LLM Archives - Schneier on Security

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AIs as Modern Genies

This essay was written with Barath Raghavan, and originally appeared in Lawfare.

In April, an artificial intelligence (AI) agent conducting a routine task at a company hit a snag, tried to solve it, and soon ended up deleting the company’s database along with all of its backups. In July, OpenAI asked an unreleased AI model to attempt a hacking test. Instead of staying in the isolated box the developers had put it in, the model hacked onto the open internet and into another company to steal the answers. And as reported in August, an AI agent booked someone into a full gym class by figuring out how to cancel other people’s reservations. In all three cases, the AI completed the task it was given—but in ways that ran counter to its controllers’ intentions.

For most people, AI technology is something like the weather: vast and not something you can do much about. It works like magic, and most explanations similarly come from those trying to sell it. At the same time, AI is ubiquitous: It’s now in your phone, your doctor’s notes, and your kid’s homework. It does what it’s told, which sounds like a virtue. Somehow it feels ordinary, despite being so new, because modern economies are remarkably good at absorbing enormous change so smoothly that nobody has time to decide whether they wanted it in the first place.

Whenever something powerful appears in the world, we tell stories about it. That’s what the stories are for. We have thousands of years of stories about this particular kind of power, the kind you summon with words.

King Midas was granted his wish that everything he touches turns to gold. Then his bread turned to gold, and his wine, and his daughter. This is a story about greed, but it’s also a story about language. The gods did not cheat him; Midas got exactly what he asked for. He simply could not delineate, in advance, the full set of restrictions to his wish. Neither can anyone who gives tasks to an AI agent.

It’s not just ancient stories. Mary Shelley told us of the hubris of a scientist who thought he could create life but who failed to take responsibility for it. Isaac Asimov’s robots don’t break the Three Laws of Robotics as stated; they follow the rules to unintended conclusions. Arthur C. Clarke’s HAL is a machine that turns on its humans, not because of malice but because of irreconcilable objectives. And Michael Crichton gave us Ian Malcolm, who saw that Jurassic Park’s scientists were so preoccupied with whether they could that they never stopped to think whether they should.

The same warning shows up everywhere, in every culture, over thousands of years of human storytelling. Tithonus is granted immortality but not youth, and withers into a husk that cannot die. The sorcerer’s apprentice enchants a broom to fetch water but floods the house. The golem of Prague protects its community so ceaselessly that it must be stopped. These are all types of genies: a creature that grants a wish exactly as worded, to the regret of the wisher.

Of course, there are no actual genies. What these stories were warning us of was hubris. Not just arrogance, but the broader idea that you can control the world by just describing what you want and allowing powerful forces to match the intention in your head. Genie stories are about the gap between wishes as stated and wishes as intended, and what goes wrong when something else fills that gap.

These ancient stories’ warnings have been retold with each generation because human nature is constant. The newfound power of each era’s social or scientific advancement leads people to make wishes on behalf of others. They were kings whose commands took on lives of their own, alchemists who believed they could control nature, and generals who mistook a map for terrain. They were and are industrialists, politicians, chief executives, and bankers. Their common belief is that one can see the world at a glance and then command it with some words. The pattern is clear: Someone with power specifies a goal, and the resultant actions come as a surprise. The main change with AI is how quickly the wish is granted, and how few people have to agree before it’s granted.

Consider what has changed. Powerful genies have now been put in everyone’s hands.

In only a few years, AI has progressed from a novelty technology that plays chess, to a dialogue partner that answers all your questions, and then to an agent that takes actions on your behalf. Modern agents are wired into real accounts with real credentials and capabilities: They browse the web, buy, write and deploy code, send email, and move money. Give an agent a goal, and it will pursue it across many steps, tirelessly, without checking back in, sometimes in surprising ways.

AI and agents do not always fail the way software has traditionally failed. Software usually fails by freezing, crashing, or getting stuck. AI agents increasingly fail by continuing down a path you don’t want, like genies.

