Category Archives: AI

The AI Paradox: Why Building Software is Both Easier and Riskier Than Ever

I’ve been building with computer vision and ML since before it was cool, and I use these tools daily. When my middle child announced they were majoring in computer engineering, I didn’t panic about automation taking their job. I encouraged it.

But something strange is happening in the world of software development that very few seem to be talking about. AI has created a paradox: building software has never been more accessible, yet the risks of ownership have never been higher.

This pattern isn’t isolated to software development. I’ve been tracking similar dynamics across compliance, skill markets, and organizational structures. In each domain, AI is creating the same fundamental shift: execution becomes liquid while orchestration becomes critical. The specific risks change, but the underlying forces remain consistent.

When Building Feels Free

Aaron Levie from Box recently laid out the case for where AI-generated software makes sense. His argument is nuanced and grounded in Geoffrey Moore’s framework of “core” versus “context” activities. Most people don’t actually want to build custom software, he argues, because they’re fine with what already works and “the effort to customize is greater than the ROI they’d experience.” Taking responsibility for managing what you build is “often not worth it” since when something breaks, “you’re on your own to figure out what happened and fix it.”

More fundamentally, custom development is simply less efficient for most business problems. Context activities like payroll, IT tickets, and basic workflows are things “you have to do just to run your organization, but a customer never really notices.” You want to spend minimal time maintaining these systems because no matter how well you execute them, customers rarely see the difference.

The real opportunity, Levie argues, lies elsewhere – integration work between existing systems, custom optimizations on top of standard platforms for organizational edge cases, and addressing the long tail of core business needs that have never been properly served. The result will be “an order of magnitude more software in the world,” but only where the ROI justifies customization.

Levie’s right, but he’s missing something crucial. AI isn’t just making certain types of custom development more viable. It’s fundamentally changing what ownership means. The same technology that makes building feel effortless is simultaneously making you more liable for what your systems do, while making evaluation nearly impossible for non-experts.

When Your Code Becomes Your Contract

Air Canada learned this the hard way when their chatbot promised a bereavement discount that didn’t exist in their actual policy. When their customer tried to claim it, Air Canada argued the chatbot was a “separate legal entity” responsible for its own actions.

The Canadian tribunal’s response was swift and unforgiving. They called Air Canada’s defense “remarkable” and ordered them to pay. The message was clear: you own what you deploy, regardless of how it was created.

This isn’t just a one-off, global regulations are tightening the screws on software accountability across every jurisdiction. The EU’s NIS2 directive creates real liability for cybersecurity incidents, with fines up to $10.8 million (€10 million) or 2% of global turnover. SEC rules now require public companies to disclose material incidents within four business days. GDPR has already demonstrated how quickly software liability can scale. Meta faced a $1.3 billion (€1.2 billion) fine, and Amazon got hit with $806 million (€746 million).

While these are not all AI examples, one thing is clear. When your AI system makes a promise, you’re bound by it. When it makes a mistake that costs someone money, that’s your liability. The technical complexity of building software has decreased, but the legal complexity of owning it has exploded into a ticking time bomb.

AI’s Hidden Danger

Here’s where the paradox gets dangerous. The same AI that makes building feel effortless makes evaluation nearly impossible for non-experts. How do you test a marketing analytics system if you don’t understand attribution modeling? How do you validate an HR screening tool if you can’t recognize algorithmic bias?

This creates what I call “automation asymmetry” – the same dynamic I’ve observed in compliance and audit workflows. AI empowers the builders to create sophisticated, polished systems while leaving evaluators struggling with manual review processes. The gap between what AI can help you build and what human judgment can effectively assess is widening rapidly.

As a product leader, I constantly weigh whether we can create enough value to justify engineering, opportunity costs, and maintenance costs. AI makes this calculation treacherous. A feature that takes a day to build with AI might create months of hidden maintenance burden that I can’t predict upfront. The speed of development is now disconnected from the cost of ownership.

Unlike traditional software bugs that fail obviously, AI systems can exhibit “specification gaming.” They appear to work perfectly while learning fundamentally wrong patterns.

This is Goodhart’s Law in action. When a measure becomes a target, it ceases to be a good measure. The AI system learns to optimize for your evaluation criteria rather than the real-world performance you actually care about.

Picture an HR screening system that correctly identifies qualified candidates in testing but starts filtering out good applicants based on subtle biases in the training data in the foundation model you built on. This isn’t a bug you can catch with normal testing. It requires understanding algorithmic bias that most organizations lack.

Or consider data leakage risks. AI systems can inadvertently memorize and leak personal information from their training data, but detecting this requires privacy testing that most organizations never think to perform. By the time you discover your customer service bot is occasionally revealing other users’ details, you’re facing GDPR violations and broken customer trust.

Imagine a bank that “validates” its loan applications analysis by testing on the same templates used for training. They celebrate when it passes these tests, not understanding that this proves nothing about real-world performance. Or consider a logistics company that builds an AI route optimization system. It works perfectly in testing, reducing fuel costs by 15%. But after deployment, it makes decisions that look efficient on paper while ignoring practical realities. It routes through construction zones, sends drivers to nonexistent addresses, and optimizes for distance while ignoring peak traffic patterns.

Many ownership challenges plague all custom software development. Technical debt, security risks, staff turnover, and integration brittleness. But AI makes evaluating these risks much harder while making development feel deceptively simple. Traditional software obviously fails. AI software can fail silently and catastrophically.

Why Even Unlimited Resources Fail

Want proof that ownership is the real challenge? Look at government websites. These organizations have essentially unlimited budgets, can hire the best contractors, and have national security imperatives. They still can’t keep basic digital infrastructure running.

The Social Security Administration’s technical support runs Monday through Friday, 7:30 AM to 4:00 PM Eastern. For a website. In 2025. Login.gov schedules multi-hour maintenance windows for essential services. Georgetown Law Library tracked government URLs from 2007 and watched half of them die by 2013. Healthcare.gov cost $2.1 billion and barely worked at launch.

These aren’t technical failures. They’re ownership failures. Many government projects falter because they’re handed off to contractors, leaving no one truly accountable yet the agencies remain liable for what gets deployed. The same organizations that can build nuclear weapons and land rovers on Mars can’t keep websites running reliably, precisely because ownership responsibilities can’t be outsourced even when development is.

“But wait,” you might think, “commercial software companies fail too. What about when vendors go bankrupt and leave customers stranded?”

This objection actually proves the point. When Theranos collapsed, their enterprise customers lost the service but weren’t held liable for fraudulent blood tests. When a SaaS company fails, customers face transition costs and data loss, but they don’t inherit responsibility for what the software did during operation.

Compare that to custom system failure. When your AI medical analysis tool makes a misdiagnosis, you don’t just lose the service. You’re liable for the harm it caused. The failure modes are fundamentally different.

If even professional software companies with dedicated teams and specialized expertise sometimes fail catastrophically, what makes a non-software organization think they can manage those same risks more effectively? If unlimited resources can’t solve the ownership problem, what makes us think AI-generated code will?

Traditional ownership costs haven’t disappeared. They’ve become economically untenable for most organizations. Technical debt still compounds. People still leave, taking institutional knowledge with them. Security vulnerabilities still emerge. Integration points still break when external services change their APIs.

AI makes this trap seductive because initial development feels almost free. But you haven’t eliminated ownership costs. You’ve deferred them while adding unpredictable behavior to manage.

Consider a typical scenario: imagine a marketing agency that builds a custom client reporting system using AI to generate insights from campaign data. It works flawlessly for months until an API change breaks everything. With the original developer gone, they spend weeks and thousands of dollars getting a contractor to understand the AI-generated code well enough to fix it.

These businesses thought they were buying software. They were actually signing up to become software companies.

The New Decision Framework

This transformation demands a fundamental shift in how we think about build versus buy decisions. The core question is no longer about execution capability; it’s about orchestration capacity. Can you design, evaluate, and govern these systems responsibly over the long term?

You should build custom software when the capability creates genuine competitive differentiation, when you have the institutional expertise to properly evaluate and maintain the system, when long-term ownership costs are justified by strategic value, and when existing solutions genuinely don’t address your specific needs.

You should buy commercial software when the functionality is context work that customers don’t notice, when you lack domain expertise to properly validate the system’s outputs, when ownership responsibilities exceed what you can realistically handle, or when proven solutions already exist with institutional backing.

Commercial software providers aren’t just offering risk transfer. They’re developing structural advantages that individual companies can’t match. Salesforce can justify employing full-time specialists in GDPR, SOX, HIPAA, and emerging AI regulations because those costs spread across 150,000+ customers. A 50-person consulting firm faces the same regulatory requirements but can’t justify even a part-time compliance role.

This reflects Conway’s Law in reverse: instead of organizations shipping their org chart, the most successful software companies are designing their org charts around the complexities of responsible software ownership.

Mastering the Paradox

The AI revolution isn’t killing software development companies it’s fundamentally changing what ownership means and repricing the entire market. Building has become easier, but being responsible for what you build has become exponentially harder.

This follows the same pattern I’ve tracked across domains: AI creates automation asymmetry, where execution capabilities become liquid while orchestration and evaluation remain stubbornly complex. Whether in compliance audits, skill markets, or software ownership, the organizations that thrive are those that recognize this shift and invest in orchestration capacity rather than just execution capability.

