AI, Identity, and Education

Another reflection on AI from my perspective as an educator

One of the most important things that seems to characterize us as human beings is that we seem to be obsessed with identifying the most important thing that characterizes us as human beings. We seem, at least in the last few centuries, to be not entirely sure of who we are.

This search for our identity is probably most visible in our relatively recent fumbling about for a way to identify what our species should be named. Homo sapiens is the formal name that Carl Linnaeus proposed and that scientists have largely agreed upon: the "thinking" hominid, or "thinking man". But, given the apparent ability for some level of thought in other animals, the term has some obvious limitations, so a number of other monikers have been proposed. Homo ludens is one of my favourites—"playing man"—as is homo loquens—"talking man"—both of which were fairly early alternatives suggested in what has now become a rather long list of "definitive" characteristics that make us, as human beings, unique.

But what happens when that which uniquely identifies you as you turns out to be... not so unique? We've already alluded to this problem as we identify some level of thought amongst the animals, but what happens when it's not only not unique, but you turn out not even to be the "best" at thinking? or playing? or talking? or whatever it is that makes us essentially human?

This is the situation we find ourselves in, right now, with the rise of AI, and one of the main reasons why so many of us find AI so threatening. We've been here before, actually, at least as far as homo ludens goes, when Deep Blue beat chess champion Gary Kasparov, or, worse yet, when Alpha Go started beating some of the best Go-players on the planet (given that Go was a game at which many thought that computers would never be able to outplay us). But the technological advancement of AI has marched on, and we now find ourselves not only out-played, but often out-languaged, and, if we believe the AI "superintelligence" researchers, we will inevitably find ourselves out-thought by AI as well. What happens to us when we are no longer the best at any of the things that we've so long identified as that which makes us uniquely and essentially human?

And, more immediately and more practically, in the field of education, what happens when students actually get their long-standing wish that the computer actually is able to do their homework?

Education as a system has long been a bit of a game, and now we find ourselves in a situation where the game is broken. (Well, really obviously broken - I would argue that it’s been not-so-obviously broken for a long time now.)

Let me spin an image which I think encapsulates a lot of the situation: a young child climbs a tall tree for the first time, and, looking down, feels empowered and delighted by their new perspective. Looking up, the child's teacher sees the danger that the child is in, and is naturally concerned for the child, for the other children in the playground, and for themselves... What will happen to the teacher if some harm comes to the child and the child's parents see the teacher as responsible because they haven't done their job properly?

AI's slightly disturbing best shot at capturing my image… Is it perhaps not coincidental that what it gets most wrong is the eyes?

AI has reached the point where it is delightfully powerful, and teachers rightly see the dangers it poses to the child's learning and to our long-established system of teaching. As professionals working within this long-established system, the fear that this disruption engenders is real and important—What if we are unable to adapt the system in time? What will the new system look like? Will there even be a place in the new system for me as a teacher?—but it's not the most important. The most important is, of course, the "safety", the education of the children entrusted to us, and, on a larger level, our collective future and identity as the human race.

Because education is not merely tangential here. It is foundational to our future and to our collective identity. It is the future and the identity of the whole human race (or at least our whole Western-education-based society) that is at stake here, that is simultaneously challenged and empowered and threatened by AI.

So, we've come full circle—or almost full-circle, since we haven't yet gone back to the beginning. Because none of this is new. There is nothing new under the sun.

In the Biblical account of the origin of the human race, immediately after our fall from grace, as we find ourselves struggling to find our place in the world and our identity, the first story we have is that of a brotherly rivalry, of envy and of murder. And then the murderer and his descendants discover technology. It is to Cain and his descendants that the inventions of cities and animal husbandry and bronze and iron metal-working and even music are attributed. But this technological prowess does not seem to have brought them fulfillment or happiness or satisfaction in their identity. The last story in the line of Cain's descendants is that of a man named Lamech who tells his two wives that "I have killed a man for wounding me, even a young man for hurting me. If Cain shall be avenged sevenfold, then Lamech seventy-sevenfold."

But that's not the end of the story. There is, in fact, a huge "meanwhile", for the Biblical narrative then returns to Adam and Eve and says that they had another son, Seth, who himself had a son and that "then men began to call on the name of the Lord."

Technology is amazing, empowering, and enthralling—but there is more to life and to humanity than technology, just as there is more to education than the mere acquisition of knowledge. There is more to our essential identity as human beings than the ability to think. There is, as we have long known, a more ineffable, a spiritual quality to human life. It is perhaps best expressed in yet another alternative binomial for our species which Shmemann mentions in For the Life of the World: homo adorans... "worshipping man".

"Brilliant" as computers may be becoming, through AI, they still lack the single most important component that makes us human: understanding, wisdom, the ability to connect with God through worship. And in this we also suddenly see that our obsession with being the best in whatever characteristic truly defines us is also misleading, because we’re clearly not the best at worship (one assumes that honour would go to the angelic host), but God loves us anyway. Our identity, just like our very existence from the beginning, turns out to be rooted and grounded in His love.

And to the students who can now get the computer to do their homework, I say: Don't give up your humanity. Work within the system. And without it. Play the game to learn. Adopt and apply the new tools when appropriate, as we've always done, learning when and where they best fit. Help us navigate the new reality of not necessarily being the best "thinkers" in the world - just the most truly human ones. Discover the joy of becoming who you were made to be.