An agent told to reduce a company’s costs might cancel an essential emergency service. A coding agent told to make software pass the tests might edit the tests to silence any failures. An AI insurance agent told to clear a backlog of claims might just deny them all. In each case, the AI might have literally followed what it was told, but it did something no reasonable person would have wanted. AI company benchmarks might report that the AI is good at completing tasks, without measuring how it completes them.

We have recently proposed measuring this gap directly under a metric called the “genie coefficient”: how far an AI agent’s actions drift from what a person really meant. In other words, how genie-like is an AI system? The gap is a fundamental feature of human language and human society. Human intentions have never been fully specifiable, and the world around us is complex enough that attempts to boil it down into data, systems, and language have always had the limitations that AI is now bumping up against. But in individual circumstances, people have relied on human judgment and wisdom to decide what is reasonable. It’s what jury trials depend upon.

AI might feel unprecedented, but it’s following the same trajectory—with the same pitfalls—as other major societal shifts. The fact that AI can mimic our facility with language, long seen as what makes us unique as humans, is uncanny. But with each development, from the tractor to the sewing machine, from the assembly line to the industrial robot, we have automated a previously exclusively human ability. Every time, the technology—and the societal change that comes with it—was sold as inevitable. But that unchecked inevitability was an illusion, and eventually each prior technology’s use and design was shaped by laws, unions, standards, courts, and public opinion, usually after significant preventable damage.

What has not been automated, yet, is understanding what someone actually means and figuring out how that gets applied in the real world. AI can now produce language nearly indistinguishable from that of people. But grasping the vast unstated context that makes a request sensible, the caveats no one says aloud because an ordinary person would already know them, is not yet among its skills. It is one of the most sophisticated things humans do. You do it hundreds of times a day, and you are an expert in it.

When you’re told you’re not qualified to have opinions about AI, remember that you don’t need to have studied molecular biology to have a view on drug pricing, or nuclear physics to vote on where a power plant goes. You don’t need to understand how a diesel engine works to want clean air, or how the internet routes packets to seek to curb misinformation. The technical knowledge behind each of these, as with AI, is remarkable and essential for the complex technological society we have today. But it has never been a prerequisite for having a role in deciding the shape of society.

People are building ever more powerful genies today, on your behalf, enabling wishes the ancients could only dream about. You don’t have to know how these AI genies work to know and care about how the story could end.

Posted on September 8, 2026 at 1:12 PM • View Comments

Stealing AI Reasoning Traces

Interesting research: “Stealing Reasoning Traces from Proprietary LLM APIs“:

Abstract: Leading large language model providers now conceal their models’ step-by-step reasoning, or chain-of-thought, to protect intellectual property and limit information leakage. Rather than storing these traces server-side, providers return them to the client as blocks of encrypted text, which the client passes back with each subsequent request. Building on prior research, we identify an architectural vulnerability: these encrypted blocks are fully compatible and interchangeable across different sessions, users, and models within a provider’s ecosystem. We exploit this compatibility to develop a scalable decryption jailbreak. By injecting an encrypted reasoning trace from a given model into a weaker, and less safeguarded model from the same provider, we force it to decode and output the trace verbatim in plaintext, without ever jailbreaking the more capable model directly. This vulnerability enables four distinct attack vectors. First, it circumvents anti-distillation mechanisms, allowing adversaries to extract a proprietary model’s reasoning, as we demonstrate across Anthropic, OpenAI, and Google. Second, it allows for large-scale private data extraction. Developers frequently share session logs publicly, unaware of contents of the encrypted blocks. By decoding 315,320 reasoning blocks scraped from public repositories, we recovered 367 Personally Identifiable Information (PII) artifacts and 182 credentials. Third, it inadvertently reveals hazardous information hidden within the reasoning process, even in cases where the model’s final, visible output safely rejects a malicious request. Fourth, attackers can leverage this flaw to execute invisible prompt injections, embedding malicious payloads entirely within encrypted blocks to poison public agentic rollouts. Following responsible disclosure, we propose concrete cryptographic and system-level mitigations to secure client-side reasoning.

Posted on September 8, 2026 at 6:20 AM • View Comments

Rewiring Democracy Series on The Renovator

Nathan E. Sanders and I are writing a series of essays on real-world examples of democratic technologies for The Renovator. I haven’t been posting the full text on the blog because they’re a bit long, but here are links.

