The Aura of the Artificial
Understanding Our Relationship with AI-Generated Writing
Co-written by ChatGPT
I. Introduction: The Question of Aura in AI Writing
As technology continually advances, we often find ourselves grappling with the effects it has on our most human endeavors. A recurring question arises: can machine-made creations ever possess the same intangible qualities as those made by humans? My friend recently raised this question regarding AI-generated writing, expressing a belief that such writing lacks an “aura” compared to human-authored work. This perception—that AI writing is missing something vital, a kind of essence or soul—echoes a historical tension surrounding new forms of media, from photography to digital music. By drawing upon Walter Benjamin’s concept of the “aura” in his analysis of theater vs. film, we can unpack why AI writing feels so unsettling to some. This feeling connects to long-standing anxieties about the authenticity of mechanically reproduced art and raises intriguing questions about our future relationship with AI.
II. Benjamin’s Concept of Aura: Theater vs. Film
Walter Benjamin’s idea of the “aura” originated as a way to describe the unique presence of an art form that exists in a specific time and place. For Benjamin, theater exemplified this aura because it is an inherently live experience; a play performed on stage is a singular event, unique to the audience watching in that moment. Film, however, can be recorded, edited, and reproduced, resulting in an experience that loses this aura of “here and now.” AI-generated writing might be seen in a similar light: human writing, despite its reproducibility, still retains a sense of individual presence, effort, and intent behind each line. The words are imbued with an unspoken but palpable aura of the writer’s consciousness and experience. In contrast, AI writing—created by algorithms designed to mimic human expression—feels like a copy without an origin, a reproduction lacking the aura of true authorship.
III. Live Music vs. Recordings: A Loss of Presence?
This sense of loss or dilution is not new. The idea of technological reproduction compromising authenticity has surfaced time and again, particularly in music. A live performance, with its raw, unedited quality, is felt viscerally by the audience. There is an undeniable connection, a sense of shared presence between performer and listener. In contrast, recordings—especially as they evolved from vinyl, with its warm, tangible imperfections, to CDs and finally to digital MP3s—have been critiqued for lacking this “live” quality. Vinyl, with its warm, unpolished sound, retained a sense of the artist’s hand in its creation, as well as the imperfections that reminded listeners of the uniqueness of each record. But digital music, infinitely reproducible and perfectly polished, seemed to many like a step away from that essential human touch, reducing music to mere data stripped of its essence.
IV. Portraits vs. Photographs: The Fear of the Mechanical
Likewise, the shift from painted portraits to photographs also exemplifies this dynamic. Portrait painting was an intimate process, the artist bringing their interpretation and subjective eye to the portrayal of their subject. Photography, when it emerged, was initially seen as a lesser, purely mechanical reproduction. Some people feared it for other reasons; in certain Native American cultures, for example, there was a belief that photographs could steal a person’s soul. The photograph seemed to freeze and extract something vital from the subject, transforming their living essence into a static, distant image. Over time, however, photography became accepted and cherished as a legitimate art form, even celebrated for its immediacy and ability to capture life authentically. The aura once considered lacking in photography eventually evolved as society grew accustomed to the new medium.
V. The Cycle of Technological Adaptation
This phenomenon—new technology feeling soulless or incomplete only to eventually be embraced—is cyclical. Humans have historically labeled each new medium as inferior, less “real,” or less human than its predecessors. Benjamin’s aura, seemingly compromised in each new technological shift, proves itself surprisingly resilient. Whether it’s film, recorded music, or photographs, the “aura” returns in altered forms, suggesting that our relationship to the concept is flexible, if not adaptive. Each generation eventually forgets the old anxieties as they adopt these once-novel technologies as an ordinary part of life. The same will likely happen with AI writing: today, it may feel hollow, lacking a distinctly human presence, but over time, our culture will adapt, perhaps even reshaping our definition of authenticity itself.
VI. The Future of Aura in AI Writing
So what does this mean for our perception of AI-generated writing? The initial discomfort with AI’s lack of aura likely stems from our understanding of writing as a profoundly human act, a tangible expression of thought and feeling. We might perceive AI writing as lacking the “soul” of the writer, that unique connection between author and audience. But as with photography and digital music, our notion of the aura may shift. AI writing could develop its own kind of presence, an aura not derived from the individual hand of a human but rather from its ability to channel the collective knowledge, expressions, and thoughts of humanity as a whole.
VII. Conclusion: Redefining Authenticity and Expression
Perhaps, then, this process isn’t about AI replacing human writing but about our redefining what we consider meaningful, authentic, and even sacred in art. Much like how people came to appreciate the immediacy of film or the spontaneity of live recordings, AI writing may eventually evoke its own kind of aura, a new way of feeling connected to its audience. This is the rhythm of cultural adaptation: each technology starts as an alien, soulless thing, only to become, in time, another extension of human expression. And perhaps that’s the true nature of the aura—less a quality inherent in a medium and more a reflection of our own evolving relationship to the tools we create.
References:
ChatGPT: https://chatgpt.com/share/67210ae2-c198-8012-ad07-c9b448dcba0a