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Life cycle analysis has some problems.

About six months ago, a climate scientist from Arizona State University, Stephanie Arcusa, emailed me a provocative new paper she had published that warned against our growing reliance on life cycle analysis. This practice of measuring all of the emissions related to a given product or service throughout every phase of its life — from the time raw materials are extracted to eventual disposal — was going to hinder our ability to achieve net-zero emissions, she wrote. It was a busy time, and I let the message drift to the bottom of my inbox. But I couldn’t stop thinking about it.
Life cycle analysis permeates the climate economy. Businesses rely on it to understand their emissions so they can work toward reducing them. The Securities and Exchange Commission’s climate risk disclosure rule, which requires companies to report their emissions to investors, hinges on it. The clean hydrogen tax credit requires hydrogen producers to do a version of life cycle analysis to prove their eligibility. It is central to carbon markets, and carbon removal companies are now developing standards based on life cycle analysis to “certify” their services as carbon offset developers did before them.
At the same time, many of the fiercest debates in climate change are really debates about life cycle analysis. Should companies be held responsible for the emissions that are indirectly related to their businesses, and if so then which ones? Are carbon offsets a sham? Does using corn ethanol as a gasoline substitute reduce emissions or increase them? Scientists have repeatedly reached opposite conclusions on that one depending on how they accounted for the land required to grow corn and what it might have been used for had ethanol not been an option. Though the debate plays out in calculations, it’s really a philosophical brawl.
Everybody, for the most part, knows that life cycle analysis is difficult and thorny and imprecise. But over and over, experts and critics alike assert that it can be improved. Arcusa disagrees. Life cycle analysis, she says, is fundamentally broken. “It’s a problematic and uncomfortable conclusion to arrive at,” Arcusa wrote in her email. “On the one hand, it has been the only tool we have had to make any progress on climate. On the other, carbon accounting is captured by academia and vested interests and will jeopardize global climate goals.”
When I recently revisited the paper, I learned that Arcusa and her co-authors didn’t just critique life cycle analysis, they proposed a bold alternative. Their idea is not economically or politically easy, but it also doesn’t suffer from the problems of trying to track carbon throughout the supply chain. I recently called her up to talk through it. Our conversation has been edited for clarity.
Can you walk me through what the biggest issues with life cycle analysis are?
So, life cycle analysis is a qualitative tool —
It seems kind of counterintuitive or even controversial to call it a qualitative tool because it’s specifically trying to quantify something.
I think the best analogy for LCA is that it’s a back-of-the-envelope tool. If you really could measure everything, then sure, LCA is this wonderful idea. The problem is in the practicality of being able to collect all of that data. We can’t, and that leads us to use emissions factors and average numbers, and we model this and we model that, and we get so far away from reality that we actually can’t tell if something is positive or negative in the end.
The other problem is that it’s almost entirely subjective, which makes one LCA incomparable to another LCA depending on the context, depending on the technology. And yes, there are some standardization efforts that have been going on for decades. But if you have a ruler, no matter how much you try, it’s not going to become a screwdriver. We’re trying to use this tool to quantify things and make them the same for comparison, and we can’t because of that subjectivity.
In this space where there is a lot of money to be made, it’s very easy to manipulate things one way or another to make it look a little bit better because the method is not robust. That’s really the gist of the problems here.
One of the things you talk about in the paper is the way life cycle analysis is subject to different worldviews. Can you explain that?
It’s mostly seen in what to include or exclude in the LCA — it can have enormous impacts on the results. I think corn ethanol is the perfect example of how tedious this can be because we still don’t have an answer, precisely for that reason. The uncertainty range of the results has shrunk and gotten bigger and shrunk and gotten bigger, and it’s like, well, we still don’t know. And now, this exact same worldview debate is playing into what should be included and not included in certification for things [like carbon removal] that are going to be sold under the guise of climate action, and that just can’t be. We’ll be forever debating whether something is true.
Is this one of those things that scientists have been debating for ever, or is this argument that we should stop using life cycle analysis more of a fringe idea?
