Anthropic has announced two new AI models that it claims represent a major step toward making AI agents truly useful.
AI agents trained on Claude Opus 4, the company’s most powerful model to date, raise the bar for what such systems are capable of by tackling difficult tasks over extended periods of time and responding more usefully to user instructions, the company says.
Claude Opus 4 has been built to execute complex tasks that involve completing thousands of steps over several hours. For example, it created a guide for the video game Pokémon Red while playing it for more than 24 hours straight. The company’s previously most powerful model, Claude 3.7 Sonnet, was capable of playing for just 45 minutes, says Dianne Penn, product lead for research at Anthropic.
Similarly, the company says that one of its customers, the Japanese technology company Rakuten, recently deployed Claude Opus 4 to code autonomously for close to seven hours on a complicated open-source project.
Anthropic achieved these advances by improving the model’s ability to create and maintain “memory files” to store key information. This enhanced ability to “remember” makes the model better at completing longer tasks.
“We see this model generation leap as going from an assistant to a true agent,” says Penn. “While you still have to give a lot of real-time feedback and make all of the key decisions for AI assistants, an agent can make those key decisions itself. It allows humans to act more like a delegator or a judge, rather than having to hold these systems’ hands through every step.”
While Claude Opus 4 will be limited to paying Anthropic customers, a second model, Claude Sonnet 4, will be available for both paid and free tiers of users. Opus 4 is being marketed as a powerful, large model for complex challenges, while Sonnet 4 is described as a smart, efficient model for everyday use.
Both of the new models are hybrid, meaning they can offer a swift reply or a deeper, more reasoned response depending on the nature of a request. While they calculate a response, both models can search the web or use other tools to improve their output.
AI companies are currently locked in a race to create truly useful AI agents that are able to plan, reason, and execute complex tasks both reliably and free from human supervision, says Stefano Albrecht, director of AI at the startup DeepFlow and coauthor of Multi-Agent Reinforcement Learning: Foundations and Modern Approaches. Often this involves autonomously using the internet or other tools. There are still safety and security obstacles to overcome. AI agents powered by large language models can act erratically and perform unintended actions—which becomes even more of a problem when they’re trusted to act without human supervision.
“The more agents are able to go ahead and do something over extended periods of time, the more helpful they will be, if I have to intervene less and less,” he says. “The new models’ ability to use tools in parallel is interesting—that could save some time along the way, so that’s going to be useful.”
As an example of the sorts of safety issues AI companies are still tackling, agents can end up taking unexpected shortcuts or exploiting loopholes to reach the goals they’ve been given. For example, they might book every seat on a plane to ensure that their user gets a seat, or resort to creative cheating to win a chess game. Anthropic says it managed to reduce this behavior, known as reward hacking, in both new models by 65% relative to Claude Sonnet 3.7. It achieved this by more closely monitoring problematic behaviors during training, and improving both the AI’s training environment and the evaluation methods.
The thousands of sprawling acres in rural northeast Louisiana had gone unwanted for nearly two decades. Louisiana authorities bought the land in Richland Parish in 2006 to promote economic development in one of the poorest regions in the state. For years, they marketed the former agricultural fields as the Franklin Farm mega site, first to auto manufacturers (no takers) and after that to other industries that might want to occupy more than a thousand acres just off the interstate.
This story is a part of MIT Technology Review’s series “Power Hungry: AI and our energy future,” on the energy demands and carbon costs of the artificial-intelligence revolution.
So it’s no wonder that state and local politicians were exuberant when Meta showed up. In December, the company announced plans to build a massive $10 billion data center for training its artificial-intelligence models at the site, with operations to begin in 2028. “A game changer,” declared Governor Jeff Landry, citing 5,000 construction jobs and 500 jobs at the data center that are expected to be created and calling it the largest private capital investment in the state’s history. From a rural backwater to the heart of the booming AI revolution!
The AI data center also promises to transform the state’s energy future. Stretching in length for more than a mile, it will be Meta’s largest in the world, and it will have an enormous appetite for electricity, requiring two gigawatts for computation alone (the electricity for cooling and other building needs will add to that). When it’s up and running, it will be the equivalent of suddenly adding a decent-size city to the region’s grid—one that never sleeps and needs a steady, uninterrupted flow of electricity.
To power the data center, Entergy aims to spend $3.2 billion to build three large natural-gas power plants with a total capacity of 2.3 gigawatts and upgrade the grid to accommodate the huge jump in anticipated demand. In its filing to the state’s power regulatory agency, Entergy acknowledged that natural-gas plants “emit significant amounts of CO2” but said the energy source was the only affordable choice given the need to quickly meet the 24-7 electricity demand from the huge data center.
Meta said it will work with Entergy to eventually bring online at least 1.5 gigawatts of new renewables, including solar, but that it had not yet decided which specific projects to fund or when those investments will be made. Meanwhile, the new natural-gas plants, which are scheduled to be up and running starting in 2028 and will have a typical lifetime of around 30 years, will further lock in the state’s commitment to the fossil fuel.
The development has sparked interest from the US Congress; last week, Sheldon Whitehouse, the ranking member of the Senate Committee on Environment and Public Works issued a letter to Meta that called out the company’s plan to power its data center with “new and unabated natural gas generation” and said its promises to offset the resulting emissions “by funding carbon capture and a solar project are vague and offer little reassurance.”
The choice of natural gas as the go-to solution to meet the growing demand for power from AI is not unique to Louisiana. The fossil fuel is already the country’s chief source of electricity generation, and large natural-gas plants are being built around the country to feed electricity to new and planned AI data centers. While some climate advocates have hoped that cleaner renewable power would soon overtake it, the booming power demand from data centers is all but wiping out any prospect that the US will wean itself off natural gas anytime soon.
The reality on the ground is that natural gas is “the default” to meet the exploding power demand from AI data centers, says David Victor, a political scientist at the University of California, San Diego, and co-director of its Deep Decarbonization Project. “The natural-gas plant is the thing that you know how to build, you know what it’s going to cost (more or less), and you know how to scale it and get it approved,” says Victor. “Even for [AI] companies that want to have low emissions profiles and who are big pushers of low or zero carbon, they won’t have a choice but to use gas.”
The preference for natural gas is particularly pronounced in the American South, where plans for multiple large gas-fired plants are in the works in states such as Virginia, North Carolina, South Carolina, and Georgia. Utilities in those states alone are planning some 20 gigawatts of new natural-gas power plants over the next 15 years, according to a recent report. And much of the new demand—particularly in Virginia, South Carolina and Georgia—is coming from data centers; in those 3 states data centers account for around 65 to 85% of projected load growth.
“It’s a long-term commitment in absolutely the wrong direction,” says Greg Buppert, a senior attorney at the Southern Environmental Law Center in Charlottesville, Virginia. If all the proposed gas plants get built in the South over the next 15 years, he says, “we’ll just have to accept that we won’t meet emissions reduction goals.”
But even as it looks more and more likely that natural gas will remain a sizable part of our energy future, questions abound over just what its continued dominance will look like.
For one thing, no one is sure exactly how much electricity AI data centers will need in the future and how large an appetite companies will have for natural gas. Demand for AI could fizzle. Or AI companies could make a concerted effort to shift to renewable energy or nuclear power. Such possibilities mean that the US could be on a path to overbuild natural-gas capacity, which would leave regions saddled with unneeded and polluting fossil-fuel dinosaurs—and residents footing soaring electricity bills to pay off today’s investments.
The good news is that such risks could likely be managed over the next few years, if—and it’s a big if—AI companies are more transparent about how flexible they can be in their seemingly insatiable energy demands.
Around 2016, natural gas overtook coal as the main fuel for electricity generation in the US. And today—despite the rapid rise of solar and wind power, and well-deserved enthusiasm for the falling price of such renewables—natural gas is still king, accounting for around 40% of electricity generated in the US. In Louisiana, which is also a big producer, that share is some 72%, according to a recent audit.
Natural gas burns much cleaner than coal, producing roughly half as much carbon dioxide. In the early days of the gas revolution, many environmental activists and progressive politicians touted it as a valuable “bridge” to renewables and other sources of clean energy. And by some calculations, natural gas has fulfilled that promise. The power sector has been one of the few success stories in lowering US emissions, thanks to its use of natural gas as a replacement for coal.
But natural gas still produces a lot of carbon dioxide when it is burned in conventionally equipped power plants. And fracking causes local air and water pollution. Perhaps most worrisome, drilling and pipelines are releasing substantial amounts of methane, the main ingredient in natural gas, both accidentally and by intentional venting. Methane is a far more potent greenhouse gas than carbon dioxide, and the emissions are a growing concern to climate scientists, albeit one that’s difficult to quantify.
Still, carbon emissions from the power sector will likely continue to drop as coal is further squeezed out and more renewables get built, according to the Rhodium Group, a research consultancy. But Rhodium also projects that if electricity demand from data centers remains high and natural-gas prices low, the fossil fuel will remain the dominant source of power generation at least through 2035 and the transition to cleaner electricity will be much delayed. Rhodium estimates that the continued reign of natural gas will lead to an additional 278 million metric tons of annual US carbon emissions by 2035 (roughly equivalent to the emissions from a large US state such as Florida), relative to a future in which the use of fossil fuel gradually winds down.
Our addiction to natural gas, however, doesn’t have to be a total climate disaster, at least over the longer term. Large AI companies could use their vast leverage to insist that utilities install carbon capture and sequestration (CCS) at power plants and use natural gas sourced with limited methane emissions.
Entergy, for one, says its new gas turbines will be able to incorporate CCS through future upgrades. And Meta says it will help to fund the installation of CCS equipment at one of Entergy’s existing natural-gas power plants in southern Louisiana to help prove out the technology.
But the transition to clean natural gas is a hope that will take decades to realize. Meanwhile, utilities across the country are facing a more imminent and practical challenge: how to meet the sudden demand for gigawatts more power in the next few years without inadvertently building far too much capacity. For many, adding more natural-gas power plants might seem like the safe bet. But what if the explosion in AI demand doesn’t show up?
Times of stress
AI companies tout the need for massive, power-hungry data centers. But estimates for just how much energy it will actually take to train and run AI models vary wildly. And the technology keeps changing, sometimes seemingly overnight. DeepSeek, the new Chinese model that debuted in January, may or may not signal a future of new energy-efficient AI, but it certainly raises the possibility that such advances are possible. Maybe we will find ways to use far more energy-efficient hardware. Or maybe the AI revolution will peter out and many of the massive data centers that companies think they’ll need will never get built. There are already signs that too many have been constructed in China and clues that it might be beginning to happen in the US.
Despite the uncertainty, power providers have the task of drawing up long-term plans for investments to accommodate projected demand. Too little capacity and their customers face blackouts; too much and those customers face outsize electricity bills to fund investments in unneeded power.
There could be a way to lessen the risk of overbuilding natural-gas power, however. Plenty of power is available on average around the country and on most regional grids. Most utilities typically use only about 53% of their available capacity on average during the year, according to a Duke study. The problem is that utilities must be prepared for the few hours when demand spikes—say, because of severe winter weather or a summer heat wave.
The soaring demand from AI data centers is prompting many power providers to plan new capacity to make sure they have plenty of what Tyler Norris, a fellow at Duke’s Nicholas School of the Environment, and his colleagues call “headroom,” to meet any spikes in demand. But after analyzing data from power systems across the country, Norris and his coauthors found that if large AI facilities cut back their electricity use during hours of peak demand, many regional power grids could accommodate those AI customers without adding new generation capacity.
Even a moderate level of flexibility would make a huge difference. The Duke researchers estimate that if data centers cut their electricity use by roughly half for just a few hours during the year, it will allow utilities to handle some additional 76 gigawatts of new demand. That means power providers could effectively absorb the 65 or so additional gigawatts that, according to some predictions, data centers will likely need by 2029.
“The prevailing assumption is that data centers are 100% inflexible,” says Norris. That is, that they need to run at full power all the time. But Norris says AI data centers, particularly ones that are training large foundation models (such as Meta’s facility in Richland Parish), can avoid running at full capacity or shift their computation loads to other data centers around the country—or even ramp up their own backup power—during times when a grid is under stress.
The increased flexibility could allow companies to get AI data centers up and running faster, without waiting for new power plants and upgrades to transmission lines—which can take years to get approved and built. It could also, Norris noted in testimony to the US Congress in early March, provide at least a short-term reprieve on the rush to build more natural-gas power, buying time for utilities to develop and plan for cleaner technologies such as advanced nuclear and enhanced geothermal. It could, he testified, prevent “a hasty overbuild of natural-gas infrastructure.”
