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Governor Kathy Hochul’s proposal to weaken the state’s emissions targets reflects a fundamental tension in the process of decarbonization.

New York Governor Kathy Hochul has been signaling her intent to rewrite the state’s climate law for months, arguing that achieving the existing emissions targets it lays out would impose “enormous” costs on New Yorkers. She finally revealed her proposal to do so on Friday, requesting new targets and more time to meet them. If she gets her way, New York would be the first state to renege on its climate goals.
More specifically, Hochul pitched moving the law’s deadline for enacting climate regulations from 2024 to 2030. She wants to establish a new emissions target for 2040 to replace one for 2030 that will now be all but impossible to meet, and to revise the existing 2050 target. She also wants to change the official accounting method the state uses to calculate emissions from shorter-lived greenhouse gases like methane — an idea she first floated during a budget fight in 2023. That would ease pressure to cut natural gas use and make the state look further along on its climate goals than it currently does. It would also align New York’s approach with the way the rest of the U.S. accounts for methane.
The governor can’t do any of this without the legislature, though. She’s pushing for the changes as part of closed-door budget negotiations with a March 31 deadline. Discussions did not get off on a promising foot: More than half the state Senate has rebuked her plan, with 29 Democrats penning a letter to say they “categorically oppose any effort to roll back New York’s nation-leading climate law.” It is the “fossil fuel status quo that has created the affordability crisis,” the senators wrote.
Environmental groups also reject the governor’s version of events, arguing that her proposal would threaten affordability rather than address it, and accusing her of giving in to fossil fuel interests.
Neither side is presenting a complete picture of the trade-offs, however. To back up Hochul’s assertion that the law as written would impose prohibitive costs on New Yorkers, her administration has relied on overly aggressive analyses that misleadingly frame climate action as a pure expense. At the same time, it's true that the regulations Hochul wants to delay would raise costs for many New Yorkers in the near term, with savings materializing later.
The dispute is emblematic of the way the cost of living crisis is deepening a tension at the heart of climate politics: Decarbonization often imposes real costs now in exchange for diffuse benefits later, which is a tough sell to voters who are finding it increasingly difficult simply to keep themselves afloat.
Hochul arguably got herself into this mess. The clash in New York dates back to 2024, when her administration missed the deadline to issue regulations that would ensure the state achieved its emissions targets.
At first it seemed like the regulations would simply come late. The state was developing a Cap and Invest program — essentially a carbon price that charges polluters for every ton they emit and delivers the proceeds back to consumers as rebates, incentives, and public benefit programs. State officials released a pre-proposal for the program in January 2024 that included a price ceiling to minimize cost impacts. It was expected to generate $3 billion to $5 billion in its first year.
At the time, Hochul’s administration painted a rosy picture of the program, arguing that it would accelerate emission reductions, especially as the state reinvested revenue into incentives for New Yorkers to switch to heat pumps and electric vehicles. While the cost for consumers of driving gas-powered cars and using oil and gas-burning heating systems would go up, “millions of households would break even,” officials said, after proceeds from the program were returned via direct payments and incentives. By 2030, they said, many would come out ahead.
Cap and Invest was never envisioned as New York’s only tool to ratchet down emissions. The state’s own modeling indicated that the proposal — even when implemented alongside other policies — would fall short of the state’s target of cutting emissions to 40% below 1990 levels by 2030 by at least 15%.
Then, after holding a series of public workshops on the pre-proposal, the administration went silent. In early 2025, Hochul shocked the climate community when she decided to delay the program indefinitely, citing affordability concerns. Environmental groups accused her of breaking the law, sued the state, and won. Last October, the New York State Supreme Court ordered Hochul to “promulgate rules and regulations to ensure compliance with the statewide emissions reductions limits.”
Hochul had two options. She could impose a tax on carbon in an election year when affordability had become the defining issue. Or she could ask the legislature to change the law’s deadlines.
That brings us to February, when a conveniently-timed memo leaked from the state energy office with the subject, “Likely Costs of CLCPA Compliance.” (CLCPA stands for Climate Leadership and Community Protection Act — the name of New York’s climate law.)
In order to “fully comply” with the law’s emissions limits, the memo says, the Cap and Invest program cannot have a price ceiling. The energy office estimated the carbon price would start at $120 per metric ton, although the memo says this is likely an underestimate because it was calculated before Trump revoked clean energy tax credits, rolled back vehicle emissions rules, and imposed costly tariffs that also raise the cost of clean energy projects. By comparison, the 2024 pre-proposal would have capped the carbon price at between $14 and $23 in the first year.
“Absent changes” to the climate law, the memo goes on to say, New Yorkers would be paying more than $2 more at the pump and an extra $17 per month on their heating bills by 2031 under Cap and Invest.
The environmental community was flabbergasted. The memo “represents modeling of a program that has not been on the table,” Kate Courtin, a senior manager on the state climate policy team at the Environmental Defense Fund, told me. The numbers “do not reflect any of the scenarios the state was looking at.”
