Tag: research

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AI

The New Newton

“Machine learning is a very important branch of the theory of computation… it has enormous power to do certain things, and we don’t understand why or how.”
— Avi Wigderson, Herbert H. Maass Professor, School of Mathematics.

There is a specific kind of silence that permeates the woods surrounding the Institute for Advanced Study (IAS) in Princeton. It is a silence designed for “blue-sky” thinking, the kind that allowed Einstein to ponder relativity and Gödel to break logic. For decades, this has been the sanctuary of the slow, deliberate grind of human intellect—chalk dust on slate, long walks, and the solitary pursuit of elegant proofs.

But recently, the tempo in those woods has changed.

We are witnessing a profound shift in the architecture of discovery. In closed-door meetings and public workshops, the conversation among the world’s top theorists is moving from skepticism to a startled accelerationism. The consensus emerging is that Artificial Intelligence is no longer merely a peripheral calculator; it is becoming an “autonomous researcher.”

The 90% Shift

Some physicists now suggest that AI can handle up to 90% of the routine analytical and coding “heavy lifting” of science. This is a staggering metric. It frees the human mind from the drudgery of calculation, but it also introduces a tension that strikes at the heart of the scientific method. We are moving into a realm where the tool may soon outpace the master’s understanding.

There is a growing realization that we are approaching a horizon where AI finds solutions—patterns in the noise of the universe—that work perfectly but remain mathematically “magic.” We might cure a disease or solve a fusion equation without understanding the why behind the how.

A New Natural Phenomenon

This brings us to a fascinating historical rhyme. Scholar Sanjeev Arora has compared our current moment in AI to physics in the era of Isaac Newton. When Newton watched the apple fall, he could describe the gravity, but he couldn’t explain the fundamental mechanism of why it existed.

Today, scholars at the IAS are looking at deep learning in the same way. They are observing a new natural phenomenon—a digital physics. They are trying to find the “laws” of deep learning, asking why these massive models work when classical statistics suggests they should fail (such as in cases of overfitting).

We are building a new machine, and now we must retroactively discover the physics that governs it.

Steering the Black Box

This is not just a mathematical challenge; it is a societal one. The IAS has wisely expanded this inquiry to the School of Social Science. If we are handing over the keys of discovery to a “black box,” we must ensure we are steering it “for the Public Good.” The distinction between genuine problem-solving—like protein folding—and “AI Snake Oil” in social prediction is vital. We cannot let the magic of the tool blind us to the morality of its application.

The future of science, it seems, will not just be about the genius on the chalkboard. It will be about the partnership between the human question and the digital answer. The challenge for the modern scholar is no longer just to calculate, but to comprehend the alien intelligence we have invited into the library.

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Interstate 280 San Francisco/California San Jose

The Scenic Route Home

“In a world optimized for speed and engagement, 280 is a reminder that infrastructure can be art.”

It is a strange paradox that in the heart of Silicon Valley—a place defined by the ephemeral, the digital, and the instantaneous—a cherished shared experience is a physical ribbon of highway that hasn’t changed much in fifty years.

My post from last April, “The World’s Most Beautiful Freeway,” has recently found a new wave of readers. I’ve been asking myself: Why? Why does a blog post about Interstate 280, written by a retiree exploring local history, resonate so deeply right now?

Perhaps it’s because I-280 is more than just a commute. As I noted in the original piece, even Sunset Magazine in 1967 recognized it as “a modern and scenic boulevard.” It was a bold claim for a freeway, yet it stuck. While its sibling, US 101, is a clogged artery of billboard-choked utility, 280 feels like a deep breath. It is the “scenic route” we are lucky enough to take right in our own backyard.

There is a powerful nostalgia in that drive. We all remember the sign that used to sit in the median near Cupertino—the one that literally proclaimed it “The World’s Most Beautiful Freeway”—before it vanished. We remember the way the fog rolls over the Santa Cruz Mountains, spilling into the crystal bowl of the reservoir.

But I think the recent interest goes deeper than pretty scenery. We are living in an era of rapid, often disorienting change. I used ChatGPT to help research the history of that road, a small testament to how AI is weaving into our daily inquiries. Yet, the road itself remains a constant. It was designed by engineers like Othmar Ammann and planners who chose the harder, more expensive route through the foothills rather than paving over El Camino Real. They chose beauty over pure efficiency.

That choice resonates today. In a world optimized for speed and engagement, 280 is a reminder that infrastructure can be art. It connects the headquarters of the companies building our future (Apple, Google, Meta) with the wild, golden hills of California’s past. It is a physical timeline of the Peninsula.

Maybe we are revisiting this post because we are craving that balance. We want to know that even as we rush toward the future at freeway speeds, we can still look out the window and see something timeless, something beautiful, something that reminds us where we are.

Categories
Language

Separated by a Common Language: “What do you do?”

I was recently reminded of the old adage that we are often separated by a common language!…

Over the weekend, I listened to an episode of Paul Miller’s podcast “The Pathless Path,” featuring Billy Oppenheimer. Billy works as assistant to Ryan Holiday and he shared valuable insights on extracting compelling stories from research, a skill he and Ryan have honed. I thoroughly enjoyed the conversation!

During the discussion, Paul asked Billy about his time in Western Australia, prompting a delightful anecdote. Soon after arriving in Australia, Billy struck up a conversation with a stranger over drinks and asked the usual question: “What do you do?” The stranger’s response was both surprising and enlightening: “Oh, you’re American!” It turns out that asking someone about their occupation isn’t as common in Australia as it is in the US.

This story highlights the cultural nuances of communication and the importance of being aware of them. Sometimes, we must try and learn from our mistakes when our use of a common language doesn’t quite translate.

Bonus:

Billy publishes a weekly newsletter, “Six at 6,” every Sunday evening, featuring six fascinating stories. If you enjoy reading interesting stories, his newsletter is a treat!