This recent season, I was caught in gridlocked traffic on the scorching streets of Marseille. At an intersection, my friend in the passenger seat suggested a right turn toward a renowned spot for fish soup. Yet, the navigation app on my phone commanded us to continue straight. Weary and overheated, I followed the algorithm's advice. Minutes 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 almost every aspect of existence: who gets our trust to a greater degree – 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 state, he argued, "represents the inability to use one's personal reason without direction from an external source." For centuries, that directing force for society was often the clergyman, the king, or the feudal lord – entities claiming to speak for divine will. To explain phenomena like volcanic eruptions, people looked for explanations in theology. In shaping the fabric of society, from economics to matters of the heart, faith acted as the primary guide.
“Sapere aude!” or “Have courage to use your reason!”
Kant argued that humans had the capacity for reason. They just didn't have the confidence to employ it. With revolutions in America and France, a new dawn emerged: reason would replace superstition, and the human mind, liberated from authority, would become the engine of advancement and a better world.
Now, 250 years later, one might question if we are slipping back into a form of intellectual immaturity. An app suggesting a direction is merely the start. Artificial intelligence threatens to become our new "other" – a silent guide that influences our decisions and behaviors. We risk relinquishing the historically earned courage to think independently – and this time, not to gods or kings, but to lines of code.
ChatGPT was launched a mere three years ago, and already a recent study found that an vast number of people 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 significant portion of user prompts concern personal life matters. Even more intriguing than our reliance on AI for advice is what happens when we let it speak for us. Composition is now one of the top uses for tools like ChatGPT, just behind practical requests. The celebrated American author Joan Didion once remarked, “I write entirely to find out what I am thinking.” What occurs when we cease writing? Do we lose that path?
Worryingly, emerging research hints the answer may be affirmative. A study conducted by the Massachusetts Institute of Technology used brain monitoring to observe the cognitive activity of essay writers who had could use AI, traditional search engines, or no aids. Those who could rely on AI displayed the least cognitive engagement and had trouble quoting their own work. Perhaps most concerning was that after a few months, individuals in the AI group grew progressively lazier, pasting large sections of text.
“Laziness and cowardice,” Kant wrote, “are the reasons why so great a proportion of men … stay in lifelong immaturity.”
Of course, AI's appeal lies in its convenience. It is fast, reduces effort and – critically – offers a new method to offload accountability. In his 1941 book, Escape from Freedom, the German psychoanalyst Erich Fromm argued that the appeal of authoritarianism could be understood by a human tendency to give up personal freedom in for the sake of the comforting security of obedience. AI offers a digital avenue for relinquishing the weight of having to decide for oneself.
AI's greatest allure is its capacity to perform tasks outside human capability – analyzing vast datasets at unprecedented speed. Sitting in the car in Marseille, this was, ultimately, why I opted to trust the app over my friend (a decision she interpreted as an insult). With access to all the data, certainly the app had superior insight – or so I believed.
The core issue is that AI operates as a opaque system. It produces answers, but not always fostering human understanding. We do not truly know the process behind its conclusions – including its creators acknowledge the opacity. 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 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 powerful tool for humanity in scientific pursuit. It can help medical research, liberate us from "bullshit jobs", or handle administrative chores – duties that are repetitive and are unfulfilling. All to the good. But Kant and his contemporaries did not advocate for enlightenment just so humans could optimize chores or have extra free time. Independent thought was not merely about productivity – it was a practice of freedom and human self-determination.
Human thought is inherently messy and error-prone, but it forces us to debate, to question, to test ideas – and to acknowledge the limits of our own knowledge. It builds self-reliance, both personally and as a society. For Kant, the use of reason was never only about information; it was about enabling people to become agents of their own lives, and to resist control. It was about building a ethical society based on the common foundation of reason and debate, rather than blind belief.
With all the undeniable benefits AI offers, the paramount challenge is this: how can we harness its promise of advanced capability without eroding human rationality, the bedrock of the Enlightenment and of free societies itself? That is likely one of the central dilemmas of our century. It is a question we must strive not to outsource to the algorithm.