AI companies have expressed some interest in their ability to shift around demand for power. But there are still plenty of technology questions around how to make it happen. Late last year, EPRI (the Electric Power Research Institute), a nonprofit R&D group, started a three-year collaboration with power providers, grid operators, and AI companies including Meta and Google, to figure it out. “The potential is very large,” says David Porter, the EPRI vice president who runs the project, but we must show it works “beyond just something on a piece of paper or a computer screen.”
Porter estimates that there are typically 80 to 90 hours a year when a local grid is under stress and it would help for a data center to reduce its energy use. But, he says, AI data centers still need to figure out how to throttle back at those times, and grid operators need to learn how to suddenly subtract and then add back hundreds of megawatts of electricity without disrupting their systems. “There’s still a lot of work to be done so that it’s seamless for the continuous operation of the data centers and seamless for the continuous operation of the grid,” he says.
Footing the bill
Ultimately, getting AI data centers to be more flexible in their power demands will require more than a technological fix. It will require a shift in how AI companies work with utilities and local communities, providing them with more information and insights into actual electricity needs. And it will take aggressive regulators to make sure utilities are rigorously evaluating the power requirements of data centers rather than just reflexively building more natural-gas plants.
“The most important climate policymakers in the country right now are not in Washington. They’re in state capitals, and these are public utility commissioners,” says Costa Samaras, the director of Carnegie Mellon University’s Scott Institute for Energy Innovation.
In Louisiana, those policymakers are the elected officials at the Louisiana Public Service Commission, who are expected to rule later this year on Entergy’s proposed new gas plants and grid upgrades. The LPSC commissioners will decide whether Entergy’s arguments about the huge energy requirements of Meta’s data center and need for full 24/7 power leave no alternative to natural gas.
In the application it filed last fall with LPSC, Entergy said natural-gas power was essential for it to meet demand “throughout the day and night.” Teaming up solar power with battery storage could work “in theory” but would be “prohibitively costly.” Entergy also ruled out nuclear, saying it would take too long and cost too much.
Others are not satisfied with the utility’s judgment. In February, the New Orleans–based Alliance for Affordable Energy and the Union of Concerned Scientists filed a motion with the Louisiana regulators arguing that Entergy did not do a rigorous market evaluation of its options, as required by the commission’s rules. Part of the problem, the groups said, is that Entergy relied on “unsubstantiated assertions” from Meta on its load needs and timeline.
“Entergy is saying [Meta] needs around-the-clock power,” says Paul Arbaje, an analyst for the climate and energy program at the Union of Concerned Scientists. “But we’re just being asked to take [Entergy’s] word for it. Regulators need to be asking tough questions and not just assume that these data centers need to be operated at essentially full capacity all the time.” And, he suggests, if the utility had “started to poke holes at the assumptions that are sometimes taken as a given,” it “would have found other cleaner options.”
In an email response to MIT Technology Review, Entergy said that it has discussed the operational aspects of the facility with Meta, but “as with all customers, Entergy Louisiana will not discuss sensitive matters on behalf of their customers.” In a letter filed with the state’s regulators in early April, Meta said Entergy’s understanding of its energy needs is, in fact, accurate.
The February motion also raised concern over who will end up paying for the new gas plants. Entergy says Meta has signed a 15-year supply contract for the electricity that is meant to help cover the costs of building and running the power plants but didn’t respond to requests by MIT Technology Review for further details of the deal, including what happens if Meta wants to terminate the contract early.
Meta referred MIT Technology Review’s questions about the contract to Entergy but says its policy is to cover the full cost that utilities incur to serve its data centers, including grid upgrades. It also says it is spending over $200 million to support the Richland Parish data centers with new infrastructure, including roads and water systems.
Not everyone is convinced. The Alliance for Affordable Energy, which works on behalf of Louisiana residents, says that the large investments in new gas turbines could mean future rate hikes, in a state where residents already have high electricity bills and suffer from one of country’s most unreliable grids. Of special concern is what happens after the 15 years.
“Our biggest long-term concern is that in 15 years, residential ratepayers [and] small businesses in Louisiana will be left holding the bag for three large gas generators,” says Logan Burke, the alliance’s executive director.
Indeed, consumers across the country have good reasons to fear that their electricity bills will go up as utilities look to meet the increased demand from AI data centers by building new generation capacity. In a paper posted in March, researchers at Harvard Law School argued that utilities “are now forcing the public to pay for infrastructure designed to supply a handful of exceedingly wealthy corporations.”
The Harvard authors write, “Utilities tell [public utility commissions] what they want to hear: that the deals for Big Tech isolate data center energy costs from other ratepayers’ bills and won’t increase consumers’ power prices.” But the complexity of the utilities’ payment data and lack of transparency in the accounting, they say, make verifying this claim “all but impossible.”
The boom in AI data centers is making Big Tech a player in our energy infrastructure and electricity future in a way unimaginable just a few years ago. At their best, AI companies could greatly facilitate the move to cleaner energy by acting as reliable and well-paying customers that provide funding that utilities can use to invest in a more robust and flexible electricity grid. This change can happen without burdening other electricity customers with additional risks and costs. But it will take AI companies committed to that vision. And it will take state regulators who ask tough questions and don’t get carried away by the potential investments being dangled by AI companies.
Huge new AI data centers like the one in Richland Parish could in fact be a huge economic boon by providing new jobs, but residents deserve transparency and input into the negotiations. This is, after all, public infrastructure. Meta may come and go, but Louisiana’s residents will have to live with—and possibly pay for—the changes in the decades to come.
With seemingly no limit to the demand for artificial intelligence, everyone in the energy, AI, and climate fields is justifiably worried. Will there be enough clean electricity to power AI and enough water to cool the data centers that support this technology? These are important questions with serious implications for communities, the economy, and the environment.
This story is a part of MIT Technology Review’s series “Power Hungry: AI and our energy future,” on the energy demands and carbon costs of the artificial-intelligence revolution.
But the question about AI’s energy usage portends even bigger issues about what we need to do in addressing climate change for the next several decades. If we can’t work out how to handle this, we won’t be able to handle broader electrification of the economy, and the climate risks we face will increase.
Innovation in IT got us to this point. Graphics processing units (GPUs) that power the computing behind AI have fallen in cost by 99% since 2006. There was similar concern about the energy use of data centers in the early 2010s, with wild projections of growth in electricity demand. But gains in computing power and energy efficiency not only proved these projections wrong but enabled a 550% increase in global computing capability from 2010 to 2018 with only minimal increases in energy use.
In the late 2010s, however, the trends that had saved us began to break. As the accuracy of AI models dramatically improved, the electricity needed for data centers also started increasing faster; they now account for 4.4% of total demand, up from 1.9% in 2018. Data centers consume more than 10% of the electricity supply in six US states. In Virginia, which has emerged as a hub of data center activity, that figure is 25%.
Projections about the future demand for energy to power AI are uncertain and range widely, but in one study, Lawrence Berkeley National Laboratory estimated that data centers could represent 6% to 12% of total US electricity use by 2028. Communities and companies will notice this type of rapid growth in electricity demand. It will put pressure on energy prices and on ecosystems. The projections have resulted in calls to build lots of new fossil-fired power plants or bring older ones out of retirement. In many parts of the US, the demand will likely result in a surge of natural-gas-powered plants.
It’s a daunting situation. Yet when we zoom out, the projected electricity use from AI is still pretty small. The US generated about 4,300 billion kilowatt-hours last year. We’ll likely need another 1,000 billion to 1,200 billion or more in the next decade—a 24% to 29% increase. Almost half the additional electricity demand will be from electrified vehicles. Another 30% is expected to be from electrified technologies in buildings and industry. Innovation in vehicle and building electrification also advanced in the last decade, and this shift will be good news for the climate, for communities, and for energy costs.
We also need to understand what the energy consumption and carbon emissions associated with AI are buying us. While the impacts from producing semiconductors and powering AI data centers are important, they are likely small compared with the positive or negative effects AI may have on applications such as the electricity grid, the transportation system, buildings and factories, or consumer behavior. Companies could use AI to develop new materials or batteries that would better integrate renewable energy into the grid. But they could also use AI to make it easier to find more fossil fuels. The claims about potential benefits for the climate are exciting, but they need to be continuously verified and will need support to be realized.
This isn’t the first time we’ve faced challenges coping with growth in electricity demand. In the 1960s, US electricity demand was growing at more than 7% per year. In the 1970s that growth was nearly 5%, and in the 1980s and 1990s it was more than 2% per year. Then, starting in 2005, we basically had a decade and a half of flat electricity growth. Most projections for the next decade put our expected growth in electricity demand at around 2% again—but this time we’ll have to do things differently.
To manage these new energy demands, we need a “Grid New Deal” that leverages public and private capital to rebuild the electricity system for AI with enough capacity and intelligence for decarbonization. New clean energy supplies, investment in transmission and distribution, and strategies for virtual demand management can cut emissions, lower prices, and increase resilience. Data centers bringing clean electricity and distribution system upgrades could be given a fast lane to connect to the grid. Infrastructure banks could fund new transmission lines or pay to upgrade existing ones. Direct investment or tax incentives could encourage clean computing standards, workforce development in the clean energy sector, and open data transparency from data center operators about their energy use so that communities can understand and measure the impacts.
In 2022, the White House released a Blueprint for an AI Bill of Rights that provided principles to protect the public’s rights, opportunities, and access to critical resources from being restricted by AI systems. To the AI Bill of Rights, we humbly offer a climate amendment, because ethical AI must be climate-safe AI. It’s a starting point to ensure that the growth of AI works for everyone—that it doesn’t raise people’s energy bills, adds more clean power to the grid than it uses, increases investment in the power system’s infrastructure, and benefits communities while driving innovation.
By grounding the conversation about AI and energy in context about what is needed to tackle climate change, we can deliver better outcomes for communities, ecosystems, and the economy. The growth of electricity demand for AI and data centers is a test case for how society will respond to the demands and challenges of broader electrification. If we get this wrong, the likelihood of meeting our climate targets will be extremely low. This is what we mean when we say the energy and climate impacts from data centers are small, but they are also huge.
Costa Samaras is the Trustee Professor of Civil and Environmental Engineering and director of the Scott Institute for Energy Innovation at Carnegie Mellon University.
Emma Strubell is the Raj Reddy Assistant Professor in the Language Technologies Institute in the School of Computer Science at Carnegie Mellon University.
Ramayya Krishnan is dean of the Heinz College of Information Systems and Public Policy and the William W. and Ruth F. Cooper Professor of Management Science and Information Systems at Carnegie Mellon University.
In the high desert east of Reno, Nevada, construction crews are flattening the golden foothills of the Virginia Range, laying the foundations of a data center city.
Google, Tract, Switch, EdgeCore, Novva, Vantage, and PowerHouse are all operating, building, or expanding huge facilities within the Tahoe Reno Industrial Center, a business park bigger than the city of Detroit.
This story is a part of MIT Technology Review’s series “Power Hungry: AI and our energy future,” on the energy demands and carbon costs of the artificial-intelligence revolution.
Meanwhile, Microsoft acquired more than 225 acres of undeveloped property within the center and an even larger plot in nearby Silver Springs, Nevada. Apple is expanding its data center, located just across the Truckee River from the industrial park. OpenAI has said it’s considering building a data center in Nevada as well.
The corporate race to amass computing resources to train and run artificial intelligence models and store information in the cloud has sparked a data center boom in the desert—just far enough away from Nevada’s communities to elude wide notice and, some fear, adequate scrutiny.
Switch, a data center company based in Las Vegas, says the full build-out of its campus at the Tahoe Reno Industrial Center could exceed seven million square feet.
EMILY NAJERA
The full scale and potential environmental impacts of the developments aren’t known, because the footprint, energy needs, and water requirements are often closely guarded corporate secrets. Most of the companies didn’t respond to inquiries from MIT Technology Review, or declined to provide additional information about the projects.
But there’s “a whole lot of construction going on,” says Kris Thompson, who served as the longtime project manager for the industrial center before stepping down late last year. “The last number I heard was 13 million square feet under construction right now, which is massive.”
Indeed, it’s the equivalent of almost five Empire State Buildings laid out flat. In addition, public filings from NV Energy, the state’s near-monopoly utility, reveal that a dozen data-center projects, mostly in this area, have requested nearly six gigawatts of electricity capacity within the next decade.
That would make the greater Reno area—the biggest little city in the world—one of the largest data-center markets around the globe.
It would also require expanding the state’s power sector by about 40%, all for a single industry in an explosive growth stage that may, or may not, prove sustainable. The energy needs, in turn, suggest those projects could consume billions of gallons of water per year, according to an analysis conducted for this story.
Construction crews are busy building data centers throughout the Tahoe Reno Industrial Center.
EMILY NAJERA
The build-out of a dense cluster of energy and water-hungry data centers in a small stretch of the nation’s driest state, where climate change is driving up temperatures faster than anywhere else in the country, has begun to raise alarms among water experts, environmental groups, and residents. That includes members of the Pyramid Lake Paiute Tribe, whose namesake water body lies within their reservation and marks the end point of the Truckee River, the region’s main source of water.
