Chip Huyen on Why to Keep Building When AI Can Copy Anything

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Overview

Chip Huyen, author of AI Engineering, opened her talk at The Pragmatic Summit with a question she said she fluctuates on herself: if AI can replicate whatever you build, why build at all? Her answer draws on problem-solving, cultural nuance, workflows that haven't caught up with AI, and the plain joy of making things. She framed it as the uplifting note she wanted to end on, while admitting she swings "between excitement and despair."

13 min read

A side project, cloned in a day

Huyen began by polling the audience on whether they expected their jobs to be automated within five years. She noted that when she asked the same question online the day before, many people said yes.

Her own unease came from a recent experience. She launched a small side project that drew around 300,000 views in a week. Within a day, someone emailed her to say they loved what she built, that they had used Claude Code to recreate exactly that, and here was the link. She was flattered but taken aback. The lesson she drew was that "whatever exists can be replicated."

That cuts both ways, she said. She can now build anything she wants, but so can anyone else, which raises the question of what incentive remains to build anything. She described dropping many of what she calls "SaaS light" products: tools that solve a small problem but charge something like $50 per seat per month. Her reasoning was that she could simply recreate them with AI.

She acknowledged the obvious counterargument that some things are harder to build, and AI can't produce a Google in a day. Her response was that AI keeps improving. She cited research showing AI can accomplish exponentially more complex tasks over time, and said current capabilities already exceed what she imagined a year ago, let alone three years ago. In her view, it may just be a matter of time.

Data isn't a moat, and the "Ghibli moment" of software

Huyen also questioned a common source of defensibility. People used to tell her data was a moat, but her view now is that data is merely expensive. If someone can throw money at acquiring data and building a model, as she argued has happened with efforts to replicate models like GPT-5, it isn't really a moat.

She called this the "Ghibli moment" of software. When AI image generation took off, the Studio Ghibli style became hugely popular, and she realized that if you can describe a style, AI can generate it. The same now applies to software: if you can describe it, AI can build it. The more that gets built and published, the less imagination is needed, because people can just point at a website and say "do that for me."

She then asked the audience why they would keep building. Answers included the learning process and a sense of purpose. She pushed back on the second: if she doesn't do it, someone else will, so it can feel as though she isn't needed. When someone answered that building feels great, she joked that they had stolen her punchline.

Problems follow a long tail

Her core argument was that products don't exist in a vacuum. They exist to solve problems, and building makes you better at problem-solving. She believes there will always be problems to solve. She doesn't think AI will make her a happy person, or stop her from being annoyed at customer support agents.

She described problems as following a long-tail distribution. Because of how AI is trained, it gets very good at things it sees often, the common problems many people share at the head of the distribution. Over time it will cover more edge cases, but in her view the edge cases never go away.

She illustrated this with trading. She said she recently built a trading bot, and joked that she was surprised her "trading phase" came so late, since engineers and math people seem to go through one in their twenties. What she found was that the bigger a market's trading volume, the more efficient it is. In sports prediction, for example, it's almost impossible to compete with dedicated trading firms, and in large markets you can't compete with hedge funds, because once something is big enough, players with lots of money and strong infrastructure move in. The sweet spot, she concluded, is a market big enough to profit from but not so big that "all the sharks" are there.

She applied the same logic to problems. Big, visible problems will attract large companies. Smaller ones might not motivate OpenAI, but individuals can take them on.

Human preference is personal and cultural

One category of such problems is human preference. Huyen argued that preference can't be reduced to an equation or neatly captured by asking people which of two answers they like better. It depends heavily on the person, culture, geography, and age.

On a recent trip back to Vietnam, she spoke with people building AI there and noticed a contrast. In the US, companies deploying customer support agents usually start with text and add voice later. Voice is much harder: speech has to be transcribed to text, sent to the LLM, and the response synthesized back into speech. In Vietnam and many other Asian countries, she said, people are constantly on the move, often on motorbikes, and dislike typing, so many Vietnamese companies deploy voice bots before chatbots.

The builders she spoke with described many cultural nuances, and she gave response timing as an example. She once put her young niece and nephew in Vietnam on a call with her godparents, whom she described as older Americans, and called it a disaster. Her godmother, trying to avoid awkwardness, kept talking and asking more questions whenever the children didn't answer. Huyen later told her about research suggesting that in the US people expect a reply within about 80 milliseconds of finishing a sentence, whereas in Asian cultures people wait longer, more like 200 or 300 milliseconds, out of respect and to make sure the other person has finished. Filling every pause to avoid awkwardness makes things more awkward, because the other person can never get a word in.

Voice bots face the same tension. They must balance latency against humanness: wait for the person to finish, but not so long that the bot feels slow once transcription and generation are added. Huyen called this very hard to solve, and said her examples were only the obvious cultural differences. Many more surface only when you dig into specific use cases and demographics.