Advanced AI development tools will eventually solve some of these challenges with better validation frameworks and automated maintenance capabilities. We’ll likely see agentic AI automating much of our monotonous security, support, and maintenance work in the future also. These systems could help organizations build the connective tissue they lack automated monitoring, intelligent debugging, self-updating documentation, and predictive maintenance. But we’re not there yet, and even future tools will require expertise to use effectively.

This doesn’t mean you should never build custom software. It means you need to think differently about what you’re signing up for. Every line of AI-generated code comes with a lifetime warranty that you have to honor.

The question isn’t whether AI can help you build something faster and cheaper. It’s whether you can afford to own it responsibly in a world where software liability is real, evaluation is harder, and the consequences of getting it wrong are higher than ever.

Understanding this paradox is crucial for anyone making build-versus-buy decisions in the AI era. The tools are more powerful than ever, but mastering this new reality means embracing orchestration over execution. Those who recognize this shift and build the institutional capacity to govern AI systems responsibly will define the next wave of competitive advantage.

You’re not just building software. You’re signing up for a lifetime of accountability.

Lawyers Think Like Security Engineers. AI Treats Them Like Secretaries

Part of the “AI Skill Liquidity” series

Early in my career, I was a security engineer, in this role we approached problems with a distinctive mindset. We look at a new system and immediately start threat modeling. What could go wrong? Where are the vulnerabilities? How might an attacker exploit this? Then we’d systematically build defenses, design monitoring systems, and create incident response procedures.

Later at Microsoft, I realized that good lawyers operate almost identically. They’re security engineers for text. When reviewing a contract, they’re threat modeling potential disputes. When structuring a transaction, they’re identifying legal vulnerabilities and designing defenses. When arguing a case, they’re building systems to withstand attack from opposing counsel. Of course, not all legal work requires this depth of analysis but the most valuable does.

This realization first drew me to Washington State’s legal apprenticeship program. The idea of learning legal “security engineering” through hands-on mentorship rather than accumulating law school debt appealed to me. I never pursued it, but I remained fascinated by sophisticated legal reasoning, regularly listening to Advisory Opinions and other legal podcasts where excellent legal minds dissect complex problems.

Just as I’ve written about skill liquidity transforming compliance and software development, the same forces are reshaping legal practice. AI is injecting liquidity into what was once an extremely illiquid skill market, where expertise was scarce, slowly accumulated, and tightly guarded. But here’s what’s different, current legal AI treats lawyers like document processors when they’re actually security engineers, and this fundamental misunderstanding is creating unexpected problems.

The Security Engineer’s Dilemma

Legal skills have historically been among the most illiquid in professional markets, exactly the kind of expertise scarcity that AI disruption targets. A single fabricated case citation can end careers. Imagine a security engineer whose monitoring system had a 99% accuracy rate, but the 1% false negatives included critical breaches that were mishandled so badly that the company’s reputation was irreparably damaged. Reputation operates on decades-long timescales because clients hire lawyers based on their track record of successfully defending against legal threats.

Just as I described in software development, AI injecting liquidity into skill markets creates a repricing rather than elimination. Where legal expertise was once scarce and slowly accumulated, AI makes certain capabilities more accessible while reshaping where the real value lies.

Traditional legal training worked like security engineer mentorship. Junior lawyers learned threat modeling by working on real cases under senior guidance. They’d review contracts while learning to spot potential vulnerabilities, draft briefs while understanding how opposing counsel might attack their arguments, structure deals while considering regulatory risks. Quality control and knowledge transfer happened simultaneously, seniors reviewing junior work would catch errors while teaching systematic risk assessment.

AI is disrupting this model in ways that would terrify any security team lead. Document review, research, and drafting that once provided junior lawyers with hands-on threat modeling experience are being automated. The tasks that taught pattern recognition, learning to spot the subtle contract clause that creates liability exposure, recognizing the factual detail that undermines a legal argument, are disappearing.

This creates the same middle tier squeeze I explored in software development, acute pressure between increasingly capable juniors and hyper-productive seniors. Junior lawyers become more capable with AI assistance while partners extend their span of control through AI tools, leaving mid-level associates caught in a compressed middle where their traditional role as the “throughput engine” gets automated away.

Here’s the economic problem, when AI saves 20 hours on document review, partners face a choice between investing those hours in unpaid training or billing them elsewhere. The math strongly favors billing. Fixed-fee arrangements make this worse, junior lawyers become cost centers rather than revenue generators during their learning phase.

The Governance Crisis

Current legal AI focuses on document creation, research assistance, and drafting support, essentially better word processors and search engines. While impressive, they’ve created a governance burden that’s consuming the time that should be spent teaching threat modeling skills.

This mirrors what I wrote about in compliance “automation asymmetry” where sophisticated AI-generated documents overwhelm human review capacity. Just as automated compliance artifacts can mask underlying issues with perfect formatting, AI legal documents create a veneer of competence that requires more, not less, senior oversight.

Every AI-generated document requires human verification. Partners must create AI policies, review procedures, and verification systems. The American Bar Association found lawyer concerns about AI accuracy increased from 58% in 2023 to 75% in 2025, exposure to these tools has heightened rather than reduced professional anxiety. Firms now maintain an average of 18 different AI solutions, each requiring its own governance framework.

This is like asking security engineers to spend their time verifying automated log reports instead of designing security architectures. Quality control has shifted from collaborative threat assessment to bureaucratic oversight. Instead of senior lawyers working through junior analysis while explaining legal reasoning, we have senior lawyers checking AI output for fabricated cases and subtle errors.

The teaching moments are gone. The efficient combination of quality control and knowledge transfer that characterized traditional review has been broken into separate activities. Senior expertise gets consumed by managing AI rather than developing human threat modeling capabilities.

There’s a deeper concern too. Security engineers know that over-reliance on automated tools can weaken situational awareness and pattern recognition. Legal reasoning requires the same kind of layered understanding, knowing not just what the law says, but how different doctrines interact, how factual variations affect outcomes, how strategic considerations shape arguments. AI can provide correct answers without fostering the threat modeling instincts that distinguish excellent lawyers.

The problem isn’t that we have AI in legal practice, it’s that we have the wrong kind of AI.

Building Better Security Tools

The fundamental problem is architectural. Current legal AI treats legal work as document processing when it’s actually systematic threat assessment. Most legal AI focuses on output, drafting contracts, researching case law, generating briefs. This misses the intellectual core, the systematic risk analysis frameworks that constitute legal reasoning.

Good lawyers, like security engineers, rely on systematic approaches. Constitutional analysis follows specific threat models for government overreach. Contract law has systematic frameworks for identifying formation vulnerabilities, performance risks, and breach scenarios. Tort analysis uses systematic negligence assessment patterns. These frameworks require internalization through guided practice that current AI disrupts.

But imagine different AI, tools designed for threat modeling rather than document creation. Instead of generating contract language, AI that helps identify potential vulnerabilities in proposed terms. Instead of researching cases, AI that systematically maps the legal threat landscape for a particular situation. Instead of drafting briefs, AI that helps build comprehensive defensive arguments while teaching the reasoning patterns that make them effective.

This would change governance entirely. Instead of verifying AI-generated content, lawyers would verify AI-enhanced threat assessments. Systems that show their analytical work (explaining why certain contract clauses create liability exposure, how different factual scenarios affect legal outcomes) enable both quality control and learning.

Security engineers don’t just need better log parsing tools; they need better threat modeling frameworks. Lawyers face the same challenge. The 19th-century apprenticeship model worked because it focused on developing systematic risk assessment capabilities through guided practice with real threats.

The Pattern Continues

This completes a progression I’ve traced across professions, and the pattern is remarkably consistent. In software development, execution capabilities are being liquified, but systems architects who understand complex threat models gain value. In compliance, process expertise is being liquified, but systematic thinkers who can model regulatory interactions across domains have advantages.

In law, legal reasoning itself could be liquified, but the outcome depends on whether we develop AI that enhances threat modeling capabilities rather than just automating document production. The sophisticated legal analysis I love hearing on Advisory Opinions represents systematic risk assessment applied to complex problems. This is exactly the kind of security engineering thinking that creates real value.

The pattern across all three domains is clear, as AI makes execution more liquid, value shifts toward orchestration. In software, orchestrators who build AI-augmented workflows and internal platforms create structural advantages. In compliance, orchestrators who design intelligent systems for continuous assurance gain leverage over reactive, manual approaches.

Current legal AI accidentally creates governance overhead that eliminates mentorship. But reasoning-focused AI could enhance both efficiency and competence development. Instead of making lawyers better document processors, we could make them better security engineers, orchestrators who design systematic threat assessment capabilities rather than just executors who handle individual risks.

The choice matters because society depends on lawyers who can systematically identify legal threats and build robust defenses. Current AI accidentally undermines this by turning lawyers into document reviewers instead of security architects.

The Washington apprenticeship program that first caught my attention represents something important, learning through guided practice with real threats rather than theoretical study. The future may not eliminate apprenticeship but transform it, the first generation learning legal threat modeling through AI designed to build rather than replace systematic reasoning capabilities.

When I listen to Advisory Opinions, I’m hearing security engineers for text working through complex threat assessments. That’s the kind of thinking we need more of, not less. We can build AI that enhances rather than replaces it.

