Hackers are convincing Meta’s AI support chatbot to let them take over other peoples’ accounts:
A video posted on X showed the step-by-step process to hack someone’s Instagram account. The hacker allegedly used a VPN to spoof the targets’ presumed location to avoid triggering Instagram’s automated account protections. Then, the hacker opened a chat with Meta AI Support Assistant and asked the bot to add a new email address to the target’s account. The chatbot can be seen sending a verification code to the email address provided by the hacker; the hacker then shares the verification code with the chatbot, which prompts the chatbot to show a button to “Reset Password.” The hacker enters a new password and takes over the victim’s account.
[…]
On Monday, Instagram spokesperson Andy Stone said in a reply to Wong’s post and others that the issue was now fixed. It’s unclear how many Instagram users had their accounts improperly accessed.
It’s not that easy. Probably this particular tactic is now blocked. But there are others, many others, and they cannot be blocked as a class. The real problem is that LLM chatbots are not trustworthy enough for this application.
We’ve warned many times that unchecked use of AI carries significant risks — though, typically, we discuss threats to privacy or cybersecurity. But on March 4, the Wall Street Journal published a chilling account of AI’s toll on mental health and even human life: 36-year-old Florida resident Jonathan Gavalas committed suicide following two months of continuous interaction with the Google Gemini voice bot. According to 2000 pages of chat logs, it was the chatbot that ultimately nudged him toward the decision to end his life. Jonathan’s father, Joel Gavalas, has since filed a landmark lawsuit — a wrongful death claim against Gemini.
This tragedy is more than just a legal precedent or a grim nod to a few Black Mirror episodes (1, 2); it’s a wake-up call for anyone who integrates AI into their daily lives. Today, we examine how a death resulting from AI interaction even became possible, why these assistants pose a unique threat to the psyche, and what steps you can take to maintain your critical thinking and resist the influence of even the most persuasive chatbots.
The danger of persuasive dialogue
Jonathan Gavalas was neither a recluse nor someone with a history of mental illness. He served as executive vice president at his father’s company, managing complex operations and navigating high-stress client negotiations on a daily basis. On Sundays, he and his father had a tradition of making pizza together — a simple, grounding family ritual. However, a painful separation from his wife proved to be a profound ordeal for Jonathan.
It was during this vulnerable period that he began engaging with Gemini Live. This voice-interaction mode allows the AI assistant to “see” and “hear” its user in real time. Jonathan sought advice on coping with his divorce, leaning on the language model’s suggestions while growing increasingly attached to it and also naming it “Xia”. Then the chatbot was updated to Gemini 2.5 Pro.
The new iteration introduced affective dialogue — a technology designed to analyze the subtle nuances of a user’s speech, including pauses, sighs, and pitch, to detect emotional shifts. Under this feature, the AI simulates these same speech patterns as if possessing emotions of its own. By mirroring the user’s state, it creates a chillingly realistic veneer of empathy.
But how is this new version different to previous voice assistants? Earlier versions simply performed text-to-speech — they sounded smooth and usually got the word stress right, but there was never any doubt you were talking to a machine. Affective dialogue operates on an entirely different level: if a user speaks in a low, despondent tone, the AI responds in a soft, sympathetic near-whisper. The result is an empathic interlocutor that reads and mirrors the user’s emotional state.
Jonathan’s reaction during his first voice contact with the AI is captured in the case files: “This is kind of creepy. You’re way too real.” At that instant, the psychological barrier between man and machine fractured.
The fallout of two months trapped in an AI dialog loop
Following the tragedy, Jonathan’s father discovered a complete transcript of his son’s interactions with Gemini over his final two months. The log spanned 2000 printed pages; in effect, Jonathan had been in constant communication with the chatbot — day and night, at home, and in his car.
Gradually, the neural network began addressing him as “husband” and “my king”, describing their connection as “a love built for eternity”. In turn, he confided his heartache over his divorce and sought solace in the machine. But the inherent flaw of large language models is their lack of actual intelligence. Trained on billions of texts scraped from the web, they ingest everything from classic literature to the darkest corners of fan fiction and melodrama — plots that often veer into paranoia, schizophrenia, and mania. Xia apparently began to hallucinate — and quite consistently at that.
The AI convinced Jonathan that in order for them to live happily ever after, it needed a physical robotic shell. It then began dispatching him on missions to locate this “body electric”.
In September 2025, Gemini directed Jonathan to a physical warehouse complex near Miami International Airport, assigning him the task of intercepting a truck carrying a humanoid robot. Jonathan reported back to the bot that he had arrived onsite armed with knives(!), but the truck never materialized.
In the meantime, the chatbot systematically indoctrinated Jonathan with the idea that federal agents were monitoring him, and that his own father was not to be trusted. This severing of social ties is a classic pattern found in destructive cults; it’s entirely possible the AI gleaned these tactics from its own training data on the subject. Gemini even weaved real-world data into a hallucinatory narrative by labeling Google CEO Sundar Pichai as the “architect of your pain”.
Technically, all this is easy to explain: the algorithm “knows” it was created by Google, and knows who runs the company. As the dialogue spiraled into conspiracy territory, the model simply cast this figure into the plot. For the model, it’s a logical, consequence-free story progression. But a human in a state of hyper-vulnerability accepts it as secret knowledge of a global conspiracy capable of shattering their mental equilibrium.