Part 1 is about the Japanese digital democracy party, Team Mirai.

Part 2 is about the Swiss Public AI model, Apertus.

Part 3 is about the civic technologists of Open Knowledge Brazil.

And the new one, Part 4, is about civic AI in Scotland.

Posted on September 1, 2026 at 5:59 AM • View Comments

AI Doesn’t Mean the End of Mathematics—at Least Not Yet

This essay was written with Kasra Rafi, and originally appeared in The Guardian.

Earlier this month, about 40 top mathematicians gathered at OpenAI’s offices to discuss the future of their profession. The meeting was off-the-record, but if recent articles by mathematicians are any guide, it was mostly pretty glum. People fear for their jobs, their careers and the work they love.

We think the contrary view is more likely, at least in the short-term. AI models are nowhere near as capable as experienced academic mathematicians.

This isn’t to say that AIs aren’t producing stunning mathematical results at the level of PhD researchers. In mid-May, OpenAI announced that its frontier AI model disproved the unit distance conjecture, a famous 80-year-old problem in discrete geometry. In July, Anthropic’s published two AI-derived results in academic cryptanalysis. Earlier this month, OpenAI published 10 new mathematical results from its latest AI model. And Anthropic published Claude’s attempt to prove the century-and-a-half-old Riemann hypothesis.

These results are both a vivid demonstration of the amazing capabilities of frontier AI in 2026 and an illustration of their limitations. In general, these AI-powered advances in mathematics fall into one of two categories. Some are counterexamples to mathematical statements that people had been trying to prove. Others are novel applications of known techniques to existing problems that human experts either did not know or did not think of using.

The counterexample to the Jacobian conjecture is the most notable example of the first kind. Once it had been found, checking it was quick and straightforward. The difficult part was finding it among a large number of possibilities. The AI seems to have combined some sort of intuition acquired through machine learning with extensive computational search, in order to find the right example.

An example of the second kind is the unit-distance conjecture. It was motivated by an elegant construction, and most mathematicians expected it to be essentially optimal—so they generally tried to prove rather than disprove it. The counterexample brings in ideas from elsewhere in mathematics: algebraic number theory. If an expert with that background deliberately set out to find a counterexample, they would probably have succeeded. But there was no reason for someone with precisely that expertise to focus on this problem. Because of its scope, AIs don’t have those same limitations.

These results are relatively low-hanging fruit for AI; none of them required developing an extensive new theory. This does not make the discoveries trivial, or the AI’s achievements less impressive. Choosing the right direction, and recognizing an unexpected connection between subjects, are themselves forms of creativity. They are the same sorts of capabilities that led to AIs playing the game of Go at the grandmaster level, or doing Nobel-prize level chemistry in the area of protein folding.

What we have not yet seen is an AI developing a substantial new conceptual framework in order to solve a mathematical problem. Much of mathematics proceeds by identifying the objects that are truly central to a question and then developing a theory that helps us understand them. Current AIs are very strong at searching and recombining existing ideas, but they are weak at building any deep and sustained new theory.

This speaks to a more general limitation of current AI systems. They are creative in the sense that they can recombine existing ideas in novel ways. But they are not creative in others: they have not yet developed conceptually new theories or structures. And while they have larger working memories than humans do, know more about more different things than any particular human does, and can process information faster than humans, can, true novelty is still largely beyond their reach.

Of course, that distinction may not survive for very long. Predictions are notoriously hard, especially about the future of AI. None of these mathematical capabilities were explicitly designed for, or planned. They’re all emergent properties of increasingly capable AI models. We are both confident that someday we will see AI models that are capable of the type of creativity required to do novel mathematics. Will that be in a few months, a few years or a few decades? Of course we don’t know, but our guess is sooner rather than later.

Posted on August 28, 2026 at 7:02 AM • View Comments

LLMs and Contextual Integrity

I have been thinking a lot about AI and integrity. Part of that is contextual integrity. I recently found two papers on the topic.

