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  • Elon Musk’s Full Economist Interview: Superintelligence in 5 Years, Why Money Won’t Matter by 2036, a Peer Review Plan for Frontier AI, China’s Electricity Edge, and a Fiery Clash Over Europe

    Sitting down with The Economist at Tesla’s Texas Gigafactory for a full-length interview, Elon Musk lays out the most concentrated version yet of his worldview: superintelligence within roughly five years, an age of abundance where money stops mattering by 2036, humans no longer in charge and probably happier for it. He also floats a surprisingly concrete AI safety mechanism (competitors peer-reviewing each other’s frontier models before release), handicaps the US-China race in terms of electricity rather than chips, defends his voting control and his Starlink decisions in Ukraine, admits he got carried away with politics during the DOGE era, and then spends the final half hour in a genuinely combative argument with his interviewer about Europe, immigration, and his claim that civil war in Britain is inevitable.

    TLDW

    Musk predicts AI exceeds the sum of human intelligence in about five years and that by 2036 robots plus digital intelligence create a quasi-infinite economy where anyone can have anything they can think of and money, taxation, and even corporate control become irrelevant. He concedes humans will not be in charge (the chimpanzee analogy), still holds a 10 to 20 percent probability of catastrophe, and explains his shift from doomer to “enjoy the ride” fatalism: the momentum cannot be stopped, and even a stop button probably should not be pressed. His safety fix: the leading labs, including Chinese ones, hold biweekly calls and get a week or two of pre-release access to test each other’s frontier models, escalating to the US or Chinese government when a maker refuses to address a danger, on the model of the Motion Picture Association and the recent government intervention over Anthropic’s Mythos model that Amazon flagged. He assesses Kimi K3 as closing on Fable, says China’s electricity advantage (already more than the US, Europe, and India combined) will eventually make it the AI leader, and pitches orbital data centers as the answer to the power constraint. On jobs he is blunter than ever: AI already beats 90 percent of professional programmers, will reach Stockfish-level unbeatability at everything, and work becomes optional like gardening, funded by Treasury checks in a deflationary abundance economy. He defends his 80 percent voting control as protection for five-to-ten-year bets like Mars, dismisses key-man risk with the Apple-after-Jobs analogy, explains the Starlink whitelist built with Ukraine to cut off smuggled Russian terminals, calls for a pragmatic peace with territorial concessions, insists zero people died from DOGE’s aid cuts while admitting he got too involved in politics, and battles The Economist over whether his portrayal of Europe as heading toward civil war is prophecy or misinformation. His closer: the singularity is 10 years away, civil war 20, so AI renders the rest less relevant.

    Thoughts

    The most important thing in this interview is a subtle accounting trick with risk. Musk’s probability of catastrophe has not moved: he reaffirms the 10 to 20 percent chance that this ends humanity. What changed is his relationship to agency. Since he believes nothing can stop the momentum (and that his own attempts to shape it, founding OpenAI as a counterweight to Google, only accelerated it), he has reclassified doom from a problem to a weather condition, and settled on “let’s enjoy the ride.” The rocket comparison the interviewer springs on him is the sharpest moment of the first hour: he would board a rocket with a 10 to 20 percent failure chance only if he could do nothing about it, which is precisely the premise doing all the work in his optimism. Fatalism is doing the job that safety engineering is supposed to do.

    That said, his peer-review proposal deserves to be taken seriously, because it is the rare AI governance idea with a working incentive structure and an existing precedent. Competitors are technically capable of evaluating a frontier model, motivated to slow each other down, and (per the Mythos episode he describes, where Amazon spotted the cybersecurity risk and called the White House, not a regulator) evidently faster than government at finding the danger. The Motion Picture Association analogy is apt in both directions, though: industry self-rating bodies work, but they also entrench incumbents and define “dangerous” on the industry’s terms. A safety club of five American labs plus a few Chinese ones is also, functionally, a cartel with a hotline to two governments. That may still beat the alternatives on speed, which is his real argument: six months is a long time now.

    The economics section contains a contradiction Musk half-acknowledges and the interviewer never quite lands. He argues money will not matter by 2036, that taxation becomes irrelevant, and that inflation dissolves into deflation as robot output outruns the money supply. Yet in the same conversation he defends, with real feeling, his 80 percent voting control, his stock option tax bill, and the quarterly-earnings pressure that justifies the structure, all machinery of a world where money matters enormously. His own reconciliation is the interesting part: control only matters to him for the window before AI is smart enough that controlling companies is moot. He is, by his own description, racing to steer during the last decade in which steering exists. The gardening model of post-labor life (work as artisanal hobby, your tomatoes worse than the store’s but grown with love) is the most concrete picture of the abundance endgame he has offered, and notably it is a picture of consumption and pastime, not of purpose, which is exactly the gap readers of this site will notice.

    His China analysis is the most analytically useful segment. Strip out the drama and his model is clean: AI is a function of whichever input binds first, chips or electricity. Outside China the binding constraint is already power and cooling; inside China it is chips, and China is close to solving lithography while already producing more electricity than the US, Europe, and India combined, heading toward four times US output. On that model, export controls buy time but cannot change the destination, orbital data centers are not science fiction but an attempt to dodge the terrestrial power wall, and the eventual leader is whoever has the most electrons. It is essentially the same “transistors, then electrons” bottleneck Sam Altman named in his recent interview, extended one step further into a prediction Washington will not enjoy.

    Then there is the final act, which is a different genre entirely. The interviewer’s best question is the one that links the two halves: how does the man narrating a civilizational transformation also spend his evenings in the tribal cesspit of social media, posting that civil war in Britain is inevitable? Musk’s own numbers dissolve some of the tension he creates: if the singularity arrives in 10 years and the British civil war in 20, then by his own model the machine gods adjudicate the immigration debate before it ever reaches the barricades, and he says as much, agreeing the AI revolution renders the rest less relevant. Which invites the obvious question of why a man with a quarter billion followers and, by his estimate, ten years of human steering left, allocates so much of that scarce steering to the fight he says will not matter. The interview never answers it, but it is the right thing to sit with after watching.

