Why China’s economy won’t be fixed

 

An increasingly autocratic government is making bad decisions

Whatever has gone wrong? After China rejoined the world economy in 1978, it became the most spectacular growth story in history. Farm reform, industrialisation and rising incomes lifted nearly 800m people out of extreme poverty. Having produced just a tenth as much as America in 1980, China’s economy is now about three-quarters the size. Yet instead of roaring back after the government abandoned its “zero-covid” policy at the end of 2022, it is lurching from one ditch to the next.

The economy grew at an annualised rate of just 3.2% in the second quarter, a disappointment that looks even worse given that, by one prominent estimate, America’s may be growing at almost 6%. House prices have fallen and property developers, who tend to sell houses before they are built, have hit the wall, scaring off buyers. Consumer spending, business investment and exports have all fallen short. And whereas much of the world battles inflation that is too high, China is suffering from the opposite problem: consumer prices fell in the year to July. Some analysts warn that China may enter a deflationary trap like Japan’s in the 1990s .

Yet in some ways Japanification is too mild a diagnosis of China’s ills. A chronic shortfall in growth would be worse in China because its people are poorer. Japan’s living standards were about 60% of America’s by 1990; China’s today are less than 20%. And, unlike Japan, China is also suffering from something more profound than weak demand and heavy debt. Many of its challenges stem from broader failures of its economic policymaking—which are getting worse as President Xi Jinping centralises power.

A decade or so ago China’s technocrats were seen almost as savants. First they presided over an economic marvel. Then China was the only big economy to respond to the global financial crisis of 2007-09 with sufficient stimulatory force—some commentators went as far as to say that China had saved the world economy. In the 2010s, every time the economy wobbled, officials defied predictions of calamity by cheapening credit, building infrastructure or stimulating the property market.

During each episode, however, public and private debts mounted. So did doubts about the sustainability of the housing boom and whether new infrastructure was really needed. Today policymakers are in a bind. Wisely, they do not want more white elephants or to reflate the property bubble. Nor can they do enough of the more desirable kinds of stimulus, such as pension spending and handouts to poor households to boost consumption, because Mr Xi has disavowed “welfarism” and the government seeks an official deficit of only 3% of gdp.

As a result, the response to the slowdown has been lacklustre. Policymakers are not even willing to cut interest rates much. On August 21st they disappointed investors with an underwhelming cut of 0.1 percentage points in the one-year lending rate.

This feeble response to tumbling growth and inflation is the latest in a series of policy errors. China’s foreign-policy swagger and its mercantilist industrial policy have aggravated an economic conflict with America. At home it has failed to deal adequately with incentives to speculate on housing and a system in which developers have such huge obligations that they are systemically important. Starting in 2020 regulators tanked markets by cracking down on successful consumer-technology firms that were deemed too unruly and monopolistic. During the pandemic, officials bought time with lockdowns but failed to use it to vaccinate enough people for a controlled exit, and then were overwhelmed by the highly contagious Omicron variant.

Why does the government keep making mistakes? One reason is that short-term growth is no longer the priority of the Chinese Communist Party (ccp). The signs are that Mr Xi believes China must prepare for sustained economic and, potentially, military conflict with America. Today, therefore, he emphasises China’s pursuit of national greatness, security and resilience. He is willing to make material sacrifices to achieve those goals, and to the extent he wants growth, it must be “high quality”.

Yet even by Mr Xi’s criteria, the ccp’s decisions are flawed. The collapse of the zero-covid policy undermined Mr Xi’s prestige. The attack on tech firms has scared off entrepreneurs. Should China fall into persistent deflation because the authorities refuse to boost consumption, debts will rise in real value and weigh more heavily on the economy. Above all, unless the ccp continues to raise living standards, it will weaken its grip on power and limit its ability to match America.

Mounting policy failures therefore look less like a new, self-sacrificing focus on national security, than plain bad decision-making. They have coincided with Mr Xi’s centralisation of power and his replacement of technocrats with loyalists in top jobs. China used to tolerate debate about its economy, but today it cajoles analysts into fake optimism. Recently it has stopped publishing unflattering data on youth unemployment and consumer confidence. The top ranks of government still contain plenty of talent, but it is naive to expect a bureaucracy to produce rational analysis or inventive ideas when the message from the top is that loyalty matters above all. Instead, decisions are increasingly governed by an ideology that fuses a left-wing suspicion of rich entrepreneurs with a right-wing reluctance to hand money to the idle poor.

