How will Artificial Intelligence change our relationship with Human Nature (Part 1)

A reflection on the Annual RSA Scotland Angus Miller Lecture

(with thanks to the RSA, Ann Packard, Magnus Linklater and Andrew O’Hagan)

The RSA, or to give its full title The Royal Society for the Encouragement of Arts, Manufactures and Commerce, is 250 years old and has had a consistent thread through its mission to explore the intersection of the arts and business for the public good. This year’s RSA Scotland Angus Miller Lecture, in Edinburgh on the 2nd December, was a thought-provoking event focused directly on that intersection in the most relevant and current way possible.

Andrew O’Hagan’s lecture on *Art, Literature, and Truth in the Era of Fake News, Algorithms, and Artificial Intelligence* offered a thoughtful, sometimes dark but always spirited reflection on our current trajectory within an increasingly artificial society.

It was thoughtful because, as one would expect from an event in the home of the Scottish Enlightenment, the traces through history were eloquently threaded into a modern context. From Robert Louis Stevenson’s resolution of his liminal states between the dreaming and the waking worlds, translated through ink onto paper to capture the truly novel imagination that Andrew argues no machine seems capable of, to the imagined protestations of David Hume against the trust we put into, and our own subjugation to, the machines we are inventing.

In my world of ‘conferences,’ it’s easy to forget the art of a really well-written lecture (though we would expect nothing less from such a prominent author of both fiction and non-fiction). So please excuse this poorly crafted attempt at reaction and reflection to it, but also take it as just that—reaction/reflection—not necessarily a fully complete piece in itself, but rather part of an ongoing conversation and exchange of ideas.

It was dark because the objective observation of where we are today shows us that we have already given up so much of what makes us human, subjugating ourselves to the undesired (individually) but largely intended (commercially) consequences of digital technology. It was astutely observed by both Andrew and Fellows in the audience that there is a lack of artistic inspiration in the science of the artificial and an increasing distance between the two approaches to exploring our world. This disconnect could be contributing to the negative spiral we seem to be hurtling towards.

We are cautioned not to be taken in by the creative adaptations or promises of AI lest we repeat the same mistakes we have already made with social media. On one hand, we celebrated social media’s contribution to movements like the Arab Spring, which, with time, revealed itself as having limited lasting effects. On the other, we now see the enormous harm it inflicts on mental health, especially among youth. What really are the net gains here, measured not by shareholder value but by human societal well-being?

It was spirited because it offered the observation that we must, and indeed inevitably will, resist—primarily through the arts and culture—the diminishing of truth and the obfuscation of reality in our world mediated by these exploitative technologies. Andrew pointed out that it is the very nature of the arts and literature to resist, and that culture has a way of pushing through. Yet, I do not entirely share the fullness of his optimism here. Instead, I lean towards the realism painted by dystopian science fiction—realism that seems less far-fetched when we look at cultural shifts already happening in hyper-urbanized societies like Tokyo. I see a potential for widening divides: financial divides between the powerful and the less powerful, and cultural divides between those striving for power and those striving against powerlessness.

Technology, by design, amplifies these divides under the guise of creating more connection, whereas art seeks to subvert this amplification by fostering genuine human connection across divides. It is in this latter mode of connection that Andrew sees the opportunity for the human spirit to rise above technological division. As a designer, I find myself at the intersection of art, manufactures, and commerce that defines the RSA. However, if I’m being brutally honest, we designers are far more in service to commerce than we care to admit.

Andrew O’Hagan’s lecture was a call to arms for those involved in art, literature, and culture. I believe that those of us in the profession of design, using our skills primarily within a commercial context, are part of that call. As my co-host and I discuss in our podcast, *Being Liminal*, not everyone feels they have the privilege—financially or socially—to resist the unlimited growth, profit-first models of our employers or clients. Yet it seems clear that mass resistance or a resurgence in the valuing of humanity and the humanities in all walks of life will be necessary to counter a cultural collapse and inspire a broader resistance.

Designing Our Own Destiny

One of the points that stayed with me from the lecture is the idea that in an individualistic society, people increasingly want to design their own destiny. This raises profound questions about agency and control. If everyone becomes a ‘designer’—not in the professional sense, but in terms of decision-making—how does that reshape society? Design, after all, is the art of planning. It is both an art and a science, and this duality makes it a vital bridge between the two. Historically, science and art inspired one another. Today, science seems preoccupied with mimicking both itself and art, and even nature itself. This mimicry robs us of our humanity—our ability to messily explore boundaries with frailty, vulnerability, and error.

The rise of artificial intelligence poses a critical challenge to this dynamic. If machines become increasingly adept at mirroring human creativity, does that devalue our own messy, imperfect creative processes? Or does it make them more precious? I lean towards the latter. There is something irreplaceable in the frailty of human imagination—a quality that cannot be encoded or predicted by algorithms.

Where Next?

In reflecting on Andrew’s lecture, I find myself drawn to the questions it raises about the future. How will AI’s growing role in our lives redefine our understanding of human nature? Will it push us towards a greater appreciation of the arts and the humanities, as a counterbalance to the cold logic of machines? Or will it deepen our reliance on technology, further estranging us from the messy, beautiful realities of being human?

To answer these questions, we must look at how we educate and inspire the next generation. Are we encouraging them to value vulnerability, creativity, and the power of connection? Are we fostering a culture that resists division and embraces complexity?

Perhaps most importantly, are we as designers, artists, and thinkers willing to take up Andrew’s call to arms? To create not just for commerce, but for connection; not just for utility, but for humanity? These are the challenges we must face if we are to navigate the intersections of art, literature, and technology in a way that enriches, rather than diminishes, the human experience.

The Revolution Ahead

As I consider Andrew’s optimism, I am struck by a lingering question: have art and culture been pushed far enough yet? Throughout history, moments of profound cultural and technological disruption have been met with equally profound artistic revolutions. The Renaissance rose from the ashes of the Middle Ages, and the countercultural movements of the 20th century arose in defiance of industrial and political hegemony. Today, we stand on the precipice of another such moment. But what will this revolution look like? What will it take for art and culture to truly push back against the tide of technological subjugation?

I feel we are close. The fractures in our current systems are widening. People are beginning to question the relentless pursuit of profit and the unchecked power of technology. The next revolution may not come from a single movement but from a collective awakening. It will require a reimagining of how we use technology—not as a tool for endless growth, but as a means to enhance the human spirit and foster the common good.

What kind of society will we have when we finally take control of technology for a greater good? Imagine a world where algorithms are not designed to exploit our attention but to amplify our creativity and empathy. Where AI serves as a collaborator, not a competitor, in the artistic process. Where the humanities are not sidelined but celebrated as essential to understanding and shaping our shared future. This is the society we must strive for—a society where technology and humanity exist not in opposition, but in harmony.

To reach this vision, we must ask ourselves: are we ready to resist? Are we ready to reclaim our humanity from the clutches of an artificial society? The answers lie in the choices we make today—in how we design, create, and connect. The revolution is coming. The question is will we lead it or be swept up by it.

In Part 2 I want to reflect more on the direct ways in which the use of AI to change our environment plays with our sense and understanding of reality and where the unintended consequences of this may lie and even already be seen in the world.