Crossing the AI Divide

Now that so many of us are using Artificial Intelligence (AI) regularly, discerning when to disclose this information is tricky. In some ways AI seamlessly inserted itself into our lives, upending, disrupting, and transforming even the most basic tasks.

For example, it’s likely many of us use AI to assist with writing. However, AI may be involved in different stages of this process and to varying degrees. These stages could include creating a first draft of a work based on a prompt or a review of something existing. AI might write, edit, and finalize an entire work. However, there would have to be some human intervention, even if it was a minimal amount to adjust prompts. Is disclosure required for all of these uses?

Sometimes at work, I draft an email or message. Then I use Copilot (Generative AI tool) to help achieve the right tone, make sure the statements are clear, and check if anything might sound confusing. Other times I might use Copilot to draft an Executive Summary or Conclusion for a document I wrote. Copilot is terrific at providing high-level succinct summaries. It’s perfect for an Executive Summary and Conclusion.

But do I need to disclose that, especially if I’m proofreading and making final edits? And if so, how and when? And in which ways does using Copilot differ from doing a task I might normally have to do, or would potentially delegate to a student? In my mind the big difference is that Copilot can do it instantly with a relatively high level of accuracy.

Other organizations might use AI as Chatbots to provide automated assistance to customers. In some cases, this information is readily available. As soon as a chat opens a message appears alerting the customer that they’re communicating with a Chatbot. I find it’s easy to know when I’m communicating with a Chatbot, even without disclosure. In my experience, most Chatbots have a hard time understanding any question that isn’t about something really basic. Even then, misinterpretations are easy.

As we all become more familiar using AI, I’m hoping more guidelines and practices will emerge. Some places are starting to require labels for AI-generated content, especially images. However, as AI becomes better at replicating human work, discerning the difference will become more difficult. Without guidelines, the line between human and AI may become blurred beyond recognition.

Glad I Grew Up When…

I think every generation goes through a period of nostalgia when they reminisce. When they can look around at all the changes. The dramatic changes, like the way smartphones have fundamentally altered our habits. Or how social media has completely changed how we interact and communicate with each other. They can observe these things, shake their head and say, I’m glad I grew up when…

Last week, a bit under the weather, I had one of these moments. From a young age, I always had a strong love for books. Paper books, because when I grew up, that’s all we had. Some people ventured into books on tape (yes, cassette tapes), but we didn’t have audiobooks, ereaders, or people reading books to us in little YouTube videos. We had paper, words, and sometimes some illustrations. That was enough back then.

During a chat with my mom she asked how I was feeling. She remarked when I was sick as a kid, I never watched much television, preferring to read instead. However, I would have watched TV all day, except watching game shows and soap operas got boring. This was before we all had unlimited access to shows through Netflix or other platforms. Cartoons were only available a few hours a day at certain times. And even then, options remained limited. Had I been a sick kid at home with Netflix I may have remained ill all through middle school.

Reading articles about Gen-Xers and getting some good flashbacks watching “Stranger Things,” (whenever I want, I might add), I’ve come to appreciate the limited options we had. I’m glad I grew up when the pace of life was slower. When we got to experience boredom, real boredom, because there wasn’t anything good on TV forcing us to go outside, hang out with other people, and get creative.

Mostly, I’m glad I grew up during a time where “street smarts” meant just that, learning how to navigate the physical world. Thinking about the cyber and digital dangers awaiting today’s children is terrifying. Even in your own bedroom you may not be safe from predators and bullies. And the limitless choices and ability to customize anything and everything is also damaging. It’s probably impacting us in ways we can’t even begin to understand.

Disconnection with Close Connection

Perhaps one of the greatest ironies about having so many communication options is the way it impacts close connections. Growing up we had three main forms of communication: telephone, snail mail, and in person. Long distance was extra challenging because phone costs were high, even for calling another county in the same state. Mail was inexpensive, but could take a while. For close connections, we relied on meeting in person.

These days I see people sitting in close proximity to each other communicating with their devices. This is even when they are close enough to speak to each other. I also notice frequent, inexpensive communication methods delaying, or filling in for, in-person meetings. Perhaps the most difficult thing to understand is people ignoring, or side-lining those close enough for real-time meetings, in favor of spending time on a device communicating long distance. Or even sometimes, perhaps more often than I think, people are turning to AI companions.

In the last year I’ve read several articles about younger people turning to AI companions for “dating” rather than try their luck in the real world. Or even with one of the many dating apps available. Having survived decades of dating, the good, the bad, and the ugly, part of me can’t blame these decisions. Real world dating involves a lot of perseverance, effort, and building up the stamina to deal with rejection. Plus it can get expensive.

However, all of these experiences are ways for us to build skills in communication, especially how to understand non-verbal cues. It provides a valuable way for us to learn about human connection, social interaction, and lots of opportunities for self-discovery. I don’t see how any of these things are possible with so much digital communication.

First of all, AI companions agreeable, complimentary, and affirming by design so we feel compelled to keep messaging. While this may sound idyllic, it’s not actually helping anybody prepare for life where we are continually confronted with all sorts of different opinions and mannerisms, many of which may challenge our own. Secondly, digital communications provide us with an opportunity to review and edit, or wait, before replying. Verbal conversations are dynamic and happen fast. Sometimes I say things too quickly or something I say isn’t received well. But this is also an important part of the learning experience to build awareness of the close connections around us.