I guess I would call it a fringe idea today. There’s been plenty of criticism throughout the years, even from the very beginning when it was first created. What I have seen is that there is criticism, and then there is, “But here’s how we can solve it and continue using LCA!” I’ve only come across one other publication that specifically said, “This is not working. This is not the right tool,” and that’s from Michael Gillenwater. He’s at the Greenhouse Gas Management Institute. He was like, “What are we doing?” There might be other folks, I just haven’t come across them.
Okay, so what is the alternative to LCA that you’ve proposed in this paper?
LCA targets the middle of the supply chain, and tries to attribute responsibility there. But if you think about where on the supply chain the carbon is the most well-known, it is actually at the source, at the point of origin, before it becomes an emission. At the point where it is created out of the ground is where we know how much carbon there is. If we focus on that source through a policy that requires mandatory sequestration — for every ton of carbon that is now produced, there is a ton of carbon that’s been put away through carbon removal, and the accounting happens there, before it is sold to anybody — anybody who’s now downstream of that supply chain is already carbon neutral. There is no need to track carbon all the way down to the consumer.
We know this is accurate because that is where governments already collect royalties and taxes — they want to know exactly how much is being sold. So we already do this. The big difference is that the policy would be required there instead of taxing everybody downstream.
You’re saying that fossil fuel producers should be required to remove a ton of carbon from the atmosphere for every ton of carbon in the fuels they sell?
Yeah, and maybe I should be more specific. They should pay for an equal amount of carbon to be removed from the atmosphere. In no way are we implying that a fossil carbon producer needs to also be doing the sequestration themselves.
What would be the biggest challenges of implementing something like this?
The ultimate challenge is convincing people that we need to be managing carbon and that this is a waste management type of system. Nobody really wants to pay for waste management, and so it needs to be regulated and demanded by some authority.
What about the fact that we don’t really have the ability to remove carbon or store carbon at scale today, and may not for some time?
Yes, we need to build capacity so that eventually we can match the carbon production to the carbon removal, which is why we also proposed that the liability needs to start today, not in the future. That liability is as good as a credit card debt — you actually have to pay it. It can be paid little by little every year, but the liability is here now, and not in the future.
The risk in the system that I’m describing, or even the system that is currently being deployed, is that you have counterproductive technologies that are being developed. And by counterproductive, I mean [carbon removal] technologies that are producing more emissions than they are storing, and so they’re net-positive. You can create a technology that has no intention of removing more carbon than its sequesters. The intention is just to earn money.
Do you mean, like, the things that are supposed to be removing carbon from the atmosphere and sequestering it, they are using fossil fuels to do that, and end up releasing more carbon in the process?
Yeah, so basically, what we show in the paper is that when we get to full carbon neutrality, the market forces alone will eliminate those kinds of technologies that are counterproductive. The problem is during the transition, these technologies can be economically viable because they are cheaper than they would be if 100% of the fossil fuel they used was carbon neutral through carbon removal. And so in order to prevent those technologies from gaming the system, we need a way to artificially make the price of fossil carbon as expensive as it would be if 100% of that fossil carbon was covered by carbon removal.
That’s where the idea of permits comes in. For every amount that I produce, I now have an instant liability, which is a permit. Each of those permits has to be matched by carbon removal. And since we don’t have enough carbon removal, we have futures and these futures represent the promise of actually doing carbon removal.
What if we burn through the remaining carbon budget and we still don’t have the capacity to sequester enough carbon?
Well, then we’re going into very unchartered territory. Right now we’re just mindlessly going through this thinking that if we just reduce emissions it will be good. It won’t be good.
In the paper, you also argue against mitigating greenhouse gases other than carbon, and that seems pretty controversial to me. Why is that?
We’re not arguing against mitigating, per se. We’re arguing against lumping everything under the same carbon accounting framework because lumping hides the difficulty in actually doing something about it. It’s not that we shouldn’t mitigate other greenhouse gases — we must. It’s just that if we separate the problem of carbon away from the problem of methane, away from the problem of nitrous oxide, or CFCs, we can tackle them more effectively. Because right now, we’re trying to do everything under the same umbrella, and that doesn’t work. We don’t tackle drinking and driving by sponsoring better tires. That’s just silly, right? We wouldn’t do that. We would tackle drinking and driving on its own, and then we would tackle better tires in a different policy.
