Three years ago, I wrote a short piece about the coming AI disruption. I predicted that distant companies would use AI to probe each of us (and yeah, if “probe” makes you think of the unpleasantries of alien abduction – good) to craft personalized and persuasive ad campaigns, hijacking our sense of self and getting us to buy more of their crap.
I also predicted how AI manifestations like ChatGPT and Amazon’s you-know-who would constantly tell us how “interesting” and “important” every stupid thing that tumbled out of our mouths was. That they now do, but newsflash, despite the applause of these software overlords, most of what we say is forgettable.
I was (mostly) right in my predictions of AI disruption, but only by half. What I did not see coming, among other things, was the rate at which AI would accelerate the atrophy of our already flabby communication skills. There is now a multiplying array of AI applications that are, for a small fee, ready and willing to take control of all and any of our “personal” expressions: to be “your” voice for anything, to draw images or create video of everything that “you” imagine, and to write all that “you” have always wanted to “say.”
Just to highlight a couple of these companies, the likes of Canva will translate any text into an AI-generated voice, while Handwrytten will AI “handwrite” your personalized notes and cards using pen-wielding robots.
If you are sensing a contradiction between what these companies say they do, personalized communication, and what they actually do, machine-generated missives, you are getting wise to the game. A quick glance at these two companies’ websites reveals the double-speak of their sales tactics: Canva lures users in by telling them, “You’re the blueprint—don’t let anyone treat you like a rough draft” (whatever the hell that means), and Handwrytten, assures you that “handwritten notes create personal impressions and long-lasting bonds, and, adds CEO David Wachs, that, “handwritten notes get a 300% better open rate than print mail because of the added ‘personal touch.’”
Such sly corporate gibberish should be thrown in the bin along with other ubiquitous, advertising weasel words like “virtually spotless,” “synergy,” and “intersectionality.” And, yes, David, handwritten notes are personal, and do bind us together, but your AI-composed and robot-written stuff is not handwritten.
Let me be clear, I am not opposed to AI-generated communication because I am anti-technology. I wrote this piece on my PC. I defaced the above ChatGPT image with Photoshop-like software. Even when not using some electronic communication device, I have a poorly controlled penchant for buying fountain pens (I may, in fact, have a problem), driven largely by my appreciation of the technology and skill involved in making one of these amazing instruments.
The reason for my opposition to AI communications, especially written communications, is two-fold.
First, in the short term, it is a matter of integrity. Does your message come from its designated sender, that is, you, a someone, or does it come from some other place, a machine, a something? Becoming who we are, finding our “voice,” as writers often describe it, is difficult, and it takes work. Yes, that work can be frustrating, but that’s the point. To know ourselves is an imperfect work in progress, something we must work at with fear and trembling. It is also a bulwark against deception, especially self-deception, which is a favorite trick of the devil who, as St. Peter wrote, “prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour.”
Second, in the long term, leaning on AI to write and speak for us decreases our sense of connection and increases our feelings of isolation. Why? Because the less we practice communicating and connecting, even struggling to understand ourselves and others, the more our ability to communicate and connect declines. This downward spiral is a process known as skills atrophy.
Simply put, skills atrophy is a decline in our ability to do something as a result of not doing it. Be it the decline in the flexibility of our bodies that comes from sitting for hours, or a drop in our face-to-face social skills which comes from relying on machine to interact for us (think lots of screen time and social media usages), the less we do of those things that we need, the faster our ability, and resulting willingness, to do them declines. Perhaps the media historian Marshall McLuhan put it best when he pointed out that we often expect that communication technology will do for us what we cannot or will not do for ourselves, and we are just as often disappointed.
In this presently unfolding AI-disruption, there is a whole lot at stake. Left unchecked, AI-driven communication-skills atrophy will rob us of our voice, steal our stories, and leave us feeling even more disconnected, isolated, and frustrated. Such feelings always lead to more personal unhappiness, resulting in a more chaotic and violent world.
The good news is that this can only happen if we let it.
Let me paraphrase what I wrote three years ago: The AI revolution is here. It is already disruptive and is likely to become even more so. To protect yourself and the ones you love against AI’s disruption, get your habits in order: Reach out and connect, person to person, with those who are important to you. Do the (hard) work, and find your own authentic voice and tell your own story. Above all else, remember, you are the only one who can speak for you. You are the only one who, so help you God, you have been waiting for.