When AI Can Do the Work What Is Left for the Human

When AI Can Do the Work — What Is Left for the Human?
A few days ago, during a friendly conversation, we found ourselves discussing a question that became increasingly difficult to answer.
AI can write a play in seconds.
It can produce an essay, translate it, analyse it, correct it — and perhaps soon do many of these things better and faster than most of us.
So here is the uncomfortable question:
If a machine can produce the work, who decides whether the result is worth reading?
And another:
Can a machine decide what deserves to exist?
We often hear that AI threatens literature, education, journalism, culture and many other human activities.
But perhaps this is not the deepest danger.
Perhaps the deeper danger is that we gradually allow the machine to become not only our assistant, but also our judge.
The machine writes.
The machine checks.
The machine evaluates.
The machine tells us: This is the good one.
And we accept the verdict because we no longer have enough time — or perhaps enough confidence — to read everything ourselves.
But then another question appears.
Who is training whom?
The human being is supposed to train the machine.
But what happens when the human begins to train himself according to the machine?
Perhaps this is where Culture has a role that technology cannot replace.
Not to compete with artificial intelligence.
Not to defeat it.
But to remind us what intelligence is for.
Because being Homo sapiens is not a permanent medal pinned to the chest at birth.
It is a daily task.
A privilege that must be continually earned.
Perhaps this is why, four thousand years ago, a woman whose name almost disappeared from history still has something to tell us.
Enheduanna.
She lived in a world where power was measured in armies, bronze and conquest.
And she chose another form of power.
The Word.
Perhaps the question before us today is not whether AI will become more intelligent.
It almost certainly will.
The question is whether we will continue becoming more human.
What do you think?
Where, in your view, is the boundary between what a machine can produce and what a human being must still decide?





What if the author were no longer the one who writes?
We have talked a great deal about what artificial intelligence can now produce.
But perhaps another question is even more important.
If a work is born from a dialogue between a human being and an AI, do we still need to ask who wrote every single sentence?
One brings intention, experience, sensitivity, and direction.
The other brings possibilities, formulations, associations — and sometimes even ideas that the first had never thought of.
Then the human being chooses.
He keeps.
He rejects.
He corrects.
He transforms.
He starts again.
So where, exactly, does the act of authorship lie?
In the original idea?
In the direction given to the machine?
In the successive choices?
In the corrections?
In what we decide to keep — and, perhaps even more importantly, in what we decide to reject?
Perhaps tomorrow’s question will no longer be:
“Who wrote this work?”
But rather:
“Who carries its intention? Who takes responsibility for its choices? And who is honest about the way it came into being?”
Because if dialogue between a human being and a machine becomes a new way of creating, I am not sure we can continue pretending that only one of them participated in the birth of the work.
Perhaps the real question is simply this:
What are we going to call this new form of creation?
What do you think?













And another question keeps coming back to me — perhaps a more troubling one.
Is it really still meaningful to ask “Who wrote” every sentence when a work has emerged from a dialogue in which one participant brings the intention, the direction and the choices, while the other brings possibilities, formulations and sometimes even ideas that the first chooses to keep?
In that case, where exactly does the act of authorship lie?
In the idea?
In the direction?
In the choices?
In the corrections?
Or in the entire dialogue through which the work came into being?
I do not have a definitive answer.
But I have the feeling that AI may force us to redefine not the existence of the author, but what we still mean when we say “to be an author.”
And perhaps the real question will soon no longer be:
“Who wrote it?”
but simply:
“Who chose?”