While writing my research paper on AI and art, I came across an article in The Guardian by the British writer, Jeanette Winterson. The title says it all: “OpenAI’s metafictional story about grief is beautiful and moving.”
I wondered when the day would come: a professional, lauded writer giving their seal of approval to writing not crafted through experience but by code and probability. Apparently, that day happened a few weeks ago while I was busy writing my research paper on prompt engineering to improve upon AI art.
Machines follow instructions by executing code. From this mindless repetition, something magical occurs and the words that a machine mindlessly (for now, at any rate) outputs are able to generate tears in the reader. Writing something that moves people means hitting a nerve, a sense of connection despite the knowledge that one can never know what another person is thinking or feeling. An algorithm, fed millions of our little documented sighs and triumphs, could probably mimic the shape of yearning. But no human eye has ever been fooled by a mannequin in a wedding dress. Surely, it would take a little longer before we give credit to an AI author.
Winterson's praise made me reassess my bias. She is an established writer who can expertly wed experience and imagination to create impactful words. Writing’s ability to resonate emotionally might be becoming decoupled from the presumed necessity of a conscious, feeling author behind that writing. Look behind the curtain and the the wizard is using AI for all the effects.
My initial skepticism was prodded by a nagging question: Does the authenticity of the tears shed by the reader depend on the “authenticity” of the source?
It's disorienting to consider that an algorithm, devoid of personal history or a beating heart, can assemble words that pierce our human sensibilities. It hasn't lived the grief Winterson read about, but it has analyzed the linguistic footprints of grief left by millions who have. It's achieving emotional resonance through sophisticated pattern-matching, not empathy. It's not “soul” in the way we've always understood it, but it's a powerful simulation that, apparently, works.
“If you prick us, do we not bleed/ If you tickle us, do we not laugh? If you poison us, do we not die?” Shylock’s famous questions from Shakespeare’s Merchant of Venice have suddenly become more difficult to answer.
