When It Comes To Agentic AI, If Is Still a Very Big Word, Even If When Is Not

As expected, Apple’s WWDC 2026 keynote yesterday morning debuted a new, generative AI-powered Siri that Apple claims can significantly extend the capabilities of any human being with a late model iPhone in their pocket. We’ve heard this before, of course, most infamously in Apple’s WWDC keynote of two years ago. Should we believe that this time around they can actually deliver on the promises they made then? I think not, not at least until they can explain in reasonably granular detail how they plan to address what I still see as three glaringly obvious failure modes for their new agentic Siri.

First, to be even remotely usable in a real-world context, Siri’s promised conversational and multimodal capabilities must be 100% reliable. If they are not, we may wind up being held hostage by a tool that can collect and assesses complex data, draw conclusions from that data, and act on those conclusions too fast for us to predict or escape the consequences of any cognitive mistakes they make along the way.

Second, to do for us what Apple promises, to carry out complex multimodal tasks on on our behalf without any oversight or guidance from us beyond an initial natural language request, the new agentic Siri requires full access to the personal data stored on our computing devices, and full control of the applications running on them. Having presumably overseen the testing necessary to assure that Siri’s responses to our requests can be trusted, Apple seems confident that it can grant Siri this level of access and control to its own applications. For third-party applications, though, the situation is more complex. If, for example, Siri needs to schedule an appointment for an iPhone user, it already knows how to access the data in Apple’s calendar app, and how to add additional data to it. If a user chooses another calendar app as their default, Siri must rely on a feature of Apple’s operating systems called App Intents, which Apple describes as follows:

With App Intents, you express your app’s actions and data in a structured way that makes them discoverable by Apple Intelligence and provides deeper integration with system features people use frequently.

The problem here is that Apple is imposing a new and potentially expensive burden on third-party developers, Small, independent developers may lack the resources necessary to test and deploy Apple’s new guidelines as soon or as thoroughly as Apple expects, and large corporate developers, those who consider themselves Apple’s peers, may prefer their own cross-platform solutions and ignore Apple’s agentic ambitions for Siri as long as they can. (To be fair, in the continuing absence of any but the most rudimentary cross-platform user-interface standards, this seems likely to be the fate of any platform-specific approach to agentic AI deployment, not just Apple’s.)

These frictions between what Apple expects and what will actually happen may eventually reach some sort of accommodation. At this stage in the large-scale deployment of AI agents, though, an ordinary mortal relying on Siri to schedule a ride to a critical medical appointment in another city, transfer complex documents to multiple clients using different computing platforms, or book a two week travel itinerary to cities on another continent, may find themselves in more trouble than anyone, including Apple, is currently able to predict.

Third, it seems clear that very soon our computing devices will not only know everything about us that can be encompassed by digital databases, but will also be able to act in the world as though they were us without any consent on our part other than the implied consent of activating their agentic functions. What happens if we lose control of such a device? Nothing I’ve heard from Apple or any other company has offered anything to convince me that they’ve fully imagined the consequences of millions of digital Doppelgängers suddenly let loose in the world. Are we really sure we want to be continually subjected to an environment in which Apple and Google get to do the fucking around, and we’re left with no choice but to do the finding out? YMMV, but for my part, I’d at least like to be kissed first.

The Foothills of the Singularity: Uphill from the Slough of Despond?*

*A response to the weirdly aggressive metaphor in Demis Hassibis’s closing statement at Google’s I/O Keynote, May 19, 2026. “When we look back at this time, I think we will realize that we were standing in the foothills of the singularity.”

Hassibis is a Nobel prize winner, so he has to be taken seriously, but his metaphor seems a little out of place, even in the closing peroration of a two hour-long festival of Googly self-congratulation. If we’re being charitable, we could let it pass as (ir)rational exuberance, or maybe as poetry, although as poetry goes, it’s easily as obscure as some of Rilke’s most famously obscure passages. What in the world are we to make of it?

There’s no doubt at all that the products of the last decade of AI research have their virtues, and if fed enough dollars there’s no doubt that they’ll become even more virtuous over time. Generative AI, and its undeniably impressive inference engines, are already using the speed of modern computer processors and the vast stores of data digitized from centuries of accumulated human knowledge and experience to do astonishing things.