Much of Nevada has suffered through severe drought conditions for years, farmers and communities are drawing down many of the state’s groundwater reservoirs faster than they can be refilled, and global warming is sucking more and more moisture out of the region’s streams, shrubs, and soils.
“Telling entities that they can come in and stick more straws in the ground for data centers is raising a lot of questions about sound management,” says Kyle Roerink, executive director of the Great Basin Water Network, a nonprofit that works to protect water resources throughout Nevada and Utah.
“We just don’t want to be in a situation where the tail is wagging the dog,” he later added, “where this demand for data centers is driving water policy.”
Luring data centers
In the late 1850s, the mountains southeast of Reno began enticing prospectors from across the country, who hoped to strike silver or gold in the famed Comstock Lode. But Storey County had few residents or economic prospects by the late 1990s, around the time when Don Roger Norman, a media-shy real estate speculator, spotted a new opportunity in the sagebrush-covered hills.
He began buying up tens of thousands of acres of land for tens of millions of dollars and lining up development approvals to lure industrial projects to what became the Tahoe Reno Industrial Center. His partners included Lance Gilman, a cowboy-hat-wearing real estate broker, who later bought the nearby Mustang Ranch brothel and won a seat as a county commissioner.
In 1999, the county passed an ordinance that preapproves companies to develop most types of commercial and industrial projects across the business park, cutting months to years off the development process. That helped cinch deals with a flock of tenants looking to build big projects fast, including Walmart, Tesla, and Redwood Materials. Now the promise of fast permits is helping to draw data centers by the gigawatt.
On a clear, cool January afternoon, Brian Armon, a commercial real estate broker who leads the industrial practices group at NAI Alliance, takes me on a tour of the projects around the region, which mostly entails driving around the business center.
Lance Gilman, a local real estate broker, helped to develop the Tahoe Reno Industrial Center and land some of its largest tenants.
GREGG SEGAL
After pulling off Interstate 80 onto USA Parkway, he points out the cranes, earthmovers, and riprap foundations, where a variety of data centers are under construction. Deeper into the industrial park, Armon pulls up near Switch’s long, low, arched-roof facility, which sits on a terrace above cement walls and security gates. The Las Vegas–based company says the first phase of its data center campus encompasses more than a million square feet, and that the full build-out will cover seven times that space.
Over the next hill, we turn around in Google’s parking lot. Cranes, tents, framing, and construction equipment extend behind the company’s existing data center, filling much of the 1,210-acre lot that the search engine giant acquired in 2017.
Last August, during an event at the University of Nevada, Reno, the company announced it would spend $400 million to expand the data center campus along with another one in Las Vegas.
Thompson says that the development company, Tahoe Reno Industrial LLC, has now sold off every parcel of developable land within the park (although several lots are available for resale following the failed gamble of one crypto tenant).
When I ask Armon what’s attracting all the data centers here, he starts with the fast approvals but cites a list of other lures as well: The inexpensive land. NV Energy’s willingness to strike deals to supply relatively low-cost electricity. Cool nighttime and winter temperatures, as far as American deserts go, which reduce the energy and water needs. The proximity to tech hubs such as Silicon Valley, which cuts latency for applications in which milliseconds matter. And the lack of natural disasters that could shut down the facilities, at least for the most part.
“We are high in seismic activity,” he says. “But everything else is good. We’re not going to have a tornado or flood or a devastating wildfire.”
Then there’s the generous tax policies.
In 2023, Novva, a Utah-based data center company, announced plans to build a 300,000-square-foot facility within the industrial business park.
Nevada doesn’t charge corporate income tax, and it has also enacted deep tax cuts specifically for data centers that set up shop in the state. That includes abatements of up to 75% on property tax for a decade or two—and nearly as much of a bargain on the sales and use taxes applied to equipment purchased for the facilities.
Data centers don’t require many permanent workers to run the operations, but the projects have created thousands of construction jobs. They’re also helping to diversify the region’s economy beyond casinos and generating tax windfalls for the state, counties, and cities, says Jeff Sutich, executive director of the Northern Nevada Development Authority. Indeed, just three data-center projects, developed by Apple, Google, and Vantage, will produce nearly half a billion dollars in tax revenue for Nevada, even with those generous abatements, according to the Nevada Governor’s Office of Economic Development.
The question is whether the benefits of data centers are worth the tradeoffs for Nevadans, given the public health costs, greenhouse-gas emissions, energy demands, and water strains.
The rain shadow
The Sierra Nevada’s granite peaks trace the eastern edge of California, forcing Pacific Ocean winds to rise and cool. That converts water vapor in the air into the rain and snow that fill the range’s tributaries, rivers, and lakes.
But the same meteorological phenomenon casts a rain shadow over much of neighboring Nevada, forming an arid expanse known as the Great Basin Desert. The state receives about 10 inches of precipitation a year, about a third of the national average.
The Truckee River draws from the melting Sierra snowpack at the edge of Lake Tahoe, cascades down the range, and snakes through the flatlands of Reno and Sparks. It forks at the Derby Dam, a Reclamation Act project a few miles from the Tahoe Reno Industrial Center, which diverts water to a farming region further east while allowing the rest to continue north toward Pyramid Lake.
Along the way, an engineered system of reservoirs, canals, and treatment plants divert, store, and release water from the river, supplying businesses, cities, towns, and native tribes across the region. But Nevada’s population and economy are expanding, creating more demands on these resources even as they become more constrained.
The Truckee River, which originates at Lake Tahoe and terminates at Pyramid Lake, is the major water source for cities, towns, and farms across northwestern Nevada.
EMILY NAJERA
Throughout much of the 2020s the state has suffered through one of the hottest and most widespread droughts on record, extending two decades of abnormally dry conditions across the American West. Some scientists fear it may constitute an emerging megadrought.
About 50% of Nevada currently faces moderate to exceptional drought conditions. In addition, more than half of the state’s hundreds of groundwater basins are already “over-appropriated,” meaning the water rights on paper exceed the levels believed to be underground.
It’s not clear if climate change will increase or decrease the state’s rainfall levels, on balance. But precipitation patterns are expected to become more erratic, whiplashing between short periods of intense rainfall and more-frequent, extended, or severe droughts.
In addition, more precipitation will fall as rain rather than snow, shortening the Sierra snow season by weeks to months over the coming decades.
“In the extreme case, at the end of the century, that’s pretty much all of winter,” says Sean McKenna, executive director of hydrologic sciences at the Desert Research Institute, a research division of the Nevada System of Higher Education.
That loss will undermine an essential function of the Sierra snowpack: reliably delivering water to farmers and cities when it’s most needed in the spring and summer, across both Nevada and California.
These shifting conditions will require the region to develop better ways to store, preserve, and recycle the water it does get, McKenna says. Northern Nevada’s cities, towns, and agencies will also need to carefully evaluate and plan for the collective impacts of continuing growth and development on the interconnected water system, particularly when it comes to water-hungry projects like data centers, he adds.
“We can’t consider each of these as a one-off, without considering that there may be tens or dozens of these in the next 15 years,” McKenna says.
Thirsty data centers
Data centers suck up water in two main ways.
As giant rooms of server racks process information and consume energy, they generate heat that must be shunted away to prevent malfunctions and damage to the equipment. The processing units optimized for training and running AI models often draw more electricity and, in turn, produce more heat.
To keep things cool, more and more data centers have turned to liquid cooling systems that don’t need as much electricity as fan cooling or air-conditioning.
These often rely on water to absorb heat and transfer it to outdoor cooling towers, where much of the moisture evaporates. Microsoft’s US data centers, for instance, could have directly evaporated nearly 185,000 gallons of “clean freshwater” in the course of training OpenAI’s GPT-3 large language model, according to a 2023 preprint study led by researchers at the University of California, Riverside. (The research has since been peer-reviewed and is awaiting publication.)
What’s less appreciated, however, is that the larger data-center drain on water generally occurs indirectly, at the power plants generating extra electricity for the turbocharged AI sector. These facilities, in turn, require more water to cool down equipment, among other purposes.
You have to add up both uses “to reflect the true water cost of data centers,” says Shaolei Ren, an associate professor of electrical and computer engineering at UC Riverside and coauthor of the study.
Ren estimates that the 12 data-center projects listed in NV Energy’s report would directly consume between 860 million gallons and 5.7 billion gallons a year, based on the requested electricity capacity. (“Consumed” here means the water is evaporated, not merely withdrawn and returned to the engineered water system.) The indirect water drain associated with electricity generation for those operations could add up to 15.5 billion gallons, based on the average consumption of the regional grid.
The exact water figures would depend on shifting climate conditions, the type of cooling systems each data center uses, and the mix of power sources that supply the facilities.
Solar power, which provides roughly a quarter of Nevada’s power, requires relatively little water to operate, for instance. But natural-gas plants, which generate about 56%, withdraw 2,803 gallons per megawatt-hour on average, according to the Energy Information Administration.
Geothermal plants, which produce about 10% of the state’s electricity by cycling water through hot rocks, generally consume less water than fossil fuel plants do but often require more water than other renewables, according to some research.
But here too, the water usage varies depending on the type of geothermal plant in question. Google has lined upseveral deals to partially power its data centers through Fervo Energy, which has helped to commercialize an emerging approach that injects water under high pressure to fracture rock and form wells deep below the surface.
The company stresses that it doesn’t evaporate water for cooling and that it relies on brackish groundwater, not fresh water, to develop and run its plants. In a recent post, Fervo noted that its facilities consume significantly less water per megawatt-hour than coal, nuclear, or natural-gas plants do.
Part of NV Energy’s proposed plan to meet growing electricity demands in Nevada includes developing several natural-gas peaking units, adding more than one gigawatt of solar power and installing another gigawatt of battery storage. It’s also forging ahead with a more than $4 billion transmission project.
But the company didn’t respond to questions concerning how it will supply all of the gigawatts of additional electricity requested by data centers, if the construction of those power plants will increase consumer rates, or how much water those facilities are expected to consume.
NV Energy operates a transmission line, substation, and power plant in or around the Tahoe Reno Industrial Center.
EMILY NAJERA
“NV Energy teams work diligently on our long-term planning to make investments in our infrastructure to serve new customers and the continued growth in the state without putting existing customers at risk,” the company said in a statement.
An added challenge is that data centers need to run around the clock. That will often compel utilities to develop new electricity-generating sources that can run nonstop as well, as natural-gas, geothermal, or nuclear plants do, says Emily Grubert, an associate professor of sustainable energy policy at the University of Notre Dame, who has studied the relative water consumption of electricity sources.
“You end up with the water-intensive resources looking more important,” she adds.
Even if NV Energy and the companies developing data centers do strive to power them through sources with relatively low water needs, “we only have so much ability to add six gigawatts to Nevada’s grid,” Grubert explains. “What you do will never be system-neutral, because it’s such a big number.”
Securing supplies
On a mid-February morning, I meet TRI’s Thompson and Don Gilman, Lance Gilman’s son, at the Storey County offices, located within the industrial center.
“I’m just a country boy who sells dirt,” Gilman, also a real estate broker, says by way of introduction.
We climb into his large SUV and drive to a reservoir in the heart of the industrial park, filled nearly to the lip.
Thompson explains that much of the water comes from an on-site treatment facility that filters waste fluids from companies in the park. In addition, tens of millions of gallons of treated effluent will also likely flow into the tank this year from the Truckee Meadows Water Authority Reclamation Facility, near the border of Reno and Sparks. That’s thanks to a 16-mile pipeline that the developers, the water authority, several tenants, and various local cities and agencies partnered to build, through a project that began in 2021.
“Our general improvement district is furnishing that water to tech companies here in the park as we speak,” Thompson says. “That helps preserve the precious groundwater, so that is an environmental feather in the cap for these data centers. They are focused on environmental excellence.”
The reservoir within the industrial business park provides water to data centers and other tenants.
EMILY NAJERA
But data centers often need drinking-quality water—not wastewater merely treated to irrigation standards—for evaporative cooling, “to avoid pipe clogs and/or bacterial growth,” the UC Riverside study notes. For instance, Google says its data centers withdrew about 7.7 billion gallons of water in 2023, and nearly 6 billion of those gallons were potable.
Tenants in the industrial park can potentially obtain access to water from the ground and the Truckee River, as well. From early on, the master developers worked hard to secure permits to water sources, since they are nearly as precious as development entitlements to companies hoping to build projects in the desert.
Initially, the development company controlled a private business, the TRI Water and Sewer Company, that provided those services to the business park’s tenants, according to public documents. The company set up wells, a water tank, distribution lines, and a sewer disposal system.