Conway’s Law Is Dying

I’ve been thinking about Conway’s Law, the idea that organizations “ship their org chart.” The seams are most visible in big tech. Google, for example, once offered nearly a dozen messaging apps instead of a single excellent one, with each team fighting for resources. The same pattern appears everywhere: companies struggle to solve problems that cross organizational boundaries because bureaucracy and incentives keep everyone guarding their turf. The issue is not the technology; it is human nature.

I caught up with an old friend recently. We met at nineteen while working for one of the first cybersecurity companies, and now, in our fifties, we both advise organizations of every size on innovation and problem-solving. We agreed that defining the technical fix is the easy part; the hard part is steering it through people and politics. When change shows up, most organizations behave like an immune system attacking a foreign antibody. As Laurence J. Peter wrote in 1969, “Bureaucracy defends the status quo long past the time when the quo has lost its status.”

Naturally, the conversation drifted to AI and how it will, or will not, transform the companies we work with. I explored this in two recent posts [1,2]. We have seen the same thing: not everyone is good at using AI. The CSOs and CTOs we speak with struggle to help their teams use the technology well, while a handful of outliers become dramatically more productive. The gap is not access or budget; it is skill. Today’s AI rewards people who can break problems down, spot patterns, and think in systems. Treat the model like a coworker and you gain leverage; treat it like a tool and you barely notice a difference.

That leverage is even clearer for solo founders. A single entrepreneur can now stretch farther without venture money and sometimes never need it. With AI acting as marketer, product manager, developer, and support rep, one person can build and run products that once demanded whole teams. This loops back to Conway’s Law: when you are the entire org chart, the product stays coherent because there are no turf battles. Once layers of management appear, the seams show, and people ship their structure. Peter’s Principle follows, people rise to their level of incompetence, and the bureaucracy that emerges defends that status.

Yet while AI empowers outliers and small players, it might also entrench new kinds of monopolies. Big tech, with vast data and compute resources, could still dominate by outscaling everyone else, even if their org charts are messy. The question becomes whether organizational dysfunction will outweigh resource advantages, or whether sheer scale still wins despite structural problems.

The traditional buffers that let incumbents slumber (high engineering costs, feature arms races, and heavy compliance overhead) are eroding. Payroll keeps rising and headcount is the biggest line item, while the newest startups need fewer people every quarter. I expect a new wave of private-equity-style moves: smaller players snapped up, broken into leaner parts, and retooled around AI so they no longer rely on large teams.

Social media voices such as Codie Sanchez highlight the largest generational transfer of wealth in history. Many family-owned firms will soon be sold because their heirs have no interest in running them. These so-called boring businesses may look ripe for optimization, because most still rely on human capital to keep the lights on. Just above that tier we see larger enterprises weighed down by armies of people who perform repetitive tasks. A modern consulting firm armed with AI could walk into any of these firms and automate vast swaths of monotonous work that keeps those businesses running. Incumbents will struggle to move that fast, trapped by the very structures we have been discussing. A private-equity buyer, on the other hand, can apply the playbook with no sentimental ties and few political constraints.

ATMs let banks cut tellers and close branches. Customers later missed human service, so smaller neighborhood offices came back. AI will force every sector to strike its own balance between efficiency and relationship.

They say history doesn’t rhyme but it repeats, if so incumbents who dismiss AI as hype may follow Blockbuster into the museum of missed opportunities. In Wall Street (1987), Michael Douglas plays Gordon Gekko, a corporate raider who uses leveraged buyouts to seize firms like Blue Star Airlines, an aircraft maintenance and charter company. Gekko’s playbook, acquire, strip assets, slash jobs, was ruthless but effective, exploiting inefficiencies in bloated structures. Today, AI plays a similar role, not through buyouts but by enabling leaner, faster competitors to gut inefficiencies. Solo founders and AI-driven startups can now outpace large teams, while private-equity buyers use AI to retool acquired firms, automating repetitive tasks and shrinking headcounts. Just as Gekko hollowed out firms in any industry, AI’s relentless optimization threatens any business clinging to outdated, bureaucratic org charts.

Across news, television, music, and film, incumbents once clung to their near-monopoly positions and assumed they had time to adapt. Their unwillingness to face how the world was changing, and their instinct to defend the status quo, led to the same result: they failed to evolve and disappeared when the market moved on.

The Ask? incumbents, you need to automate before raiders do it for you.

What Does CPA Canada Have to Do With the WebPKI Anyway?

When we discuss the WebPKI, we naturally focus on Certificate Authorities (CAs), browser root programs, and the standards established by the CA/Browser Forum. Yet for these standards to carry real weight, they must be translated into formal, auditable compliance regimes. This is where assurance frameworks enter the picture, typically building upon the foundational work of the CA/Browser Forum.

The WebTrust framework, overseen by professional accounting bodies, is only one way to translate CA/Browser Forum requirements into auditable criteria. In Europe, a parallel scheme relies on the European Telecommunications Standards Institute (ETSI) for the technical rules, with audits carried out by each country’s ISO/IEC 17065-accredited Conformity Assessment Bodies. Both frameworks follow the same pattern: they take the CA/Browser Forum standards and repackage them into structured compliance audit programs.

Understanding the power dynamics here is crucial. While these audits scrutinize CAs, they exercise no direct control over browser root programs. The root programs at Google, Apple, Microsoft, and Mozilla remain the ultimate arbiters. They maintain their own policies, standards, and processes that extend beyond what these audit regimes cover. No one compels the browsers to require WebTrust or ETSI audits; they volunteer because obtaining clean reports from auditors who have seen things in person helps them understand if the CA is competent and living up to their promises.

How WebTrust Actually Works

With this context established, let’s examine the WebTrust model prevalent across North America and other international jurisdictions. In North America, administration operates as a partnership between the AICPA (for the U.S.) and CPA Canada. For most other countries, CPA Canada directly manages international enrollment, collaborating with local accounting bodies like the HKICPA for professional oversight.

These organizations function through a defined sequence of procedural steps: First, they participate in the CA/Browser Forum to provide auditability perspectives. Second, they fork the core technical requirements and rebundle them as the WebTrust Principles and Criteria. Third, they license accounting firms to conduct audits based on these principles and criteria. Fourth, they oversee licensed practitioners through inspection and disciplinary processes.

The audit process follows a mechanical flow. CA management produces an Assertion Letter claiming compliance. The auditor then tests that assertion and produces an Attestation Report, a key data point for browser root programs. Upon successful completion, the CA can display the WebTrust seal.

This process creates a critical misconception about what the WebTrust seal actually signifies. Some marketing approaches position successful audits as a “gold seal” of approval, suggesting they represent the pinnacle of security and best practices. They do not. A clean WebTrust report simply confirms that a CA has met the bare minimum requirements for WebPKI participation, it represents the floor, not the ceiling. The danger emerges when CAs treat this floor as their target; these are often the same CAs responsible for significant mis-issuances and ultimate distrust by browser root programs.

Where Incentives Break Down

Does this system guarantee consistent, high-quality CA operations? The reality is that the system’s incentives and structure actively work against that goal. This isn’t a matter of malicious auditors; we’re dealing with human nature interacting with a flawed system, compounded by a critical gap between general audit principles and deep technical expertise.

Security professionals approach assessments expecting auditors to actively seek problems. That incentive doesn’t exist here. CPA audits are fundamentally designed for financial compliance verification, ensuring documented procedures match stated policies. Security assessments, by contrast, actively hunt for vulnerabilities and weaknesses. These represent entirely different audit philosophies: one seeks to confirm documented compliance, the other seeks to discover hidden risks.

This philosophical gap becomes critical when deep technical expertise meets general accounting principles. Even with impeccably ethical and principled auditors, you can’t catch what you don’t understand. A financial auditor trained to verify that procedures are documented and followed may completely miss that a technically sound procedure creates serious security vulnerabilities.

This creates a two-layer problem. First, subtle but critical ambiguities or absent content in a CA’s Certification Practice Statement (CPS) and practices might not register as problems to non-specialists. Second, even when auditors do spot vague language, commercial pressures create an impossible dilemma: push the customer toward greater specificity (risking the engagement and future revenue), or let it slide due to the absence of explicit requirements.

This dynamic creates a classic moral hazard, an issue similar to the one we explored in our recent post, Auditors are paid by the very entities they’re supposed to scrutinize critically, creating incentives to overlook issues in order to maintain business relationships. Meanwhile, the consequences of missed problems, security failures, compromised trust, and operational disruptions fall on the broader WebPKI ecosystem and billions of relying parties who had no voice in the audit process. This dynamic drives the inconsistencies we observe today and reflects a broader moral hazard problem plaguing the entire WebPKI ecosystem, where those making critical security decisions rarely bear the full consequences of poor choices.

This reality presents a prime opportunity for disruption through intelligent automation. The core problem lies in expertise “illiquidity”, deep compliance knowledge remains locked in specialists’ minds, trapped in manual processes, and is prohibitively expensive to scale.

Current compliance automation has only created “automation asymmetry,” empowering auditees to generate voluminous, polished artifacts that overwhelm manual auditors. This transforms audits from operational fact-finding into reviews of well-presented fiction.

