Rigid Thinking, Poor Outcomes: The Case for Flexibility in AI and Environmental Policy

Humans have always tended to place themselves at the centre of things. For much of history, this was a harmless conceit. Today, it is becoming an obstacle to action. In two of the defining challenges of our time — the rise of artificial intelligence and the management of planetary change — this old habit is constraining our imagination and narrowing our range of responses.

In both domains, a certain kind of brittle thinking is taking hold. In AI, it appears as the search for an essence of intelligence that machines will never match. In environmentalism, it appears as the belief that nature existed in a state of harmony or perfection, and that our task is to restore it. These beliefs are not only false; they limit what we are able to imagine and do. They encourage paralysis, rigidity, and moral posturing when flexibility and creativity are urgently needed.

AI: Pattern, Not Person

The AI debate is marked by a peculiar tension. On the one hand, systems are achieving striking results across language, vision, planning, and reasoning — all domains once thought uniquely human. On the other hand, public and policy debates are increasingly shaped by fears of a coming singularity or unknowable machine intelligence that may escape human control.  This is not a helpful frame. Intelligence, to a large extent, is pattern recognition and manipulation. The creation of new patterns, the recognition of complex ones, and the alignment of plans with patterns to achieve outcomes explain much of what distinguishes human thought. Sensitivity and empathy are no exception: they are forms of advanced pattern processing in the social and emotional domain.

Philosophical inquiry has contributed usefully to our understanding of intelligence and ethics — from Alan Turing’s early work to ongoing debates about consciousness and responsibility. The problem arises when speculative fears about unknowable forms of intelligence begin to dominate the practical agenda. In some forums, these fears now distort priorities. They risk paralysing the urgent work of determining how best to deploy and govern powerful AI systems in the world as it is. They encourage a climate in which near-term governance questions are postponed or neglected in the shadow of imagined future thresholds.  This view aligns with thinkers such as Jeff Hawkins (A Thousand Brains) and Gary Marcus, who argue that intelligence is an emergent property of structured systems interacting with the world. The practical challenge is to guide and manage these systems now — not to suspend critical engagement out of fear of what they might someday become.

Environmentalism: The Myth of Perfection — and the Denial of Change

A parallel distortion affects environmental thinking. Once we grasped our capacity to damage the planet, a new narrative emerged: that nature existed in a state of balance or perfection, and that our highest task is to restore or preserve it.

This narrative has driven valuable action. Early conservation movements often drew strength from the romantic ideal of pristine nature. Public mobilisation, habitat protection, and species preservation owe much to such sentiment.  Yet in its stronger forms, this narrative has become rigid and unhelpful. Ecosystems change constantly. Extinction is a natural process. Evolution does not aim at balance or harmony; it proceeds through entropy and probability. The universe is indifferent to our moral narratives.

The case of the Northern White Rhino illustrates the complexity. The last two animals of the species are carefully protected, not for their sake — their experience remains immediate and embodied — but for ours. We project tragedy and meaning onto their plight. This human framing is understandable, but it can also obscure ecological realities. As Timothy Morton has argued, the ideal of nature as harmonious and whole is a human construction, not a scientific truth.  When the myth hardens into dogma, it distorts policy. It fosters resistance to necessary interventions (assisted adaptation, genetic rescue, dynamic landscape management) and imposes unrealistic expectations of stasis on inherently dynamic systems.

The Constraints of Brittleness

In both AI and environmentalism, brittle thinking — by which I mean rigid, moralised resistance to adaptation and complexity — carries real risks.

In AI, it narrows debate to utopian hopes and dystopian fears. It encourages moral panic and distracts from the hard work of building governance frameworks, safety systems, and human-compatible design.

In environmentalism, it drives political gridlock and unrealistic goal-setting. The insistence on restoring imagined past states can obstruct more pragmatic approaches to ecosystem management and climate adaptation.

We cannot afford this. AI will continue to advance. Planetary systems will continue to change. If we remain trapped in human-centred myths, we will squander the chance to shape outcomes constructively.

The Value of Flexibility

What is needed is a shift in stance, which is not self-denial, but a clearer understanding of our place.

In AI, this means recognising artificial systems as powerful tools of pattern manipulation, to be guided and integrated through grounded governance and adaptive design. In environmentalism, it means managing ecosystems as dynamic systems — accepting change and loss, while working to sustain and improve conditions for life.

Shedding brittle myths expands our range of action. In AI, it allows us to focus on practical alignment, safety protocols, and institutional readiness, rather than moral theatre. In environmental management, it opens the door to adaptive frameworks, such as dynamic conservation planning, resilience-based approaches, and ecosystem engineering where appropriate.

Conclusion

AI and planetary change will shape this century. Both demand imagination, intellectual honesty, and flexibility. If we cling to brittle, human-centred myths, we will meet these challenges poorly. If we can shed them, we may meet them well.

This is not an argument for cynicism or detachment. It is an argument for clarity — for moving beyond comforting narratives towards the hard, creative work that a dynamic world requires.