By Qamar Bashir
In an age defined by technological marvels, artificial intelligence (AI) has emerged as both a beacon of hope and a source of deep misunderstanding. Enthusiasts hail it as the dawn of a new era—one that will render human labor, creativity, and even consciousness obsolete. But those who use AI seriously—for writing, generating images, compiling data, or creating infographics—know firsthand that AI is still very much a tool, not a master. It is impressive, yes. But intelligent? Not yet.
AI today requires constant correction, direction, and supervision. It can mix up names, fabricate dates, distort historical context, and produce grotesque errors in otherwise simple assignments. For those who depend on accurate output—writers, editors, researchers, policy analysts—AI is not a replacement but an instrument. A sophisticated calculator. A fast but fallible assistant. Without human oversight, its potential collapses into chaos.
We’ve seen this story before. When calculators were invented, they were feared as brain-killers. People thought the mind’s arithmetic capacity would erode. When computers became personal, many predicted the death of memory, of intellect, of critical thinking. Then came smartphones and the Internet—ushering in another wave of dystopian warnings. But in every case, the result wasn’t the death of human intelligence. It was the expansion of human capability. These tools allowed us to do more, faster. AI is no different.
Despite the sophisticated architecture behind GPT, DALL•E, and other AI systems, every output relies on human input. The moment the user lacks subject knowledge, the output derails. The technology is still heavily dependent on patterns—it does not “understand” content the way humans do. As of 2025, AI cannot reliably produce context-aware political analysis, deeply emotional storytelling, or error-free historical synthesis without explicit human intervention.
According to a 2023 MIT study, more than 80% of professional AI users in journalism and design say they need to heavily revise AI-generated drafts. A Stanford research team found that while AI can support faster production, unmonitored use increases factual error rates by over 45%. In other words, AI doesn’t reduce the need for human intellect—it magnifies it.
Another prevailing fear is that AI will trigger mass unemployment. In truth, AI and automation change the nature of work, not its existence. Consider the case of robotic manufacturing. Yes, robots now assemble cars, but this has created demand in software engineering, robotics design, systems maintenance, AI training, cybersecurity, and interface optimization. According to the World Economic Forum (2024), while 85 million jobs may be displaced by automation by 2025, 97 million new roles are expected to emerge—many requiring higher cognitive input.
When the typewriter was replaced by the computer, secretarial roles changed—but they didn’t vanish. When elevators became automated, operators lost jobs, but electrical and mechanical engineers gained them. The same logic applies to AI. It displaces repetitive work but creates a flourishing ecosystem of innovation, control, refinement, and creative oversight.
Despite media portrayals and marketing hype, AI doesn’t think. It doesn’t understand love, betrayal, fear, or sacrifice. It can simulate emotion with text, generate art with prompts, and mimic dialogue, but these are shadows of reality—not reality itself. Like a shovel extends our arm, AI extends our mind. It does not replace it.
Much like computers, smartphones, and the Internet before it, AI is a technological tool. It runs on algorithms, pattern recognition, neural approximations, and code. It does not dream. It does not choose. It does not rebel or reflect. Its logic is built on trillions of tokens from human data—books, conversations, art, articles—but it remains synthetic. Just as a telescope brings faraway stars into focus but doesn’t generate light itself, AI helps us process data, but not understand it in the human sense.
More profoundly, the purpose of human intelligence is not to be overtaken by machines—but to use every tool available to fulfill the divine mission set forth by Allah: to explore, understand, and eventually conquer the universe.
The Qur’an in Surah Ar-Rahman [55:33] declares:
“O company of jinn and mankind, if you are able to pass beyond the regions of the heavens and the earth, then pass. You will not pass except by authority (from Allah).”
This command is not symbolic. It is a clear call for discovery, exploration, and transcendence. Humanity has been given the capability to think, imagine, build, and adapt. The tools we create—from bronze axes to nuclear colliders, from sailboats to spacecraft, from telescopes to AI—are steps on that ladder of cosmic responsibility.
To explore the billions of galaxies, we need sharper instruments, smarter tools, and faster processors. According to NASA, the observable universe is over 93 billion light-years wide. It contains an estimated 2 trillion galaxies. Our solar system is a speck of dust in an immeasurable ocean. Without artificial intelligence, advanced robotics, quantum computing, and nanotechnology, humanity cannot hope to bridge this vastness.
In fact, brain-computer interfaces like Neuralink, real-time language translators, autonomous rovers, and AI-powered telescopes are helping us push the frontiers of what’s knowable. But again—they are tools. They don’t replace the divine role of human beings as “Ashraf al-Makhluqat”—the noblest of creation. They serve that mission.
Much has been made of the prospect of emotionally aware AI. Research into affective computing aims to teach machines how to detect human emotion and respond appropriately. Projects like OpenAI’s GPT-Next, Google’s DeepMind Gemini, and Microsoft’s “EmpathAI” have made progress in simulating empathy and tone recognition. But simulation is not sensation.
The AI can mimic concern. It cannot feel it.
Even if AI develops powerful language modeling with emotion tags, it will still lack free will, intuition, spiritual consciousness, and moral accountability. These are not functions that can be programmed. They are divine gifts, bestowed uniquely upon human beings.
Artificial intelligence is a remarkable achievement—but it is not the end of the road. It is the beginning. Like the calculator, the typewriter, the wheel, and the telescope before it, AI is a mechanism that extends human ability. But it does not, and cannot, substitute human soul, spirit, intellect, and destiny.
The rise of AI is not a threat to humanity. It is a call for maturity. A tool this powerful must not be feared—it must be guided. Shaped. Watched. Developed under ethical frameworks, divine principles, and human conscience. And ultimately, it must be used to pursue the higher mission of our existence: to understand and conquer the universe as a sign of Allah’s magnificence.
The age of AI is here—but the age of human greatness has just begun.
By Qamar Bashir
Press Secretary to the President (Rtd)
Former Press Minister, Embassy of Pakistan to France
Former MD, SRBC | Macomb, Michigan, USA
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