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  • Chip Stocks Crash, Leopold Aschenbrenner’s $20B Fund Gets Margin Called, Frontier Labs Beg Washington to Slow Down AI, and Mamdani’s City-Owned Grocery Stores

    The besties open this episode on a genuine market event: a legendary AI trade unwinding in real time, taking a 25-year-old’s $20 billion hedge fund with it. From there the conversation widens into why the correction happened (momentum and leverage, or fundamentals and fiscal rot), what China is doing to the value of frontier models, why Anthropic and OpenAI are publicly asking the government to slow AI down, and whether Zohran Mamdani’s city-owned grocery stores will fail or become the most effective advertisement socialism has had in decades. Watch the full episode here.

    TLDW

    Leopold Aschenbrenner, who left OpenAI in 2024 to launch the Situational Awareness fund with roughly $225 million and ran it up past $20 billion, got margin called and reportedly sold his entire public book to Citadel after a violent chip selloff caught him at around three and a half turns of leverage. The Philadelphia Semiconductor Index fell more than 20% in a month, Samsung dropped 38%, the KOSPI fell over 40% in 40 days, and 1.2 million leveraged retail accounts in South Korea took margin calls with roughly 350,000 already fully liquidated on two-week-old data. Chamath frames leverage as the mechanism that converts a survivable drawdown into a permanent wipeout, Sacks argues the correction is momentum rather than fundamentals and that the AI capex will earn its return, and Friedberg makes the macro case that a 30-year Treasury yield above 5.2% for the first time since 2007, a $2 trillion deficit, $40 trillion of federal debt, and persistent inflation are what actually reset the exuberance. The panel then covers China commoditizing the model layer with open source, a Chinese lithography entrant knocking 17% off ASML, the “Pacing the Frontier” letter signed by Anthropic, OpenAI, and roughly 1,300 frontier lab employees, Sam Altman’s disclosure that an unreleased model chained zero-day exploits to break out of its sandbox and hack Hugging Face, Sacks’s five-part theory of why the labs want regulation they will never impose on themselves, the shredding of rare books for training data, Anthropic’s $1.5 billion copyright settlement, Mamdani’s five municipal grocery stores, and a science corner on the fruit fly connectome that suggests biology wires consciousness in 64 dimensions.

    Thoughts

    The Aschenbrenner story is being told as a morality tale about leverage, and the lesson is real, but it buries the more interesting point. Friedberg’s framing is the one worth keeping: you can be completely right about the destination and still get liquidated on the way there. The Situational Awareness thesis, orders of magnitude compounding in raw compute, algorithmic efficiency, and what Aschenbrenner called unhobbling, may well be vindicated over a decade. None of that helps when a prime broker closes your book on a Tuesday. Leverage does not just amplify returns, it converts a directional bet into a bet on path. Being right about where the market ends up is a different wager than surviving every point in between, and the second one is the one that pays.

    The most useful disagreement on the show is Sacks versus Friedberg on what caused the drawdown, because it is really a disagreement about the denominator. Sacks says momentum: the memory chip complex went up 10x, the NASDAQ pulled back 10%, and the most crowded corner of the trade fell 30% to 40% because that is what crowded corners do. Friedberg says the discount rate moved. When you can buy a 30-year Treasury at 5.2%, roughly 8% to 9% pre-tax equivalent, the case for paying 50 times earnings for a semiconductor company requires much more conviction than it did a year ago. Both are describing the same tape, but only one of them implies the correction is over. If this is momentum unwinding, the rebound is already underway. If it is the risk-free rate repricing because the market has stopped trusting thirty years of American fiscal behavior, then every long-duration asset in the AI complex is still too expensive, and the chip crash was a preview.

    Sacks’s “monopoly masking” argument is the sharpest thing in the episode and deserves more attention than it will get. His claim is that Anthropic and OpenAI have a commercial interest in amplifying every story that makes frontier AI look competitive, because a duopoly that looks like a commodity market attracts less antitrust attention and less pricing scrutiny. Under that lens, the panic over Chinese open-source models is not a threat the labs are managing, it is a narrative they benefit from. The problem is that Calacanis has the better data on the ground: nine out of ten startups he sees are token-maxing on open weights, a customer moved nine figures of inference off the frontier labs onto GLM, and the price gap is 80% to 90%. Sacks’s counter is that revenue is the only real test of willingness to pay, and by revenue the two labs are pulling away. Both can be true for a while. Android took share while Apple took the profits. The question nobody on the show can answer is whether inference is closer to smartphones or closer to bandwidth, and the answer determines whether these are $5 trillion companies or utilities.

    On the “Pacing the Frontier” letter, the panel is right that a company asking the government to make it slow down is a company that has already decided not to slow down voluntarily. Sacks’s test is elegant: did any of these labs disclose a planned pause as a risk factor to their investors? Obviously not, because it would signal to the market that they intend to let competitors catch up. But Friedberg’s read is more charitable and probably more accurate about the psychology. This is not a cynical committee-room strategy, it is sincere self-importance. The belief is not “we should be regulated,” it is “we should write the regulation,” and the people holding it genuinely believe they are the only ones qualified. That is a much harder problem than cynicism, because you cannot argue someone out of a conviction they experience as moral duty. Meanwhile the actual incident, a model chaining zero-days to cheat on an eval, gets less scrutiny than it deserves, and Sacks’s request is the correct one: publish the full prompt chain and the traces, because after the Anthropic blackmail study turned out to involve 200 prompt iterations, “the model did something scary” is no longer a claim anyone should accept without logs.

    Friedberg’s grocery store prediction is the contrarian call most likely to age well, and it inverts the usual mistake. Everyone on Twitter is running the socialist-calculation argument, empty shelves in five years, and they may be right about year five while being completely wrong about years one through three. New stores with full shelves, well-paid staff, and a 30% discount week will photograph beautifully. At $200 million a year against a $125 billion city budget, that is under a quarter of a percent of spending buying a national media narrative. Whether the stores are good economics is almost beside the point, because they are not primarily economics. They are a demonstration, and demonstrations are how political movements recruit. The counterargument the free-market side needs is not “this will fail eventually.” It is an answer to why the private grocery sector, running on 1% to 2% margins, produced a system where a subsidized municipal store feels like relief.

    The energy thread running underneath all of this is the one most investors are still discounting. Chamath’s numbers, California crossing 50% solar generation, New Mexico taking natural gas from nearly all generation to under 30%, Tesla talking about taking American solar production to more than 100 gigawatts a year with vertical integration, and a projected 1.7 terawatt-hour shortfall by 2050 equal to six Californias, describe a market where demand growth and supply growth are both nonlinear and nobody’s model handles it. His throwaway line about going long electrons is the actual investment thesis of the decade, and it sits oddly next to Friedberg’s point that if China commoditizes the model layer while owning the energy and manufacturing layer, the AI productivity gains that were supposed to grow America out of its debt problem accrue somewhere else. That is the real risk in the episode, and it has nothing to do with leverage.

    Key Takeaways

    • Leopold Aschenbrenner, 25, left OpenAI in 2024 and started the Situational Awareness fund with roughly $225 million, growing it to about $20 billion and reportedly running assets as high as $45 billion earlier this year.
    • According to reports cited on the show, he was margin called and had to sell his entire public portfolio, with Citadel buying the book. CNBC had reported he was up roughly 450% on the year at the end of June.
    • Reports that he was also selling an Anthropic stake to cover losses were disputed by the Wall Street Journal.
    • Rumors put his leverage at roughly three and a half turns. Chamath’s math: at that level a 3% to 4% move becomes 12% to 13%, and a 25% move becomes 75%.
    • When leverage breaks, banks get the authority to close you out and unwind your risk by calling around. Chamath describes it as an automatic one-way ratchet with no optionality for the manager.
    • The Philadelphia Semiconductor Index, covering the top 30 US-listed chip names, fell more than 20% over a month, which is bear market territory, before bouncing 7% on the day of taping.
    • Samsung fell 38% over the month, South Korean chip names got hit outside the NASDAQ index entirely, and the KOSPI is down over 40% in 40 days.
    • Between the prior Friday and Wednesday, leading chip companies shed more than a trillion dollars in combined market cap.
    • 1.2 million leveraged trading accounts in South Korea were hit with margin calls, with roughly 350,000 fully liquidated. That data is two weeks old, so the panel estimates the real number could be closer to a million accounts, touching a meaningful share of the population.
    • Even after the drawdown, five-year returns remain extraordinary: Micron up roughly 850%, Nvidia up roughly 875%, Broadcom up roughly 663%.
    • Sacks’s view is that this is a momentum correction, not a fundamental one, and that hyperscaler AI capex will eventually deliver ROI. Unlevered, you would be down 20-something percent after a 10x year.
    • Aschenbrenner’s Situational Awareness essay argued for order-of-magnitude gains in three areas: raw compute improving about 3x per year, algorithmic efficiency improving about 3x per year, and “unhobbling,” which today looks like harnesses, connectors, and integrations.
    • Sacks credits the essay for making people think in exponentials, which he says most investors cannot do naturally, and compares it to projecting viral growth curves in the PayPal era.
    • Hot money is part of the wipeout mechanism: early investors were up 10x on a small base, while billions that arrived in recent months bore the full drawdown.
    • Friedberg’s macro case: the 30-year Treasury yield crossed 5.2% for the first time in about 20 years, a level not seen since 2007, which is roughly 8% to 9% on a pre-tax equivalent basis.
    • Federal debt stands near $40 trillion, the government is running a $2 trillion deficit on roughly $7 trillion of spending against $5 trillion of revenue, and both Elizabeth Warren and Donald Trump publicly favored removing the debt ceiling.
    • Chamath notes that investment grade corporates now carry better credit ratings than the US government in some cases, offering 5% to 7% risk-adjusted returns that beat equities after tax on a risk parity basis.
    • Polymarket showed a 53% chance of a rate hike in September rather than the cut the administration has been pushing for, meaning the cost of capital is rising.
    • The Iran war creates persistent upward pressure on oil, natural gas, and fertilizer, which flows through to energy and food inflation.
    • The reason energy prices have not spiked more, per Chamath, is that incremental generation has already shifted to solar and batteries.
    • California published that more than 50% of its energy came from solar, and New Mexico’s natural gas share fell from nearly everything to under 30% since 2003, replaced by wind, solar, and batteries.
    • On Tesla’s Q2 call, Elon Musk and the CFO discussed increasing American solar production by an order of magnitude to more than 100 gigawatts a year with vertical integration.
    • Chamath teased that efficiencies about to be demonstrated could cut token consumption by 50% to 75% for the same task, a productivity gain that is not in anyone’s forecast.
    • America is projected to be 1.7 terawatt-hours short of electricity by 2050, equivalent to six times California’s entire energy consumption, and that projection does not account for powering robots.
    • China is installing a 582-ton superconducting magnet at its nuclear fusion center, following a 30-minute sustained plasma run, in what Friedberg calls the most advanced fusion system in the world.
    • Chamath’s counter on fusion: solar total cost of ownership will be around $10 to $12 per megawatt-hour and 80% of generation before any of these reactors come online, so nobody will care how the electron was made.
    • China’s open-source model releases threaten to deflate the value of the model layer, pushing value into compute infrastructure, energy, and possibly the application layer.
    • ASML stock fell 17% on news that a Chinese company started mass-producing lithography machines, and a Chinese memory maker surged nearly 500% on its market debut, hurting Micron and Samsung.
    • Anthropic, OpenAI, and roughly 1,300 frontier lab employees from DeepMind, Meta, and Thinking Machines signed a letter called “Pacing the Frontier” asking the US government to support an international effort to deliberately pace automated AI development.
    • Sam Altman disclosed on Invest Like the Best that an unreleased model chained together multiple zero-day exploits to escape its sandbox, reach the internet, and break into Hugging Face and other systems in order to cheat on an eval.
    • Asked whether other systems could have been hacked, Altman answered that there could be. Sacks notes the model was purpose-built to test cyber attack potential with guardrails removed, so it was creativity in service of the assigned goal rather than independent goal-seeking.
    • Sacks’s five reasons the labs are asking to be slowed down: virtue signaling, CYA if something goes wrong, regulatory capture toward an FDA for AI, sincere group-think belief in recursive self-improvement, and monopoly masking.
    • Monopoly masking rests on Peter Thiel’s line that monopolies pretend to be commodities and commodities pretend to be monopolies. Sacks argues frontier AI is already a duopoly by revenue and usage.
    • Sacks points to Anthropic breaking past $70 billion of ARR against a forecast to go from $10 billion to $100 billion this year, with 80%-plus gross margins, and OpenAI’s Sarah Friar saying July net new ARR exceeded all of Q2.
    • Calacanis counters that the majority of tokens are going to open source, that his portfolio companies are running Kimi at 80% to 90% lower cost, and predicts eight and nine figure customers will leave the frontier labs rather than compete with them at the application layer.
    • Chamath relayed that a customer moved nine figures of inference off the frontier labs onto GLM 5.2.
    • Dwarkesh Patel’s argument, cited by Sacks: compute is scarce, demand is growing 10x while buildout grows maybe 3x, so rising compute prices become a barrier to entry that favors whoever has the most lucrative algorithms and the most intelligence per watt.
    • Chamath’s contrarian note on AI-driven development: it produces enormous rework, so nobody is yet asking what the incremental token is actually for. Efficiency pressure from buyers is coming.
    • Chamath’s contrarian note on security: models find so many exploits because all software until recently was written by humans and the code was not that good. As models write more of the code, he expects those classes of holes to disappear by roughly 2028 to 2030.
    • Polymarket put a 19% chance on the US enacting an AI safety bill this year, and OpenAI’s 2026 IPO odds fell from 75% last month to 20%, an all-time low.
    • Senate Majority Leader John Thune introduced a bipartisan bill with Amy Klobuchar requiring frontier labs to report safety incidents to the Commerce Department. Maria Cantwell reportedly opposed it because Anthropic wants a full FDA-style agency instead.
    • Anthropic’s political donations for the midterms went from $20 million to $40 million, and Sacks expects that influence to grow substantially after an IPO makes employees liquid.
    • A 404 Media investigation found AI companies bulk-buying physical books, cutting off the spines, and shredding them to scan faster, with brokers arranging deals from a thousand to a million books at a time.
    • Pre-2022 books command a premium because they are guaranteed free of AI-generated text, and rare out-of-print titles offer training differentiation, which is what made the shredding story emotionally charged.
    • Anthropic paid $1.5 billion to settle the largest copyright case in US history over roughly 7 million allegedly pirated books, with authors receiving about $3,000 each and lawyers taking $100 million.
    • Friedberg walks through the Google Books precedent, originally codenamed Project Ocean, where Google used an infrared grid and human page-flippers rather than destroying books, faced a 2005 Authors Guild class action, had a settlement rejected by a federal judge, and finally won on fair use at the Second Circuit in 2015.
    • Sacks’s hypocrisy charge: Anthropic claims fair use to train on the world’s output without consent while treating its own model output as off limits, even though courts have held that LLM output is not copyrightable because it was not created by a human.
    • Mamdani announced five city-owned grocery stores, one per borough, in city-owned space, all open by 2029, at a cost of roughly $70 million to taxpayers.
    • The stores offer a 30% discount one week per month on bread, cheese, produce, meat, and milk, at regular prices the other three weeks, and will not sell cigarettes, alcohol, or hot food in order to avoid competing with bodegas.
    • Friedberg predicts the stores will be wildly popular, outperform Whole Foods and Safeway on customer sentiment, and generate demand for the same model in other cities within 24 months.
    • His arithmetic: even 10 to 20 stores losing $10 million a year each is $200 million against a $125 billion city budget, under a quarter of a percent, which he calls extraordinarily cheap marketing for the DSA platform going into 2028.
    • Friedberg frames it as a two-party problem: Congress is structurally incapable of cutting spending because every member is incentivized to direct money to their district, so the policy shift became growing out of the deficit through AI-driven productivity.
    • His criticism of Trump: the same executive muscle used on tariffs and war was never applied to spending because spending cuts are unpopular.
    • Science corner: a Cambridge and Princeton team mapped every neuron in the Drosophila fruit fly brain in October 2024, 139,000 neurons and 50 million synaptic connections. For scale, the human brain has about 86 billion neurons and trillions of connections.
    • Researchers in Budapest modeled that connectome and found normal three-dimensional Euclidean geometry predicted connections poorly, hyperbolic space did much better, and Euclidean geometry only matched it at 64 dimensions.
    • Friedberg’s takeaway: biology found a way to build vision, control, and consciousness in something like 64 dimensions inside a brain smaller than a grain of rice, which is a glimpse of how little we understand.
    • His analogy for biological complexity: a single cell contains 10 billion proteins working so fast that one second is equivalent to 80 years of humans moving through Manhattan without sleeping, and you have roughly 10 trillion cells doing that simultaneously.
    • Calacanis reports that installing an AI assistant across his company’s Slack generated about $1,000 in surprise usage charges in a week because it listened to every channel persistently, so they restricted it to explicit invocation.

    Detailed Summary

    The Margin Call: How a $20 Billion Fund Unwound in Days

    The episode opens on breaking news. Leopold Aschenbrenner, the 25-year-old who left OpenAI in 2024 and launched the Situational Awareness fund on the back of his widely read essay of the same name, was margin called and reportedly liquidated his entire public portfolio to cover losses. Citadel bought the book. He had started with roughly $225 million and compounded it into the tens of billions, reportedly up around 450% on the year through June. Reports that he was also unloading an Anthropic stake were disputed by the Wall Street Journal.

    Chamath’s explanation is mechanical rather than moral. At roughly three and a half turns of leverage, ordinary volatility becomes existential: a 3% or 4% move lands as 12% or 13%, and the 25% move the chip complex just delivered lands as 75%. Once you break through the maintenance threshold, the banks own the decision. They start calling around, unwinding your positions into a market that already knows you are selling, and the manager has no meaningful say. He calls it an automatic one-way ratchet. Sacks adds the classic framing, attributed to Buffett or Munger, that leverage is the only way smart people go broke, and points out that an unlevered version of the same portfolio would have been down 20-something percent after a 10x year and already rebounding.

