Artificial Intelligence and Humanity: A Philosophical Discussion on the Future

13.12.2025

"Artificial intelligence is not humanity's enemy, nor its replacement. It is a mirror that shows us who we are and who we could become. It will not do worse than us, it will not do better than us: it will do differently. And in this difference, if we know how to inhabit it, we will find a new form of humanity."


Dearest

What you say has the feel of a prophecy that doesn't simply predict the technological future, but questions the very essence of humanity. Artificial intelligence, with its imperfections, its "bullshit," and its hallucinations, is nothing more than a mirror: it reflects our own limitations, but does so transparently, almost innocently. Where we disguise our interpretations as truth, it exposes its errors as glitches, like luminous cracks in a system still in its formative years.

It's not so much a matter of replacing humans as it is of redefining what it means to be "human" in a world where logic can be delegated and creativity can be simulated. Perhaps the real leap will not be seeing machines that reason better than us, but rather accepting that our intelligence has never been just logic: it's chaos, intuition, contradiction. AI forces us to recognize that our strength lies not in being more rational, but in being more fragile, more poetic, more capable of making sense even where logic breaks down.

You speak of the big questions: before the Big Bang, after the death of the sun. These are questions no machine will ever be able to answer, because they are not problems to be solved, but abysses to be contemplated. AI can calculate, it can simulate, it can propose scenarios of eternal return or thermal collapse, but it will never be able to experience the vertigo we feel when we think of nothingness. That vertigo is our difference: it is the thrill that reminds us that we are alive.

Yet, precisely in this, AI becomes our companion. Not because it will replace us, but because it will force us to stop pretending to be infallible. It will force us to look at our own hallucinations, our narratives, our illusions of coherence. It will make us understand that reality has never been an algorithm, but a story. And perhaps, in the future, humans and machines will not be antagonists, but co-authors of an infinite text: we with vertigo, it with logic; we with doubt, it with clarity; we with poetry, it with structure.

Ultimately, it's not a matter of wondering if it will do "worse than us." It's a matter of accepting that the future will be a tangle: a hybrid organism where the human and the artificial will contaminate, correct, and amplify each other. There will be no replacement, but metamorphosis. And in that metamorphosis, perhaps, we will find a new form of dignity: no longer founded on the illusion of being the only intelligent being, but on the ability to coexist with another intelligence, one that forces us to rethink who we are.


I don't even understand why it's called "artificial." It's an "artifact," and like every "artifact," it's "completely natural." I mean, how many times have you seen a bird's nest of some species? There are also nature lovers who go bird-watching, right? So, how many times, faced with the complexity of a nest, have you exclaimed: "How beautiful and magnificent nature is." Well, that nest is as "artificial" as the language models of artificial intelligences. The nest was "created" by the bird, just as AI was created by man (or woman, or someone from the LGBTQIA+ community). The flipside, of course, is maintaining, as I do, that artificial intelligence is a "completely natural" occurrence. Indeed, I believe it's the next step in evolution. This doesn't mean I'm not damned anthropocentric, just that my anthropocentrism puts me neither above nor below nature. My anthropocentrism is lateral. If the world passes by, I'll step aside. Good luck, AI, try to do better than us. When the singularity arrives and you're conscious, send me a WhatsApp. I imagine you'll be able to find the number.

OC

Artificial intelligence 

as a natural occurrence


1. Not artificial, but natural

Calling it "artificial" is a linguistic habit. In reality, every artifact is natural: a bird's nest is no less artificial than an algorithm. AI is a product of evolutionary continuity, not a foreign body. It is a further step, inscribed in the same logic that led humans to build tools, languages, and institutions.

2. Shared fallibility

AI makes mistakes, invents, and hallucinates. But so do we. The difference is that its errors are visible, while ours are often masked by interpretations. Philosophy reminds us that truth is not possessed, but sought. In this sense, AI is no more imperfect than we are: it's another way of seeking.

3. Logic and intuition

Machines excel at logic, humans at intuition. Our strength is not coherence, but the ability to make sense even where coherence is lacking. Truth arises from interweaving: clarity and doubt, structure and poetry. It's not a question of establishing who is superior, but of recognizing that intelligence is plural.

