Living on the edge of the apocalypse is hard to navigate. The news goes on and on about President Donald Trump and his administration’s abandonment of morality. Between invading other countries for oil, an uncontrolled ICE force brutalizes American cities, and cutting SNAP and Medicaid as prices soar, evidence suggests America is heading toward a dark future.
While that happens, AI takes its victory lap. Tech developers rake in much of the world’s wealth, training bots to fabricate humanity while leeching our natural resources. Without strong regulations controlling AI’s growth or any effort to grow it “sustainably,” it is unclear whether this technology’s bubble will burst or if it will one day replace us.
On top of this, college graduates face uncertainty of finding a job that makes use of a degree that costs hundreds of thousands of dollars.
I worry that every effort to crush humanity by the people with the most power will one day succeed.
Grappling with deep fear of what a world without value for humanity, and all that comes with it, makes it hard to find hope.
But I found a whole lot of hope as an executive producer of our live radio news broadcast from the 31st Annual Los Angeles Times Festival of Books held at USC last month. Over two days, I watched a team of over 25 students pull together hours of broadcast from a festival that was centered around real stories and books written by humans. Nothing more hopeful for the future of humanity than that.
I listened to powerful stories about poets finding friendship, a retired actress finding passion again in writing young adult science fiction, the Los Angeles Central Library’s 100th birthday, a local comic store still drawing by hand and advocating for environmental change. The stories of real people finding inspiration and drive by engaging in real-life experiences that AI and the tech bros seek to replace.
Inside Annenberg Radio News’ tent, humanity was bustling. No AI in site, just frantically written pieces, multimedia journalists running with an audio kit, hosts gathered around a table decorated with more books and trinkets and visitors surrounding us, taking in the simple pleasure of an old school broadcast.
Everything done over the weekend cannot be replaced by AI. Sure you can argue that our rundowns could’ve been generated, or story scripts, or pitches, or questions for the hosts. But those minute details allowed us to not just build a broadcast, but a small community inside a tent.
Our 10 shows documented how books play a role in our lives and captured moments from a festival entirely devoted to human work and stories. We built community with our guests and between each other.
Giving up on community, connecting to each other and finding value in human producer stories caves to the hopes of the tech developers, the major corporations and the government. As soon as we give in and decide we can compromise humanity, when we decide kindness takes too much effort and when we decide we’re all better off alone, we lose the power of community, of the people.
The Festival of Books alone could crush any tech developer’s dream. AI had no seat at our table or in any panel or in any booth. Instead, thousands of people crowded campus to visit the endless booths and exhibitors. They left with heavy bags full of books, and most people I talked to left with a new friend or favorite author.
Most of the time, the world feels terrifying. Thinking a decade ahead makes me nauseous. But for now, when I read the news and become overwhelmed with uncertainty about the future, I look to the people around me, the moments at the Festival of Books, and find solace knowing that humanity still exists, untampered by the algorithms meant to replace us.
A spontaneous dance. A warm hug and eye contact. All the things that cannot be produced through an algorithm. Imagining stories, and telling them. Turning to the person next to you to strike up a conversation. The simple moments and the most sincere connections between unfabricated people. This is what brings me hope.