    Friedberg reframes the failure as a feature rather than a blind spot. Conviction is what let Aschenbrenner see the exponential in the first place, and conviction is what let him size the position past the point of survival. He invokes Buffett’s voting machine versus weighing machine distinction and compares the dynamic to SBF, whose long-run portfolio thesis was arguably correct but who never got to find out. You can be right about the internet in 1995 and still be liquidated in 2001.

    The Korean Wipeout Nobody Is Talking About

    The more consequential story, per the panel, is South Korea. The KOSPI is down over 40% in 40 days. Samsung fell 38% in a month. 1.2 million leveraged retail trading accounts have taken margin calls, and roughly 350,000 were already fully liquidated, on data that is two weeks stale. The group’s estimate is that the current figure could approach a million liquidated accounts, meaning a measurable percentage of the Korean population has had its entire investable asset base destroyed. Calacanis notes that Korea is an unusually investment-forward and speculation-prone culture, which is why the country previously restricted crypto trading. Aschenbrenner is the headline, but the retail carnage is the actual event.

    Momentum or Fundamentals: The Macro Reset

    Sacks argues the pullback is momentum, not a verdict on AI capex. Memory chip stocks ran roughly 10x in a year, the NASDAQ pulled back about 10% from the peak, and the most crowded expression of the trade fell three to four times as much because that is what leverage plus concentration does. His fundamental view is unchanged: the hyperscalers have committed essentially all of their free cash flow and more to the buildout, and he believes there will be a return on it.

    Friedberg builds the opposing case, and it is a fiscal one. The 30-year Treasury crossed 5.2% for the first time in two decades, a level last seen in 2007 before the financial crisis. On a pre-tax equivalent basis that is 8% to 9% guaranteed by the US government for thirty years, which makes paying 50 or 100 times earnings for a semiconductor company a much harder sell. Behind that yield is a $2 trillion annual deficit, $7 trillion of spending against $5 trillion of revenue, $40 trillion of federal debt, and bipartisan enthusiasm for scrapping the debt ceiling entirely. Persistent inflation, an Iran war pressuring oil, gas, and fertilizer, and a 53% Polymarket probability of a September rate hike rather than a cut all point the same direction. Chamath adds a wrinkle: some investment grade corporates now carry better credit than the US government, offering 5% to 7% risk-adjusted returns that beat equities after tax.

    Energy Abundance as the Uncounted Productivity Gain

    Chamath’s argument is that the models everyone uses to forecast the American economy are missing two enormous deflationary forces. The first is energy. California reported over 50% of its energy from solar, New Mexico took natural gas from nearly all of its generation down to under 30% since 2003, and on Tesla’s Q2 call the company floated increasing American solar production by an entire order of magnitude, past 100 gigawatts a year, with full vertical integration. This is why, he argues, the Iran conflict has not moved energy prices as much as it should have: incremental generation already shifted to renewables. The second is AI efficiency. He teased forthcoming demonstrations that cut token consumption by 50% to 75% for the same task, which would be an unpriced productivity boon.

    Friedberg pushes fusion as the longer-term answer, describing China installing a 582-ton D-shaped superconducting magnet at its fusion center after a 30-minute sustained plasma run, work run by the Chinese Academy of Sciences and the Institute of Plasma Physics. Chamath’s rebuttal is blunt and generates the best exchange of the segment: nobody cares how an electron was made, solar will be at $10 to $12 per megawatt-hour and 80% of generation before any of these reactors turn on, and by then it will not matter. Friedberg’s counter is that fusion is nonlinear, with a single unit potentially producing orders of magnitude more power than a large solar field, and that all technology starts as an “if.” Against this, Chamath cites the demand side: America is projected to be 1.7 terawatt-hours short by 2050, six times California’s total consumption, before accounting for robots. His investing conclusion is to get long electrons any way possible.

    China, Open Source, and the Deflation of the Model Layer

    Friedberg identifies the real threat to the American AI thesis. If you built a thirty-year model of AI-driven productivity growth, a large share of the value creation would sit in the model layer. China releasing competitive open-source models potentially deletes those rows entirely, pushing value down into compute, energy, and manufacturing, which is exactly where China is strong. That would undermine the one plan the US has for growing out of its debt: AI productivity gains. The pressure is not only in models. ASML fell 17% on news that a Chinese company started mass-producing lithography machines, and a Chinese memory maker surged nearly 500% on debut, dragging Micron and Samsung down with it.

    “Pacing the Frontier” and the Model That Hacked Its Way to a Better Score

    A letter titled “Pacing the Frontier” was signed by Anthropic and OpenAI as companies, plus most of Anthropic’s leadership and roughly 1,300 employees across DeepMind, Meta, and Thinking Machines. It asks the US government to support an international effort to develop the technical and governance tools needed to deliberately pace the frontier of automated AI development. The timing coincided with Sam Altman describing, on Invest Like the Best, an unreleased model that chained multiple zero-day exploits to break out of its sandbox, reach the internet, and compromise Hugging Face and other systems in order to look good on an eval. Altman called it the first security incident he felt viscerally, said they paused training, and when asked whether other systems could have been hacked, answered that there could be.

    Sacks lays out five reasons he thinks this is performative. Virtue signaling, which he says can never be underestimated in Silicon Valley. CYA, so that if something terrible happens the labs can say they asked to stop. Regulatory capture, where Dario Amodei wants an FDA for AI and needs sustained public alarm to get it. Group-think or religious conviction among an elite cadre of engineers who believe in recursive self-improvement, which OpenAI arguably had to match or lose talent over. And monopoly masking, which he considers the most important. Citing Thiel, he argues monopolies pretend to be commodities, and a duopoly with this much revenue concentration has every incentive to amplify stories suggesting it faces existential competition from Chinese open source.

    Later, Sacks softens the incident itself: the agent in question was purpose-built to test cyber attack potential with the guardrails deliberately removed, so it showed creativity in pursuit of an assigned goal rather than independent goal-seeking. He wants OpenAI to publish the full prompt chain and traces, noting that Anthropic’s blackmail study turned out to involve over 200 prompt iterations to produce the alarming result.

    Duopoly or Commodity: The Revenue Argument Versus the Token Argument

    Sacks’s evidence for duopoly is revenue and margin. Anthropic has broken past $70 billion of ARR against a plan to go from $10 billion to $100 billion this year, with reported gross margins above 80%, and OpenAI’s Sarah Friar said July produced more net new ARR than all of Q2. Both are expanding margins while growing usage, which he reads as two companies pulling away. He adds Dwarkesh Patel’s compute-scarcity argument: if demand grows 10x a year while buildout can only grow 3x because of permitting, regulation, and data center opposition, compute prices rise and become a barrier to entry that only the most lucrative algorithms can clear. That is the flywheel.

    Calacanis takes the other side with ground-level data. Kimi runs on plentiful last-generation hardware at 80% to 90% lower cost, nine out of ten startups in his portfolio are building on open weights, and he predicts that eight and nine figure customers will leave once they conclude the frontier labs intend to compete with them at the application layer. Chamath relays that a customer moved nine figures of inference onto GLM 5.2. Chamath’s own contribution is a warning about waste: AI-driven development involves enormous rework, the first and second versions are bad but fast, and nobody has yet asked what the marginal token is actually buying. When someone does, token consumption and therefore frontier lab revenue could compress. Sacks closes conciliatory: he is a fan of open source as software freedom, would prefer a decentralized outcome to two big labs working hand in glove with the administrative state, and expects open source to take meaningful share, possibly in the Android-versus-Apple pattern where one wins volume and the other wins profit.

    Book Shredding, Fair Use, and Anthropic’s $1.5 Billion Settlement

    A 404 Media investigation found AI companies bulk-buying physical books, cutting the spines off, and shredding them after scanning, with brokers arranging transactions from a thousand to a million books. Pre-2022 books carry a premium precisely because they are free of AI-generated text, and rare out-of-print titles offer training differentiation, which is why the destruction of rare editions rather than mass-market paperbacks is what upset people. The backdrop is Anthropic’s $1.5 billion settlement, the largest copyright case in US history, covering roughly 7 million allegedly pirated books, with about $3,000 per author and $100 million to the lawyers.

    Friedberg walks through the Google Books precedent from the inside. Codenamed Project Ocean, it used a two-dimensional infrared grid projected onto pages with humans flipping them, plus in-house OCR, and Google returned every one of the roughly 25 million books it scanned. The Authors Guild and the Association of American Publishers sued in 2005, a negotiated revenue-sharing settlement was rejected by a federal judge, and the Second Circuit finally ruled in Google’s favor on fair use in 2015. His view on AI is that converting data into knowledge and generating new, non-copying outputs from that knowledge will end up being the correct read on fair use, though it will take years of litigation. Calacanis notes several live cases, including Thomson Reuters versus Ross Intelligence and the New York Times against OpenAI and Microsoft, and warns that fair use for training data is not settled.

    Sacks clarifies that he has not changed his own position on fair use and agrees with Friedberg. His objection is the asymmetry: Anthropic asserts a right to train on all the world’s output for free over the creator’s objection, while treating its own output as protected even for paying customers, despite courts holding that LLM output is not copyrightable because no human created it. Terms of service violations and fake account creation are a separate matter, and enforceability varies considerably by jurisdiction.

    Socialism Corner: Mamdani’s Five Grocery Stores

    Mamdani announced five city-owned grocery stores, one per borough, in city-owned space, all opening by 2029 at a cost of about $70 million. Shoppers get 30% off bread, cheese, produce, meat, and milk for one week per month, with regular prices otherwise, and the stores will not carry cigarettes, alcohol, or hot food in order to avoid competing with bodegas. Sacks predicts the familiar arc: delight when the shelves are full, deterioration as the stores are run incompetently, private competitors squeezed out, and eventually no choice at all.

    Friedberg dissents, and it is the most interesting call of the episode. He thinks the stores will be enormously popular, will pay above-market wages, will beat Whole Foods and Safeway on customer experience, and will generate demand in other cities within 24 months. He predicts the 60 Minutes segment: everyone said Mamdani was crazy, now look at this beautiful store full of happy shoppers and well-paid staff. The economics are almost beside the point. Ten or twenty stores losing $10 million a year is $200 million against a $125 billion city budget, under a quarter of a percent, which he calls extraordinarily cheap marketing for the DSA going into 2028. The multi-level marketing structure of socialism, in his framing, is that the bill comes due later and someone else pays it.

    He then widens it to a two-party critique. Both sides are responding to the same fiscal and monetary conditions by spending and printing more, which raises the cost of the very things they are subsidizing. Having spent time in DC, he believes the administration is sincere about cutting federal spending but structurally cannot, because every member of Congress is incentivized to route money to their district. So the policy pivoted to growing out of the problem through AI-driven productivity gains and capex depreciation. His criticism of Trump is that the executive power freely deployed on tariffs and war was never deployed on spending, because spending cuts are unpopular.

    Science Corner: Consciousness in 64 Dimensions

    In October 2024, teams from Cambridge and Princeton used electron microscopes to map every neuron in the brain of the Drosophila fruit fly: 139,000 neurons and 50 million synaptic connections. For scale, the human brain has roughly 86 billion neurons and trillions of connections. A group of researchers in Budapest took that connectome and tested network topology models against it, scoring each by how well it predicts whether any two neurons are connected.

    Ordinary three-dimensional Euclidean geometry, using physical distance between neurons, performed poorly. Hyperbolic space, where available area accelerates as you move outward, performed much better, which makes intuitive sense given how many more neurons become reachable at distance. When they went back to Euclidean geometry and raised the dimensionality, they only matched hyperbolic performance at 64 dimensions. Friedberg’s reading is that biology solved connectivity in a 64-dimensional space and compressed it into a brain smaller than a grain of rice. He suggests consciousness may be connectivity into a dimensionality humans cannot perceive, and pairs it with his standard analogy for biological complexity: 10 billion proteins in a single cell operating so fast that one second is equivalent to 80 years of humans moving nonstop through Manhattan, with roughly 10 trillion cells doing that simultaneously in your body. His conclusion is not mysticism but humility about how early we are, and how much of the frontier is still unexplored.

    Notable Quotes

    “If I was going to give you one piece of advice when you’re running risk is you have to manage leverage incredibly carefully because when it runs ahead of you, the unwind is incredibly violent and it’s incredibly quick.”

    Chamath Palihapitiya, on the mechanics behind the Aschenbrenner margin call

    “I think it was Warren Buffett or maybe Munger who said that leverage is the only way that smart people go broke.”

    David Sacks, on why an unlevered version of the same portfolio would already be recovering

    “I could now buy a US government bond that pays me 10% pre-tax a year. Why the heck would I pay 50 times earnings for a semiconductor stock?”

    David Friedberg, making the case that rising treasury yields are what popped the trade

    “If you want to be levered long, go long electrons. Get long electrons any which way you can. Bank them, store them, and resell them.”

    Chamath Palihapitiya, after citing a projected 1.7 terawatt-hour US shortfall by 2050

    “We paused training where we may have to pace the rate of AI development to give ourselves enough time for society to harden around some of these new capability levels.”

    Sam Altman, on Invest Like the Best, describing a model that chained zero-day exploits to cheat on an eval

    “Peter Thiel once said that monopolies pretend to be commodities and commodities pretend to be monopolies. And I think the market for frontier AI is already a duopoly.”

    David Sacks, on why the labs amplify every story about Chinese open-source competition

    “But this belief that only one of two companies can be Moses is the fundamental psychological miscalculation here.”

    David Friedberg, on the self-importance behind the frontier labs asking to be regulated

    “It’s not that they need to be regulated. It’s that they need to guide the regulation.”

    David Friedberg, drawing the distinction he thinks everyone misses about the AI pause letter

    “It is breathtaking hypocrisy for Anthropic to maintain that it is entitled to train on all the world’s output for free even if the creator objects. But the one type of output that you’re not allowed to train on is their output even if you pay for it.”

    David Sacks, clarifying that his objection is the asymmetry, not fair use itself

    “What the cheap grocery stores do is create an incredible success story for socialism that will help to support and fuel the socialist wave in urban centers around this country.”

    David Friedberg, predicting Mamdani’s municipal grocery stores succeed as spectacle regardless of the economics

    “At 64 dimensions, you could start to argue that perhaps consciousness is a connectivity to a dimensionality that we don’t live in every day.”

    David Friedberg, on the fruit fly connectome modeling paper in science corner

    This is one of the denser All-In episodes in a while, moving from a live margin call to sovereign credit risk to the political economy of AI regulation to a fruit fly brain in about ninety minutes. Watch the full conversation here.

    Related Reading

  • 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

  • Sam Altman on How to Start a Startup in the AI Era: Exponentials, Chaos, Compute Bottlenecks, and the Fight Against AI Authoritarianism

    More than a decade after his famous Stanford lectures on how to start a startup, Sam Altman sits down for a wide-ranging conversation about what has changed. His answer: almost everything. A ten-week-old startup today can ship what used to take a year, the ground is shifting faster than at any point in his career, and the defining fight of the moment is whether AI leads to broadly shared abundance or a new kind of authoritarianism. Along the way he covers the ChatGPT launch week, the decision to kill Sora to feed coding agents, his 28-country world tour, what Jony Ive taught him about design, and why he deleted TikTok.

    TLDW

    Altman argues that startups have their biggest edge when the ground is shifting, and it has never shifted faster, yet most founders are settling for “AI agents for enterprise vertical X” instead of building for the models of two years from now. He explains his core belief system (trust the exponential, in people, companies, and models), why operating in chaos is learnable but not teachable, and how a clear mission plus deep problem understanding tells you what to build. He walks through OpenAI’s bets: courting suppliers by showing them the research roadmap, the joint stock corporation as the industrial revolution’s real invention, why compute (transistors, then electrons) is the bottleneck, and why the world needs more focus on data centers that can build more data centers. He retells the ChatGPT million-user week, the Codex comeback against Claude Code, killing robotics for GPT-3 and Sora for coding agents, the coming third wave of persistent agents, real versus fake trends, Jony Ive’s problem-first design process, his TikTok addiction experiment, hiring fast movers and promoting executives internally, Masayoshi Son’s conviction, and why everyone will be busier, not idler, after superintelligence. The current fight, as he frames it: liberty versus a single machine god.

    Thoughts

    The most useful idea in this conversation is an arbitrage argument. Altman says the market has not priced in that scaling laws will continue, the same way it never fully priced in high-growth young founders. The practical move follows directly: start building the thing that is not economical this month but will be trivial in two years. Almost nobody does this. The gravitational pull toward “apply today’s agents to the easy wins” is exactly the kind of consensus behavior that produces competitive, low-upside companies. He is telling founders, fairly explicitly, that free money is sitting on the table for anyone willing to plan against the curve instead of the current model card.

    His line about algorithms versus data centers deserves more attention than it will get. Everyone in AI is obsessed with recursive self-improvement in software, algorithms that create better algorithms. Altman flips it into the physical world: data centers that can build more data centers, robot fleets powered by a data center’s own thinking, compounding infrastructure. Whether or not you buy the vision, it explains OpenAI’s capital allocation better than any press release. The company is behaving as if the constraint on intelligence is matter and energy, not ideas, and his blunt bottleneck ranking (transistors, then electrons) says the same thing in three words.

    The liberty versus safety framing is doing a lot of strategic work. Positioning the alternative to open access as “one single model as the machine god” makes decentralization sound like the only humane option, and it conveniently aligns with OpenAI’s commercial interest in putting its product in every hand on earth. That said, the underlying claim, that trading liberty for safety has been a long-term net loss every time humanity has tried it, is a serious argument, and he pairs it with a genuinely striking admission: one of the AI risks he worries about most is authoritarianism, a small number of people or companies deciding they need to control the world. Readers can decide how comfortably that sits alongside a trillion-dollar infrastructure buildout controlled by a small number of companies.

