#715
In a world buzzing with AI hype, I recently read with a mix of horror and fascination that Yuval Noah Harari believes his next book might be his last. The historian and thinker worries that artificial intelligence could "steal the thunder" from human authors, rendering our creative endeavors obsolete. Harari has long viewed AI as an existential threat—perhaps rightly so, given its rapid encroachment into fields like writing, art, and decision-making. On the flip side stands Jensen Huang, the visionary CEO of NVIDIA, who champions AI as essential as breathing, a force multiplier for human potential rather than a replacement.
The truth, I believe, lies somewhere in the middle, as former Google CEO Eric Schmidt astutely pointed out in a recent discussion. If you fed an AI all the data available in the 1920s, it still wouldn't have predicted the breakthroughs in quantum mechanics or Einstein's theory of relativity. Those leaps weren't born from data crunching alone; they sprang from the raw genius of human intuition, the ability to connect disparate ideas in ways algorithms simply can't replicate. Newtonian physics, discovered centuries earlier, evolved through human curiosity, not computational prediction. This reminds us that true innovation often defies patterns—it's the spark of the unpredictable human mind that ignites paradigm shifts.
I've experienced this limitation firsthand in my daily interactions with AI. As a cricket enthusiast, I often test these tools with niche queries to see if they can "think" like a human. Take, for instance, a photo I stumbled upon of West Indies fast bowler Andy Roberts alongside Michael Holding and Tony Greig yesterday (16/12/25). My mind instantly flashed back to December 16, 1975, when Roberts delivered a stunning 7 for 46 in the Perth Test against Australia, dismantling the hosts for an Innings win. Yet, when I asked an AI to connect the dots from the image to that historic performance, it drew a blank—failing to bridge the visual cue with contextual cricket lore.
Another example: the legendary tied Test in Brisbane in 1960, the first in cricket history. When I queried an AI about which players from that match were still alive as of 15th Dec 2025, it bungled the facts, listing inaccuracies that any seasoned fan would spot immediately. These aren't just trivia fails; they highlight AI's struggle with nuanced, associative thinking—the kind humans do effortlessly in our "daily walk of life." AI excels at processing vast data sets and suggesting paths, but it lacks the soulful navigation of real-world experiences.
In essence, AI is like a compass: it points the direction, but the journey—the sweat, the detours, the serendipitous discoveries—remains ours. It can facilitate, but it can't carry us to the destination. At least not in the near future, or even in my lifetime. Until the day we invent "digital food" that sustains us without human effort, I'll rest easy. I'll embrace AI as a trusty sidekick, but I'll always trust it... and verify. Twice, if needed. After all, in the grand adventure of life, humans are the irreplaceable protagonists.
Karthik
17/12/25 11am.
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