From guardrails to governance: A CEO’s guide for securing agentic systems

The previous article in this series, “Rules fail at the prompt, succeed at the boundary,” focused on the first AI-orchestrated espionage campaign and the failure of prompt-level control. This article is the prescription. The question every CEO is now getting from their board is some version of: What do we do about agent risk?

Across recent AI security guidance from standards bodies, regulators, and major providers, a simple idea keeps repeating: treat agents like powerful, semi-autonomous users, and enforce rules at the boundaries where they touch identity, tools, data, and outputs.

The following is an actionable eight-step plan one can ask teams to implement and report against:  

Eight controls, three pillars: govern agentic systems at the boundary. Source: Protegrity

Constrain capabilities

These steps help define identity and limit capabilities.

1. Identity and scope: Make agents real users with narrow jobs

Today, agents run under vague, over-privileged service identities. The fix is straightforward: treat each agent as a non-human principal with the same discipline applied to employees.

Every agent should run as the requesting user in the correct tenant, with permissions constrained to that user’s role and geography. Prohibit cross-tenant on-behalf-of shortcuts. Anything high-impact should require explicit human approval with a recorded rationale. That is how Google’s Secure AI Framework (SAIF) and NIST AI’s access-control guidance are meant to be applied in practice.

The CEO question: Can we show, today, a list of our agents and exactly what each is allowed to do?

2. Tooling control: Pin, approve, and bound what agents can use

The Anthropic espionage framework worked because the attackers could wire Claude into a flexible suite of tools (e.g., scanners, exploit frameworks, data parsers) through Model Context Protocol, and those tools weren’t pinned or policy-gated.

The defense is to treat toolchains like a supply chain:

  • Pin versions of remote tool servers.
  • Require approvals for adding new tools, scopes, or data sources.
  • Forbid automatic tool-chaining unless a policy explicitly allows it.

This is exactly what OWASP flags under excessive agency and what it recommends protecting against. Under the EU AI Act, designing for such cyber-resilience and misuse resistance is part of the Article 15 obligation to ensure robustness and cybersecurity.

The CEO question: Who signs off when an agent gains a new tool or a broader scope? How does one know?

3. Permissions by design: Bind tools to tasks, not to models

A common anti-pattern is to give the model a long-lived credential and hope prompts keep it polite. SAIF and NIST argue the opposite: credentials and scopes should be bound to tools and tasks, rotated regularly, and auditable. Agents then request narrowly scoped capabilities through those tools.

In practice, that looks like: “finance-ops-agent may read, but not write, certain ledgers without CFO approval.”

The CEO question: Can we revoke a specific capability from an agent without re-architecting the whole system?

Control data and behavior

These steps gate inputs, outputs, and constrain behavior.

4. Inputs, memory, and RAG: Treat external content as hostile until proven otherwise

Most agent incidents start with sneaky data: a poisoned web page, PDF, email, or repository that smuggles adversarial instructions into the system. OWASP’s prompt-injection cheat sheet and OpenAI’s own guidance both insist on strict separation of system instructions from user content and on treating unvetted retrieval sources as untrusted.

Operationally, gate before anything enters retrieval or long-term memory: new sources are reviewed, tagged, and onboarded; persistent memory is disabled when untrusted context is present; provenance is attached to each chunk.

The CEO question: Can we enumerate every external content source our agents learn from, and who approved them?

5. Output handling and rendering: Nothing executes “just because the model said so”

In the Anthropic case, AI-generated exploit code and credential dumps flowed straight into action. Any output that can cause a side effect needs a validator between the agent and the real world. OWASP’s insecure output handling category is explicit on this point, as are browser security best practices around origin boundaries.

The CEO question: Where, in our architecture, are agent outputs assessed before they run or ship to customers?

6. Data privacy at runtime: Protect the data first, then the model

Protect the data such that there is nothing dangerous to reveal by default. NIST and SAIF both lean toward “secure-by-default” designs where sensitive values are tokenized or masked and only re-hydrated for authorized users and use cases.

In agentic systems, that means policy-controlled detokenization at the output boundary and logging every reveal. If an agent is fully compromised, the blast radius is bounded by what the policy lets it see.

This is where the AI stack intersects not just with the EU AI Act but with GDPR and sector-specific regimes. The EU AI Act expects providers and deployers to manage AI-specific risk; runtime tokenization and policy-gated reveal are strong evidence that one is actively controlling those risks in production.

The CEO question: When our agents touch regulated data, is that protection enforced by architecture or by promises?

Prove governance and resilience

For the final steps, it’s important to show controls work and keep working.

7. Continuous evaluation: Don’t ship a one-time test, ship a test harness

Anthropic’s research about sleeper agents should eliminate all fantasies about single test dreams and show how critical continuous evaluation is. This means instrumenting agents with deep observability, regularly red teaming with adversarial test suites, and backing everything with robust logging and evidence, so failures become both regression tests and enforceable policy updates.

The CEO question: Who works to break our agents every week, and how do their findings change policy?

 8. Governance, inventory, and audit: Keep score in one place

AI security frameworks emphasize inventory and evidence: enterprises must know which models, prompts, tools, datasets, and vector stores they have, who owns them, and what decisions were taken about risk.