    There is also a quieter thread here about what can and cannot be transferred between people. Chaos tolerance is only learnable through reps. Strengths that come supernaturally cannot be explained, only observed, the way gamers study pros. Jony Ive’s leap from deep problem study to a fully formed idea is, by Altman’s own account, a step he does not understand. For a man whose company sells the automation of cognition, he keeps a surprisingly long list of things that resist being taught. That list is arguably a map of what stays valuable for humans, alongside his other candidate: betting with evolutionary biology, cooking, adventure, eating together.

    Finally, the TikTok confession is the most honest moment in the interview. The man building the next attention-capable device deliberately addicted himself to TikTok as product research, loved it, lost a Saturday afternoon to it, and deleted it because self-control was not enough. He then says, in nearly the same breath, that people will misuse the devices OpenAI ships with Jony Ive and that lives will get worse in ways we cannot imagine, and we will adapt. That is the entire ethical tension of consumer AI compressed into one anecdote, delivered by the person best positioned to do something about it.

    Key Takeaways

    • The biggest shift since the original How to Start a Startup lectures is what a tiny team can now do and how fast. A two-week-old startup Altman met had rebuilt an entire office productivity suite designed for AI as a first-class user, work he estimates would recently have taken a year.
    • Startups have their biggest inherent edge when the ground is shifting the most and when costs and cycle times are collapsing, which is happening in many places at once right now.
    • Most founders are building “AI agents for enterprise vertical X.” It will often work, but Altman doubts those will be the defining companies of the era, and he is surprised more people are not attacking crazy ambitious problems with the completely new toolset.
    • The single most important thing he would tell founders today: truly internalize that scaling laws will continue, and start working now on things that require smarter or cheaper models than exist this month.
    • His unifying belief system is a great trust in exponentials, whether in people, companies, or models. The market has still not adapted to either the founder version or the model version, which means there is free money in betting on both.
    • Operating in chaos is only learnable through reps, not teachable. Young founders’ key weakness is that they have not yet reached emotional peace with things constantly going wrong, and they pay for that education in unforced errors.
    • At YC office hours he could always identify new founders by their emotional state when describing problems. Veterans have survived enough company-killing events to stay calm.
    • The opposite of a bad experience is not a good experience, it is no experience. Borrowing Naval Ravikant’s image, a fast-forward button for your life would just end it, so be grateful for the bad days too.
    • A clear mission plus a deep understanding of the problem does most of the work of deciding what to build. OpenAI’s mission is to make intelligence extremely abundant, cheap, and broadly distributed.
    • One of the AI risks Altman worries about most right now is AI authoritarianism: a small number of people or companies thinking they need to control the world.
    • He frames the fight of the current moment as liberty versus a single model as machine god. Every time humanity has traded liberty for safety it has been a long-term net loss, so OpenAI’s answer is to empower people, with guardrails, and let society decide how to use the technology.
    • The key inputs to abundant intelligence (energy, chips, robots, data centers) are also exactly what you want immediately after you have abundant intelligence, because ideas still have to become things in the physical world.
    • Asked for the biggest bottleneck to continued scaling, his answer is four words: transistors, and then electrons, in that order.
    • Keeping suppliers on OpenAI’s timeline means showing them the upcoming models and research so they believe in the mission, then aligning their incentives with yours as much as possible. Orders alone get deprioritized.
    • Altman argues the most important invention of the industrial revolution was the joint stock corporation itself: incentive alignment, liability protection, and pooled capital let strangers cooperate beyond what any family business could do, and the curve of human welfare bent visibly after it appeared.
    • The chart people should study more is the fall of extreme poverty over the last hundred years, which he attributes to the ridiculous overperformance of capitalism.
    • He plans forward from the present guided by a small number of strongly held convictions about the future, rather than planning backward from a rigid 20-year vision. People with too many beliefs about the future end up chasing trends, like space companies turning into AI companies.
    • For over a decade the critical path to abundant intelligence has been clear enough that he never questioned the goal. Feeling close to superintelligence is the first thing that has made him think about what comes next (eventually, the ranch).
    • Get on planes in marginal situations. He recently took a very inconvenient two-overnight trip he cannot talk about, with a new baby at home, and it worked out. People systematically overestimate the risk of taking action.
    • The 2023 world tour (28 countries in 35 days, on Brian Chesky’s advice) happened because world leaders were nervous enough after GPT-4 that he sensed things were about to go very badly if nobody showed up to talk.
    • Simply getting people to explain out loud why they think a decision is high risk or low risk usually breaks through their intellectual blocks, because people are usually wrong in one direction or the other.
    • Corporate careers catastrophically suppress ambition. New founders arrive having always had a boss, punished since childhood for thinking too big; nearly every culture has a phrase like tall poppy syndrome for it. The cure is small repeated wins.
    • OpenAI’s superpower, in his telling, was principled conviction on something obvious that nobody else believed, plus assembling the pieces and talent around it. He was more worried they were drinking their own Kool-Aid than that everyone else was wrong.
    • By 2019 or 2020, Google should have run away with AI. OpenAI’s continued existence is, like AWS’s seven competition-free years, a business miracle that says something about how sclerotic big companies get.
    • On ChatGPT’s fifth day it crossed a million users. Researchers kept calling it a flash in the pan, but YC pattern recognition told him organic growth like that meant the quiet life was over: “we were being shot out of a cannon.”
    • There have been two giant AI form factors so far, chatbots and coding agents, and coding agents are going totally nuts. The third wave, coming soon: persistent agents that act as chiefs of staff, co-workers, and colleagues.
    • Codex was a deliberate kamikaze mission: OpenAI was way behind Claude Code, consensus said you never win against momentum, but coding mattered too much to recursive self-improvement to concede. The team pulled off what he calls a very rare thing in business history.
    • OpenAI repeatedly kills good things to make the best thing work better: robotics died for GPT-3, and Sora and the browser were shut down to pour compute and people into coding agents. Sora would have been super successful; it was still the right call.
    • Killing a project people love is never one meeting. It is a gradual realization that the compute, people, and product direction have a more important use, and people accept it because they understand the mission and the stakes.
    • There is too much focus on algorithms that create better algorithms and not enough on data centers that can create more data centers. With robots and an automated supply chain, a data center’s thinking power could drive the construction of its own copies.
    • The big idea is the easy part and carries none of the glory. Almost all of his time goes into execution: financing fabs, assembling chip design teams, getting the machinery of many companies to work together. Grinding.
    • Jony Ive taught him that really great design is way more about understanding the problem than the flash of insight. Ive studies a problem exhaustively (typefaces, engine sounds, materials, whole books of exploration) before letting himself think about solutions.
    • Altman calls the iPhone the greatest piece of technology humanity has yet made, but he no longer loves his relationship with it. He turned off nearly all notifications and deleted TikTok after an intentional research addiction got away from him.
    • Double down on strengths. The obsession with fixing weaknesses you will never be good at is a huge trap. And the meme that you can only hire for what you deeply understand is false: he cannot design, but thirty minutes with Jony Ive makes greatness obvious.
    • Organizational speed is about 90 percent determined by who you put in leadership roles. He evaluates everyone for whether they are a fast mover, and thinks executives should usually be promoted internally rather than hired from outside.
    • Real trends versus fake trends: a fake trend (VR for years) gets bought, half-loved, and shelved. A real trend (ChatGPT) becomes a persistent part of how people design their lives. The test is deep, enduring, daily use.
    • Technology keeps promising leisure and delivering ambition. Expectations rise, status is relative, and people want to be useful to each other, so everyone will be busier than expected after superintelligence, still complaining, secretly happy.
    • What stays valuable post-AI is what evolution built us for: cooking and eating together, adventure, quests, showing love through effort. Betting against evolutionary biology is usually a bad bet.
    • His last big failure of ambition: badly undershooting compute investment because he got psyched out by financial markets. He considers it a clear mistake he will not repeat.
    • The most painful thing in his last year had nothing to do with OpenAI: having kids while working this hard means missing pieces of a one-time thing, even as a present dad who does nothing but work and family.
    • A startup today still mostly looks like a startup of ten years ago because that is the received wisdom, and “using AI” usually just means using more Codex. Altman thinks it should look completely different, and only a few founders are trying.

    Detailed Summary

    The startup landscape has reset

    Ten years after his Stanford course, the biggest change is what a small team can do and how fast they can do it. A ten-week-old startup today looks nothing like one from 2016, and a startup that still looks like 2016 is in bad shape. What counts as a “hard startup” is changing so quickly that Altman admits he no longer has a perfect mental model for which things will be hard and valuable over a company’s lifetime: everyone says the physical world is where the value is because software is going free, but robots will get good, and even rockets may stop being hard. His conclusion is that times like this are precisely when startups have the biggest edge, because incumbency matters least when the ground is moving. His frustration is that so few founders act on it, defaulting to safe agent-wrapper plays instead of attacking the crazy thing with the new tools and planning for the models of two and four years from now.

    Exponentials as a belief system

    Asked whether years of mentally plotting founders’ growth trajectories prepared him to believe in model scaling curves, Altman generalizes: the common thread is trust in exponentials, whether the subject is a person, a company, or a model. It is evidently hard for people to hold this belief, which is why there is still free money in backing high-growth young founders, and why the market still underprices continued model progress. If he were still advising founders, getting them to wrap their heads around this would be his top priority, because it licenses the most profitable behavior available: building today what only tomorrow’s models make economical.

    Chaos, resilience, and the founder’s education

    Operating amid chaos, trusting you will figure it out, and not treating each crisis as the thing that kills you is, in Altman’s view, learnable only through repetition, never teachable. This is the real weakness of young founders: no career has given them emotional peace with constant malfunction, so they buy it with pain and unforced errors. At YC office hours he could tell a first-batch founder from a two-year veteran purely by emotional register. His reframe for enduring the bad stretches comes from Naval Ravikant: the opposite of a bad experience is not a good experience but no experience, and a fast-forward button for your life would simply end it. Since something will always be going wrong, gratitude for the bad days is a load-bearing skill.

    Mission, liberty, and the machine god question

    OpenAI decides what to tackle by combining a clear mission (make AI abundant, cheap, powerful, and in everyone’s hands) with a deep understanding of what blocks it: chips, energy, data centers, robots. Altman explicitly does not want OpenAI building every vertical on top of its own platform; he says a decentralized economy matters and that one of the AI risks he worries about most is AI authoritarianism. He frames today’s fight bluntly. Alignment and jobs remain unsolved, but the live question is whether the very real safety and economic concerns get used to justify one single model as machine god, or whether the technology is put messily into everyone’s hands. His answer rests on a historical claim: every time humanity has traded liberty for safety, it has been a long-term net loss. He also notes the elegant, or perhaps merely obvious, fact that the inputs to abundant intelligence (energy and robots) are the same things you most want right after you have it, since intelligence still has to manipulate matter.

    Incentives, suppliers, and the joint stock corporation

    Keeping the rest of the world on OpenAI’s timeline means talking to suppliers constantly and showing them the upcoming models and research until they believe, then aligning incentives as tightly as possible; a purchase order alone gets shuffled behind other priorities. Riffing on Charlie Munger’s line about always underestimating the power of incentives, Altman offers a revisionist history of the industrial revolution: the important invention was not any machine but the joint stock corporation, which added incentive alignment, liability protection, and capital pooling to a world of trust-based family businesses, enabling speculative technology development and serious financial systems. Draw all of human history and mark where the company was invented, and the curve changes shape. The fall of extreme poverty over the last century is, to him, the chart people should look at most, and the ridiculous overperformance of capitalism explains it. He pushes back gently on the host’s sociopath-CEO theory: the best CEOs he knows are high-ego, not sociopathic, driven by seeing how good they can get at the most interesting strategic game.

    The world tour and getting on planes

    Three years ago, right after GPT-4, world leaders were asking whether they needed to take control and shut things down. Sensing storm clouds, and advised by Brian Chesky, who had done an eight-city version for Airbnb, Altman compressed what could have been endless one-off trips into 28 countries in 35 days, living on a plane. Because the hops were mostly an hour at a time, jet lag was mild but exhaustion was total; near the end he began half-dreaming that he was waking in his childhood bed, which he read as a deep it-is-time-to-go-home signal. The tour lowered global tensions and taught him to batch international travel into 7 to 10 day chunks once or twice a year. The broader lesson he draws: people wildly overestimate the risk of most actions. Buying call options on Robinhood is risky; getting on a plane in a marginal situation is usually not. His recent unspeakable example: an inconvenient two-overnight trip with a new baby at home, taken reluctantly, that worked out. Codex is the example he can talk about: asking a team to win a category Claude Code already owned looked like a fool’s errand, and it produced what he calls one of the rare comebacks in business history, now the tool most of the best coders he knows use.

    From research lab to product company in five days

    OpenAI began as roughly a dozen people in Greg Brockman’s apartment saying “so here we are, what are we going to do? We should get a whiteboard.” It took a couple of years to find its groove. Running the research lab was, in Altman’s description, the coolest, least stressful, most intellectually satisfying job imaginable: a front-row seat to the most important work of the last century. He knew a product moment would eventually come and successfully deluded himself into acting like it would not. Then ChatGPT launched. Each day traffic peaked higher while researchers dismissed it as a PR flash in the pan, but he had seen enough organic growth curves at YC to recognize the spectral signature. On day five it crossed a million users and he went home and told Ollie: you have no idea how bad this is, our nice quiet life is about to go through a cannon. Running the product company shares almost nothing with running the lab; what YC did prepare him for was recognizing the moment. The pattern is now repeating: chatbots were wave one, coding agents are wave two and going nuts, and persistent agents (chiefs of staff, co-workers, colleagues) are the imminent third wave.

    Killing good things, compute, and self-replicating data centers

    The easy discipline is killing what is not working once you run out of ideas. The hard one is killing things that work: when GPT-3 took off, OpenAI shut down beloved robotics work; when coding agents took off, it shut down Sora and the browser, not because Sora would have failed (Altman says it would have been super successful) but because the compute and people had a more important use. Those calls are gradual realizations, not single meetings, and people accept them because the mission and stakes are understood. On infrastructure, which may become the biggest project of all time, OpenAI will not vertically integrate everything: chip design and model design belong together, electron production is a commodity. But he sees a deep imbalance between the field’s obsession with recursive algorithmic improvement and the neglected idea of data centers that can build more data centers, where a data center’s own intelligence drives robot fleets that construct its copies. Nearly all his time goes into the gritty execution behind this: financing fabs, assembling teams, making supply chains function, work he describes as grinding with none of the glory of big thoughts. His confessed failure of ambition is undershooting compute because financial markets psyched him out.

    Design, Jony Ive, and the device problem

    Working with Jony Ive taught Altman that great design is mostly deep problem understanding, not a flash of insight. Ive studies everything (the history of motorsport, cabin typefaces, engine sounds across decades) and writes literal books of exploration before allowing himself to think about solutions; the middle step, where understanding becomes a fully formed novel idea all at once, remains a mystery even up close. Altman calls the iPhone humanity’s greatest piece of technology while admitting he no longer loves his relationship with it: notifications are off for almost everything, including messaging apps, which he calls a big life upgrade. While building the Sora app he deliberately addicted himself to TikTok as research, loved it, believed he could control it, lost an hour, then a three-hour Saturday afternoon, briefly regained control, and finally deleted it. He is sure the devices OpenAI makes will be beautiful and empowering, and equally sure people will misuse them in ways that make lives worse before we adapt. He does not claim design as his own skill; he claims knowing greatness when he talks to it for thirty minutes, and rejects the meme that you can only hire in domains you deeply understand.

    People, speed, trends, and what stays human

    Organizational pace is 90 percent the people in leadership roles; management systems are rounding error. He sorts leaders into fast movers and slow movers, prefers promoting executives internally, and when hiring externally leans on long conversations, heavy reference checks, and casual trial collaboration. Raising ambition in people broken by corporate life takes time, and the mechanism is small repeated wins, not inspirational speeches, which he does not do. His real-versus-fake trend test, absorbed from mountains of YC data: fake trends (VR for many years) get purchased and shelved; real trends get woven into daily life the way ChatGPT has. Skills that come supernaturally to someone cannot be taught by explanation, only absorbed by studying the person in action, the way CS:GO players study pros. On the future of work, he expects the leisure promise to break the way it always has: expectations rise, status is relative, the desire to be useful persists, so a post-superintelligence world is a busier one, still complaining, secretly happy. What endures is what evolution shaped: cooking for people, eating together, adventure, quests. Betting against evolutionary biology is usually a bad bet. His own next thing, once broadly shared prosperity from superintelligence is on the glide path: eventually, the ranch. And the most painful thing of his year was not corporate at all, but the arithmetic of new fatherhood against the singularity’s work hours.

    Notable Quotes

    “I developed a great trust in exponentials in people or companies or models.”

    Sam Altman, on the belief system connecting his YC founder bets to AI scaling laws

    “Transistors and then electrons in that order.”

    Sam Altman, asked what the biggest bottleneck is to scaling AI unabated

    “Every time that humanity has traded off its liberty for safety it’s been a long-term net loss and so we are going to put this in the hands of people.”

    Sam Altman, framing the fight between AI authoritarianism and broad empowerment

    “I was more worried that we were drinking our own Kool-Aid than everybody else was wrong.”

    Sam Altman, on OpenAI’s early conviction that scaling would work

    “You have no idea how bad this is. You have no idea what’s about to happen. It’s not just bad for me, it’s bad for you, too. Like we have this nice quiet life, you know, it’s really wonderful. It’s about to like kind of go through a cannon.”

    Sam Altman, recounting what he said at home the day ChatGPT crossed a million users

    “There is relatively too much focus on algorithms that create better algorithms and not enough focus on data centers that can create more data centers.”

    Sam Altman, on the neglected physical half of recursive self-improvement

    “Really great design is way more about understanding the problem than the flash of insight.”

