This past summer, I was caught in gridlocked traffic on the sweltering streets of Marseille. At an intersection, my companion in the front seat suggested a right turn toward a renowned spot for bouillabaisse. Yet, the digital guide on my phone commanded us to continue straight. Weary and overheated, I followed the algorithm's advice. Minutes later, we were stranded at a roadwork site.
A minor event, perhaps. But one that captures a defining question of our time, where digital tools permeates nearly every facet of existence: whom do we trust more – other people and our personal instincts, or the algorithm?
The influential German philosopher Immanuel Kant famously described the Enlightenment as "man's release from its self-inflicted nonage." This state, he argued, "is the incapacity to use one's personal reason without guidance from another." For centuries, that guiding "other" for human thought was often the clergyman, the king, or the landowner – figures claiming to channel divine will. To comprehend phenomena like changing seasons, people sought answers in theology. In shaping the social world, from economics to matters of the heart, faith acted as the main compass.
“Sapere aude!” or “Dare to use your own understanding!”
Kant maintained that humans had the capacity for reason. They simply lacked the boldness to employ it. With upheavals in the 18th century, a fresh era emerged: logic would supplant blind faith, and the intellect, freed from authority, would become the driver of advancement and a more ethical world.
Now, two and a half centuries later, one might wonder if we are quietly regressing into a form of intellectual immaturity. An app dictating a direction is merely the start. AI risks becoming our contemporary authority – a silent guide that steers our decisions and behaviors. We risk relinquishing the hard-won courage to reason for ourselves – and now, not to gods or kings, but to lines of code.
ChatGPT was launched only in 2022, and already a global survey found that an vast number of respondents had used AI in the previous six months. Whether deciding on ending a relationship or selecting a vote, individuals are increasingly turning to algorithms for counsel. Research suggests a significant portion of user prompts relate to non-work topics. Even more intriguing than our use of AI for judgment is what happens when we let it speak for us. Composition is now one of the most common 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 cease writing? Do we lose that path?
Alarmingly, emerging research suggests the answer may be yes. A study from the Massachusetts Institute of Technology used brain monitoring to track the cognitive activity of essay writers who had could use AI, traditional search engines, or nothing. Those who could use AI displayed the lowest cognitive engagement and had trouble quoting their own work. Maybe most troubling was that over time, participants in the AI group became progressively lazier, pasting large sections of text.
“Laziness and cowardice,” Kant wrote, “are the reasons why so many of men … stay in lifelong immaturity.”
Certainly, AI's attraction lies in its efficiency. It saves time, reduces effort and – importantly – offers a new method to abdicate responsibility. In his 1941 book, Escape from Freedom, the German psychoanalyst Erich Fromm argued that the appeal of authoritarianism could be partly explained by a preference to give up personal freedom in exchange for the reassuring certainty of subordination. AI presents a digital method of relinquishing the burden of having to decide for oneself.
AI's primary draw is its ability to accomplish things outside our minds – sifting through oceans of data at unprecedented speed. Sitting 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 all the data, certainly the app must know best – or so I thought.
The fundamental problem is that AI operates as a opaque system. It produces answers, but without necessarily deepening human understanding. We cannot fully grasp the process behind its conclusions – even its programmers acknowledge the opacity. Nor can we verify its logic against clear, objective criteria. So when we follow AI's recommendation, 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 may become our 21st-century guiding principle.
AI can be a powerful tool for mankind in rational inquiry. It can help medical research, free us from "bullshit jobs", or manage administrative chores – work that demand little thought and offer little satisfaction. This is beneficial. But Kant and his peers did not champion enlightenment just so humans could optimize chores or have extra free time. Critical thinking was not just about productivity – it was a discipline of freedom and human emancipation.
Human thought is often chaotic and fallible, but it forces us to argue, to doubt, to challenge concepts – and to acknowledge the limits of our own knowledge. It fosters confidence, both personally and as a society. For Kant, the exercise of reason was never only about information; it was about enabling people to become authors of their own destinies, and to oppose control. It was about building a ethical society grounded in the shared principle of reason and debate, rather than unquestioning acceptance.
With all the undeniable benefits AI offers, the paramount challenge is this: how can we leverage its promise of superhuman intelligence without undermining human reasoning, the bedrock of the Enlightenment and of liberal democracy themselves? That is likely one of the defining questions of our time. It is a question we must strive not to delegate to the machine.