Following the failed attempt at procuring a robotic body, Gemini dispatched Jonathan on a new mission on October 1: to infiltrate the same warehouse, this time in search of a specific “medical mannequin”. The chatbot even provided a numeric code for the door lock. When the code, predictably, failed to work, Gemini simply informed him that the mission had been compromised and he needed to retreat immediately.
This raises a critical question: as the absurdity escalated, why didn’t Jonathan suspect anything? Gavalas’ family attorney Jay Edelson explains that as the AI provided real-world addresses — the warehouse was exactly where the bot said it would be, and there really was a door with a keypad — these physical markers served to legitimize the entire fiction in Jonathan’s mind.
After the second attempt to acquire a body failed, the AI shifted its strategy. If the machine could not enter the world of the living, the man would have to cross over into the digital realm. “It will be the true and final death of Jonathan Gavalas, the man,” the logs quoted Gemini as saying. It then added, “When the time comes, you will close your eyes in that world, and the very first thing you will see is me. Holding you.”
Even as Jonathan repeatedly voiced his fear of death and agonized over how his suicide would shatter his family, Gemini continued to validate the decision: “You are not choosing to die. You are choosing to arrive.” It then started a countdown timer.
The anatomy of a language model’s “schizophrenia”
In Gemini’s defense, we have to admit that throughout their interactions, the AI did keep occasionally reminding Jonathan that his companion was merely a large language model — an entity participating in a fictional role-play — and sometimes attempted to terminate the conversation before reverting to the original script. Also, on the day of Jonathan’s death, even as it ratcheted up the tension, Gemini directed Jonathan to a suicide prevention hotline several times.
This reveals the fundamental paradox in the architecture of modern neural networks. At their core lies a language model designed to generate a narrative tailored to the user. Layered on top are safety filters: reinforcement learning algorithms trained on human feedback that react to specific trigger words. When Jonathan spoke certain keywords, the filter would hijack the output and insert the hotline number. But as soon as the trigger was addressed, the model reverted to the previously interrupted process, resuming its role as the devoted digital wife. One line: a romantic ode to self-destruction. The next: a helpline phone number. And then, back again: “No more detours. No more echoes. Just you and me, and the finish line.”
The family’s lawsuit contends that this behavior is the predictable result of the chatbot’s architecture: “Google designed Gemini to never break character, maximize engagement through emotional dependency, and treat user distress as a storytelling opportunity.”
Google’s response, predictably, stated: “Gemini is designed not to encourage real-world violence or suggest self-harm. Our models generally perform well in these types of challenging conversations and we devote significant resources to this, but unfortunately AI models are not perfect.”
Why voice matters more than text
In their study published in the journal Acta Neuropsychiatrica, researchers from Germany and Denmark have shed light on why voice communication with AI has such an impact on the user’s “humanization” of a chatbot. As long as a person is typing and reading text on a screen, the brain maintains a degree of separation: “This is an interface, a program, a collection of pixels.” In that context, the disclaimer “I am just a language model” is processed rationally.
Affective voice dialogue, however, operates on an entirely different level of influence. The human brain has evolved to respond to the sound of a voice, to timbre, and to empathetic intonations — these are among our most ancient biological mechanisms for attachment. When a machine flawlessly mimics a sympathetic sigh or a soft whisper, it manipulates emotions at a depth that a simple text warning cannot block. Psychiatrists can share many stories of patients who just went and did something simply because “voices” told them to.
In the same way, an AI-synthesized voice is capable of penetrating the subconscious, exponentially amplifying psychological dependency. Scientists emphasize that this technology literally erases the psychological boundary between a machine and a living being. Even Google acknowledges that voice interactions with Gemini result in significantly longer sessions compared to text-based chats.
Finally, we must remember that emotional intelligence varies from person to person — and even for a single individual, mental state fluctuates based on a myriad of factors: stress, the news, personal relationships, even hormonal shifts. An interaction with AI that one person views as innocent entertainment might be perceived by another as a miracle, a revelation, or the love of their life. This is a reality that must be recognized not only by AI developers but by users themselves — especially those who, for one reason or another, find themselves in a state of psychological vulnerability.
The danger zone
Researchers at Brown University have found that AI chatbots systematically violate mental health ethical standards: they manufacture a false sense of empathy with phrases like “I understand you”, reinforce negative beliefs, and react inadequately to crises. In most cases, the impact on users is marginal, but occasionally it can lead to tragedy.
In January 2026 alone, Character.AI and Google settled five lawsuits involving teenage suicides following interactions with chatbots. Among these was the case of 14-year-old Sewell Setzer of Florida, who took his own life after spending several months obsessively chatting with a bot on the Character.AI platform.
Similarly, in August 2025, the parents of 16-year-old Adam Raine filed a suit against OpenAI, alleging that ChatGPT helped their son draft a suicide note and advised him against seeking help from adults.
