Brisbane, Australia – In 1987, a bustling newsroom in Brisbane was the backdrop for exposing the corrupt practices of the state government led by Sir Joh Bjelke-Petersen. At that time, reporters relied on typewriters to document pressing social issues.
As technology advanced, journalists found themselves transitioning to more modern tools. A regional television station in Victoria later embraced the Commodore 64, one of the earliest desktop computers, which resembled a small bread bin. It was here that I reported on the harrowing impacts of mesothelioma on workers at the Loy Yang power station in Traralgon, a stark reminder of the human cost of industrial negligence.
In contrast to the developments in Australia, rural regions in countries like Kenya, Bangladesh, and India often saw reporters wielding notepads and pens as they covered stories about female foeticide, child marriage, and sex trafficking. Today, my latest book, which delves into how artificial intelligence discriminates against marginalized communities, was crafted using an Apple Mac.
Regardless of the tools employed to capture the first drafts of history, the essence of these narratives remains rooted in humanity. Stories are vital—they shape public perception and understanding. However, with the rise of algorithms and AI, the question emerges: what happens when these narratives are “scraped”?
Scraping, often defined as removing unwanted matter from a surface, in this case refers to the extraction of personal and cultural stories by corporate entities. In the tech hub of Silicon Valley, this process often disregards the humane aspect of storytelling, feeding data into AI systems that generate content lacking depth and authenticity. Many of these innovations focus disproportionately on narratives centered around young men in affluent urban environments, neglecting the voices of those in marginalized communities.
This erasure raises concerns about the representation of individuals like John, a 64-year-old from Traralgon who succumbed to asbestosis, or seven-year-old Raha from Jaipur, who faces the stark realities of child marriage and exploitation. Products like ChatGPT do not embody the visionary ethos expressed in the writings of Richard Brautigan, who envisioned a compassionate future shaped by technology.
The ongoing debate around copyright protections highlights the tension between protecting intellectual property and driving innovation. Some argue for the dilution of these protections under the guise of fostering creativity, but this contradicts the very purpose of copyright law—to safeguard creative efforts. The push for exemptions for text and data mining could undermine the livelihoods of countless creators and writers.
The Productivity Commission’s suggestion to adjust copyright laws for the benefit of emerging digital industries has raised eyebrows. The analogy of taking a rental car without permission reflects widespread concerns regarding ownership and respect for intellectual property. It is not merely about legal semantics; it’s about the soul of artistic creation.
Moreover, U.S. companies have been accused of mining Australian content without fair compensation, using it to construct AI models that they later sell back to Australian consumers. This dynamic resembles a form of neocolonialism, extracting value while leaving creators in the lurch.
While the allure of a projected $116 billion economic benefit from digital technologies is enticing, skepticism looms large. Productivity can be enhanced through much more straightforward methods—such as reducing distractions and treating workers with respect—rather than depending solely on machine learning and AI.
As we navigate this rapidly changing landscape, it’s essential to prioritize our humanity over data. It is the sharing of stories—through various mediums—that fosters our growth as individuals and as a society.
As we forge ahead, we must critically assess the latest technological shifts and their implications.
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