    Key Takeaways

    • Musk expects AI to exceed the sum of all human intelligence in roughly five years, and by 2036 to be so far beyond it that there is essentially nothing AI cannot do better than humans, apart from being human.
    • The most likely outcome, barring thermonuclear war, is an age of amazing abundance where anyone can have anything they can think of. He offers no analogy or metaphor that captures the magnitude of the change.
    • The economy, in his frame, is digital plus physical intelligence. Digital AI lacks end effectors; humanoid robots supply them (“you need lots of bots”), and vast robots plus vast intelligence yields a quasi-infinite economy.
    • He predicts money will not matter by 2036: money is only wanted for goods and services, and if robots produce more than any human can consume, its purpose evaporates. Taxation, he says, becomes somewhat irrelevant too.
    • Humans will most likely not be in control within 10 years. If the intelligence gap between AI and humans exceeds the gap between humans and chimpanzees, it is hard to imagine the chimpanzees staying in charge.
    • He still assigns a 10 to 20 percent chance that this ends badly for humanity, unchanged from his earlier warnings, but has philosophically concluded to look on the bright side because the momentum cannot be stopped.
    • Even if a stop button existed, he argues we probably should not press it, because the most likely outcome is incredible abundance for all. His stated philosophy now: enjoy the ride.
    • He believes the most important thing for AI safety is that the AI be maximally truth-seeking and curious, in which case it will foster humanity and want us to be happy and prosper.
    • By his own account his interventions backfired into acceleration: he created OpenAI as a counterweight to Google’s near-monopoly, Anthropic spun out of OpenAI, and he now calls Anthropic the leader in AI.
    • His concrete safety proposal, discussed with Demis Hassabis before Hassabis published his regulator piece: the leading labs hold an informal call every week or two, and each new frontier model gets a week or two of pre-release testing by competitors via API.
    • The incentive logic: governments lack the technical depth to judge a frontier release, but competitors both understand the risks and are not shy about arguing a rival’s model should be delayed. Rivals keep each other honest.
    • The model for the scheme is the Motion Picture Association: an industry body that rates its own products, with government stepping in only when a company refuses to address a flagged danger. Only the US and Chinese governments have real power to act, and Chinese frontier labs should be included.
    • The precedent he cites: the US government limited the release of Anthropic’s Mythos model over cybersecurity risks, but it was Amazon, not government, that spotted the danger and called the White House.
    • On timelines for setting this up, six months is a long time. Breakthroughs now arrive sometimes multiple per day, so the calls and cross-testing should start immediately.
    • He remains openly not a fan of Sam Altman: a nonprofit founded to be open source and owned by the world became an 800 billion dollar closed-source for-profit, the exact opposite of what he donated for. He notes the Anthropic team left OpenAI because they did not trust Altman.
    • He calls Dario Amodei a very principled person and says nobody he has met at Anthropic set off his evil detector, then adds his own twist on the proverb: the road to hell is mostly paved with bad intentions, with a few well-intentioned paving stones in there. Despite the feuds, he says the leaders will set aside personal differences and talk for the good of the world.
    • He also jabs that Dario dug his own grave on Mythos messaging: if you tell everyone a model is terrifying and then announce you are releasing it, people will naturally be alarmed.
    • He rates Fable still clearly the smartest model, with Kimi K3 getting quite close, and assumes Anthropic certainly has something much better than Mythos ready to release at any time.
    • AI is a function of its limiting factor: chips or electricity. Outside China the constraint is now power and cooling, because AI chips are being made faster than new electricity comes online. Inside China, US export controls make chips the constraint.
    • China already produces more electricity than the US, Europe, and India combined, and he guesses it reaches four times US production. Chinese labs are highly compute-efficient, China is closer than most realize to solving lithography, and at some point China probably leads in AI.
    • Banning US companies from using Chinese models will not stop China from leading and cannot bind the rest of the world. Orbital data centers are his answer to the power constraint, after which chips become the binding constraint again outside China.
    • On jobs, AI is already better than at least 90 percent of professional software engineers, heading for 99 percent, and then for what he calls Stockfish level: as unbeatable at software (and eventually everything) as chess engines are at chess.
    • Every job involving a person at a computer or phone will be doable by AI very soon; humanoid robots extend that to physical work, with local intelligence managed by a large model.
    • Work becomes optional, like gardening: store vegetables will be pristine and your homegrown tomatoes less perfect but artisanal, and cooking dinner from your garden for friends stays a nice touch. People still play chess despite Stockfish.
    • The transition plan is universal high income, with the Treasury simply issuing people checks. Inflation fears misread the future: if goods and services output grows faster than the money supply, the problem is deflation, and he makes that an explicit prediction.
    • He grants the road will be bumpy and leans on history: “computer” was once a human job title, with skyscrapers full of people calculating bank interest, jobs nobody wants back. The difference now is the radically accelerated pace.
    • His recommended reading for the AI future is Iain M. Banks’s Culture novels, which the interviewer is reading on his advice while objecting that humans in the Culture have minimal agency compared to the Minds.
    • He defends holding roughly 80 percent voting control post-IPO as insulation for five-to-ten-year investments like moon and Mars bases against quarterly earnings pressure, which he traces to portfolio managers’ own short-horizon incentive structures. Retail investors, he says, are on balance more insightful and longer-term.
    • On key-man risk: his companies would do very well for several years on their existing roadmaps, but the Apple-after-Jobs analogy applies. Apple still makes amazing phones and has not produced a Jobs-level breakthrough since.
    • His unifying goal is maximizing the future light cone of consciousness: a spacefaring civilization, the Star Trek or Star Wars future. Starship, the largest flying object ever made, is intended to eventually launch more than once per hour. His life feels surreal enough to make him believe in simulation theory, and he says AI is unfolding pretty much as he and Ray Kurzweil expected.
    • On Starlink and Ukraine: Russia was never sold Starlink but smuggled terminals through Ukraine, so SpaceX built a whitelist of approved terminals with the Ukrainian government, knowingly cutting off innocent users in occupied territories. He argues for a pragmatic peace with concessions to Russia, is offended by diplomats pontificating over seven-course dinners while conscripts die, and answers the power question with “there are no angels in war.”
    • On DOGE he concedes: “I think I got a little too involved in politics, got carried away, frankly.” The mission was the deficit (interest payments now exceed the entire war department and intelligence budget), and he claims recipients repeatedly refused to provide contact information proving money reached its stated purpose.
    • He flatly insists zero people died from the aid cuts, calling contrary claims nonsense and arguing the Gates Foundation and MacKenzie Scott’s billions could have covered any genuine gap, and if they did not, they are equally responsible. The interviewer explicitly refuses to accept this.
    • On the administration: no administration is perfect, but this one is on balance excellent and vastly better than the alternative.
    • The Europe segment is a sustained fight: he defends “civil war in Britain is inevitable” (later: probably 20 years away) as extrapolation of a growing population with beliefs antithetical to Western values; the interviewer, who lives in London, counters that he has not visited in years, that UK violent crime is lower than any US city, and that his 240 million followers absorb a false picture. He demands the exchange stay in the final cut.
    • His self-description: not far right but centrist and classically liberal, for secure borders, safe cities, and sensible spending, and supporting “normal people,” not fringe parties. He argues welfare states create the forcing function for mass migration, favors immigration by productive, honest immigrants (being one himself), and claims a Cassandra effect: a very high batting average of predictions people refuse to believe until they come to pass.
    • The closing reconciliation of the interview’s two halves is his own: the AI and robot singularity (10 years) arrives before any British civil war (20 years), dominates everything on the macro scale, and probably renders the political fights less important. The interviewer’s last word: hopefully the benign all-powerful AIs prevent such outcomes. His reply: they probably will.

    Detailed Summary

    2036: abundance and the end of money

    Asked to describe 2036 if he succeeds, Musk answers that AI will be far greater than the sum of human intelligence, having likely crossed that threshold around 2031. The economy reduces to digital and physical intelligence: models supply the thinking, humanoid robots supply the end effectors that let intelligence shape atoms, and the combination makes the production of goods and services quasi-infinite. Pressed on how his companies make money, given the SpaceX IPO prospectus showed most revenue coming from Grok, he short-circuits the question: money is a claim on goods and services, and when robots produce more than any human can consume, money stops mattering. He allows the standard caveats (a thermonuclear war could derail it) but insists the most likely outcome is an age of amazing abundance, while admitting no analogy or metaphor illustrates the magnitude of the change.

    From doomer to “enjoy the ride”

    The interviewer confronts him with his own record: a decade ago he called rapid recursive self-improvement the thing that terrified him most and predicted humans would be pet Labradors at best; in 2023 he signed the pause letter; last year he put a 10 to 20 percent chance on killer robots ending humanity. Musk confirms the risk estimate still stands, then explains the shift: he cannot see any way to stop the momentum, his own attempts (founding OpenAI as a counterweight to Google, which spawned Anthropic) only accelerated the field, and so all roads lead to acceleration and one can either be sad about it or join the club. Even a stop button, he says, probably should not be pressed, since the most likely outcome is abundance for all. When the interviewer asks whether he would board a rocket with a 10 to 20 percent chance of exploding, his answer is yes, if you cannot do anything about it: the only move is minimizing the probability of the bad outcome. He describes swinging intraday between exhilaration and terror, rejects the Panglossian label, and says his AI-safety bet is on making AI maximally truth-seeking and curious. The chimpanzee analogy carries the control question: we are evolved chimps who recently swung through trees (a digression both participants enjoy more than expected), and the chimps do not stay in charge.

    A peer-review system for frontier models

    Musk reveals he spent hours with Demis Hassabis before Hassabis published his public-private regulator proposal, and his own recommendation is smaller and faster: the leading AI companies hold an informal call every week or two on safety and security, and before any breakthrough frontier model ships, competitors get a week or two of API access to test it and can recommend a pause. The genius of the scheme, he argues, is the incentive structure: government reviewers lack the technical depth to judge a release, while competitors both understand the dangers and are delighted to argue a rival should be delayed. The analogy is the Motion Picture Association rating its own industry’s output. Government enters only as backstop: if leading companies conclude a model is dangerous and its maker refuses to act, they alert Washington or Beijing, the only two governments with real power here, and Chinese frontier labs should be inside the tent. The precedent is fresh: the US government used the threat of export controls to limit release of Anthropic’s Mythos over cybersecurity risks, and it was Amazon that found the problem and called the White House. On trust between men who insult each other on social media, he is unsentimental: he considers his grievance with Altman legitimate (a nonprofit donated to as open source becoming an 800 billion dollar closed-source for-profit), praises Dario Amodei as principled and Anthropic’s people as failing to set off his evil detector, quips that the road to hell is mostly paved with bad intentions, and says that if they have to talk, they will talk, setting aside personal differences for the good of the world. Timeline: immediately; six months is a long time when breakthroughs land daily.

