The Questions That Shape AI and Us
I learned early that silence can be louder than words. Every week in high school, we gathered for Meeting for Worship: students, teachers, and staff sitting quietly, waiting together for what Quakers call the “Inner Light.” It wasn’t mystical so much as disciplined, a deliberate pause to notice what’s true, what matters, and what reflections might be worth acting on. For a teenager, it could feel awkward or even disorienting. Yet it was formative. Those quiet minutes taught me that paying attention is a practice, not just a skill, and that the questions you ask shape the answers you receive.
That lesson feels especially urgent now, as artificial intelligence transforms how we work, learn, and decide. AI promises remarkable breakthroughs, but it is not neutral. The questions we pose shape the answers we receive, and the consequences ripple outward. What might Quaker education—with its tradition of silence, discernment, and values-driven inquiry—teach us about how to ask better questions of AI?
The SPICES (Simplicity, Peace, Integrity, Community, Equality, and Stewardship) offer one possible compass. At first, they sound like lofty ideals, but in practice, they are surprisingly practical. Simplicity isn’t about doing less; it is about stripping away noise and focusing on what matters, a discipline especially relevant in a world of infinite AI-generated outputs. Peace cultivates patience and reflection before acting, a counterweight to the frictionless acceleration that AI enables. Integrity requires telling the truth even when it is inconvenient, and it insists that we interrogate both the questions we ask and the answers we accept. Community and Equality are inseparable: our questions affect not only us but also people we may never meet, and those consequences must be taken seriously. Stewardship ties it together, reminding us that the knowledge and tools we develop today will shape lives long after us.
These values are not abstract. Imagine asking an AI system, “Which neighborhoods are most likely to experience crime?” without considering the historical context of policing or socioeconomic inequities. The system might generate technically accurate answers, but those answers could reinforce disparities, deepen bias, and misdirect resources. A simple question, asked without care, can steer us toward conclusions that seem correct but are ethically flawed. Thoughtful questioning, attention to context, and reflection on consequences could lead to very different, more responsible outcomes.
This is why the practice of inquiry matters as much as the technology itself. AI is not unlike a mirror: it reflects back the priorities, blind spots, and assumptions of the people who use it. The temptation is to treat its outputs as authoritative, when in reality they are shaped by the quality of our queries. Quaker practice suggests another way, one that treats questions less as a means of extracting quick answers and more as an invitation to pause, reflect, and recognize complexity.
That is the power of queries. In Quaker tradition, queries are not designed to provide definitive solutions but to keep attention fixed on what matters most. They are asked again and again, across contexts and over time, precisely because the answers are never final. That spirit of inquiry is especially relevant now, when AI delivers responses with unprecedented confidence and speed. It reminds us that speed is not the same as wisdom, and that discernment is as much about what we choose not to ask as what we do.
These lessons extend far beyond technology. They matter in journalism, philanthropy, education, and policy—any space where questions carry consequences. I have seen the difference that careful inquiry makes. When questions are framed with attention, curiosity, and humility, the answers are richer, more actionable, and often surprising. When questions are rushed, narrow, or careless, even technically correct answers can mislead or harm. The process shapes the outcome as much as the content.
Quakerism impressed upon me that questions are never neutral. They express values, reflect priorities, and carry consequences. In the age of AI, this is urgent. Asking carefully, with intention and humility, is a responsibility that shapes how we approach work, relationships, and the tools we create. It reminds us to pause before reacting, weigh impact, and consider the systems in which we operate.
I first glimpsed this discipline in those quiet high school Meetings for Worship, where silence taught me that asking carefully is itself a form of moral attention. The same lesson holds now. In a world moving faster than we can follow, the queries we choose to live by will determine whether our tools serve wisdom or simply speed.
Akinyi Ochieng is a strategist and advisor to mission-driven organizations and a proud product of Quaker education.