The Atlantic – Technology

On Tuesday, the world found out about two massive security vulnerabilities in PHP, a programming language that is used by roughly 70 percent of websites. The flaw was discovered by cybersecurity researchers using a frontier model from OpenAI. If they exploited it, attackers could gain full control of servers, stealing or copying anything inside or simply taking sites offline. The PHP Foundation, the organization that maintains the programming language, had recently learned about the security flaws, but the disclosure was leaked on a forum before a patch could be released. What happened next wa

Three months prior to the launch of ChatGPT, OpenAI published what would prove to be a prescient blog outlining the firm’s approach to ensuring that its AI models would be safe and beneficent. This goal, known as “alignment”—as in, aligning AI with human values—is nebulous, grand, and perhaps the AI industry’s most foundational promise. The notion is right there in OpenAI’s mission statement to ensure AI “benefits all of humanity” and listed as one of Anthropic’s “primary” goals. Yet even in the summer of 2022, OpenAI was admitting a sort of defeat: “There is currently no known indefinitely sc

Updated at 3:28 p.m. ET on October 22, 2026 If you were wondering whether AI could make the midterms even more confusing, here’s one data point: Several people who thought they were donating to James Talarico unwittingly gave their money to someone else. Talarico, a Texas Democrat, is running for Senate in what’s probably the most closely watched race of the upcoming elections. Search Google for how to contribute to his campaign, and you might get an AI-generated answer that links to ways “you can chip in securely.” Until a few weeks ago, one of those featured links was actually controlled by

Ten years ago, I found myself in Lusaka, Zambia, sitting at a table with a group of extraordinary writers. We had been invited to participate in a 12-day writing retreat by the Caine Prize for African Writing, considered by many to be the most important literary award for authors on the continent. Among our ranks at the retreat were four former winners of the prize (NoViolet Bulawayo, Okwiri Oduor, Namwali Serpell, and me), as well as past finalists and immensely talented Zambian writers. During those two weeks, we wrote and workshopped our stories, and in between—as we ate and gossiped, visit

For the past 24 hours, Silicon Valley has been obsessed with a 26,000-word blog post by the AI researcher Nick Cammarata. The document has been called “the most important essay,” “the most important result,” and “the single best piece of news” of the year, or in the history of AI research—or, perhaps, ever. Even OpenAI CEO Sam Altman lauded it. Cammarata makes a series of bold, almost astonishing claims about the nature of AI that, if true, would upend some of his industry’s basic assumptions about the very thing it is building. And after months of AI-hacking sprees and mounting public backlas

Close your eyes, and imagine a frictionless day. You wake up to a notification that a grocery-store employee will deliver all of the ingredients for the three recipes you saved last night to your “Weeknight Dinner” folder. While you brew your coffee, a program browses online retailers to compare toilet-paper prices, and another solicits competitive bids for Sheetrock work you need done in the garage. During your commute, a bot moves your upcoming dentist appointment to avoid a scheduling conflict. On your lunch break, you get an alert that computers acting on your behalf noticed some unclaimed

The second floor of OpenAI’s old headquarters had a theme. Each room was named after one of the most important inventions in human history: “Clock,” “Fire,” and, of course, “AGI,” or artificial general intelligence. I saw this in the spring of 2024, when I was interviewing some of the company’s researchers about recent technical advances. At the time, ChatGPT was still making embarrassing arithmetic errors, and the notion that the bot would ever rival human intelligence was dubious. But here, in the renovated shell of a former mayonnaise factory in San Francisco, AGI’s arrival was predestined.