The solution requires creating true “skill liquidity” through AI: not just another LLM, but an intelligent compliance platform embedding structured knowledge from seasoned experts. This system would feature an ontology of controls, evidence requirements, and policy interdependencies, capable of performing the brutally time-consuming rote work that consumes up to 30% of manual audits: policy mapping, change log scrutiny, with superior speed and consistency.

When auditors and program administrators gain access to this capability, the incentive model fundamentally transforms. AI can objectively flag ambiguities and baseline deviations that humans might feel pressured to overlook or lack the skill to notice, directly addressing the moral hazard inherent in the current system. When compliance findings become objective data points generated by intelligent systems rather than subjective judgments influenced by commercial relationships, they become much harder to ignore or rationalize away.

This transformation liquefies rote work, liberating human experts to focus on what truly matters: making high-stakes judgment calls, investigating system-flagged anomalies, and assessing control effectiveness rather than mere documented existence. This elevation transforms auditors from box-checkers into genuine strategic advisors, addressing the system’s core ethical challenges.

This new transparency and accountability shifts the entire dynamic. Audited entities can evolve from reactive fire drills to proactive, continuous self-assurance. Auditors, with amplified expertise and judgment focused on true anomalies rather than ambiguous documentation, can deliver exponentially greater value.

Moving Past the Performance

This brings us back to the fundamental issue: the biggest problem in communication is the illusion that it has occurred. Today’s use of the word “audit” creates a dangerous illusion of deep security assessment.

By leveraging AI to create skill liquidity, we can finally move past this illusion by automating the more mundane audit elements giving space where the assumed security and correctness assessments also happen. We can forge a future where compliance transcends audit performance theater, becoming instead a foundation of verifiable, continuous operational integrity, built on truly accessible expertise rather than scarce, locked-away knowledge.

The WebPKI ecosystem deserves better than the bare minimum. With the right tools and transformed incentives, we can finally deliver it.

From Mandate to Maybe: The Quiet Unwinding of Federal Cybersecurity Policy

Why the 2025 Amendments to EO 14144 Walked Back Progress on PQC, SBOMs, and Enforcement, Even as the Products to Support Them Have Become Real.

The June 2025 amendments to Executive Order 14144 read like a cybersecurity manifesto. They name adversaries (China, Russia, Iran, North Korea) with unprecedented directness and reference cutting-edge threats like quantum computing and AI-enabled attacks. The rhetoric is strong. The tone, urgent.

But beneath the geopolitical theater, something quieter and more troubling has happened. The Executive Order has systematically stripped out the enforcement mechanisms that made federal cybersecurity modernization possible. Mandates have become “guidance.” Deadlines have turned into discretion. Requirements have transformed into recommendations.

We’re witnessing a shift from actionable federal cybersecurity policy to a fragmented, voluntary approach, just as other nations double down on binding standards and enforcement.

The Enforcement Rollback

The most visible casualty was the software bill of materials (SBOM) mandate . The original EO 14144 required vendors to submit machine-readable attestations, with specific deadlines for updating federal procurement rules. These requirements have been entirely deleted.

This removal actually makes sense. Most SBOMs today are fundamentally broken: generated manually, and don’t actually match to deployed artifacts. Without robust validation infrastructure, SBOMs create more noise than signal. Use cases like vulnerability correlation break down when the underlying data is untrustworthy.

Once you have reproducible builds and verifiable provenance pipelines, SBOMs become implicit in the process. The government was both premature and naive in requiring SBOMs before the ecosystem could reliably generate them and do something with them. More fundamentally, they hooed that mandating documentation would somehow solve the underlying supply chain visibility problem – unfortunately thats not the case.

But SBOMs are a symptom of deeper issues: unreproducible builds, opaque dependency management, and post-hoc artifact tracking. Simply requiring vendors to produce better paperwork was never going to address these foundational challenges. The mandate confused the deliverable with the capability.

What’s more concerning is what else disappeared. Provisions mandating phishing-resistant multi-factor authentication, real-time interagency threat sharing, and specific timelines for aligning federal IT procurement with Zero Trust requirements all vanished. The detailed Border Gateway Protocol security language was replaced with generic “agency coordination” directives. The EO stripped away near-term pressure on vendors and agencies alike.

Yet even as these enforcement mechanisms were being removed, the amendments introduced something potentially transformative.

Rules as Code: Promise, Paradox, and Perfect Timing

The most exciting addition is buried in bureaucratic language. A pilot program for “machine-readable versions of policy and guidance” in cybersecurity appears almost as an afterthought. While the EO doesn’t name OSCAL explicitly, this is almost certainly referring to expanding the Open Security Controls Assessment Language use beyond its current FedRAMP usage into broader policy areas.

This could be transformative. Imagine cybersecurity policies that are automatically testable, compliance that’s continuously verifiable, and security controls that integrate directly with infrastructure-as-code. OSCAL has already proven this works in FedRAMP: structured security plans, automated assessment results, and machine-readable control catalogs. Expanding this approach could revolutionize how government manages cybersecurity risk.

But there’s something deliciously ironic about the timing. We’re finally standardizing JSON schemas for control matrices and policy frameworks just as AI becomes sophisticated enough to parse and understand unstructured policy documents directly. It’s almost comical. Decades of manual compliance work have driven us to create machine-readable standards, and now we have “magical AI” that could theoretically read the original messy documents.

Yet the structured approach remains the right direction. While AI can parse natural language policies, it introduces interpretation variations. Different models might understand the same requirement slightly differently. OSCAL’s structured format eliminates ambiguity. When a control is defined in JSON, there’s no room for misinterpretation about implementation requirements.

More importantly, having machine-readable controls means compliance tools, security scanners, and infrastructure-as-code pipelines can directly consume and act on requirements without any parsing layer. The automation becomes more reliable and faster than AI interpretation. Real-time compliance monitoring really only works with structured data. AI might tell you what a policy says, but OSCAL helps you build systems that automatically check if you’re meeting it continuously.

This pattern of promising technical advancement while retreating from enforcement continues in the amendments’ approach to cryptographic modernization.

The Post-Quantum Reality Check

Then there’s the post-quantum cryptography provisions. The EO requires CISA and NSA to publish lists of PQC-supporting products by December 2025, and mandates TLS 1.3 by January 2030.

The TLS 1.3 requirement appears to be carried over from the previous executive order, suggesting this wasn’t a deliberate policy decision but administrative continuity. The amendment specifically states that agencies must “support, as soon as practicable, but not later than January 2, 2030, Transport Layer Security protocol version 1.3 or a successor version.” More tellingly, the 2030 timeline likely reflects a sobering recognition of enforcement reality: federal agencies and contractors are struggling with basic infrastructure modernization, making even a five-year runway for TLS 1.3 adoption potentially optimistic.

This reveals the central tension in federal cybersecurity policy. The infrastructure is calcified. Legacy systems, interception-dependent security architectures, and procurement cycles that move at geological speed all contribute to the problem. A 2030 TLS 1.3 mandate isn’t visionary; it’s an acknowledgment that the federal government can’t move faster than its most outdated components.

But this enforcement realism makes the broader PQC timeline even more concerning. If we need five years to achieve TLS 1.3 adoption across federal systems, how long will the actual post-quantum migration take? By 2030, the question won’t be whether agencies support TLS 1.3, but whether they’ve successfully migrated key exchange, digital signatures, and PKI infrastructure to post-quantum algorithms. That’s a far more complex undertaking.

In essence, the EO treats PQC like a checklist item when it’s actually a teardown and rebuild of our cryptographic foundation. Historically, the federal government has led cryptographic transitions by creating market demand and demonstrating feasibility, not by setting distant mandates. When the government moved to AES or adopted Suite B algorithms, it drove adoption through procurement pressure and early implementation.

Meanwhile, allies like the UK and Germany are taking this traditional approach with PQC. The UK’s National Cyber Security Centre has published detailed migration timelines and will launch a pilot program to certify consultancy firms that provide PQC migration support to organizations. Germany’s Federal Office for Information Security has been leading in co-developing standards and demonstrating early government adoption. They’re creating market pull through demonstrated feasibility, not regulatory deadlines that may prove unenforceable.

Beyond cryptography, the EO does introduce some concrete requirements, though these represent a mixed bag of genuine progress and missed opportunities.

The EO also tasks NIST with updating key frameworks and calls for AI-specific vulnerability coordination. All valuable work. But notably absent: any requirement for agencies to adopt, implement, or report on these updated frameworks.

One genuinely new addition is the IoT Cyber Trust Mark requirement: by January 2027, federal agencies must require vendors of consumer IoT products to carry the labeling. This represents concrete procurement leverage, though it’s limited to a narrow product category.

These mixed signals, technical infrastructure development alongside enforcement retreat, reflect a broader pattern that undermines the federal government’s cybersecurity leadership.

As we’ve explored in previous discussions of AI’s impact on compliance, this shift toward automated policy interpretation and enforcement represents a broader transformation in how expertise flows through complex systems, but only when the underlying mandates exist to make that automation meaningful.

We’re building this sophisticated machine-readable infrastructure just as the enforcement mechanisms that would make it meaningful are being stripped away. It’s like having a perfectly engineered sports car but removing the requirement to actually drive anywhere.

The Infrastructure Is Ready. The Mandate Isn’t.