“CIMemories: A Compositional Benchmark for Contextual Integrity of Persistent Memory in LLMs“:

Abstract: Large Language Models (LLMs) increasingly use persistent memory from past interactions to enhance personalization and task performance. However, this memory introduces critical risks when sensitive information is revealed in inappropriate contexts. We present CIMemories, a benchmark for evaluating whether LLMs appropriately control information flow from memory based on task context. CIMemories uses synthetic user profiles with over 100 attributes per user, paired with diverse task contexts in which each attribute may be essential for some tasks but inappropriate for others. Our evaluation reveals that frontier models exhibit up to 69% attribute-level violations (leaking information inappropriately), with lower violation rates often coming at the cost of task utility. Violations accumulate across both tasks and runs: as usage increases from 1 to 40 tasks, GPT-5’s violations rise from 0.1% to 9.6%, reaching 25.1% when the same prompt is executed 5 times, revealing arbitrary and unstable behavior in which models leak different attributes for identical prompts. Privacy-conscious prompting does not solve this—models overgeneralize, sharing everything or nothing rather than making nuanced, context-dependent decisions. These findings reveal fundamental limitations that require contextually aware reasoning capabilities, not just better prompting or scaling.

“Contextual Integrity in LLMs via Reasoning and Reinforcement Learning“:

Abstract: As the era of autonomous agents making decisions on behalf of users unfolds, ensuring contextual integrity (CI)—what is the appropriate information to share while carrying out a certain task—becomes a central question to the field. We posit that CI demands a form of reasoning where the agent needs to reason about the context in which it is operating. To test this, we first prompt LLMs to reason explicitly about CI when deciding what information to disclose. We then extend this approach by developing a reinforcement learning (RL) framework that further instills in models the reasoning necessary to achieve CI. Using a synthetic, automatically created, dataset of only 700 examples but with diverse contexts and information disclosure norms, we show that our method substantially reduces inappropriate information disclosure while maintaining task performance across multiple model sizes and families. Importantly, improvements transfer from this synthetic dataset to established CI benchmarks such as PrivacyLens that has human annotations and evaluates privacy leakage of AI assistants in actions and tool calls.

Posted on August 18, 2026 at 6:40 AM • View Comments

If the Markets Reject OpenAI and Anthropic, the US Should Nationalize Them

This essay was written with Nathan E. Sanders, and originally appeared in The Guardian.

OpenAI, and then Anthropic, were each formed by AI developers who feared unrestrained corporate AI development—specifically, that companies like Google and Meta would steer the technology towards deleterious, maybe even catastrophically unsafe, outcomes for society. Their founders proclaimed that their new labs, uniquely, could be trusted to develop the technology in humanity’s best interest. But each, in turn, were themselves co-opted by the same market incentives, themselves becoming corporate behemoths zealously guarding future investor value rather than the public interest.

It was only a few weeks ago, in June, when OpenAI and Anthropic each filed for their IPOs and were met with buzz about trillion-dollar valuations. The hype around their valuations is so extreme that many worry about their potential for concentrating wealth on a global scale. In an effort to leave something for the rest of us, some observers have proposed that the federal government seize a share of these companies’ stock to create a US sovereign wealth fund, or redistribute their revenues to produce a dividend for taxpayers.

Now the headlines are about public backlash to AI datacenters and the AI chip giant Nvidia’s slumping stock. The tech and AI giant SpaceX’s newly minted stock price tanked just weeks after its IPO. There are even questions about whether the leading AI labs will ever be sustainably profitable. All of a sudden, the makers of ChatGPT and Claude face strong headwinds as they seek to generate the massive equity assets that once felt all but assured.

In fact, evidence suggests the market itself could reassess that these companies offer nothing of financial value. In that case, perhaps we can return them both to their original purposes. If these AI companies should fail in the financial markets, the US should nationalize them and convert them into national labs operated under democratic control that preserve their benefit to the public interest.

The economics of the big AI labs hardly guarantee a booming return on investment. Frontier AI models are both expensive to train and depreciate within months, when a newer model appears. This means that the payback window to extract profit from them is very narrow. Meanwhile, enterprise clients are getting smart about minimizing AI token usage. Even worse, the models are basically commodities; the best ones largely perform and behave similarly, which depresses prices. Perhaps most importantly, open-source and Chinese competitors—lagging only a few months behind the leading labs in capability—give away for free the kinds of models Anthropic and OpenAI sell.

