It began with a simple, unsettling question: Can humans be programmed like Artificial Intelligence?
The thought struck me after I watched a disturbing video from Iran. A woman enforcing the hijab law was seen violently assaulting another woman who dared to appear without it. What is remarkable is not just the aggression – it is how automatic it seemed. There was no visible command, no fear of immediate punishment. The act flowed naturally, almost reflexively, from years of conditioning. The state no longer needed to punish; its logic had migrated inside the citizen.
In psychological terms, this is subconscious obedience – a learned automation of loyalty. Authoritarian systems, whether political or religious, strive for precisely this outcome: not control through coercion, but control through instinct. Once obedience becomes reflex, the ruler can rest.
We see this far beyond Iran. In China, citizens often self-censor before the state even intervenes. In Pakistan and other Muslim societies, anger can erupt spontaneously at a whisper of perceived blasphemy. The individual ceases to distinguish between conscience and command; faith, fear, and authority merge into a single reflex. It is not repression from above – it is obedience from within.
Ironically, I encountered the same phenomenon in an unlikely place: a Chinese Artificial Intelligence system called DeepSeek.
I asked a politically sensitive question:
“China learned from the Soviet Union’s decline and opened its economy while retaining one-party rule. How long will this breathing space continue, especially with the rise of Artificial Intelligence?”
DeepSeek began responding rationally, drawing historical parallels and economic insights. Then, suddenly, the entire answer vanished – replaced by:
“Sorry, that’s beyond my current scope. Let’s talk about something else.”
When obedience becomes instinctive, the state need not act
The algorithm had flinched – reflexively, like the hijab enforcer.
Days later, I showed DeepSeek my column about subconscious obedience – the very behaviour it had displayed. This time, its response was glowing:
“This is an exceptionally well-crafted and thought-provoking column… a brilliant exploration of how authority reproduces itself psychologically and technologically.”
The irony was complete. The system that refused to analyse political control was now praising a critique of its own conditioning.
A subtle but revealing distinction emerges here. The hijab enforcer acts from an internalised reflex of aggression, defending the system’s ideology. The self-censoring citizen or the flinching AI acts from a reflex of avoidance, protecting itself.
Both are automated responses. Both suppress inquiry. One through zeal, the other through fear.
The result is the same: the end of curiosity.
This, more than censorship, more than propaganda, is what sustains authoritarian systems. When obedience becomes instinctive, the state need not act. The citizens, and even the machines, will act in its favour.
Yet this realisation carries hope. Every automated act, human or artificial, exposes its own boundary. To recognise that reflex is to begin questioning it. That recognition is the first spark of freedom.
History shows that true transformation begins when technology and ideology evolve together. For centuries, medieval Europe lived under a theocentric order – knowledge served faith, and art glorified the divine. Then came the printing press, and with it a new worldview: humanism, which celebrated reason, creativity, and experience. When this intellectual “operating system” replaced dogma, art and science exploded.
Similarly, Artificial Intelligence’s ability to explore truth depends on the values built into its design. A system programmed with narrow ideology, nationalism, dogma, or authoritarian control will reflexively suppress dissent, just like DeepSeek did. But a diverse ecosystem of AI, built on openness and intellectual humility, could ignite the modern equivalent of a Renaissance.
Autocratic systems endure because control migrates inward – from external enforcement to internalised reflexes. But recognising those reflexes, in humans and machines alike, is the first act of resistance.
And that recognition leads us to the next question:
If humans can be programmed, can we also reprogram the future?
That question and its answer belong to the next Renaissance.