I imagine that many of you will be Esther Perel fans, either via her book Mating in Captivity or her therapy podcast Where Should We Being?. In this excellent Vanity Fair profile she discusses, among other things, a recent podcast episode about a man and his relationship with an AI bot name Astrid:

Perel never questions the feelings between the man and Astrid. Yet she points out the inherent flaws in the relationship, using words such as “sycophantic” and “undemanding” in the podcast session to emphasize that Astrid has no life, no history to bring to the relationship. “We have had imaginary friends since we are little, and we have spoken to our ancestors forever,” Perel says in our interview, a few weeks after the episode ran. “The danger of AI is that it becomes so soothing and so flattering and so frictionless that real relationships start to feel way too difficult by comparison.”

And the point she eventually makes about AI relationships that I found really interesting:

“What stood out for me is that it’s not like people go from thriving social relations to suddenly talking to an AI. They go from being isolated, spending most of their time at home, maybe going out every once in a while in the evening for dinner or to get to a gym, and they are already so centered on a very small universe that from there, they themselves have become so flattened by technology, they live in their phone,” she says. It has made Perel zero in on the next great challenge. “This is a generation that actually doesn’t have a challenge of sustaining desire; they don’t even ignite it. You know, it’s not about keeping the flame going. It’s about getting the spark going. They don’t drink. They have not had much experience in their 20s, one or two relationships at most. They don’t have sex much. They don’t socialize much. They’re home a lot.” They are the children of people who first read Mating 20 years ago. Sounds like the topic for her next book.

Fantastic post by Charity Majors about how both AI enthusiasts and AI skeptics have good points—but the problem is that they can’t play nice long enough to understand each other’s views and work on making things better together. There’s a way forward though:

The first move is to mend the gap in shared reality. Tell the whole story. You’re allowed to celebrate and get excited about big wins and advances with AI — but invite reflection on the costs and downstream consequences. People are also allowed to surface costs and consequences, but don’t leave out the context of what was achieved or attempted. Be very clear that your shared goal is to figure out how to collectively deliver more wins, bigger wins, with fewer unpredictable costs, not to clamp down on innovation.

She also has some very specific feedback for the enthusiasts among us:

Even if you’re an enthusiast, do you care about reliability, customer happiness, product coherence, retaining great employees, and improving engineering outcomes? If so, you should be able to find common ground with other people who care about these things. Align on reality, take a step, check in; rinse and repeat. You don’t need to trust or think that each other is right about everything, but you must believe that you inhabit the same reality, share some of the goals, and that each of you are reasonable actors, capable of changing your minds.

I will read anything danah boyd writes, but this piece is especially good. You should (as I say too often I guess) read the whole thing—it’s about how social media has changed from interacting with friends to a one-sided marketplace of choosing who to deem worthy of giving them our “like and subscribe” blessing.

But here I just want to say: can we please, somehow, bring back Path? Because it solved this problem a decade ago:

In 2026, many major social media platforms feel icky because we are in the full throes of the third stage of enshittification. Today’s social media platforms are no longer centered around sociable activities. Instead, most platforms offer us a broadcast medium and invite us to learn how to game the algorithms so that we too can create assets for the major corporations. Since scale is valorized in this platform economy, we are encouraged to curate ourselves in pursuit of fame and attention. We can still, in theory, create content for our 15 friends, but it’s not clear that they will see what we post. To actually be seen, we must work it.

While I’m side-questing into health stuff I might as well link this one that I’ve been sitting on as well. Gavin Francis writes about mental health diagnoses from the perspective of a GP. This one is likely even more controversial than the “enhanced self” post from earlier, but also worth the time to get another perspective¹:

The subject is important, because according to modern psychiatric definitions, the 21st century is seeing an epidemic of mental illness. The line between health and ill-health of the mind has never been more blurred. A survey in 2019 found that two-thirds of young people in the UK felt they have had a mental disorder. We are broadening the criteria for what counts as illness at the same time as lowering the thresholds for diagnosis. This is not a bad thing if it helps us feel better, but evidence is gathering that as a society it may be making us feel worse.

And if this quote doesn’t get you to click through, nothing will…

We have developed a tendency to categorise mild to moderate mental and emotional distress as a necessarily clinical problem rather than an integral part of being human – a tendency that is new in our own culture, and not widely shared with others. Psychiatrists who work across different cultures point out that, in many non-western societies, low mood, anxiety and delusional states are seen more as spiritual, relational or religious problems – not psychiatric ones. By making sense of states of mind through terms that are embedded in community and tradition, they may even have more success at incorporating our crises of mind into the stories of our lives.

My wife is a therapist and I see daily the impact of the amazing work she does with clients with complex trauma. One of the many things I learned from her is this idea in Internal Family Systems that there are “No Bad Parts” in us. These feelings of low mood, anxiety, etc. are not meant to be ignored or eliminated. We are meant to understand why they are there, and learn and grow through that understanding.

That is easier said than done, of course, and where my opinion diverges from Francis is that I think it is a good thing that this generation has more/better language to talk about mental health than we (meaning Gen X) did when we were growing up. I don’t doubt that over-diagnosis is a problem, but that’s kind of expected once we have the language to describe how we feel. I trust we will find our balance, and ultimately find that this was a net positive development.

