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Erik Adigard's avatar

Because of the demands imposed on providers by corporations above them, we can all see how dysfunctional healthcare systems have become.

The technologies between us and wellness do remain a pharmakon, with maddening pressures imposed by online processes and other chores, but this is soon to be countered by more dynamic AI powered solutions. Healthcare may then become less human-driven but will probably be more efficient and hopefully much more affordable. On my side, before I ever return to my usual doctor I prefer to work with naturopathy. It is more expensive and calls for longer visits, but it so much more efficient, participative and proactive. As we have gotten used to slow foods perhaps we can some day return to a sort of “slow medicine”.

Cyril Simonnet's avatar

The ache of shrinking to fit the machine comes from assuming the machine perceives what we perceive. Systems actively misinterpret the basic reality we feed them. I agree completely with your premise about the gap between human wholeness and algorithmic reduction. My article "Your AI reads a different email than you do." aligns with this by showing how machines strip away all human context to process raw tokens. We are trying to fit our humanity into systems that are fundamentally blind.

https://cyrilsimonnet.substack.com/p/your-ai-reads-a-different-email-than

Sylvie Leotin's avatar

Exactly. This is what I write about in The Mortal and the Machine: systems are working from a partial representation of the human being, so even when they process that representation perfectly, they can still miss the reality that matters most. That is how my cancer was missed. I’ll take a look at your piece.

Britt's avatar

Thank you Sylvie for this post. I reposted it. I like your way of thinking, we try to fit a human made of perishable parts and being, emotions and desires into machines criteria. And pushing human to increase their productivity until they break. A machine can be repaired, upgraded or discarded when outdated. Did we create our own destruction? Or is it being used by people who want more power and money. Toujours plus. I want to have hope and believe that can be changed.

I look forward to read your book. Sending you good publisher finding energy!

Britt's avatar

I want to add that Sylvie you expressed really well that It is up to us to adjust the technology to fit us not continuing to create technology that forces us into being evaluated like we evaluate machines. It could mean create something much more sophisticated with more variables that we have not thought of yet.

But isn’t it the beauty of being human, not knowing how will we grow and change throughout our lives?

Sylvie Leotin's avatar

Thank you so much for reading, reposting, and subscribing! I appreciate your reflections—and the publishing energy. One nuance that matters a lot to me is that I’m careful not to frame this as an anti-machine argument, but rather as a call to build systems that are wide enough to serve the reality of human life. More in future posts!

kp Buk's avatar

And this is why I type everyday till my fingers bleed sitting on a floor in a room with no furniture.

ksteff's avatar

This is very aligned with what I’ve been trying to write about. Reminds me of this book here:

https://www.after-certainty.com/explore/books/when-incentives-become-the-moral-language

Sylvie Leotin's avatar

Thank you. Yes, this is very much the territory I’m exploring: how what systems can measure becomes what they recognize as evidence—and what disappears when it does not fit.

Siddhartha Mukherjee's avatar

What stayed with me Sylvie, is that this isn't really an essay about technology. It's an essay about reduction.

Your phrase, "The system builds a version of you... and then treats that version as the whole of you," captures something many people have experienced without ever quite finding the language for it. That's what I think the essay does so well: it gives a name to a quiet form of modern suffering.

I also appreciated that you resist the easy temptation to make this an argument against technology itself. Instead, you ask a much more interesting question: not whether machines should exist, but whether the systems we build can become spacious enough to accommodate the irreducible complexity of being human. That shift elevates the essay from critique to vision.

And perhaps my favourite line is the last: "The work is not to shrink the human being to fit the machine, but to widen the machine to fit the human being." It feels less like a conclusion than a design principle—one that extends far beyond AI into education, healthcare, work, and almost every institution we inhabit.

I'm happily subscribing because I enjoy essays that don't simply identify a problem but give us a new lens through which to see it. I also write at The Reflective State, where I often explore the hidden assumptions beneath our institutions and everyday lives. If curiosity ever leads you there, I think The Implicit Behind the Explicit might make for an interesting companion piece, and I'd genuinely love to hear your thoughts on it.

Sylvie Leotin's avatar

Thank you—this is such a perceptive reading. You have named something essential: the essay is ultimately about reduction, and what happens when a system’s representation of a human being begins to displace the human being herself.

I’m especially glad the final line landed as a design principle. That is exactly how I mean it—not simply as a critique of technology, but as a principle for rethinking the systems and institutions we build.

I look forward to reading your piece as well.

Katherine Israelson Scott's avatar

“The new claustrophobia” gives a name to something I have felt in today’s world and never had words for. Thank you for giving language to this experience.

Sylvie Leotin's avatar

I’m so glad the phrase and the essay gave shape to something you had felt. Thank you so much for letting me know. That’s exactly what I hoped this essay might make possible.

Beatrice's avatar

I love your cover, Sylvie! The composition is perfect. The architecture immediately reminds me of Giorgio de Chirico’s metaphysical paintings, with their geometric structures that reminds mystery and a sense of confinement. In contrast, the figure filled with sky and sea creates a beautiful feeling of inner freedom. I think the coexistence of machine and mortal, structure and spirit, is absolutely perfect. Brava!!!

Sylvie Leotin's avatar

What a beautiful comment—thank you! Giorgio de Chirico was very much in my mind as I wrote the piece and imagined its visual world. I was trying to capture that tension between the structures that confine us and the human spirit that cannot be contained. I love that you saw both so clearly—the mystery and enclosure of the architecture, and the inner freedom of the sky and sea. You understood exactly what the essay and the image express. Brava to you, too!

The Way of the Warrior Monk 🐉's avatar

I agree, technology has improved our lives immensely.

Did I have to shrink myself to benefit? Did I have to lose my Humanity to improve it?

Maybe. Sometimes. Other times, it's confusing: shrink, or growing.

But remember who made the technology you're choosing to shrink — Humans.

That tells me two things: I'm shrinking to human designed constraints; The human constraints are the dangers.

Sylvie Leotin's avatar

Yes—this is precisely the argument of the essay! Technology has enlarged human life immensely, while also requiring us to shrink to fit constraints designed by human beings. The machine inherited the limits of what its builders could see. And because those limits were built in, we can build beyond them.

Myriam Siftar's avatar

Very interesting article and very well written. What a gift! I just finished reading Klara and the Sun by Kazuo Ishiguro—it’s summer reading for my daughter. A quick read and very relevant to your topic. What a coincidence!

Sylvie Leotin's avatar

Myriam, thank you so much. What a generous thing to say. I just bought Klara and the Sun and look forward to reading it. I've been so deep in writing my own book that I've hardly read anything else in months—I'm glad to have a reason to come up for air. And thank you for being the first to say something here; it makes the room feel less empty. I love having conversations with readers.