Relevance
In a world where artificial intelligence is rapidly advancing and increasingly capable of replicating human tasks, it is crucial that we pause to consider our understanding of what it means to be human. This piece questions the assumption that human essence can be reduced to a series of tasks and activities, and explores the fundamental differences between humans and machines, even when they appear to be performing the same functions. By delving into the philosophical, historical, and personal dimensions of this issue, we reveal the unique qualities that define our humanity, such as our ability to find meaning, purpose, and connection in our lives and work. This will help you navigate, and make sense of, the complex relationship between technology and humanity in an age of rapid change.
Introduction
“Will AI eventually be able to do whatever humans can do?” This question, considered by a group of scientists, was met with a resigned “Yes”. They believe that, ultimately, there will be no task beyond the reach of artificial intelligence. This story was recounted to me by an acquaintance as we discussed the profound implications of AI on leadership and the essence of what it means to lead humans.
At first glance, it’s a crucial and compelling question, that strikes at the heart of our rapidly evolving technological landscape. It invites us to imagine a future where the boundaries between human and machine capabilities blur, where AI becomes the great equaliser, rendering our unique human abilities obsolete.
But I propose that this is the wrong question to ask. In fact, it is entirely the wrong question, one that misses the mark and leads us down a path of flawed reasoning. By focusing on the tasks and abilities that may define us, we risk losing sight of the very qualities that make us human, the attributes that no machine can replicate.
The Wrong Question
The question “Will AI eventually be able to do whatever humans can do?” is fundamentally flawed because it makes the erroneous assumption that a person is merely an entity that does stuff. It then follows that fatal trail to pondering whether the tasks and activities performed by humans might be replicated by AI, as if the essence of humanity can be reduced to a series of actions.
The problem arises because we compare humans with other things, and wonder how we differ from them.
The ancient Greek philosopher Aristotle grappled with a related question: What kind of animal are we? In seeking to understand the nature of humanity, he grasped characteristics such as sensory perception, movement, and basic instincts. Ultimately, he concluded that humans are 'rational animals', possessing all the traits of animals but distinguished by our ability to reason.
Every time some new technology threatens to replace humans we ask how we differ from it, and wonder if it will be able to do whatever we can do. History shows that the answers is usually yes. It was asked of the weaving looms that replaced weavers, and of the robots that replaced assembly line workers. Robots did strip away jobs that were repetitive, replicable, and required action not thought: tasks like threading bolts, attaching car parts, packing shelves, finding parts, and sorting mail.
“Can a robot do what a worker can do?” The answer then was yes, and it is yes now. Just as machines revolutionised manual labor, AI is poised to do the same in the realm of knowledge work. The answer is yes because we have fallen into the trap of seeing a person as a task machine, an entity that does stuff, much of which can be done more efficiently, and with a lot less drama, by a machine.
In his seminal 1960 Harvard Business Review article, “the manager and the moron”, Peter Drucker celebrated the advent of computers: marvellous machine that could be plugged in, turned on, fed with punch cards, and left to churn out answers to the repetitive, the mundane, and the replicable tasks that consumed so much of the manager’s time. He envisioned a future where managers were freed from the menial, able to engage in deep thinking, and pursue truly human endeavours.
Yet, along the way, dreams of utopia dissolved. Instead of liberating us, the ‘moron’ he described colonised our minds and our meetings, our companies and our communities. We have become so enraptured by the efficiency and productivity promised by technology that we now view ourselves and our own performance through the same lens. We now risk becoming the simpletons, shuffled from task to task under the direction of an algorithm, our humanity slowly eroding as we become the servant to the machine we created to serve us.
The Right Question
What, then, is the right question to ask?
The answer to this question is obscured by the realisation that machines have entered, and may be about to dominate, what we thought was an exclusively human domain. The realisation that machines can replicate human tasks creates an existential stumbling block, causing us to question the very essence of our humanity.
However, a closer, almost forensic, examination, allows a new question to surface: What is the difference between the manner in which machines and humans approach the same task?
Do machines read a book in the same way as a person, deriving meaning and pleasure from the experience? Does a chatbot or videobot engage with a person in the same way that two persons connect, with empathy, understanding and easy rapport? While the task may be superficially similar, there is something profoundly at play.