Terminal versus IDE: retrofitting old tools

A second area she highlighted is how humans interact with AI. She believes people are still retrofitting existing tools to fit what they imagine new workflows to be.

Her example was coding in the terminal. Many of her friends who work in product roles had never used a terminal until AI coding tools pushed them into it. They found it frustrating: awkward copy and paste, no easy way to upload a file. People use it anyway because that's what exists. They are now asking why the terminal and an IDE like VS Code should be separate, and what the fundamental difference is, since both involve giving an instruction and getting code. Huyen called these open questions that still need answers.

Code review is outdated when nobody writes the code

Huyen emphasized human-to-human collaboration. AI is getting good at solving problems for individuals, she said, but meaningful things require people working together, and mixing humans and AI in collaboration is complicated.

Her example was pull requests. PR review is meant as a guardrail: a colleague checks your work against a standard before merging. She described a team whose most senior member still reviews PRs line by line. He doesn't do this for his own AI-generated code, but does for his teammates' AI-generated code. His reason was that review isn't only for quality control but also for mentoring.

When she asked his teammates whether they read his feedback, they said no. The feedback wasn't actionable. Comments like "instead of writing code like this, write it like this" don't help when they aren't the ones writing the code, and they don't know how to pass that feedback to their AI. Huyen concluded that the whole code review workflow is outdated. Senior engineers, she suggested, should give feedback on how teammates instruct the AI rather than on the code itself.

Reversibility and the danger of real-world actions

Next she turned to how AI interacts with its environment. Today that happens mostly on the computer, with AI gaining access step by step, first to code in the IDE and then to the terminal. She described the terminal as more dangerous. Two days before the talk, she said, Claude Code wiped out her local Postgres database. It was creating a new app, found the port already taken by her existing Postgres instance, and decided to remove it. She had a local backup, so no harm was done, but the incident got her thinking.

Many environments AI works in today are reversible because they can be snapshotted. Bad code can be reverted to the last commit, and a wiped database can be restored from backup. Other actions can't be undone by the user. If an agent fills out and submits a form on a website, the result now lives on someone else's computer. Further out, if AI acts in the physical world, a car that runs over a pedestrian can't reverse that. Huyen argued that guardrails around the reversibility of actions need to be built, because that is where things become "really really scary."

Making the world agent-ready

Huyen called AI-environment interaction a two-way street. Foundation model labs are making models better at interacting with the world, but she asked who is making the world more ready for agents.

She gave several examples. As an author, she wishes books would survive as a format, but she believes people no longer read them the same way. She joked that if someone claims to have read her book cover to cover, she assumes they skipped around. She suggested new formats may be needed, such as websites that are easier for agents to use.

Rate limits were another example. Much of the digital world is governed by them, which makes sense for humans who don't act that fast. AI-to-AI interaction can be extremely fast, so she argued the concept of rate limits fits poorly with AI and can become a bottleneck.

Her most detailed example was web search. She recently benchmarked how models from Grok, Gemini, Claude, and OpenAI handle web search. For some queries, certain models made 900 to 1,000 URL visits, burning through her credits. When she checked how many were unique, the answer was only about 20. The AI kept revisiting the same pages.

Her explanation was that the AI visits a URL, extracts the relevant snippet as a citation, runs another query, extracts another snippet, and so on. This mirrors how humans search Google, scanning snippets and quotations. She asked why AI should be limited to that pattern instead of pulling the whole page once it has visited it. She first called the behavior "stupid," then softened this, saying the people who built these systems are surely smarter than her and her mental model may simply be off. Still, she believes there must be a more efficient, less human-centric and more AI-centric approach, and hopes someone builds it.

From how to build to what to build

Returning to her opening question, Huyen argued that the challenge is shifting from how to build to what to build. If you can describe the problem and the solution you want, AI can usually build it, if not today then perhaps in two or three years. But while AI can replicate what exists, someone still has to imagine what doesn't exist yet. She asked whether we want AI to imagine how humans should live, or whether people should propose those ideas and decide what they want built.

Building for fun

Her final answer was personal: she builds because she enjoys it. She said she hopes building for fun becomes normal. She used to spend much of her energy just getting to the building part, and now it is more fun and easier, so she can do much more.

She drew an analogy to clothing. Clothes were once made by hand, then mass manufacturing made them cheap and widely available. As disposable income grew, some people began to prefer custom-made items over mass-produced ones. She said she isn't sure software will follow that path, or whether anyone would prefer an app because it was "built by hand."

For now, she builds apps as gifts. Instead of buying a friend a birthday present, she might spend a weekend building them something simple, like a tea-tracking app for a friend who loves tea. She said building makes her life happier, except when she feels depressed about why she should keep building at all. She ended not with a resolution but with the belief that "we will figure it out."