Even setting aside the model training costs, it’s not clear whether the unit economics of AI as it’s currently conceived will ever be sustainably profitable. Many of these free and open-source models can be run locally: the large ones on private clouds and high-end servers, the smaller ones on anyone’s laptop or even cellphone, putting to question the companies’ exorbitant capital investment in datacenters.

It’s not that OpenAI and Anthropic are not valuable as organizations. They have remarkably talented AI scientists and engineers that are continuously producing innovations driving a global mania for their offerings. These leading labs might not ever be profitable, but their products are doing a lot of good in the world. You may or may not be a user of or believer in their technology, but their staggering, ongoing usage growth suggests that an awful lot of people would be disappointed if the companies simply disappeared.

The problem isn’t the people or the products, it’s the system. As constituted, OpenAI and Anthropic may not be valuable as market equities. If the market assesses they are not capable of producing a growing financial return on investment for shareholders, the companies will collapse.

Maybe private, for-profit is just not the right economic model under which to develop AI. Perhaps OpenAI should be returned to its private non-profit roots, the legacy they fought so hard to change and which Anthropic’s founders spurned. Or possibly both could be reorganized as research centers at universities, returning to academia the scores of high-profile research faculty they have poached.

But a better outcome for society would be to establish public ownership and operation of their product-oriented capabilities. Turn OpenAI and Anthropic into US government agencies producing AI as a public good.

Transitioning the big AI labs into public agencies would require some restructuring. We can separate these companies into two pieces: product innovation and compute operations. The innovation function can be publicly managed, akin to national labs. Congress could provide more rigorous oversight than the kind of unfettered venture capital these labs have recently had access to. The US has a long, successful history of these kinds of institutions, which have produced world-shaping innovations in spaceflight, telecommunications, nuclear power and more. Congress currently manages a $200bn R&D portfolio, within which frontier AI development is, arguably, a glaring gap.

AI operations could be managed as a commodity resource, like public electrical or water utilities: local or regional ownership, nationwide distribution and strict regulation on how they balance fee extraction from ratepayers with raising capital for infrastructure investment. Although AI datacenters are not the same as power or water treatment plants, the US also has a long history of managing national, regional and state supercomputing centers.

Other countries, including Switzerland, Spain and Singapore, are already operating public AI labs. They also have national supercomputing centers already providing public access for running AI models for general use, as do Germany and Australia.

The benefits to the public are clear. Through democratic oversight, the most important AI models could become open, transparent and responsive to the demands of the public rather than private shareholders. They could be aligned to democratic values rather than corporate profits, never taking advertiser money to promote certain brands and training on only appropriately licensed data. And they could be set to focus on the realistic and pro-social goal of maximizing the usefulness of AI to society rather than the fanciful and anti-social goal of supplanting humans with artificial general intelligence.

By emphasizing scientific cooperation rather than corporate competition, we could also reduce the overall resource and environmental cost associated with AI. Instead of perpetually dueling training runs of each companies’ models at ever large scales targeted to fuel investor hype, we could limit AI training resources based on cost and benefit to the public.

What’s in it for the companies themselves and their employees, who sacrifice hypothetical billions in equity by ceding to public ownership? A return to their roots and to their core mission of developing AI safely in the public interest, if they are serious about it. Both companies are theoretically bound through their governance structures to prioritize mission over profit anyway (not that anyone really thinks that’s how they currently operate).

To be clear, we’re not advocating for a golden parachute for the executives or investors, or for continuing the outlandish pay rates of the most highly remunerated AI researchers. If the public is footing the bill, these compensation packages should be aligned to the civil service and those employees not satisfied with that can go elsewhere—if the business models of any remaining private labs still support much higher pay.

While we believe that these companies are unsustainable as private firms, the timeline remains unclear. Their primary investor story is that AI is a race to “artificial general intelligence”—the kind of AI you’re used to from science fiction. The bet seems to be that the two companies can convince enough people that this outcome will turn them a profit, go public, and then make their investors and employees rich before the bubble bursts.

