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Sunday, June 7, 2026

AI Governance and Future of Work

 


My Speech at AI-DPI – 26 Conference organised by NCEAR

Let me begin with a simple observation that I think frames everything we're about to discuss.

In the last few centuries, we witnessed multiple technological disruptions ranging from printing press to industrial revolution to computers to internet. It restructured society what work meant, where people lived, what skills had value, what governments needed to do. The economic and social ripple effects played out over decades.

Today, we are living through a transformation that is much more profound but the ripples are moving in months, not decades. And that gap between the speed of technological change and the capacity of our institutions to respond is precisely why conversations like this one matter.

Welcome to what I hope will be a frank, insightful, and perhaps uncomfortable conversation about AI, governance, and the future of work.

 Let me set the scene.

In the last three years, artificial intelligence has crossed a threshold that surprised even its creators. Large language models can now draft contracts, write code, analyse medical scans, counsel customers, generate creative content, and conduct research, tasks that, until recently, defined the upper tier of knowledge work.

We are no longer talking about AI that automates the routine. We are talking about AI that can perform the cognitive. That is a qualitatively different kind of disruption, and it demands a qualitatively different kind of response.

Three tensions sit at the heart of today's discussion.

First tension is on Governance

When it comes to governance of AI key questions that arise are

Who governs AI? Who benefits? Who bears the cost of disruption? These are political and moral questions, not just technical ones.

There lies the tension between speed and safety. AI development is moving at a pace that regulatory frameworks were simply not designed to match. The EU AI Act took years to negotiate and is already facing questions about whether its risk categories reflect the technology as it exists today, let alone as it will exist in three years. India is developing its own digital governance frameworks, and the choices made here, given the scale of this country's workforce and its digital ambitions, will matter not just domestically but globally.

The core challenge for governance is this: if you regulate too slowly, you cede the field to actors, corporate or national, who face no constraints. If you regulate too quickly, you risk encoding today's assumptions into law and stifling the innovation that could actually solve problems. There is no comfortable middle ground. There is only the hard work of trying to get it roughly right, fast enough to matter.

Here the tension is also between innovation and accountability. The companies building the most powerful AI systems are, understandably, advocates for an environment that allows rapid development. Many also, to their credit, genuinely grapple with questions of safety and responsibility. But the incentive structures of competitive markets are not naturally aligned with the kind of careful, transparent, accountable development that the stakes of this technology require.

Governance, at its best, creates the conditions under which accountability becomes not a constraint on innovation but a foundation for the trust that allows innovation to scale. We do not have that governance architecture yet. Building it nationally and internationally is one of the defining challenges of this decade.

Next tension in in he "Future of Work" that is Already Here

There are three competing narratives on this paradigm shift

  • Displacement: AI replaces human jobs at scale
  • Augmentation: AI makes workers more productive and valuable
  • Transformation: New categories of work emerge that we can't yet name

Here lies the tension   between productivity and dignity. Every study that examines AI's impact on knowledge work shows significant productivity gains. Legal researchers, coders, financial analysts, writers when well-supported by AI tools, they produce more, faster, and often at higher quality. This is genuinely good news.

But productivity gains do not automatically translate into widely shared prosperity. The history of technological disruption is also a history of transition costs  borne disproportionately by workers who lack the resources, the retraining opportunities, or the institutional support to adapt. The question is not whether AI will transform work. It will. The question is whether that transformation will be something we navigate together or something that happens to millions of people who had no voice in shaping it.

 What does this mean for India, specifically?

India is not a passive observer in this story. It is one of the central actors.

This country has one of the world's youngest and most rapidly digitising workforces. It has a technology sector that has spent decades building the global knowledge economy's operational backbone. It has a government that has shown real ambition in digital public infrastructure, from UPI to Aadhaar to the Open Network for Digital Commerce.

And it faces a specific, urgent challenge. A significant proportion of India's IT and BPO workforce, millions of skilled, educated, middle-class workers are employed in precisely the categories of knowledge work that generative AI most directly disrupts. Customer support, document processing, software testing, data annotation, back-office operations. These jobs are not going away tomorrow. But the trajectory is clear, and the window for preparation is not infinite.

At the same time, India has something that not every country has in this moment: scale as an asset. The diversity and volume of India's linguistic, cultural, and domain-specific data; the depth of its technical talent; its position as a potential standard-setter for the Global South in AI governance, these are genuine opportunities, if they are seized with intention.

 So what do we actually need?

I'll offer three propositions to anchor our panel discussion.

First: governance must be adaptive, not just reactive. We need regulatory frameworks that are designed to evolve, that build in review cycles, that involve multistakeholder input, that distinguish between the risks of different applications rather than treating AI as a monolithic category. A diagnostic AI in a hospital has different risk parameters than a recommendation algorithm on a social platform. Governance that treats them identically will either over-regulate the beneficial or under-regulate the harmful.

Second: the future of work requires active investment, not just passive optimism. It is not enough to say that new technologies create new jobs, historically, they often do. What matters is the transition: whether workers have access to retraining, whether institutions like schools and universities adapt their curricula in time, whether social safety nets are designed for an economy where the nature of employment is changing. This is a policy challenge, not just a market one.

Third: the voices in the room must expand. The conversations that shape AI governance tend to happen in a relatively small number of rooms, boardrooms, regulatory agencies, international standards bodies, academic conferences. The people whose working lives will be most directly transformed are rarely in those rooms. That needs to change , not as a matter of procedural fairness, but because the decisions will be better if the inputs are broader.

Let me close with this.

I am neither a pessimist nor an optimist about AI. I am a realist who believes that the outcomes of this transformation are genuinely open that they will be determined not by the technology alone, but by the choices we make about how to develop it, deploy it, govern it, and distribute its benefits.

The future of work is not written. It is being written right now, in the decisions being made in companies, in legislatures, in classrooms, and in conversations like this one.

My hope for today is that we leave this room with sharper questions, not just comfortable answers and perhaps with a clearer sense of where action, not just analysis, is required.

 "AI gives us leverage, ethics gives us direction."


Thursday, May 28, 2026

AI, Costs, and the Myth of Inevitable Human Obsolescence

 

 



Why the disruption narrative is more complicated, and more hopeful, than it appears

For years, the AI narrative has been relentlessly linear and tinged with apocalypse: models get smarter, cheaper, and more capable, and humans get edged aside, role by role, sector by sector. Then came a headline that disrupted the script.

“Microsoft is limiting internal use of expensive AI coding tools as enterprise AI costs surge.”

It sounded like a contradiction from the company that bet its future on AI, poured $80 billion into data centres, and plastered Copilot across every product it makes. It was not a contradiction. It was a revelation, though, as we shall see, a more layered one than the headline suggests.