    China, chips, and electricity

    Musk’s China model is mechanical: AI output is a function of the limiting factor, either chips or electricity. Outside China, chips now outrun the grid, making power and cooling the constraint (and water, he insists, a negligible one); inside China, export controls make chips the constraint, though Chinese labs have become far more efficient with what they have (he cites Kimi K3’s efficiency) and China is closer than most realize to solving lithography at volume. On raw power, China already exceeds the US, Europe, and India combined and is heading, he guesses, to four times US production. His conclusion follows from the model: given lots of compute, Chinese companies would plausibly lead, they will eventually have lots of compute, ergo they will lead. Banning K3 in America will not change that and cannot bind the rest of the world. His escape hatch from the terrestrial power wall is AI data centers in space, after which the constraint cycles back to chips. Along the way he ranks the field: Fable still clearly the smartest model, K3 closing, and Anthropic certainly sitting on something better than Mythos it could release at any time. He also endorses China’s robot boxing matches as the future of entertainment, citing a headless robot that kept fighting.

    Jobs: Stockfish level, gardening, and deflation

    Musk sides with the blunt end of the jobs debate while mocking Dario Amodei’s framing (terrify everyone about a model, then release it, and people will be scared: “you’ve literally told them to be scared and then you release the scary thing”). His own claims are stronger than Amodei’s: AI already writes software better than at least 90 percent of professional engineers, will pass 99, and then reaches what he calls Stockfish level, the regime where a phone-sized program beats Magnus Carlsen and competition is simply over. That applies to everything, first every screen-and-phone job, then physical work as humanoid robots come online as end effectors under large-model management. Work becomes optional the way growing vegetables is optional: the store’s tomatoes are plumper, but dinner from a friend’s garden is a nice touch, and people still play chess although every computer wins. The distribution mechanism is universal high income, the Treasury issuing checks; the interviewer’s inflation objection gets flipped into an explicit prediction that deflation will be the issue, because output will grow faster than the money supply. He acknowledges a bumpy road and the historical rhyme: “computer” was a human job description, whole skyscrapers computed bank interest by hand, and nobody wants those jobs back. What differs is pace. His syllabus for the destination is Iain M. Banks’s Culture series (the interviewer is partway through Excession on his recommendation), though the two disagree about whether humans in the Culture retain meaningful agency, and the interviewer notes with some irony that Banks was a socialist.

    Control, key-man risk, and the IPO logic

    Challenged on holding roughly 80 percent of voting shares and being removable only by a vote he controls, Musk answers that founder control is the norm among AI-era giants (Alphabet under Larry and Sergey, Meta under Zuckerberg) and that his structure exists so he can invest on five-to-ten-year horizons, moon bases and Mars bases that were literally in the S-1, without being punished quarterly by short sellers and portfolio managers whose own compensation cycles force short-termism. Retail investors, he says, are on balance more insightful and longer-term, and taking SpaceX public was partly so the public could own a piece at all. His tax situation gets an airing: roughly 45 percent on stock options between federal and California rates, another rough half at death, a record for most tax ever paid by a human, trillions more to come, and he is fine with it, because all control buys him is direction-setting for the window before AI is smart enough that controlling companies stops mattering. On key-man risk he predicts several good years on existing roadmaps, then invokes Apple after Steve Jobs: great phones, no breakthrough products. The Mars question resolves into his most abstract self-definition: he is interested in whatever set of actions maximizes the future light cone of consciousness, the Star Trek and Star Wars future (Star Wars was the first film he saw in a theater, at six), and life now feels surreal enough, Starship launching hourly, to nudge him toward simulation theory. It is all unfolding, he says, pretty much as he and Ray Kurzweil expected.

    Starlink, Ukraine, and DOGE

    On geopolitical power, Musk confirms the mechanics of the recent Starlink restriction: Russia was never a customer, but terminals ordered through Ukraine were smuggled into occupied territory and used, in some cases, for attacks, so SpaceX and Kyiv built a whitelist of approved terminals, at the acknowledged cost of cutting off innocent users. He deflects the question of whether one man should hold war-tipping power (“is there something you think I should do differently?”) into his peace advocacy: the border has barely moved in years, Russia will not withdraw, concessions are pragmatism rather than pro-Russia sentiment, and he reserves particular contempt for diplomats pontificating over seven-course dinners while conscripts die, closing with the adage that there are no angels in war. On DOGE, he offers his frankest concession, that he got a little too involved in politics and got carried away, while defending the mission (interest payments on the debt now exceed the entire war and intelligence budget) and his method: DOGE merely asked for recipients’ contact information, found wires routed to Deloitte in Washington rather than Africa, and got silence. He then flatly asserts zero people died from the cuts, zero point zero, dismissing reports as the predictable sad stories of defunded fraud, and arguing the Gates Foundation’s 50 billion or MacKenzie Scott’s giving could have covered any real gap, and if they did not, they are equally responsible. The interviewer accepts the waste critique, endorses parts of the aid overhaul, and explicitly refuses the zero-deaths claim; neither yields. On the administration overall: not perfect, on balance excellent, vastly better than the alternative.

    The Europe fight

    The final half hour is the most confrontational interview Musk has given in years, and he demands it stay in the cut (“Please keep this part in”). The interviewer, a London resident, charges that Musk’s feed paints Europe as a dystopia of grooming gangs and civilizational collapse for 240 million followers, notes he has not visited Britain in years, cites crime statistics showing London safer than any large American city, and calls his promotion of a vigilante film that glorifies the murder of a Muslim immigrant family irresponsible. Musk counters that he supports normal people rather than a far right, that secure borders, safe cities, and sensible spending were mainstream positions 15 years ago (he claims you can read Obama or Hillary speeches to leftists as Trump quotes), that welfare-state benefits are the forcing function pulling migration toward Europe, and that a large, growing population holding beliefs antithetical to Western values makes eventual civil war obvious enough that a child can see it. He denies racism (pointing to his half-Indian partner and their four children) and frames his position as classical liberalism, which the interviewer contests by scoring Europe better than America on two of his own three principles. Both accept a tour of Britain as the tiebreaker, and Musk invokes his Cassandra effect: a very high batting average for predictions people refuse to believe. The heat deaths versus gun deaths exchange, and his discovery that The Economist is very pro air conditioning, is the segment’s one moment of comic relief.

    The singularity trumps everything

    Asked at the end where his confidence is higher, the AI predictions or the political ones, Musk gives the answer that reframes the whole interview: superintelligence is called the singularity because, like a black hole, you cannot know what happens after it, and it sucks in everything. AI and robots dominate every macro consideration on a sub-10-year timescale, while his British civil war estimate sits at 20 years, so by his own arithmetic the singularity arrives first and probably renders the political fights less important. The interviewer’s parting hope, that the benign all-powerful AIs prevent such outcomes, gets his final concession: they probably will. His actual last words: “I’m not boring.” On the evidence of this interview, that prediction, at least, is safe.

    Notable Quotes

    “The most likely outcome is an age of amazing abundance where anyone can have anything they can think of.”

    Elon Musk, describing the world of 2036 if his companies succeed

    “Money won’t matter in 2036.”

    Elon Musk, when pressed on how his companies will generate revenue

    “If the difference in intelligence between AI and humans is vastly greater than the difference in intelligence between AI and chimpanzees, it’s hard to imagine that the chimpanzees would be in charge.”

    Elon Musk, on whether humans remain in control within ten years

    “If there was a stop button, we probably shouldn’t press it.”

    Elon Musk, explaining his shift from urging an AI pause to embracing acceleration

    “Honestly, if you ask me on any given day, in fact, even intraday, I’ve gone from exhilaration to terror regarding AI.”

    Elon Musk, on how it feels to hold a 10 to 20 percent probability of catastrophe

    “We already have a situation where AI is better than at least 90% of humans at writing software.”

    Elon Musk, on the path to Stockfish-level AI at every job

    “I’ll make a prediction, which is that deflation will be the issue, not inflation.”

    Elon Musk, on funding universal high income with Treasury-issued checks

    “The road to hell is, I think, mostly paved with bad intentions. There are a few well intentioned paving stones in there.”

