Beyond Optimism and Pessimism: A Philosophical Take on AI’s Future

I rarely come across substantive philosophical discussions about AI, which I find unfortunate because it is a field that urgently needs them. Most technologists are practically-minded and uninterested in highly abstract ideas. So, I appreciated this interview with Jad Tarifi, a former AI engineer at Google and now the founder of his own AI firm in Japan, Integral AI.

The last quarter of the interview is where the discussion becomes philosophical. One of the key philosophical and ethical ideas he expressed was:

I think we cannot guarantee a positive outcome. Nothing in life is guaranteed. The question: can we envision a positive outcome, and can we have a path towards it. ... I believe there’s a path, and the path is about defining the right goals for the AI, having a shared vision for society and reforming the economy.

This is a common position among AI enthusiasts—they pursue AI because they believe a positive outcome is possible. In contrast, thinkers like Yuval Noah Harari argue that such an outcome is impossible. This is a fundamental disagreement that reasoning alone cannot resolve because we do not yet know enough about AI. Not every problem can be solved through logical deduction.

My position aligns with neither side. I have a third position. I think both camps can agree that AI will significantly disrupt our lives. The real question is whether we, as a human society, want or need this disruption itself.

Many Americans worry that AI will take their jobs, while many Japanese hope AI will solve their labor shortage. Either way, our lives will be disrupted. Even if AI-driven creative destruction generates new opportunities, we will still have to learn new skills and confront an ever-increasing level of future uncertainty. Given the accelerating pace of technological evolution, there is a strong possibility that our newly acquired skills will be obsolete by the time we complete our retraining. While technological advancements evolve at an unlimited speed, our ability to learn and adapt has a hard biological limit. Why, then, do we willingly expose ourselves to such enormous stress?

Interestingly, in Japan, the idea of “degrowth” is gaining traction. Many people no longer see the point of endless economic expansion and have begun questioning whether a sustainable economy could exist without growth. Japan, consciously or otherwise, is testing this idea. Many of the crises we face today—climate change, obesity-related illnesses, and resource depletion—are direct results of our relentless pursuit of growth. Some will devise solutions and be hailed as heroes, but we must remember that these crises were largely self-created. We need to ask ourselves what other problems we are generating today in the name of progress.

So, I ask again: do we truly want our lives to be perpetually disrupted by technological advancements that both solve and create problems?

Another question Tarifi’s philosophical position raises is whether we can selectively extract only the “positive” aspects of AI. Consider dynamite: a powerful tool that greatly increased productivity, yet also enabled widespread destruction. Have we succeeded in suppressing its negative uses? No—bombs continue to kill people across the world. Every invention has two sides that we do not get to choose. Expecting to cherry-pick only the good is as naïve as believing one can change a spouse while keeping only the desirable traits. The qualities we love in a person are often inseparable from those we find difficult. The same holds true for technology.

This kind of philosophical cherry-picking extends to concepts like “freedom,” “agency,” and “universal rights.” These are what philosopher Richard Rorty called “final vocabularies,” what Derrida referred to as “transcendental signifieds,” and what Lacan labeled “master signifiers.” They are taken as self-evident truths, assumed to be universal.

Take “freedom.” We cannot endlessly expand it without consequence. In fact, freedom only exists in relation to constraints—rules, responsibilities, and limitations define it. If someone playing chess claimed they wanted more freedom and disregarded the rules, they would render the game meaningless. What would be the point of playing such a game at all?

Similarly, many religious people willingly accept strict moral codes because they provide freedom from existential uncertainty. By following divine rules, they transfer responsibility for their fate onto a higher power. This, too, is a form of freedom—a trade-off, not an absolute good that can be increased indefinitely. We cannot cherry-pick only the enjoyable aspects of freedom without acknowledging its inherent constraints that enable the very freedom.

The same applies to “universal rights.” Any “right” must be enforced to have meaning; without enforcement, it is merely an abstract claim. If rights are to be universal, who guarantees them? In practice, economically wealthier nations decide which rights to enforce, making them far from universal.

To be fair, Tarifi acknowledges this:

I think in history of philosophy, philosophers have been figuring out what a shared vision should be or what objective morality should be. Lots of philosophers have tried to work on that, but that often just led to dictatorships.

The solution, however, is not to dig deeper than past philosophers in search of a perfect “shared vision.” “Freedom,” “agency,” and “universal rights” appear universally shared, but this very perception breeds authoritarianism—those who reject these values seem so irrational or evil that we feel justified in excluding or oppressing them. Some religious individuals, for example, actively seek to relinquish their personal agency to escape moral anxiety.

Digging deeper for an essential, universal value will not resolve this problem. Instead, we must engage in debate—despite Tarifi’s dislike of it—to settle the issues that reason can address. Beyond that, there is no objective way to determine who is right. Ultimately, we will all have to vote, making our best guesses about what kind of world we wish to live in.