Certain milestone events possess a unique ability to embed themselves in our brains, never to be forgotten. National tragedies or triumphs often fit this bill, but the most recent event of this kind for me was the advent of mainstream artificial intelligence (AI) in November 2022, during my fifth-period high school physics class. At the time, it seemed like this was the beginning of the 21st-century technological revolution that was promised by sci-fi media from the late 1900s. Almost four years later, I’ve come to realize that AI is more of a mirror than a revolution, and that it uniquely reflects our anthropocentric tendencies, environmental apathy and self-obsession.
For those that are unfamiliar, anthropocentrism is defined by Britannica as a system of belief that regards humans as separate from and superior to nature, and as possessing inherent value in contrast to plants, animals, mineral resources and more, whose inferiority permits their exploitation for the benefit of mankind.
One can imagine the way in which this ideology has invaded almost every aspect of daily life, but on the most basic level, the way in which humanity has allowed greed to bring about the impending collapse of ecosystems finds its roots in anthropocentric thinking.
After all, if a human needs to buy petroleum-derived clothing made in sweatshops while driving around in gas-powered motor vehicles, then the rest of the planet just ought to prepare for unsustainable temperatures, heavy metals leaching into the soil, mass extinction and general ecological catastrophe.
It’s not like someone would regularly declare themselves an anthropocentrist, and we’re extremely unlikely to encounter the term in daily life, but that does nothing to change the way in which anthropocentric ideals have become so indelible in modern society.
At present, AI represents a new and alarmingly ubiquitous iteration of anthropocentrism’s unchecked expansion and serves as evidence of our misplaced priorities.
While many consider AI an inherently anti-human construction (an unethical data-scraping computer program), I invite you to consider the uproar and acclaim that have surrounded AI since its introduction in the media in the mid-20th century, all the way to its mass debut almost four years ago.
Its primary function is to pose as a stand-in for rational human thought and cognitive processes. After all, while animals can be described as possessing degrees of intelligence, nobody really cares about making a realistic reproduction of the intellectual pathways of a dog.
In true anthropocentric fashion, and in a stunning display of ego, scientists have determined that the single most revolutionary feat of the past 50 years has been a shoddy mock-up of human intelligence, because what could be greater than the human brain?
The connection doesn’t end here, however. Remember the ecological destruction that anthropocentrism justifies? AI stands poised to elevate that destruction to new heights; its development and operation require massive quantities of water that it renders temporarily unusable, despite global water shortages.
While AI may be on the verge of making job-seeking even worse than it already is, that doesn’t change the fact AI is more alike to humans than many would even care to admit.
This disregard for non-human impact isn’t exactly a secret, nor is it new. In fact, many people have taken the opportunity to critique the environmental ramifications of AI usage in recent years. However, they and other critics often choose to combat the AI craze by separating it from humanity and painting it as some kind of nebulous villain out to steal jobs. While AI may be on the verge of making job-seeking even worse than it already is, that doesn’t change the fact AI is more alike to humans than many would even care to admit. By acknowledging that, we can gain insight into the misplaced priorities of corporations and legislatures.
AI reflects the way that humanity can allow logical calculus to overpower moral instincts. It reflects the way that ego and self-importance allow us to neglect the melting glaciers and dying rainforests. On our phone screens, we watch anything from human beings getting shot in the head by federal agents to witnessing organized starvation for the sake of building luxury resorts, reflecting humankind’s capacity for apathy. This is not to say that humans are devoid of empathy, but rather, to highlight how systems built on efficiency and increasing profits often relegate moral judgments to be left by the wayside.
Recently, in my philosophical ethics course, my professor presented the class with the following thought experiment: If you were a disembodied soul who had to choose between living the life of a human or that of an oyster, what would you prefer?
Although some of the devil’s advocates in the class claimed they would prefer the simple nothingness of existence as an oyster, the majority of the class reached a consensus that human life would be preferable, regardless of the particular events. Most importantly, my peers and I all gravitated toward the same justification of a preference for human life, and it had nothing to do with our brain’s capacity to predict words accurately in sequence like large language models do and everything to do with our ability to feel the full spectrum of emotion and to have meaningful relationships with the world around us.
In that moment, I received a valuable reminder: For the most part, people know what matters, but for some reason continue to pour resources into technology that represents the opposite of that.
Yes, it is impressive that AI can construct intelligible sentences that sound like a human, even potentially mimicking our own thought or speech patterns, but it is also alarming to realize the kinds of accomplishments that are hailed as especially relevant to the progress of our species.
Instead of continuing in our anthropocentric ego trip and telling ourselves how important we all are by pouring hundreds of billions of dollars into something that serves corporate interests at the expense of the individual, we should be prioritizing meaningful developments that better the lives of the majority. When 55 million people are currently experiencing drought and as many as 700 million are estimated to be at risk of displacement due to water scarcity by 2030, logic would suggest that a water-guzzling technology that possesses no intrinsic value to the individual would not be the highest priority, but the astronomical profits that stand to be gained motivate those in power to turn a blind eye.
In sum, it is easy to criticize AI as something alien, robotic and environmentally destructive, but harder to admit that AI was a success in its goal to simulate humanity, devoid of empathy or nuance. AI is complicit in draining our planet of limited resources, but so are we, and the situation will only continue to worsen if we continue to act like a simulacrum of ourselves is our greatest accomplishment instead of an amplified reflection of our own failings.
