This recent season, I was caught in congested traffic on the scorching streets of Marseille. At a crossing, my friend in the passenger seat advised a right turn toward a renowned spot for fish soup. Yet, the digital guide on my phone instructed us to go forward. Fatigued and overheated, I followed the app's directive. Moments later, we were stuck at a roadwork site.
A seemingly trivial event, perhaps. But one that encapsulates a central dilemma of our era, where technology touches nearly every facet of our lives: who gets our trust to a greater degree – other people and our personal instincts, or the machine?
The influential German philosopher Immanuel Kant famously described the Enlightenment as "humanity's emergence from its self-imposed nonage." This immaturity, he argued, "represents the incapacity to use one's personal reason without direction from an external source." For centuries, that directing force for society was frequently the clergyman, the king, or the landowner – figures purporting to speak for God's voice. To comprehend phenomena like changing seasons, people sought answers in religion. In shaping the fabric of society, from economics to love, faith acted as the main compass.
“Sapere aude!” or “Have courage to use your own understanding!”
Kant argued that humans had the capacity for reason. They simply lacked the boldness to employ it. With upheavals in the 18th century, a fresh era arrived: reason would supplant blind faith, and the intellect, liberated from authority, would become the engine of progress and a more ethical world.
Now, 250 years later, one might wonder if we are quietly regressing into a state of dependency. An app dictating a driving route is merely the start. AI threatens to become our new "other" – a silent overseer that steers our choices and actions. We risk ceding the historically earned autonomy to reason for ourselves – and this time, not to deities or rulers, but to lines of code.
ChatGPT was launched only in 2022, and yet a global survey found that an overwhelming majority of respondents had used AI in the previous six months. Whether deciding on ending a relationship or choosing a candidate, individuals are increasingly turning to algorithms for guidance. Data suggests a large majority of user queries relate to personal life matters. Even more striking than our use of AI for advice is what occurs when we allow it speak for us. Writing is now one of the top uses for tools like ChatGPT, second only to everyday tasks. The late American author Joan Didion famously said, “I write purely to find out what I am thinking.” What occurs when we stop composing? Do we lose that path?
Worryingly, some evidence suggests the answer may be affirmative. A study from the Massachusetts Institute of Technology used brain monitoring to observe the mental engagement of essay writers who had could use AI, Google, or nothing. Those who could use AI displayed the lowest cognitive engagement and had difficulty quoting their own work. Maybe most concerning was that over time, individuals in the AI group became progressively lazier, copying large sections of text.
“Laziness and cowardice,” Kant wrote, “are the reasons why so many of men … stay in perpetual nonage.”
Of course, AI's appeal lies in its efficiency. It is fast, minimizes work and – critically – offers a novel way to offload accountability. 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 give up autonomy in for the sake of the reassuring certainty of obedience. AI presents a modern avenue for surrendering the weight of having to decide for oneself.
AI's greatest allure is its ability to accomplish things beyond human capability – sifting through vast datasets at lightning pace. Sitting in the car in Marseille, this was, ultimately, why I chose to trust the app over my companion (a decision she interpreted as an affront). With access to all the data, certainly the algorithm had superior insight – or so I thought.
The fundamental problem is that AI operates as a opaque system. It generates knowledge, but not always fostering human comprehension. We do not truly know how AI reaches its conclusions – including its creators acknowledge the opacity. Nor can we check its logic against clear, objective criteria. So when we follow AI's advice, we are not being led by logic. We are back in the domain of belief. In dubio pro machina: when in doubt, trust the machine – that may become our 21st-century credo.
AI can be a formidable ally for mankind in rational inquiry. It can aid in inventing drugs, liberate us from "bullshit jobs", or handle administrative chores – duties that demand little thought and offer little satisfaction. All to the good. But Kant and his peers did not advocate for reason over faith just so humans could assemble better furniture or have more leisure. Critical thinking was not just about productivity – it was a practice of freedom and human emancipation.
Human thought is often chaotic and error-prone, but it compels us to debate, to doubt, to challenge concepts – and to recognize the boundaries of our own understanding. It fosters confidence, both individually and as a society. For Kant, the use of reason was never only about acquiring knowledge; it was about enabling people to become authors of their own destinies, and to resist domination. It was about creating a ethical society grounded in the common foundation of rational discourse, rather than blind belief.
With all the undeniable benefits AI offers, the key question is this: how can we leverage its potential of superhuman intelligence without eroding human rationality, the cornerstone of the Enlightenment and of liberal democracy itself? 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.
Tech enthusiast and digital strategist with over a decade of experience in transforming ideas into impactful solutions.