This recent season, I was caught in congested traffic on the sweltering streets of Marseille. At a crossing, my companion in the passenger seat advised a right turn toward a famous spot for bouillabaisse. Yet, the navigation app on my phone instructed us to continue straight. Weary and in a stifling car, I heeded the algorithm's advice. Minutes later, we were stranded at a roadwork site.
A minor incident, perhaps. But one that captures a defining dilemma of our era, where digital tools permeates nearly every facet of our lives: who gets our trust more – 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 argued, "is the inability 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 feudal lord – figures purporting to channel divine will. To explain phenomena like volcanic eruptions, people looked for explanations in theology. In organizing the fabric of society, from economics to matters of the heart, religious doctrine acted as the main compass.
“Sapere aude!” or “Dare to use your reason!”
Kant argued that humans had the capacity for reason. They just didn't have the boldness to employ it. With upheavals in America and France, a new dawn arrived: logic would replace superstition, and the intellect, liberated from authority, would become the engine of progress and a more ethical world.
Today, two and a half centuries later, one might question if we are quietly regressing into a state of intellectual immaturity. An app dictating a direction is merely the start. Artificial intelligence risks becoming our new "other" – a unseen guide that influences our decisions and behaviors. We are in danger of ceding the hard-won autonomy to think independently – and now, not to deities or rulers, but to lines of code.
ChatGPT was launched only in 2022, and already a recent study indicated that an vast number of people had engaged with artificial intelligence in the previous six months. Whether contemplating a breakup or choosing a candidate, individuals are increasingly turning to machines for guidance. Research suggests a significant portion of user queries relate to non-work topics. Even more striking than our reliance on AI for advice is what happens when we let it express for us. Writing is now one of the most common uses for generative AI, second only to everyday tasks. The celebrated American author Joan Didion once remarked, “I write purely to find out what I am thinking.” What occurs when we stop composing? Do we lose that path?
Worryingly, emerging research hints the outcome may be yes. A study from the Massachusetts Institute of Technology used electroencephalography to track the cognitive activity of participants who had access to AI, Google, or no aids. Those who could rely on AI showed the least cognitive engagement and had difficulty accurately recalling their own work. Maybe most troubling was that over time, individuals in the AI group became increasingly reliant, copying large sections of text.
“Inertia and fear,” Kant wrote, “are the reasons why so great a proportion of men … remain in lifelong immaturity.”
Certainly, AI's appeal stems from its convenience. It saves time, reduces effort and – critically – offers a novel way to abdicate accountability. In his 1941 book, Escape from Freedom, the German psychoanalyst Erich Fromm argued that the rise of fascism could be understood by a preference to surrender autonomy in exchange for the comforting security of obedience. AI offers a modern method of relinquishing the burden of having to think and choose.
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, ultimately, why I chose to trust the machine over my friend (a choice she took as an insult). With access to real-time information, certainly the app must know best – or so I thought.
The fundamental problem is that AI operates as a opaque system. It produces knowledge, but without necessarily fostering human understanding. We do not truly know the process behind its decisions – even its creators admit this. Nor can we check its logic against clear, objective criteria. So when we heed 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, side with the machine – that could be our 21st-century credo.
AI can be a formidable ally for humanity in scientific pursuit. It can help inventing drugs, liberate us from tedious tasks, or manage administrative chores – duties that are repetitive and offer little satisfaction. This is beneficial. But Kant and his peers did not advocate for reason over faith just so humans could optimize chores or have extra free time. Critical thinking was not just about productivity – it was a discipline of liberty and human self-determination.
Human thought is often chaotic and fallible, but it compels us to debate, to doubt, to challenge concepts – and to acknowledge the limits of our own knowledge. It builds confidence, both personally 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 oppose domination. It was about building a moral community grounded in the shared principle of rational discourse, rather than blind belief.
With all the advantages AI offers, the key question is this: how can we harness its promise of superhuman intelligence without undermining human reasoning, 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 would do well not to outsource to the machine.