This past summer, I found myself navigating in congested traffic on the scorching streets of Marseille. At an intersection, my companion in the front seat advised a right turn toward a famous spot for bouillabaisse. However, the navigation app on my phone commanded us to go forward. Fatigued and in a stifling car, I heeded the algorithm's advice. Minutes later, we were stranded at a construction site.
A minor event, perhaps. But one that captures a central question of our time, where digital tools permeates nearly every facet of our lives: whom do we trust more – other people and our personal instincts, or the algorithm?
The influential German philosopher Immanuel Kant once defined the Enlightenment as "humanity's emergence from its self-imposed immaturity." This immaturity, he argued, "represents the incapacity to use one's own understanding without direction from another." For centuries, that guiding "other" for human thought was often the priest, the monarch, or the landowner – figures claiming to speak for divine will. To comprehend natural events like volcanic eruptions, people sought answers in religion. In organizing the social world, from economics to love, faith served as the main compass.
“Sapere aude!” or “Have courage to use your own understanding!”
Kant maintained that humans always possessed the capacity for reason. They simply lacked the confidence to use it. With revolutions in America and France, a fresh era arrived: logic would replace blind faith, and the intellect, liberated from dogma, would become the driver of advancement and a better world.
Now, 250 years later, one might question if we are slipping back into a state of intellectual immaturity. An app suggesting a direction is merely the start. Artificial intelligence threatens to become our new "other" – a unseen guide that steers our decisions and behaviors. We risk ceding the historically earned autonomy to think independently – and now, not to gods or kings, but to lines of code.
ChatGPT was launched a mere three years ago, and yet a global survey found that an overwhelming majority of people had engaged with artificial intelligence in the previous six months. Whether contemplating a breakup or choosing a candidate, individuals are looking to algorithms for guidance. Data suggests a significant portion of user prompts relate to personal life matters. Even more intriguing than our reliance on AI for advice is what happens when we allow it express for us. Composition is now one of the top uses for tools like ChatGPT, second only to everyday tasks. The celebrated American author Joan Didion once remarked, “I write purely to find out what I am thinking.” What transpires when we cease writing? Do we lose that path?
Alarmingly, emerging research hints the answer may be yes. A study from the Massachusetts Institute of Technology used brain monitoring to observe the mental engagement of participants who had access to AI, Google, or no aids. Those who could use AI displayed the lowest cognitive engagement and had difficulty quoting their own work. Perhaps most concerning was that after a few months, individuals in the AI group grew progressively lazier, pasting entire blocks of text.
“Laziness and cowardice,” Kant wrote, “are the reasons why so many of men … stay in perpetual nonage.”
Certainly, AI's attraction stems from its efficiency. It is fast, minimizes work and – importantly – offers a new method to abdicate responsibility. In his 1941 book, Escape from Freedom, the German psychoanalyst Erich Fromm argued that the rise of fascism could be partly explained by a preference to surrender personal freedom in exchange for the reassuring certainty of subordination. AI presents a modern method of surrendering the burden of having to decide for oneself.
AI's greatest allure is its ability to accomplish things outside human capability – analyzing vast datasets at lightning pace. Stuck in the car in Marseille, this was, ultimately, why I opted to trust the app over my friend (a decision she took as an affront). With knowledge of real-time information, surely the algorithm had superior insight – or so I thought.
The core issue is that AI operates as a opaque system. It produces answers, but without necessarily deepening human comprehension. We do not truly know the process behind its decisions – including its creators admit this. Nor can we verify its logic against transparent standards. So when we follow AI's recommendation, we are not being guided by reason. We are returning to the domain of faith. In dubio pro machina: when in doubt, side with the machine – that may become our future guiding principle.
AI can be a formidable ally for mankind in scientific pursuit. It can aid in inventing drugs, liberate us from tedious tasks, or handle taxes – work that demand little thought and offer little satisfaction. All to the good. But Kant and his contemporaries did not advocate for enlightenment just so humans could optimize chores or have more leisure. Critical thinking was not merely about productivity – it was a practice of liberty and human self-determination.
Human thought is inherently messy and fallible, but it compels us to argue, to question, to challenge concepts – and to recognize the limits of our own understanding. It builds confidence, both personally and as a society. For Kant, the exercise of reason was never solely about acquiring knowledge; it was about empowering people to become authors of their own destinies, and to oppose control. It was about building a ethical society based on the common foundation of rational discourse, rather than unquestioning acceptance.
With all the undeniable benefits AI brings, the key question remains: how can we harness its promise of superhuman intelligence without eroding human rationality, the bedrock of the Enlightenment and of free societies themselves? That is likely one of the defining questions of our century. It is a question we must strive not to outsource to the algorithm.
Maya Chen is an urban planner and writer with over a decade of experience in sustainable city development and community engagement.