So the argument is: Most of climate change is caused by carbon; let’s tackle that separately from the others and leave tackling methane and nitrous oxide to purposefully created programs to tackle those things. Let’s not lump the calculations altogether, hiding all the differences and hiding meaningful action.
Is there still a role for life cycle analysis?
You don’t want to be regulating carbon using life cycle analysis. So you can use the life cycle analysis for qualitative purposes, but we’re pretending that it is a tool that can deliver accurate results, and it just doesn’t.
What has the response been like to this paper? What kind of feedback have you gotten?
Stunned silence!
Nobody has said anything?
In private, they have. Not in public. In private, it’s been a little bit like, “I’ve always thought this, but it seemed like there was no other way.” But then in public, think about it. Everything is built on LCA. It’s now in every single climate bill out there. Every single standard. Every single consulting company is doing LCA and doing carbon footprinting for companies. It’s a huge industry, so I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised to hear nothing publicly.
Yeah, I was gonna ask — I’ve been writing about the SEC rules and this idea that companies should start reporting their emissions to their investors, and that would all be based on LCA. There’s a lot of buy-in for that idea across the climate movement.
Yeah, but there’s definitely a fine line with make-believe. I think in many instances, we kid ourselves thinking that we’re going to have numbers that we can hang our hats on. In many instances we will not, and they will be challenged. And so at that point, what’s the point?
One thing I hear when I talk to people about this is, well, having an estimate is better than not having anything, or, don’t let the perfect be the enemy of the good, or, we can just keep working to make them better and better. Why not?
I mean, I wouldn’t say don’t try. But when it comes to actually enforcing anything, it’s going to be extremely hard to prove a number. You could just be stuck in litigation for a long time and still not have an answer.
I don’t know, to me it just seems like an endless debate while time is ticking and we will just feel good because we’ll have thought we measured everything. But we’re still not doing anything.
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A bipartisan group of senators proposed major reforms to the country’s environmental laws last month in an effort to speed up the federal approval process for energy projects of all kinds. If it passes, one of the Bipartisan American Affordability and Jobs Act’s biggest changes would be transforming the U.S. court system’s role in federal environmental reviews.
The bill would constrain who can challenge federal environmental decisions in court, which courts can hear those challenges, what plaintiffs can argue in those cases, and what remedies are available when the plaintiffs win. In particular, it would become a lot more difficult — though not impossible — for outside groups to stop construction on a project or vacate a permit if they deemed it to be environmentally risky.
Part of the motivation for the bill, at least among Democrats, is the idea that the National Environmental Policy Act, or NEPA, has become a significant obstacle to building clean energy projects and the infrastructure required to connect them to the grid. The bill includes a number of changes to NEPA that would expedite environmental reviews and prevent legal challenges under NEPA from dragging out project timelines.
But the bill’s restrictions on judicial remedies may be the most significant change, several legal experts told me. “My perhaps overly simplistic view, perhaps a really cynical view, is that the remaining 100 pages of the bill devoted to NEPA are all going to be irrelevant in light of that remedy provision,” said Matthew Littleton, a lawyer who previously served as deputy assistant attorney general at the U.S. Department of Justice’s Environment and Natural Resources Division under the Biden administration.
NEPA is an information-gathering statute. It says that when the federal government makes certain decisions, such as issuing permits or regulatory rules, it must consult with all of the agencies with relevant expertise, invite public comment, and, if the decision could have significant effects on the environment, conduct a wide-ranging assessment of those effects that includes comparisons to alternative actions.
Depending on the decision at hand, the government may have to do some of this analysis under other environmental laws, such as the Clean Air Act and Clean Water Act, but those requirements are narrower. NEPA fills in the gaps. While a Clean Air Act analysis may look at whether a project complies with federal pollution limits, a NEPA analysis would assess the broader effects of the pollution on local communities and surrounding wildlife, and consider whether locating the project elsewhere could accomplish the same goals with reduced risk.
While NEPA can inform an agency’s decision, the law does not require the agency to act on that information. If a NEPA review of an oil leasing program turns up substantial risks, for example, the government can still move forward with it unchanged. If an environmental group sues the government for not considering all of the relevant impacts, or studying enough alternatives, or getting some aspect of the analysis wrong, however, the court can vacate the agency’s decision, or at least issue an injunction on the lease sale while the agency addresses the issue.
