No, I Don’t Want Copilot to Write My Editorial for Me!
I was trying to think of a headline for my editorial when I saw it staring me in the face:
“Describe what you’d like to draft with Copilot.” Oh, and when I highlighted a block of text, I got the “Edit with Copilot” prompt.
Now, why the hell would I want to do that? This is my editorial. I’ve written a zillion of these over the last 37 years. Why would I need or why would I want an AI to write it for me?
Writing is something I believe I’m good at. It is something I take a great deal of pride in doing.
And yet, here we are. This is the world we find ourselves living in. And it all happened so fast. Probably too fast but that’s what happens when we cherish that shiny, new things and let them move as quickly forward as possible, without the necessary guardrails to protect us.
AI certainly caught me with my head in the sand.
Earlier this year, I was reading a fiction submission and was almost at the end. Frankly, I found it to be a long, tedious read and had no doubt that I’d be writing a rejection letter shortly. Then I got to the very end, which included a disclosure that AI had been used to help edit the story.
I felt like I’d been punched in the gut.
To be fair, I would’ve been spared the visceral reaction if I’d more carefully read the cover letter, which did in fact disclose the use of AI.
But still, I found myself shocked at how strong my reaction was, a combination of anger, disappointment and dismay. I should’ve realized it was only a matter of time until this happened, and it is very well possible that I may have previously published work that used AI without my knowledge.
This prompted a conversation with my Mobius Poetry Editor and Webmaster, F. J. Bergmann. We both agreed that we don’t like the idea of publishing or even considering works that use AI. We also agreed that we need to come up with an AI policy. In the meantime, F.J. suggested that I try using an AI detection website. She recommended one that allows limited free searches each day.
First, I ran a test using the aforementioned AI assisted story. Ding, ding.
Then I tested a piece of my own writing. No AI detected.
And then, I tested a recent submission I hadn’t gotten to yet. DING, DING!
I promptly purchased a subscription to the service for unlimited usage.
And then I emailed the contributor, asking if they’d used AI even though they didn’t disclose that they had.
The contributor admitted that he had. I told him that I would not consider his work because of the use of AI though adding that he wouldn’t receive any further penalty for lack of disclosure.
As of right now, we haven’t come up with an AI policy, but my inclination would be to not consider any work that uses AI and ban for life anyone who doesn’t disclose AI usage.
With the time and consideration regarding this issue, I have come to realize that for me personally, there’s a very important reason why I don’t want to see works in Mobius that used AI in any way, shape or form.
At its best, fiction and poetry chronical the human condition and therefore must do done fully and solely by humans.
I cannot overstate the importance of this notion. The human condition is about who we were, who we are and who we may be in the future. It’s asking the deep question of who we want to be.
As the Bard penned in The Tempest, “We are such stuff as dreams are made on.” Not to go into great detail, but the famous quote refers to the fleeting, sometimes dreamlike quality of life. Our stay in this realm is so short, and the desire for some kind of meaning is so paramount. And within this attempt to find some kind of meaning we may travel to the heights of our desires and the depths of our failing.
Or, to borrow from The Twilight Zone, the human experience is somewhere between the pit of our fears and the summit of our knowledge.
How can a machine understand the human conditions? And if you, as a writer, truly want to explore the human condition, why would you enlist non-human assistance?
Now I get the temptation, especially when software constantly prompts about the availability of AI assistance.
To me, it’s cheating, pure and simple.
Writers and artists spend years and years perfecting their craft, always putting in time and resources to improve, to be able to find that stronger and sweeter spot between the ideal and the reality. It may be frustrating at times to find that my reach constantly exceeds my grasp. And yet, that is an important part of being human, to want to strive and strive and strive to improve, to get better, to be better able to express oneself.
It is also notable that AIs don’t exist in a vacuum, and therefore, if you are using AI assistance, your work is not really original because the AI probably is using works belonging to other writers as models for your work. These are open AI systems, so they will grab whatever they can, wherever they can with no consideration for any sort of copyright infringement or a desire for originality. The AI only cares about completing the assigned task. It could give a rat’s ass about any of these other considerations.
Now in general I would say that AI can serve useful functions. Still, one should consider whether they desire to feed the beast. Keep in mind, AI requires tremendous resources. Data centers have become a huge political issue in the current electoral cycle and for good reason. They are being shoved down our throats with tech companies all too often cutting secret deals with municipal leaders.
And then communities are stuck with these monstrosities that gobble up a ton of electricity and consume tremendous amounts of water. Due to high electrical demands, fossil fuel usage is forced to expand when we desperately need it to contract. I was recently excited to find out that thanks to research done right here in Madison, fusion energy might be possible within my lifetime.
But then I realized fusion would end up being used to power AI data centers.
Again, we don’t have an AI policy yet, but we will have one soon. Art imitates life, and it is up to the artist to interpret what they see in the world around them, to seek a more profound understanding of the human experience. You, the artist, you are human and infinitely qualified to write about the human experience. This is your job. This is the task that has been assigned to you and only you.
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