Lex Academic®

What’s in a name? Well, in the new Pope’s case, it can have surprising technological origins. In his speech on 10 May 2025, he declared that he would be known as Pope Leo XIV after Pope Leo XIII, who bore witness to a moment of great change: the Industrial Revolution. This turbulent time period, Pope Leo XIV argued, was being reignited as ‘developments in the field of artificial intelligence […] pose new challenges for the defense of human dignity, justice and labour.’

To be fair, many people have reaped rewards from the first Industrial Revolution. It’s given the world speedy travel and the smartphone (that you are probably reading this on), both of which stem from the technological developments and shifts in thinking that began back in the 19th century. However, it also led to workers being exploited as commodities and accelerated the climate crisis that now threatens our planet.

Likewise, artificial intelligence (AI) can be incredibly useful, especially if one ignores the fact that it comes at a massive cost to the environment. But let’s bracket that for now. In its productive, compositional use, generative AI can save a huge amount of time when knocking up a boring formulaic report. Meanwhile, in its exegetical or interpretative use, AI can provide a quick way into a poem that is proving taxing to understand. And many academics have surely wished, at some point or another, that they were able to farm their marking out to an AI system so that they could sip piña coladas in the garden instead.

But what happens when that report you’ve turned in has completely missed the point, when the AI glitches and makes up nonsense information, or when the analysis of the poem fails to encapsulate the richness of varied interpretations? What happens when you just take AI at its word rather than treat it with a sceptical eye and as a starting point only? And what happens when everyone’s reports and analyses say the same things, possibly even in the same way? Surely encountering different viewpoints and grappling with nuanced understandings are some of the joys of our research? When what we read and write becomes homogeneous, the ecstasies of research quickly perish. After all, didn’t we get into academia precisely on account of original modes of thought, thoughtfully constructed and defended by interesting people?

Of course, AI exists now and is here to stay. This means that universities and publishers need to decide where the boundaries lie. If you use Grammarly or Microsoft Word’s spellchecker function, does that mean you have cheated? Not necessarily. But these tools are not infallible and will never catch all of the errors that a human expert in your field can when proofreading your thesis. Still, it is highly unlikely that the new Pope is taking issue with spellcheckers, despite their unreliability.

Social media is more of a pressing concern here given that it is saturated with bots and misinformation. This has led to the term ‘dead internet theory’, which refers to how one is actually surfing the waves of information alone, surrounded by a sea of bots having a chat with each other. But how many people really question who is real and who isn’t when they’re doomscrolling on their phone? News reports shout loudly about the dangers of the misinformation and disinformation that spread like viruses across laptops and into lives. But are you always paying attention? Surely, these are some of the significant ‘challenges’ that threaten ‘human dignity, justice, and labour’.

But that is social media. It is assuredly not your PhD thesis. Nowhere near as many people will read your thesis as will look at a post online. And there are such huge pressures placed on researchers, especially when many are trying to forge careers within an increasingly difficult academic climate. You need to submit your thesis before your funding runs out or before life gets in the way. Also, this is just your thesis. You’ll sort it out before it becomes a monograph or articles. Or, you certainly promise yourself that you will. But there’s a reason that ‘publish or perish’ has become a well-worn catchphrase in the ivory tower. Maybe you’ll do it for the next book? Maybe? When will you stop? 

Gaining your PhD, tenure, or a prize-winning publication with AI is a hollow victory. And there is always a risk that you will lose it all because, as AI improves, it will sell us the solutions to the problems it has created. Imagine a day – sat in your fabulous oak-panelled university office surrounded by accolades you have not earned – when you are interrupted by a knock at the door announcing that your work has been flagged as being created by a machine. How would you feel? And how would you live with the anxiety that the knock – one that could destroy your life and career – could come at any moment?

Think of how shaming it must have been for the writers and editors of the Chicago Sun-Times to be the subject of mockery when it was revealed that they had published a recommended summer reading list produced by AI that contained entirely made-up titles. While Boiling Point by Rebecca Makkai sounds like a scorchingly fun read, the fact that it was fabricated by AI probably got more than a few people in hot water…

At best, you will suffer embarrassment. But what happens if the information you present in your thesis changes a fundamental way people treat their health, or the environment in which they live, for the worse? What happens if your use of AI damages something the world holds dear? What happens if you fail your PhD because of it? And what happens if AI writes something so foolish that you aren’t even allowed to sit your viva?

The fear of discovery and the fear of humiliation are powerful reasons not to cheat yourself or your research. And, of course, there is the question of ethics and doing what you believe to be right, not merely expedient. But something else is also at stake here. When you use AI in this way, you are not valuing yourself or your work. In fact, it is fair to say that you are also not properly valuing your supervisors and examiners. Universities are (or should be) places of learning, testing, and reaching to new insights through creativity, originality, and human collaboration. It is a scandal that any research output – including a doctoral thesis – could emerge to be earnestly engaged with when the same earnestness did not go into its preparation.

You need to respect both yourself and your abilities. There is only one person who can bring the necessary nuance and insight into your project and that is you. Earning something through diligent effort is a source of potentially enormous pride and self-esteem. Writing is no doubt a hard slog. And the same is true of research tout court. Writing and research are labours of love and frustration, but aren’t they even more wonderful for all the blood, sweat, and tears expended? The feeling when you’ve chiselled something beautiful and erudite out of the messy slab of clay that is your research cannot be beaten. And what about the excitement when those brain cells fire as you make surprising connections through critical thinking and writing? The dopamine hits from those sparky ideas that shoot out, taking you on unexpected conceptual journeys? All of this is lost when AI does your ‘thinking’ for you.

And then this new knowledge that you’ve kindled, tended, and set ablaze can be shared with others, who will use it to ignite their own ways of thinking. There is no one else who can do this but you. As Immanuel Kant famously implored the readers of his great Enlightenment essay (1784): ‘Sapere aude!’ – dare to use your own understanding. You are not an impostor and you do not need to use AI to write your PhD thesis. You belong here right at the centre of the scholarly discussions in your field. Using AI will only corrode the confidence you have in your ability to think, write, and create. Do not sacrifice those gifts at the altar of convenience.

Communicate your ideas with honesty and integrity, and in your own way. Do not fall for the easy and dangerous path facilitated by generative AI. Writing and researching for yourself, in a way that honours your own peculiar style and flair, will enable you to feel elevated in your own creative, rational powers, and you will demonstrate to yourself, first and foremost, your own intellectual agency and the pleasures thereby arising. It is from these exercises alone that you will recognise and realise your own creative potential.

So, raise your voice up! Let it join the scholarly discussions and change the way people see the world.