
Tech secretary asks ChatGPT for policy advice
Science and tech secretary Peter Kyle asked the AI chatbot why small businesses in the UK were slow to adopt the technology, records show.
Mr Kyle also asked the software which podcasts he could appear on to reach the widest audience possible, and for definitions of terms such as 'quantum' and 'digital inclusion'.
Records obtained under freedom of information laws by the New Scientist magazine show Mr Kyle asked ChatGPT: 'I'm secretary of state for science, innovation and technology in the United Kingdom. What would be the best podcasts for me to appear on to reach a wide audience that's appropriate for my ministerial responsibilities?'
The chatbot suggested The Infinite Monkey Cage and The Naked Scientists based on their number of listeners.
It comes after a January interview with Mr Kyle in which he said he often uses ChatGPT 'to try and understand the broader context where an innovation came from, the people who developed it, the organisations behind them'.
He told PoliticsHome: 'ChatGPT is fantastically good, and where there are things that you really struggle to understand in depth, ChatGPT can be a very good tutor for it.'
Sir Keir Starmer recently set out plans to 'mainline AI into the veins' of the British state, saying it offers a 'unique chance' to boost growth and raise living standards.
On Thursday the PM said it could help the government unlock £45 billion in efficiency savings, replacing or streamlining the work of civil servants.
He said: 'AI is a golden opportunity. You will already be thinking about how you use it in your work.
'That's an opportunity we are determined to seize. So we are going to get the best of best on AI working across government. I'm going to send teams into every government department with a clear mission from me to make the state more innovative and efficient.'
Responding to Mr Kyle's question about why businesses have been slow to adopt the technology, ChatGPT cited factors such as 'limited awareness and understanding', 'regulatory and ethical concerns' and 'lack of government or institutional support'.
'While the UK government has launched initiatives to encourage AI adoption, many [small and medium businesses] are unaware of these programs or find them difficult to navigate,' it said.
'Limited access to funding or incentives to de-risk AI investment can also deter adoption.'
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Reuters
38 minutes ago
- Reuters
Karen Hao on how the AI boom became a new imperial frontier
When journalist Karen Hao first profiled OpenAI in 2020, it was a little-known startup. Five years and one very popular chatbot later, the company has transformed into a dominant force in the fast-expanding AI sector — one Hao likens to a 'modern-day colonial world order' in her new book, 'Empire of AI: Dreams and Nightmares in Sam Altman's OpenAI.' Hao tells Reuters this isn't a comparison she made lightly. Drawing on years of reporting in Silicon Valley and further afield to countries where generative AI's impact is perhaps most acutely felt — from Kenya, where OpenAI reportedly outsourced workers to annotate data for as little as $2 per hour, to Chile, where AI data centers threaten the country's precious water resources — she makes the case that, like empires of old, AI firms are building their wealth off of resource extraction and labor exploitation. This critique stands in stark contrast to the vision promoted by industry leaders like Altman (who declined to participate in Hao's book), who portray AI as a tool for human advancement — from boosting productivity to improving healthcare. Empires, Hao contends, cloaked their conquests in the language of progress too. The following conversation has been edited for length and clarity. Reuters: Can you tell us how you came to the AI beat? Karen Hao: I studied mechanical engineering at MIT, and I originally thought I was going to work in the tech industry. But I quickly realized once I went to Silicon Valley that it was not necessarily the place I wanted to stay because the incentive structures made it such that it was really hard to develop technology in the public interest. Ultimately, the things I was interested in — like building technology that facilitates sustainability and creates a more sustainable and equitable future — were not things that were profitable endeavors. So I went into journalism to cover the issues that I cared about and ultimately started covering tech and AI. That work has culminated in your new book 'Empire of AI.' What story were you hoping to tell? Once I started covering AI, I realized that it was a microcosm of all of the things that I wanted to explore: how technology affects society, how people interface with it, the incentives (and) misaligned incentives within Silicon Valley. I was very lucky in getting to observe AI and also OpenAI before everyone had their ChatGPT moment, and I wanted to add more context to that moment that everyone experienced and show them this technology comes from a specific place. It comes from a specific group of people and to understand its trajectory and how it's going to impact us in the future. And, in fact, the human choices that have shaped ChatGPT and Generative AI today (are) something that we should be alarmed by and we collectively have a role to play in starting to shape technology. You've mentioned drawing inspiration from the Netflix drama 'The Crown' for the structure of your book. How did it influence your storytelling approach? The title "Empire of AI" refers to OpenAI and this argument that (AI represents) a new form of empire, and the reason I make this argument is because there are many features of empires of old that empires of AI now