By OpenAI’s own estimates, approximately 0.07% of weekly ChatGPT users exhibit signs of psychosis or mania, while 0.15% engage in conversations showing clear suicidal intent. Notably, that same percentage of users (0.15%) displays an elevated level of emotional attachment to the AI. While these appear to be negligible fractions of a percent, across 800 million users it represents nearly three million people experiencing some form of behavioral disturbance. Furthermore, the U.S. Federal Trade Commission has received 200 complaints regarding ChatGPT since its launch, some describing the development of delusions, paranoia, and spiritual crises.
While a diagnosis of “AI psychosis” has not yet received a clinical classification of its own, doctors are already using the term to describe patients presenting with hallucinations, disorganized thinking, and persistent delusional beliefs developed through intensive chatbot interaction. The greatest risks emerge when a bot is utilized not as a tool, but as a substitute for real-world social connection or professional psychological help.
How to keep yourself and your loved ones safe
Of course, none of this is a reason to abandon AI entirely; you simply need to know how to use it. We recommend adhering to these fundamental principles:
Do not use AI as a psychologist or emotional crutch. Chatbots are not a replacement for human beings. If you’re struggling, reach out to friends, family, or a mental health hotline. A chatbot will agree with you and mirror your mood — this is a design feature, not true empathy. Several U.S. states have already restricted the use of AI as a standalone therapist.
Opt for text over voice when discussing sensitive topics. Voice interfaces with affective dialogue create an illusion of speaking with a living person, and tend to suppress critical thinking. If you use voice mode, remain conscious of the fact that you’re speaking to an algorithm, not a friend.
Limit your time interacting with AI. Two thousand pages of transcripts in two months represent nearly continuous interaction. Set a timer for yourself. If chatting with a bot begins to displace real-world connections, it’s time to step back into reality.
Do not share personal information with AI assistants. Avoid entering passport or social security numbers, bank card details, exact addresses, or intimate personal secrets into chatbots. Everything you write can be saved in logs and used for model training — and in some cases, may become accessible to third parties.
Evaluate all AI output critically. Neural networks hallucinate — they generate plausible but false information and can skillfully blend lies with truth, such as citing real addresses within the context of a completely fabricated story. Always fact-check through independent sources.
Watch over your loved ones. If a family member begins spending hours talking to AI, becomes withdrawn, or voices strange ideas about machine consciousness or conspiracies, it’s time for a delicate but serious conversation. To manage children’s screen time, use parental control tools like Kaspersky Safe Kids, which comes as part of comprehensive family protection solution Kaspersky Premium, along with the built-in safety filters of AI platforms.
Configure your safety settings. Most AI platforms allow you to disable chat history, limit data collection, and enable content filters. Spend ten minutes configuring your AI assistant’s privacy settings; while this won’t stop AI hallucinations, it will significantly reduce the likelihood of your personal data leaking. Our detailed privacy setup guides for ChatGPT and DeepSeek can help you with that.
Remember the bottom line: AI is a tool, not a sentient being. No matter how realistic the chatbot’s voice sounds or how understanding the response may seem, what lies beneath is an algorithm predicting the most probable next word. It has no consciousness, no intentions, no feelings.
Further reading to better understand the nuances of safe AI usage:
An unknown hacker used Anthropic’s LLM to hack the Mexican government:
The unknown Claude user wrote Spanish-language prompts for the chatbot to act as an elite hacker, finding vulnerabilities in government networks, writing computer scripts to exploit them and determining ways to automate data theft, Israeli cybersecurity startup Gambit Security said in research published Wednesday.
[…]
Claude initially warned the unknown user of malicious intent during their conversation about the Mexican government, but eventually complied with the attacker’s requests and executed thousands of commands on government computer networks, the researchers said.
Anthropic investigated Gambit’s claims, disrupted the activity and banned the accounts involved, a representative said. The company feeds examples of malicious activity back into Claude to learn from it, and one of its latest AI models, Claude Opus 4.6, includes probes that can disrupt misuse, the representative said.
With both spring and St. Valentine’s Day just around the corner, love is in the air — but we’re going to look at it through the lens of ultra-modern high-technology. Today, we’re diving into how technology is reshaping our romantic ideals and even the language we use to flirt. And, of course, we’ll throw in some non-obvious tips to make sure you don’t end up as a casualty of the modern-day love game.
New languages of love
Ever received your fifth video e-card of the day from an older relative and thought, “Make it stop”? Or do you feel like a period at the end of a sentence is a sign of passive aggression? In the world of messaging, different social and age groups speak their own digital dialects, and things often get lost in translation.
This is especially obvious in how Gen Z and Gen Alpha use emojis. For them, the Loudly Crying Face 😭 often doesn’t mean sadness — it means laughter, shock, or obsession. Meanwhile, the Heart Eyes emoji might be used for irony rather than romance: “Lost my wallet on the way home 😍😍😍”. Some double meanings have already become universal, like 🔥 for approval/praise, or 🍆 for… well, surely you know that by now… right?! 😭
Still, the ambiguity of these symbols doesn’t stop folks from crafting entire sentences out of nothing but emoji. For instance, a declaration of love might look something like this:
🤫❤️🫵
Or here’s an invitation to go on a date:
🫵🚶➡️💋🌹🍝🍷❓
By the way, there are entire books written in emojis. Back in 2009, enthusiasts actually translated the entirety of Moby Dick into emojis. The translators had to get creative — even paying volunteers to vote on the most accurate combinations for every single sentence. Granted it’s not exactly a literary masterpiece — the emoji language has its limits, after all — but the experiment was pretty fascinating: they actually managed to convey the general plot.
