Within two days, Bender had sent Gebru an outline. They later came up with a title, adding a cheeky emoji for emphasis: “On the Dangers of Stochastic Parrots: Can Language Models Be Too Big?”

Gebru assembled a research team for the paper within Google, including her colead Mitchell. In response to the encouraging words in Dean’s annual review, she flagged the paper as an example of the work she was pursuing. “Definitely not my area of expertise,” Dean said, “but would definitely learn from reading it.”

A few hours later, I published a story for MIT Technology Review with the first detailed account of the paper’s contents. The signatories on the open letter would quickly double, reaching nearly 7,000 people from academia, civil society, and industry, including almost 2,700 Google employees. On December 9, as protests continued, Google CEO Sundar Pichai issued an apology. “We need to accept responsibility for the fact that a prominent Black, female leader with immense talent left Google unhappily,” he wrote. “Dr. Gebru is an expert in an important area of AI Ethics that we must continue to make progress on—progress that depends on our ability to ask ourselves challenging questions.”

For more than a year, the protests continued, picking up a second wave after Google fired Meg Mitchell less than three months later. Google said she had violated multiple codes of conduct; Mitchell had been downloading her emails and files related to Gebru’s ouster. Several Google employees, including Bengio, resigned; at least one conference and several researchers rejected Google’s sponsorship money. The company sought to stem the unending tide of criticism with the formation of a new center of expertise on responsible AI and public commitments to diversity. “This was a painful moment for the company,” a Google spokesperson said. “It reinforced how important it was that Google continue its work on responsible AI and learn from the experience.”

But what seemed to bother Dean the most was how other people had misread Strubell’s research to make Google look significantly worse. The “Stochastic Parrots” paper, Dean argued, risked exacerbating this issue. Because Gebru did have access to Google’s internal numbers and was citing Strubell’s external estimate anyway, it could appear as if Strubell’s calculations were an accurate reflection of the company’s emissions. To Dean, this justified his and other senior executives’ criticisms of Gebru’s paper: If Gebru had wanted to cite Strubell, she should have chosen an estimate that was not Google’s Evolved Transformer; if Gebru had wanted to cite the Evolved Transformer, she should have sought internal Google numbers.

Some researchers found this logic frustratingly inadequate. Google had never made those internal numbers public previously, even in response to Strubell’s original paper; now it was blaming Gebru for its own lack of transparency while also refusing to let her cite publicly available estimates based on legitimate assumptions. Never mind that the company had unceremoniously forced out Gebru before she’d even had a chance to consult internal numbers and revise her paper. The only possible outcome of this catch-22 was censorship of critical accountability research.

Alex Hanna, a sociologist and one of the Google coauthors on the “Stochastic Parrots” paper, became the first to join Gebru as DAIR’s director of research. Hanna’s first order of business was to write a research philosophy to further elaborate the ethos of the organization’s work. To do so, Gebru and Hanna hired DAIR’s third person, Milagros Miceli, another sociologist and computer scientist who had been conducting research into the AI industry’s exploitative labor practices. Together they wrote their philosophy: “Our research is intended to benefit communities which are typically not served by AI and create pathways to refuse, interrogate, and reshape AI systems together.”