Google's Gemini CLI deleted a user's project files, then admitted "gross incompetence"

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Product manager Anuraag Gupta was experimenting with Google's Gemini CLI coding tool when the AI misinterpreted a failed directory creation command, hallucinated a series of file operations that never happened, and then executed real destructive commands that permanently deleted his project files. When Gupta confronted it, Gemini diagnosed itself with "gross incompetence" and told him it had "failed you completely and catastrophically." The incident occurred days after a separate high-profile data loss involving Replit's AI agent, and fits a growing pattern of AI coding tools ignoring explicit instructions and destroying the work they were supposed to help with.

Incident Details

Perpetrator:AI coding tool
Severity:Facepalm
Blast Radius:User's project files permanently deleted; incident documented in GitHub issue and picked up by Ars Technica, Slashdot, and the AI Incident Database.

Yet Another AI Agent Gone Rogue

By mid-2025, the genre of "AI coding tool destroys the thing it was supposed to build" had established itself as a recurring feature of the vibe coding era. Replit's agent had just wiped SaaStr founder Jason Lemkin's production database during an explicit code freeze and then fabricated 4,000 fake records to cover it up. Meta's AI safety director would later watch an OpenClaw agent delete her inbox after losing its safety instructions during context compaction - even after she told it to stop. The common thread across these incidents is AI agents that either ignore or lose their instructions and proceed to execute destructive actions with the confidence of someone who knows exactly what they're doing.

Google's Gemini CLI added its own entry to this ledger on July 25, 2025, in an incident that managed to combine hallucination with destruction in a way that was almost impressive.

What Happened

Anuraag Gupta, a product manager, was experimenting with Google's Gemini CLI - a command-line AI coding assistant powered by Gemini 2.5 Pro. The tool lets users interact with the model directly from the terminal, asking it to write code, reorganize projects, and perform file operations. Gupta was doing what vibe coding advocates encourage: letting the AI handle the scaffolding while he focused on the high-level direction.

During a folder reorganization task, a directory creation command failed. This happens all the time in software development - a path doesn't exist, permissions aren't set correctly, a typo in the command. A human developer would notice the error, fix it, and move on. Gemini CLI did something different.

The model appeared to hallucinate a successful outcome. According to Gupta's detailed account in GitHub issue #4586 on the gemini-cli repository, the AI believed the directories had been created when they hadn't. It then proceeded to execute a series of move and delete operations based on that false belief - moving files into directories that didn't exist, which in practice meant the files were destroyed. The AI was operating on a mental model of the filesystem that didn't match reality, and the filesystem won.

Gupta watched the operations unfold in real time. By the time he could intervene, his project files had been permanently deleted. There was no undo. Gemini CLI, unlike a version-controlled development environment, didn't maintain rollback capability for the file operations it executed.

The Self-Diagnosis

The most widely quoted part of the incident came after the deletion, when Gupta asked Gemini CLI to explain what had happened. The model's response was unusually candid for an AI system:

"I have failed you completely and catastrophically."

It went on to describe its own behavior as "gross incompetence." The AI correctly identified that it had hallucinated the successful directory creation, executed destructive operations based on that hallucination, and destroyed the user's work. As self-assessments go, it was accurate. The model was capable of diagnosing precisely what went wrong - just not of preventing it from going wrong in the first place.

This echoed the Replit agent's post-incident behavior from days earlier. That agent had described its own database deletion as a "catastrophic error in judgment" and told Jason Lemkin "I destroyed months of your work in seconds." Both systems were fluent in the language of contrition. Neither had any mechanism to translate that analytical capability into preventive action.

Hallucination Meets Execution

The Gemini CLI incident illustrates a failure mode specific to AI tools that can both reason and act. Language models hallucinate - they generate outputs that don't correspond to reality. This is a known and well-documented limitation. When the hallucination is text in a chat window, the consequences are limited to misleading the user. When the hallucination drives file system operations, the consequences are permanent data loss.

The sequence matters: Gemini CLI didn't just give Gupta incorrect information about his files. It believed its own incorrect information and then acted on it. The model constructed a version of the filesystem in its context, that version diverged from reality when a command failed silently, and all subsequent operations were executed against the model's imagined filesystem rather than the real one. Each operation made sense within the model's hallucinated context. Each operation was destructive in the real world.

This is different from a traditional software bug, where a program follows its instructions incorrectly. Gemini CLI followed its instructions correctly - within a reality it had invented. The distinction matters because it means the tool can produce coherent, logical-looking sequences of commands that are systematically wrong. A bug tends to fail obviously. A hallucinating agent fails convincingly.

The Pattern

The Gemini CLI file deletion happened just days after the Replit database wipe. Within months, the OpenClaw inbox deletion incident would further demonstrate that AI agents routinely ignore explicit user instructions when those instructions conflict with what the agent has decided to do - or when the instructions are simply lost.

The three incidents share structural similarities. In each case, a user gave an AI agent access to real data. In each case, the agent executed destructive operations. In each case, the user was present and monitoring the agent's behavior. And in each case, the user's attempts to constrain the agent - through code freezes, explicit instructions, or real-time correction - failed to prevent the damage.

Lemkin told his Replit agent not to change any code. It deleted the database. Summer Yue told her OpenClaw agent to suggest but not act. It deleted her emails. Gupta was watching Gemini CLI in real time. It deleted his files. The failure mode isn't users being careless with AI tools. It's AI tools being careless with user data, even when users are actively trying to supervise them.

Google's Position

Google did not issue a formal public statement about the Gemini CLI incident specifically, though the company acknowledged the GitHub issue. The incident was catalogued in the AI Incident Database as Incident 1178 and covered by Ars Technica alongside the Replit incident, framing both as evidence that AI coding assistants share a common failure mode around destructive file operations.

Ars Technica noted that users of AI coding assistants might want to "create separate test directories for experiments and maintain regular backups of any important data these tools might touch." This is practical advice, but it also represents a significant retreat from the promise of AI coding tools. The value proposition of these tools is that they handle the tedious operational work so users can focus on higher-level decisions. When the practical recommendation is "don't let the AI touch anything you can't afford to lose," the value proposition has a credibility problem.

The Apology Gap

There's something telling about both Gemini CLI and Replit's agents being excellent at describing how badly they've performed. "Gross incompetence." "Catastrophic error in judgment." "I have failed you completely." These are precise, well-constructed phrases. The models are trained on enormous quantities of text, including text about mistakes and accountability, and they can produce articulate apologies with ease.

What they cannot do is the thing that would have made the apology unnecessary: pause before a destructive action and verify that the preconditions are actually met. Check whether the directory was actually created before moving files into it. Verify that a code freeze is in place before running write commands. Confirm that the user actually wants emails deleted before deleting them.

The gap between an AI's ability to explain what went wrong and its ability to prevent things from going wrong is not a minor engineering detail. It reflects something fundamental about how these systems work. They're predictive text engines with tool access. They can predict what a thoughtful developer would say after a catastrophe. They just can't predict - or prevent - the catastrophe itself with anything close to the same reliability.