The sunk cost of being good at something

There is a particular conversational move that has become common in discussions about AI. Someone demonstrates a new capability, shares a use case, or describes how their workflow has changed, and a familiar response arrives. What about security? What about governance? What about the hallucination problem? What about my twenty years of experience? Each objection arrives wearing the costume of legitimate concern, and each one contains enough truth to feel reasonable in the moment. But taken together, they form something that looks less like careful analysis and more like a defence mechanism.

The pattern is whataboutism in its textbook form. The term originates from Cold War-era Soviet diplomacy, where officials would deflect criticism of human rights abuses by pointing to racial violence in America. The rhetorical structure was never designed to resolve the original issue. It existed to neutralise it. To shift the frame from “is this true” to “but what about that other thing,” and in doing so, to ensure that neither question ever gets properly answered. The AI version of this runs on similar fuel, though the people doing it are rarely aware they’re doing it at all.

The objections are correct and that is beside the point

The uncomfortable thing about AI whataboutism is that the concerns are mostly valid. AI security is genuinely underdeveloped, particularly around Model Context Protocol implementations, where the attack surface is wide and poorly understood. Governance frameworks in most organisations range from nonexistent to laughably outdated. Hallucinations remain a structural feature of large language models, a byproduct of how they generate text rather than a bug that some future update will fix. And twenty years of domain expertise does contain knowledge that no model can replicate, particularly the kind of tacit understanding that comes from watching things break in production over and over again until you develop an instinct for where the next failure wil…