Academic Loneliness in the Age of AI
A senior student, stuck on his thesis, is working on it in the middle of the night. He hasn’t messaged his advisor or roommate. Instead, he has an artificial intelligence (AI) app open. The student types out his complaints, then feels heard for a moment. This scene is not fiction, it happens on nearly every college campus in Indonesia.
Until now, the debate about AI on campus has centered on academic dishonesty, plagiarism, and the authenticity of students’ work. Yet, there is a deeper issue that has been largely overlooked: what happens to a student’s sense of self when machines replace humans in the most human of matters the need to be understood, to share one’s story, and to feel that one is not alone.
Digital Loneliness
Recent research shows that AI fails to cure loneliness. Constance Noonan Hadley of Boston University and Sarah Wright of the University of Canterbury studied more than 1.500 knowledge workers in the United States this year.
Three quarters of the respondents used AI for more than just technical tasks, even considering it a “work buddy.” Although AI is available 24 hours a day and never judges, more than half of the respondents still felt lonely. Only one in eight people felt better after talking to AI.
Findings from the classroom are even more concerning. Joseph Crawford and his colleagues at Monash University found that students who relied on AI for emotional support were actually lonelier, performed worse academically, and were more likely to drop out compared to those who continued to rely on fellow humans.
The paradox is striking. The more often students “talk” to AI, the deeper their actual sense of loneliness becomes. Those who seek support from AI the most are, in fact, those who were already the loneliest to begin with. AI is not a cure for loneliness, but rather an escape for those who already feel disconnected.
The appeal of AI is easy to understand. For students who are too shy to ask questions in class or anxious at night, AI feels like the answer. However, machines don’t truly know a person and cannot offer a look that says, “You’re not alone.”
Researchers call this phenomenon a parasocial relationship, a one way connection that feels real but is empty on the other end, much like a viewer who feels “friends” with a character in a TV series. The feeling is real, but it’s not reciprocal, and it cannot fulfill humanity’s most basic need: recognition from fellow human beings who are equally vulnerable and imperfect.
Social Muscles at Wane
A university is not a library, nor is it a degree granting machine. A university is a living community that grows from conversations in the hallways, debates in the cafeteria, mentoring behind half open doors, and the quiet solidarity among peers who are all striving together.
At IPB University, we’ve witnessed firsthand how this phenomenon quietly unfolds. Students who diligently ask AI questions late into the night but fall silent when a professor opens a Q&A book on session. Assignments submitted look neat and nearly perfect, yet the authors stumble when questioned.
It’s not that they don’t want to grow, quite the opposite. They want to succeed, but they seek the easiest path to feel safe, and AI offers that sense of security without the risk of judgment. That’s what makes this issue so subtle until it suddenly becomes a gap that’s hard to bridge.
Social skills work like muscles: they strengthen with practice and weaken when neglected. When students get used to turning to AI for emotional support instead of people, certain abilities gradually fade, the ability to read cues, build trust, and be fully present with others.
The problem doesn’t stop with students. Faculty members, too, are beginning to hand over the most human aspects of their work to AI: from assignment feedback to recommendation letters. Yet, it is these small things that leave the deepest impression: an encouraging glance when a student is unsure, a look of joy when they succeed, and guidance that is truly present not just a distant reply.
When professors lose their human instincts, universities lose their role as role models. Yet it is precisely this role modeling that educates far beyond the content of any curriculum.
Five Steps for Universities
The solution is not to ban AI. Such a ban is both naive and counterproductive like banning calculators in the age of algebra. What is needed is a policy that not only safeguards academic integrity but also protects the quality of human relationships.
Universities can take the following five steps right now. First, measure what has long been overlooked. Universities have long tracked GPAs and graduation rates, but the quality of the relationship between students and their academic advisors also deserves to be measured periodically. What is not measured will never be managed.
Second, establish clear boundaries between the domains of AI and human interaction. Academic advising, counseling, and career mentoring must remain at the heart of human relationships. Cecilia Chan from the University of Hong Kong suggests dividing areas into AI-free zones, AI-assisted zones, and human only zones, which can be adapted to the Indonesian context.
Third, redirect the time saved by AI toward human interaction. The time saved from technical tasks should be redirected toward meaningful interactions, not become an additional workload. Small group discussions and personal mentoring are not mere add ons but the core of the campus experience.
Fourth, train faculty to recognize students hiding behind AI. When a student never attends advising sessions, never asks questions, always submits assignments but never engages in dialogue, that could be a warning sign. That student is building a wall, and AI is one of its building blocks. Trained faculty can reach out before the distance becomes too great.
Fifth, develop AI policies collaboratively, not top-down. Students need to be involved in formulating their own rules. Policies that are perceived as a shared responsibility are far more effective than regulations that feel like restrictions.
Lasting Memories
One question I often ask myself as a university leader is: what will students remember about their college years?
The answer isn’t how advanced the AI they used was, but rather the honest conversations with professors who truly listened, friends who stayed up all night with them during crises, and mentors who saw their potential even when they doubted themselves.
A great university isn’t the one that adopts the latest technology the fastest, but the one that remains a place where people grow through encounters with one another.
Technology may change every year, but the human need to be acknowledged, heard, and trusted has never changed since the first teacher walked alongside their student.
Our task is not to choose between AI and humans. Our task is to ensure that AI exists to serve humanity, not to replace it, so that the campus remains one of the most humane places in the world.
Alim Setiawan Slamet, Rector of IPB University
This article was published in Media Indonesia on June 23, 2026
