This past summer, I found myself navigating in congested traffic on the sweltering streets of Marseille. At an intersection, my companion in the front seat suggested a right turn toward a famous spot for bouillabaisse. Yet, the digital guide on my phone instructed us to go forward. Weary and in a stifling car, I heeded the algorithm's directive. Moments later, we were stranded at a roadwork site.
A seemingly trivial incident, perhaps. But one that captures a central dilemma of our era, where digital tools touches almost every aspect of existence: who gets our trust to a greater degree – fellow humans and our own intuition, or the machine?
The influential German philosopher Immanuel Kant once defined the Enlightenment as "humanity's emergence from its self-imposed immaturity." This immaturity, he wrote, "represents the inability to use one's personal reason without guidance from another." For ages, that directing force for human thought was often the clergyman, the king, or the landowner – entities purporting to channel divine will. To comprehend natural events like volcanic eruptions, people sought answers in religion. In shaping the social world, from commerce to love, religious doctrine acted as the main compass.
“Sapere aude!” or “Have courage to use your reason!”
Kant argued that humans had the ability to think rationally. They just didn't have the boldness to employ it. With revolutions in the 18th century, a new dawn emerged: logic would replace superstition, and the human mind, liberated from authority, would become the driver of progress and a more ethical world.
Now, two and a half centuries later, one might question if we are slipping back into a state of intellectual immaturity. An app suggesting a direction is just one example. AI threatens to become our contemporary authority – a silent guide that steers our choices and behaviors. We risk relinquishing the hard-won autonomy to think independently – and this time, not to gods or kings, but to computer programs.
ChatGPT was launched only in 2022, and already a recent study found that an vast number of people had engaged with artificial intelligence in the previous six months. Whether deciding on ending a relationship or choosing a candidate, individuals are looking to machines for counsel. Data suggests a significant portion of user queries relate to personal life matters. Even more striking than our reliance on AI for advice is what occurs when we let it express for us. Writing is now among the top uses for generative AI, second only to practical requests. The late American author Joan Didion famously said, “I write entirely to find out what I am thinking.” What transpires when we stop composing? Do we cease discovering?
Worryingly, emerging research suggests the outcome may be affirmative. A study from the Massachusetts Institute of Technology used brain monitoring to track the mental engagement of essay writers who had could use AI, traditional search engines, or nothing. Those who could rely on AI showed the least cognitive engagement and had difficulty accurately recalling their own work. Perhaps most troubling was that over time, individuals in the AI group grew progressively lazier, copying large sections of text.
“Laziness and cowardice,” Kant wrote, “are the reasons why so great a proportion of men … stay in perpetual nonage.”
Certainly, AI's attraction lies in its convenience. It saves time, reduces effort and – importantly – offers a new method 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 comforting security of obedience. AI presents a modern avenue for surrendering the burden of having to decide for oneself.
AI's greatest allure is its capacity to perform tasks beyond our minds – sifting through vast datasets at lightning pace. Stuck in the car in Marseille, this was, after all, why I opted to believe the app over my friend (a choice she interpreted as an insult). With access to real-time information, surely the app must know best – or so I believed.
The fundamental problem is that AI operates as a opaque system. It generates knowledge, but without necessarily fostering human comprehension. We do not truly know the process behind its decisions – including its creators admit this. Nor can we verify its reasoning against clear, objective criteria. So when we follow AI's advice, we are not being guided by reason. We are returning to the domain of belief. In dubio pro machina: when in doubt, trust the machine – that could be our 21st-century credo.
AI can be a powerful tool for mankind in rational inquiry. It can aid in inventing drugs, free us from tedious tasks, or handle administrative chores – duties that are repetitive and are unfulfilling. All to the good. But Kant and his contemporaries did not champion enlightenment just so humans could optimize chores or have extra free time. Critical thinking was not merely about productivity – it was a discipline of liberty and human emancipation.
Human thought is inherently messy and error-prone, but it forces us to debate, to question, to challenge concepts – and to acknowledge the boundaries of our own understanding. It builds self-reliance, both personally and collectively. For Kant, the use of reason was never only about information; it was about enabling people to become agents of their own destinies, and to resist control. It was about creating a ethical society grounded in the common foundation of rational discourse, rather than unquestioning acceptance.
With all the advantages AI brings, the key question remains: how can we harness its potential of advanced capability without eroding human reasoning, the cornerstone of the Enlightenment and of free societies 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.