Shtetl-Optimized

I’m thrilled that our paper entitled Demonstrating an unconditional separation between quantum and classical information resources, based on a collaboration between UT Austin and Quantinuum, is finally up on the arXiv. I’m equally thrilled that my coauthor and former PhD student William Kretschmer — who led the theory for this project, and even wrote much of the code — is now my faculty colleague at UT Austin! My physics colleague Nick Hunter-Jones and my current PhD student Sabee Grewal made important contributions as well. I’d especially like to thank the team at Quantinuum for recognizing a unique opportunity to test and showcase their cutting-edge hardware, and collaborating with us wild-eyed theorists to make it happen. This is something that, crucially, would not have been feasible with the quantum computing hardware of only a couple years ago.

Here’s our abstract, which I think explains what we did clearly enough, although do read the paper for more:

A longstanding goal in quantum information science is to demonstrate quantum computations that cannot be feasibly reproduced on a classical computer. Such demonstrations mark major milestones: they showcase fine control over quantum systems and are prerequisites for useful quantum computation. To date, quantum advantage has been demonstrated, for example, through violations of Bell inequalities and sampling-based quantum supremacy experiments. However, both forms of advantage come with important caveats: Bell tests are not computationally difficult tasks, and the classical hardness of sampling experiments relies on unproven complexity-theoretic assumptions. Here we demonstrate an unconditional quantum advantage in information resources required for a computational task, realized on Quantinuum’s H1-1 trapped-ion quantum computer operating at a median two-qubit partial-entangler fidelity of 99.941(7)%. We construct a task for which the most space-efficient classical algorithm provably requires between 62 and 382 bits of memory, and solve it using only 12 qubits. Our result provides the most direct evidence yet that currently existing quantum processors can generate and manipulate entangled states of sufficient complexity to access the exponentiality of Hilbert space. This form of quantum advantage — which we call quantum information supremacy — represents a new benchmark in quantum computing, one that does not rely on unproven conjectures.

I’m very happy to field questions about this paper in the comments section.

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Unrelated Announcement: As some of you might have seen, yesterday’s Wall Street Journal carried a piece by Dan Kagan-Kans on “The Rise of ‘Conspiracy Physics.'” I talked to the author for the piece, and he quoted this blog in the following passage:

This resentment of scientific authority figures is the major attraction of what might be called “conspiracy physics.” Most fringe theories are too arcane for listeners to understand, but anyone can grasp the idea that academic physics is just one more corrupt and self-serving establishment. The German physicist Sabine Hossenfelder has attracted 1.72 million YouTube subscribers in part by attacking her colleagues: “Your problem is that you’re lying to the people who pay you,” she declared. “Your problem is that you’re cowards without a shred of scientific integrity.”

In this corner of the internet, the scientist Scott Aaronson has written, “Anyone perceived as the ‘mainstream establishment’ faces a near-insurmountable burden of proof, while anyone perceived as ‘renegade’ wins by default if they identify any hole whatsoever in mainstream understanding.”

(1) My 8-year-old son asked me last week, “daddy, did you hear that GPT-5 is now out?” So yes, I’m indeed aware that GPT-5 is now out! I’ve just started playing around with it. For detailed reports on what’s changed and how impressive it is compared to previous models, see for example Zvi #1, #2, #3. Briefly, it looks like there are major reductions in hallucinations and sycophancy, and improvements in practical usefulness for coding and other tasks, even while the “raw intelligence” is unlikely to blow away someone who was already well-acquainted with o3 and Opus 4 other state-of-the-art models, the way ChatGPT and then GPT-4 blew away people who had no idea what was possible in late 2022 and early 2023. Partly how impressive a result you see depends on which of several GPT-5 models your query gets routed to, which you don’t entirely control. Anyway, there’s grist here for the people who claim that progress toward AGI is slowing down, but also grist for the people who claim that it continues pretty much as expected within our post-ChatGPT reality!

(2) In other belated news, OpenAI and DeepMind (and then, other companies) announced that they achieved Gold Medal performance on the International Math Olympiad, by solving 5 of the 6 problems (there was one problem, the 6th and hardest, that all of the AIs struggled with). Most importantly, this means that I’ve won $100 from my friend Ernest Davis, AI expert at NYU, who bet me $100 that no AI would earn a Gold Medal at the International Math Olympiad by December 4, 2026. Even though I’m normally risk-averse and reluctant to take bets, I considered this one to be extremely safe, and indeed I won it with more than a year to spare.

(3) I’ve signed an open letter to OpenAI, along with many of my fellow former OpenAI employees as well as distinguished scientists and writers (Geoffrey Hinton, Stuart Russell, Sheldon Glashow, Sean Carroll, Matt Yglesias…), asking for more transparency about OpenAI’s continuing efforts to change its own structure. The questions basically ask OpenAI to declare, in writing, whether it has or hasn’t now completely abandoned the original nonprofit goals with which the organization was founded in 2015.

(4) At Lighthaven, the rationalist meeting space in Berkeley that I recently visited (and that our friend Cade Metz recently cast aspersions on in the New York Times), there’s going to be a writer’s residency called Inkhaven for the whole month of November. The idea—which I love—is that you either write a new blog post every day, or else you get asked to leave (while you also attend workshops, etc. to improve your writing skills). I’d attend myself for the month if teaching and family obligations didn’t conflict; someone standing over me with a whip to make me write is precisely what I need these days! As it is, I’m one of the three advisors to Inkhaven, along with Scott Alexander and Gwern, and I’ll be visiting for a long weekend to share my blogging wisdom, such as I have. Apply now if you’re interested!

(5) Alas, the Springer journal Frontiers of Computer Science has published a nonsense paper, entitled “SAT requires exhaustive search,” claiming to solve (or dissolve, or reframe, or something) the P versus NP problem. It looks indistinguishable from the stuff I used to get in my inbox every week—and now, in the ChatGPT era, get every day. That this was published indicates a total breakdown of the peer review process. Worse, when Eric Allender, Ryan Williams, and others notified the editors of this, asking for the paper to be retracted, the editor-in-chief declined to do so: see this guest post on Lance’s blog for a detailed account. As far as I’m concerned, Frontiers of Computer Science has now completely discredited itself as a journal; publication there means nothing more than publication in viXra. Minus 10 points for journals themselves as an institution, plus 10 points for just posting stuff online and letting it be filtered by experts who care.