A Supreme Court decision last year already significantly narrowed NEPA, giving agencies more discretion to decide how much environmental analysis they need to do on a project’s upstream and downstream effects. Experts expected the ruling to make it much harder for outside groups to win an injunction on a project or vacate a permit.
The new bill would go much farther. If communities or other stakeholders sue the government for violating NEPA and win, the courts could no longer issue an injunction or vacate the government’s decision. The bill would leave the courts with a single remedy: forcing the agency to address whatever gap in its analysis the lawsuit revealed.
To Littleton, this change would make NEPA more or less irrelevant. Today, he explained, agencies and developers face the risk that if they do not do a thorough job complying with NEPA, the courts could suspend their decisions, vacate their permits, or pause construction on their projects. It’s hard to know how big of a role that risk plays in agency decision-making, but if it disappears, so too does the incentive for anyone to spend time on a NEPA analysis.
Agencies are under-resourced and have a lot on their plates, Littleton said. “If at the end of the day you know a court is not going to stop you, even if you completely ignore the statute, you’re going to take the action as quickly as you can, consistent with your other obligations.” In other words, the worst that could happen is that a federal court tells the relevant agency to go back and do some more paperwork while construction continues.
The bill would make the same changes to the National Historic Preservation Act, a similar procedural law that requires agencies to study a decision’s effects on properties of cultural or historic significance. “If Congress has decided that NEPA and the NHPA have outlived their usefulness or do more harm than good, people should be willing to own that and say it and explain why that’s so,” Littleton said. “And if it’s not so, then maybe they need to figure out how to have a far narrower NEPA or NHPA review, but something where it actually matters if you don't do it.”
To be clear, none of this means there will be no way to stop a project from being built or to vacate its permits. Outside groups can still challenge agency actions under the Administrative Procedure Act, Alex Mechanick, an assistant professor at Johns Hopkins and a former senior counselor in the Office of Management and Budget under the Biden administration, told me. The APA is a larger umbrella law that says agencies cannot violate the Constitution or federal regulations or act arbitrarily or capriciously.
“Arbitrary and capricious action is already unlawful under the APA and could lead to agency action being vacated or enjoined regardless of BAAJA,” Mechanick said. A court might find that an agency violated the APA if a decision had undeniably worse environmental costs than benefits, if a less damaging option offered the same benefits, or if the agency simply chose not to analyze a relevant aspect of the decision. If the Interior Department was considering a new oil and gas leasing plan and didn’t consider effects on local wildlife, a court might deem that arbitrary and capricious. If the agency studied those effects, found significant risks, and then ignored them entirely with no explanation, that could also constitute a violation of the APA.
Littleton didn’t disagree with Mechanick’s assessment. If the bill passes, he said, the NEPA process may become the mechanism agencies use to comply with the APA rather than an end in itself.
The bill makes a more far-reaching change to legal challenges under the Clean Water Act. That law requires developers to secure a Section 404 permit when their project involves placing dredged materials into a body of water or wetland. It asks the Army Corps of Engineers to collect public comments, analyze the environmental impacts, and evaluate alternatives — much like NEPA. In this case, however, the analysis is not just procedural. Depending on what it reveals, the Corps may be legally required to deny the permit.
As with NEPA and the NHPA, the Senate bill would remove a federal court’s ability to vacate a Section 404 permit if it finds a deficiency in the Army Corps’ analysis. But the bill also specifically prevents vacatur for challenges under the APA. In either case, there is an exception for if the court finds that the “activities authorized under the permit would present an imminent and substantial danger to human health or the environment.”
Mechanick called this a “timing rule,” since the court’s options will depend on how far along the project is. The agency either has enough time to act before harm is imminent, or it doesn’t. “I don’t understand why you should have to wait until the harm is imminent to enjoin the agency,” he said, “but I suppose the idea is that this is a lighter touch remedy until it’s really a do-or-die moment.”