check off. They lay claim to resources that are not their own, including the data of millions and billions of people who put their data online, without actually understanding that it could be taken to be trained for AI models. They exploit a lot of labor around the world — meaning they contract workers who they pay very little to do their data annotation and content moderation for these AI models. And they do it under the civilizing mission, this idea that they're bringing benefit to all of humanity. It took me a really long time to figure out how to structure a book that goes back and forth between all these different communities and characters and contexts. I ended up thinking a lot about 'The Crown" because every episode, no matter who it's about, is ultimately profiling this global system of power. Does that make CEO Sam Altman the monarch in your story? People will either see (Altman) as the reason why OpenAI is so successful or the massive threat to the current paradigm of AI development. But in the same way that when Queen Elizabeth II passed away people suddenly were like, 'Oh, right, this is still just the royal family and now we have another monarch,' it's not actually about the individual. It's about the fact that there is this global hierarchy that's still in place in this vestige of an old empire that's still in place. Sam Altman is like Queen Elizabeth (in the sense that) whether he's good or bad or he has this personality or that personality is not as important as the fact that he sits at the top of this hierarchy — even if he were swapped out, he would be swapped out for someone who still inherits this global power hierarchy. In the book, you depict OpenAI's transition from a culture of transparency to secrecy. Was there a particular moment that symbolized that shift? I was the first journalist to profile OpenAI and embedded within the company in 2019, and the reason why I wanted to profile them at the time was because there was a series of moments in 2018 and 2019 that signaled that there was some dramatic shift underway at the organization. OpenAI was co-founded as a nonprofit at the end of 2015 by Elon Musk and Sam Altman and a cast of other people. But in 2018, Musk leaves; OpenAI starts withholding some research and announces to the world that it's withholding this research for the benefit of humanity. It restructures and nests a for-profit within the nonprofit and Sam Altman becomes CEO; and those were the four things that made me wonder what was going on at this organization that used its nonprofit status to really differentiate itself from all of the other crop of companies within Silicon Valley working on AI research. Right before I got to the offices, they had another announcement that solidified there was some transformation afoot, which was that Microsoft was going to partner with OpenAI and give the company a billion dollars. All of those things culminated in me then realizing that all of what they professed publicly was actually not what was happening. You emphasize the human stories behind AI development. Can you share an example that highlights the real-world consequences of its rise? One of the things that people don't really realize is that AI is not magic and it actually requires an extremely large amount of human labor and human judgment to create these technologies. These AI companies will go to Global South countries to contract workers for very low wages where they will either annotate data that needs to go into training these training models or they will perform content moderation or they will converse with the models and then upvote and downvote their answers and slowly teach them into saying more helpful things. I went to Kenya to speak with workers that OpenAI had contracted to build a content moderation filter for their models. These workers were completely traumatized and ended up with PTSD for years after this project, and it didn't just affect them as individuals; that affected their communities and the people that depended on them. (Editorial note: OpenAI declined to comment, referring Reuters to an April 4 post by Altman on X.) Your reporting has highlighted the environmental impact of AI. How do you see the industry's growth balancing with sustainability efforts? These data centers and supercomputers, the size that we're talking about is something that has become unfathomable to the average person. There are data centers that are being built that will be 1,000 to 2,000 megawatts, which is around one-and-a-half and two-and-a-half times the energy demand of San Francisco. OpenAI has even drafted plans where they were talking about building supercomputers that would be 5,000 megawatts, which would be the average demand of the entire city of New York City. Based on the current pace of computational infrastructure expansion, the amount of energy that we will need to add onto the global grid will, by the end of this decade, be like slapping two to six new Californias onto the global grid. There's also water. These data centers are often cooled with fresh water resources. How has your perspective on AI changed, if at all? Writing this book made me even more concerned because I realized the extent to which these companies have a controlling influence over everything now. Before I was worried about the labor exploitation, the environmental impacts, the impact on the job market. But through the reporting of the book, I realized the horizontal concern that cuts across all this is if we return to an age of empire, we no longer have democracy. Because in a world where people no longer have agency and ownership over their data, their land, their energy, their water, they no longer feel like they can self-determine their future.