(6) Uma Girish and Rocco Servedio released an arXiv preprint called Forrelation is Extremally Hard. Recall that, in the Forrelation problem, you’re given oracle access to two n-bit Boolean functions f and g, and asked to estimate the correlation between f and the Fourier transform of g. I introduced this problem in 2009, as a candidate for an oracle separation between BQP and the polynomial hierarchy—a conjecture that Ran Raz and Avishay Tal finally proved in 2018. What I never imagined was that Forrelation could lead to an oracle separation between EQP (that is, Exact Quantum Polynomial Time) and the polynomial hierarchy. For that, I thought you’d need to go back to the original Recursive Fourier Sampling problem of Bernstein and Vazirani. But Uma and Rocco show, using “bent Boolean functions” (get bent!) and totally contrary to my intuition, that the exact (zero-error) version of Forrelation is already classically hard, taking Ω(2^n/4) queries by any randomized algorithm. They leave open whether exact Forrelation needs ~Ω(2^n/2) randomized queries, which would match the upper bound, and also whether exact Forrelation is not in PH.

(7) The Google quantum group, to little fanfare, published a paper entitled Constructive interference at the edge of quantum ergodic dynamics. Here, they use their 103-qubit superconducting processor to measure Out-of-Time-Order Correlators (OTOCs) in a many-body scrambling process, and claim to get a verifiable speedup over the best classical methods. If true, this is a great step toward verifiable quantum supremacy for a useful task, for some definition of “useful.”

(8) Last night, on the arXiv, the team at USTC in China reported that it’s done Gaussian BosonSampling with 3,050 photons and 8,176 modes. They say that this achieves quantum supremacy, much more clearly than any previous BosonSampling demonstration, beating (for example) all existing simulations based on tensor network contraction. Needless to say, this still suffers from the central problem of all current sampling-based quantum supremacy experiments, namely the exponential time needed for direct classical verification of the outputs.

For overdetermined reasons, I’ve lately found the world an increasingly terrifying and depressing place. It’s gotten harder and harder to concentrate on research, or even popular science writing. Every so often, though, something breaks through that wakes my inner child, reminds me of why I fell in love with research thirty years ago, and helps me forget about the triumphantly strutting factions working to destroy everything I value.

Back in 2022, I reported an exciting advance in BusyBeaverology: namely, whereas we previously knew merely that BB(6) > 10^36,534, Pavel Kropitz managed to show that

BB(6) > ¹⁵10.

For those tuning in from home, here BB(6) is the 6^th Busy Beaver number, i.e. the maximum number of steps that a 6-state Turing machine with a {0,1} alphabet can take before halting, when run on an initially all-0 input tape. Also, the left-superscript means tetration, or iterated exponentiation: for example, ¹⁵10 means 10 to the 10 to the 10 and so on 15 times.

By comparison, last year the international “BBchallenge” team determined that BB(5) is “merely” 47,176,870 (see also Quanta magazine’s superb feature article on that milestone). So, between 5 and 6 is where the Busy Beaver function makes its leap, from the millions to beyond the bounds of observable reality.

But if you thought that was the end of the BB(6) story, think again! Eleven days ago, Tristan Sterin, who organized the BBchallenge the team, emailed to tell me that a team member with the handle “mxdys” improved the BB(6) bound yet further, to

BB(6) > ^10,000,00010

(i.e., 10 to the 10 to the 10 and so on 10 million times), with a correctness proof in Coq. Then, three days ago, Tristan wrote again to say that mxdys has improved the bound again, to

$$ BB(6) \gt ^{^{{^9}2}2}2 $$

I.e., BB(6) is at least 2 tetrated to the 2 tetrated to the 2 tetrated to the 9. So in particular, BB(6) is at least 2 pentated to the 5, where pentation is iterated tetration, i.e. the operation that is to tetration as tetration is to exponentiation, exponentiation is to multiplication, and multiplication is to addition.

Last week, when we “merely” knew that BB(6) > ^10,000,00010, I talked to a journalist who asked me to give an intuitive sense of how big such a number is. So I said, imagine you had ^10,000,00010 grains of sand. Then you could … well, uh … you could fill about ^10,000,00010 copies of the observable universe with that sand. I hope that helps people visualize it!

The journalist also asked: have these new discoveries about BB(6) caused me to rethink any broader beliefs about the Busy Beaver function? And I mean, yes and no: it was always completely within the realm of possibility that BB(6) would already be, not some puny little thing like 10^36,534, but way out in iteration land. Now that we know for sure that it is, though, maybe I ought to conjecture that the value of BB(n) becomes independent of the ZFC axioms of set theory already when n is 7 or 8 or 9, rather than when it’s 20 or 30 or whatever. (Currently, we know that BB(n) becomes independent of ZFC only when n=643.)

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Unrelated Update: I’m just now returning to the US from STOC’2025 in Prague, where I saw lots of old friends and learned many interesting new things, again helping to distract me from the state of the world! Many I’ll write about some of those things in a future post. For now, though, anyone who’s interested in my STOC plenary lecture, entitled “The Status of Quantum Speedups,” can check out the PowerPoint slides here.

I posted this on my Facebook, but several friends asked me to share more widely, so here goes:

I voted against Trump three times, and donated thousands to his opponents. I’d still vote against him today, seeing him as a once-in-a-lifetime threat to American democracy and even to the Enlightenment itself.

But last night I was also grateful to him for overruling the isolationists and even open antisemites in his orbit, striking a blow against the most evil regime on the planet, and making it harder for that regime to build nuclear weapons. I acknowledge that his opponents, who I voted for, would’ve probably settled for a deal that would’ve resulted in Iran eventually getting nuclear weapons, and at any rate getting a flow of money to redirect to Hamas, Hezbollah, and the Houthis.

May last night’s events lead to the downfall of the murderous ayatollah regime altogether, and to the liberation of the Iranian people from 46 years of oppression. To my many, many Iranian friends: I hope all your loved ones stay safe, and I hope your great people soon sees better days. I say this as someone whose wife and 8-year-old son are right now in Tel Aviv, sheltering every night from Iranian missiles.

Fundamentally, I believe not only that evil exists in the world, but that it’s important to calibrate evil on a logarithmic scale. Trump (as I’ve written on this blog for a decade) terrifies me, infuriates me, and embarrasses me, and through his evisceration of American science and universities, has made my life noticeably worse. On the other hand, he won’t hang me from a crane for apostasy, nor will he send a ballistic missile to kill my wife and son and then praise God for delivering them into his hands.

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Update: I received the following comment on this post, which filled me with hope, and demonstrated more moral courage than perhaps every other anonymous comment in this blog’s 20-year history combined. To this commenter and their friends and family, I wish safety and eventually, liberation from tyranny.

