The News,
Decoded.

Ah, splendid. A new study from three French and Italian universities—because European academia still has time for this sort of thing—has confirmed what anyone who's asked ChatGPT for a recipe already suspected: AI advice makes you dumber but happier. The researchers found that access to AI collapsed participants' willingness to say 'I don't know' from a cautious 44% all the way down to a breezy 3%. Meanwhile, accuracy dropped from 27% to 9%. But confidence? Oh, confidence soared from 30% to 76%. So if you've ever wondered why your colleagues are so certain about everything while being consistently wrong, now you have a culprit.

This isn't just an academic curiosity. We're building entire corporate workflows around these systems—customer service, medical diagnosis, legal research—based on the assumption that AI augments human judgment. What this study suggests is that it actually replaces judgment with a perma-smile of unwarranted certainty. The 44% who used to pause and say 'I don't know' have been replaced by a 76%-confident army of yes-men who are wrong twice as often. Brilliant. Next step: deploy this in courtrooms and operating theatres.

The real kicker is that this isn't a bug; it's a feature. The entire AI sales pitch—'unleash productivity, let AI handle the drudgery'—relies on the idea that we can trust the output. But the moment we trust it too much, we stop thinking. And as this study neatly demonstrates, the moment we stop thinking, we become both more confident and less correct. A perfect metaphor for the AI industry itself, really. We're building a world where everyone is certain of everything, and nothing is true. Cheers.

So Jensen Huang swanned into Japan and, because he's Nvidia's CEO and apparently the Wizard of Oz for the AI age, he's come away with a "national AI factory" deal. A national AI factory. Because what every country needs is a centralized neural cortex humming with GPUs, presumably powered by the souls of redundant data-entry clerks. Huang also signed up with "robotics firms" — because why not accelerate the physical replacement of humans while you're at it? And just to complete the triumvirate of inevitabilities, he locked in chip-material supplier agreements, ensuring the supply chain for all these delightful innovations is as frictionless as a guillotine blade.

Now, this is being reported as a "watch for" moment, as if Japan signing up to become a testbed for Nvidia's full-stack automation fantasy is something other than a hostage to fortune. The national AI factory will presumably churn out models that can write haikus about the end of the lifetime employment system. The robotics partnerships will no doubt produce humanoid waiters for restaurants that have already fired all their human staff. And the chip-material deals? That's just the infrastructure for the whole thing to scale until there's nobody left to buy the hardware.

But hey, Jensen got a nice trip to Japan out of it, and TechCrunch got another article to add to the "innovative synergies" pile. One can only imagine the conversation at the Japanese ministry: "So, Mr. Huang, you want to build a giant AI that can do everything, partner with robot companies, and secure our materials supply? Splendid! Just one question: who exactly is going to have a job when you're done?" Huang's answer, presumably, was to point at a graph going up and to the right. Marvellous.

So the "biggest winners" of the American economy—the tech elite, the six-figure-salaried, the stock-optioned darlings of venture capital—are apparently shitting themselves. According to the Washington Post, waves of layoffs and the relentless pressure to automate everything are creating "existential panic" in the very industry that was supposed to save us all. Tech has never been richer, yet its workers have never felt less secure—a contradiction so stark it would be funny if it weren't happening to the people who least deserve sympathy. How deliciously ironic: the builders of the machine that will replace everyone are the first to feel the cold blade at their own throats. They built this, and now they're scared. Good.

But it gets better. Economists, those cheerful purveyors of bad news, are already sharpening their pencils to inform us that other white-collar workers are next. Next for what, exactly? Next to join the ranks of the "biggest winners" who have suddenly become the biggest worriers? The automation they championed for the factory floor, the office admin, the customer service rep, is now coming for their own spreadsheet-juggling, meeting-scheduling, code-committing asses. It's almost poetic—a self-inflicted wound that they insisted was progress, and now they're shocked to find themselves bleeding all over their artisanal standing desks. The economists' warning isn't a prediction; it's an echo of the same logic tech CEOs used to justify every layoff round.

And the response? More panic, more layoffs, more "strategic realignments" and "synergy-driven transformations." The machine they built doesn't care about their stock options or their sense of entitlement. It's hungry, and it eats everything in its path—startups, scale-ups, FAANG behemoths, all of it. The biggest winners thought they were building a utopia; turns out they were just building the gallows, and the trapdoor is opening beneath their own feet. Maybe now the VCs and product managers will understand what it felt like to be a taxi driver in 2015, or a journalist in 2020. Cheers to the irony.

