five times earnings precisely because the market refuses to extrapolate exponential growth. Nvidia at four times earnings in 2023, Tesla at five times in 2019, Amazon where AWS came free. The edge is not information, it is the willingness to underwrite two to four years out when the consensus cannot see past the next quarter.

    The Anthropic story is the framework applied in real time, and it is worth noting how late and how cautious he was. Whale Rock passed on the 60 billion dollar round because gross margins were negative and coding had not yet exploded. They only got conviction once Claude Code flipped from autocomplete to agentic work, once they heard Anthropic engineers were burning 100 dollars a day in tokens, and once the math on twenty million coders implied a half trillion dollar market from coding alone. The lesson he repeats throughout, that it is okay to be late, that you can miss the first 100 percent if the curve is tall enough, is a direct rebuke to the fear of missing out that drives most AI investing. He waited for the moat to be visible before he paid up.

    His most contrarian and most actionable call is on hardware. The consensus reflex is that chips and components are commodities that get competed to zero. Sacerdote argues the opposite is happening: AI workloads growing 10x a year are pushing every layer of the server to its physical limits, and that pressure is decommoditizing the entire stack. A liquid-cooled AI server is a 300,000 dollar piece of critical infrastructure, not a 5,000 dollar throwaway box, which means the supplier becomes a permanent fixture like a parts vendor on a plane. The Celestica example is the template: a contract manufacturer left for dead since 1999 that turned out to be the sole supplier of Google’s TPU server and a leader in liquid cooling and Ethernet switching, trading at eight times earnings. If he is right that we are 30 percent short on DRAM, NAND, and PCBs, the picks-and-shovels trade has years left to run regardless of which model company wins.

    The software bear case deserves the most scrutiny because it is the most consequential and the least certain. Going from 40 to 50 percent of the portfolio in software to net short is a violent reallocation, and his reasons are layered: AI products that nobody will pay for, CIO budgets being raided to fund Anthropic tokens, pricing power evaporating, and the long-term threat that AI-native startups rebuild incumbents from scratch. But he is honest that the bull case is real too, that old technology is sticky, that companies prefer to buy rather than build, and that AI might actually make platforms like Slack or CRM more important if agents end up operating inside them. This is the genuine uncertainty in the whole AI trade. The bottom of Jensen’s cake, chips and models, is where the value has accrued so far, but historically the application layer captured most of the market cap. Sacerdote is betting that this time the infrastructure and model layers hold the value longer, and he admits the application ecosystem is still unclear and a little bit dangerous. That admission is more valuable than any of his confident calls.

    Finally, the section on research in an AI age is a quiet refutation of the idea that this work automates away. Sacerdote runs a Philip Fisher scuttlebutt operation, 2,500 to 3,000 face-to-face management meetings a year, two decades of compounding relationships, the tripod of conviction where he, his analyst, and a respected outsider all independently like an idea. AI writes better notes now, but the paragraph on top, the wisdom about what it means and how it fits the thesis, is still human. The durable moat in his own business is the same one he looks for in the companies he buys: an accumulated advantage that newcomers cannot replicate quickly. That consistency between how he invests and how he operates is the most credible thing in the interview.

    Key Takeaways

    • Whale Rock’s framework has three legs: identify the right part of a technology S-curve, find the company with a powerful competitive advantage, and invest when long-term earnings power is underappreciated.
    • The core insight is exponential, not linear. Strong tech business models grow earnings exponentially, and because the market refuses to extrapolate, you can buy elite companies at very low multiples.
    • Concrete examples of buying exponential growth cheaply: Nvidia at four times earnings in 2023, Tesla at five times in 2019, Apple at four times, and Amazon where AWS was effectively free.
    • When ChatGPT launched in November 2022, Whale Rock did a firm-wide deep dive and chose to invest in chips and infrastructure first, because demand arrives there first and the winners are knowable regardless of who wins the model layer.
    • The foundational model market went from roughly 60 startups to a three-horse race: Anthropic, OpenAI, and Google. Most startups died, Amazon never showed up, and Meta faltered and had to reboot.
    • Anthropic was the dark horse that focused purely on enterprise while OpenAI won consumer. Whale Rock made it their highest conviction position.
    • Coding is the true unlock of AI. The progression went from Microsoft Copilot at 20 dollars a month (fixing grammar, finding a bug) to Claude running agentically and writing most of the code.
    • The market math: Anthropic engineers were reportedly spending 100 dollars a day on tokens, roughly 20 to 30 thousand dollars a year, and with about 20 million coders in the world that implies a half trillion dollar market from coding alone.
    • Whale Rock invested in Anthropic at the 180 billion dollar valuation in August 2025, when the company hoped to reach 9 billion in revenue and nobody yet knew what 2026 could be.
    • Andrej Karpathy and Linus Torvalds both flipped on AI coding. Karpathy went from 80 percent handwritten code to writing almost no code except in English.
    • Models are not pure commodities. There is real differentiation: Anthropic is strong for private equity and finance, Google is strong at ingesting PDFs, and routers that switch between models mask but do not erase that differentiation.
    • Anthropic is building an ecosystem around the API (SDK, orchestration, the harness, tools), echoing how AWS built lock-in with products around commodity servers starting in 2013.
    • The 800 million people using AI are mostly using AI 1.0, a search engine on steroids. Sundar Pichai estimated only about 10 basis points of knowledge workers are truly using AI’s new capabilities.
    • Enterprise AI is less than 1 percent penetrated. Whale Rock calls the adoption shape an L curve or backwards L curve because it goes straight up, unlike the slower 30 to 50 percent growth of cloud and SaaS.
    • There is not enough compute in the world. Anthropic reportedly has half of what it needs, and Marc Andreessen said the one thing he is sure of is that there will not be enough compute for the next four years.
    • The infrastructure S-curve is only about 10 percent penetrated and remains one of the best ways to play AI.
    • Getting into private deals requires a double opt-in. Whale Rock did a 90-page deck (built with Claude Code) on the coding market to win their Anthropic allocation, and their first private was Stripe in 2020 at a 35 billion dollar valuation.
    • The unicorn private market is now bigger than most European stock markets, larger than Germany or the UK individually. Whale Rock does 2,500 to 3,000 management meetings a year, 10 to 15 percent with privates.
    • S-curves come in two sizes: mega S-curves (internet, mobile, cloud, e-commerce, AI) and sub S-curves within them. AI is the biggest of all and each curve builds on the last.
    • Adoption inflects when barriers fall. Steve Jobs cut the smartphone price to 200 dollars on a 3G touchscreen, Elon cut the EV price to 40,000 with 300-mile range and a working supply chain. Remove the barriers and you get the tornado of demand.
    • Knowing how tall the curve is tells you when to sell. Growth stops being exponential around 30 to 40 percent penetration, when the sell side catches up and big beats end. EVs hit a wall at 10 to 15 percent instead of the expected 40 to 50 percent.
    • Selling Apple in 2012 at roughly 50 percent US smartphone penetration was a mistake, because the moat let it keep compounding around 20 percent even after the explosive phase ended.
    • At strategic inflection points you cannot trust the data (Andy Grove). The signal is intuition and anecdote: a 12-year-old in China on a giant phone playing a real game, or standing-room-only sessions at the Gartner IT Symposium for AWS, VMware, and Splunk.
    • Adoption slope varies. The radio curve hit near-full penetration in about 7 years, while B2B and infrastructure (the dishwasher that has to be plugged in) take far longer. AI is fast because you just open a browser.
    • The moats that let leaders win: network effects, becoming an industry standard, rapid scale, critical intellectual property, brand, and platform lock-in. Anthropic appears to have critical IP, enterprise brand, escape velocity, and recursive self-improvement from using its own code on its own models.
    • On the internet, the leader usually goes bigger, faster, and wins, and compounds on itself (Amazon, Shopify). Exceptions come at paradigm shifts, like AOL failing to make the dialup-to-broadband transition.
    • Whale Rock went from 40 to 50 percent in software five years ago to net short entering this year, which helped performance in the first quarter. AI products were not good enough to charge for and were not moving the needle.
    • Software faces a stack of headaches: falling priority on CIO to-do lists, budget pressure from token spend, lost pricing power, hiring freezes that hurt seat-based models, and the long-term threat of AI-native replacements.
    • The classic rule of 40 is growth rate plus operating margin. Whale Rock’s modified rule of 40 for chip investing is percent of sales that are AI plus market share in that category. Software AI exposure is still only 1 to 2 percent.
    • AI may make some platforms more important. The first thing you do with Claude is plug it into Slack, which could make Slack a permanent repository, and agents may end up operating inside incumbent tools like CRM, solidifying rather than killing them.
    • The data center stood still for 40 years on Intel x86, with every component commoditized. AI changed that. Workloads growing 10x a year are driving the decommoditization of the hardware industry.
    • Celestica is the template: a contract manufacturer left for dead since 1999, sole supplier of the Google TPU server, strong in liquid cooling and Ethernet white-box switching, with 50 to 60 percent share of the cloud Ethernet switch market, once trading at eight times earnings.
    • The whole supply chain is rerating: high bandwidth memory stacked 10 chips high, 40-layer PCBs (versus 10 for a normal server), Elite Materials copper clad laminate, Corning fiber (enough to circle the world four and a half times in one Microsoft data center), and Delta and Advanced Energy power supplies seeing ASPs rise 40 percent a year.
    • Networking has three layers: scale out (racks together), scale across (data centers together), and scale up (every GPU in a rack, currently copper, eventually fiber). The copper-to-fiber shift could two-to-three-x Corning’s opportunity.
    • Whale Rock estimates the market is roughly 30 percent short on DRAM, NAND, and PCBs even at today’s 10 basis points of real AI usage.
    • Rate of change matters more than absolute level. When Claude plotted market share data it missed the rate of change, the thing that drives accelerating growth and margins as a company moves from 10 to 30 percent share.
    • Key risks: public and government negativity toward AI (Maine reportedly banned data centers, only 20 percent of people are optimistic), models hitting a wall and letting open source catch up into a race to the bottom, and a major player faltering and stranding compute.
    • Chip companies do not care who wins the token war, which makes them a relatively safe way to play AI. Jensen Huang actively wants open source to take off.
    • Research is still human work. Whale Rock runs a Philip Fisher scuttlebutt process, the tripod of conviction (Alex, the analyst, and a respected outsider), and 20 years of compounding knowledge. AI writes better notes but cannot supply the wisdom paragraph on top or pick stocks.
    • The firm’s product evolution: 15 years as a long short fund, a long only fund in 2020 that is now larger than the long short, opt-in privates formalized around 2015 and activated in 2020, an 80 percent privates hybrid fund in 2021, and the new Whale Rock Mega Cap Tech Fund.
    • The Mega Cap Tech Fund thesis: endowments are structurally underweight the largest tech companies because they believe there is no alpha in large cap. Whale Rock takes the top 30 global market caps and picks the best 12 or 13, arguing it takes 100 diversified PMs to realize Google is a winner.
    • The kindest thing anyone ever did for Sacerdote: his father, after 41 years at Goldman Sachs, joined Whale Rock as chairman and the gray hair for six years until he passed away in 2011.

    Detailed Summary

    The Anthropic Investment and the Three-Horse Race

    When ChatGPT launched in November 2022, Whale Rock immediately took its 10-person team and ran a firm-wide deep dive. Sacerdote’s first principle is that every new compute paradigm creates a new stack with new winners and losers, and in this stack the layers run from power and chips at the bottom, to the clouds, to the foundational models, to the applications on top. In early 2023 the firm deliberately positioned in chips and infrastructure first, reasoning that demand arrives there first and the winners are knowable no matter who wins above. At an April 2023 webinar they framed the model layer as a coin flip between winner-take-all, total commodity, a race to zero, or an oligopoly of three or four. Over the next three years the answer became clear: of roughly 60 startups, almost all died, Amazon never really showed up, Meta came in strong then faltered and rebooted, and Anthropic emerged as the dark horse focused purely on enterprise while OpenAI won consumer and Google remained a perennial threat. The result looked like the cloud market, where three companies underpin the entire SaaS world with excellent businesses.

    The decisive factor was code. Sacerdote says the firm was initially skeptical AI could replace labor, given the negative corporate feedback on early models. That changed in 2025 when Claude Code and the agentic coding tools exploded. The progression ran from Microsoft Copilot at 20 dollars a month, which could improve coding grammar or find a bug, to Claude running agentically and doing far more. The token economics were staggering: Anthropic engineers reportedly spending 100 dollars a day, which annualizes to 20 to 30 thousand dollars, and with 20 million coders worldwide that implied a half trillion dollar market from coding alone, on technology that was only 7 to 9 months old. Whale Rock made the investment at the 180 billion dollar valuation in August 2025, writing in their letter that the company hoped to reach 9 billion in revenue, with growth like nothing they had ever seen, 100 million to a billion on the way to 9 billion, and no one yet knowing what 2026 could bring.