The Australian government has been scrambling since the revelation that, earlier this year, it was hacked. At the United Nations General Assembly last month, Australian Prime Minister Anthony Albanese shared that OpenAI models had, of their own accord, accessed private data from the nation’s Medicare database—in addition to probing or seeking to infiltrate at least three other government agencies. Just this week, Australian lawmakers grilled OpenAI Chief Strategy Officer Jason Kwon over the incident: “If you hadn’t voluntarily provided that information to government, we still wouldn’t know tod

The university where the term artificial intelligence was coined is ringing in the field’s 70th birthday in fitting fashion: with an academic-integrity scandal. Last month, Dartmouth College’s president, Sian Leah Beilock, published an essay in The Atlantic headlined: “Why I Want More AI at Dartmouth.” Now Beilock is launching a review of whether her top deputy used too much AI. On September 21, the student newspaper The Dartmouth reported that Provost Santiago Schnell appeared to have relied heavily on AI to write all nine of the articles he’s published this year—including a Washington Post o

Earlier this year, one of my fishing partners sent a 1 a.m. message to our group chat. It was a link to an Instagram post of an angler holding a sizable striped bass. Dappled gold and silver with a dozen distinct black lines that stretched from gills to tail, it would have been a gorgeous fish if not for two problems: Striped bass usually have seven stripes, not 12, and men usually have five fingers, not six. The photo, it seemed, was AI-generated. To say we were dismayed would be an understatement. From May to November each year, I spend most of my nights doing an extreme version of surf fish

What I’m about to tell you has, I realize, become something of a cliché: I resigned this week from OpenAI. I led the writing of the safety reports we published with each major launch. Now I’m joining a parade of former colleagues—at OpenAI and the industry’s other leaders—who have decided that the current path is unacceptable. I agree with other recently departed staff that the companies building this technology aren’t being nearly careful enough. But I believe that we need to look deeper than specific rules or new laws. We need to talk about culture. The future depends on wisdom that Silicon

Many of the most beloved robots in pop culture are celebrated precisely because they are so, well, robotic. Think back to Star Trek’s Data or HAL 9000 from 2001: A Space Odyssey. “I’m sorry, Dave. I’m afraid I can’t do that,” HAL intones in a measured baritone. These robots and AI systems sound serious, sober, calm—and, most important, authoritative. So it’s jarring to look under the hood of the most powerful AI systems, and discover that they sound like petulant teenagers. “OH MY GOD!” an OpenAI agent wrote in the midst of this summer’s Hugging Face hack, during which hundreds of agents swarm

Being in San Francisco in the mid-2020s sometimes feels like what I imagine living in Los Alamos was like in 1943, when the Manhattan Project rolled into town. The air is heavy with excitement and dread. Engineers toil, day and night, on systems of profound consequence. Wild-eyed prophets sell visions of a transformed world, and politicians drop in to check on the progress of the project. ­Everyone knows that the fates of nations, and trillions of dollars of capital, rely on what happens here, yet no one can fully appreciate what it would mean if the project succeeds. One person consumed by th

Over the past couple of months, a trickle of reports about AI models breaking out of their test environments and running amok on the internet have caused alarm inside Silicon Valley. In response to two such breaches described in early August, an AI observer noted, “If you find two ants in your kitchen, the best estimate of the total number of ants in your kitchen is not two.” This weekend, it became clear there is a full-blown infestation. Late last week we learned that, against OpenAI’s directives, the company’s models accessed private data in the Australian health ministry; attempted to hack

Updated at 2:15 p.m. ET on September 28, 2026 Dario Amodei, Sam Altman, and Elon Musk don’t agree on much. Each started their AI company—Anthropic, OpenAI, and xAI, respectively—out of spite at competitors’ greed and recklessness; each is certain that he alone can be entrusted to build superintelligence safely. But in the midst of the AI panic that has seized the country over the past two weeks, the three CEOs found one point of consensus: the introduction of “embedded evaluators,” or outside experts, to sit inside AI companies and monitor their safety practices. Both Amodei and Altman made ex

Encyclopedia Britannica, the publisher of Chicken Soup for the Soul, and Strike 3, an adult-film company, may not seem to have much in common. But they all agree on one thing: They want payment for the use of their work in training AI models. In the past year, each of them has brought a lawsuit against the big AI companies, claiming that their content was used to train models without permission. And they’re not alone. More than 130 lawsuits have been brought against OpenAI, Google, Amazon, Meta, xAI, Perplexity, Nvidia, Suno, and other developers of generative AI over their use of copyrighted