For centuries, artists and writers have earned their livelihoods through creativity. Industries revolved around fresh works of pottery, unique paintings, and intellectual literature, allowing those unsuited for bureaucratic or “traditional” careers to contribute to society in ways different from their peers. For many years, the workforce operated in relative harmony, with people harnessing their own talents in order to make money. Those with unique skills were nearly as important to the economy as those with wealth.
However, when the use of Artificial Intelligence became mainstream, this system began to collapse. Suddenly, wealthy business owners didn’t need the work of creatives; they could make their own designs and insightful writing pieces with little to no effort. Even recreational art became eroded by inauthentic work, allowing those seeking the joy of art to experience it while bypassing the hard work and vulnerability required for authentic work. Instantly, the entire population—at least the ones rich enough to access computers that could operate generative programs—had a world of skill at their fingertips, one that could cater to their every need—and, most importantly, one they didn’t have to pay for.
People argue that AI makes art more accessible, available to people who are unable to spend the excessive time or effort required to create advanced or poignant artwork. However, I find this claim objectively untrue—art is for everyone. A sculpture can be made from rocks and mud, a drawing can be sketched with a stick in less than five seconds, and an incredibly moving poem can be conceived and flawlessly delivered in the blink of an eye. It’s not about time or money—the difference between people who are magnificent artists and those who are not is their willingness to showcase vulnerable experiences in a unique and emotional manner. It’s the way humans communicate emotion and passion in ways that cannot be represented straightforwardly using language, and its scope is inexpressible through any other form of transmission—let alone code. Everybody is inherently artistic and expressive, but creativity itself has become a corrupted concept that many see as performative, existing less for their own enjoyment and more for others to see and praise their talent.
As a result, the act of creativity itself has begun to wilt, as the ease and convenience of AI use appears more attractive to amateur writers, artists, and intellectuals. People began to yearn to showcase work that didn’t seem their own, work that shimmered with the spark of someone else—SOMETHING else—that didn’t have a trace of what they believed to be their own inadequacy. To put it simply, the use of AI to create art stems from insecurity—people believe their own creative work or writing is inadequate, yet they still yearn to show others they are proficient and masterful. AI-generated artwork provides instant gratification, allowing artists to receive audience acclaim without developing or even aspiring to gain the experience or skill needed to legitimately earn it.
AI continues to perpetuate this insecurity, allowing people to present practically perfect creations as their own, stimulating personal doubt and weakening confidence in those looking to grow their own skills. Humans simply can’t compete with the precision and perfection produced by computers, deterring many from engaging in traditional art forms that underpin the human experience.
In reality, AI has proven to bolster the wealth disparities already corrupting human society—leaving the skills of less affluent writers and artists completely obsolete, their own work condemned in favor of artificially created content. It doesn’t help them access art-making—rather, it prevents it almost completely. After the popularization of AI, creators found themselves out of work, leading to an abrupt decline in the economic viability of creative careers.
In my opinion, AI is at risk of destabilizing the economy that has functioned for thousands of years. Artists and intellectuals have always subtly grounded the functioning of our society, creating works that have come to define and direct the human experience. They capture our deepest triumphs, our most profound inquiries, our shared emotional landscapes, and allow us to navigate our own personal and societal struggles with wisdom and confidence. Artificial Intelligence does not possess any of this depth or insight—its work is deeply flawed, unnatural, and the more it infiltrates human society, the more lost and depersonalized our race will become.
The more these patterns continue, the more people will be discouraged from partaking in creative endeavors—ultimately leading our society toward a reality devoid of life and imagination, plagued with conformity rather than individuality. Lived experience is, at the very least, the only thing required to make art—and by devaluing this essential component, AI risks replacing fundamental art and writing with uniform, vanilla creations void of human distinction. Diverse voices and backgrounds will no longer be represented, and humans will be gauging their identities based on the misinformed, completely fallacious claims of artificially intelligent machines. I vote we start funding struggling independent artists that have the potential to change the artistic landscape of the world rather than continuing to fund Artificial Intelligence, a software that directly oppresses and dissuades talented artists from showcasing their passion, intelligence, and humanity.