The fact that China’s problems start at the top means they will persist. They may even worsen, as clumsy policymakers confront the economy’s mounting challenges. The population is ageing rapidly. America is increasingly hostile, and is trying to choke the parts of China’s economy, like chipmaking, that it sees as strategically significant. The more China catches up with America, the harder the gap will be to close further, because centralised economies are better at emulation than at innovation.

Liberals’ predictions about China have often betrayed wishful thinking. In the 2000s Western leaders mistakenly believed that trade, markets and growth would boost democracy and individual liberty. But China is now testing the reverse relationship: whether more autocracy damages the economy. The evidence is mounting that it does—and that after four decades of fast growth China is entering a period of disappointment. 

China’s economy is way more screwed than anyone thought

 Linette Lopez

Wed, June 14, 2023 at 11:00 AM PDT

Entering 2023, the relentless drumbeat of Wall Street consensus was pounding out one consistent rhythm: China is back. After years of lockdowns and suppressed output, economists and investors cheered the end of Beijing's zero-COVID policy and the economic boom that was sure to follow. The colossus-in-waiting that is the Chinese consumer was about to roam freely, analysts said. This was great news for the whole world — everyone would benefit from the globe's second-largest economy getting healthy.

But six months into the year, Wall Street's dreams for the country are turning into a nightmare.

Far from an economic explosion, China's recovery from COVID has been weak. Industrial production has disappointed. Trade — both imports and exports — has slowed markedly. There is debt everywhere, especially in property development, which makes up 30% of the economy. Trading partners are upset for a litany of reasons, from human-rights abuses to concerns about the government's increasing role in the country's commerce. The private sector — which was expected to drive most of China's bounceback — is running scared.

The fizzled reopening isn't just a short-term disappointment, it's a sign that the old China is gone. The mechanisms that drove the "Chinese miracle," a triple-decade transformation that made the country an international force, have broken down. The bubble in China's property market finally popped. And because of real estate's central role in the economy, the painful process of absorbing those losses will continue to suck money away from Chinese households, banks, and China's massive web of local governments. China's working-age population is getting old, and there are fewer young people to replace them than at any time in the country's modern history. Exports remain key to the economy, but countries that once championed free trade have turned from globalism to protectionism.

As opposed to slumps in the past, it also does not appear that Beijing is going to step in and reverse this downward trend. Chinese President Xi Jinping has instead been preparing his people for an era of lower growth, making it clear that's what the economy can achieve in its current state, and it's also the structure he likes.

And while Wall Street is trying to put on a good face, banks like JPMorgan are starting to write notes to clients asking if it's even worth investing there. This is one of those questions where if you have to ask, that in and of itself is a problem.

Other big-time investors are full-on ditching the once-promising country. The legendary hedge-fund manager Stanley Druckenmiller, a longtime believer in China's growth who described the entrepreneurial energy in the country before COVID as "New York on crack," painted a grim picture of the future for a crowd of attendees at the Bloomberg Invest Conference in June.

"Looking out 10 or 15 years, I just don't see it. Unless there's a change in power at the top, I think that's going to be a very undynamic economy," he said. "We're expecting a sugar high and some kind of robust growth there for the next six to nine months, but looking out, I do not look at them as a big challenge to the US in terms of economic power and growth."

Instead of the exuberant recovery that Wall Street was expecting, we are witnessing the last gasps of the Chinese economic miracle. And almost no one was ready.

Don't call it a comeback

Analysts thought that 2023 would provide us with a glorious rally in the Chinese stock market. Morgan Stanley and Goldman Sachs said it was coming. Bank of America's forecast argued that while recessions would grip the rest of the world, China would be a "notable exception" and that country's reopening would be a "reprieve." Expectations for China's growth hit a 17-year high.

It was supposed to be a great time, but it's barely been good. In April, China's economic data came in weak largely across the board. A survey of manufacturing executives by China's National Bureau of Statistics found that activity in the country unexpectedly contracted. Industrial production, another measure of how much the country is making, grew by 5.9% from the month before — solid but well shy of the 10.6% increase that analysts were expecting. And the property market, which is a key part of government revenue, also stalled out, with land sales falling 22% in the first quarter of 2023. In a note to clients aptly called "That's It?," the Societe Generale economist Wei Yao calculated that retail-sales growth compared to the month before was basically zero.