New Statesman
41 minutes ago
- New Statesman
The mutation of jihad
Photo by Wakil Kohsar/AFP We fear the wrong terror. This week marked the 20th anniversary of the 7/7 bombings. But the spectacular terror of international jihad has significantly abated. In 2022, the UK downgraded its terrorism threat level from 'severe' to 'substantial', and MI5 director Ken McCallum observed in 2024 that terrorist threats had diminished during his time at the service. Attacks claimed by Islamic State group (IS) have fallen from almost 4,000 in 2018 to around 600 so far this year. And they are less likely to be of immediate concern to Western countries. Almost 90% of the group's violence now takes place in remote parts of Africa. A report published this week highlighted a newer danger: hostile governments are equipping themselves to execute professional attacks on British soil. The study by Parliament's Intelligence and Security Committee, which Keir Starmer saw before publication, investigated Iran. It counted at least 15 attempted murders or abductions of British nationals or UK-based citizens since 2022, and designated the Iran one of the biggest threats to the UK, next to Russia and China. But it should not be news that the threat of state-sponsored, professional killings has been increasing in recent years should not be news. In 2024, MI5 admitted a 48 per cent rise in state-instigated assassination attempts on UK soil. But the only such incident to gain real cut-through was the poisoning of Sergei and Yulia Skripal in 2018. Jihad is changing its face. In recent years, jihadist and Islamist groups that have embraced more pragmatic, local agendas have tended to flourish. Meanwhile, supporters of more extreme jihadist ideologies – groups like IS and al-Qaeda which once posed significant threats to the West – are foundering. In 2001, al-Qaeda executed the grandest and most famous assault the West had ever seen on its own land. The 2017 attacks on Westminster Bridge and London Bridge represented a transition to less complicated methods, such as stabbings and driving vans into crowds. IS was encouraging followers to use whatever equipment they can get their hands on. Now, commenters on GeoNews, the main al-Qaeda chat room, are wont to take a despairing tone; in late April this year, one commenter reflected 'Jihadism goes nowhere, it didn't achieve anything… it's like digging in water… The best that can happen is like [what happened in] Syria'. Since the December 2024 overthrow of the al-Assad government, Syria has been ruled by Ahmed al-Sharaa, better known by his military name Abu Mohammed al-Jolani. Al-Sharaa's regime has dismayed Islamist hardliners by distancing itself from typical jihadist and Islamist demands, such as rigorous application of Sharia law. Instead it has loudly touted its respect for religious minorities, with a programme more reminiscent of the Ottoman Empire's 'millet' ('personal law') decentralisations, which gave religious communities a degree of local autonomy. Al-Sharaa has even shaken the investment tin to the US and other Western powers. And, perhaps most controversially, his government is signalling openness to normalising ties with Israel, its arch-foe. Unburdened of US sanctions, Syria's economy is expected to begin the slow path to recovery. Al-Sharaa has generally prioritised winning international credibility as a competent and pragmatic leader over governing by strict Islamic principles. He has proposed plans to privatise state-controlled infrastructure and made overtures to foreign investors. Government officials have stated intentions to model Syria's future on service-based economies like Singapore. It is a surprising posture. Historian Djene Rhys Bajalan has coined the term 'Salafi Neoliberalism' to describe the strange new synthesis of 'malls and mosques'. Other media outlets have described it as 'Islamist technocracy', pointing to the equal centrality of technocratic institutions and conservative social mores. Subscribe to The New Statesman today from only £8.99 per month Subscribe Before Syria, there was Afghanistan. Despite being spurned by the international community for its deeply regressive social policies, hardcore jihadists had condemned the Taliban's rule in Afghanistan after its 2021 takeover as too lax. IS's local wing and its affiliated media regularly scorn the Taliban, holding that the group has abandoned jihad, failed to implement Sharia and allied itself with enemy foreign powers. Accepting national borders and engaging in diplomacy is