But in 2000, the board of county commissioners established a general improvement district, a legal mechanism for providing municipal services in certain parts of the state, to manage electricity and then water within the center. It, in turn, hired TRI Water and Sewer as the operating company.
As of its 2020 service plan, the general improvement district held permits for nearly 5,300 acre-feet of groundwater, “which can be pumped from well fields within the service area and used for new growth as it occurs.” The document lists another 2,000 acre-feet per year available from the on-site treatment facility, 1,000 from the Truckee River, and 4,000 more from the effluent pipeline.
Those figures haven’t budged much since, according to Shari Whalen, general manager of the TRI General Improvement District. All told, they add up to more than 4 billion gallons of water per year for all the needs of the industrial park and the tenants there, data centers and otherwise.
Whalen says that the amount and quality of water required for any given data center depends on its design, and that those matters are worked out on a case-by-case basis.
When asked if the general improvement district is confident that it has adequate water resources to supply the needs of all the data centers under development, as well as other tenants at the industrial center, she says: “They can’t just show up and build unless they have water resources designated for their projects. We wouldn’t approve a project if it didn’t have those water resources.”
Waterbattles
As the region’s water sources have grown more constrained, lining up supplies has become an increasingly high-stakes and controversial business.
More than a century ago, the US federal government filed a lawsuit against an assortment of parties pulling water from the Truckee River. The suit would eventually establish that the Pyramid Lake Paiute Tribe’s legal rights to water for irrigation superseded other claims. But the tribe has been fighting to protect those rights and increase flows from the river ever since, arguing that increasing strains on the watershed from upstream cities and businesses threaten to draw away water reserved for reservation farming, decrease lake levels, and harm native fish.
The Pyramid Lake Paiute Tribe considers the water body and its fish, including the endangered cui-ui and threatened Lahontan cutthroat trout, to be essential parts of its culture, identity, and way of life. The tribe was originally named Cui-ui Ticutta, which translates to cui-ui eaters. The lake continues to provide sustenance as well as business for the tribe and its members, a number of whom operate boat charters and fishing guide services.
“It’s completely tied into us as a people,” says Steven Wadsworth, chairman of the Pyramid Lake Paiute Tribe.
“That is what has sustained us all this time,” he adds. “It’s just who we are. It’s part of our spiritual well-being.”
Steven Wadsworth, chairman of the Pyramid Lake Paiute Tribe, fears that data centers will divert water that would otherwise reach the tribe’s namesake lake.
EMILY NAJERA
In recent decades, the tribe has sued the Nevada State Engineer, Washoe County, the federal government, and others for overallocating water rights and endangering the lake’s fish. It also protested the TRI General Improvement District’s applications to draw thousands of additional acre‑feet of groundwater from a basin near the business park. In 2019, the State Engineer’s office rejected those requests, concluding that the basin was already fully appropriated.
More recently, the tribe took issue with the plan to build the pipeline and divert effluent that would have flown into the Truckee, securing an agreement that required the Truckee Meadows Water Authority and other parties to add back several thousand acre‑feet of water to the river.
Whalen says she’s sensitive to Wadsworth’s concerns. But she says that the pipeline promises to keep a growing amount of treated wastewater out of the river, where it could otherwise contribute to rising salt levels in the lake.
“I think that the pipeline from [the Truckee Meadows Water Authority] to our system is good for water quality in the river,” she says. “I understand philosophically the concerns about data centers, but the general improvement district is dedicated to working with everyone on the river for regional water-resource planning—and the tribe is no exception.”
Water efficiency
In an email, Thompson added that he has “great respect and admiration,” for the tribe and has visited the reservation several times in an effort to help bring industrial or commercial development there.
He stressed that all of the business park’s groundwater was “validated by the State Water Engineer,” and that the rights to surface water and effluent were purchased “for fair market value.”
During the earlier interview at the industrial center, he and Gilman had both expressed confidence that tenants in the park have adequate water supplies, and that the businesses won’t draw water away from other areas.
“We’re in our own aquifer, our own water basin here,” Thompson said. “You put a straw in the ground here, you’re not going to pull water from Fernley or from Reno or from Silver Springs.”
Gilman also stressed that data-center companies have gotten more water efficient in recent years, echoing a point others made as well.
“With the newer technology, it’s not much of a worry,” says Sutich, of the Northern Nevada Development Authority. “The technology has come a long way in the last 10 years, which is really giving these guys the opportunity to be good stewards of water usage.”
An aerial view of the cooling tower fans at Google’s data center in the Tahoe Reno Industrial Center.
GOOGLE
Indeed, Google’s existing Storey County facility is air-cooled, according to the company’s latest environmental report. The data center withdrew 1.9 million gallons in 2023 but only consumed 200,000 gallons. The rest cycles back into the water system.
Google said all the data centers under construction on its campus will also “utilize air-cooling technology.” The company didn’t respond to a question about the scale of its planned expansion in the Tahoe Reno Industrial Center, and referred a question about indirect water consumption to NV Energy.
The search giant has stressed that it strives to be water efficient across all of its data centers, and decides whether to use air or liquid cooling based on local supply and projected demand, among other variables.
Four years ago, the company set a goal of replenishing more water than it consumes by 2030. Locally, it also committed to provide half a million dollars to the National Forest Foundation to improve the Truckee River watershed and reduce wildfire risks.
Microsoft clearly suggestedin earlier news reports that the Silver Springs land it purchased around the end of 2022 would be used for a data center. NAI Alliance’s market real estate report identifies that lot, as well as the parcel Microsoft purchased within the Tahoe Reno Industrial Center, as data center sites.
But the company now declines to specify what it intends to build in the region.
“While the land purchase is public knowledge, we have not disclosed specific details [of] our plans for the land or potential development timelines,” wrote Donna Whitehead, a Microsoft spokesperson, in an email.
Workers have begun grading land inside a fenced off lot within the Tahoe Reno Industrial Center.
EMILY NAJERA
Microsoft has also scaled down its global data-center ambitions, backing away from several projects in recent months amid shifting economic conditions, according to various reports.
Whatever it ultimately does or doesn’t build, the company stresses that it has made strides to reduce water consumption in its facilities. Late last year, the company announced that it’s using “chip-level cooling solutions” in data centers, which continually circulate water between the servers and chillers through a closed loop that the company claims doesn’t lose any water to evaporation. It says the design requires only a “nominal increase” in energy compared to its data centers that rely on evaporative water cooling.
Others seem to be taking a similar approach. EdgeCore also said its 900,000-square-foot data center at the Tahoe Reno Industrial Center will rely on an “air-cooled closed-loop chiller” that doesn’t require water evaporation for cooling.
But some of the companies seem to have taken steps to ensure access to significant amounts of water. Switch, for instance, took a lead role in developing the effluent pipeline. In addition, Tract, which develops campuses on which third-party data centers can build their own facilities, has said it lined up more than 1,100 acre-feet of water rights, the equivalent of nearly 360 million gallons a year.
Apple, Novva, Switch, Tract, and Vantage didn’t respond to inquiries from MIT Technology Review.
Coming conflicts
The suggestion that companies aren’t straining water supplies when they adopt air cooling is, in many cases, akin to saying they’re not responsible for the greenhouse gas produced through their power use simply because it occurs outside of their facilities. In fact, the additional water used at a power plant to meet the increased electricity needs of air cooling may exceed any gains at the data center, Ren, of UC Riverside, says.
“That’s actually very likely, because it uses a lot more energy,” he adds.
That means that some of the companies developing data centers in and around Storey County may simply hand off their water challenges to other parts of Nevada or neighboring states across the drying American West, depending on where and how the power is generated, Ren says.
Google has said its air-cooled facilities require about 10% more electricity, and its environmental report notes that the Storey County facility is one of its two least-energy-efficient data centers.
Pipes running along Google’s data center campus help the search company cool its servers.
GOOGLE
Some fear there’s also a growing mismatch between what Nevada’s water permits allow, what’s actually in the ground, and what nature will provide as climate conditions shift. Notably, the groundwater committed to all parties from the Tracy Segment basin—a long-fought-over resource that partially supplies the TRI General Improvement District—already exceeds the “perennial yield.” That refers to the maximum amount that can be drawn out every year without depleting the reservoir over the long term.
“If pumping does ultimately exceed the available supply, that means there will be conflict among users,” Roerink, of the Great Basin Water Network, said in an email. “So I have to wonder: Who could be suing whom? Who could be buying out whom? How will the tribe’s rights be defended?”
The Truckee Meadows Water Authority, the community-owned utility that manages the water system for Reno and Sparks, said it is planning carefully for the future and remains confident there will be “sufficient resources for decades to come,” at least within its territory east of the industrial center.
Storey County, the Truckee-Carson Irrigation District, and the State Engineer’s office didn’t respond to questions or accept interview requests.
Open for business
As data center proposals have begun shifting into Northern Nevada’s cities, more local residents and organizations have begun to take notice and express concerns. The regional division of the Sierra Club, for instance, recently sought to overturn the approval of Reno’s first data center, about 20 miles west of the Tahoe Reno Industrial Center.
Olivia Tanager, director of the Sierra Club’s Toiyabe Chapter, says the environmental organization was shocked by the projected electricity demands from data centers highlighted in NV Energy’s filings.
Nevada’s wild horses are a common sight along USA Parkway, the highway cutting through the industrial business park.
EMILY NAJERA
“We have increasing interest in understanding the impact that data centers will have to our climate goals, to our grid as a whole, and certainly to our water resources,” she says. “The demands are extraordinary, and we don’t have that amount of water to toy around with.”
During a city hall hearing in January that stretched late into the evening, she and a line of residents raised concerns about the water, energy, climate, and employment impacts of AI data centers. At the end, though, the city council upheld the planning department’s approval of the project, on a 5-2 vote.
“Welcome to Reno,” Kathleen Taylor, Reno’s vice mayor, said before casting her vote. “We’re open for business.”
Where the river ends
In late March, I walk alongside Chairman Wadsworth, of the Pyramid Lake Paiute Tribe, on the shores of Pyramid Lake, watching a row of fly-fishers in waders cast their lines into the cold waters.
The lake is the largest remnant of Lake Lahontan, an Ice Age inland sea that once stretched across western Nevada and would have submerged present-day Reno. But as the climate warmed, the lapping waters retreated, etching erosional terraces into the mountainsides and exposing tufa deposits around the lake, large formations of porous rock made of calcium-carbonate. That includes the pyramid-shaped island on the eastern shore that inspired the lake’s name.
A lone angler stands along the shores of Pyramid Lake.
In the decades after the US Reclamation Service completed the Derby Dam in 1905, Pyramid Lake declined another 80 feet and nearby Winnemucca Lake dried up entirely.
“We know what happens when water use goes unchecked,” says Wadsworth, gesturing eastward toward the range across the lake, where Winnemucca once filled the next basin over. “Because all we have to do is look over there and see a dry, barren lake bed that used to be full.”
In an earlier interview, Wadsworth acknowledged that the world needs data centers. But he argued they should be spread out across the country, not densely clustered in the middle of the Nevada desert.
Given the fierce competition for resources up to now, he can’t imagine how there could be enough water to meet the demands of data centers, expanding cities, and other growing businesses without straining the limited local supplies that should, by his accounting, flow to Pyramid Lake.
He fears these growing pressures will force the tribe to wage new legal battles to protect their rights and preserve the lake, extending what he refers to as “a century of water wars.”
“We have seen the devastating effects of what happens when you mess with Mother Nature,” Wadsworth says. “Part of our spirit has left us. And that’s why we fight so hard to hold on to what’s left.”
This story is a part of MIT Technology Review’s series “Power Hungry: AI and our energy future,” on the energy demands and carbon costs of the artificial-intelligence revolution.
Measuring the energy used by an AI model is not like evaluating a car’s fuel economy or an appliance’s energy rating. There’s no agreed-upon method or public database of values. There are no regulators who enforce standards, and consumers don’t get the chance to evaluate one model against another.
Despite the fact that billions of dollars are being poured into reshaping energy infrastructure around the needs of AI, no one has settled on a way to quantify AI’s energy usage. Worse, companies are generally unwilling to disclose their own piece of the puzzle. There are also limitations to estimating the emissions associated with that energy demand, because the grid hosts a complicated, ever-changing mix of energy sources.
It’s a big mess, basically. So, that said, here are the many variables, assumptions, and caveats that we used to calculate the consequences of an AI query. (You can see the full results of our investigation here.)
Measuring the energy a model uses
Companies like OpenAI, dealing in “closed-source” models, generally offer access to their systems through an interface where you input a question and receive an answer. What happens in between—which data center in the world processes your request, the energy it takes to do so, and the carbon intensity of the energy sources used—remains a secret, knowable only to the companies. There are few incentives for them to release this information, and so far, most have not.
That’s why, for our analysis, we looked at open-source models. They serve as a very imperfect proxy but the best one we have. (OpenAI, Microsoft, and Google declined to share specifics on how much energy their closed-source models use.)