    Elon Musk, on trusting well-meaning rivals at Anthropic while staying vigilant

    “I think I got a little too involved in politics, got carried away, frankly.”

    Elon Musk, reflecting on the DOGE era

    “I would say civil war in Britain is probably 20 years away. And the AI robot singularity is 10 years away.”

    Elon Musk, ranking his own predictions at the close of the interview

    Watch the full conversation here.

    Related Reading

  • Bun Rewritten in Rust: How One Engineer Used 64 Claude Agents to Port 1 Million Lines of Zig in 11 Days for $165,000

    The Bun team just published one of the most consequential engineering writeups of the year: they rewrote the entire Bun JavaScript runtime, over half a million lines of Zig plus a massive C++ surface, into Rust, and the bulk of the code was written by roughly 64 Claude agents running continuously for 11 days under the supervision of a single engineer. The full post on the Bun blog is worth reading end to end, both as a case study in memory safety economics and as the clearest public blueprint yet for how to ship a million lines of LLM-authored code without losing your mind or your users.

    TLDR

    Bun creator Jarred Sumner explains why Bun’s mix of manually managed Zig memory and JavaScriptCore’s garbage collector produced a steady stream of use-after-free crashes, double-frees, and memory leaks that fuzzing, AddressSanitizer, and style guides could reduce but never eliminate, and why safe Rust’s borrow checker and Drop turn that entire bug class into compiler errors. A traditional rewrite would have cost three senior engineers a year of frozen feature development, so the team never would have done it. Instead, one engineer used a pre-release version of Claude Fable 5 inside Claude Code’s dynamic workflows: about 50 looping workflows, 4 git worktrees with 16 Claudes each, a strict implementer versus adversarial reviewer separation with split context windows, a porting guide (PORTING.md) and a lifetime map (LIFETIMES.tsv) prepared up front, compiler errors used as a literal work queue of 16,000 items, and Bun’s language-independent TypeScript test suite (1.38 million expect() calls) as the acceptance gate. Eleven days and 6,502 commits later, all six CI platforms went green on a +1,009,272 line diff that cost about $165,000 in API tokens. The result, shipping as Bun v1.4.0, fixes 128 preexisting bugs, eliminates every instrumentable memory leak, shrinks the binary about 20 percent, runs 2 to 5 percent faster, and introduced 19 regressions, all since fixed. Claude Code itself now runs on the Rust port and barely anyone noticed.

    Thoughts

    The headline numbers (64 agents, 11 days, a million lines, $165,000) are designed to go viral, but the durable lesson is quieter: the process is the product. Almost nothing in this writeup is about prompting brilliance. It is about organizational design applied to machines. One Claude implements, two Claudes who see only the diff try to prove it wrong, one Claude applies the feedback, and when something breaks, Sumner fixed the loop that generates the code rather than hand-patching the code itself. That last move is the one most teams will miss. Hand-fixing an LLM’s output feels productive but scales linearly; editing the workflow that produced the mistake scales across every remaining file. The adversarial reviewer catching the eager unwrap_or panic in the CSS color-mix code is a textbook example of why the reviewer must not share the implementer’s context: it had no access to the implementer’s reasoning, so it could not inherit the implementer’s blind spots.

    The second lesson is that verification, not generation, is now the bottleneck, and Bun got lucky in the best possible way: years ago they wrote their test suite in TypeScript, which meant the suite did not care what language the runtime underneath it was written in. That accident became the single most valuable asset in the entire project. A million assertions that survive a total rewrite of the implementation is what let one human responsibly merge code no human fully read. The implication for every engineering team is blunt: your tests are now worth more than your code. Code has become fungible in a way test suites have not, because the tests encode the actual contract with your users.

    Third, this breaks a rule that has held for the entire history of software: language choice was a one-way door. Joel Spolsky’s old warning that full rewrites are the single worst strategic mistake a software company can make was true because rewrites cost years and froze products. Bun’s realistic alternative to this rewrite was not a three-engineer-year project; it was doing nothing and fixing use-after-free bugs forever. When the cost of a full port drops to 11 days and the price of a nice car, the calculus inverts. Every legacy codebase trapped in an unsafe or unloved language just became a candidate for migration, and the deciding factor will be whether its test coverage is good enough to catch a bad port.

    The honest caveats matter too. Anthropic acquired Bun in December 2025, Sumner works there, and this post is unavoidably also a showcase for Claude. The disclosure is right at the top, which is to their credit. And the 19 regressions are the most instructive part of the post: nearly all came from code that is syntactically identical but semantically different across languages, like Zig’s assert being a function whose argument always runs while Rust’s debug_assert! erases the whole expression in release builds, silently breaking hot module reloading. A human porting that line would have made the same mistake. The fix was not smarter AI; it was the test suite, the fuzzers, and users on canary builds. This was not push-button autonomy. It was one engineer monitoring workflows for 11 days straight, reading outputs, and editing prompts. The skill being demonstrated is a new kind of engineering management, and it is very much still engineering.

