As artificial intelligence (AI) continues to dazzle—and sometimes unsettle—the world with its feats, a new philosophical debate is taking shape: if machines can excel at everything humans do, what is left that is uniquely and intrinsically human? A recent essay in Psychology Today challenges readers to reexamine where humanity’s real value lies as AI systems master not only menial but also creative, empathetic, and intellectual tasks at unprecedented speed and depth (psychologytoday.com).
The significance of this question is more than abstract soul-searching. In Thailand, where technological adoption is rapidly changing the workplace, education system, and creative sectors, understanding AI’s implications isn’t just for tech elites but for everyone whose livelihood or sense of self is inextricably tied to their work. The article’s pointed discussion hits close to home in a society that still places great value on craftsmanship, personal service, and the wisdom of elders—the “human touch” that technologies have long struggled to replicate, but which AI is coming increasingly close to simulating.
The latest developments in AI—ranging from creating hyper-realistic art and composing songs that resonate emotionally, to providing medical diagnoses and even responding empathetically in counselling scenarios—are no longer limited to prototypes or tech demos. They are realities encountered in fields as varied as marketing, healthcare, entertainment, and education. Examples cited in the essay include an AI-generated crystal jelly cake indistinguishable from human artistry, complex mathematical proofs once thought to be the exclusive domain of genius mathematicians, and AI-written short stories shocking in their nuance and emotional resonance.
Initially, the ability of AI to replicate such sophisticated “doing” was met with widespread fascination and a sense of creative liberation. But this quickly turned to anxiety as professionals and artists asked themselves: “If AI can do this, too, what’s left that’s really ours?” In Thailand, art students, musicians, and even monks using AI for sermons now find themselves grappling with a deep sense of displacement—are the acts of creating, teaching, and healing still inherently human, or simply tasks waiting to be automated?
The essay’s author introduces the concept of “anti-intelligence”—not as an insult, but to highlight how alien these systems truly are. AI performs with immense processing power and pattern recognition, but lacks continuity, memory, curiosity, and, most importantly, the self-awareness that makes human thought meaningful. Machines produce artistry, but not the intention behind it; they provide diagnoses, but not the compassionate sensitivity borne of impermanence and lived vulnerability.
Herein lies the heart of the argument: the “doing”—the outward act—was never the essence of humanity to begin with. Instead, humanity resides in the “being” behind the doing: the awareness, intention, and experiential depth that inform each decision, painting, diagnosis, or comforting word. The philosopher’s question becomes urgent: were painting, healing, and empathy ever truly ours, or did we simply imagine so because “no thing” else could do them before?
“This is the revelation that’s hardest to grasp and understand: It’s my working hypothesis that no task is intrinsically human. Not medicine. Not music. Not empathy. Not even the ability to create meaning,” the essay contends. Tasks, no matter how noble or sophisticated, become hollow when stripped of the lived human experience—the mortality, the intention, the fragility that underpin every meaningful action.
For Thai society, which has long celebrated the sanctity of human-centered professions—from revered traditional musicians to acclaimed master chefs, from family doctors in rural clinics to compassionate teachers in Buddhist temples—these insights may be hard to digest. In fact, the narrative of “human exceptionalism” has shaped national identity and values since the country’s founding myths, encouraging generations to seek meaning in tangible creation and compassionate service.
But as the article notes, even the most revered acts can be mimicked by AI to a convincing degree. The distinction between machine output and human presence is growing more subtle, requiring everyone—educators, parents, artisans, and policy makers—to rethink their assumptions. While machines can provide the brushstroke, only living beings experience the trembling of the hand that holds the brush. The product is striking, but it is the why—the intention, anxiety, hope, and consciousness behind the act—that retains its humanity.
The implications are profound for Thailand’s rapidly modernizing workforce. As the government accelerates its Thailand 4.0 strategy, integrating AI in public health, education, and the arts, the need to foster qualities machines cannot replicate—such as emotional intelligence, ethical reasoning, compassion rooted in lived experience—becomes increasingly urgent (thailand.prd.go.th). Recent public discourse reflects both excitement about AI’s potential and deep concerns about the loss of jobs in sectors long thought secure from automation. A senior official at a major Thai university recently observed: “AI is a tool, but it forces every educator, every citizen, to discover new measures of meaning and contribution. The age of memorization and repetition is ending; the age of insight, empathy, and purposeful action is only beginning.”
The essay’s philosophical challenge is especially pertinent in a culture where merit, or “bun,” is amassed through action—acts of giving, creating, or healing as a path to personal development and social harmony (refer to wikipedia.org/wiki/Merit_(Buddhism)). If the outward act can now be automated, what becomes of its moral and spiritual significance? As one Thailand-based clinical psychologist remarked, “AI calls us to re-examine the value of presence, intention, and the story behind every act. The machine may tell the story, but it does not live it.”
There is also a generational aspect to this reckoning. While younger Thais embrace AI in music, writing, and entrepreneurial endeavours, older generations express concern that time-honored practices—such as intricate fruit carving, shadow puppetry, and traditional healing—may lose their distinctiveness. But as the article suggests, perhaps this is an opportunity rather than a crisis: to “stop defending the tasks and start reclaiming the being.” What matters now may be less about clinging to old definitions of work and more about the relationships, intentions, and self-understanding that inform our involvement in those acts.
If any lesson can be drawn, it is that societies like Thailand’s must invest in cultivating qualities that AI cannot simulate: ethical discernment, the capacity for awe, resilience in uncertainty, and the rich tapestry of cultural and spiritual understanding. Policymakers can respond by updating curriculums to emphasize emotional and social learning, critical thinking, and self-awareness—ensuring that students are equipped for a future in which “doing” is everywhere, but “being” remains a precious rarity. Artists, teachers, and entrepreneurs, meanwhile, are prompted to focus on the intention, story, and connection that set their creations apart, even in a world awash with digital imitations.
In this new era, the Buddhist concept of “sati”—mindful presence—may provide an unexpected but powerful paradigm for adapting to AI’s inexorable advance. By bringing humble awareness, purpose, and authenticity to every act, Thais can continue to show that while machines may conquer the tasks, only humans breathe meaning into them.
Practically, the article invites all Thais—and indeed, all people—to reflect anew on why they do what they do. Rather than feeling threatened by AI’s growing competence, individuals and institutions are encouraged to double down on the development of inner qualities: cultivate presence, deepen intention, and build relationships that go beyond mere output. For those in education and healthcare, consciously weaving empathy and context into practice will become a hallmark of quality. For creative professionals, sharing the story and journey behind the work will continue to differentiate the truly human from the algorithmically generated. And for policymakers, focusing on policies that incentivize and recognize these uniquely human contributions is vital.
As the author concludes, “Perhaps the doing was never the point of being human at all. … The essence of humanity isn’t in the product but the presence. The why, not the what.” For Thailand, as for the world, the future will be shaped not by what we produce, but by the lived presence we bring to every moment.