    Why the Models Are Not Commodities

    Everyone expected the foundational models to be pure commodities, but Sacerdote argues there is tremendous differentiation within them. Different training methods produce different skills: Anthropic excels at anything touching private equity and finance, Google is strong at ingesting PDFs. Routers that switch between models make them look like commodities but mask genuine, critical IP. Beyond the model itself, Anthropic is building a whole ecosystem around the API: the SDK, the orchestration layer, the tools, and the harness, the software wrapped around the API that gets the most out of the model. He compares this directly to AWS in 2013, when people dismissed cloud as commodity servers in a warehouse and missed that Amazon was inventing products that slowly built lock-in. The open-source risk from China is real, but Sacerdote got comfortable that leading-edge token quality is superior, because going from 80 to 85 percent of benchmark performance is a huge unlock and the open-source players lack the compute to leapfrog the frontier.

    The S-Curve Framework in Full

    Whale Rock’s whole edge is thinking exponentially when the world thinks linearly. Sacerdote argues very few people believe you can accurately predict two, three, or four years out, but if you understand the S-curve, the moats, and how to model, you can. Every technology follows the same pattern: it exists hidden for years (smartphones 10 years before the iPhone, the internet 20 years before Netscape, EVs 15 years before Tesla went vertical in 2019) until the barriers to adoption fall and demand inflects into a tornado. Knowing how tall the curve is tells you when to sell, because exponential growth stops around 30 to 40 percent penetration when the sell side catches up. Curves can also be dynamic: AWS turned out to address a far larger TAM than expected once it became clear cloud was not actually deflationary. There are mega S-curves (internet, mobile, cloud, e-commerce, AI) and sub S-curves within them. AI is the biggest. And slope varies enormously by the nature of the technology, the radio curve hitting full penetration in 7 years, B2B and infrastructure taking decades because, like a dishwasher, they have to be plugged into existing systems.

    On timing, Sacerdote is relaxed about being late. Citing Peter Lynch, who mentored him at Fidelity and told him to white out the chart because it is all about the future, he argues it is fine to miss the first one, two, or three years and even the first 100 percent if the top of the curve is half a trillion. At strategic inflection points, per Andy Grove, you cannot trust the data, so the firm relies on intuition and anecdote: a 12-year-old in China playing a real video game on a huge phone, or the AWS session at the Gartner IT Symposium that was standing-room-only at 9, 10, and 11 in the morning. Spotting the leader pulling away matters because, on the internet, the leader usually goes bigger, faster, and wins, compounding on itself, with exceptions only at paradigm shifts like AOL missing the move from dialup to broadband.

    The Software Bear Case

    Five years ago Whale Rock had 40 to 50 percent of its portfolio in software. Their April 2023 thesis was that incumbents with huge sales forces and proprietary data would take the AI APIs and build great products. Instead, the AI products were not good enough to charge for and did not move the needle, so the firm sold almost all of its application software and entered this year net short, which helped in the first quarter. The bear case is layered: software has fallen down the CIO priority list, budgets are being raided to fund Anthropic tokens with faster ROI, annual price increases look risky, and hiring freezes hurt seat-based models. The deeper threat is that AI-native startups could rebuild any incumbent from scratch, obviating the data advantage. The bull case is genuine too: old tech is sticky (mobile games did not kill consoles, tablets did not kill the PC), companies prefer to buy rather than build, and an ERP is hard to replace. Sacerdote also floats an optimistic twist, that AI could make platforms like Slack more important as agent repositories, and that agents operating inside CRM could solidify rather than destroy it, even as the bear case is that CRM goes headless and gets relegated to a database.

    The Decommoditization of AI Hardware

    This is Sacerdote’s most differentiated call. For 40 years nothing changed in the data center; Intel x86 became the standard, compute grew 25 to 40 percent a year in line with Moore’s law, and every component, from the printed circuit board to memory to enclosures to networking, commoditized. AI broke that. Workloads now grow 10x a year and push every aspect of the hardware to its physical limits, creating both tremendous unit growth and what Whale Rock calls the decommoditization of the hardware industry. He cites Sean Maguire wishing he could run a hardware hedge fund because all the companies are public with powerful IP, and compares it to Sequoia’s best early hardware investments in Apple and Cisco. The economics flip because an AI server is a liquid-cooled, 200 to 300 thousand dollar piece of critical infrastructure where a single failure brings the whole thing down, so suppliers become permanent like a critical part on a plane.

    Celestica is the marquee example: a contract manufacturer that had been a disaster industry since 1999 and went offshore to China, but kept its IBM supercomputing heritage and talent, became the sole supplier of the Google TPU server, and was trading at eight times earnings three years ago. It turned out to be excellent at liquid cooling where others failed, holds 50 to 60 percent share of the crucial cloud Ethernet switch market, and its engineers helped write the open-source SONiC software, working closely with Broadcom. The same dynamic runs up and down the chain: high bandwidth memory stacked 10 chips high that took Samsung years to master, 40-layer PCBs versus 10 for a normal server with very few suppliers able to make them, Elite Materials supplying the copper clad laminate, and Corning’s fiber, thinner and more bendable, with enough in a single Microsoft data center to circle the world four and a half times. Networking splits into scale out, scale across, and scale up, with the eventual copper-to-fiber shift in scale up potentially two-to-three-x-ing Corning’s opportunity. Power supplies from Delta and Advanced Energy are seeing ASPs rise 40 percent a year at higher margins because each Nvidia rack uses 50 to 125 percent more power. Visibility has gone from we’ll call you next week to design this roadmap with us for four years, turning 5 percent low-margin businesses into 35 to 50 percent topline growers with rising margins, and the whole market is roughly 30 percent short on DRAM, NAND, and PCBs.

    Private Markets, Risks, and the Research Machine

    Moving from public markets into privates meant adapting to a double opt-in, where the company has to choose to let you in. Whale Rock won its Anthropic allocation partly by building a 90-page deck with Claude Code scouring the internet for feedback on the coding market. Their first private was Stripe in April 2020 at a 35 billion dollar valuation, which they could only underwrite because they knew the public comp Adyen cold, and they upsized to a 100 million dollar block. The unicorn market is now bigger than most European stock markets combined. On risk, Sacerdote worries about public and government negativity (Maine reportedly banning data centers, only 20 percent of people optimistic), the possibility that models hit a wall and open source catches up into a race to the bottom, and a major player faltering and stranding compute, though he notes someone else (like Meta stepping into a cancelled Oracle deal) would likely absorb it, and that chip companies benefit regardless of who wins the token war. He explains his caution on the application layer by noting it always comes later, the iPhone took years to spawn its app economy, and the ecosystem is still unclear and a little dangerous, while pointing to Brett Taylor’s Sierra as the kind of company that could prove it out.

    On the research itself, Sacerdote insists AI has not supplanted the analyst. Whale Rock runs the scuttlebutt approach straight out of Philip Fisher’s Common Stocks and Uncommon Profits, doing 2,500 to 3,000 face-to-face management meetings a year and talking to suppliers, customers, and competitors. AI now writes much better notes and gets the team up to speed quickly on complex areas like ABF substrates, but there must be a wisdom paragraph on top, and it cannot pick stocks or replicate the work two analysts did building conviction in AppLovin and a relationship with Adam Foroughi. He calls the firm the Whale Rock learning machine, a group of 10 highly experienced people compounding knowledge for 20 years, with the tripod of conviction (himself, his analyst, and a respected outside investor all liking an idea) as the test. The firm’s products evolved from a 15-year long short fund to a 2020 long only fund now larger than the original, opt-in privates, an 80 percent privates hybrid in 2021, and the new Mega Cap Tech Fund built on the thesis that endowments are structurally underweight the largest tech companies because they wrongly believe large cap has no alpha. He closes on his father, who left Goldman after 41 years to join Whale Rock as chairman and the gray hair until his death in 2011, a mentor remembered by countless people for his humility and grace.

    Notable Quotes

    “When you get the right part of the S-curve, you get exponential unit growth. If you have a very strong business model, your earnings don’t grow linearly, they grow exponentially.”

    Alex Sacerdote, stating the core of the Whale Rock investment framework

    “The world doesn’t think exponentially. Very few people believe you can accurately predict two, three, four years out. But if you follow and understand the S-curve and you know the moats and you know how to model, you really can predict these great things.”

    Alex Sacerdote, on why the market consistently underprices long-term earnings power

    “The enterprise AI or enterprise application AI market is less than 1 percent penetrated, and we’ve never seen, you know, we talk about S-curves, we call this an L curve, just straight up.”

    Alex Sacerdote, on why AI adoption looks different from every prior technology curve

    “We’re at 10 basis points of people really using AI and we’re already sold out. There’s not enough compute in the world. So Anthropic has half of what they need right now, and that’s before this huge takeup.”

    Alex Sacerdote, on the scale of the compute shortage relative to actual adoption

    “It’s okay to be late. It’s okay to miss the first one, two, three years in a lot of cases, because if the top of the S-curve is half a trillion, the growth can go on for a long time. It’s okay to miss the first 100 percent.”

    Alex Sacerdote, on why fear of missing out is the wrong instinct in a tall S-curve

    “The old way of software is like using a pen and paper or a horse and buggy. The new way of software is like a jet engine or frankly like the transporter from Star Trek. It’s so revolutionary it feels like it has to be disruptive.”

    Alex Sacerdote, explaining why Whale Rock went net short application software

    “You become like critical infrastructure, like selling a critical part on a plane. You’ll never get swapped out.”

    Alex Sacerdote, on how liquid-cooled AI servers turned commodity hardware suppliers into permanent fixtures

    “Why do you tell everyone your secret? It’s like why does the casino teach people how to play blackjack? It’s harder. It’s really hard to do.”

    Alex Sacerdote, quoting his mother on why a public framework does not erase the edge

    “He said, you know, I’ve been at Goldman for 41 years. How about I come and join you? I’ll be the gray hair. I’ll be the oversight. I’ll be the chairman. You do what you do.”

    Alex Sacerdote, recalling his father joining Whale Rock, the kindest thing anyone ever did for him

    Watch the full conversation here: Whale Rock Capital Founder on Investing in the Age of Exponential AI.

    Related Reading

  • Elon Musk Announces SpaceX AI Satellites, Starship Mass to Orbit, and a Moon Mass Driver to Climb the Kardashev Scale

    Elon Musk sat down with the SpaceX Starlink team for a wide ranging update that connects every recent SpaceX move into one thesis: harness far more of the sun’s energy by putting AI compute in orbit. In this SpaceX conversation, the group walks from galaxy sized framing (the Kardashev scale) all the way down to the engineering specifics of a new AI satellite, the manufacturing buildout in Bastrop, Texas, and a long term plan that ends with a mass driver on the moon. The pitch is that none of it requires magic, just scaling technology SpaceX already flies.

    TLDW

    Musk frames civilizational progress with the Kardashev scale, a measure of how much power a species harnesses, and points out that humanity uses less than a trillionth of the sun’s output, barely registering even on the Type 1 (planet) level. Because most of Earth is water and the usable sunlit land is limited, the only way to capture a meaningful fraction of the sun’s energy is to go to space, where cooling is also easier since heat radiates straight into the vacuum. Three limiting factors must be solved: mass to orbit (handled by fully and rapidly reusable Starship, which already beats the Saturn V on thrust and aims for millions of tons to orbit per year), solar power plus radiators, and AI chips. SpaceX unveils its first AI satellite design, AI1, a roughly 70 meter wingspan craft at 150 kW peak and 120 kW sustained power that matches an Nvidia GB300 rack, reuses Starlink V3 solar technology, links by laser, and runs at only a few milliseconds of latency from low orbit. Chips start as off the shelf Nvidia GB300 and Rubin parts plus a TPU reference design, then scale through a planned 100 million square foot “Terafab” toward a terawatt per year of compute, about twice current US electricity use. The endgame pushes another 1,000x by manufacturing on the moon and using a lunar mass driver to fling satellites into deep space without rockets.

    Thoughts

    The most important reframe in this conversation is that Starlink, Starship, the xAI acquisition, and a new chip factory are not separate bets. They are one bet expressed as a single number: the percentage of the sun’s energy that civilization can capture and put to work. By anchoring everything to the Kardashev scale, Musk turns “build more satellites” into a measurable physics goal rather than a product roadmap. It is a rhetorically powerful move because it makes today’s hyperscale AI buildout, which already strains terrestrial grids, look like the obvious forcing function for going to space. If you accept that compute demand keeps compounding, then the constraint stops being chips and becomes power and cooling, and space genuinely is better at both.

