The author of that post on X was referring to an online intelligence dashboard following the US-Israel strikes against Iran in real time. Built by two people from the venture capital firm Andreessen Horowitz, it combines open-source data like satellite imagery and ship tracking with a chat function, news feeds, and links to prediction markets, where people can bet on things like who Iran’s next “supreme leader” will be (the recent selection of Mojtaba Khamenei left some bettors with a payout).
I’ve reviewed over a dozen other dashboards like this in the last week. Many were apparently “vibe-coded” in a couple of days with the help of AI tools, including one that got the attention of a founder of the intelligence giant Palantir, the platform through which the US military is accessing AI models like Claude during the war. Some were built before the conflict in Iran, but nearly all of them are being advertised by their creators as a way to beat the slow and ineffective media by getting straight to the truth of what’s happening on the ground. “Just learned more in 30 seconds watching this map than reading or watching any major news network,” one commenter wrote on LinkedIn, responding to a visualization of Iran’s airspace being shut down before the strikes.
Much of the spotlight on AI and the Iran conflict has rightfully been on the role that models like Claude might be playing in helping the US military make decisions about where to strike. But these intelligence dashboards and the ecosystem surrounding them reflect a new role that AI is playing in wartime: mediating information, often for the worse.
There’s a confluence of factors at play. AI coding tools mean people don’t need much technical skill to assemble open-source intelligence anymore, and chatbots can offer fast, if dubious, analysis of it. The rise in fake content leaves observers of the war wanting the sort of raw, accurate analysis normally accessible only to intelligence agencies. Demand for these dashboards is also driven by real-time prediction markets that promise financial rewards to anyone sufficiently informed. And the fact that the US military is using Anthropic’s Claude in the conflict (despite its designation as a supply chain risk) has signaled to observers that AI is the intelligence tool the pros use. Together, these trends are creating a new kind of AI-enabled wartime circus that can distort the flow of information as much as it clarifies it.
As a journalist, I believe these sorts of intelligence tools have a lot of promise. While many of us know that real-time data on shipping routes or power outages exist, it’s a powerful thing to actually see it all assembled in one place (though using it to watch a war unfold while you munch on popcorn and place bets turns the war into perverse entertainment). But there are real reasons to think that these sorts of raw data feeds are not as informative as they may feel.
Craig Silverman, a digital investigations expert who teaches investigative techniques, has been keeping a log of these dashboards (he’s up to 20). “The concern,” he says, “is there’s an illusion of being on top of things and being in control, where all you’re really doing is just pulling in a ton of signals and not necessarily understanding what you’re seeing, or being able to pull out true insights from it.”
One problem has to do with the quality of the information. Many dashboards feature “intel feeds” with AI-generated summaries of complex, ever-changing news events. These can introduce inaccuracies. By design, the data is not especially curated. Instead, the feeds just display everything at once, with a map of strike locations in Iran next to the prices of obscure cryptocurrencies.
Intelligence agencies, on the other hand, pair data feeds with people who can offer expertise and historical context. They also, of course, have access to proprietary information that doesn’t show up on the open web.
The implicit promise from the people building and selling this sort of information pipeline about the Iran conflict is that AI can be a great democratizing force. There’s a secret feed of information that only the elites have had access to, the thinking goes, but now AI can bring it to everyone to do with what they wish, whether that’s simply to be more informed or to make bets on nuclear strikes. But an abundance of information, which AI is undeniably good at assembling, does not come with the accuracy or context required for real understanding. Intelligence agencies do this in-house; good journalism does the same work for the rest of us.
It is, by the way, hard to overstate the connection this all has with betting markets. The dashboard created by the pair at Andreessen Horowitz has a scrolling list of bets being made on the prediction platform Kalshi (which Andreessen Horowitz has invested in). Other dashboards link to Polymarket, offering bets on whether the US will strike Iraq or when Iran’s internet will return.
AI has also long made it cheaper and easier to spread fake content, and that problem is on full display during the Iran conflict: last week the Financial Times found a slew of AI-generated satellite imagery spreading online.
“The emergence of manipulated or outright fake satellite imagery is really concerning,” Silverman says. The average person tends to see such imagery as very trustworthy. The spread of such fakes could erode confidence in one of the most important pieces of evidence used to show what’s actually happening in the war.
The result is an ocean of AI-enabled content—dashboards, betting markets, photos both real and fake—that makes this war harder, not easier, to comprehend.