This recent season, I was caught in gridlocked traffic on the scorching streets of a southern French city. At a crossing, my friend in the passenger seat suggested a right turn toward a famous spot for bouillabaisse. Yet, the digital guide on my phone commanded us to continue straight. Fatigued and overheated, I followed the app's advice. Moments later, we were stuck at a construction site.
A minor event, maybe. But one that encapsulates a defining question of our time, where digital tools permeates almost every aspect of our lives: who gets our trust more – other people and our personal instincts, or the algorithm?
The renowned German philosopher Immanuel Kant famously described the Enlightenment as "man's release from its self-inflicted immaturity." This immaturity, he argued, "represents the incapacity to use one's own understanding without guidance from an external source." For centuries, that directing force for human thought was frequently the clergyman, the king, or the feudal lord – entities claiming to channel God's voice. To comprehend phenomena like changing seasons, people sought answers in religion. In organizing the fabric of society, from commerce to matters of the heart, religious doctrine acted as the primary guide.
“Sapere aude!” or “Have courage to use your reason!”
Kant argued that humans had the ability to think rationally. They simply lacked the boldness to use it. With upheavals in America and France, a new dawn emerged: reason would replace superstition, and the intellect, liberated from dogma, would become the engine of advancement and a better world.
Now, two and a half centuries later, one might wonder if we are quietly regressing into a form of dependency. An app dictating a direction is just one example. AI threatens to become our new "other" – a silent overseer that steers our decisions and behaviors. We risk ceding the hard-won courage to reason for ourselves – and now, not to gods or kings, but to computer programs.
ChatGPT was launched a mere three years ago, and yet a recent study indicated that an overwhelming majority of respondents had used AI in the previous six months. Whether contemplating ending a relationship or choosing a candidate, individuals are looking to algorithms for counsel. Research suggests a large majority of user queries relate to non-work topics. Even more striking than our reliance on AI for judgment is what occurs when we let it express for us. Composition is now among the top uses for generative AI, second only to everyday tasks. The celebrated American author Joan Didion famously said, “I write purely to discover what I am thinking.” What transpires when we stop composing? Do we cease discovering?
Worryingly, some evidence hints the answer may be affirmative. A study from the Massachusetts Institute of Technology used electroencephalography to track the mental engagement of essay writers who had access to AI, Google, or nothing. Those who could rely on AI displayed the least cognitive engagement and had trouble quoting their own work. Perhaps most troubling was that over time, individuals in the AI group grew progressively lazier, pasting entire blocks of text.
“Inertia and fear,” Kant wrote, “are the reasons why so many of men … stay in perpetual nonage.”
Certainly, AI's attraction lies in its efficiency. It is fast, reduces effort and – critically – offers a new method to abdicate accountability. In his 1941 book, Escape from Freedom, the German psychoanalyst Erich Fromm proposed that the rise of fascism could be partly explained by a preference to give up personal freedom in exchange for the reassuring certainty of obedience. AI offers a modern avenue for surrendering the weight of having to decide for oneself.
AI's primary draw is its capacity to accomplish things beyond our minds – sifting through oceans of data at unprecedented speed. Sitting in the car in Marseille, this was, after all, why I opted to trust the app over my friend (a choice she interpreted as an insult). With access to all the data, surely the app must know best – or so I believed.
The fundamental problem is that AI is a black box. It produces knowledge, but without necessarily fostering human understanding. We do not truly know the process behind its decisions – including its programmers acknowledge the opacity. Nor can we check its reasoning against transparent standards. So when we heed AI's advice, we are not being guided by reason. We are back in the domain of belief. In dubio pro machina: when in doubt, side with the machine – that could be our future credo.
AI can be a formidable ally for mankind in scientific pursuit. It can aid in inventing drugs, liberate us from "bullshit jobs", or manage administrative chores – work that are repetitive and offer little satisfaction. All to the good. But Kant and his contemporaries did not champion reason over faith just so humans could optimize chores or have more leisure. Independent thought was not just about efficiency – it was a discipline of freedom and human emancipation.
Human thought is often chaotic and fallible, but it compels us to debate, to question, to test ideas – and to acknowledge the limits of our own understanding. It builds self-reliance, both individually and as a society. For Kant, the use of reason was never solely about acquiring knowledge; it was about empowering people to become agents of their own destinies, and to resist domination. It was about creating a moral community based on the shared principle of rational discourse, rather than unquestioning acceptance.
With all the advantages AI brings, the key question is this: how can we harness its potential of superhuman intelligence without eroding human reasoning, the cornerstone of the Enlightenment and of free societies itself? That is likely one of the defining questions of our century. It is a question we must strive not to delegate to the algorithm.
A seasoned gambling analyst with over a decade of experience in online casino reviews and player advocacy.