Tolerance by decree
The beam in thine eye
Backpacker hostels are places where very different people meet and mingle and, with the rarest exceptions, give each other due respect. Many hostels will put up a sign that racism, sexism and other -isms are not acceptable, but signs on the wall don’t create tolerance. People do that, and those who elect to travel far from their home shores tend to be of a decent sort.
Back in the US, I stayed at a hostel that took inclusivity so seriously that I had to sign an inclusivity pledge just to get through the front door. Pledges are a thing over there: pledge of allegiance, pledge of purity, pledge of inclusivity… if you can imagine it, there’s a pledge for it. I had signed sillier things in my life, so why not. I know I have established my credentials in that chayakhana in Kalam, in that project room in Jo’burg, at that festival in Tordesillas, in that dive in Pattaya. Each place has a story that shaped me, one that a bigot would never experience. So, sure, a pledge.
A few days after I left, I received an exit interview — pardon me, an inclusivity survey. Did you learn about other cultures? Why yes, New York is a magnificent cultural mix. Did you share your own culture? Not really, that’s not why I’m here. Did you feel accepted? Except by the snotty kid at your front desk, absolutely.
What is your ethnicity, pick one: African American? I am an honorary African, but not an American, so, no. Hispanic? No, my Spanish is atrocious. White? Not in the way you mean. Pacific islander? Which island are we talking about: Fuego, Honshu, Enubirr, Aotearoa, Kodiak, Kurile? Oh, right, Hawaii. No, not a Pacific Islander.
Asian?
Blimey, have you seen the size of Asia? What the fuck do you mean Asian? How is Asian ever an ethnicity????
There was, unfortunately, a fill-in option and I was sufficiently irked that I filled it in. I explained just how many ethnicities, undreamt of in their narrow, provincial, condescending and, yes, bigoted minds, exist in the world and just what an ethnicity is not.
There was no reply, but I doubt I’m welcome in that hostel any more.
Not long ago, there was a kerfuffle surrounding Google’s AI image generator. Apparently, it mostly produced pictures of white men, except when bikinis were involved. Being the good corporate citizens that they are, Google re-trained its pet to include ethnicities and genders in all situations more evenly.
Things went swimmingly until someone asked for pictures of Nazi soldiers and they came out as diverse as you please: male and female, White, Black and Hispanic (an “ethnicity” that for some reason includes Tz’utujil speaking descendant of the Maya, but not natives of Madrid).
I won’t ask what is an AI generated Nazi soldier. Presumably, it’s possible to know whether the digital guy was a card carrying antisemite or some poor shmuck who got drafted against his will. (In later edits, The Guardian replaced “Nazi soldier” with “WWII German soldier”. Well done.)
There was a predictable uproar, followed by the equally predictable pledge by Google’s top execs to re-train the AI beastie some more and make it more selective in its inclusivity.
Selective inclusivity is a perfectly valid concept, apparently.
A few more re-trainings may be necessary to make sure that pākehās never have ka moko, slaves white skin (except in ancient Rome), or men burqas. With these final tweaks, the AI will generate images of people in all their diversity, but only when appropriate.
What is appropriate will be determined by AI developers who really just want to keep their job, by their managers who really, really, want to get that bonus, and by the loudest Mothers of Convention who have really, really, really thought this through.
What could possibly go wrong?
Everyone should have the same chance to make it. The words we hear and the images we see determine how we see ourselves in the world, how others see us, what endeavours we are willing to undertake and what our chances of success are. If we must have AI generated images, then let them include people in all their magnificent colours and shapes. Full stop.
No tweaking, no adjusting, no restrictions on what is and what is not appropriate. These tools create fantasies, and that should be a standard warning, repeated as often (an as ineffectually) as warnings on cigarette packs. These images are not real: they are a figment of the algorithm’s imagination. You got what you asked for.
Our ideas are sometimes noble, often not. The tools we have, the effort we invest and the talent we possess determine the outward shape we can give them, but not their content. Scratches made by a rock on another rock can have a deeper meaning than the most detailed photorealistic rendering. But if our tools restrict the breadth of ideas that we can express, they restrict the ideas we can have, making us less than human. Which is a really, really bad idea.