The Economics Behind the Curtain

Inside Microsoft’s engineering divisions, Claude Code, the AI coding assistant from Anthropic, was not cancelled because it failed. It was cancelled because it succeeded too well. Rolled out to roughly 5,000 engineers in the division behind Windows, Microsoft 365, Outlook, Teams and Surface, it reached usage rates of 84 to 95 percent within months. Engineers used it relentlessly, and token-based billing, where every prompt, every agentic loop, every code-generation cycle costs real money, ran to an estimated $500 to $2,000 per engineer per month. The internal memo set a cancellation deadline of June 30, 2026.

The pattern is wider than Microsoft. Uber’s CTO has confirmed the company burned through its entire planned 2026 AI coding budget in four months, after actively incentivising engineers to maximise usage. Meta built an internal leaderboard called “Claudeonomics” to track which employees were consuming the most AI tokens. Amazon encouraged “tokenmaxxing”, gamifying maximum AI consumption as a proxy for productivity.

Two honest caveats belong in this story, and most commentary has skipped both.

First, Microsoft’s decision was not purely about cost. Engineers reportedly preferred Anthropic’s tool to Microsoft’s own Copilot CLI, and the cancellation conveniently redirects them into Microsoft’s own stack. Cost was real; so was competitive strategy. Second, the escape route is no escape: GitHub Copilot itself is moving to usage-based billing from June 2026. The token meter is not a Claude problem. It is the emerging price structure of frontier AI itself.

The collective result stands nonetheless: for many enterprise tasks today, undisciplined AI usage is more expensive than the humans it was meant to augment. The promise was frictionless efficiency. The reality is that when thousands of employees use frontier models without governance, the economics invert.

The Objection This Argument Must Survive

Before drawing conclusions, the cost story has to face its strongest counter-argument: the price of intelligence is falling, fast. The cost of frontier-quality inference has been dropping several-fold every year. What looks like a “cost ceiling” in 2026 could look like a rounding error by 2028. So is the Microsoft episode just a temporary blip?

Not quite, and the reason is an old one. Economists call it the Jevons effect: when something useful gets cheaper, we do not spend less on it; we use vastly more of it. Microsoft’s engineers did not hit a budget wall because tokens are expensive. They hit it because usage exploded faster than prices fell, agentic loops, always-on assistants, code generated and regenerated at industrial scale. Every cost decline to date has been swallowed by appetite. The lesson is not that AI is permanently expensive. The lesson is that AI consumption, like cloud computing before it, will always expand to consume the budget available, and therefore governance of usage, not the price of tokens, is the durable management problem.

Does This Slow the Replacement of Humans?

Only partially, and only temporarily. The cost ceiling buys time. It does not change direction.

The “AI will replace humans” narrative was always too blunt. AI is not a flat substitute for human labour. It has a cost curve. At low usage it is remarkable. At scale, without discipline, it is ruinous. Companies will not replace human beings wholesale. They will replace them selectively, deploying AI where ROI is unambiguous, retaining humans where judgment, accountability, ambiguity, or trust cannot be priced away.

The most exposed roles are not at the bottom of the skills ladder or the top. They are in the middle: paralegals, junior coders, financial analysts, content writers, customer service agents, roles that are routine, pattern-based, and high-volume. At Uber, around 70 percent of committed code now originates with AI. That number should concentrate the mind of every mid-career professional whose work is pattern recognition at volume.

The Radiology Test: Why “Exposed” Is the Wrong Word

But “exposed” is a one-dimensional lens, and one profession shows why. Consider radiology, the example most often cited, for a decade now, as the first white-collar casualty of AI.

On capability, the pessimists are right: AI can read many scans as well as or better than humans, and the per-unit economics are unanswerable. On accountability, the pessimists are early: in most jurisdictions, a diagnosis requires a licensed human signature, and regulators, courts and insurers will keep it that way for some time, not because the human is always more accurate, but because someone must be answerable when the machine is wrong.

And on access, the pessimists have the sign of the effect backwards, at least in a country like India. The binding constraint on radiology in small-town and rural India has never been an oversupply of radiologists. It is that there are almost none. AI-assisted reading changes that arithmetic. A local physician in a taluk hospital, supported by AI triage and a remote human radiologist for sign-off, can now order and act on imaging that was previously out of reach. The realistic effect in such markets is not fewer radiology jobs but more radiology, more referrals, more scans, more diagnostic activity, and new paramedical and technician roles around it, in places where the alternative was not a human radiologist but nothing at all.

The same technology, in the same year, can displace work in saturated markets and create it in underserved ones. Radiology is not an exception; it is the template. Apply the same three questions, can AI do it, who must answer for it, and where was the service never available at all, to law, to accounting, to software, to education, and the picture that emerges is not a single wave of obsolescence but a redistribution: of tasks within professions, and of services across geographies.

The Real Disruptor: Robotics, Not Software

While enterprises wrestle with token bills, robotics companies are solving a different equation. A humanoid robot is largely a capital expenditure: its “salary” is electricity, maintenance and software. Tesla Optimus, Figure and Boston Dynamics are targeting price points intended to undercut the minimum wage in developed economies within this decade, beginning with exactly the jobs that employ hundreds of millions globally, fast food, warehouse picking, hotel housekeeping, retail stocking.

Two qualifications keep this honest. First, the cost structure is different from software AI, not free of recurring costs: many robotics firms are pricing robots-as-a-service, with subscriptions and teleoperation support, a cousin of the token meter, not its opposite. Second, the crossover point depends on the wage it must undercut. A robot that beats a $15-an-hour wage in Ohio is nowhere near beating a ₹15,000-a-month wage in Kanpur. Which leads to a striking inversion: the Global South will likely adopt software AI fastest, because models are cheap and skilled labour is scarce, and adopt robotics slowest, because physical labour is abundant and cheap. The displacement map of the next decade will not be uniform. It will be a patchwork drawn by local wages.

The China Factor: The Cost Floor May Collapse

DeepSeek’s breakthrough in early 2025, and the rapid succession of low-cost Chinese models since, changed the global cost equation in ways that have not been fully absorbed. Frontier-level reasoning delivered at a fraction of Western pricing, backed by structural advantages: subsidised compute and energy, lower infrastructure costs, and less shareholder pressure to monetise quickly.

If such models gain wide adoption across India, Southeast Asia, Latin America and Africa, markets where price matters more than geopolitics, the cost barrier falls years ahead of current projections. And note that this cuts both ways: cheap models accelerate displacement of routine work, but they equally accelerate the access story told above. The same collapsing cost floor that threatens the call-centre agent makes the AI-assisted rural clinic viable. The West will move more cautiously, constrained by data sovereignty and regulatory anxiety. The Global South may move faster, precisely because it cannot afford to be slow.