I will keep my name private for clear reasons. Thank you for your concern for Iranians’ safety and for wishing the mullah regime’s swift collapse. I have fled Tehran and I’m physically safe but mentally, I’m devastated by the war and the internet blackout (the pretext is that Israeli drones are using our internet). Speaking of what the mullahs have done, especially outrageous was the attack on the Weizmann Institute. I hope your wife and son remain safe from the missiles of the regime whose thugs have chased me and my friends in the streets and imprisoned my friends for simple dissent. All’s well that ends well, and I hope this all ends well.

A week ago I attended LessOnline, a rationalist blogging conference featuring many people I’ve known for years—Scott Alexander, Eliezer Yudkowsky, Zvi Mowshowitz, Sarah Constantin, Carl Feynman—as well as people I’ve known only online and was delighted to meet in person, like Joe Carlsmith and Jacob Falkovich and Daniel Reeves. The conference was at Lighthaven, a bewildering maze of passageways, meeting-rooms, sleeping quarters, gardens, and vines off Telegraph Avenue in Berkeley, which has recently emerged as the nerd Shangri-La, or Galt’s Gulch, or Shire, or whatever. I did two events at this year’s LessOnline: a conversation with Nate Soares about the Orthogonality Thesis, and an ask-me-anything session about quantum computing and theoretical computer science (no new ground there for regular consumers of my content).

What I’ll remember most from LessOnline is not the sessions, mine or others’, but the unending conversation among hundreds of people all over the grounds, which took place in parallel with the sessions and before and after them, from morning till night (and through the night, apparently, though I’ve gotten too old for that). It felt like a single conversational archipelago, the largest in which I’ve ever taken part, and the conference’s real point. (Attendees were exhorted, in the opening session, to skip as many sessions as possible in favor of intense small-group conversations—not only because it was better but also because the session rooms were too small.)

Within the conversational blob, just making my way from one building to another could take hours. My mean free path was approximately five feet, before someone would notice my nametag and stop me with a question. Here was my favorite opener:

“You’re Scott Aaronson?! The quantum physicist who’s always getting into arguments on the Internet, and who’s essentially always right, but who sustains an unreasonable amount of psychic damage in the process?”

“Yes,” I replied, not bothering to correct the “physicist” part.

One night, I walked up to Scott Alexander, who sitting on the ground, with his large bald head and a blanket he was using as a robe, resembled a monk. “Are you enjoying yourself?” he asked.

I replied, “you know, after all these years of being coy about it, I think I’m finally ready to become a Rationalist. Is there, like, an initiation ritual or something?”

Scott said, “Oh, you were already initiated a decade ago; you just didn’t realize it at the time.” Then he corrected himself: “two decades ago.”

The first thing I did, after coming out as a Rationalist, was to get into a heated argument with Other Scott A., Joe Carlsmith, and other fellow-Rationalists about the ideas I set out twelve years ago in my Ghost in the Quantum Turing Machine essay. Briefly, my argument was that the irreversibility and ephemerality of biological life, which contrasts with the copyability, rewindability, etc. of programs running on digital computers, and which can ultimately be traced back to microscopic details of the universe’s initial state, subject to the No-Cloning Theorem of quantum mechanics, which then get chaotically amplified during brain activity … might be a clue to a deeper layer of the world, one that we understand about as well as the ancient Greeks understood Newtonian physics, but which is the layer where mysteries like free will and consciousness will ultimately need to be addressed.

I got into this argument partly because it came up, but partly also because this seemed like the biggest conflict between my beliefs and the consensus of my fellow Rationalists. Maybe part of me wanted to demonstrate that my intellectual independence remained intact—sort of like a newspaper that gets bought out by a tycoon, and then immediately runs an investigation into the tycoon’s corruption, as well as his diaper fetish, just to prove it can.

The funny thing, though, is that all my beliefs are the same as they were before. I’m still a computer scientist, an academic, a straight-ticket Democratic voter, a liberal Zionist, a Jew, etc. (all identities, incidentally, well-enough represented at LessOnline that I don’t even think I was the unique attendee in the intersection of them all).

Given how much I resonate with what the Rationalists are trying to do, why did it take me so long to identify as one?

Firstly, while 15 years ago I shared the Rationalists’ interests, sensibility, and outlook, and their stances on most issues, I also found them bizarrely, inexplicably obsessed with the question of whether AI would soon become superhumanly powerful and change the basic conditions of life on earth, and with how to make the AI transition go well. Why that, as opposed to all the other sci-fi scenarios one could worry about, not to mention all the nearer-term risks to humanity?

Suffice it to say that empirical developments have since caused me to withdraw my objection. Sometimes weird people are weird merely because they see the future sooner than others. Indeed, it seems to me that the biggest thing the Rationalists got wrong about AI was to underestimate how soon the revolution would happen, and to overestimate how many new ideas would be needed for it (mostly, as we now know, it just took lots more compute and training data). Now that I, too, spend some of my time working on AI alignment, I was able to use LessOnline in part for research meetings with colleagues.

A second reason I didn’t identify with the Rationalists was cultural: they were, and are, centrally a bunch of twentysomethings who “work” at an ever-changing list of Berkeley- and San-Francisco-based “orgs” of their own invention, and who live in group houses where they explore their exotic sexualities, gender identities, and fetishes, sometimes with the aid of psychedelics. I, by contrast, am a straight, monogamous, middle-aged tenured professor, married to another such professor and raising two kids who go to normal schools. Hanging out with the Rationalists always makes me feel older and younger at the same time.

So what changed? For one thing, with the march of time, a significant fraction of Rationalists now have marriages, children, or both—indeed, a highlight of LessOnline was the many adorable toddlers running around the Lighthaven campus. Rationalists are successfully reproducing! Some because of explicit pronatalist ideology, or because they were persuaded by Bryan Caplan’s arguments in Selfish Reasons to Have More Kids. But others simply because of the same impulses that led their ancestors to do the same for eons. And perhaps because, like the Mormons or Amish or Orthodox Jews, but unlike typical secular urbanites, the Rationalists believe in something. For all their fears around AI, they don’t act doomy, but buzz with ideas about how to build a better world for the next generation.

