IV – When the Algorithm Begins to Brake: Transitional Psychology

Series: Road Without Signs — On the Psychology of Movement in a World Increasingly Governed by Others

There are moments when the algorithm in the vehicle does what we ourselves would have done — only faster. My foot had already moved toward the brake, but the car had already stopped. And that jolt within me was not just from the sudden stop. It was the jolt that said: “You didn’t decide.”

At that moment, the question is not only about safety, but about meaning: if the machine brakes instead of me — what is left for me?

Assistance Systems and the First Resistance

When Anti-lock Braking System (ABS) and Electronic Stability Control (ESC) first appeared, the feeling was twofold. For some, it was relief. For others, an insult. It wasn’t about the brake pedal — it was about the sense that something was replacing us.

In truth, the resistance wasn’t to technology itself, but to the loss of an old illusion: that we are the absolute masters of the road.

When the Steering Wheel Is No Longer Entirely Yours

Lane-keeping systems act invisibly, until one day you feel the wheel move on its own. It’s not a sharp tug, more like an invisible hand saying: “Here is the boundary.”

For some, it’s a reminder; for others, a disturbing moment. Because it’s no longer just about the road, but about the inner relationship to the idea that something can bring you back — even against your will.

Ambivalence grows: part gratitude, part discomfort. A mixture that teaches us that in technology, as in life, it’s never easy to accept a touch that corrects our course.

A Conversation with a Friend

Yesterday I spoke with a friend about family relationships. He told me:

“Whenever I talk with my sister, I catch myself being cynical.”

As if it’s easier for him to defend himself than to say what he really means. I can see it hurts him, but in that moment, he doesn’t know how to stop.

His description reminded me of the algorithm that brakes: it prevents the crash, but doesn’t remove the pull that makes you go down the same road again. Cynicism in a relationship works like an electronic brake: it prevents immediate damage, but it doesn’t create new movement.

How often do we accept that “braking system” within ourselves — instead of risking honesty?

Perhaps it is useful to see cynicism as an electronic brake: it prevents collision, but must not become a habit. Just like in a vehicle, the brake is there to help in the moment, not to take over the driving. If we notice the moment cynicism “kicks in,” we can use it as a sign to slow down and change the speed of the conversation — not to stop it forever, but to continue more gently and consciously.

Ambivalent Observers

Adaptive cruise control introduces a new paradox. The vehicle maintains distance, brakes, and accelerates. Theoretically, everything is easier. Practically, unease arises: the system brakes too early, or accelerates when we are not ready.

At that point, the driver is no longer just a driver. They become an observer of the machine. Not fully in control, not fully free. It is a position where we feel ourselves being slowly detached from the road, yet still left with enough to remain responsible.

In that in-between space, a person begins to lose clarity: is this still about their own skill, or about adapting to something external?

🔗 https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/16253946/

Research shows that Adaptive Cruise Control (ACC) can reduce driver workload, stress, and engagement, but may also lead to passivity and reduced attention while driving.

Delegation and Slowness

Studies show that people in semi-autonomous vehicles react more slowly when they need to take back control. The brain grows accustomed to being “guarded” by something else and is no longer on the edge of attention.

But this slowness is not only about driving. It is also about life. Once we delegate control over small decisions, there is a danger that, over time, we forget what it means to have it at all.

Some will see this as relief. Others as the quiet loss of selfhood.

The Algorithm Within Us

All of this is not only a question of technology. Algorithms are already everywhere around us — in the news we read, the music we listen to, the encounters some application decides we need. Every time they make something easier, they take away one choice. And a choice was always more than a mere decision: it was a way of discovering ourselves.

That is why the question is not only what the vehicle does, but what we do with ourselves. How willing are we to let something else protect us from pain, and how willing are we to risk honesty — which may hurt more, but builds further?

Instead of a Conclusion

The braking algorithm is useful. But if we get used to it always braking, we can lose the ability to recognize the moment when it is necessary to move forward instead of stopping.

Perhaps the true crossroads is the one where, for the first time, we decide not to stop everything that feels difficult. To allow movement to continue, without signals warning us.

In the Next Part of the Series

After passing through the phase where the algorithm takes over our brakes, the next intersection is more complex: the coexistence of humans and algorithms in the same traffic flow.

What happens when the “overly correct” driving of autonomous systems begins to provoke those who drive by intuition?

What does it look like when two styles meet that cannot fully align — one based on code, the other on impulse?

And can we even speak of harmony, or are we heading into a web of constant mismatch where human unpredictability marginalizes the algorithm?

All this in the next part of the series Road Without Signs — Coexistence: Human and Algorithm in the Same Space.

But before that, it is worth asking: have we already, in these semi-autonomous spaces of life, accepted that brakes guide us more than desires?