OpenAI’s $852 billion valuation is under scrutiny from its own investors



Some backers say OpenAI has revised its product roadmap twice in six months and risks losing focus ahead of an IPO expected as early as Q4 2026. OpenAI’s new CRO has accused Anthropic of overstating its $30B run rate by $8B through gross accounting on cloud partner revenue. Both companies say they follow standard accounting practices.


OpenAI’s $852 billion valuation is facing scrutiny from some of its own investors as the company pivots its strategy towards the enterprise market, the Financial Times reported on Tuesday.

The concerns centre on a period of visible strategic turbulence: OpenAI has revised its product roadmap twice in six months, first in response to competitive pressure from Google and then from Anthropic, and has recently dropped several initiatives including its Sora video generation rollout and an ‘adult’ chatbot.

Some investors told the FT the rapid changes could leave the company vulnerable to Anthropic and a resurgent Google, even as it prepares for a potential initial public offering as early as the fourth quarter of 2026.

The criticism is pointed. One early backer of OpenAI told the FT: “You have ChatGPT, a 1 billion-user business growing 50-100 per cent a year, what are you doing talking about enterprise and code? It’s a deeply unfocused company.”

Jai Das, president of Sapphire Ventures, who is not an investor in either OpenAI or Anthropic, went further, describing OpenAI to the FT as “the Netscape of AI”, comparing it to the once-dominant browser company that was eventually outflanked by Microsoft and absorbed by AOL.

One investor who has backed both companies told that in order to underwrite OpenAI’s most recent funding round, they would need to assume an IPO valuation of $1.2 trillion or more.

OpenAI’s leadership pushed back firmly. Chief Financial Officer Sarah Friar pointed to the $122 billion fundraise completed last month, described as the largest private round in Silicon Valley history, backed by SoftBank, Amazon, Nvidia, Andreessen Horowitz, Sequoia Capital, and Thrive Capital, among more than 25 investors, as evidence of investor confidence.

“The suggestion that investors are not supportive of our strategy defies the facts,” Friar said. “Our raise, the largest in history, was oversubscribed, completed in record time and backed by a broad set of global investors.”

Separately, Friar told CNBC that enterprise now accounts for 40% of OpenAI’s total revenue and is on track to match its consumer business by the end of 2026.

OpenAI is also targeting 30 gigawatts of computing capacity by 2030 and told investors last week it had already secured 8 gigawatts, a level it claims Anthropic will not reach until the end of 2027.

At the heart of the competitive anxiety is Anthropic’s revenue trajectory. The Claude-maker’s annualised run rate surged from approximately $9 billion at the end of 2025 to $30 billion by the end of March 2026, driven largely by demand for its coding tools.

OpenAI, by its own account, hit $25 billion in annualised revenue in February. The apparent gap prompted a notably aggressive response from OpenAI’s new chief revenue officer, Denise Dresser, hired in December 2025 from the role of CEO of Slack.

In an internal memo sent to staff on Sunday, Dresser accused Anthropic of overstating its run rate by roughly $8 billion. The accusation turns on a well-documented accounting difference: Anthropic books the full value of revenue generated through its cloud distribution partners, Amazon Web Services and Google Cloud, on a gross basis, while OpenAI reports its Microsoft revenue share on a net basis, deducting the partner’s share before recognising it.

Both approaches are permissible under US GAAP. The difference, if Dresser’s analysis is correct, would put Anthropic’s comparable run rate closer to $22 billion rather than $30 billion.

Anthropic disputed the characterisation. One person close to the company told the FT that Anthropic “recognises gross revenue on sales through partners because it is the principal in the transaction and its cloud partners are the distribution channel”, a standard justification for gross recognition under accounting rules.

Dresser’s memo acknowledged that Anthropic’s “coding focus gave them an early wedge” in enterprise, but argued that a narrow, developer-focused positioning becomes a liability as AI expands beyond engineering teams.

