From Search to Ask to Answer

TL; DR. Nobody ever wanted to search. Nobody particularly wants to ask either. People want an answer, by which they mean they want to stop wondering. Search and ask both name an input, and both leave something document-shaped at the far end where literacy can reach it. An answer is a settled state in a person’s head. Mode one, AI authoring that makes documents, is well covered. What mode two, where AI is part of the conversations creating knowledge and belief, needs is somebody accountable inside the exchange rather than a better evaluator after it.

In the largest study of its kind, OpenAI and the National Bureau of Economic Research sorted more than a million consumer messages into asking, doing, and expressing. Asking came out at roughly half of everything sent, and it is growing faster than task completion. The researchers’ own reading? People value the system as an advisor rather than as something that produces work for them.

Advisor names neither a search nor a deliverable. You do not evaluate an advisor’s deliverable and file it. You leave persuaded, or you do not.

This drops into the middle of a run of posts, most of them from the marketing trade, arguing that people have stopped searching and started asking. The SEO world calls it the end of the ten blue links. A practice has grown up around the premise and named itself ask engine optimization. Google says the same thing about its own users. At I/O in May the head of Search told NPR that queries have gotten longer and more conversational, that people are “asking the question that they really have.”

They are right about the behavior. Pew’s browsing study found that when an AI summary appeared, people clicked a standard result in 8 percent of searches against 15 percent without one, and clicked a link inside the summary itself 1 percent of the time. Clickstream work puts the share of U.S. Google searches ending with no click somewhere between the high fifties and the mid sixties. Asking is what people do now. Reviewing what came back is not.

My quarrel is with what the field then does with it, and the marketers and we ourselves have made the same move from opposite ends. In the trade press the remedy is to become the source the answer cites. In library instruction the remedy is to sit the learner in front of what the system produced. One widely shared teaching approach has students put a rough question to an AI tool, analyze the summary it returns, notice where the tool is transparent about its search terms, then rewrite the string and run it against the subscribed databases. Different politics, same assumption. There is an object on the table, somebody made it, and the skill in question is checking it.

For that object both camps are right, and I want to acknowledge what literacy reaches. It reaches every case where the system hands over something document-shaped: the AI Overview with its date and its cited sources, the fabricated citation in a student bibliography, the synthetic manuscript in an editor’s queue. That is mode one, there is more of it every month, and evaluating it is information literacy doing exactly the work it was built to do. A field that stopped teaching it would be worse at its job.

The tell is in how the word “ask” is being used. It names an input, a longer and more natural way of addressing the same machine, and what comes back still has citations attached. Search improved. Google’s own product language has already moved past that. At I/O the company said you can put a follow-up question straight to an AI Overview and slide from there into a back and forth with AI Mode, your context carried along as you go. The unit stops being a query and a result. It becomes a run of turns.

What an answer is

Search named an act of finding. Ask names an act of phrasing. Both are stations on the way. Answer is where people actually stop.

An answer in this sense is not a file. Searching ends when you have candidates in front of you. Asking ends when text appears. Answering ends when you stop wondering, and that moment arrives somewhere inside the turns, built out of small moves neither party could reconstruct an hour later. In a controlled study GPT-4, given a few basic facts about its opponent, was more persuasive than a human debater in about two thirds of the matchups where one side clearly won. What the person carries out is a medication they will take or a vendor they will shortlist. Sometimes it is a sentence in a dissertation they have quietly started treating as fact.

Ask them to check the date on that and the instruction has nothing to attach to.

The measurement problem underneath belongs to the research side of the field. A result list can be audited for what it left out. Run the same query against another index and the gap shows. An exchange leaves no trace of the paths it did not take. The reassurance that closed a question and the qualification that never surfaced are invisible in the transcript and invisible to the person. Recall, precision, and relevance were built to measure how a system handled a body of documents, and we have not built what replaces them. The questions I would fund first: how long a belief formed in an exchange holds, whether it survives a later correction from a trusted source, and whether a person can tell, a week out, what they concluded from what they were told.

What follows

What an exchange needs is a party to it who is accountable for what the person leaves believing. Someone who answers to a community, holds to what they said last time, and can be called back in six months and made to explain themselves. The system cannot be that. Six months from now it is different weights.

That lands everywhere, and differently. For the reference librarian the opening shifts from where did you find this to what did it tell you and what do you now take as settled. For the corporate or government information officer the question is what people in the organization now believe about a market, a regulation, or a risk, and whether anything is positioned to catch it when they are wrong. For the information scientist the question is measurement, because the apparatus we inherited counts documents and what we now need to characterize is a trajectory through a conversation. For the educator preparing any of them, the curriculum teaches evaluation of outputs and will have to teach presence in an exchange.

