These are good kids

Here’s my relationship with tech, via anecdote: the last piece of tech I got excited about purchasing was a 1980s-vintage kitchen phone, which I hung on our kitchen wall as a sort of art piece, as an homage to 1980s kitchen phones. It is not even connected to a phone line. All of which to say, I have almost zero interest in new tech and as such have not found AI to be interesting or delightful or full of possibilities for my life or work.

In fact, three of the things I like the most—books, cigars, and boxing—all haven’t changed much in hundreds of years. I think this is why I like those things.

That said, my university recently hosted a small conference for Christian communicators and as such there was the obligatory panel discussion on AI, which featured three middle-aged guys in logoed quarter-zips who were really pretty excited about AI. One of the guys has a product that I’m not going to impugn the creativity or utility of, but the name of which struck me as especially apocalyptic.

That guy went on to say that we were “handicapping” our students if we weren’t teaching them how to prompt AI. He then asked the audience of students, expecting zero hands raised, “How many of you actually like writing those 500-word reflections on reading?” All of my students raised their hands, and I laughed a little inside. I then reflected on a moment when one of my students asked AI to produce an image of me, but in the fashion of an American Girl doll. AI did a really good job with this, and the result was a very funny picture. This is probably my best experience with AI.

Responses to the panel from my faculty colleagues ranged from “I need a fainting couch” (hand across forehead) to “I want to punch a hole in the wall.”

Concurrent: I’m part of two class-action lawsuits against two AI firms who have harvested material from my books without my permission or remuneration. And one of my best friends, who recently purchased a lovely house in a lovely little country hamlet, recently discovered that a data center is going in a cornfield about a quarter-mile from his house, which will ruin his property values and also his quality of life. He is doing his best “Mr. Smith-ing” at town hall meetings, shaking sheaves of paper like Dr. Richard Kimble ranting against Provasic … but I fear it won’t work. I hate this for him.

Anyway, in my classrooms, I simply ask my students not to use it, as a matter of stewardship of their talents, stewardship of the money somebody is spending to send them to school, and stewardship of their relationship with me and with each other. I tell them they can basically cheat their way through college if they want to, and there’s not much we can do about it. I’m just asking them not to. And this works most of the time. These are good kids.

After the panel, back in the classrooms, we had all sorts of interesting conversations about it … conversations which struck me as formative … which is the reason you send your kid to Christian college in the first place. If we sacrifice formation on the altar of pragmatism, then sure, AI your way through college. It may be the shortest path to the degree.

We talked about how competence—being good at something or achieving mastery—is always attractive and valuable. And how achieving competence and mastery involves pushing yourself and operating in discomfort. It’s why I ask them to read challenging books, because they need to know what “the best” looks and sounds like on the page, so that they have something to shoot for.

We talked about the “Who would I rather stand next to at a party?” test. The guy who prompts AI for a living, or the guy who has ideas and creates on his own?

We talked about how AI is trying to mechanize something—discipleship—that is beautifully and delightfully inefficient. As a man of Germanic descent, I love my efficiency dearly, but I would rather take a long phone call at 10 p.m. from a friend who is trying to hold his marriage together, than have him discussing it with a chatbot. Christians need other Christians.

Finally, we talked about how in scripture God sometimes allows His people to do remarkable things in His name, but also how those same people are always reminded of their finitude. A few chapters after Elijah defeats the prophets of Baal, he is under a tree wishing he could die, only to be kept alive by an angel with some fresh bread and water. Or how in the apostles’ healing of the sick and casting out demons in the Gospels, sometimes there was a demon that only Christ could drive out. One student mentioned the Tower of Babel, and what happens when man tries to get close to God by man’s own means.

These are good kids. Thoughtful kids. Relational kids. And they’re less interested in tech than we give them credit for.

I think the average middle-age-quarter-zip thinks that the average college student is over the proverbial moon for tech. But my students get the most excited about producing a magazine made of paper. They like buying DVDs. They listen to music on vinyl. Turns out they enjoy owning their media.

I’m not that interested in AI, but I’m not that worried about it either, primarily because of my students. And if AI takes my job, then … I guess I’ll do something else. But God will be no less sovereign, and no less good if it happens.