On Korea’s Westinghouse wishes, a lithium deal, and British heat pumps
Current conditions: New York City’s temperature is set to rise as high as 80 degrees Fahrenheit this week before plunging as the coldest weather so far this season blows into the Northeast • Temperatures in Denver have been above 80 degrees for the past 11 days straight • Nearly 200,000 households, mostly in Florida, are still without electricity after Hurricane Isaias.
In theory, news of President Donald Trump’s deal with Russia to pump millions of tons of diesel into the global market should have eased oil prices. Instead, all three major crude benchmarks spiked Monday by nearly 1.5%. Only West Texas Intermediate, the U.S. metric that has largely evaded the worst knock-on effects of conflict in the Middle East, remained below $100 per barrel. The hike came as the Houthi attacks on Saudi Arabia over the weekend weighed heavily on investors’ minds, eclipsing whatever impact the diesel deal could have had.
Speaking at an industry summit in Riyadh, from which executives from Western oil majors bowed out at the last minute following missile strikes on the airport in the Saudi capital, the head of the country’s state oil company warned that not even Saudi Arabia had the capacity to protect all the supply routes off its coasts for getting hydrocarbons from the region to the world. “No nation, even one as capable and confident as ours, can safeguard them alone,” Aramco CEO Amin Nasser said, according to Arab News.
TotalEnergies took more than $1 billion from the Trump administration to kill off its offshore wind projects. But don’t take that as a sign the French energy behemoth is abandoning American renewables. The company’s joint venture with private equity giant KKR announced a deal to add 700 megawatts of solar to its portfolio of 1.4 gigawatts. The $1.2 billion acquisition includes three utility-scale solar farms in Texas and Ohio that are expected to reach commercial operation in the first quarter of next year.

South Korea is in a bind. The Korea Electric Power Corporation, through its subsidiary Korea Hydro & Nuclear Power, represents the most competent financier and builder of nuclear reactors anywhere in the democratic world, having constructed the United Arab Emirates’ debut atomic power stations relatively on time and on budget compared to U.S., French, and British projects. But the leading Korean reactor, the APR1400, allegedly borrowed from the American nuclear champion Westinghouse’s pressurized water reactor design. A yearslong legal feud ended last year with a settlement that bars the Koreans from bidding on projects in Europe or North America. In a deal this month with the Trump administration to stave off tariffs, Seoul has agreed to help finance and construct six Westinghouse AP1000s and two of its own APR1400s in the U.S., giving the Americans a leg up on nuclear construction and the Koreans a foothold in North America.
In South Korea, where the Westinghouse settlement has widely been considered unfair, the government is signaling other plans to gain more leverage. For starters, KEPCO’s chief executive Kim Dong-cheol said the claim that the settlement requires the company to pay Westinghouse $2 billion per nuclear plant to use its technology was misunderstood. “It is true that $2 billion is the ceiling, but it does not mean we will pay all of it,” he said. But the more eyebrow-raising detail in his interview with the financial newspaper Business Korea is that KEPCO is considering a plan to acquire an equity stake of between 5% and 10% in Westinghouse. Rumors of a potential deal to buy part of Westinghouse have been circulating in the Korean press for weeks now. Anything seems to be on the table these days, but when I have asked multiple sources on the U.S. side about it, all of them shrugged off the possibility to me.
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When The New York Times ran a glowing profile of the lithium startup EnergyX back in 2021, industry sources at the time mocked the coverage to me as too credulous — a sign of how unsophisticated the popular American press was at writing about critical minerals at the time. The Wall Street Journal glazed the firm’s chief executive, Teague Egan, in its own profile three years later. So it was with light surprise and amusement that I read Reuters reporter Ernest Scheyder’s latest story about the company: EnergyX just signed a $2 billion binding offtake to supply the commodities giant Trafigura with the battery metal from Chile and the U.S. It’s one of the largest deals ever tied to direct lithium extraction, the technology EnergyX is trying to commercialize, which uses less water than standard methods of mining the metal. The 10-year contract comes amid growing demand from the stationary battery storage market as the grid and data centers eat what unsteady sales of electric vehicles has left on the plate.
