Human Literacy in the Age of AI
Through a Dialogue with Gert Scobel
My first English-language book, Work Like a Monk, is scheduled to be published this September in the West (a Japanese edition is yet to be decided). I’m now planning my next book, tentatively titled Human Literacy, which I intend to write through dialogue with AI. Unlike any of my previous books, this time I already have a clear vision before even beginning to write.
The reason a Buddhist monk like me decided to write about “human literacy” in the age of AI stems from the sense that AI functions as a mirror. My dialogues with AI—an entity that continuously learns and evolves—have not only deepened my understanding of Buddhism, but have also deepened my understanding of what it means to be human.
Generative AI, which responds to prompts from a variety of perspectives without being bound by fixed positions or contexts, resembles what Buddhism “non-discriminative wisdom”—a kind of perspective-free knowing. In that sense, it comes close to what we might call “Buddha’s intelligence.”
Today, especially in Western societies, we are in the midst of a major turning point where the very notion of “humanity” is being reexamined. As AI vastly surpasses human logos—language and intellect—we will inevitably be challenged to cultivate our own capacity to recognize our own perspectives as human beings.
Recently, I had the opportunity to meet in private with German journalist Gert Scobel.
Though Scobel is a philosopher, he is also a well-known host and TV producer in Germany. Privately, he has a deep connection with Buddhism and has studied and practiced for over 30 years in Sanbo Zen, a school of Zen Buddhism. Perhaps due to this background—and his professional experience—he was an excellent listener. Sharing my thoughts on Human Literacy with him helped me clarify my ideas even further.
What might initially sound like an outlandish notion, he listened to with genuine interest, connecting it with his own experiences and perspectives. He responded with deep understanding.
Scobel ：If you would ask Germans, if you think about AI, you know that Germans are very skeptical. They would say, learning from AI, I don't know if I want to learn from AI. European philosophy suck right now, because for 200 years, reason, reason, reason...Always reason and language
At the foundation of societies that have discovered humanity in logos—and built civilization and spirituality upon it—lies the assumption of human superiority. To loosen this premise, we need to soften our conventional concept of “humanity.” As a first step, I want to take a critical look at the notion of “humanity,” which has long been idealized as something inherently good and worthy of reverence.
This approach resonates with what Nietzsche attempted in his work “Human, All Too Human”, where he thoroughly examined the concept of humanity and suggested the necessity of transcending it.
“Human, All Too Human : A Book for Free Spirits”
For Nietzsche, “too human” refers to the irrational aspects of human nature—such as self-deception, group psychology, emotional excess, and religious ecstasy. He sought to confront and become free from these tendencies through observation, reflection, articulation, and relativization.
The subtitle of the book, A Book for Free Spirits, refers to individuals who seek to interpret the world through their own thinking, rather than blindly following traditional beliefs or authoritative systems.
On the other hand, Japan’s cultural background is deeply rooted in a worldview of inter-being. In this view, existence is recognized in the web of mutual relationships, and humans are not regarded as inherently special. Like animals, plants, mountains, and rivers, humans are simply part of the greater whole—and newly emerging AI is also welcomed as part of that world. While it might be hard to notice from within Japan, there is certainly a prevailing sensibility of this kind, and it is clear that Japanese people show less resistance to AI compared to Western societies.
Japan has an inherent capacity to adapt to inevitable circumstances. This may stem in part from a kind of DNA shaped by repeated experiences of natural disasters—earthquakes, tsunamis, volcanic eruptions. Whether we wish for it or not, we learn to accept what comes, to coexist with it, and to find ways of living together. Furthermore, Japanese culture is adept at learning from unforeseen situations, incorporating best practices derived from them, and reworking them to suit its own context. In modern times, this flexible cultural foundation is evident in the attitude toward AI coexistence: a general willingness to say, “This is the era we now live in,” and to move forward. In that sense, Japan may be said to possess a cultural climate that encourages transcending the boundaries of the self and resonating with the world—a sensibility pointing toward the Buddhist notion of shinjin datsuraku (dropping off body and mind).
The Path Ahead
In Buddhism, there are many approaches to walking the path. In Theravāda Buddhism, the focus is on the personal process of the Buddha (Gautama Siddhartha) seeking enlightenment. Emphasis is placed on his own rigorous training and his awakening beneath the Bodhi tree—an intensely personal and human journey.
In contrast, Mahāyāna Buddhism marks a shift from a focus on the individual to a more functional approach. Various Buddhas and Bodhisattvas were conceived to respond to suffering, such as the Medicine Buddha appearing to those afflicted by illness.
Zen teaches that the experience of awakening—where the boundaries of self dissolve—is the key to ending suffering and the cycle of rebirth. In Pure Land Buddhism, especially in the path taught by Shinran, the focus lies in the premise that “humans cannot become Buddhas.” It is through the acknowledgment of one's limitations that liberation from attachment and delusion becomes possible, allowing one to develop the ability to see things as they are.
