(This is the tenth and last in a series on generative AI content. Spring term, which may be my final with the direction the US is going, starts tomorrow, and I need to focus on that and to try to find the heart to keep working on my own books.)
A year ago, I wasn’t against AI. In fact, I wrote an academic paper in support of it. I believed AI had the potential to be a powerful equalizer in education and academic spaces—especially for students with learning challenges, language barriers, or limited access to traditional resources. I was hopeful, maybe even a little naïve. I thought that if handled thoughtfully, AI could help more people find their voice, not replace the ones we already have.
What I didn’t realize—what I completely underestimated—was how quickly things would spiral.
I didn’t anticipate how fast generative AI would be used to pump out everything from entire books to detailed illustrations and even full songs. That alone might sound impressive or harmless to some, but these are the exact fields that matter most to me and to other creatives—areas I’ve dedicated almost my entire life to. (Full disclosure: I’m currently working on a music degree.) Writing, visual art, and music are not just hobbies or industries. They are cultural cornerstones, and they are deeply personal, not just to me, but to millions upon millions around the world.1
What I overlooked was how fast real human creators would be shoved aside in the rush to adopt AI. People who spend years refining their craft are now told to “adapt or die.” We’re labeled “Luddites” for expressing concern or for asking not to have our work stolen and repackaged by machines. We’re mocked for being principled. We’re accused of being bitter or behind the times. And more often now, we’re told we’re wasting our time for not letting AI do the work for us.
I had hoped that institutions—especially schools—would move more slowly and thoughtfully. That they would evaluate the consequences, set boundaries, and consider ethics before integrating AI into classrooms. But instead, many are scrambling. As funding gets slashed, staff numbers drop, and pressure to “do more with less” mounts, they’re left with fewer choices. AI looks like a solution. And in that desperation, students are encouraged—explicitly or implicitly—to lean into AI, not as learning aids, but as substitutes for thinking, writing, and problem-solving. I didn’t expect it to happen this fast. I should have.
What’s even more disturbing is how many people now treat a chatbot’s answer as gospel—despite how often these responses are inaccurate, misleading, or entirely made up. We’re watching critical thinking erode in real time, replaced by the convenience of instant (but unreliable) answers. And people are proudly turning in AI-written essays, emails, even academic research, passing them off as their own thoughts without a second thought.
Until just a few months ago, I still found small moments of enjoyment in playing with AI—generating silly prompts, seeing what Wombo would return with a prompt as simple as “dog” (why on earth it returned an image of Tom Holland feeling up a female version of himself for that one…), or just seeing what it could do for fun, privately, at home. But I can’t ignore what I’ve witnessed since. People who started out the same way—just having fun—often begin to rely on it more and more. What begins as novelty becomes habit, and habit turns into complete dependence. I’ve seen friends, colleagues, and classmates start to gradually stop making anything on their own. One of my own good friends now has ChatGPT generate all of their responses. I miss my friend’s voice in their messages, and only hear their own words now when I see them in person and AI can’t be used. It’s not intentional laziness—it’s the slow seduction of convenience. Why struggle through writing, drawing, or composing when a machine can do something “good enough” in seconds?
But that’s the trap.
And it’s not just about art being diluted or human voices being drowned out. It’s about how we define creativity, effort, and value. It’s about what it means to make something that came from you. If that no longer matters to people—if human creativity becomes optional or even obsolete—then we lose something irreplaceable.
So yes, I’ve changed my mind. I still believe AI can have useful roles. I still believe it can support people in meaningful, ethical ways. But the way it’s being used now—recklessly, greedily, and without regard for the very people who built the creative foundations it feeds on—is not liberation. It’s erosion. And if we don’t start taking that seriously, there may not be much left to protect.