Presence in an Age of AI Reproduction
Should we listen to AI songs?
As AI tools begin to mimic the quality of some actual human musicians and artists, and as writers continue to experiment and test boundaries of how to use AI, questions around the authenticity and purity and value of human-made creations have arisen.
If AI can make a song that moves me as deeply as a song written and performed by a human, does it matter if I choose to listen to the LLM-generated song?
If a book cover generated by AI fits the vision in my head better than the mock-up made by a human designer, does it matter if I choose to go with the LLM-generated cover?
If an article written by AI on enduring with mental health struggles resonates with me profoundly, does it matter if it was generated by an LLM?
Is something lost in creative works when we turn to machines to produce them instead of relying on human creativity? Does the process of human creativity itself matter, or just the product and my experience of it?
These questions aren’t going away. They are going to get louder and louder in the coming months and years. And if you don’t have an opinion, you should develop one soon, because how we collectively approach answering these questions will affect the livelihood of a lot of people. Our answers will help shape the future of creativity.
While machines will be able to generate creative works that mimic human creativity, one of the values they will never be able to offer is presence. Behind a wedding vow written by ChatGPT there is no “I” who says “I do.” Behind the pop-punk break-up song you generated with Suno, there is no “I” who shares his teenage experience of getting dumped. There is only output. What humans can offer that machines cannot is presence, an intentionality of being-there to create for others. The question is, will we honor that presence as a human good based on the imago Dei, or will we prize efficiency as more important?
In Walter Benjamin’s 1935 essay, “The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction,” he makes the claim that mass reproduction of art robs it of its “aura”: “that which withers in the age of mechanical reproduction is the aura of the work of art.” He goes on to define this “aura” as a “unique phenomenon of a distance.” So for Benjamin, we lose something, something he actually ties to tradition, when we mechanically reproduce art instead of making unique works of art. He goes on to identify two tendencies in contemporary culture that lead to this decline in art’s “aura”: “Namely, the desire of contemporary masses to bring things ‘closer’ spatially and humanly, which is just as ardent as their bent toward overcoming the uniqueness of every reality by accepting its reproduction.”
I want to use Benjamin’s foundational essay as a jumping off point to make an argument about presence in an age of AI reproduction. Benjamin starts from a Marxist perspective and gives us only a loose definition of “aura” and “distance,” but I think he’s almost halfway to something true. The creative arts, as I see them, are fallen human attempts to communicate some truths about God’s creation. The “aura” they have is the presence of human intentionality, striving against finitude and sin to say something true and resonate about life. The “distance” is the difference that every person inherently brings to a creative work, the otherness. You may have heard a thousand break-up songs, but have you heard a break up song from The Smiths? The miracle of human life is the radical otherness of each person combined with our ability to create works that communicate across that otherness! And God made us that way.
So to sum up, I believe that creative works have an “aura” about them because they were intentionally created by people made in the image of God who are mysteries to us and even to themselves. It matters that they took the time to make those works, to write those words, to write those notes, to paint those lines, because they matter as humans.
But Benjamin warns us that mass culture has a tendency towards two things: closing distance and reproduction over uniqueness. We see the first tendency in our drive to know everything, to understand every detail, to read intimate details of people’s lives, to consume content endlessly—it’s the vice of curiosity. What this posture doesn’t do is respect and enjoy the beauty of difference and distance, the unknowability of other people, the fundamental mystery of your spouse or neighbor or child. Art, especially good art, speaks to that mystery. Second, and more importantly, in this drive for reproduction we see the rise of AI. Culture is concerned not with what is good, true, and beautiful, but what is efficient. How we can lifehack our way to success. This is especially true since we’ve been incentivized to think that way. Many people are satisfied with a mediocre children’s story told read to their kids by an AI bot. They’re satisfied with a generic sounding email that has been “improved” by AI. They’re satisfied with an AI image that is a blatant rip-off of a unique human creation. They want the more efficient product because it meets their immediate desires and needs.
Eventually, AI will improve and the stories won’t be so mediocre and the emails might not sound so generic (I have my doubts). But AI will never have presence. When I write this, I am sacrificing some of my life to offer up an argument I care about to people who may or may not read it, because I think it matters and I think they matter. It is an act of love and intentionality. It is a gift. AI cannot offer a gift, it can only produce outputs. Behind these words, behind someone’s song or painting or poem stands a human person made in the image of God with all the mystery and wonder of their own being. The question before us is, Will we continue supporting human creations, or will we choose the route of efficiency? Does it matter that when we resonate with a creative work that we are being addressed by someone, or do we just care about our emotions?
If we live in God’s universe, and we do, then I believe it matters that we choose human creative works to support. Because the most important thing is not what we feel or experience but what is real and true. And what is real and true is that humans are speaking. They are speaking through their creations. And we honor their presence and lives, and the Creator of their presence and lives, when we support their works.
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I love the distinction you have drawn between gifts and outputs. I have two close friends who are producing AI music, and as much as I love those guys, I pay no attention to their "creations" for that very reason.