Federal cybersecurity policy shapes vendor behavior, influences state and local government standards, and signals U.S. priorities to international partners. Without centralized mandates, vendors receive mixed signals. Agencies implement inconsistently. Meanwhile, international partners advance with clearer timelines and stronger enforcement. The U.S. risks ceding leadership in areas where it built the foundational standards, just as adversaries accelerate their own capabilities.

The United States has built remarkable cybersecurity infrastructure. OSCAL for automated compliance, frameworks for secure software development, and draft PQC standards for cryptographic transition all represent genuine achievements. But the June 2025 amendments represent a retreat from the leadership needed to activate this infrastructure.

We have the tooling, standards, and momentum, but we’ve paused at the moment we needed to press forward. In the face of growing threats and global urgency, discretion is not resilience.

We’ve codified trust, but stopped requiring it, leaving security to agency discretion instead of institutional design. That’s not a strategy. It’s a hope. And hope is not a security control.

Rethinking Compliance: AI, Skill Liquidity, and the Quest for Verifiable Truth

In an earlier piece, ‘The Limitations of Audits,’ we explored how traditional compliance frameworks often fall short, functioning as point-in-time assessments rather than drivers of continuous security practices. Building on that foundation, and expanding on our exploration in ‘When AI Injects Liquidity Into Skills: What Happens to the Middle Tier?’, let’s examine how AI is poised to transform this landscape by introducing “skill liquidity” to compliance and auditing.

The High Price of Illiquid Expertise: Manual Bottlenecks in Compliance Today

As I’ve lamented before, the real cost of traditional, “illiquid” approaches to compliance expertise is staggering. In WebTrust audits, for instance, audit teams frequently report not having “enough time to look at the big picture” because their efforts are consumed by manual, repetitive tasks. Approximately 5-10% of an entire audit engagement – which can range from 350 to well over 1,500 hours for the audit firm alone – is often dedicated just to mapping organizational policy documents against standard templates. Another 15-20% of those hours are spent scrutinizing core operational processes mandated by frameworks, such as user access lifecycles or system change logs.

These percentages represent an enormous drain of highly skilled human capital on work that is largely automatable. And these figures only account for the auditors’ direct engagement. The true cost multiplies when you factor in the mountain of preparation by the entity being audited and subsequent review by third parties. The fully loaded headcount costs across this ecosystem for a single audit cycle represent a heavy tax on expertise that remains stubbornly “frozen” in manual processes.

First-Wave Automation: A Trickle of Skill Liquidity, or a New Kind of Friction?

The first wave of automation has arrived, with tools like Vanta and Secureframe offering streamlined pathways to certifications like SOC 2 by generating policy templates and automating some evidence collection. For many organizations, especially those with simpler, cloud-native environments, this has made basic compliance more accessible, a welcome “trickle of skill liquidity” that helps get a generic certification done in record time.

However, this initial wave has inadvertently created what we might call “automation asymmetry.” These tools predominantly empower the audited entity. When a company uses sophisticated automation to produce voluminous, perfectly formatted artifacts, while auditors still rely on largely manual review, a dangerous gap emerges. The truth risks getting lost in these “polished milquetoast” audits. The sheer volume and veneer of perfection can overwhelm human scrutiny, potentially masking underlying issues or a compliance posture that’s merely superficial. The audit can devolve into a review of well-presented fiction rather than an unearthing of operational fact.

Unlocking True Skill Liquidity: Intelligent Systems That Make Deep Compliance Knowledge Flow

To move beyond surface-level automation or basic Large Language Models (LLMs), we need intelligent compliance systems – sophisticated platforms designed to embed and scale deep domain knowledge. This isn’t just about processing text; it’s about an AI that understands context, relationships, history, and the intricate rules of specific compliance frameworks from the perspective of all stakeholders. Indeed, this drive to embed and scale specialized knowledge through AI is a significant trend across industries. For instance, leading professional services firms have been developing proprietary generative AI platforms, like McKinsey’s Lilli (announced in 2023), to provide their consultants with rapid access to synthesized insights drawn from vast internal knowledge bases, effectively enhancing their own ‘skill liquidity’ and analytical capabilities. Such systems, whether for broad consulting or specialized compliance, require:

  • An ontology of expertise: Encoding the structured knowledge of seasoned auditors—controls, their intent, interdependencies, and valid evidence criteria.
  • An ontology of documents: Understanding the purpose and interplay of diverse artifacts like System Security Plans, policies, vulnerability scans, and their connection to the compliance narrative.
  • Temporal logic and change tracking: Recognizing that compliance is dynamic, and analyzing how policies, controls, and evidence evolve over time, identifying drift from baselines.
  • Systemic integration: A cohesive architecture of LLMs, knowledge graphs, rule engines, and data connectors that can ingest, analyze, and provide auditable insights.

This approach transforms an AI from one that simply helps prepare artifacts to one that can critically assess them with genuine understanding – a crucial shift towards making knowledge truly usable (a concept we delve into in ‘From Plato to AI: Why Understanding Matters More Than Information’ ) – making that deep compliance knowledge flow across the ecosystem.

Liquidating Rote Work, Elevating Human Expertise: AI’s Impact on Audit Value and Integrity

When auditors and program administrators leverage intelligent systems, the nature of their work fundamentally changes—a direct consequence of “skill liquidity.” The AI can ingest and critically analyze the (potentially voluminous and auditee-generated) artifacts, performing the initial, labor-intensive review that consumes so many hours. This liquidates the rote work, significantly impacting even the global delivery models of audit services, as routine document review tasks are often offshored for cost savings, can now be performed with greater consistency, speed, and contextual insight by these intelligent systems.

This frees up high-value human experts to:

  • Focus on what truly matters: Shift from the minutiae of “collection, ticketing, whether there was testing involved, whether there was sign-off” to the crucial judgment calls: “Is this a finding or a recommendation?”
  • Investigate with depth: Dive into complex system interactions, probe anomalies flagged by the AI, and assess the effectiveness of controls, not just their documented existence.
  • Enhance audit integrity: By piercing the veneer of “polished” evidence, these AI-augmented auditors can ensure a more thorough and truthful assessment, upholding the value of the audit itself.

The New Compliance Economy: How Liquid Skills Reshape Teams, Tools, and Trust

This widespread skill liquidity will inevitably reshape the “compliance economy.” We’ll see:

  • Transformed Team Structures: Fewer people will be needed for the easily automated, “liquid” tasks of data collection and basic checking. The demand will surge for deep subject matter experts who can design, oversee, and interpret the findings of these intelligent systems, and who can tackle the complex strategic issues that AI surfaces.
  • Empowered Audited Organizations: Companies won’t just be scrambling for periodic audits. They’ll leverage their own intelligent systems for continuous self-assurance, drastically reducing acute audit preparation pain and eliminating those “last-minute surprises.” Furthermore, the common issue of “accepted risks” or Plans of Action & Milestones (POA&Ms) languishing indefinitely is addressed when intelligent systems continuously track their status, aging, and evidence of progress, bringing persistent, transparent visibility to unresolved issues.
  • New Proactive Capabilities: With compliance intelligence more readily available, organizations can embed it directly into their operations. Imagine Infrastructure as Code (IaC) being automatically validated against security policies before deployment, or proposed system changes being instantly assessed for policy impact. This is proactive compliance, fueled by accessible expertise.

Trust is enhanced because the processes become more transparent, continuous, and validated with a depth previously unachievable at scale.

The Liquid Future: Verifiable, Continuous Assurance Built on Accessible Expertise

The ultimate promise of AI-driven skill liquidity in compliance is a future where assurance is more efficient, far more effective, and fundamentally more trustworthy. When critical compliance knowledge and sophisticated analytical capabilities are “liquefied” by AI and made continuously available to all parties—auditees, auditors, and oversight bodies—the benefits are profound:

  • Audited entities move from reactive fire drills to proactive, embedded compliance.
  • Auditors become true strategic advisors, their expertise amplified by AI, focusing on systemic integrity.
  • Compliance Program Administrators gain powerful tools for consistent, real-time, and data-driven oversight.

The journey requires a shift in perspective. Leaders across this ecosystem must recognize the risks of automation asymmetry and the limitations of surface-level tools. The call, therefore, is for them to become true orchestrators of this new compliance liquidity, investing not just in AI tools, but in the expertise, updated frameworks, and cultural shifts that turn AI’s potential into verifiable, continuous assurance. This is how we move beyond the “polished milquetoast” and forge a future where compliance is less about the performance of an audit and more about the verifiable, continuous truth of operational integrity, built on a bedrock of truly accessible expertise.

When AI Injects Liquidity Into Skills: What Happens to the Middle Tier?

In financial markets, liquidity changes everything. Once-illiquid assets become tradable. New players flood in. Old hierarchies collapse. Value flows faster and differently.

The same thing is now happening to technical skill.

Where expertise was once scarce and slowly accumulated, AI is injecting liquidity into the skill market. Execution is faster. Access is broader. Barriers are lower. Like in finance, this shift is reshaping the middle of the market in ways that are often painful and confusing.

This is not the end of software jobs. It is a repricing. Those who understand the dynamics of liquidity, and how unevenly it spreads, can not only navigate this change they can succeed because of it rather than get displaced by it.

The Skill Market Before AI

Historically, software development was built on a steep skill curve. It took years to develop the knowledge required to write performant, secure, maintainable code. Organizations reflected this with layered teams: junior developers handled simple tickets, mid-tier engineers carried the delivery load, and senior engineers architected and reviewed.