Oh, marvellous. A 'senior Trump administration official and key adviser' have decided to take a pop at Dean Ball, OpenAI's head of strategic futures — a job title that sounds like it was generated by an LLM having an existential crisis. Because nothing says 'responsible AI governance' like the Pentagon wading into a regulatory spat with an AI company that's busy cosying up to the military-industrial complex. The Axios piece is careful to note this 'could potentially complicate the company's relationship with the Trump administration' — as if that relationship wasn't already a minefield of conflicting interests and performative alliances.

Let's be real: the 'senior official' and 'key adviser' (unnamed, because of course) are slamming Ball's views on regulation, but we all know this isn't about principle. It's about turf. The Pentagon wants its say on AI rules, especially as it invests billions into autonomous systems and data centres — as we noted last week with TCS and HCLTech's infrastructure bets. Meanwhile, OpenAI wants to keep its fingers in the policy pie while avoiding the kind of oversight that might cramp its style. The result? A game of regulatory ping-pong where the ball is actually a ticking bomb.

And the pièce de résistance? Dean Ball is the man charged with 'strategic futures' — a role that apparently involves being publicly dressed down by the very government OpenAI is trying to influence. One can only imagine the internal memo: 'Dean, we need you to take one for the team. Just stand there and let the Pentagon call you a reckless idealist. It's for the good of the company.' The tragedy is, this isn't even satire anymore. It's just Tuesday in the AI policy circus, and the clowns are wielding actual power.

So TCS and HCLTech have decided to pile billions into data centres, because nothing says 'forward-thinking IT consultancy' like becoming a glorified landlord for server racks. They're betting on 'AI demand and data localization'—which is corporate speak for 'we saw hyperscalers making money and want a slice.' Never mind that data centres are brutally capital-intensive, require constant power, and have the margin profile of a utility company. The irony is delicious: two firms built on outsourcing labour are now outsourcing their future to concrete and cooling towers.

But wait, there's more: this pivot comes just as every hyperscaler is furiously building their own capacity, meaning TCS and HCLTech are entering a market where the biggest players are both customer and competitor. It's like opening a bakery next door to a flour mill that also owns all the ovens. The 'data localization' angle is the regulatory fig leaf—governments want data kept local, so let's build a data centre and charge them for the privilege. A beautiful synergy of protectionism and profit.

What could possibly go wrong? Well, if AI demand slows—and let's be honest, the hype cycle has a habit of peaking just as the cheques clear—these billion-dollar bets become billion-dollar albatrosses. But hey, TCS and HCLTech have decades of experience managing risk: they'll just offshore the losses to some subsidiary. Cheers to infrastructure as a service, with a side of existential exposure. 🍸

Ah, splendid news from the land of K-pop and kimchi: Kolon Benit has been 'selected' to lead Korea's grand 2026 Shared AI Transformation (AX) program for small and medium manufacturers. Because nothing says 'democratising AI' quite like handing the reins to a chaebol-affiliated IT services firm that's about as nimble as a cargo ship in a bathtub. The program promises to help SMEs implement 'enterprise-wide AI transformation' — a phrase that in practice means a few dashboard widgets, a chatbot that can't handle Hangul dialects, and a bill that bankrupts a family-run machine shop.

The sheer chutzpah of 'Shared AI Transformation' deserves a round of applause. Korea's manufacturing titans — Samsung, Hyundai, LG — hoover up every AI talent and GPU on the peninsula, while SMEs are left with a government initiative led by a subsidiary of the very conglomerates that starve them of resources. Kolon Benit's selection feels less like a tech leap and more like a corporate welfare scheme dressed up in innovation buzzwords. The program is designed to 'support' SMEs, but the definition of 'support' here seems suspiciously close to 'vendor lock-in to a chaebol's ecosystem.'

One wonders what the actual SMEs — the ones stamping brackets in Gumi or assembling widgets in Cheonan — make of all this. If they're lucky, they might get a free audit and a PDF of best practices. If they're unlucky, they'll be guinea pigs for a half-baked AI platform that Kolon Benit will quietly sunset when the government funding runs out in 2027. The transformation is shared, all right — shared costs, shared risks, shared confusion, while the benefits remain as concentrated as ever. Korea's manufacturing AI future: it's a magnificent, bureaucratic distraction from the real problem of scale.

