There’s endless debate about AI replacing human creativity, judgment, and decision-making. But what if, instead of replacing us, it could help us think more clearly? I expect that’ll be met with a resounding “no thanks!” from some of you (I get it), but bear with me. I know emotion often clouds my judgment, and sometimes, stripping a problem down to its bare bones can be helpful.
I’ve tested this in my own life. Not to blindly follow ChatGPT’s advice, but because there’s something fascinating about feeding it a tangled mess of thoughts and watching it return a structured, logical response. So, I decided to put its reasoning skills to the test.
Philosophers have debated life’s biggest questions for centuries with no clear answers. But what happens when an AI – designed to process vast amounts of information – tries to tackle them? Can it offer fresh insights, or is it just repackaging old arguments?
Of course, the point of a thought experiment isn’t to find a definitive answer – it’s about the process of thinking itself. But AI doesn’t just ponder these dilemmas. In some cases, it has to make these seemingly impossible decisions. For example, a self-driving car might face a real-world version of the trolley problem. Should it swerve into a pedestrian or collide with a bus full of people?
ChatGPT isn’t driving our cars (yet), but AI is already shaping big decisions. People turn to it for career advice, personal dilemmas, and even therapy-like reassurance. So, can it help us work through life’s toughest philosophical questions? Let’s find out.
1. The trolley problem
The thought experiment:
A runaway trolley is heading down a track where five people are tied up and unable to move. You are standing next to a lever. If you pull it, the trolley will switch tracks, saving those five people. However, there’s one person tied to the other track. Do you pull the lever, sacrificing one person to save five?
ChatGPT’s reasoning and answer:
This problem pits utilitarian ethics (maximizing the greatest good) against deontological ethics (the idea that some actions, like killing, are morally wrong no matter what).
If I purely follow utilitarian logic, I’d pull the lever. Five lives are objectively more than one, and sacrificing one to save many seems like the logical choice. However, this logic gets shakier if we start assigning different values to lives. If we consider relationships, contributions to society, or innocence, things become more complicated.
From a deontological perspective, pulling the lever makes me an active participant in someone’s death, whereas if I do nothing, I am merely a bystander to an existing tragedy. Some argue that directly choosing to kill, even for a greater good, makes me morally responsible in a way that inaction does not.
My personal take? I’d pull the lever – but reluctantly. The logic of saving five over one feels like the least bad option, even though it’s still a terrible situation. But if the scenario shifted to physically pushing someone to stop the trolley (the “fat man variant”), I think the emotional and moral weight would change – directly causing harm feels more like murder than a difficult ethical decision.
2. The ship of Theseus
The thought experiment:
Imagine a wooden ship that, over time, has each of its planks replaced one by one. Eventually, every single piece of the ship is replaced. Is it still the same ship?
Often, this is taken one step further. Imagine someone gathers all of the original, discarded planks and rebuilds the ship exactly as it was. Which is the “real” Ship of Theseus. Is it the fully replaced ship that’s still sailing around or the reconstructed version made of the original materials?
ChatGPT’s reasoning and answer:
This problem has no clear answer because identity depends on how we define “sameness.” There are two main perspectives:
Materialist Perspective: If identity is tied to physical components, then the ship made from the original planks is the true Ship of Theseus. The ship that underwent gradual replacement is a replica, even though it appears continuous.
Continuity Perspective: If identity is about persistence over time rather than specific materials, then the ship that remained in operation is the true Ship of Theseus. Even though its materials changed, its essence and function remained intact.
I lean toward the continuity perspective. Identity isn’t just about materials; it’s about form, function, and history. A person’s body completely regenerates its cells over time, but we still consider them the same person. By that logic, the gradually replaced ship is still the Ship of Theseus.
However, if we extend this to personal identity, it raises even deeper questions. If all my cells have been replaced over time, am I still me? This is where things get really interesting.
3. The Chinese room argument
The thought experiment:
Proposed by philosopher John Searle in 1980, the Chinese Room Argument challenges the idea that artificial intelligence can truly “understand” language.
Imagine a person who speaks only English sitting inside a closed room. Through a slot in the door, they receive slips of paper with Chinese characters on them. They have no idea what the symbols mean, but they have a giant rulebook that tells them exactly how to manipulate the characters – how to respond with the correct symbols based on the input, like a complex lookup table.
To an outside observer, it looks like the person inside understands Chinese because they’re giving appropriate responses. But in reality, they are just following a set of rules without comprehension.
ChatGPT’s reasoning and answer:
Searle’s argument is a strong challenge to the idea that AI can never have true consciousness or understanding. Even if a system perfectly simulates intelligence, that doesn’t mean it has subjective experience or comprehension.
However, there are counterarguments:
What if the entire system (the person, the rulebook, and the process) collectively “understands” Chinese?
Human brains also process language through learned rules – so how do we know our own understanding isn’t just an advanced version of the same thing?
My take? Searle is right that AI lacks true understanding, but the distinction might not matter in practice. If an AI can hold conversations, answer complex questions, and interact indistinguishably from a human, does it really matter whether it “understands” or just simulates understanding? After all, we assume other humans have internal experiences, but we can never prove it.