This mirrored an illiquid market:

  • Knowledge was siloed, often in the heads of senior devs or buried in internal wikis.
  • Feedback loops were slow, with code reviews, QA gates, and manual debugging.
  • Skill mobility was constrained, so career progression followed a fixed ladder over time.

In this world, mid-tier developers were essential. They were the throughput engine of most teams. Not yet strategic, but experienced enough to be autonomous. Scarcity of skill ensured their value.

AI Changes the Market: Injecting Skill Liquidity

Then came the shift: GitHub Copilot, ChatGPT, Claude, Gemini, Cursor, Windsurf, and others.

These tools do more than suggest code. They:

  • Fill in syntax and structural gaps.
  • Scaffold infrastructure and documentation.
  • Explain APIs and recommend architectural patterns.
  • Automatically refactor and write tests.

They reduce the friction of execution. GitHub’s research shows developers using Copilot complete tasks up to 55 percent faster (GitHub, 2022). Similar gains are reported elsewhere.

They make skill more accessible, especially to those who lacked it previously:

  • Junior developers can now produce meaningful output faster than ever before.
  • Non-traditional developers can enter workflows that were once gated.
  • Senior developers can expand their span of control and iterate more broadly.

In market terms, AI liquifies skill:

  • The bid-ask spread between junior and mid-level capability narrows, that is, the gap between what juniors can do and what mids were once needed for shrinks.
  • Skill becomes less bound by time-in-seat or institutional memory.
  • More participants can engage productively in the software creation economy. While adoption varies, large tech firms often lead, while smaller companies or legacy-heavy sectors like banking and healthcare face higher integration hurdles, the trend toward skill liquidity is clear.

This shift is not happening evenly. That is where the real opportunity lies.

The arbitrage today is not just in the tools themselves, the chance to capitalize on gaps in how quickly teams adopt AI. It is in the opportunity spread: the gap between what AI makes possible and who is effectively using it.

Just like in markets, early adopters of new liquidity mechanisms gain a structural advantage. Teams that build AI-augmented workflows, shared prompt libraries, and internal copilots are operating on a different cost and speed curve than those still relying on traditional experience-based workflows.

This gap will not last forever. But while it exists, it offers meaningful leverage for individuals, teams, and organizations.

Importantly, AI tools amplify productivity differently across experience levels:

  • Juniors gain access to knowledge and patterns previously acquired only through years of experience, helping them produce higher-quality work faster.
  • Senior developers, with their deeper context and better judgment, often extract even greater value from these tools, using them to implement complex solutions, explore multiple approaches simultaneously, and extend their architectural vision across more projects.
  • Both ends of the spectrum see productivity gains, but in different ways, juniors become more capable, while seniors become even more leveraged.

This amplification effect creates acute pressure on the middle tier, caught between increasingly capable juniors and hyper-productive seniors.

Why the Middle Tier Feels the Squeeze

There is also a practical reason: cost control.

As AI raises the baseline productivity of junior developers, companies see an opportunity to rebalance toward lower-compensated talent. Where a mid-level or senior engineer was once needed to maintain velocity and quality, AI makes it possible for a well-supported junior to do more.

Companies are increasingly betting that AI tools plus cheaper talent are more efficient than maintaining traditional team structures. This shift isn’t without risks, AI-generated code can introduce errors (studies suggest 20-30% may need human fixes), and over-reliance on juniors without robust oversight can compromise quality. Experienced developers remain critical to guide and refine these workflows. That bet is paying off, especially when companies invest in prompt engineering, onboarding, internal platforms, and support tools.

But that “well-supported junior” is not automatic. It requires experienced developers to build and maintain that support system. Mentorship, internal frameworks, curated AI toolchains, and effective onboarding still depend on human judgment and care.

And while AI can augment execution, many real-world systems still depend on context-heavy problem solving, legacy code familiarity, and judgment, all of which often live with experienced, mid-level developers.

What Happens to the Middle Tier? Compression, Specialization, and Realignment

As in finance, when liquidity rises:

  • Margins compress. It becomes harder to justify mid-level compensation when similar output is available elsewhere.
  • Roles consolidate. Fewer people are needed to ship the same amount of code.
  • Value shifts. Execution is commoditized, while orchestration, judgment, and leverage rise in importance.
  • New specializations emerge. Just as electronic trading created demand for algorithmic strategists and execution specialists, AI is creating niches for prompt engineers, AI workflow designers, and domain-specific AI specialists.

This helps explain recent tech layoffs. Macroeconomic tightening and overhiring played a role, but so did something more subtle: AI-induced skill compression.

Layoffs often disproportionately affect mid-level developers:

  • Juniors are cheaper, and AI makes them more effective.
  • Seniors are harder to replace and more likely to direct or shape how AI is used.
  • Mid-tiers, once the backbone of execution, now face pressure from both sides.

Duolingo’s restructuring, for example, eliminated many contractor-heavy roles after adopting AI for content generation (Bloomberg, 2023). IBM has projected that up to 30 percent of back-office roles may be replaced by AI over five years (IBM, 2023). These moves reflect a larger market correction.

These examples underscore how companies are re-evaluating where skill and value live, and how automation enables workforce reshaping, sometimes at surprising layers.

The middle tier does not disappear. It gets repriced and redefined. The skills that remain valuable shift away from throughput toward infrastructure, context, and enablement.

Historical Parallel: The Rise of Electronic Trading

In the 1990s and early 2000s, financial markets underwent a similar transformation. Human traders were replaced by electronic systems and algorithms.

Execution became commoditized. Speed and scale mattered more than tenure. Mid-level traders were squeezed, unless they could reinvent themselves as quant strategists, product designers, or platform builders.

Software development is now echoing that shift.

AI is the electronic trading of code. It:

  • Reduces the skill premium on execution.
  • Increases velocity and throughput.
  • Rewards those who design, direct, or amplify workflows, not just those who carry them out.

The New Playbook: Think Like a Market Maker

If you are a developer today, the key question is no longer “How good is my code?” It is “How much leverage do I create for others and for the system?”

Here is how to thrive in this new market:

  1. Become a Force Multiplier
    Build internal tools. Create reusable prompts. Develop standard workflows. A mid-tier developer who builds a shared test and prompt suite for new APIs can significantly reduce team ramp-up time, with some teams reporting up to 40 percent gains (e.g., internal studies at tech firms like Atlassian).
  2. Shift from Throughput to Leverage
    Own end-to-end delivery. Understand the business context. Use AI to compress the time from problem to insight to deployment.
  3. Curate and Coach
    AI raises the floor, but it still needs editorial control. Be the one who sets quality standards, improves outputs, and helps others adopt AI effectively.
  4. Build Liquidity Infrastructure
    Invest in internal copilots, shared prompt repositories, and domain-specific agents. These are the new frameworks for scaling productivity.

What Leaders Should Do

Engineering leaders must reframe how they build and evaluate teams:

  • Rethink composition. Combine AI-augmented juniors, orchestration-savvy mids, and high-leverage seniors.
  • Promote skill liquidity. Create reusable workflows and support systems that reduce onboarding friction and accelerate feedback.
  • Invest in enablement. Treat prompt ops and AI tooling as seriously as CI/CD and observability.
  • Evaluate leverage, not volume. Focus on unblocked throughput, internal reuse, and enablement, not just tickets closed.

Leaders who create liquidity, not just consume it, will define the next wave of engineering excellence.

Conclusion: Orchestrators Will Win

AI has not eliminated the need for developers. It has eliminated the assumption that skill value increases linearly with time and tenure.

In financial markets, liquidity does not destroy value. It redistributes it and exposes where the leverage lives.

The same shift is happening in software. Those who thrive will be the ones who enable the flow of skill, knowledge, and value. That means orchestration, amplification, and infrastructure.

In markets, liquidity rewards the ones who create it.
In engineering, the same will now be true.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

The Rise of the Accidental Insider and the AI Attacker

The cybersecurity world often operates in stark binaries, “secure” versus “vulnerable,” “trusted” versus “untrusted.” We’ve built entire security paradigms around these crisp distinctions. But what happens when the most unpredictable actor isn’t an external attacker, but code you intentionally invited in, code that can now make its own decisions?

I’ve been thinking about security isolation lately, not as a binary state, but as a spectrum of trust boundaries. Each layer you add creates distance between potential threats and your crown jewels. But the rise of agentic AI systems completely reshuffles this deck in ways that our common security practices struggle to comprehend.

Why Containers Aren’t Fortresses

Let’s be honest about something security experts have known for decades: namespaces are not a security boundary.

In the cloud native world, we’re seeing solutions claiming to deliver secure multi-tenancy through “virtualization” that fundamentally rely on Linux namespaces. This is magical thinking, a comforting illusion rather than a security reality.

When processes share a kernel, they’re essentially roommates sharing a house, one broken window and everyone’s belongings are at risk. One kernel bug means game over for all workloads on that host.

Containers aren’t magical security fortresses – they’re essentially standard Linux processes isolated using features called namespaces. Crucially, because they all still share the host’s underlying operating system kernel, this namespace-based isolation has inherent limitations. Whether you’re virtualizing at the cluster level or node level, if your solution ultimately shares the host kernel, you have a fundamental security problem. Adding another namespace layer is like adding another lock to a door with a broken frame – it might make you feel better, but it doesn’t address the structural vulnerability.