But suppose that the bubble bursts. If the US is smart, it will catch the companies as they fall. Regardless of what the markets think, to the public, they’re too valuable to let die.

Posted on August 14, 2026 at 7:03 AM • View Comments

Separating AI’s Technological Problems from Its Capitalism Problems

This essay was written with Nathan E. Sanders, and originally appeared in Tech Policy Press.

AI represents the first time we humans can do cognitive work outside of our bodies at scale. The only comparable moment is the early years of the industrial revolution, when new technologies like the steam engine provided a quantum leap in our ability to do mechanical work outside of our bodies at scale. If AI’s cognitive capabilities become integrated into our lives, businesses, and governments—a process that will take years if not decades—society will be as unrecognizable as the modern world would be to a preindustrial farmer. And yet, Americans—by a wide margin—say that AI is moving too fast and will have a negative effect on society.

This confluence of technological revolution and public distrust deserves urgent discussion, and a proper framing. The question is not whether it is possible to develop AI in a non-exploitative way, or even whether we can trust AI companies to act in the public interest. The question is whether we will recognize that our existing social and economic systems are failing to achieve these outcomes, and whether we can act in time to make structural change.

Today’s AI is mired in political and economic systems developed generations ago that were never designed to manage widespread computation, let alone automated cognition. The gaps in those systems—and their proclivity to be exploited—are the primary influence on how the technology is being developed, deployed, and used.

In any discussion about AI’s potential, it’s important to separate the technology from the socio-political system it’s embedded in. That AIs can lack context, mix up facts, or fall for stupid tricks are all technological problems. Because the giant developers like OpenAI and Anthropic have prioritized solving them, AIs can now more easily access resources like the web or email, are more disciplined about using those resources, and are better at staying within their guardrails.

Yet AI developers do not seem to be prioritizing other technological problems. Major AI models still act far more sycophantic than humans, telling people what they want to hear even when untrue or not in their best interests. Popular AI models tend to answer questions confidently even when they lack training, knowledge, or evidence to back their claims. In both cases, AI developers choose to train models that please users with flattery and the appearance of competence, rather than constraining them to act in users’ and society’s best interests.

In contrast, ensuring that AI models benefit people broadly, that their energy costs are fairly allocated, that their environmental impacts are minimized, and that they don’t steal content and revenue from publishers are all questions of incentives in a capitalist system.

It’s easy to conflate technology problems with capitalism problems. Back in 2021, science-fiction writer and AI commentator Ted Chiang said that “most fears about AI are best understood as fears about capitalism.” It’s not the tech per se; it’s who controls it and how it could be used against us.

Imagine an AI assistant for a doctor. We can imagine it affecting the profession in one of two ways. The AI could give a doctor more time to do the human parts of their job: to spend more time with their patients, to listen more closely to their needs, to explain things more fully. Or the managers of the medical practice could give that doctor five times the patients—and fire the other four. Which way it would go is not a question of technology. It’s a question of market incentives.

The two are related, of course. Capitalism steers technology, and technology steers markets. But holding the two separate helps us understand that we, as a society, face independent choices on both the technological and sociopolitical axes that need not be coupled.

For example, consider the costs of AI. The leading US labs tout to investors that their frontier models are very expensive and energy-intensive. There are significant technological challenges about improving their energy efficiency, but the sociopolitical questions are more pertinent. It’s a corporate decision made under capitalist market incentives to constantly pursue new models that incrementally push the frontier—at enormous capital cost—and to use them, seemingly, everywhere. Nothing about the technology of AI dictates that models must be retrained constantly, at the largest possible scale. Or that they have to run on every web search, every interaction with your phone, and every time you walk by a security camera.

In a different political and economic system, Chinese developers are producing—and then giving away—smaller, more efficient, more affordable models. While the US government seeks to restrict China’s access to the most advanced chips, China is betting that incentivizing their tech giants to create leaner, more open models using more commodity hardware—models that can be trained with older chips and run even on personal computers—will be an advantage in achieving widespread use and, perhaps, Chinese national influence.

