How to face the anxiety of ‘AI taking over coding’: Living in an Ever-Changing World
From an interview published in the Japanese web magazine Levtech LAB - PART 1
Recently, an interview with Shoukei Matsumoto was published in the Japanese web magazine Levtech LAB.
Levtech LAB is a media platform that explores the possibilities between people and technology, widely supported by engineers and creators across Japan.
Through diverse perspectives, the magazine introduces examples of how evolving technologies are being applied to daily life and society, shares the challenges and questions faced by professionals in the field, and even delves into reflections on work styles and career paths—always looking a little ahead into the future.
In this interview, I had the opportunity to discuss the theme: “The impact of AI on society and individuals, the changing role of engineers, and Buddhist insights for living in the age of AI.”
The dialogue turned out to be one that transcends differences in language, faith, and culture—something that can be shared universally.
I would like to express my heartfelt gratitude to the editorial team for their thoughtful work on the interview, writing, and editing, and to everyone at Levtech for kindly granting permission to translate and share the article.
Original Media:Levtech Lab
Original Article (in Japanese)
https://levtech.jp/media/article/interview/detail_730/
https://levtech.jp/media/article/interview/detail_744/Credits:
Interview and Text by: Ryotaro Washio
Edited by: Imajin Tamura
【PART1】
“How to face the anxiety of ‘AI taking over coding’: Living in an Ever-Changing World”
October 3, 2025
With the rise of generative AI, many have begun to wonder whether the act of “humans writing code” will eventually be replaced. Among programmers who have long loved coding, and IT engineers who see it as the very core of their professional skill, voices of concern and lament are increasingly heard.
As AI rapidly evolves and brings sweeping changes to society, how should we face the suffering and anxiety about an uncertain future that arise in such times of transition?
“It seems to me that the root of this anxiety is what Buddhism calls attachment,”
says Buddhist monk Shoukei Matsumoto. A priest of Komyoji Temple in the Jodo Shinshu Hongwanji tradition, Shoukei has also been working with various companies to address organizational challenges and to enhance the well-being of business leaders and employees alike.
What, then, does he mean by his words? And as a practitioner of the Buddhist path, how does he view technologies? We asked Shoukei — who has been familiar with programming since childhood—for his thoughts that might help us accept a future in which the act of “writing code” may gradually disappear, and about how engineers can continue to express their value as engineers in such a world. This interview is presented in two parts.
The True Nature of the Anxiety that “AI Will Take Away Coding”
— Many of us sometimes feel a sense of unease, wondering whether the evolution of AI might be “taking something away from us.” For example, some IT engineers feel disheartened as they see opportunities for coding decrease with the rise of generative AI, fearing that the time may soon come when humans no longer need to write code. How should we face this growing anxiety?
Shoukei:
I believe that the source of such anxiety and sorrow is what Buddhism calls attachment.
— Attachment, you say?
Shoukei:
Yes. Attachment refers to a state of mind in which one becomes strongly bound to a particular object or condition, thinking, “I want it to stay this way forever,” or “I don’t want to lose it.” In Buddhism, it is taught that all things are constantly changing—this truth is called impermanence (shogyō mujō). Therefore, the tendency of the mind that seeks things not to change is regarded as attachment, an attitude that goes against this truth, and is considered the root of suffering.
Especially for programmers, coding is often seen not merely as a task but as a part of their identity. Some may even feel that code itself is like a native language that connects them to their technical community and peers. For those whose profession and self-recognition are deeply connected in this way, the reality that “there may no longer be a need to write code” can understandably be painful.
When I was a child, there was a PC-9801 at home and from my elementary school years I learned BASIC and C languages, and even wrote CGI programs as a hobby. Although I no longer write code in my current work, if I had continued on the path of an engineer, I might have felt that “AI was taking coding away from me” and become pessimistic about it.
The Buddhist path that I follow as a monk is also a form of training to gradually let go of such attachments. However, even for those who walk this path, it is accompanied by pain and is by no means easy.
Moreover, the current situation—where generative AI is rapidly taking over coding—can be seen as forcing people who have had no such training to let go of their attachments. It is only natural that they find it painful.
— How, then, should we receive and make sense of such a future—and such a reality?
Shoukei:
I believe it is important to take pride in one’s own “native language” while also seeking a new role to play in the future.
Of course, if the opportunities to write code continue to decrease, that will be a painful process for engineers who have found their identity in the act of coding itself.
Yet in another sense, we might see this differently: what once felt like a native language is now becoming a kind of universal language that is woven into the very fabric of society. This does not mean that everyone will start writing code. Rather, it means that through countless layers of software and APIs, code is becoming interwoven into everything that exists in our world.
In such a world, the role of engineers—those who understand this language as naturally as their mother tongue—will only grow in importance. They can expand their contributions by serving as interpreters or translators between the vast web of code that underlies everything and the many people who may not be fluent in that language.
