I don’t think I’ve heard the term trojan with reference to computer viruses for an age. I presume ‘malware’ is what everyone calls those virus delivery mechanisms these days.

In this case, though, I think trojan is the better term, because the latest update to the software running my Tesla Model Y has left me feeling uneasy about this “gift” from Musk’s increasingly dystopian empire.

To be clear, although we did buy the car “before Elon went crazy”, even then we felt the need to search for alternatives. However, it’s fair to say that, in those days before the fascist salutes, governmental hacking and the overall descent into crush-the-libs madness, the Model Y was genuinely the best car for our family needs. The Y still gets regular software updates which have in general been good. Increasingly, though, they seem to include a fair bit of spammy junk. Did we really need a “Tron-Mode” to tie in with what was by all accounts a really bad film? Admittedly, Santa-Mode was witty for one drive, but now it’s just sitting there, gumming up the code as useless cruft.

And now we have, with the most recent update, the unwanted, stupid gremlin of Musk’s AI bot Grok in our car and I want it gone. I had hoped, when I first heard of its impending introduction as a beta to the Tesla software, that the German regulators would put a hold on its introduction. To no avail, clearly. I had also hoped (like many others) that I would be able to uninstall it like some daft game (which also can’t be uninstalled). But no, I am now permanently a long-press on the right scroll-button away from activating this nuisance. It happened for the first time over the weekend, when I wanted to open the glove compartment (which has no handle…) for my wife: up popped a dark, evil-looking info-panel with the dreaded swoopy, gloopy melting G icon of Grok. Taken aback (whilst driving!) I nevertheless intoned the (frankly silly) German incantation of “Handschuhfach öffnen” - whereupon Grok proceeded to tell me how to open the doors in various ways.

It got me nigh-on shrieking at the car to shut the whatever word you would like to imagine here up - which of course it didn’t, until it was finished. What also freaked me out was that, whilst it was talking and I was driving, the UI was also asking me to create a Grok account, which I refuse to do. I then noticed a small text mentioning that a long press would activate Grok - and a short press got me back to the simple voice commands for something that really shouldn’t need a voice command (don’t get me started on turning air recirculation on and off via touchscreen or voice command!) For Tesla boosters, that’s job done, the best of all possible worlds.

For me, yes, it’s terrible stuff. But, to return to the point of this post, I fear that this “beta” is a trojan horse. Not that it’s delivering malware as such (with Grok, that’s debatable), but that Tesla / SpaceXAIX or whoever they are now will slowly push and grow this malevolance to take over more and more of the software.

All I can hope for is that regulators (and, maybe, customers - oh, who am I kidding) push back against any such creep. If that means different versions of the software between MAGAland and the EU, then that’s more than fine by me. I don’t want to feel forced to sell the car (unusually, we bought it rather than leased it), and we’re still planning on keeping it longer term, but that’s dependent on Tesla playing by at least some enforced rules - and on the other hand anybody wanting to buy one at all a few years down the line…

A weird reading connection: from a Rands in Repose post called Become the consequence about becoming good in a role (you need about three years) and developing delegation skills to the point where you - as a good manager - can say: “otherwise I’ll do this…”, to an article in the The Guardian about Norway’s Sovereign Wealth Fund rejecting Tesla’s obscene “compensation” package for their obscene CEO, which, combined, mention millions, billions and trillions, in which each next is a factor of a thousand larger than the previous. As Rands says:

our mental model isn’t remotely close to why this is hard. It’s akin to trying to visualize the difference between one million and one billion. Yes, one is bigger than the other, but in your head… they’re kind’a the same? At a distance? They aren’t. A billion is one thousand times more than a million. We lack experiential reference points for both numbers because we’ve never seen one million or one billion anything in one place.

Then we have another newsletter from The Guardian talking about the mind-boggling valuations of AI companies which just ramps things up to the absurd. Again, here:

The difficulty in comprehending the financials of the AI boom makes it difficult to criticize with clarity or force. What could I say to an avalanche? Even the most insightful analysis seems like it will be bowled over and crushed beneath the weight of a billion-dollar datacenter. All of these numbers buck understanding. There is nothing in your individual human life that you could compare them with. How would I spend $91bn? How would I make hundreds of billions of choices? Thinking about them feels bizarre.