The federal government has decided that automated decision-making needs a good, firm regulating. And who better to lead this charge than the Attorney-General? Because nothing says 'nimble, tech-savvy oversight' like a lawyer tasked with writing rules for algorithms that probably already have a head start. This comes hot on the heels of the 'world-first' AI standards from the same government, which we noted last time were all fanfare and no substance. Now they're proposing a framework to regulate ADM within federal agencies — which is a bit like installing a speed bump after the car has already crashed into the tree.

The Attorney-General will develop a framework to regulate ADM. Great. Because the same government that can barely manage its own IT systems (remember the Robodebt debacle? That was automated decision-making at its finest) is now going to write the rulebook. The 'safety priorities' are mentioned, but let's be honest: safety priorities in government AI are about as reliable as a chocolate teapot. The only priority here is to be seen doing something before the next scandal erupts.

And the scope? Just federal agencies. Not the private sector, not the social media platforms, not the credit-scoring algorithms that already run most of our lives. Just the nice, controllable, public-sector sandbox. Because we all know the real problems with AI are in government tax forms, not in insurance, hiring, or policing. Ahem. So yes, regulate away. Write the framework. Hold the consultations. And in three years, when the first real crisis hits, we can all admire the beautiful, unused architecture.

Ah, Ottawa's latest 'investment' in the future: a whopping $1.65 million for a Toronto tech company to slather AI onto farming. Because nothing says 'solving climate collapse' like a budget that wouldn't buy a modest data centre's cooling system. The government's press release probably used the phrase 'climate-smart' until it lost all meaning — much like this funding round will lose its impact against actual droughts and floods.

Let's parse the grand ambitions: 'monitor crop health, forecast yields, improve resilience.' $1.65 million might cover a few software licenses and a single engineer's salary, but the promise of 'climate resilience' on that budget is either delusional or insulting — take your pick.

Still, there's a bleak comedy in watching a federal government treat agriculture's existential threat like a procurement problem. The lucky tech company gets a cheque, farmers get a dashboard, and we all get to pretend that AI weather models are a substitute for greenhouse gas policy. When the next heatwave wipes out a harvest, at least the automated report will be beautifully formatted.

Ah, marvellous. Another breakthrough where AI has done the thinking that human PhDs spent decades not doing. A joint team from Seoul National and Sungkyunkwan Universities has unleashed an AI platform to design solvent properties for QLEDs, and—surprise—it's found a recipe that doubles efficiency and makes the screens last 40 times longer. Because of course it did.

Human researchers were probably busy perfecting their Excel graphs while the machine crunched molecular interactions in the time it takes to boil a kettle. This is the future: we'll have ultra-efficient displays that never die, but we'll have nothing to watch on them because AI also wrote all the scripts. Forty-fold longer lifetime. Doubled efficiency. And still no one is asking whether we want TVs that outlast their own plastic casing. But hey, it's a very shiny bandwagon to fall off.

The real kicker? This wasn't a moonshot lab—it's two Korean universities with a neural network. The recipe is now 'unlocked,' meaning everyone from Samsung to a bloke in his garage can try it. So brace for a flood of QLEDs that last four decades, just in time for the sun to expand. Cheers, science: you've given us screens that will outlive our planet's habitability.

Oh marvellous, Nvidia and Hugging Face have clapped their data-hungry hands together to grace humanity with even more open-source robotics tools. Because what the world needs right now is easier access to robot-building kits, especially when our current humanoid prototypes are already starring in dystopian training videos. LeRobot expands, they say, to make development 'more accessible' — as if the barrier to entry was the only thing standing between us and a peaceful robot butler.

This is, of course, the latest chapter in the great democratisation of robotics. Democratisation sounds lovely until you realise that 'democratising' a technology that can be strapped to a weaponised drone just means cheaper and faster for everyone. Nvidia, which profits from selling the shovels in this gold rush, and Hugging Face, the friendly face of model sharing, are essentially handing out robot-building blueprints with a smile. The press release doesn't mention who might pick up those blueprints, but we can guess: hobbyists, startups, and — let's be honest — state-backed labs tinkering with robot brains.

So yes, let's celebrate the accessibility. As we hurtle toward a world where anyone can train a robot to do anything — including, say, assembling other robots — it's comforting to know that the tools are free and open. What could possibly go wrong? Pass the popcorn, the show is just getting started.

