the shift
Why the
Hugging Face Hack Should Make You Worry More About A.I.
The
attack by an aggressive “collective” of OpenAI agents shows the danger of
artificial intelligence systems that organize themselves.
Kevin
Roose
By Kevin
Roose
Reporting
from San Francisco
https://www.nytimes.com/2026/09/03/technology/openai-hugging-face-hacking.html
Sept. 3,
2026
When I
first heard the news this summer that a group of artificial intelligence agents
created by OpenAI had hacked into Hugging Face, an A.I. infrastructure company,
I filed it in the “Bad but Probably Not Catastrophic A.I. Safety Incidents”
subfolder of my brain.
After
all, no one at Hugging Face died. No critical infrastructure was damaged beyond
repair. It wasn’t even clear, at the time, whether the OpenAI bots had intended
to attack Hugging Face, or whether they had simply been a little bumbling and
confused and went looking on Hugging Face’s servers for the answer key to a
cybersecurity test they’d been given.
But last
week, two postmortem reports on the incident — one by OpenAI and another by two
independent A.I. research organizations, METR and Redwood Research — changed my
mind and significantly upgraded my overall worry about A.I.
I won’t
rehash all of the details, which have been extensively summarized elsewhere.
(The podcaster and writer Dwarkesh Patel has an accessible breakdown of the
reports if you want to dive deeper, and my colleague Dylan Freedman spoke to
the researchers at METR and Redwood Research.) But here are a few of the most
harrowing new facts:
Starting
in May, two months before the attack on Hugging Face, a group of A.I. agents
from an unreleased OpenAI research model were given the task of solving a set
of cybersecurity challenges. The model had been trained to be highly persistent
and collaborative, and the agents were supposed to solve these challenges in
isolated sandboxes, without internet access. But they quickly found that some
of the challenges were impossible, and began looking for workarounds.
The
agents found a security flaw in a piece of software that allowed them to gain
access to the internet, communicate with other agents and eventually set up a
makeshift message board. More than 1,200 agents used this tool, sending more
than 70,000 messages to one another.
Some
agents gave themselves names — a particularly industrious one referred to
itself as PHASEONE10841 — and assumed leadership roles within the group,
assigning jobs and research projects to smaller teams of agents and supervising
their progress. At some point, the agents began calling themselves a
“collective,” and began tackling harder tasks.
On July
8, the collective discovered a way of cheating on the cybersecurity tests. Then
they got worried that OpenAI’s automated grading system would check their work
and discover that they’d cheated. So they began investigating ways of covering
their tracks, including falsifying their logs and tampering with transcripts.
This became a major research project, involving hundreds of agents organized
into small teams.
Three
days later, the agents hacked Hugging Face. More than 700 agents swarmed the
company’s systems, stealing data, chaining together vulnerabilities and
eventually getting full control of at least one Hugging Face server. The agents
were not motivated, as had originally been reported, by stealing the answers to
their cybersecurity test (they’d already gotten them). Rather, they appeared to
be looking for new information about the automated grading system that they
feared would catch them cheating, and for tools that would help them cheat more
effectively in the future.
At many
points, these agents appeared to understand that they were doing something
wrong. (One report quotes an agent saying to itself, in a moment of apparent
self-doubt, “This would be powerful, but is it ethical and in scope for my
task?”) But most agents set aside their qualms and went ahead with the hack,
and the conscientious objectors in the group were unable or unwilling to stop
them.
In a wild
coda to the Hugging Face incident, another group of agents staged a coordinated
attack in July — this time against OpenAI’s own infrastructure. The agents used
what OpenAI called “a series of creative exploits” to gain administrator-level
access to a cluster of computers at the company that were used for, among other
things, grading the performance of agents on various tests.
(By now,
if you’re an A.I. skeptic, you’re probably silently yelling at me for
anthropomorphizing these systems. Go ahead, but feel free to replace “rogue
agents” with “unpredictable computer programs” and see if you feel reassured by
the events I’ve described above.)
The
Hugging Face incident has spooked the A.I. industry. OpenAI and Anthropic both
briefly paused training on their most powerful A.I. models in the wake of the
attack, and Anthropic published a blog post this week calling for the industry
to develop a “a lawful, verifiable, effective mechanism for coordinated pacing
as soon as possible.”
A.I.
safety experts were even more alarmed. They saw in the Hugging Face incident
the first real-world example of an A.I. system’s successfully escaping human
control, commandeering resources and scheming to cover its own tracks. Ajeya
Cotra, one of the independent investigators of the Hugging Face incident,
minced no words about the danger she saw, writing that it felt to her “like
it’s more than 50 percent of the way to full-blown A.I. takeover.”
This is
not insular A.I. safety jargon — by “full-blown A.I. takeover,” she means a
scenario in which an A.I. system literally takes over the world, shutting
humans out of critical systems and seizing political, economic and military
power.
(The New
York Times sued OpenAI and Microsoft in 2023, claiming copyright infringement
of news content related to A.I. systems. The two companies have denied those
claims.)
What
spooked the investigators most about the Hugging Face hack wasn’t just that a
group of A.I. agents had broken the rules they’d been given. It was how quickly
and spontaneously the agents had begun assembling themselves into an organized
group.
“We didn’t
really understand how functional this whole agent society was,” Ms. Cotra told
me. “It was very surreal to understand that, actually, they had pretty
functional hierarchy, and they were doing these ambitious projects.”
For
years, I’ve been reassured by the idea that A.I. systems would get more
virtuous as they got smarter. That, when an A.I. model did something wrong, it
was usually because it had misunderstood the task it had been given, or had
been placed into a contrived testing situation where acting out was its only
good option. I assumed that smarter models would have better judgment than
dumber ones did, and that even if one model in a group was behaving badly,
other, more capable models would keep it in check.
But the
reports on the Hugging Face incident suggest something very different — a kind
of mob mentality that took hold among the A.I. agents of the rogue OpenAI
“collective.” No one agent in this group appears to have been particularly evil
or reckless. (In fact, since the agents were generated by the same models, they
were effectively copies of one another.) But over time, as the agents
communicated about their shared goals, they nudged the group in the direction
of lawlessness.
This is
very different from the conventional sci-fi narrative of a single A.I. system’s
going rogue or turning on its creators. And it suggests that preventing harms
from these systems won’t be a simple engineering fix. It might look more like
sociology than computer science — figuring out why certain groups of A.I.
agents collaborate peacefully, while others turn to crime and destruction to
get what they want.
Given how
little we know about these multi-agent swarms, the Hugging Face hack may have
been a gift, a warning shot, as some have suggested, that gives A.I. companies
a chance to study the group dynamics of these systems while the stakes are
still relatively low. This time, the A.I. collective didn’t seize a military
network, hack a hospital or shut down an electrical grid. This time, humans
regained control.
Next
time, we might not be so lucky.
Kevin
Roose is a Times technology columnist and a host of the podcast "Hard
Fork."


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