What a Punk. Also: That Punk’s Not Wrong
My office looks like I’m chasing a serial killer: sticky notes abound, some so old they’re not sticky anymore. Many are secured with Scotch tape, in clusters on a large whiteboard and in technicolor vines, up and down the sides of my computer monitors. All that’s missing is the red string.
This is all to say: what blocks me, when I sit down to write, is not a shortage of ideas. What blocks me, sometimes, is a compulsion to reconcile: I want, very much, for things to make sense. I want to take the competing ideas I’ve been kicking around and braid them into something that holds. (If you are picturing the Play-Doh extruder right now: same. Man, those were great.)
These past few weeks, though? The fleeting peace of a solid take has eluded me completely. I’m all over the place.
On the one hand, I own a company that uses a wide range of AI tools. I’m glad about this. If the leaders I tapped to take over from me a few years ago were not thoughtfully integrating the latest tech into our operations, I’d worry no end about our ability to remain competitive. The market wants one thing—value-for-money—and is famously unsentimental about how things get made.
Also, it’s not just in a business context that I’ve embraced AI. In my personal life, I use LLMs for travel planning, spending analysis, fitness, tech support, plant care, and kei truck repairs. Sometimes I’ll upload a photo of the inside of the fridge and ask wtf I should make for dinner. I do not use AI to write, and I snap (regrettably) at family members who do—but I’m increasingly willing to entertain the idea that, while writing = thinking for me, that does not mean writing = thinking for everyone.*
That said, I have such deep misgivings about the future that I’d join a data center protest in a heartbeat.
The window to advocate for Team Humanity is closing fast. The political power we, the non-oligarchs among us, used to derive from our labor is rapidly declining. But our votes and the authority of our local permitting boards—along with consumer spending and litigation—remain meaningful sources of leverage. Pulling on every nonviolent lever we have to secure at least some say in how things unfold is not about opposing innovation or choosing ::face palm:: to stay “backwards and poor.” It’s about understanding how power works in a democracy**—and how high-stakes negotiations sometimes need to look.
My son came home from high school the other day and said, “You know what I realized? Adults do not have things figured out.” I waited for some kind of carveout—“Not you and Dad of course—other adults”—but it was not forthcoming. And I had to admit: he’s a punk, but he’s not wrong. We do not have things figured out.***
I use AI. AI scares me. I can’t reconcile these two things in any way that’s neat and tidy. That feels profoundly uncomfortable, but also: I don’t think I’m alone. Am I?
Notes:
*This is me trying to be open-minded. Tbh I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to shake the conviction that writing = thinking. More generally, the idea (and creeping reality) of “cognitive surrender” scares the bejeezus out of me.
**On a positive note: there’s been a lot of backsliding, but ::checks tracker:: we’re still a democracy. Urge every eligible voter you know to check their voter registration and vote in the midterms.
***As you all know, I’ve worried about job displacement from the get-go. We don’t need the robots to take all our jobs—let alone extinguish humanity—in order to have a serious problem. Especially in a place like the U.S., where most people get their healthcare through their employers, even a 10% unemployment rate would wreak havoc. Here in Seattle, where tech layoffs are perhaps providing a glimpse of the future in other places and in other industries, we’ve recently reached a 5% unemployment rate. It’s brutal.
Play-Doh image: credit to The Toy Store (with which I have no relationship of any kind).