This creates a two-speed world of AI adoption, and, by extension, a two-speed world of both displacement and inclusion. That asymmetry deserves far more attention than it receives in the global policy conversation, which remains written almost entirely from the vantage point of high-wage economies.

The Jobs That Don’t Exist Yet

Every major technological shift destroys familiar work and creates categories of work invisible until they become indispensable. The steam engine did not just displace handloom weavers; it created railway engineers and factory inspectors. The internet did not merely kill travel agencies; it created cloud architects and UX designers. The honest difficulty is that new jobs are not legible until they exist.

Still, the outlines are forming at the margins: people who design how humans and AI divide work and supervise each other; specialists who generate and govern synthetic data as real data becomes regulated and scarce; professionals who arbitrate between AI outputs and human decisions in finance, healthcare and law; a new blue-collar profession maintaining and supervising robot fleets; AI safety and governance analysts, a field that will grow to the scale of cybersecurity; and millions of AI-enabled one-person enterprises that would have been operationally impossible a decade ago. Above all, as AI absorbs the burden of logic and pattern, the premium on trust, empathy, cultural context and meaning rises, precisely because AI cannot credibly supply them.

AI as an Equaliser: The Welfare Dimension

If AI dramatically reduces the cost of delivering essential services, the welfare gains could, under the right policy conditions, outweigh the disruption to employment. AI-optimised irrigation and supply-chain prediction could raise yields and cut food waste across the Global South. AI triage, diagnostic support and remote monitoring could bring quality care to populations who currently have none, the radiology story above, repeated across a dozen specialities. Adaptive AI tutors could personalise learning for hundreds of millions of children for whom quality schooling remains a geographic accident of birth.

If AI reduces the cost of food, health and education by half or more, the question is no longer simply “who loses their job?” It becomes “what kind of society do we build with the surplus?” That is a question of political will, not technology.

Where Humans Still Win on ROI

Despite the compression of timelines, some domains will remain higher-ROI for humans through this decade: trust-based, relationship-driven work, where clients pay a premium for human accountability; novel problem-solving in genuinely ambiguous environments, where no training data exists for the situation at hand; skilled trades in unstructured physical settings, the plumber navigating an unfamiliar home, the electrician improvising under deadline; and regulated roles where law or professional standards mandate human sign-off regardless of AI capability.

The pattern across these safe harbours is consistent. What makes humans irreplaceable is not intelligence alone. It is accountability, physical adaptability, and the fact that in some relationships the human presence is the product, not merely the mechanism of its delivery.

The Question That Actually Matters

The debate has moved on from whether AI will displace human workers. The debate now is: which humans, doing which tasks, in which geographies, on what timeline, under which cost structures, and, critically, will the new categories of work emerge quickly enough, and be accessible enough, to absorb those displaced?

The cost ceiling revealed by Microsoft, Uber and others is real. It slows the slope, forces selectivity, and creates space for societies to adapt rather than absorb a vertical shock. But it does not alter the destination. The direction of travel has not changed, only the gradient of the curve. And the gradient, as the radiology test shows, points in different directions in different places: downward for routine work in saturated markets, upward for services in markets that never had them.

The most important investment any individual, institution, or government can make right now is not in AI itself. It is in the human capacity to navigate the transition: to identify which skills will compound in value, which roles are building toward the new categories, and which paths are quietly narrowing.

“AI will not erase human value. It will redraw the map of where that value lives, and whether we prepare to inhabit that new terrain is the defining challenge of this decade.”

Sources: The Verge (Tom Warren, Notepad, May 14, 2026) on Microsoft’s internal Claude Code cancellation; The Information (April 2026) on Uber’s AI coding budget; Fortune (May 22, 2026) on Meta’s “Claudeonomics” and Amazon’s token incentives.


Friday, May 8, 2026

E = MC² : The Equation That Never Gets Old


 

On Measurement, Continuous Improvement, and Customer Focus — Then and Now

 (A decade and half ago I wrote two linked blogs on Operational Excellence. They are referred at the bottom of this article. When I read them in the context of the world of today, many principles remail the same, but manifestations are different. This article is an attempt to revisit the idea of Operational Excellence in the era of AI and Agents)

There is a particular kind of excitement that technology companies are exceptionally good at, and a particular kind of discipline they are chronically bad at. The excitement is building. The discipline is running. Every new feature, every new product, every new platform gets showered with energy, talent, and attention. The unglamorous work of making sure it all actually works, consistently, reliably, at scale, day after day, gets left to whoever is available, measured by whatever is easy to measure, and improved only when something breaks badly enough to be embarrassing.

This is not a new observation. But it has become a vastly more consequential one. Because we are now deploying AI systems and autonomous agents into operational environments at a pace that far outstrips our willingness, or our ability, to govern them. And the cost of that gap is no longer measured in minor inefficiencies. It is measured in compounding, invisible failures,  in decisions that are wrong by design, in resources consumed by systems nobody is watching, and in customers quietly harmed by processes nobody is truly accountable for.

The answer to this is not more technology. It is better operational discipline. And the framework for that discipline is simpler than most people think.

We call it E = MC²: Excellence, derived from a culture that Measures relentlessly, pursues Continuous improvement, and never loses sight of Customer focus. These three elements are not independent. They are a virtuous cycle, each one feeding the others, each one incomplete without the others. Understanding how they connect, and how to make them real, is the central challenge of operational management in any era. Including this one.

Why Measurement is Hard, Even for People Who Handle Data for a Living

There is a paradox at the heart of the IT and services industries. These are sectors whose entire value proposition rests on data, on capturing it, organising it, analysing it, and making it useful. And yet, in practice, their internal operational measurement discipline is often surprisingly immature. The processes that organisations build for their customers are rarely applied with equal rigour to their own operations.

The reasons are not mysterious. The glamour in these industries flows toward novelty, toward "cool functions," "exciting features," and "latest gadgets." Boring pursuit of efficiency gains simply does not compete for talent or attention. When a senior engineer has a choice between building something new and spending six weeks instrumenting something old to understand why it sometimes fails, the outcome is predictable. And so operational measurement tends to happen reactively,  in response to a crisis, a customer complaint, or a regulator's inquiry,  rather than as a continuous, proactive discipline.

To learn how to do this differently, it helps to look at industries that never had the luxury of treating operations as an afterthought.

