In 2026, I walked into a university classroom in Lahore where students were preparing for their final projects. Instead of brainstorming ideas or debating theories, most were quietly prompting AI tools to generate essays, presentations, even research summaries.
Qasim, a bachelor’s student, admitted he hadn’t read a single book that semester: “Why bother,” he said, “when the machine can do it faster?” Kiran added that she felt her creativity slipping away; she no longer trusted her own words without running them through an AI editor.
The danger is not that Pakistan’s younger generation lacks ambition, but that their intellectual muscles are no longer being exercised. Silence has replaced debate, and AI prompts have replaced books. If machines are thinking, what happens to the thinkers?
So, the question arises: as AI gets smarter, are we getting dumber?
Pakistan’s younger generation, raised in a society where rote learning is encouraged over critical inquiry, is now outsourcing even that limited intellectual effort to machines. In a cultural context where respect for hierarchy often discourages independent thought, AI risks reinforcing passivity.
Increasing reliance on AI leads to deskilling; individuals may lose the ability to think critically and solve problems independently. Academics at Aarhus University warn that AI will make humans less efficacious, while data scientists predict that by 2027, advances in AI could push human labour towards obsolescence.
Brains, like muscles, atrophy when not exercised. The convenience of AI masks a deeper danger: short-term efficiency at the cost of long-term decline. But the danger is not only cognitive; it is cultural. In Pakistan, the erosion of memory and identity may prove even more corrosive.
While most discussions of AI atrophy focus on cognitive decline, a deeper concern in Pakistan is the erosion of cultural memory and identity. As younger generations increasingly rely on AI for knowledge, storytelling, and even religious or cultural guidance, local traditions and nuanced histories risk being flattened into generic, machine-generated outputs.
The UNDP warns that AI could widen inequality, especially in education, if a country like Pakistan adopts it without cautionary measures, resulting in cognitive decline that is not just individual but also structural, deepening divides between those fluent in AI and those excluded
In Lahore, I saw teenagers preparing for a debate competition. Instead of conversing with grandparents about Pakistan’s political history or reading Urdu essays, they turned to AI tools. The polished arguments lacked the cultural nuance and lived experiences older generations carried.
AI cannot produce another Iqbal, Mir, Ghalib, or Parveen Shakir. Young writers in Islamabad draft short stories in English with AI assistance, sidelining Urdu and regional languages. Generative AI’s English-centric bias accelerates this erosion, privileging global tongues while marginalising local vernaculars.
Unless deliberate steps are taken, AI risks becoming a new colonial force, privileging English while eroding Urdu and regional languages. International critics warn of digital colonialism, where developing countries import AI systems trained on Western data, eroding local languages and epistemologies. Consequently, Pakistan could slide into becoming a consumer of foreign AI rather than a producer, surrendering cultural agency.
The erosion is not confined to language; it extends to how we connect emotionally. Chatbots may dazzle with their language abilities, but they falter when faced with the abstract, emotional, and unpredictable aspects of human conversation — an empathy gap.
In Pakistan, children glued to screens often confide sensitive thoughts to chatbots instead of parents or grandparents. The responses they receive lack empathy and cultural nuance. This is not just a technical glitch; it is a social crisis. If Pakistan allows AI to mediate formative conversations, it risks raising a generation fluent in prompts but impoverished in empathy, detached from the cultural roots that once anchored identity.
This empathy deficit is compounded by weak regulation. Pakistan passed the Regulation of Artificial Intelligence Act (2024), its first attempt to govern AI. Yet the law remains vague, offering little guidance on high-risk domains like education and justice. Without stronger safeguards, regulation risks becoming symbolic rather than substantive, leaving society exposed to AI’s corrosive effects.
The UNDP warns that AI could widen inequality, especially in education, if a country like Pakistan adopts it without cautionary measures, resulting in cognitive decline that is not just individual but also structural, deepening divides between those fluent in AI and those excluded.
Policy must move beyond symbolism to substantive protection. Yet even strong laws will mean little without a vision for how Pakistan wants to live with AI. Do away with AI and return to pen and paper? That is not happening. AI is powerful and indispensable, but Pakistan must learn to use it without losing itself. Avoiding AI apathy means refusing to let machines replace our intellectual muscles.
Pakistan must strengthen its laws, reform its education system, and deliberately preserve its cultural heritage. Otherwise, the country risks raising a generation fluent in prompts but hollow in thought, detached from empathy and identity.
As algorithms reshape thought and empathy worldwide, Pakistan must decide what kind of human future it wants. AI may generate answers, but it cannot generate wisdom, and Pakistan cannot afford to lose both.