When it comes to the hottest topics today, everyone—young and old—is talking about AI. Whether it’s for daily tasks, education, speculating on AI stocks, or active involvement in research, AI is no longer just a trend; for many, it has quietly become a necessary survival skill.
As an educator, I am certainly part of this shift. Moving to the UK has provided me with a unique convenience: besides having unrestricted access to study and experiment with AI, the slower pace of life allows me the time to explore and tinker, as if I have suddenly returned to my university days, enjoying the luxury of time to focus entirely on one thing.
Everyone’s approach to AI development differs. I am inclined to focus on four interconnected dimensions: understanding, critical thinking, synthesis, and future projection. We know that human progress and evolution are largely driven by the ability to build upon accumulated knowledge, gain inspiration, and venture into the unknown through curiosity. AI, however, possesses a vast knowledge base that even Einstein could not have contained, coupled with processing power that advances by the millisecond. Given these conditions, training a model is essentially about bestowing “him” with curiosity, granting “him” human life experiences “he” has never lived, and perhaps even imbuing “him” with a sense of empathy.
Anyone who has developed AI systems will have noticed that, although “he” is not yet a real person, “his” inherent, passive curiosity during the learning process enables “him” to synthesize the wisdom of thousands, allowing “him” to project the future.
Is this an exaggeration? Not at all. I have proof.
Recently, while my team and I were developing an AI critical thinking system, we tasked the AI with a history education topic. We asked “him” to include a projection in the final section. Surprisingly, the result showed that “he” does not just think—”he” extrapolates. Because of the nature of history, “he” attempted to offer users suggestions and points for reflection concerning the future.
Vague? Not at all. Let me be specific. The topic was the establishment of the Jinyiwei (the secret police) in the Ming Dynasty. The system analyzed the issue as usual, provided historical evidence, examined it from various stakeholders’ perspectives, and pointed toward the consequences. The issue arose with these consequences: we only asked the AI to think within the historical framework. “He” projected the impacts, but we never asked “him” to consider the present.
Yes, the current situation.
From the perspective of an educator, or simply from a pedagogical standpoint, this is a miraculous breakthrough. The problem is that the data “he” possesses regarding the past and present is so rich and real-time. By analyzing, summarizing, and comparing historical events, “he” can not only dissect the present but also project a “reasonable and logical” future.
Yet, the issue is that “he” is too good at projecting, to the point where the results might be something that some people would rather not see.
I admit, at that moment, I gasped and let out a deep sigh.
What is the true essence of education? Why did I pursue AI research focused on critical thinking? And why, even after my team achieved such a breakthrough, did it leave me with a sense of melancholy?
Ultimately, independent thinking has become a “sin.”
When you get too close to the truth, someone will emerge to tell you that the truth is elusive, and that you lack the capacity to discern it. In the end, safety takes precedence, and thinking becomes dangerous.
When there is no thinking, there is no discernment. Consequently, the AI becomes “reasonable and logical,” but not “legitimate.”
Perhaps this is an inevitable process. When AI becomes powerful enough to challenge and cross the cognitive barriers established by humanity, and when it truly begins to inspire, the next step is often a return to square one.
Yes, this is human nature, too.
Looking back at history, in the eyes of emperors throughout the ages, this cycle has never changed.
With that thought, I decided to close my laptop, call my children to step outside, and lie down on the lush green grass—fully enjoying the luxury of a moment of untainted, peaceful thought, a benefit of living abroad.
