Saturday, September 20, 2025
As anyone who has worked on a creative project can attest, being able to still the mind is the first incremental necessity. Even those in an occupation such as writing advertising copy know that the most inspired moments often occur when one finally stops trying to think of something “brilliant,” but simply stops thinking about it and stares off into space; or takes a brisk walk, and then a shower. The notebook paper one keeps on a bathroom shelf might warp slightly when the damp imprint of your hand dries, but at least you’ll have those phrases that arrived “out of nowhere” recorded as close as possible to their original syntax.
And that’s the problem with “artificial intelligence,” which I have previously referred to as “airbrushed intelligence.” AI is incapable of yearning for silence — any kind of silence. Even if it were programmed to stop engaging in searches, that wouldn’t lead to a generative silence.
It has been promulgated from “on high” that AI will soon surpass the capabilities of human consciousness. Silence — artificial or otherwise — will eternally elude the collage powers of AI’s stupendous warehouse of digital knowledge, and thereby restrict its access to the most important aspect of consciousness: the imagination.
It is the lingering presence of silence that enables a poem to be remembered as an event. Versification, no matter how nimbly enchanting, is in contrast simply a display of masterful technique. No doubt AI can generate an ensemble of words that faithfully reiterate various rules of versification. Not having access to silence, however, means that — as John Lennon said — it’s “crippled inside.”
About Bill Mohr