Vibe-coding: Are we building scalable startups or glorified AI experiments?
Vibe-coding: Are we building scalable startups or glorified AI experiments?
Vibe-coding: Are we building scalable startups or glorified AI experiments?
Vibe-coding is creating buggy “software for one” - is this breaking startup culture as a whole?
The new rush: build first, think later
There’s a certain energy in tech right now that feels both exciting and a little chaotic. People are discovering AI tools that let them build apps and workflows at lightning speed. You don’t need to know syntax or patterns or architecture. You can tell the model what you want, and it gives you code that works just well enough to run - at least if your project is small enough. It feels magical.
It's making non-tech or barely-tech founders feel like the barrier to entry has changed. That the world no longer should value software engineers.
But something strange is happening.
Most of these projects never touch another user. They live on someone’s laptop, solving one person’s niche frustration, running on fragile code that nobody else could understand.
It’s hard to dismiss the creativity of it, yet it makes me wonder if we’re heading toward a generation of builders who have never actually built products for other people. I’m torn between admiration and worry.
I’ve been part of this hype myself. I’ve asked AI to build me tiny tools that automate scheduling, download videos, summarize meetings, and make "human" LinkedIn posts. Every one of them felt like a breakthrough. Every one of them also quietly broke the moment I asked it to do something slightly different.
When everything works for one user
The thing about vibe-coding is that it creates software tailored so specifically to its creator that the creator becomes the only person who can use it. The code is glued together by assumptions, accidental behavior, and patchwork fixes. It technically “works,” but only under the exact conditions the builder imagined. When someone else touches it, it collapses.
A developer friend said recently that “AI makes beginners feel like senior engineers until they see someone else click a button.” The line was funny, but it hit hard. It’s not the ambition that’s missing. It’s the understanding of real users, real constraints, and real scale.
There’s also no shame in building for fun. Experimenting is part of learning, and tinkering is how most people fall in love with software in the first place. The problem begins when founders treat prototypes as products and mistake personal convenience tools for universal needs.
AI makes speed addictive
The dopamine loop is real. You build something in two hours. You feel brilliant. People online hype the idea of shipping fast and breaking things. Suddenly there’s pressure to turn half-working scripts into startups. You get praise for showing demos and mockups before you’ve even tested the idea. The culture rewards momentum more than substance.
I catch myself slipping into that mindset too. When building feels easy, feedback feels unnecessary. You assume other people will love what you built because you loved it. But scaling requires a different kind of patience. It means confronting users who don’t think like you. It means fixing things instead of moving on to the next cool idea. AI doesn’t erase those responsibilities. It magnifies them.
One research survey said a surprising number of new AI-era founders are building things “users never asked for but founders find personally delightful.” It’s cute and worrying at the same time. We are innovating, but sometimes in a vacuum.
Are we solving problems or running from reality?
A lot of vibe-coding projects are born from frustration with real software and real systems. People are tired of bureaucracy, slow tools, old UX patterns, and gatekeeping. They want control. They want to build what they wish existed. I completely understand that impulse. It comes from a very human place.
But real startups don’t survive because founders hate inefficiency. They survive because customers feel pain. If nobody else feels the same pain, the idea dies no matter how elegant the code looks on Demo Day. And if the app keeps breaking because it never had proper guardrails, no amount of hype can save it. The emotional rush of building often disguises the hard truth that scale is not a byproduct of speed.
I’ve learned the most from the version of building that forces humility. Talking to users. Watching someone struggle with the thing you made. Even asking them if what you made is something they'd pay for. Or even look for. Hearing feedback that stings because you already knew it somewhere deep down. Those moments separate experiments from products.
Where do we go from here?
Vibe-coding isn’t a problem by itself. It’s actually a beautiful sign of how far technology has come. People with no formal background can create things that would’ve taken teams years in the past. We should celebrate that. But we should also be honest about what it takes to move from a personal tool to something that survives in the wild.
Maybe the real evolution isn’t faster coding. Maybe the evolution is remembering why we build in the first place. Software meant for people will always need empathy, patience, and a willingness to deal with the boring parts of engineering. There’s no prompt that replaces that.
If someone wants to ship a startup in the age of AI, building fast isn’t the biggest skill anymore. The real power is in sticking around long after the novelty wears off. The apps that change the world don’t come from the first weekend of inspiration. They come from the hundredth day of fixing things you once thought were done.
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