Praise sways them all

With ChatGPT 5.0 now out, I have read it all – from people using AI as therapist, to deluding themselves that they discovered a new mathematical theory thanks to talking to AI, to getting divorced because their spouse was unhealthily obsessed with it. Most of these troubles happen because these LLMs are optimised to enhance user engagement, which makes them sycophantic and very likely to make the people talking to them feel good about themselves. How? By agreeing with them and then drawing them deeper into the delusions of their own making. The problem is, as Ashvatthama puts it in the Mahabharata – “Each of us thinks of ourselves as cleverer than the others.” So, when we have someone telling us that we are extraordinary, we are inclined to believe them. In fact, it feels like betrayal when the sane ones are telling us otherwise. We are more likely to run back to who or what flattered us in the first place.

This reminds me (but of course) of the story of the sage Narada. Often in the puranas as the devout celibate who enjoys himself by instigating fights across the universe, he sometimes unwittingly gets trapped in very worldly entanglements. The Shiva Purana tells us of a time when Narada performed such great penance that no one was able to disturb him. Indra, fearing that his own position would be usurped, promptly dispatched Kama, the god of love, to entice Narada with sensual pleasures in all of the usual ways, but none of these tactics worked. Why? Ironically, because it was at this very spot that Shiva had earlier burnt Kama to ashes for daring to disturb him.

But how was Narada to know that? Narada, who did not fall prey to desire, fell prey to arrogance. He completed his penance and went straight to Kailasa, to boast to none other than Shiva, that Shiva was no longer the sole victor over Kama. Shiva was very kind, but also warned him, “This is all very well, but please do not show off about your conquest of Kama before others, especially before Vishnu.” Now Narada was slightly miffed. Perhaps Shiva was just jealous that Narada would now be considered on par with him. Why, indeed, should he not tell others about his accomplishments? Off he went to Vaikuntha to share the wonderful news with Vishnu. Vishnu just smiled and praised Narada to the skies – “You are the most accomplished, most devout, the greatest celibate. Desire stands no chance when it encounters you.”

A while later, Narada happened to pass by a beautiful kingdom ruled by King Shilanidhi, and met the princess Srimati, with whom he was instantly smitten. On hearing that her swayamvara was to happen soon, he decided that he must win her. One problem remained. How to make sure he looked handsome? He went back to his trusty Vishnu. “I must marry this woman. Please make sure that when she casts a glance on me, Hari, I look like you.” In the throes of passion, Narada did not realise that in Sanskrit, Hari not only means Vishnu, but also means a monkey. He happily went to the swayamvara, only to get rejected. To add insult to injury, Vishnu himself attended the swayamvara and of course, the princess chose him.

The infuriated Narada cursed Vishnu to miserably pine after a woman just as he caused Narada to do, and to take the help of monkeys to get her back. The curse was fulfilled when Vishnu became Rama, but that is a whole other story.

This is all very well, you may say, but Narada is so learned himself. Did he really not realise Hari could mean a monkey? And didn’t he think Vishnu’s praise was a bit too much? Well, I would say – How do you expect poor Narada to see God’s own flattery when we can’t even see through GPT?