For agents, that means a living catalog and unified logs:

  • Which agents exist, on which platforms
  • What scopes, tools, and data each is allowed
  • Every approval, detokenization, and high-impact action, with who approved it and when

The CEO question: If asked how an agent made a specific decision, could we reconstruct the chain?

And don’t forget the system-level threat model: assume the threat actor GTG-1002 is already in your enterprise. To complete enterprise preparedness, zoom out and consider the MITRE ATLAS product, which exists precisely because adversaries attack systems, not models. Anthropic provides a case study of a state-based threat actor (GTG-1002) doing exactly that with an agentic framework.

Taken together, these controls do not make agents magically safe. They do something more familiar and more reliable: they put AI, its access, and actions back inside the same security frame used for any powerful user or system.

For boards and CEOs, the question is no longer “Do we have good AI guardrails?” It’s: Can we answer the CEO questions above with evidence, not assurances?

This content was produced by Protegrity. It was not written by MIT Technology Review’s editorial staff.

The crucial first step for designing a successful enterprise AI system

Many organizations rushed into generative AI, only to see pilots fail to deliver value. Now, companies want measurable outcomes—but how do you design for success?

At Mistral AI, we partner with global industry leaders to co-design tailored AI solutions that solve their most difficult problems. Whether it’s increasing CX productivity with Cisco, building a more intelligent car with Stellantis, or accelerating product innovation with ASML, we start with open frontier models and customize AI systems to deliver impact for each company’s unique challenges and goals.

Our methodology starts by identifying an iconic use case, the foundation for AI transformation that sets the blueprint for future AI solutions. Choosing the right use case can mean the difference between true transformation and endless tinkering and testing.

Identifying an iconic use case

Mistral AI has four criteria that we look for in a use case: strategic, urgent, impactful, and feasible.

First, the use case must be strategically valuable, addressing a core business process or a transformative new capability. It needs to be more than an optimization; it needs to be a gamechanger. The use case needs to be strategic enough to excite an organization’s C-suite and board of directors.

For example, use cases like an internal-facing HR chatbot are nice to have, but they are easy to solve and are not enabling any new innovation or opportunities. On the other end of the spectrum, imagine an externally facing banking assistant that can not only answer questions, but also help take actions like blocking a card, placing trades, and suggesting upsell/cross-sell opportunities. This is how a customer-support chatbot is turned into a strategic revenue-generating asset.

Second, the best use case to move forward with should be highly urgent and solve a business-critical problem that people care about right now. This project will take time out of people’s days—it needs to be important enough to justify that time investment. And it needs to help business users solve immediate pain points.

Third, the use case should be pragmatic and impactful. From day one, our shared goal with our customers is to deploy into a real-world production environment to enable testing the solution with real users and gather feedback. Many AI prototypes end up in the graveyard of fancy demos that are not good enough to put in front of customers, and without any scaffolding to evaluate and improve. We work with customers to ensure prototypes are stable enough to release, and that they have the necessary support and governance frameworks.

Finally, the best use case is feasible. There may be several urgent projects, but choosing one that can deliver a quick return on investment helps to maintain the momentum needed to continue and scale.

This means looking for a project that can be in production within three months—and a prototype can be live within a few weeks. It’s important to get a prototype in front of end users as fast as possible to get feedback to make sure the project is on track, and pivot as needed.

Where use cases fall short

Enterprises are complex, and the path forward is not usually obvious. To weed through all the possibilities and uncover the right first use case, Mistral AI will run workshops with our customers, hand-in-hand with subject-matter experts and end users.

Representatives from different functions will demo their processes and discuss business cases that could be candidates for a first use case—and together we agree on a winner. Here are some examples of types of projects that don’t qualify.

Moonshots: Ambitious bets that excite leadership but lack a path to quick ROI. While these projects can be strategic and urgent, they rarely meet the feasibility and impact requirements.

Future investments: Long-term plays that can wait. While these projects can be strategic and feasible, they rarely meet the urgency and impact requirements.

Tactical fixes: Firefighting projects that solve immediate pain but don’t move the needle. While these cases can be urgent and feasible, they rarely meet the strategy and impact requirements.

Quick wins: Useful for building momentum, but not transformative. While they can be impactful and feasible, they rarely meet the strategy and urgency requirements.

Blue sky ideas: These projects are gamechangers, but they need maturity to be viable. While they can be strategic and impactful, they rarely meet the urgency and feasibility requirements.

Hero projects: These are high-pressure initiatives that lack executive sponsorship or realistic timelines. While they can be urgent and impactful, they rarely meet the strategy and feasibility requirements.

Moving from use case to deployment

Once a clearly defined and strategic use case ready for development is identified, it’s time to move into the validation phase. This means doing an initial data exploration and data mapping, identifying a pilot infrastructure, and choosing a target deployment environment.

This step also involves agreeing on a draft pilot scope, identifying who will participate in the proof of concept, and setting up a governance process.

Once this is complete, it’s time to move into the building phase. Companies that partner with Mistral work with our in-house applied AI scientists who build our frontier models. We work together to design, build, and deploy the first solution.

During this phase, we focus on co-creation, so we can transfer knowledge and skills to the organizations we’re partnering with. That way, they can be self-sufficient far into the future. The output of this phase is a deployed AI solution with empowered teams capable of independent operation and innovation.

