How AI Shapes Our Minds—and Limits Our Potential

Artificial intelligence (AI) is everywhere. From speeding up mundane tasks to helping us dive into unfamiliar topics with ease, it’s hard to deny the benefits. In my own work as a software engineer, I’ve embraced AI tools to streamline my workflow and tackle problems faster than ever before. It’s like having a knowledgeable assistant at my fingertips—efficient, accessible, and undeniably convenient. But recently, I’ve started to question whether this reliance is quietly eroding something essential: our ability to think deeply and achieve truly great things.

The good side of AI is clear. It accelerates processes, cutting hours or even days from tasks that once demanded patience and effort. For a person with zero knowledge of a subject, AI offers an easy entry point, breaking down complex ideas into digestible pieces. I’ve experienced this firsthand—AI has helped me onboard quickly into new areas of coding or problem-solving, giving me a head start I wouldn’t have had otherwise. It’s a tool that promises progress, and in many ways, it delivers.

But as the light got brighter, the shadow grew darker. The more I lean on AI, the more I notice its flaws—and my own. Too often, its responses are “mid”—not terrible, but not exceptional either, hovering in the 50-75th percentile of insight. It’s a compilation of what’s already known, not a spark of new discovery. And yet, I find myself accepting these answers without digging deeper. Why? Because it’s easy. Because I don’t have to. Over time, this reliance has made me feel like my own thinking skills are dulling. I ask AI a question, it hands me a solution, and I move on—rarely circling back to build a stronger root of understanding.

This pattern worries me, especially when I reflect on something Paul Graham wrote in his essay “What to Do”: “The most impressive thing humans can do is to think.” Those words hit me hard. If thinking is what sets us apart, what makes us human, then what happens when we outsource it to machines? I’ve caught myself wondering: Have I stopped pushing my mind to its full potential because AI is always there to fill the gaps? And if I—a software engineer surrounded by cutting-edge tools—feel this way, what does it mean for the next generation, who might grow up never knowing a world without AI?

The problem isn’t just personal; it’s societal. In fields like mine, we’re training ourselves to think inside the box AI builds for us. Breaking that pattern is hard because we lack the deep, foundational knowledge to challenge or expand on what AI provides. Great discoveries—those world-changing breakthroughs—don’t come from mid-level answers. They come from humans thinking at the highest end of the spectrum, wrestling with the unknown, and collaborating with others to turn ideas into reality. Knowledge builds on knowledge, layer by layer, but if we’re too reliant on AI’s pre-packaged answers, where will the next layer come from? Even something as human as a heartfelt apology—like one from a K-pop star—now gets churned out by AI, stripping away the authenticity that makes it meaningful.

I’m not saying AI itself is the enemy. It’s a tool, and like any tool, its impact depends on how we use it. Bad programmers can amplify its flaws, churning out shallow solutions that reinforce our laziness. But even with the best AI, the risk remains: if we let it think for us, we’ll never reach beyond what it already knows. To achieve great things—whether it’s a revolutionary software product or a leap in human understanding—we need to do more than lean on machines. We need to think, struggle, and collaborate as humans always have.

So how do we move forward in this AI era? I think it starts with balance. We can use AI to speed things up and ease the learning curve, but we can’t let it replace the hard work of thinking deeply. For me, that means resisting the urge to accept its answers at face value—pushing myself to question, explore, and understand the “why” behind the solutions. If I’d done that more often, could I have made my projects better? Could we, as a society, achieve greater things without AI holding our hands every step of the way?

Imagine a world without AI for a moment. It’d be slower, messier, and more demanding. But it might also force us to tap into what makes us human: our curiosity, our creativity, our ability to think beyond the known. I’m not ready to ditch AI entirely—it’s too useful, and I’m too attached. But I can’t shake the feeling that we’re at a crossroads. Is AI really helping us grow, or is it quietly capping our potential? The answer, I suspect, depends on whether we let it define how we think—or find the courage to think beyond it.