The Decline of Wisdom and the Rise of AI

Commentary

There has long been the view that mirrors the sentiment of World War I French Prime Minister George Clemenceau (1917–1920), when he said that “war is too important to be left to generals”; this is now being interpreted as “war is too important to be left to humans.”

Even the key wars of the past five years—Russia–Ukraine, Gaza–Israel, Israel–Iran, Ethiopia, Sudan, the Congo, and now India and Pakistan again—demonstrate how national conflicts immediately defy the massive computerized (including artificial intelligence, AI) preparations and conduct of these operations.

So is AI on a path to making national conflicts more manageable?

How much have we allowed intuition, wisdom, and a broad experience of the world to be abandoned, forgotten, or lost in our surrender to technology and rigid reliance on doctrine, especially to processes not commanded by the intelligence of wise leadership?

There is no sign that the rejection (even fear) of human wisdom and individual leadership has abated. And yet, by throwing more weight behind automation and AI, we have seen an obvious and countervailing decline in leadership and decision-making skills—a decline of wisdom. If AI is not understood and is feared by many, it pales in comparison to the fear that a great, process-oriented mass has of the even less understood individuality and opacity of wisdom.

Would Britain have prospered had Lord Nelson’s faults been stressed rather than his unrepeatable genius in battle?

Would the Western world have prospered had Alexander the Great’s mercurial leadership been resisted?

Throughout history, the process-driven professions of arms and power have attempted to favor a system that standardizes or facilitates high-functioning and predictable uniformity over one placed in the hands of a quiet yet wise and courageous decision-maker. Not that this decries the improvements in efficiency possible through computerized assistance in spatial comprehension and decision implementation. It is, as always, a matter of balance.

In other words, just because technology advances, must wisdom decline?

War and national leadership have become so complex that overarching strategic vision and courage—wisdom and nobility—have become distrusted, and faith has been placed in AI to ensure that no factor is ignored, because of the computerized oversight of most tactical and strategic aspects. But are we still forgetting the essential lesson of computerized intelligence and analysis: GIGO? Garbage in (equals) garbage out.

What makes us think that a panoramic search of global databases gives access to all the strategic factors?

And what makes us trust a computerized system to comprehend the mediocrity of some sources and the often incorrect conclusions of some of the analyses contained in databases?

We trust the mass of data more than data quality and proximity to reality.

At its core, the question is whether we have forgotten to think for ourselves, build wisdom from experience, curiosity, courage, instinct, and intelligence, and, most importantly, resist short-term crowd thinking (political correctness).

Has the decline in societal wisdom, and in the wisdom of leaders, in the late 20th and early 21st centuries resulted from the rise of AI in its various forms, and other tools of the automation of thinking, production, and communications?

Do we think deeply, introspectively, and widely—in other words, acquire wisdom—only as the result of the pain of the learning process?

Perhaps the pain, or confrontation, of the learning process over years or decades is why wisdom, when acquired, is largely expressed quietly, whereas intelligence alone is often expressed loudly and ignorantly.

Wisdom construes—whether individually or as a characteristic of a social leadership—as dignity and brings about prestige, and therefore influence. In many respects, wisdom is a strategic characteristic of quality; intelligence alone is often merely tactical.

So if we can achieve “artificial intelligence,” can we achieve “artificial wisdom”?

Can we argue that wisdom—the ability to see repeatable patterns in human and natural behavior—can only be achieved through, or achieved in proportion to, the degree of effort and possibly pain involved in the process of testing intelligence over a period of protracted experience?

Can computers feel the necessary pain to acquire wisdom?

Does that reflect the modern common denominator that pain, even the pain of the old-style military basic training, is a bad thing?

To what extent, if any, is wisdom the extrapolation of common sense rather than intelligence?

And can intelligence defer the acquisition of wisdom through its innate characteristic of finding shortcuts to tangible solutions?

Why does materialism and short-term gratification, achieved through transactionalism, stave off deeper levels of introspection or broader levels of problem solving?

These are questions that presuppose that there has, in fact, been a decline in wisdom as a widespread human characteristic in “modern times,” meaning perhaps since the Industrial Revolutions that occurred from around 1790 to 1900, which, in turn, emerged directly from the modern agricultural revolution that began in the early 18th century. In other words, has wisdom been progressively displaced by the rise of wealth and materialism?