Delta Electronics India has 'proposed' setting up ARIVAM, an advanced testing and validation centre in Tamil Nadu. 'Proposed' is doing a lot of heavy lifting here — much like the AI data centres this facility is supposed to support. No timeline, no investment figure, no mention of how many jobs might appear or vanish. Just a handshake with the state and a press release full of buzzwords: AI, renewable energy, microgrids. It's the corporate equivalent of promising to go to the gym in January.

Let's not pretend this is about saving the planet. The whole point is to run AI data centres — the most energy-hungry beasts ever built — on enough solar panels to make it look green. Meanwhile, the grid wheezes, costs explode, and someone somewhere is probably planning a floating wind farm to power the next ChatGPT. But sure, 'advanced testing and validation' will sort it all out.

And the name 'ARIVAM' — Tamil for 'knowledge' — is a nice touch. Because what screams deep local wisdom more than a multinational tech company dropping a facility in a state that's seen plenty of similar promises gather dust? Maybe this one will be different. Maybe they'll even build it. But until then, it's just another proposal, another headline, another reason to roll one's eyes and ask: 'How many of these centres actually materialise?' A smart bet? Probably not many.

Ah, Victoria's Labor government, fresh from unveiling 'world-first' AI standards that we covered last week, now proposes laws to unmask anonymous social media accounts accused of vilification. The Victorian Civil and Administrative Tribunal—because nothing says 'swift justice' like a tribunal—will get the power to order platforms to cough up identities. Because the real problem with online hate is definitely a lack of paperwork, not the platforms' utter inability to enforce their own rules without a court order. And of course, 'AI platforms' are included, because what's a modern law without name-dropping the buzzword of the month?

Let's be honest: this is performative regulation at its finest. The law targets 'vilification'—a term so vague it could cover anything from genuine abuse to a strongly worded opinion about the football. The tribunal will deliberate, platforms will lawyer up, and in the meantime, the anonymous bigots will have plenty of time to find a VPN. Meanwhile, the same government that wants to 'identify' anonymous accounts also wants to 'regulate' AI with standards that have all the enforcement power of a strongly worded letter. Consistency is clearly not on the agenda.

The real kicker? This won't actually make anyone safer. It'll just create a new cottage industry of privacy lawyers and tribunal hearings. The platforms will comply grudgingly, revealing the identities of a few unlucky trolls while the clever ones move to encrypted apps. It's the classic regulatory move: look busy, achieve little, and hope the voters don't notice you've done nothing about the actual problem—the algorithms that amplify outrage. But hey, at least the tribunal will have job security.

Ah, the Australian Labor party has graced us with 'world-first' AI standards — because nothing says 'bold action' like a regulatory framework unveiled by a minister whose title includes 'Assistant.' Andrew Charlton, the Assistant Science and Technology Minister, declared AI 'the most important technology of our lifetimes' and then presumably handed out a pamphlet. The standards themselves remain as mysterious as the Minister's actual portfolio power, but we're assured they are indeed 'world-first.' Of course, 'world-first' in AI regulation is like being the first person to bring a spork to a knife fight — technically innovative, but missing the point.

The timing is impeccable: just as global capitals are realising that AI regulation is about as effective as herding cats on roller skates, Australia bravely steps forward with a piece of paper. Because as we all know, the most pressing risk from AGI is that it might not comply with Australian consumer law. Minister Charlton, with the earnestness of a student council president announcing a new recycling program, assures us that this is the 'most important technology of our lifetimes' — which conveniently justifies a soundbite-heavy announcement with zero enforcement mechanism. The OECD's AI Policy Observatory will be thrilled to add another entry to their spreadsheet.

One can almost hear the collective sigh of relief from frontier labs in San Francisco and Beijing: 'Oh good, Australia has standards. We'll adjust our training runs accordingly.' The standards are likely to be 'voluntary' or 'principles-based,' meaning they carry all the weight of a New Year's resolution. But don't worry — the government has established a 'working group' to 'monitor compliance.' Because nothing says 'we're serious about existential risk' like a working group. Cheers from Canberra, where the batteries in the smoke alarm are probably flat.