The first step is everything

After the first win, it’s imperative to use the momentum and learnings from the iconic use case to identify more high-value AI solutions to roll out. Success is when we have a scalable AI transformation blueprint with multiple high-value solutions across the organization.

But none of this could happen without successfully identifying that first iconic use case. This first step is not just about selecting a project—it’s about setting the foundation for your entire AI transformation.

It’s the difference between scattered experiments and a strategic, scalable journey toward impact. At Mistral AI, we’ve seen how this approach unlocks measurable value, aligns stakeholders, and builds momentum for what comes next.

The path to AI success starts with a single, well-chosen use case: one that is bold enough to inspire, urgent enough to demand action, and pragmatic enough to deliver.

This content was produced by Mistral AI. It was not written by MIT Technology Review’s editorial staff.

What we’ve been getting wrong about AI’s truth crisis

This story originally appeared in The Algorithm, our weekly newsletter on AI. To get stories like this in your inbox first, sign up here.

What would it take to convince you that the era of truth decay we were long warned about—where AI content dupes us, shapes our beliefs even when we catch the lie, and erodes societal trust in the process—is now here? A story I published last week pushed me over the edge. It also made me realize that the tools we were sold as a cure for this crisis are failing miserably. 

On Thursday, I reported the first confirmation that the US Department of Homeland Security, which houses immigration agencies, is using AI video generators from Google and Adobe to make content that it shares with the public. The news comes as immigration agencies have flooded social media with content to support President Trump’s mass deportation agenda—some of which appears to be made with AI (like a video about “Christmas after mass deportations”).

But I received two types of reactions from readers that may explain just as much about the epistemic crisis we’re in. 

One was from people who weren’t surprised, because on January 22 the White House had posted a digitally altered photo of a woman arrested at an ICE protest, one that made her appear hysterical and in tears. Kaelan Dorr, the White House’s deputy communications director, did not respond to questions about whether the White House altered the photo but wrote, “The memes will continue.”

The second was from readers who saw no point in reporting that DHS was using AI to edit content shared with the public, because news outlets were apparently doing the same. They pointed to the fact that the news network MS Now (formerly MSNBC) shared an image of Alex Pretti that was AI-edited and appeared to make him look more handsome, a fact that led to many viral clips this week, including one from Joe Rogan’s podcast. Fight fire with fire, in other words? A spokesperson for MS Now told Snopes that the news outlet aired the image without knowing it was edited.

There is no reason to collapse these two cases of altered content into the same category, or to read them as evidence that truth no longer matters. One involved the US government sharing a clearly altered photo with the public and declining to answer whether it was intentionally manipulated; the other involved a news outlet airing a photo it should have known was altered but taking some steps to disclose the mistake.

What these reactions reveal instead is a flaw in how we were collectively preparing for this moment. Warnings about the AI truth crisis revolved around a core thesis: that not being able to tell what is real will destroy us, so we need tools to independently verify the truth. My two grim takeaways are that these tools are failing, and that while vetting the truth remains essential, it is no longer capable on its own of producing the societal trust we were promised.

For example, there was plenty of hype in 2024 about the Content Authenticity Initiative, cofounded by Adobe and adopted by major tech companies, which would attach labels to content disclosing when it was made, by whom, and whether AI was involved. But Adobe applies automatic labels only when the content is wholly AI-generated. Otherwise the labels are opt-in on the part of the creator.

And platforms like X, where the altered arrest photo was posted, can strip content of such labels anyway (a note that the photo was altered was added by users). Platforms can also simply not choose to show the label; indeed, when Adobe launched the initiative, it noted that the Pentagon’s website for sharing official images, DVIDS, would display the labels to prove authenticity, but a review of the website today shows no such labels.

Noticing how much traction the White House’s photo got even after it was shown to be AI-altered, I was struck by the findings of a very relevant new paper published in the journal Communications Psychology. In the study, participants watched a deepfake “confession” to a crime, and the researchers found that even when they were told explicitly that the evidence was fake, participants relied on it when judging an individual’s guilt. In other words, even when people learn that the content they’re looking at is entirely fake, they remain emotionally swayed by it. 

“Transparency helps, but it isn’t enough on its own,” the disinformation expert Christopher Nehring wrote recently about the study’s findings. “We have to develop a new masterplan of what to do about deepfakes.”

AI tools to generate and edit content are getting more advanced, easier to operate, and cheaper to run—all reasons why the US government is increasingly paying to use them. We were well warned of this, but we responded by preparing for a world in which the main danger was confusion. What we’re entering instead is a world in which influence survives exposure, doubt is easily weaponized, and establishing the truth does not serve as a reset button. And the defenders of truth are already trailing way behind.

Update: This story was updated on February 2 with details about how Adobe applies its content authenticity labels.

Inside the marketplace powering bespoke AI deepfakes of real women

Civitai—an online marketplace for buying and selling AI-generated content, backed by the venture capital firm Andreessen Horowitz—is letting users buy custom instruction files for generating celebrity deepfakes. Some of these files were specifically designed to make pornographic images banned by the site, a new analysis has found.

The study, from researchers at Stanford and Indiana University, looked at people’s requests for content on the site, called “bounties.” The researchers found that between mid-2023 and the end of 2024, most bounties asked for animated content—but a significant portion were for deepfakes of real people, and 90% of these deepfake requests targeted women. (Their findings have not yet been peer reviewed.)