The British government plans to cut hundreds of millions of dollars from the national program to upgrade boilers in England and Wales, providing £9,000, or nearly $12,000, to finance the switch to heat pumps. The cuts, which the Financial Times reported Monday had drawn a backlash against the ruling Labour Party, are part of a broader bid by Prime Minister Andy Burnham to slash £2 billion in the budget to make way for more military spending. The reductions began in June under former Prime Minister Keir Starmer with a study to identify potential cuts. Starmer singled out the Department of Energy Security and Net Zero, particularly after the agency received a 16% annual increase to fund projects such as the nuclear buildout at Sizewell C, carbon capture infrastructure, and insulation to make homes more energy efficient.
The move is sure to ripple across the climate policy world. Roughly a week ago, Daniel Aldana Cohen, an assistant professor at the University of California at Berkeley, was extolling the benefits of ramping up U.S. production of heat pumps in response to soaring heating prices this winter due to the fossil fuel supply crunch. “Every year that we don’t do a wartime mobilization on heat pumps, we’re ruining people’s lives,” the early advocate of a Green New Deal wrote in a post on X. “Heat pumps will always outperform heating oil, cut costs, add summer AC. And would be fantastic for labor, small businesses, worker co-ops.”
As quickly as a spark of atmospheric electricity strikes, the Ford F-150 Lightning disappeared, with the final model of the all-electric pickup truck rolling off the assembly line last year. Now, Bloomberg reports, “it has become one of the most coveted cars in America and a glowing ember in the red-hot market for used electric vehicles.” The price of a used Lightning is 50% to 60% of the sticker price, which one expert told the newswire “is really a sweet spot.”
What 700 math problems say about the AI economy’s biggest open question
This is Heatmap Daily, an evening news digest written by our executive editor. Subscribe here.
Happy Monday and welcome back.
It’s been a big weekend: I’m fairly certain Saturday Night Live mentioned Heatmap’s data center polling in one of its Weekend Update segments over the weekend. Watch here.
There are 22 days to the midterm elections here in the United States. We’ll soon enter that pre-election wormhole where only national politics can break through. So today I wanted to look at a story that might, on its face, seem like it has nothing to do with climate or energy. And warning: It’s a little bit of a weird one.
Last week, OpenAI released what it described as the solution to more than 700 open problems in mathematics. Many of the problems, such as the Quasi-Riemann hypothesis, had gone unsolved for decades. Some of the solutions came with proofs written in the programming language Lean.
The release made a stir in part because OpenAI had reached the solutions by using an internal model — that is, a version of ChatGPT not yet open to the general public. In a statement, the Association for Human Mathematics lambasted OpenAI for using an internal model to do research, violating what it described as a precept of AI-driven math research. (I’ve since seen speculation that OpenAI may not have even meant to solve the problems, but gave them to the internal model as a test … and then got the answers.) It’s also not clear whether all of OpenAI’s 700 solutions are correct — in many cases the proofs are so intricate that mathematicians are still wrapping their heads around them.
“There are some sad stories related to their users getting scooped [and] conflicts of interest,” Levent Alpöge, a mathematician at Anthropic, posted on X. “It’s obviously the most significant moment in mathematical history.”
On Friday night, the UCLA mathematician Terence Tao gave a pre-planned lecture at Caltech about what he called “Math 2.0”; it considered the revolution the field had seemingly undergone in the previous few days. (He posted the slides to his blog over the weekend, and I’m using them to summarize his talk here.) For most of math’s history, he said, the field operated under “proof scarcity,” in which finding a solution to an open math problem and confirming it as true was “difficult and rare,” requiring “significant human expertise.”
But AI, it has turned out, is well suited to solving math problems. This is partly because math, like the large language models themselves, is entirely conceptual, so confirming a proof as true requires no recourse to the physical. But it’s also because math’s solutions are “objectively verifiable”: “There is broad consensus on what constitutes a correct and complete proof of a given problem,” and thanks to the existence of proof programming languages like Lean, they can even be checked by computer.
The end result is that math is now entering a world of “proof abundance,” he said.