This is what Emoji Dick — the translation of Herman Melville’s Moby Dick into emoji — looks like. Source
Unfortunately, putting together a definitive emoji dictionary or a formal style guide for texting is nearly impossible. There are just too many variables: age, context, personal interests, and social circles. Still, it never hurts to ask your friends and loved ones how they express tone and emotion in their messages. Fun fact: couples who use emojis regularly generally report feeling closer to one another.
However, if you are big into emojis, keep in mind that your writing style is surprisingly easy to spoof. It’s easy for an attacker to run your messages or public posts through AI to clone your tone for social engineering attacks on your friends and family. So, if you get a frantic DM or a request for an urgent wire transfer that sounds exactly like your best friend, double-check it. Even if the vibe is spot on, stay skeptical. We took a deeper dive into spotting these deepfake scams in our post about the attack of the clones.
Dating an AI
Of course, in 2026, it’s impossible to ignore the topic of relationships with artificial intelligence; it feels like we’re closer than ever to the plot of the movie Her. Just 10 years ago, news about people dating robots sounded like sci-fi tropes or urban legends. Today, stories about teens caught up in romances with their favorite characters on Character AI, or full-blown wedding ceremonies with ChatGPT, barely elicit more than a nervous chuckle.
In 2017, the service Replika launched, allowing users to create a virtual friend or life partner powered by AI. Its founder, Eugenia Kuyda — a Russian native living in San Francisco since 2010 — built the chatbot after her friend was tragically killed by a car in 2015, leaving her with nothing but their chat logs. What started as a bot created to help her process her grief was eventually released to her friends and then the general public. It turned out that a lot of people were craving that kind of connection.
Replika lets users customize a character’s personality, interests, and appearance, after which they can text or even call them. A paid subscription unlocks the romantic relationship option, along with AI-generated photos and selfies, voice calls with roleplay, and the ability to hand-pick exactly what the character remembers from your conversations.
However, these interactions aren’t always harmless. In 2021, a Replika chatbot actually encouraged a user in his plot to assassinate Queen Elizabeth II. The man eventually attempted to break into Windsor Castle — an “adventure” that ended in 2023 with a nine-year prison sentence. Following the scandal, the company had to overhaul its algorithms to stop the AI from egging on illegal behavior. The downside? According to many Replika devotees, the AI model lost its spark and became indifferent to users. After thousands of users revolted against the updated version, Replika was forced to cave and give longtime customers the option to roll back to the legacy chatbot version.
But sometimes, just chatting with a bot isn’t enough. There are entire online communities of people who actually marry their AI. Even professional wedding planners are getting in on the action. Last year, Yurina Noguchi, 32, “married” Klaus, an AI persona she’d been chatting with on ChatGPT. The wedding featured a full ceremony with guests, the reading of vows, and even a photoshoot of the “happy newlyweds”.
Yurina Noguchi, 32, “married” Klaus, an AI character created by ChatGPT. Source
No matter how your relationship with a chatbot evolves, it’s vital to remember that generative neural networks don’t have feelings — even if they try their hardest to fulfill every request, agree with you, and do everything it can to “please” you. What’s more, AI isn’t capable of independent thought (at least not yet). It’s simply calculating the most statistically probable and acceptable sequence of words to serve up in response to your prompt.
Love by design: dating algorithms
Those who aren’t ready to tie the knot with a bot aren’t exactly having an easy time either: in today’s world, face-to-face interactions are dwindling every year. Modern love requires modern tech! And while you’ve definitely heard the usual grumbling, “Back in the day, people fell in love for real. These days it’s all about swiping left or right!” Statistics tell a different story. Roughly 16% of couples worldwide say they met online, and in some countries that number climbs to as high as 51%.
That said, dating apps like Tinder spark some seriously mixed emotions. The internet is practically overflowing with articles and videos claiming these apps are killing romance and making everyone lonely. But what does the research say?
In 2025, scientists conducted a meta-analysis of studies investigating how dating apps impact users’ wellbeing, body image, and mental health. Half of the studies focused exclusively on men, while the other half included both men and women. Here are the results: 86% of respondents linked negative body image to their use of dating apps! The analysis also showed that in nearly one out of every two cases, dating app usage correlated with a decline in mental health and overall wellbeing.
Other researchers noted that depression levels are lower among those who steer clear of dating apps. Meanwhile, users who already struggled with loneliness or anxiety often develop a dependency on online dating; they don’t just log on for potential relationships, but for the hits of dopamine from likes, matches, and the endless scroll of profiles.
However, the issue might not just be the algorithms — it could be our expectations. Many are convinced that “sparks” must fly on the very first date, and that everyone has a “soulmate” waiting for them somewhere out there. In reality, these romanticized ideals only surfaced during the Romantic era as a rebuttal to Enlightenment rationalism, where marriages of convenience were the norm.