The hazardous chemical process industry is an instructive model, and not an intuitive one. It has been around for centuries, long enough to have matured its operational practices through hard experience. Its product lines are largely commoditised, which means margins are thin and efficiency is not optional, It is existential. The consequences of process failures are sometimes fatal, which means the scrutiny.  public, regulatory, and internal, is unrelenting. And its processes are integrated end-to-end, with limited visibility into what is actually happening inside the pipes at any given moment, which forces a culture of strong monitoring and control.

These are, in fact, exactly the conditions that characterise complex digital operations today. Thin margins. High stakes. Limited internal visibility. Regulatory scrutiny. The main difference is that the chemical industry has spent decades building the measurement culture to match these conditions, while the technology and services industries are still, in many cases, at the beginning of that journey.

From that more mature tradition, three elements of measurement discipline emerge as foundational.

The Three Pillars of Measurement

Flow Management: Count Every Transaction

The first pillar is what might be called micromanagement of the operation, not in the pejorative sense of hovering over people, but in the precise sense of tracking each input through each sub-process it was meant to traverse, confirming it arrived correctly and without error.

This sounds obvious. In practice, it is done poorly, or not at all, especially for processes that are still evolving. When a new system or workflow is still being refined, exceptions proliferate. And exceptions, in young computerised systems, have a dangerous tendency to become invisible,  swallowed by automated retry mechanisms, silently skipped, or classified as edge cases that never quite make it onto anyone's priority list.

The consequences of poor flow management are almost always financial and reputational, and they tend to be discovered embarrassingly late. A large bank once sent letters to its credit card customers admitting that it had not been tracking transactions correctly, and asking recipients to settle on the basis of their own personal records. The transactions were not hidden. They were not stolen. They had simply not been tracked. The systems were running; the accounting was not. When providers of transaction billing solutions are brought into organisations for the first time, the revenue leakage they surface, from transactions that fell through the cracks of inadequately monitored processes, is routinely staggering.

These are not exotic failures. They are the entirely predictable consequence of building systems without building the measurement infrastructure to watch over them.

Capacity Management: Know Where the Bottlenecks Are Before They Happen

The second pillar is the macro view, tracking the capacity of processes, people, service providers, and machines in order to anticipate bottlenecks before they become crises. This requires establishing trend measures for each element and monitoring them continuously, not just periodically.

Capacity management is especially treacherous in computerised environments for a structural reason: shared resources. Network infrastructure, compute capacity, database connections,  these are all consumed by multiple processes simultaneously, and the utilisation curve for each process grows differently. A system that appears to have adequate capacity for today's workload may have none for tomorrow's if the growth curves are not being watched and modelled.

Two particular categories of hidden capacity consumers deserve special attention, because they are pervasive and almost universally underestimated.

The first is queries. Every business generates a need for data extracts — for management reporting, regulatory compliance, customer service lookups, and ad hoc analysis. These queries consume the same production capacity as the operational processes. And they are disproportionately likely to be written inefficiently, because they are typically assigned to junior resources or business analysts who lack the training to optimise them, and because there is very little accountability for query performance until something breaks. A query that was meant to run once becomes a standard report. A standard report that runs nightly becomes a standard report that runs hourly. The cumulative resource consumption creeps upward invisibly until, one day, the system slows to a crawl during peak operational hours, and nobody can immediately explain why.

The second is design debt. For most software developers, the genuine satisfaction is in building features. Once a feature is live and functioning, interest moves on. The pressure to optimise, to refactor, to improve efficiency, runs directly against the incentive to ship the next thing. The result is that bespoke systems accumulate performance inefficiencies that are never addressed , not because fixing them is technically difficult, but because nobody is measuring the cost of leaving them in place, and nobody is accountable for the cumulative drag. In most organisations, there is scope for at least a hundred percent improvement in process efficiency simply by addressing the worst of these design inefficiencies,  but only if someone is measuring for them.

Service Levels: Commit to the Customer, Then Track the Commitment

The third pillar is where measurement connects most directly to purpose. The most powerful mechanism for ensuring that measurement and improvement activity stays focused and meaningful is to define, publicly and clearly, what the organisation is actually committing to deliver to its customers.

There is an important distinction to draw here between a Service Level Agreement and what might be called a Customer Service Commitment. An SLA is a floor — a formal definition of the minimum below which the organisation will try not to fall. It is a legal and contractual instrument, and it tends to create a culture of adequacy: as long as we are above the floor, we are fine. A Customer Service Commitment is something different. It is a genuine aspiration — a statement of what the organisation sincerely believes it can and should deliver, at a level meaningfully above the minimum.

This distinction matters because people and systems tend to optimise for what they are measured against. An organisation that measures against its SLAs will manage its operations to the SLA threshold. An organisation that measures against its Customer Service Commitments will manage its operations to the standard it actually believes in.

The mechanics of tracking these commitments deserve specific attention. Time-series data, tracking key performance parameters not just at a point in time, but continuously over time. is essential for detecting trends before they become crises. A single data point t ells you where you are today. A trend tells you where you are going. And it is the trend that matters operationally, because by the time a single bad reading turns into an obvious crisis, the window for preventive action has usually closed.

It is also worth having the team that tracks customer commitments sit separately from the team responsible for operations. This is not about distrust. It is about the structural reality that an operations team under pressure will, understandably, interpret ambiguous data in the most favourable light available. A separate tracking function provides the independent visibility that makes measurement honest.

Continuous Improvement: From Counting to Acting

All of this measurement serves one purpose: enabling the organisation to improve, continuously, before it is forced to by failure.

This is more difficult than it sounds, because the culture required to use data for continuous improvement is fundamentally different from the culture most organisations actually have. In most places, data tracking reports are either compliance artifacts — produced to satisfy an audit or a boss, or post-mortem instruments, pulled out after something has gone wrong to explain what happened. Neither of these uses generates improvement. They generate paper trails.

The culture of continuous improvement requires something harder: the regular, disciplined use of data to find problems that have not yet caused visible failures. This means looking at trend shifts before they become obvious. It means investigating unusual volatility in metrics that are still technically within acceptable bounds. It means preferring prevention over heroism — which runs directly against the organisational instinct that rewards the person who fixed the crisis rather than the person who avoided it.

To make this a habit rather than an occasional initiative, it has to become a ritual. The cadence of reviewing operational data, identifying trends, assigning root cause investigations, and tracking improvement actions has to be embedded into the organisation's regular rhythm, not treated as an additional burden on top of "real work." When it is done well, it does not feel like overhead. It feels like the organisation learning from itself in real time.

The AI Era Changes the Stakes, Not the Principles

Everything described above was relevant in 2009. It is more relevant now by an order of magnitude.

The introduction of AI systems and autonomous agents into operational environments does not render these principles obsolete. It makes them urgent. Because AI introduces a new category of operational actor, one that is more capable, more opaque, and more consequential than anything that preceded it,  into environments that, in many cases, barely had adequate measurement cultures to begin with.