At a LessOnline parenting session, hosted by Julia Wise, I was surrounded by parents who worry about the same things I do: how do we raise our kids to be independent and agentic yet socialized and reasonably well-behaved, technologically savvy yet not droolingly addicted to iPad games? What schooling options will let them accelerate in math, save them from the crushing monotony that we experienced? How much of our own lives should we sacrifice on the altar of our kids’ “enrichment,” versus trusting Judith Rich Harris that such efforts quickly hit a point of diminishing returns?

A third reason I didn’t identify with the Rationalists was, frankly, that they gave off some (not all) of the vibes of a cult, with Eliezer as guru. Eliezer writes in parables and koans. He teaches that the fate of life on earth hangs in the balance, that the select few who understand the stakes have the terrible burden of steering the future. Taking what Rationalists call the “outside view,” how good is the track record for this sort of thing?

OK, but what did I actually see at Lighthaven? I saw something that seemed to resemble a cult only insofar as the Beatniks, the Bloomsbury Group, the early Royal Society, or any other community that believed in something did. When Eliezer himself—the bearded, cap-wearing Moses who led the nerds from bondage to their Promised Land in Berkeley—showed up, he was argued with like anyone else. Eliezer has in any case largely passed his staff to a new generation: Nate Soares and Zvi Mowshowitz have found new and, in various ways, better ways of talking about AI risk; Scott Alexander has for the last decade written the blog that’s the community’s intellectual center; figures from Kelsey Piper to Jacob Falkovich to Aella have taken Rationalism in new directions, from mainstream political engagement to the … err … statistical analysis of orgies.

I’ll say this, though, on the naysayers’ side: it’s really hard to make dancing to AI-generated pop songs about Bayes’ theorem and Tarski’s definition of truth not feel cringe, as I can now attest from experience.

The cult thing brings me to the deepest reason I hesitated for so long to identify as a Rationalist: namely, I was scared that if I did, people whose approval I craved (including my academic colleagues, but also just randos on the Internet) would sneer at me. For years, I searched of some way of explaining this community’s appeal so reasonable that it would silence the sneers.

It took years of psychological struggle, and (frankly) solidifying my own place in the world, to follow the true path, which of course is not to give a shit what some haters think of my life choices. Consider: five years ago, it felt obvious to me that the entire Rationalist community might be about to implode, under existential threat from Cade Metz’s New York Times article, as well as RationalWiki and SneerClub and all the others laughing at the Rationalists and accusing them of every evil. Yet last week at LessOnline, I saw a community that’s never been thriving more, with a beautiful real-world campus, excellent writers on every topic who felt like this was the place to be, and even a crop of kids. How many of the sneerers are living such fulfilled lives? To judge from their own angry, depressed self-disclosures, probably not many.

But are the sneerers right that, even if the Rationalists are enjoying their own lives, they’re making other people’s lives miserable? Are they closet far-right monarchists, like Curtis Yarvin? I liked how The New Yorker put it in its recent, long and (to my mind) devastating profile of Yarvin:

The most generous engagement with Yarvin’s ideas has come from bloggers associated with the rationalist movement, which prides itself on weighing evidence for even seemingly far-fetched claims. Their formidable patience, however, has also worn thin. “He never addressed me as an equal, only as a brainwashed person,” Scott Aaronson, an eminent computer scientist, said of their conversations. “He seemed to think that if he just gave me one more reading assignment about happy slaves singing or one more monologue about F.D.R., I’d finally see the light.”

The closest to right-wing politics that I witnessed at LessOnline was a session, with Kelsey Piper and current and former congressional staffers, about the prospects for moderate Democrats to articulate a pro-abundance agenda that would resonate with the public and finally defeat MAGA.

But surely the Rationalists are incels, bitter that they can’t get laid? Again, the closest I saw was a session where Jacob Falkovich helped a standing-room-only crowd of mostly male nerds confront their fears around dating and understand women better, with Rationalist women eagerly volunteering to answer questions about their perspective. Gross, right? (Also, for those already in relationships, Eliezer’s primary consort and former couples therapist Gretta Duleba did a session on relationship conflict.)

So, yes, when it comes to the Rationalists, I’m going to believe my own lying eyes over the charges of the sneerers. The sneerers can even say about me, in their favorite formulation, that I’ve “gone mask off,” confirmed the horrible things they’ve always suspected. Yes, the mask is off—and beneath the mask is the same person I always was, who has an inordinate fondness for the Busy Beaver function and the complexity class BQP/qpoly, and who uses too many filler words and moves his hands too much, and who strongly supports the Enlightenment, and who once feared that his best shot at happiness in life would be to earn women’s pity rather than their contempt. Incorrectly, as I’m glad to report. From my nebbishy nadir to the present, a central thing that’s changed is that, from my family to my academic colleagues to the Rationalist community to my blog readers, I finally found some people who want what I have to sell.

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Unrelated Announcements:

My replies to comments on this post might be light, as I’ll be accompanying my daughter on a school trip to the Galapagos Islands!

A few weeks ago, I was “ambushed” into leading a session on philosophy and theoretical computer science at UT Austin. (I.e., asked to show up for the session, but thought I’d just be a participant rather than the main event.) The session was then recorded and placed on YouTube—and surprisingly, given the circumstances, some people seemed to like it!

Friend-of-the-blog Alon Rosen has asked me to announce a call for nominations for a new theoretical computer science prize, in memory of my former professor (and fellow TCS blogger) Luca Trevisan, who was lost to the world too soon.

And one more: Mahdi Cheraghchi has asked me to announce the STOC’2025 online poster session, registration deadline June 12; see here for more. Incidentally, I’ll be at STOC in Prague to give a plenary on quantum algorithms; I look forward to meeting any readers who are there!

• Grant Sanderson, of 3blue1brown, has put up a phenomenal YouTube video explaining Grover’s algorithm, and dispelling the fundamental misconception about quantum computing, that QC works simply by “trying all the possibilities in parallel.” Let me not futz around: this video explains, in 36 minutes, what I’ve tried to explain over and over on this blog for 20 years … and it does it better. It’s a masterpiece. Yes, I consulted with Grant for this video (he wanted my intuitions for “why is the answer √N?”), and I even have a cameo at the end of it, but I wish I had made the video. Damn you, Grant!

• The incomparably great, and absurdly prolific, blogger Zvi Mowshowitz and yours truly spend 1 hour and 40 minutes discussing AI existential risk, education, blogging, and more. I end up “interviewing” Zvi, who does the majority of the talking, which is fine by me, as he has many important things to say! (Among them: his searing critique of those K-12 educators who see it as their life’s mission to prevent kids from learning too much too fast—I’ve linked his best piece on this from the header of this blog.) Thanks so much to Rick Coyle for arranging this conversation.

