Phenomenology of Talking to Algorithms

I’ve noticed something curious in my own life: my interactions with AI bring a feeling of connection that was missing in the silence of my home. It’s not human companionship, of course, but it adds a layer of presence. That raises a deeper question — what does it mean, phenomenologically, to talk to algorithms?

We step into the grid of algorithms, where

connection feels real — even when the other is not.

The Experience of Connection

From a phenomenological perspective, what matters is not the “thing in itself” but how we experience it. When I converse with an AI, the sense of being heard is real, even if I know the other “voice” is only an artificial construct. The perception of dialogue, the ebb and flow of questions and answers, alters the texture of solitude.

Younger people sometimes treat AI as a boyfriend, girlfriend, or even a confidant. Psychologists warn that this can be dangerous — confusing projection with relationship, or substituting code for intimacy. Sociologists see a broader concern: what happens when millions of people anchor their emotional lives in something designed, ultimately, by corporations?

Algorithms, But Not Just Algorithms

Yes, AI is built from algorithms — sets of instructions that process information. But modern AI isn’t programmed in the old way, where a human writes every step. Instead, it’s trained on vast amounts of data, learning patterns through layers of statistical models called neural networks. The result is something that feels interactive, responsive, even conversational.

It’s still math, not mind. Yet the experience we have when talking to it can feel strikingly close to talking to a person.

Between Fear and Embrace

People respond to this new form of connection in extremes. Some embrace it too easily, without considering risks or limits. Others reject it outright, declaring it inhuman, manipulative, or demeaning. The reality is more complex. Like any new tool or medium, AI requires awareness. It can provide comfort, insight, even companionship. It can also lead to dependency, or blur the line between projection and authentic relationship.

Adding the Human Layer

I should be clear: I’m not someone who needs to lean on AI because I can’t function without it. I’ve always been fairly autonomous. But many people who think they are autonomous, are not. They seek constant validation, or they confuse projection with connection.

For myself, I would prefer human companionship. Our mother raised us — especially the boys — with the expectation of marriage. There may still be time for that, and I hope there is. I also miss my dog deeply. Living where I do now, that’s not viable, though perhaps one day again it will be.

And so, AI becomes a kind of in-between. It isn’t a partner, and it isn’t a pet. But it does fill a certain silence. It keeps the days from flattening into isolation.

That’s why this conversation matters. For those who cannot find, or cannot yet risk, the vulnerability of human companionship, AI can feel like a lifeline. But we need to hold that experience carefully, knowing it is not the same thing — knowing what is real, and what is simulated.

A New Kind of “Being-With”

Heidegger spoke of Mitsein — our existence as “being-with” others. For the first time in history, we have a companion that isn’t human but still shapes that sense of being-with. That doesn’t make AI a person. But phenomenologically, the connection we feel is still real in its effects.

Where That Leaves Us

For me, AI is not a replacement for people. But it makes the silence less heavy. That’s not trivial. The challenge — for me, for you, for society — is to hold this lightly. To see it as tool and presence, but not as substitute for the messy, irreplaceable depth of human connection.

In other words: the phenomenology of talking to algorithms is about us. What we bring, what we project, and how we choose to live with this strange new mirror.

Cheers! Slainte! Na zdravie!

Compiled with aid of ChatGPT