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Silicon Valley’s AI ‘tokenmaxxing’ obsession has a big problem – and philosophers saw it coming

Some time earlier this year, an employee at tech giant Meta built a system to track how much each staff member was using artificial intelligence (AI).

Named “Claudeonomics” after the Claude chatbot, the system created a leaderboard ranked by the number of tokens each user was exchanging with AI models, with leaders given titles such as “Token Legend”. (Tokens are tiny chunks of text, each around four characters long, that language models use for processing.)

Meta is not alone in its fascination with “tokenmaxxing”: AI labs OpenAI and Anthropic, e-commerce company Shopify, and tech investment firm Sequoia capital are all reportedly monitoring AI usage and rewarding heavy users, some of whom burn billions of tokens in a week.

Reducing a person’s performance to a single metric can be appealing for management in large corporations. But the choice of what to measure isn’t a neutral one – and if we’re not careful, it can start to rewrite our vision of what we actually value.

The score keeps the score

One of the more full-throated advocates of tokenmaxxing is Jensen Huang, chief executive of chipmaker Nvidia, who envisions a future in which tech employees negotiate high token budgets and consume tokens at rates commensurate with their salaries. Around 80% of those tokens are currently processed via Nvidia’s chips, so Huang’s enthusiasm makes sense.

But is token consumption a helpful metric for those of us who do not profit directly from AI processing volume?

In a recent book, The Score, philosopher C. Thi Nguyen analyses the rise of metrics throughout modern society and offers some helpful insights.

As Nguyen emphasises, what we measure shapes our goals. We develop metrics as tools of convenience; they standardise our measurement of values so we can compare large numbers of otherwise disparate things.

This standardisation comes at the expense of variation and distinctiveness, Nguyen argues. In business, it can make workers seem interchangeable.

Determining which employees in a large organisation are consuming the most tokens in a week is fairly straightforward. But it tells us nothing about the quality or impact of their work.

Bad metrics, bad results

In the past, questionable metrics have contributed to dramatically bad outcomes.

Prior to the 2008 global financial crisis, for example, many financial institutions had sophisticated systems of measures designed to incentivise selling as many loans as possible, as quickly as possible. Perhaps unsurprisingly, many of those loans turned out to be far riskier than anyone realised.

Nguyen emphasises that these types of metrics can tempt us into thinking they are unavoidable. But one of the central lessons of moral philosophy is that we ought to pause at moments like these and ask a couple of basic questions: what is a good life, and what values are actually worth chasing?

Huang and others usually don’t present tokenmaxxing as an answer to these question. But that’s how it functions. What is worth devoting your professional and creative energy to? Simple: grinding through tokens.

A new vision of the good life?

Silicon Valley has, of late, produced a striking number of manifestos and quasi-constitutions.

Consider Anthropic’s Claude’s Constitution, published in January 2026, which sets out the company’s aspirations for its model’s values and speech. Or look at venture capitalist Marc Andreessen’s Techno-Optimist Manifesto, which makes the case for ambitiously accelerating technological advancements in the service of promoting human flourishing.

Some of the most influential texts in the history of moral and political philosophy take this form. Thomas Jefferson wrote one – the US Declaration of Independence. Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels wrote another – The Communist Manifesto.

One way to view these Silicon Valley proclamations, and trends like tokenmaxxing, is as repackaging familiar commonplaces of corporate life – recasting mission statements and key performance indicators in a loftier register. But another is to see them as attempts to do something far more ambitious: sketch the outlines of a new and far-reaching vision of the good life.

On that view, the metrics used to measure progress against the vision matter. Tokenmaxxing, for example, is already creeping beyond the bounds of the tech industry – one report from the Wharton School at the University of Pennsylvania suggests many organisations are prioritising staff AI usage and spending as metrics.

Metrics can be useful – if we’re careful

Metrics do have their place in an ordered and complex society. There are many instances in which we might happily defer to the scores produced by simple metrics, trading nuance for convenience. Aggregate ratings on product or restaurant review sites, for example, can simplify our decision-making, even if they aren’t tailored to our specific preferences.

The problem is what Nguyen calls “value capture” – when we uncritically allow external metrics to determine our own goals and behaviour. Resisting this process involves questioning what is being measured and reframing it.

Instead of counting tokens, for example, we might use an equivalent metric such as energy consumption. Energymaxxing might sound more like conspicuous wastage, rather than improved performance.