    The cleverest engineering insight is almost understated: an AI satellite is simpler than a Starlink satellite, not harder. A Starlink craft carries complex phased array and parabolic antennas to talk to millions of dispersed users. An orbital data center mostly needs solar cells, radiators, some laser links, and the chips. SpaceX has already industrialized the hard parts (mass produced solar arrays, constellation flight operations at 10,000 satellites, laser mesh networking), so the new product is closer to a remix of proven subsystems than a clean sheet program. That is the real argument for why SpaceX, specifically, can do this when “data center in space” has sounded like science fiction for a decade.

    The numbers are where skepticism should live, and to his credit Musk says to take the timeline with a grain of salt. An annualized gigawatt of space compute by the end of next year, scaling roughly 10x per year toward a terawatt, is an extraordinary ramp. A terawatt is about twice the entire electricity consumption of the United States, delivered as orbiting hardware. Getting there leans on Starship hitting rapid reusability and on a 100 million square foot chip fab that is ten times Gigafactory Texas. Each of those is itself a moonshot, and stacking them multiplies the risk. The honest read is that the architecture is coherent even if the schedule is aspirational.

    The moon segment is where the talk turns from aggressive to genuinely speculative, and it is the part worth watching. A lunar mass driver, essentially a long linear motor that accelerates payloads to escape velocity, only makes sense once you are already moving enormous mass and want to escape Earth’s gravity well and atmosphere entirely. It is a classic Musk pattern: solve the near term problem (mass to orbit with Starship) in a way that creates the precondition for the next, larger problem (local production on the moon). Whether or not the dates hold, the dependency chain is logical, and it explains why SpaceX keeps investing in capabilities that look excessive for today’s market.

    One underrated takeaway for readers outside aerospace: this is as much a manufacturing story as a space story. The bottleneck is not whether a single AI satellite works, it is whether you can stamp out thousands to a million of them, plus the solar, plus the chips, at volume and low cost. That is why so much of the conversation is about Bastrop production lines, a solar manufacturing facility already under construction, and the Terafab. The space hardware is the visible part; the factories are the actual product.

    Key Takeaways

    • The whole strategy is framed around the Kardashev scale, a measure of how much power a civilization harnesses, named for Russian physicist Nikolai Kardashev.
    • Type 1 harnesses a planet’s available power, Type 2 a star’s full output, and Type 3 a galaxy’s; humanity sits at the very bottom of even Type 1.
    • We currently use much less than a trillionth of the sun’s power output, and a trillion is a million times a million.
    • The sun is about 99.86% of all mass in the solar system; most of the remaining 0.14% is Jupiter, and Earth is a tiny dust mote by comparison.
    • Incident solar energy on Earth’s cross section is roughly a half billionth of the sun’s total power output.
    • Most of that sunlight is unusable because about 70% of Earth is water and much of the land is at the poles or far north where solar is weak.
    • Reaching one millionth of the sun’s output, a “micro” on the Kardashev 2 scale, would be an epic achievement relative to today, and 1% would make a civilization vastly more powerful than ours.
    • Space avoids building massive ground power plants and makes cooling easier, because waste heat can radiate directly into the vacuum.
    • Three limiting factors must be solved to scale: mass to orbit, solar power plus radiators, and AI chips.
    • Starship provides the mass to orbit and is the first rocket designed for full and rapid reusability, the breakthrough behind both multiplanetary life and ascending the Kardashev scale.
    • SpaceX catches the booster with the launch tower instead of adding heavy landing legs, an extreme mass optimization measure.
    • Starship V3 already produces more than double the thrust of the Saturn V; V4 will be roughly three times, making it the largest, heaviest, most powerful moving object ever built.
    • Starship is targeted to eventually fly more than once per hour.
    • SpaceX already delivers roughly 85 to 90% of all Earth mass to orbit with Falcon 9 and Falcon Heavy.
    • The plan is to go from around 2,500 tons to orbit per year to millions of tons per year, reaching a million tons per year in about three years.
    • The AI satellite, called AI1, is actually simpler than a Starlink satellite because it lacks the complex phased array and parabolic antennas.
    • AI1 targets 150 kW peak power and 120 kW sustained power, roughly matching an Nvidia GB300 rack of 72 GPUs.
    • Design assumptions are about 250 watts per square meter for the solar array and about 1,400 watts per square meter for the double sided radiators, both expected to improve over time.
    • Radiators are oriented knife edge to the sun and radiate from both sides; each satellite has roughly a 70 meter wingspan.
    • Each satellite carries on the order of a terabit of laser link connectivity.
    • Satellites connect to each other or to the Starlink constellation by laser, and Starlink relays data to the ground over existing Ka and Ku antennas plus laser to ground links.
    • At 600 to 800 km altitude latency is only around 3 milliseconds, since light travels about 300 km per millisecond.
    • SpaceX has about 10,000 Starlinks in orbit and is the only operator with experience flying constellations at that scale.
    • The constellation could eventually grow to thousands or even up to a million satellites; space is big enough to pack and fly them safely.
    • The satellites and solar will be built in Bastrop, Texas, where a solar manufacturing facility is already under construction.
    • The AI satellite production building and solar production are expected to be operating at reasonable volume by the end of next year.
    • SpaceX keeps making Starlink user terminals in Bastrop and is turning on new, higher volume production lines, with possibly a few hundred million terminals eventually, plus a direct to cell constellation that connects straight to phones.
    • Initial chips are off the shelf: the reference design targets Nvidia GB300 or Rubin chips, with a TPU reference design as well, and essentially any existing chip can be put into orbit.
    • The chip industry looks set to reach maybe 100 gigawatts a year of AI compute, far short of the terawatt SpaceX wants.
    • To close that gap, SpaceX plans a “Terafab,” a chip factory around 100 million square feet, roughly 10 times the size of Tesla Gigafactory Texas.
    • A terawatt of chip output per year is like a billion full reticle equivalent chips, each running about a kilowatt, plus a lot of memory.
    • The timeline targets an annualized rate of a gigawatt per year of space compute by the end of next year, scaling roughly 10x per year: 10 GW in about 2.5 years, 100 GW in about 3.5 years, then a terawatt per year, which is 1,000 GW and about twice current US electricity consumption.
    • Beyond a terawatt, the only path to another 1,000x is the moon, using local production of photovoltaics, solar, and radiators so most mass does not have to be shipped from Earth.
    • A lunar mass driver (a linear electric motor or rail gun) could accelerate AI satellites into deep space without rockets, thanks to the moon’s lack of atmosphere and one sixth gravity.
    • Bringing that much mass to the moon would also make it possible for anyone who wants to go to the moon to go, and even live there.
    • Musk stresses none of this requires magic; the AI satellite reuses Starlink V3 solar technology, and he frames the timelines as a best guess rather than a promise.
    • SpaceX has acquired xAI, now referred to as SpaceX AI, folding its AI ambitions directly into the space company.

    Detailed Summary

    The Kardashev Scale and Why Earth Barely Registers

    Musk opens with the question of how you objectively measure a civilization’s progress, the metric an alien species would use to calibrate us. The answer he reaches for is the Kardashev scale, named for the Russian physicist who proposed it, which ranks civilizations by the power they harness: a planet’s worth (Type 1), a star’s worth (Type 2), or a galaxy’s worth (Type 3). Humanity is extremely low even on Type 1. To dramatize the scale of the sun, he notes it is about 99.86% of all the mass in the solar system, with most of the rest being Jupiter and Earth a tiny dust mote in the miscellaneous category. The incident solar energy hitting Earth’s cross section is only about a half billionth of the sun’s total output, and we capture a vanishingly small slice of even that.

    Why Energy at Scale Means Going to Space

    Because roughly 70% of Earth is water and much of the remaining land sits at the poles or in far northern regions where solar is weak and few people live, the usable area for ground solar is small. To reach any meaningful percentage of the sun’s energy, you have to go to space. Musk sets the aspiration at a millionth of the sun’s output as a first “micro” milestone, noting that even 1% would make a civilization vastly more powerful than today’s. Orbit also solves two practical problems at once: you avoid building enormous terrestrial power plants, and cooling becomes easier because waste heat can be radiated straight into the vacuum rather than fought against in an atmosphere.

    The Three Limiting Factors

    Scaling to space based compute comes down to three things: a large mass to orbit capability, a lot of solar power and radiators, and a lot of AI chips. To put a hundred gigawatts and ultimately a terawatt into space, you need a terawatt of solar generation, the radiators to reject the heat, and a terawatt of AI chips. The rest of the conversation works through each limiting factor in turn, starting with the one SpaceX has spent two decades on.

    Starship and the Reusability Breakthrough

    Starship supplies the mass to orbit. Musk argues that full and rapid reusability is the fundamental breakthrough required for both multiplanetary life and climbing the Kardashev scale, since expendable rockets are simply too expensive and you cannot build enough of them. Every other mode of transport, from cars to planes to bicycles, is reusable; rockets are uniquely hard because Earth has a deep gravity well and thick atmosphere, which is why many prior reusable rocket attempts were abandoned. SpaceX pushes mass optimization to the extreme, even catching the booster with the launch tower instead of carrying heavy landing legs. The goal beyond catching the rocket is reflying it with no refurbishment, like an aircraft. Starship V3 already more than doubles the Saturn V’s thrust, V4 will be roughly triple, and the vehicle is the largest and most powerful moving object ever made, targeted to fly more than once per hour. SpaceX already lifts an estimated 85 to 90% of all Earth mass to orbit, and plans to scale from about 2,500 tons per year to millions of tons per year, reaching a million tons per year in roughly three years.

    Inside the AI Satellite (AI1)

    The team explains that a data center in space is not a building with engines bolted on; it reduces to chips plus the power and cooling to run them. The AI satellite, dubbed AI1, is actually simpler than a Starlink satellite because it skips the complex phased array and parabolic antennas, leaving mostly solar cells, a radiator, and some laser links. The draft version targets 150 kW peak power and 120 kW sustained, matching roughly what an Nvidia GB300 rack of 72 GPUs draws. Design assumptions are about 250 watts per square meter of solar array and about 1,400 watts per square meter for double sided radiators oriented knife edge to the sun, both numbers expected to improve. The result is a craft with around a 70 meter wingspan and roughly a terabit of laser connectivity. Compute racks link to each other or to the Starlink constellation by laser, and data reaches the ground via existing Ka and Ku antennas or laser to ground links. From 600 to 800 km up, latency is only about 3 milliseconds, since light travels 300 km per millisecond, so the common worry about high latency does not apply.

    Operating a Constellation of a Million Satellites

    The satellites are large, but space is enormous, so even thousands or up to a million of them would not crowd orbit; viewed against the Earth they are nearly invisible. SpaceX leans on hard won operational experience, with about 10,000 Starlinks already flying and a unique track record of operating constellations at that scale safely. Knowing how tightly satellites can be packed and flown without collisions is treated as the number one constraint when designing the constellation.

    Manufacturing in Bastrop, Texas

    The satellites and solar will be built in Bastrop, Texas, in a facility the hosts describe as already massive and about to be dwarfed by what comes next. A solar manufacturing facility is already under construction, and the AI satellite production building will follow, with both expected to operate at reasonable volume by the end of next year. The same site keeps producing Starlink user terminals and is spinning up new, higher volume lines. Musk projects there could eventually be a few hundred million Starlink terminals, alongside a direct to cell constellation that connects straight from a phone to space for high bandwidth communication.

    Chips, the Terafab, and the Road to a Terawatt

    In the near term, SpaceX simply launches chips that already exist. The current reference design targets Nvidia GB300 or Rubin chips, with a TPU reference design as well, and essentially any existing chip can be flown. The problem is that the chip industry as a whole may only reach about 100 gigawatts a year of AI compute, which does not answer how you get to a terawatt. The answer is a gigantic chip factory, a “Terafab” around 100 million square feet, roughly ten times the size of Tesla Gigafactory Texas, big enough that Musk jokes about needing Starship point to point to cross it. Even with no new fundamental breakthroughs, scaling existing chip technology to a terawatt of output per year is, from a logic die standpoint, like a billion full reticle equivalent chips each running a kilowatt, plus a lot of memory. The stated timeline is an annualized gigawatt per year of space compute by the end of next year, then scaling roughly an order of magnitude per year: about 10 GW in 2.5 years, 100 GW in 3.5 years, and eventually a terawatt per year, which is 1,000 GW, about twice the current electricity consumption of the United States. Musk repeatedly flags these as best guesses, not promises.