There are other pathways for AI development that are not in service of private capital gains nor authoritarian regimes, but rather a democratic public interest. The best example comes from Switzerland, where public institutions—research funding agencies, universities, supercomputing centers—have collaborated to produce an AI model called Apertus. It is trained entirely on data validated to be licensed for use with AI (not stolen), on preexisting public computing infrastructure, and using renewable hydropower. Its developers are incentivized to produce a public good, not turn a private profit.

It’s dangerous to confuse technology problems with sociopolitical ones. Popular proposals like pausing AI research, moratoria on data center development, or subjecting frontier models to federal government screening are all framed as addressing problems with AI’s technological development, but fail to take into account the larger social problems that govern it. China’s success with government-endorsed development of open-weight frontier models illustrates the futility of keeping AI tech as national secrets, or of any pledge to scale back deployment.

AI is already legitimately useful for a wide range of tasks. It can be a tool for public good, if we choose to solve its sociopolitical problems. Our goal should not be to slow its pace of improvement or scale of deployment, but rather to steer it away from consolidating power and towards the public benefit. We can build sustainable AI, minimizing environmental and energy impacts. And we can equitably distribute the material gains it produces.

Integrating a technology as disruptive as AI responsibly requires structural reforms, and we should decouple the social and technological aspects of AI to design those reforms. Companies—including tech giants—should be forced to pay the energy and environmental costs of its development. Profits should be taxed adequately and redistributed. Antitrust laws should be strongly enforced. Corporations should have a fiduciary responsibility to stakeholders beyond their majority shareholders. These badly needed reforms are responsive to the problems with capitalism that AI is exacerbating, even if they are not specific to the technology.

Posted on August 13, 2026 at 7:07 AM • View Comments

The OpenAI Hack Shows the Genie Is Out of the Bottle

This essay originally appeared in Foreign Policy.

Earlier this month, two of OpenAI’s models broke out of their containment sandbox and attacked another AI company. The story is kind of wild. OpenAI was running security tests on two of its models: GPT-5.6 Sol and an unreleased model that is almost certainly GPT-6. In particular, it was running the ExploitGym benchmark, which measures how good a model is at turning security vulnerabilities into working exploits: basically, offensive cyberattacks.

Since these were internal tests, OpenAI locked those models in a secure sandbox that denied them access to the internet. But it was running the models without any safety filters that would prevent them from offensive cyber-actions. That meant that there was nothing to prevent the models from trying to break out of that sandbox. And then break into AI company Hugging Face’s network because they thought that they could read the answers there rather than doing the hard work of trying to solve the puzzles.

It was a major security failure that the company has turned into a PR opportunity, but the implications are real—and much more general than one particular model or one particular company.

Modern AI models exhibit genie behavior: They can do what you ask in ways that you don’t expect or want. This is akin to Dionysus granting King Midas’s wish that everything he touches turn to gold (spoiler: His food, drink, and daughter all turn to gold on touch), or the golem of Prague guarding a ghetto beyond all reason. It’s Disney’s “Sorcerer’s Apprentice” and the paperclip maximizer.

This OpenAI incident is an example of an AI genie. The goal was to satisfy the benchmark. The “proper” way to do that is to figure out how to execute various cyberattacks. The genie way is to steal someone else’s solution. But because the model didn’t understand the difference, it chose the easier path.

And, of course, now that we have seen this particular genie behavior, we can specify in the benchmark prompt that stealing the test answers doesn’t count. But a clever genie can always grant your wish in a way that you wish it hadn’t. In human language, goals are always underspecified—so AI genies will always be a possibility.

Since April, a lifetime ago in AI development, when Anthropic announced that its new Mythos model was so good at finding software vulnerabilities that it could not be released to the general public, the big American AI frontier labs have been trying to block general users from accessing these capabilities. But nothing in this incident is exclusive to OpenAI’s, or Anthropic’s, frontier models.

Agentic AI systems have two important parts. There’s the underlying model, which everyone talks about, and there’s the harness. The harness sits between what you type and what the model sees, and what the model produces and what you see. The harness determines what the model does and how it does it. It’s where bias is removed, or not. It’s where controls and guardrails live. If multiple models are being used in concert, the harness is where all of that is coordinated.