considered anathema to IS's vision of global jihad. Taken as evidence of ideological compromise was the Taliban's removal from Russia's list of terrorist organisations. And this week, on 9 July, Afghanistan posted an extraordinary tourism advert online, which opens with a shot of five turbaned men behind three kneeling hostages. The leader says 'we have one message for America', then pulls off the hood of the central hostage, revealing a beaming Westerner who shouts, 'Welcome to Afghanistan!' Of course, all sorts of propaganda will be used in service of attracting tourism; but this is nonetheless a sea change from the autarkic Taliban regime of the 1990s. Affiliates of al-Qaeda now appear poised to make a definitive break with the transnational jihadist model most infamously espoused by Islamic State (IS). Al-Qaeda affiliates in Yemen (AQAP) and Somalia (Al-Shabaab) have showed signs of being willing to collaborate with the Iran-backed Houthis, traditionally an ideological foe. In Yemen in April, a former al-Qaeda member rebranded innocuously as the Movement for Change and Liberation, a new, locally focused party. The affiliate in West Africa's Sahel region, JNIM, is perhaps the most likely to split from al-Qaeda's central structure next: media branding changes, such as the removal of JNIM's logo, suggest a split from the wider North African branch, AQIM. In February, one al-Qaeda supporter wondered in the GeoNews chatroom why 'JNIM want to separate from [al-Qaeda]?… It's sad'. JNIM's drift away from al-Qaeda may allow it to more openly collaborate with other non-jihadist militant groups such as Tuareg separatists. JNIM has also reportedly signalled willingness to combine forces with non-jihadist armed groups in the Sahel, such as the Azawad Liberation Front (FLA), against common enemies in the region (predominantly the governments of Mali and Burkina Faso). Burkina Faso's military junta plainly considers the Taliban and JNIM entirely separate entities, meeting with the former in May while engaged in a bloody war with the latter. What is left of IS itself has blamed the West for the move away from jihadism and toward more palatable alternatives in order to undermine them and lure Muslims from the 'true' path. One high-profile IS supporter posted on Facebook, '[the US] gave Afghanistan to Taliban… and Syria to [al-Sharaa's] HTS which converted to secularism'. Devoted IS supporters see more pragmatic Islamist movements like HTS as enforcers of the West's war on terrorism who are beholden to Western interests, rather than being committed to applying Shariah by the letter. Al-Naba, IS's weekly newspaper, has recently struck a downbeat tone. An early July editorial worried about low morale and a wavering commitment to global jihad. Several other recent editorials have all but admitted that the group is on the backfoot, especially in its Middle Eastern heartlands, where its attacks have dropped significantly in recent years. Transnational jihadism – an ideology that has demonstrated remarkable tenacity throughout the first quarter of the 21st century – may be about to turn a corner. As US power retreats, those who might have been attracted to confronting American imperialism are concerned by other questions. International terrorist imperatives are being subordinated to domestic, material issues. At least for now, the success of the local appears to be global jihadism's loss. [See also: Netanyahu bends the knee for Trump] Related


New Statesman
an hour ago
- New Statesman
A day out with Jeremy Corbyn's new party
The last time I visited Ilford, east London, was in the run-up to the 2017 general election, hoping to help make Wes Streeting the local MP and Jeremy Corbyn the prime minister. It feels like a long time ago. I went campaigning with a group that included a man who worked for Vice and told us he made more than £80k and wanted to pay higher tax. I had the clipboard, dispatching canvassers to knock on doors. Labour's data showed a reasonable number of those doors, at one point, had had BNP supporters behind them. It feels like a long time ago because it was. Vice doesn't exist any more. Corbyn has been booted from Labour. But Ilford remains a great place to observe both the hopes and contradictions of the British left – including its latest iteration, which in typical fashion has been marred by miscommunication and infighting. I made my return trip last weekend to see Corbyn, now the independent MP for Islington North, speak alongside Andrew Feinstein and Leanne Mohamad at an event called