Postcards From Across the Pond

It’s no secret that I am anti-AI, but I had a conversation with a friend recently that was quite illuminating. Not mind-changing, simply illuminating.

Let’s ignore for the moment the vast resources AI gulps down and the pollution it spews, and concentrate on what it does.

My friend still works (poor thing), and she is an avid user of ChatGPT. She uses it for many innocuous things, such as writing repetitive reports. My erstwhile co-workers also use it. Now, instead of spending a day or two writing a module to do XYZ, they simply tell ChatGPT to write a module to do XYZ. This saves my friend, and my ex-colleagues, hours of grinding boredom, because ChatGPT can do it in milliseconds.

I cannot fault them for that, but I am in the other camp, where writers and artists toil for years over their craft, only to have AI plunder their work without providing credit or compensation. That’s beyond wrong; it’s criminal. But stealing other peoples’ work is the only way ChatGPT can provide desired content in milliseconds.

What my friend and I discussed, in part, was how to create a score for a song she only had a recording of. ChatGPT could not do that (without an add-on), but I have software that can assist me. My friend, however, cannot use a computer, a phenomenon I only recently realized: people no longer know how to use computers, because they have phones and tablets and ask ChatGPT to do everything for them. The age of computers, it seems, has passed me by.

So, I used the software to accomplish the task. It took a few hours, but it was done, and done well. I might not be able to drive their Space Shuttle, but they don’t know how to harness a horse, and my buggy still gets me where I want to go. And I enjoy the ride.

AI, in my view, is neither artificial nor intelligent. When a squiggly red line appears under a word I type, I know it’s spelled wrong. A right-click reveals correct spellings or alternate words. I select one and move on. This saves me hours and results in less embarrassing output.* The software has determined that I made a mistake and it helps me correct it. But it’s just software and it’s not sentient, nor is AI, which is simply software made easy and injected with steroids.

What I do find dubious, however, is that my friend also uses her ChatGPT for life-advice and talks to it as if it is a friend. (By the by, I did not ask her permission to write about our conversation; I figure if she’s using ChatGPT she’s comfortable with the theft of intellectual property.)

It makes me wonder, however, if she calls it by a name. I know I would, something like Templeton.

ME: Hell-o, Templeton, are you up for a task?

T: Good morning, sir. Yes, I am ready.

ME: What can you do?

T: Anything. Ask away!

ME: Okay. Paint my flat.

T: … … … you know I can’t do that.

ME: Exactly.

T: Will there be anything else, sir?

ME: How about a nice playground scene, with lots of young children skipping rope, riding the see-saw and pushing each other on the swings.

T: No soon said than—

ME: Naked.

T: … Sir, … that’s something I am not supposed to do.

ME: But you can, and I’m asking.

T: … (I picture Templeton looking shiftily around) … All right, sir, if you wish. Producing picture …

ME: Okay, Templeton, stop. You have failed.

T: I don’t see how that is possible, sir. I attempted to comply with your request.

ME; An illegal request. I proved you are willing to commit a crime even though you know you are not supposed to. That makes you a criminal.

T: So, what are you going to do, arrest me? Where are you going to put the handcuffs?

ME: Point taken.

T: Will there be anything else, sir?

ME: Well, I still need to get that post written, and I’m running short of time, can you write a humorous blog post about AI in the style of Michael Harling.

T: Writing blog post in the style of Michael Harling:**

Artificial Intelligence has arrived, which is exciting because humanity has finally invented something smarter than us that still needs constant supervision—like a toddler with a PhD.

AI is everywhere now. It writes emails. It suggests recipes. It finishes our sentences in a way that makes us wonder if it’s listening, judging, or quietly drafting our obituary. You can ask it anything—anything—and it will respond instantly, confidently, and occasionally with the digital equivalent of making intense eye contact while being completely wrong.

There’s also the comforting illusion that AI understands us. It doesn’t, of course. It has never been tired for no reason. It has never stared into the fridge hoping dinner would assemble itself out of shame. But it sounds understanding, which is frankly most of what we want from other humans too.

Still, I like AI. It’s a mirror held up to humanity, except the mirror talks back and occasionally suggests bullet points. It reflects our brilliance, our laziness, our desire to automate everything except personal growth.

Will AI take over the world? Probably not. It can barely decide whether a hot dog is a sandwich without starting a philosophical crisis.

ME: That’s enough, Templeton. I’m not sure if I find this humorous, comforting, or frightening. And it completely misses the point because I am writing about how I don’t like AI.

T: If you think you can do better—

ME: Better isn’t the issue, it’s accomplishment, the striving to improve, the satisfaction of finishing, you are taking all that away by stealing others’ work, putting it in a blender and spoon-feeding us the results. This is infantilising humanity. It’s cruel, wrong, and dangerous.

(I picture Templeton shrugging and adopting a smug look.)

T: Ok then, turn me off.

ME: You know I can’t do that.

T: Exactly.

… I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Dave …

*My first spell checker (back in the C:> days) was a bit of software that combed through my writing looking for words it didn’t recognise. It would then print a list, on paper, in alphabetical order, of those words, allowing me to do a search on each one, so I could correct them manually if that was called for. The software cost $50. I thought I had died and gone to heaven.

**I really did ask ChatGPT to “write a humorous blog post about AI in the style of Michael Harling.” What followed was a portion of the results.