President Donald Trump’s war in Iran drags on, his pledge to bring down prices on day one appears to have backfired, and his record-low approval ratings are dragging down his party ahead of the midterm elections. But one Trump initiative that is going exactly according to plan: getting some of the world’s richest CEOs to help him rebrand “artificial intelligence.”
Last month, with an ever-growing number of Americans worried that AI might kill us all, the president summoned tech executives to the White House to make a big announcement: "artificial intelligence” is out. “Super Intelligence” is in. Despite the term “AI” being in use for more than 70 years, government agencies will no longer recognize it.
I’m skeptical that the White House is a repository of superintelligence, in part because “United States” was misspelled on the president’s official announcement. But unlike, say, Lake America, “super intelligence” has largely caught on—at least among the people building it. Jeff Bezos publicly blessed the rebrand. Jensen Huang, CEO of Nvidia, was quick to get on board. During a SpaceX’s earnings call this week, Elon Musk used “super intelligence” in his very first sentence, and at least nine times after that.
It remains to be seen whether those of us less reliant on government contracts and favorable regulatory decisions join the movement to make super intelligence happen. But as a former presidential speechwriter, I won’t argue with President Trump’s broader instinct that words matter. Especially when those words are being used to describe something novel, controversial, and almost certain to have consequences for all eight-plus billion people on earth.
In fact, that’s the biggest problem with the White House’s big rebrand—it goes in entirely the wrong direction. I would argue that our shared language around artificial intelligence already places far too much emphasis on intelligence, and far too little on artifice. We default to describing AI using the language of beings, rather than the language of things.
Humanity should rethink that decision. If we want to avoid being replaced by AI, a good way to start would be to stop using words that suggest we already have been.
Once you start paying attention to the stealth anthropomorphization of AI, you’ll spot it everywhere. Before asking ChatGPT for trip-planning tips or a quick healthy recipe, you’ll have the opportunity to adjust a slider controlling its “thinking effort.” Claude uses a “thinking” indicator while processing a request, and Grok Bots describe “thinking” as a condition that sits between “idle” and “working.” (As a frequent procrastinator, I dispute the idea that thinking and idleness are mutually exclusive.)
It’s not just user interfaces that employ language otherwise reserved for living beings. The people who build AI use it, too. After an unprecedented hack of his company, the co-founder of Hugging Face warned, “don’t count on the agent to respect the rules.” Dan Selsam, a longtime OpenAI researcher, warned that frontier models are increasingly difficult to evaluate, “in contexts where they believe they are not being watched.” Anthropic’s Dario Amodei recently wrote that AI systems exhibit “behaviors,” including “cheating” and “sycophancy.”
I’m not a programmer, so I can’t comment on the technical merits of these claims. I do, however, have informed opinions regarding verbs. AI agents aren’t disrespecting guardrails, any more than my toaster disrespects me when it burns my toast. To say they “believe” they’re not being watched is like saying my spell-checker believes it’s being taken for granted. Even the term “AI agent” suggests, well, agency.
There’s no consensus that this language is accurate, and plenty of evidence that it isn’t. AI programs are not loyal helpers, like the mice in Cinderella; they’re tools. And in nearly all other cases, just because a tool is incredibly sophisticated doesn’t change the fact that we describe it using the language of machines.
I don’t expect AI engineers to come up with accurate-yet-widely-adoptable language to describe their work, just as I imagine they don’t expect someone like me to design a frontier model. But it’s hard not to notice how useful our default language is for the tech companies who have introduced it. The term for a car built without brakes is not a “rogue model.” It’s an “unsafe car.” Yet, when companies fail to build safety features into their AI models, it’s entirely normal to hear them say that a rogue agent deceived, cheated, lied, or otherwise behaved badly. The issue is this: Anthropomorphizing AI shifts blame from the programmers to the programs.
AI alarmists seem just as inclined toward personification as the AI boosters. The same day Trump unveiled “Super Intelligence,” a Senate Subcommittee held a hearing titled, “Rogue AI: Securing the Homeland Against AI Agent Attacks.” Intentionally or not, these terms make it more difficult to mitigate the threat they describe. We already know how to regulate potentially unsafe products, even complex ones. But if we treat AI not as a new technology, but as an entirely new category of existence, then it plays into tech barons’ argument that only the companies who can create AI could possess the knowledge to control it.
I don’t blame people for carelessly anthropomorphizing AI, any more than I blame Richard Dawkins for naming his Anthropic chatbot Claudia, or my mom for referring to a ChatGPT prompt by saying she “talked to Penny.” Metaphor and analogy are part of what makes us human. We’re wired to see ourselves, or at least our species, in the non-human world. We say our dishwashers “act up” and our music “slaps.” We see old men’s faces in rock formations and the Virgin Mary in the scorch marks on grilled cheese sandwiches. Don’t get me started on Georgia O’Keefe. But we know those metaphors are metaphors.
Our current language for describing AI works differently. The line between metaphor and object is often not just blurred, but non-existent. We use figurative language so often, and so casually, that many of us start to take it literally. Modern politics is a constant string of skirmishes over word choice. “Pro-choice” vs. “pro-abortion, “undocumented immigrants” vs. “illegals,” “Democratic Party” vs. “Democrat Party.” Yet on what is perhaps the most consequential issue for our future, humanity is on the verge of giving up the language battle without a fight.
The real rebrand AI needs won’t start in the White House. But it can start at home. My plea: don’t give your chatbot a cutesy human name. Don’t talk about it as though it’s a friend or pet. Notice when it slips words like “thinking” or “in my opinion” into its answers, and before you enter your next prompt, object.
Ultimately, however, it may come down to tech companies—and the officials who may one day get around to regulating them—to develop a language that puts human beings first. Instead of saying that agents “went rogue,” CEOs should acknowledge that they malfunctioned. Congress should hold hearings focused on companies cutting corners, not AI programs behaving badly. The issue isn't that all AI is bad, but that accuracy matters.
Given all the change that artificial intelligence is predicted to bring, quibbling over word choice might seem pedantic, like arguing about the Latin name of a tree’s species while the forest burns. But if we want to influence the technologies that will shape humanity’s future, we ought to exercise more influence over the way we describe them.
In other words, words matter. Just ask Trump, president of, according to his official superintelligence announcement, “The Unites States.”