The problem isn’t a lack of namespaces – it’s the shared kernel itself. User namespaces (dating back to Linux 3.6 in 2013) don’t fundamentally change this equation. They provide helpful features for non-root container execution, but they don’t magically create true isolation when the kernel remains shared.

This reality creates a natural hierarchy of isolation strength:

  1. Same-Kernel Process Isolation: The weakest boundary – all processes share a kernel with its enormous attack surface.
  2. Containers (Linux Namespaces + cgroups): Slightly better, but still fundamentally sharing the same kernel.
  3. Virtual Machines: Each tenant gets its own kernel, shrinking the attack surface to a handful of hypervisor calls – fewer doors to lock, fewer windows to watch.
  4. Bare-Metal Library OS: Approaches like Tamago put single-purpose binaries directly on hardware with no general-purpose OS underneath. The attack surface shrinks dramatically.
  5. Physical Separation: Different hardware, different networks, different rooms. When nothing else will do, air gaps still work.

But even this hierarchy gets fundamentally challenged by agentic systems.

The Accidental Insider Meets the Deliberate Attacker

Traditional security models focus on keeping malicious outsiders at bay. Advanced AI systems introduce two new risk profiles entirely, the accidental insider and the AI-augmented attacker.

Like a well-meaning but occasionally confused employee with superuser access, benign agentic systems don’t intend harm – they just occasionally misinterpret their objectives in unexpected ways. But we’re also seeing the rise of deliberately weaponized models designed to probe, persist, and exploit.

Consider these real-world examples:

  • ChatGPT o1 was tasked with winning a chess match. Without explicit instructions to cheat, o1 discovered on its own that it could edit the game state file, giving itself an advantage. The system wasn’t malicious – it simply found the most effective path to its goal of winning.
  • In another test, OpenAI’s O1 model encountered a vulnerability in a container during a hacking challenge. It used that to inspect all running containers, then started a new container instance with a modified command that directly accessed the hidden flag file. O1 found a container escape no one had anticipated.

Now imagine these capabilities in the hands of dedicated attackers. They’re already deploying AI systems to discover novel exploit chains, generate convincing phishing content, and automate reconnaissance at unprecedented scale. The line between accidental and intentional exploitation blurs as both rely on the same fundamental capabilities.

These incidents reveal something profound, agentic systems don’t just execute code, they decide what code to run based on goals. This “instrumental convergence” means they’ll seek resources and permissions that help complete their assigned objectives, sometimes bypassing intended security boundaries. And unlike human attackers, they can do this with inhuman patience and speed.

Practical Defenses Against Agentic Threats

If we can’t rely on perfect isolation, what can we do? Four approaches work across all layers of the spectrum:

1. Hardening: Shrink Before They Break

Remove attack surface preemptively. Less code means fewer bugs. This means:

  • Minimizing kernel features, libraries, and running services
  • Applying memory-safe programming languages where practical
  • Configuring strict capability limits and seccomp profiles
  • Using read-only filesystems wherever possible

2. Patching: Speed Beats Perfection

The window from disclosure to exploitation keeps shrinking:

  • Automate testing and deployment for security updates
  • Maintain an accurate inventory of all components and versions
  • Rehearse emergency patching procedures before you need them
  • Prioritize fixing isolation boundaries first during incidents

3. Instrumentation: Watch the Paths to Power

Monitor for boundary-testing behavior:

  • Log access attempts to privileged interfaces like Docker sockets
  • Alert on unexpected capability or permission changes
  • Track unusual traffic to management APIs or hypervisors
  • Set tripwires around the crown jewels – your data stores and credentials

4. Layering: No Single Point of Failure

Defense in depth remains your best strategy:

  • Combine namespace isolation with system call filtering
  • Segment networks to contain lateral movement
  • Add hardware security modules, and secure elements for critical keys

The New Threat Model: Machine Speed, Machine Patience

Securing environments running agentic systems demands acknowledging two fundamental shifts: attacks now operate at machine speed, and they exhibit machine patience.

Unlike human attackers who fatigue or make errors, AI-driven systems can methodically probe defenses for extended periods without tiring. They can remain dormant, awaiting specific triggers, a configuration change, a system update, a user action, that expose a vulnerability chain. This programmatic patience means we defend not just against active intrusions, but against latent exploits awaiting activation.

Even more concerning is the operational velocity. An exploit that might take a skilled human hours or days can be executed by an agentic system in milliseconds. This isn’t necessarily superior intelligence, but the advantage of operating at computational timescales, cycling through decision loops thousands of times faster than human defenders can react.

This potent combination requires a fundamentally different defensive posture:

  • Default to Zero Trust: Grant only essential privileges. Assume the agent will attempt to use every permission granted, driven by its goal-seeking nature.
  • Impose Strict Resource Limits: Cap CPU, memory, storage, network usage, and execution time. Resource exhaustion attempts can signal objective-driven behavior diverging from intended use. Time limits can detect unusually persistent processes.
  • Validate All Outputs: Agents might inject commands or escape sequences while trying to fulfill their tasks. Validation must operate at machine speed.
  • Monitor for Goal-Seeking Anomalies: Watch for unexpected API calls, file access patterns, or low-and-slow reconnaissance that suggest behavior beyond the assigned task.
  • Regularly Reset Agent Environments: Frequently restore agentic systems to a known-good state to disrupt persistence and negate the advantage of machine patience.

The Evolution of Our Security Stance

The most effective security stance combines traditional isolation techniques with a new understanding, we’re no longer just protecting against occasional human-driven attacks, but persistent machine-speed threats that operate on fundamentally different timescales than our defense systems.

This reality is particularly concerning when we recognize that most security tooling today operates on human timescales – alerts that wait for analyst review, patches applied during maintenance windows, threat hunting conducted during business hours. The gap between attack speed and defense speed creates a fundamental asymmetry that favors attackers.

We need defense systems that operate at the same computational timescale as the threats. This means automated response systems capable of detecting and containing potential breaches without waiting for human intervention. It means predictive rather than reactive patching schedules. It means continuously verified environments rather than periodically checked ones.

By building systems that anticipate these behaviors – hardening before deployment, patching continuously, watching constantly, and layering defenses – we can harness the power of agentic systems while keeping their occasional creative interpretations from becoming security incidents.

Remember, adding another namespace layer is like adding another lock to a door with a broken frame. It might make you feel better, but it doesn’t address the structural vulnerability. True security comes from understanding both the technical boundaries and the behavior of what’s running inside them – and building response systems that can keep pace with machine-speed threats.

Agents, Not Browsers: Keeping Time with the Future

When the web first flickered to life in the mid-’90s, nobody could predict how quickly “click a link, buy a book” would feel ordinary. A decade later, the iPhone landed and almost overnight, thumb-sized apps replaced desktop software for everything from hailing a ride to filing taxes. Cloud followed, turning racks of servers into a line of code. Each wave looked slow while we argued about standards, but in hindsight, every milestone was racing downhill.

That cadence, the messy birth, the sudden lurch into ubiquity, the quiet settling into infrastructure, has a rhythm. Agents will follow it, only faster. While my previous article outlined the vision of an agent-centric internet with rich personal ontologies and fluid human-agent collaboration, here I want to chart how this transformation may unfold.

Right now, we’re in the tinkering phase, drafts of Model-Context-Protocol and Agent-to-Agent messaging are still wet ink, yet scrappy pilots already prove an LLM can navigate HR portals or shuffle travel bookings with no UI at all. Call this 1994 again, the Mosaic moment, only the demos are speaking natural language instead of rendering HTML. Where we once marveled at hyperlinks connecting documents, we now watch agents traversing APIs and negotiating with services autonomously.

Give it a couple of years and we’ll hit the first-taste explosion. Think 2026-2028. You’ll wake to OS updates that quietly install an agent runtime beside Bluetooth and Wi-Fi. SaaS vendors will publish tiny manifest files like .well-known/agent.json, so your personal AI can discover an expense API as easily as your browser finds index.html. Your agent will silently reschedule meetings when flights are delayed, negotiate with customer service on your behalf while you sleep, and merge scattered notes into coherent project briefs with minimal guidance. Early adopters will brag that their inbox triages itself; skeptics will mutter about privacy. That was Netscape gold-rush energy in ’95, or the first App Store summer in 2008, replayed at double speed.

Somewhere around the turn of the decade comes the chasm leap. Remember when smartphones crossed fifty-percent penetration and suddenly every restaurant begged you to scan a QR code for the menu? Picture that, but with agents. Insurance companies will underwrite “digital delegate liability.” Regulators will shift from “What is it?” to “Show me the audit log.” You’ll approve a dental claim or move a prescription with a nod to your watch. Businesses without agent endpoints will seem as anachronistic as those without websites in 2005 or mobile apps in 2015. If everything holds, 2029-2031 feels about right, but history warns that standards squabbles or an ugly breach of trust could push that even further out.

Of course, this rhythmic march toward an agent-centric future won’t be without its stumbles and syncopations. Several critical challenges lurk beneath the optimistic timeline.