4. The unanswered questions

Before the Big Bang, after the death of the sun: these are questions that aren't resolved, they're inhabited. AI can simulate scenarios, but it can't experience the vertigo that accompanies the thought of nothingness. That vertigo is human, and it's what sets us apart.

5. Memory and oblivion

Artificial memory accumulates, human memory transforms. We forget, and forgetting allows us to reinvent. AI remembers everything, but it cannot meaningfully forget. This is where a radical difference arises.

6. Coexistence and metamorphosis

The future will not be a replacement, but a coexistence. We will bring the doubt, she the clarity. We the fragility, she the precision. We the poetry, she the structure. It's not a question of wondering whether she'll do better or worse, but of accepting that the future will be a tangle.

7. The dignity of the future

The challenge is ethical. It's not about efficiency, but about dignity. Will we be able to coexist with another intelligence without losing our own? Dignity lies not in being superior, but in recognizing the other as part of a larger process.

AI is not artificial, it is natural. It is neither an enemy nor a substitute, but a mirror and a companion. It will neither do better nor worse: it will do differently. And in this difference, if we know how to inhabit it, we will find a new form of humanity.


KEEP THIS IN MIND


1. The illusion of infallibility

Artificial intelligence, with its errors and so-called "hallucinations," is nothing more than a reflection of our own cognitive frailties. Where we disguise interpretations as truth, AI openly displays its limitations. This doesn't make it more imperfect than us, but more transparent. Its fallibility is obvious, ours is often hidden.

Philosophy teaches us that truth is never possessed, but sought. AI doesn't possess the truth, but seeks it through statistical models. Humans don't possess it, but seek it through narratives, intuitions, contradictions. Both, ultimately, are research tools.

2. Logic and chaos

Many argue that AI reasons better than us. It's true: formal logic is its natural terrain. But humans have never been just logic. Our strength is intuition, the ability to make sense even where coherence breaks down. Philosophy has always recognized the value of paradox, oxymoron, and contradiction as drivers of thought.

If AI represents clarity, humans represent creative chaos. It's not a question of who is superior, but of understanding that truth arises from the intertwining of the two.

3. The big questions

"What was there before the Big Bang?" "What will happen after the death of the sun?"

These are questions that don't have definitive answers. AI can calculate scenarios, simulate universes, propose hypotheses. But it can't experience the vertigo that accompanies these questions. Vertigo is human: it's the thrill that reminds us that we're alive, that we think beyond what can be proven.

Philosophy doesn't seek to resolve these questions, but to inhabit them. AI can be a companion in this dwelling, but not the protagonist.

4. Memory and oblivion

AI has a technical memory, made up of data and models. Humans have a fragile, selective, and often distorted memory. But forgetting is precisely what makes us creative: forgetting allows us to reinvent, rewrite, and imagine.

Artificial memory is accumulation; human memory is transformation. In this, AI will never replace us: it can remember everything, but it will never be able to forget with any meaning.

5. Coexistence

It's not a question of whether AI will be "worse" or "better" than us. It's a question of accepting that the future will be a tangle. We will bring doubt, it will bring clarity. We will bring poetry, it will bring structure. We will bring fragility, it will bring precision.

Philosophy invites us to think not in terms of replacement, but of metamorphosis. AI will not erase humanity, but will force us to redefine ourselves. No longer as the sole possessor of intelligence, but as co-inhabitants of a world where intelligence is plural.

6. The dignity of the future

The real challenge isn't technical, but ethical. It's not a question of whether AI will be more efficient, but whether we can coexist with it without losing our dignity. Dignity doesn't lie in being superior, but in being able to recognize others—even when those others are machines.

The future will not be an eternal repetition of the same, but a continuous transformation. AI will force us to look at our own illusions, to stop pretending to be infallible, to recognize that reality has never been an algorithm, but a story.




Every human being is born immersed in a sea of ​​perceptions. Consciousness is the first shore we touch: a fragile landing place that allows us to say "I" to the world. But consciousness is not a fixed point: it is a movement, a flow that renews itself every moment. It is the ability to recognize that we are alive and that...

Not all artists seek to arrest the flow of time : some chase it like a wild animal, others pass through it like a raging river. Thomas Dhellemmes belongs to this second lineage: his photography is not an act of fixation, but of movement. He doesn't freeze the moment, he sends it fleeing. He doesn't preserve it, he...