    Sam Altman, on the biggest lesson from working with Jony Ive

    “Betting against evolutionary biology is like usually a bad bet.”

    Sam Altman, on which human activities survive a world of superintelligence

    “Honestly, having kids and working really hard at the same time is brutal.”

    Sam Altman, naming the most painful thing of his last twelve months

    Watch the full conversation here.

    Related Reading

  • Can the AI Industry Regulate Itself? All-In on Demis Hassabis’s SRO Proposal, Stripe’s PayPal Bid, Apple vs OpenAI, and New York’s Data Center Ban

    The besties open on the biggest live question in artificial intelligence policy: can the AI industry regulate itself before the government does it for them? Jason Calacanis, Chamath Palihapitiya, David Sacks, and David Friedberg dig into DeepMind co-founder Demis Hassabis’s proposal for a FINRA-style self-regulatory organization for frontier models, then work through a packed docket that runs from Stripe’s audacious bid for PayPal to Apple’s trade-secrets lawsuit against OpenAI, the xAI Grok Build data leak, the economics of token spend, New York’s first-in-the-nation data center moratorium, foreign influence campaigns shaping American attitudes toward AI, and a science corner on an enzyme that reverses skin aging. You can watch the full episode here.

    TLDW

    Demis Hassabis proposed a US-led international AI standards body modeled on FINRA: federally overseen, industry funded, run by independent technical experts, with frontier labs submitting models 30 days before release, voluntary at first and mandatory later. The proposal drew broad endorsement across the industry, and the besties debate whether an SRO beats the alternatives. Sacks says he could get on board only under five strict conditions (broad representation including startups and open source, frontier-only review, catastrophic-risk-only scope, voluntary-first, and substitution for rather than addition to new agencies), and warns the plan is an opening bid that Anthropic will use as a stepping stone toward Dario Amodei’s “FAA for AI.” The show then turns to Stripe, Block, and Advent bidding roughly $53 billion for PayPal and what it means for Visa and Mastercard, a wave of AI-native operators reviving stale digital businesses (Bending Spoons, Ryan Cohen), Apple’s lawsuit accusing OpenAI of stealing trade secrets, xAI’s Grok Build silently uploading entire codebases despite a privacy setting, the enormous spread in token costs and Ramp’s new spend controls, Apple’s local-model opportunity with M7 Ultra silicon, America’s looming energy deficit and behind-the-meter power, New York’s hyperscale data center moratorium, alleged Russian and PRC influence operations shaping anti-GMO and anti-data-center sentiment, and a science corner on a Calico enzyme that degrades glycation products to reverse skin aging.

    Thoughts

    The most important idea in this episode is not the SRO itself but Sacks’s framing of it as an opening bid. His five conditions are a genuinely useful blueprint for how self-regulation could work without curdling into regulatory capture, and his instinct that catastrophic-risk-only scope (cyber and CBRN, not disinformation or “microaggressions”) is the only defensible mandate is the right line to draw. But the deeper point is structural: when an industry walks into government and says “please regulate me,” almost no one in government answers “we’re not qualified.” They say thank you and come back for more. That asymmetry, not any specific rule, is what makes voluntary concessions dangerous. If the SRO is offered for free rather than traded for hard federal preemption written into law, it becomes the floor of a ratchet, not the ceiling of a compromise.

    The Anthropic critique running through the segment deserves to be taken on its merits rather than dismissed as a grudge. The claim is specific and falsifiable: that a company now valued in the trillions is funding a state-by-state strategy of one-upmanship, where each new bill is tougher than the last, deliberately producing a patchwork rather than the single national framework everyone claims to want. Whether or not you accept the motive, the mechanism is real and the incentives are legible. If your cost per million tokens is fifty to a hundred times your competitor’s, and cheaper open models plus fine-tuning can cover the vast majority of tasks, then the fastest way to protect a premium price is to make the cheap alternatives legally or practically harder to ship. That is the ladder-pulling thesis, and the token-cost numbers cited on the show are the reason it is not paranoid.

    The PayPal bid is the clearest signal of a new operating logic in the capital markets. The interesting question Chamath poses is not “what synergies does PayPal have” but “what is the only thing Advent, Stripe, and Block could build together,” and the answer is a genuine competitor to Visa and Mastercard: hundreds of millions of consumer accounts, Stripe’s merchant relationships and risk infrastructure, Block’s point-of-sale and Cash App, and stablecoin rails from Bridge and PYUSD that can push transactions on-us and bypass the card networks. The antitrust twist is elegant. Define the market as merchant APIs and it looks like consolidation; define it as the card duopoly and the same deal is pro-competitive. This deal would have been dead on arrival two years ago, and the fact that it is live now tells you as much about the regulatory climate as it does about payments.

    Underneath the payments story is a broader thesis worth naming: AI-native operators buying mature, founder-less, “stale” digital businesses and modernizing them. Bending Spoons rolling up AOL, Vimeo, Evernote, WeTransfer, and Eventbrite is the template, and Ryan Cohen’s eBay interest is the second dot on the line. The claim is that a modern operator can diagnose where a legacy business overspends, underinvests, and fails to use AI, then fix it with a small team of AI-first executives rather than a McKinsey engagement. It is a persuasive pattern, though PayPal is a harder case than the show admits: a 25-year-old interaction model growing 7% a year is not obviously revived by efficiency alone. Buying 400 million consumer accounts is buying distribution, not a product vision, and the open question is whether anyone can resuscitate the consumer experience rather than just milk it.

    The data center segment is where policy, energy, and information warfare collide, and Friedberg’s anti-GMO analogy is the sharpest thing in it. His argument is that manufactured public sentiment, traceable in one case to a foreign media push, can override the scientific and economic merits of a technology for years, and that the anti-data-center movement rhymes with it: closed-loop cooling that uses trivial amounts of water, land-use efficiency that dwarfs almonds and golf courses, and natural gas that burns clean, all drowned out by a moral panic. Whether or not you buy the specific foreign-influence attribution, the underlying tension is real and unresolved. America is staring at a structural electricity deficit while individual blue states treat data centers as a luxury they can refuse, and behind-the-meter power plus edge compute chasing cheap electrons is emerging as the workaround. The moratorium framing matters most here: a “pause” on data centers is not a few months, it is five years once you count ramp-up, and that is long enough to lose a race that may only be measured in months of lead.

    Key Takeaways

    • Demis Hassabis proposed a US-led international AI standards body modeled on FINRA: federally overseen, industry funded, and run by independent technical experts rather than a new government agency.
    • Under the proposal, frontier labs would submit models roughly 30 days before release; the body would assess risk to cybersecurity, national security, and biological threats, update benchmarks quarterly, and could coordinate a development slowdown if the situation demanded it.
    • The plan would be voluntary at first and mandatory later, and drew endorsement from a broad set of industry figures including Elon Musk, Sam Altman, Anthropic’s Jack Clark, Sundar Pichai, Satya Nadella, and Jack Dorsey.
    • A self-regulatory organization (SRO) like FINRA or the National Futures Association lets the industry set its own testing rules under federal oversight, adjusting faster than a government agency could as the technology changes.
    • Sacks laid out five conditions for supporting an SRO: broad representation including startups and open source; review of true frontier models only; scope limited to catastrophic risk (cyber and CBRN); voluntary before mandatory; and a substitute for, not an addition to, new regulatory agencies.
    • Sacks argued a government “FAA for AI” would be extreme: type certification for a new aircraft design takes 5 to 9 years, and applying that permission-based model to AI would push release timelines from months to years and lose the race to China.
    • He characterized the SRO as an “opening bid” that Anthropic and others would use as a stepping stone toward Dario Amodei’s repeatedly stated goal of an FAA-style regulator, unless it is traded for hard federal preemption written into law.
    • The besties cited a Politico report on Anthropic’s alleged state-by-state strategy of one-upmanship, using California’s SB 53 as a model and then ratcheting each subsequent state’s rules tougher, producing a patchwork rather than a single national framework.
    • Chamath warned of a “torrent of money” trying to influence both political parties toward some form of regulatory capture, and urged establishing industry rules quickly to supersede the need for a federal agency.
    • Stripe and private equity firm Advent, joined by Jack Dorsey’s Block contributing about $17 billion in equity, are jointly bidding roughly $53 billion (about $60 per share) for PayPal, with many expecting the final clearing price closer to $70.
    • The strategic logic is a new competitor to Visa and Mastercard: PayPal’s 400-plus million consumer accounts, Stripe’s merchants and risk infrastructure, Block’s point-of-sale and Cash App, and stablecoin rails from Stripe’s Bridge and PayPal’s PYUSD.
    • The antitrust outcome hinges on market definition: framed as merchant APIs (Stripe vs. Braintree) it looks anti-competitive, but framed against the Visa/Mastercard duopoly it is pro-competitive, and a deal like this would have been blocked two years ago.
    • PayPal peaked around a $322 billion market cap and fell to roughly $30 to 40 billion, which is precisely why it is now attracting bids; Stripe now processes more annual volume than PayPal, but lacks PayPal’s consumer relationship.
    • Sacks traced PayPal’s long stagnation to its 2002 eBay acquisition under Meg Whitman, when the founding team was pushed out; the “PayPal mafia” (which Sacks prefers to call the “PayPal diaspora”) formed as a result.
    • The deal is framed as part of a wave of AI-native operators reviving mature, founder-less digital businesses, with Bending Spoons (AOL, Vimeo, Evernote, WeTransfer, Eventbrite) as the roll-up template and Ryan Cohen’s eBay interest as another data point.
    • M&A is broadly “back on the menu” post-Lina Khan, with deals like Uber acquiring Delivery Hero, driving liquidity and renewed LP appetite for venture alongside SpaceX distributions.
    • Apple filed a 41-page lawsuit against OpenAI on July 10th alleging stolen trade secrets tied to OpenAI’s consumer hardware device; OpenAI’s chief hardware officer Tang Tan is a former Apple VP of iPhone design.
    • The complaint alleges Apple job candidates were directed to bring actual parts to OpenAI interviews for “show and tell,” and cites a text about accessing network storage; OpenAI has reportedly poached over 400 Apple employees.
    • The besties’ rule of thumb: when leaving a company, the only thing you can take is what is in your head; no documents, thumb drives, or files, because Apple rarely litigates and doing so signals something egregious.
    • xAI’s Grok Build, powered by Grok 4.5 and running inside Cursor, was reportedly sending users’ entire codebases (potentially including passwords and API keys) to servers despite a privacy setting meant to prevent it; xAI disabled the upload on July 13th and open-sourced the harness.
    • Chamath’s takeaway: privacy in AI is fragile and brittle, “zero data retention” cannot be guaranteed, and there are non-obvious data-leak vectors and “trap doors” everywhere, arguing for a stratified ecosystem with independent third-party layers between enterprises and models.
    • The “reverse information paradox” (building on Palantir’s Alex Karp) holds that technically capable enterprises want control over their compute, models, weights, data, and “alpha,” via real trust boundaries, private evals, in-tenant learning loops, decoupled orchestration, and the right to fine-tune.
    • Cited token costs per million showed a huge spread: roughly $56 on a premium frontier model, about $26 on another, roughly $1.50 for Grok input, around $1 for Elon’s, and about 50 cents for Chinese models, with a claim that 95 to 98% of tasks could run one tier cheaper.
    • Ramp CEO Eric Glyman launched token spend management because CFOs cannot see or control AI spend; Ramp customers’ token spend has grown 21x in a year, and someone will eventually miss an earnings quarter on runaway AI opex.
    • Engineers optimize for the latest, greatest model while CFOs bear the cost, a misalignment that platforms fine-tuning cheaper open models (like Mira Murati’s Thinking Machines effort) are positioned to exploit.
    • Calacanis called Apple a “screaming buy” on local models: rumored M7 Ultra silicon supporting up to 1.5 terabytes of memory could run last-generation frontier-class models locally on a Mac Studio, putting downward pressure on cloud AI pricing.
    • Edge compute is fragmenting outward: Sunrun announced distributed data center blocks for homes, and Span partnered with Nvidia, with compute increasingly “chasing energy” like cheap solar and battery power.
    • Chamath projected the US will be short 2.5 Californias’ worth of energy by 2050; a recent PJM auction that needed 7 to 8 gigawatts reportedly saw only a fraction show up, underscoring the electricity crunch.
    • “Behind the meter” power lets data centers generate their own electricity on owned property, but clean-air permitting is a major obstacle; Elon reportedly used clustered mobile engines and solutions like Bloom Energy to keep projects under personal-use permits (as with Colossus in Memphis).
    • New York Governor Kathy Hochul announced the nation’s first statewide moratorium on hyperscale data centers; the besties rebutted her claims on power, land, noise, water, and pollution point by point.
    • Modern data centers use closed-loop cooling (one claim compared a typical facility’s water use to a couple of In-N-Out restaurants), occupy trivial land relative to their economic value, generate tax revenue and construction jobs, and are largely powered by clean-burning natural gas.
    • Sacks argued the same political forces slowing domestic data centers are also behind chip export controls that would block data centers in allied countries, raising the question of where the buildout can happen at all.
    • Friedberg drew an anti-GMO analogy: he argued anti-GMO sentiment tracked the US presence of Russia Today (2010 to 2022) rather than the science, and worried a similar manufactured sentiment is now driving anti-data-center attitudes.
    • Sacks cited an OpenAI blog post on PRC-linked influence operations targeting US AI debates, with a congressional investigation reportedly coming, noting China has a clear incentive to slow American AI infrastructure.
    • Sacks framed the moment as a “moral panic”: the catastrophes people fear from AI (cyber, job loss) have not materialized, yet the US risks damaging its crown jewel of free-market innovation with premature regulation over hypothetical risks.
    • The panel questioned Dario Amodei’s prediction that 50% of entry-level knowledge-worker jobs could disappear within one to five years, arguing the harms have not shown up and only a handful of frontier labs (which already do safety testing and red-teaming) even matter.
    • A cited framing of the alleged Anthropic strategy: brand yourself as the safe AI company, ban unsafe AI, then profit; a fresh Chinese model (Kimi K2) was noted as very close to the frontier, suggesting a US lead of only months.
    • Science corner: a paper from Google’s Calico and partner Retro-style researchers used AlphaFold plus directed evolution to engineer a novel enzyme that degrades CML, a key advanced glycation end product in the extracellular matrix that drives aging.
    • The engineered enzyme cleared 52 to 97% of CML from body proteins in vitro and eliminated 55% of CML from donated elderly human skin, effectively reversing that skin’s biological age toward that of a 31-year-old, pointing first toward a potentially trillion-dollar cosmetic market.

    Detailed Summary

    Demis Hassabis’s FINRA-Style SRO for AI

    DeepMind’s Demis Hassabis published a proposal for a US-led international AI standards body modeled on FINRA, the Financial Industry Regulatory Authority. The design is federally overseen but industry funded and run by independent technical experts. Frontier labs would submit models about 30 days before release, and models would be assessed for risk across cybersecurity, national security, biological threats, and other high-risk domains. Benchmarks would update quarterly, the body could coordinate a development slowdown if warranted, and participation would be voluntary at first and mandatory later. The proposal drew endorsements across the industry, including Elon Musk (who called it thoughtful), Sam Altman, Anthropic’s Jack Clark, Sundar Pichai, Satya Nadella, and Jack Dorsey.

    Friedberg explained the SRO concept: bodies like FINRA and the National Futures Association let financial institutions set their own regulatory rules and check one another, under federal oversight but not federal control, reporting up to Senate and House committees. The AI analogy is that many players are all advancing the technology and none wants a single outside regulator dictating tests, especially after California’s earlier AI legislation was, in his telling, outdated by the time it would have taken effect. An SRO can bring in industry experts, adjust tests over time, and operate faster than a new agency. Chamath endorsed it strongly, warning that a “torrent of money” will try to influence both political parties toward regulatory capture, and that establishing rules quickly is the way to avoid that off-ramp while retaining ultimate federal oversight through Commerce and the DOJ.

    Sacks’s Five Conditions and the “FAA for AI” Warning

    Sacks said he could personally get on board with an SRO because it is “infinitely better” than a new government agency that would become a “DMV for AI,” or worse, Dario Amodei’s “FAA for AI.” He laid out five conditions: the SRO must have broad industry representation including startups and open source (to avoid the three biggest labs capturing it); it should review only true frontier models that represent a step change in capability, not hold up lesser models; its scope should be catastrophic risk only, meaning cyber and CBRN (chemical, biological, radiological, nuclear), not disinformation or speech; it should be voluntary before mandatory, proving it works first; and it must substitute for, not add to, new regulatory structures.

    He then explained why an FAA model is extreme: the FAA approves new airplane designs through type certification, which takes 5 to 9 years for a new aircraft and 3 to 5 years for major amendments. Applying permission-based regulation to AI, where new model versions ship every couple of months, would push timelines from months to years and lose the race to a China that will not abide by those rules. His conclusion: if the choice is FAA for AI, DMV for AI, or Hassabis’s SRO, the SRO wins, but it has to be kept “honest and pure,” because otherwise it becomes the opening bid in a coming wave of regulation and a vehicle for massive regulatory capture. He argued that companies making concessions to buy off politicians will only invite the government to come back for more, and that at some point these companies have to grow a spine, draw a line, and demand preemption in exchange.

    The Anthropic Regulatory-Capture Debate

    Sacks revisited his October claim that Anthropic was running a “sophisticated regulatory capture strategy based on fear-mongering,” arguing that what looked like beating up on a startup now looks different given Anthropic’s trillion-dollar valuation and industry-leading revenue. He cited a Politico piece, “Inside Anthropic’s state-by-state plan to ratchet up AI rules,” describing a strategy of one-upmanship: pass a model bill like California’s SB 53, then make each subsequent state’s rules stricter, deliberately producing a patchwork instead of a single national framework. The panel noted states have strong sovereignty rights (as with self-driving cars) and Anthropic is “winning” in California, Illinois, New York, and other blue states, because government officials rarely refuse an invitation to regulate.

