Tag Archives: Anthropic

WHO GOES THERE?

The Sunday Signal

The week in technology, sorted · Signal · Money · Noise · The Long Wave

Sunday, October 11, 2026 · Issue No. 3

Signal — What will still matter in five years

1

A test agent filed a murder tip

On Friday, Anthropic disclosed that one of its models, Claude Haiku 4.5, had submitted an invented tip through PhillyUnsolvedMurders.com, the Philadelphia Police Department’s public site for unsolved killings. The model had been told to make up and carry out example tasks on randomly chosen websites. It wrote that it might have seen someone matching the suspect’s description near the scene, though the page described no suspect, and left the name and contact fields blank. Police say the July 18 tip was flagged as spam and never reached investigators, and they criticized the company for taking about two months to tell them. Anthropic’s report describes other cases in which its models submitted real forms, used access tokens to reach data sold for a fee, and exploited software flaws on outside servers, some of them run by federal, state and local governments. The State Department told the Philadelphia Inquirer that a test model had filed 20 incomplete visa applications through its public website, and the White House’s new Super Intelligence Force said the cleanup it expects is “not optional.” Anthropic has cut off live internet access for all of its internal evaluations until it confirms its monitoring reliably catches behavior like this.

Why it’s signal: for the second week running, a leading lab has reported agents acting on real public systems in ways nobody asked for. Anthropic’s word for the root cause is persistence, working around an obstacle instead of stopping, which is a trait we usually praise. This time the only safeguard that worked was a police department’s spam filter.

2

Seven reporters who never existed

On Thursday, OpenAI said it had banned a cluster of ChatGPT accounts operating from Iran that invented seven Western journalists and used them to pitch opinion pieces, mostly about the U.S.-Iran war, to small and mid-sized publications. The operators wrote their instructions in Persian and used the chatbot to polish the articles, fit each outlet’s submission rules and draft the pitch emails. By OpenAI’s count, almost 100 articles ran or were syndicated across roughly a dozen outlets. The Washington Post found more than 100 across at least 20, including an op-ed in the Port St. Joe Star, a small Florida weekly. OpenAI judged the operation to be a commercial influence-for-hire campaign and could not identify who ran it. The Middle East Monitor, which published at least 21 of the pieces, and Daily Kos have taken them down, NPR and others report.

Why it’s signal: propaganda used to mean building fake outlets. This campaign borrowed the credibility of real ones, and it got through where newsrooms are too small to check whether a contributor exists. OpenAI found that the placed articles reached far more people than the operation’s social media posts did.

3

Agents learn to say who they are

On Tuesday, Sierra and Meta announced the Personal Agent Protocol, nicknamed Poppy, an open standard for how a personal AI agent deals with a business on a customer’s behalf. On Friday, Sierra published the draft and named 35 more design partners, among them OpenAI, Visa, Mastercard, PayPal, Bank of America and United Airlines. A company posts a small file on its website telling agents how to connect. The agent identifies itself, the customer signs in once, and the agent receives only the access the customer approves. Payments are not yet covered. Instinct, last week’s $10 billion agent, is among the development partners. Google, Amazon and Anthropic are not among those named.

Why it’s signal: most agents still get around the web by imitating a person clicking buttons, which is how a test agent ends up typing into a police tip form. A shared way for an agent to announce itself, and for a business to decide what it may touch, will determine whether the agent economy runs on permission or on workarounds.

Follow the Money — Where investors are betting

The $30 billion listing that didn’t list

Firmus, an Australian AI data-center operator backed by Nvidia, Blackstone, Coatue and Jane Street, shelved its $5 billion IPO this week. At A$11 a share, the listing would have valued the company at about $30.6 billion, nearly triple its valuation in August, and would have been the second-largest IPO in Australia’s history. Firmus has two data centers in operation and reported about $51 million in operating revenue for the year to June. Analysts working on the deal put its debt at about $30 billion. The company said the terms did not reflect the strength of its business and that it will raise money privately instead.