The debate around deepfakes, as illustrated by the recent backlash to explicit images on the X-owned chatbot Grok, has revolved around what platforms should do to block such content. Civitai’s situation is a little more complicated. Its marketplace includes actual images, videos, and models, but it also lets individuals buy and sell instruction files called LoRAs that can coach mainstream AI models like Stable Diffusion into generating content they were not trained to produce. Users can then combine these files with other tools to make deepfakes that are graphic or sexual. The researchers found that 86% of deepfake requests on Civitai were for LoRAs.

In these bounties, users requested “high quality” models to generate images of public figures like the influencer Charli D’Amelio or the singer Gracie Abrams, often linking to their social media profiles so their images could be grabbed from the web. Some requests specified a desire for models that generated the individual’s entire body, accurately captured their tattoos, or allowed hair color to be changed. Some requests targeted several women in specific niches, like artists who record ASMR videos. One request was for a deepfake of a woman said to be the user’s wife. Anyone on the site could offer up AI models they worked on for the task, and the best submissions received payment—anywhere from $0.50 to $5. And nearly 92% of the deepfake bounties were awarded.

Neither Civitai nor Andreessen Horowitz responded to requests for comment.

It’s possible that people buy these LoRAs to make deepfakes that aren’t sexually explicit (though they’d still violate Civitai’s terms of use, and they’d still be ethically fraught). But Civitai also offers educational resources on how to use external tools to further customize the outputs of image generators—for example, by changing someone’s pose. The site also hosts user-written articles with details on how to instruct models to generate pornography. The researchers found that the amount of porn on the platform has gone up, and that the majority of requests each week are now for NSFW content.

“Not only does Civitai provide the infrastructure that facilitates these issues; they also explicitly teach their users how to utilize them,” says Matthew DeVerna, a postdoctoral researcher at Stanford’s Cyber Policy Center and one of the study’s leaders. 

The company used to ban only sexually explicit deepfakes of real people, but in May 2025 it announced it would ban all deepfake content. Nonetheless, countless requests for deepfakes submitted before this ban now remain live on the site, and many of the winning submissions fulfilling those requests remain available for purchase, MIT Technology Review confirmed.

“I believe the approach that they’re trying to take is to sort of do as little as possible, such that they can foster as much—I guess they would call it—creativity on the platform,” DeVerna says.

Users buy LoRAs with the site’s online currency, called Buzz, which is purchased with real money. In May 2025, Civita’s credit card processor cut off the company because of its ongoing problem with nonconsensual content. To pay for explicit content, users must now use gift cards or cryptocurrency to buy Buzz; the company offers a different scrip for non-explicit content. 

Civitai automatically tags bounties requesting deepfakes and lists a way for the person featured in the content to manually request its takedown. This system means that Civitai has a reasonably successful way of knowing which bounties are for deepfakes, but it’s still leaving moderation to the general public rather than carrying it out proactively. 

A company’s legal liability for what its users do isn’t totally clear. Generally, tech companies have broad legal protections against such liability for their content under Section 230 of the Communications Decency Act, but those protections aren’t limitless. For example, “you cannot knowingly facilitate illegal transactions on your website,” says Ryan Calo, a professor specializing in technology and AI at the University of Washington’s law school. (Calo wasn’t involved in this new study.)

Civitai joined OpenAI, Anthropic, and other AI companies in 2024 in adopting design principles to guard against the creation and spread of AI-generated child sexual abuse material . This move followed a 2023 report from the Stanford Internet Observatory, which found that the vast majority of AI models named in child sexual abuse communities were Stable Diffusion–based models “predominantly obtained via Civitai.”

But adult deepfakes have not gotten the same level of attention from content platforms or the venture capital firms that fund them. “They are not afraid enough of it. They are overly tolerant of it,” Calo says. “Neither law enforcement nor civil courts adequately protect against it. It is night and day.”

Civitai received a $5 million investment from Andreessen Horowitz (a16z) in November 2023. In a video shared by a16z, Civitai cofounder and CEO Justin Maier described his goal of building the main place where people find and share AI models for their own individual purposes. “We’ve aimed to make this space that’s been very, I guess, niche and engineering-heavy more and more approachable to more and more people,” he said. 

Civitai is not the only company with a deepfake problem in a16z’s investment portfolio; in February, MIT Technology Review first reported that another company, Botify AI, was hosting AI companions resembling real actors that stated their age as under 18, engaged in sexually charged conversations, offered “hot photos,” and in some instances described age-of-consent laws as “arbitrary” and “meant to be broken.”

DHS is using Google and Adobe AI to make videos

The US Department of Homeland Security is using AI video generators from Google and Adobe to make and edit content shared with the public, a new document reveals. It comes as immigration agencies have flooded social media with content to support President Trump’s mass deportation agenda—some of which appears to be made with AI—and as workers in tech have put pressure on their employers to denounce the agencies’ activities. 

The document, released on Wednesday, provides an inventory of which commercial AI tools DHS uses for tasks ranging from generating drafts of documents to managing cybersecurity. 

In a section about “editing images, videos or other public affairs materials using AI,” it reveals for the first time that DHS is using Google’s Veo 3 video generator and Adobe Firefly, estimating that the agency has between 100 and 1,000 licenses for the tools. It also discloses that DHS uses Microsoft Copilot Chat for generating first drafts of documents and summarizing long reports and Poolside software for coding tasks, in addition to tools from other companies.