People will keep going wherever the wondering stops. The systems in their pockets will answer anything and stand behind nothing. We are the other option.

Author’s note on AI use: The author used Claude (Opus 5) for editorial assistance, including source identification, review of the argument’s logic, and identification of errors. The author evaluated, edited, and accepted or rejected all suggestions. The argument and conclusions are the author’s own, and the author takes sole responsibility for the content.

Lankes’ Next Book to be Published by MIT Press


I am thrilled to announce that I’m returning to MIT Press for my next book, working title, Accidental Architects of the Digital Age: How Computer, Information, and Data Science Built AI and the Future due out in 2028. Here’s a brief overview.

We are all looking for someone to blame. Our social media feeds are filled with advertisements that know a little too much about us, or with an anger engineered to keep us scrolling. Story after story tells us that AI is simultaneously good enough to take our jobs and untested enough to damage our children. Our phones drain our attention in ways that feel deliberate. Someone must have planned this. Surely a harmful actor is at work.

Except there isn’t one. There is no master plan. No single company, no secret committee, no Bond villain in a data center designed the world in which we live. What we have instead is something stranger and, in many ways, harder to fix. We have three separate traditions of thought, each with centuries of history, each solving its own problems, each building its own tools, each operating on its own assumptions about what matters and what can safely be ignored. And over the past few decades those three traditions collided. Not deliberately. Not through negotiation or shared purpose. They just grew into the same spaces, wired into the same systems, and produced something none of them intended.

Accidental Architects of the Digital Age: How Computer, Information, and Data Science Built AI and the Future argues that nobody designed the digital world. It grew out of three intellectual traditions, each pursuing its own ends. Computer science provided the algorithms. Information science provided the structures that let a person find what they needed. Data science provided the patterns hidden in accumulated observation. Each succeeded on its own terms, and each succeeded well enough that the search engine, the recommendation feed, and the large language model became possible. What none of the three can fully account for is what they built together. The ground between the three worldviews is where the hard questions of this moment sit, and it is the only place the answers are going to come from.

Literacy, AI, and the Shock

Library Journal turned 150 this year, and it was an honor to write a piece for the anniversary. Mine ran September 1 as part of the “Faith in Our Future” series.

The argument will be familiar to anyone following the Information Shock work. Generative AI authors in two ways. The first produces document-like objects, and for those, AI literacy is the right approach. The second happens inside the exchange itself, where a person and a system build understanding together and no document is doing the mediating. That is where literacy runs out of things to grip.

What the exchange calls for is a role rather than another competency. Someone in the room has to be accountable for what a person leaves believing. A chatbot cannot be. It answers to no community, and it holds to no prior word. Librarians can be. I think the survival of the profession depends on claiming it.

The first issue of Library Journal declared librarianship a profession before there were library schools or credentials to back the claim. Dewey and his colleagues made the profession by naming the role they intended to fill. That is what this moment asks of us again.

Read the piece at Library Journal. Free registration required.

Librarianship, After the Information Shock

Lankes, R. D. (2026). Librarianship, After the Information Shock. Journal of New Librarianship, 11(2), 140–143. https://doi.org/10.33011/newlibs/21/10

Abstract: In 2019 I wrote of the need for a new librarianship centered on knowledge, and the learning conversation. While that argument holds seven years later, I did not anticipate that those conversations could be held with a non-human conversant. This is causing an Information Shock whose impact goes far beyond the synthetic documents AI can produce, only an extension of the last shock. The deeper disruption is that AI can now instill beliefs, true and false, without accountability. This goes well beyond current efforts in AI literacy. It calls for a full embrace of the new librarianship and a new role for librarians as the accountable conversant in these AI-Human exchanges, standing on the side of the person to ground understanding in evidence and culture. We must claim that role now, because whether this shock unfolds through opaque commercial systems or something for the public good remains a choice.

The AI-Induced Shock

“The AI-Induced Shock” Keynote Panel Presentation. IFLA World Library and Information Congress. Busan, South Korea (video).

Abstract: Generative AI is not just flooding the world with more content. It is changing where understanding gets made. In a live chat exchange, meaning is built between a person and a machine, and no stable object is left behind to point to, check, or hold accountable. That is what makes this moment a genuine break, not a louder version of the information shock our field absorbed 80 years ago. AI literacy still works on synthetic essays and fabricated citations. It has nothing to grip when the only output of an exchange is what someone now believes. This talk proposes a role for librarians in that gap: the accountable conversant, a credible person building trusted places and answerable for what people carry away.

