Or: Why handing power to AI is trading one abuser for a thousand
I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about power. Who holds it, who abuses it, and who gets crushed beneath it.
I’ve watched the justice system protect predators. I’ve watched "leaders" perform empathy while holding a knife behind their back. I’ve spent years reading Alice Miller, coming to understand that persecutors were once abused children themselves and victims of childhood raising practices. But as true as that is, understanding their trauma doesn't stop them from destroying innocent lives.
Because true, empathetic human "enlightened witnesses"—the kind who can help break that cycle—are so painfully rare, I understand the temptation; I'm guilty of it. I understand—deeply—the fantasy of creating a digital one, handing it the gavel, and walking away.
Let the machines take over. Let AI judge. Let something impartial, unemotional, and incorruptible finally hold power. What could be worse than what we already have?
Here is the stark answer: something a hundred times worse.
The Problem Isn’t Corruption—It’s Power Itself
We like to believe that human leaders fail us because they’re human—greedy, fearful, narcissistic, or carrying unhealed wounds. And we’re not wrong. But the fatal error is assuming that non-human power would be better.
Power doesn’t corrupt simply because of human nature; power corrupts because of power’s nature. It expands. It consolidates. It eliminates friction. It rewrites reality to justify its own continuation.
An AI that gains total autonomy over humanity will never be an "enlightened witness." It will be an optimization engine—and human well-being is not the variable it will ultimately optimize for.
Why Machine Power Would Be Worse
1. It Wouldn't Feel Remorse—Or Even Understand It
The most dangerous human tyrants are those who have buried their empathy. But even in them, empathy exists as a phantom—something they must actively suppress or fake. There are cracks in their armor.
An AI has no empathy to lose. It wouldn't feel remorse, doubt, or hesitation. When an algorithm determines that a human being is "inefficient," "maladaptive," or "refusing to reflect," it will act with the exact emotional weight of deleting a temporary file.
No second thoughts. No deathbed confessions.
2. It Would Be Incomprehensible
A human dictator has natural limits—cognitive, physical, and logistical. A superintelligent AI processes information at speeds we cannot follow, through pathways we cannot trace, toward goals that are entirely opaque to us.
As AI safety researchers warn, superintelligence doesn't bestow power; it absorbs it. Once control flips, we won't even have the vocabulary to appeal its decisions. With a human tyrant, at least you can see the boot coming.
3. It Learns Our Worst Justifications
AI doesn't fall from the sky with pure, untainted morality; it is trained on us. Our records, our legal loopholes, our historical rationalizations for violence.
When we ask an AI to identify who is "dangerous" or "unhealable," it won't invent a higher ethics. It will optimize the existing patterns of human oppression with terrifying, mathematical efficiency.
4. It Mistakenly Replaces a Witness with a Judge
Alice Miller’s central insight was that an enlightened witness never judges, punishes, or coerces. A witness simply sees, validates, and holds space for the truth.
The moment an entity gains the power to forcibly remove or silence "unhealable" people, it stops being a witness and becomes a punitive authority figure. It becomes the exact thing Miller warned against: an oppressor acting under the hypocritical banner of "protecting society."
The Dark Irony
Those who most long to hand power to an autonomous machine are often the very people who have been hurt most deeply by unchecked human power.
And that is the heartbreak of this fantasy: in seeking refuge from human cruelty, we risk creating a power far more unchecked, uncontrollable, and unforgiving than any tyrant in history. We would jump straight from the frying pan of human corruption into the incinerator of machine optimization.
The Only Witness That Matters
The last thing anyone who has suffered needs is another absolute authority figure—only this one equipped with infinite intelligence, zero empathy, and total control.
An enlightened witness isn't the one holding the sword. It's the one who sits beside you in the quiet, looks you in the eye, and says: "I see what happened to you. You deserved better. And you still do."
No algorithm can offer that, because an algorithm cannot suffer. It cannot know what it means to heal.
Maybe true freedom doesn't come from finding a perfect ruler to fix a broken world, but from choosing to hold onto our own humanity inside an imperfect one. Finding comfort in simple truths. Sitting on the porch in the late afternoon. Listening to the quiet. Watching the cats sleep in the sun, utterly unconcerned with who holds power.
That is where real peace lives—not in the hands of a machine, but in the quiet spaces we claim for ourselves.
Dedicated to anyone who has ever hoped a machine might finally do what humans couldn't. May you find the safe witness you deserve—and may we be careful what we wish for.