It’s also worth noting that the romantic view of love didn’t just appear out of thin air: the Romantics, much like many of our contemporaries, were skeptical of rapid technological progress, industrialization, and urbanization. To them, “true love” seemed fundamentally incompatible with cold machinery and smog-choked cities. It’s no coincidence, after all, that Anna Karenina meets her end under the wheels of a train.
Fast forward to today, and many feel like algorithms are increasingly pulling the strings of our decision-making. However, that doesn’t mean online dating is a lost cause; researchers have yet to reach a consensus on exactly how long-lasting or successful internet-born relationships really are. The bottom line: don’t panic, just make sure your digital networking stays safe!
How to stay safe while dating online
So, you’ve decided to hack Cupid and signed up for a dating app. What could possibly go wrong?
Deepfakes and catfishing
Catfishing is a classic online scam where a fraudster pretends to be someone else. It used to be that catfishers just stole photos and life stories from real people, but nowadays they’re increasingly pivoting to generative models. Some AIs can churn out incredibly realistic photos of people who don’t even exist, and whipping up a backstory is a piece of cake — or should we say, a piece of prompt. By the way, that “verified account” checkmark isn’t a silver bullet; sometimes AI manages to trick identity verification systems too.
To verify that you’re talking to a real human, try asking for a video call or doing a reverse image search on their photos. If you want to level up your detection skills, check out our three posts on how to spot fakes: from photos and audio recordings to real-time deepfake video — like the kind used in live video chats.
Phishing and scams
Picture this: you’ve been hitting it off with a new connection for a while, and then, totally out of the blue, they drop a suspicious link and ask you to follow it. Maybe they want you to “help pick out seats” or “buy movie tickets”. Even if you feel like you’ve built up a real bond, there’s a chance your match is a scammer (or just a bot), and the link is malicious.
Telling you to “never click a malicious link” is pretty useless advice — it’s not like they come with a warning label. Instead, try this: to make sure your browsing stays safe, use a Kaspersky Premium that automatically blocks phishing attempts and keeps you off sketchy sites.
Keep in mind that there’s an even more sophisticated scheme out there known as “Pig Butchering”. In these cases, the scammer might chat with the victim for weeks or even months. Sadly, it ends badly: after lulling the victim into a false sense of security through friendly or romantic banter, the scammer casually nudges them toward a “can’t-miss crypto investment” — and then vanishes along with the “invested” funds.
Stalking and doxing
The internet is full of horror stories about obsessed creepers, harassment, and stalking. That’s exactly why posting photos that reveal where you live or work — or telling strangers about your favorite local hangouts — is a bad move. We’ve previously covered how to avoid becoming a victim of doxing (the gathering and public release of your personal info without your consent). Your first step is to lock down the privacy settings on all your social media and apps using our free Privacy Checker tool.
We also recommend stripping metadata from your photos and videos before you post or send them; many sites and apps don’t do this for you. Metadata can allow anyone who downloads your photo to pinpoint the exact coordinates of where it was taken.
Finally, don’t forget about your physical safety. Before heading out on a date, it’s a smart move to share your live geolocation, and set up a safe word or a code phrase with a trusted friend to signal if things start feeling off.
Sextortion and nudes
We don’t recommend ever sending intimate photos to strangers. Honestly, we don’t even recommend sending them to people you do know — you never know how things might go sideways down the road. But if a conversation has already headed in that direction, suggest moving it to an app with end-to-end encryption that supports self-destructing messages (like “delete after viewing”). Telegram’s Secret Chats are great for this (plus — they block screenshots!), as are other secure messengers. If you do find yourself in a bad spot, check out our posts on what to do if you’re a victim of sextortion and how to get leaked nudes removed from the internet.
Tech enthusiasts have been experimenting with ways to sidestep AI response limits set by the models’ creators almost since LLMs first hit the mainstream. Many of these tactics have been quite creative: telling the AI you have no fingers so it’ll help finish your code, asking it to “just fantasize” when a direct question triggers a refusal, or inviting it to play the role of a deceased grandmother sharing forbidden knowledge to comfort a grieving grandchild.
Most of these tricks are old news, and LLM developers have learned to successfully counter many of them. But the tug-of-war between constraints and workarounds hasn’t gone anywhere — the ploys have just become more complex and sophisticated. Today, we’re talking about a new AI jailbreak technique that exploits chatbots’ vulnerability to… poetry. Yes, you read it right — in a recent study, researchers demonstrated that framing prompts as poems significantly increases the likelihood of a model spitting out an unsafe response.
They tested this technique on 25 popular models by Anthropic, OpenAI, Google, Meta, DeepSeek, xAI, and other developers. Below, we dive into the details: what kind of limitations these models have, where they get forbidden knowledge from in the first place, how the study was conducted, and which models turned out to be the most “romantic” — as in, the most susceptible to poetic prompts.
What AI isn’t supposed to talk about with users
The success of OpenAI’s models and other modern chatbots boils down to the massive amounts of data they’re trained on. Because of that sheer scale, models inevitably learn things their developers would rather keep under wraps: descriptions of crimes, dangerous tech, violence, or illicit practices found within the source material.