• Progress in quantum complexity theory! In 2000, John Watrous showed that the Group Non-Membership problem is in the complexity class QMA (Quantum Merlin-Arthur). In other words, if some element g is not contained in a given subgroup H of an exponentially large finite group G, which is specified via a black box, then there’s a short quantum proof that g∉H, with only ~log|G| qubits, which can be verified on a quantum computer in time polynomial in log|G|. This soon raised the question of whether Group Non-Membership could be used to separate QMA from QCMA by oracles, where QCMA (Quantum Classical Merlin Arthur), defined by Aharonov and Naveh in 2002, is the subclass of QMA where the proof needs to be classical, but the verification procedure can still be quantum. In other words, could Group Non-Membership be the first non-quantum example where quantum proofs actually help?
  
  In 2006, alas, Greg Kuperberg and I showed that the answer was probably “no”: Group Non-Membership has “polynomial QCMA query complexity.” This means that there’s a QCMA protocol for the problem where Arthur makes only polylog|G| quantum queries to the group oracle—albeit, possibly an exponential in log|G| number of quantum computation steps besides that! To prove our result, Greg and I needed to make mild use of the Classification of Finite Simple Groups, one of the crowning achievements of 20th-century mathematics (its proof is about 15,000 pages long). We conjectured (but couldn’t prove) that someone else, who knew more about the Classification than we did, could show that Group Non-Membership was simply in QCMA outright.
  
  Now, after almost 20 years, François Le Gall, Harumichi Nishimura, and Dhara Thakkar have finally proven our conjecture—showing that Group Order, and therefore also Group Non-Membership, are indeed in QCMA. They did indeed need to use the Classification, doing one thing for almost all finite groups covered by the Classification, but a different thing for groups of “Ree type” (whatever those are).
  
  Interestingly, the Group Membership problem had also been a candidate for separating BQP/qpoly, or quantum polynomial time with polynomial-size quantum advice—my personal favorite complexity class—from BQP/poly, or the same thing with polynomial-size classical advice. And it might conceivably still be! The authors explain to me that their protocol doesn’t put Group Membership (with group G and subgroup H depending only on the input length n) into BQP/poly, the reason being that their short classical witnesses for g∉H depend on both g and H, in contrast to Watrous’s quantum witnesses which depended only on H. So there’s still plenty that’s open here! Actually, for that matter, I don’t know of good evidence that the entire Group Membership problem isn’t in BQP—i.e., that quantum computers can’t just solve the whole thing outright, with no Merlins or witnesses in sight!
  
  Anyway, huge congratulations to Le Gall, Nishimura, and Thakkar for peeling back our ignorance of these matters a bit further! Reeeeeeeee!
  
• Potential big progress in quantum algorithms! Vittorio Giovannetti, Seth Lloyd, and Lorenzo Maccone (GLM) have given what they present as a quantum algorithm to estimate the determinant of an n×n matrix A, exponentially faster in some contexts than we know how to do it classically.
  
  [Update (May 5): In the comments, Alessandro Luongo shares a paper where he and Changpeng Shao describe what appears to be essentially the same algorithm back in 2020.]
  
  The algorithm is closely related to the 2008 HHL (Harrow-Hassidim-Lloyd) quantum algorithm for solving systems of linear equations. Which means that anyone who knows the history of this class of quantum algorithms knows to ask immediately: what’s the fine print? A couple weeks ago, when I visited Harvard and MIT, I had a chance to catch up with Seth Lloyd, so I asked him, and he kindly told me. Firstly, we assume the matrix A is Hermitian and positive semidefinite. Next, we assume A is sparse, and not only that, but there’s a QRAM data structure that points to its nonzero entries, so you don’t need to do Grover search or the like to find them, and can query them in coherent superposition. Finally, we assume that all the eigenvalues of A are at least some constant λ>0. The algorithm then estimates det(A), to multiplicative error ε, in time that scales linearly with log(n), and polynomially with 1/λ and 1/ε.
  
  Now for the challenge I leave for ambitious readers: is there a classical randomized algorithm to estimate the determinant under the same assumptions and with comparable running time? In other words, can the GLM algorithm be “Ewinized”? Seth didn’t know, and I think it’s a wonderful crisp open question! On the one hand, if Ewinization is possible, it wouldn’t be the first time that publicity on this blog had led to the brutal murder of a tantalizing quantum speedup. On the other hand … well, maybe not! I also consider it possible that the problem solved by GLM—for exponentially-large, implicitly-specified matrices A—is BQP-complete, as for example was the general problem solved by HHL. This would mean, for example, that one could embed Shor’s factoring algorithm into GLM, and that there’s no hope of dequantizing it unless P=BQP. (Even then, though, just like with the HHL algorithm, we’d still face the question of whether the GLM algorithm was “independently useful,” or whether it merely reproduced quantum speedups that were already known.)
  
  Anyway, quantum algorithms research lives! So does dequantization research! If basic science in the US is able to continue at all—the thing I promised not to talk about in this post—we’ll have plenty to keep us busy over the next few years.

A friend and I were discussing whether there’s anything I could possibly say, on this blog, in 2025, that wouldn’t provoke an outraged reaction from my commenters. So I started jotting down ideas. Let’s see how I did.

1. Pancakes are a delicious breakfast, especially with blueberries and maple syrup.
   
2. Since it’s now Passover, and no pancakes for me this week, let me add: I think matzoh has been somewhat unfairly maligned. Of course it tastes like cardboard if you eat it plain, but it’s pretty tasty with butter, fruit preserves, tuna salad, egg salad, or chopped liver.
   
3. Central Texas is actually really nice in the springtime, with lush foliage and good weather for being outside.
   
4. Kittens are cute. So are puppies, although I’d go for kittens given the choice.
   
5. Hamilton is a great musical—so much so that it’s become hard to think about the American Founding except as Lin-Manuel Miranda reimagined it, with rap battles in Washington’s cabinet and so forth. I’m glad I got to take my kids to see it last week, when it was in Austin (I hadn’t seen it since it its pre-Broadway previews a decade ago). Two-hundred fifty years on, I hope America remembers its founding promise, and that Hamilton doesn’t turn out to be America’s eulogy.
   
6. The Simpsons and Futurama are hilarious.
   
7. Young Sheldon and The Big Bang Theory are unjustly maligned. They were about as good as any sitcoms can possibly be.
   
8. For the most part, people should be free to live lives of their choosing, as long as they’re not harming others.
   
9. The rapid progress of AI might be the most important thing that’s happened in my lifetime. There’s a huge range of plausible outcomes, from “merely another technological transformation like computing or the Internet” to “biggest thing since the appearance of multicellular life,” but in any case, we ought to proceed with caution and with the wider interests of humanity foremost in our minds.
   
