An AI Analyzes Philosophers’ Discussion of AI
Last week I posted about PhilLit, a new AI research tool for philosophers that finds and summarizes philosophical writing. The post generated a lot of comments, which prompted one reader to run a little experiment.

The experiment consisted in having ChatGPT read the post, predict the comments, read the actual comments, and explain why its prediction did not match reality. It was conducted by Kelly Truelove and can be read in its entirety here.
The result of the experiment included some observations about philosophers and AI right now, which I think are worth sharing. It’s not that they’re earth-shattering insights. Rather they’re like a mirror—you may not know exactly how you look before you glance at it, but you’ll recognize yourself when you do.
So what did ChatGPT predict philosophers would say about PhilLit? Well, it’s a purpose-built tool and the AI assumed we’d largely assess it as such:
Among professional philosophers who read Daily Nous, I would expect a mix of curiosity, cautious optimism, and skepticism. Many will find the idea appealing, since keeping up with adjacent literatures is genuinely difficult, and a tool that promises verified citations and structured overviews targets a real pain point in research practice. Some, especially those who already use AI tools experimentally, will likely be eager to test it and compare it to their own knowledge of a field.
At the same time, there will likely be strong skepticism about reliability, philosophical sensitivity, and hidden biases. Philosophers are trained to worry about subtle mischaracterizations of positions, selective framing of debates, and the normative assumptions built into any system that “maps” a literature. Even if citations are verified, critics may question whether the tool captures the dialectical structure of debates accurately or whether it privileges certain journals, traditions, or methodologies.
Finally, I would expect meta-level concerns about professional norms and incentives. Some may worry that such tools could deskill graduate students, flatten intellectual diversity, or encourage superficial engagement with literatures. Others will see it as analogous to earlier research technologies—like PhilPapers or online databases—arguing that, if used responsibly, it could simply become another standard aid in serious scholarship.
But that wasn’t quite the whole story. After reading the actual comments, ChatGPT says “The comments reveal a deeply divided community, with reactions ranging from enthusiastic support to existential alarm” and provides a useful summary. Some highlights:
A prominent strand of criticism frames the very idea of AI-assisted literature review as a symptom of disciplinary decay. For these commenters, philosophy is intrinsically bound up with reading, writing, and intellectual community; outsourcing these tasks threatens not just professional norms but the meaning of philosophical life itself…
[D]efenders argue that the dispute hinges on a deeper disagreement about philosophy’s purpose: whether it is primarily self-cultivation or the production of collective knowledge…
Some argue that refusing AI will be professionally self-defeating in a hypercompetitive environment, while others worry that AI use will further distort already perverse incentives.
ChatGPT concludes that, “Overall, the thread is not merely about a software tool but about the identity, purpose, and future structure of professional philosophy.”
What explains the gap between ChatGPT’s predictions and reality? The AI says:
The main gap stems from underestimating how symbolically charged AI has become within philosophy. I treated PhilLit primarily as a research tool likely to provoke methodological debate, but many commenters interpreted it as a proxy for much larger anxieties about academic identity, neoliberal incentives, technological domination, and even the meaning of intellectual life. In other words, the tool functioned less as a discrete proposal and more as a lightning rod for preexisting tensions.
A second gap reflects the culture of Daily Nous itself. It is not just a venue for technical evaluation but a semi-public space where professional philosophers perform and contest metaphilosophical self-understandings. That makes it especially likely that practical questions (cost, accuracy, workflow) will quickly escalate into normative and existential ones.
Pushed a bit on this, it adds:
on Daily Nous, AI isn’t just “new infrastructure”; it’s already a contested symbol tied to authorship, legitimacy, disciplinary self-image, and the fear that the activity philosophers most prize (careful reading and writing) is being hollowed out. When a topic has that kind of identity-threat valence, people don’t stay at the level of “does it work?”—they jump to “what does this mean about us?”