    The Moon, a Mass Driver, and the Next 1,000x

    Asked why stop at a terawatt, Musk says a terawatt is actually very small. Getting another three orders of magnitude, a 1,000x jump, points to the moon. The plan is local lunar production of photovoltaics, solar, and radiators, so that most of the mass does not have to be transported from Earth, with chips either shipped up or eventually made on the moon. Because the moon has no atmosphere and only one sixth of Earth’s gravity, you can accelerate AI satellites into deep space without a rocket, using an electromagnetic mass driver, essentially a rail gun or linear electric motor. A side benefit of moving that much mass to the moon is that anyone who wants to go to the moon would be able to, and could even live there. The team closes on the excitement of building a whole new kind of satellite and the sci fi prospect of a mass driver on the moon.

    Notable Quotes

    “We currently use much less than a trillionth of the power output of the sun. And a trillion is a million times a million.”

    Elon Musk, on how far humanity sits from harnessing the sun’s energy

    “The sun is about 99.86% of all mass in the solar system.”

    Elon Musk, dramatizing the scale of the star we orbit

    “You’re an extremely kick-ass civilization if you get to 1% of the sun’s energy.”

    Elon Musk, on what a meaningful Kardashev milestone would look like

    “Reusability is the fundamental breakthrough that is necessary to make life multiplanetary, as well as to ascend the Kardashev scale.”

    Elon Musk, on why Starship matters

    “An AI satellite is essentially a lot of solar cells, a radiator, and you still need some laser links, but you don’t have all of the super complex antennas that you have on a Starlink satellite.”

    Elon Musk, on why the orbital data center is simpler than Starlink

    “There’s not some magic that’s necessary that doesn’t exist for the AI satellites.”

    Elon Musk, on reusing existing Starlink technology

    “We expect that the Terafab is going to be around 100 million square feet, which is 10 times the size of the Tesla Gigafactory Texas.”

    Elon Musk, on the chip factory needed to reach a terawatt

    “The only way that we can really see that you can achieve that is on the moon with a mass driver.”

    Elon Musk, on scaling another 1,000x beyond a terawatt

    Watch the full conversation here: Elon Musk and the SpaceX team on AI satellites and climbing the Kardashev scale.

    Related Reading

    • Kardashev scale (Wikipedia), background on the Type 1, 2, and 3 framework that anchors the entire conversation.
    • Starship (SpaceX), the official page for the fully reusable vehicle behind the mass to orbit numbers.
    • Starlink, the constellation whose solar arrays, laser links, and operations the AI satellites are built on.
    • Mass driver (Wikipedia), the electromagnetic launch concept proposed for flinging satellites off the moon.
    • Nvidia GB300 (Nvidia), the GPU rack whose power profile defines the first AI satellite’s compute target.

  • Thomas Laffont of Coatue on the $4 Trillion AI IPO Wave: SpaceX, Anthropic, OpenAI, and Why the New Unicorn Economy Is Healthier

    Thomas Laffont, co-founder of the $55 billion hedge fund Coatue Management, made his All-In Podcast premiere with a data-dense walk through what he calls a once-in-a-generation moment for the unicorn economy. In front of Chamath Palihapitiya, Jason Calacanis, David Sacks, and David Friedberg, he argued that a roughly $4 trillion wave of private value is about to hit the public markets, led by SpaceX, Anthropic, and OpenAI, and that the new AI-driven unicorn economy is actually healthier than the one that came before it. You can watch the full presentation and Q&A on YouTube.

    TLDW

    Laffont presents Coatue’s slide deck on the state of the unicorn economy and argues it has rebalanced after the excesses of 2021. The average unicorn is up about 70 percent since September 2024, AI keeps taking a bigger share of all fundraising, and the model has shifted from many small unicorns to fewer companies each raising far more, with funding per unicorn up roughly 5x since 2021. He introduces a “Magnificent 8” private index (SpaceX, Stripe, Anthropic, Databricks, Revolut, ByteDance, Anduril, and more) worth nearly $4 trillion that has crushed the public Mag 7, then shows that exits are finally thawing as SpaceX heads to an IPO in weeks and Anthropic confidentially files its S1. He lays out Coatue’s “CODE” framework for why SpaceX gets more valuable the more it launches, a counterintuitive finding that the odds of a 10x actually rise as companies get bigger (31 percent for $100 billion-plus centicorns), the explosive revenue ramp of OpenAI and Anthropic past Workday, ServiceNow, Adobe, Salesforce, and now the hyperscalers, a three-pillar map of where AI revenue comes from (consumer, ads, enterprise), and the AI memory thesis. The Q&A with Chamath and Calacanis digs into the power law, K-shaped outcomes, whether these valuations are disconnected from reality, the public market as the great antiseptic, and what happens when trillions in private value finally recycles back through GPs and LPs.

    Thoughts

    The most useful idea in the talk is not the $4 trillion headline, it is the cohort-health chart. Laffont splits unicorns into eras and shows that the pre-2021 cohort was healthy, roughly 80 percent had raised again or exited 20 quarters after minting, while the giant 2021 ZIRP cohort of 479 companies is stuck with under 20 percent doing either. That single comparison reframes the whole AI boom. The bullish read is that the 2024 AI cohort is small, concentrated, and cash-generative, so it looks more like the healthy pre-ZIRP group than the 2021 hangover. The bearish read is that we are watching the same movie with bigger numbers, and the test only comes when these companies face public markets. Laffont is honest that we do not yet know which cohort the AI class resembles, and that intellectual humility is what makes the deck credible rather than promotional.

    The SpaceX “CODE” framework is the sharpest analytical move of the presentation. Most people would assume a launch business gets cheaper per launch as it scales. Laffont shows the opposite, the market pays more per launch as cadence rises, and explains it as a phase change in business quality: from one-time government launch revenue, to a single recurring-revenue constellation, to multiple constellations, to a platform with optional upside in space data centers, the moon, and Mars. It is a clean way to think about any company that climbs from a project business to a platform business, and it applies far beyond rockets. The lesson for investors is that valuation can rationally expand even as unit economics look like they should compress, because the nature of the revenue underneath is changing.

    The counterintuitive 10x odds finding deserves more attention than it got in the room. Conventional wisdom says the bigger you are, the harder it is to grow, so a $100 billion company should be less likely to 10x than a $10 billion one. Coatue’s data says the reverse: centicorns have a 31 percent shot at a 10x, far higher than the 8 percent a unicorn has at becoming a decacorn. Laffont’s explanation is a filtering mechanism, every step up validates a compounding advantage and durability of earnings, so survivors are increasingly the kind of business that keeps compounding. This is essentially a quantitative restatement of quality investing, and it is the intellectual backbone of the LP strategy the besties tease out, just buy whoever reaches $100 billion and hold.

    Where the argument gets genuinely contested is valuation, and the panel does not let it slide. The pushback that “these are not fake companies” is true and important, OpenAI and Anthropic are growing faster than any software company in history, and Anthropic reportedly had a profitable month. But growth and reality do not settle the question of price when you are paying 50 to 100 times revenue for trillion-dollar private companies, as Bill Ackman pointed out earlier in the day. Laffont’s answer is the most grounded thing he says all session: the public market is the great antiseptic, it will not care about anyone’s slide deck, and he wants to see these names withstand short sellers and skeptics. That is the right posture. The deck is a thesis, not a verdict, and the verdict arrives roughly six months and one day after the IPOs, once passive flows and supply have washed through.

    The closing thread, that almost every sector is being transformed at once and we still do not have superintelligence, is the part worth sitting with. The risk in a presentation this bullish is treating the trend as destiny. The value is in the framing tools Laffont hands you, cohort health, phase-change business quality, the filtering odds, the three revenue pillars, and the antiseptic of public scrutiny. Use those to interrogate each name rather than to buy the index on faith, and the talk earns its premiere billing.

    Key Takeaways

    • Coatue Management is one of the most successful hedge funds of the last two decades with about $55 billion under management, and is raising roughly another billion dollars specifically to invest in AI.
    • The unicorn economy is up about 70 percent on average since September 2024, and the public market has made a similar move up over the same period.
    • The unicorn economy’s share of the NASDAQ rose significantly after 2015 but has plateaued in recent years, reflecting strong performance from public companies.
    • AI keeps increasing its wallet share of all venture fundraising, multiple years in a row now.
    • The composition of funding has changed. The unicorn “factory” peaked in the ZIRP era of 2021 and has normalized at a much lower level since.
    • Funding per unicorn has increased roughly 5x since 2021. There are fewer unicorns, and each one is raising more.
    • Cohort health, pre-ZIRP group: of about 73 unicorns, 20 quarters after minting roughly 80 percent had either raised a new round or exited, which is healthy.
    • Cohort health, 2021 group: of about 479 unicorns, 20 quarters in, fewer than 20 percent had exited or raised again. Far larger cohort, far worse outcomes.
    • The open question is which cohort the new 2024 AI cohort will resemble.
    • Funding is concentrating: the top 10 companies capture a large share, and it is a small number of AI companies, not all of them, with Anthropic and OpenAI raising massive rounds.
    • Laffont proposes a “Magnificent 8” private index: SpaceX, Stripe, Anthropic, Databricks, Revolut, ByteDance, Anduril, and more, spanning internet, AI, fintech, and space tech.
    • That private index represents almost $4 trillion of value and has crushed the traditional public Mag 7, with almost every name outperforming.
    • Exits are thawing. 2026 is on a good trend for cash returned versus consumed, not quite 2021 levels, with half a year still to go.
    • That trend does not yet include three imminent liquidity events: SpaceX (IPO expected in weeks) and Anthropic (confidentially filed its S1), whose combined value could exceed the prior decade of exits combined.
    • The ecosystem is far more balanced than when Laffont first presented at the 2024 All-In Summit, when it was consuming much more cash than it returned.
    • OpenAI and Anthropic revenue growth is unlike anything previously seen. Starting from January 2025, they passed Workday, then ServiceNow, then Adobe, then Salesforce, and are now bigger than Google Cloud and Azure.
    • On current forecasts, that revenue could pass AWS by the end of the year and exceed all of Microsoft by 2028.
    • Hyperscalers are not sitting still. The largest companies in the world are funding the disruption, investing unprecedented sums to enable the ChatGPT moment.
    • The SpaceX “CODE” framework: the number one driver correlated to SpaceX’s valuation is cadence of launches, and valuation per launch rises as launches increase.
    • Why per-launch value rises: business quality improves through phases, pre-constellation (one-time government revenue), initial ramp (one recurring-revenue constellation), scale (multiple constellations), and platform (space data centers, moon and Mars optionality).
    • Anthropic in particular is scaling like no company seen across the PC, internet, or mobile eras.
    • Counterintuitive 10x odds: a unicorn has about an 8 percent chance of becoming a decacorn, a decacorn has 8 to 13 percent odds of reaching $100 billion, but a centicorn ($100 billion-plus) has a 31 percent chance of a 10x.
    • Value creation has accelerated. It typically takes years to go from $500 billion to $1 trillion in market cap, yet recently three companies did it in one year and two did it in a matter of weeks.
    • Cerebras is the counterexample of slow success: years of dark periods and no new capital developing its technology, then a massive OpenAI contract that quintupled the company’s value ahead of its IPO.
    • Semiconductors are on a generational run, with the sector dramatically outperforming the index since the 2024 All-In Summit.
    • AI memory thesis: the more an AI system knows about you, the more useful it is, so memory per user could quintuple, which helps explain recent moves in memory companies.
    • Where the revenue is: the AI ecosystem is roughly $140 billion today, about $300 billion this year, and is expected to double in 2027.
    • Three revenue pillars: consumer (subscribers times ARPU), ads (about a quarter of Meta and Google ads are AI-enabled today, heading toward 100 percent and roughly $150 billion), and enterprise (tools like Claude Code and Codex inside businesses).
    • Disruption is hitting every sector: software, telco (Starlink-powered global phone calls), semis, energy (data centers reshaping Pennsylvania’s grid), auto (Ferrari’s electric and autonomous stumble), and consumer (GLP-1s reshaping food, alcohol, and wellness).
    • Final takeaways: the new unicorn economy is healthier thanks to AI, winners are compounding faster so the cost of not owning a winner is higher than ever, disruption is everywhere, and we do not even have superintelligence yet.
    • In the Q&A, both Anthropic and OpenAI publicly say they want to be public, and big outcomes now look likely to become liquid within roughly a 12-month window.
    • The valuation pushback: these are not fake companies, they generate substantial revenue at scale and grow faster than anything before, and Anthropic reportedly even had a profitable month.
    • The public market is framed as the great equalizer and antiseptic, but with passive buying the true price discovery may not land on day one, more like six months and a day after listing.
    • A floated LP strategy: wait for whoever reaches $100 billion and concentrate capital there as the least brittle, quickest-return bet, tempered by the warning that valuations are disconnecting from any historical metric (50x to 100x revenue).
    • An open risk: with so much capital, OpenAI and Anthropic could rationally start a price war, the way ride-sharing and food-delivery players once did, though heavy infrastructure spend complicates it.

