Open forum. Between technological promise and economic reality, artificial intelligence is reshaping the savings landscape. Neither messiah nor charlatan: a powerful tool that primarily calls for a new kind of clear-sightedness, according to our columnist Vincent Aurez, president of Figen AI.

By Vincent Aurez , President of Figen Ai

I'm writing this article sitting in a café. Across from me, two students are comparing two ETFs on ChatGPT and debating the merits of each. AI is everywhere in their actions: in the way they search for information, in the funds they look at, in the underlying assets they're considering investing in.

They haven't opened the funds' regulatory documentation. They haven't met with a private banker or financial advisor. They're communicating as a trio, with an AI acting as a search engine, analysis assistant, and implicit trusted third party.

We've seen this film before. In the late 1990s, the internet gradually made its way into the economy. Prophets predicted the death of brick-and-mortar stores, the rise of direct democracy, and the end of middlemen. Skeptics scoffed at what they believed to be a passing fad. Twenty-five years later? The internet was neither the apocalypse nor the messiah. Just a powerful accelerator.

Generative AI follows precisely this trajectory. It amplifies what already exists, both its strengths and weaknesses. When Morgan Stanley deploys a generative AI model for its 16,000 advisors, it doesn't reinvent finance. It turbocharges what already exists. This distinction changes everything.

AI as a magnifying mirror

Think of AI as a mirror that amplifies without distorting. It doesn't create magical knowledge. It reorganizes what's already floating around in the digital ocean: buried analyst reports, illegible tax case law, scattered market histories. Synthesizing in three seconds what a human would take three days to compile—such a reduction in time (and therefore cost) is not without consequences.

For an advisor overwhelmed by regulatory complexity—MiFID II, GDPR, the French Pacte Law, and their accompanying decrees—it's a cognitive aid. McKinsey estimates that it saves 30-50% of the time on certain administrative tasks . Finding a tax clause from 2019, comparing twenty euro funds, cross-referencing ten years of macroeconomic data: these dedicated tools transform these chores into routine tasks.

For savers, the promise is tangible. No more appointments two weeks in advance for a simple question. No more guesswork about the optimal tax-efficient investment vehicle. AI brings fluidity where bureaucratic friction once reigned. Available 24/7, well-documented, and responsive.

But here's the thing. This fluidity has its downside. By accelerating everything, AI can short-circuit the time for reflection. By answering everything, it risks stifling the only question that matters: "Is this really what I want?"

The score without the performer

A perfect score looks beautiful on paper. Every note is correct, the tempo is precise, the harmonies are mathematically optimal. Yet, a score is not music. It takes a performer to know when to speed up, when to slow down, when to adhere to the rules or take creative liberties.

The "augmented advisor" is exactly that. The expression is accurate as long as the roles aren't reversed. AI must remain the tool. The human, the pilot. The temptation to do the opposite is strong.

A study by the National Bureau of Economic Research reveals something fascinating: AI improves the quality of responses from junior advisors (real progress), but it standardizes everyone. Mediocre advisors can improve. Excellent advisors can lose their uniqueness. Variance collapses.

That's the trap. AI models are probabilistic machines. They look for the most statistically consistent answer. Not necessarily what's optimal for you, but what's optimal on average for someone similar to you. AI excels at producing basic advice: diversification, investment horizon, risk-profile matching. The solid technical foundation. The bare minimum for good management.

But what about the nuances? The desire to pass on wealth, the need for psychological liquidity, the bet of conviction on an emerging sector – these are the details that make all the difference in a portfolio? The algorithm misses them.

A compass cannot hold the course

Let's return to the individual level. AI is like a highly sophisticated GPS that calculates the optimal route based on weather, currents, and fuel consumption. Fantastic. But it's a navigation tool, not a governance tool.

The captain decides whether to take this route or go around the storm, even if it takes longer. He knows his crew is tired and that they need to make a port call. He can choose to deviate to provide assistance, even if it's not the ideal solution on paper.

It's the same with savings. AI can technically optimize your asset allocation. But it can't decide for you what truly matters. It calculates that investing in the stock market maximizes your expected return over twenty years. But it doesn't know that you're losing sleep over volatility. It tells you it's fiscally foolish to withdraw money now. But it ignores the fact that you desperately need it for a project that makes no economic sense but is entirely existentially meaningful.

This is where the real revolution lies, if there is one. AI forces a clarification of roles.

An accelerator, not a replacement

So, is it a buzz or a revolution? A bit of both, and above all, neither.

Yes, AI is a tangible advancement. It democratizes access to quality information, reduces processing costs, and streamlines the user experience. For someone who simply wants to open a French equity savings plan (PEA) and understand the basics of diversification, it's a valuable ally. It lowers barriers to entry.

Yes, it raises the average level of advice by eliminating gross errors (bad tax calculations, profile inconsistencies) and enriching junior advisors with instant access to collective expertise.

But it has structural limitations. It extrapolates from the past more than it anticipates disruptions. It prioritizes consensus over originality. It simulates empathy without understanding emotion. And above all, it raises a governance question: who controls the algorithm? Who benefits from the optimization?

Understand rather than delegate

Tomorrow's savers and advisors will need to master a new art: asking the right questions of AI, challenging its answers, and distinguishing between technical optimization (where the machine excels) and life planning (where only humans decide). It's less convenient than delegating everything, but it's infinitely more powerful.

Human advice is not going to disappear. It will be redefined. Its value will no longer lie in the mere delivery of information. It will lie in three irreplaceable dimensions: critical judgment, knowing how to say no to the machine; emotional intelligence, supporting people through moments of doubt; and creative expertise, imagining unconventional solutions for complex situations.

AI is neither the messiah who will democratize excellence, nor the charlatan who will ruin savings. It is a revealer. It exposes the weaknesses of industry but also its potential: accessibility, efficiency. It reveals the vulnerabilities of the saver but also their new room for maneuver: cognitive autonomy, increased demands.

This clear-sightedness will make the difference. Between those who will accept AI as an inevitable consequence and those who will wield it as a tool.

The students in front of me, by engaging in dialogue with the AI ​​in groups of three rather than accepting everything that is written, have already understood several things: the AI ​​is already here, so we might as well deal with it.

The question is not, "Will AI change savings?" It is already changing them.

The real question is: how are we going to use it?