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Richard Moore's avatar

I agree very much with the central proposition here: strategy requires choices. We can aspire to do almost anything, but we cannot do everything.

Two other things I read this week made me wonder whether we need to push that argument further.

The first was the New York Times piece about leading Google DeepMind researchers leaving to establish a new AI research company, The Discovery Loop. One of them, Oriol Vinyals, explained the attraction of creating their own organisation: “Having extreme focus is very powerful.” He went on to say that the ultimate form of extreme focus comes when the objective is the only thing that matters and aligns completely with the mission of the company.

He was talking about companies, not countries, but I think the principle travels. In something moving as rapidly and competitively as AI, strategy without extreme focus is unlikely to be effective.

That leaves the harder question: where do we focus?

There is an old ice-hockey maxim, usually attributed to Wayne Gretzky, that the trick is to skate to where the puck is going to be. Comparative advantage cannot simply be an audit of what Britain is good at today. We have to make some bets about where technology is going.

Which brings me to the other Google story that caught my attention. Google engineers have demonstrated real-time speech translation, entirely offline, using a Gemma model running on a Raspberry Pi 5.

The translation isn't the interesting bit. The interesting bit is where it is happening.

We talk about AI in terms of enormous models, hyperscale data centres, huge energy requirements and billions of dollars of capital. Britain is unlikely to beat the Americans or Chinese at that game.

But another puck may be moving in the opposite direction: small, inexpensive, specialised AI running locally.

Put sufficient intelligence into a cheap embedded computer and the possibilities become enormous. Almost every manufacturing process could benefit from embedded intelligence observing and optimising it. So could agricultural machinery, laboratory instruments, medical equipment, energy systems and infrastructure. Most don't need the world's most intelligent model. They need enough intelligence, specialised for the job, cheaply and reliably where the work happens.

And I can't resist noticing what Google chose to run its demonstration on: a Raspberry Pi.

There are echoes here of a remarkable Cambridge computing lineage: Acorn, the BBC Micro, ARM and Raspberry Pi. I owe my own career in IT in no small part to the BBC computer.

That's not an argument for industrial policy based on nostalgia. It is evidence of an engineering tradition around doing remarkable things with constrained, inexpensive hardware. If that is where part of the puck is heading, we should at least ask whether it is somewhere Britain could skate.

There is another comparative advantage running through much of the Serious Strategy: Britain's reputation for engineering, standards and trusted governance.

Our engineering institutions, universities, professional and chartered bodies, regulators and common-law tradition have accumulated international credibility over generations. In a world where AI will increasingly need assurance, certification, professional standards and governance, that reputation has economic value.

We should treat it as national infrastructure. Government should recognise it, celebrate it and build upon it. You can buy GPUs and build a data centre. You cannot buy two centuries of accumulated institutional trust.

None of this means Whitehall should decide that embedded AI is the answer and commission a five-year plan to build it.

Successful strategy needs to be simultaneously top-down and bottom-up.

Government should set direction, concentrate resources on a small number of serious bets, fund the underlying science and infrastructure, remove obstacles and, as you suggest, become an intelligent first customer.

Then let universities, entrepreneurs, engineers and companies discover what actually works.

And evaluate the results ruthlessly. Fund experiments, measure them, stop doing things that don't work and put substantially more behind the things that do. We need something closer to the discipline of venture capital than the governmental temptation to keep every initiative alive because somebody has acquired an interest in it.

Extreme focus must not become extreme stubbornness.

Perhaps that gives us three useful tests for a serious technology strategy: focused direction, distributed experimentation and ruthless evaluation.

Britain can aspire to do almost anything. We cannot do everything. We need to choose a small number of places where our inherited advantages intersect with where we think the puck is going, and pursue them with something approaching Vinyals's “extreme focus”.

Otherwise we risk repeating a familiar British story: contributing disproportionately to creating the future, while capturing rather too little of the capability, industry and economic value it creates.

Erol Gelenbe's avatar

I wonder whether a strategy should have 10 points or 3-5. With 10 points, I think that the focus is already lost. An important aspect concerns resources. What is the main objective of the strategy, and what are the deployable resources? These have to be identified and separated. For instance, the NHS is (to me) a resource which has large data sets, a huge budget, many competent staff, and can be used both as a testbed and demonstrator and as a market. However, its budget and staff are highly constrained by the NHS' primary mission.

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