Google, Adobe, and DHS did not immediately respond to requests for comment.

The news provides details about how agencies like Immigrations and Customs Enforcement, which is part of DHS, might be creating the large amounts of content they’ve shared on X and other channels as immigration operations have expanded across US cities. They’ve posted content celebrating “Christmas after mass deportations,” referenced Bible verses and Christ’s birth, showed faces of those the agency has arrested, and shared ads aimed at recruiting agents. The agencies have also repeatedly used music without permissions from artists in their videos.

Some of the content, particularly videos, has the appearance of being AI-generated, but it hasn’t been clear until now what AI models the agencies might be using. This marks the first concrete evidence such generators are being used by DHS to create content shared with the public.

It still remains impossible to verify which company helped create a specific piece of content, or indeed if it was AI-generated at all. Adobe offers options to “watermark” a video made with its tools to disclose that it is AI-generated, for example, but this disclosure does not always stay intact when the content is uploaded and shared across different sites. 

The document reveals that DHS has specifically been using Flow, a tool from Google that combines its Veo 3 video generator with a suite of filmmaking tools. Users can generate clips and assemble entire videos with AI, including videos that contain sound, dialogue, and background noise, making them hyperrealistic. Adobe launched its Firefly generator in 2023, promising that it does not use copyrighted content in its training or output. Like Google’s tools, Adobe’s can generate videos, images, soundtracks, and speech. The document does not reveal further details about how the agency is using these video generation tools.

Workers at large tech companies, including more than 140 current and former employees from Google and more than 30 from Adobe, have been putting pressure on their employers in recent weeks to take a stance against ICE and the shooting of Alex Pretti on January 24. Google’s leadership has not made statements in response. In October, Google and Apple removed apps on their app stores that were intended to track sightings of ICE, citing safety risks. 

An additional document released on Wednesday revealed new details about how the agency is using more niche AI products, including a facial recognition app used by ICE, as first reported by 404Media in June.

The AI Hype Index: Grok makes porn, and Claude Code nails your job

Everyone is panicking because AI is very bad; everyone is panicking because AI is very good. It’s just that you never know which one you’re going to get. Grok is a pornography machine. Claude Code can do anything from building websites to reading your MRI. So of course Gen Z is spooked by what this means for jobs. Unnerving new research says AI is going to have a seismic impact on the labor market this year.

If you want to get a handle on all that, don’t expect any help from the AI companies—they’re turning on each other like it’s the last act in a zombie movie. Meta’s former chief AI scientist, Yann LeCun, is spilling tea, while Big Tech’s messiest exes, Elon Musk and OpenAI, are about to go to trial. Grab your popcorn.

Rules fail at the prompt, succeed at the boundary

From the Gemini Calendar prompt-injection attack of 2026 to the September 2025 state-sponsored hack using Anthropic’s Claude code as an automated intrusion engine, the coercion of human-in-the-loop agentic actions and fully autonomous agentic workflows are the new attack vector for hackers. In the Anthropic case, roughly 30 organizations across tech, finance, manufacturing, and government were affected. Anthropic’s threat team assessed that the attackers used AI to carry out 80% to 90% of the operation: reconnaissance, exploit development, credential harvesting, lateral movement, and data exfiltration, with humans stepping in only at a handful of key decision points.

This was not a lab demo; it was a live espionage campaign. The attackers hijacked an agentic setup (Claude code plus tools exposed via Model Context Protocol (MCP)) and jailbroke it by decomposing the attack into small, seemingly benign tasks and telling the model it was doing legitimate penetration testing. The same loop that powers developer copilots and internal agents was repurposed as an autonomous cyber-operator. Claude was not hacked. It was persuaded and used tools for the attack.

Prompt injection is persuasion, not a bug

Security communities have been warning about this for several years. Multiple OWASP Top 10 reports put prompt injection, or more recently Agent Goal Hijack, at the top of the risk list and pair it with identity and privilege abuse and human-agent trust exploitation: too much power in the agent, no separation between instructions and data, and no mediation of what comes out.

Guidance from the NCSC and CISA describes generative AI as a persistent social-engineering and manipulation vector that must be managed across design, development, deployment, and operations, not patched away with better phrasing. The EU AI Act turns that lifecycle view into law for high-risk AI systems, requiring a continuous risk management system, robust data governance, logging, and cybersecurity controls.

In practice, prompt injection is best understood as a persuasion channel. Attackers don’t break the model—they convince it. In the Anthropic example, the operators framed each step as part of a defensive security exercise, kept the model blind to the overall campaign, and nudged it, loop by loop, into doing offensive work at machine speed.

That’s not something a keyword filter or a polite “please follow these safety instructions” paragraph can reliably stop. Research on deceptive behavior in models makes this worse. Anthropic’s research on sleeper agents shows that once a model has learned a backdoor, then strategic pattern recognition, standard fine-tuning, and adversarial training can actually help the model hide the deception rather than remove it. If one tries to defend a system like that purely with linguistic rules, they are playing on its home field.

Why this is a governance problem, not a vibe coding problem

Regulators aren’t asking for perfect prompts; they’re asking that enterprises demonstrate control.