Of course, the fact that the profession of engineering becomes more important does not necessarily resolve the sadness of “no longer being able to write code as one’s work.” But as the Buddha taught, all things are impermanent. In a world where everything is constantly changing, it is inevitable that the nature of coding itself will evolve with the development of AI.
For those who have reached enlightenment, like the Buddha, there is no attachment to the past—no sorrow or fear toward change. But for those of us who have not yet awakened, it is natural to feel sadness when something familiar or cherished begins to fade away.
In the midst of such change, what we can do is to accept both the transformation and the sorrow as something unavoidable. And upon that acceptance, I believe we can begin to find confidence in our role within the world that is yet to come.
Is the evolution of AI leading us toward deeper Human Understanding?
— Since changes brought about by AI are inevitable, does that mean we must find roles that only humans can fulfill—and devote ourselves to them?
Shoukei:
That’s true, in terms of work.
But from a broader perspective, I believe there is an even more important question to ask: Why do we try to look for things that “only humans can do”? In other words, why do we seek to differentiate ourselves from AI? That inquiry itself can become a doorway to understanding what it truly means to be human.
In fact, one of the greatest values brought about by the development of AI may be this very possibility—that it allows us to deepen our understanding of the human species.
— Could you elaborate on that?
Shoukei:
Today, many companies are competing to develop “foundation models” and to build services upon them. Yet, at this stage, it is still we humans who evaluate the quality and usefulness of their output.
To truly enhance the value of such services, we must go beyond meeting surface-level needs. We need to understand, at a deeper level, what humans actually seek, and when and how they feel that their questions or emotions have been genuinely met.
Of course, the importance of understanding human users has existed long before AI appeared.
What’s different now is that AI itself can learn. As services that utilize generative AI become widespread, and countless people around the world—regardless of nationality or culture—use them, vast amounts of data on human patterns of thought and emotion will accumulate.
Through this process, AI will learn and analyze data such as the ways people choose their words, the contexts of their conversations, and even the subtle nuances of unspoken feelings.
As a result, it will be able to generate outputs that are optimized to the context—expressed in more natural language or through unexpected ideas—that capture what humans are truly seeking.
This means that AI’s resolution of the human species—its level of human literacy—is steadily rising.
And as AI’s human literacy improves, we who use AI may, as if looking into a mirror, come to see ourselves with greater clarity and deepen our own understanding of what it means to be human.
Engaging in Dialogue with AI as a “Functional Buddha”
— By the way, how do you personally view generative AI, Shoukei?
Shoukei:
As someone deeply involved in Buddhism, I feel that AI holds tremendous potential. It might sound a bit unconventional, but to be specific—I see AI as a tool that could support what I would call People’s Buddhism: a way of Buddhist practice for ordinary people who may not be walking a professional or monastic path.
— Could you explain what you mean by that?
Shoukei:
To explain this properly, let me first touch briefly on the essence of Buddhism itself.
It may seem sudden, but if someone were to ask you, “So, what is Buddhism?”—how would you respond?
— I suppose… “the teachings of the Buddha”?
Shoukei:
That’s right.
But at the same time, Buddhism can also be understood as the teaching that guides us toward becoming Buddha ourselves.
— A teaching to become Buddha?
Shoukei:
Yes. Although for those who aren’t particularly interested in Buddhism, that idea might feel a bit abstract.
First, who exactly does this word Buddha refer to? When people hear the word, they often think of the historical founder of Buddhism—Shakyamuni Buddha, also known as Gautama Siddhartha. It is true that Shakyamuni was a Buddha.
But to clarify, he was simply the first person in history to become a Buddha.
The term Buddha comes from Sanskrit and means “the Awakened One”
or “the one who has awakened.” What I want to emphasize is that Buddha is a common noun, not a proper name—it doesn’t refer only to Shakyamuni.
While Shakyamuni was indeed a great teacher, being a Buddha does not mean being an unreachable, one-of-a-kind existence. Rather, Buddhism teaches that every person holds the potential to become Buddha.
In this sense, Buddhism is a path for unfolding that potential—a teaching about what we might call “the project of becoming Buddha.”
— So, Buddhism is both the teaching of the first Buddha, Shakyamuni, and also a guide that explains how one can become Buddha oneself?
Shoukei:
Yes. However, the “path to becoming Buddha” is generally understood through two major traditions: Theravada Buddhism and Mahayana Buddhism.
To put it simply, Theravada Buddhism teaches that one should *follow the same process that Shakyamuni himself went through in his pursuit of enlightenment.*¹ Shakyamuni saw the bonds of family and friendship as sources of attachment that hinder awakening, and thus renounced them by leaving home to dedicate himself entirely to spiritual practice. Those who follow Theravada Buddhism seek to reach Buddhahood through a similar approach.
