Retirement Of Human Intelligence

Nobody's talking about what do they panic about AI...

We're not watching the retirement of human intelligence. We're watching humans retire their own intelligence.

Big difference.

Listen, I get it. ChatGPT writes your emails. AI codes your apps. Algorithms decide what you watch, read, buy. The machines are getting smarter, sure — but here's the thing that keeps me up at night: we're getting lazier.

I saw this kid the other day, maybe nineteen, staring at his phone trying to figure out which restaurant to pick. Not reading reviews... just asking his AI assistant to "decide for me based on my preferences." And I thought - when did we outsource the simple joy of choosing where to eat?

Your intelligence isn't being retired by technology. It's retiring itself. Voluntarily. Early retirement at age twenty-five.

Think about your grandfather's generation - they could fix a car engine, navigate by stars, do math in their heads. Not because they were smarter, but because they had to use their intelligence constantly. It was a muscle they flexed every single day. Now? We've got a gym membership to thinking, but we never show up.

The real danger isn't that AI will replace human intelligence... it's that we'll forget what human intelligence actually is. Because here's the secret: intelligence without wisdom is just faster stupidity.

And AI can compute, predict, optimize - but it can't sit with uncertainty.

It can't hold paradoxes.

It can't know what it feels like to fail and rebuild yourself from scratch.

Human intelligence was never just about processing information. It was about integration. About taking everything you've learned, everything you've felt, everything you've survived - and synthesizing it into something new. Into meaning. Into art. Into love. Into that gut feeling that saves your life.

So no, I'm not worried about AI retiring human intelligence. I'm worried about humans checking out before the game's even over. Worried about a generation that can access infinite information but has forgotten how to think.

That can generate a thousand words but has nothing to say.

The question isn't whether machines will think better than us. The question is — will we still remember how to think at all?

Here's my challenge to you: this week, solve one problem without asking an algorithm. Navigate without GPS. Write something without autocorrect. Make a decision based on nothing but your own tangled, messy, beautiful human judgment.

Your intelligence isn't a pension plan. It's a practice.

Use it, or watch it fade.