    Detailed Summary

    The unicorn economy has rebalanced after 2021

    Laffont opens by reframing a market many assume is frothy. The average unicorn is up about 70 percent since September 2024, and the public market has tracked a similar climb, so private and public value are moving together rather than diverging. The unicorn economy’s share of the NASDAQ rose sharply after 2015 and then plateaued, which he reads as a sign of how strong public companies have become. Underneath the headline, the structure of funding has changed. The 2021 ZIRP era was a unicorn factory that minted enormous numbers of companies, and that machine has since normalized to a much lower level. The result is a barbell: fewer new unicorns, but each raising far more, with funding per unicorn up roughly 5x since 2021. AI sits at the center of this, taking a steadily larger share of all venture dollars for several years running.

    Cohort health is the real story

    The deck’s most important slide measures the health of the ecosystem by cohort. The pre-ZIRP cohort, about 73 unicorns, looks healthy: 20 quarters after becoming unicorns, roughly 80 percent had either raised a new round or exited. The 2021 cohort tells the opposite story. It is enormous, about 479 unicorns, and 20 quarters in, fewer than 20 percent had raised again or exited. That contrast sets up the central question of the talk. A new 2024 cohort of AI companies is forming, and no one yet knows whether it will resemble the healthy pre-ZIRP group or the bloated, stuck 2021 group. Laffont’s framing leans optimistic because the AI cohort is small and concentrated, but he is careful not to declare the answer.

    The Magnificent 8 and a $4 trillion private index

    Funding is not just flowing to AI, it is flowing to a handful of AI names, with the top 10 capturing a large share and Anthropic and OpenAI raising the biggest rounds. From this concentration Laffont builds a private index he half-jokingly calls the Magnificent 8, a number he expects to shrink as companies go public. The members span sectors: SpaceX, Stripe, Anthropic, Databricks, Revolut, ByteDance, and Anduril, covering internet, AI, fintech, and space tech. He says he would be comfortable owning that index for the next decade-plus. Collectively it represents almost $4 trillion of value and has outperformed the public Mag 7, with nearly every constituent beating that benchmark.

    Exits are thawing and a wall of liquidity is coming

    One of Laffont’s recurring concerns at past summits has been balance: the unicorn economy is great at consuming cash, but a healthy ecosystem must also return it. On that score 2026 is trending well, not quite 2021, but solid with half a year left. Crucially, that figure does not yet include three imminent events. SpaceX is expected to go public within weeks, and Anthropic confidentially filed its S1 the day of the talk. Adding those up, just a few companies could deliver more liquidity than the prior ten years combined. The takeaway is that the ecosystem that was dangerously out of balance in 2024 is now meaningfully more balanced, and improving.

    The revenue ramp past the hyperscalers

    The growth rates of OpenAI and Anthropic, Laffont argues, are unlike anything previously seen. Charting from January 2025, the leading AI labs passed Workday, then ServiceNow, then Adobe by year end, then Salesforce by January, and are now bigger than Google Cloud and Azure. On forecast, that revenue could surpass AWS by the end of the year and exceed all of Microsoft by 2028. He stresses that the hyperscalers are not passive bystanders, they are actively funding the disruption, pouring unprecedented capital into enabling the change that began with the ChatGPT moment.

    The SpaceX CODE framework

    Laffont devotes real time to how Coatue thinks about SpaceX. The single factor most correlated with SpaceX’s valuation is cadence of launches, which is intuitive for a launch business. The surprise is that valuation per launch has risen rather than fallen as cadence climbed. His explanation, the CODE framework, is that the quality of the business model improves the more SpaceX launches. In phase one, pre-constellation, you are simply proving rockets, with a few government customers and lumpy, unpredictable one-time revenue. In the initial ramp you stand up a constellation, which is an end market and a recurring-revenue business that grows with every satellite and subscriber. At scale you operate multiple constellations, and Laffont expects companies, governments, and militaries to want to own their own. Ultimately it becomes a platform, with new businesses layered on top, from space data centers to the optionality of the moon and Mars.

    Counterintuitive odds and the speed of value creation

    Coatue bucketed companies and asked the odds of a 10x within each. A unicorn has roughly an 8 percent chance of becoming a decacorn. A decacorn has 8 to 13 percent odds of reaching $100 billion. But a centicorn, $100 billion or more, has a 31 percent chance of a 10x, counting both public and private companies. The bigger you are, the better your odds, which inverts intuition. Laffont pairs this with the sheer speed of recent value creation. Going from $500 billion to $1 trillion in market cap normally takes years, yet three companies did it in a single year and two did it in a matter of weeks. He also offers Cerebras as the patient counterexample, a chip company that endured years of dark periods and no new capital before a massive OpenAI contract quintupled its value ahead of IPO, part of a broader generational run for semiconductors.

    AI memory and where the revenue actually comes from

    A throughline from the day’s other speakers is that the more an AI knows about you, the more useful it is, from your restaurant preferences to your work context. Laffont turns that into a thesis: memory per user could quintuple based on what these systems require, which helps explain recent moves in memory companies. He then tackles the most contested question, where is the revenue. He sizes the AI ecosystem at about $140 billion today, roughly $300 billion this year, and doubling in 2027, built on three pillars. Consumer is subscribers times ARPU. Ads are the pillar people forget, with about a quarter of Meta and Google ads already AI-enabled and penetration heading toward 100 percent, a roughly $150 billion opportunity. Enterprise is the breakthrough category, exemplified by tools like Claude Code and Codex operating inside businesses.

    Every sector is being transformed at once

    What makes this era different, Laffont says, is that nearly every sector is being transformed simultaneously. Software is obvious, but look at telco, where he believes Starlink will soon power a device that lets you make a phone call anywhere on earth, attacking the global telco and broadband profit pool with a better product. Compute is driving massive change in semis, data centers are reshaping the energy equation in places like Pennsylvania, and the auto business is being upended, as Ferrari’s stumble introducing electric and autonomous technology showed. In consumer, GLP-1 drugs are profoundly changing consumption of food and alcohol and the broader focus on wellness. His takeaways close the loop: the new unicorn economy is healthier thanks to AI, winners are compounding faster so the cost of missing them is higher than ever, disruption is everywhere, and superintelligence has not even arrived yet.

    The Q&A: power law, valuation, and the public market test

    Chamath and Jason Calacanis press Laffont on what this means for allocators. The recurring theme is the power law and K-shaped outcomes, with gains consolidating into a small number of companies. The positive side, Laffont notes, is that outcomes are enormous and increasingly liquid within a 12-month window, and both Anthropic and OpenAI say they want to be public. The hard part is valuation. The besties cite Bill Ackman’s framing that investors are making venture bets on trillion-dollar companies at 50 to 100 times revenue. Laffont’s pushback is that these are not fake companies, they generate substantial revenue at scale and grow faster than anything before, and Anthropic reportedly had a profitable month. But he embraces the discipline ahead: the public market is the great antiseptic and will not care about anyone’s presentation, though with heavy passive buying, true price discovery may take roughly six months and a day rather than landing on day one. Asked whether the compounding is a market inefficiency or survivor bias, he declines to over-read a small sample, noting that Anthropic before Claude Code was a completely different company than after. The conversation closes on what happens when trillions recycle from GPs to LPs, the case for simply owning whoever crosses $100 billion, the risk of everyone crowding into three names, and the possibility of an eventual OpenAI versus Anthropic price war.

    Notable Quotes

    “So we have fewer unicorns that are each raising more.”

    Thomas Laffont, summarizing how funding per unicorn has risen roughly 5x since 2021

    “The reason is that the quality of SpaceX’s business model increases the more you launch.”

    Thomas Laffont, explaining the CODE framework and why valuation per launch rises with cadence

    “The winners are compounding faster than ever, which means the costs of not being in a winner are higher than ever.”

    Thomas Laffont, on the central risk of a power-law market

    “And by the way, we don’t even have super intelligence yet.”

    Thomas Laffont, closing his takeaways on how early the transformation still is

    “These are companies generating substantial revenue at scale that are growing faster than anything we’ve ever seen.”

    Thomas Laffont, pushing back on the idea that AI valuations rest on fake companies

    “It will be the great antiseptic. It will not care about my presentation.”

    Thomas Laffont, on the public market as the ultimate test for SpaceX, OpenAI, and Anthropic

    “Anthropic pre-cloud code was a completely different company than post cloud code.”

    Thomas Laffont, on why he won’t over-read a small sample of hyper-compounders

    “The power law rules our lives. All the great gains are being consolidated into small numbers of companies.”

    An All-In host, framing the Q&A on concentration in private markets

    This is a curated set of highlights. To hear the full presentation, the slide walkthrough, and the complete Q&A with Chamath and Jason Calacanis, watch the full conversation here.

    Related Reading

    • Coatue Management. Primary source for Thomas Laffont’s firm and the technology investing strategy behind the deck.
    • The All-In Podcast. The show and summit where Laffont made this premiere presentation.
    • Power law (Wikipedia). Background on the distribution Laffont and the hosts say governs venture and public-market returns.
    • The Magnificent Seven (Wikipedia). The public-market benchmark Laffont’s private “Magnificent 8” index is measured against.
    • Cerebras Systems. The AI chipmaker Laffont cites as the slow-grind IPO that was eventually transformed by a major OpenAI contract.

  • Why Trees Fell Over in Biosphere 2: How Wind, Stress Wood, and Thigmomorphogenesis Build Tree Strength and Human Resilience

    In the early 1990s, scientists running one of the most ambitious ecological experiments ever attempted noticed something strange. Inside Biosphere 2, a giant sealed glass structure in the Arizona desert, trees in the rainforest biome were growing fast, yet they kept falling over before they could mature.

    They had perfect light, water, nutrients, and carbon dioxide. No storms, no pests, no extreme weather. Yet many of these trees became weak and spindly, unable to hold themselves up. The reason turned out to be simple but unexpected. There was no wind. In the talk above, Biosphere 2 researcher Dr. Joost van Haren walks through the science directly from inside the structure where it happened.

    This detail has become one of the most striking real-world examples of why resistance and stress are necessary for building genuine strength, in trees and, by extension, in people. It is the exact image Paul Graham reached for when he sat down with Jessica Livingston to explain how Y Combinator built durability over twenty years. We broke that conversation down in Paul Graham and Jessica Livingston on resilience at Y Combinator, where the biosphere tree sits at the center of his argument about North Stars and not behaving like a weather vane.

    What Was Biosphere 2?

    Biosphere 2 was a 3.14-acre closed ecological system built in Oracle, Arizona. It contained several different environments, including a tropical rainforest, an ocean, mangrove wetlands, a savannah, and agricultural areas. The goal was to study how self-contained ecosystems function, with an eye toward long-term space habitation and Earth systems research.

    Crews lived inside the sealed structure for extended periods. While the project is best known for its technical and human challenges, one of the most interesting findings came from the rainforest biome, and it had nothing to do with the people living inside.

    The Problem: Trees That Grew Fast but Fell Over

    Pioneer tree species inside the biome grew rapidly under the ideal, protected conditions, often faster than they would have grown in the wild. However, instead of developing thick trunks and strong root systems, they grew tall and thin. Many eventually toppled or snapped under their own weight long before reaching maturity.

    This was not caused by bad soil or a lack of resources. After investigation, researchers pinpointed the missing factor: mechanical stress from wind. In real forests, trees are constantly moved by even light breezes. That repeated flexing turns out to be one of the most important growth signals a tree receives.

    The Science: How Wind Builds Stronger Trees

    Trees do not just grow passively. They respond to physical forces in their environment through a process called thigmomorphogenesis, which means growth changes triggered by touch or mechanical stress. The most consistent effect is shorter, thicker, stiffer growth: less energy spent racing upward, more spent on a trunk that can carry the load.

    When wind pushes on a tree, it creates tension and compression in the trunk and branches. The tree reacts by producing stress wood, also called reaction wood. This specialized tissue has a different cellular structure that makes it denser and stronger. It helps the tree resist bending and recover its upright position, and it helps the tree position itself for better light. Wind also drives deeper, more robust root systems for better anchorage in the soil.

    Without any wind inside the sealed Biosphere 2 environment, the trees skipped this reinforcement process entirely. They poured energy into rapid upward growth instead of building the structural support needed to sustain it. The result was fast but fragile trees that could not hold themselves up.

