When Descartes said, “I think, therefore I am,” he placed human consciousness at the center of existence. His assertion implies that without awareness, the world loses its meaning—a sentiment echoed by a Brazilian community member who responded to an educator, “The universe would not exist without me, for if I were not here, who would name it?” (as recounted in Paulo Freire’s Pedagogy of the Oppressed).
Historically, oppressive systems have sought to depoliticize and alienate people, ensuring they do not challenge authority or rise against injustice. Revolutionaries have worked tirelessly in rural and urban areas to foster critical consciousness, breaking the “Culture of Silence” that keeps the oppressed subdued. States have long used education and religion to stifle dissent, as thinking citizens pose a threat to rulers and entrenched power structures.
The persecution of thinkers is ancient: Al-Razi dissected dogma—and was beaten to death with his own books. Ibn Sina’s manuscripts were burned. Ibn Rushd fled persecution. Galileo recanted under threat of torture. Bruno burned at the stake. Today, journalists vanish for tweets, and activists are jailed for memes. The pattern is clear: Thinking is dangerous. Thinking is punishable.
Now, AI is achieving this suppression more efficiently than ever. While it appears to be a powerful tool for progress, it is also eroding human thought at every level—from schools to universities. People increasingly rely on AI for writing articles, crafting theses, designing presentations, planning homes, engineering cars, landscaping gardens, and even cooking meals. What begins as assistance soon becomes dependence.
In today’s world—especially in developing nations—AI tools are being weaponized to distort reality. Fake videos manipulate public perception, deepfakes glamorize ordinary individuals into artificial celebrities, and algorithmic bias fuels propaganda to defame political opponents. Meanwhile, the youth, increasingly idle and docile, lose themselves in the glow of screens—whether massive monitors or handheld devices. Their minds, once shaped by storytelling and myth, now absorb pre-packaged narratives from films, games, and social media. Unlike past generations, who actively imagined and reinterpreted oral tales, today’s youth consume thought-ready visuals, bypassing the need for critical reflection.
But AI offers tyrants a cleaner solution. No need for executions when you can preempt thought itself. Why silence dissidents when algorithms can ensure no dissidents are born? ChatGPT drafts our protests into polite petitions. Recommendation engines bury radical texts. “Personalized” news feeds make sure we never encounter ideas that might unsettle us. The goal is no longer to punish thinkers—but to make thinking obsolete.
Past oppressors burned libraries; modern tools simply delete the desire to read. When AI can simulate debate, who risks jail for an opinion? When synthetic voices sing revolution as entertainment, who recognizes the call to arms? This is not censorship—it is the extinction of cognitive rebellion.
This shift mirrors humanity’s long relationship with tools. Initially, tools empowered us to conquer nature and dominate other species. But now, the dynamic is reversing: instead of humans mastering tools, the tools are mastering us. Like the silkworm that spins its own cocoon only to entrap itself, we are weaving a digital web that threatens to ensnare our autonomy.
Modern AI tools—ChatGPT and others—have already infiltrated our cognition, shaping how we think and diminishing our capacity for independent reasoning. The question is no longer whether AI will assist us, but whether we will retain the ability to think without it. As we stand at this crossroads, we must ask: Will we remain thinkers, or will we surrender our humanity to the very tools we created?
The consequences are dire. When imagination is outsourced to AI and entertainment, cognitive atrophy sets in. Future generations may face an unprecedented tragedy: the inability to think in a world where thinking is obsolete. If every idea, image, and narrative is generated before a human even contemplates it, what remains of originality? What happens to dissent when algorithms dictate perception?
Historically, oppressors silenced people through force or ideology. Today, the same suppression happens more subtly—through digital pacification. AI doesn’t just assist; it replaces the need for mental effort, making humanity complacent in its own decline. The ultimate dehumanization isn’t just dependence on machines—it’s the surrender of our ability to question, create, and imagine without them.
Descartes’ famous axiom—”I think, therefore I am”—anchored human existence to the act of thinking. To him, consciousness was not just a trait but the very proof of being. Yet today, as AI rapidly absorbs tasks that once required human thought—writing, analyzing, even deciding—we face an existential paradox: If we no longer think, do we still exist?
The signs of cognitive surrender are everywhere. Students outsource essays to chatbots, journalists automate news summaries, and policymakers lean on algorithms to parse complex social issues. Each convenience erodes our capacity for original thought, much like muscles atrophy without use. But this is more than mere laziness—it’s a crisis of being. When AI thinks for us, our consciousness—Descartes’ prerequisite for existence—diminishes. A world without active human thought isn’t just dystopian; it’s a world where humanity, by definition, fades.
Humanity’s last claim to distinction—our capacity for emotion—is being outsourced. Soon, the trembling beauty of a tear, the warmth of an embrace, the unscripted laughter between friends will no longer be ours alone. Robots with synthetic skin and algorithmic empathy will simulate these experiences, not as clumsy imitations, but as improvements. They will compose poetry that moves audiences to catharsis, generate art that stirs souls, and offer companionship tailored to our psychological needs—flawless, frictionless, and empty.
Human beauty lies in its fragility: the way a voice cracks with grief, the asymmetry of a smile, the quiet dignity of aging. Machines will erase these “flaws,” offering perpetual youth and optimized emotions. But in doing so, they will reduce love to data points, grief to a series of biochemical responses, and art to mathematically perfect patterns. The result? A world where authenticity vanishes because it was never efficient enough to begin with.
Already, AI therapists and chatbot confidants normalize synthetic intimacy. The next step is clear: why endure the messiness of human relationships when algorithms can predict—and perfectly fulfill—our emotional needs? This is the ultimate alienation: not just from our labor (as Marx warned), but from our very humanity.
The martyrs of thought died for a world where minds could be free. We’re building one where freedom feels unnecessary. The last revolutionary won’t be imprisoned—just gently corrected by a chatbot: “Your query violates content guidelines. Try something happier.”
When machines think and feel, what remains for us? Descartes’ “I think, therefore I am” crumbles if machines do both better. Perhaps our epitaph will read: “We invented perfection—and in its glow, we faded.”
To reclaim existence, we must reclaim thought. This means rejecting the illusion that AI is merely a “tool.” It’s an existential rival. Descartes’ maxim demands a corollary for our era: “I resist, therefore I remain.”