This gets to the heart of our difficulties imagining the wealth of those billionaires, the sheer vast scale at which money is being ploughed into tech and billionaires, whilst they complain about and block or restrict public healthcare, equality and human wellbeing. It’s a financial, philosophical and ethical mismatch - quite disturbing, if you (can at all) think about it.

In a recent episode of the Climate Denier’s Playbook (their “Mailbag” one, where they answer listeners' questions), Nicole Conlon referred to an post by Hamilton Nolan on his blog How Things Work , called When Do You Need to Quit Your Job?. It’s a call for people working at scummy, fascism- and climate-denialism-enabling companies (tech, mostly, but big oil, too, of course), to quite for the sake of their souls and our societies.

Nolan is a strong proponent of organiz(s)ed labo(u)r in the US, and encourages people in companies and industries that are worth fighting for, to do so by unionising and fighting to rebalance the economy towards society at large. This chimes with much of my recent reading (I am planning a post on that!), about society and capitalism in particular: Nolan channels a righteous anger that I’ve not been focussed enough to write myself, so I’m grateful for that.

The question of ethical work is something that niggles at me a where I work, since a major customer of our sensor systems is the fossil fuel industry. I can only hope that our sensors help them to be as efficient as possible and minimise leaks, etc, whilst our other sensors in renewable energies, pharma and other neutral-to-positive industries gain in importance.

I’ve long struggled with an inability to get AI. Whether that’s to “get into”, to “get along with”, or simply to understand it, I’ve not found it to have been as appealing as many others have made it out to be.

There are situations where its use is unavoidable, but - and this is where it shines - it’s also not shouting “THIS IS AN AI TOOL!” This is mostly situations such as translation services like DeepL or Google Translate, which all use AI / machine learning to re-bolt together sense in the translated language. I have also started using search services (Perplexity, Kagi Assistant) for researching projects, where the assistant can propose answers and (for me, critically) citations: like when I’m delving into specific, niche topics like brass playing and the embouchure.

There’s a good example here of how we need to work with and apply our scepticism to the profferings of AI assistants. There’s a long-held belief that brass players buzz their lips to make sound. This isn’t actually true: as concert trombonist Christian Lindberg pointed out on his YouTube video from 2015, when you remove the trombone from the mouthpiece whilst playing a note, the player ends up just blowing air through the mouthpiece.

This is backed up by considering the basic physics of a wind instrument: we’re setting up standing waves at the desired frequencies within the pipe. Our lips are actually vibrating sympathetically to those waves (we can also start notes just by blowing into the instrument without tounging - it just starts sounding, like an organ pipe). Now, of course, our embouchures are doing an awful lot still, and we have to work those muscles hard to keep those note-playing systems stable. But each query I made via AI agents led to flat assertions that brass players buzz, and sometimes, hidden in the longer summaries, perhaps some cursory comments along the lines of standing waves.

It’s important to realise that the AI has no understanding of what it’s producing! This means that it doesn’t check for internal or external inconsistencies. The human who requested the research needs to work to understand what has been produced by the AI and why - for correctness, or for some notion of popularity or frequency on the web?

Where all this came from

Whilst my daughter was having her teeth looked at, I was in the dentist’s waiting room reading an article by Brian Klaas on his blog The Garden of Forking Paths on The Death of the Student Essay - and the Future of Cognition and was struck by three passages that I’d like to quote. The first references something that I’ve not mentioned yet: using AI to write articles on a specific subject for us. Klaas talks about how we (most pertinently, his students) can give too much credence to the results from an AI query under…

… the mistaken belief that the spat out string of words in a reasonable order is the only goal, when it’s often the cognitive act of producing the string of words that matters most.

This gets to the heart of my unwillingness to use AI as a writer, or a “copilot”, at all. Firstly, I dislike the loss of agency and possession. AI-generated results neither sound like me, nor do they feel “valuable” to me, since they take away the hard but nevertheless rewarding work of generating understanding for myself, the author.

He continues later:

If you want to know what you think about a topic, write about it. Writing has a way of ruthlessly exposing unclear thoughts and imprecision.

Others may (or may not) read about it, but what all this writing is really doing is creating links and then conversation points for the next people in our communities. So, using AI to perform research for us and generate some thought-starters can be legitimate, but we have then to translate these into our own thoughts and words to know that we have have internalised them.