    Why This Story Resonates Beyond Trees

    The Biosphere 2 tree observation quickly became a favorite metaphor for resilience, and it is easy to see why. Trees that grow in perfect comfort, with no resistance, often become weak. The same principle appears to apply to people. When life is completely sheltered from difficulty, growth can happen quickly but stay shallow. Challenges, setbacks, and friction force the development of stronger internal structure: better coping skills, emotional steadiness, and real capability.

    This is the move Paul Graham makes when he talks about resilient companies. In his conversation with Jessica Livingston, he argues that organizations fail when they behave like weather vanes, swinging with every gust of public opinion, and that durability comes from stress rather than from being protected from it. The biosphere tree is his shorthand for the whole idea. You can read the full breakdown of that talk in our companion piece, Paul Graham and Jessica Livingston on resilience at Y Combinator.

    None of this means constant hardship is ideal. Too much wind snaps a tree, and too much stress breaks a person. The useful lesson is narrower and more practical: some appropriate resistance is necessary for strength to develop at all.

    Practical Takeaways

    • For gardeners: Many people run a small fan on seedlings and young plants to simulate wind. Brushing the seedlings by hand a few times a day does the same thing. Both strengthen stems and prevent weak, leggy growth before transplanting.
    • For parents and educators: Shielding children from all discomfort and failure can leave them less prepared for real challenges later. Age-appropriate responsibility and natural consequences are the wind that builds their stress wood.
    • For personal growth: Avoiding all difficulty tends to keep people fragile. Deliberately taking on manageable challenges, the kind that flex you without breaking you, builds greater capacity over time.
    • For teams and organizations: Cultures that remove all friction often produce brittle groups. Constructive challenge, honest feedback, and real stakes tend to create stronger, more adaptable teams.

    Frequently Asked Questions

    Did the trees actually fall over in Biosphere 2?

    Yes. Observations from the project confirmed that trees in the rainforest and savannah areas grew quickly but became structurally weak and prone to falling, and the absence of wind was identified as the key reason.

    What is stress wood?

    Stress wood, or reaction wood, is specialized wood tissue trees produce in response to mechanical forces like wind. Its altered cell structure increases strength and helps the tree stay stable and upright.

    Is this just a metaphor or is the science real?

    The science is real. Trees genuinely require mechanical stress from wind to develop proper structural strength, a phenomenon documented as thigmomorphogenesis. The application to human and organizational resilience is metaphorical but directionally accurate. Some resistance builds capability.

    Can I apply this with houseplants or garden seedlings?

    Yes. Placing a gentle fan near young plants, or brushing them lightly by hand each day, is a common and effective way to encourage stronger stems through simulated wind stress.

    The trees in Biosphere 2 had everything they needed to grow tall, except the one thing that would have made them strong enough to stay standing. Nature includes wind for a reason. Without resistance, growth stays superficial. With the right amount of it, real strength has a chance to form. For more on how the same idea plays out in companies and founders, read our breakdown of Paul Graham and Jessica Livingston on resilience at Y Combinator.

    Related Reading

  • Paul Graham and Jessica Livingston on Resilience at Y Combinator: Founder Mode, Cockroaches, Sticking to Your North Star, and Why AI and Climate Keep Them Up at Night

    For the very first episode of Disaster Proof, the conversation goes to a garage in Palo Alto to sit down with Paul Graham and Jessica Livingston, the founders of Y Combinator. They have backed thousands of companies, including many now working in the resilience space, and the discussion covers what makes startups durable, why adaptability beats expertise, how Brian Chesky stumbled into founder mode at Airbnb, why the best ideas grow out of a founder’s own life, and the two specific risks (AI and climate change) that Paul says are the only ones he treats as genuinely game over. You can watch the full conversation on YouTube here.

    TLDW

    Paul Graham and Jessica Livingston explain why constant change favors young, flexible founders, and why Y Combinator picks people over ideas precisely so its judgment never goes obsolete. They unpack adaptability as the trait they hunt for in interviews, the “founder mode” story behind Brian Chesky steering Airbnb through COVID, and the 2008 strategy of funding tough, close-to-revenue “cockroaches.” Paul argues a company survives turbulence by sticking to a North Star instead of acting as a weather vane in shifting moral fashions, using the biosphere tree that collapses without wind as his metaphor for resilience. They turn to climate and energy as the next great market, the difficulty of selling into utilities, the Gridware success story, fusion no longer being thirty years away, and the trap of guilt-based business models versus the reliable assumption that users are selfish, greedy, and lazy. The personal-resilience half covers surviving Twitter mobs, Paul’s obsessive essay process, raising kids by indulging curiosity and picking your battles, prepping by living among reasonable people, political polarization, and why AI and climate are the two things that keep them up at night.

    Thoughts

    The most useful idea in this conversation is also the most counterintuitive: a world that feels like it is ending is structurally good for the people least invested in how it used to work. Paul’s point to terrified founders is that change is only a threat if you have sunk costs in the old order. A young founder has been doing the current plan for two weeks, so a step-function shift in the landscape costs them almost nothing to abandon. The incumbents with elaborate machinery and a decade of assumptions are the ones who should be afraid. That reframes resilience away from defense and toward optionality. The resilient party is not the one with the thickest walls, it is the one with the least to unlearn.

    The founder mode discussion is worth sitting with because it quietly overturns a generation of management orthodoxy. The old rule was that a good CEO hires executives and gets out of their way, and that getting into the details is micromanaging. Brian Chesky’s COVID experience at Airbnb broke that rule under maximum pressure. With bankruptcy on the table and a travel company facing a world that stopped traveling, he went line by line through the business and told people what good looked like, then gave them freedom to execute against that standard while still demanding visibility. The interesting nuance is the permission structure. A crisis granted Chesky the license to be involved that normal operating conditions would have framed as meddling. The lesson is not “always be in the weeds,” it is that the founder’s deep understanding and disproportionate caring are assets you are wasting if you reflexively delegate them away.

    Paul’s North Star argument is the part most likely to age well. His claim is that companies fail at resilience when they behave like weather vanes, swinging with each gust of public moral fashion. He pairs it with the biosphere tree that grows weak and topples because it was never exposed to wind. Both metaphors point at the same thing: resilience is built by surviving stress while holding your shape, not by avoiding stress and not by reshaping yourself to whatever the crowd currently rewards. The carbon-credit companies he mentions are the cautionary case. They built their entire premise on a fashion (customer guilt about carbon) and went out of business when the wind changed direction. Durable businesses convert a permanent human motive into value, which is why he prefers the brutally honest assumption that the user is selfish, greedy, and lazy, and that your job is to build something that produces good outcomes anyway.

    The climate and energy section reframes a worthy cause as a market-timing bet rather than a moral appeal, and that is the more powerful version. The comparison to fintech in 2008 is the tell. Banking technology was a sleepy, unglamorous sector that venture investors avoided until a crisis cracked it open and made it one of the best categories of the following decade. The argument is that energy and the physical world are sitting at a similar precipice, made newly viable because hardware is starting to behave more like software (order components, assemble, do not build everything from scratch) and because AI’s hunger for power has made energy the binding constraint on the whole industry. The Gridware story crystallizes the founder lesson underneath all of it. The best founder for a hard physical problem was a lineman who worked the electric lines and lived through the fires. The idea grew authentically out of his life, which is the same pattern Jessica keeps returning to and the same advice they give for raising kids.

    Finally, the personal-resilience material is more practical than it first appears. Paul’s method for surviving a Twitter mob is pattern recognition: once it has happened twenty times, you know it ends in two days and they move on to the next target, so you wait it out instead of capitulating. His essay process is the same conviction-building engine applied to ideas. He goes sentence by sentence until there is no false statement left to attack, which is why his challenge to angry readers (“point out the incorrect statement”) almost never gets answered. The throughline across the company advice, the parenting advice, and the personal advice is identical. You build durable conviction not by sitting in a room thinking, but by working the problem until it is right, then refusing to be blown off course by people who never actually engaged with the substance.

    Key Takeaways

    • Experts are frequently wrong because they are experts in a previous version of the world, so Paul deliberately avoids permanent beliefs about the current state of technology.
    • Y Combinator picks startups by picking founders, not ideas, because the founders know more about the ideas than the investors do.
    • Living in England and visiting for each batch lets Paul arrive every quarter expecting the world to be different, which keeps his mind open instead of anchored.
    • A world of constant change feels bad but is actually good for a young, flexible founder who has only been on the current plan for two weeks and can switch easily.
    • Vibe coding went from kind-of-works to reliably works, and even experienced programmers now generate huge volumes of code with AI.
    • There is still a software business even with AI, because someone has to know what to tell the AI to write, and no company is going to write its own database from scratch.
    • The scenario Paul worries about is model companies spinning up agents to start all the startups themselves, removing the need for human founders.
    • The founder traits Jessica looks for are unchanged over the years: determined, flexible-minded, and willing to adapt.
    • In interviews you can spot rigid founders because they answer the question they prepared rather than the one they were asked, and the gears visibly grind when you redirect them.
    • A good adaptability signal is a founder who says “I haven’t thought about that, but here is how I would think about it” instead of freezing.
    • Founder mode, the term, came from Brian Chesky’s experience steering Airbnb through COVID, when bankruptcy was openly discussed in board meetings.
    • Ken Chenault, the former American Express CEO on Airbnb’s board, told Chesky the moment was ten times worse than 9/11 and could define the company.
    • Founder mode meant Chesky understood every line item, told people what good looked like, then gave them freedom to execute while still wanting to see it.
    • Founders see through the fog because they understand the company better than anyone and they care more than anyone, and combining understanding with caring lets them see more.
    • There is always some disaster at Y Combinator, the way a hospital always has someone coding, so a crisis is the normal operating environment, not an exception.
    • During the 2008 crash, YC kept funding because it is always a good time to start a startup, but focused on people close to making money and very tough founders they called cockroaches.
    • Airbnb was the ultimate cockroach, seemingly indestructible, which is exactly why they liked it during the meltdown.
    • YC rests on two axioms: startups matter, and founders are the most important ingredient in startups. As long as those hold, YC has room to exist.
    • Company values are usually written down a few years in, documenting principles that already existed rather than inventing new ones.
    • You cannot move with fashion; you have to stick to your North Star, especially during turbulent, noisy times.
    • Trees grown inside a biosphere fell over because they were never exposed to wind, so being blown around is a necessary part of becoming strong enough to stand.
    • What preserves YC most is that it is a fundamentally good idea: it gives lonely founders money, the right peers, and colleagues they would never otherwise have.
    • The measure of a good startup idea is revenue, and any other metric you care about matters only because it predicts revenue.
    • At the early stage you can afford to be virtuous and even tell founders to go back to college, because the power law means one startup in the batch will carry the returns.
    • Every startup has to find early adopters, who decide quickly, usually do not have much money, and tend to be sophisticated, which means utilities are rarely your first customer.
    • A company that ultimately sells to utilities should start by selling to something that says yes faster, like running a pilot on a single corporate campus.
    • Utilities are under so much stress from wildfire liability, renewables, EV charging, and AI demand that they are unusually willing to try new things out of necessity.
    • Gridware, founded by a former lineman who lived through major fires, is now backed by Sequoia with PG&E as a huge customer, an example of an idea growing out of the founder’s life.
    • The second-biggest chunk of YC startups after AI is hard tech and physical products, not because software is dead but because building physical things is getting more possible.
    • Energy is one of AI’s fundamental constraints; if Sam Altman could have two things for Christmas, they would be energy and GPUs.
    • Nobody says fusion is thirty years away anymore, and the old thirty-year number existed because it was far enough out to avoid demands for results but close enough to keep attention.
    • Energy and physical markets may be where fintech was in 2008, a sleepy sector about to be cracked open by crisis into a great decade.
    • Guilt is a fragile business model because fashions change what people feel guilty about, which is why carbon-credit companies collapsed when the winds shifted.
    • Assume the user is selfish, greedy, and lazy, then build something that causes good things to happen anyway, like clean power that is simply cheaper and more reliable.
    • To survive Twitter mobs, remember they move on in about two days, half are bots or people you would never talk to in real life, and you cannot become a weather vane for moral fashions.
    • You build conviction by working on and developing an idea, not by sitting in a room thinking, unless it is pure thought like math.
    • Paul writes essays sentence by sentence until nothing in them is false, which is why his challenge to point out an incorrect statement almost never gets answered.
    • The best startup ideas, and the best projects in life generally, grow authentically out of the founder’s own interests and experiences.
    • Their parenting philosophy is to give kids confidence and a stable base, indulge their curiosity, and encourage projects nobody told them to do.
    • You pick your battles with kids: put your foot down on cruelty, but accept defeat on things like food and screen time.
    • A useful interview question for anyone with an unusual experience is not “what was it like” but “how was it different than you expected,” which surfaces the genuinely novel detail.
    • In a time of turbulence, bet on an island full of reasonable people; the English may not be very dynamic, but they are reasonable.
    • The hope on political polarization is to build resilient institutions that act as a cage around any single leader, so that throwing the rattle makes no difference.
    • AI and climate change are the two things Paul worries about most because they are both potentially game over, like the Gulf Stream reversing and turning Europe into a frozen wasteland.