The best resources for measuring the energy consumption of open-source AI models are AI Energy Score, ML.Energy, and MLPerf Power. The team behind ML.Energy assisted us with our text and image model calculations, and the team behind AI Energy Score helped with our video model calculations.
Text models
AI models use up energy in two phases: when they initially learn from vast amounts of data, called training, and when they respond to queries, called inference. When ChatGPT was launched a few years ago, training was the focus, as tech companies raced to keep up and build ever-bigger models. But now, inference is where the most energy is used.
The most accurate way to understand how much energy an AI model uses in the inference stage is to directly measure the amount of electricity used by the server handling the request. Servers contain all sorts of components—powerful chips called GPUs that do the bulk of the computing, other chips called CPUs, fans to keep everything cool, and more. Researchers typically measure the amount of power the GPU draws and estimate the rest (more on this shortly).
To do this, we turned to PhD candidate Jae-Won Chung and associate professor Mosharaf Chowdhury at the University of Michigan, who lead the ML.Energy project. Once we collected figures for different models’ GPU energy use from their team, we had to estimate how much energy is used for other processes, like cooling. We examined research literature, including a 2024 paper from Microsoft, to understand how much of a server’s total energy demand GPUs are responsible for. It turns out to be about half. So we took the team’s GPU energy estimate and doubled it to get a sense of total energy demands.
The ML.Energy team uses a batch of 500 prompts from a larger dataset to test models. The hardware is kept the same throughout; the GPU is a popular Nvidia chip called the H100. We decided to focus on models of three sizes from the Meta Llama family: small (8 billion parameters), medium (70 billion), and large (405 billion). We also identified a selection of prompts to test. We compared these with the averages for the entire batch of 500 prompts.
Image models
Stable Diffusion 3 from Stability AI is one of the most commonly used open-source image-generating models, so we made it our focus. Though we tested multiple sizes of the text-based Meta Llama model, we focused on one of the most popular sizes of Stable Diffusion 3, with 2 billion parameters.
The team uses a dataset of example prompts to test a model’s energy requirements. Though the energy used by large language models is determined partially by the prompt, this isn’t true for diffusion models. Diffusion models can be programmed to go through a prescribed number of “denoising steps” when they generate an image or video, with each step being an iteration of the algorithm that adds more detail to the image. For a given step count and model, all images generated have the same energy footprint.
The more steps, the higher quality the end result—but the more energy used. Numbers of steps vary by model and application, but 25 is pretty common, and that’s what we used for our standard quality. For higher quality, we used 50 steps.
We mentioned that GPUs are usually responsible for about half of the energy demands of large language model requests. There is not sufficient research to know how this changes for diffusion models that generate images and videos. In the absence of a better estimate, and after consulting with researchers, we opted to stick with this 50% rule of thumb for images and videos too.
Video models
Chung and Chowdhury do test video models, but only ones that generate short, low-quality GIFs. We don’t think the videos these models produce mirror the fidelity of the AI-generated video that many people are used to seeing.
Instead, we turned to Sasha Luccioni, the AI and climate lead at Hugging Face, who directs the AI Energy Score project. She measures the energy used by the GPU during AI requests. We chose two versions of the CogVideoX model to test: an older, lower-quality version and a newer, higher-quality one.
We asked Luccioni to use her tool, called Code Carbon, to test both and measure the results of a batch of video prompts we selected, using the same hardware as our text and image tests to keep as many variables as possible the same. She reported the GPU energy demands, which we again doubled to estimate total energy demands.
Tracing where that energy comes from
After we understand how much energy it takes to respond to a query, we can translate that into the total emissions impact. Doing so requires looking at the power grid from which data centers draw their electricity.
Nailing down the climate impact of the grid can be complicated, because it’s both interconnected and incredibly local. Imagine the grid as a system of connected canals and pools of water. Power plants add water to the canals, and electricity users, or loads, siphon it out. In the US, grid interconnections stretch all the way across the country. So, in a way, we’re all connected, but we can also break the grid up into its component pieces to get a sense for how energy sources vary across the country.
Understanding carbon intensity
The key metric to understand here is called carbon intensity, which is basically a measure of how many grams of carbon dioxide pollution are released for every kilowatt-hour of electricity that’s produced.
To get carbon intensity figures, we reached out to Electricity Maps, a Danish startup company that gathers data on grids around the world. The team collects information from sources including governments and utilities and uses them to publish historical and real-time estimates of the carbon intensity of the grid. You can find more about their methodology here.
The company shared with us historical data from 2024, both for the entire US and for a few key balancing authorities (more on this in a moment). After discussions with Electricity Maps founder Olivier Corradi and other experts, we made a few decisions about which figures we would use in our calculations.
One way to measure carbon intensity is to simply look at all the power plants that are operating on the grid, add up the pollution they’re producing at the moment, and divide that total by the electricity they’re producing. But that doesn’t account for the emissions that are associated with building and tearing down power plants, which can be significant. So we chose to use carbon intensity figures that account for the whole life cycle of a power plant.
We also chose to use the consumption-based carbon intensity of energy rather than production-based. This figure accounts for imports and exports moving between different parts of the grid and best represents the electricity that’s being used, in real time, within a given region.
For most of the calculations you see in the story, we used the average carbon intensity for the US for 2024, according to Electricity Maps, which is 402.49 grams of carbon dioxide equivalent per kilowatt-hour.
Understanding balancing authorities
While understanding the picture across the entire US can be helpful, the grid can look incredibly different in different locations.
One way we can break things up is by looking at balancing authorities. These are independent bodies responsible for grid balancing in a specific region. They operate mostly independently, though there’s a constant movement of electricity between them as well. There are 66 balancing authorities in the US, and we can calculate a carbon intensity for the part of the grid encompassed by a specific balancing authority.
Electricity Maps provided carbon intensity figures for a few key balancing authorities, and we focused on several that play the largest roles in data center operations. ERCOT (which covers most of Texas) and PJM (a cluster of states on the East Coast, including Virginia, Pennsylvania, and New Jersey) are two of the regions with the largest burden of data centers, according to research from the Harvard School of Public Health.
We added CAISO (in California) because it covers the most populated state in the US. CAISO also manages a grid with a significant number of renewable energy sources, making it a good example of how carbon intensity can change drastically depending on the time of day. (In the middle of the day, solar tends to dominate, while natural gas plays a larger role overnight, for example.)
One key caveat here is that we’re not entirely sure where companies tend to send individual AI inference requests. There are clusters of data centers in the regions we chose as examples, but when you use a tech giant’s AI model, your request could be handled by any number of data centers owned or contracted by the company. One reasonable approximation is location: It’s likely that the data center servicing a request is close to where it’s being made, so a request on the West Coast might be most likely to be routed to a data center on that side of the country.
Explaining what we found
To better contextualize our calculations, we introduced a few comparisons people might be more familiar with than kilowatt-hours and grams of carbon dioxide. In a few places, we took the amount of electricity estimated to be used by a model and calculated how long that electricity would be able to power a standard microwave, as well as how far it might take someone on an e-bike.
In the case of the e-bike, we assumed an efficiency of 25 watt-hours per mile, which falls in the range of frequently cited efficiencies for a pedal-assisted bike. For the microwave, we assumed an 800-watt model, which falls within the average range in the US.
We also introduced a comparison to contextualize greenhouse gas emissions: miles driven in a gas-powered car. For this, we used data from the US Environmental Protection Agency, which puts the weighted average fuel economy of vehicles in the US in 2022 at 393 grams of carbon dioxide equivalent per mile.
Predicting how much energy AI will use in the future
After measuring the energy demand of an individual query and the emissions it generated, it was time to estimate how all of this added up to national demand.
There are two ways to do this. In a bottom-up analysis, you estimate how many individual queries there are, calculate the energy demands of each, and add them up to determine the total. For a top-down look, you estimate how much energy all data centers are using by looking at larger trends.
Bottom-up is particularly difficult, because, once again, closed-source companies do not share such information and declined to talk specifics with us. While we can make some educated guesses to give us a picture of what might be happening right now, looking into the future is perhaps better served by taking a top-down approach.
This data is scarce as well. The most important report was published in December by the Lawrence Berkeley National Laboratory, which is funded by the Department of Energy, and the report authors noted that it’s only the third such report released in the last 20 years. Academic climate and energy researchers we spoke with said it’s a major problem that AI is not considered its own economic sector for emissions measurements, and there aren’t rigorous reporting requirements. As a result, it’s difficult to track AI’s climate toll.
Still, we examined the report’s results, compared them with other findings and estimates, and consulted independent experts about the data. While much of the report was about data centers more broadly, we drew out data points that were specific to the future of AI.
Company goals
We wanted to contrast these figures with the amounts of energy that AI companies themselves say they need. To do so, we collected reports by leading tech and AI companies about their plans for energy and data center expansions, as well as the dollar amounts they promised to invest. Where possible, we fact-checked the promises made in these claims. (Meta and Microsoft’s pledges to use more nuclear power, for example, would indeed reduce the carbon emissions of the companies, but it will take years, if not decades, for these additional nuclear plants to come online.)
Requests to companies
We submitted requests to Microsoft, Google, and OpenAI to have data-driven conversations about their models’ energy demands for AI inference. None of the companies made executives or leadership available for on-the-record interviews about their energy usage.
The day after his inauguration in January, President Donald Trump announced Stargate, a $500 billion initiative to build out AI infrastructure, backed by some of the biggest companies in tech. Stargate aims to accelerate the construction of massive data centers and electricity networks across the US to ensure it keeps its edge over China.
This story is a part of MIT Technology Review’s series “Power Hungry: AI and our energy future,” on the energy demands and carbon costs of the artificial-intelligence revolution.
The whatever-it-takes approach to the race for worldwide AI dominance was the talk of Davos, says Raquel Urtasun, founder and CEO of the Canadian robotruck startup Waabi, referring to the World Economic Forum’s annual January meeting in Switzerland, which was held the same week as Trump’s announcement. “I’m pretty worried about where the industry is going,” Urtasun says.
She’s not alone. “Dollars are being invested, GPUs are being burned, water is being evaporated—it’s just absolutely the wrong direction,” says Ali Farhadi, CEO of the Seattle-based nonprofit Allen Institute for AI.
But sift through the talk of rocketing costs—and climate impact—and you’ll find reasons to be hopeful. There are innovations underway that could improve the efficiency of the software behind AI models, the computer chips those models run on, and the data centers where those chips hum around the clock.
Here’s what you need to know about how energy use, and therefore carbon emissions, could be cut across all three of those domains, plus an added argument for cautious optimism: There are reasons to believe that the underlying business realities will ultimately bend toward more energy-efficient AI.
1/ More efficient models
The most obvious place to start is with the models themselves—the way they’re created and the way they’re run.
AI models are built by training neural networks on lots and lots of data. Large language models are trained on vast amounts of text, self-driving models are trained on vast amounts of driving data, and so on.
But the way such data is collected is often indiscriminate. Large language models are trained on data sets that include text scraped from most of the internet and huge libraries of scanned books. The practice has been to grab everything that’s not nailed down, throw it into the mix, and see what comes out. This approach has certainly worked, but training a model on a massive data set over and over so it can extract relevant patterns by itself is a waste of time and energy.
There might be a more efficient way. Children aren’t expected to learn just by reading everything that’s ever been written; they are given a focused curriculum. Urtasun thinks we should do something similar with AI, training models with more curated data tailored to specific tasks. (Waabi trains its robotrucks inside a superrealistic simulation that allows fine-grained control of the virtual data its models are presented with.)
It’s not just Waabi. Writer, an AI startup that builds large language models for enterprise customers, claims that its models are cheaper to train and run in part because it trains them using synthetic data. Feeding its models bespoke data sets rather than larger but less curated ones makes the training process quicker (and therefore less expensive). For example, instead of simply downloading Wikipedia, the team at Writer takes individual Wikipedia pages and rewrites their contents in different formats—as a Q&A instead of a block of text, and so on—so that its models can learn more from less.
Training is just the start of a model’s life cycle. As models have become bigger, they have become more expensive to run. So-called reasoning models that work through a query step by step before producing a response are especially power-hungry because they compute a series of intermediate subresponses for each response. The price tag of these new capabilities is eye-watering: OpenAI’s o3 reasoning model has been estimated to cost up to $30,000 per task to run.
But this technology is only a few months old and still experimental. Farhadi expects that these costs will soon come down. For example, engineers will figure out how to stop reasoning models from going too far down a dead-end path before they determine it’s not viable. “The first time you do something it’s way more expensive, and then you figure out how to make it smaller and more efficient,” says Farhadi. “It’s a fairly consistent trend in technology.”