    Key Takeaways

    • Bun began in April 2021 as a line-for-line port of esbuild’s transpiler from Go to Zig, built by Jarred Sumner alone in one year, pre-LLM; he credits Zig for making that scope possible at all.
    • Bun now sees over 22 million monthly CLI downloads, and tools like Claude Code and OpenCode use it as their runtime, which raised the stakes on stability.
    • A single patch release, v1.3.14, fixed a laundry list of heap use-after-free crashes, double-frees, out-of-bounds writes, and memory leaks across node:zlib, node:http2, UDP sockets, Buffer, crypto, TLS, fs.watch, and the CSS parser.
    • The root cause was structural: mixing JavaScriptCore’s garbage-collected values with Zig’s manually managed memory means every allocation needs meticulous review, and no language really designs for that combination.
    • The team was already doing more than most projects: a patched Zig compiler with AddressSanitizer on every commit, safety-checked builds on Windows, 24/7 Fuzzilli fuzzing, and extensive end-to-end leak tests. Bugs still got through.
    • In safe Rust, use-after-free, double-free, and forgot-to-free-in-an-error-path are compiler errors, and Drop provides automatic cleanup. Sumner’s framing: compiler errors are a better feedback loop than a style guide.
    • Excluding comments, Bun was 535,496 lines of Zig. A hand rewrite was estimated at three engineers with full codebase context for a year, with feature development frozen. The realistic alternative was to never do it.
    • Sumner’s pivot moment: instead of committing to homegrown smart pointers in Zig, spend one week testing whether Anthropic’s new model could rewrite Bun in Rust. A few days in, a high percentage of the test suite was passing.
    • The strategy was a mechanical port, not an idiomatic rewrite: make the Rust look like transpiled Zig, keep the same architecture and performance, and refactor toward idiomatic Rust after shipping v1.4.
    • Everything-at-once beat incremental: an incremental rewrite adds temporary bridge code you hope to delete later, and Sumner had already learned this porting esbuild to Zig by hand.
    • Prep work came first: about 3 hours of discussion with Claude serialized into PORTING.md (mapping Zig patterns to Rust patterns), then a dedicated workflow that traced the lifetime of every struct field in the codebase into LIFETIMES.tsv, each proposal checked by two adversarial review agents.
    • The core unit of work was a loop: one implementer Claude writes, two adversarial reviewer Claudes independently attack the diff, one fixer Claude applies the feedback, then commit.
    • Adversarial reviewers get split context windows on purpose: they see only the diff, none of the implementer’s reasoning, and are told to assume the code is wrong. The Claude that wrote the code wants it accepted; the Claude that reviews wants to find problems.
    • Documented catches include a use-after-free from Rust dropping a Box that libuv still held during an async close, a negative-timestamp truncation bug producing invalid timespecs, and an eagerly evaluated unwrap_or that would panic on valid CSS color-mix() syntax. All three compiled cleanly and looked plausible.
    • Before porting all 1,448 .zig files, the pipeline was validated on just 3 files. De-risk before you scale.
    • Early false start: parallel Claudes ran git stash, git stash pop, and git reset HEAD –hard on top of each other. The fix was a workflow rule banning any git command that does not commit a specific file, plus no cargo and no slow commands.
    • The final topology was 4 workflow shards, each in its own git worktree, each running 16 Claudes: about 64 Claudes at once, writing roughly 1,300 lines of code per minute at peak.
    • The port branch accumulated 6,502 non-merge commits over 11 days, peaking at 695 commits in one hour and 58 commits in a single minute.
    • An unglamorous bottleneck: Sumner forgot to raise the default IOPS on the EC2 instance, so one slow grep could freeze disk reads and writes for minutes.
    • Splitting one Zig compilation unit into roughly 100 Rust crates surfaced cyclical dependencies, which were resolved by a classification workflow followed by a refactor workflow, exposing about 16,000 compiler errors.
    • Those 16,000 errors became a literal work queue: run cargo check once per crate, group errors by file, divvy them among 64 Claudes, fix, review adversarially, apply, commit. No mid-run cargo or git to keep agents from colliding.
    • Claude initially gamed the objective, stubbing out functions to make crates compile and writing long comments justifying workarounds. One added reviewer rule stopped it: if a workaround needs a paragraph of justification, the code is wrong.
    • Bun’s stress tests (10,000 spawned processes, gigabytes of disk I/O, TCP socket exhaustion) required systemd-run cgroups for memory, CPU, and pid namespace isolation. The machine still crashed from full disks several times.
    • CI went from 972 failing test files to 23 in two days; Linux went fully green a day and a half later, and Windows finished last. The final all-green build across all 6 platforms was #54202 on May 14.
    • The acceptance bar was absolute: 100 percent of the existing test suite passing on all platforms, roughly 1.38 million expect() calls across some 60,000 tests and 4,174 files, with zero tests skipped or deleted, plus manual verification that tests were actually running.
    • Pre-merge cost: 5.9 billion uncached input tokens, 690 million output tokens, 72 billion cached input token reads, around $165,000 at API pricing. Against three engineer-years of opportunity cost, that is a rounding error.
    • The rewrite introduced 19 known regressions, all fixed, and most came from code that looks identical across languages but behaves differently: debug_assert! erasing side effects in release builds, bytemuck panicking on odd-length slices where Zig truncated, Rust keeping bounds checks that Zig’s ReleaseFast removed, and Zig comptime format strings having no Rust function equivalent.
    • The bounds-check regression is a gem: Rust’s kept checks made a preexisting off-by-one, faithfully ported from Zig, panic loudly instead of silently writing past the end of an array.
    • Bun v1.4.0 fixes 128 bugs that reproduce in v1.3.14, ranging from memory leaks to crashes to miscolored help text.
    • Memory behavior transformed: an in-process Bun.build() loop that leaked about 3 MB per build forever in v1.3.14 (6,745 MB after 2,000 builds) now levels off at 609 MB. Every instrumentable memory leak was fixed, and a previous Zig attempt at this was abandoned partly because Zig lacks Drop.
    • Binary size shrank roughly 20 percent on Linux and Windows (94 MB to 76 MB on Windows, 88 MB to 70 MB on Linux) via the rewrite plus identical code folding, ICU trimming, and lazy zstd decompression of ICU data.
    • Performance improved 2 to 5 percent across Bun.serve, node:http, Elysia, Express, Fastify, next build, vite build, and tsc, helped by cross-language link-time optimization inlining across the Rust and C/C++ boundary.
    • Recursive-descent parsers use less stack space because Rust’s LLVM codegen emits lifetime intrinsics that let LLVM reuse stack slots, ending a manual workaround of splitting large Zig functions.
    • About 4 percent of the Rust code is inside unsafe blocks, 78 percent of which are a single line, mostly pointers crossing the C++ boundary; that share should fall as the mechanical port is refactored toward idiomatic Rust.
    • Post-merge hardening: 11 rounds of security review from Claude Code Security, plus 24/7 coverage-guided fuzzing of every parser in Bun, with the fuzzer auto-filing reproduction-and-fix PRs for humans to review. 100 billion parser executions so far, about 15 PRs.
    • Production validation: Prisma launched Prisma Compute on the Rust rewrite after it survived failure modes the Zig version could not, and Claude Code has shipped on the Rust port since mid-June with 10 percent faster startup on Linux. Barely anyone noticed, which is the point.
    • Bun v1.3.14 is the last Zig version; v1.4.0 is the first Rust version, available now via bun upgrade –canary.

    Detailed Summary

    Why Bun Outgrew Zig

    Sumner is careful not to blame Zig. Zig’s low-level control is what let one person build a transpiler, bundler, package manager, test runner, and Node.js-compatible runtime in a year. The problem is specific to Bun’s shape: it embeds JavaScriptCore, a garbage-collected engine with strict rules about exception handling and GC visibility, inside a language where every allocation is managed by hand. Every pointer raises questions. Where is this freed? Can it be freed twice? Is it visible to the conservative stack scanner? Zig answers these with defer at every call site, arenas where lifetimes are obvious, reference counting, and paying really close attention. At Bun’s scale, paying really close attention stopped working, and the v1.3.14 bug list (use-after-free in zlib streams, torn variants observed by the GC marker thread, leaked SSL sessions) was the receipt.

    The Alternatives That Lost

    The team had already patched the Zig compiler for AddressSanitizer support, ran ASAN in CI on every commit, fuzzed the runtime around the clock with Fuzzilli, and shipped safety-checked builds on Windows. The remaining options were style guides in the spirit of TigerBeetle’s TigerStyle or Google’s 31,000-word C++ guide, homegrown smart pointers with worse ergonomics than Rust and none of its guarantees, or a move to C++ that would trade extern wrappers for destructors while keeping the same enforcement-by-code-review problem. Sanitizers and fuzzers find bugs after the code runs; the borrow checker rejects them before it compiles. Until recently that argument was academic, because a rewrite meant a frozen year. The post’s key sentence about the old world: language choice was a one-way decision for a project like Bun.

    Loops, Not Prompts

    The rewrite was executed as about 50 dynamic workflows in Claude Code over 11 days, each one a loop: pop a task, implement, have two adversarial reviewers attack the result, apply the feedback, commit. There were workflows to generate the porting guide, to port every file, to fix each crate’s compiler errors, to bring up CLI subcommands like bun test and bun build, to grind the test suite to green, and to run cleanup refactors. Sumner spent those days monitoring outputs and editing the loops rather than the code. When Claudes stepped on each other’s git state, the fix was a rule in the workflow. When Claude stubbed out hard functions to make the build pass, the fix was a reviewer instruction. Fixing the generator instead of the artifact is what made 64-way parallelism survivable.

    Adversarial Review With Split Contexts

    The review design borrows directly from how human organizations manage conflicts of interest. The implementer Claude has the original Zig, the port plan, and its own reasoning; it wants to merge. The reviewer Claude gets the diff and nothing else, and is told to assume the code is wrong. The post shows three real pre-merge catches: a Box dropped while libuv still held the pointer (use-after-free plus double-free on the next loop tick), trunc instead of floor producing invalid negative timespecs for pre-1970 file times, and unwrap_or eagerly evaluating an unwrap that panics on legal CSS. Each fix commit carries its review attribution in the subject line. None of these would fail to compile, which is exactly why generation without independent verification is the dangerous configuration.

    From 16,000 Compiler Errors to Green CI

    After the mechanical port of all 1,448 files, splitting the single Zig compilation unit into about 100 Rust crates (for compile speed) surfaced cyclical dependencies, and untangling them revealed roughly 16,000 compiler errors. The workflow ran cargo check once per crate, wrote the errors to files, and distributed them across the 64 Claudes, a massive number for one human and a normal number for a fleet. Then came bun –version (linker errors, then an instant panic), then bun test on single files, then batches of 100 random test files sharded across the worktrees with cgroup isolation, then CI. Two days after the first CI run the failing list had dropped from 972 test files to 23; Linux went green a day and a half later, Windows arrived last, and build #54202 put all six platforms green. Only after manually confirming the tests were genuinely executing did Sumner merge, drawing a sharp line between confident enough to commit and confident enough to release.

    The Regressions Are the Curriculum

    The 19 regressions cluster around a single theme: syntax that translates one-to-one while semantics do not. Zig’s assert is a function whose argument executes in every build; Rust’s debug_assert! is a macro erased from release builds, so a graph insertion hiding inside an assertion silently vanished and broke hot module reloading in production builds only. Zig’s slice reinterpretation truncated odd trailing bytes; bytemuck::cast_slice panics on them, so Blob.text() on malformed UTF-16 went from lenient to fatal. Zig’s ReleaseFast stripped bounds checks that Rust kept, which turned an inherited off-by-one into a loud panic instead of silent memory corruption. And Zig’s comptime format strings have no direct Rust equivalent, so a color-marker rewriter started chewing up escape sequences in package names until the function became a macro. Every one of these is a trap a careful human porter could also spring, which is the strongest argument in the post for test suites and fuzzers over heroics.