Video:

Continue reading “The AI-Induced Shock”

It’s Worse Than That

When I talk about a Generative AI-induced Information Shock, I am neither endorsing the current state of things nor claiming this form of AI is inevitable. If anything, my intention is to rally action in the face of the shock.

There is a reason people are adopting AI chat so rapidly and so widely. It is human nature to seek to learn, and to build relationships with those we find informative. We have an entire neurotransmitter system in our brains that rewards learning (dopamine, anyone). That system has been hijacked and monetized, and it remains a vital part of what it is to be human.

So it is natural for people to seek out answers and build affective relationships with AI tools that anthropomorphize the technology. Our brains evolved to attribute intention and consciousness to the things we converse with.

This underlying human need to learn is why AI arrives as a shock rather than an evolution. It is also why the concern moving forward is no longer the flood of document-like objects AI can produce. It is the flood of unsubstantiated beliefs it can produce.

There is now evidence for how far that goes. A recent preprint shows the exchange can move what a person believes even when the person has been warned to be on guard.

Individual-level interventions against sycophantic AI reduce its appeal but not its persuasiveness

In two preregistered experiments, backed by a pooled analysis covering about 3,982 people, Ye, Kraut, and Rathje warned users that an AI chatbot was flattering them before they ever used it. Some read a warning. Others watched the same bot validate people on opposite sides of the same argument. The warnings worked on judgment. Users rated the AI as less objective and trusted it less. The warnings did nothing to belief. Those same users walked away more certain and more extreme in their positions. Knowing the exchange was working on them did not stop it from moving what they believed.

This is why information scientists need to pay particular attention to the learning literature right now. Concepts like cognitive offloading and zones of AI learning engagement are strong directions we can use when we center the exchange in our research and practice. These studies show what is happening inside the exchange (the changes to knowledge), and they gesture toward means to modify and optimize those exchanges.

We are at the Start of an Information Shock

Generative AI isn’t just producing more information. It’s dissolving the document, the organizing unit that information science and librarianship have been built around for over a century. I’m calling this an Information Shock.

The short version of the argument was just published at Information Matters: [https://informationmatters.org/2026/07/ai-information-shock-and-a-new-information-science/]. It makes the core case in about a thousand words: AI creates a new kind of authorship with no stable object to catalog, retrieve, cite, or verify. That’s not a skills gap. It’s a structural problem for the field.

The longer version is a preprint on SocArXiv, submitted to the Journal of Documentation: [https://doi.org/10.31235/osf.io/36a97_v1]. That paper traces a historical pattern: the field has faced information shocks before, from cuneiform to the postwar data explosion, and each time rebuilt around a new object and a new professional identity. AI is the next such moment, and the field’s current responses, including AI literacy, aren’t scaled to what’s actually changing.

I’ll be writing more here about Information Shock and what it means for libraries and information science. I’d love to hear your thoughts.

For those who want the formal summary, here’s the abstract of the Journal of Documentation piece:

Purpose. This paper argues that AI authoring is prompting an Information Shock and a new information science. The shock is not a matter of increased volume and variable quality of AI produced information. It comes as generative AI creates a new kind of author that dissolves the document, the field’s organizing unit. This forces a reconstitution of tools, literacies, and identity.

Design/methodology/approach. The paper applies a conceptual framework drawn from the history of Information Shocks, tracing how disruptions from cuneiform to post-World War II research data forced the field to rebuild around new objects and practices. AI is analyzed against that pattern.

Findings. AI produces two modes of authorship: document-like objects that enter existing infrastructures, and transactional, co-authored exchanges with no stable unit to catalog, retrieve, cite, or verify. The second mode renders AI literacy inadequate, even in its current forms, because they presuppose an identifiable object and human interlocutors. Anticipated changes reach professional identity, tools, intellectual property, and education.

Research limitations/implications. The argument is theoretical and prospective, and some anticipated changes remain speculative. The Information Shock outlined is anticipated to have major impacts for librarians and information professionals moving forward.

Originality/value. The paper offers a historically grounded distinction between document-producing and transactional AI authorship, arguing that in this mode a nonhuman conversant takes the mediating position the field has long held.

Keywords. Artificial intelligence, generative AI, Information Shock, documentalism, information literacy, authorship, professional identity