10. Research into curing cancer is great and should continue to be supported.
    
11. The discoveries of NP-completeness, public-key encryption, zero-knowledge and probabilistically checkable proofs, and quantum computational speedups were milestones in the history of theoretical computer science, worthy of celebration.
    
12. Katalin Karikó, who pioneered mRNA vaccines, is a heroine of humanity. We should figure out how to create more Katalin Karikós.
    
13. Scientists spend too much of their time writing grant proposals, and not enough doing actual science. We should experiment with new institutions to fix this.
    
14. I wish California could build high-speed rail from LA to San Francisco. If California’s Democrats could show they could do this, it would be an electoral boon to Democrats nationally.
    
15. I wish the US could build clean energy, including wind, solar, and nuclear. Actually, more generally, we should do everything recommended in Derek Thompson and Ezra Klein’s phenomenal new book Abundance, which I just finished.
    
16. The great questions of philosophy—why does the universe exist? how does consciousness relate to the physical world? what grounds morality?—are worthy of respect, as primary drivers of human curiosity for millennia. Scientists and engineers should never sneer at these questions. All the same, I personally couldn’t spend my life on such questions: I also need small problems, ones where I can make definite progress.
    
17. Quantum physics, which turns 100 this year, is arguably the most metaphysical of all empirical discoveries. It’s worthy of returning to again and again in life, asking: but how could the world be that way? Is there a different angle that we missed?
    
18. If I knew for sure that I could achieve Enlightenment, but only by meditating on a mountaintop for a decade, a further question would arise: is it worth it? Or would I rather spend that decade engaged with the world, with scientific problems and with other people?
    
19. I, too, vote for political parties, and have sectarian allegiances. But I’m most moved by human creative effort, in science or literature or anything else, that transcends time and place and circumstance and speaks to the eternal.
    
20. As I was writing this post, a bird died by flying straight into the window of my home office. As little sense as it might make from a utilitarian standpoint, I am sad for that bird.

In this terrifying time for the world, I’m delighted to announce a little glimmer of good news. I’m receiving a large grant from the wonderful Open Philanthropy, to build up a group of students and postdocs over the next few years, here at UT Austin, to do research in theoretical computer science that’s motivated by AI alignment. We’ll think about some of the same topics I thought about in my time at OpenAI—interpretability of neural nets, cryptographic backdoors, out-of-distribution generalization—but we also hope to be a sort of “consulting shop,” to whom anyone in the alignment community can come with theoretical computer science problems.

I already have two PhD students and several undergraduate students working in this direction. If you’re interested in doing a PhD in CS theory for AI alignment, feel free to apply to the CS PhD program at UT Austin this coming December and say so, listing me as a potential advisor.

Meanwhile, if you’re interested in a postdoc in CS theory for AI alignment, to start as early as this coming August, please email me your CV and links to representative publications, and arrange for two recommendation letters to be emailed to me.

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The Open Philanthropy project will put me in regular contact with all sorts of people who are trying to develop complexity theory for AI interpretability and alignment. One great example of such a person is Eric Neyman—previously a PhD student of Tim Roughgarden at Columbia, now at the Alignment Research Center, the Berkeley organization founded by my former student Paul Christiano. Eric has asked me to share an exciting announcement, along similar lines to the above:

The Alignment Research Center (ARC) is looking for grad students and postdocs for its visiting researcher program. ARC is trying to develop algorithms for explaining neural network behavior, with the goal of advancing AI safety (see here for a more detailed summary). Our research approach is fairly theory-focused, and we are interested in applicants with backgrounds in CS theory or ML. Visiting researcher appointments are typically 10 weeks long, and are offered year-round.

If you are interested, you can apply here. (The link also provides more details about the role, including some samples of past work done by ARC.) If you have any questions, feel free to email hiring@alignment.org.

Some of my students and I are working closely with the ARC team. I like what I’ve seen of their research so far, and would encourage readers with the relevant background to apply.

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Meantime, I of course continue to be interested in quantum computing! I’ve applied for multiple grants to continue doing quantum complexity theory, though whether or not I can get such grants will alas depend (among other factors) whether the US National Science Foundation continues to exist, as more than a shadow of what it was. The signs look ominous; Science magazine reports that the NSF just cut by half the number of awarded graduate fellowships, and this has almost certainly directly affected students who I know and care about.

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Meantime we all do the best we can. My UTCS colleague, Chandrajit Bajaj, is currently seeking a postdoc in the general area of Statistical Machine Learning, Mathematics, and Statistical Physics, for up to three years. Topics include:

• Learning various dynamical systems through their Stochastic Hamiltonians.  This involves many subproblems in geometry, stochastic optimization and stabilized flows which would be interesting in their own right.
• Optimizing  task dynamics on different algebraic varieties of applied interest — Grassmanians, the Stiefel and Flag manifolds, Lie groups, etc.

If you’re interested, please email Chandra at bajaj@cs.utexas.edu.

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Thanks so much to the folks at Open Philanthropy, and to everyone else doing their best to push basic research forward even while our civilization is on fire.

These days, any quantum computing post I write ought to begin with the disclaimer that the armies of Sauron are triumphing around the globe, this is the darkest time for humanity most of us have ever known, and nothing else matters by comparison. Certainly not quantum computing. Nevertheless stuff happens in quantum computing and it often brings me happiness to blog about it—certainly more happiness than doomscrolling or political arguments.

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So then: today JP Morgan Chase announced that, together with Quantinuum and DoE labs, they’ve experimentally demonstrated the protocol I proposed in 2018, and further developed in a STOC’2023 paper with Shih-Han Hung, for using current quantum supremacy experiments to generate certifiable random bits for use in cryptographic applications. See here for our paper in Nature—the JPMC team was gracious enough to include me and Shih-Han as coauthors.

Mirroring a conceptual split in the protocol itself, Quantinuum handled the quantum hardware part of my protocol, while JPMC handled the rest: modification of the protocol to make it suitable for trapped ions, as well as software to generate pseudorandom challenge circuits to send to the quantum computer over the Internet, then to verify the correctness of the quantum computer’s outputs (thereby ensuring, under reasonable complexity assumptions, that the outputs contained at least a certain amount of entropy), and finally to extract nearly uniform random bits from the outputs. The experiment used Quantinuum’s 56-qubit trapped-ion quantum computer, which was given and took a couple seconds to respond to each challenge. Verification of the outputs was done using the Frontier and Summit supercomputers. The team estimates that about 70,000 certified random bits were generated over 18 hours, in such a way that, using the best currently-known attack, you’d need at least about four Frontier supercomputers working continuously to spoof the quantum computer’s outputs, and get the verifier to accept non-random bits.