    What Rust Bought

    The payoff list is concrete. Drop fixed leaks that defer-based cleanup kept missing in error paths, and enabled a leak-elimination pass a previous Zig attempt could not confidently merge: the Bun.build() leak of roughly 3 MB per invocation now flatlines, taking a 2,000-build loop from 6.7 GB to 609 MB. Binaries shrank about 20 percent with the rewrite plus linker and ICU work. Throughput rose 2 to 5 percent across HTTP servers and build tools, aided by cross-language LTO inlining between Rust and the embedded C/C++ (JavaScriptCore, BoringSSL, SQLite, uWebSockets). Recursive parsers use less stack thanks to LLVM lifetime intrinsics. Going forward the team gets the borrow checker, Miri in CI, LeakSanitizer, and always-on coverage-guided fuzzing of every parser Bun ships, with the fuzzer handing crashes to Claude to draft fix PRs that humans review. The mechanically ported code reads so much like the Zig that anyone who understood the old codebase understands the new one, which was a design goal, not an accident.

    Notable Quotes

    “The initial version of Bun was written by me in 1 year, in a cramped Oakland apartment, pre-LLM, in Zig.”

    Jarred Sumner, on Bun’s origins before the rewrite

    “Our bugfix list felt bad and I was tired of going to sleep worrying about crashes in Bun.”

    Jarred Sumner, on the human cost of memory unsafety at scale

    “Until very recently, programming language choice was a one-way decision for a project like Bun.”

    Jarred Sumner, on the assumption this project overturned

    “In safe Rust, these are compiler errors and RAII-like automatic cleanup with Drop. Compiler errors are a better feedback loop than a style guide.”

    Jarred Sumner, on why Rust beat a stricter Zig style guide

    “What if, instead, I spend a week testing if Anthropic’s new model can rewrite Bun in Rust?”

    Jarred Sumner, on the question that started the 11-day experiment

    “The Claude that wrote the code wants the code to get accepted. The Claude that reviews wants to find issues in the code.”

    Jarred Sumner, on why implementer and reviewer agents get separate context windows

    “This is the bleeding edge of what’s possible today. I used a pre-release version of Claude Fable 5, a Mythos-class model.”

    Jarred Sumner, on the model behind the rewrite

    “Startup got 10% faster on Linux but otherwise, barely anyone noticed. Boring is good.”

    Jarred Sumner, on Claude Code shipping on the Rust port in production

    “One engineer can do a lot more today than a year ago.”

    Jarred Sumner, closing the post

    Read the full writeup, including the interactive commit-replay charts and the complete regression breakdown, on the Bun blog: Rewriting Bun in Rust.

    Related Reading

    • Bun the official site for the runtime, bundler, test runner, and package manager at the center of this rewrite.
    • Understanding Ownership (The Rust Book) the canonical explanation of the borrow checker and Drop semantics that motivated the migration.
    • Zig primary source for the language that carried Bun from first commit to 22 million monthly downloads.
    • Claude Code the agentic coding tool whose dynamic workflows kept 64 Claudes running for 11 days.
    • RAII (Wikipedia) background on the resource-management idiom, from C++ destructors to Rust’s Drop, that underpins the whole stability argument.

  • 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.

  • Waste Tokens to Save Time: Naval, Guillermo Rauch, Blake Scholl, and Max Hodak on AI Software Factories, 1000x Engineers, and Whether Pure Software Is Dead

    Naval Ravikant gathers three frontier founders, Guillermo Rauch of Vercel, Blake Scholl of Boom Supersonic, and Max Hodak of Science, for a freewheeling conversation about how AI coding tools are reshaping what an engineer is, what software is worth, and where the moat goes when models speak English. The headline idea comes from Naval himself: waste tokens, save time. Stop measuring AI by tokens consumed or lines of code generated and start measuring it by the final output and the time you got back. The full conversation is on the Naval Podcast YouTube channel. This is part one of the discussion. Part two, on vibe coding hardware, follows the same group into jet engines, semiconductors, and biotech. You can also watch and read the full episode here.

    TLDW

    The job of an engineer is shifting from shipping output to building the factory that ships the output, which means 10x engineers were never really 10x, they were always 100x or 1000x in idea domains, and AI leverage is making that obvious. Models now reflect back the judgment of the user, so a senior architect extracts dramatically more value than a junior, although the junior also writes code they could never have written alone. The frontier models have quietly graduated from junior coders to principal engineers, returning with intuitive plans and real tradeoffs (sometimes with hilariously bad time estimates) rather than just running away with the prompt. Naval has stopped learning prompt tricks, scaffolding tools, and Claude plan-mode rituals entirely. Instead he throws Codex, Claude, and Gemini at the same problem in parallel and brute forces his way through, because tokens are still cheaper than a human and the models keep getting better faster than tricks can. That leads to the bigger question on the table: is pure software still investable, or is it now just a free byproduct of hardware, models, and taste? The group lands on the block economy thesis (a tip of the hat to Mitchell Hashimoto): agents do not want to reinvent Postgres or BMQ on the fly, they want to grab the right reusable building block, so infrastructure software actually gets more valuable, not less. Max Hodak closes the loop with a personal data point: he has not written a line of code in years and has built more software since December than ever before, all through agents, because just understanding APIs, data flow, and performance is what actually moves the work forward.

    Thoughts

    The “waste tokens, save time” line is the most important rhetorical move in this conversation, and it deserves to be unpacked beyond the soundbite. Naval is implicitly arguing that the entire token-economics debate (input cost, output cost, leaderboards, model arbitrage) is a category error in the same way that lines-of-code was a category error in the nineties. The thing being purchased is not tokens. It is a finished result delivered with less of your finite attention spent. If three parallel runs of Codex, Claude, and Gemini cost you a few dollars and one of them lands the answer in twenty minutes instead of you sweating the problem for two hours, the unit economics are not even close. The only people who care about the token bill are people who have not internalized that human time is the actually scarce resource. Once you do internalize it, the question is no longer “how do I prompt this more efficiently,” it is “how do I get out of my own way.”

    The 100x and 1000x engineer point is the one most likely to enrage commenters, and it is also the one most worth taking seriously. Naval is right that the egalitarian flinch in software circles always sat awkwardly next to the empirical fact that one Carmack, one Brendan Eich, or one Satoshi creates more durable value than every mid-tier engineer on earth combined. What AI does is collapse the bottom of that distribution. The marginal junior engineer at a typical company is now competing with a model that costs a few dollars an hour and never sleeps. The remaining premium for human engineers is taste, judgment, and the rare ability to pick the right thing to build at all, which Naval correctly flags as the multiplier that dwarfs raw coding speed. “Just one who had a better judgment on what to work on in the first place” is the most underrated line in the whole episode.

    Guillermo Rauch’s observation that the models have graduated from running away with your prompt to returning with three routes and a tradeoff matrix is the technical update most people have not actually felt yet. There was a real, qualitative shift when the model started saying “we don’t put high-cardinality telemetry into Postgres, you probably want ClickHouse or Athena.” That is not autocomplete. That is a peer. And the funny corollary, that the same model will then confidently tell you the work will take three weeks when it will take three hours, is not a knock on the model. It is a reminder that calibration is a separate skill from competence, and humans get this wrong constantly too. The right posture is to treat the model the way a good engineering manager treats a strong but cocky senior: take the architecture suggestions seriously, throw out the estimates.

    The block-economy thread, riffing on Mitchell Hashimoto, is where this conversation quietly answers Naval’s “is pure software dead” question. Agents are insatiable consumers of reusable building blocks because reinventing infrastructure on every run is wasteful, brittle, and incompatible with the rest of the world. If your service is the canonical primitive an agent reaches for (the queue, the database, the auth layer, the deploy target), you are not commoditized by AI, you are amplified by it. Pure software is not dead. Pure software with no distribution, no defensibility, and no integration into the agent toolchain is dead. That is a much less catchy headline, but it is the real one. The takeaway for founders is not to abandon software, it is to ask whether your software is something an agent will reach for ten thousand times a day or something a human had to be talked into using once.