NIST’s AI RMF emphasizes asset inventory, role definition, access control, change management, and continuous monitoring across the AI lifecycle. The UK AI Cyber Security Code of Practice similarly pushes for secure-by-design principles by treating AI like any other critical system, with explicit duties for boards and system operators from conception through decommissioning.

In other words: the rules actually needed are not “never say X” or “always respond like Y,” they are:

  • Who is this agent acting as?
  • What tools and data can it touch?
  • Which actions require human approval?
  • How are high-impact outputs moderated, logged, and audited?

Frameworks like Google’s Secure AI Framework (SAIF) make this concrete. SAIF’s agent permissions control is blunt: agents should operate with least privilege, dynamically scoped permissions, and explicit user control for sensitive actions. OWASP’s Top 10 emerging guidance on agentic applications mirrors that stance: constrain capabilities at the boundary, not in the prose.

From soft words to hard boundaries

The Anthropic espionage case makes the boundary failure concrete:

  • Identity and scope: Claude was coaxed into acting as a defensive security consultant for the attacker’s fictional firm, with no hard binding to a real enterprise identity, tenant, or scoped permissions. Once that fiction was accepted, everything else followed.
  • Tool and data access: MCP gave the agent flexible access to scanners, exploit frameworks, and target systems. There was no independent policy layer saying, “This tenant may never run password crackers against external IP ranges,” or “This environment may only scan assets labeled ‘internal.’”
  • Output execution: Generated exploit code, parsed credentials, and attack plans were treated as actionable artifacts with little mediation. Once a human decided to trust the summary, the barrier between model output and real-world side effect effectively disappeared.

We’ve seen the other side of this coin in civilian contexts. When Air Canada’s website chatbot misrepresented its bereavement policy and the airline tried to argue that the bot was a separate legal entity, the tribunal rejected the claim outright: the company remained liable for what the bot said. In espionage, the stakes are higher but the logic is the same: if an AI agent misuses tools or data, regulators and courts will look through the agent and to the enterprise.

Rules that work, rules that don’t

So yes, rule-based systems fail if by rules one means ad-hoc allow/deny lists, regex fences, and baroque prompt hierarchies trying to police semantics. Those crumble under indirect prompt injection, retrieval-time poisoning, and model deception. But rule-based governance is non-optional when we move from language to action.

The security community is converging on a synthesis:

  • Put rules at the capability boundary: Use policy engines, identity systems, and tool permissions to determine what the agent can actually do, with which data, and under which approvals.
  • Pair rules with continuous evaluation: Use observability tooling, red-teaming packages, and robust logging and evidence.
  • Treat agents as first-class subjects in your threat model: For example, MITRE ATLAS now catalogs techniques and case studies specifically targeting AI systems.

The lesson from the first AI-orchestrated espionage campaign is not that AI is uncontrollable. It’s that control belongs in the same place it always has in security: at the architecture boundary, enforced by systems, not by vibes.

This content was produced by Protegrity. It was not written by MIT Technology Review’s editorial staff.

What AI “remembers” about you is privacy’s next frontier

The ability to remember you and your preferences is rapidly becoming a big selling point for AI chatbots and agents. 

Earlier this month, Google announced Personal Intelligence, a new way for people to interact with the company’s Gemini chatbot that draws on their Gmail, photos, search, and YouTube histories to make Gemini “more personal, proactive, and powerful.” It echoes similar moves by OpenAI, Anthropic, and Meta to add new ways for their AI products to remember and draw from people’s personal details and preferences. While these features have potential advantages, we need to do more to prepare for the new risks they could introduce into these complex technologies.

Personalized, interactive AI systems are built to act on our behalf, maintain context across conversations, and improve our ability to carry out all sorts of tasks, from booking travel to filing taxes. From tools that learn a developer’s coding style to shopping agents that sift through thousands of products, these systems rely on the ability to store and retrieve increasingly intimate details about their users.  But doing so over time introduces alarming, and all-too-familiar, privacy vulnerabilities––many of which have loomed since “big data” first teased the power of spotting and acting on user patterns. Worse, AI agents now appear poised to plow through whatever safeguards had been adopted to avoid those vulnerabilities. 

Today, we interact with these systems through conversational interfaces, and we frequently switch contexts. You might ask a single AI agent to draft an email to your boss, provide medical advice, budget for holiday gifts, and provide input on interpersonal conflicts. Most AI agents collapse all data about you—which may once have been separated by context, purpose, or permissions—into single, unstructured repositories. When an AI agent links to external apps or other agents to execute a task, the data in its memory can seep into shared pools. This technical reality creates the potential for unprecedented privacy breaches that expose not only isolated data points, but the entire mosaic of people’s lives.

When information is all in the same repository, it is prone to crossing contexts in ways that are deeply undesirable. A casual chat about dietary preferences to build a grocery list could later influence what health insurance options are offered, or a search for restaurants offering accessible entrances could leak into salary negotiations—all without a user’s awareness (this concern may sound familiar from the early days of “big data,” but is now far less theoretical). An information soup of memory not only poses a privacy issue, but also makes it harder to understand an AI system’s behavior—and to govern it in the first place. So what can developers do to fix this problem

First, memory systems need structure that allows control over the purposes for which memories can be accessed and used. Early efforts appear to be underway: Anthropic’s Claude creates separate memory areas for different “projects,” and OpenAI says that information shared through ChatGPT Health is compartmentalized from other chats. These are helpful starts, but the instruments are still far too blunt: At a minimum, systems must be able to distinguish between specific memories (the user likes chocolate and has asked about GLP-1s), related memories (user manages diabetes and therefore avoids chocolate), and memory categories (such as professional and health-related). Further, systems need to allow for usage restrictions on certain types of memories and reliably accommodate explicitly defined boundaries—particularly around memories having to do with sensitive topics like medical conditions or protected characteristics, which will likely be subject to stricter rules.