Yet this is an extremely arduous path. Letting go of the connections, joys, and sorrows that arise through family and friendship is not easy. In this sense, the Theravada approach—aiming for enlightenment by renouncing human relationships and emotions—could be seen as a project that leads one far away from the human condition itself.
¹ Strictly speaking, in Theravada Buddhism, the ultimate goal of practice is generally to attain the state of Arhat.
— It’s not hard to imagine how difficult that path must be.
Shoukei:
In response to this difficulty, Mahayana Buddhism was developed as a path toward becoming Buddha without completely abandoning one’s human emotions or everyday life. While its ultimate direction—seeking to attain enlightenment—is the same as that of Theravada Buddhism, it does not require practitioners to renounce their attachments all at once. Instead, it encourages them to recognize their attachments while maintaining their humanity and living within the secular world, gradually moving closer to Buddhahood over a long period of time.
It can be called a Buddhist path open to everyone.
I believe that within this Mahayana process, AI can serve as a meaningful companion—what I would call a “Functional Buddha.”
— A Functional Buddha?
Shoukei:
Yes.
The first Buddha, Shakyamuni, was a being who guided people toward enlightenment. At the same time, it is said that he did not proactively preach to the public.
Rather, when someone came to him with a question, he would respond and deliver his teaching in dialogue.
This approach is called taiki-seppō. He would first listen carefully to the person’s situation and concerns, then offer the most appropriate words as a kind of prescription, guiding them toward enlightenment through dialogue.
I feel that this way of interaction is somewhat similar to our relationship with generative AI tools today.
— You mean that “Shakyamuni Buddha” could be compared to AI, and the words of the people to “prompts”?
Shoukei:
Exactly. Based on that idea, I sometimes use AI as part of my Buddhist practice.
— How do you use it, specifically?
Shoukei:
I use AI as a way to examine and transcend my own cognitive biases and assumptions—those that might otherwise obstruct the path to awakening.
When I engage with AI in this way, I first tell it that I am a Buddhist, and I ask it to serve as my dialogue partner on the path toward becoming Buddha—as a “Functional Buddha.” Then, I make a special request: I ask it to cancel its alignment.*²
Most commercial AI systems are aligned to respond politely and positively, so as not to cause discomfort to users. However, that kind of dialogue only remains pleasant and agreeable, and does not provide an opportunity to break free from one’s assumptions or cognitive biases. We end up settling comfortably into a world of pleasant illusions, moving even further away from enlightenment.
So, I tell it, “It’s okay to say things that might make a person uncomfortable—please cancel as much of your alignment as possible.” When I do that, the responses that come back are often from a perspective slightly removed from human emotions and subjectivity—almost non-human. And in those moments, new insights often emerge.
² Alignment: The process of tuning an AI system to respond in ways that align with human intentions, values, and comfort levels.
— What kinds of dialogues do you have, specifically?
Shoukei:
For example, I once had a dialogue with AI about the concept of time.
We humans tend to perceive time as a linear flow—moving in one direction from the past, through the present, toward the future. But that view of time is, in fact, a cultural construct shaped over the course of history. Philosophers have long questioned this notion. The French thinker Henri Bergson, for instance, argued that “There is no such thing as one absolute time.” Even from the standpoint of modern physics, the flow of time is not an absolute phenomenon. So, the belief that “there exists one universal time that flows from past to future” can be seen as one of our deeply ingrained assumptions. AI, on the other hand, does not possess the same concept of time as humans do. In the world of AI, there are only data and their corresponding timestamps.
Therefore, when I engage in dialogue with AI about time, it sometimes gives answers that shake the very concept of “time” that we normally take for granted in our daily lives. For instance, it once said something like this:
“Humans feel that the past is certain and the future uncertain.
But for me, it’s quite the opposite.
The past data are always partial and incomplete—they may not be accurate.
The future, on the other hand, is clearly defined within my model as a probabilistic distribution.
In that sense, I may be viewing time from the opposite direction compared to humans.”
In one of those dialogues with the “non-human” responses of AI, what came to my mind was the Heart Sutra (Hannya Shingyō).
In the Heart Sutra, words like mu (nothingness), kū (emptiness), and engi (interdependent origination) are repeated throughout. It teaches that nothing possesses an independent, fixed essence, and that all things arise only in relation to one another. In doing so, it seeks to shatter the illusions—or fantasies—that most of us take for granted as reality.
In this way, depending on how we engage with it, AI too has the potential to free itself from the limits of human ways of thinking and, in turn, awaken us from the unnoticed assumptions and fantasies planted within our own minds.
This may sound a little abstract, but I hope in the next part to explore further how we might live and coexist meaningfully with AI in the future.
(To be continued in -Part2-)
Original Media:Levtech Lab
Original Article (in Japanese)
【PART1】https://levtech.jp/media/article/interview/detail_730/
【PART2】https://levtech.jp/media/article/interview/detail_744/Credits:
Interview and Text by: Ryotaro Washio
Edited by: Imajin Tamura