Breaking the Two-Party Nightmare. The organisers described it as a 500-person event, which sounded generous: the room was respectably full, but it was far from standing room only. The people around me chatted eagerly about the campaigns they'd been involved in, how they'd come across the event (TikTok), and their appreciation for the works of the Israeli politician and writer Ilan Pappé. The audience was mostly British Asian, with a smattering of the kind of badge-laden older white people who can always be found at such events (a man in the row across from me was wearing a T-shirt styled after the poster for Goodfellas, only with Corbyn's face superimposed on it, and the legend 'For the many not the few' at the bottom). It was a special occasion. Last Friday marked a year since Labour's sweeping election victory; more pertinently, it was a year since Leanne Mohamad fell just 528 votes short of unseating the now Health Secretary Wes Streeting. Feinstein took a very respectable number of votes running against Keir Starmer in Holborn and St Pancras, and Corbyn retained his Islington North seat. They all ran as independents, attacking Labour from the left, and gathered in Ilford to talk about it. But, between them, their status begs larger questions about the possibilities of life beyond Labour. How much damage can the political forces stirring on the left do to the party they believe has betrayed them? Mohamad, a 24-year-old British Palestinian, wearing a purple suit that matches the event's branding, was first to speak and acted as host for the evening. She was warm and earnest; Corbyn offered his usual irascible moralism; but of the three it was Feinstein who was the most natural speaker, the one whose years in politics show (Feinstein was previously an ANC MP in South Africa). His speech is weighted with pregnant pauses, and the theme he works to is that our politics, and particularly Keir Starmer himself, is corrupt. He described the Prime Minister as having 'one redeeming feature, and that is that we don't have to figure out when he is lying, because we know every single time his lips move, the man is lying'. If the freebiegate-populist message of Feinstein seems distinctly modern, Corbyn offered something different. Part of his appeal has always been as a man out of time, a traveller from a pre-neoliberal world. He was wearing what I can only describe as a very Jeremy Corbyn pair of semi-open brown shoes, and talked about nuclear disarmament and 'issues of world peace'. He described the two-child limit as the product of Iain Duncan Smith having a fit of '19th-century moralism'. Corbyn remained every inch the man first elected on Michael Foot's 1983 pledge to end 'the long Victorian night' of Conservative rule. The binding cause for both speakers and audience was Gaza, just as it was a central part of their campaigns last year. Mohamad was frank about this, saying that the war is intrinsic to the rest of her politics, which is 'focused on what truly matters to our community – health, crime, housing, education, youth services, the cost-of-living crisis, and, yes, foreign policy, because what happens abroad is not separate from our values here at home'. Subscribe to The New Statesman today from only £8.99 per month Subscribe It has been accurately observed that these outsider performances at last year's election owed much to Labour's 'quietist line' over Gaza. In these conversations, however, it's hard not to feel that the independents are guilty of a quietism of their own when it comes to the war in Ukraine. ('I don't support what Russia is doing in Ukraine,' Corbyn said, but for an evening so dominated by foreign policy, it is striking how little it comes up.) Beyond the allegation that Labour is spending on 'welfare, not warfare', the discussions also don't present much in the way of political economy – a worked-out theory of what government should be responsible for, how it should pay for things, and what the consequences of not paying for them are. Perhaps it is more remarkable that they don't have to. Corbyn talked about the popular vote totals Labour racked up in 2017 and 2019 (when he led the party) being higher than Labour's in 2024. This is, of course, a pretty silly argument when talking about trying to form a majority government under a first-past-the-post electoral system. It's like saying you're really good at football after being smashed at tennis. However, if you want to have an assertive left-opposition party that will never be in government but will bag 10 per