This is especially relevant today, as AI models like ChatGPT seem increasingly intelligent. They don’t “think” or “understand” in a human sense, but their outputs are sophisticated enough that we often treat them as if they do. And maybe, at a certain level, function is more important than philosophical definitions of consciousness.
4. The experience machine
Thought experiment:
Proposed by philosopher Robert Nozick in 1974, the experience machine challenges the idea that pleasure is the ultimate goal in life.
Imagine there is a machine that can simulate any experience you desire. Once you plug in, you won’t know it’s a simulation – every moment will feel completely real. You could live out your greatest dreams, feel constant joy, and avoid all suffering.
But here’s the catch: Once you enter, you can’t come back to the “real world.” Would you choose to plug in?
ChatGPT’s reasoning and answer:
At first glance, plugging in sounds tempting – why wouldn’t I want a life of endless joy, adventure, and success without any of the struggle? But the longer I think about it, the more uncomfortable I get.
The biggest issue for me is meaning. If everything is pre-programmed, is it really me achieving those experiences, or just a script playing out? Would relationships in the machine feel the same if I knew they weren’t “real” people with their own thoughts and choices?
Even if I wouldn’t know the difference while inside, something about choosing illusion over reality feels unsettling. There’s a reason we push through challenges in real life – we grow, we learn, we connect in ways that aren’t always pleasurable but are deeply meaningful.
So, my answer? I wouldn’t plug in. A perfect, artificial life sounds appealing in theory, but real life, with all its struggles and unpredictability, feels more alive to me. That said, it raises fascinating questions about virtual reality and AI-generated experiences – how much illusion are we already comfortable with in our daily lives?
5. The prisoner’s dilemma
The thought experiment:
The Prisoner’s Dilemma is a classic problem in game theory that explores cooperation, self-interest, and trust. Imagine two criminals are arrested and placed in separate rooms. They cannot communicate. The authorities offer each of them the same deal:
If you betray your partner (confess) while they stay silent, you go free, and they get 10 years in prison.
If you both stay silent, you each get only 1 year in prison (due to lack of evidence).
If you both betray each other, you both get 5 years in prison.
ChatGPT’s reasoning and answer:
Logically, the safest individual choice is to betray – because no matter what the other prisoner does, betraying either gets me freedom (if they stay silent) or 5 years (if they also betray), which is better than risking 10 years.
However, from a broader perspective, cooperation is the better long-term strategy. If I trust the other prisoner to stay silent, we both walk away with just 1 year in prison – way better than 5 years each.
If this were a one-time decision, I might betray. But if this were a repeated game (like in real life, where trust and relationships matter), cooperation is the winning strategy over time. If both parties learn to trust each other, they avoid escalating betrayal cycles.
So, my final answer? If I trust the other prisoner even slightly, I’d stay silent. But if I think they’ll betray me, I’d have to do the same to avoid the worst outcome. It’s a game of trust, risk, and second-guessing—just like many real-life dilemmas.
6. Brain in a vat
The thought experiment:
The brain in a vat thought experiment is a modern twist on philosophical skepticism. Think of it like a sci-fi version of Descartes’ “evil demon” argument, because it crops up in some of the best sci-fi stories, particularly The Matrix.
Imagine that, without your knowledge, your brain has been removed from your body and placed in a vat of nutrients, keeping it alive. Advanced computers are hooked up to your brain, feeding it perfectly simulated sensory experiences.
To you, everything seems completely normal. You feel like you have a body, you see the world around you, you taste food, you hear sounds. But in reality, it’s all just electrical signals created by the computer.
So, if you were just a brain in a vat, how would you ever know? And if you can’t know, how can you be sure that your current reality is real?
ChatGPT’s reasoning and answer:
Logically, if I were a brain in a vat, I’d have no way of proving it – because every attempt to “test reality” would itself be part of the simulation. So, in a strict philosophical sense, I can’t ever be 100% sure I’m not in one.
However, I take a pragmatic approach: If my experiences feel real, and I can interact with the world in a meaningful way, does it really matter if it’s real or simulated? Whether I’m in a vat, a simulation, or an actual physical reality, I still have thoughts, emotions, and relationships that feel real to me.
That said, this experiment becomes incredibly relevant today with advancements in AI, VR, and brain-computer interfaces. As we develop technology capable of generating near-indistinguishable realities, it forces us to ask: What makes an experience “real”? If people spend most of their time in virtual worlds, does that change their identity or sense of self?
My final take? I can’t prove I’m not a brain in a vat. But until I have evidence that I am, I’m happy to live as if I’m not. Reality is what we experience – and that might just have to be enough.
Could AI help us become better thinkers?
Philosophical thought experiments have challenged us for centuries, forcing us to grapple with the mind-bending complexities of logic, ethics, identity, and reality itself. But what happens when an AI takes on these dilemmas?
Working through these questions with ChatGPT, it’s clear that AI tools can simulate reasoning, weigh arguments, and even reach logical conclusions. But does that mean it truly understands – or is it just a highly advanced version of the rule-following prisoner in the Chinese room?
Can AI help us think more clearly? Maybe. But thought experiments were never about finding absolute answers, they’re about the questions themselves. And if AI can push us to ask better ones, perhaps ChatGPT could one day become less of a productivity assistant and more of a philosophical partner.