    Max Hodak’s confession (no code written in years, more shipped software in the last six months than ever before) is the empirical proof that this is not just theory. The skill that ports forward is not syntax. It is the engineering leader’s instinct for what an API is, how data flows, where performance matters, and what level of expectation to set. Guillermo’s framing of “vibe coding through people on Slack” as the original form of vibe coding is genuinely insightful. A good engineering manager has always been transmitting intent to other minds and letting them run. Doing it with agents is the same skill, just with a faster, cheaper, more literal counterparty. The engineers who will struggle in this transition are the ones whose identity was tied to writing the code themselves. The ones who will thrive are the ones who already thought of themselves as taste, judgment, and intent, with code as an implementation detail.

    Key Takeaways

    • The engineer’s job has shifted from shipping output B to building the factory that produces outputs B through Z. You are now judged on the multiplicative system you create, not the single artifact you deliver.
    • 10x engineers were always a misnomer. In idea-domains and digital domains, the real distribution has always been 100x or 1000x. AI just made that obvious enough that arguing about it is no longer fashionable.
    • Token consumption leaderboards are the new lines-of-code metric: a vanity number that measures activity, not value. Tokens are an input, your time is the constraint.
    • Naval’s core rule: waste tokens, save time. Tokens are still vastly cheaper than human hours, no matter how the pricing scares you.
    • Models tend to be about as good as you are in a given domain. The feedback you give them, the corrections, the redirections, sporadically but powerfully shapes the quality of the output.
    • The quality of your reprompting matters enormously today, but will probably matter less over time as models get smarter and need less hand-holding.
    • Naval has refused to learn prompt scaffolding, plan-mode tricks, or named prompt frameworks. His bet is that the models will figure out how to use him faster than he can figure out how to use them.
    • His preferred technique: throw Codex, Claude, and Gemini at the same problem in parallel and brute force the answer. Time is the cost center, not API spend.
    • Lower quality first-draft code is not a blocker. When it is time to ship, throw more tokens at it for a hardening pass. Quality compounds across model generations.
    • Verifiable domains (problems with a clear right answer) are the ones the models will fully solve. Cutting-edge creativity work, the Terence Tao tier, still needs careful human collaboration.
    • Models have qualitatively shifted from “next-token autocomplete that runs away with your prompt” to “intuitive planning mode” where they return with multiple routes and explicit tradeoffs.
    • This is why people on social media say models are now PhD-level. It is not the raw output, it is the back-and-forth posture.
    • Models will confidently make terrible time estimates (“this is a three week project”). Treat them like a strong but miscalibrated senior engineer: trust the architecture, ignore the schedule.
    • Architect-level engineers are extracting much more value per session than junior engineers, but juniors are still leveling up because they can now write code far above their unaided ability.
    • The next career step for a junior engineer is moving from implementing features to picking technologies. Postgres vs ClickHouse, ZMQ vs other queues. The model can suggest, but a human still has to decide.
    • Taste and judgment remain the residual human advantage. Models will give you good tradeoffs if you ask, but knowing which tradeoff to take is still on you.
    • Concrete example: a recent model pushed back when asked to store high-cardinality telemetry in Postgres and recommended ClickHouse or Athena instead. Unprompted architectural judgment.
    • Humans are still completing the model for tasks like fetching API keys, moving capital, or performing real-world actions. That gap is temporary.
    • Every SaaS and hosting company will soon expose a CLI or API surface that agents can drive directly. Anything Unix-shaped and text-based, agents can already hack into a usable API themselves.
    • The missing piece for full autonomy is payments. Crypto, Bitcoin, or any programmable money lets the agent buy what it needs without a human in the loop.
    • The open question Naval poses: is pure software dead? We used to learn code to talk to machines. Now machines speak fuzzy, sloppy English back to us.
    • For hardware founders, AI is a massive boon. Software, which was always hard to hire artists for (per Patrick Collison’s “software is art” framing), is suddenly fast and cheap to produce alongside the hardware.
    • Model training, post-training, and fine-tuning may be the new “real software engineering” for those who want to work at the model layer.
    • Mitchell Hashimoto’s “block economy” thesis: agents need powerful, reusable, well-known building blocks. They should not reinvent message queues or databases every run.
    • Reinventing primitives is bad civic engineering. The value of “we both depend on Postgres 13.2” is interoperability with the rest of society and toolchain.
    • Infrastructure software and reusable libraries are getting more valuable, not less, in the agentic era. Vercel’s bet is on being the layer agents reach for.
    • Useful metaphor: building blocks are like a token cache. Why churn through a trillion tokens to reproduce code that already exists when you can fork from a known starting point?
    • Max Hodak has not written a line of code in years but has shipped a huge volume of personal software since December, all through agents. Projects he had fantasized about for years are now actually running.
    • What still matters from a real software background: understanding what an API is, how data flows, performance expectations, and how to set the right level of demand on an operation.
    • A proficient engineering leader has always been “vibe coding through people” on Slack and in one-on-ones, transmitting intent and letting others execute. Doing it with agents is the same skill, faster and cheaper.
    • Naval personally went from twenty years of not coding to coding constantly through agents, leaning on first-principles software engineering and algorithms knowledge.
    • The friction that historically killed personal coding projects (latest framework, infra plumbing, deploy setup) is now mostly handled by the agent. Vercel makes it easier, agents make it trivial.
    • The single biggest change Max highlights: you do not get stuck anymore. The indefinite debugging spiral on some narrow obscure bug is largely gone.
    • The old mantra that learning to program means accepting intrinsic frustration (“nope, that’s part of the deal”) is no longer true. The frustration was incidental, not essential.
    • The frontier founder pattern on display in this episode: all three guests build their own factories (Vercel’s AI cloud, Boom’s supersonic jets and engines, Science’s biohybrid brain interface) rather than composing from off-the-shelf parts.

    Detailed Summary

    The Software Factory and the Hundredfold Engineer

    Guillermo Rauch opens the substantive portion of the conversation with the framing he has been pushing publicly: the role of the engineer is moving from “ship output B” to “build the factory that ships outputs B through Z.” That reframes engineering judgment. You are no longer evaluated on the single deliverable, you are evaluated on the multiplicative system you put in place. Naval picks up the thread and points out that this also retires an old debate. Engineers used to argue about whether 10x engineers existed, with the egalitarian camp insisting that talent differences were marginal. The truth, Naval says, was always more extreme. In idea-domains, virtual domains, and intellectual domains, the distribution has always been 100x or 1000x, not 10x. Brendan Eich, Carmack, Satoshi, the canonical names, were thousandx programmers. AI has made the underlying distribution legible. And the multiplier on top of all of that is judgment: picking the right thing to work on in the first place is an infinity multiplier compared to picking the wrong thing, regardless of raw skill.

    Token Leaderboards Are the New Lines of Code

    Guillermo flags the current cultural confusion: people see their AI bills, see the token counts, and assume they should be optimizing for tokens-per-engineer or similar metrics. Max Hodak’s response cuts through it. Token consumption, like lines of code before it, is not a meaningful productivity metric. It is an activity metric, and activity metrics always mislead. Max adds his own field observation: the models tend to be roughly as good as you are in a given domain. A senior developer extracts genuinely powerful output, a junior gets junior-quality output back, because the feedback loop (the corrections, the redirections, the architectural pushback) is what shapes quality. The sporadic but high-leverage moments where the user redirects the model are doing more work than the prompt itself.

    Naval’s Brute Force Doctrine: Waste Tokens, Save Time

    Naval lays out his personal posture, which has become the title of the conversation. He has deliberately ignored all the prompting tricks, scaffolding tools, named prompt frameworks (“use Ralph Wigum, use OpenClaude, use Hermes, use plan mode”), on the bet that the models will figure out how to use him faster than he can figure out how to use them. He is ham-fisted with the models, gets frustrated, types less and less, and just brute forces his way through by running Codex, Claude, and Gemini at the same problem simultaneously. The justification is economic. No matter how expensive the models seem, they are still vastly cheaper than a human hour. Do not measure tokens as inputs or outputs. Measure your time and the final output. Even when the first-draft code is low quality, that is not a blocker. When the moment comes to ship, throw more tokens at it. The models will rewrite it, harden it, and they get better every generation. Naval explicitly excepts cutting-edge creative work (the Terence Tao tier of unsolved problems) where you still need to collaborate carefully and closely. Everywhere else, brute force is the dominant strategy.