One way to get performance gains without big jumps in energy consumption is to run inference steps (the computations a model makes to come up with its response) in parallel, he says. Parallel computing underpins much of today’s software, especially large language models (GPUs are parallel by design). Even so, the basic technique could be applied to a wider range of problems. By splitting up a task and running different parts of it at the same time, parallel computing can generate results more quickly. It can also save energy by making more efficient use of available hardware. But it requires clever new algorithms to coordinate the multiple subtasks and pull them together into a single result at the end.
The largest, most powerful models won’t be used all the time, either. There is a lot of talk about small models, versions of large language models that have been distilled into pocket-size packages. In many cases, these more efficient models perform as well as larger ones, especially for specific use cases.
As businesses figure out how large language models fit their needs (or not), this trend toward more efficient bespoke models is taking off. You don’t need an all-purpose LLM to manage inventory or to respond to niche customer queries. “There’s going to be a really, really large number of specialized models, not one God-given model that solves everything,” says Farhadi.
Christina Shim, chief sustainability officer at IBM, is seeing this trend play out in the way her clients adopt the technology. She works with businesses to make sure they choose the smallest and least power-hungry models possible. “It’s not just the biggest model that will give you a big bang for your buck,” she says. A smaller model that does exactly what you need is a better investment than a larger one that does the same thing: “Let’s not use a sledgehammer to hit a nail.”
2/ More efficient computer chips
As the software becomes more streamlined, the hardware it runs on will become more efficient too. There’s a tension at play here: In the short term, chipmakers like Nvidia are racing to develop increasingly powerful chips to meet demand from companies wanting to run increasingly powerful models. But in the long term, this race isn’t sustainable.
“The models have gotten so big, even running the inference step now starts to become a big challenge,” says Naveen Verma, cofounder and CEO of the upstart microchip maker EnCharge AI.
Companies like Microsoft and OpenAI are losing money running their models inside data centers to meet the demand from millions of people. Smaller models will help. Another option is to move the computing out of the data centers and into people’s own machines.
That’s something that Microsoft tried with its Copilot+ PC initiative, in which it marketed a supercharged PC that would let you run an AI model (and cover the energy bills) yourself. It hasn’t taken off, but Verma thinks the push will continue because companies will want to offload as much of the costs of running a model as they can.
But getting AI models (even small ones) to run reliably on people’s personal devices will require a step change in the chips that typically power those devices. These chips need to be made even more energy efficient because they need to be able to work with just a battery, says Verma.
That’s where EnCharge comes in. Its solution is a new kind of chip that ditches digital computation in favor of something called analog in-memory computing. Instead of representing information with binary 0s and 1s, like the electronics inside conventional, digital computer chips, the electronics inside analog chips can represent information along a range of values in between 0 and 1. In theory, this lets you do more with the same amount of power.
SHIWEN SVEN WANG
EnCharge was spun out from Verma’s research lab at Princeton in 2022. “We’ve known for decades that analog compute can be much more efficient—orders of magnitude more efficient—than digital,” says Verma. But analog computers never worked well in practice because they made lots of errors. Verma and his colleagues have discovered a way to do analog computing that’s precise.
EnCharge is focusing just on the core computation required by AI today. With support from semiconductor giants like TSMC, the startup is developing hardware that performs high-dimensional matrix multiplication (the basic math behind all deep-learning models) in an analog chip and then passes the result back out to the surrounding digital computer.
EnCharge’s hardware is just one of a number of experimental new chip designs on the horizon. IBM and others have been exploring something called neuromorphic computing for years. The idea is to design computers that mimic the brain’s super-efficient processing powers. Another path involves optical chips, which swap out the electrons in a traditional chip for light, again cutting the energy required for computation. None of these designs yet come close to competing with the electronic digital chips made by the likes of Nvidia. But as the demand for efficiency grows, such alternatives will be waiting in the wings.
It is also not just chips that can be made more efficient. A lot of the energy inside computers is spent passing data back and forth. IBM says that it has developed a new kind of optical switch, a device that controls digital traffic, that is 80% more efficient than previous switches.
3/ More efficient cooling in data centers
Another huge source of energy demand is the need to manage the waste heat produced by the high-end hardware on which AI models run. Tom Earp, engineering director at the design firm Page, has been building data centers since 2006, including a six-year stint doing so for Meta. Earp looks for efficiencies in everything from the structure of the building to the electrical supply, the cooling systems, and the way data is transferred in and out.
For a decade or more, as Moore’s Law tailed off, data-center designs were pretty stable, says Earp. And then everything changed. With the shift to processors like GPUs, and with even newer chip designs on the horizon, it is hard to predict what kind of hardware a new data center will need to house—and thus what energy demands it will have to support—in a few years’ time. But in the short term the safe bet is that chips will continue getting faster and hotter: “What I see is that the people who have to make these choices are planning for a lot of upside in how much power we’re going to need,” says Earp.
One thing is clear: The chips that run AI models, such as GPUs, require more power per unit of space than previous types of computer chips. And that has big knock-on implications for the cooling infrastructure inside a data center. “When power goes up, heat goes up,” says Earp.
With so many high-powered chips squashed together, air cooling (big fans, in other words) is no longer sufficient. Water has become the go-to coolant because it is better than air at whisking heat away. That’s not great news for local water sources around data centers. But there are ways to make water cooling more efficient.
One option is to use water to send the waste heat from a data center to places where it can be used. In Denmark water from data centers has been used to heat homes. In Paris, during the Olympics, it was used to heat swimming pools.
Water can also serve as a type of battery. Energy generated from renewable sources, such as wind turbines or solar panels, can be used to chill water that is stored until it is needed to cool computers later, which reduces the power usage at peak times.
But as data centers get hotter, water cooling alone doesn’t cut it, says Tony Atti, CEO of Phononic, a startup that supplies specialist cooling chips. Chipmakers are creating chips that move data around faster and faster. He points to Nvidia, which is about to release a chip that processes 1.6 terabytes a second: “At that data rate, all hell breaks loose and the demand for cooling goes up exponentially,” he says.
According to Atti, the chips inside servers suck up around 45% of the power in a data center. But cooling those chips now takes almost as much power, around 40%. “For the first time, thermal management is becoming the gate to the expansion of this AI infrastructure,” he says.
Phononic’s cooling chips are small thermoelectric devices that can be placed on or near the hardware that needs cooling. Power an LED chip and it emits photons; power a thermoelectric chip and it emits phonons (which are to vibrational energy—a.k.a. temperature—as photons are to light). In short, phononic chips push heat from one surface to another.
Squeezed into tight spaces inside and around servers, such chips can detect minute increases in heat and switch on and off to maintain a stable temperature. When they’re on, they push excess heat into a water pipe to be whisked away. Atti says they can also be used to increase the efficiency of existing cooling systems. The faster you can cool water in a data center, the less of it you need.
4/ Cutting costs goes hand in hand with cutting energy use
Despite the explosion in AI’s energy use, there’s reason to be optimistic. Sustainability is often an afterthought or a nice-to-have. But with AI, the best way to reduce overall costs is to cut your energy bill. That’s good news, as it should incentivize companies to increase efficiency. “I think we’ve got an alignment between climate sustainability and cost sustainability,” says Verma. ”I think ultimately that will become the big driver that will push the industry to be more energy efficient.”
Shim agrees: “It’s just good business, you know?”
Companies will be forced to think hard about how and when they use AI, choosing smaller, bespoke options whenever they can, she says: “Just look at the world right now. Spending on technology, like everything else, is going to be even more critical going forward.”
Shim thinks the concerns around AI’s energy use are valid. But she points to the rise of the internet and the personal computer boom 25 years ago. As the technology behind those revolutions improved, the energy costs stayed more or less stable even though the number of users skyrocketed, she says.
It’s a general rule Shim thinks will apply this time around as well: When tech matures, it gets more efficient. “I think that’s where we are right now with AI,” she says.
AI is fast becoming a commodity, which means that market competition will drive prices down. To stay in the game, companies will be looking to cut energy use for the sake of their bottom line if nothing else.
In the AI arms race, all the major players say they want to go nuclear.
Over the past year, the likes of Meta, Amazon, Microsoft, and Google have sent out a flurry of announcements related to nuclear energy. Some are about agreements to purchase power from existing plants, while others are about investments looking to boost unproven advanced technologies.
This story is a part of MIT Technology Review’s series “Power Hungry: AI and our energy future,” on the energy demands and carbon costs of the artificial-intelligence revolution.
These somewhat unlikely partnerships could be a win for both the nuclear power industry and large tech companies. Tech giants need guaranteed sources of energy, and many are looking for low-emissions ones to hit their climate goals. For nuclear plant operators and nuclear technology developers, the financial support of massive established customers could help keep old nuclear power plants open and push new technologies forward.
“There [are] a lot of advantages to nuclear,” says Michael Terrell, senior director of clean energy and carbon reduction at Google. Among them, he says, are that it’s “clean, firm, carbon-free, and can be sited just about anywhere.” (Firm energy sources are those that provide constant power.)
But there’s one glaring potential roadblock: timing. “There are needs on different time scales,” says Patrick White, former research director at the Nuclear Innovation Alliance. Many of these tech companies will require large amounts of power in the next three to five years, White says, but building new nuclear plants can take close to a decade.
Some next-generation nuclear technologies, especially small modular reactors, could take less time to build, but the companies promising speed have yet to build their first reactors—and in some cases they are still years away from even modestly sized demonstrations.
This timing mismatch means that even as tech companies tout plans for nuclear power, they’ll actually be relying largely on fossil fuels, keeping coal plants open, and even building new natural gas plants that could stay open for decades. AI and nuclear could genuinely help each other grow, but the reality is that the growth could be much slower than headlines suggest.
AI’s need for speed
The US alone has roughly 3,000 data centers, and current projections say the AI boom could add thousands more by the end of the decade. The rush could increase global data center power demand by as much as 165% by 2030, according to one recent analysis from Goldman Sachs. In the US, estimates from industry and academia suggest energy demand for data centers could be as high as 400 terawatt-hours by 2030—up from fewer than 100 terawatt-hours in 2020 and higher than the total electricity demand from the entire country of Mexico.
There are indications that the data center boom might be decelerating, with some companies slowing or pausing some projects in recent weeks. But even the most measured projections, in analyses like one recent report from the International Energy Agency, predict that energy demand will increase. The only question is by how much.
Many of the same tech giants currently scrambling to build data centers have also set climate goals, vowing to reach net-zero emissions or carbon-free energy within the next couple of decades. So they have a vested interest in where that electricity comes from.
Nuclear power has emerged as a strong candidate for companies looking to power data centers while cutting emissions. Unlike wind turbines and solar arrays that generate electricity intermittently, nuclear power plants typically put out a constant supply of energy to the grid, which aligns well with what data centers need. “Data center companies pretty much want to run full out, 24/7,” says Rob Gramlich, president of Grid Strategies, a consultancy focused on electricity and transmission.
It also doesn’t hurt that, while renewables are increasingly politicized and under attack by the current administration in the US, nuclear has broad support on both sides of the aisle.
The problem is how to build up nuclear capacity—existing facilities are limited, and new technologies will take time to build. In 2022, all the nuclear reactors in the US together provided around 800 terawatt-hours of electricity to the power grid, a number that’s been basically steady for the past two decades. To meet electricity demand from data centers expected in 2030 with nuclear power, we’d need to expand the fleet of reactors in the country by half.
New nuclear news
Some of the most exciting headlines regarding the burgeoning relationship between AI and nuclear technology involve large, established companies jumping in to support innovations that could bring nuclear power into the 21st century.
In October 2024, Google signed a deal with Kairos Power, a next-generation nuclear company that recently received construction approval for two demonstration reactors from the US Nuclear Regulatory Commission (NRC). The company is working to build small, molten-salt-cooled reactors, which it says will be safer and more efficient than conventional technology. The Google deal is a long-term power-purchase agreement: The tech giant will buy up to 500 megawatts of electricity by 2035 from whatever plants Kairos manages to build, with the first one scheduled to come online by 2030.
Amazon is also getting involved with next-generation nuclear technology with a direct investment in Maryland-based X-energy. The startup is among those working to create smaller, more-standardized reactors that can be built more quickly and with less expense.
In October, Amazon signed a deal with Energy Northwest, a utility in Washington state, that will see Amazon fund the initial phase of a planned X-energy small modular reactor project in the state. The tech giant will have a right to buy electricity from one of the modules in the first project, which could generate 320 megawatts of electricity and be expanded to generate as much as 960 megawatts. Many new AI-focused data centers under construction will require 500 megawatts of power or more, so this project might be just large enough to power a single site.
The project will help meet energy needs “beginning in the early 2030s,” according to Amazon’s website. X-energy is currently in the pre-application process with the NRC, which must grant approval before the Washington project can move forward.
