This time it's my honour to commit my thoughts on a topical subject to paper. Figuratively speaking, of course, as my sentences appear on a gleaming screen.
It's always exciting to see whether I'll manage to structure my ideas into a coherent narrative with a beginning and an end, divided into logical paragraphs and formulated in—hopefully—pleasantly readable sentences. And all this whilst knowing that I may well be doing something terribly old-fashioned. Is anyone still waiting for this? Are there still readers in the house?
In my inbox, policy documents are increasingly being replaced by slide decks. For those unfamiliar with the term: these are endless series of PowerPoint slides, staccato-filled with bullet points and garnished with stock photos. These slide decks always end with a slide saying Thank You, which reminds me of Year 7 presentations where pupils always added applause at the end. At least that was taken care of. So is there something wrong with PowerPoint presentations? Certainly not, nor with bullet points as anchor points for an argument. It's just that the art of argumentation seems to be increasingly disappearing from view.
Which brings me to my next thought: are there still writers in the house?
Writers who sit down before that gleaming screen or blank page with healthy (or unhealthy) anticipation and engage in the struggle to make the gap between what they want to say and what ultimately appears on the page as small as possible. We might associate this classic image more readily with novelists than with academics or policymakers, but for everyone, writing is a way of creating order from the chaos of thoughts and ideas. As you formulate, you discover that you don't yet know precisely how something works, that there are still white spots or black holes in your reasoning. Writing is thinking with your hands. And the satisfaction you can feel when placing that final full stop, knowing it fits like a glove and sounds perfect, is something I wholeheartedly wish for everyone.
But don't we have Chat and its friends? Which are developing at breakneck speed into 'sounding board, story advisor (sic), research assistant and editor' (according to themselves), and can now, with the right input and prompts, perfectly imitate your own writing style. Rather ironic: that people invest considerable time in providing precise instructions about the target audience, the intended effect and the desired style, all to ensure that an AI tool delivers what you could have written yourself: your own text. Yes, but time-saving, I hear people say. So efficient.
When one of the cost-cutting measures for my work as secretary to the governing body involves suggesting that minutes be taken using AI. This is possible: having a verbatim transcription made and extracting the action points from it. Only this does reflect an idealised view of how meetings actually proceed: structured, logical and rational. From my extensive experience at meeting tables, I can report that things generally proceed less linearly. That the meandering of the discussion sometimes leads to the best solutions, and the time devoted to a subject is determined not only by its importance but also by board members' personal views. The art of producing good meeting minutes is translating that sometimes chaotic reality into something that participants afterwards think: didn't we put that well. Writing is also choosing. And action points—these are best formulated on the spot and agreed with those present. That's not only efficient but also effective.
And for anyone who thinks I'm now preaching for my own parish: the expression 'writing brings immortality' is said to have been used by the Romans. According to Gemini.
