In an era where AI can churn out essays faster than a barista can brew coffee, Stanford professor Jamil Zaki is taking a stand—by going old school. His classes are tech-free, and exams are handwritten in blue books. It’s a move that feels almost revolutionary in 2025, but what’s truly fascinating is why he’s doing it. Zaki isn’t just nostalgic for the smell of paper and ink; he’s making a bold statement about the future of human thought and connection.
The Death of Artisanal Writing—And Why It Matters
Let’s start with the obvious: writing is no longer the vocational necessity it once was. Personally, I think this is where the conversation usually stalls. People argue that AI can handle reports, emails, and memos just fine, so why bother teaching students to write? But here’s the thing: Zaki isn’t just worried about job skills. He’s worried about something far more profound—the erosion of our shared intellectual environment.
What many people don’t realize is that AI-generated content isn’t just bland; it’s polluting. Think about it: how often have you scrolled through social media only to find posts that sound inspiring but feel hollow? Or read a scientific paper that’s technically correct but utterly unoriginal? This is what Zaki calls ‘textual pollution,’ and it’s not just annoying—it’s corrosive. When we outsource our writing to machines, we lose the human touch that makes language meaningful.
From my perspective, this is where the real danger lies. AI doesn’t just replace writing; it replaces thinking. And when thinking becomes optional, we risk becoming intellectually sedentary. It’s like sitting in a chair all day and expecting your muscles to stay strong. Writing, in this sense, isn’t just a skill—it’s a form of mental exercise.
Writing as an Act of Resistance
One thing that immediately stands out is Zaki’s argument that writing is a gift to others. In a world drowning in AI-generated slop, a well-crafted sentence is an act of kindness. It’s a way of saying, ‘I care enough to slow down and think this through.’ But here’s the kicker: Zaki admits his students might not buy it. They might see it as a futile gesture in a world where effort often goes unrewarded.
What this really suggests is that writing isn’t just about communication—it’s about community. When we write, we’re participating in a shared intellectual ecosystem. But if everyone stops putting in the effort, that ecosystem collapses. It’s like the tragedy of the commons, but for ideas. And that’s a future I find deeply unsettling.
The Cognitive Gym We’re Abandoning
If you take a step back and think about it, writing is one of the few activities that forces us to wrestle with our thoughts. It’s messy, it’s frustrating, and it’s slow. But that’s the point. Research shows that writing deepens critical thinking, improves memory, and even reduces symptoms of anxiety and depression. When AI takes over, we lose all that.
A detail that I find especially interesting is how students who use AI produce more arguments—but they’re shallow. It’s like they’re sprinting through a marathon without ever breaking a sweat. And this raises a deeper question: what happens when AI becomes not just faster, but better than us? Will writing become obsolete, or will it transform into something else entirely?
Personally, I think the latter is more likely. Just as recreational exercise emerged to counter sedentary office jobs, writing could evolve into a form of cognitive recreation. But that requires us to recognize its value now, before it’s too late.
The Future of Writing—And Thinking
What makes this particularly fascinating is how Zaki’s approach challenges our assumptions about progress. In a world obsessed with efficiency, he’s arguing for the value of inefficiency. Writing isn’t just about producing content; it’s about cultivating a mindset. It’s about slowing down, reflecting, and connecting with others on a deeper level.
If there’s one takeaway from all this, it’s this: writing isn’t just a skill—it’s a form of resistance. It’s a way of saying no to intellectual cynicism and yes to human connection. So the next time you’re tempted to let AI write for you, remember: the blank page isn’t just a canvas for words. It’s a gym for your mind, and a gift to the world.