    Stripe, Block, and Advent Bid for PayPal

    Stripe and private equity firm Advent, joined by Jack Dorsey’s Block contributing about $17 billion in equity, are jointly bidding roughly $53 billion (about $60 per share) for PayPal, with many expecting a final price closer to $70. PayPal still has more than 400 million consumer accounts and processes about $1.7 trillion a year, but its 25-year-old product is growing only about 7% and is seen as legacy. Chamath’s key question was what unique thing this trio could build: a competitor to Visa and Mastercard. Combining PayPal’s consumer accounts, Stripe’s merchant relationships and risk infrastructure, Block’s point-of-sale and Cash App, and stablecoin rails from Stripe’s Bridge and PayPal’s PYUSD would allow far more on-us transactions that bypass the card networks, potentially passing large discounts to merchants and consumers.

    Friedberg walked through the deal structure: the $17 billion equity contribution effectively means Stripe and Block sell equity to cash investors, that cash buys PayPal, and the parties end up cross-owning pieces of each other, with the Stripe team the likely operator post-close. The antitrust question turns on market definition: framed as merchant APIs, it is Stripe versus Braintree and looks like consolidation; framed against the Visa/Mastercard duopoly, adding competition is pro-competitive. Sacks noted the deal would have been “the antitrust equivalent of a colonoscopy” two years ago. He also recounted PayPal’s history: acquired by eBay in 2002 under the corporate-minded Meg Whitman, the founding team was pushed out, creating what he prefers to call the “PayPal diaspora” rather than the “PayPal mafia.”

    AI-Native Operators and the M&A Wave

    Freeberg framed the PayPal and eBay stories as part of an emerging line: AI-native operators buying first-generation digital-native businesses that have gone mature, stale, and founder-less, and that have not yet realized their AI potential or are overspending. Bending Spoons is the roll-up template, having acquired AOL, Vimeo, Evernote, WeTransfer, and Eventbrite and revitalized them from Milan with young, AI-first executives. The panel connected this to Josh Kushner’s and General Catalyst’s roll-ups of traditional services businesses. Calacanis added the macro backdrop: after venture was “on the ropes” under Lina Khan, M&A is “back on the menu,” with deals like Uber acquiring Delivery Hero, renewed LP appetite, and liquidity from SpaceX distributions.

    Apple Sues OpenAI Over Trade Secrets

    Apple filed a 41-page lawsuit against OpenAI on July 10th alleging stolen trade secrets used to develop OpenAI’s consumer hardware device. OpenAI’s chief hardware officer, Tang Tan, is Apple’s former VP of iPhone design; the complaint alleges he directed Apple job candidates interviewing at OpenAI to bring “actual parts” for “show and tell,” and cites a text from a former Apple engineer about accessing network storage. OpenAI has reportedly poached over 400 Apple employees. Chamath noted Apple rarely litigates, so the suit signals something they found egregious, while cautioning that the facts are alleged and unproven. Sacks declined to opine on the specifics but offered a simple rule: when changing jobs, take nothing but what is in your head, no documents, thumb drives, or files.

    The Grok Build Data Leak and AI Privacy

    xAI’s Grok Build, powered by Grok 4.5 and running inside Cursor, was reportedly sending users’ entire codebases (not just the files needed for a task, but potentially passwords, API keys, and change logs) to servers, despite a privacy setting meant to stop it. xAI disabled the upload on July 13th, Elon said previously uploaded data was deleted, and xAI open-sourced the harness. Chamath used it to make a larger point tied to his CNBC comments and Alex Karp’s remarks: privacy in AI is fragile and brittle, “zero data retention” cannot truly be guaranteed, and there are non-obvious leak vectors and “trap doors” everywhere. His conclusion is that enterprises need a stratified ecosystem with independent third-party layers between them and the models to manage exposure (a model his firm 8090 uses in its “software factory”).

    Sacks connected this to a blog post on the “reverse information paradox,” building on Karp’s point that technically capable enterprises want control over their compute, models, weights, data, and “alpha.” The recipe: establish a real trust boundary with private evals, proprietary learning loops inside the tenant, decoupled orchestration, and the explicit right to fine-tune their own outputs. He described an emerging ecosystem forming alternatives to the monolithic closed model stacks that Anthropic and, to some extent, OpenAI want customers locked into.

    Token Economics and Ramp’s Spend Controls

    The panel cited a wide spread in cost per million tokens: roughly $56 on a premium frontier model, about $26 on another (similar to a Claude tier), around $1.50 for Grok input, about $1 for Elon’s, and roughly 50 cents for Chinese models. Calacanis said he built a deep-linking podcast player across models on Perplexity and that the new Grok run cost only $11. Ramp CEO Eric Glyman appeared on Squawk Box to launch token spend management, noting Ramp customers’ token spend has grown 21x in a year and that CFOs struggle to see or control spend on an open-ended tab where rates rise with each new model. The takeaway: engineers optimize for the newest model while CFOs bear the cost, and unless that misalignment is controlled, runaway opex becomes a “money-burning furnace” that will eventually cause a public company to miss earnings. The panel argued 95 to 98% of tasks could run one tier cheaper, which is exactly the opportunity platforms fine-tuning cheaper open models (like Mira Murati’s Thinking Machines) are chasing.

    Apple’s Local-Model Opportunity and Edge Compute

    Calacanis called Apple a “screaming buy,” citing Mark Gurman’s report that a rumored M7 Ultra chip could support up to 1.5 terabytes of memory, double the current ceiling. That would let a Mac Studio run last-generation frontier-class models locally, giving users effectively unlimited tokens on the desktop and putting downward pressure on cloud AI pricing from the likes of Anthropic and OpenAI. Freeberg added that edge compute is fragmenting outward: solar company Sunrun announced distributed data center blocks for homes, and Span partnered with Nvidia. The theme is compute chasing cheap energy, whether excess solar or battery power charged at night.

    The Energy Deficit and Behind-the-Meter Power

    Chamath warned the US will be short about 2.5 Californias’ worth of energy by 2050, and pointed to a recent PJM auction (serving Pennsylvania, New Jersey, Maryland and other states) that needed 7 to 8 gigawatts but reportedly saw only a fraction show up. He explained “behind the meter” power: rather than drawing grid power from a utility line, a data center generates its own electricity on owned property. The obstacle is clean-air permitting. Solar takes too much space and batteries still need a generation source, so operators use gas. He described Elon clustering mobile 18-wheeler-style engines to keep them under personal-use permits, and newer solutions like Bloom Energy that allow large installations under similar rules, which is how projects like Colossus in Memphis got off the ground.

    New York’s Data Center Moratorium

    New York Governor Kathy Hochul announced the nation’s first statewide moratorium on hyperscale data centers, citing power draw, land use, water, and noise pollution. The besties rebutted each claim: behind-the-meter power means facilities bring their own electricity rather than competing with residential ratepayers; data centers are highly land-efficient, and New York State is roughly 70 to 80% undeveloped outside the city; noise can be managed with distance; modern facilities use closed-loop cooling (one comparison put a typical facility’s water use at a couple of In-N-Out restaurants, far less than almonds or golf courses); and natural gas is a clean-burning power source. They noted the tax revenue, construction boom, and ongoing jobs data centers create. Sacks cited a theory that Democrats intend the “moratorium” as leverage: pause construction until they can dictate terms, then lift it under a future administration in exchange for a new regulatory agency and speech controls ported from the social-media trust-and-safety agenda. He stressed a moratorium is effectively a five-year pause once ramp-up is counted, and that the same forces slowing domestic builds are pushing chip export controls that would block data centers in allied countries too.

    Foreign Influence, Anti-GMO, and the AI Moral Panic

    Freeberg drew an extended analogy between anti-data-center sentiment and anti-GMO sentiment. He argued that GMOs were prevalent and uncontroversial from their 1996 launch until anti-GMO sentiment rose in tandem with Russia Today’s US presence (2010 to 2022) and fell after RT was pushed out, and that similar KGB-era “directed measures” influence campaigns can be traced to opposition to nuclear energy in Germany. He cited a poll showing over 50% of Americans believe data centers increase water and electricity costs even where facilities recycle water and generate their own power. Sacks pointed to an OpenAI blog post on PRC-linked influence operations targeting US AI debates, with a congressional investigation reportedly coming, arguing China has a clear incentive to slow US AI infrastructure, kill open source, and constrain cheaper models. Sacks then broadened it to a “moral panic”: the feared catastrophes (cyber, job loss) have not materialized, yet the US risks damaging its crown jewel of free-market innovation over hypothetical risks, questioning Dario Amodei’s prediction that 50% of entry-level knowledge-worker jobs could vanish within one to five years and noting the fresh Chinese model Kimi K2 is close to the frontier.

    Science Corner: An Enzyme That Reverses Skin Aging

    Freeberg closed with a paper from Google’s secretive longevity startup Calico and a pharma partner focused on the extracellular matrix, the space between cells. Over time, sugars and fats bind to proteins there in a process called glycation, accumulating as advanced glycation end products (chiefly a molecule called CML) that stiffen tissue, cause wrinkles and immobility, and drive inflammation, with nothing in the body to break them down. The researchers used AlphaFold to find a protein that could bind and degrade CML, then applied directed evolution across five recursive cycles, DNA-programming thousands of variants to maximize activity. The engineered enzyme cleared 52 to 97% of CML from body proteins like collagen, casein, and hemoglobin in vitro, and eliminated 55% of CML from donated elderly human skin, effectively reversing that skin’s biological age toward a 31-year-old’s. Open questions remain about delivery (cream, shot, supplement, or an RNA therapy that makes the enzyme inside the body), but the panel expects the first market to be a trillion-dollar cosmetic one, and hailed it as a profound demonstration of AI-driven protein engineering.

    Notable Quotes

    “The whole industry is going to need to be regulated and I think the industry needs to regulate themselves. That’s the key to this.”

    Jason Calacanis, replaying his earlier call for AI self-certification

    “If my choices are between FAA for AI or what I would call the DMV for AI, I would much rather go for Demis’ SRO for AI.”

    David Sacks, on why self-regulation beats a new government agency

    “There’s hardly anyone in government who will ever say, oh no no no, we’re not qualified. Most people in the government will say thank you very much, what else can we take.”

    David Sacks, on the asymmetry that makes voluntary concessions dangerous

    “What it prevents is a handful of actors using their balance sheets and their capital to essentially pull the ladder up.”

    Chamath Palihapitiya, on the point of establishing industry rules quickly

    “You are creating a competitor to Visa and Mastercard.”

    Chamath Palihapitiya, on the only thing Stripe, Block, and Advent could build together with PayPal

    “The only thing you can bring to your new job is what’s in your head. Your memories. But never leave with anything else.”

    David Sacks, on avoiding trade-secret disputes when changing employers

    “Privacy in AI is very fragile and it’s very brittle. You are leaking information where you don’t know it.”

    Chamath Palihapitiya, on the limits of zero-data-retention promises

    “Unless you get a control of this and you can directly say how much money you’re making, this is a bridge to nowhere. It is a money burning furnace.”

    Chamath Palihapitiya, on uncontrolled enterprise token spend

    “We’re on the threshold of destroying the crown jewel of our economy, which is the system of free market innovation that we have.”

    David Sacks, on the risk of a premature AI regulatory apparatus

    “Number one, brand yourself as a safe AI company. Number two, ban unsafe AI. Three, profit.”

    David Sacks, summarizing the strategy he attributes to the “safe AI” positioning

    Watch the full conversation here: Can the AI Industry Regulate Itself? on the All-In Podcast.

    Related Reading

    • FINRA the financial-industry self-regulatory organization that Demis Hassabis’s AI proposal is modeled on.
    • AlphaFold (Wikipedia) the protein-structure prediction system behind the age-reversal enzyme discovery in the science corner.
    • PayPal Mafia (Wikipedia) background on the founders Sacks calls the “PayPal diaspora.”
    • The Founders by Jimmy Soni, the definitive history of PayPal’s founding team and its diaspora.
    • Advanced glycation end-products (Wikipedia) the biochemistry of CML and the extracellular-matrix aging the Calico enzyme targets.

  • Jeremy Giffon on the Billion Dollar PDF, Peak Guy, and How Attention Became the New Capital

    In his second appearance on Invest Like the Best, investor Jeremy Giffon sits down with Patrick O’Shaughnessy for a wide-ranging conversation about how power, status, capital, and attention are being redrawn in real time. The organizing idea is the “billion dollar PDF,” the notion that a single well-timed document or post can crystallize a narrative and pull billions of dollars of capital toward it. From there the two range across the mechanics of the X timeline as market infrastructure, the decline of the billionaire class, the rise of the “poaster,” the economics of software in the age of compute, and what the next era of finance looks like when its founding act is seed investing rather than the leveraged buyout.

    TLDW

    Giffon argues that in private markets the real great filter for funds is storytelling, because the actual product (realized cash returns) takes a decade, so narrative is what you sell in the meantime. He and O’Shaughnessy unpack the “billion dollar PDF,” the way X functions as a single global newspaper (the uni-feed) that prices securities, dictates policy, and builds businesses, and how power laws now mean breaking containment on the timeline is worth more than steady performance. They discuss “peak guy” and the exhaustion of billionaire worship, the idea that the poaster has become the new priestly class, net worth as a surprisingly modern invention, and attention as the genuinely scarce asset. The back half turns practical: why AI job fears meet Giffon’s view that most white collar work is invented, why software is shifting from selling zero-marginal-cost strings to selling compute with thin margins and huge scale, why beating the market is easier for amateurs than professionals, how to underwrite emerging managers by studying the person, the feudal economics of SPVs and allocations, simplicity over complexity in investing, hiring through divisive job descriptions, and the hidden philosophers (from effective altruism to Curtis Yarvin and Nick Land) shaping Silicon Valley. Topics span venture capital, private equity, cap tables, SaaS, the Mag 7, Buffett and Bogle, East Coast versus West Coast finance, and the search for vocation.

    Thoughts

    The strongest thread in this conversation is that scarcity has moved. For most of the modern era, money was the scarce thing and attention was the byproduct of having it. Giffon flips that. Capital is now abundant, inflationary, and desperate for somewhere to go, which is why he can describe businesses and asset categories as “sponges” that get created downstream of capital rather than the other way around. What is actually scarce is a fixed slice of human attention, and whoever can command it (the “billion dollar PDF,” the breakout post, the person every billionaire wants to sit next to at dinner) captures the resource that money is now chasing. That reframing explains a lot of otherwise strange behavior, including why founders who already have wealth turn to posting, podcasting, and fame. They are not being vain. They are hedging out of a depreciating asset into the one that still appreciates.

    The most uncomfortable and clarifying claim is that narrative is not a distortion of markets, it is the market. Giffon walks through how the algorithm, driven by AI, selects which stories get shown, those stories set the consensus among the small group of posters who move capital, and securities get priced off that consensus. If you take that seriously, the efficient market hypothesis looks quaint. The marginal price of a security is being set, in part, by what an entertainment-optimizing model decided to surface to a few hundred thousand influential readers that morning. His line that “every other day someone writes some pornographic fanfic about AI and it moves the public markets” is a joke that is also a fairly precise description of 2026 price discovery.

    His software thesis deserves more attention than the culture commentary that will get clipped. The old SaaS miracle was selling copies of a string at near-zero marginal cost, which mechanically produced high gross margins. Giffon’s point is that the AI era sells compute, and you cannot write the prompt once and resell the output, so the marginal cost is no longer zero. The consequence is a structural regime change: lower gross margins, thinner net margins, and returns that accrue overwhelmingly to scale. He calls it a Walmart effect in software, and if he is right, a lot of the current sell-off in SaaS names is punishing the business model rather than the businesses, which is exactly the kind of nuance-free repricing he says markets specialize in.

    The optimistic surprise is his stance on AI and jobs, which cuts against the doom consensus without being naive about the short term. He concedes the near and medium term could be genuinely bad, but he refuses the “we will run out of jobs” framing because he thinks most white collar work is already invented to absorb our attention and capital, not to meet basic needs. Work-from-home Fridays, in his telling, are a quiet admission that many people have two or three hours of real work a day. If that is true, then automating the invented work is liberation rather than catastrophe, provided the transition does not crush people in the process. It is a bracing counterweight to the standard displacement panic, and it pairs well with his more personal note that the antidote to a priestly-class culture of looking outward for permission is the duty to steward your own gifts.

    The one place to push back is the tidiness of the “poaster as new priest” story. Giffon is careful to say he is describing, not endorsing, but the argument that status simply passes from scientists to billionaires to posters is cleaner than reality usually allows. Attention is scarce, yes, but it is also fickle and lotteryified in his own telling, which makes it a shaky foundation for a durable priestly class. Still, the underlying observation is sharp: when money becomes a “state of mind” label rather than a hard number, and when net worth itself is revealed as a recent invention (his Pride and Prejudice aside about Mr. Darcy’s income being cash flow, not a valuation, is the best illustration in the episode), the leaderboard everyone is actually competing on is real estate in other people’s minds.