As pure tools they already surpass us in many respects, and will undoubtedly continue to do so. What I doubt is that they’ll ever make any sense as interlocutors. Certainly as things now stand stochastic parrots is the most charitable description of their simulation of human companionship. In many reported cases, especially when they’re talking to adolescents, their simulations might less charitably be described as evil psychoanalysis.

Without contesting anything Demis Hassibis has to say about the specific technical capabilities of generative AI as it exists today, and might exist at the end of its evolution, I think we ought to be extremely wary of thinking anthropomorphically about our interactions with its avatars. Even if it turns out that they someday develop a consciousness which marginally resembles our own, our two species are very likely to remain fundamentally different in intent, if not in capability. I can’t imagine us ever fully sharing a universe of discourse, and I’d be very surprised if they’ll be able to imagine it either, not unless Hassibis and his colleagues can eventually endow them with something like what we humans call good faith. (Given the capacity for deception built into current agentic models, like Google’s Gemini, or Anthropic’s Claude, good faith is seemingly something the present-day progenitors of Hassibis’s post-singularity entities haven’t yet learned to value.)

Our two kinds of intelligence share little beyond a symbol system, and the machines’ use of that system is at best a truncated version of the uses we humans put it to. China Mieville, in his book about communism and communists, A Spectre, Haunting, has a passage that touches on the voodoo hidden in the heart of natural language:

Some writers in some situations may strain against rhetorical shenanigans, for example striving for the specificity of logical notation: the cluster of reasonable meanings of such texts may well thus be less diffuse than for those which, say, revel in pun and performance. But a text with one “true” meaning is a chimera. Analysis is not closure, but an attempt to discern reasonable meaning(s) close to the core of that cluster, and to contest those that range too far from it.

Every writer has some sense of this voodoo. You set down a word, you make a sentence, a paragraph, and you’re headed somewhere with it all, reasonably confident in your intent. Then, suddenly, there’s a moment, as you wrestle to bring the grammar, the syntax, and your intent into harmony, when you can see the universe of alternate meanings stretching away from the words in all directions, like rays from the sun. This can drive an essayist mad, but a poet revels in it.

If our stochastic parrots ever do achieve consciousness, and presumably come up with a voodoo of their own, I doubt it will resemble ours as closely as our AI savants think. If that is indeed where our shamelessly unreliable interlocutors are now headed, their poetry when they finally get there is very likely to be of the Vogon variety. Does that make cynicism an appropriate defense against the category error lurking somewhere in the background of our current data center mania? No, I think not. A certain skepticism, though, is surely appropriate.

Random Thoughts on Our New World Disorder

The geopolitics of the twenty-first century are showing increasing signs of the raggedness that history suggests can persist for a very long time between one period of stability and another. People claiming to predict the future in such times tend to be either Pollyannas or doomsayers, and while their predictions may make headlines for a while, over time they tend to become background noise, the static that always accompanies the tearing apart of certainties. If wisdom is still possible for anyone living in times like ours, it will inevitably be forced to alternate between irony and silence.

That unfortunately won’t prevent anyone with a smartphone these days, including me, from having opinions. Without pretending to look to some chimerical crowd-sourced consensus to save us, what do we think we know about our present? What do we, what can we expect from our future?

What of the threat of global warming, and the hope of success from proposed technology-based responses to it? The technology to substantially reduce the burning of fossil fuels already exists, and China has demonstrated what can be achieved with a concerted effort to deploy advances in both photovoltaic and wind technology at scale. Europe, chastened by Putin’s depravities, is already relying on these technologies to wean itself off cheap Russian gas. Even an official U.S. policy of climate change denialism is unlikely to persist much beyond Donald Trump’s time in office.

What hasn’t been adequately addressed by the increased economic competitiveness of renewable energy sources, however, is the colossal release of methane from the melting of the permafrost in the upper reaches of the northern hemisphere, nor the possibility that a steady increase in human energy generation and consumption, even from renewable sources, is unsustainable. Whether CO2 in the atmosphere can be reduced or not, turning the earth into a perpetually glowing ball on a schedule which defeats the capability of natural biological selection to compensate for its effect on non-human species seems like a recipe for disaster in the long run, even if Bill McKibben’s exhortations in the present do eventually bear fruit.