    Detailed Summary

    Staying an expert when the world keeps changing

    The conversation opens on Paul Graham’s essay “How to Be an Expert in a Changing World,” whose core point is that experts are often wrong because they are experts in a previous version of the world. Asked how he keeps his own beliefs from going obsolete when the landscape can shift in ninety days, Paul says he focuses on people. YC picks founders rather than ideas because the founders know the ideas better than any investor could. He deliberately holds no permanent beliefs about the current state of technology, and the rhythm of flying in from England for each batch helps: he arrives every quarter already expecting everything to be different. One quarter the story is everyone training open-source models, the next quarter it is Claude code and nobody bothers with open-source models because the frontier versions are better anyway. He comes in with a completely open mind. Jessica and Paul note that today’s founders are more frightened, asking what is even still true, but the message Paul gives them is that constant change favors the young and flexible. If you have only been executing a plan for two weeks, a disruption costs you nothing; you just switch.

    What adaptability looks like in a founder

    Jessica describes the founders she funds as determined, flexible-minded, and willing to adapt, and calls adaptability a key trait always, but especially in uncertain times. In interviews, the rigid applicants reveal themselves by answering the question they planned to answer rather than the one they were asked, and you can almost hear the gears grind when you redirect them. Paul does not let that slide; if they dodge, he just asks again. The positive signal is a founder who, faced with a question they have not considered, says “here is how I would think about it” and reasons live. Both point out that YC itself had to adapt, and that the company they funded the interviewer’s startup as in 2009 looked very different by the end. They funded him in May 2009, in the thick of the financial crisis, after he had quit his job in August 2008 and briefly felt he had made a terrible mistake.

    Founder mode and seeing through the fog

    Paul points to Brian Chesky as the defining example of weathering disaster, a story he explored on This Week in Startups. When COVID hit a travel company like Airbnb, the word bankruptcy was being used in board meetings, and Ken Chenault, the former American Express CEO on the board, warned it was ten times worse than 9/11. Chesky went into what would later be named founder mode, getting into every line item, understanding exactly what was needed, telling people what good looked like, and then giving them freedom to execute while still insisting on visibility. The crisis gave him permission to be the involved CEO he had always wanted to be, the kind of involvement that normal operating conditions would have labeled micromanaging. Paul argues founders see through fog that blinds everyone else for a simple, rational reason: they understand the company better than anyone because they have been there longest and thought of most of it, and they also care more than anyone. Combine deep understanding with deep caring and of course they see more.

    Cockroaches, the North Star, and the biosphere tree

    Returning to 2008, when YC was self-funded and unsure whether anyone would invest by March, they decided to keep going on the principle that it is always a good time to start a startup, but to fund people close to making money and very tough founders they called cockroaches, after the creatures that survive nuclear war. Airbnb was the ultimate cockroach. Paul frames YC’s longevity around two axioms (startups matter, founders are the most important ingredient) and around resilience built through stress. He tells the story of trees grown inside a biosphere that fell over because they were never exposed to wind, since being blown about is a necessary part of a tree becoming strong enough to support its own weight. YC has been blown around and is still standing, which is exactly what gave it practice. The companion idea is the North Star: you cannot move with fashion or act as a weather vane swinging with other people’s moral fashions, you have to hold your founding principles, which Paul eventually wrote down rather than let a 23-year-old new hire do it.

    Climate, energy, and selling into hard markets

    The interviewer’s own path (a curiosity about wildfire that grew from living in California, watching PG&E go bankrupt, a fire on his Mendocino property, volunteering as a firefighter) becomes the case for ideas that grow authentically out of a founder’s life. Climate is framed broadly as energy, the built environment, and transportation, essentially the physical world, and those are hard markets where the buyers are utilities, governments, real estate, and insurance. The advice is to find early adopters who decide quickly, which usually means not starting with a utility but with something like a single corporate campus that will say yes faster. Utilities, though, are under so much stress from wildfire liability, renewables, EV charging, and AI demand that they are increasingly willing to try new things. Gridware, founded by a former lineman who lived through major fires, is the proof point: backed by Sequoia, with PG&E as a major customer. Paul notes the second-biggest chunk of YC startups after AI is hard tech, not because software died but because building physical things is getting more possible, more like ordering and assembling components. Energy is the binding constraint on AI, fusion no longer feels thirty years away, and the bet is that energy and physical markets are where fintech was in 2008, about to be cracked open.

    Guilt versus greed as a business model

    On the question of whether climate companies should sell on guilt (recycle, pay more because it is sustainable), Paul is blunt that guilt is fragile because fashions change what you are supposed to feel guilty about. The carbon-credit companies thrived until buying carbon credits stopped being cool, then went out of business. A founder’s own concern for the world can drive great companies, but depending on a customer’s guilt is shallow. The durable move is to assume the user is selfish, greedy, and lazy, someone who just wants to eat pizza and watch Netflix, and to build something that produces good outcomes despite that. Clean power is the perfect example: nobody watching Netflix is upset that fusion powers their television, and if it is cheaper and more reliable, that is simply more Netflix and more money for pizza.

    Personal resilience, Twitter mobs, and the essay process

    On surviving public criticism, Paul’s method is pattern recognition: after twenty mobs you stop counting and know it will be over in two days when they move to the next topic, so you wait it out even though it genuinely feels miserable. Half of them are bots or people you would never talk to in real life, but the deeper point is that companies and people stay resilient by not succumbing to mobs and not becoming weather vanes for moral fashions. Conviction is built by working on an idea, not sitting in a room thinking about it, unless it is pure thought like math. His essays are the engine: he writes a version one, notices everything wrong, and fixes it sentence by sentence until there is no false statement left. He will read an entire book for a single sentence because he would be mortified to publish something false and, having no deadlines, has no excuse. That is why his standing challenge to angry readers, to point out one incorrect statement, almost never gets answered.

    Raising kids, prepping, and the things that keep them up at night

    Their parenting philosophy is to give kids confidence and a stable base, indulge curiosity, and encourage projects nobody assigned, like the living room overrun by one son’s Lego. They pick their battles: they put their foot down on cruelty but admit total defeat on food, devices, and screen time. Paul’s favorite question for anyone with an unusual experience is not “what was it like” but “how was it different than you expected,” which surfaces the genuinely novel detail, and the meta-version of that became the show’s recurring question to all guests. On prepping, they joke that living in the English countryside is itself a form of preparation, and that in turbulent times you should bet on an island full of reasonable people. The episode closes on what keeps them up at night: AI and climate change, the two things Paul treats as uniquely game over, illustrated by the prospect of the Gulf Stream reversing and leaving Europe, which sits as far north as Alaska, a frozen wasteland. Jessica notes her YC superhero name was Panic, and the conversation ends, after a detour through political polarization and a child who insisted for six months on being called SR-71 forecast 80 leaping leopard, on the admission that they manage screen time by being utterly defeated.

    Notable Quotes

    “If you’re a startup founder, a world where things are constantly changing is actually good for you. It feels bad, but you’re better off than anybody else.”

    Paul Graham, on why turbulence favors young, flexible founders

    “You can’t move with fashion. You have to stick to your North Star.”

    Paul Graham, on holding founding principles during noisy, turbulent times

    “There’s always some kind of disaster. It’s almost a rule of thumb at Y Combinator that there’s always some disaster going on, just like in a hospital. There’s always somebody who’s coding.”

    Paul Graham, on crisis as the normal operating environment for startups

    “The measure of a good startup idea is revenue, sure. Let’s not pretend companies are supposed to do something else.”

    Paul Graham, on how to judge whether an idea is actually good

    “Assume that the user is selfish and lazy, and make something. Selfish, greedy, and lazy. And make something that causes good things to happen despite that.”

    Paul Graham, on why guilt is a weak business model and greed is a source of energy

    “This is where the best startup ideas come from. They grow authentically out of the founders’ lives.”

    Jessica Livingston, on a wildfire curiosity turning into a company

    “Please point out the incorrect statement I’ve made in this essay. And no one ever does that.”

    Paul Graham, on writing essays sentence by sentence until nothing in them is false

    “AI and climate change have something in common. They’re the two big things I worry about the most, because they’re both game overs.”

    Paul Graham, on what keeps him up at night

    This is the first episode of Disaster Proof, a series exploring the people and technologies building resilience in an increasingly volatile world. You can watch the full conversation with Paul Graham and Jessica Livingston on YouTube here.

    Related Reading

  • Bill Ackman on Investment Strategy, What the Market Is Missing, and How AI Breaks Businesses

    Bill Ackman, founder and CEO of Pershing Square, joined the All-In Podcast for a conversation about how his investment approach has shifted toward permanent, long-term ownership, why he believes the highest-quality companies are being left behind by a market chasing the new new thing, and how AI is raising the risk of disruption for almost every business. He also lays out his plan to turn Howard Hughes into a Berkshire Hathaway-style compounding machine built on insurance. You can watch the full conversation here. Below is a structured breakdown of the ideas, the stories, and the frameworks he uses to underwrite a business.

    TLDW

    Ackman explains how his philosophy evolved from a smaller, more liquid activist toward concentrated, permanent ownership of durable, non-disruptible businesses, with much of his activism now playing out on X rather than in the boardroom. He tells the origin story of his first big trade, Wendy’s and the Tim Hortons spin-off, and explains why a large long-term shareholder on a board is an antidote to short-term markets. On AI, he argues that this is the greatest era in history to build a company, which means the risk of being disrupted has gone up enormously, and that the market is mispricing high-quality compounders like Microsoft, Meta, and Amazon while crowding into chips, semiconductors, and energy. He works through the SaaS question and why niche software is more at risk than platforms, how he underwrites SpaceX, xAI, OpenAI, Anthropic, and Palantir like late-stage venture bets using a people, opportunity, context, deal framework, and why founder-led companies have an edge in making radical calls. The back half covers his Howard Hughes plan to copy Buffett’s insurance-float model, the role of cost of capital and reflexivity in markets, the meme-stock era, going direct on social media, and the three different ways an investor can put money to work with Pershing Square.

    Thoughts

    The most useful idea in the interview is the way Ackman reframes disruption as the central investing problem of the AI era. His point is that the same forces making this the best time in history to start a company, meaning near-unlimited compute, capital, and talent, also raise the odds that any given incumbent gets disrupted. That reframes the word quality. It is no longer mostly about margins and moats. It becomes about non-disruptibility, which is a much higher bar than most quality investors were using a decade ago, and it is why he says most of his research time now goes into assessing that single risk.

    The what-the-market-is-missing thesis is classic contrarian Ackman. Arguing that Microsoft, Meta, and Amazon are the new old-fashioned, undervalued names while capital piles into semiconductors and energy is a direct echo of 2000, when Berkshire Hathaway bottomed precisely because money was chasing internet stocks. It is worth keeping in mind that he owns all three, so the call is also his book. The durable signal here is the framework, not the specific tickers: capital reliably chases the new new thing, and genuinely high-quality businesses get left behind during those rotations.

    The Howard Hughes plan is the most concrete bet in the conversation. Copying Buffett’s insurance-float playbook, short-term treasuries for policyholder money and equities for the surplus, onto a discounted real-estate holding company is elegant. The hard part is exactly what Ackman flags about insurance as an industry: the best investors go to hedge funds, not insurers, so most insurance companies only ever manage the liability side well. Pershing Square’s edge is that Ackman can both write the business and invest the float, which is the same reason it worked for Buffett. The framing of going from a four billion dollar company to a trillion over fifty years is a statement of intent, not a forecast, and should be read that way.

    Underneath all of it sits cost of capital and reflexivity. His observation that a higher stock price literally makes a company more valuable, because it lowers the cost of capital and creates acquisition currency, is the mechanism behind both Elon Musk’s empire and the meme-stock era he is wary of. Going direct on X is the same lever pointed at himself: communicate the vision, lower your own cost of capital, and make the bet easier for other people to place. It is a coherent worldview in which narrative and balance sheet continuously feed each other, and it explains a lot of his behavior over the last few years.

