“For it was required by no man to give more than he possesses nor was any man’s share compared to another’s. Only each was called upon to empty his heart into the common and one did not.” – Judge Holden, Cormac McCarthy – Blood Meridian

In 2022, ChatGPT was released, and digital content became abundant. Friction was reduced to zero. Hundreds of millions of us signed up almost immediately and in the first few weeks we could polish our ego simply by being in the know about the promised AI revolution. Soon after, using “Chat” became mundane, Prompt-Engineer became a job title, and we all learned not to trust a texts with word “delve” in it.

I am sure you have felt it, too. The nagging, lingering splinter of unease in your stomach. You have all the rational arguments at hand, but they don’t wash away what you know deep in your heart. That you cheated. You used AI to write that copy and you posted it as if it came from you.

But what’s the difference between taking an AI-improved photo with your phone, reaping generous online recognition and triggering all the right chemical responses in your brain, and using ChatGPT to write the caption for your post on LinkedIn? Certainly, the software in your phone does just as much heavy lifting as Generative AI does?

Yet you feel the difference. You catch yourself removing em-dashes and well-known trigger words that give away the fact that the text contains nothing of you. It reeks of soulless robot, and nobody is fooled. Least of all you. You fear the shameful backlash from your peers. Even if there is no apparent sign that you were outed, no cheeky comments revealing that they are on to you, you picture the quiet eye roll and the apathetic sigh that means that you are now marked by your equals. Marked as a poser, a cheater, a coward. You risked nothing but wanted the reward all the same.

Even if you knew for a fact that you would not get caught, the shame would still show its ugly face. What you’re guilty of is not one, but several cardinal sins. You are not stupid. You have read the Danish theologian and philosopher K.E. Løgstrup and know that it is your ethical responsibility to be mindful of your interdependence and mutual vulnerability with other people. You must try to give more than you get. In this you have failed. You have spit in the face of society. Shame on you.

Is it really necessary to invoke the higher powers in an essay about using AI chatbots? Yes.

Prometheus stole fire from the Gods on the Olympian and gave it to mankind. Is it not your duty to make use of that divine spark? More recently, Pope Leo XIV warned his followers to be mindful of using AI technology. Since humans are made in the image of God, we must preserve our faces and voices as an “indelible reflection of God’s love.” He goes on to say that “Each of us possesses an irreplaceable and inimitable vocation that originates from our own lived experience and becomes manifest through interaction with others.” Prosaically put, this means that we must be wary of allowing a machine to imitate us and speak for us. It jeopardises both our place in the community and goes against the will of God.

If one does not believe in the divine, the stab of shame you feel could perhaps instead be explained scientifically, as a manifestation of millennia of behavioural imprinting bubbling up from your subconscious. In a peer-reviewed article found in the National Library of Medicine, authors Mitchell Landers and Daniel Sznycer approach the question from an evolutionary angle. They argue that: “The shame system appears to be natural selection’s solution to the adaptive problem of information-triggered reputational damage.” Since the dawn of mankind, shame has evolved to minimise reputational risk and avoid being socially devalued by others.

The American Psychology Association defines shame as a highly unpleasant self-conscious emotion arising from the sense of there being something dishonourable, immodest, or indecorous in one’s own conduct or circumstances. It is typically characterised by withdrawal from social intercourse.

In other words, shame is an emotion that arises when you realise your dishonourable behaviour is recognised by other people. Shame is a pillar in a meritocratic society as it polices the social contract and makes sure that people do not fill their pockets with social capital they did not earn. Shame is not only born out of religion and culture. Shame is primal. An evolutionary trait developed to ensure social cohesion. Shame, for the lack of a better word, is good.

In an article in Slate Magazine from August 2025, journalist Laurie Clarke admits considering leaving in typos in her articles out of a self-conscious paranoia that her text might be misjudged as AI-written. She also confesses that she herself has become more suspicious of other people’s prose. Data Engineer Faruk Alpay writes in a blog posted on Medium from September that concerns over AI generated text escalates to “outright bullying and shaming of AI users.” He laments not only the stigmatisation of AI users, but also the consequences of social pressure leading to less AI use and in turn perhaps worse qualitative outcomes.

Large language models are not unique in how they eliminate the barriers to what used to require arduous effort. Since GLP-1 drugs like Ozempic, Wegovy and Mounjaro became widely available, the equilibrium of effort and reward associated with exercise and weight loss has similarly been permanently disrupted.

Until recently, GLP-1 drugs required a prescription. They were expensive, and you had to inject yourself with a needle to get costly dose of anti-appetite-juice. Now Danish life science giant Novo Nordisk has launched their Wegovy pill, a tablet version of the drug, on the American market. Competitors are expected to follow suit with pills that are even easier to manage. Prices keep getting lower, and the once-steep barriers to weight loss have all but dissolved.

What was once a hard-won battle – namely to lose weight and get fit – has become almost trivial. Where does that leave the glory previously found in Spartan discipline? Why starve yourself, go to the gym five times a week, and say no to all that is sweet and savoury and intoxicating? Why live an ascetic life if it cannot even earn you a nod of approval from your colleagues anymore?

Perhaps predictably, some users of the drugs report experiences of being met with anger, scorn, and ostracisation. In May 2024 the magazine UnHerd published an article with the blunt headline: “Why Ozempic is cheating: Weight loss isn’t supposed to be easy”.

It’s a pharmaceutical analogue to the social dynamics we see at play in the use of generative AI – people taking the short cut diminishes the effort and valour of those that did it the hard way. A lack of effort breeding derision.

But, rationalists will say, is it not better to have democratised access to content creation, artistic expression, and healthier living through new technologies? Should we really shame people who are just trying to achieve the best outcome?

Obviously, there is a point to be made there. There is certainly a friction between the pious ideal of virtue of toil and modern society’s need for growth through automation and increased efficiency. Harder work does not always entail better outcomes. We tend to mythologise protestant work ethic. Toil is heroism, and winning big on a lottery ticket is inherently less worthy of praise than earning your keep.

Perhaps a better way to think of shame is as a social shock absorber that lessens the impact of new norms, trends and technologies. Is shaming people for using AI not performing a ritual that mirrors what happened at the invention of the printing press, the mechanised loom, or rock music? A ritual society must perform to ease the newness – a steady hand that takes us from avantgarde to mundane

Still, I’d argue that Artificial Intelligence, if it lives up to the transformational potential that proponents claim it has, could be more than another example of a novel technology that needs time to settle into the existing societal frame. Depending on who you listen to, AI can help us create unimaginable abundance and render human work and expertise void. If there is abundance, the status game, as we know it, collapses – which new games will then take its place?

The question is essentially what societal norms look like in a future scenario where AI has sped up technological progress to a point where most if not all human efforts, both digitally and in the physical world, are replaceable. If creative output, expertise, health and money are abundant, where will we find the arena to compete and score points against one another in the social status hierarchy? What will be virtuous and what will be shameful?

For now, early adopters of generative AI, weight loss drugs and other novel technologies must either stand tall, be proud, and resist the ritual pull from societal norms, or live in the shadow, cover their tracks and avoid confrontation with the shame.

The process of writing this essay was human writer first and human editor last. I used generative AI for ideation, research and spellchecking. Pass judgement accordingly.

---