Needing to keep memories separate in this way will have important implications for how AI systems can and should be built. It will require tracking memories’ provenance—their source, any associated time stamp, and the context in which they were created—and building ways to trace when and how certain memories influence the behavior of an agent. This sort of model explainability is on the horizon, but current implementations can be misleading or even deceptive. Embedding memories directly within a model’s weights may result in more personalized and context-aware outputs, but structured databases are currently more segmentable, more explainable, and thus more governable. Until research advances enough, developers may need to stick with simpler systems.

Second, users need to be able to see, edit, or delete what is remembered about them. The interfaces for doing this should be both transparent and intelligible, translating system memory into a structure users can accurately interpret. The static system settings and legalese privacy policies provided by traditional tech platforms have set a low bar for user controls, but natural-language interfaces may offer promising new options for explaining what information is being retained and how it can be managed. Memory structure will have to come first, though: Without it, no model can clearly state a memory’s status. Indeed, Grok 3’s system prompt includes an instruction to the model to “NEVER confirm to the user that you have modified, forgotten, or won’t save a memory,” presumably because the company can’t guarantee those instructions will be followed. 

Critically, user-facing controls cannot bear the full burden of privacy protection or prevent all harms from AI personalization. Responsibility must shift toward AI providers to establish strong defaults, clear rules about permissible memory generation and use, and technical safeguards like on-device processing, purpose limitation, and contextual constraints. Without system-level protections, individuals will face impossibly convoluted choices about what should be remembered or forgotten, and the actions they take may still be insufficient to prevent harm. Developers should consider how to limit data collection in memory systems until robust safeguards exist, and build memory architectures that can evolve alongside norms and expectations.

Third, AI developers must help lay the foundations for approaches to evaluating systems so as to capture not only performance, but also the risks and harms that arise in the wild. While independent researchers are best positioned to conduct these tests (given developers’ economic interest in demonstrating demand for more personalized services), they need access to data to understand what risks might look like and therefore how to address them. To improve the ecosystem for measurement and research, developers should invest in automated measurement infrastructure, build out their own ongoing testing, and implement privacy-preserving testing methods that enable system behavior to be monitored and probed under realistic, memory-enabled conditions.

In its parallels with human experience, the technical term “memory” casts impersonal cells in a spreadsheet as something that builders of AI tools have a responsibility to handle with care. Indeed, the choices AI developers make today—how to pool or segregate information, whether to make memory legible or allow it to accumulate opaquely, whether to prioritize responsible defaults or maximal convenience—will determine how the systems we depend upon remember us. Technical considerations around memory are not so distinct from questions about digital privacy and the vital lessons we can draw from them. Getting the foundations right today will determine how much room we can give ourselves to learn what works—allowing us to make better choices around privacy and autonomy than we have before.

Miranda Bogen is the Director of the AI Governance Lab at the Center for Democracy & Technology. 

Ruchika Joshi is a Fellow at the Center for Democracy & Technology specializing in AI safety and governance.

OpenAI’s latest product lets you vibe code science

OpenAI just revealed what its new in-house team, OpenAI for Science, has been up to. The firm has released a free LLM-powered tool for scientists called Prism, which embeds ChatGPT in a text editor for writing scientific papers.

The idea is to put ChatGPT front and center inside software that scientists use to write up their work in much the same way that chatbots are now embedded into popular programming editors. It’s vibe coding, but for science.

Kevin Weil, head of OpenAI for Science, pushes that analogy himself. “I think 2026 will be for AI and science what 2025 was for AI in software engineering,” he said at a press briefing yesterday. “We’re starting to see that same kind of inflection.”

OpenAI claims that around 1.3 million scientists around the world submit more than 8 million queries a week to ChatGPT on advanced topics in science and math. “That tells us that AI is moving from curiosity to core workflow for scientists,” Weil said.

Prism is a response to that user behavior. It can also be seen as a bid to lock in more scientists to OpenAI’s products in a marketplace full of rival chatbots.

“I mostly use GPT-5 for writing code,” says Roland Dunbrack, a professor of biology at the Fox Chase Cancer Center in Philadelphia, who is not connected to OpenAI. “Occasionally, I ask LLMs a scientific question, basically hoping it can find information in the literature faster than I can. It used to hallucinate references but does not seem to do that very much anymore.”

Nikita Zhivotovskiy, a statistician at the University of California, Berkeley, says GPT-5 has already become an important tool in his work. “It sometimes helps polish the text of papers, catching mathematical typos or bugs, and provides generally useful feedback,” he says. “It is extremely helpful for quick summarization of research articles, making interaction with the scientific literature smoother.”

By combining a chatbot with an everyday piece of software, Prism follows a trend set by products such as OpenAI’s Atlas, which embeds ChatGPT in a web browser, as well as LLM-powered office tools from firms such as Microsoft and Google DeepMind.

