The Silent Crisis: When AI Writes Your Strategy and Your Employees Pay the Price
My own take on the phenomenon, with fresh examples and perspectives
Remember when we were all worried about AI writing our code? The fear was palpable: automated systems would introduce subtle bugs, technical debt would accumulate silently, and before you know it, your production environment would be held together with digital duct tape and optimism.
That fear was legitimate. But here's what we didn't see coming: the same forces quietly colonizing code repositories are now rewriting how companies make decisions. And this problem runs deeper, moves slower, and hurts more people.
I call it Strategy Theater—the corporate art of producing documents that have all the appearances of thinking but none of the actual substance.
Here's how it typically unfolds in modern organizations. A mid-level manager receives a directive: develop the departmental strategy for next quarter. The old version of this person might have spent weeks interviewing stakeholders, analyzing market data, running experiments, and wrestling with genuinely difficult questions about priorities and tradeoffs. The new version opens a browser tab, types a prompt into their favorite AI assistant, and 90 seconds later has a beautifully formatted document full of phrases like "leveraging synergies" and "optimizing value propositions."
Does this document reflect any deep understanding of the business? Does it emerge from observing actual customers, understanding actual pain points, or recognizing actual competitive dynamics? Almost certainly not. But here's the thing—it looks exactly like a strategy document should look. It has bullet points. It has section headers. It uses confident language about future states and measurable objectives.
The manager tells themselves they've done due diligence. After all, they reviewed the AI's output, maybe changed a few words to make it feel more authentic. They told themselves they were "building on the AI's foundation" when really they were rubber-stamping a hallucination with better formatting than they could have produced themselves.
Now multiply this by every direct report sending their AI-generated documents upward. Senior leadership, drowning in similar documents from dozens of departments, does what any overwhelmed executive would do: they feed everything into AI for synthesis. The system that produced questionable documents now produces confident-sounding über-strategies that synthesize the hallucinations of a dozen middle managers who never left their comfort zone.
What emerges from this process is corporate theater at its finest. Every box gets checked. Every deadline gets met. Every document exists. And nowhere in this entire chain has anyone actually wrestled with what it means to build something real, serve real customers, or make difficult tradeoffs about where to focus limited resources.
The cruel irony is that these strategy documents will eventually become the foundation for decisions that affect real human beings—hiring plans, project assignments, resource allocations. Teams will spend months executing strategies that were never thought through. Departments will pursue objectives that made no sense from the beginning. Careers will be shaped by documents that had less intellectual rigor than a first-year business school assignment.
The feedback loop problem makes this especially dangerous. A vibe-coded website that breaks? You'll know within days. A vibe-coded app that crashes on certain devices? Users will complain quickly, and the cost is usually manageable. But a bad strategy? You might not realize you've been pursuing the wrong direction for six months, a year, even longer. By the time the damage becomes visible, you've spent enormous resources moving in the wrong direction, and the opportunity cost may be unrecoverable.
For startups, this dynamic is particularly treacherous. The whole point of being small and nimble is that you can course-correct quickly, learning from reality rather than defending abstractions. If your leadership team falls into the Strategy Theater trap, you lose your primary advantage. You're making the same mistakes as large corporations but without the accumulated resources to absorb them.
So what's the alternative? It starts with recognizing that the value of strategic thinking isn't in the document—it's in the thinking itself. The document is just the artifact. When AI generates the artifact without the thinking, you get the appearance of strategy without any of its benefits.
Real strategy work involves getting out of the building (to borrow from Steve Blank), talking to actual users, observing how work actually gets done, identifying where the friction actually lives. It means sitting with hard questions for weeks, changing your mind multiple times, and ultimately committing to directions you can actually defend with evidence rather than confident-sounding prose.
AI can be a valuable tool in this process. It can help synthesize research, draft initial frameworks, and identify patterns in data. But the thinking—the actual judgment about what matters, what to prioritize, what to sacrifice—that remains profoundly human work.
The companies that will thrive in this AI-accelerated era won't be those who generate the most strategy documents the fastest. They'll be the ones who maintain the discipline to actually think through their decisions, who treat AI as a thinking partner rather than a thinking replacement, and who measure success by outcomes rather than documentation.
Your next strategy document doesn't need to be longer or more polished. It needs to emerge from somewhere real—from actual understanding of your customers, your market, and your own capabilities. Everything else is just expensive theater.