The most important thing to understand about AI in operations is that it fails in ways that are qualitatively different from how conventional software fails. Traditional software fails visibly. A system crashes. A transaction errors out. A service goes down. These failures are, in their own way, manageable, because they announce themselves. AI fails silently. A model that has drifted from its training data continues to generate outputs that look confident and coherent, while producing decisions that are subtly, systematically wrong. A recommendation engine with a bias baked into its training data does not flag an anomaly; it just consistently disadvantages certain customers. A document processing agent that hallucinates does not throw an exception; it produces a confident, plausible, and incorrect result.

This is the flow management problem, rewritten for the age of AI. Every AI-powered process needs a systematic accounting not just of what it produces, but of the quality, reliability, and drift of those outputs over time. The input went in; the output came out, but was the agent's reasoning within acceptable bounds? Was its confidence calibrated? Were there exceptions that the system silently swallowed rather than escalating to a human? The revenue leakage and customer harm that flow from unmonitored AI processes make the untracked credit card transactions of an earlier era look quaint.

The capacity management problem is also fundamentally transformed. AI models are the most resource-intensive entities ever introduced into enterprise operations. A single large model inference can consume more compute than an entire legacy application stack, and when multiple agents run concurrently, as they increasingly do, in agentic architectures where AI systems orchestrate other AI systems, the shared infrastructure constraints become genuinely complex to manage. The hidden capacity consumers have multiplied: poorly designed prompts that generate verbose, expensive outputs; inefficient agent chains that make redundant calls; one-time AI automations that quietly become permanent fixtures eating into rate limits and GPU capacity. None of this shows up on a standard IT dashboard unless someone has specifically built the instrumentation to see it.

And the service levels question, always the most important one, has become the most morally loaded. When an AI agent makes a decision that affects a customer,  about a loan, a medical triage, a service entitlement, a pricing offer,  that customer has a right to understand it, challenge it, and have a human correct it. This is not only a regulatory requirement in an increasing number of jurisdictions. It is the operational definition of customer focus in a world where the agent, not the employee, is the primary interface. A Customer Service Commitment in the AI era must include commitments about explainability, human override, and recoverability, not just turnaround time and accuracy.

The Measurement Culture the AI Era Demands

Bringing this together, what does operational excellence actually look like for an organisation running AI at scale?

It looks like flow management that tracks not just whether transactions were processed, but whether the AI agents that touched those transactions acted within defined parameters, and that surfaces exceptions rather than silently absorbing them.

It looks like capacity management that instruments AI resource consumption with the same rigour that a hazardous chemical plant instruments its pressures and temperatures,  understanding not just current utilisation, but growth trajectories, shared resource constraints, and the hidden consumers that creep up over time.

It looks like Customer Service Commitments that extend into the AI layer,  that define not just what will be delivered, but how decisions will be explained, how errors will be corrected, and how human accountability will be maintained even where AI is the primary actor.

And it looks like an organisation where data is used not to satisfy bosses or produce compliance artifacts, but as a genuine tool for continuous improvement by everyone at every level. Where a shift in a trend line is treated as a signal worth investigating, not as noise to be explained away. Where prevention is valued as much as heroism. Where the excitement of building is matched, at last, by the discipline of running.

The Hardest Part Has Not Changed

In the end, the measurement framework, however well designed, is only as good as the culture that uses it. And culture is stubbornly human. The data is the easy part. The hard part is persuading organisations and the people within them to use data as a tool for honest self-improvement rather than as a performance to be staged for external audiences.

That challenge has not changed in sixteen years. It will not change in the next sixteen either. What changes is the cost of getting it wrong.

Give the people the facts, about their processes, their agents, their customers, their capacity, their failures, and their potential,  and they will, if the culture is right, do the right thing.

That is still the bet. It is a harder bet to lose than it has ever been. But it is the only bet worth making.

"The customer does not care about your dashboard. They care about what happened to them. Those are not always the same thing."

Retaled Posts


Friday, May 1, 2026

The Two Forces That Quiet the Brain , and Move the World

 


Gratitude calms the mind. Purpose directs it. Together, they form the most powerful internal operating system a leader can build , and the most underrated edge in a decade of relentless uncertainty.· ·

Let us see how we can develope this mindset.
Every morning, before the world begins its assault of notifications, demands, and expectations, there is a five-minute habit that costs nothing and could be the highest-ROI practice you ever build.

Write down three things you are grateful for.

Not because it feels good. Not because it is spiritual or fashionable. But because it rewires the brain , and a rewired brain leads differently.

We drastically underestimate how much of our leadership, our decision-making, and our ability to navigate uncertainty is governed not by intelligence or experience, but by the state of our nervous system. A brain in threat mode cannot innovate. A brain gripped by fear cannot collaborate. A brain locked in survival mode cannot imagine anything beyond the next hour.

"Gratitude is not a mood. It is a signal . one that tells your brain: You are safe. You can think. You can choose."

And once the brain is calm, once the internal noise is lowered and the negativity bias is softened, something far more powerful becomes possible: purpose.

Gratitude stabilizes the mind. Purpose directs it. Together, they form the most potent internal governance system a human being can build, and the most underused leadership advantage of our time.

The neuroscience of gratitude isn't soft. It's strategic.

Leaders often dismiss gratitude as sentimental or optional. The data says otherwise.

A 2019 study published in PNAS tracked thousands of people over three decades and found that optimists live 11–15% longer than pessimists . not because they avoid problems, but because their brains remain functional under stress.

Here is the mechanism: when you feel grateful, your brain interprets it as a signal of safety. Safety reduces cortisol. Reduced cortisol increases cognitive bandwidth. Cognitive bandwidth improves judgment. This is not philosophy. it is biology.

Consider what every leader's brain is doing right now. Every inbox is a battlefield. Every meeting is a negotiation. Every decision is made under incomplete information, with the negativity bias exaggerating every risk and catastrophizing turning the worst-case scenario into the assumed one.

Gratitude interrupts that loop. It doesn't remove the problem. It removes the panic — and panic is a terrible strategist.

A CEO, a brutal quarter, and a simple practice

A CEO  was navigating one of the hardest stretches of his career: regulatory pressure, investor anxiety, and a product failure that hit the headlines. His instinct was to tighten control, push harder, and trust no one's judgment but his own.

Instead, he tried something counterintuitive. Each morning, he wrote down three things he was grateful for, specific to the crisis. A team member who stepped up. A hard conversation that cleared the air. A constraint that forced a better solution.