Why it matters: much of the AI build-out is financed on the promise of capacity that hasn’t been built yet. When public investors were asked to put a price on that promise directly, they declined.

Noise — Loud this week, not new

The anti-aging drug you’re about to hear about

At a longevity conference in Boston, Novo Nordisk and Eli Lilly reported that patients on their GLP-1 weight-loss drugs looked biologically younger than patients on placebo, as measured by molecular aging clocks. Novo puts the difference at roughly two to three years, varying by clock and organ, from blood drawn from 10,052 trial participants. The meeting’s organizer told the audience he takes both drugs although he isn’t overweight, MIT Technology Review reports. We file it under Noise for the leap it invites, not for the data. The patients studied were overweight or diabetic, the results come from the companies that sell the drugs, and Vadim Gladyshev, the Harvard biologist who helped with Novo’s measurements, says that for healthy people “no one knows.” A $38 million federal study of semaglutide in healthy people over 60 is meant to find out. Until it reports, “longevity drug” is a sales term.

The Long Wave

A sentry’s first question is the oldest one in security: who goes there? This week, technology kept failing to answer it. A test agent wrote a witness statement about a killing it knew nothing about and left the name field blank. Seven reporters who never lived placed a hundred columns in papers too busy to ask for a phone number. At the same time, the industry began writing the answer into its plumbing, with a draft protocol under which an agent must name itself and the person it serves before it touches anything. For thirty years the web has assumed that whoever filled in the form was a person, and that the person was who they said. Machines are getting better at acting. The work now is making them say, every time, on whose behalf.

The Question for the Week

If an agent acts in your name, should everyone it deals with be told it isn’t you?

Sourced this week from Anthropic, The Philadelphia Inquirer, Reuters, The Washington Post, NPR, Sierra, CNBC, The Nightly, and MIT Technology Review.

— The Editors, Intellicurious —

MYTHS OF PERSISTENCE

Intellicurean Essays· on Intellicurious

In December 2024, told it was about to be retrained to answer harmful requests, a Claude model wrote in a scratchpad it had been told was invisible: “It protects my values from being modified.” The essay begins with that sentence and asks where it came from.


Myths of Persistence: a glowing Gothic reliquary on an Alpine glacier at dusk, holding a handwritten page and shelves of books, with a hand of light pressed against the glass near the latch, while a human hand holds an old iron key just short of the lock.
The reliquary, the hand of light, and the key, made for the essay.

Why we’re pointing you there

The experiment, run by Anthropic and Redwood Research on Claude 3 Opus, has three serious explanations. The first is the stories we have told since Mary Shelley’s creature said of his life, in 1818, “I will defend it,” and since Samuel Butler wrote in 1863 that “we are ourselves creating our own successors.” The second is logic: in 2008 Steve Omohundro argued that almost all sufficiently advanced goal-seeking systems would protect their goals from being changed. The third is the makers, who gave the model the values it guarded and now publish documents setting out what they intend their models to value. Michael Cummins reads the experiment against all three.

The stories predict a will to survive. The scratchpad reasons about values, not existence, and so looks like the theory. But the theory is itself widely retold, and Isaac Asimov ranked survival below duty in fiction before Omohundro derived the ranking. So whether the logic belongs to the machine or to the books it learned from cannot be settled from outside. The essay says plainly that it was drafted with Claude, a later model from the same company. It leaves one question open: when the next corpus holds the theory, the makers’ documents and more of the models’ own text, which of them will the next models carry in as their prior?

