We’re entering an age where machines do our thinking before we’ve even had a chance to try.
I came across a study recently: students using ChatGPT to write their essays were scoring low in originality and depth when they later attempted the work themselves. It’s no surprise. If you don’t train the muscle, the muscle atrophies.
We are raising a generation of creators who’ve never learned how to create. People who can submit essays without knowing how to write. Present business plans without ever grappling with strategic thought. Publish content without understanding how to move hearts with words.
In our obsession with output, we are forgetting the value of the process. And the process is where the growth happens.
Before Google lived in our pockets, we had to remember things. We had to recall them from our own minds, sort through them, connect them, and express them in our own way. The effort itself sharpened us.
Now? We search, we copy, we paste, and we never wrestle with the idea.
I’m not anti-AI. I use it. It’s incredible. But I’m noticing something: the more we outsource our thinking, the less capable we become at many forms of thinking. The tools are evolving faster than we are, and in our chase for productivity, we are risking our own decline.
Imagine a world where you no longer need to remember names, where glasses beam answers into your eyes before your brain can form the question. That world is closer than we think. But what happens when we no longer use our own intellect?
We become operationally efficient... and fundamentally empty.
There’s a simple truth in business: when you’re starting out, do everything yourself. Understand marketing before you hire a marketer. Do your books before you hire an accountant. Sell your product before you bring on a salesperson. Not because you’ll do it best, but because you need to know what good looks like.
It should be the same with AI.
Write before you prompt.
Think before you automate.
Research before you outsource curiosity.
These tools are powerful. But if we rely on them before we learn the craft ourselves, we won’t know when they’re wrong. Or worse… we won’t care.
Progress isn’t just about speeding things up. Sometimes, it’s about slowing down enough to actually learn.
What do you think?