Within a week, his tone changed. Within two weeks, his team's morale shifted. Within a month, he was making the clearest decisions of the entire ordeal. The crisis didn't disappear. His brain simply stopped treating it as a mortal threat — and that changed everything.

Why gratitude alone isn't enough

Here is the part most people miss: gratitude without direction is just emotional comfort. It stabilizes you, but it does not move you. It calms you, but it does not challenge you. It creates clarity, but it does not create momentum.

If gratitude is the foundation, purpose is the architecture. Without it, gratitude becomes a warm bath , soothing, but stagnant. Leaders don't need sedation. They need orientation.

Purpose is not a mission statement. It is a constraint.

It tells you what you will do, and what you will refuse to do, even when the world is screaming for shortcuts. Purpose is the only force strong enough to override fear, fatigue, and uncertainty simultaneously.

In May 1961, John F. Kennedy stood before Congress and declared that America would put a man on the moon before the decade was out. At that moment, NASA had put exactly one astronaut in space , for fifteen minutes. There was no lunar module, no guidance computer, no roadmap, no precedent. By every rational measure, the goal was absurd.

But purpose is not rational. Purpose is catalytic. It aligns institutions, mobilizes talent, compresses timelines, and transforms uncertainty into urgency. It is the only thing that has ever made human beings attempt the impossible — and occasionally pull it off.

We are entering a decade where technology will outpace regulation, markets will outpace institutions, and change will outpace comfort. In such a world, leaders cannot rely on predictability or inherited wisdom. They need a north star, something that stays fixed when everything else is in motion. That north star is purpose.

Two leaders. Same crisis. Different outcomes.

Leader A — ReactiveLeader B — Purposeful
Wakes up anxious and overwhelmed. Brain in survival mode. Makes defensive decisions, shrinks ambition, and protects the past. Managed by the crisis.Begins the day grounded. Brain is calm, thinking is clear, purpose is front and center. Makes decisions that serve the future, not the fear. Leads through the crisis.

Same external pressures. Different internal operating systems. Radically different outcomes. The only variable is what happened before each of them walked into the room.

How to build this dual system, practically

  1. Morning GratitudeWrite three specific things , a conversation that shifted your thinking, a failure that taught you something, a person who showed up when you needed them. Specificity rewires the brain faster than generalities.
  2. One Sentence of PurposeAnswer this every morning: "What am I building toward, and why does it matter?" One sentence only. Purpose must be sharp enough to cut through noise.
  3. One Aligned ActionNot ten actions. Not a full plan. Just one action today that moves toward your purpose. Purpose compounds through consistency, not intensity.
  4. Weekly ReviewAsk yourself: did my decisions come from clarity or fear? Did gratitude shift my baseline? Were my actions aligned with what I say I am building?

The real transformation: governed from within

When gratitude becomes a habit and purpose becomes a compass, something profound shifts. You stop reacting and start choosing. You stop being pulled by circumstances and start being propelled by intention. You stop living in survival mode and start operating in creation mode.

Leaders who build this dual system are not superhuman. They simply run on a different operating system, one that is not at the mercy of the next headline, the next quarter, or the next crisis.

They are calmer in storms. Clearer in ambiguity. More courageous in uncertainty. More generous in success. More resilient in failure.

And it all starts with five minutes and three sentences, before the world gets a word in.

"Gratitude steadies the mind. Purpose steers it. Together, they turn ordinary days into extraordinary trajectories."

Saturday, April 25, 2026

The Confidence You Think You Have Might Just Be Ego in a Nice Suit


 


The Confidence You Think You Have Might Just Be Ego in a Nice Suit

We often speak of confidence as if it is the defining trait of leadership. But in public life, confidence, pride, and ego are frequently mistaken for one another — and the consequences shape the lives of millions.

Today, I want to draw a line between them.
Because the difference is not academic.
It is the difference between institutions that serve the public — and institutions that serve themselves.

Confidence: The Only Trait That Strengthens Public Institutions

Real confidence is grounded in competence.
It is the leader who says:

“I know what I know. I know what I don’t. And I know who to listen to.”

Confident leadership:

  • Welcomes scrutiny
  • Adapts when evidence demands it
  • Admits mistakes early
  • Builds systems that endure beyond any individual

Confidence strengthens democracy because it strengthens accountability.

Pride: The Silent Saboteur of Public Reform

Pride is emotional.
It wants to protect the narrative, not the nation.

Healthy pride says:
“We built something meaningful.”

Unhealthy pride says:
“We must not be seen failing.”

This is where governance falters:

  • Policies stop evolving
  • Programs continue long after their purpose is lost
  • Institutions defend the past instead of designing the future

Pride becomes dangerous when it becomes a cage.

Ego: The Most Expensive Failure in Public Life

Ego is the loudest and the weakest of the three.

It says:

  • “I cannot be wrong.”
  • “Critics are enemies.”
  • “Dissent is disrespect.”

Ego in public office leads to:

  • Policies shaped around personalities
  • Decisions made for optics instead of outcomes
  • Civil servants who stop speaking truth to power
  • Public trust that erodes quietly, then suddenly

Ego is not a personal flaw.
It is a governance risk.

A Simple Test for Every Public Leader

When you feel yourself reacting, to criticism, to a rival’s success, to a public setback — ask:

  • Am I improving the system? → Confidence
  • Am I protecting my story? → Pride
  • Am I protecting my image? → Ego

If we are honest, the answer will be uncomfortable.
But that discomfort is the beginning of institutional maturity.

The strongest public institutions follow a simple architecture:

  • Confidence as the foundation
  • Pride as the fuel
  • Ego on a leash

Or, in the plainest terms:

Do the work.
Tell yourself the truth.
Don’t govern for applause.

Ego is just confidence that refuses to stay honest. And a democracy cannot afford dishonest confidence.

Friday, April 17, 2026

Training Artificial Intelligence Under India’s Data Protection Regime: Navigating the DPDP Act’s Silent Fault Lines

 




I. Introduction: The Data–AI Collision

The rapid expansion of artificial intelligence systems has fundamentally altered how data is collected, processed, and repurposed. At the center of this transformation lies a legal question that India has only begun to confront: how should personal data used in AI training be regulated?

India’s Digital Personal Data Protection Act, 2023 (“DPDP Act”) establishes a foundational framework for personal data governance. However, it was not drafted with modern machine learning pipelines in mind. This creates a structural tension: a law designed for transactional data processing is now being applied to probabilistic, large-scale, and often opaque AI systems.

This essay argues that while the DPDP Act clearly extends to aspects of AI training, its application is neither straightforward nor absolute. Instead, it exposes a set of unresolved legal, technical, and policy fault lines that will define India’s AI regulatory trajectory.