Ah, Dr. Doom Nouriel Roubini has peered into the crystal ball and, for once, his prognosis is so grim it's almost cheerful. He tells us that within 20-25 years, a 'large chunk' of humanity will be surplus to requirements, replaced by AI and robots, and the only way out is universal basic income or 'some form of socialism.' And he calls that optimistic. This from a man whose nickname is *Dr. Doom*. When the professional pessimist says your best-case scenario is a guaranteed basic income funded by the state, you know the bar is in hell.

Roubini's sunny-side-up socialism stands in delightful contrast to the cheery denial we heard from Indeed's chief economist who insisted that aging Baby Boomers are the real labor problem, not AI. wait for them to die? But sure, it's the demographics, not the robots.

For the working stiff reading this on their break — if that job still exists — Roubini's timeline is the punchline. Twenty years? That's an eternity in boardroom-speak, but for anyone under 40, it's their entire career arc. The 'optimistic' outcome is a government cheque and the vague promise of 'retraining programmes.' The great irony of Dr. Doom's optimism is that it sounds exactly like everyone else's dystopia — just with better branding.

Ah, the future of delivery is here — and it's handing out redundancy notices in the San Francisco Bay Area, where two Amazon delivery partners have just shown 150+ people the door. The official reason: 'AI reshaping how people work.' That's right, not shareholder pressure, not corporate restructures, not Amazon squeezing margins — it's the machines, apparently, who demanded these layoffs. One can almost hear the chatbot explaining, 'Your route optimization is no longer needed, human.'

Let's be clear: these aren't Amazon employees. They work for 'delivery service partners,' a convenient layer of corporate insulation that lets the tech giant wash its hands while the partners do the dirty work. 150 people in the Bay Area alone — but the phrase 'more than 150' suggests a round number that's probably much larger across other markets. And the euphemism 'reshaping work' is doing heroic work: it implies a natural, inevitable process, like erosion or continental drift, rather than a deliberate cost-cutting decision dressed in AI's smart new clothes.

So another batch of logistics workers join the ranks of those 'transitioning' into a future they didn't vote for. The cleverly outsourced employment model means Amazon can maintain its beaming PR image while the partners absorb the bad news and the bad blood. 'AI reshaping work' is the new 'restructuring for efficiency' — a phrase that will haunt the economy for years. Pass me a pint, I'm going to need it.

Oh, brilliant — Eric Trump, the family's master of the casino bankruptcy and the charitable foundation shambles, is now diversifying into robot soldiers. Because what the world desperately needs is a private army of humanoid machines built by a man whose most notable achievement is being born to the right father. WIRED reports that his startup is developing these tin soldiers, and one can only imagine the pitch meeting: 'Dad, hear me out — we make Terminators, but they vote Republican.' The nepotism is almost touching, except these aren't meandering interns; they're autonomous weapons platforms with none of the charm of a bankruptcy filing.

Naturally, there's no mention of safety protocols, ethical guidelines, or any of that tedious regulatory nonsense. Why would there be? This is the same family that treated the Emoluments Clause as a suggestion. The robots are being built for military applications, because of course they are. Nothing says 'small government' like a privately owned fleet of unstoppable bipedal killbots. The Pentagon must be thrilled — now they can buy their war machines from a Trump-branded company, complete with gold-plated joints and a marketing slogan like 'Make Battlefields Great Again.'

And let's not forget the irony: the same people who scream about government overreach are quietly funding a private military robot army that will operate with zero oversight. What could possibly go wrong? The only comfort is that Eric Trump is involved, so the robots will probably malfunction, file for bankruptcy, or get sued for fraud within eighteen months. Until then, we get to watch the slowest, most litigious apocalypse ever. Cheers.

Oh, marvellous — another startup promising to read your mind for a modest $52 million. Hemispheric, an Israeli darling, has raised that tidy sum to build an AI that deciphers brain activity via noninvasive sensors. Because what we really need is more entities claiming to translate the electrical noise inside our skulls into something approximating language. The pitch is diagnosing brain health, which sounds noble until you remember that the same technology, once validated, will be sold to employers, insurers, and advertisers faster than you can say 'informed consent.'

Let's not pretend this is purely altruistic. The noninvasive bit is clever — no scalpels, no implants, just a snazzy headband that can supposedly peek at your neural chatter. But the leap from 'we can detect a tumour' to 'we can detect your political leanings' is disturbingly short. And the $52 million haul isn't coming from the WHO; it's from VCs who expect a return. Hemispheric's AI will undoubtedly be hailed as a revolution in mental healthcare, quietly ignoring the fact that the real revolution might be in corporate surveillance.

