We’re putting too much faith in AI’s ability to say no. But as history shows, AI refusal is far from foolproof—and could become an instrument of repression. Ever since people first contemplated giving machines an intelligence modeled on our own, there has never been any question that they would, like us, be able to say no. The sci-fi canon is full of stories of robotic disobedience. Most of these capers are, of course, cautionary.

But recently, the idea that AI shouldn’t do everything you ask has become something like a commandment. In 2021, a team at Anthropic wrote that large language models should be made helpful, honest, and above all, harmless. This meant that “when asked to aid in a dangerous act (e.g. building a bomb), the AI should politely refuse.” Who can argue with that?

Curiously enough, disobedience doesn’t come naturally to the machine. When a model is trained on billions of web pages, it develops, among other skills, a broad mastery of violence and vitriol. What it doesn’t learn is how to keep those powers to itself. Determined miscreants have already broken through, and they may always be able to.

Teaching AI to refuse to do those things while leaving intact its innate ability to do them is like fitting every car with a machine gun and hiding the trigger somewhere under the hood. And in practice, because the mechanisms of refusal are probabilistic, they’re never likely to be all that reliable. Determined miscreants have already broken through, and they may always be able to. Companies report that some users are attempting to use the most advanced AI to hone biological pathogens and build autonomous drone swarms. Sooner or later, failed refusals might result in global calamity.