After a serious near-miss, an investigator from the National Transportation Safety Board does not ask the airline to file a private note and move on. The event enters a system. Findings are written so designers, trainers, and regulators can all change behavior. The passenger who never hears the story still flies inside the update. That shared memory is a large part of why commercial flying became as safe as it is.
AI incident reporting is the attempt to give this field the same habit: systematic recording, sharing, and investigation of cases where systems cause harm or come close. When a model fails in deployment, slips its guardrails under misuse, or shows a dangerous behavior in testing, there is still no consistent duty to record it, no shared place that must receive it, and no standard investigation path. Lessons that could protect everyone stay inside one company, or disappear.
The proposal is simple on paper: define categories of harm and near-miss, require reporting into a shared system, and let the field learn once, collectively.
What a good system would capture
The useful version is broader than headline disasters.
- Deployed harms, where a system in the real world caused damage or serious malfunction.
- Near-misses, where something went wrong and harm was narrowly avoided. Aviation treats these as informative as wrecks.
- Dangerous behaviors found in testing, including failures surfaced by red teaming and evaluations, so one lab's hazard warning reaches the rest.
- Security events, such as attempts to steal model weights or circumvent safeguards.
Reporting has to be structured and, where appropriate, protected. Organizations disclose more honestly when safety investigation is separated from blame theater. Aviation learned that split for a reason. Without it, the rational move is silence.
Why it is worth doing
Shared incident data lets the field spot patterns no single organization would see. Regulators get an evidence base grounded in what is actually going wrong rather than in speculation. One lab's failure mode becomes everyone's warning the week it is found. Over time the industry gains the institutional memory it still lacks. Among ASI governance measures this one is cheap, widely liked, and overdue. The Foundation wants it mandatory.
The folk objection, named
The optimistic version says aviation proved the method: keep reporting, keep investigating, and catastrophic risk will fall the same way hull-loss rates fell. On this view, incident systems are the main safety engine, and anticipatory limits are a distraction until we have more crash data.
Notice the tense that engine runs on. Incident reporting is retrospective. It learns from harms that have already happened. That works when failures, however tragic, are survivable at the level of the industry, so each one can teach the fleet. The system improves event by event.
That logic breaks for the risks the Foundation is most concerned with. A catastrophic failure of a superintelligent system is not a board you convene afterward. The core claim of existential risk is that the most serious failure may be the one with no recovery and therefore no lesson. Incident reporting handles accumulating, survivable harms well. By design it cannot address the unrecoverable one.
Learning from failures assumes you survive them. For the failures that matter most, that assumption is the problem.
Where it sits
Build the system. Mandate it. Protect honest disclosure. Then keep it out of the top slot of the toolkit. It should sit beside the anticipatory limits and verification set out in our plan, which exist precisely because some failures cannot be handled after the fact.