I Don't Want to Be an AI

This is our permission slip to embrace being unapologetically human creators

A light breeze strokes my cheek, passes by me, ruffles the grass. I’m in the garden, laptop on my lap, cap on my head, squinting slightly at the screen. Writing, again.

I feel out of practice. Two weeks isn’t very long, but it feels long under my fingertips. I’ve been away from my usual creative habits, getting a cold, then food poisoning and finally a bout of overwhelm. I’ve been annoyed at my body for being so unapologetically human, and stressed about what I haven’t been able to create.

I sit here in the slowly sinking afternoon sun and I feel my humanness, but this time in a good way. In the feeling of having the whole summer ahead of me. In the inspiration, in the calm. On my terms. In the way I like being human.

Do we wish we were AI?

AI seems to be on everyone’s lips. It’s not surprising, of course. We’ve been dreaming of and dreading robots for a long time, especially those that can mirror our mental capacities. And now here they are. A recurring question I hear is: what can we do that they can’t?

For now, it’s a lot of course. But we know that it will keep getting better, and we wonder where it will end. What will stay human? What will define us, as the robots keep catching up?

The thing is, I think we all wish we were robots sometimes. We envy their predictability, their consistency, their fast pace, their apatite for infinite amounts of work. The robots are ideal employees, of course. Never takes a sick day. Doesn’t get tired or confused or unmotivated.

I think we wish it so much that we too often try to be robots. Thinking up systems and schedules and try to execute flawlessly, predictably. Get mad at ourselves when we misstep and mess up. When we’re not acting like robots.

We hear it as creatives. Be consistent, they say. Write many similar books, post the same kind of pictures over and over again on Instagram, stick to your art style. Build your brand. Be predictable.

I remember an interview with Tove Jansson, the artist of Moomin. She had been drawing him for many years by then, and she talked about starting to resent her own creation because of the pressure to give the public more of what they wanted. She stopped writing Moomin 25 years after the first book came out. The following years, she released short stories and novels that never gained anywhere near as much attention as Moomin. But I imagine she felt free.

We treat one of the most human things we have - creativity - as if we were robots. But should we? Do we have to?

The humanness of art

I’m not scared of AI. I don’t have it in me to worry about technological developments. I’m too optimistic, too future oriented, too fond of tech. Plus, I work for an AI company, and I see first hand the good it does.

I understand why other creatives worry though. We’re already seeing AI generated art win competitions and being used instead of human made illustrations and stock photos. People see their hard won financial creative successes being threatened and that’s enough to worry anyone.

But actually, I think this could be a good thing.

What are the robots great at? Despite their attempts to mirror us humans, they excel at being robots. Being predictable, fast, accurate, doing the same thing over and over again. I imagine they will eventually be able to write formulaic, predictable beach read type books. I’m sure some will even be really popular. But maybe that’s a good thing.

Maybe AI will once and for all release us humans from being robots.

At times, I’ve attempted being super consistent in my creativity. To not change, to do the same thing over and over again, to stick to a formula. I find it excruciatingly boring. I always rebel.

For all I care, the robots can do that kind of creativity. They can outcompete us at being AI. We can find ourselves utterly inadequate robots. Because we are.

And then, we can focus on being human. On being confused and unpredictable and sick and inspired and bored. Listen to our emotions and let them drive our decisions. Let the AI do that Moomin drawing over and over again, so we can go away and write books nobody is asking for. Share the human experience in our art, because that’s what the robots will never be able to do.

The best we can do to compete with AI is to lean into our humanness. What has been seen as a flaw will become a strength. Each part of us that makes us fail at being robots will give us an edge towards them. Not at their game, but at our game. At being humans creating human art.

I’m not a robot

So I’m choosing to see this as a big permission slip. To not try to be a robot. To mess up and fail and feel. To change my mind and get bored and shift directions. To live. To write about it. To create and share from a space of being unapologetically human.

My fingertips clattering over the keyboard is starting to get cold. The sun has moved and I haven’t noticed. I rise and sit in a different chair that is still in the sunshine. I think of the polka ice cream in the freezer. I should eat dinner first though. A robot would be good and eat dinner first. I gaze out over the garden. I write a little more. Then I close the laptop, stretch out my crooked back and go inside. I eat the polka ice cream.