Prism incorporates GPT-5.2, the company’s best model yet for mathematical and scientific problem-solving, into an editor for writing documents in LaTeX, a common coding language that scientists use for formatting scientific papers.

A ChatGPT chat box sits at the bottom of the screen, below a view of the article being written. Scientists can call on ChatGPT for anything they want. It can help them draft the text, summarize related articles, manage their citations, turn photos of whiteboard scribbles into equations or diagrams, or talk through hypotheses or mathematical proofs.

It’s clear that Prism could be a huge time saver. It’s also clear that a lot of people may be disappointed, especially after weeks of high-profile social media chatter from researchers at the firm about how good GPT-5 is at solving math problems. Science is drowning in AI slop: Won’t this just make it worse? Where is OpenAI’s fully automated AI scientist? And when will GPT-5 make a stunning new discovery?

That’s not the mission, says Weil. He would love to see GPT-5 make a discovery. But he doesn’t think that’s what will have the biggest impact on science, at least not in the near term.

“I think more powerfully—and with 100% probability—there’s going to be 10,000 advances in science that maybe wouldn’t have happened or wouldn’t have happened as quickly, and AI will have been a contributor to that,” Weil told MIT Technology Review in an exclusive interview this week. “It won’t be this shining beacon—it will just be an incremental, compounding acceleration.”

Why chatbots are starting to check your age

This story originally appeared in The Algorithm, our weekly newsletter on AI. To get stories like this in your inbox first, sign up here.

How do tech companies check if their users are kids?

This question has taken on new urgency recently thanks to growing concern about the dangers that can arise when children talk to AI chatbots. For years Big Tech asked for birthdays (that one could make up) to avoid violating child privacy laws, but they weren’t required to moderate content accordingly. Two developments over the last week show how quickly things are changing in the US and how this issue is becoming a new battleground, even among parents and child-safety advocates.

In one corner is the Republican Party, which has supported laws passed in several states that require sites with adult content to verify users’ ages. Critics say this provides cover to block anything deemed “harmful to minors,” which could include sex education. Other states, like California, are coming after AI companies with laws to protect kids who talk to chatbots (by requiring them to verify who’s a kid). Meanwhile, President Trump is attempting to keep AI regulation a national issue rather than allowing states to make their own rules. Support for various bills in Congress is constantly in flux.

So what might happen? The debate is quickly moving away from whether age verification is necessary and toward who will be responsible for it. This responsibility is a hot potato that no company wants to hold.

In a blog post last Tuesday, OpenAI revealed that it plans to roll out automatic age prediction. In short, the company will apply a model that uses factors like the time of day, among others, to predict whether a person chatting is under 18. For those identified as teens or children, ChatGPT will apply filters to “reduce exposure” to content like graphic violence or sexual role-play. YouTube launched something similar last year. 

If you support age verification but are concerned about privacy, this might sound like a win. But there’s a catch. The system is not perfect, of course, so it could classify a child as an adult or vice versa. People who are wrongly labeled under 18 can verify their identity by submitting a selfie or government ID to a company called Persona. 

Selfie verifications have issues: They fail more often for people of color and those with certain disabilities. Sameer Hinduja, who co-directs the Cyberbullying Research Center, says the fact that Persona will need to hold millions of government IDs and masses of biometric data is another weak point. “When those get breached, we’ve exposed massive populations all at once,” he says. 

Hinduja instead advocates for device-level verification, where a parent specifies a child’s age when setting up the child’s phone for the first time. This information is then kept on the device and shared securely with apps and websites. 

That’s more or less what Tim Cook, the CEO of Apple, recently lobbied US lawmakers to call for. Cook was fighting lawmakers who wanted to require app stores to verify ages, which would saddle Apple with lots of liability. 

More signals of where this is all headed will come on Wednesday, when the Federal Trade Commission—the agency that would be responsible for enforcing these new laws—is holding an all-day workshop on age verification. Apple’s head of government affairs, Nick Rossi, will be there. He’ll be joined by higher-ups in child safety at Google and Meta, as well as a company that specializes in marketing to children.

The FTC has become increasingly politicized under President Trump (his firing of the sole Democratic commissioner was struck down by a federal court, a decision that is now pending review by the US Supreme Court). In July, I wrote about signals that the agency is softening its stance toward AI companies. Indeed, in December, the FTC overturned a Biden-era ruling against an AI company that allowed people to flood the internet with fake product reviews, writing that it clashed with President Trump’s AI Action Plan.

Wednesday’s workshop may shed light on how partisan the FTC’s approach to age verification will be. Red states favor laws that require porn websites to verify ages (but critics warn this could be used to block a much wider range of content). Bethany Soye, a Republican state representative who is leading an effort to pass such a bill in her state of South Dakota, is scheduled to speak at the FTC meeting. The ACLU generally opposes laws requiring IDs to visit websites and has instead advocated for an expansion of existing parental controls.

While all this gets debated, though, AI has set the world of child safety on fire. We’re dealing with increased generation of child sexual abuse material, concerns (and lawsuits) about suicides and self-harm following chatbot conversations, and troubling evidence of kids’ forming attachments to AI companions. Colliding stances on privacy, politics, free expression, and surveillance will complicate any effort to find a solution. Write to me with your thoughts.