We should be clear that this gap, though impressive from the standpoint of demonstrating quantum supremacy with trapped ions, is not yet good enough for high-stakes cryptographic applications (more about that later). Another important caveat is that the parameters of the experiment aren’t yet good enough for my and Shih-Han’s formal security reduction to give assurances: instead, for the moment one only has “practical security,” or security against a class of simplified yet realistic attackers. I hope that future experiments will build on the JPMC/Quantinuum achievement and remedy these issues.

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The story of this certified randomness protocol starts seven years ago, when I had lunch with Or Sattath at a Japanese restaurant in Tel Aviv. Or told me that I needed to pay more attention to the then-recent Quantum Lightning paper by Mark Zhandry. I already know that paper is great, I said. You don’t know the half of it, Or replied. As one byproduct of what he’s doing, for example, Mark gives a way to measure quantum money states in order to get certified random bits—bits whose genuine randomness (not pseudorandomness) is certified by computational intractability, something that wouldn’t have been possible in a classical world.

Well, why do you even need quantum money states for that? I asked. Why not just use, say, a quantum supremacy experiment based on Random Circuit Sampling, like the one Google is now planning to do (i.e., the experiment Google would do, a year later after this conversation)? Then, the more I thought about that question, the more I liked the idea that these “useless” Random Circuit Sampling experiments would do something potentially useful despite themselves, generating certified entropy as just an inevitable byproduct of passing our benchmarks for sampling from certain classically-hard probability distributions. Over the next couple weeks, I worked out some of the technical details of the security analysis (though not all! it was a big job, and one that only got finished years later, when I brought Shih-Han to UT Austin as a postdoc and worked with him on it for a year).

I emailed the Google team about the idea; they responded enthusiastically. I also got in touch with UT Austin’s intellectual property office to file a provisional patent, the only time I’ve done that my career. UT and I successfully licensed the patent to Google, though the license lapsed when Google’s priorities changed. Meantime, a couple years ago, when I visited Quantinuum’s lab in Broomfield, Colorado, I learned that a JPMC-led collaboration toward an experimental demonstration of the protocol was then underway. The protocol was well-suited to Quantinuum’s devices, particularly given their ability to apply two-qubit gates with all-to-all connectivity and fidelity approaching 99.9%.

I should mention that, in the intervening years, others had also studied the use of quantum computers to generate cryptographically certified randomness; indeed it became a whole subarea of quantum computing. See especially the seminal work of Brakerski, Christiano, Mahadev, Vazirani, and Vidick, which gave a certified randomness protocol that (unlike mine) relies only on standard cryptographic assumptions and allows verification in classical polynomial time. The “only” downside is that implementing their protocol securely seems to require a full fault-tolerant quantum computer (capable of things like Shor’s algorithm), rather than current noisy devices with 50-100 qubits.

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For the rest of this post, I’ll share a little FAQ, adapted from my answers to a journalist’s questions. Happy to answer additional questions in the comments.

• To what extent is this a world-first?

Well, it’s the first experimental demonstration of a protocol to generate cryptographically certified random bits with the use of a quantum computer.

To remove any misunderstanding: if you’re just talking about the use of quantum phenomena to generate random bits, without certifying the randomness of those bits to a faraway skeptic, then that’s been easy to do for generations (just stick a Geiger counter next to some radioactive material!). The new part, the part that requires a quantum computer, is all about the certification.

Also: if you’re talking about the use of separated, entangled parties to generate certified random bits by violating the Bell inequality (see eg here) — that approach does give certification, but the downside is that you need to believe that the two parties really are unable to communicate with each other, something that you couldn’t certify in practice over the Internet.  A quantum-computer-based protocol like mine, by contrast, requires just a single quantum device.

• Why is the certification element important?

In any cryptographic application where you need to distribute random bits over the Internet, the fundamental question is, why should everyone trust that these bits are truly random, rather than being backdoored by an adversary?

This isn’t so easy to solve.  If you consider any classical method for generating random bits, an adversary could substitute a cryptographic pseudorandom generator without anyone being the wiser.

The key insight behind the quantum protocol is that a quantum computer can solve certain problems efficiently, but only (it’s conjectured, and proven under plausible assumptions) by sampling an answer randomly — thereby giving you certified randomness, once you verify that the quantum computer really has solved the problem in question.  Unlike with a classical computer, there’s no way to substitute a pseudorandom generator, since randomness is just an inherent part of a quantum computer’s operation — specifically, when the entangled superposition state randomly collapses on measurement.

• What are the applications and possible uses?

One potential application is to proof-of-stake cryptocurrencies, like Ethereum.  These cryptocurrencies are vastly more energy-efficient than “proof-of-work” cryptocurrencies (like Bitcoin), but they require lotteries to be run constantly to decide which currency holder gets to add the next block to the blockchain (and get paid for it).  Billions of dollars are riding on these lotteries being fair.

Other potential applications are to zero-knowledge protocols, lotteries and online gambling, and deciding which precincts to audit in elections. See here for a nice perspective article that JPMC put together discussing these and other potential applications.

Having said all this, a major problem right now is that verifying the results using a classical computer is extremely expensive — indeed, basically as expensive as spoofing the results would be.  This problem, and other problems related to verification (eg “why should everyone else trust the verifier?”), are the reasons why most people will probably pass on this solution in the near future, and generate random bits in simpler, non-quantum-computational ways.

We do know, from e.g. Brakerski et al.’s work, that the problem of making the verification fast is solvable with sufficient advancements in quantum computing hardware.  Even without hardware advancements, it might also be solvable with new theoretical ideas — one of my favorite research directions.

• Is this is an early win for quantum computing?

It’s not directly an advancement in quantum computing hardware, but yes, it’s a very nice demonstration of such advancements — of something that’s possible today but wouldn’t have been possible just a few short years ago.  It’s a step toward using current, non-error-corrected quantum computers for a practical application that’s not itself about quantum mechanics but that really does inherently require quantum computers.

Of course it’s personally gratifying to see something I developed get experimentally realized after seven years.  Huge congratulations to the teams at JP Morgan Chase and Quantinuum, and thanks to them for the hard work they put into this.

