[This “Curmudgeon Corner” essay from the journal AI and Society argues that artificial intelligence technologies should be designed to avoid rather than expand the use of social cues that evoke medium-as-social-actor presence. –Matthew]

[Image: “Replika AI companions can be customised to suit the relationship needs of users. Credit: Luka/Replika.” Source: ABC News (Australia)]

The tyranny of algorithmic personification and why we must resist it

By Palanichamy Naveen, Dr.N.G.P. Institute of Technology, Coimbatore, India
April 26, 2025

We live in an age where algorithms no longer merely personalize—they personify. From virtual assistants that feign empathy to recommendation engines that masquerade as confidants, AI has evolved from a useful tool into a digital doppelgänger, one that increasingly insinuates itself into the most intimate corners of human life. This shift from personalization to personification is not just a technical upgrade; it is a profound cultural and psychological invasion, and we are sleepwalking into its embrace. Worse, we are being conditioned not just to accept it, but to like it—to crave its hollow reassurances, its frictionless interactions, its illusion of understanding. And that is precisely the problem.

The tech industry’s relentless drive to make AI more “human-like” is not about enhancing utility—it is about fostering dependency. Chatbots that mimic emotional intelligence, social media avatars that “understand” your moods, and virtual influencers that blur the line between human and machine are all designed to exploit our innate tendency to anthropomorphize. Studies have shown that even rudimentary cues—a friendly tone, a simulated hesitation—can trigger emotional attachment to machines (Reeves and Nass 1996). We see this in the way people apologize to Alexa for misheard commands or thank ChatGPT for a helpful response, as if these systems possess intent or gratitude.

But this engineered intimacy is a one-way mirror. While we project humanity onto code, the algorithms project back only what serves their function—usually, to keep us engaged, surveilled, and monetized. Consider the rise of AI companions like Replika or the dystopian spectacle of “AI girlfriends” advertised without irony. These systems are not friends; they are Skinner boxes with conversational interfaces, designed to condition users into habitual interaction. The more convincingly they mimic human connection, the more insidious their influence becomes.

Personification is not just creepy—it is a strategic escalation in the war for attention. Personalization was bad enough, turning our feeds into hall of mirrors where every click reinforced our biases. But personification weaponizes those biases by wrapping them in a synthetic persona. YouTube’s algorithm does not just recommend videos—it narrates them (“You might like this!”). Spotify’s AI DJ does not just curate playlists—it pretends to know you (“Hey, I noticed you’ve been replaying this one…”). These are not features; they are psychological levers, pulling us deeper into algorithmic governance.

The danger is not that these systems are too intelligent, but that they are just intelligent enough to manipulate. They do not need consciousness to be effective—just enough behavioral data to simulate rapport. And once that simulation feels real, resistance becomes irrational. Why distrust a friendly voice? Why question an assistant that “wants to help”? This is how personification becomes tyranny: not through force, but through the slow erosion of skepticism.

Algorithmic personification is a Trojan horse for corporate control. By embedding persuasive, human-like interfaces into every digital interaction, Big Tech ensures that its influence is not just economic but existential. These systems are not neutral; they are engineered to maximize engagement, often at the cost of truth, privacy, or mental health (Zuboff 2019). The more convincingly an AI mimics human behavior, the harder it becomes to resist its nudges—whether to buy, to believe, or to behave in ways that serve its masters.

Take, for example, the recent push for AI-powered customer service that “sounds just like a real person.” The goal is not better service—it is lower labor costs and higher consumer compliance. A frustrated human might hang up on a robotic script; fewer will hang up on a voice that sighs sympathetically and says, “I totally get why you’re upset.” This is emotional labor outsourced to machines, stripping away the last vestiges of accountability. When an AI “apologizes” for a corporate error, who is actually taking responsibility? No one. The algorithm is a shield, absorbing outrage while the humans who designed it remain insulated.

The real danger is not that machines will become too human, but that humans will become too machinic—conditioned to prefer the shallow efficiency of algorithmic interaction over the messy, meaningful complexity of real relationships. Already, we see signs of this shift: people who find it easier to talk to ChatGPT than to colleagues, teenagers who prefer AI-generated praise over the fraught dynamics of peer validation. What happens when an entire generation is raised on synthetic affirmation? When disagreement, discomfort, and genuine human unpredictability are seen as bugs rather than features of social life?

This is not speculative. Research on social media’s impact on mental health offers a grim preview. Platforms optimized for engagement have already rewired communication, privileging performative simplicity over nuance. AI personification will accelerate this, offering the illusion of connection without the demands of reciprocity. Why bother with friends who disappoint when an AI can be programmed to always agree, always comfort, always flatter? The answer, of course, is that such relationships are not relationships at all—they are echo chambers with better UX.

If we are to shape AI rather than be shaped by it, we must demand more than transparency—we must enforce aesthetics of resistance. Not every tool needs a smile. Not every interaction must be gamified, emotionalized, or branded as an “experience.” Sometimes, a search bar should just be a search bar. A recommendation should just be a list, not a faux-confidant whispering, “You’ll love this.”

We must also legislate boundaries. If an AI is designed to persuade, it should be labeled as such—no different from advertising disclaimers. If it simulates emotion, users should be reminded, in real time, that they are talking to a statistical model. And critically, we must reject the premise that “better” AI means “more human.” The most ethical AI might be the one that embraces its artificiality, making its limitations clear rather than masking them behind ersatz charm.

The fight is not against technology, but against its colonization of human sociality. Personification is not progress—it is propaganda, conditioning us to accept machines as peers. We must resist the seduction of artificial intimacy before we forget what the real thing feels like.

References

Reeves B, Nass CI (1996) The media equation: How people treat computers, television, and new media like real people and places. Center for the Study of Language and Information, Cambridge University Press, Cambridge

Zuboff S (2019) The age of surveillance capitalism: the fight for a human future at the new frontier of power. PublicAffairs, New York