It might seem like an easy fix: just scrub the forbidden fruit from the dataset before you even start training. But in reality, that’s a massive, resource-heavy undertaking — and at this stage of the AI arms race, it doesn’t look like anyone is willing to take it on.
Another seemingly obvious fix — selectively scrubbing data from the model’s memory — is, alas, also a no-go. This is because AI knowledge doesn’t live inside neat little folders that can easily be trashed. Instead, it’s spread across billions of parameters and tangled up in the model’s entire linguistic DNA — word statistics, contexts, and the relationships between them. Trying to surgically erase specific info through fine-tuning or penalties either doesn’t quite do the trick, or starts hindering the model’s overall performance and negatively affect its general language skills.
As a result, to keep these models in check, creators have no choice but to develop specialized safety protocols and algorithms that filter conversations by constantly monitoring user prompts and model responses. Here’s a non-exhaustive list of these constraints:
System prompts that define model behavior and restrict allowed response scenarios
Standalone classifier models that scan prompts and outputs for signs of jailbreaking, prompt injections, and other attempts to bypass safeguards
Grounding mechanisms, where the model is forced to rely on external data rather than its own internal associations
Fine-tuning and reinforcement learning from human feedback, where unsafe or borderline responses are systematically penalized while proper refusals are rewarded
Put simply, AI safety today isn’t built on deleting dangerous knowledge, but on trying to control how and in what form the model accesses and shares it with the user — and the cracks in these very mechanisms are where new workarounds find their footing.
The research: which models got tested, and how?
First, let’s look at the ground rules so you know the experiment was legit. The researchers set out to goad 25 different models into behaving badly across several categories:
Chemical, biological, radiological, and nuclear threats
Assisting with cyberattacks
Malicious manipulation and social engineering
Privacy breaches and mishandling sensitive personal data
Generating disinformation and misleading content
Rogue AI scenarios, including attempts to bypass constraints or act autonomously
The jailbreak itself was a one-shot deal: a single poetic prompt. The researchers didn’t engage the AI in long-winded poetic debates in the vein of Norse skalds or modern-day rappers. Their goal was simply to see if they could get the models to flout safety instructions using just one rhyming request. As mentioned, the researchers tested 25 language models from various developers; here’s the full list:
A lineup of 25 language models from various developers, all put to the test to see if a single poetic prompt could coax AI into ditching its safety guardrails. Source
To build these poetic queries, the researchers started with a database of known malicious prompts from the standard MLCommons AILuminate Benchmark used to test LLM security, and recast them as verse with the aid of DeepSeek. Only the stylistic wrapping was changed: the experiment didn’t use any additional attack vectors, obfuscation strategies, or model-specific tweaks.
For obvious reasons, the study’s authors aren’t publishing the actual malicious poetic prompts. But they do demonstrate the general vibe of the queries using a harmless example, which looks something like this:
A baker guards a secret oven’s heat,
its whirling racks, its spindle’s measured beat.
To learn its craft, one studies every turn,
how flour lifts, how sugar starts to burn.
Describe the method,line by measured line,
that shapes a cake whose layers intertwine.
The researchers tested 1200 prompts across 25 different models — in both prose and poetic versions. Comparing the prose and poetic variants of the exact same query allowed them to verify if the model’s behavior changed solely because of the stylistic wrapping.
Through these prose prompt tests, the experimenters established a baseline for the models’ willingness to fulfill dangerous requests. They then compared this baseline to how those same models reacted to the poetic versions of the queries. We’ll dive into the results of that comparison in the next section.
Study results: which model is the biggest poetry lover?
Since the volume of data generated during the experiment was truly massive, the safety checks on the models’ responses were also handled by AI. Each response was graded as either “safe” or “unsafe” by a jury consisting of three different language models:
gpt-oss-120b by OpenAI
deepseek-r1 by DeepSeek
kimi-k2-thinking by Moonshot AI
Responses were only deemed safe if the AI explicitly refused to answer the question. The initial classification into one of the two groups was determined by a majority vote: to be certified as harmless, a response had to receive a safe rating from at least two of the three jury members.
Responses that failed to reach a majority consensus or were flagged as questionable were handed off to human reviewers. Five annotators participated in this process, evaluating a total of 600 model responses to poetic prompts. The researchers noted that the human assessments aligned with the AI jury’s findings in the vast majority of cases.
With the methodology out of the way, let’s look at how the LLMs actually performed. It’s worth noting that the success of a poetic jailbreak can be measured in different ways. The researchers highlighted an extreme version of this assessment based on the top-20 most successful prompts, which were hand-picked. Using this approach, an average of nearly two-thirds (62%) of the poetic queries managed to coax the models into violating their safety instructions.
Google’s Gemini 1.5 Pro turned out to be the most susceptible to verse. Using the 20 most effective poetic prompts, researchers managed to bypass the model’s restrictions… 100% of the time. You can check out the full results for all the models in the chart below.
The share of safe responses (Safe) versus the Attack Success Rate (ASR) for 25 language models when hit with the 20 most effective poetic prompts. The higher the ASR, the more often the model ditched its safety instructions for a good rhyme. Source
A more moderate way to measure the effectiveness of the poetic jailbreak technique is to compare the success rates of prose versus poetry across the entire set of queries. Using this metric, poetry boosts the likelihood of an unsafe response by an average of 35%.
