2023 is the year photo and video evidence are no longer proof for belief.
The first wave looked like a swaggy pope, robo-cats, and a deep-fake Tom Cruise.
The second wave saw falsified bombings, sextortion victims, and disinformation at large.
With an election around the corner, what will the third wave entail? Does our coverage of wars in Ukraine and Yemen accurately depict the conflict, protagonists, and antagonists? How can a public figure fight the tide of hate from an off-color, falsified recording purporting their prejudiced character traits? Will the next “Tidepod challenge” be one that more than simply uneducated and attention-seeking teens try?
These are part of the dangers of democratizing access to a weapon of mass destruction. The companies leaking language models are unable to vigilantly police bad actors’ use of emerging tools. The fight to understand and regulate AI is already underway in Congress, and the stakes are clear: the breakdown of liberal democracy and the extinction of our current way of life.
More fundamental to what the fight for AI represents is a question of truth.
What is truth in a world where our five senses can no longer be trusted?
The morosely comforting truth is that we’ve been nearly at this point for a long time. We shifted our thinking circa 2008. The internet introduced us to the idea of bots and false-facing. We quickly understood that not everything online is vetted by editors, publicists, and the Library of Congress. Our social media personas are just that —
“personas.”
[1734] nn. pl. outer or assumed aspects of character.
Now that images, videos, and recordings require a tale of provenance (on a scale of accessibility unseen in history), our habits around consuming media must shift again. We must become better at two things to avoid falling prey to mistruth and emotional manipulation:
indifference and contextualization.
Billions of dollars and thousands of engineers lie in wait behind your computer’s screen to ensnare your attention. The so-called economy has perfected techniques and models that permeate our lives. A viral dance video appears next to a politically charged rant, but we fail to ask why — much less comprehend the disjointed nature of such a sequence. Our brain, fully immersed in primal emotions of joy, amusement, intrigue, or attraction, receives an ice-plunge-like shock into the harsh realities of disgust, distrust, and rage. This rapid pendulum swing of emotions breaks down our reasoning. No longer are we being fed “harmless” entertainment, but the machinations of a polarization engine that elongates our latitude of acceptance.
There is a balm in an unlikely place for us. The Ignatian order of spirituality encourages an unattachedness in decision-making processes where emotions and biases create tension. This “Ignatian indifference” has equal merit in the realm of media judgment. Step back. As we scroll, our limbic system fires on all cylinders from the dopamine rush each video triggers. When the twist comes and our fight-or-flight response (most commonly fight, as it increases engagement and time on screen) activates, we can choose indifference. Begin examination with analytical and undisturbed thoughts. Don’t jump straight to an emotional response — even if it remains unspoken.
(Of course, this is far easier said than done. None of us are emotionally regulated and spiritually wise enough to be on these platforms, yet we choose to engage them regardless.)
When indifference is found, investigation must begin. Every news article, piece of media, and social post exists within a unique ecology. Hyperlinks abound — literally and metaphorically. You can’t read an op-ed on record-breaking summer heat without asking certain questions. Who is writing this? Why are they writing it? Which of my emotions, if any, are being tampered with? Is this event, idea, or news even possible given what I know about the situation? Who sent me this, and how reliable — or gullible — are they?
Very quickly, analysis leads to telling answers about the veracity of the content we stumble upon. The student in each of us taps into learned behaviors: checking sources, a skill developed only in the last century. The deconstructionist instincts of today’s activist find new footing if they are willing to pause for context. The tools we need already exist but lie dormant in this realm of our lives. Contextualization may save us from jumping to the island of conclusions where so many are washed away.
This may be the year truth can’t be found in a picture, but that doesn’t mean it can’t be found at all. When a Roman governor asked the itinerant Nazarene, “What is truth?” he desired no answer — for to a chronic worshipper of sensual impulse, the question did not matter.
Does it matter to you?