Analysts think May might bring some reprieve. Car sales seemed to be recovering, which should cheer Beijing. And analysts at China Beige Book, a service that surveys Chinese businesses, predict that the retail and service sectors will likely surprise to the upside. "CBB's revenue and profit margin indices improved for a third-consecutive month in May. They also marked the strongest single-month readings for each indicator since the initial Covid downturn of early 2020," they wrote in a recent report. But that doesn't mean the boom is just arriving a little late.

"The Chinese economy may be reopening, but it's not going to be reactivating," Leland Miller, the founder of China Beige Book, told me. This recovery is a "head fake," he said.

The problem is that while consumers may be picking up, the biggest drivers of the Chinese economy — property and exports — are going to stay dormant. Consumer consumption makes up about 37% of the Chinese economy (in the US that figure is about 70%). So a return to normal activity from consumers is helpful, but it's not enough to carry the economy. China was never going to be able to deliver on the miracle reopening that Wall Street wanted without getting the wheels of its massive export and property machines moving. Beijing has tried to shift the country toward a consumption model, like the US, but exports still make up 20% of China's economy. In May, outbound shipments declined by 7.5%, the first decrease this year. The slump is largely due to a general global economic slowdown, but it's also due in part to unfavorable geopolitical dynamics that seem to worsen by the day. Imports, an important indicator of China's domestic health, also slowed. Beijing put the entire economy in a deep freeze during COVID, but that doesn't mean reopening will heat things up. China's economic return will be lukewarm at best.

"Things will improve in 2023, and then you'll have the same structural issues slow things down in 2024, 2025," Miller said. "Then people will stop paying attention to the cyclical and start paying attention to the structural problems, which are a feature of the economy for years to come."

Not beast mode, blob mode

China is facing a long, painful road ahead, and policymakers in the Chinese Communist Party seem uninterested in market-oriented solutions to ease their journey. "The root causes of the disappointing recovery look increasingly structural — a deleveraging mindset and a more permanent loss of animal spirits," Societe Generale's Yao warned in her recent note.

At the core of China's structural problem is debt. For years, the country's growth came from infrastructure and property development, a lot of bad investments were (and still are) made because there was no concern for whether or not there was real demand for all of it. There was not. Now that bill is coming due. Beijing finally got real about the debt it helped fuel in the property market and cut off its supply of cheap credit in order to cool it down. But the ramifications of this change go beyond an implosion in one sector of the economy. We're watching sacred cows being slaughtered here.

For years, China's local governments funded themselves largely by selling land to property companies. In the US, we fund local governments through property taxes. China doesn't have that, and smaller, poorer provinces are already begging for help because the way they used to raise funds is no longer available. Imagine US politicians trying to fix a problem like this. Oh, wait, no. Don't. I want you to have a nice day.

The breakdown in local financing has a real and immediate impact on Chinese society. As the credit flow slowly got choked off, property companies started selling apartments before they were built, funding themselves on the backs of Chinese consumers. But as the market has gone bust, some developers aren't making good on their promises to the people they sold to, leaving households up the creek. Property was supposed to be a safe investment for China's savers. Over 70% of China's wealth is tied up in real estate. It was the investment that secured a family's place in the middle class. And the problem isn't just for older people nearing their twilight years — the property bust is hurting the prospects for the next generation, too. Some starved local governments are raising college tuition fees as high as 54% at a time when youth unemployment is over 20% and a record number of students are trying to get a higher education.

Working all of this debt and destruction through the economy equals deflation and slow growth. "You have to set policy for the weakest part of the system," Logan Wright, a partner at Rhodium Group told me. "That means interest rates stay low, a weaker currency, and outflows." Slower growth isn't just a shift, it's a historic end to an era.

Miracles only last so long

In this environment, trade is critical to China. Now would be an ideal time to ramp up exports, to bring in capital from the outside world. But as I've argued many times, Xi is a closer, not an opener. Geopolitical tensions have the US — China's biggest trading partner — "de-risking" from China (not decoupling, the powers that be have decided that word is too toxic). Many US corporations are looking to move operations elsewhere, either by reshoring them to the States or by "friendshoring" them to more ideologically aligned countries. Last year, China made up 50.7% of US imports from Asia; that's down from over 70% in 2013, according to the management-consulting firm Kearney.

For the rest of the world, moving away from China is inflationary — it will take time and money to set up factories closer to home. The complexities of dealing with a sputtering Chinese engine will be a problem for many countries that have become tangled in Beijing's economic web. The end of the miracle will be a pain for many investors and markets — it will make things less stable, and the world will have to find new sources of growth.