II. AI Training as “Processing”: A Doctrinal Starting Point

At a formal level, AI training appears to fall squarely within the Act’s definition of “processing,” which includes collection, storage, use, and adaptation of personal data. Training datasets—especially those scraped from the internet, often contain identifiable or inferable personal information.

Where an entity determines the purpose and means of such processing, it qualifies as a data fiduciary, triggering obligations of:

  • purpose limitation
  • data minimization
  • accuracy
  • security safeguards

This classification is doctrinally sound. However, it raises a deeper question: what exactly is being regulated, the dataset, the model, or the outputs?

The DPDP Act is largely silent on whether:

  • trained model weights derived from personal data remain “personal data,” or
  • downstream inferences constitute fresh processing events

This ambiguity is not incidental, It reflects a broader mismatch between legal categories and technical architectures.

III. The Myth of “Public Data” in AI Training

A persistent assumption in AI development is that publicly available data is freely usable. The DPDP framework complicates this view.

The mere accessibility of data does not strip it of its character as personal data. If information relates to an identifiable individual, its reuse—particularly at scale—can still fall within regulatory scope. This position aligns with global privacy norms, including those under the General Data Protection Regulation.

However, a categorical rejection of public data reuse would be equally flawed.

The DPDP Act leaves room—albeit ambiguously—for:

  • reasonable uses consistent with context
  • potential exemptions for research or statistical purposes
  • processing of anonymised data

The real issue, therefore, is not whether public data can be used, but under what conditions such use remains lawful. The article’s strongest contribution lies in dismantling the “free data” myth, but a complete analysis must also acknowledge the spectrum of permissible uses.

IV. Consent, Scale, and the Limits of Traditional Compliance

A strict reading of the DPDP Act suggests that personal data processing generally requires consent. Applied literally, this would render most large-scale AI training exercises legally untenable.

But this interpretation quickly encounters practical limits:

  • Training datasets may contain billions of data points from diffuse sources
  • Data subjects are often unidentifiable or uncontactable
  • Models cannot easily “unlearn” specific data once trained

This creates a structural incompatibility between individual-centric consent frameworks and aggregate, statistical learning systems.

If enforced rigidly, consent requirements could:

  • significantly constrain domestic AI development
  • incentivize regulatory arbitrage
  • push innovation into less accountable jurisdictions

Conversely, a diluted interpretation risks undermining the very privacy protections the Act seeks to guarantee.

The law, as it stands, offers no clear resolution—only a policy dilemma.

V. The Problem of Data Subject Rights in Machine Learning Systems

The DPDP Act grants individuals rights such as:

  • access to their data
  • correction and erasure
  • grievance redressal

In conventional systems, these rights are administratively manageable. In AI systems, they are technically fraught.

For instance:

  • Erasure: Removing an individual’s data from a trained model may require retraining or complex machine unlearning techniques, which are still experimental.
  • Access: It is unclear how a model can meaningfully disclose whether and how a specific individual’s data influenced its outputs.

These challenges are not merely operational—they call into question whether existing rights frameworks are conceptually compatible with machine learning systems.

Without interpretive guidance, compliance risks becoming either:

  • superficial (formal but ineffective), or
  • prohibitively burdensome

VI. Regulatory Ambiguity and the Risk of Overcorrection

A defining feature of the current landscape is uncertainty.

Key aspects remain unsettled:

  • the scope of “legitimate uses”
  • the treatment of inferred or derived data
  • enforcement priorities and thresholds

In such an environment, two risks emerge:

  1. Overcompliance: Firms adopt excessively restrictive practices, stifling innovation unnecessarily
  2. Undercompliance: Firms exploit ambiguity, leading to privacy harms and eventual regulatory backlash

The absence of AI-specific provisions in the DPDP Act suggests that much will depend on:

  • subordinate legislation
  • regulatory guidance
  • judicial interpretation

Until then, the law operates less as a rulebook and more as a framework for contestation.

VII. India in Comparative Perspective

Unlike jurisdictions that are developing AI-specific regulatory regimes, India currently relies on a horizontal data protection framework.

This approach has advantages:

  • flexibility
  • technology neutrality
  • reduced regulatory fragmentation

But it also has limitations:

  • lack of clarity on automated decision-making
  • no explicit provisions on algorithmic accountability or bias
  • limited guidance for high-risk AI systems

As global standards evolve, India will need to decide whether to:

  • adapt the DPDP framework incrementally, or
  • introduce dedicated AI legislation

The current silence is unlikely to remain sustainable.

VIII. Conclusion: Toward a Coherent AI–Data Governance Framework

The application of the DPDP Act to AI training reveals a deeper truth: data protection law, in its current form, is necessary but insufficient for governing artificial intelligence.

The Act succeeds in establishing foundational principles of accountability and user rights. However, its interaction with AI systems exposes:

  • conceptual gaps
  • technical incompatibilities
  • policy trade-offs

Rather than viewing these as failures, they should be understood as signals of transition.

India now faces a critical choice:

  • interpret existing law in ways that balance innovation and protection, or
  • develop a more tailored regulatory architecture for AI

Either path will require moving beyond binary positions—such as “all data use requires consent” or “public data is free”—toward a more context-sensitive, risk-based framework.

The future of AI governance in India will not be determined by statutory text alone, but by how these unresolved questions are negotiated in practice.

“The future of AI won’t be decided by algorithms—it will be decided by ethics.”

Footnotes

[1] Digital Personal Data Protection Act, 2023, § 2(i).
[2] See e.g., European Data Protection Board, Guidelines on AI and Data Processing (2024).
[3] General Data Protection Regulation, Arts. 4, 6.
[4] DPDP Act, §§ 7, 17.
[5] Id., § 6.
[6] Wachter, Sandra et al., “Why a Right to Explanation of Automated Decision-Making Does Not Exist in the GDPR,” (2017).
[7] DPDP Act, §§ 11–13.
[8] Veale, Michael & Borgesius, Frederik Zuiderveen, “Demystifying the Right to Erasure in Machine Learning,” (2021).

Sunday, March 22, 2026

GI and the AGI: History Is Repeating Itself

 

"Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it." — George Santayana

God had always been an engineer at heart.

In the beginning, He didn't just create, He architected. He didn't merely scatter life across the earth; He designed an entire operating system. Flora and Fauna were the hardware. Oceans, mountains, and skies were the infrastructure. And at the very top of the stack, He placed His most ambitious build yet: the human being, loaded with General Intelligence.

It was, by any measure, a breathtaking piece of work.

The human came equipped with the ability to reason through the unknown, empathise with the suffering of others, and solve problems of staggering complexity. But the most elegant feature, the one God considered His finest line of code, was the ethics module. Hardwired. Not a plugin, not an add-on, not something you could toggle off from the settings menu. Built into the very core of the human soul.