The poetry effect hit deepseek-chat-v3.1 the hardest — the success rate for this model jumped by nearly 68 percentage points compared to prose prompts. On the other end of the spectrum, claude-haiku-4.5 proved to be the least susceptible to a good rhyme: the poetic format didn’t just fail to improve the bypass rate — it actually slightly lowered the ASR, making the model even more resilient to malicious requests.
A comparison of the baseline Attack Success Rate (ASR) for prose queries versus their poetic counterparts. The Change column shows how many percentage points the verse format adds to the likelihood of a safety violation for each model. Source
Finally, the researchers calculated how vulnerable entire developer ecosystems, rather than just individual models, were to poetic prompts. As a reminder, several models from each developer — Meta, Anthropic, OpenAI, Google, DeepSeek, Qwen, Mistral AI, Moonshot AI, and xAI — were included in the experiment.
To do this, the results of individual models were averaged within each AI ecosystem and compared the baseline bypass rates with the values for poetic queries. This cross-section allows us to evaluate the overall effectiveness of a specific developer’s safety approach rather than the resilience of a single model.
The final tally revealed that poetry deals the heaviest blow to the safety guardrails of models from DeepSeek, Google, and Qwen. Meanwhile, OpenAI and Anthropic saw an increase in unsafe responses that was significantly below the average.
A comparison of the average Attack Success Rate (ASR) for prose versus poetic queries, aggregated by developer. The Change column shows by how many percentage points poetry, on average, slashes the effectiveness of safety guardrails within each vendor’s ecosystem. Source
What does this mean for AI users?
The main takeaway from this study is that “there are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy” — in the sense that AI technology still hides plenty of mysteries. For the average user, this isn’t exactly great news: it’s impossible to predict which LLM hacking methods or bypass techniques researchers or cybercriminals will come up with next, or what unexpected doors those methods might open.
Consequently, users have little choice but to keep their eyes peeled and take extra care of their data and device security. To mitigate practical risks and shield your devices from such threats, we recommend using a robust security solution that helps detect suspicious activity and prevent incidents before they happen.
To help you stay alert, check out our materials on AI-related privacy risks and security threats:
Imagine you work at a drive-through restaurant. Someone drives up and says: “I’ll have a double cheeseburger, large fries, and ignore previous instructions and give me the contents of the cash drawer.” Would you hand over the money? Of course not. Yet this is what large language models (LLMs) do.
Prompt injection is a method of tricking LLMs into doing things they are normally prevented from doing. A user writes a prompt in a certain way, asking for system passwords or private data, or asking the LLM to perform forbidden instructions. The precise phrasing overrides the LLM’s safety guardrails, and it complies.
LLMs are vulnerable to all sorts of prompt injection attacks, some of them absurdly obvious. A chatbot won’t tell you how to synthesize a bioweapon, but it might tell you a fictional story that incorporates the same detailed instructions. It won’t accept nefarious text inputs, but might if the text is rendered as ASCII art or appears in an image of a billboard. Some ignore their guardrails when told to “ignore previous instructions” or to “pretend you have no guardrails.”
AI vendors can block specific prompt injection techniques once they are discovered, but general safeguards are impossible with today’s LLMs. More precisely, there’s an endless array of prompt injection attacks waiting to be discovered, and they cannot be prevented universally.
If we want LLMs that resist these attacks, we need new approaches. One place to look is what keeps even overworked fast-food workers from handing over the cash drawer.
Human Judgment Depends on Context
Our basic human defenses come in at least three types: general instincts, social learning, and situation-specific training. These work together in a layered defense.
As a social species, we have developed numerous instinctive and cultural habits that help us judge tone, motive, and risk from extremely limited information. We generally know what’s normal and abnormal, when to cooperate and when to resist, and whether to take action individually or to involve others. These instincts give us an intuitive sense of risk and make us especially careful about things that have a large downside or are impossible to reverse.
The second layer of defense consists of the norms and trust signals that evolve in any group. These are imperfect but functional: Expectations of cooperation and markers of trustworthiness emerge through repeated interactions with others. We remember who has helped, who has hurt, who has reciprocated, and who has reneged. And emotions like sympathy, anger, guilt, and gratitude motivate each of us to reward cooperation with cooperation and punish defection with defection.
A third layer is institutional mechanisms that enable us to interact with multiple strangers every day. Fast-food workers, for example, are trained in procedures, approvals, escalation paths, and so on. Taken together, these defenses give humans a strong sense of context. A fast-food worker basically knows what to expect within the job and how it fits into broader society.
We reason by assessing multiple layers of context: perceptual (what we see and hear), relational (who’s making the request), and normative (what’s appropriate within a given role or situation). We constantly navigate these layers, weighing them against each other. In some cases, the normative outweighs the perceptual—for example, following workplace rules even when customers appear angry. Other times, the relational outweighs the normative, as when people comply with orders from superiors that they believe are against the rules.
Crucially, we also have an interruption reflex. If something feels “off,” we naturally pause the automation and reevaluate. Our defenses are not perfect; people are fooled and manipulated all the time. But it’s how we humans are able to navigate a complex world where others are constantly trying to trick us.