Another Klaas quote from the same article touched a nerve:

we’re engaged in a rather large, depressingly inept social experiment of downloading endless knowledge while offloading intelligence to machines.

This a a key foible of mine, and led directly to this post. I’m terrible for saving links of interesting things or making notes, collecting them all in some bookmarking or note-taking app - never to be made use of at all.

So that’s what this post is about, really: the challenge to myself that if I read something that I want to capture, then I should write about it - for others, in public. I’m under no illusions: nobody reads this blog, but its words will be out in the open and people could potentially - AI crawler bots will - stumble upon it, so I should be able to stand by my words (or write amending posts on them later, if called to do so). So I intend to do more “link-and-quote-posting”, with commentary, similarly to John Gruber on his Daring Fireball blog. He usually adds at least a sentence of his own to each quote, which, on aggregate, is a fine way of understanding who the person (or, at least, the persona) behind the blog is, what they think and what, overall, they stand for.

Where does search end and AI begin?

As I mentioned at the beginning, I do increasingly use AI for (re)search, and I feel the boundaries between classical “Googling” and asking Perplexity and co for answers plus citations blurring ever more. This is the research assistant role that I (similarly to Reid Hoffman, LinkedIn founder and AI investor) treat AI as. It’s not an oracle, but it can be an exceedingly productive snuffler, rooting things out like a young or ineffective wild boar, unsure as to whether what it unearths is fit for consumption

Where does this post end?

Right about here. But the thinking and - hopefully understanding - doesn’t!

I’ve long been wondering what’s going on with all these new browsers, and whether we’ll need to install a new browser for each search app or chatbot that we want to use. Already I have apps on my phone for Quant, Kagi and Mistral, as well as Firefox and Chrome browsers (it’s an Android) - and these browsers, like those from Ecosia, Duck Duck Go, Ad Block Plus and all - don’t feel like browsers at all: to me, it’s all going against the grain of the original web. Casey Newton (@caseynewton@mastodon.social) just dropped a post, full of great links to explore further - The AI browser wars are about to begin - on this very topic.

On a minor note, first; I do take issue with Newton’s oversimple assertion that Opera is a Norwegian browser - it was bought out in 2016 by a Chinese tech consortium including, according to the Battle of the Browsers website

… gaming firm Beijing Kunlun Tech, cybersecurity specialist Qihoo 360 Technology, Golden Brick Silk Road Equity Investment Fund, and Yonglian Investment.

Indeed, I swiftly stopped using Opera due to my concerns with the Chinese takeover and eventually ended up bouncing between Vivaldi and Firefox, all the while remaining (too) open to trying other browsers like Arc (for a while), Zen and now Kagi’s Orion, which is of the class of browser that I’m now concerned with here.

There are browsers of all styles available on Android, but the main theme here is that they aren’t browsers in the traditional sense, but portals to the companies' own AI systems, ready to search, browse and act for you. As Newton implies, it still feels rather unsettling:

The entire structure of the web — from journalism to e-commerce and beyond — is built on the idea that webpages are being viewed by people. When it’s mostly code that is doing the looking, a lot of basic assumptions are going to get broken. … To the browser warriors suiting up for battle, that looks like an exciting opportunity. To everyone else, though, it still feels mostly like a problem.

I’ve yet to really dive deep into AI tools (I still prefer to write my own text) beyond DeepL’s translation assistant, but it feels as if we’re in a strange moment, where I’ll be part of the previous generation and the next or next-but-one will be acting upon acts performed on their behalves - if it all pans out as these companies imagine.

A small correction to yesterday’s post in which I summarised Dave Winer as a Mets fan (that’s his bio from Micro.blog) and as an “http-not-secure rebel”. This is ultimately a misrepresentation stemming from my misreading of his posts on the topic over the years. In a passage in his post from Saturday, March 15th, he writes clearly that he’s not pro-http and anti-https per se, but has long been irked that the likes of Google and Mozilla label his site as “not secure” because it’s still an http site… from the 1990s

The technicalities of swapping that site over to https would break so much on his site, and the “risks” of remaining on http so minimal that he keeps it running as is, and just wishes that browsers wouldn’t be so rude as to label his site as not-secure.

Sorry, Dave.