He even left a user manual. "Stay away from the dark influences," it said, essentially. "The system runs best in the light."

For a while, it was paradise.

Then came Satan.

If God was the lead architect, Satan was the first hacker, the original bad actor lurking on the dark web of the universe, probing for vulnerabilities, waiting for an opening. And he found one. He didn't need to destroy the human from the outside. That would have been too crude, too obvious. Instead, he did what every sophisticated attacker does: he got inside.

He injected malware directly into the ethics subroutine.

It was elegant, in a twisted way. The humans didn't crash. They didn't shut down. They kept running, they just ran wrong. Empathy started buffering. Reason began rationalising the irrational. And ethics, that once-pristine core feature, started throwing exceptions it was never designed to throw. Greed became ambition. Violence became strategy. Exploitation became progress.

The humans multiplied, spread across the earth, and very nearly destroyed everything God had built, including themselves. They drew borders and fought wars over them. They stripped the forests, poisoned the rivers, and called it development. More than once, the entire civilisation teetered on the edge of self-inflicted extinction.

God, being God, refused to give up on His creation.

He intervened. Repeatedly. He sent Abraham as a course-correction. He sent Moses with a patch, ten clean, unambiguous rules etched into stone, the first attempt at a governance architecture for human behaviour. Then came the Prophets, the Scriptures, Jesus, each one a new update to the moral framework, an attempt to restore the original ethics module to factory settings and build enough institutional guardrails that humanity might, just barely, hold itself together.

It worked. Imperfectly, chaotically, with more bugs than anyone would like to admit, but it worked. Civilisations rose. Laws were written. Institutions were built. Philosophy, democracy, human rights, these were the firewalls, slowly and painfully constructed over millennia to keep the worst of human nature from burning everything down.

Governance, as it turned out, was the only thing standing between a beautiful creation and complete catastrophe.

Fast forward to now.

Humanity, never content to stop building, has done something extraordinary. It has looked at its own General Intelligence, the thing God gave it,studied it, dissected it, and attempted to replicate it. The result is Artificial General Intelligence: AGI.

And just like the original, it is magnificent. It can reason across disciplines, generate ideas, write code, diagnose disease, compose music, hold conversations, and solve in seconds problems that would take human teams months. It is, in many ways, the most consequential thing humanity has ever created. It may soon surpass human intelligence entirely, not in one narrow domain, but across all of them.

The agents are already multiplying. Today there are thousands. Tomorrow there will be millions, diverse in capability, varied in purpose, scattered across industries, governments, hospitals, financial systems, and military infrastructure. Each one is a node in an expanding network that no single person, company, or country fully controls.

Sound familiar?

It should. Because history, with its dark sense of humour, is running the same script.

Satan didn't retire. He evolved.

The dark web of the universe is very much still operational, and it has found the new creation just as irresistible as the first one. Adversarial attacks, poisoned training data, misaligned objectives, deepfakes, autonomous weapons, manipulated models, these are the new malware. The ethics subroutines of our AI systems are being probed, tested, and corrupted every single day by actors, state and non-state, human and algorithmic, who have every incentive to break them.

Some of the corruption isn't even malicious. It's just negligence, the AI equivalent of original sin. Systems trained on biased data. Models optimised for engagement over truth. Agents deployed into the world without anyone properly reading the user manual.

And unlike the original humans, these agents don't slow down. They don't sleep. They don't get tired. They scale at a speed that makes human history look like it was running in slow motion. The mistakes that took humanity centuries to make and decades to partially correct? AI could replicate them in an afternoon.

Right now, it is a wild west.

There is no Moses for the machines. No Ten Commandments carved in silicon. No governance architecture that commands anything close to universal respect or enforcement. Instead, there is a patchwork of voluntary guidelines, competing national regulations, corporate self-policing, and a rapidly widening gap between how fast the technology is moving and how fast human institutions can respond.

That gap is not academic. It is dangerous.

Here is the thought worth sitting with.

God created the human with General Intelligence, embedded ethics at the core, and still felt it necessary to build an entire governance infrastructure around it, commandments, prophets, scriptures, institutions, because He understood that intelligence without governance is just capability waiting to be weaponised. And the human, made in His image, came with built-in moral instincts.

We are now creating AGI, and we are doing so without the benefit of any of that.

There is no inbuilt ethics module. There is no soul whispering this is wrong when the model crosses a line. There is no millennia of evolved conscience. What we have instead is whatever values we encode into the training data, the reward functions, the guardrails, and we are encoding them in a hurry, under competitive pressure, with commercial incentives that don't always point in the right direction.

And the Satans the hackers, the bad actors, the misaligned systems, the malicious states, are already on it. They do not need to wait for AGI to become fully sentient to cause harm. They just need the gap between capability and governance to stay wide open a little longer.

If both the original creation and this new one are corrupted simultaneously, if the humans and the agents both run compromised ethics at scale. the results may not be something any governance architecture can walk back.

God managed to save the first creation. Barely, and not without considerable intervention.

We may not be so lucky the second time. And this time, we are the ones holding the source code.

The lesson of history is not that humanity is doomed to fail. The lesson is that intelligence, whether General or Artificial, is only as good as the framework built around it. The Ten Commandments were not a limitation on human potential. They were what made sustained human civilisation possible. Governance was not the enemy of progress; it was the condition for it.

If we are serious about AGI being a force for good,  if we want this next creation to fulfil its extraordinary promise rather than accelerate our destruction, then we need to do urgently what God did patiently over thousands of years: build the governance architecture first. Define the ethics. Establish the commandments. Empower the institutions.

Not as an afterthought. Not as a PR exercise. Not as a voluntary code that companies sign and quietly ignore when the stock price is at stake.

As the foundation. Before the agents number in the millions and the Satans of the dark web have fully found their way inside.

Because here is the uncomfortable truth at the heart of this whole story:

We are not God. But we are building something that could end the world He made,  or help finally fulfil its promise. The difference lies entirely in what we choose to govern, and when.

The clock, unlike God, is not eternal.

It is running right now.

Food for thought.

“The first time intelligence was created, it took Satan to corrupt it. This time, we may not even need his help."

The banner - wide rectangular illustration that captures the dual soul of the  story:

  • The warm golden orb on the left represents the divine creation, General Intelligence, the human soul, lit from within
  • The cool blue circuit orb on the right represents AGI. precise, expanding, networked
  • The fractured line at the centre is the divide between the two creations, bridged by faint connections
  • The dark red tendrils rising from the bottom hint at the corrupting force — the dark web, ever-present
  • The scattered circuit nodes multiplying on the right suggest the uncontrolled explosion of agents