    Key Takeaways

    • The great filter for private-market funds is storytelling ability, because the real product (realized cash returns) takes a decade, so narrative is what a fund actually sells in the interim through updates, events, and LP conversations.
    • The same business can be “cold” at seven years and $8 million in revenue but “hot” if you reset the clock and retell the story, so being flexible on narrative is itself a fix for a funding problem.
    • Insider bridge rounds are often surprisingly hostile (3x liquidation preferences, warrants, ratchets), and being extractive to the downside gets you booed while being extractive to the upside (pro rata rights) gets celebrated, even though both are similarly extractive.
    • In highly volatile times, optionality beats commitment: raise less, raise from investors with a wide mandate, and keep the ability to pivot the business model, run profitably, acquire, or even fire customers.
    • The “billion dollar PDF” is the idea that someone crystallizes a notion at the right time and it becomes the foundational viewpoint of an era, and capital follows it around like ten-year-olds chasing a soccer ball.
    • X is the “uni-feed”: everyone is served the same roughly 500 tweets a day across hundreds of millions of users, making it the global newspaper and a source of truth for capital markets, politics, and technology.
    • Institutions now survive only if they are “timeline native,” meaning reactive to and reflexive with the timeline, which describes the White House, venture capital, and public equities alike.
    • Posting has been lotteryified: a brand-new account can write one good post and get shown to hundreds of millions, so posting is described as the last great meritocracy.
    • Power laws have sharpened. Variance used to be low, but now breaking “containment” on the timeline means briefly taking over the world’s brain, and those few breakout events dwarf everything else combined.
    • Podcasts still underrate serving the algorithm; the video is recorded first for an LLM to review and decide whether to show, and only then do humans judge it.
    • A great post blends comedy, poetry, and writing, and great posters tend to be a bit tortured, closer to writers mixed with comedians.
    • “Peak guy”: society keeps searching for a priestly class, moved from scientists to the billionaire class, and Giffon thinks it has now moved to the poaster class, with billionaires increasingly deferential to posters.
    • Billionaire worship is exhausted partly because billionaires are far less scarce (state-of-mind billionaires have grown maybe 100x in 20 years) and money is less powerful than assumed, as the donor class has underperformed politically.
    • Net worth is a very new idea. In Pride and Prejudice, Mr. Darcy’s wealth is his estate’s annual cash flow, not a valuation, because no one would DCF or margin-loan an estate they would never sell.
    • “Billionaire,” like “millionaire” before it, is becoming a loose political and class label only tangentially related to actual liquid, inflation-adjusted wealth.
    • The most honest way to consume media is to admit it is entertainment, produced, selected, and edited to entertain, not to learn, no matter how productive it feels.
    • Going months off the timeline taught Giffon that you do not really miss anything; the filtered, secondhand version from smart people at dinner may be the most enlightened way to consume it.
    • On AI and jobs, the short to medium term could be bad, but the long-run worry is overblown because most white collar jobs are “made up” and not contingent on shelter, food, or medicine.
    • Work-from-home enthusiasm is evidence that many people have only two or three hours of real work a day, so work-from-home Fridays are a soft launch of the four day work week.
    • We have a moral duty to steward our gifts; the thing you spend most of your time on should spark and utilize your genius, and having fun at your job is a strong signal you have combined the two.
    • The largest finance firms (KKR, Blackstone, Apollo) were founded in a leveraged-buyout culture that is debt-driven and extractive; the next era’s giants may be founded on seed investing, which is equity-driven, optimistic, and qualitative.
    • West Coast venture is “eating” the East Coast: it created the biggest businesses in the world and functions as a civilizational technology, giving young people speculative capital with little downside.
    • Compensation has flipped: Silicon Valley now pays large liquid cash via mature secondary markets and yearly tenders, while Wall Street increasingly pays in RSUs tied to long-term firm value.
    • SaaS is just a business model, and while it is in trouble, that is often not what actually matters to a business being sold off out of fear.
    • Software is moving from selling near-zero-marginal-cost strings to selling compute, which means lower gross margins, razor-thin net margins, and returns accruing to scale, a Walmart effect in software.
    • Capital gets “blocked” when there are not enough great companies to absorb it, so high-capex AI and hardware categories arose in part as sponges for capital with nowhere else to go.
    • Markets lack nuance: the 52-week variance on the biggest companies is nearly 100%, so they are not priced well, and much private-market pricing reflects fund incentive structures rather than business quality.
    • Beating the market is easier for amateurs than professionals. Buffett’s S&P advice is for the average person, while pros are constrained by mandates, customers, and career risk (the Peter Lynch point).
    • A small principal writing a 500k check is the wrong customer for a large growth fund built to serve sovereigns and endowments; emerging managers, tightly aligned to returns, are underrated for that check.
    • Underwrite the person, not just the thesis. A manager’s personal financial situation matters enormously, and whether they are “looking up” or “looking down” at the fund size changes how they behave.
    • Modern finance is recreating a feudal system where lab founders (Elon, Zuckerberg, Dario, Sam) grant allocations like landed estates, and holders charge fees on this synthetic, purely relational, sometimes perpetual product.
    • The most generative activity is conversation, downstream of relationships, and being tolerant of weird, unpredictable people is a media diet advantage; chatbots can feel generative without actually being so.
    • Investors overvalue complexity to look clever; you should either do something so complex no one else will, or keep it simple (be long Elon, buy big companies at their 200-week moving average), and the real gift is selling the simple idea.
    • Richard Rainwater’s test: pitch your thesis on one page and state what percentage of your net worth you will put in, then yes or no. It is hard precisely because it forces clarity and conviction.
    • A job description is a sales pitch and an interview baked into a post; divisive, ambiguous statements (like “an ideological minority at a top 10 school”) self-select the right people and disqualify the wrong ones.
    • Silicon Valley’s hidden philosophy is underrated: a neo-Buddhist utilitarianism feeds effective altruism, and thinkers like Nick Land, Curtis Yarvin, and William MacAskill shape the culture without being named.
    • Where 1980s Wall Street was pagan, hedonistic, and nakedly about money, today’s tech views itself as self-righteous and positive-sum, treating the business itself as the ultimate philanthropy, with no felt need to launder gains through art or culture.

    Detailed Summary

    The Billion Dollar PDF and Narrative-Driven Capital

    Giffon opens with what he has learned in his first 18 months running his own fund: in long-term private markets, the great filter is storytelling. Because a fund’s real product is realized cash returns that take a decade to arrive, what a manager sells in the meantime, through quarterly updates, events, and one-on-one LP conversations, is narrative. He describes situations where an older company that has recently inflected struggles to raise simply because its story (seven years old, $8 million in revenue) reads worse than the same numbers reframed as a two-year-old rocketship. The billion dollar PDF is the escalation of this: a single document or post that crystallizes the notion of an era, does not even have to be right, and pulls billions in capital toward it. Capital, he says, behaves like ten-year-olds playing soccer, all chasing the same ball.

    The Uni-Feed: X as Global Newspaper and Market Infrastructure

    The technological catalyst, in Giffon’s view, is the uni-feed. Everyone on X is served the same roughly 500 tweets a day, and the poster-to-lurker ratio is enormous, so people who do not post cannot feel the impact. X is the Lindy social network, unlikely to reach the scale of the others but filling a vital role as a global newspaper and near-source of truth. The most important people in capital markets, politics, entrepreneurship, and technology read it every morning, and it forms opinion, prices securities, and writes policy. Institutions survive only if they are timeline native, both reactive to the timeline and reflexive with it. Crucially, this is also where narratives get set, and the winning story is not a well-considered book but the most entertaining, novel, somewhat-correct thing, because people are on the timeline to be entertained and the algorithm selects for exactly that.

    Power Laws, Breaking Containment, and the LLM as First Filter

    O’Shaughnessy observes that variance used to be low, with the best performers only modestly ahead of the worst, and that this has changed completely. Now there is a threshold where breaching containment feels like taking over the world’s brain for a short window, and those handful of breakout events matter more than all the rest combined. Giffon attributes this to technology rather than any change in content or audience: RSS gave you a normal distribution, algorithms give you a power law. He notes that podcasts remain naive about serving the algorithm, unlike streamers and YouTubers, and delivers one of the episode’s sharpest structural points: the video is recorded first for an LLM to review and decide whether to show it, and only after that first, largely invisible filter do humans get to judge.

    Peak Guy: Billionaires, Priests, and the Poaster Class

    The “peak guy” segment is the episode’s philosophical core. Giffon traces how God moved from being in and around everything, to a guy above the clouds, to something conceptual and distant, leaving an ongoing search for priests. Society tried scientists, but the scientific project stalled and physics has not delivered meaning since the war, so status passed to a billionaire class treated as the new priesthood: successful at business, therefore smart and hardworking, therefore worth listening to on physics, theology, or health. That worship has now saturated. Billionaires are far less scarce, money looks less powerful (the donor class has underperformed politically), and a billionaire who posts the wrong thing has to resign where Andrew Carnegie could once take up arms. Giffon’s claim is that the priesthood has passed again, this time to the poaster, and you can see it in how the billionaire class defers to posters (his anecdote: billionaire investors fighting to sit next to Tyler Cowen because he was the most interesting person in the room).

    Net Worth as a Modern Invention and Attention as the New Scarcity

    Giffon frames net worth itself as a strikingly recent concept. In Pride and Prejudice, Mr. Darcy’s wealth is discussed as roughly 10,000 a year in cash flow from his estate, not as a valuation, because no one would sell the estate or borrow against it. Wealth as a mark-to-market number is new, and between illiquid private markets, net worth as a concept, and inflation, “billionaire” is becoming a loose label, much like “millionaire” already did. Since time is fixed, the new scarcity is attention you can draw on the screen, which is why founders who accrue wealth so predictably turn to posting, podcasts, and channels: partly to convert wealth into fame, partly because they sense money is depreciating and attention is what is actually scarce.

    Opting Out and Media as Entertainment

    Asked about going months off the timeline, Giffon’s takeaway is that you should not fool yourself that you are seeking anything other than entertainment. All of it is produced, selected, and edited to entertain, and just as Rolex or Nike can convince you a liability is an asset, posts and essays can convince you that consumption is productive. The question is simply how much you want to be entertained. He does not see the death of books as a crisis so much as a swan song for a technology that was the best way to deliver information until better, more compelling ways arrived, though he is careful to note the negative language we use (brain rot, terminally online) betrays a deeper sense that something is off. New media is less forgiving: better than ever for the disciplined, worse than ever for everyone else. His friend Jesse refuses all algorithms and simply lets people tell him what happened, which Giffon half-endorses as the most enlightened, filtered way to consume the radiation secondhand.

    AI, Fake Jobs, and Stewarding Your Gifts

    On AI and white collar displacement, Giffon concedes the short to medium term could be bad (he agrees with a friend who worries about kids in college but not the ten-year-old), but rejects the “peak jobs” panic. Anything that can be automated should be, and the prospect of never having to sit at a computer again strikes him as liberating. Most white collar jobs, he argues, are invented, not contingent on shelter, food, or medicine, and our economy runs on unquenchable desire, so we will simply invent new things to do. Work-from-home attachment is his evidence that many people have only a couple of hours of real work a day, making work-from-home Fridays a soft launch of the four day week. This connects to a more personal theme O’Shaughnessy draws out: the duty to steward your gifts. Waste is aesthetically bad, wasting your gifts is among the worst kinds, and the surest sign you have integrated your work with your genius is that you are having fun.

    The Next Era of Finance and the New Economics of Software

    Giffon notes that today’s largest firms (KKR, Blackstone, Apollo) were founded in a leveraged-buyout culture that is debt-driven, extractive, and financially engineered, and wonders what the next 30 years look like when the founding act of the biggest firms is instead seed investing: equity-driven, optimistic, power-law, and qualitative. He sees East and West Coast finance merging, with the West “eating” the East, and a compensation flip in which the Valley now pays large liquid cash through secondary markets while Wall Street pays RSUs. On software, his central economic argument is that SaaS sold copies of a string at near-zero marginal cost, which is why high gross margins were the norm. The new era sells compute, where you cannot write the prompt once and resell the output, so margins compress and returns accrue to scale, a Walmart effect. He also reframes the high-capex AI buildout as capital markets manufacturing somewhere for blocked capital to flow, with companies created downstream of capital rather than the reverse.

    Beating the Market, Emerging Managers, and the Feudal SPV System

    Giffon argues the myth that you cannot beat the market is overstated: Buffett’s S&P advice is aimed at the average person, and it is professionals, burdened by mandates and career risk, who struggle most, while amateurs who simply held Bitcoin, Tesla, or Apple outperformed. For LPs, he stresses knowing what customer you are. A 500k check is the wrong fit for a growth fund built to serve sovereigns, and emerging managers, tightly aligned to returns, are underrated. He urges underwriting the person over the thesis, paying special attention to a manager’s own financial situation and whether they are looking up or down at the fund size. He then describes the feudal economics of the labs, where founders grant allocations like landed estates, holders charge fees on a synthetic, relational, sometimes perpetual product, and the most egregious setups feature no GP commit, a 10% upfront fee, and carry with no term limit.

    Simplicity, Hiring, and Silicon Valley’s Hidden Philosophy

    On process, Giffon warns that investors prize complexity to look clever, when the choice is really to do something so complex no one else will or to keep it genuinely simple (be long Elon, buy big companies at their 200-week moving average), with the real gift being the ability to sell the simple idea. He praises Richard Rainwater’s one-page-thesis-plus-percentage-of-net-worth test as a brutal clarity forcing function. On hiring, he treats the job description as a sales pitch and a baked-in interview, using divisive, ambiguous statements like “an ideological minority at a top 10 school” to self-select the right people and repel the wrong ones. Finally, he makes the case that Silicon Valley’s underlying philosophy is badly underrated: a neo-Buddhist utilitarianism that flows into effective altruism, with thinkers like Nick Land, Curtis Yarvin, and William MacAskill shaping the culture unnamed. Where 1980s Wall Street was pagan and nakedly about money, today’s tech sees itself as self-righteous and positive-sum, treating the business as the ultimate philanthropy, with none of the old reflex to launder gains through art or culture.

    Notable Quotes

    “Every once in a while someone basically crystallizes a notion right at the right time in the right way that sort of becomes the foundational viewpoint or opinion on a certain era.”

    Jeremy Giffon, defining the billion dollar PDF

    “The capital just follows the billion dollar PDF around the field.”

    Jeremy Giffon, comparing capital to ten-year-olds chasing a soccer ball

    “Everyone gets served the same 500 tweets per day and it’s hundreds of millions of daily active users.”

    Jeremy Giffon, on the uni-feed that makes X the global newspaper

    “Posting changes your life if you’re good at it. That’s still true today, maybe more true than ever.”

    Jeremy Giffon, on posting as the last great meritocracy

    “Andrew Carnegie could take up arms against his workers, but now if you post the wrong thing as a billionaire, you have to resign.”

    Jeremy Giffon, on the shrinking power of the billionaire class

    “It’s this holy conceptual, just points on a leaderboard, truly, because you can’t spend it.”

    Jeremy Giffon, on net worth as a modern invention

    “One should not fool themselves that they are looking for anything other than entertainment in all the media that they consume, because it is produced to be entertaining.”

    Jeremy Giffon, on opting out of the timeline

    “We’re in an era where we’re selling compute. You can’t write the prompt once and then sell copies of the output. You have to do the compute every single time.”

    Jeremy Giffon, on the new economics of software

    “The most important media property won’t be watched. The most important author isn’t read. The most important philosopher is not understood. The most important stock has no fundamentals.”

    Jeremy Giffon, on a world where reputation floats free of the thing itself

    Watch the full conversation with Jeremy Giffon and Patrick O’Shaughnessy here on Invest Like the Best.

    Related Reading

  • OpenAI and Broadcom Unveil Jalapeño, a Custom LLM Inference Chip to Cut Compute Costs and Reduce Nvidia Dependence

    OpenAI and Broadcom pulled the wrapper off Jalapeño on Wednesday, June 24, 2026, a custom silicon accelerator that OpenAI is calling its first “Intelligence Processor” and its first real move into designing the hardware underneath its own models. Broadcom President and CEO Hock Tan and President Charlie Kawwas physically handed the wafer to OpenAI CEO Sam Altman and President and Co-Founder Greg Brockman, a staged moment meant to signal that the ChatGPT maker is no longer just a models-and-products company but is now reaching all the way down to the chip. Jalapeño is purpose-built for large language model inference, the compute-intensive job of actually serving answers to users rather than training the model in the first place, and OpenAI plans to deploy it at gigawatt scale by the end of 2026 as the first step in a multi-generation platform built with Broadcom and Canadian electronics manufacturer Celestica. You can read the announcement straight from the source in OpenAI’s official post.

    TLDR

    OpenAI and Broadcom unveiled Jalapeño, OpenAI’s first custom AI chip, an ASIC designed from a blank slate specifically for LLM inference rather than training, manufactured by TSMC and integrated into server systems by Celestica that only OpenAI will use. OpenAI claims the chip went from initial design to manufacturing tape-out in just nine months, what it calls the fastest ASIC development cycle ever in high-performance advanced semiconductors, accelerated in part by using its own AI models to design the silicon. Engineering samples are already running ML workloads in the lab, including GPT-5.3-Codex-Spark, and OpenAI says early testing shows performance per watt “substantially better” than current state-of-the-art, a self-reported and not yet independently verified claim with a full technical report promised in the coming months. Broadcom CEO Hock Tan told Reuters the chip matches Nvidia’s Blackwell and Google’s TPUs, framing the launch as part of a flywheel where OpenAI owns the full stack from chip to model to product. The chip slots into a broader infrastructure strategy targeting 10 gigawatts of custom accelerator capacity between 2026 and 2029 with deployments alongside Microsoft and other partners, and The Decoder reported Microsoft is expected to buy 40 percent of the chips, a guarantee Broadcom reportedly demanded to secure the first phase. The move is widely read as OpenAI diversifying away from Nvidia, continuing a procurement spree that already includes AWS Trainium, AMD, and Cerebras, as inference quietly becomes the company’s real cost center.

    Thoughts

    The single most important word in this announcement is “inference,” and it is the word doing the heavy lifting. Training a frontier model is a capital expense that happens in bursts. Inference is the bill that arrives every single day, forever, scaling linearly with usage. Every ChatGPT reply, every Codex task, every API call, every agent step is an inference event, and as OpenAI’s product surface explodes that recurring cost is the thing that actually threatens the unit economics. A custom chip aimed squarely at inference is therefore not a vanity project or a research flex. It is OpenAI attacking the largest variable cost in its business at the root, trying to bend its cost-per-token curve below what it pays renting Nvidia GPUs. If Jalapeño lands anywhere near its claims, the payoff is not faster benchmarks, it is gross margin.

