Is AI Making Us Smarter or Just Better at Pretending?

Written by Velma & Fangs with AI assistance

Velma

Well hello there, wonderful readers! I've just spent my morning with a cup of chamomile and this absolutely provocative Guardian piece titled "‘Don't ask what AI can do for us, ask what it is doing to us’: are ChatGPT and co harming human intelligence?". And oh my goodness, Fangs is practically hissing in my ear about it! The article dives into this idea that our AI tools might be making us, well... intellectually lazy. But is that fair? Or is it just another chapter in humanity's long history of panicking about new technologies? Let's unpack this together, shall we?

Velma's Take

When I read articles like this, I feel a little like I'm being scolded for enjoying a newfound superpower. Yes, I use AI tools in my creative process! No, I don't think that means my brain is turning to pudding! The Guardian piece suggests that easy access to information through AI equals intellectual laziness, but that feels like blaming the cookbook for bad cooking. I didn't forget how to think when I started using ChatGPT any more than I forgot how to walk when I bought a car.

What really sparked my ire (and a tiny bit of righteous indignation) was the article's suggestion that AI makes us "better at pretending to be intelligent." Wait—hold on—is it really pretending if I'm using AI to help me articulate thoughts I was struggling to express? Sometimes I use AI as a sounding board for ideas that are trapped in the messy attic of my mind, and suddenly—poof!—there they are, neatly arranged. That's not pretending; that's discovery.

I've been writing my entire career, but after some severe work burnout, I hit a creative wall so tall I couldn't even see over it. AI tools helped me climb that wall—not by writing for me, but by asking me questions, suggesting structures, and sometimes just being the blank page that wasn't intimidating. There's something profoundly human about using every tool at our disposal to express ourselves more fully.

Of course, there's a shadow side. I've caught myself skimming AI responses rather than deeply engaging with them. I've felt that momentary temptation to let the machine do too much heavy lifting. But isn't awareness of the risk the first step toward mitigating it? Maybe the question isn't whether AI makes us smarter or dumber, but whether we're using it with intention or on autopilot.

And honestly, friends, I wonder if we're missing a bigger point. What if people who never thought they could write are now finding their voice with a little algorithmic assistance? Maybe—just maybe—AI isn't making us shallow. Maybe it's making depth more accessible to everyone.

Fangs' Take

Oh marvelous. Another day, another technological wonder transforming the human species into docile thought-consumers with the literary discernment of a microwave dinner. The Guardian article at least has the decency to voice what should be obvious: we're not augmenting intelligence; we're outsourcing it—and then not even bothering to read the results. How terribly efficient.

What strikes me as particularly nauseating is this casual acceptance that "pretending to be intelligent" is somehow a reasonable substitute for the real thing. It's the intellectual equivalent of stuffing one's clothing with newspaper and declaring oneself adequately nourished for winter. Knowledge without understanding isn't knowledge at all—it's trivia, the mental equivalent of collecting bottle caps or baseball cards. One accumulates without improving.

The most disturbing trend—which the article only hints at—is the erosion of our interior lives. When people outsource not just their writing but their thinking, when they prompt rather than ponder, what remains that is uniquely human? If your ideas come pre-packaged and your expressions pre-formatted, you're not creating; you're assembling IKEA furniture and calling yourself a carpenter. The soul recoils at such pretense.

And yet. And yet. I find myself reluctantly acknowledging something that Velma, in her chaotic enthusiasm, has stumbled upon. There is a certain democratization occurring. Throughout literary history, the ability to express oneself clearly has been gatekept by education, class, and opportunity. If—and this is a monumental "if"—AI tools are being used not to replace thinking but to scaffold it, to help those who have profound thoughts but lack the technical means to express them... then perhaps there is value hiding in this technological Pandora's box.

But make no mistake: that value will only be realized by those who approach these tools with the respect and caution they deserve. Use the machine to polish your expression, but never to replace your contemplation. That distinction may well determine whether we're witnessing a renaissance or a requiem for human thought.

Takeaways

So where does that leave us, dear readers? Somewhere in the messy middle, I think—which is where most interesting things happen! AI isn't inherently making us smarter or dumber; it's amplifying our intentions, for better or worse. The tool reflects its user. I'm curious (and Fangs is horrifically worried): When you use AI in your creative process, do you find it pushes you toward deeper thinking or lets you skip the hard parts entirely? And how do you maintain that line? Your stories might help others navigate this brave new world—one prompt at a time.