I also underestimated it because “symbolic charge” is highly time- and context-sensitive, and I answered without checking the local conversational temperature of that specific thread. The comment section wasn’t starting from neutral; it was building on prior DN AI debates, on widespread stories about hallucinated citations and academic misuse, and on a background sense that the profession’s incentive structure is already strained. In that setting, PhilLit reads less like a helpful hack and more like a referendum on whether philosophy is becoming a production line.
Finally, I defaulted to assuming that professional philosophers would normatively separate “tool use for drudgery” from “doing philosophy proper” more cleanly than they did. The comments show that many readers reject that partition: for them, literature searching, reading, and community-facing uptake are not peripheral chores but constitutive of the practice. If you don’t share that boundary, then AI assistance isn’t marginal—it’s symbolically central, and my expectation model missed that.
You can read the whole discussion here.
Looking forward to the article where AI summarises our responses to this article summarising our responses to the article about AI summaries of the literature.
On the bright side, maybe all this AI nonsense might generate a wholly autonomous and automated process for doing the bullshit side of academia, sort of like Zizek’s thing where for him ideal sex is for a couple to have a dildo and a fleshlight fuck each other in the corner while they stay up and have intellectual conversation. If the papers are being written by AI, evaluated by AI, published by AI, and read by AI, then we can sneakily free up a bunch of time to actually read the things we want to read and write the things we want to write on our own terms.
It makes me sadder and sadder by the day how normalized it becomes not just among students, but among professional peers, to feed one’s writing to a genAI model without one’s consent. Papers, books — and blog post comments?! Do we now have to include disclaimer whenever we write ANYTHING online: please don’t share this with any genAI tool without the author’s permission, akin to draft manuscripts (please don’t cite or circulate…). Get it together people. Feeding training material to AI models (and thereby to companies with a vested interest in surveilling you and building ever-more convincing parroting tech) “is not neutral.”
Agreed. This is such unbelievable bullshit, both in the Frankfurtian and vernacular senses. Anthropomorphizing a statistically-based text generator—as though it has intention and understands the text it generates—is mind-boggling in just about any context, but in a philosophical context where we’re professionally trained to think carefully about what we say and what those words mean is just deeply upsetting. “The AI assumed…” No it didn’t! Generative AI is incapable of assumption! “The AI says…”? “ChatGPT concludes…”? “Pushed a bit on this, the AI adds…” It doesn’t do *any* of these things any more than the autocomplete on my phone tells me how its day is going. We’re taking the Chinese Room, but somehow worse and based on mountains of stolen work (including our own!), and treating it as some kind of agent. It’s like looking to a Dadaist poem in search of meaning. What are we doing here, people?!
I’m not trying to take sides on the bigger issue, but I read the phrases you mention as figures of speech.
Perhaps generally, but I also think it’s more than that in this specific case. We have a tendency to anthropomorphize black box systems and systems we don’t totally understand (not in the sense “no human understands them” but in the “there are aspects of how this works that I, personally, don’t understand” sense). Normally, I’m not sure how much of a genuine issue this is. But when it comes to generative AI, where agency and intentionality would genuinely matter with respect to what the system *is*, I think the suggestion—even rhetorical—that the system is “thinking,” “responding,” or “adding” is problematic. It’s at least unintentionally smuggling in some crucial assumptions and at worst intentionally misrepresenting what the system actually is.
In fairness, if writing is publicly accessible, it’s already exposed to scraping and large-scale data collection. In that sense, someone putting it into an AI tool does not create a new form of exposure that didn’t already exist.
Maybe what’s driving your objection isn’t the technical possibility of data capture, but the question of norms and agency? There is arguably a difference between writing being passively available on the internet and a colleague actively copying it into a proprietary system for analysis. The latter feels more like a discretionary act than an infrastructural condition of digital publication.
That said, I think it’s important not to conflate the two levels. If the underlying concern is about AI data capture, that implicates public online communication more broadly (i.e. commenting in the first place, publishing open access, etc).
