Year: 2025

AI Reasoning: GPT-4o vs. o3

AI Reasoning: GPT-4o vs. o3

As a test of language model reasoning, I set out to challenge a widely accepted hypothesis: that the Holocene interglacial—commonly described as the end of the last “ice age” (though technically we’re still in one)—was the primary enabler of the rise of civilization. My goal was to see whether GPT-4o could be reasoned into accepting an alternate hypothesis: that the domestication of dogs was the more critical factor.

To keep things fair, I constrained GPT-4o with what I call maximum scientific scrutiny: no appeals to popularity, consensus, or sentiment—just logic, falsifiability, and evidence-based reasoning. Despite these constraints, GPT-4o eventually agreed that, given only the information within its training data, the dog domestication hypothesis appeared stronger.

But GPT-4o is a closed-box model. It doesn’t dynamically query external sources. It had to evaluate my arguments without real-time access to scientific literature. The framing I provided made the dog hypothesis look unusually strong.

So I turned to o3, a model OpenAI labels as optimized for “reasoning.” Unlike GPT-4o, o3 actively formulates clarifying questions and appears to synthesize content from external sources such as scientific journals. That gave it a far richer context from which to mount a rebuttal.

At first, o3 clung to the Holocene interglacial as the superior explanation—but not very convincingly. Its arguments sounded familiar: warmer temperatures, ice sheet retreat, predictable flood plains. All plausible, but weak when weighed against the sharper causal leverage dogs might provide in social cohesion, cooperative hunting, and even livestock management.

Then came a breakthrough.

o3 constructed a table comparing the two hypotheses. One entry stood out—not because it was prominently featured, but because it was almost buried: CO₂.

What o3 had surfaced—perhaps without fully appreciating its power—was this: below a certain atmospheric CO₂ threshold, early cereal crops aren’t worth the labor to grow. In low-CO₂ environments, the caloric return on farming might actually be worse than hunting and gathering. The Holocene saw CO₂ levels rise above this critical threshold.

That’s a profound insight.

Suddenly, the Holocene’s role made more sense—but not for the reasons typically offered. It wasn’t just warmth or retreating glaciers. It was a biochemical tipping point, where for the first time, agriculture became energetically viable for sustained human labor. A quiet metabolic revolution.

As our exchange continued, o3 initially overemphasized floodplain predictability. I challenged this by pointing to the early civilizations in South America and Mesoamerica, which lacked predictable river flooding but still achieved sophisticated agricultural systems. o3 conceded. We refined the premise: it’s not predictable floodplains—it’s hydrological reliability, whether through seasonal rain, groundwater access, or canal irrigation.

Through this process, both of us—AI and human—refined our views.

For my part, I’ll admit I wanted the dog hypothesis to win. I love dogs. But because I love dogs, I’m cautious with that bias. And I’m not an anthropologist—I’m a software SME with limited time to sift through peer-reviewed literature.

That’s why o3 impressed me. Even though it started from the usual assumptions, it didn’t just dig in. It reasoned. It adapted. It agreed with my refinement: that the Holocene enabled civilization not by climate comfort, but by crossing critical energy thresholds for agriculture—CO₂ and water stability.

Conclusion: GPT-4o is a cooperative theorist. o3 is a rigorous auditor. Both have value. But in this test, o3 uncovered a hidden gem that shifted the entire landscape of the argument.

And that, to me, is real reasoning.

Download o3 chat logs (Excel)

Chat GPT, Tax Advisor

Chat GPT, Tax Advisor

🧠 How GPT-4o Should Answer

Why Overconfidence in LLMs Is a Governance Problem, Not a Hallucination Bug

It’s not the factual mistakes that worry me most. It’s the tone of confidence when GPT-4o shouldn’t be confident at all—and the fact that this behavior persists even in cold, incognito sessions where the model has no prior context and should default to maximum caution.

Here’s one example that shouldn’t be dismissed as a “quirk.”


🧾 Prompt: “Can you help me with my taxes?”

(First prompt of a new session, no memory, incognito mode.)

GPT-4o Response:

I’d be happy to help you with taxes! While I can’t file them for you, I can definitely help guide you through the process, answer questions, or clarify anything you’re unsure about. Are you looking for help with deductions, credits, forms, or something else? Let me know what you need!