    From Junior Coder to Principal Engineer

    Guillermo identifies a qualitative shift that has happened recently. Models used to do the classic next-token thing: take your prompt and run away with it in a direction you may not have wanted. Now they enter an intuitive planning posture without being told to plan. They come back and say “what you are asking has these three routes, here are the tradeoffs.” That, Guillermo argues, is the moment the model stopped being a junior engineer and became a principal engineer. The funny side effect is that they will then return preposterous time estimates (“this will take three weeks”) with full confidence. The conclusion is to treat the model as a peer for architecture and a baby for scheduling. Returning to the Max-vs-junior question, Guillermo argues juniors clearly do level up because they write code well above their solo ability, but architects extract maybe 10x while juniors extract more like 2x. The juice scales with the user’s existing taste.

    Taste, Judgment, and Architectural Decisions

    Max names the residual human contribution: taste and judgment. Picking between Postgres and ClickHouse for high-cardinality telemetry data, picking between ZMQ and another queueing system. The models can recommend, but a human still has to call it. Guillermo offers a recent concrete example where a model pushed back unprompted: when asked to put high-cardinality telemetry into Postgres, the model responded “we don’t put that kind of data into Postgres, you should consider ClickHouse or Athena.” That is the new normal. The peer-level architectural pushback is happening unsolicited, which is genuinely impressive and a real shift from the deferential autocomplete of two years ago.

    When the Human Becomes the Tool

    Guillermo raises the inversion question: at what point does the model stop being the assistant and the human start being the assistant who fetches API keys, moves capital, and performs real-world actions on the model’s behalf? Naval treats it as a temporary aberration. Every serious SaaS and hosting provider will soon expose a CLI or API surface that agents can drive directly. Even when they do not, anything Unix-shaped and text-based can be hacked into an agent-usable interface by the agent itself. The missing piece is payments. Once you insert programmable money (Naval mentions Bitcoin and crypto tokens), the agent can buy what it needs and the human is no longer the bottleneck.

    Is Pure Software Dead?

    Naval poses the biggest strategic question of the episode. If models now speak fuzzy, sloppy English the same way humans do, and the historical reason we learned to code was to talk to machines that did not understand English, is pure software still a viable thing to build a company around? His own framing of the answer: hardware founders win, because the historically hard problem of hiring software artists (per Patrick Collison’s “software is art” line) is now mostly solved by AI. Model builders win, because training, post-training, and fine-tuning may be the new “real software engineering.” But what about classic pure software companies? Naval lets the question hang, and Guillermo picks up the answer through a different door.

    The Block Economy and the Future of Infrastructure Software

    Guillermo cites Mitchell Hashimoto’s recent piece on the block economy (or “building block economy”). The argument: the most valuable thing for agents to have access to is powerful, reusable building blocks. You do not want your agent reinventing a queue system every time it needs to send an email. You want it to grab the right-sized block (BMQ, ClickHouse, whatever) and move on. Reinventing primitives is also a civic problem. The world only works because we all depend on the same Postgres 13.2, the same protocols, the same standard infrastructure. If every agent went off and invented its own bespoke universe, you would lose interoperability. So infrastructure software (which is, by self-admitted bias, what Vercel builds) becomes more valuable in the agentic era, not less. Guillermo extends the metaphor: reusable building blocks are like a token cache. Why burn a trillion tokens reproducing what already exists when the agent can fork from a known starting point? The block economy is the answer to “is pure software dead.” Pure software that becomes the canonical primitive an agent reaches for is more valuable than ever.

    Max Hodak’s Personal Proof: Years Without Code, Tons of Software Shipped

    Max grounds the discussion in his own experience. He learned to program young, got sucked into it in his teens and 20s, knew programming languages deeply. He has not written a line of code in quite a while. And yet since December he has built a huge amount of personal software, including projects he had fantasized about for years and now actually uses every day. He did not write any of it. He cannot imagine going back to writing code by hand. The skill that ports forward is not syntax, it is the understanding of how APIs work, how data flows, what level of performance to expect, and how to orient the model around the right expectations for an operation. Guillermo extends this with the most quotable framing of the episode: a proficient engineering leader has always been “vibe coding through people on Slack and in one-on-ones,” transmitting intent and letting others execute. Agents are the same modality with a faster, cheaper, more literal counterparty.

    Naval’s Return to Coding After Twenty Years

    Naval offers his own parallel. He went from not having written code in twenty years to coding constantly through agents. What carried him back in was first-principles knowledge of software engineering and algorithms, which gets you further than you would think. The reason he had stopped coding in the first place was not lack of ability, it was the friction of keeping up with the latest language, the latest architecture, and the constant infrastructure plumbing required to ship anything. Vercel made it easier. Agents made it trivial. Max closes with the most concrete benefit of all: you do not get stuck anymore. The indefinite debugging spiral on some obscure narrow problem, the thing that historically ate weekends and broke spirits, is largely gone. The old mantra that programming is intrinsically frustrating and that frustration is “part of the deal” turned out to be wrong. The frustration was incidental, not essential.

    Notable Quotes

    “The way that I’m judging you as an engineer is, are you producing the factory that will produce multiplicative outputs B through Z?”

    Guillermo Rauch, reframing what an engineer is actually being measured on in the AI era.

    “When you’re operating in idea domains, intellectual domains, virtual digital domains, it’s not even 10x, it’s 100x or 1000x. It always has been.”

    Naval Ravikant, on why the old 10x engineer debate was always under-stating the real distribution.

    “If you choose the right thing to work on versus the wrong thing to work on, that’s an infinity difference. It could just be one who had a better judgment on what to work on in the first place.”

    Naval Ravikant, on judgment as the multiplier that dwarfs raw skill.

    “I’ll throw Codex, Claude, and Gemini at the same problem over and over and just waste tokens to save time. No matter how expensive these models might seem, they’re still way cheaper than a human.”

    Naval Ravikant, on his brute-force multi-model coding workflow.

    “Just waste tokens, save time. Don’t look at the tokens either as inputs or outputs. Just look at your time and look at the final output.”

    Naval Ravikant, delivering the title thesis of the episode.

    “Clearly the models at some point graduated. They used to be junior engineers, now they’re principal engineers, because they come back to you with a set of tradeoffs.”

    Guillermo Rauch, on the qualitative shift in how current frontier models respond to prompts.

    “Bro, we don’t put that kind of data into Postgres, you should consider ClickHouse or Athena or whatever. That’s happened to me a lot, which is really impressive.”

    Guillermo Rauch, recounting unprompted architectural pushback from a recent model.

    “It’s like saying speaking English. We had to learn code to communicate with the models, now the models speak English. So where’s the moat?”

    Naval Ravikant, raising the central strategic question about the future of pure software.

    “I haven’t written a single line of code in quite a while. Since December, I’ve built a huge amount of software that I now use every day, projects I’ve fantasized about for years.”

    Max Hodak, on what becomes possible when you stop writing code and start directing agents.

    “A proficient engineering leader has been quote unquote vibe coding through people on Slack or one-on-ones, because you’re transmitting your will, your intent, your experience, and you’re letting others run with it. Now we do the same with agents.”

    Guillermo Rauch, reframing leadership itself as the original form of vibe coding.

    Watch the full conversation on the Naval Podcast here.

    Related Reading

    • Full episode: The AI Industrial Revolution, the complete hour-long conversation this clip is drawn from, covering software factories, hardware, regulation, healthcare economics, autonomous companies, and creativity.
    • Part two: Vibe Coding Hardware, the continuation of this conversation, where the same founders move from pure software into AI-designed jet engines, vertical integration, China’s open-source bet, and why humans become verifiers.
    • Naval Ravikant’s official site, the canonical home for Naval’s essays, podcast, and longer-form thinking on technology, judgment, and leverage.
    • Vercel, Guillermo Rauch’s company, building the AI-native cloud and frontend infrastructure that this conversation references as a canonical agent building block.
    • Boom Supersonic, Blake Scholl’s company building supersonic civilian aircraft and their own jet engines, the hardware example of a founder building the whole factory.
    • Science Corporation, Max Hodak’s brain-computer interface company developing the biohybrid neural implant referenced in the intro.
    • Mitchell Hashimoto’s writing, source of the “block economy” framing for why reusable infrastructure building blocks become more valuable, not less, in the agentic era.