A couple of weeks ago a friend of mine sent me a link to an Instagram reel of a New York Times journalist talking about an article she had written. My friend was enthused about the topic, stating: “The best thing I’ve seen online for ages - so unusual to see something explained well!”
Well… yes, I thought. Of course it was good. Because, my darling chum, what you’re seeing here is a professional journalist talking about their properly researched and fact-checked article. And not just another mad person in a weird post edited in that curious and slightly irritating format that seems to be doing the rounds at the moment - awkwardly clipped to put the “sell” at the start of the video, before going back to the actual beginning of the conversation and giving the context.
The reason it was good is the journalist does this as an actual profession! She’s been trained to do it. She’s paid to do it. And she’s good at it - that’s how she got a job at the New York Times! To be surprised by its ‘goodness’ is akin to being shocked that a professional hairdresser gives you a better haircut than your mate who brandishes some scissors after coming home from the pub, declaring: “How hard can it be… really??”
Suffice to say I found my friend’s comment rather irritating. Because it showed a total absence of understanding of the skill of writing as a profession. Although, truth be told, when I write that down I cower a little. I feel like I’m sitting in a pony and trap complaining about those ‘new-fangled’ motorcars. Move with the times, old lady! But there’s a serious point behind all this.
We need proper writing. Not just because it’s better and more engaging to read - but because it’s one of our most important defences against misinformation. Proper journalism has this curious little eccentricity: it is supposed to be true - researched, checked and supported by evidence. And in a world where what you see isn’t always real, this seems… I dunno, like something we might want to keep?
But there’s a problem. Because a while ago we decided that we shouldn’t have to pay for writing anymore. We decided that unlike other professions - hairdressing, accountancy, nuclear science - writers weren’t really doing a good enough job to deserve our hard-earned cash. And we thought we should have all their ‘content’* (WORK) for free.
This is not a recent issue. It’s one that started around the early noughties when ‘the internet’ became a thing and every newspaper and magazine scrambled to create a website. The job was easy enough - after all, they had plenty of stuff to put on a website. They had entire teams writing all day, every day.
Only in their rush to launch, they forgot one teeny tiny thing. They were giving away their entire product for free. And most of them noticed too late. By the time I started working for the Financial Times in 2008, the horse had already bolted. The FT was the only newspaper that had smartly installed a paywall on its content from the beginning. Everyone else was trying to retrofit one - and it wasn’t going well. Because once you’ve given things out for free for a while, nobody wants to pay for them.
Since then it’s been a steady decline, with media organisations making cuts… then more cuts… then more cuts. It feels like a dead industry, at a time when we need it most.
This was something I discussed this week with an academic who messaged me on Instagram about the plight of writing jobs - and his despair that students in his writing class were determined to outsource all their assignments to AI. Thus… not actually learning the skill of writing at all. Which seems an unusual choice for a bunch of people who have paid to learn how to write… but hey, who wouldn’t opt out of doing homework as a hungover eighteen-year-old?! As such he was very worried about the impact of AI on writing as an industry. Which I get - but I think this also misses a bigger point.
AI isn’t the only reason writing is in trouble. Writing was already in trouble because we created a world in which nobody expects to pay for it.
As anyone who hangs out here on Substack knows, AI is annoying in writing - largely because it’s shit and a lot of people don’t seem to notice. I’ve had friends send me “great” articles to read that are so clearly AI dross I give up within two sentences. It doesn’t work for me - it feels empty and hollow, I don’t find myself surprised or able to care much about the subject, and I’m now allergic to the word “quietly”.
But that’s okay! Reading good writing doesn’t matter to everyone - in the same way that some people just don’t like opera, or thrash metal or Medieval art. Horses for courses, innit. But I don’t think that means there will no longer be a market for human writing in future. Just because a machine can do it, doesn’t make it interesting. Think about those weird self-playing grand pianos you sometimes find in hotel lobbies. Sure, they’re cool for a moment - but it hasn’t stopped people wanting to watch actual humans giving recitals. There’s an entire TV show about people playing the pianos on the concourse at St Pancras station, for fuck’s sake!
Perhaps I’m blinkered or naive - but I think we will always find other members of our species and their thoughts on things interesting. I think there will always be a place for human writing in our future. Simply because humans are more weird and bizarre and surprising than machines - and I for one really dig that!
The bigger problem is we’ve created a world where we don’t think writing is something we should pay for. And that - to me - is far scarier than anything AI can do. I’m not sure there is a way to put the genie back in the bottle. Substack is trying - a voice in the wilderness saying writers do deserve to get paid. And I love that - even though I find the model tricky and am not badass enough to put everything behind a paywall. Because I’m not the FT. Or Elizabeth Gilbert. Which totally screws me over as if you don’t ask, you don’t get!
We need to understand that if we want well-researched, well-written stories that we can TRUST, we can’t expect them to magically appear out of thin air. We can’t complain that everything online is becoming hollow, derivative sludge while continuing to behave as though human writing should cost nothing. And we can’t allow writing to be the preserve of the super rich who have enough leisure time to do it. I include myself as part of this problem. I have paid subscriptions to some writers and publications, but far fewer than I read. Most of us have become accustomed to being given an impossible amount of work for free. And I think we need to have a little word with ourselves about that next time we complain about AI dross taking over.
To dismiss writing as something that should just come to us for free is Wankery. And - as we know - Wankery is the worst. To me, the question isn’t whether AI will kill writing. It’s whether we value human writing enough to keep it alive.
A quick piece on something that’s in my head today before I head off to the hospital to check on aged Pa.
While this is a broader thought about society, I do want to say a massive thank you for being here and supporting me in the work I do. Particularly to my mind-blowingly wonderful paid subscribers - I thank you deeply and heartily from the bottom of my heart. I know there are many things you could spend money on - and your support is the thing that keeps me showing up year in, year out. I love ya.
All thoughts welcome! Unless you feel too scolded which really wasn’t my intention! We created this mess as a society… but maybe it’s time we recognised that.
If I could subscribe to every single sub stack I would totally do it! With the whole AI issue in particular, sort of touches on what you said, but I think unfortunately in our capitalistic culture we're so focused in general on results that sometimes I don't blame certain people for using it if it gets them closer to earning a livable wage. Until we live in a culture where the mainstream highly values critical thinking, I am curious what will happen to colleges as people continue to rely on AI for their work.
I both heartily love this and equally feel a little bit embarrassed not to be paying for it. I wish there was at least a “buy me a coffee” option that I could use, because in my current reality a monthly subscription isn’t doable. Thanks for highlighting the wankery in the world.