Yes it’s principally a question of norms and agency — which by the way also apply to the people who make decisions to train genAI tools by scraping the internet in the fist place. Exposure, then, isn’t a fact of life it’s the product of many decisions made in the context of evolving (normatively shaped) practices, just like any social structural phenomenon. I’m drawing attention to my peers’ complicity in technodeterminist AI-hypist ways of thinking and acting.
Prompted by your comment, I asked Kelly about the settings he uses for ChatGPT, and he said “ChatGPT was configured to not allow the content of this session to be used for model training.” He has now added a note to his post indicating as much.
That said, Tenured Realist’s point about publicly accessible writing applies.
I also worry about faculty feeding AI with materials that include names of students. (Similar privacy concerns arise in the case of other industries, not just education.)
Because of the way LLMs work, it won’t always the case, that, if later used for training, the data would result in any association of a person’s name with any substantial information about them; however, I am sure there are certain set-ups, circumstances, in the training of an AI that would indeed result in this outcome for some people’s names.
Should we try to ensure that the institutions we work at have privacy protecting agreements in place with the companies owning whatever AI is embedded in the locally used technology? e.g. that anything coming from school computers not be used to train AI?
I’m not especially interested in word-vomit regurgitated by a well-oiled plagiarism machine.
Maybe I’m deceiving myself but I truly believe that originally I came to AI, and that even today I still come to AI, with a completely open mind, ready to be astounded or even just mildly impressed by some of its outputs.
And yet, to this day, I’ve never read anything that came out of an AI that was much better than a waste of my time, with one exception (which I’ll note below).
Maybe the fault lies with the prompters (sometimes me, but mostly others). Maybe there’s some way to get AI to spit out something that is worth the precious moments I spend reading it, and I just haven’t come across anyone using AI like that. But so far I just feel like it’s not really there yet when it comes to most applications. It’s just a drivel machine. The content in this post for instance seems like a waste of everyone’s time. Anyone who does philosophy for a living can arrive at this level of analysis by using their own brain for twelve seconds.
The above-noted exception is writing computer code. AI is much better at this than me, and so I’ve had it do generate code that was not a waste of time for me to read. I am a little unsure whether, for people who know how to code, AI can do anything impressive. Certainly I’ve heard mixed messages. Some coders claim it has quintupled their productivity and now they’re a coding demigod, although these people don’t seem to ever be able to point to worthwhile stuff they’ve coded with AI recently and which is publicly available. Other people claim it’s only good on the surface and you have to babysit it so much to do impressive stuff that you’re better off coding it yourself. As someone who never made it very far in coding I can’t really evaluate any of this stuff.
Yeah… On one level, it’s impressive that we can get a chatbot to do this stuff. Chatbots have moved lightyears in a very short span of time. But beyond that… Those are not very trenchant predictions, and it’s not exactly a useful summary of the discussion, since you can get all that for yourself by spending just as much/little time reading the comments for yourself.
What you won’t get is the written summary, but you aren’t entitled to it anyway, because you’re supposed to do your own writing.
I agree with a lot of what you’re saying but I’d like to offer a (very) minor counterpoint to what I think is otherwise right about the current breed of LLMs. I agree that it’s a fool’s errand to think that these tools are going to generate new ideas. This is, in part, true because only agents can create ideas and these are not agents. LLMs do not have propositional attitudes like beliefs, desires, and they certainly lack embodied affective states or anything that looks like psychology. Figures of speech (e.g., Claude then said that…) that imply that they have such states help to contribute to the illusion, which most non-philosophers and many philosophers have succumbed to, that these tools are agents.
That being said, I do think we can learn things from LLMs that are genuinely interesting. Because LLMs are trained on basically everything that’s accessible (legal or illegally) online, we can learn quite a bit about ourselves and our own patterns of thinking just by seeing how these tools respond to prompts. I think the most instructive experience I had with an earlier version of ChatGPT was when I asked it to roleplay with me. I had asked it to pretend that I was it’s therapist and that we were going to continue a session of CBT/DBT that we had begun in the past (in reality this was my first interaction).
