Humans can destroy themselves easily. Let’s stop giving AI undue credit

The world is trying to solve ageing. Billions are being invested in longevity research. Living to 100 and beyond is no longer a distant reality. But my humble question is what exactly do we intend to do with all those additional years?

During Covid, many of us called it an eye-opener. We promised to slow down, spend more time with people we love, look after our health and rethink our priorities. We said life would be different when it was over. Then normality returned, and so did many of our old habits. Of course, some lives changed. But how much did we change collectively? How much of what we learnt translated into how we lived?

A couple of weeks ago, on my way to Sabarimala, our vehicle was stopped as fully grown trees were being cut down. Their roots had been exposed by road widening, making them vulnerable to falling. A tree that takes decades to grow disappears in minutes.

A few days earlier, on my morning run along Mumbai’s Worli promenade, I had seen concrete almost everywhere, barring just few saplings. We celebrate planting new trees but rarely look at what we lose when mature ones disappear. Nature indeed was infrastructure before concrete happened. 

The floods and landslides in Nepal, the 2018 Kerala floods and the tragedy at Wayanad are reminders of our vulnerability. Each event of course has its own causes. But the question in my mind is whether we consider natural systems and environmental risks when we build roads, projects and other infrastructure in fragile terrains. Closer home, Mumbai always struggles with flooding. Wetlands, mangroves, open spaces and natural drainage are treated as expendable until the monsoon reminds us of their value.

The contradiction extends to wildlife. We fragment habitats, obstruct animal corridors and push animals into human spaces. Conflict follows. We then rescue animals and build facilities to care for them.

Someone who had visited Vantara in Gujarat spoke enthusiastically about the facility and how carefully even apples were cut and served to the animals. I wondered, if an animal has been rescued and treated, where does rehabilitation end and captivity begin? Some animals cannot safely return to the wild, and specialist facilities have a legitimate role. The larger question is whether our efforts to rescue wildlife are matched by an equally serious commitment to protecting its habitat.  

The problem is not that we lack solutions, but focus has always been addressing the  consequences and pushing the causes away.  It is not just about nature and wildlife.  We know the importance of healthy living, but neglect our health. We know that spitting on streets, littering, honking and disregarding public spaces diminish everyone’s quality of life, but civic sense is not a priority for many. We want clean cities but we believe keeping it so is somebody else’s responsibility.

The real enemy is convenience. Cutting a tree may make way for a road today; the cost accumulates over years. Littering saves one person a few seconds; the cost is shared by everyone. Ignoring our health offers immediate comfort; the consequences may arrive much later. Convenience is individual, while its costs are always collective.  When enough people make that calculation, what looks like a sensible decision in isolation can become a collective disaster.

This is also where the conversation about artificial intelligence becomes interesting. We worry about whether AI will make decisions that harm humanity, replace our judgement or diminish our ability to think. These are legitimate concerns. But before asking whether machines will know enough to make the right choices, we should ask why we humans fail to act on what we already know.

AI will just amplify our capabilities and of course even our mistakes. But it did not invent our appetite for convenience and our short-term thinking. The challenge, then, is not to make machines smarter. It is to become more discerning about the intelligence we already possess.

India aspires to become a developed nation by 2047. As a proud Indian, I welcome that ambition wholeheartedly. But development must mean more than infrastructure, consumption and concrete. Among other things, it must also mean meaningful livelihoods, scientific progress, social security, investment in Research and Development (R&D), ecological protection and civic responsibility.

Our capabilities have surely expanded. But what about the evolution of our  consciousness?  Can we not build more without destroying what sustains us? Do we want our future generations to pay for the current prosperity? Governments must be accountable but citizenship also has its responsibilities.  Some purposeful corporations can innovate and invest in R&D, Government can frame policies and technology can expand what is possible. But none of these, on its own, can make us responsible citizens or wiser human beings who can together create the collective impact.

A true change is only possible when each of us commit to reducing our own distance between knowledge and action.  We have no shortage of intelligence. But we definitely have a shortage of the will to act on it.

Shouldn’t that be the real race we run, not simply to extend life but to make it more meaningful? A developed India will not just remain a dream then, but we will also become a society worthy of that ambition.