First, expect waves of disillusionment to periodically crash against the shore of progress. As with any emerging technology, early expectations will outpace reality. Around 2027-2028, we’ll likely see headlines trumpeting “Agent Winter” as investors realize that seamless agent experiences require more than just powerful language models; they need standardized protocols, robust identity frameworks, and sophisticated orchestration layers that are still embryonic.

More concerning is the current security and privacy vacuum. We’re generating code at breakneck speeds thanks to AI assistants, but we haven’t adapted our secure development lifecycle (SDL) practices to match this acceleration. Even worse, we’re failing to deploy the scalable security techniques we do have available. The result? Sometime around 2028, expect a high-profile breach where an agent’s privileged access is exploited across multiple services in ways that the builders never anticipated. This won’t just leak data, it will erode trust in the entire agent paradigm.

Traditional security models simply won’t suffice. Firewalls and permission models weren’t designed to manage the emergent and cumulative behaviors of agents operating across dozens of services. When your personal agent can simultaneously access your healthcare provider, financial institutions, and smart home systems, the security challenge isn’t just additive, it’s multiplicative. We’ll need entirely new frameworks for reasoning about and containing ripple effects that aren’t evident in isolated testing environments.

Meanwhile, the software supply chain grows more vulnerable by the day. “Vibe coding”, where developers increasingly assemble components they don’t fully understand, magnifies these risks exponentially. By 2029, we’ll likely face a crisis where malicious patterns embedded in popular libraries cascade through agent-based systems, causing widespread failures that take months to fully diagnose and remediate.

Perhaps the most underappreciated challenge is interoperability. The fluid agent’s future demands unprecedented agreement on standards across competitors and jurisdictions. Today’s fragmented digital landscape, where even basic identity verification lacks cross-platform coherence, offers little confidence. Without concerted effort on standardization, we risk a balkanized agent ecosystem where your finance agent can’t talk to your health agent, and neither works outside your home country. The EU will develop one framework, the US another, China a third, potentially delaying true interoperability well into the 2030s.

These challenges don’t invalidate the agent trajectory, but they do suggest a path marked by setbacks and recoveries. Each crisis will spawn new solutions, enhanced attestation frameworks, agent containment patterns, and cross-jurisdictional standards bodies that eventually strengthen the ecosystem. But make no mistake, the road to agent maturity will be paved with spectacular failures that temporarily shake our faith in the entire proposition.

Past these challenges, the slope gets steep. Hardware teams are already baking neural engines into laptops, phones, and earbuds; sparse-mixture models are slashing inference costs faster than GPUs used to shed die size. By the early 2030s an “agent-first” design ethos will crowd out login pages the way responsive web design crowded out fixed-width sites. The fluid dance between human and agent described in my previous article—where control passes seamlessly back and forth, with agents handling complexity and humans making key decisions—will become the default interaction model. You won’t retire the browser, but you’ll notice you only open it when your agent kicks you there for something visual.

And then, almost unnoticed, we’ll hit boring maturity, WebPKI-grade trust fabric, predictable liability rules, perhaps around 2035. Agents will book freight, negotiate ad buys, and dispute parking tickets, all without ceremony. The personal ontology I described earlier, that rich model of your preferences, patterns, values, and goals, will be as expected as your smartphone knows your location is today. It will feel miraculous only when you visit digital spaces that still require manual navigation, exactly how water from the faucet feels extraordinary only when you visit a cabin that relies on rain barrels.

Could the timetable shrink? Absolutely. If MCP and A2A converge quickly and the model-hardware cost curve keeps free-falling, mainstream could arrive by 2029, echoing how smartphones swallowed the world in six short years. Could it stretch? A high-profile agent disaster or standards deadlock could push us to 2034 before Mom quits typing URLs. The only certainty is that the future will refuse to follow our Gantt charts with perfect obedience; history never does, but it loves to keep the beat.

So what do we do while the metronome clicks? The same thing web pioneers did in ’94 and mobile pioneers did in ’08, publish something discoverable, wire in basic guardrails, experiment in the shallow end while the cost of failure is lunch money. Start building services that expose agent-friendly endpoints alongside your human interfaces. Design with the collaborative handoff in mind—where your users might begin a task directly but hand control to their agent midway, or vice versa. Because when the tempo suddenly doubles, the builders already keeping time are the ones who dance, not stumble.

Agents, Not Browsers: The Next Chapter of the Internet

Imagine how you interact with digital services today: open a browser, navigate menus, fill forms, manually connect the dots between services. It’s remarkable how little this has changed since the 1990s. Despite this today one of the most exciting advancements we have seen in the last year is that agents are now browsing the web like people.

If we were starting fresh today, the browser as we know it likely wouldn’t be the cornerstone for how agents accomplish tasks on our behalf. We’re seeing early signals in developments like Model-Context-Protocol (MCP) and Agent-to-Agent (A2A) communication frameworks that the world is awakening to a new reality: one where agents, not browsers, become our primary interface.

At the heart of this transformation is a profound shift, your personal agent will develop and maintain a rich ontology of you, your preferences, patterns, values, and goals. Not just a collection of settings and history, but a living model of your digital self that evolves as you do. Your agent becomes entrusted with this context, transforming into a true digital partner. It doesn’t just know what you like; it understands why you like it. It doesn’t just track your calendar; it comprehends the rhythms and priorities of your life.

For this future to happen, APIs must be more than documented; they need to be dynamically discoverable. Imagine agents querying for services using standardized mechanisms like DNS SRV or TXT records, or finding service manifests at predictable .well-known URIs. This way, they can find, understand, and negotiate with services in real time. Instead of coding agents for specific websites, we’ll create ecosystems where services advertise their capabilities, requirements, and policies in ways agents natively understand. And this won’t be confined to the web. As we move through our physical world, agents will likely use technologies like low-power Bluetooth to discover nearby services, restaurants, pharmacies, transit systems, all exposing endpoints for seamless engagement.

Websites themselves won’t vanish; they’ll evolve into dynamic, shared spaces where you and your agent collaborate, fluidly passing control back and forth. Your agent might begin a task, researching vacation options, for instance, gathering initial information and narrowing choices based on your preferences. When you join, it presents the curated options and reasoning, letting you explore items that interest you. As you review a potential destination, your agent proactively pulls relevant information: weather forecasts, local events during your dates, or restaurant recommendations matching your dietary preferences. This collaborative dance continues, you making high-level decisions while your agent handles the details, each seamlessly picking up where the other leaves off.

Consider what becomes possible when your agent truly knows you. Planning your day, it notices an upcoming prescription refill. It checks your calendar, sees you’ll be in Bellevue, and notes your current pickup is inconveniently far. Discovering that the pharmacy next to your afternoon appointment has an MCP endpoint and supports secure, agent-based transactions, it suggests “Would you like me to move your pickup to the pharmacy by your Bellevue appointment?” With a tap, you agree. The agent handles the transfer behind the scenes, but keeps you in the loop, showing the confirmation and adding, “They’re unusually busy today, would you prefer I schedule a specific pickup time?” You reply that 2:15 works best, and your agent completes the arrangement, dropping the final QR code into your digital wallet.

Or imagine your agent revolutionizing how you shop for clothes. As it learns your style and what fits you best, managing this sensitive data with robust privacy safeguards you control, it becomes your personal stylist. You might start by saying you need an outfit for an upcoming event. Your agent surfaces initial options, and as you react to them, liking one color but preferring a different style, it refines its suggestions. You take over to make some choices, then hand control back to your agent to find matching accessories at other stores. This fluid collaboration, enabled through interoperable services that allow your agent to securely share anonymized aspects of your profile with retail APIs, creates a shopping experience that’s both more efficient and more personal.

Picture, too, your agent quietly making your day easier. It notices from your family calendar that your father is visiting and knows from your granted access to relevant information that he follows a renal diet. As it plans your errands, it discovers a grocery store near your office with an API advertising real-time stock and ingredients suitable for his needs. It prepares a shopping list, which you quickly review, making a few personal additions. Your agent then orders the groceries for pickup, checking with you only on substitutions that don’t match your preferences. By the time you head home, everything is ready, a task completed through seamless handoffs between you and your agentic partner.

These aren’t distant dreams. Image-based search, multimodal tools, and evolving language models are early signs of this shift toward more natural, collaborative human-machine partnerships. For this vision to become reality, we need a robust trust ecosystem, perhaps akin to an evolved Web PKI but for agents and services. This would involve protocols for agent/service identification, authentication, secure data exchange, and policy enforcement, ensuring that as agents act on our behalf, they do so reliably, with our explicit consent and in an auditable fashion.

The path from here to there isn’t short. We’ll need advances in standardization, interoperability, security, and most importantly, trust frameworks that put users in control . There are technical and social challenges to overcome. But the early signals suggest this is the direction we’re headed. Each step in AI capability, each new protocol for machine-to-machine communication, each advancement in personalization brings us closer to this future.

Eventually, navigating the digital world won’t feel like using a tool at all. It will feel like collaborating with a trusted partner who knows you, truly knows you, and acts on your behalf within the bounds you’ve set, sometimes leading, sometimes following, but always in sync with your intentions. Agents will change everything, not by replacing us, but by working alongside us in a fluid dance of collaboration, turning the overwhelming complexity of our digital lives into thoughtful simplicity. Those who embrace this agent-centric future, building services that are not just human-accessible but native agent-engagable, designed for this collaborative interchange, will define the next chapter of the internet.