A news report I read this morning suggests that artificial intelligence is “going after reporters’ jobs.” Well, more or less, that’s the story. So, I assume that AI is also after bloggers’ jobs, though if it is after this one’s, it should note there’s no remuneration. Yep. I write for nothing other than to stimulate others’ thinking. Noble, huh?
But how do you know that I wrote this? Could I be an AI in disguise. Could AI be my ghost writer. Having written a number of research papers for others, I can guarantee that ghost writing is a real thing. And I can also guarantee that I’m human and not machine. How?
Yesterday, I posted a little essay entitled “How Long Did the Universe Take to Establish Order” and another called “Anti-Conspiracy Conspirators and the Depths of Inquisitivenss” [sic.]. Yes, there’s your clue the blog was written by a human. When I first posted the latter, I left out the “e” in inquisitiveness. But that wasn’t my only mistake. Published in the morning, that essay was online for a number of hours before I realized the typo had blatantly lain across the top of the article like a theater’s electric marquee. Embarrassing, for sure. But human. I could fault the need for cataract surgery I’ve been putting off or an old prescription lens, but the truth is in haste to do something other than write, I was careless. And not only was I careless with the title, but with several other nagging errors, such as ending a question with a period. Human, all too human. Similarly, last night’s essay also contained some typos when I first posted it. I think I’ve since corrected them.
AI would not have made such errors. AI would probably not use contractions as I do. AI would probably not begin sentences with coordinating conjunctions. It would not use fragments as often as I do. But if AI does do all I’ve just listed, then I guess I can’t guarantee that I’m not a writing machine, not a thinking machine.
But my logic is also human. It reflects some perspectives that are laden with feelings. I have strong feelings about socialism, for example. I therefore write about its potential evils. If you’ve read the almost 2,000 articles I’ve posted on this site or those I have anthologized in the first volume (others to follow soon) of This Is NOT Your Practice Life, you certainly sense those strong feelings, often not subtly veiled in a bit of sarcasm. The rabidity I have attributed to climate change alarmists stands as an example.
So, yes, I’m human. And I believe in a human exchange of ideas, but don’t think I can’t see the value of some roles played by artificial intelligence: My Jeep has both backup and forward sensors; it warns me when a car is in my blind spot; it turns on the high beams; and it sends me messages about tire pressure, oil life, low gas, and service needs. However, I’m not inclined to get behind the wheel of a self-driving vehicle. And on my next flight, I hope there are pilots in the cockpit.
I believe I can guarantee that I am human because of my failings, not because of my perfections (not that I have any). Would a perfect world be perfect? Utopian writers have run the process through. In the main, most, if not all, such stories run into the war between choice and mandate. And you know how upset we humans become when the world is mandated. It really doesn’t matter out age, most of us balk at “being mandated,” as the recent politically charged and mostly useless mandates have shown. Perfect worlds aren’t, in reality, perfect.
Of course, many humans believe that perfection is attainable. Facelifts, breast implants, liposuction, and spas stand as proof that humans desire the ever elusive perfection. Many humans are happy with mandates, also. Heck, some Hollywood types went so far as to condemn people who didn’t want kindergarten children wearing masks during a pandemic that rarely affects children. And then the question they refused to ask is the one about the actual demonstrable efficacy of face masks in preventing the passage of a particle so small that it requires electron-microscope magnification to see. Sure, wear those cloth masks. But the need for some to be told how to be perfect is strong, and it is exacerbated by subtle and not-so-subtle images on the front covers of fashion magazines or entertainment tabloids that depict “perfect” bodies. That need for perfection is also one that seemed to drive the super-obedient during the past pandemic. They did not question; they condemned those who did question. No doubt the same population will seek perfect stability during the next frightful event and run to the waiting and often hypocritical arms of politicians who “act in the best interests.” One needs only look at the recent past to see the hubris and proclaimed perfection. Is my memory faulty or did Anthony Fauci claim, “I am science”? Didn’t the masked and vaccinated Fauci come down with the disease? Oh! But wait! Didn’t he also proffer the unprovable tenet that had he not been vaccinated, his Covid would have been worse? And isn’t that the same kind of claim of those who predict a “climate catastrophe”? How many times do we hear, “The science is settled”? And how many dire predictions have come and gone during the twenty-year hysteria driven by imperfect computer models?
Seems that some people desire the perfection they associate with artificial intelligence and science. Their mistake is in failing to realize that artificial intelligence runs on algorithms and science runs on imperfect humans. Algorithms can be both beneficial and detrimental, as the history of pre-Musk Twitter reveals in the quashing of conservatives and propagation of wokeness. As for scientists, as humans, they have the same kinds of failings that you and I have (sorry about including you in that, but someone had to say it).
Anyway, my typos are a guarantee that I am human. That doesn’t seem to be much to offer you, I know. “Wait, did I just read another essay by a brain that says it’s imperfect? I could have written this essay for him.”
But that’s my announced purpose, isn’t it? To get you to take what I offer and in your own imperfect way derive whatever thoughts your brain can produce on a topic or on peripheral matters is my goal. Neither you nor I will achieve perfection of thought, but both of us will reveal the uniquely human characteristic of combining reason and emotion. True, one will dominate the other in a given circumstance or on a given topic, but the play of both in how we see the world is an essence of being human and not artificial. Embrace the mistake; nevertheless, try to catch it before someone sees you made an error. *
*Here’s my warranty. I ain’t lookin’ at this again, so if it has typos, you’ll know Donald did it.
