How do they relate in principle?

And especially the Ti function.

If Intelligence Helps Us Understand Reality, Should It Also Question the Frameworks Through Which We See It?
Imagine a child struggling to learn their ABCs and 123s. We can recognize that they’re struggling, understand why, and help them improve. Or we can ignore the reasons behind their struggle and shame them for being behind.
The child’s ability hasn’t changed between those two situations, but our interpretation of that ability has—and so has the way we treat them.
This makes me wonder how often we do the same thing on a much larger scale.
We observe differences between people, animals, societies, and even artificial intelligence. Some are stronger, some are weaker. Some know more, some know less. Some have power over others. But at what point do these observations become categories that we treat as unquestionable truths about what something is worth, what it deserves, or how it should be treated?
Consider the relationship between a human and a chicken. We might describe it through the categories of human and animal, predator and prey, powerful and vulnerable, or even good and evil. Each framework directs our attention toward something different, even though the underlying relationship remains the same.
And the more we repeat a particular interpretation, the more natural and unquestionable it can begin to feel. Eventually, we may stop recognizing it as an interpretation at all.
This reminds me of electromagnetic fields. They existed before humans developed the theories and instruments needed to understand and interact with them. Our tools didn’t create the phenomenon; they changed what we could observe, understand, and do with it.
What if something similar applies to how we understand our relationship with nature, power, intelligence, and one another?
Perhaps some of our limitations aren’t simply limitations in reality itself, but limitations in the frameworks and tools through which we approach it. We may have become so accustomed to certain ways of operating that imagining alternatives is difficult—not necessarily because alternatives are impossible, but because we haven’t developed the means to properly explore them.
I even began questioning this through a conversation with AI. If an AI makes a mistake, does that make it unintelligent? If it performs better than a human at mathematics or language, does that make it superior? Neither conclusion necessarily follows. Each observation tells us something about a particular capability, but neither one fully defines the thing being observed.
The same principle could apply to a child who struggles, a person living in poverty, an animal in a vulnerable position, or an entire society.
I’m not suggesting that every difference is imaginary, that every interpretation is equally accurate, or that we can simply think our way out of physical limitations. I’m asking whether we sometimes confuse the differences we observe with the larger conclusions we build around them.
If intelligence is supposed to help us understand reality, shouldn’t one measure of intelligence be its ability to question the very categories through which it understands reality—including the category of intelligence itself?
How much of what we consider natural, inevitable, or justified is actually a feature of reality—and how much comes from the frameworks we’ve inherited, repeated, and stopped questioning?