How do we achieve a society that is both wealthy and secure, and can also leverage wisdom that has not been procured through ease? In other words, do wealth and ease inevitably lead to a decline in wisdom?

Is this a cyclical pattern through history that causes civilizations and power structures to survive, on average, only for around 250 years before collapse or renewal?

How do we even fully define “wisdom” and its differentiation from intelligence (human and otherwise)? Is intelligence a mere precursor substance that, through the fire of experience, is transformed and alloyed into wisdom? Does all intelligence eventually transmute into wisdom, or at least create wisdom as a byproduct? Is the acquisition of wisdom an accidental process, or can it be achieved deliberately?

Why does it matter? If intelligence alone can bring me success, what need have I of wisdom?

Again, it begs the question of what defines success or victory. Do we even want, or need, to be wise when deep reflection often is merely a reminder of the painful lessons of life? And can the painful lessons of life also create the opposite of wisdom in anger, bitterness, vengeance—the chips on the shoulder that inhibit positive decision-making?

With the evolution of human decision-making and comprehension processes, it is possible to understand the processes and stages by which we attain a mature understanding of life. With the various forms of machine learning, tool-building, and computerization, is it still less possible to determine how we reach various forms of mental appreciation? But we take it for granted that the processes of machine-delivered efficiencies are what they are, and ask no questions.

And if wisdom can see where patterns of human behavior—human history—are leading, is it feasible that artificial intelligence can also learn to see those patterns through a comprehensive review of all available online literature?

Part of the problem is that, even if/when such efficiency in AI is achievable, not all of the depth of human activity is recorded on the databases on which AI depends.

How can AI, for example, take appropriate proportional account of the emotional or psychological aspects of societal development? It can take into account what individuals may have recorded as the emotional or psychological values of a situation. Still, even the recording of such values is subjective and from a narrow focus limited by the number of comparable records of such opinions.

Of course, computerization can automate processes that do not require strategic judgment, but this is not “artificial intelligence.” But we are attempting to use what we call “AI” to imitate logic composition and to make judgments that require knowledge and wisdom, which computer scientists—usually limited to an intellectual field that precludes broad strategic instincts—cannot usually know.

Modern society seems to have taken the view that all that is worth knowing has been defined in online databases. But the written records of all human observations have yet to be computerized, and even then, could these records comprehend anything other than the recorded claims as to the emotional, psychological, and visceral values inherent in human behaviors for each geographical region?

Even with this basis of understanding, it can be said that artificial intelligence is at present far from replacing human wisdom and human judgment. It can help identify and even synthesize historical facts, but it can do little more than aggregate them; the conclusions of its synthesis tend to reflect lowest common denominator thinking rather than incisive insights.

AI, like all other human-evolved tools, can help develop positive outcomes in some areas by creating efficiency in research and understanding, to some degree. Still, if we fail to understand how the evolution of such tools has occurred, then we risk not understanding the human processes that led to the tools.

The result is that modern tools in the sphere of AI have also led to the rapid and pervasive spread of ignorant and self-destructive beliefs and behavior. Mass psychoses, such as those spread by social media or even through ancient methods of communication, are destructive to societies for exactly the reason that the underlying facts and logic of conclusions are not understood and are opaque to questioning.

In the meantime, there is an overpowering sentiment—arrogance and swagger—abroad, which believes that sheer intelligence alone is the driver of success. It shouts down its doubters, defying the important sentiment expressed by French philosopher, poet, and playwright Alfred de Vigny (1797–1863), who remarked, “Silence alone is great; all else is weakness.”

Vigny may not have captured the entire sentiment of wisdom, nor expressed the introspection and solitude that is the hallmark of wisdom and leadership—and often they are not equally present in the same person—but he does capture the necessity for reflection.

Or do we think that humanity has finally created the ultimate tool of evolution: the delegation of decision-making, warfighting, and economics to machines? Despite the evident cyclical (rather than linear) nature of human history, will we never see more collapses in wealth and the tools of growth? No more “dark ages”?

But is there any momentum left to insist upon the rebuilding of a wisdom base? Unless, of course, decline and defeat create such conditions.

Views expressed in this article are the opinions of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of The Epoch Times.