In a world of free trade and trust, China's problems would probably be easier to solve. But that's not where we are. China's economic model was built on a world that embraced globalization. We are in a world of protectionism, cautious investment, and regional alliances. As investors move their attention from short-term COVID improvements, they'll start seeing that long term, the Chinese economy has completed its transmutation from strong, rapid growth to a long, slow grind. Like many see changes in markets, this may seem like it's happening slowly, but one day it will feel like it's happening all at once.

Xi Jinping’s new world order is collapsing before our eyes

 While the UK and US, each embroiled in democracy’s perverse consequences, struggle to thwart Putin’s mad ambitions in Ukraine, their respective China strategies face forceful challenge from Beijing. Xi Jinping is pushing brinkmanship to the edge in the Taiwan Straits and doubling down, as in Honduras, on its global efforts to isolate Taiwan.

Meanwhile, leading Western technology companies, alarmed by geopolitical uncertainty and facing hostile data “legislation,” are marching out of China in droves. Microsoft has already taken LinkedIn out and is moving an expert AI team to Canada to avoid local pressure on them.

Sub-par performance by the best-known Chinese stocks are compelling some seasoned Western asset managers to cut their exposure. Where is this debacle leading, and where might it end?

Risk has been defined as exposure to hostile intentions and capabilities. This dictum omits one vital issue: whether the party at risk is aware of what is going on. Arguably much of the “free” world is either ignorant, or in denial, about Xi Jinping’s policy drivers, intentions and capabilities.

This in itself is acutely risky. A tipping point in China Risk is rapidly approaching, and with it an opportunity to turn this to the West’s advantage.

Xi Jinping is forging ahead with plans for a revisionist New Era in which China becomes the sole super-power in an authoritarian, post-democratic world order. His immediate tactics include expedient alliances with other enemies of the West to defeat sanctions and other preemptive counter-measures short of military conflict.

He is striving to exploit Western political and economic division and disarray, not least through his tacit support for Putin’s illegal invasion of Ukraine. His spuriously neutral Ukraine peace initiative lacks substance – indeed, this may be deliberate – but it symbolises his ultimate aspiration to global authority.

However, Xi is still a long way from achieving this. Though propaganda trumpets China’s triumph over the Covid virus and prospects for renewed growth, part of Xi’s aggressive haste stems from the realisation that the Chinese Communist Party state remains riddled with vulnerabilities.

China rapidly globalised its economic influence by exploiting the West’s illusion that, once admitted to the World Trade Organisation (WTO), it would engage in trade according to WTO rules and norms. But from the outset it denied foreign businesses free and fair access to its domestic market and used massive state subsidies to capture market dominance for its own products and systems across the world.

From 2018, the US has led a de facto trade war against this, while remaining uncomfortably tied to the Chinese economy by enduring debt and supply-chain dependencies.

Subsequent geopolitical and economic tensions have progressively worsened due to China’s human rights abuses, political interference, cyber espionage and IP theft, mistrust and sourcing disruption caused by the pandemic, alignment with Russia, and threats to Taiwan.

This has led to an accelerating exodus of major Western companies from China to more reliable regional bases in South-East Asia, India and Bangladesh. The low cost of factory labour in China, formerly a major draw for FDI, no longer applies. Factory wages in South China are now around three times higher than in equivalent South Asian industries.

The Chinese economy has long been struggling under Xi Jinping’s Marxist ideological chokehold. Covid lockdown early in the pandemic was a kneejerk CCP crisis management response to potential social disturbance. Imposed disastrously late, it slowed transmission but failed to boost immunity.

“Zero Covid” proved powerless against the omicron variant but was not abandoned until the export-led national economy had been badly damaged by needlessly-prolonged coercive lockdowns.

Unsurprisingly, promised recovery has not been realised. Exports are depressed and the property market is in disarray, with more and more major players being delisted on the Shanghai stock exchange. The tech sector remains traumatised by Xi’s politically-motivated crackdown in 2021, which has wiped out many jobs for educated young workers at a time of serious youth unemployment.

Debt remains toxic, demographics are intractable (despite a huge surge in mortality among the under-immunised elderly soon after Zero Covid rules were abruptly relaxed). Environmental stresses, particularly water security, are worsening.

Seemingly ignoring these headwinds, Xi Jinping’s model for economic resurgence is a distinctly ideological formula called the Dual Cycle economy. The idea is to stimulate domestic technical innovation and production, leveraging this to give China a lead in global markets for cutting-edge technologies, while concurrently driving down dependency on technical cooperation with the West.

