Humanity

By Abdulhamid Abdullahi Aliyu

When most people hear the phrase “Artificial Intelligence” (AI), their minds often drift toward futuristic fantasies: robots that think like humans, machines plotting to overthrow their creators, or computers smarter than their inventors. Science fiction has fed us these images for decades. Yet, beyond Hollywood thrillers, AI is already here, quietly shaping the world around us. It answers customer queries through chatbots, selects the next movie you’ll watch on Netflix, predicts what story appears at the top of your newsfeed, and even decides whether a bank approves your loan.

But this growing presence of AI in our daily lives forces us to confront a pressing question: how intelligent is artificial intelligence?

The honest answer is that AI is not a brain. It is not some mystical creation that understands, feels, or reasons like humans do. What appears to be “thinking” in AI is essentially mathematics—machines processing massive datasets, detecting patterns, and making predictions based on those patterns. Take medicine, for instance. AI can analyse thousands of X-rays or MRI scans in minutes, flagging possible signs of disease with astonishing speed. Yet, it does not comprehend illness, nor does it share in the burden of delivering a life-changing diagnosis. It only “sees” shapes, signals, and recurring features in data.

This distinction raises a critical debate: Is AI genuinely intelligent, or is it just an extraordinary mimic?

Human intelligence is not simply about solving problems or recalling information. It is a rich blend of memory, imagination, intuition, creativity, and moral reasoning. It includes the ability to feel empathy, wrestle with ethical dilemmas, or create art that expresses the soul. AI has none of these. It has no emotions, no conscience, no instinct for right and wrong. When it generates a song, writes an essay, or navigates a self-driving car, it is not exercising creativity or judgment. It is reproducing patterns learned from the data it has been trained on.

Yet, to dismiss AI as a hollow imitation would be unfair. Its capabilities, in specific domains, far exceed human performance. Banks now rely heavily on AI systems to monitor millions of transactions, detecting fraud almost instantly —a feat that no team of human auditors could achieve at the same scale. In agriculture, AI-driven weather forecasts and soil sensors enable farmers to predict rainfall, manage crops effectively, and enhance food security. In education, adaptive learning platforms can tailor lessons to meet each student’s unique learning style, giving teachers powerful tools to reach struggling learners. These are not gimmicks; they are reshaping how we live, work, and think.

Still, with such benefits come significant dangers. The real problem arises when society overestimates AI’s intelligence, attributing to it a wisdom it does not possess. Algorithms are only as good as the data they consume, and data is often flawed. Recruitment systems trained on biased records have been caught replicating discrimination, silently excluding qualified women or minorities. Predictive policing tools fed with skewed crime statistics risk unfairly targeting entire communities, reinforcing cycles of distrust and marginalisation.

Even more worrying is the human temptation to outsource too much decision-making to machines. When schools, governments, or businesses heavily rely on AI, they risk eroding human capacity for critical thinking. Societies that allow machines to make moral or civic decisions run the risk of dulling their own judgment, a peril that no amount of computing power can rectify.

This is why interrogating the “intelligence” of AI is not just an academic exercise; it is a civic responsibility. Policymakers must move beyond lip service and regulate how AI is designed and deployed, ensuring that it serves the public good rather than private profit alone. Technology companies must become more transparent about how their algorithms operate, particularly when these systems impact jobs, justice, and access to essential services. Citizens, too, have a role to play. Digital literacy must become as fundamental as reading and writing, empowering people to understand what AI can and, crucially, what it cannot do.

Ultimately, the irony of AI is this: the real intelligence lies not inside the machine but in the humans who create, guide, and govern it. AI can calculate faster than any brain, but it cannot care about the consequences of those calculations. It can analyse data at lightning speed, but it cannot empathise with the human beings behind the numbers. That is the dividing line between computation and compassion, between efficiency and wisdom.

If we maintain this distinction, AI will remain a powerful tool that amplifies human potential, rather than one that diminishes it. The smartest move is to resist the illusion that machines are thinking entities and instead recognise them for what they are: products of human ingenuity, useful only to the extent that we wield them responsibly.

Ultimately, the future of AI will not be dictated by algorithms, but by people. The question is not whether AI can become truly intelligent; it cannot. The real question is whether humans will remain wise enough to use it well.

