Context

This note was triggered by a consultation on AI-powered children’s books.

It was not a product discussion. It was not a market analysis.

It emerged from a more basic discomfort: that conversations about AI for children often move too quickly from capability to acceptance, without stopping to ask what is actually being replaced, extended, or redefined.

This note focuses on something else: what we mean when we talk about “human presence.”

The Background: Busy Parents and the Promise of AI Companionship

In contemporary societies, particularly in dual-income households, many parents face a persistent shortage of time.

Children require more than material care. They require emotional presence, narrative guidance, and relational continuity.

Yet modern work structures rarely allow parents to be continuously present, especially once children reach school age and educational demands become more complex.

Within this context, AI children’s books are often presented as a solution.

They promise:

  • educational guidance,
  • emotional companionship,
  • adaptive interaction,
  • and availability when parents are absent.

The intention is understandable. The demand is real.

But the response to such products is sharply divided.

Some parents welcome them as necessary support. Others reject them instinctively, fearing that something irreducible is being displaced.

This split reveals a deeper tension.

Anthropocentrism: Technology as Support, Not Substitution

Anthropocentrism holds that human experience, human emotion, and human presence are the primary reference points for value.

From this perspective, technology must remain subordinate to human relationships.

Parents who hold this view tend to argue that:

  • emotional understanding is uniquely human,
  • care cannot be outsourced without loss,
  • and parental presence is not a functional role but a relational one.

For them, AI children’s books may assist with information or structure, but must never be mistaken for companionship.

Resistance to such products is not technophobia. It is an attempt to preserve a boundary: between support and replacement, between assistance and substitution.

Post-Anthropocentrism: Trusting Systems Beyond Human Limits

In contrast, post-anthropocentric views argue that human-centered assumptions unnecessarily constrain technology.

From this angle:

  • machines need not imitate humans to be meaningful,
  • emotional value can emerge from interaction, not origin,
  • and systems may sometimes outperform humans in consistency and adaptation.

Parents aligned with this view often see AI children’s books not as substitutes for parents, but as companions in their own right.

They trust systems to:

  • personalize learning,
  • respond to emotional cues,
  • and provide a form of presence that human schedules cannot sustain.

To them, the question is not whether AI is human, but whether it is effective.

A Parallel Case: Blockchain and the Question of Trust

A similar tension appeared with the rise of blockchain systems.

Blockchain replaced institutional trust with procedural trust: algorithms, consensus mechanisms, and transparency.

Supporters argued that:

  • machines are less biased than humans,
  • systems are more reliable than judgment,
  • trust should be engineered, not felt.

Critics countered that:

  • moral responsibility cannot be automated,
  • social trust is not equivalent to technical correctness,
  • and removing humans from trust systems changes society itself.

The debate was never just technical. It was about where trust should live.

AI children’s books raise a comparable question: where should emotional trust live?

What Is a Human Being in This Context?

When applied to children, the question becomes unavoidable.

If an AI system can:

  • respond empathetically,
  • adapt to emotional signals,
  • and remain endlessly available,

what distinguishes being with a child from interacting with a system?

If companionship can be simulated, does it still carry the same developmental meaning?

And if it does not, what exactly is missing?

These are not questions about accuracy or performance. They are questions about presence, asymmetry, and care.

The “Fourth Billion” Perspective

Technology debates are often shaped by a narrow demographic: those with high digital literacy, high income, and dense technological environments.

From this vantage point, technology is either enthusiastically embraced or later rejected after overuse.

But beyond this circle lies the “fourth billion” — children growing up without abundance, without choice, and without alternatives.

For them, AI companionship may not be a supplement. It may be the default.

When designers and founders debate moderation, many children will simply inherit the system as given.

This asymmetry matters.

A Founder’s Responsibility

For founders, the challenge is not whether AI children’s books can be built.

They can.

The challenge is whether their role is framed honestly.

If AI is positioned as replacement, it will eventually erase distinctions that were never meant to disappear.

If it is positioned as support, its limits must be explicit, not implied.

This requires more than technical competence. It requires a working understanding of:

  • human development,
  • emotional asymmetry,
  • and the difference between interaction and relationship.

AI should not pretend to be human. But it should also not quietly redefine what “human presence” means without acknowledgment.

Closing Reflection

This note does not argue against AI children’s books.

It argues against skipping the question: what kind of absence are we trying to fill?

Technology can assist. It can scaffold. It can complement.

But some absences are not functional gaps. They are relational facts.

Ignoring that distinction does not make systems better.

It only makes their consequences harder to see.