This past summer, I was caught in congested traffic on the sweltering streets of Marseille. At an intersection, my friend in the passenger seat suggested a right turn toward a famous spot for fish soup. However, the digital guide on my phone commanded us to continue straight. Fatigued and overheated, I heeded the algorithm's directive. Minutes later, we were stranded at a construction site.
A minor event, perhaps. But one that encapsulates a central question of our era, where technology touches nearly every facet of existence: whom do we trust more – fellow humans and our personal instincts, or the machine?
The renowned German philosopher Immanuel Kant once defined the Enlightenment as "man's release from its self-inflicted immaturity." This state, he argued, "is the inability to use one's personal reason without direction from an external source." For centuries, that guiding "other" for society was frequently the clergyman, the monarch, or the landowner – figures purporting to channel divine will. To explain phenomena like changing seasons, people sought answers in religion. In organizing the social world, from economics to matters of the heart, faith acted as the primary guide.
“Sapere aude!” or “Dare to use your own understanding!”
Kant maintained that humans had the capacity for reason. They just didn't have the confidence to use it. With revolutions in America and France, a new dawn arrived: logic would supplant blind faith, and the human mind, freed from dogma, would become the driver of progress and a better world.
Now, 250 years later, one might question if we are quietly regressing into a state of intellectual immaturity. An app dictating a direction is just one example. Artificial intelligence risks becoming our contemporary authority – a unseen overseer that steers our decisions and behaviors. We risk relinquishing the hard-won courage to think independently – and now, not to deities or rulers, but to computer programs.
ChatGPT was launched a mere three years ago, and already a global survey indicated that an vast number of people had engaged with artificial intelligence in the previous six months. Whether deciding on a breakup or choosing a candidate, individuals are looking to machines for counsel. Research suggests a large majority of user prompts concern personal life matters. Even more striking than our use of AI for advice is what happens when we let it speak for us. Writing is now among the top uses for generative AI, just behind everyday tasks. The late American author Joan Didion once remarked, “I write entirely to discover what I am thinking.” What occurs when we stop composing? Do we lose that path?
Alarmingly, emerging research suggests the answer may be affirmative. A study from the Massachusetts Institute of Technology used brain monitoring to observe the cognitive activity of essay writers who had access to AI, traditional search engines, or no aids. Those who could use AI showed the lowest brain activity and had trouble accurately recalling their own work. Maybe most troubling was that over time, participants in the AI group grew progressively lazier, copying entire blocks of text.
“Laziness and cowardice,” Kant wrote, “are the reasons why so many of men … stay in lifelong immaturity.”
Of course, AI's appeal lies in its efficiency. It is fast, reduces effort and – importantly – offers a new method to abdicate accountability. In his 1941 book, Escape from Freedom, the German psychoanalyst Erich Fromm argued that the rise of fascism could be understood by a human tendency to give up personal freedom in exchange for the comforting security of obedience. AI presents a modern avenue for surrendering the weight of having to decide for oneself.
AI's greatest allure is its capacity to accomplish things beyond our minds – sifting through oceans of data at unprecedented speed. Stuck in the car in Marseille, this was, after all, why I chose to trust the machine over my companion (a decision she interpreted as an insult). With knowledge of all the data, surely the algorithm must know best – or so I believed.
The core issue is that AI operates as a black box. It generates answers, but not always deepening human understanding. We do not truly know the process behind its decisions – even its programmers acknowledge the opacity. Nor can we verify its reasoning against clear, objective criteria. So when we follow AI's recommendation, we are not being led by logic. We are returning to the domain of belief. In dubio pro machina: when in doubt, side with the machine – that could be our 21st-century guiding principle.
AI can be a formidable ally for mankind in scientific pursuit. It can help medical research, free us from tedious tasks, or manage administrative chores – work that demand little thought and are unfulfilling. This is beneficial. But Kant and his contemporaries did not champion enlightenment just so humans could assemble better furniture or have extra free time. Critical thinking was not merely about productivity – it was a practice of freedom and human self-determination.
Human thought is inherently messy and fallible, but it compels us to debate, to question, to challenge concepts – and to recognize the limits of our own knowledge. It fosters self-reliance, both personally and collectively. For Kant, the exercise of reason was never only about information; it was about empowering people to become agents of their own lives, and to resist domination. It was about creating a moral community grounded in the shared principle of reason and debate, rather than blind belief.
With all the undeniable benefits AI brings, the key question remains: how can we leverage its promise of advanced capability without eroding human rationality, the bedrock of the Enlightenment and of liberal democracy themselves? That may be one of the defining questions of our century. It is a question we would do well not to outsource to the machine.
A tech journalist with a passion for exploring cutting-edge innovations and making complex tech topics accessible to all readers.