The document appears to reflect a Cap and Invest program that would singlehandedly achieve the statutory targets, which other climate advocates I talked to framed as an absurdly literal reading of the court’s order.
“It feels very disingenuous, because no one is asking for that,” Liz Moran, a New York policy advocate at Earthjustice, told me. Earthjustice represented the environmental groups who sued the administration to compel Hochul to release a climate plan. “Our litigation is not about what is in the regulations,” she said. “It is about the fact that she did not issue regulations. No one was anticipating one set of regulations alone to achieve the targets.”
Vanessa Fajans-Turner, the executive director for Environmental Advocates NY, issued a statement calling the memo “a political tactic meant to scare legislators into giving her a way out of obeying the law.”
That may be so, but the memo also raises uncomfortable questions about New York’s climate strategy in a political environment dominated by affordability concerns.
Environmental Advocates NY argues that extending the law’s deadlines would “increase costs for households and the state,” citing the hazards of a warming world. The state’s earlier analysis also found that the financial benefits to New Yorkers would outweigh the costs. But in both examples, there is a lag between when the costs and benefits hit.
New Yorkers will experience Cap and Invest as a cost first. While the costs may not be as high as the memo envisions, it still literally puts a price on carbon. The pre-proposal also estimated that fuel costs would increase by as much as $9 to $15 per month in the first year for some families. Enacting a carbon tax just as energy prices are going up due to rising demand, the costs of caring for our increasingly fragile grid, and war with Iran could come off as tone deaf at best, political suicide at worst.
“It’s impossible to have a coherent debate about this if we’re not all first on the same page that a carbon price is designed to add costs to carbon-intensive energy uses, and that will add costs to consumers,” Noah Kaufman, a senior research scholar at Columbia University’s Center on Global Energy Policy, told me.
While Moran emphasized that the Cap and Invest program did not have to be the only tool the state uses to reach its emissions targets, the memo underscores how much the state’s toolbox has changed since the targets were enacted. Trump’s slashing clean energy tax cuts and enacting tariffs have increased the cost of clean energy. New York’s strategy also relied on clean car rules that would require all vehicle sales to be zero-emissions by 2035 — but Trump has stripped the state’s ability to enact such a policy. He also, of course, put an effective ban on new offshore wind development. New York was planning to have at least 9 gigawatts of offshore wind by 2035, but it got just 1.8 gigawatts into the pipeline before the moratorium came down.
The most recent data shows that as of 2023, New York had cut emissions by only about 14% relative to 1990 levels. “You look at where New York is on emissions or renewables or electric vehicle penetration, and it doesn’t look plausible at all,” Kaufman said. “It’s analogous to the 1.5-degree [Celsius temperature rise] target. People have a hard time letting go of it, even though when you map out the pathway that it would take to get from here to there, it looks entirely implausible.”
When I asked climate advocates about the emission targets, they didn’t deny that the numbers were unrealistic, but they also saw no need to update them. “There’s an understanding that the targets will be hard to meet,” Moran said. “But why change them if we haven’t even started to try?”
“I think any conversation about the targets and the law should focus on what the state can be doing right now and in the immediate future to implement the law and accelerate clean energy progress,” Courtin said.
At the same time, environmental groups are right that reliance on fossil fuels is a big part of why energy costs are increasing for New Yorkers. The state’s grid operator published a report in January that highlighted how the rising cost of natural gas was a leading factor driving up electricity bills. Some of Hochul’s recent decisions, including walking back a ban on gas hookups in new buildings and approving a new natural gas pipeline, will further entrench New York’s reliance on the fuel.
Advocates told me they were most angry that the Hochul administration was portraying climate action and clean energy as an impediment rather than a solution to the affordability crisis, which could do long-term damage to the case for decarbonization. Already, the New York Post editorial board has claimed victory, writing that Hochul is “finally admitting that the ‘climate’ law she’s long supported is toxic to New York’s economy and to ’affordability.’”
“The troubling thing is that they’re presenting this false narrative that these two things are at odds with each other,” Justin Balik, the state program director for the nonprofit Evergreen Action, told me. He pointed out that other governors — Mikie Sherrill in New Jersey, Abigail Spanberger in Virginia — have found winning political messages that champion both affordability and climate action.
“Let’s have a conversation about New York doing every single thing that is within the state’s control to both cut people’s costs and cut pollution at the same time,” Balik said. Evergreen recently commissioned a report outlining a range of clean energy-friendly strategies that could help New York reduce energy costs, like requiring data centers to build new clean power plants and lowering utilities’ rate of return. Those strategies would not get Hochul out of the deadline to impose a carbon tax, however.
There will never be a good time to price carbon; it could feel as politically painful, or more so, in 2030 as it did in 2024, 2025, and 2026. It will be up to the legislature to decide whether New York will take the leap now and recommit to the ambition it had during an earlier, more auspicious moment for decarbonization, or to wait. If there’s a third option, it hasn’t been articulated yet.
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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.