Call both failures by the same name if you like: trusting AI at the wrong level. Hand someone a fluent, confident answer from a model and they often hand judgment over to it, past where their own reading of the problem would stop them. Show that person one clear mistake from the same tool and the pendulum swings. They walk away from it even after the tool is back to beating their own accuracy.
Coding labs, clinics, and ordinary knowledge work all show both patterns in published work. Putting a human on the workflow chart does not reliably solve either pattern. Three studies below separate “someone is assigned to watch” from “someone actually catches the error.”
The story in four parts
With an AI coding assistant in the mix, developers shipped less secure code and rated that code as more secure than peers who had no assistant.
Watch an algorithm miss once in public and people drop it, even while its average forecasts still beat their own.
Before any error lands, those same people often pick algorithmic advice over a human’s. The swing starts only after a failure is visible.
A human sign-off catches little unless that person has time, information, and a real reason to push back on the model.
The evidence at a glance
47 developers with an AI coding assistant produced less secure code on 4 of 5 tasks, and still felt surer their work was safe.
After one mistake, people trusted an algorithm less than a human who made that same mistake, even when the algorithm’s average still beat theirs.
220 clinicians given AI antidepressant suggestions matched expert consensus no better than clinicians deciding without those suggestions.
319 professionals described 936 real instances of AI use at work. The more they trusted the output, the less critical thinking they applied to it.
Automation bias predates chatbots by decades. Skitka, Mosier and Burdick showed in 1999 that people with an automated decision aid missed errors they spotted when working alone. They deferred to the system instead of their own senses.
Generative tools recreate that pattern under stakes that are current and concrete. In 2023, Stanford researchers gave developers an AI coding assistant for security-related tasks and scored what those developers actually produced.
Move the setting from a pull request to a reading room and the pattern holds. In 2021, radiologists saw chest X-rays paired with diagnostic advice. Researchers varied only the label on that advice: human expert or AI, while the underlying text stayed expert-written.
Over-trust is the first failure mode above. Under-trust is the mirror image, and it is the finding most of the “algorithm aversion” literature hangs on.
Berkeley Dietvorst, Joseph Simmons and Cade Massey put people in forecasting tasks where they could lean on their own judgment or an algorithm’s. The hinge was what happened after each side made a mistake the participant could see.
Reassurance alone does little to unwind that aversion. Dietvorst’s follow-up found a concrete lever that shrinks it.
Give people a small, fixed way to nudge the algorithm’s forecast, without any real control over how the model works, and willingness to use it returns. Even after that nudge, the algorithm still beat participants who relied on judgment alone.
Stack the two literatures and they seem to quarrel: deference in one set of papers, abandonment in another. A third line of work shows why both can be true in the same population.
Jennifer Logg, Julia Minson and Don Moore found that, before anyone has watched an algorithm fail, people often prefer its advice to a human’s. They treat identical advice as more trustworthy simply because the label says algorithmic.
So this is not a public that sits permanently too high or too low on AI trust. Trust tracks the last visible outcome far more than the tool’s long-run hit rate. One public miss can wipe confidence that many unnoticed correct answers built up. A fluent answer with no miss yet on the board can earn trust the tool has not earned on accuracy.
Teams usually answer both failure modes with the same instruction: keep a person in the loop. Three studies show that instruction, standing alone, fails to deliver what the org chart implies.
Madeleine Elish looked at cases where a human was listed as supervising automation: aircraft autopilot, early self-driving cars. She found blame landed on that human when things went wrong, even when they never had the time or information to stop it.
Ben Green and Yiling Chen studied judges using an algorithmic risk score in real bail and sentencing work. The human-plus-algorithm setup did not behave the way a tidy “human in the loop” slide assumes. How judges actually used the score drifted in ways the designers had not designed for.
Maia Jacobs and colleagues gave 220 clinicians machine-learning treatment recommendations for depression. The outcome they measured was whether those recommendations moved decisions closer to expert consensus, a stricter bar than whether clinicians clicked them.
The three oversight studies show the review step failing. They leave the mechanism unnamed. A 2025 survey of generative-AI use at work puts a name on it.
“Human in the loop” has to mean more than a name on a RACI chart. It has to mean scrutiny that still fires when the model’s fluent answer invites trust. A reviewer who already trusts the tool is a different safeguard from one who does not, even when both titles look the same on paper.