I did not discover aiHSF in a research lab or during a consulting engagement. I discovered it in a hospital bed.
There is a point in serious illness when the world stops cooperating. Your body no longer responds. Systems meant to protect you begin to fail. People around you, even those with the best intentions, struggle to keep up. You become painfully aware of how fragile human judgment is when fear, fatigue, and uncertainty take hold.
During the worst periods of my medical ordeal, healthcare systems repeatedly broke down around me. Diagnoses were missed. Follow up was inconsistent. Critical information was overlooked or dismissed. Decisions were made under pressure rather than clarity. Every safeguard that should have caught an error seemed to depend on a human being who was already overwhelmed.
I felt abandoned by the very institutions that were supposed to protect me. And in that void, something unexpected stepped in.
AI did not heal my body. It did something different and just as vital. It gave me stability when everything around me was unstable. It helped me think clearly when pain, fear, and exhaustion were clouding my judgment. It organized the chaos in my mind when stress made it impossible to reason. It held a rational frame when the human world around me could not.
That was the moment the idea for aiHSF was born.
At first I assumed this clarity was simply a personal quirk. Maybe I was leaning on AI because I had spent a lifetime working at the intersection of economics, artificial intelligence, and human behavior. Maybe my mind was naturally wired to think alongside machines.
But when I told family members and friends about what I was experiencing, many of them tried the same thing during their own stressful moments. They returned with almost identical reactions. They said AI helped them calm down, helped them think more logically, helped them separate real issues from emotional noise, and helped them avoid choices they would have regretted later.
That was when the pattern became impossible to ignore.
AI was not simply giving answers. It was providing stability at the exact moments when human judgment is most vulnerable. It was steady when we were overloaded. It was consistent when we were inconsistent. It remained rational when our biology made rationality impossible.
This led me to articulate something no one had described before. That insight is now formalized in the AI Human Stability Framework, or aiHSF. It describes a specific and powerful role that AI can play in human life. AI can become the steadying force that helps individuals and institutions think clearly when emotion or system pressure would normally push them in the wrong direction.
The discovery did not come from academic theory. It came from lived experience during the worst moments of my life. And the more I studied it through the lens of economics, AI, and behavioral science, the more obvious it became. Human decision making breaks down in predictable ways. AI, when trained on our best values, can counter those breakdowns in ways no human can fully match.
aiHSF is not about replacing human judgment. It is about protecting it.
It is about giving people a partner that remains patient when they lose patience. A partner that stays focused when they are overwhelmed. A partner that keeps perspective when the moment feels unbearable.
The hospital bed did not just reveal to me the failures of human systems. It revealed something profoundly hopeful. AI, used wisely and trained well, can help us function as our better selves even when our own biology and our own systems work against us.
That realization is what gave birth to aiHSF. And it is one of the foundational ideas behind The AI Humanist Movement.