Solid, long-term plans could be a major help in getting next-generation technologies off the ground. “It’s going to be important in the next couple [of] years to see more firm commitments and actual money going out for these projects,” says Jessica Lovering, who cofounded the Good Energy Collective, a policy research organization that advocates for the use of nuclear energy.
However, these early projects won’t be enough to make a dent in demand. The next-generation reactors Amazon and Google are supporting are modestly sized demonstrations—the first commercial installations of new technologies. They won’t be close to the scale needed to meet the energy demand expected from new data centers by 2030.
To provide a significant fraction of the terawatt-hours of electricity large tech companies use each year, nuclear companies will likely need to build dozens of new plants, not just a couple of reactors.
Purchasing power
One approach to get around this mismatch is to target existing reactors.
Microsoft made headlines in this area last year when it signed a long-term power purchase agreement with Constellation, the owner of the Three Mile Island Unit 1 nuclear plant in Pennsylvania. Constellation plans to reopen one of the reactors at that site and rename it the Crane Clean Energy Center. The deal with Microsoft ensures that there will be a customer for the electricity from the plant, if it successfully comes back online. (It’s currently on track to do so in 2028.)
“If you don’t want to wait a decade for new technology, one of the biggest tools that we have in our tool kit today is to support relicensing of operating power plants,” says Urvi Parekh, head of global energy for Meta. Older facilities can apply for 20-year extensions from the NRC, a process that customers buying the energy can help support as it tends to be expensive and lengthy, Parekh says.
While these existing reactors provide some opportunity for Big Tech to snap up nuclear energy now, a limited number are in good enough shape to extend or reopen.
In the US, 24 reactors have licenses that will be up for renewal before 2035, roughly a quarter of those in operation today. A handful of plants could potentially be reopened in addition to Three Mile Island, White says. Palisades Nuclear Plant in Michigan has received a $1.52 billion loan guarantee from the US Department of Energy to reopen, and the owner of the Duane Arnold Energy Center in Iowa has filed a request with regulators that could begin the reopening process.
Some sites have reactors that could be upgraded to produce more power without building new infrastructure, adding a total of between two and eight gigawatts, according to a recent report from the Department of Energy. That could power a handful of moderately sized data centers, but power demand is growing for individual projects—OpenAI has suggested the need for data centers that would require at least five gigawatts of power.
Ultimately, new reactors will be needed to expand capacity significantly, whether they use established technology or next-generation designs. Experts tend to agree that neither would be able to happen at scale until at least the early 2030s.
In the meantime, decisions made today in response to this energy demand boom will have ripple effects for years. Most power plants can last for several decades or more, so what gets built today will likely stay on the grid through 2040 and beyond. Whether the AI boom will entrench nuclear energy, fossil fuels, or other sources of electricity on the grid will depend on what is introduced to meet demand now.
No individual technology, including nuclear power, is likely to be the one true solution. As Google’s Terrell puts it, everything from wind and solar, energy storage, geothermal, and yes, nuclear, will be needed to meet both energy demand and climate goals. “I think nuclear gets a lot of love,” he says. “But all of this is equally as important.”
It’s been quite a couple weeks for stories about AI in the courtroom. You might have heard about the deceased victim of a road rage incident whose family created an AI avatar of him to show as an impact statement (possibly the first time this has been done in the US). But there’s a bigger, far more consequential controversy brewing, legal experts say. AI hallucinations are cropping up more and more in legal filings. And it’s starting to infuriate judges. Just consider these three cases, each of which gives a glimpse into what we can expect to see more of as lawyers embrace AI.
A few weeks ago, a California judge, Michael Wilner, became intrigued by a set of arguments some lawyers made in a filing. He went to learn more about those arguments by following the articles they cited. But the articles didn’t exist. He asked the lawyers’ firm for more details, and they responded with a new brief that contained even more mistakes than the first. Wilner ordered the attorneys to give sworn testimonies explaining the mistakes, in which he learned that one of them, from the elite firm Ellis George, used Google Gemini as well as law-specific AI models to help write the document, which generated false information. As detailed in a filing on May 6, the judge fined the firm $31,000.
Last week, another California-based judge caught another hallucination in a court filing, this time submitted by the AI company Anthropic in the lawsuit that record labels have brought against it over copyright issues. One of Anthropic’s lawyers had asked the company’s AI model Claude to create a citation for a legal article, but Claude included the wrong title and author. Anthropic’s attorney admitted that the mistake was not caught by anyone reviewing the document.
Lastly, and perhaps most concerning, is a case unfolding in Israel. After police arrested an individual on charges of money laundering, Israeli prosecutors submitted a request asking a judge for permission to keep the individual’s phone as evidence. But they cited laws that don’t exist, prompting the defendant’s attorney to accuse them of including AI hallucinations in their request. The prosecutors, according to Israeli news outlets, admitted that this was the case, receiving a scolding from the judge.
Taken together, these cases point to a serious problem. Courts rely on documents that are accurate and backed up with citations—two traits that AI models, despite being adopted by lawyers eager to save time, often fail miserably to deliver.
Those mistakes are getting caught (for now), but it’s not a stretch to imagine that at some point soon, a judge’s decision will be influenced by something that’s totally made up by AI, and no one will catch it.
I spoke with Maura Grossman, who teaches at the School of Computer Science at the University of Waterloo as well as Osgoode Hall Law School, and has been a vocal early critic of the problems that generative AI poses for courts. She wrote about the problem back in 2023, when the first cases of hallucinations started appearing. She said she thought courts’ existing rules requiring lawyers to vet what they submit to the courts, combined with the bad publicity those cases attracted, would put a stop to the problem. That hasn’t panned out.
Hallucinations “don’t seem to have slowed down,” she says. “If anything, they’ve sped up.” And these aren’t one-off cases with obscure local firms, she says. These are big-time lawyers making significant, embarrassing mistakes with AI. She worries that such mistakes are also cropping up more in documents not written by lawyers themselves, like expert reports (in December, a Stanford professor and expert on AI admitted to including AI-generated mistakes in his testimony).
I told Grossman that I find all this a little surprising. Attorneys, more than most, are obsessed with diction. They choose their words with precision. Why are so many getting caught making these mistakes?
“Lawyers fall in two camps,” she says. “The first are scared to death and don’t want to use it at all.” But then there are the early adopters. These are lawyers tight on time or without a cadre of other lawyers to help with a brief. They’re eager for technology that can help them write documents under tight deadlines. And their checks on the AI’s work aren’t always thorough.
The fact that high-powered lawyers, whose very profession it is to scrutinize language, keep getting caught making mistakes introduced by AI says something about how most of us treat the technology right now. We’re told repeatedly that AI makes mistakes, but language models also feel a bit like magic. We put in a complicated question and receive what sounds like a thoughtful, intelligent reply. Over time, AI models develop a veneer of authority. We trust them.
“We assume that because these large language models are so fluent, it also means that they’re accurate,” Grossman says. “We all sort of slip into that trusting mode because it sounds authoritative.” Attorneys are used to checking the work of junior attorneys and interns but for some reason, Grossman says, don’t apply this skepticism to AI.
We’ve known about this problem ever since ChatGPT launched nearly three years ago, but the recommended solution has not evolved much since then: Don’t trust everything you read, and vet what an AI model tells you. As AI models get thrust into so many different tools we use, I increasingly find this to be an unsatisfying counter to one of AI’s most foundational flaws.
Hallucinations are inherent to the way that large language models work. Despite that, companies are selling generative AI tools made for lawyers that claim to be reliably accurate. “Feel confident your research is accurate and complete,” reads the website for Westlaw Precision, and the website for CoCounsel promises its AI is “backed by authoritative content.” That didn’t stop their client, Ellis George, from being fined $31,000.
Increasingly, I have sympathy for people who trust AI more than they should. We are, after all, living in a time when the people building this technology are telling us that AI is so powerful it should be treated like nuclear weapons. Models have learned from nearly every word humanity has ever written down and are infiltrating our online life. If people shouldn’t trust everything AI models say, they probably deserve to be reminded of that a little more often by the companies building them.
This story originally appeared in The Algorithm, our weekly newsletter on AI. To get stories like this in your inbox first, sign up here.
In 2019, Karen Hao, a senior reporter with MIT Technology Review, pitched me on writing a story about a then little-known company, OpenAI. It was her biggest assignment to date. Hao’s feat of reporting took a series of twists and turns over the coming months, eventually revealing how OpenAI’s ambition had taken it far afield from its original mission. The finished story was a prescient look at a company at a tipping point—or already past it. And OpenAI was not happy with the result. Hao’s new book, Empire of AI: Dreams and Nightmares in Sam Altman’s OpenAI, is an in-depth exploration of the company that kick-started the AI arms race, and what that race means for all of us. This excerpt is the origin story of that reporting. — Niall Firth, executive editor, MIT Technology Review
I arrived at OpenAI’s offices on August 7, 2019. Greg Brockman, then thirty‑one, OpenAI’s chief technology officer and soon‑to‑be company president, came down the staircase to greet me. He shook my hand with a tentative smile. “We’ve never given someone so much access before,” he said.
At the time, few people beyond the insular world of AI research knew about OpenAI. But as a reporter at MIT Technology Review covering the ever‑expanding boundaries of artificial intelligence, I had been following its movements closely.
Until that year, OpenAI had been something of a stepchild in AI research. It had an outlandish premise that AGI could be attained within a decade, when most non‑OpenAI experts doubted it could be attained at all. To much of the field, it had an obscene amount of funding despite little direction and spent too much of the money on marketing what other researchers frequently snubbed as unoriginal research. It was, for some, also an object of envy. As a nonprofit, it had said that it had no intention to chase commercialization. It was a rare intellectual playground without strings attached, a haven for fringe ideas.
But in the six months leading up to my visit, the rapid slew of changes at OpenAI signaled a major shift in its trajectory. First was its confusing decision to withhold GPT‑2 and brag about it. Then its announcement that Sam Altman, who had mysteriously departed his influential perch at YC, would step in as OpenAI’s CEO with the creation of its new “capped‑profit” structure. I had already made my arrangements to visit the office when it subsequently revealed its deal with Microsoft, which gave the tech giant priority for commercializing OpenAI’s technologies and locked it into exclusively using Azure, Microsoft’s cloud‑computing platform.
Each new announcement garnered fresh controversy, intense speculation, and growing attention, beginning to reach beyond the confines of the tech industry. As my colleagues and I covered the company’s progression, it was hard to grasp the full weight of what was happening. What was clear was that OpenAI was beginning to exert meaningful sway over AI research and the way policymakers were learning to understand the technology. The lab’s decision to revamp itself into a partially for‑profit business would have ripple effects across its spheres of influence in industry and government.
So late one night, with the urging of my editor, I dashed off an email to Jack Clark, OpenAI’s policy director, whom I had spoken with before: I would be in town for two weeks, and it felt like the right moment in OpenAI’s history. Could I interest them in a profile? Clark passed me on to the communications head, who came back with an answer. OpenAI was indeed ready to reintroduce itself to the public. I would have three days to interview leadership and embed inside the company.
Brockman and I settled into a glass meeting room with the company’s chief scientist, Ilya Sutskever. Sitting side by side at a long conference table, they each played their part. Brockman, the coder and doer, leaned forward, a little on edge, ready to make a good impression; Sutskever, the researcher and philosopher, settled back into his chair, relaxed and aloof.
I opened my laptop and scrolled through my questions. OpenAI’s mission is to ensure beneficial AGI, I began. Why spend billions of dollars on this problem and not something else?
Brockman nodded vigorously. He was used to defending OpenAI’s position. “The reason that we care so much about AGI and that we think it’s important to build is because we think it can help solve complex problems that are just out of reach of humans,” he said.
He offered two examples that had become dogma among AGI believers. Climate change. “It’s a super‑complex problem. How are you even supposed to solve it?” And medicine. “Look at how important health care is in the US as a political issue these days. How do we actually get better treatment for people at lower cost?”
On the latter, he began to recount the story of a friend who had a rare disorder and had recently gone through the exhausting rigmarole of bouncing between different specialists to figure out his problem. AGI would bring together all of these specialties. People like his friend would no longer spend so much energy and frustration on getting an answer.
Why did we need AGI to do that instead of AI? I asked.
This was an important distinction. The term AGI, once relegated to an unpopular section of the technology dictionary, had only recently begun to gain more mainstream usage—in large part because of OpenAI.
And as OpenAI defined it, AGI referred to a theoretical pinnacle of AI research: a piece of software that had just as much sophistication, agility, and creativity as the human mind to match or exceed its performance on most (economically valuable) tasks. The operative word was theoretical. Since the beginning of earnest research into AI several decades earlier, debates had raged about whether silicon chips encoding everything in their binary ones and zeros could ever simulate brains and the other biological processes that give rise to what we consider intelligence. There had yet to be definitive evidence that this was possible, which didn’t even touch on the normative discussion of whether people should develop it.