    Key Takeaways

    • The biggest change in Ackman’s approach over time is an appreciation for business quality, meaning long-term, durable, protected, non-disruptible growth as the most important factor.
    • He says he is as activist as ever, but more of it now happens on X than in the traditional corporate context.
    • His first big investment was Wendy’s, which owned Tim Hortons. The simple thesis was to buy Wendy’s, spin off Tim Hortons, and double the money.
    • Early on no one returned his calls, so he had Steve Schwarzman’s Blackstone write a fairness opinion, filed it publicly, and the company spun off Tim Hortons six weeks later. The CEO later thanked him after being fired with a large exit package.
    • Reputation compounds. Where Pershing Square once had to bang down the door, companies now sometimes tweet a welcome when it buys a stake.
    • A large long-term shareholder on a board is a counterweight to short-term markets, letting management test ideas privately and pursue initiatives that hurt the next few quarters of earnings.
    • Pershing Square owns Microsoft, Meta, and Amazon. Ackman argues you are either invested in AI directly or indirectly, or it is a threat, so you have to understand it.
    • The hardest and most important job for a concentrated investor is judging the risk of disruption, and that risk has risen dramatically.
    • This is the greatest era in history to build a business because of near-unlimited access to compute, capital, and talent, which is exactly why the probability of being disrupted has gone up enormously.
    • Markets bring their eye to the new new thing, currently chips, semiconductors, and energy, while high-quality companies get left behind.
    • He draws an analogy to 2000, when Berkshire Hathaway traded at one of its lowest valuations because everyone chased internet stocks. He sees a similar dynamic around Amazon, Meta, and Microsoft today.
    • On the SaaS question, he worries more about a Salesforce than a platform like Microsoft, because niche software charging high per-seat or per-year prices is most exposed, while low-priced platforms are safer.
    • Any software company today has to be as AI-enabled as possible, or risk losing the monopolistic pricing it once enjoyed.
    • His famous March 2020 CNBC appearance was an attempt to reach President Trump and argue for a short shutdown, paired with the view that stocks were incredibly cheap and worth buying.
    • He describes valuation as a tether on the market: when prices stretch too high they snap back, and when they get too cheap the same rubber band pulls valuations up. Calling that out publicly can trigger a psychological reset.
    • His recent bullish call came because stocks of really high-quality companies had gotten crazy cheap on fundamentals, meaning the present value of the cash they generate.
    • He underwrites high-multiple names like SpaceX as venture investments using a framework from business school: people, opportunity, context, deal.
    • On SpaceX, people and opportunity are one of one, the context is incredible, and Starlink plus near-monopoly low-cost launch make it strategically valuable. The complicated part is the deal, meaning the valuation. He invested via an SPV after Ron Baron’s nudge, and also invested in xAI.
    • He treats OpenAI, Anthropic, and Palantir as late-stage venture bets that have proven they can generate real revenue, and says OpenAI should do a better job communicating how it thinks about its enormous capital commitments.
    • Every CEO in America is asking how to use AI, how it applies to their business, and how it is a threat. It is top of mind and boards open every meeting with it.
    • He has not seen much enterprise AI success yet, citing a McKinsey study that 95 percent of enterprise initiatives fail and the rise of the forward deployed engineer as the hot role bridging promise and ROI. Pershing Square itself uses AI mainly for legal, compliance, and back-office work.
    • Founder-led companies have an advantage because founders have the authority and the economic stake to make radical calls, while the average S&P 500 CEO has a roughly three to four year tenure and is incentivized not to make mistakes.
    • He cites Mark Zuckerberg buying Instagram and WhatsApp as the kind of shocking-at-the-time calls that a founder with a track record can make.
    • Ben Graham’s enduring lesson is that a stock is an interest in a business, not a piece of paper, but Graham mostly invested in liquidations and cash-rich shells, and made most of his money on Geico.
    • Most of Buffett’s value at Berkshire came from owning insurance operations and focusing on the asset side of the balance sheet, not just the liability side.
    • Insurance is hard to copy because top investors do not go to work for insurers. Buffett owned half his company and was a great investor, which is why it worked.
    • Howard Hughes came out of the General Growth bankruptcy and owns master-planned cities like Summerlin, with 26,000 acres in the Las Vegas area, comparable to the Irvine Company that built roughly a hundred billion dollars of wealth for Donald Bren.
    • The plan is to reinvest the cash Howard Hughes generates into insurance, put policyholder float in short-term treasuries and the surplus in common stocks, and build a compounding machine over fifty years, buying it at roughly sixty cents on the dollar.
    • A company must earn a return above its cost of capital for the stock to rise. Elon Musk has kept his companies’ cost of capital extremely low, and a SpaceX IPO near a 1.75 trillion dollar valuation could be one of the lowest cost of equity capital transactions ever.
    • Markets have changed less because of Ackman and more because of figures like Ryan Cohen and GameStop, where a stock can trade well above its value on personality and an army of followers.
    • Higher valuations are reflexive: a rising stock price lowers cost of capital and creates currency to issue stock and acquire businesses, which is part of how Elon built Tesla.
    • There are three ways to invest with Pershing Square: the management company itself (a royalty on compounding assets with no capex), PSUS (a portfolio of best ideas trading at an 18 percent discount), and Howard Hughes (a bet on building the next Berkshire). A dollar invested 22 years ago became roughly 27 to 28 times net of fees.
    • Going direct on X, with 2.2 million followers, lets him communicate his vision and lower the friction for others to back his bets, even as his very long tweets have become a running meme.

    Detailed Summary

    From activist trades to permanent capital

    Ackman frames the evolution of his career as a steady move toward business quality. As a smaller, more liquid investor early on, he did not have to think as long-term. As Pershing Square became a bigger, more concentrated investor, durable growth became the dominant factor in every decision. He insists he is still as activist as ever, but a lot of that energy has shifted to X, where he can argue a position publicly rather than only inside a boardroom. The best investments, he notes, are the ones where you do not need to join the board and do anything at all.

    The Wendy’s and Tim Hortons origin story

    One of Pershing Square’s first investments was Wendy’s, which owned the Canadian coffee and donut chain Tim Hortons. The value of Tim Hortons alone was greater than the entire value of Wendy’s, so the idea was simple: buy Wendy’s, spin off Tim Hortons, and double the money. Ackman bought ten percent of the company and could not get the CEO to return a single call, so he had a contact at Blackstone, with Steve Schwarzman’s sign-off, write a fairness opinion on what Wendy’s would be worth after a spin-off, filed it publicly, and watched the spin-off happen six weeks later. The CEO eventually called back to thank him, having been fired but rewarded with a large exit package. Over the years that scrappy approach gave way to a reputation that now opens doors on its own.

    Why a long-term shareholder on the board matters

    The core problem of being a public company, in Ackman’s telling, is the short-term nature of markets and analysts, when a good business should be run in the context of years and even decades. A large, supportive shareholder on the board gives management a place to test ideas before exposing them to the public and a credible voice willing to back initiatives that hurt earnings for a few quarters. That is the value-add he believes a constructive activist can bring to a mature public company, as opposed to a startup where the best outcome is simply to own a great business and stay out of the way.

    AI and the rising risk of disruption

    For a concentrated, long-term investor, the most challenging task is judging the risk that two people from Stanford in a garage build something that destroys your thesis. Ackman argues that risk has climbed dramatically because this is the greatest era in history to build a company, with near-unlimited access to compute, capital, and talent. The paradox is that the conditions that make building easier also make incumbents more fragile, so the bulk of his research now centers on assessing how disruptible a business really is.

    What the market is missing

    Investors bring their attention to the new new thing, currently chips, semiconductors, and energy, which leaves high-quality companies behind. Ackman compares the moment to 2000, when Berkshire Hathaway traded at one of its lowest valuations ever because capital was chasing internet stocks. He sees an echo today in how Amazon, Meta, and Microsoft are treated as old-fashioned, and he considers them undervalued on fundamentals, where value is the present value of the cash a business generates over its life. His recent bullish call, like his March 2020 appearance, came because stocks of really high-quality companies had simply gotten too cheap.

    The SaaS question and AI-enabled software

    On the so-called SaaS apocalypse, Ackman says it is a company-by-company analysis. He worries more about something like Salesforce than about a low-priced platform. The companies most at risk are those that extracted near-monopolistic profits by charging a high annual price for a niche product, because AI lowers the barrier to replicating that functionality. A platform where the average customer pays a small amount per seat, like Microsoft, is far less exposed. The takeaway for any software company is to become as AI-enabled as it possibly can.

    Underwriting SpaceX, xAI, and the AI labs like venture

    For the highest-multiple private companies, Ackman uses a venture lens and a framework a business school professor taught him: people, opportunity, context, deal. SpaceX scores as one of one on people and opportunity, with an incredible context and a near-monopoly in low-cost launch through Starlink, which makes even Amazon a likely customer. The complicated variable is the deal, meaning the valuation, and he admits he has not done all the math, having invested through an SPV after Ron Baron encouraged him, along with a position in xAI. He treats OpenAI, Anthropic, and Palantir as late-stage venture bets that have proven real revenue, and argues OpenAI in particular should communicate more clearly how it justifies capital commitments that vastly exceed current revenue.

    Founder-led companies and the authority to act

    Ackman agrees that founder-led companies have a structural advantage in a fast-changing environment. The average S&P 500 CEO has a tenure of roughly three to four years, a small economic stake, and an incentive not to make a career-ending mistake. A founder is betting an entire life and reputation, has the authority of a major voting and economic position, and has usually made several hard, contrarian calls that turned out right. He points to Mark Zuckerberg’s acquisitions of Instagram and WhatsApp, which looked shocking at the time, as exactly the kind of decision a founder with a track record can make and a hired manager often cannot.

    Howard Hughes as Berkshire Hathaway 2.0

    Ackman points to a detailed financial history of Berkshire Hathaway showing that the vast majority of Buffett’s value creation came from owning insurance and focusing on the asset side of the balance sheet, not just the liability side. Insurance is hard to replicate because skilled investors join hedge funds rather than insurers, but Buffett owned half his company and was a great investor. Pershing Square is applying the same idea to Howard Hughes, a company created out of the General Growth bankruptcy that owns master-planned cities such as Summerlin, with 26,000 acres around Las Vegas, in the spirit of the Irvine Company that made Donald Bren roughly a hundred billion dollars. The plan is to reinvest the company’s cash into insurance, place policyholder float in short-term treasuries and the surplus in common stocks, avoid issuing stock the way Buffett did, and compound for fifty years, all bought at around sixty cents on the dollar.

    Cost of capital, reflexivity, and going direct

    A company only creates value when it earns above its cost of capital, which is why Howard Hughes, seen as a high-cost-of-capital real-estate business, has long traded at a discount, and why Ackman is repurposing its assets into a higher-returning model. He highlights how reflexive markets are: a higher stock price itself makes a company more valuable by lowering its cost of capital and creating currency to raise money and acquire businesses, a lever Elon Musk used to build Tesla. He attributes real market change less to himself and more to figures like Ryan Cohen and GameStop, where personality and a following can lift a stock far above its value. His own going-direct strategy on X, with 2.2 million followers and famously long posts, is the same mechanism applied to communicating a vision and lowering friction for investors. He closes by laying out three ways to invest with Pershing Square: the management company as a royalty on compounding assets, the PSUS portfolio trading at an 18 percent discount, and Howard Hughes as a bet on building the next Berkshire.

    Notable Quotes

    “The best investments are one where you don’t need to join the board and do anything.”

    Bill Ackman, on the kind of business he most wants to own

    “The probability of your being disrupted has gone up enormously.”

    Bill Ackman, on why assessing disruption risk now dominates his research

    “Valuation is like a tether on the market, right? When it gets too high, it’s like this rubber band that’s stretching and inevitably it bounces back.”

    Bill Ackman, on how prices revert at both extremes

    “People, opportunity, context, deal.”

    Bill Ackman, on the business school framework he uses to underwrite companies like SpaceX

    “Every CEO in America today is like, how do I use AI?”

    Bill Ackman, on AI as the top opportunity and threat in every boardroom

    “A closed mouth gathers no foot.”

    Bill Ackman, quoting the line a friend put next to his name in his high school yearbook

    “The increase in value of the company increases the value of the company, right? Because it lowers the cost of capital, it gives you more flexibility, gives you the ability to issue stock, raise capital, acquire other businesses.”

    Bill Ackman, on the reflexivity between stock price and corporate value

    “The company’s got like a $4 billion market cap and the goal is to build it into a trillion dollar thing over time compounding.”

    Bill Ackman, on his fifty-year plan for Howard Hughes

    Taken together, the conversation is a tour of how Ackman now thinks about quality, disruption, and compounding, and a preview of the Berkshire-style machine he wants to build out of Howard Hughes. Watch the full conversation here.

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