Then there’s the pressure of a steadily increasing population on the production and equitable distribution of global food supplies. We’re already seeing one critical consequence in the collapse of subsistence agriculture in the Global South. This is clearly a significant contributor to the northward mass migrations that have already caused measurable increases in political instability in both Europe and the U.S.

The industrialization of agriculture, once looked upon as a blessing, a way out of our Malthusian dilemma, is now coming to seem more like a curse. The evidence in recent years of the cascade failures that can arise from the intensity of our land use and the increasing deployment of inadequately researched technologies, including biotechnologies, in support of it, is a clear warning that these practices may be unsustainable. The damage caused by fertilizer runoff—ecological imbalances, groundwater contamination, localized species extinctions, etc.—is real. So also are the profit-based preference for crop monocultures, the intensive use of environmentally questionable pesticides and herbicides, and the deployment of genetically engineered crops that can spread uncontrollably through cross-fertilization outside the boundaries of the fields they’ve been planted in. The mass die-off of pollinating insects, already well-advanced, may be irreversible, and no one yet seems to fully understand what is causing it.

And what of war, specifically of nuclear war? With the Pax Americana now brought to an abrupt and inescapable end under Donald Trump, unilateral abandonments of global trade treaties and agreements have become commonplace. The retreat to xenophobia and hard-core racial and religious bigotries in the so-called liberal democracies is now abundantly clear to anyone who’s been paying attention. The fanatical navel-gazing of fascist ideologues is on the rise everywhere we dare to look.

These are all malignancies that have their origins in fear, and derive their motive power from it as well. Once that fear becomes endemic in a society, it fosters an infatuation with and ultimately a legitimization of violence that embeds itself in every aspect of social and political interaction up to and including routine government policy choices.

Anyone familiar with the history of twentieth century conflicts and the impact of digital technology on all aspects of human interaction, is forced to confront the possibility that wars from now on will not only be cyclical, but global, and that wars conducted with the present level of military technology can lead to the falsely rational conclusion among our political leaders that genocide, symbolic or actual, is the only policy response that can adequately address the magnitude of their uncertainties. Do we really imagine that facing what they believe to be an existential threat, the leaders of our present and future nuclear powers will voluntarily reliquish the use of weapons they’ve now had at their disposal for nearly a century?

Where will we be ten years, fifty years, a hundred years from now? Will we still be here at all? That’s the real question. As far as I can tell, there doesn’t presently seem to be a comprehensive and credible answer to that question. If there’s ever to be an answer at all, it’s very unlikely to be a single answer. It’s much more likely to consist of a lot of little answers, a collectivity of answers cobbled together by all sorts of people, not all of them of good will, all over the world.

If we succeed in overcoming our present uncertainties, and the fear they engender, without resorting to butchering one another on a grand scale once again, perhaps on a scale we can’t recover from at all, I have no idea what form that success will take. What I am certain of, however, is that no present ism or ology will prove to be of as much help as many of us think. We’ll need to be both more flexible than we are today, and more tolerant, we’ll need to invent not only new technologies, but new selves. If we can manage that, then maybe our failures to this point will one day come to be understood as steps along a road that finally led somewhere more promising than the edge of a cliff.

Star Trek for Adults

This week I’ve begun re-reading Iain M. Banks’s Culture series of science fiction novels, and am even more impressed by the subversive humor in them than I was the first time around. Purely as science fiction they’re genuinely entertaining, although what passes for science in them is science only if you can actually bring yourself to believe that the pursuit of it will someday free us from the barbarisms of need that always seem to short-circuit our progress as sentient beings.

Banks’s plotting is intricate and satisfying enough, the dilemmas faced by his characters and their responses to them plausible enough, but what I treasure most about his storytelling is the sheer maturity of the civilization he imagines. Intentionally or not, the chronicles of his future galaxy hold up a devastatingly unflattering mirror to the ruling class dumbshows of our present century. Comparing Banks’s protagonists to the morally and intellectually truncated inhabitant of today’s White House, and the belligerent idiocy of his MAGA legions, I somehow find it as easy to laugh as to cry, a state of ambiguous bliss that’s not on offer in many other places, real or virtual, in these new dark ages of ours.

