Thinking in the Age of Artificial Intelligence
This morning, I read an essay titled “Writes and Write-Nots.”1 Immediately after finishing it, I lit a cigar and reflected for some time.
Paul Graham always does that to me.
I started thinking about how AI is already trespassing on every corner of my life. It helped me create my new 30-minute daily strength routine, edit and polish my essays, and assist me at work, analyzing Google Analytics to improve my marketing team’s SEO activities. It even helped me find good restaurants in London when I was there during the Christmas holidays.
Best of all, it has become a brainstorming partner. I’ve finally found something or someone with whom I can mentally spar every day.
Had AI taken over my life without me knowing it? Was it quietly reshaping how I think, feel, and exist in the world?
AI is undeniably altering the landscape of work, creativity, and thought. Writing, for example, is undergoing a profound transformation. Jobs that rely on the written word—crafting emails, professional letters, CVs, legal briefs, or even medical documentation—are increasingly within AI’s reach.
For many, this feels like a loss.
As Leslie Lamport once said, “If you’re thinking without writing, you only think you’re thinking.”
So, could AI think and write on our behalf? I don’t think so, or I don’t understand how it could do so.
AI can be both a teacher and a research assistant, serving as a catalyst. It prompts me to explore new perspectives and provides tools to articulate them better.
But the origin of my ideas, the spark of insight—that is deeply personal and unreplicable by machines.
This idea echoes Graham’s brilliant metaphor about strength. In pre-industrial times, most people’s jobs made them physically strong. If you want to be strong today, you go to the gym. Strength is no longer a byproduct of daily life; it’s a choice.
The same will be true of intellectual and creative pursuits in the age of AI. Thinking, writing, and creating will remain possible—even essential—but only for those who actively choose to engage in them.
For me, AI is a partner, not a replacement. It brainstorms with me, sharpens my thoughts, and polishes my words. But it does not think for me.
My thoughts are shaped by my experiences, memories, and emotional landscape. AI lacks these foundational elements. It can simulate empathy or mimic human creativity but cannot truly feel or imagine.
The joy of discovery, the weight of doubt, the beauty of serendipity—these are uniquely human experiences.
And yet, there’s a warning here. The more we rely on AI, the easier it becomes to outsource not just labour but thought itself. It’s tempting to let the machine do the heavy lifting, accept its suggestions uncritically, and lose the discipline of wrestling with difficult questions.
But that’s a choice, not a fate we’re doomed to. Just as I choose to write to clarify my thinking, I must choose to think deeply in the first place.
AI does not define me. The essence of who I am—the way I think, feel, and exist in the world—remains firmly rooted in my humanity. AI is a powerful tool, but it is just that: a tool.
As Paul Graham suggests, the challenge is to use it wisely, to allow it to enhance rather than diminish our intellectual and creative lives.
Ultimately, I trust my reflections, feelings, and sense of being, which all contribute to my essence.
That essence lies in my choice to engage, wrestle with ideas, and create meaning. As long as I make that choice, I remain fully, unapologetically human.
Then again, I might regret writing this essay a few years (or months) down the road.
Link to Paul Graham's Essay