I released a paper on quantum computing in 2017. My assessment then was that the hype was bullshit. Nearly a decade later, I remain unconvinced that the promises have been substantiated. Larger budgets, revised roadmaps and more polished announcements do not establish that we are closer to the capabilities being sold. “Closer” requires a measurable engineering argument connecting demonstrated performance to those capabilities. Repeating the destination is not evidence of progress towards it. The question remains: what can the system reliably deliver, under what conditions, and at what total cost? Until those answers justify the claims, I see no reason to withdraw my criticism. Nearly a decade is ample time to improve a sales pitch. Substantiating it is another matter.

Mathematics does not require a committee’s permission to be true. “Mathematicians did not ask for this work” is an extraordinary opening: nobody needed to commission the result. Every valid solution adds to our shared knowledge, whether it arrives by an approved route or inconveniences someone’s preferred vision of the subject. Trustworthiness matters enormously, but it rests on explicit assumptions, inspectable proofs and independent validation. A proof does not become invalid because its production lacked your blessing, any more than a press release makes it correct. “Ethically researched” needs considerably more precision than you have supplied. If you mean not plagiarising other people’s work, say so. If you mean accurate attribution, honest claims of originality, transparent methods or proper verification, name those obligations and identify the failures. AI-assisted work is certainly not exempt from them. But neither “ethical” nor “in the public interest” should become a decorative phrase covering whatever an association happens to approve. Ethics deserves an argument; it should not be reduced to a velvet rope around the mathematics department. The substantive issue is corporate governance. A Silicon Valley company choosing to release purported research without adequate controls raises questions about who authorised publication, what verification occurred, how contributions were credited and who takes responsibility for errors. Those questions apply to OpenAI as a company, just as they apply to any other research organisation. They establish no general indictment of AI as a tool. Hold the people making the decisions accountable, require the evidence and scrutinise the proofs. There is ample work there without appointing yourselves the licensing authority for discovery.

My website’s Stories section goes behind the papers: the questions, the evidence and why the findings matter. From economics and law to psychology and computing, explore the research and the connections between disciplines. craigwright.net/short-paths-…

What is serendipity? Serendipity is finding something valuable while looking for something else. You set out to solve one problem, take a wrong turn, and discover something your original plan was too respectable to consider. It is one of life’s more elegant ways of exposing the limits of management. But serendipity requires more than an accident. A useful accident can happen in front of someone who dismisses it, tidies it away, and congratulates himself on maintaining standards. The discovery comes when somebody notices the unexpected thing and recognises that it might matter. Chance supplies the interruption. Attention makes something of it. Suppose you enter a bookshop looking for a particular novel. Beside it, you find a book on a subject you know nothing about. You open it, read a paragraph, and discover an idea that changes how you understand a problem you have been wrestling with for months. Finding the book was accidental. Recognising its relevance required everything you brought into the shop. This is why curiosity matters. A curious person gives the unexpected a little room to explain itself. Someone interested only in confirming what they already believe will walk past a discovery to purchase another reassuring opinion. There is, admittedly, a fine line between remaining open to surprise and spending the afternoon wandering about. Calling every distraction “serendipity” is a splendid way to dignify procrastination. The unexpected encounter must yield something worthwhile. Otherwise, you have simply missed your train. You cannot order serendipity to arrive at three o’clock with a supporting slide deck. You can, however, make it more likely: read beyond your usual subjects, speak to people outside your profession, investigate results that seem wrong, and occasionally allow a question to survive without immediately forcing it into a familiar answer. Then comes the less glamorous part: checking what you have found. A surprising connection may be a discovery, a coincidence, or nonsense wearing an unusually good jacket. Delight is an excellent reason to investigate. It is a poor substitute for evidence. Serendipity, then, is an unexpected opportunity recognised and pursued. It involves luck, but also curiosity, judgment, and the willingness to depart from the plan when the world offers something better. You went looking for one thing and found another worth having. The trick is to notice before you complain that it wasn’t what you ordered.