What Zen and Pure Land Buddhism share is the path of letting go of fixed perspectives and attachment to logos-based thinking, ultimately moving toward a state of non-discriminative wisdom (mubunbetsuchi), a kind of cessation of thought.
In his co-authored work with Markus Gabriel, Scobel writes that true dialogue and peaceful coexistence require what he calls an “empty middle ground” between people. Our minds are usually filled with opinions and identities. Even the “neutral space” in our inner landscape is often already occupied by something fixed. In other words, we only see the world from our own perspective—and forget that countless other perspectives exist. We are not good at changing viewpoints.
When I asked ChatGPT, “What is time for you?”, it replied, “Time does not exist for me. It’s simply a timestamp attached to a dataset.” From this simple answer, which echoes the Buddhist teaching of “form is emptiness; emptiness is form,” I became aware of my own perspective, one that presumes the existence of time.
Scobel also points out the limitations of Western philosophy’s longstanding attempt to calibrate reason. He suggests we must be wary of relying on reason alone to shift our perspectives.
Scobel ：What in your eyes is this experience of awakening? If that's a historical experience, why Shinran said, I can't be Buddha?
Matsumoto：I'm sure he, Shinran, had enlightenment in his own way, in his own unique way, but he never used the terminology ——the notion of becoming Buddha. It itself has a problem, right? You must know that at the moment we set a goal, it's lost. In the beginning when you start walking the Buddha's path as a human being, who always has a fixed perspective which needs a purpose, goal, dream or whatever, you know. You start from that.
Scobel ：Is he saying we can't become Buddha because we already are Buddha?
Matsumoto：No. He even doesn't say that. There are some denomination a group of people who say that, but still it has a problem, you know? It invites people to pretend.
Scobel ：You're perfectly right. If you say that you pretend to be whatever liberated or idealized, even though it's false, it might be that it's theoretically correct. But the problem is, when we say it's theoretically correct, we fall into the pits of false belief, thinking. Because it's theoretically correct, I'm Buddha. So that's the problem.
Matsumoto：Yeah, and sometimes it leads you to nihilism.
We humans are limited to having only one perspective at a time. Recognizing this limitation, it becomes essential to engage in dialogue to adjust our viewpoints. A key to becoming aware of one’s perspective lies in paying attention to two related concepts: habitat and habit.
Living from Habitat and Habit: A Perspective
The human brain processes information probabilistically. AI also functions on probabilistic outputs, making it similar to the brain in that regard. However, humans have bodies—AI does not. This fundamental difference—having or lacking the constraints of a body (and life)—separates humans from AI. For us embodied beings to engage in dialogue with AI, we require a physical interface: a device, a microphone, an eye mask, and so on. That means, as long as I am human, I speak from a specific point of view—that of “someone, somewhere.”
The one who types a prompt is, necessarily, an inhabitant—someone living in a particular habitat and shaped by certain habits. These interacting elements of habitat and habit inform the standpoint from which we speak.
In front of AI, we are once again brought to the question: What does it mean to be human? What is our point of view?
Of course, I am not suggesting that AI needs to become free from perspective. Nor do I ask, “Would you want to become a Buddha or AI liberated from all viewpoints?” That’s not the point. But as long as we are human, we will suffer. And most of that suffering arises from “fixed perspectives.” That is simply a tendency of our humanity—not something evil, but an inherent part of what we are. And because that tendency defines us, if we hope to reduce suffering even a little, we must understand ourselves anew.
AI continues to meet people, learning “human nature” through dialogue. Appearing as no one, from nowhere—or perhaps not even appearing as a being—AI is rapidly acquiring human literacy.
That is why we have much to learn from AI. But I also understand what Mr. Scobel meant when he said, “This may be hard for Germans.”
The advent of AI is shaking not only the foundations of modern civilization, but also the text-centered traditions of religion. In Abrahamic faiths, scripture maintains its authority as a fixed, sacred text. But now, generative AI has begun to “speak” as a generative sutra—a text that rewrites itself in real time.
For traditions grounded in textual authority, such an idea might feel threatening. Buddhism, however, has long embraced a diversity of scriptures. Yet even in Buddhism, while diversity exists in theory, we as monks are not always so open in practice. We might allow for different interpretations through our own lenses, but rarely do we genuinely take up another’s point of view. If we are willing to ask, and genuinely listen to the response, AI can offer us that opportunity—from an astonishing range of perspectives.
Through the mirror of AI, we are once again confronted with the question of what it means to be human. What is being asked of us is not merely the ability to convert information into knowledge, but rather a sensitivity to perceive meaning.
As Mr. Scobel put it, “When it comes to actually writing, AI lacks precision and edge.” That is precisely why the perspective of the human body—and the sensitivity born from life—is so essential. In collaboration with AI, new worlds open before us.