July 28, 2026
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4 min read
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Alexandra Costea Ifrim
In recent days, two seemingly unrelated events made me reflect deeply on how much people actually understand about how Large Language Models (LLMs) really work.
The first was a conversation with a tenacious vibe coder. Talking to him, I realised something disarming: many people who use LLMs daily for their work have no idea how they actually work. They simply treat it like a magic object where you feed in an idea and a "finished" product comes out.
As long as we're talking about personal projects, recreational scripts, or things that won't go to market… fair enough. Everyone manages their own risk as they see fit.
But then we move into the real world. And that's where the second event comes in.
I read a marketing ad pitching a "Black Box" AI solution designed to "solve SOC complexity." And that's where I lost it: do we actually know what "Black Box" means, or is it just an English buzzword that sounds good in sales pitches?
There's a frightening dissonance between what European regulation is imposing (through the EU AI Act), what ACN (Italy's National Cybersecurity Agency) is trying to promote in terms of resilience and supply-chain traceability, and the aggressive marketing selling AI-powered unicorns.
All of this stems from an original sin in how AI was introduced into our lives.
AI first entered our homes as a toy: the friendly tool that suggests a recipe based on what's in your fridge, plans your trip to Lisbon, or turns a sentence into a meme. The moment this tool enters a company, cultural resistance is minimal — but we tend to treat it exactly the way we do on our couch at home: that helpful tool that, sure, occasionally makes something up or hallucinates, but "hey, with a bit of human help you get a decent result."
The problem is that in a corporate setting, things get just a little more complicated.
Why do we fall so easily for pitches selling the "magic Black Box"? The answer isn't technological, it's psychological. And I'm not the one saying it — Daniel Kahneman did: our brain is lazy. It would rather save energy by relying on mental shortcuts (the famous System 1) than face the cognitive effort of analysing complex problems (System 2).
When a vendor shows up at the company all sparkly and tells us exactly what we want to hear — "Use our AI Agent and solve complexity effortlessly" — they aren't selling us software. They are selling us the perfect shortcut and we buy because we want to believe.
We gladly accept the black box because it lifts the weight of responsibility off our shoulders. We focus on the shiny dashboard with the green metrics and systematically ignore what's under the hood: where does the training data come from? How does the model react to a prompt injection attack or poisoned data? We don't care, because the fairy tale of total automation is too good to be questioned.
In this AI gold rush, legislation and security agencies like the ACN end up playing the role of the evil teacher. The pedantic one who is never satisfied, who arrives to ruin the party for those adding AI just because it sells, demanding the AI-SBOM (the inventory of software components and models), algorithm transparency, traceability logs, and cyber risk management.
The conditioned reflex of the average entrepreneur or manager is to scoff: "Ah, here we go, yet another checklist, the usual European bureaucracy stifling innovation."
But the truth is different. The regulator isn't being a killjoy for fun: they are just trying to remind us that in critical environments, magic doesn't exist. A hallucination on a recipe means, worst case scenario, you have an excuse to eat out; a hallucination or blind faith in a Black Box inside a SOC can mean failing to detect a critical intrusion or shutting down a company's infrastructure thinking it's under attack when it's not.
Perhaps the problem is that we are no longer just running away from cognitive fatigue, we are also terrified of missing out. We see a competitor announce "AI everywhere" and we let ourselves get caught up in FOMO, forgetting that copying someone else's shortcut doesn't shield us from their same risks.
It's not enough to keep repeating that transparency "pays off." We need to understand that it is a prerequisite for anyone who wants to build a sustainable business, not a quirk to be added when convenient—because today's glitter is tomorrow's security problem.
Sound familiar?
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