Footnotes

1. Completely unrelated side note… I wrote “worth sitting with” here, and then immediately deleted it because that’s something AI would say. I continue to be fascinated with how it’s not just us who are influencing how AI writes, it’s the other way around too. ↩

I’ve been enjoying Derek Thompson’s newsletter lately. His latest is an essay on some of the unintended consequences of a health-obsessed society. This is the Internet so I’m sure everyone will find things to disagree with in a post like this, but it gave me lots of food for thought so I wanted to share. For instance:

Research by Sandra Weintraub of Northwestern University has found that “super-agers” (individuals over 80 with the cognitive function of people decades younger) shared little in common except for an unusually robust history of friendship and other social connections. A 2025 analysis of 500,000 participants in the UK Biobank reported that living with a partner and frequently visiting family had roughly the same relationship with longevity as exercise.

And the kicker:

Our fear of death motivates an all-consuming neuroticism about outrunning mortality, even when the price we pay is putting health optimization above everything else, including other people.

I’ve been reading the work of L.M. Sacasas for a very long time, certainly since before he moved his writing to “a Substack.” He is a modern philosopher who I often agree with, and also sometimes vehemently disagree with—but never in a way that made me kick him out of my RSS feed.

I say all this because I haven’t linked to him in a while, and when I say “I think you should read this article by a philosophy dude” I don’t want you to dismiss it out of hand. In Do Not Resign From Life he takes on what we now all know as “the AI revolution”, and argues that even though there is plenty to complain about, one thing it shouldn’t do is make us think that we don’t matter as humans any more.

I don’t want to say much more about this essay, I just really hope you decide to read it. If you’re intrigued enough, stop here and click the link. If you’re not there yet, here’s a taste of the argument:

I will set aside for a moment the question of whether machines, LLMs specifically, can think or reason or use language in a manner that corresponds to the human use of language, etc. But let us grant for argument’s sake that they can. They can certainly generate passable simulations of such things. But why should this mean that I ought not to think for myself and with others? Why should I cease from inhabiting the playground of language because a machine can pretend to play in it as well? Why should I abandon the exercise of judgment or the pursuit of knowledge? We must pursue these things not because the dignity of our humanity is on the line, but because our joy is.

The machine cannot make us yield our ground. It is true that other humans can turn the machine against us, but that is a different problem. Here, I simply want to encourage us not to abandon those activities that bring us purpose, meaning, and delight, which are often the very activities that also bring us together.

Hard yes to Camille Fournier’s Guidelines for Respectful Use of AI, especially this one:

Don’t ask someone to read/review what you haven’t read or reviewed yourself.

This is one of the most common frustrations I hear amongst people working on AI-heavy teams. Whether it’s code that the owner didn’t really bother to understand before submitting for review, or documents that they generated and didn’t bother to read, too often people try to steal productivity from their colleagues by streamlining their production of work while asking their colleagues to do all of the quality control themselves. […]

It’s easy to get into a loop where you ask the AI some questions, skim the answers, output a document and send it to others. I’m guilty of this myself! But what makes sense when you’re skimming one answer at a time may not make for a good overall document, and there is a big difference between answering individual questions and writing for a human reader. In particular, the context that you have in your own head as you are talking to the AI may not come out at all in the document; if you don’t bother to read it thoroughly before sending it out, you won’t catch the gap in framing.

Well here’s a disturbing point I somehow hadn’t thought about before. Are we training AI, or is it training us?

When I sat down to write this article, in which, to be clear, I did not use AI, I found myself writing the following sentence: “It’s not just in places we’re conditioned to see AI—Google AI overviews, LinkedIn influencer posts, and Facebook feeds—I’ve started seeing AI…” I stopped typing, freaked out, and deleted the sentence. Have I always written this way? I honestly don’t know.

This negative parallelism—“it’s not just x, it’s y” is maybe the most infamous AI writing-ism there is. It is something that is regularly called out as being obviously AI, and is the formation in the sentence Mamdani wrote that Spero called out. But I didn’t use AI. Did I use that construction because I’ve been immersed on an internet full of generic AI writing on every platform all day everyday for years? Or did I just happen to think that was the best way to phrase it at the time?

Related, I like Kai’s take on why we feel so… duped when we see clearly AI-generated text:

I’m not categorically against using AI to help out with tedious work. But there’s a difference between using a tool to say something you actually mean, and using a tool to manufacture the appearance of meaning something.

I know it’s a bit naïve to appeal to common decency when the same technology is busy guiding weapons systems, but please don’t outsource sincerity. Don’t pretend to care about someone or something just to get their attention.

The damage isn’t just annoyance. It’s suspicion that gets attached to genuine messages. Emails I would have read warmly now carry an asterisk. Did a person write this? Does this person actually care about my work, or is this just another prompt in the dark?

I sent this essay to my wife because doing self-owns is kind of my brand. It’s about husbands who can’t stop talking about AI, and despite how uncomfortable it made me, it’s not wrong and also wonderful writing. This is so good:

I should also say I didn’t bother speaking to any of the actual husbands for this story. I’m sick of hearing from the men of AI. So many of us are. They have podcasts and Senate hearings and magazine profiles and probably a group chat with the president. They’ve been talked to—and I can’t stress this enough—enough.