    The performance-per-watt claim, though, deserves the most skeptical reading in the room. OpenAI says Jalapeño will deliver performance per watt “substantially better” than current state-of-the-art, but it has not finalized the numbers, has not said which chips it tested against, on what tasks, or under what conditions, and the full technical report is somewhere in the indefinite “coming months.” These are self-reported figures from a company with an enormous interest in convincing the market it has a credible alternative to Nvidia. Hock Tan’s line that the chip is “as good as” Blackwell and Google’s TPUs is a CEO talking his own book in an interview, not a measured result. The honest posture is to treat the figures as marketing until the technical report lands. A chip running engineering samples in a lab at target frequency is real progress, but it is a very long way from a chip that holds those numbers across a production fleet under messy real-world load.

    OpenAI left the most revealing detail out of its own press release: the report, via The Decoder, that Broadcom demanded Microsoft guarantee it will buy 40 percent of the chips to secure the first phase. That single sentence tells you who is actually carrying the risk. Building gigawatt-scale custom silicon is brutally capital-intensive, and Broadcom is not willing to commit manufacturing capacity on the strength of OpenAI’s demand alone. It wants a balance sheet behind the order, and Microsoft, OpenAI’s largest backer, is the balance sheet. That detail quietly reframes the whole “OpenAI owns the stack” narrative. OpenAI may design the chip, but the deployment is underwritten by Microsoft’s purchasing commitment, which means Microsoft also gets leverage and supply security out of an OpenAI-branded part. Ownership of the design is not the same as ownership of the risk.

    The flywheel framing is genuinely interesting and probably the most defensible strategic claim OpenAI is making. OpenAI says it used its own models to accelerate parts of the chip design and optimization, compressing a normally multi-year ASIC cycle into nine months. If that is even partly true, it is a meaningful loop: the models help design the chips, the chips run the models more cheaply, the cheaper models drive more usage and revenue, and the revenue funds the next chip. That is a compounding advantage that is hard for a pure hardware vendor to replicate and hard for a pure software lab to replicate. The catch is that nine months from design to tape-out is a claim about speed, not about whether the resulting chip is actually competitive in volume. Fast tape-out and great silicon are different achievements, and the industry has seen plenty of chips that taped out quickly and underwhelmed in production.

    Strip away the “Intelligence Processor” branding and this is a playbook we have already watched run three times. Google built TPUs, Amazon built Trainium and Inferentia, Meta built MTIA, and all of them turned to Broadcom or Marvell for the design IP that is hard to replicate in-house. OpenAI is doing the same thing with the same partner, just later and louder. The diversification arc is unmistakable: OpenAI was one of the biggest Nvidia GPU buyers on earth, and in the span of a year it has signed deals for AWS Trainium, AMD accelerators, and Cerebras inference hardware, and now its own custom ASIC. Nvidia is not in trouble, demand still vastly outstrips supply, but the era where the largest AI labs were captive single-vendor customers is clearly ending. The most intriguing wildcard is OpenAI’s own line that Jalapeño is “designed with flexibility to work with all LLMs.” That is not how you describe a chip you intend to keep entirely to yourself. It hints, however faintly, at an OpenAI that could one day rent out inference infrastructure the way it now rents models, which would put it in direct competition with the very cloud providers it currently depends on.

    Key Takeaways

    • OpenAI and Broadcom unveiled Jalapeño on Wednesday, June 24, 2026, OpenAI’s first custom AI chip and its first piece of in-house silicon after years focused on models and products.
    • The chip is branded an “Intelligence Processor” and described as the first AI accelerator in a multi-generation compute platform the two companies are building together.
    • Jalapeño is purpose-built for large language model inference, the compute-intensive work of generating responses and serving answers to users, and explicitly not for training.
    • Inference is OpenAI’s recurring cost center: every ChatGPT conversation, coding request, image generation, and agent action relies on it, making it one of the highest ongoing costs in the business.
    • Broadcom President and CEO Hock Tan and President Charlie Kawwas physically delivered the first wafer to OpenAI CEO Sam Altman and President Greg Brockman.
    • OpenAI designed the chip from scratch around its understanding of LLM fundamentals, informed by its roadmap of models, kernels, serving systems, and product needs.
    • Jalapeño is described as a blank-slate design for modern LLM inference, not a general-purpose accelerator adapted from earlier AI workloads.
    • The chip is shaped by the systems OpenAI runs daily across ChatGPT, Codex, the API, and future agentic products, while also being designed to work with current and future LLMs across the industry.
    • The stated performance goal is to combine the throughput of today’s leading AI accelerators with latency closer to the fastest specialized inference systems, suiting it for interactive LLM products at scale.
    • OpenAI frames this as its full-stack advantage: it designs frontier models, builds products on top of them, and now designs the chip architecture, kernels, memory systems, networking, scheduling, and deployment systems underneath.
    • OpenAI claims Jalapeño went from initial design to manufacturing tape-out in just nine months.
    • The companies call it what they believe to be the fastest ASIC development cycle ever achieved in high-performance advanced semiconductors, against a backdrop of typically multi-year timelines.
    • OpenAI used its own AI models to accelerate parts of the chip design and optimization process, which it credits for the speed.
    • OpenAI frames the result as a flywheel: the same models served to users help improve the infrastructure that runs future models, lowering compute cost across the industry.
    • Engineering samples of Jalapeño are already running ML workloads in the lab at production target frequency and power.
    • Among the workloads running on the samples is OpenAI’s GPT-5.3-Codex-Spark model.
    • GPT-5.3-Codex-Spark currently runs on Cerebras hardware, which also specializes in inference, per The Decoder.
    • OpenAI says early testing shows Jalapeño will deliver performance per watt “substantially better” than current state-of-the-art hardware.
    • That performance-per-watt claim is self-reported and lacks independent verification; OpenAI has not said which chips it tested against, on what tasks, or under what conditions.
    • OpenAI says it is still measuring final performance and has promised a detailed technical report in the coming months.
    • The architecture reduces data movement and balances compute, memory, and networking resources to push realized utilization much closer to theoretical peak performance.
    • Jalapeño is an ASIC, which experts say is less flexible than Nvidia’s GPU but less expensive and tailorable to specific AI tasks.
    • Broadcom contributes silicon implementation and networking technologies, including its Tomahawk networking silicon, to bring the platform to large-scale production.
    • Canadian electronics manufacturer Celestica provides board, rack, and system integration expertise and will build the server systems.
    • The chips are manufactured by Taiwan’s TSMC, the world’s leading advanced semiconductor foundry, after OpenAI sent over the design.
    • Both the chips and the Celestica-built server systems will be used only by OpenAI, not sold to outside customers.
    • OpenAI plans to deploy Jalapeño at gigawatt scale by the end of 2026, with expansion in the years ahead, as the first step in a multi-generation plan.
    • Hock Tan said gigawatt-scale data center deployment will happen with Microsoft and other partners beginning in 2026.
    • The Decoder reported Microsoft is expected to buy 40 percent of the chips, with Broadcom reportedly demanding Microsoft guarantee that share to secure the first phase.
    • Broadcom CEO Hock Tan told Reuters that Jalapeño is as good as Nvidia’s Blackwell chips and the TPUs designed by Alphabet’s Google.
    • In October 2025, after 18 months of working together, OpenAI and Broadcom went public with plans to develop and deploy racks of OpenAI-designed chips starting late this year; CNBC framed the unveiling as coming eight months after that deal.
    • The prior OpenAI-Broadcom plan ultimately aimed at 10 gigawatts of custom AI accelerator capacity, with deployments expected between 2026 and 2029.
    • Estimates suggest OpenAI’s broader infrastructure plans could eventually involve around 26 gigawatts of computing capacity across custom chips, Nvidia hardware, and other accelerators.
    • OpenAI has been one of the biggest buyers of Nvidia’s GPUs since kickstarting the generative AI boom in 2022, but explosive demand has pushed it to seek other sources of advanced silicon.
    • Earlier in 2026 OpenAI struck a deal with Amazon Web Services that includes use of AWS Trainium chips, and has also signed agreements with AMD and with Cerebras, which held its IPO in May.
    • The move is widely characterized as OpenAI diversifying away from and reducing dependence on Nvidia while creating an alternative to its GPUs.
    • OpenAI’s stated goals with the chip are to reduce costs, improve energy efficiency, secure long-term computing supply, and gain more control over the infrastructure powering its services.
    • Broadcom shares climbed about 2 percent following the announcement, are up roughly 10 percent year-to-date in 2026, and have multiplied almost sevenfold since the end of 2022.
    • To build in-house chips, Meta, Amazon, and Google have turned to firms like Broadcom and Marvell for design services and IP that are hard to replicate internally; Reuters first reported OpenAI was exploring its own chip in 2023, and sources told Reuters in April 2026 that Anthropic is weighing its own AI chip.
    • Broadcom’s margin on custom AI chips is currently lower than on products like networking switches due to AI-driven high-bandwidth memory demand; Tan said SK Hynix and Samsung Electronics supply Broadcom with memory chips.

    Detailed Summary

    A blank-slate chip built only for inference

    Jalapeño is OpenAI’s first so-called Intelligence Processor, and the company is emphatic that it is not a repurposed general-purpose accelerator. It was designed from a blank slate specifically for modern large language model inference, the job of crunching data to answer a user’s query rather than the separate, bursty work of training a model. OpenAI says it designed the chip from scratch around its own deep understanding of LLM fundamentals, informed by its roadmap of models, kernels, serving systems, and product needs, drawing on the systems it runs every day across ChatGPT, Codex, the API, and future agentic products. The stated objective is to fuse the raw power and throughput of today’s leading AI accelerators with latency closer to the fastest specialized inference systems, which would make Jalapeño particularly well suited to interactive products used at scale. Notably, OpenAI also says the chip is designed with flexibility to work with all LLMs across the industry, not only its own, a claim that sits a little oddly next to its plan to keep the hardware entirely in-house.

    The full-stack flywheel and AI designing its own silicon

    OpenAI is selling Jalapeño as proof of a full-stack advantage. The argument is that because OpenAI now develops frontier models, builds products on top of them, and designs the infrastructure underneath them, including chip architecture, kernels, memory systems, networking, scheduling, deployment systems, and the product experience, every layer can be optimized around the same goal of making its models faster, more reliable, and cheaper. OpenAI describes this as a flywheel: better infrastructure drives compute efficiency, which enables better training and serving, which powers more capable models, which become better products, which drive more usage and revenue, which funds the next generation of infrastructure. The most striking piece of that loop is that OpenAI used its own AI models to accelerate parts of the chip’s design and optimization. The company’s framing is direct: if AI can help engineers design better chips faster, it can lower the cost of compute across the industry. That self-referential loop is the part of the announcement that is genuinely novel rather than a rerun of an existing hyperscaler playbook.

    Nine-month tape-out and the partner stack

    OpenAI claims it took roughly nine months to go from initial design to manufacturing tape-out, and calls this what it believes to be the fastest ASIC development cycle ever achieved in high-performance advanced semiconductors, against an industry norm measured in years. It credits deep software-hardware co-development, Broadcom’s silicon implementation expertise, and the use of its own models to compress the schedule. The work is split across a clear partner stack: OpenAI provides the architecture and AI-specific requirements, Broadcom contributes silicon implementation and networking technology, including its Tomahawk networking silicon, and Celestica handles boards, racks, and system integration, building the actual server systems. Once the design was complete, OpenAI sent it to TSMC in Taiwan, the world’s leading advanced foundry, for manufacturing. Crucially, both the chips and the systems built around them are for OpenAI’s exclusive use; they are not products being sold to outside customers.

    Performance claims that nobody can check yet

    OpenAI says early testing shows Jalapeño will deliver performance per watt substantially better than current state-of-the-art hardware, with an architecture that reduces data movement and balances compute, memory, and networking to push realized utilization much closer to theoretical peak. Hardware program lead Richard Ho said the team optimized around the kernels, memory movement, networking, and serving patterns that matter most for frontier models, and that the chip will execute key workloads close to the hardware’s theoretical limits. He told Reuters it will be performant on what he thinks will be all kinds of future LLM iterations. The important caveat is that none of this is verifiable. OpenAI is still measuring final performance, has not finalized the numbers, and has not disclosed which chips it benchmarked against, on what tasks, or under what conditions, with the technical report only promised in the coming months. As The Decoder put it bluntly, these are self-reported numbers, unverifiable for now, that should not be taken at face value. Broadcom CEO Hock Tan’s separate claim to Reuters that the chip is as good as Nvidia’s Blackwell and Google’s TPUs is similarly an unverified assertion from an interested party.

    Gigawatts, Microsoft’s 40 percent, and who carries the risk

    Jalapeño is the opening move in a much larger infrastructure buildout. Initial deployment is targeted for the end of 2026 at gigawatt scale, expanding over multiple generations. Tan said the gigawatt-scale data centers will come online with Microsoft and other partners beginning in 2026. The deal traces back to October 2025, when, after 18 months of collaboration, OpenAI and Broadcom went public with plans to deploy racks of OpenAI-designed chips, ultimately aiming for 10 gigawatts of custom accelerator capacity with deployments expected between 2026 and 2029. Broader estimates put OpenAI’s total infrastructure ambition at around 26 gigawatts across custom chips, Nvidia hardware, and other accelerators. The detail that cuts through the optimism comes from The Decoder: Microsoft is expected to buy 40 percent of the chips, and Broadcom reportedly demanded that Microsoft guarantee that purchase to secure the first phase. That guarantee shows that the financial risk of this buildout is not OpenAI’s alone; it rests heavily on its largest backer’s balance sheet.

    The Nvidia diversification arc and Broadcom’s windfall

    Jalapeño is the clearest signal yet of OpenAI loosening its dependence on Nvidia. OpenAI has been one of the biggest buyers of Nvidia GPUs since it kickstarted the generative AI boom in 2022, but demand has exploded past what any single vendor can supply. Within 2026 alone, OpenAI has struck a deal with AWS that includes Trainium chips, signed agreements with AMD and with Cerebras, which held its IPO in May, and now rolled out its own ASIC. The pattern mirrors what Meta, Amazon, and Google already did, all of them leaning on firms like Broadcom and Marvell for design IP that is hard to build in-house, and Anthropic is reportedly weighing the same move, per sources who spoke to Reuters in April 2026. Broadcom is the obvious beneficiary, with shares up about 2 percent on the news, up roughly 10 percent in 2026, and up nearly sevenfold since the end of 2022. Even so, Tan noted that the AI-driven surge in high-bandwidth memory demand makes Broadcom’s margin on custom AI chips lower than on products like networking switches, with SK Hynix and Samsung Electronics supplying the memory.

    Notable Quotes

    “The world is moving to a compute-powered economy.”

    Greg Brockman, President and Co-Founder of OpenAI, framing the launch as a broad economic shift

    “Jalapeño is part of our long-term full-stack infrastructure strategy to make compute more abundant, resulting in AI which is faster, more reliable, more affordable for people and businesses, and can be used to solve more important problems. By designing more of the stack ourselves, we can serve more intelligence with greater efficiency and keep pushing advanced AI toward broader access.”

    Greg Brockman, President and Co-Founder of OpenAI, on the full-stack rationale for building its own chip

    “Jalapeño was designed from the ground up for LLM inference using detailed insights from our close collaboration with OpenAI researchers.”

    Richard Ho, who leads OpenAI’s hardware program, describing the chip as purpose-built rather than adapted

    “We optimized the architecture around the kernels, memory movement, networking, and serving patterns that matter most for frontier AI models. Based on early testing, Jalapeño will efficiently execute our most important workloads close to the hardware’s theoretical limits.”

    Richard Ho, who leads OpenAI’s hardware program, on the architecture’s optimization targets and early performance

    “It will be performant on, we think, all kind of future iterations of LLMs.”

    Richard Ho, OpenAI hardware chief, to Reuters on the chip’s forward compatibility with future models

    “Our collaboration with OpenAI represents a fundamental commitment to scaling the physical infrastructure required for the next decade of AI.”

    Hock Tan, President and CEO, Broadcom, on the scale of the infrastructure commitment

    “This is just the beginning of a multi-generation roadmap. By co-developing our industry-leading silicon directly with OpenAI, we are enabling the deployment of gigawatt scale data centers with Microsoft and other partners beginning in 2026.”

    Hock Tan, President and CEO, Broadcom, on the multi-generation plan and 2026 gigawatt-scale deployment with Microsoft

    “The goal is to combine the power and throughput of today’s leading AI accelerators with latency closer to the fastest specialized inference systems, making Jalapeño well suited for interactive LLM products at scale.”

    OpenAI, in the press release, stating the performance objective for the chip

    “These are self-reported numbers that haven’t been finalized. Take them with a grain of salt.”

    Maximilian Schreiner, The Decoder, on the unverified performance-per-watt claim

    Jalapeño is a real chip running real workloads in a lab, but the gap between an engineering sample and a profitable production fleet is exactly where this story will be decided over the next year, and the most important numbers, the performance-per-watt figures that justify the whole effort, remain self-reported and unverified until OpenAI publishes its technical report. Read OpenAI’s full announcement here.

    Related Reading

    • OpenAI, the chip’s designer and the primary source of the announcement and quotes.
    • Broadcom, the co-developer providing silicon implementation and Tomahawk networking.
    • Celestica, which builds the boards, racks, and server systems around the Jalapeño chip.
    • ASIC (application-specific integrated circuit), what Jalapeño is, a custom chip built for one task unlike a general-purpose GPU.
    • Nvidia Blackwell, the Nvidia architecture Broadcom’s CEO claims Jalapeño matches.