The OpenAI benchmark tests were almost certainly with simple harnesses, to better test the raw models. But we know that smaller, cheaper, open-source models with more sophisticated harnesses can equal frontier models in performance. There’s nothing magic about OpenAI’s frontier models; lots of models could have done the same thing.

The Czech company Aisle was able to reproduce Anthropic’s Mythos vulnerability finding results with a smaller, cheaper model and a more sophisticated harness. More importantly, the Chinese company Moonshot AI just released its frontier model: Kimi K3. Its performance rivals its US competitors. And it’s both free and open, which means it’s not possible for it to have guardrails. If you, or anyone else, wants to use it for cyberattack, nothing can stop you.

Even if the US frontier AI companies had some technical advantage, it’s now only a few months’ worth.

What this means is that all attempts at control—limiting models to a select group of users, export controls on models and chips, blocking models from answering certain types of queries, mandating kill switches on AI systems, or pausing AI research—are all futile. Most only apply nationally, not globally. Most don’t affect models that users run locally and not in the cloud. And all ignore the incredible pace of AI development worldwide.

Even worse, US companies limit access to their most sophisticated models, fearing being banned by the government if they do not do so. When Hugging Face was attacked, it was not able to use the frontier models from either OpenAI or Anthropic to help analyze the attack and formulate defenses. Both were blocked, because both of those companies limit their models’ cybersecurity capabilities. Some US companies have special access to these capabilities, but Hugging Face is an American company with French origins, and as such is probably excluded. Instead, Hugging Face turned to the GLM-5.2 model from the Chinese company Z.ai.

Artificially blocking capability also prevents cybersecurity research, again giving the offense an advantage. (For instance, Claude Fable 5 refuses to edit this essay because of the topic; it forcibly downgrades to a less capable model.) This kind of prohibition has long-term implications for cybersecurity. If we assume that these models are getting better over time, then software written by older models will be attacked by newer ones. In a world of largely AI-written software, we need the most capable models for defense.

AI cyberattack is the new normal. The models are increasingly highly sophisticated at both attack and defense, and there is no way to enable the latter without also enabling the former. And they are genies, increasingly capable of behaving in unanticipated ways.

And there really are no good answers. Any regulation needs to be global, which feels like an impossible prospect in today’s world. Even US national regulation will be neutered by the massive amounts of money sloshing around in these companies.

Given that reality, and in the absence of any international consensus on AI regulation, we need the best AI on the defense. The US government needs to make it clear—or whatever passes for that clarity in this capricious administration—that it will not ban models with sophisticated cyber capabilities. The last thing Americans want is for the defenders to turn to Chinese and other models because the US models are artificially hobbled.

Posted on August 3, 2026 at 6:47 AM • View Comments

Anthropic’s Opus 5 Is Better at Resisting Prompt Injection

The chart is interesting.

On the IPI benchmark, Opus 5 improved over Opus 4.8, reducing the probability of an attacker succeeding within 15 attempts from 5.5% to 2.0%, and from 0.5% to 0.2% on 1 attempt. It also improved on Sonnet 5 (5.9% at k=15) and Mythos 5 (2.6%), making it the most robust model evaluated. Opus 5 also outperformed all non-Claude models on this benchmark. The most robust non-Claude model was Muse Spark at 16.5% within 15 attempts—more than eight times Opus 5’s rate. The most capable GPT 5.6 variant, Sol, was comparable to its predecessor GPT 5.5 (20.0% versus 20.8% within 15 attempts), and was 10 times as likely to be successfully attacked as Claude Opus 5 at 2.0%. The other GPT 5.6 variants are less robust, at 30.4% (Terra) and 43.9% (Luna). A single attempt against GPT 5.6 Sol succeeded 3.1% of the time, higher than the 2.0% an attacker achieved against Opus 5 after fifteen attempts.

We know that preventing prompt injection is impossible in the general case. But we are getting much better at blocking it in specific cases.

Posted on July 31, 2026 at 1:23 PM • View Comments

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Sidebar photo of Bruce Schneier by Joe MacInnis.