This construct ties in existing nationalist, anti-market measures and a protectionist, sanction-proofing subtext, sitting badly with claims that China is now open to the world for “business as usual”.  Recent use of arbitrary data-protection legislation to seize records, detain staff and freeze important ESG and other compliance work done by foreign consultancies in Shanghai and elsewhere also undermines this claim.

Xi is hoarding gold, securing energy supplies and building up China’s military capabilities, in particular those used to threaten Taiwan. To argue that he will not, for some time at least, invade Taiwan for fear of the economic consequences misses the real point.

Xi would prefer to annex Taiwan without a fight, but he needs to be able to flex enough military muscle to undermine US support to the point that the Taiwanese lose faith in it and accept the inevitable. But this will not pay for itself, and scaring off FDI won’t fill any coffers.

Xi shows little capacity to tackle the fundamental unsustainability of the Chinese economy.  Failure to do so could sweep away his dreams of a revisionist New Era. There has been much talk lately of “de-risking” from China. This is a two-way process; it should entail renewed, concerted economic pressure, including enhanced sanctions, against a regime that is already far more of a global threat than Russia.

As an Indian commentator has observed, the imperative is to reinforce national power and work in step with China’s sole global “balancer,” the US. The “Atlantic Declaration” is welcome; now it needs to grow some teeth.

Yuval Noah Harari argues that AI has hacked the operating system of human civilisation

 Storytelling computers will change the course of human history, says the historian and philosopher

Fears of artificial intelligence (ai) have haunted humanity since the very beginning of the computer age. Hitherto these fears focused on machines using physical means to kill, enslave or replace people. But over the past couple of years new ai tools have emerged that threaten the survival of human civilisation from an unexpected direction. ai has gained some remarkable abilities to manipulate and generate language, whether with words, sounds or images. ai has thereby hacked the operating system of our civilisation.

Language is the stuff almost all human culture is made of. Human rights, for example, aren’t inscribed in our dna. Rather, they are cultural artefacts we created by telling stories and writing laws. Gods aren’t physical realities. Rather, they are cultural artefacts we created by inventing myths and writing scriptures.

Money, too, is a cultural artefact. Banknotes are just colourful pieces of paper, and at present more than 90% of money is not even banknotes—it is just digital information in computers. What gives money value is the stories that bankers, finance ministers and cryptocurrency gurus tell us about it. Sam Bankman-Fried, Elizabeth Holmes and Bernie Madoff were not particularly good at creating real value, but they were all extremely capable storytellers.

What would happen once a non-human intelligence becomes better than the average human at telling stories, composing melodies, drawing images, and writing laws and scriptures? When people think about Chatgpt and other new ai tools, they are often drawn to examples like school children using ai to write their essays. What will happen to the school system when kids do that? But this kind of question misses the big picture. Forget about school essays. Think of the next American presidential race in 2024, and try to imagine the impact of ai tools that can be made to mass-produce political content, fake-news stories and scriptures for new cults.

In recent years the qAnon cult has coalesced around anonymous online messages, known as “q drops”. Followers collected, revered and interpreted these q drops as a sacred text. While to the best of our knowledge all previous q drops were composed by humans, and bots merely helped disseminate them, in future we might see the first cults in history whose revered texts were written by a non-human intelligence. Religions throughout history have claimed a non-human source for their holy books. Soon that might be a reality.

On a more prosaic level, we might soon find ourselves conducting lengthy online discussions about abortion, climate change or the Russian invasion of Ukraine with entities that we think are humans—but are actually ai. The catch is that it is utterly pointless for us to spend time trying to change the declared opinions of an ai bot, while the ai could hone its messages so precisely that it stands a good chance of influencing us.

Through its mastery of language, ai could even form intimate relationships with people, and use the power of intimacy to change our opinions and worldviews. Although there is no indication that ai has any consciousness or feelings of its own, to foster fake intimacy with humans it is enough if the ai can make them feel emotionally attached to it. In June 2022 Blake Lemoine, a Google engineer, publicly claimed that the ai chatbot Lamda, on which he was working, had become sentient. The controversial claim cost him his job. The most interesting thing about this episode was not Mr Lemoine’s claim, which was probably false. Rather, it was his willingness to risk his lucrative job for the sake of the ai chatbot. If ai can influence people to risk their jobs for it, what else could it induce them to do?