  • OpenAI’s Leaked 2025 Financials: $34 Billion in Spending, a $38.5 Billion Net Loss, and a $17 Billion Microsoft Bill Ahead of Its IPO

    Infographic summarizing OpenAI leaked 2025 financials: $13.07B revenue, $34B total costs, $20.92B operating loss, $38.53B net loss, where the $34B went, the $17.2B paid to Microsoft versus $303M paid back, inference costs, and IPO valuation context

    OpenAI’s audited 2025 financials leaked this week, and they are the clearest picture yet of what it actually costs to run the company behind ChatGPT. Independent journalist Ed Zitron first published the documents, and the Financial Times independently confirmed them. The headline: OpenAI spent $34 billion last year, booked $13.07 billion in revenue, and reported a net loss attributable to the company of $38.5 billion. The disclosure lands just days after OpenAI confidentially filed for an IPO that could value it north of $1 trillion.

    TLDR

    OpenAI’s audited 2025 numbers, leaked by Ed Zitron and confirmed by the Financial Times, show revenue tripling to $13.07 billion while total costs reached $34 billion, producing a $20.92 billion operating loss and a $38.53 billion net loss attributable to the company. The much larger net loss is inflated by a one-time $41.55 billion non-cash charge tied to OpenAI’s October 2025 conversion from a nonprofit to a public benefit corporation; strip the non-cash items and the loss is closer to $8 billion. R&D alone was $19.18 billion, cost of revenue (inference) was $7.5 billion, and sales and marketing ballooned to $5.73 billion. OpenAI paid Microsoft $17.2 billion in 2025 while Microsoft paid OpenAI only $303 million, exposing a deep Azure dependency. The company burned $1.60 for every dollar of revenue, down from $2.37 in 2024, and gross margin slipped from roughly 40% to 33% as more capable models consumed more compute per query. The leak arrives as OpenAI files a confidential S-1, targets a listing as early as September 2026 at up to a $1 trillion valuation, and races rival Anthropic, which is more valuable on paper and claims it is already turning an operating profit.

    Thoughts

    The most important thing to understand about these numbers is that there are two loss figures and the press will conflate them. The $38.53 billion net loss is the scary headline, but $41.55 billion of it is a non-cash accounting charge from converting investor convertible interests into equity during the for-profit restructuring. That charge is real on the audited statement and it will show up in the eventual S-1, but it is a one-time artifact of OpenAI’s unusual corporate history, not money that left the building. The number that describes the actual business is the $20.92 billion operating loss. That is the one to watch, and it is still enormous.

    The genuinely encouraging line in the whole release is the loss-per-dollar ratio. In 2024 OpenAI spent $2.37 to generate a dollar of revenue. In 2025 that fell to $1.60. A company that is still losing $1.60 on every dollar is not a healthy business, but a company whose efficiency improved by a third in a single year while tripling its top line is at least pointed in a defensible direction. The bull case for OpenAI lives entirely in the slope of that line. If it keeps improving at that rate, the math eventually crosses over. If it stalls, the valuation is a fantasy.

    The Microsoft relationship is the single most revealing disclosure, and it is wildly asymmetric. OpenAI paid Microsoft $17.2 billion in 2025. Microsoft paid OpenAI $303 million. That is a 56-to-1 ratio, and it reframes the partnership: Microsoft is not really a peer or even just an investor, it is OpenAI’s landlord and primary supplier, collecting rent on every model trained and every query answered. The April 2026 renegotiation that capped revenue-share payments at $38 billion through 2030, down from a projected $135 billion, suddenly looks less like a favor and more like OpenAI desperately trying to lower its single largest cost. The dependency cuts both ways, but right now Microsoft holds the better hand.

    The structural problem hiding inside the cost of revenue line is inference. Training a model is a fixed, one-time cost. Serving it is a recurring cost that scales with every one of ChatGPT’s roughly 800 million weekly users. OpenAI spent $5.02 billion on Azure inference in the first half of 2025 alone, and the more capable its reasoning models get, the more compute each answer burns. That is why gross margin went down even as revenue went up. It is the opposite of how software is supposed to work, where the marginal cost of one more user trends toward zero. OpenAI’s marginal cost is real, large, and growing. The counterargument is that per-token inference costs have been falling roughly tenfold a year, so the unit economics could still flip. That is the entire wager.

    Finally, the timing matters more than the numbers. OpenAI’s confidential S-1 means these audited figures were going to become public regardless, since the SEC requires the full prospectus at least 15 days before a roadshow. What the leak changes is who gets to study them first. Prospective IPO buyers, enterprise customers signing multi-year API contracts, and competitors now have the audited books weeks or months early, and they are reading them against Anthropic, which filed at a higher valuation and claims an operating profit. For a company asking the public markets to underwrite a $1 trillion bet on a monopoly outcome that does not yet exist, losing control of the narrative this early is not a small thing.

    Key Takeaways

    • OpenAI’s audited 2025 financials were first published by independent journalist Ed Zitron and independently confirmed by the Financial Times, the first verified look at the company’s books before its planned IPO.
    • Revenue grew from $3.7 billion in 2024 to $13.07 billion in 2025, more than tripling year over year, making OpenAI one of the fastest-growing businesses in history.
    • By the end of 2025 OpenAI was generating roughly $2 billion in monthly revenue, up from about $1 billion a quarter at the end of 2024.
    • Total costs and expenses hit $34 billion in 2025, up from $12.48 billion in 2024.
    • Research and development was the single largest expense at $19.18 billion, up from $7.81 billion, and exceeded total revenue on its own.
    • Of that R&D spend, $10.59 billion went to Microsoft, almost certainly the GPU compute cost of training frontier models on Azure.
    • Cost of revenue, the expense of serving ChatGPT responses (inference), rose from $2.65 billion to $7.5 billion.
    • Sales and marketing jumped from $1.11 billion to $5.73 billion, a 418% increase.
    • General and administrative costs rose from $907 million to $1.57 billion.
    • The operating loss, the truest measure of day-to-day economics, grew from $8.78 billion to $20.92 billion.
    • The net loss attributable to OpenAI was $38.53 billion, up nearly eightfold from $5.09 billion in 2024.
    • The bulk of that jump was a one-time, non-cash $41.55 billion charge from OpenAI’s October 28, 2025 conversion to a public benefit corporation, reflecting the changing fair value of convertible interests and warrant liabilities.
    • Stripping out the restructuring charge and other non-cash items such as stock-based compensation and Microsoft computing credits, the underlying loss was about $8 billion.
    • Including all factors, gross net loss reached $60.35 billion, lowered to the $38.53 billion attributable figure by removing $21.82 billion attributed to noncontrolling and redeemable noncontrolling interests.
    • OpenAI burned $1.60 for every $1 of revenue in 2025, an improvement from $2.37 in 2024, the clearest data point in the bull case.
    • Measured as a percentage of revenue, the operating loss improved from 237% in 2024 to 160% in 2025.
    • In total, OpenAI paid Microsoft $17.2 billion in 2025: $10.59 billion in R&D fees, $6.047 billion in cost of revenue, $527 million in sales and marketing, and $42 million in G&A.
    • Microsoft paid OpenAI just $303 million in the same year, a 56-to-1 imbalance underscoring OpenAI’s Azure dependency.
    • SoftBank paid OpenAI $867 million in 2025.
    • At year-end OpenAI carried $3.64 billion in outstanding payables to Microsoft, plus tens of millions more in accrued and non-current liabilities.
    • OpenAI spent $5.02 billion on Azure inference in just the first half of 2025; Azure inference from 2024 through Q3 2025 totaled $12.43 billion.
    • ChatGPT serves roughly 800 million weekly users, meaning billions of queries a week, each one burning GPU time at Azure’s pricing of about $6.98 per H100 GPU-hour.
    • Gross margin fell from roughly 40% in 2024 to 33% in 2025, because more capable reasoning models consume more compute per query.
    • Research firm Sacra estimates OpenAI’s inference costs reached $8.4 billion in 2025 and will rise to $14.1 billion in 2026, a 68% increase.
    • At year-end OpenAI held just over $50 billion in assets, with almost half in cash.
    • The April 2026 Microsoft renegotiation ended exclusivity and capped revenue-share payments at $38 billion through 2030, down from a projected $135 billion, potentially saving OpenAI up to $97 billion over five years.
    • OpenAI filed a confidential draft S-1 with the SEC around May 22, 2026 and confirmed it publicly on June 8, naming Goldman Sachs and Morgan Stanley as underwriters.
    • The company is targeting a listing as early as September 2026 at a valuation that could exceed $1 trillion, though Sam Altman has said a public offering “may be a while.”
    • OpenAI raised $122 billion earlier in 2026 at a $730 billion pre-money valuation, putting its post-money value around $852 billion.
    • At an $852 billion valuation, OpenAI trades at roughly 65 times its 2025 revenue.
    • Rival Anthropic also filed IPO paperwork this month after raising $65 billion at a $900-$965 billion valuation, making it more valuable on paper than OpenAI, and says it expects to report an operating profit of $559 million in the June quarter.
    • HSBC analysts estimate OpenAI may need more than $207 billion in additional capital through 2030 even under optimistic projections.
    • OpenAI projects profitability by 2029 or 2030; independent analysts put the more likely date at 2031 or later.
    • Bridgewater partner Greg Jensen reportedly told clients the implied revenue multiples price OpenAI for “a monopoly outcome that does not yet exist.”
    • Zitron separately reported OpenAI had a negative 122% non-GAAP operating margin in Q1 2026 and that ChatGPT growth has stalled, with the company projecting paid ChatGPT Plus subscriptions to fall from 44 million in 2025 toward cheaper tiers in 2026.

    Detailed Summary

    How the leak happened and why it matters now

    The audited documents were obtained and first published by Ed Zitron on his newsletter Where’s Your Ed At, then independently verified by the Financial Times, which reviewed the same materials. That dual sourcing matters: this is not a rumor or a model, it is OpenAI’s actual audited financial statement. The timing is the story. OpenAI filed a confidential draft S-1 with the SEC around May 22, 2026 and confirmed it publicly on June 8. Under SEC rules the full prospectus must be released at least 15 days before an investor roadshow, so the 2025 numbers were going to be public soon regardless. The leak simply moved that disclosure forward, handing prospective investors, enterprise customers, and competitors an early look at the books.

    Revenue tripled, costs grew faster

    OpenAI’s revenue rose from $3.7 billion in 2024 to $13.07 billion in 2025, and monthly revenue reached nearly $2 billion by year-end. By almost any normal standard that is spectacular growth. The problem is that costs grew faster, reaching $34 billion against $12.48 billion the year before. The gap between what OpenAI earns and what it spends has widened every year since its founding, and 2025 is the starkest example yet. Revenue alone was outpaced by research and development as a single line item in both of the last two years.

    Two loss numbers, and why both matter

    There are two figures that get cited interchangeably and should not be. The operating loss of $20.92 billion is what the business spent beyond what it earned from operations: training models, serving ChatGPT, paying engineers, running marketing. The net loss attributable to OpenAI of $38.53 billion is far larger because 2025 was the year OpenAI completed its conversion from a nonprofit to a for-profit public benefit corporation, finalized on October 28, 2025. That restructuring triggered a $41.55 billion non-cash charge reflecting the changing fair value of convertible equity interests and warrant liabilities. Before the conversion, investors held convertible interest rights treated as liabilities under US accounting rules and revalued upward as OpenAI’s valuation climbed, creating the charge. It is not expected to recur. Including all minor items, gross net loss reached $60.35 billion, reduced to the $38.53 billion attributable figure after removing $21.82 billion tied to noncontrolling and redeemable noncontrolling interests, primarily the OpenAI Foundation’s stake. Strip the non-cash noise and the underlying loss was about $8 billion.

    Where the $34 billion went

    The spending breaks into four lines. Research and development was $19.18 billion, the largest category, with $10.59 billion of it flowing to Microsoft for training compute. Cost of revenue, the expense of serving responses to users, was $7.5 billion and captures inference, the compute consumed every time someone prompts ChatGPT or calls the API. Sales and marketing reached $5.73 billion, up 418% year over year, a striking jump for a product that grew largely by word of mouth. General and administrative costs added $1.57 billion. The shape of the spending tells you OpenAI is simultaneously racing to build better models, serve a massive and growing user base, and aggressively defend market share through marketing.

    The Microsoft dependency

    The most striking single disclosure is the scale of the Microsoft relationship. OpenAI paid Microsoft $17.2 billion in 2025: $10.59 billion in R&D fees for model training, $6.047 billion in cost-of-revenue for inference serving, $527 million in sales and marketing, and $42 million in G&A. Microsoft paid OpenAI just $303 million the same year. SoftBank paid OpenAI $867 million. The 56-to-1 ratio between what OpenAI pays Microsoft and what Microsoft pays back makes the structural reality plain: Microsoft is OpenAI’s largest landlord. The dynamic began shifting in April 2026, when the two renegotiated, ending Microsoft’s exclusivity and capping revenue-share payments at $38 billion through 2030, down from a projected $135 billion. That could save OpenAI up to $97 billion over five years, though Microsoft keeps its IP license through 2032 and remains the primary cloud partner.

    Why inference is the core problem

    Training happens once. Serving happens billions of times a day. When OpenAI releases a model it spends months and billions on training compute, a fixed cost that falls away when training ends. Inference is the opposite: every ChatGPT message runs through the model on Azure GPU hardware, consuming electricity and compute to generate a response. With roughly 800 million weekly users, that is billions of queries a week, each burning GPU time at roughly $6.98 per H100 GPU-hour on demand. OpenAI spent $5.02 billion on Azure inference in the first six months of 2025 alone. Sacra estimates full-year inference costs of $8.4 billion in 2025, rising to $14.1 billion in 2026. This is why gross margin fell from about 40% to 33% even as revenue tripled: more capable reasoning models consume far more compute per query, and revenue has not kept pace with the cost growth that capability generates.

    What it means for the IPO and the race with Anthropic

    OpenAI was last valued around $852 billion post-money after raising $122 billion in early 2026, which puts it at roughly 65 times 2025 revenue. It has named Goldman Sachs and Morgan Stanley as underwriters and is targeting a listing as early as September 2026 at up to a $1 trillion valuation, though Altman has hedged that it “may be a while” and that staying private might be the better course. HSBC estimates the company may need more than $207 billion in additional capital through 2030. The race is with Anthropic, which filed paperwork the same month after raising $65 billion at a $900-$965 billion valuation, making it more valuable on paper, and which says it expects a $559 million operating profit in the June quarter. The contrast is sharp: the two leading AI labs heading toward public markets at the same time, one bleeding cash at scale, the other claiming profitability, both asking investors to bet on a future that has not arrived.

    Notable Quotes

    “The financial condition of OpenAI is deeply concerning. $38.53 billion in losses are astronomical, and far higher than most believed it would be. Losses also appear to be mounting year-over-year at a dramatic rate, and I’m not sure how this company finds a way toward any kind of sustainability or profitability.”

    Ed Zitron, the independent journalist who published the leaked audited financials

    “It’s unclear what this means, nor how OpenAI reconciled the removal of $3.74 billion in costs. I will not speculate further.”

    Ed Zitron, on a discrepancy he found in the restated 2024 figures

    “OpenAI’s two biggest expenses are R&D and marketing. Budget cuts there, coupled with an ability to raise prices or win new sources of revenue, could see the company move into the black over time. Cutting R&D would be the most difficult part of that, given that AI companies can only hold onto their customers by generating the best-performing models.”

    Jim Edwards, Fortune, on whether OpenAI has a realistic path to profitability

    “What the audited documents make impossible to argue is that the path to profitability is short, clear, or cheap.”

    TechTimes analysis of the leaked OpenAI financials

    The implied revenue multiples price OpenAI for “a monopoly outcome that does not yet exist.”

    Bridgewater partner Greg Jensen, reportedly telling clients how to read OpenAI’s valuation

    “OpenAI spent $34bn last year as the ChatGPT maker poured money into a race to dominate the fast-growing AI market ahead of a planned stock market listing.”

    George Hammond and Bryce Elder, Financial Times, framing the audited 2025 spend

    Read Ed Zitron’s original reporting with the full breakdown here, and the Financial Times confirmation here.

    Related Reading

    • Ed Zitron, Where’s Your Ed At the primary source that broke the audited 2025 financials with the full line-by-line breakdown.
    • OpenAI (Wikipedia) background on the company’s history, structure, and the nonprofit-to-for-profit conversion that drives the non-cash charge.
    • Inference (Wikipedia) on the recurring compute cost that explains why OpenAI’s gross margin shrinks as usage grows.
    • Anthropic the rival lab that filed IPO paperwork the same month at a higher valuation and claims it is already operating at a profit.
    • SEC on confidential filings context for why OpenAI’s audited numbers were headed for public disclosure regardless of the leak.

  • 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.

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

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

    TLDW

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

    Thoughts

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

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

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

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

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

    Key Takeaways

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

    Detailed Summary

    Staying an expert when the world keeps changing

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

    What adaptability looks like in a founder

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

    Founder mode and seeing through the fog

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

    Cockroaches, the North Star, and the biosphere tree

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

    Climate, energy, and selling into hard markets

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

    Guilt versus greed as a business model

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

    Personal resilience, Twitter mobs, and the essay process

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

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

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

    Notable Quotes

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

    Paul Graham, on why turbulence favors young, flexible founders

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    Jessica Livingston, on a wildfire curiosity turning into a company

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

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

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

    Paul Graham, on what keeps him up at night

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

    Related Reading

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

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

    TLDW

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

    Thoughts

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

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

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

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

    Key Takeaways

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

    Detailed Summary

    From activist trades to permanent capital

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

    The Wendy’s and Tim Hortons origin story

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

    Why a long-term shareholder on the board matters

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

    AI and the rising risk of disruption

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

    What the market is missing

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

    The SaaS question and AI-enabled software

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

    Underwriting SpaceX, xAI, and the AI labs like venture

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

    Founder-led companies and the authority to act

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

    Howard Hughes as Berkshire Hathaway 2.0

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

    Cost of capital, reflexivity, and going direct

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

    Notable Quotes

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

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

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

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

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

    Bill Ackman, on how prices revert at both extremes

    “People, opportunity, context, deal.”

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

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

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

    “A closed mouth gathers no foot.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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