The Daily Princetonian recently published an opinion piece entitled: “Humanities lag behind STEM in AI policy. They must catch up.” Its author laments the fact that A.B. students, specifically those studying the humanities, use AI much less frequently than B.S.E. students. He argues that AI will improve learning outcomes; the humanities’ refusal to allow AI usage in coursework is seen as a pedagogical impairment, causing them to fall behind STEM degrees. Enhancing education in the humanities is a worthy goal. However, it would be perilous for the humanities to embrace AI in the manner this Prince article proposes.
For STEM subjects, AI integration can facilitate learning. LLMs are not merely tools that offer students mindless shortcuts to complete assignments. AI is crucial to learning and research in any field that involves technology. When professors integrate AI into the curriculum, it can allow them to develop complex problems that still require the students to apply their own systematic thought. It is essential that STEM students learn concepts in congruence with real-world technological developments; they must flow with the technological current otherwise they risk drowning in the tidal wave of innovation. AI is a new kind of “literacy” that companies expect prospective employees to possess. Particularly in STEM fields, students might be sidelined for their inability to contribute to AI-augmented workstreams.
There is an argument to be made that AI adoption poses a risk to all degrees, including STEM. But its adoption is most dangerous for the humanities. As stated, there are segments of the humanities that use LLMs to achieve progress previously unimaginable. Princeton’s Digital Humanities program fruitfully relies upon technology to approach research from a data-focused perspective. LLMs have helped the process of deciphering Linear A Script, the writing system of the ancient Minoan civilization between the 19th to 15th centuries BC. AI has uniquely succeeded at preserving endangered languages because of its rapid learning and documentation abilities, making it a propitious tool for research.
However, the Prince article also proposes assimilating AI into general coursework. This proposal’s central problem is that it misunderstands the intrinsic purpose of the humanities, and of a traditional university education.
For most of its history, Princeton has been a liberal arts university. A liberal arts education is defined by its broad exposure to subjects across the intellectual spectrum, not one highly specialized subject tailored to a specific vocation. Liberal arts institutions, during the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, dominated the American educational landscape, while continental Europe housed research institutions of the greatest renown. In contrast the United States today has better research universities than anywhere else in the world. While most today would still consider Princeton a liberal arts university, it has been a member of the Association of American Universities — an association of research universities — since the early 20th century. Regrettably, a trend has accompanied the rise of research institutions and their operational model, which threatens university education and intellectual life. This trend is the mindset of commodification.
The notable twentieth century philosopher György Lukács had a prescient insight that has only gained credence over time: our society has developed an overreaching “commodity structure” such that we have come to view everything in our immediate environment in terms of commodity value. This reflects the manner in which American students have increasingly prioritized the perspective that education holds economic value, like a product. During the past half-century, liberal arts colleges have added degrees in business, engineering, and more “practical” subjects. It is no longer deemed a satisfactory result of a four-year undergraduate degree to have broadened one’s intellect. A common justification for obtaining a college degree is to increase one’s “marketability” in the job market. Under this view, students obsess over the end “product” of their accumulated knowledge, the value of which is directly tethered to one’s postgraduate salary.
The primary goal of a liberal arts institution, as well as the study of the humanities, should be intellectual maturation in itself. AI impedes this mission. According to the Prince article, AI is “a tool that could potentially supercharge [students’] research and analysis” […] “in literature, it can identify trends across centuries with textual analysis, analyze emotional states, and handle routine tasks.” This author emphasizes AI’s aptitude for “analysis” — the cardinal skill a liberal arts education aims to cultivate in students. He therefore contends that the practice fundamental to a liberal arts education should be passed off to an artificial apparatus. This contention interprets education through a Lukácian commodity mindset. A graduate may appear more market-valuable by having a high GPA at a reputable university. When a student views an “A” grade as the sole objective, AI becomes a shortcut that bypasses the intellectual growth one gains through the process of learning.
Artificial intelligence threatens the individuality of thought and voice essential to all disciplines, but especially the humanities. Even interacting with LLMs under the guise of “brainstorming” can deter intellectual progress. Contrary to what it may seem, artificial intelligence does not really “generate” ideas; rather, it repackages data of human origin. Though one can program an LLM to vary its tone or syntax, most of these systems have developed a singular set of jargon and colloquialisms. Consistent interaction with artificial intelligence risks flattening the variety of thought and manner of expression that a student is bound to develop through their own original work.
The prominent contemporary poet Ocean Vuong recently visited Princeton and spoke about the tensions AI might introduce within creative writing and literary studies at large. In short, Vuong argued that writing is important because it is an encounter between consciousness and the sentence. The sentence is the organ through which consciousness expresses and rediscovers itself. Therefore, Vuong said, to displace one’s sentence creation to a machine is a form of “self-annihilation.” AI not only endangers the “human” component of the humanities, but the human aspect of ourselves.
Finally, it cannot be denied that we live in a moment where free and authentic speech faces threats on multiple fronts. Our future rests in our ability to interpret language, images, and signals. We cannot presume we will be so discerning if, even for the smallest tasks, we substitute our brains with technological systems that have the most potential to deceive us. By consulting a machine whenever we have questions of judgement or do not know how to express ourselves, we incur intellectual handicaps that devalue our power and right to speak.
With each passing day, we may find ourselves on new battlefields, our intellect warring against the fleet of consuming machines. We must continue to assert our humanity in the face of the technological apparatus, representing ourselves and our voices with intellectual vigor. We must stop commodifying our existence, deriving value from our productive output. We must take time away from screens and artificial minds, and sit for a while with unprogrammed thoughts, sustained by our own beating hearts.
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