The Sea Squirt That Digested Its Brain
Henry Kim ·
For a creature that doesn't move, a brain is a luxury. A scene from a nature documentary I once stumbled upon is deeply etched in my mind. The moment a sea squirt, swimming in the ocean, finds a suitable rock and settles down to a sessile life, it digests its own brain and nervous system. This is because for a creature that no longer needs to move or ponder, a brain, which consumes a lot of energy, is nothing more than a cumbersome ornament. It's as bizarre as a praying mantis devouring its mate for reproduction, yet it's also a brutally efficient law of nature.
The reason I bring up this story of the sea squirt is that our current state subtly overlaps with theirs. Humanity is gradually losing its justification for using its own brain. Complex calculations, tedious data research, and creative dilemmas that once required sleepless nights are now being deferred to AI. When curiosity strikes, instead of pondering, we open a chat window. "Ask GPT." This has become the wisest and most efficient solution in modern society, because AI knows more, is faster, and more accurate than I am.
If that's the case, can we truly call humans who completely entrust their intellectual labor to external entities "intelligent beings"? Like the sea squirt that clung to a rock and devoured its brain, I wonder if we, too, are settling onto the rock of convenience and allowing our own brains to degenerate. From a neuroscientific perspective, the brain develops most actively when navigating paths and mapping spaces. However, the moment we delegate the navigation of knowledge to AI, the hippocampus in our brain no longer feels the need to create new contexts.
For humans who do not think, all that remains, in the end, is 'habit.' Those who don't intensely use their brains spend their days repeating the same routines as yesterday. Think about it. When you recall someone, isn't it the sum of their habits—like their unique way of speaking or repetitive actions—that comes to mind first, rather than their sharp insights? If we come to rely on external super-intelligence, humans might just devolve into mere biological bundles of habits. While AI provides universal knowledge and average answers, what humans must preserve are their unique experiences gained through direct engagement and the personal contexts created from them.
I am grateful for the very fact that I can question whether I am transforming into a sea squirt. This sense of crisis is proof that my brain is still alive. The next generation, born with AI and taking it for granted like air, might not even pose the question, 'Why should I think for myself?' Amidst the sweet paralysis offered by convenience, I continue to force myself to ask questions and pursue clumsy ponderings today. For a human with a brain, this is the last, and best, form of resistance I can offer.