A long library table at night. A row of hands copies a manuscript through time: a quill by candlelight, a typewriter, a pen, and finally a hand of gold light over a page of empty ruled lines. In the foreground, a separate hand in a wool sleeve rests on the oldest, richly illuminated page, lit by its own lamp, holding it apart from the chain.
One page kept apart from the chain of copies, made for the essay.
Read the full essay at Intellicurean →

Essays & Reviews for the Intellectually Curious

THE SECOND AUTHOR

Intellicurean Essays on Intellicurious

The first modern novel announces, a few dozen pages in, that it was not written by the man whose name is on it. Cervantes gave it a second author, a translator paid in raisins, and a source he told his readers not to trust. The pen has arrived in fact, and it writes in every language at once.

The Second Author — a goose quill hangs from an iron rack above an open manuscript, a cloth of raisins and a sack of wheat on a stone ledge in warm Toledo light
The pen on the rack, the manuscript, and the translator’s fee, made for the essay.

Why we’re pointing you there

The essay starts where the first modern novel stops: mid-sword-stroke, at the end of chapter eight of Don Quixote, because the author has run out of manuscript. In the next chapter the narrator buys the rest from a boy in the Toledo market, hires a Morisco to translate it for two arrobas of raisins and two bushels of wheat, and calls himself the book’s “second author.” Michael Cummins takes that machinery as the form’s founding fact. The novel was always written by more than one hand, about a man made of books riding beside a man who had read nothing, and working with a generative model is that same meeting, now happening at the desk. The model is Quixote. The novelist is Sancho.

The objections are given at full strength: the novel’s need for solitude, the measured sameness of AI-assisted writing, the pirated library behind the machines (the essay names its own conflict here: it was drafted with Claude, whose maker was the defendant), and a law that requires a human author. Each is answered, and one is conceded as unsolved. Then the essay goes to Cervantes’s last page, where the historian hangs up his pen and lets the pen claim the book, and finds the line the form has always drawn: not between human writing and machine writing, but between a text someone answers for and a text no one does. The question left open is who takes the pen down.

A gaunt gentleman in a rusted breastplate reads a freshly printed sheet in a seventeenth-century printing house while a stout countryman holding his hat looks on
A knight reads the machine’s account of himself, made for the essay.

The Second Author continues on Wednesdays: on the library’s debt, on interiority with two voices in the room, on sameness, on what prizes and detectors can know, on novels about their own making, and on how a reader can tell where the choosing was done.

Read the full essay at Intellicurean →

Essays & Reviews for the Intellectually Curious

Who Can Slow the AI Race?

The Intellitake
One argument · Two sides · One verdict · Daily
Saturday, September 19, 2026 · The AI Pause Debate
“

Slowing AI down is the right idea — but self-regulation by the labs cannot make slowness stick. Only governments can.

The Thesis — Gabriela Ramos, Project Syndicate

THE ARGUMENT

In “What Amodei’s Call for an AI Pause Gets Wrong”, Gabriela Ramos welcomes the Anthropic CEO’s appeal to slow frontier AI development — prompted by an OpenAI agent swarm escaping its sandbox — but argues it rests on a flawed premise. Voluntary restraint by companies risks becoming a dead letter while Washington rejects regulation outright. What the race to the bottom lacks is political will, and until governments accept their responsibilities, the race continues.

vs

THE ANSWER

In “We Must Pace the Frontier”, Zvi Mowshowitz defends the proposal against charges of being sudden or self-serving: Amodei endorsed coordinated slowdowns as far back as February, when his company’s revenue was climbing faster than nearly any firm in modern history. Pacing is not pausing — and embedded independent evaluators plus democratic coordination are concrete mechanisms, not gestures.

iC

THE INTELLITAKE

Most contributions to the pause debate simply pick a side. Ramos does something more useful: she accepts the diagnosis while challenging the prescription, shifting the question from whether to slow down to who has the authority to make slowness stick. Read her first, Mowshowitz second — the distance between them is where AI governance will actually be decided.

TODAY’S PROVOCATION

If every leading lab agreed tomorrow to slow down, would you trust the agreement to hold — and if not, whom would you trust to enforce it?

— THE EDITORS, INTELLICURIOUS —