But how do you know that I wrote this? Could I be an AI in disguise. Could AI be my ghost writer. Having written a number of research papers for others, I can guarantee that ghost writing is a real thing. And I can also guarantee that I’m human and not machine. How?
Yesterday, I posted a little essay entitled “How Long Did the Universe Take to Establish Order” and another called “Anti-Conspiracy Conspirators and the Depths of Inquisitivenss” [sic.]. Yes, there’s your clue the blog was written by a human. When I first posted the latter, I left out the “e” in inquisitiveness. But that wasn’t my only mistake. Published in the morning, that essay was online for a number of hours before I realized the typo had blatantly lain across the top of the article like a theater’s electric marquee. Embarrassing, for sure. But human. I could fault the need for cataract surgery I’ve been putting off or an old prescription lens, but the truth is in haste to do something other than write, I was careless. And not only was I careless with the title, but with several other nagging errors, such as ending a question with a period. Human, all too human. Similarly, last night’s essay also contained some typos when I first posted it. I think I’ve since corrected them.
AI would not have made such errors. AI would probably not use contractions as I do. AI would probably not begin sentences with coordinating conjunctions. It would not use fragments as often as I do. But if AI does do all I’ve just listed, then I guess I can’t guarantee that I’m not a writing machine, not a thinking machine.
But my logic is also human. It reflects some perspectives that are laden with feelings. I have strong feelings about socialism, for example. I therefore write about its potential evils. If you’ve read the almost 2,000 articles I’ve posted on this site or those I have anthologized in the first volume (others to follow soon) of This Is NOT Your Practice Life, you certainly sense those strong feelings, often not subtly veiled in a bit of sarcasm. The rabidity I have attributed to climate change alarmists stands as an example.
So, yes, I’m human. And I believe in a human exchange of ideas, but don’t think I can’t see the value of some roles played by artificial intelligence: My Jeep has both backup and forward sensors; it warns me when a car is in my blind spot; it turns on the high beams; and it sends me messages about tire pressure, oil life, low gas, and service needs. However, I’m not inclined to get behind the wheel of a self-driving vehicle. And on my next flight, I hope there are pilots in the cockpit.
I believe I can guarantee that I am human because of my failings, not because of my perfections (not that I have any). Would a perfect world be perfect? Utopian writers have run the process through. In the main, most, if not all, such stories run into the war between choice and mandate. And you know how upset we humans become when the world is mandated. It really doesn’t matter out age, most of us balk at “being mandated,” as the recent politically charged and mostly useless mandates have shown. Perfect worlds aren’t, in reality, perfect.
Of course, many humans believe that perfection is attainable. Facelifts, breast implants, liposuction, and spas stand as proof that humans desire the ever elusive perfection. Many humans are happy with mandates, also. Heck, some Hollywood types went so far as to condemn people who didn’t want kindergarten children wearing masks during a pandemic that rarely affects children. And then the question they refused to ask is the one about the actual demonstrable efficacy of face masks in preventing the passage of a particle so small that it requires electron-microscope magnification to see. Sure, wear those cloth masks. But the need for some to be told how to be perfect is strong, and it is exacerbated by subtle and not-so-subtle images on the front covers of fashion magazines or entertainment tabloids that depict “perfect” bodies. That need for perfection is also one that seemed to drive the super-obedient during the past pandemic. They did not question; they condemned those who did question. No doubt the same population will seek perfect stability during the next frightful event and run to the waiting and often hypocritical arms of politicians who “act in the best interests.” One needs only look at the recent past to see the hubris and proclaimed perfection. Is my memory faulty or did Anthony Fauci claim, “I am science”? Didn’t the masked and vaccinated Fauci come down with the disease? Oh! But wait! Didn’t he also proffer the unprovable tenet that had he not been vaccinated, his Covid would have been worse? And isn’t that the same kind of claim of those who predict a “climate catastrophe”? How many times do we hear, “The science is settled”? And how many dire predictions have come and gone during the twenty-year hysteria driven by imperfect computer models?
Seems that some people desire the perfection they associate with artificial intelligence and science. Their mistake is in failing to realize that artificial intelligence runs on algorithms and science runs on imperfect humans. Algorithms can be both beneficial and detrimental, as the history of pre-Musk Twitter reveals in the quashing of conservatives and propagation of wokeness. As for scientists, as humans, they have the same kinds of failings that you and I have (sorry about including you in that, but someone had to say it).
Anyway, my typos are a guarantee that I am human. That doesn’t seem to be much to offer you, I know. “Wait, did I just read another essay by a brain that says it’s imperfect? I could have written this essay for him.”
But that’s my announced purpose, isn’t it? To get you to take what I offer and in your own imperfect way derive whatever thoughts your brain can produce on a topic or on peripheral matters is my goal. Neither you nor I will achieve perfection of thought, but both of us will reveal the uniquely human characteristic of combining reason and emotion. True, one will dominate the other in a given circumstance or on a given topic, but the play of both in how we see the world is an essence of being human and not artificial. Embrace the mistake; nevertheless, try to catch it before someone sees you made an error. *
*Here’s my warranty. I ain’t lookin’ at this again, so if it has typos, you’ll know Donald did it.
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