The Human Touch in a World of Algorithms
I recently embarked on a playful experiment, attempting to co-create a family game with the help of an AI application. The premise? A mystery, naturally, and the need for compelling characters and clues. What I discovered wasn’t a seamless collaboration, but a stark reminder of what truly fuels creativity.
The AI, predictably, churned out a list of names – a parade of “Puddings” and “Freddies” – and plot points as bland as unrisen dough. It was efficient, certainly, but utterly lacking in spark. ironically, the process demanded more of my time and effort, forcing me to inject personality and nuance into the game than if I’d simply relied on my own inventiveness from the start.The takeaway was clear: AI excels at formula and speed. It can generate variations on a theme, but struggles with genuine originality. The heart of the story, the unique voice, remains firmly in the realm of human experience. In my case, that meant tapping into the storytelling instincts honed over years, the same instincts my grandmother possessed. And, truthfully, the experience left me feeling not obsolete, but…needed.
Though,the comfort is tempered by a growing unease. AI’s capabilities are rapidly evolving. As a journalist, I see the storm clouds gathering.It’s no longer a question of AI simply reporting routine news – school board meetings, weather updates - but of it perhaps tackling more complex, analytical reporting. Our industry, frankly, has been slow to adapt, and the risk of being overtaken by automated content is very real.
The experts offer a glimmer of hope. They beleive writng rooted in personal experience, in a distinctive voice, will remain valuable. AI can produce content,but it can’t live it. It lacks the beliefs, the emotions, the very consciousness that informs truly compelling storytelling. As ChatGPT itself pointed out - a surprisingly self-aware observation – AI can’t “truly live anything.”
To test this further, I challenged ChatGPT to write a poem about a local political issue: a budget dispute threatening funding for our beloved Paramount Theater. The result, delivered in a fraction of the time it would have taken me, was…surprisingly good.
(Excerpt from ChatGPT’s poem)
In Aurora’s proud city,a drama’s on stage;
Not just at the Paramount but on the front page.
Mayor Laesch sharpened pencils, cut budgets with flair;
And the theater folks cried “He’s slashing our air!”
While I might fancy myself a better poet, it highlighted a crucial point. My skills are better spent on tasks AI can’t replicate – for now.So, I’m officially retiring from my role as a poetic columnist.
The question then arose: should I relinquish my role in crafting the annual family skits and hand the reins over to a chatbot? ChatGPT,in it’s typically diplomatic fashion,advised against it. It framed my imagination as the “spark” that ignites these cherished traditions,positioning AI as a helpful “backstage crew” for polishing and brainstorming,but ultimately affirming my role as “director,producer and heart of the production.”
A reassuring sentiment, to be sure. But a small part of me still wonders if that virtual assistant might, someday, be tempted to wield the proverbial knife.
Next week, I’ll be exploring how local schools are preparing students for a future profoundly shaped by artificial intelligence.
dcrosby@tribpub.com