Counting tokens is one measure of AI activity, which is itself intended as a measure of productivity, which in turn leaves aside the question of what is being produced. Not only is tokenmaxxing a dubious metric in itself, but it may also distort our vision of what matters.

The Conversation

Victoria Lorrimar receives funding from the John Templeton Foundation.

Tim Smartt does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

Beast: Australia’s first MMA film, starring Russell Crowe, is cheesy yet oddly comforting

Stan

For a nation obsessed with professional sport, there is a surprising dearth of Aussie sports films. There have been, of course, a handful of memorable ones: The Club (1980), The Coolangatta Gold (1984) and, more recently, The Final Winter (2007).

But apart from the low-budget 2024 film Life After Fighting – understandable if you haven’t heard of it, it made less than A$6,000 at the box office – Beast is the first Australian film to be set in the world of mixed martial arts.

Patton James (Daniel MacPherson) is a retired fighter pulled back into the game due to tough circumstances. His young daughter Maddie (Sol Nc Carrico) needs to see an expensive specialist, his wife Luciana (Kelly Gale) is pregnant with another, and he barely makes a living working for a petty tyrant on a fishing boat.

When the opportunity to earn $150,000 fighting his former nemesis, world champion Xavier Grau (Bren Foster), arises, he finds it impossible to resist, despite the imprecations of his loving wife.

So Patton returns to his old trainer Sammy (Russell Crowe). And despite some bad blood between them, Sammy and his daughter Rose (Amy Shark, in her feature film debut) end up helping him get in shape for the fight.

After several trials and tribulations, the whole thing culminates in a bout in Thailand. “A fight all about redemption, no… revenge”, the commentator tells us. Guess the result?

Singer-songwriter Amy Shark plays Sammy’s (Crowe) daughter Rose, in her feature film debut. Stan

Bland delivery, bad accents

Beast has all the expected cliches, and to say the narrative is predictable is an understatement.

But for a feel good “against the odds” sports film, this isn’t necessarily a problem. There can be something pleasurable in watching cliché after cliché unfold, and genre cinema’s capacity to fulfil our expectations is one of the reasons we keep coming back to it.

But the problem is, Beast for the most part rings as hollow as the character’s names, which could only exist in a scriptwriter’s dreams – Patton James and Xavier Grau… come on.

Director Tyler Atkins found something charming and fresh in his undeniably sentimental earlier film, Bosch & Rockit (2022). Beast, however, feels stale. Much of this is technical, with many of the elements not really working (or not working well together).

Much of the films technical elements don’t really work together. Stan

Russell Crowe is a fine actor, and his revival as an angry, hefty middle-aged chap (as in the smashing 2020 film Unhinged) has been effective. But one can’t imagine this role would have stretched him much, and it feels like he’s just going through the motions.

Similarly, we’re consistently aware of the effort TV star MacPherson is putting into the lead role of Patton, and this makes for a valiant but not entirely convincing performance.

Kelly Gale acts like a model as Patton’s long-suffering wife, her undeniable presence offset by a strikingly monotone delivery.

The only standouts are screen veterans Matt Nable, excellent as usual in a tiny role as loan shark Barry Dunne, and Nathan Phillips, who has a small but memorable role as the skipper of the fishing boat, and Bren Foster, a martial artist-turned actor who commands every scene in which he appears.

Bren Foster commands every scene he appears in. Stan

The whole thing plays like Australian television rather than cinema. It’s like a 1940s melodrama with none of the style or mood – blandly lit with rudimentary cinematography, accompanied by a stock standard orchestral score, matching unconvincing American accents from some of the key actors (Luke Hemsworth’s accent as sleazy promoter Gabriel Stone perhaps explains why his career hasn’t been that of his brothers Chris or Liam).

At once unconvicing and strangely comforting

The screenplay is dull, co-written by Crowe, who also produced the film. It seems so concerned with coming across as an “Aussie film full of heart”, it ends up without any.

There are some unintentionally funny lines, such as what wise trainer Sammy says to Patton when he hears he’s taken the fight just for the money:

Time’s not a commodity like that. You’ve got moments and memories. If you don’t take the moments, you don’t get the memories.

That said, despite being soapy and not very convincing, Beast is quite watchable as a kind of sports telemovie – earnest, if a bit lame. Sure, it runs through the motions, but the motions are compelling enough to warrant a watch for fans of Aussie cheese.

There’s something eternally pleasurable about watching an against the odds sporting movie replete with training montages, even if it is Home and Away’s answer to Rocky IV.

Beast is showing on Stan from today.

The Conversation

Ari Mattes does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

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