This article was automatically translated from the original Turkish version.
However, King Thamus was not convinced by this account. Speaking through Socrates’ voice, he objected. According to him, writing does not bring wisdom but instead leads people directly into forgetfulness. For people will no longer rely on their minds to remember what they need to know but will instead entrust such knowledge to external signs—that is, to writing. Moreover, those immersed in writing will forget that written records are merely aids to recall and will come to believe themselves wise, when in fact they will rely not on true knowledge but on its copy. They will become trapped between rote memorization and mere recognition. Plato’s Socrates holds a dim view of writing. To him, writing dulls the mind, causes people to forget how to remember, externalizes knowledge, and lulls memory into complacency.
What Plato opposes here is not merely writing’s capacity to cause forgetfulness but also its vulnerability. Moreover, it embodies the anxiety surrounding the broader transition from oral to written culture. Similar anxieties have arisen repeatedly throughout history and across diverse cultural contexts. Indeed, many of the classical texts we are familiar with today were not originally composed to be read on pages or screens. They were composed to be spoken. Over time, they were transcribed and preserved, transmitted across generations. From Greek tragedies to medieval dramas, countless works were written to be performed or recited. Thus, writing’s function has long been understood primarily as a tool for preserving spoken words.
Writing holds vital importance because it preserves what is spoken. At first glance, it appears as a harmless instrument, merely aiding memory, as Theuth envisioned. Yet once writing begins, it triggers an irreversible series of anthropological transformations. The shift from oral to written culture is not merely a change in habit but a process of norm creation. New habits gradually become commonplace, and the commonplace becomes natural. External recording technologies have now replaced memory. Plato’s fears may have come to pass. Our memory risks becoming increasingly inactive with every new line written, for we have transferred the burden of memory onto writing. The transformative power of writing as technology lies precisely in these quiet yet profound changes. Writing is not merely a recording tool; it is a threshold that reshapes how we think, remember, and even forget.
Once humans began to write, they began to do many things through writing. Perhaps most importantly, they began to think through writing. Thinking has become inseparable from writing. Writing is not merely the expression of thought but its very internal process. At this point, we can reassess the historical trajectory from a different perspective. In his book Preface to Plato, Eric Havelock reads the development of Greek thought alongside the evolution of the Greek alphabet.2 The refinement of letters, the proliferation of words, and the spread of writing—all made possible by the alphabet—have introduced new dimensions to thought. After all, writing’s sole raw material is thought. By writing down what we think, we ground it on a page. Then we return to that page and engage in a kind of written dialogue with ourselves. Writing is not only a means of generating thought; it is the very instrument that makes thinking about thought possible. It creates a subject that reads itself, enabling pause, confrontation, critique, and reconstruction. Thought is made of writing; thinking itself takes the form of writing.
Just as reading offers each word a different horizon and allows the reader to explore multiple perspectives, writing enables one to withdraw into a corner, pause, reflect on what is happening, and uncover the possibilities of thought. This is where psychologist David Olson’s observations on the relationship between mind, writing, and thought gain meaning:
“Whatever we understand from the mind, it includes the capacity for thinking. Reading gives us the opportunity to dwell on words, to think and to reread. Writing not only allows us to write but also to pause, to think, and to rewrite.”3
Writing has also become a key to personal awareness, transforming into a companion that constantly prompts us to question ourselves and practice thinking. Writing acts as a mirror, revealing not only what we think but also why and how we think it. Yet in recent days, a significant portion of our writing obligations has been taken over by artificial intelligence tools. Reducing writing to merely pressing keys to produce certain letters has paved the way for AI to assume the entire physical and cognitive burden of writing. What, then, are AI tools actually writing? Is writing truly something we can afford to relinquish?
We must remember that before writing, we must first speak about speech and recall Plato’s anxieties. Our linguistic capacities—those that enable thinking and construct new ideas—form the foundation of all intellectual activity. Our imagination, which shapes our existence in the world, is structured solely through the possibilities of language. All technological advances, the texts we repeatedly read, historical accumulations, and even sacred scriptures all rise upon this same ground: the terrain of language and thought.
It is precisely for this reason that writing’s vital role in carrying thought must be revisited today.
If human beings who think through writing now delegate writing to machines, how will they continue to think? How shall we draw the line between the burden of writing transferred to machines and the burden of thinking that remains with humans?
Where should this line be drawn, and more importantly, who should determine it?
At the heart of all these questions lies the performance of AI tools, which increasingly assume a larger portion of our writing activities. Machines now write our emails, our blogs, our academic papers, our assignments, and even, in some cases, our personal messages. At first glance, this development offers functionality and convenience, yet it brings with it a profoundly vital question: Who will think what is written?
Since machines entered the scene, the easing of our burdens has been a familiar story. From heavy industry to home automation, machines have taken over much of our physical labor. But with artificial intelligence, the burden transferred is no longer limited to the body. Humanity is gradually being stripped of the burden of thinking itself. Imagination, creative thought, the capacity to transform the world—all are becoming luxuries, burdens. The very thinking required to overcome obstacles now weighs heavily on our shoulders, for there are no longer obstacles to overcome; everything has been flattened.
What Writing Transforms
When Machines Write
