What Companies Adapting to AI Can Learn From the Plague

On June 11, security researchers showed how to subvert OpenClaw, one of the most widely used AI agents. Instructions hidden in something as ordinary as a shared contact or a pinned location could make the agent run an attacker’s code and hand over its secrets. One flaw has been patched. The other could not be, because it was inherent in how the agent works.

This incident is a vivid illustration of the central problem that is going to slow AI adoption: Businesses can’t just bolt AI systems onto existing processes. They’re going to have to redesign how work is done.

An AI agent’s potential can only be tapped if it can work freely inside a system. Take away that freedom, and what’s left is a chatbot. At the same time, no agent can be trusted. Openness is both an enabler and a threat.

This dilemma is not new. In the 14th century, the city-state of Ragusa, near present-day Dubrovnik on the Dalmatian coast, grew rich from trade. Its openness drew ships from across the Mediterranean — and let the plague in. Ragusa could not close its port without risking economic devastation and could not leave it open without inviting a human catastrophe. So it did something new: In 1377, it ordered ships and travelers from plague-stricken places to wait in isolation, at first for 30 days, before they could enter. The wait was later stretched to 40, quaranta in Italian. It’s where we get the term quarantine.

Yet the striking thing isn’t what Ragusa did, it’s what it didn’t do. The city didn’t just post a few guards or tell the harbormaster to be more careful. It redesigned the entire way it handled trade and created an entirely new institution to manage it by having visitors wait on deserted islands off the coast until it was safe.

The analogy with agentic AI is hard to ignore. To fulfill its promise, it needs permission to read a firm’s files, query its databases, and act on what it finds. In other words, it needs an open port. But the machinery used to govern access was built for a different kind of actor. “The way we secure companies today was built for the internet of the 1990s,” explains Christian Wentz, the CEO of the cybersecurity firm Gradient. “You prove who you are once, that trust sits on your laptop for months, and if something goes wrong it takes hours to revoke — while an attacker is inside in minutes. Agents turn that gap into a crisis, because even an honest agent is dynamic and imperfect and acts in fractions of a second.”