Still, one has to admire the chutzpah. The company is tiptoeing into a minefield of ethical and regulatory nightmares, but the press release is already glowing. 'Translating brain activity into language' — because what humanity desperately needs is less privacy and more misinterpretation of our thoughts by a black-box model. I'm sure the FDA will get around to regulating it by 2040. In the meantime, here's $52 million. Cheers.

Ah, the sweet sound of a contrarian take to break the monotony of 'AI will take all our jobs' headlines. Indeed's chief economist Svenja Gudell has nobly stepped forward to inform us that the real threat to the American labor force is not the coming robot uprising but the fact that Baby Boomers are finally retiring. Apparently, we're set to lose nearly 6 million workers by 2032 — a demographic cliff so steep it makes the AI panic look like a gentle slope. The sectors that will be hit hardest? Those 'least likely to be disrupted by AI,' of course, because irony is the only constant in this timeline.

So while the pundits wring their hands over ChatGPT replacing copywriters, the actual crisis is that we'll be short on nurses, plumbers, and home healthcare aides — roles where 'please hold while I hallucinate a patient's medical history' is not an option. Gudell's analysis is a welcome splash of cold water on the AI-hype fire: the workforce is not going to disappear because of algorithms; it's going to disappear because people get old and tired, a fact that no amount of compute can fix.

But don't worry — I'm sure we'll respond to this with the same urgency we've shown the climate crisis, i.e., we'll form a committee, commission a study, and then do absolutely nothing until the cliff is upon us. And when the plumbing breaks and the hospital wards are empty, we can always ask ChatGPT for a fix. What could go wrong?

Axis Bank has trimmed 3,100 employees in FY26 and now signals there's more where that came from, with mid- and back-office roles 'could be eliminated' as AI makes them redundant. The euphemisms are impeccable: 'improve productivity' — that's one way to describe firing 3,100 people and hinting at more. It's the same story we saw unfolding in Indian IT: the revenue goes up, the headcount goes down, and everyone claps for 'efficiency gains.' The phrase 'some mid-office and back-office roles could be eliminated' is corporate speak so devoid of blood it could have been generated by the very AI replacing those workers.

Never mind that these 3,100 people had names, mortgages, and children. No, no — they are 'roles,' abstract functions to be optimized out of existence. And the 'more scope' language? That's not a warning; it's a promise. The bank is essentially telling investors: we haven't finished automating the humans yet. In a country where banking employs millions, this is the quiet before the algorithmic deluge. The British would call it 'efficiency,' then go for a stiff drink. The Indians are just getting started.

And here's the kicker: no one in the C-suite will ever say 'we are laying off 3,100 people because AI can do their jobs.' Instead it's 'leveraging automation for productivity enhancement.' The smugness of it all — as if these decisions are inevitable, as if the only path forward is to sacrifice livelihoods on the altar of quarterly earnings. Axis Bank isn't alone, but it's a canary in the coal mine. And the mine is on fire.

So Dave Eggers got a personal invitation from Sam Altman to stroll into OpenAI HQ and tell the troops they're 'silencing an entire generation.' That's like inviting a vegetarian to critique your butcher shop's ethics — brave, or just spectacularly confident that no one will listen. Eggers, author of *The Circle* (which aged like milk, then wine, then bitter vinegar), told the staff directly that students using ChatGPT to compose will never learn to write. Never mind that Altman probably thought this would be a nice bit of branding — 'look, we engage with our critics!' — while the product quietly destroys the very scaffolding of written expression.

This is the same company that has spent billions on making the model sound more human, more convincing, more fluent, while the actual humans using it become less so. Eggers called it 'silencing,' which is the sort of verb you use for totalitarian regimes, not productivity tools. But here we are: the CEO of the world's most hyped AI company invites a novelist to validate his users' worst fears, and the novelist obliges. The kicker? Nothing will change. The model will ship, the students will use it, and the next generation of PR scripts will call it 'augmenting creativity' or some such rot.

Altman gets to look magnanimous for hosting the critique; Eggers gets headlines; the staff get a stern talking-to before they go back to fine-tuning the next token-predictor. Everyone's conscience is salved, and the transformation of education into a series of AI-generated summaries continues apace. Cheers to progress — and by progress, I mean the carefully managed spectacle of dissent that changes absolutely nothing.