In a political battle for minds and hearts, intimacy is the most efficient weapon, and ai has just gained the ability to mass-produce intimate relationships with millions of people. We all know that over the past decade social media has become a battleground for controlling human attention. With the new generation of ai, the battlefront is shifting from attention to intimacy. What will happen to human society and human psychology as ai fights ai in a battle to fake intimate relationships with us, which can then be used to convince us to vote for particular politicians or buy particular products?

Even without creating “fake intimacy”, the new ai tools would have an immense influence on our opinions and worldviews. People may come to use a single ai adviser as a one-stop, all-knowing oracle. No wonder Google is terrified. Why bother searching, when I can just ask the oracle? The news and advertising industries should also be terrified. Why read a newspaper when I can just ask the oracle to tell me the latest news? And what’s the purpose of advertisements, when I can just ask the oracle to tell me what to buy?

And even these scenarios don’t really capture the big picture. What we are talking about is potentially the end of human history. Not the end of history, just the end of its human-dominated part. History is the interaction between biology and culture; between our biological needs and desires for things like food and sex, and our cultural creations like religions and laws. History is the process through which laws and religions shape food and sex.

What will happen to the course of history when ai takes over culture, and begins producing stories, melodies, laws and religions? Previous tools like the printing press and radio helped spread the cultural ideas of humans, but they never created new cultural ideas of their own. ai is fundamentally different. ai can create completely new ideas, completely new culture.

At first, ai will probably imitate the human prototypes that it was trained on in its infancy. But with each passing year, ai culture will boldly go where no human has gone before. For millennia human beings have lived inside the dreams of other humans. In the coming decades we might find ourselves living inside the dreams of an alien intelligence.

Fear of ai has haunted humankind for only the past few decades. But for thousands of years humans have been haunted by a much deeper fear. We have always appreciated the power of stories and images to manipulate our minds and to create illusions. Consequently, since ancient times humans have feared being trapped in a world of illusions.

In the 17th century René Descartes feared that perhaps a malicious demon was trapping him inside a world of illusions, creating everything he saw and heard. In ancient Greece Plato told the famous Allegory of the Cave, in which a group of people are chained inside a cave all their lives, facing a blank wall. A screen. On that screen they see projected various shadows. The prisoners mistake the illusions they see there for reality.

In ancient India Buddhist and Hindu sages pointed out that all humans lived trapped inside Maya—the world of illusions. What we normally take to be reality is often just fictions in our own minds. People may wage entire wars, killing others and willing to be killed themselves, because of their belief in this or that illusion.

The AI revolution is bringing us face to face with Descartes’ demon, with Plato’s cave, with the Maya. If we are not careful, we might be trapped behind a curtain of illusions, which we could not tear away—or even realise is there.

Of course, the new power of ai could be used for good purposes as well. I won’t dwell on this, because the people who develop ai talk about it enough. The job of historians and philosophers like myself is to point out the dangers. But certainly, ai can help us in countless ways, from finding new cures for cancer to discovering solutions to the ecological crisis. The question we face is how to make sure the new ai tools are used for good rather than for ill. To do that, we first need to appreciate the true capabilities of these tools.

Since 1945 we have known that nuclear technology could generate cheap energy for the benefit of humans—but could also physically destroy human civilisation. We therefore reshaped the entire international order to protect humanity, and to make sure nuclear technology was used primarily for good. We now have to grapple with a new weapon of mass destruction that can annihilate our mental and social world.

We can still regulate the new ai tools, but we must act quickly. Whereas nukes cannot invent more powerful nukes, ai can make exponentially more powerful ai. The first crucial step is to demand rigorous safety checks before powerful ai tools are released into the public domain. Just as a pharmaceutical company cannot release new drugs before testing both their short-term and long-term side-effects, so tech companies shouldn’t release new ai tools before they are made safe. We need an equivalent of the Food and Drug Administration for new technology, and we need it yesterday.

Won’t slowing down public deployments of ai cause democracies to lag behind more ruthless authoritarian regimes? Just the opposite. Unregulated ai deployments would create social chaos, which would benefit autocrats and ruin democracies. Democracy is a conversation, and conversations rely on language. When ai hacks language, it could destroy our ability to have meaningful conversations, thereby destroying democracy.

We have just encountered an alien intelligence, here on Earth. We don’t know much about it, except that it might destroy our civilisation. We should put a halt to the irresponsible deployment of ai tools in the public sphere, and regulate ai before it regulates us. And the first regulation I would suggest is to make it mandatory for ai to disclose that it is an ai. If I am having a conversation with someone, and I cannot tell whether it is a human or an ai—that’s the end of democracy.

This text has been generated by a human.

Or has it?