cent of the vote (which polling suggests a Corbyn-led party could snag now) and 25 seats, you don't have to care about Stevenage woman. In fact, you don't want your support to be too thinly spread. The ability to stack up votes in London or Bristol is what will get you where you need to go. And what kind of left opposition does Corbyn even want? This event took place 24 hours after Zarah Sultana announced that she had resigned from Labour and that she would 'co-lead the founding of a new party' with Jeremy Corbyn. It has since been reported that Corbyn was far from delighted with the speed and style of this announcement. His next move remains hard to discern: on stage in Ilford, he did not discuss Sultana's statement, though Mohamad did say that her resignation from Labour was one of the things that gave her hope (along with Zohran Mamdani's Democrat primary victory in New York). While Corbyn talked about having 'some time now to organise' up to elections next year, he didn't claim to be doing so as part of any particular group. If I'd known nothing about Sultana's announcement, I'd have assumed he was talking about independent bids of the kind he, Mohamad and Feinstein made last year; he talked warmly about drinking tea and working with the other independent MPs elected last July. But otherwise, he was reticent. Instead of a Q&A with a roving mic, we got an unwieldy QR code system by which the audience could submit their questions, which were then read out by Mohamad. They were all unthreatingly soft-ball (what inspires you? What do you like to eat in Ilford?). None mentioned the – or a – new party. [See also: Are we entering a new era of left-wing infighting?] Feinstein called Mohamad 'the people's member of parliament for Ilford' and said that at the next election she will send Streeting 'into his political retirement and a very well-paid job in the private healthcare sector'. Somewhat less plausibly, he also referred to Corbyn – 76 now and likely 80 at the time of the next general election – as the future prime minister. We also got a foretaste of the lines that will be used against Streeting when Mohamad runs at the next election: she claimed he is 'currently using his post as Health Secretary to give our health data to Palantir, the same company that powers Israel's AI warfare'. Wes Streeting's potential defeat at the next election is an under-discussed reality of British politics. He was lucky not to lose his seat last year; I understand there is some discontent at the lack of resources Mohamad's campaign received, something she alluded to on stage. Perhaps a cabinet secretary's seat being under threat is less remarkable in a world where all that's solid melts into Reform poll leads, but it is nonetheless something our politics hasn't really digested. Streeting has said he is 'definitely not' tempted to scarper to a safer seat. Saying it now and saying it in three and a half years' time, however, are two different things. I left as Mohamad was offering the audience the chance to go home with a jar of Corbyn's jam (two jars are ultimately auctioned for an astonishing £1,500). On a table in the lobby are cans of Labbaik cola, in the colours of the Palestinian flag, for thirsty attendees who've just taken in a solid two hours of political discourse. On the street outside is a souped-up car. Painted on its bonnet are a Palestinian flag, the words 'Nakba 1948: resistance is justified when people are occupied', and what appears to be a cartoon of Harley Quinn in a keffiyeh. The event was a success; there will be more like it in Ilford and around the country. Britain has become a multi-party system and there is an appetite for a party (or perhaps just candidates) that talks about peace, Palestine and poverty. The launch of Sultana's new party has been messy and the left beyond Labour is fragmented, with some elements filtering into the Greens and some likely preferring the more decentralised independent model. These people do not have to play the same games the major parties do; whatever Feinstein says, I do not believe Jeremy Corbyn wants to be, much less will be, prime minister in four years' time. They want an audience, representation for their views, to hear people saying what they think from the green benches, to stick it to Labour. It is clear from my evening in Ilford that there is an audience ready to buy what they are selling. Whether they exist outside of these urban enclaves, however, is another question. [See also: Inside Robert Jenrick's New Right revolution] Related