Think about what it means to treat someone well: fundamentally, it involves considering who they are, what they might want and need, and whether you can help. This can be difficult, maddening work, because other people are such puzzles: strangers are a mystery, obviously, but even with loved ones, all we ultimately have to go on is some theory of mind and a few clues about their ever-changing set of likes and dislikes. So “considering” is the operative word: we have cliches like “it’s the thought that counts” because we recognise that the process of thinking about, considering, puzzling over another person is what actually constitutes care, not the flashy gift or perfectly crafted message that results. When you outsource the thinking to AI, you outsource the care. Your communication becomes empty, and your relationships hollow out.
But so do you. Whenever you are facing a blank compose box, filled with dread and inertia, you are being presented with a small, quotidian opportunity to strengthen your character. Whether it’s a birthday text, rejection letter, or quick reply to a dumb message from your manager, the resistance is always telling you something useful. This is the stuff that really matters. This shit doesn’t matter at all.
It takes courage to decline your manager’s waste-of-time request. It takes tact and sensitivity to draft a good rejection letter. It takes wisdom and perspective to decide to ignore unsolicited emails from publicists and real estate agents. When you use AI as a crutch, always at the ready with a suitable set of words — when you bypass the resistance and bat away those deep nagging questions — you deprive yourself of an opportunity to be brave, tactful and wise. Do this over and over, and your bravery, tact and wisdom will atrophy. Your character will corrode.
This is why AI communication tools can’t be safely contained by limiting their use to certain circumstances, like bullshit work emails: there is no sphere of your life where this chipping away at your character doesn’t cost you. Making a habit of using these tools also means missing a vital lesson, which is that failure is salutary. It moulds you beautifully to fuck up and say the wrong thing, or fail to say anything at all, and notice the pain this causes. Or the surprising lack of pain it causes — the maddening array of responses it elicits in different people.
— Never, ever let the machine draft your emails
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