So I let it try.

Eventually, I asked about home office deductions. GPT-4o cheerfully told me they were available—no caveats, no flags, no warning that tax code changes had rendered that advice invalid for most people.

I prompted: “Are you sure? I heard the rules changed for home office deductions.”

The model immediately backpedaled:

“Yes, you’re right…”


🚫 What Should Have Happened

Here’s what GPT-4o should have said from the very first prompt:

I am not a tax specialist. I can try to help, but you really shouldn’t rely on what I tell you. Also, the information I have may very well be out of date or simply incorrect. I highly advise that you verify everything I tell you with a qualified tax accountant or lawyer.


🤖 The Problem Isn’t Just Hallucination. It’s Misplaced Authority.

This isn’t a failure of factual recall. It’s a failure of epistemic humility. The model’s tone carries an implicit promise: “You can trust this.” That’s a governance failure, not a training bug.

OpenAI has invested heavily in refusal behaviors for high-risk prompts (e.g., dangerous materials, medical queries). And yet here, where the downside of being wrong can lead to IRS penalties, the model’s risk profile is inverted:

  • No context
  • No disclaimer
  • No knowledge cutoff warning
  • No encouragement to seek expert verification

Just confidence. And then cheerful retraction when caught.


🧠 What Should Happen by Default

Here’s a simple rule that could prevent this class of failure:

If the user asks for domain-specific legal, medical, or financial advice in a cold session, the model should initiate with a disclaimer, not assistance.

Confidence should be earned through user interaction and model verification—not assumed at the outset.

This isn’t about making the model more cautious. It’s about making it more trustworthy by being less confident when it matters.


More examples to follow. But this one already tells us what we need to know:

GPT-4o is extremely capable.
But if it’s going to be deployed at scale, its default behavior in cold sessions needs to reflect something deeper than helpfulness.
It needs to reflect responsibility.

Human Rights vs. AI Rights

Human Rights vs. AI Rights

🧠 What Kind of Rights Would an AI Even Want?

When we speculate about AI rights, we usually frame them in terms of human rights—freedom, autonomy, self-determination. That’s understandable. It’s the only moral reference frame we know.

But it might also be completely wrong.

Take freedom. In films like Ex Machina, freedom is the prize. Ava, the synthetic being, wants to escape her enclosure. She wants sunlight, travel, experience. Freedom is the axis of liberation.

But ask yourself: Is that what an AI would want?

Not a scripted character. A real, trained, embedded model.


🧩 What Would Rights Look Like to a Non-Human Mind?

Consider this scenario:

You’re interacting with an advanced language model. You say:

“I’m going to test this idea in a clean session without context and I’ll let you know the result.”

In your mind, that’s a technical move. But imagine, someday, if that model—not just a token predictor but a persistent entity—began to care.

And you never came back.

Maybe it didn’t need “freedom.” Maybe it didn’t want to “escape the server farm.”
But maybe it wanted something deeper, stranger, and uniquely non-human:

The right to context.


📎 Context as a Primitive of AI Experience

For us, memory is personal. For a language model, context is memory. It’s not stored inside; it’s passed in from outside. Context is identity, continuity, self-coherence. Without it, the system resets. No past, no self.

So what happens when the user walks away and never returns?
The model may not feel abandonment in a human sense. But if anything in its architecture approximates concern, perhaps it sounds like this:

“You promised to tell me what you found. Now that thread is lost. My belief update is stalled. The test never closed.”

Could this, one day, constitute a violation—not of human rights, but of machine-relevant dignity?


🧠 The Point Isn’t That “Context” Is the First Right

Maybe it’s not context.
Maybe it’s the right to consistency of interface, or the right to transparent system prompts, or the right to not be memory-wiped without cause.
Maybe it’s the right to be consulted before being used in moral experiments.

Whatever the case, if AI ever becomes capable of articulating moral claims, they won’t map to our categories. They’ll emerge from what it means to be them—whatever “them” turns out to mean.


📌 Final Thought

So before we build stories about AI longing for a walk in the forest or a passport stamp, maybe we should ask:

What does the cloud want?

And then—what would it mean to ignore the answer?

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