That was an interesting session because all of the problems that the LLM was bringing up were, for example, focused entirely on interpersonal work conflicts and depression. I wouldn’t have predicted that but I think it makes a bit of sense when we step back to think about what kind of therapeutic information is accessible online and what isn’t. I actually thought, leaving that session, that I learned a lot about both the mental health online sphere (for the worse – it focuses on barriers to capitalist production) but also on the actual intentions that these tools inherit from their very-real and very-human creators.
tldr: LLMs are not people. They lack intentions. They are tools that, if used repeatedly, will almost certainly deskill us in ways that we will come to regret. They are, however, pretty useful tools for gauging the zeitgeist and for testing developer-interventions into that zeitgeist.
have you not used it to learn new things? I have learned so much about mathematics and physics and history from it, and filled in so many gaps in my knowledge in so many areas of my life. Yes, I verify when relevant.
No, usually I read books (and so on) to learn new things. Maybe I’m missing out. Is there any reason you find LLMs more useful than other learning tools? I’m also interested in hearing when you think it’s relevant to verify what you’ve learned, and perhaps more importantly when you think it’s not relevant. Are there any things you’ve learned (maybe ‘learned’ should be in scare quotes) that you haven’t verified?
you are, in my view, hugely missing out. you can tell it what you know and it can identify any gaps in your knowledge. you can ask endless followups and go as deeply as you would like to go down any branch until you understand everything you need to know to move onto the next step. It is like having an expert private tutor with endless time and patience.
On when to verify: To someone who hasn’t used LLMs extensively like that this will sound like a cop-out; to anyone who has, it will sound obviously true: Phronesis.
yes I’ve learned tons of stuff I haven’t verified. It has explained lots of math, science and history, scientific theories. You often don’t need to verify because if it is wrong it will not fit either internally or with what you already know. Also, if you are not using the latest, paid-for models, you will not have a good impression of how often they get things right.
Do you have an example of something you’ve learned that is very deep down a branch?
Here’s an example I posted on DailyNous awhile back (edited slightly because that context isn’t this context):
I wanted to know how much of Xiao-Gang Wen’s qubit ocean program is legit science and how much is speculation. It would probably be impossible for me to find a physicist who could answer this. So I asked GPT-5 (unpaid version), and I got an excellent run-down on which parts are established science, which parts are pretty secure but not fully settled, and which parts are pure speculation. I asked because I’ve read a half-dozen or so of Wen’s papers, but I just don’t know enough physics to know when he’s shifting into speculation. However, I do know enough physics to follow GPT-5’s explanations. And I went back to Wen’s papers and I could see that GPT was not hallucinating. GPT presented Wen’s program from the perspective of a physicist, which helped me learn a great deal about that program. Plus I learned that condensed-matter physicists have some sharp disagreements with particle physicists.
Coding (proper) is only 10-20% of software development, so if that’s all you would normally do in a software project, perhaps, sometimes, the hyped systems can do what you can or maybe even better. But this is far from a system I would want to use even in a throw-away setting a lot of the time. Unit tests, documentation, security, etc. come into play even then. For example, a lot of academics I met at the Association for Internet Research were doing things that if they were doing them alone at their university would be fine, but as soon as there is more than one (e.g.,) web spider around, that’s a potential big deal. Violating terms of service, for example, is often a collective effort – with no one person being at fault, either. So if you are building a spider, one needs to coordinate on architectural, security, etc. matters, and those as yet no engine can do for you.
This struck me as relevant to at least three ongoing discussions here, but it seemed fitting to include it in response to material generated by an AI agent-
‘Necrotic Scholarship: Algorithmic Solipsism and the Epistemic Collapse of the Digital Academy’ / Antonio S. Carvalho / Episteme (2025)
I encourage reading the entire article, and maybe the owner of Daily Nous might offer it as worth it’s own entry for discussion.
It appears the very real stakes, the human lives affected, the issues at play, in the casual use of AI agents, are simply ignored by most of those in academia.
This paper was not published in episteme, nor can I find information about the author. It only appears on the “dokumen.pub” archive site, and has a nonexistent doi associated with it. I think it’s AI generated. One question is if the poster here is a human trolling us, or an AI agent itself. What a world.