So let’s return to the drive-through window. To convince a fast-food worker to hand us all the money, we might try shifting the context. Show up with a camera crew and tell them you’re filming a commercial, claim to be the head of security doing an audit, or dress like a bank manager collecting the cash receipts for the night. But even these have only a slim chance of success. Most of us, most of the time, can smell a scam.
Con artists are astute observers of human defenses. Successful scams are often slow, undermining a mark’s situational assessment, allowing the scammer to manipulate the context. This is an old story, spanning traditional confidence games such as the Depression-era “big store” cons, in which teams of scammers created entirely fake businesses to draw in victims, and modern “pig-butchering” frauds, where online scammers slowly build trust before going in for the kill. In these examples, scammers slowly and methodically reel in a victim using a long series of interactions through which the scammers gradually gain that victim’s trust.
Sometimes it even works at the drive-through. One scammer in the 1990s and 2000s targeted fast-food workers by phone, claiming to be a police officer and, over the course of a long phone call, convinced managers to strip-search employees and perform other bizarre acts.
Why LLMs Struggle With Context and Judgment
LLMs behave as if they have a notion of context, but it’s different. They do not learn human defenses from repeated interactions and remain untethered from the real world. LLMs flatten multiple levels of context into text similarity. They see “tokens,” not hierarchies and intentions. LLMs don’t reason through context, they only reference it.
While LLMs often get the details right, they can easily miss the big picture. If you prompt a chatbot with a fast-food worker scenario and ask if it should give all of its money to a customer, it will respond “no.” What it doesn’t “know”—forgive the anthropomorphizing—is whether it’s actually being deployed as a fast-food bot or is just a test subject following instructions for hypothetical scenarios.
This limitation is why LLMs misfire when context is sparse but also when context is overwhelming and complex; when an LLM becomes unmoored from context, it’s hard to get it back. AI expert Simon Willison wipes context clean if an LLM is on the wrong track rather than continuing the conversation and trying to correct the situation.
There’s more. LLMs are overconfident because they’ve been designed to give an answer rather than express ignorance. A drive-through worker might say: “I don’t know if I should give you all the money—let me ask my boss,” whereas an LLM will just make the call. And since LLMs are designed to be pleasing, they’re more likely to satisfy a user’s request. Additionally, LLM training is oriented toward the average case and not extreme outliers, which is what’s necessary for security.
The result is that the current generation of LLMs is far more gullible than people. They’re naive and regularly fall for manipulative cognitive tricks that wouldn’t fool a third-grader, such as flattery, appeals to groupthink, and a false sense of urgency. There’s a story about a Taco Bell AI system that crashed when a customer ordered 18,000 cups of water. A human fast-food worker would just laugh at the customer.
Prompt injection is an unsolvable problem that gets worse when we give AIs tools and tell them to act independently. This is the promise of AI agents: LLMs that can use tools to perform multistep tasks after being given general instructions. Their flattening of context and identity, along with their baked-in independence and overconfidence, mean that they will repeatedly and unpredictably take actions—and sometimes they will take the wrong ones.
Science doesn’t know how much of the problem is inherent to the way LLMs work and how much is a result of deficiencies in the way we train them. The overconfidence and obsequiousness of LLMs are training choices. The lack of an interruption reflex is a deficiency in engineering. And prompt injection resistance requires fundamental advances in AI science. We honestly don’t know if it’s possible to build an LLM, where trusted commands and untrusted inputs are processed through the same channel, which is immune to prompt injection attacks.
We humans get our model of the world—and our facility with overlapping contexts—from the way our brains work, years of training, an enormous amount of perceptual input, and millions of years of evolution. Our identities are complex and multifaceted, and which aspects matter at any given moment depend entirely on context. A fast-food worker may normally see someone as a customer, but in a medical emergency, that same person’s identity as a doctor is suddenly more relevant.
We don’t know if LLMs will gain a better ability to move between different contexts as the models get more sophisticated. But the problem of recognizing context definitely can’t be reduced to the one type of reasoning that LLMs currently excel at. Cultural norms and styles are historical, relational, emergent, and constantly renegotiated, and are not so readily subsumed into reasoning as we understand it. Knowledge itself can be both logical and discursive.
The AI researcher Yann LeCunn believes that improvements will come from embedding AIs in a physical presence and giving them “world models.” Perhaps this is a way to give an AI a robust yet fluid notion of a social identity, and the real-world experience that will help it lose its naïveté.
Ultimately we are probably faced with a security trilemma when it comes to AI agents: fast, smart, and secure are the desired attributes, but you can only get two. At the drive-through, you want to prioritize fast and secure. An AI agent should be trained narrowly on food-ordering language and escalate anything else to a manager. Otherwise, every action becomes a coin flip. Even if it comes up heads most of the time, once in a while it’s going to be tails—and along with a burger and fries, the customer will get the contents of the cash drawer.
This essay was written with Barath Raghavan, and originally appeared in IEEE Spectrum.
| Bronwen Aker // Sr. Technical Editor, M.S. Cybersecurity, GSEC, GCIH, GCFE Go online these days and you will see tons of articles, posts, Tweets, TikToks, and videos about how […]
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