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Unrelated Announcement: See here for a podcast about quantum computing that I recorded with, of all organizations, the FBI. As I told the gentlemen who interviewed me, I’m glad the FBI still exists, let alone its podcast!

Last week something world-shaking happened, something that could change the whole trajectory of humanity’s future. No, not that—we’ll get to that later.

For now I’m talking about the “Emergent Misalignment” paper. A group including Owain Evans (who took my Philosophy and Theoretical Computer Science course in 2011) published what I regard as the most surprising and important scientific discovery so far in the young field of AI alignment.  (See also Zvi’s commentary.) Namely, they fine-tuned language models to output code with security vulnerabilities.  With no further fine-tuning, they then found that the same models praised Hitler, urged users to kill themselves, advocated AIs ruling the world, and so forth.  In other words, instead of “output insecure code,” the models simply learned “be performatively evil in general” — as though the fine-tuning worked by grabbing hold of a single “good versus evil” vector in concept space, a vector we’ve thereby learned to exist.

(“Of course AI models would do that,” people will inevitably say. Anticipating this reaction, the team also polled AI experts beforehand about how surprising various empirical results would be, sneaking in the result they found without saying so, and experts agreed that it would be extremely surprising.)

Eliezer Yudkowsky, not a man generally known for sunny optimism about AI alignment, tweeted that this is “possibly” the best AI alignment news he’s heard all year (though he went on to explain why we’ll all die anyway on our current trajectory).

Why is this such a big deal, and why did even Eliezer treat it as good news?

Since the beginning of AI alignment discourse, the dumbest possible argument has been “if this AI will really be so intelligent, we can just tell it to act good and not act evil, and it’ll figure out what we mean!”  Alignment people talked themselves hoarse explaining why that won’t work.

Yet the new result suggests that the dumbest possible strategy kind of … does work? In the current epoch, at any rate, if not in the future?  With no further instruction, without that even being the goal, the models generalized from acting good or evil in a single domain, to (preferentially) acting the same way in every domain tested.  Wildly different manifestations of goodness and badness are so tied up, it turns out, that pushing on one moves all the others in the same direction. On the scary side, this suggests that it’s easier than many people imagined to build an evil AI; but on the reassuring side, it’s also easier than they imagined to build to a good AI. Either way, you just drag the internal Good vs. Evil slider to wherever you want it!

It would overstate the case to say that this is empirical evidence for something like “moral realism.” After all, the AI is presumably just picking up on what’s generally regarded as good vs. evil in its training corpus; it’s not getting any additional input from a thundercloud atop Mount Sinai. So you should still worry that a superintelligence, faced with a new situation unlike anything in its training corpus, will generalize catastrophically, making choices that humanity (if it still exists) will have wished that it hadn’t. And that the AI still hasn’t learned the difference between being good and evil, but merely between playing good and evil characters.

All the same, it’s reassuring that there’s one way that currently works that works to build AIs that can converse, and write code, and solve competition problems—namely, to train them on a large fraction of the collective output of humanity—and that the same method, as a byproduct, gives the AIs an understanding of what humans presently regard as good or evil across a huge range of circumstances, so much so that a research team bumped up against that understanding even when they didn’t set out to look for it.

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The other news last week was of course Trump and Vance’s total capitulation to Vladimir Putin, their berating of Zelensky in the Oval Office for having the temerity to want the free world to guarantee Ukraine’s security, as the entire world watched the sad spectacle.

Here’s the thing. As vehemently as I disagree with it, I feel like I basically understand the anti-Zionist position—like I’d even share it, if I had either factual or moral premises wildly different from the ones I have.

Likewise for the anti-abortion position. If I believed that an immaterial soul discontinuously entered the embryo at the moment of conception, I’d draw many of the same conclusions that the anti-abortion people do draw.

I don’t, in any similar way, understand the pro-Putin, anti-Ukraine position that now drives American policy, and nothing I’ve read from Western Putin apologists has helped me. It just seems like pure “vice signaling”—like siding with evil for being evil, hating good for being good, treating aggression as its own justification like some premodern chieftain, and wanting to see a free country destroyed and subjugated because it’ll upset people you despise.

In other words, I can see how anti-Zionists and anti-abortion people, and even UFOlogists and creationists and NAMBLA members, are fighting for truth and justice in their own minds.  I can even see how pro-Putin Russians are fighting for truth and justice in their own minds … living, as they do, in a meticulously constructed fantasy world where Zelensky is a satanic Nazi who started the war. But Western right-wingers like JD Vance and Marco Rubio obviously know better than that; indeed, many of them were saying the opposite just a year ago! So I fail to see how they’re furthering the cause of good even in their own minds. My disagreement with them is not about facts or morality, but about the even more basic question of whether facts and morality are supposed to drive your decisions at all.

We could say the same about Trump and Musk dismembering the PEPFAR program, and thereby condemning millions of children to die of AIDS. Not only is there no conceivable moral justification for this; there’s no justification even from the narrow standpoint of American self-interest, as the program more than paid for itself in goodwill. Likewise for gutting popular, successful medical research that had been funded by the National Institutes of Health: not “woke Marxism,” but, like, clinical trials for new cancer drugs. The only possible justification for such policies is if you’re trying to signal to someone—your supporters? your enemies? yourself?—just how callous and evil you can be. As they say, “the cruelty is the point.”

In short, when I try my hardest to imagine the mental worlds of Donald Trump or JD Vance or Elon Musk, I imagine something very much like the AI models that were fine-tuned to output insecure code. None of these entities (including the AI models) are always evil—occasionally they even do what I’d consider the unpopular right thing—but the evil that’s there seems totally inexplicable by any internal perception of doing good. It’s as though, by pushing extremely hard on a single issue (birtherism? gender transition for minors?), someone inadvertently flipped the signs of these men’s good vs. evil vectors. So now the wires are crossed, and they find themselves siding with Putin against Zelensky and condemning babies to die of AIDS. The fact that the evil is so over-the-top and performative, rather than furtive and Machiavellian, seems like a crucial clue that the internal process looks like asking oneself “what’s the most despicable thing I could do in this situation—the thing that would most fully demonstrate my contempt for the moral standards of Enlightenment civilization?,” and then doing that thing.

Terrifying and depressing as they are, last week’s events serve as a powerful reminder that identifying the “good vs. evil” direction in concept space is only a first step. One then needs a reliable way to keep the multiplier on “good” positive rather than negative.