Ethical Perspective for Education

Almost everyone has concerns of AI disrupting what we consider the “traditional education.” We hear people reiterate the same points about “critical thinking” and “student empowerment” over and over . . .  But what do these concepts actually mean? 

AI has exponentiated its power, yet we’re stuck using the same aspirational place-holder language without any clear strategy to guide decisive action. How can we actualize these concepts into tangible improvements for students’ education? 

In this article, I aim to provide a fresh perspective on this prevalent debate using ethical philosophy as a lens to analyze each situation. I intend to show that rules and policy alone are insufficient for promoting genuinely responsible AI use. The force driving this change needs to be a strong conviction of self-betterment, anchored in a deep love for one’s own education. It’s a feeling of purpose; a desire for knowledge. The goal should be teaching students to become powerful, independent moral leaders, not spineless rule-followers needing an instruction manual to act morally in any given situation. When complemented with the existing policy-based approach, an inspirational approach will aim at flourishing, helping grow the seed of moral leadership planted inside every student. Eventually, they will discern goodness in ambiguity and use that vision of goodness to make the moral judgements that determine the future.

St. Augustine of Hippo, the 4th century theologian and philosopher, wrote an anecdotal conclusion on two differing educational philosophies that remains highly relevant to AI-focused conversations in the 21st century.

“Why then did I detest Greek literature when it told similar stories? For Homer too was skilled at weaving myths, and was just as delightfully vain; but when I was a boy I found him little to my taste. I suspect that Greek boys have the same reaction to Virgil, since they are made to learn him in the same way I learned Homer. Evidently there is difficulty, real difficulty, in learning a foreign language at all, as if it sprinkled all the sweet flavor of the Greek mythical stories with a foul taste. I knew none of the vocabulary, and I was severely intimidated by harsh threats of punishment to make me learn. There was a time, after all, when I was a baby, when I knew absolutely no Latin either, but I still learned to speak it—without all the fear and torture—by paying attention, surrounded by my nurses’ encouragement and the amusement of those who smiled at me, and the pleasure of those who played with me. In a word, I learned without any pressure from looming punishment. I learned when my heart encouraged me to generate its own ideas. It could not have done so had I not learned some words, not from teachers but from people speaking to me. In turn, whatever I became aware of at the time, I was trying to produce it for them to hear. So it is perfectly clear that untrammeled curiosity is a more effective aid to learning than any pressure born from fear.”

-- St. Augustine of Hippo, Confessions

Augustine’s love over fear approach provides the thing missing from the rule-based approach. Even when rules perfectly outline what is expected of students, schools cannot ensure perfect adherence once students leave campus. They can’t track every single prompt that a student sends to AI. 

In order for students to “love” education, they need to find a purpose in it beyond simply getting it over with or earning the piece of paper. There are three primary reasons for why students can value their education:

• The first reason is wisdom. A multiplicity of perspectives ultimately will contribute to better informed decisions and judgements.

• The second is for the more pragmatic people out there: it is skill. Skill is what helps bring a vision to reality. 

• The third is the hardest often because it cannot be pursued, only found. It is a desire for knowledge simply because having knowledge makes a person happy.

Long ago, Aristotle considered why we do things. Essentially, why we have motivations. He concluded that everything we do is for the sake of happiness and happiness is the only thing pursued for its own sake. This phenomenon creates a sort of chain where one item points to the next. It can look something like this example:

1. Why do you exercise? — I exercise to feel better and become stronger.

2. Why do you want to feel better and become stronger? — I want to have energy for work and hobbies.

3. Why do you want to have energy for work and hobbies? — I want to earn money to live comfortably and support a family.

4. Why do you want to live comfortably and support a family? — Because those things will make me happy.

This is a simplified example of what is, in reality, a very long and complicated chain. You can think of these chains for any imaginable situation, but the last link, every time, will always be happiness, and at that point, the chain can no longer be continued.

There is no good answer to the question, “why do you want to be happy?” because there is no why. It just is. It’s a self-evident, axiomatic truth that everyone has an intrinsic drive for happiness.

Going back to the topic of students using AI, the three reasons to value education are powerful because, if students truly value them, they will realize that the goal corresponding to each reason cannot be accomplished by offloading a task to AI. Naturally, if AI can enhance any of these pursuits, that’s a good thing. Right now, however, we’re strictly talking about cases where AI is not used beneficially. 

The point of this is that, in order for schools to pursue ethical AI use as an objective, they need to incorporate helping their students in finding their own reasons not to misuse AI. Rules and policy are simply not enough. The motivation needs to come from within and become a link of the chain toward happiness.