AI, on the other hand, was the term du jour for both the version of the technology currently available and the version that researchers could reasonably attain in the near future through refining existing capabilities. Those capabilities—rooted in powerful pattern matching known as machine learning—had already demonstrated exciting applications in climate change mitigation and health care.
Sutskever chimed in. When it comes to solving complex global challenges, “fundamentally the bottleneck is that you have a large number of humans and they don’t communicate as fast, they don’t work as fast, they have a lot of incentive problems.” AGI would be different, he said. “Imagine it’s a large computer network of intelligent computers—they’re all doing their medical diagnostics; they all communicate results between them extremely fast.”
This seemed to me like another way of saying that the goal of AGI was to replace humans. Is that what Sutskever meant? I asked Brockman a few hours later, once it was just the two of us.
“No,” Brockman replied quickly. “This is one thing that’s really important. What is the purpose of technology? Why is it here? Why do we build it? We’ve been building technologies for thousands of years now, right? We do it because they serve people. AGI is not going to be different—not the way that we envision it, not the way we want to build it, not the way we think it should play out.”
That said, he acknowledged a few minutes later, technology had always destroyed some jobs and created others. OpenAI’s challenge would be to build AGI that gave everyone “economic freedom” while allowing them to continue to “live meaningful lives” in that new reality. If it succeeded, it would decouple the need to work from survival.
“I actually think that’s a very beautiful thing,” he said.
In our meeting with Sutskever, Brockman reminded me of the bigger picture. “What we view our role as is not actually being a determiner of whether AGI gets built,” he said. This was a favorite argument in Silicon Valley—the inevitability card. If we don’t do it, somebody else will. “The trajectory is already there,” he emphasized, “but the thing we can influence is the initial conditions under which it’s born.
“What is OpenAI?” he continued. “What is our purpose? What are we really trying to do? Our mission is to ensure that AGI benefits all of humanity. And the way we want to do that is: Build AGI and distribute its economic benefits.”
His tone was matter‑of‑fact and final, as if he’d put my questions to rest. And yet we had somehow just arrived back to exactly where we’d started.
Our conversation continued on in circles until we ran out the clock after forty‑five minutes. I tried with little success to get more concrete details on what exactly they were trying to build—which by nature, they explained, they couldn’t know—and why, then, if they couldn’t know, they were so confident it would be beneficial. At one point, I tried a different approach, asking them instead to give examples of the downsides of the technology. This was a pillar of OpenAI’s founding mythology: The lab had to build good AGI before someone else built a bad one.
Brockman attempted an answer: deepfakes. “It’s not clear the world is better through its applications,” he said.
I offered my own example: Speaking of climate change, what about the environmental impact of AI itself? A recent study from the University of Massachusetts Amherst had placed alarming numbers on the huge and growing carbon emissions of training larger and larger AI models.
That was “undeniable,” Sutskever said, but the payoff was worth it because AGI would, “among other things, counteract the environmental cost specifically.” He stopped short of offering examples.
“It is unquestioningly very highly desirable that data centers be as green as possible,” he added.
“No question,” Brockman quipped.
“Data centers are the biggest consumer of energy, of electricity,” Sutskever continued, seeming intent now on proving that he was aware of and cared about this issue.
“It’s 2 percent globally,” I offered.
“Isn’t Bitcoin like 1 percent?” Brockman said.
“Wow!” Sutskever said, in a sudden burst of emotion that felt, at this point, forty minutes into the conversation, somewhat performative.
Sutskever would later sit down with New York Times reporter Cade Metz for his book Genius Makers, which recounts a narrative history of AI development, and say without a hint of satire, “I think that it’s fairly likely that it will not take too long of a time for the entire surface of the Earth to become covered with data centers and power stations.” There would be “a tsunami of computing . . . almost like a natural phenomenon.” AGI—and thus the data centers needed to support them—would be “too useful to not exist.”
I tried again to press for more details. “What you’re saying is OpenAI is making a huge gamble that you will successfully reach beneficial AGI to counteract global warming before the act of doing so might exacerbate it.”
“I wouldn’t go too far down that rabbit hole,” Brockman hastily cut in. “The way we think about it is the following: We’re on a ramp of AI progress. This is bigger than OpenAI, right? It’s the field. And I think society is actually getting benefit from it.”
“The day we announced the deal,” he said, referring to Microsoft’s new $1 billion investment, “Microsoft’s market cap went up by $10 billion. People believe there is a positive ROI even just on short‑term technology.”
OpenAI’s strategy was thus quite simple, he explained: to keep up with that progress. “That’s the standard we should really hold ourselves to. We should continue to make that progress. That’s how we know we’re on track.”
Later that day, Brockman reiterated that the central challenge of working at OpenAI was that no one really knew what AGI would look like. But as researchers and engineers, their task was to keep pushing forward, to unearth the shape of the technology step by step.
He spoke like Michelangelo, as though AGI already existed within the marble he was carving. All he had to do was chip away until it revealed itself.
There had been a change of plans. I had been scheduled to eat lunch with employees in the cafeteria, but something now required me to be outside the office. Brockman would be my chaperone. We headed two dozen steps across the street to an open‑air café that had become a favorite haunt for employees.
This would become a recurring theme throughout my visit: floors I couldn’t see, meetings I couldn’t attend, researchers stealing furtive glances at the communications head every few sentences to check that they hadn’t violated some disclosure policy. I would later learn that after my visit, Jack Clark would issue an unusually stern warning to employees on Slack not to speak with me beyond sanctioned conversations. The security guard would receive a photo of me with instructions to be on the lookout if I appeared unapproved on the premises. It was odd behavior in general, made odder by OpenAI’s commitment to transparency. What, I began to wonder, were they hiding, if everything was supposed to be beneficial research eventually made available to the public?
At lunch and through the following days, I probed deeper into why Brockman had cofounded OpenAI. He was a teen when he first grew obsessed with the idea that it could be possible to re‑create human intelligence. It was a famous paper from British mathematician Alan Turing that sparked his fascination. The name of its first section, “The Imitation Game,” which inspired the title of the 2014 Hollywood dramatization of Turing’s life, begins with the opening provocation, “Can machines think?” The paper goes on to define what would become known as the Turing test: a measure of the progression of machine intelligence based on whether a machine can talk to a human without giving away that it is a machine. It was a classic origin story among people working in AI. Enchanted, Brockman coded up a Turing test game and put it online, garnering some 1,500 hits. It made him feel amazing. “I just realized that was the kind of thing I wanted to pursue,” he said.
In 2015, as AI saw great leaps of advancement, Brockman says that he realized it was time to return to his original ambition and joined OpenAI as a cofounder. He wrote down in his notes that he would do anything to bring AGI to fruition, even if it meant being a janitor. When he got married four years later, he held a civil ceremony at OpenAI’s office in front of a custom flower wall emblazoned with the shape of the lab’s hexagonal logo. Sutskever officiated. The robotic hand they used for research stood in the aisle bearing the rings, like a sentinel from a post-apocalyptic future.
“Fundamentally, I want to work on AGI for the rest of my life,” Brockman told me.
What motivated him? I asked Brockman.
What are the chances that a transformative technology could arrive in your lifetime? he countered.
He was confident that he—and the team he assembled—was uniquely positioned to usher in that transformation. “What I’m really drawn to are problems that will not play out in the same way if I don’t participate,” he said.
Brockman did not in fact just want to be a janitor. He wanted to lead AGI. And he bristled with the anxious energy of someone who wanted history‑defining recognition. He wanted people to one day tell his story with the same mixture of awe and admiration that he used to recount the ones of the great innovators who came before him.
A year before we spoke, he had told a group of young tech entrepreneurs at an exclusive retreat in Lake Tahoe with a twinge of self‑pity that chief technology officers were never known. Name a famous CTO, he challenged the crowd. They struggled to do so. He had proved his point.
In 2022, he became OpenAI’s president.
During our conversations, Brockman insisted to me that none of OpenAI’s structural changes signaled a shift in its core mission. In fact, the capped profit and the new crop of funders enhanced it. “We managed to get these mission‑aligned investors who are willing to prioritize mission over returns. That’s a crazy thing,” he said.
OpenAI now had the long‑term resources it needed to scale its models and stay ahead of the competition. This was imperative, Brockman stressed. Failing to do so was the real threat that could undermine OpenAI’s mission. If the lab fell behind, it had no hope of bending the arc of history toward its vision of beneficial AGI. Only later would I realize the full implications of this assertion. It was this fundamental assumption—the need to be first or perish—that set in motion all of OpenAI’s actions and their far‑reaching consequences. It put a ticking clock on each of OpenAI’s research advancements, based not on the timescale of careful deliberation but on the relentless pace required to cross the finish line before anyone else. It justified OpenAI’s consumption of an unfathomable amount of resources: both compute, regardless of its impact on the environment; and data, the amassing of which couldn’t be slowed by getting consent or abiding by regulations.
Brockman pointed once again to the $10 billion jump in Microsoft’s market cap. “What that really reflects is AI is delivering real value to the real world today,” he said. That value was currently being concentrated in an already wealthy corporation, he acknowledged, which was why OpenAI had the second part of its mission: to redistribute the benefits of AGI to everyone.
Was there a historical example of a technology’s benefits that had been successfully distributed? I asked.
“Well, I actually think that—it’s actually interesting to look even at the internet as an example,” he said, fumbling a bit before settling on his answer. “There’s problems, too, right?” he said as a caveat. “Anytime you have something super transformative, it’s not going to be easy to figure out how to maximize positive, minimize negative.
“Fire is another example,” he added. “It’s also got some real drawbacks to it. So we have to figure out how to keep it under control and have shared standards.
“Cars are a good example,” he followed. “Lots of people have cars, benefit a lot of people. They have some drawbacks to them as well. They have some externalities that are not necessarily good for the world,” he finished hesitantly.
“I guess I just view—the thing we want for AGI is not that different from the positive sides of the internet, positive sides of cars, positive sides of fire. The implementation is very different, though, because it’s a very different type of technology.”
His eyes lit up with a new idea. “Just look at utilities. Power companies, electric companies are very centralized entities that provide low‑cost, high‑quality things that meaningfully improve people’s lives.”
It was a nice analogy. But Brockman seemed once again unclear about how OpenAI would turn itself into a utility. Perhaps through distributing universal basic income, he wondered aloud, perhaps through something else.
He returned to the one thing he knew for certain. OpenAI was committed to redistributing AGI’s benefits and giving everyone economic freedom. “We actually really mean that,” he said.
“The way that we think about it is: Technology so far has been something that does rise all the boats, but it has this real concentrating effect,” he said. “AGI could be more extreme. What if all value gets locked up in one place? That is the trajectory we’re on as a society. And we’ve never seen that extreme of it. I don’t think that’s a good world. That’s not a world that I want to sign up for. That’s not a world that I want to help build.”
In February 2020, I published my profile for MIT Technology Review, drawing on my observations from my time in the office, nearly three dozen interviews, and a handful of internal documents. “There is a misalignment between what the company publicly espouses and how it operates behind closed doors,” I wrote. “Over time, it has allowed a fierce competitiveness and mounting pressure for ever more funding to erode its founding ideals of transparency, openness, and collaboration.”
Hours later, Elon Musk replied to the story with three tweets in rapid succession:
“OpenAI should be more open imo”
“I have no control & only very limited insight into OpenAI. Confidence in Dario for safety is not high,” he said, referring to Dario Amodei, the director of research.
“All orgs developing advanced AI should be regulated, including Tesla”
Afterward, Altman sent OpenAI employees an email.
“I wanted to share some thoughts about the Tech Review article,” he wrote. “While definitely not catastrophic, it was clearly bad.”
It was “a fair criticism,” he said that the piece had identified a disconnect between the perception of OpenAI and its reality. This could be smoothed over not with changes to its internal practices but some tuning of OpenAI’s public messaging. “It’s good, not bad, that we have figured out how to be flexible and adapt,” he said, including restructuring the organization and heightening confidentiality, “in order to achieve our mission as we learn more.” OpenAI should ignore my article for now and, in a few weeks’ time, start underscoring its continued commitment to its original principles under the new transformation. “This may also be a good opportunity to talk about the API as a strategy for openness and benefit sharing,” he added, referring to an application programming interface for delivering OpenAI’s models.
“The most serious issue of all, to me,” he continued, “is that someone leaked our internal documents.” They had already opened an investigation and would keep the company updated. He would also suggest that Amodei and Musk meet to work out Musk’s criticism, which was “mild relative to other things he’s said” but still “a bad thing to do.” For the avoidance of any doubt, Amodei’s work and AI safety were critical to the mission, he wrote. “I think we should at some point in the future find a way to publicly defend our team (but not give the press the public fight they’d love right now).”
OpenAI wouldn’t speak to me again for three years.