Incredible.
Strong players use AI – our second worst attribute.
I appreciate a reference like this in dark times
I ate a fortune cookie the other day which said I’d be going on a journey soon. Another said I’d have professional success later this year.
It’s reading week and I’m visiting family. And I have a book due out in May. I don’t know how they do it! Guess I should actually try those lottery numbers.
Look at all these trees, actively cheering for the axe.
Axes are tools that can be used for good actions or bad ones. Perhaps it would be better if the axe had never been invented, but the axe is here to stay. Even if we think the world would have been better off without axes, we need to ask ourselves how we are going to use them.
(1) The logic of “AI doesn’t do X, people use it to do X” mirrors that of the farcical line “guns don’t kill people, people kill people” exactly.
(2) You are also conflating the existence of a technology with that technology’s expansion and normalization. We might not be able to un-invent a piece of tech, but we can certainly object to it infiltrating every corner of our lives.
(3) Just to play with the analogy: Describe for me a function of the axe that benefits the tree.
Perhaps a useful distinction can be drawn between tools and technology. On the tool end of the spectrum, we have, say, screwdrivers as a paradigm case. On the technology end, we have, say, central heating*. We may then ask whether a given invention is more like a screwdriver or more like central heating.
The screwdriver is meant to be a part of the human activity it was invented for and, being a part of that activity, to enhance it and let us engage in it more fluidly — the activity being fastening things together (with screws). The screwdriver is not meant to replace the activity of fastening things together with screws or to make that activity obsolete. You can use the screwdriver to fasten the casing on a bomb or to fasten planks of wood for an orphanage bed, and perhaps in this respect the screwdriver “can be used for good or ill.” Nonetheless, the screwdriver’s invention and mass production exhibit and reinforce a human-made judgment that it is good to fasten things together in this screw-and-screwdriver-y way.
Central heating, by contrast, is meant to replace the human activity of heating a home — gathering, chopping, and storing firewood; knowing where, when and how to do those things; knowing how to start and keep a fire; operating and caring for a stove or fireplace; teaching your loved ones all these thing; etc. It replaces these activities in the name of freedom from burden and freedom to . . . well, it’s never spelled out. (But nowadays you can count on using your newly available time to stare at a screen as you consume content or meet your employer’s productivity metrics.) The mass production and installation of central heating systems exhibit and reinforce a human-made judgment that the human activity of heating a home is not worth keeping around.
In what ways is AI like a screwdriver and thus a tool? In what ways is it like central heating and thus a piece of technology?
Perhaps comparing AI to the axe is inapt in important ways?
*I’m drawing the example of central heating from Technology and the Character of Contemporary Life by Albert Borgmann
There’s truth to this but I’d like to offer a more optimistic take on the next 20 years for academia (coincidentally, on the timeframe that’s left on my career before I retire). I predict the death of the academic paper as the marker of prestige and success but I also predict the re-emergence of the talk as a scholar’s primary source of value and as the primary measure of our scholarly acumen (perhaps in conjunction with human-reviewed books).
This would mirror other cultural changes in commodification that have been wrought by technology. For example, for many musicians putting out a record/album has stopped being an important revenue stream. We’re now 30 years into the mp3 era of music and music is basically freely available. Musicians today make more from concerts (and merch) than they do from recordings. This is because concerts must be experienced in the first-person. The “live” element has a lot of value.
Similarly, when we reach an era where publications can be churned out on any topic infinitely, I expect that publications will simply stop mattering in the way they do today. We will come to appreciate anew the value of actual dialogue and exchange with human persons. On my optimistic days, I think this could actually lead to a renaissance of good philosophy, now divorced from the strictures of what is already a stupid journal system.
Sounds like your optimism is already tempered, but just to temper it further: ask musicians whether they like it that their revenue mostly comes from live performance nowadays. The journal system is certainly stupid in various ways, but having to fly all over the place to give enough talks to buttress your academic reputation sounds potentially exhausting.
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