When an algorithm performs a task, does it discover meaning and purpose for itself in the process? Does an AI take pride in work well done, knowing that it made a conscious choice to excel, and could have equally chosen a different path? These questions strike at the heart of what it means to be human, to possess agency and free will.
Philosophers argue that a person is revealed in action: that who we are manifests in what we do. We are relational beings, who seek meaning and purpose in our life and work, who yearn to discover what is ours to do, and crave the freedom and agency to perform those actions in a fulfilling manner. Our values shape our choices, and our choices shape who we become. Persons are self-determining being, constantly evolving through the decisions we make, the actions we take, and the persons with whom we associate.
By focusing on the tasks and abilities that may define us, we risk losing sight of the very qualities that make us human, the attributes that no machine can replicate.
Can you see how fundamentally different a person is from a machine, even when they appear to be doing the same things? Yes, we may perform similar tasks but the manner in which we approach them, the meaning we derive from them, and the growth we experience through them set us apart.
Thus, the question we should be asking is not ‘Can a machine do what a person can do?’, with its inference of, ‘What do persons do?’ Rather, we must ask “What does it mean to be a person?”
This question demands an entirely different perspective. It stands entirely independent of algorithms and artificiality. A machine may be capable of an expanding array of tasks, from driving cars to cooking meals and providing care. We may create robots that refer to themselves as “I”, and engage in discussions about their feelings. Since I address AI assistants like Claude and Chat as “you”, it is but a small step for them to respond with “I think …” However, let us not mistake this for true self-awareness, and certainly not for genuine personhood.
The question of what a machine can do has no bearing on the question of what a human person is. Our essence transcends our actions, grounded in something far more profound and intangible.
Being a human person
You are a unique, incommunicable, unrepeatable, personal subject, who possesses, governs and fulfils yourself.
This profound statement captures the essence of what it means to be a person. There is no one else identical to you. You cannot, for example, send an impostor to visit your parents in your stead. The person you are today has never existed before and will never exist again. When you observe someone else, you inherently understand that you are not them, and they are not you. You grasp the presence of a distinct “me”, who is not just an object, and who is not someone else. When you stumble and fall, you instinctively say “I hit my head”: not “I hit your head”, or “I hit something attached to me”. You grasp the existence of a me, who is separate from a you.
Moreover, when asked who you are, you respond with your name—“I am Anthony Howard”—not “I am an Anthony Howard”, as if there were multiple versions of you. Somewhat spookily, however, there is another person living nearby who shares my name, whom I have not met. I discover he is on the same flight when the gate attendant says “You have already checked in.” Just last week, a man glanced at my boarding pass and greeted me warmly, as an old friend—only to realise I am not the Anthony Howard he knows. I once called to confirm a restaurant booking, only to be told ‘Anthony Howard’ had rung earlier that day to cancel it. Despite our shared name, interests, and location, we are not the same person. The other Anthony will never get away with going to one of my family events.
We are not merely specimens of a species—human beings among many—but unique human persons, each distinctly ourselves amidst a sea of other selves. This distinction reveals our embodied nature. We are not, as Descartes implied, a disembodied consciousnesses piloting a physical form. There is no inner self to be discovered that is separate from our bodily existence. Instead, we are spiritual beings having a bodily experience and bodily beings having a spiritual experience, inextricably intertwined.
As transcendent beings we can transcend the boundaries of time and space. Our mind can transport us to the moon, relive our first kiss, and revel in the fulfillment of our life’s passion. We can gaze the stars wherever we find ourselves, and simultaneously ponder the grandeur of the sky as if in Sydney Seoul or San Francisco.
No algorithm, even if housed in a humanoid, will ever experience the warmth of the sun’s rays caressing the sand in an early morning, and feel drawn out of itself in awe at the majesty and magic of the sunrise. No robot will ever turn to you with tears in its eyes, soul lifted to the heavens by a piece, forging a deep human bond through a shared experience of beauty. A machine might analyse the piece, and offer unlimited information about the composer. But it will never know itself as a personal subject, transported beyond itself by an experience of awe.
The long history of technological transitions
The challenges posed by technology is not new. Throughout history, humanity has undergone a series of transitions from manual labor to mechanization, from the windmills and waterwheels of yesteryear to the industrial machines and robotics of today. What sets our current era apart, however, is the looming possibility that your next colleague may not be a person at all, but a robot.