The Smartphone Dependency

I replaced my smartphone in December. My previous one was still working, but it was getting old. Some of the features weren’t working properly. I had concerns about staying protected against cyber threats with the older technology. Eventually I caved in and bought the latest and greatest.

The transfer was smooth. Within a couple hours of unpacking my new phone, it was set up and ready. Everything felt and looked like my old phone, except it worked better. Plus it has more memory so I’m not at the limit anymore. However, within a couple of months, things started to happen. As though the universe was sending me a strong signal to stop using and relying on my phone so much, it started getting bunky.

First problem is the phone freezes. Since I often rely on my phone for the time this resulted in some near missed appointments. The first few times it happened, I checked my phone to see how much time I had between meetings. I was completely unaware the time wasn’t updating. Then I would happen to glance at the tiny, almost invisible clock on my computer and realize it was actually a lot later than I had thought. Each time the freezing happens, I have to restart the phone.

It’s so unpredictable that I started wearing a watch again. Sometimes the phone freezes multiple times in a day and sometimes not at all. Another thing is a weird, staticky pattern taking over the phone display. This also requires a restart, provided I can see enough of my screen to do that. In short, the phone is unrepairable and getting replaced.

However, the threat of possibly losing my phone contents, or the use of my phone even temporarily, got me thinking about my dependency on it. The tricky part is that even if I didn’t want to use my phone so much, sometimes there aren’t good alternatives. Everything has slowly morphed into being part of mobile devices and digital culture that weaning away from that can be challenging.

Before going digital I relied on disparate sources. For example, I used a planner, the paper kind. I still sometimes reminisce about the Quo Vadis Sapa. Point being, there’s danger in having the smartphone as a one-stop-shop. When the phone goes, everything goes with it, even if you have a good backup the recovery can still be hard.

Death by Continuous Scroll

I’m amazed how easy it is to lose track of time when I start scrolling. No doubt this is by design to keep us glued to one app or another. By the time I pull myself away it’s sometimes difficult for me to remember why I started scrolling. Or what I gained from the experience. Or to recall anything specific because of the brain and sense overload.

Though I almost never use social media, this happens on other apps. For example, news apps or sometimes when searching for a recipe. The next thing I know, I’ve entered some kind of alternative scrolling universe, never to return again.

The other week I heard a podcast about screentime. The episode is called “Screens without Shame: Jonathan Haidt and Catherine Price.” It was horrifying to hear the addictive nature of our devices as being equal to slot machines. The main difference being slot machines are available after age 18, whereas smartphones are available at any age. Even without a smartphone, many of the harmful and addictive apps are accessible through other devices such as laptops and tablets. There’s really no way to escape. Even worse, the intentional design of the apps and devices to hijack our attention.

I was also surprised to learn that one of the speaker’s students spend up to 25% of their time scrolling. When I catch myself scrolling, I feel bad if I’ve squandered more than 10-15 minutes of my time. By contrast, these students must have been spending hours every day scrolling. But that could only be possible with some of the addictive built-in mechanisms. For example, continuous playing of one video after another, with no pause in between. Automatically queuing up posts, videos, and content based on previous selections. No break in the content allowing the viewer to have a break for even a few seconds. Combined with other elements such as flashy colors, energetic music, and interactive features, it’s no surprise that scrolling is a time-sucking activity.

Though there are strategies, and yet more apps available, to enforce time limits of our scrolling habits, it’s a constant struggle. Even employing mindfulness and focus when I open my phone, it’s often not enough to resist the allure and pull of the continuous scroll death spiral. Since it’s not possible to stop using my phone, my main strategy has been to find ways to use it less.

The Persevering Push

Learning music can be difficult. Unlike many other things, there are no shortcuts available. At best, some of us may learn how to “artfully fudge” a hard passage. Or trick the audience into letting their ears and minds fill in some blanks. However, most of the time, it’s hard work to learn my parts. It’s a lot of time and effort spent playing, listening, and pushing through the tough parts.

This weekend I had the distinct pleasure of playing Sibelius Symphony 2 for the first time. Some of my parts were challenging. Although the real challenges came at rehearsal trying to fit my pieces in with everybody else’s. At rehearsals, we rely on each other to have learned our individual parts at home. Then play them right at the right time in rehearsal so we synch up. No amount of ChatGPT, AI, or technological alternatives will help with this process. After all, we’re not robots. We’re people playing music and that leaves an element of variability and sometimes surprise.

This also means I gain skills. Working hard to learn a certain fingering or play a fast passage smoothly means the next time I see those notes they won’t be so difficult. The time invested provides benefits later on. With the technical experience earned through practicing, means I can worry less about hitting the right notes and focus more on the enjoyment of playing music. This allows me to just be in the moment.

Playing Sibelius provided me that opportunity for total immersion and flow focus, again all without any technology. In fact, we’re reminded to silence devices and not have them around to eliminate distractions and ill-timed ring tones. I worked hard to learn my part. During rehearsals I paid attention, listening across the sections so my brain could piece together some of the intricate harmonies, push-pull rhythms, and dynamic meter changes. All while creating an illusion of being in a vast, snowy landscape.

The notes flew by and before I knew it, we were playing the last page! I was so focused on playing my part integrated with everyone else’s I didn’t have time to get nervous about upcoming solos and little exposed bits. We all moved forward together in harmony as people, no AI necessary. It ended up being a lot of fun and a memorable experience, right up there with a Beethoven Symphony.