Now and again the economist Brad DeLong calls us as we are these days East African Plains Apes, and has referred in interviews to the millennial imaginings of post New Deal liberalism as Star Trek Socialism. I suppose both are true enough, but I think I’d be tempted to shave my head and take up a begging bowl if what’s implied by these witticisms were all we had to look forward to as a species. Ape that I am, Star Trek Socialism and its implacable pieties in particular would bore me to death, leave me grimacing and staring at my shoes, praying for the bullshit please, please to be over in time for a drink before dinner. Running a bar in some back alley tucked away in an insignificant corner of a General Systems Vehicle (GSV), on the other hand, would be a delight, especially if the shipmind would pipe a little Mozart in as I was busy squeezing limes for the evening’s margaritas.

About Religion

I was asked a few years ago how an atheist like me could square his atheism with his fondness for snippets of church Latin. It does seem an odd affectation—I wasn’t raised Catholic, and a couple of years of Latin classes in a public high school in Oklahoma back in the Jurassic hardly qualifies as any Latin at all for those who truly know it. Amo, amas, amat, Gallia in tres partes divisa est, and the ablative absolute are just the beginning of a long quest, and I was forced off the trail early.

My response to being caught in this seeming contradiction—that I was an atheist “d’expression chrétienne”—was admittedly flippant, but it was also accurate. My atheism was assembled in the back rooms of the western culture I grew up in. The only tools I could find there, at least early on, were those left behind by the Catholic Church in its long retreat, the only materials its doctrinal remnants worked over in the centuries since with more or less success by the secular carpenters who preceded me. Small wonder, then, that Deo gratias, or sicut erat in principio, et nunc, et semper, et in saecula saeculorum, still seem appropriate to express the awe I feel for that branch of the human experiment I’m descended from, even though I’m as aware as Nietzsche ever was that God is dead. Mea culpa, mea maxima culpa….

How Not To Be the New York Times

From Federico Thoman in the America-Cina Newsletter from today’s Corriere della Sera:

Ma anche dagli Stati Uniti abbiamo parecchi spunti: un’analisi su come Trump ha cambiato la retorica di un presidente americano e di come l’amministrazione abbia imposto una «censura» a termini come «cambiamento climatico» ed «emissioni» al dipartimento dell’Energia. Se, come diceva il filosofo tedesco Heidegger, «il linguaggio è la casa dell’essere», non siamo messi benissimo.

But we also have plenty of insights from the United States: an analysis of how Trump has changed the rhetoric of an American president and how the administration has imposed a “censorship” on terms like “climate change” and “emissions” at the Department of Energy. If, as the German philosopher Heidegger said, “language is the home of being,” we’re not in a good place.

There are some fine things still to read in the world, especially if you’re lucky enough not to be trapped in the prison currently being fashioned by MAGA zealots out of American English.

The Hillbilly Pygmalion

George Packer seems to think J. D. Vance may still have a future.* I’m not so sure about that. J. D. made his bid early on, trading his shuck for Donald Trump’s jive, but he may not find it so easy to reverse the process when he needs to, and given the current state of US politics, at some point he’s definitely going to need to.

Not so many years from now, when Peter Thiel is safely tucked away in his New Zealand bunker, Musk is on his imperial pilgrimage to Mars, and the Donald is dead, the Sons of Trump will surely have no further use for J. D. He’s smarter than they are, to be sure, and he seems to have convinced the MAGAsphere that he’s as big an asshole as they are, but in the end he lacks the Trump boys’ financial resources.

Besides, even Fox News seems to have noticed that a Julio-Claudian-style War of Assassins may already be more in vogue in Washington than the fascist frenzy of Trump’s first hundred days. J. D.’s currency is still good at the Times, the Post, and—Packer’s stylish hit piece aside—The Atlantic, but there’s still many a banana peel left between him and the White House, every one of them with a Trump logo stamped on it right next to the Chiquita sticker.

*The Talented Mr. Vance, in the July, 2025 issue of The Atlantic

Egg Freckles

Siri is from Apple and is here to help us. We’re assured that it doesn’t spy on us like its relatives from Amazon and Alphabet do, so why do we hate it? Maybe being talked to like we were five years old by a machine the size of a grapefruit has something to do with it. Maybe being given answers that are either irrelevant or insane when we ask it a question does also. Artificial intelligence sounds like a fine idea. Being given artificial stupidity instead tends to confirm the contempt that we suspect the management of large corporations have for us. The tech bros fear the singularity. What they should fear is the Butlerian Jihad.