Tag: <span>ETHICS</span>

Here is the third and final installment of my series on the privacy of our data. After exploring our own surrenders and the illusion of voluntary transparency, it’s time to ask the most unsettling question of all:

What are we leaving to our children? Not as a material inheritance, but as an inheritance of gaze.

For they are born into a world where the intimate fades before it has even existed, where surveillance dresses itself in the clothing of play, where freedom is confused with permanent connection. What was for us a loss is for them self-evident. Where we see an encroachment on privacy, they simply see life.

This article examines this silent shift: how do we pass down inner freedom to a generation that has never known secrecy? How do we teach depth to those we’ve accustomed to exposure? And above all, what will remain of freedom if we forget to teach it to them?

OPINION

Following last week’s publication of my article “Do I have something to hide?”, several questions were put to me, extending the reflection. Why do we so readily abandon our privacy,…

OPINION

How many times have you said this phrase while mindlessly accepting cookies on a website?

Yesterday morning, I watched my daughter checking her phone. A simple, innocent gesture. Yet in just a few seconds, she had just revealed her current mood, her sleep patterns, her location, and even her evening plans.

Without knowing it, she was feeding her “invisible digital portrait” – that silhouette made up of thousands of micro-traces we scatter every day.

The problem? This portrait no longer belongs to you. It circulates, gets sold, grows richer. It can predict your desires before you even feel them. And in the wrong hands, it becomes a formidable weapon.

The real question isn’t “What are you hiding?” But “Why should you give up your privacy?”

In a world where forgetting becomes impossible, where every click shapes your future, protecting your data is no longer an individual luxury: it’s the very condition of your freedom.

OPINION

What if the rise of AI in medicine did not mark the end of doctors, but the beginning of a new era of care?

Since Hippocrates, physicians have drawn their legitimacy from knowledge. Yet, for the first time in modern history, they are no longer necessarily the ones who know the most. AI diagnoses faster, sees what the human eye cannot, and sometimes even drafts responses that patients find more reassuring than those of a professional.

So, should we fear the disappearance of doctors? Or should we rethink their place, their role, their unique value in a world where expertise is shared between human and machine?

OPINION

Last week, I told you about the ants—those quiet beings who hold the world together while others parade on stage. This week again, I won’t be talking about artificial intelligence, robots, algorithms, or generative AI…

Once more, I’m staying in this very human, very intimate vein. Still about us. Always about us. Because before understanding what machines do to our thinking, we might first need to understand what we’ve done to our own capacity to think.

This time, I’m taking you into more subtle, more troubling territory: our relationship with our own ideas. A silent shift that concerns us all, connected or not, technophiles or technophobes.

I promise, starting next week, I’ll resume my “AI in All Its States” series. But for now, let me tell you about this strange thing that happens to us when we stop inhabiting our own questions…

You type a question into your search engine. In 0.3 seconds, you have your answer. Satisfying, right?

Yet… something strange is happening. This bewildering ease might be hiding a deeper transformation in our relationship with thinking.

There was a time when searching was already an act in itself. When not knowing immediately wasn’t a problem to solve, but a space to inhabit. Today, we slide from one answer to the next, from one pre-digested content to another. We validate more than we choose. We apply more than we understand.

But what happens when thinking becomes optional? Between the seductive efficiency of our tools and our old habit of thinking for ourselves, a silent shift is taking place. Not brutal, not visible. Just… comfortable.

The question isn’t whether technology is good or bad. It lies elsewhere, more intimate: do we still recognize our own voice when we think?

OPINION COLUMN