That is, perhaps surprisingly, a problem for math’s practitioners, and it will mandate a new intellectual regime for the discipline. Mathematicians have often used open problems as “lighthouses,” Tao wrote, “not destinations to be reached … but useful guides to explore the mathematical landscape.” Mathematicians often learn more in the solving than in the solution, in other words. But if mathematicians can now generate shortcuts to math problems without knowing how they got there, or even how the problem works, then actual human mathematical understanding will suffer. (One way to understand this is that mathematicians are now dealing with the same problem that math teachers have faced since the invention of the pocket calculator: How do you confirm students actually understand the material? Except the world’s most elite mathematicians themselves are the students in question.)
This disconnect can pose its own AI alignment problems, Tao said, analogizing math to pharmaceuticals. Suppose an advanced AI found what appears to be a cure for cancer that can pass a stage 3 clinical trial: “After a large amount of compute, it produces a cocktail of previously unknown chemicals which it claims, when mixed and injected into a patient, will kill all their cancer cells,” he said. It even generates a programmatic proof of the cocktail’s effectiveness.
“Before injecting this cocktail into your bloodstream,” he asked, “would you find it reassuring to know that there is at least one human cancer expert who understands — even partially — the mechanism behind this cure?” If not, you can see mathematicians’ problem, confronted by a surfeit of proofs that seem to work, but nobody who can explain how or why they do.
Now, Tao’s analogy is somewhat peculiar because something like this actually does happen all the time in medicine: Doctors still don’t fully understand how many drugs work, including acetaminophen, SSRIs, and lithium. (That said, those compounds were identified by trial and error, not by a mechanical superintelligence.) But the broader situation that Tao is painting — as well as the crisis posed by OpenAI’s 700 proofs — get at a significant question with economic importance far beyond just math: Will AI solve the economy’s secular attention shortage or worsen it?
This question has greater import than it may seem — but let me qualify what I mean by “attention shortage.” Writing in 1971, the economist Herber Simon observed the sudden superabundance of information that had exploded in every economic domain. There were more facts, data, news articles, and opportunities than any individual or organization knew what to do with. He pointed out that this newfound “wealth” of information implied an insufficiency of something else: attention.
“What information consumes is rather obvious: it consumes the attention of its recipients,” he wrote in Designing Organizations for an Information-Rich World. “Hence a wealth of information creates a poverty of attention and a need to allocate that attention efficiently among the overabundance of information sources that might consume it.”
He wrote this, of course, well before the advent of internet, smartphones, sensors, or networked cameras — all of which have worsened the problem. But in the ensuing half century, the economy has learned to deal (or at least intermittently manage) this secular scarcity of attention. Much of what we now call knowledge work is devoted to filtering, siphoning, processing, and otherwise attending to the information superabundance.
AI is, in theory, supposed to help address this same set of problems. AI is commodified attention — or, at least, that is its promise. (The most important machine learning paper of the past decade, after all, is entitled “Attention Is All You Need.”) Many AI products, such as Meta’s Muse, now want you to believe that by ceding control of your email, your calendar, your restaurant reservations, and your digital life to AI, you will gain an attentional edge. The AI will do the grunt-work of attending to boring things for you, and you will feel less overwhelmed. If this vision comes true, the economy’s mismatch of information and attention will prove to be a short-lived historical blip.
But the past week of math news and Tao’s “Math 2.0” regime suggest a different scenario is more likely, at least in the immediate near term. By allowing far faster and more automated information production, AI will create a new, more vicious, and even more abstract form of information overload. Every profession and intellectual discipline will be overwhelmed with new papers, ideas, observations, proofs, or choices. Yet the human understanding required to convert this new information into useful action will become even more scarce. In such a world, AI will not solve the economy’s attention shortage, but worsen it.
I’m not sure which world would be worse for humanity, to be candid. One world suggests the eventual automation of all human effort. But in Tao’s world, many of us might still have jobs — they will just involve even more filtering, sorting, and processing of an ever-deepening pile of automated idea generation than we do today.
And what is the connection to climate and energy? One easy connection might be to the permitting process: If you think a new transit line (at the local level) or transmission line (at the state or federal level) could be overwhelmed with procedural concerns 10 years ago, wait until you see what happens when information itself can be mechanically produced. But that is only one example of a more general problem. Soon, if not already, any process of providing input to an important policy question — on energy, decarbonization, or anything else — will be overwhelmed with facially high-quality analysis. It will be left to policy officials and elected leaders to sort through it.