“You do not want to be a single-product company in a platform war,” the memo stated. The memo also outlined OpenAI’s Q2 priorities: winning the enterprise model layer with a new model codenamed ‘Spud’, establishing its Frontier agent platform, expanding through a recently announced Amazon partnership, and building a deployment engine called DeployCo.



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Do you ever walk past a person on the streets exhibiting mental health issues and wonder what happened to their family? I have a brother—or at least, I used to. I worry about where he is and hope he is safe. He hasn’t taken my call since 2014.

James and his brother as young children playing together before his brother became sick. James is on the right and his brother is on the left.

James and his brother as young children playing together before his brother became sick. James is on the right and his brother is on the left.

When I was 13, I had a very bad day. I was in the back of the car, and what I remember most was the world-crushing sound violently panging off every surface: he was pounding his fists into the steering wheel, and I worried it would break apart. He was screaming at me and my mother, and I remember the web of saliva and tears hanging over his mouth. His eyes were red, and I knew this day would change everything between us. My brother was sick.

Nearly 20 years later, I still have trouble thinking about him. By the time we realized he was mentally ill, he was no longer a minor. The police brought him to a facility for the standard 72-hour hold, where he was diagnosed with paranoid delusional schizophrenia. Concluding he was not a danger to himself or others, they released him.

There was only one problem: at 18, my brother told the facility he was not related to us and that we were imposters. When they let him out, he refused to come home.

My parents sought help and even arranged for medication, but he didn’t take it. Before long, he disappeared.

My brother’s decline and disappearance had nothing to do with the common narratives about drug use or criminal behavior. He was sick. By the time my family discovered his condition, he was already 18 and legally independent from our custody.

The last time he let me visit, I asked about his bed. I remember seeing his dirty mattress on the floor beside broken glass and garbage. I also asked about the laptop my parents had gifted him just a year earlier. He needed the money, he said—and he had maxed out my parents’ credit card.

In secret from my parents, I gave him all the cash I had saved. I just wanted him to be alright.

My parents and I tried texting and calling him; there was no response except the occasional text every few weeks. But weeks turned into months.

Before long, I was graduating from high school. I begged him to come. When I looked in the bleachers, he was nowhere to be seen. I couldn’t help but wonder what I had done wrong.

The last time I heard from him was over the phone in 2014. I tried to tell him about our parents and how much we all missed him. I asked him to be my brother again, but he cut me off, saying he was never my brother. After a pause, he admitted we could be friends. Making the toughest call of my life, I told him he was my brother—and if he ever remembers that, I’ll be there, ready for him to come back.

I’m now 32 years old. I often wonder how different our lives would have been if he had been diagnosed as a minor and received appropriate care. The laws in place do not help families in my situation.

My brother has no social media, and we suspect he traded his phone several years ago. My family has hired private investigators over the years, who have also worked with local police to try to track him down.

One private investigator’s report indicated an artist befriended my brother many years ago. When my mother tried contacting the artist, they said whatever happened between them was best left in the past and declined to respond. My mom had wanted to wish my brother a happy 30th birthday.

My brother grew up in a safe, middle-class home with two parents. He had no history of drug use or criminal record. He loved collecting vintage basketball cards, eating mint chocolate chip ice cream, and listening to Motown music. To my parents, there was no smoking gun indicating he needed help before it was too late.

The next time you think about a person screaming outside on the street, picture their families. We need policies and services that allow families to locate and support their loved ones living with mental illness, and stronger protections to ensure that individuals leaving facilities can transition into stable care. Current laws, including age-based consent rules, the limits of 72-hour holds, and the lack of step-down or supported housing options, leave too many families without resources when a serious diagnosis occurs.

Governments and lawmakers need to do better for people like my brother. As someone who thinks about him every day, I can tell you the burden is too heavy to carry alone.

James Finney-Conlon is a concerned brother and mental health advocate. He can be reached at [email protected].



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