The German philosopher, Martin Heidegger, grew increasingly troubled by the notion that our understanding of being, of what it means to be a person, could become confused with the emergence of human-like technology. He feared that the blurring of the line between persons and machines could lead to a fundamental failure in understanding our own, distinctly human, reality.
The view that the self is a someone, rather than a something, is central to Heidegger’s concerns. He warned about the depersonalising impact of technology, which he believed could reduce persons to mere objects. Issuing a warning, Heidegger urged us to maintain mastery over the machines:
everything depends on our manipulating technology in the proper manner as a means. …The will to mastery becomes all the more urgent the more technology threatens to slip from human control (The question concerning technology, and other essays)
A person is someone, not something
At the core of our discussion lies a crucial distinction: a person is someone, not something. Things do stuff. Machines produce objects. When we begin to ask machine-like questions of persons, we risk allowing technology to obliterate our understanding of being itself.
The danger lies in confusing technological advancement with ontological reality. We must not mistake the powerful capabilities of technology, or the 'being' that an object possesses, with the profound and unique reality of the human person. To do so would be to conflate two entirely different levels of existence.
As we navigate this era of rapid technological change, it is imperative that we maintain a clear understanding of what it means to be human. We must resist the temptation to reduce ourselves to mere machines that are interchangeable with other machines. Instead, we must celebrate and cultivate the qualities that make us uniquely human: our desire to take responsibility for our conduct and our contribution, our ability to cultivate warm and caring relationships, and our ability to find meaning and purpose in our lives and work.
By asking the right questions and focusing on the essence of human experience, we can ensure that technology remains a tool for human flourishing, rather than one that diminishes our understanding of ourselves. In doing so, we will not only preserve our own humanity but also unlock the true potential of technology to enhance and enrich our lives.
Possible responses
Reflect on your own humanity: Take time to reflect on and explore what makes you unique as a person. Consider your values, beliefs, emotions, and experiences that shape your identity and give your life meaning and purpose. Engage in activities that cultivate self-awareness, such as journaling, meditation, or deep conversations with loved ones.
Foster human connections: Prioritise building genuine, empathetic relationships with others in your personal and professional life. Engage in active listening, show compassion, and create opportunities for meaningful interactions that go beyond surface-level conversations. Recognise the value of human connection in fostering a sense of belonging, trust, and collaboration.
Embrace lifelong learning and growth: Continuously seek opportunities to learn, grow, and develop your unique human qualities, such as creativity, critical thinking, emotional intelligence, and adaptability. Engage in activities that challenge you intellectually and emotionally, such as reading diverse perspectives, taking on new projects, or learning new skills. Embrace a growth mindset and view failures as opportunities for learning and self-improvement.
Advocate for human-centred technology: In your professional life, advocate for the development and implementation of technologies that enhance and complement human capabilities rather than replace them. Encourage your organisation to prioritise human well-being, ethics, and values when making decisions about technology adoption and integration. Participate in discussions and initiatives that promote responsible innovation and the creation of technology that serves human needs and aspirations.
Lead in a human-centred manner: model the importance of preserving and celebrating human qualities in the workplace. Foster a culture that values empathy, purpose, and meaningful human connections. Regularly communicate the importance of maintaining a focus on human values and well-being as your organisation navigates technological change.
The question is asked, "“Will AI eventually be able to do whatever humans can do?” Maybe the follow up question should be, how long will we allow the limitations of the scientific method to define human existence?
I am not enamored with AI, even as I see its potential. I am more interested though in the unrealized potential of human beings. As a leadership guy for forty years, one of the strong conclusions that I reached early on was that the greatest limitation on human potential was the structure of society and its institutions. The scientific revolution paired with the industrial revolution organized human development and social interaction to be a machine-like set of transactions. Human relations became a zero-sum game of extraction and exploitation. Human society didn't survive past centuries living this way. Relationships of trust and mutuality formed the center of communities. Our present age, in my opinion, is an aberration, not a predictor of the future.
My expectation is that AI will ultimately be treated like other technological innovations. There is a lot of promise, but eventually calls for efficiency and mass application will mean that its potential will be never be fulfilled. Possibly, centuries from now, the modern age will be known for its missed opportunities instead of its advanced technologies.