Abdulhamid Abdullahi Aliyu writes on disaster management, humanitarian response, and national development.

By Ibraheem A. Waziri

Artificial Intelligence has arrived, and in many ways, it is already surpassing humankind in numerous tasks – frominformation retrieval and decision-making to writing essays, diagnosing illnesses, and simulating human conversations. 

The rapid advancement of AI over the past decade is no longer a marvel; it is a living reality. With its relentless progress, we are standing on the cusp of a new era, an age in which the human mind and artificial intelligence may become intimately intertwined, both physically and cognitively. 

Over the next ten to twenty years, we can expect to witness the rise of brain-chip implants, neural devices capable of recording thoughts and memories, and integrating them with external data in real-time. This development, already underway in advanced laboratories, will redefine the limits of human cognition. Learning may no longer require years of study. Instead, information could be uploaded directly into the brain, rendering traditional education models obsolete or significantly transformed. 

The barriers to knowledge acquisition—once dependent on time, resources, and access—would essentially vanish. Everyone might stand on equal ground when it comes to information. In this sense, AI could appear to be the long-awaited solution to humanity’s historic struggle with ignorance. A world where information is no longer hoarded but instantly shared would mark a fundamental shift in human civilisation. 

Yet, in this possible future, one thing remains uniquely human: our conscience. The power of choice, the intention behind our actions, and the moral compass guiding our decisions stay beyond the reach of AI. The Islamic prophetic saying “Innamal a’malu binniyat”- “intentions judge actions” -takes on renewed weight. When knowledge becomes universally accessible, what will distinguish one person from another is no longer what they know, but how and why they use it. 

AI may provide the tools, but only our conscience can determine their application. In this new world, the essence of being human —the power to choose, to discern, and to act with purpose —becomes our most valuable trait. 

In writing and speech, large language models (LLMs) have dramatically reduced the burden of expression. AI tools can correct grammar, enhance clarity, and structure arguments. In this way, AI handles the “form,” allowing humans to focus more on “substance”: the meaning, purpose, and ethical significance of their message. 

Yet the human mind’s natural tendency to ask questions, to imagine, and to critique will not diminish. If anything, it will deepen. Humans are not passive recipients of knowledge; we are also its interpreters, critics, and re-creators. Far from becoming complacent in the presence of AI, people will begin to question it, reshape it, and rise above it. 

The reason is simple: the human mind cannot stagnate. It searches for meaning and thrives in ambiguity. Our ability to reflect, imagine, and dwell on abstract ideas remains unmatched. AI can mimic patterns and predict outcomes, but it cannot experience wonder, nor can it feel regret, nor grapple with moral ambiguity. 

Creativity itself arises from three essential human components: conscience, emotions, and environment. AI may support this triad; it may even challenge or stimulate it, but it cannot generate it. AI is a product of creativity, not its source. And it cannot be the source of what it did not create. 

By automating routine tasks, AI liberates the human mind to think more deeply and act more boldly. It frees us from mechanical repetition, allowing for higher-order thinking, innovation, and artistry. Writers, thinkers, inventors, and designers now have more time for exploration and imagination, which remain the core of human advancement. 

This evolving relationship mirrors humanity’s relationship with the Divine. Just as no human can rival the wisdom or creative force of God, AI can never match the core of our humanity. It cannot outfeel us. It cannot outdo us. It cannot outvalue us. It cannot possess conscience, consciousness, or emotion; the divine triad that defines who we are. 

When AI becomes fully integrated into daily life, at work, in education, healthcare, governance, and homes, we won’t become less human. In fact, we will become more human. We will have to let go of much of the mechanical and embrace the reflective. We will have more space to think, more time to connect, and more clarity to imagine. 

And in this space, we may at last pursue what has always eluded us, even in our most extraordinary scientific and industrial feats: wisdom. While AI may provide us with access to vast amounts of information, only the human soul, guided by conscience, can discern what is just, what is meaningful, and what is beautiful. 

AI does not represent the end of humanity. It is the beginning of a new chapter, one filled with tools of immense potential. But as with all tools, their value depends on the hands that use them. In the age of AI, the accurate measure of a person will no longer be what they know, but why they act and how they choose to use what they have. 

AI may become the great equaliser of knowledge, but it is only the human conscience that can give that knowledge direction, purpose, and value. And that is a gift no machine can replicate.