Why We Fear AI More Than Our Own Imperfections

Ah, the sweet irony of our collective distrust in AI. Every other day, someone passionately tells me, “You just can’t trust ChatGPT!” And the punchline? It all needs to be “double-checked”—by us, the infallible humans who, naturally, never make mistakes.

But here’s the kicker (and yes, I know you hate that phrase!): we cling to the idea that humans are the ultimate source of truth. Have we forgotten how biased, mistaken, and utterly clueless we can be at times? The history of human error is rich and well-documented, yet when it comes to AI, we proudly believe only humans can validate information—as if our judgment is the epitome of perfection.

The Verification Paradox

So, I asked her, “Where exactly do I check what ChatGPT tells me? Should I run to an encyclopedia? Google?” And then it hit me—the irony. ChatGPT doesn’t rely on just one source; it synthesizes knowledge from thousands, drawing from the very same sources we've depended on for years. But, of course, I should trust Google more, right? Except, who checks Google? And who checks those who check Google? You see where I’m going with this—an endless loop of self-verification.

Let’s face it: we’re just doubting AI because it’s new, not because it's any less reliable. In fact, it might be more reliable—faster, more comprehensive. But no, we’re humans. We need to "double-check," as if that's been foolproof all along.

The Digital Native Delusion

Then we jumped to education. "Teachers often complain that so-called digital natives aren’t that “digital” after all.", she said. "They say the kids don’t know how to use the tools."

But what teachers really mean is this: youngsters are using those tools differently. They’re not playing by the old rules. They’re creating a new universe, not just operating within the confines of the old one. The kids aren’t confused about digital tools; they’ve outgrown them and moved on to something entirely new.

This difference between teachers and students is a perfect metaphor for the digital strategy debate: Are we just slapping a digital layer on an old, outdated cake, or are we creating a brand-new digital cake? Spoiler alert: it’s the latter that wins.

The Fear of Something Better

And so, back to our fear of AI. The deeper issue? We’re scared AI might do some things better than we can. Not just faster—but better. And that’s where the distrust comes from, not from any real evidence that AI is faulty, but from the uncomfortable truth that it might outshine us in certain areas.

Think about it: teachers teach, we learn, and we hold onto that information—until we forget it, twist it, or lose it in the recesses of our unreliable memories. But AI? It remembers. Perfectly. Every time. And that terrifies us because it highlights just how imperfect we really are.

What Are We Really Afraid Of?

So what’s the real fear here? It’s that these systems can do things we’ve always trusted humans to do, and maybe even do them better. We’ve built AI to help us, but now we’re suspicious because it seems a little too good at its job. Instead of curiosity, we’ve defaulted to skepticism.

Ironically, we trust textbooks, teachers, and Google with ease, but when AI does the same thing, we panic. It’s like we don’t want to admit that something we created might outpace us.

Fear in Disguise

In the end, this isn’t about trust. It’s about fear. Fear that something new and unfamiliar might challenge our long-held assumptions. But that’s the beauty of progress: it’s always about building things that do what we can’t—or won’t. AI is just another tool in that long line of innovations, not a threat, but an opportunity.

So instead of fear, why not embrace AI with curiosity? Let’s stop worrying about whether we should double-check everything and start exploring what AI can truly offer us—flaws and all.

Harari and the Convenient Truths of AI

Let's bring in Yuval Noah Harari to peel back yet another layer of this paradox. Harari, in Sapiens, brilliantly points out that humans have always created shared myths—whether through religion, economics, or social norms—that allow us to collaborate on a massive scale. These “truths” become standardized not because they are the ultimate reality, but because we need them to function as a society. In fact, they're more like convenient truths—a collective agreement we rely on to keep the wheels turning.

So, when you ask, “Where did teachers get their information?” it's not surprising that they pulled it from encyclopedias, textbooks, or other “approved” sources. We trust these sources, not because they are flawless, but because they've been validated by a system built on human consensus. They’ve gone through the social filter of acceptance, marked with the stamp of "approved by the masses."

But is that really the truth? Or is it just a truth—a comfortable one, passed down from generation to generation, like a family recipe no one dares question?

Harari would argue the latter. In his view, much of what we accept as fact is simply a collective agreement—a useful narrative we've created to help us navigate life. It’s a myth, but a functional one. So, when we question the reliability of AI, it’s not really about whether it’s factually correct; it’s about our discomfort with a new kind of storytelling. One that doesn't rely on centuries of human tradition and feels like it's skipping the line.

The Same Cake, Just Faster

This brings us back to ChatGPT. It isn’t inventing anything new. It’s simply synthesizing the same sources of information we’ve always trusted. It does it faster, on a grander scale, and without that familiar human touch. And that, my friends, is where the unease begins to creep in. People aren’t wary because it’s wrong; they’re wary because it’s not human. It’s not part of the long, handshaking, back-patting chain of knowledge we’ve been passing down for generations.

Harari’s insights strike at the heart of this: we trust human-made institutions—schools, encyclopedias, textbooks—because they’ve been woven into the shared myths of our society. They feel safe, tried, and true, despite their imperfections. AI, however, is the new kid on the block, strutting in without paying its dues. And while it pulls from the same sources, it challenges the old ways of distributing knowledge.

If anything, what makes us uncomfortable about AI isn’t the fear that it’s inaccurate. It’s that it’s exposing how arbitrary our old systems are. All these sources—whether it’s an encyclopedia, a textbook, or even a revered teacher—are still human creations. And just like ChatGPT, they’re built on layers of human interpretation, opinion, and consensus.

So Why Trust Anything?

At this point, the real question isn’t, “Can you trust ChatGPT?” It’s, “Why do you trust anything at all?” Whether it's an encyclopedia, a textbook, or a human teacher, the truth is always layered in the context of who’s telling the story. ChatGPT is just pulling from the same collective pool of knowledge we’ve always used—it’s just doing it faster and more efficiently.

And here’s the uncomfortable part: if AI can do what humans do, but better, then what does that say about the myths we’ve been relying on all along? Perhaps the real threat isn't that AI will get it wrong—but that it will get it right, more efficiently, and leave us wondering why we ever trusted the slower, messier version in the first place.

So, let’s stop pretending we fear AI because it's inaccurate. What we really fear is that AI is simply holding a mirror up to the convenient truths we've been living by—and that reflection is just a bit too clear for comfort.