Student Blog: Humanity vs. Artificiality

Nowadays, it seems like everything has been infiltrated by artificial intelligence. From medical scribing to releasing entire albums, no field of work is safe from the impending doom of AI. In a creative field such as theatre, it's a difficult line to toe with the ethics of using AI. As students, especially, the use of AI is becoming inevitable in our everyday lives. The key is to take the creative risks that AI cannot replicate.

When I first heard of AI, I was sitting in my AP Calculus classroom when a student prompted ChatGPT to write a breakup letter to a wife of 40 years. At the time, AI was an anomaly. No one could believe how quickly the system could synthesize such a cohesive and impactful letter. We laughed at how otherworldly this system seemed, but AI was on the rise.

A few years later, I am now attending a university that is partnered with ChatGPT Edu. The program is meant to empower students and accelerate research, but it’s alarming how quickly the discourse has evolved. What was once feared for its unknown is now feared for its seemingly endless capabilities. 

Like many, I have had a fair share of anxious spiraling about entering a job market overrun by AI rather than people. It can whip together a publicity campaign in a matter of seconds and design graphics with the click of a button. With slight prompting, it seems like AI has taken the creativity out of creative work.

Something that it cannot replace, however, is the notion of the human condition. No amount of scanning or processing can educate AI enough to embody the human condition. It is artificial afterall. This exact predicament ensures that people cannot be replaced. While it may seem as though emotionless templates from AI are replacing creative risks, these detached ideas miss the mark for art forms like theatre. 

As this is being posted to BroadwayWorld, I assume that the audience here is a fan of the performing arts. Maybe it’s musicals, plays, or comedy shows, but you have experienced the sense of community that the arts foster. The feeling when the lights dim and the pre-show announcement reminds guests to power off devices is one I have come to crave. There is nothing quite like stepping away from the fast-paced digital world and immersing myself into a fictional one even for just 90 minutes.

In that short period of time, the story grabs your attention, creates an emotional attachment, then breaks your heart and sews it back up. That is the beauty of the theatre. The beauty of an experience so uniquely human that AI cannot fathom the intense emotional journey that spans that short of time. 

Whenever I feel unmotivated to be creative in fear that AI will inevitably replace my work, I remind myself of the tangible experiences that have shaped who I am. Rather than pulling from infinite online sources, my creativity is founded in my individual lived experiences—the joy of making mud pies with my friends or the butterflies in my stomach as I opened my college decisions. 

Each of these experiences has altered the way I perceive and approach the world around me. Instead of calling it a creative risk, I like to think of these moments as creative chances. Creativity is not a risk in my eyes, it is a chance to demonstrate your distinct perspective of the world for others to appreciate.

For creatives, I say go out and see the world rather than a screen. Explore a new part of campus or partake in a new hobby. These activities expand your worldview, something that artificial intelligence can only do vicariously through online data.