The Paradox of Artificial Life and the Authentic Infant

If you will permit a thought experiment, I want to discuss observations that I have made concerning the recent rush to develop artificial intelligence. I recognize this might seem to be a bit orthogonal to the topics we usually discuss, but I believe there is important connectivity between the ideology that is driving us to create artificial intelligence and the ideology that, sometimes, dehumanizes infants.

As I have written in various ways already, the Pikler® and RIE® approaches center authenticity in relationships—on forming the sort of relationships with children that allow them to unfold as they are, without coercion, artificial milestones, or unnecessary intervention. These approaches reject the rush to shape a child into something they are not yet ready to be. Instead, they create an environment where infants develop competence naturally, through their own curiosity and self-initiated activity.

The development of AI centers the machine-driven learning designed to replicate and mimic human behavior with the goal of surpassing the competency of humans. We are currently devoting significant resources, both financial and material, to developing AI. Yet we are slowly stripping away resources from institutions designed to foster human relationships. These are not unrelated. The truth is, we have been decentralizing the importance of human connectivity for a long time. The worth of humans, and as a consequence, our children, is increasingly viewed in functional terms. A child’s value is determined by their achievements rather than by their humanity, just as our own worth is valued. The rush to develop AI is an extension of this. How will humans be valued in a world where AI surpasses the functional value of the human mind? How do we preserve the ability to live authentically in a world where artificial life is becoming more prevalent?

The Pikler and RIE philosophies operate on the premise that infants are born competent. Given the right conditions—trust, time, and autonomy—they reveal their abilities. A baby will learn to roll, sit, and walk without being placed in these positions by an adult. Efficiency, to some degree, is discarded as a moral value in this context. The infants own struggle to emerge is centered. They are not artificially pushed along their own journey because the journey itself is given value. Their competence that results is authentic because it is self-directed, emerging from their own internal rhythms rather than external pressures.

Artificial intelligence, by contrast, is built on replication. It learns patterns, anticipates responses, and refines its behavior, but it does so without intrinsic motivation or a lived body. It simulates competence, but its development is entirely shaped by external forces—human programming, datasets, and reinforcement algorithms.

Authenticity in human life—whether in infancy or adulthood—comes from experience. It is rooted in time, struggle, and personal discovery. When a child learns to stand on their own, it is a triumph born of effort. When an AI chatbot generates text, it has not “learned” in the way a human does; it has processed probabilities based on prior data. The appearance of competence is not the same as the lived reality of it. There is a misconception that infants are similar to AI. That infants are a product of the information that is put into them. But that is not true. Infants are born as whole persons. True, they learn, but the information they take in is not grafted onto a blank slate. They are born with personalities, preferences, and opinions. Part of their journey is learning what those are. But that does not mean they are not already present.

This difference matters. If we begin to accept artificial life as a sufficient replacement for authentic human experience, we risk losing something fundamental. Just as we resist the temptation to accelerate an infant’s development artificially, we should resist the urge to replace human connection, wisdom, and growth with something merely performative.

Much like how infants develop genuine competence through uninterrupted exploration, adults maintain authenticity by resisting external pressures that shape their identities artificially. Whether it’s in social interactions, career choices, or personal relationships, the key to authentic living is embracing what is real rather than what is expected or imitated.

AI, by contrast, lacks this depth. It may generate responses, mimic tone, and produce work that appears intelligent, but it is inherently detached from personal values or emotional resonance. It does not navigate the moral dilemmas, the self-doubt, or the moments of courage that define an authentically lived life. This distinction is crucial as we integrate AI into more aspects of daily existence.

One of the core elements of the Pikler and RIE approach is presence—being fully attuned to the infant without distractions or interference. This concept of mindful presence is also central to authentic living. When we are fully engaged in an experience—whether it’s interacting with our children, creating art, or having a conversation—we are living authentically.

However, the increasing reliance on artificial intelligence and digital interactions threatens to erode this presence. When we let AI dictate our schedules, craft our words, and shape our interactions, we risk losing the depth of real human engagement. Just as a baby learns through unstructured play and discovery, we too must reclaim our capacity for deep, genuine presence in our lives.

RIE and Pikler parents trust that a child’s self-led journey is the most meaningful. Could the same principle apply to how we approach technology? The challenge is not rejecting AI outright. I realize that AI, like all technological developments, has the capacity to improve our lives. But I look at the history of technological development, and I am concerned that it will not be applied in a way that will make our lives better, but in a way that will build in more artifice to our lives and potentially further alienate us from our own humanity and from the humanity that we see in our children. If AI proves to be everything that it is represented to be, do you have any doubt that it will be incorporated into childcare? I don’t. But what will it be optimized to accomplish? We already have a childcare system that, at times, seems designed to merely keep children alive rather than to allow them to thrive. What does that world look like when we increasingly remove the natural human feedback of human caregivers?

AI could of course be a tremendous resource, but I fear that it will be at the expense of the real, embodied, and hard-won humanity of infants. We know, for example, that infants do not learn from screen media in the same way that they learn from actual people. Even when there are persons singing songs or “educating” children on those screens, it is not a substitute for the value of human contact. Infants do not process information received from screens in the same way or as effectively as they do from actual persons, and from their caregivers in particular. I can see a world coming where AI is integrated into childcare settings, both in institutional settings and at home. It is a world where human contact with an infant is deemed less crucial because the AI has “competently” changed a diaper or given a bottle. But those moments of care are not purely functional. They are relationship building moments where an infant learns to trust, to laugh, to be human. It seems almost inevitable that we will try to outsource the labor of childcare to AI as soon as it becomes competently reliable. And that will be a dark day. Because there is no substitute for human interaction with an infant. Just as we do not interfere unnecessarily in an infant’s development, we must be careful not to outsource our own experiences—to let artificial life do our thinking, our feeling, or our connecting for us.

Living authentically means embracing slowness, self-discovery, and presence. It means recognizing that some things—like a baby’s first independent step or a hard-earned insight—cannot be simulated. In a world increasingly shaped by artificial intelligence, perhaps the true radical act is choosing what is real. I do not have a remedy for a world where we increasingly rely on AI. It may bring many great things, but I hope that we are able to approach it with a sense of skepticism and caution, particularly with respect to our children.