An Ode to Human Authenticity
Before you read this conversational essay I wrote, I want to set the stage a little bit and provide you with some context. I’ve been unemployed for over a year now (yay!) and the reality of my situation is that it is mirrored by many others who have recently graduated a post-secondary institution. A high education level, as we have found out, does not guarantee a job. My Master’s degree may as well be a participation sticker for following the path that I was told would give me the best chances of success. Stereotypical Gen-Z responsibility dodging aside (yes, I must network more… yes, I really squandered that one opportunity that one time…), it sometimes feels as though the time I spent achieving my education has actually prevented me from getting a job. I have no experience in my professional domain outside of the yearlong co-op I did through my school, but every job I’ve looked at seems to expect 3 years of experience at a minimum. In some ways, we may feel like we were sold a lie by our guidance councillors. In other ways, we may hate ourselves for listening to those that said to pursue what we liked and not what would sustain us economically. If we were really trying to point the finger in typical Gen-Z fashion, we may even end up blanket-blaming capitalism and its unsustainable ethos of constant growth. It has become apparent to us that large corporations would rather invest in artificial intelligence systems rather than our so-called “human capital” because it is cheaper and doesn’t whine about having to work in the office. So, what now? We’ve graduated and there’s no one who wants us, if you believe what I say. What then? My simple proposition: this. Yes, my choice at having a meta-conversation may be somewhat difficult to wrap your head around, but what I’m referring to is the mere creation of content like the words you are reading right now. The postmodern version of a Tumblr rant, whatever you want to call it—the solution is to create content that stems from a deeper, more authentically human part of yourself. Jobs be damned, we’ll all be on universal basic income in the next ten years or so anyway. Kidding aside, the essay you’re about to read equally argues for this sentiment in its form as well as its function. I hope you enjoy.
An Ode to Human Authenticity
In 2023, the American Dialect Society deemed “enshittification” the word of the year. Coined by Cory Doctorow to describe the decline of digital platforms, the term has grown to become a neologism for many contexts beyond the online space.
Enshittification is when the car manufacturer you once trusted skimps on safety for profit, resulting in a recall.
It’s when your mom falls for an Amazon phishing text because her phone data was sold at some point.
It’s when your subscription service stops working, and when you seek support, you’re connected to an AI chatbot instead of a real person.
It’s when Disney greenlights yet another Toy Story sequel instead of creating new IP.
It’s when your can of Nestea (RIP) shrinks from 473mL to 460mL, but the price stays the same.
While enshittification predominantly describes our lives online, the general degradation of goods, services, and the underlying social structures of the “real” world fits neatly under its umbrella.
Enshittification even extends to the job market, employment processes, and productivity as a whole. AI generates job descriptions, scans resumes, and evaluates cover letters—often themselves created by AI. In a market flooded with globalized, cheap, subpar labour and the shallow chatter of two AIs communicating with each other, markers of human authenticity emerge as key indicators of quality. In the past, the creation and exchange of products and services were underpinned by human relationships. This is no longer the case. Faceless convenience, driven by profit and instant gratification, has supplanted something that was once intrinsically human. Very well, you might say—but what’s your point? I’m glad you asked. I believe the antidote to enshittification is human authenticity. As someone operating in a capitalist market, your ability to generate human authenticity is uniquely valuable—socially and, soon, economically. In other words, human authenticity is a luxury resource. As a young, emerging professional, this is something you should recognize and leverage for your benefit—and for the benefit of society.
Why, you may ask, do I believe this? Here’s my argument: It’s undeniable that the Internet will soon be flooded with entirely synthetic content. Artificially generated Gandhi will host a podcast with artificially generated Hitler (mark my words—this will be on the internet within 5–10 years). And when this happens, AI-generated videos, podcasts, and articles will be virtually indistinguishable from human-created ones. However, one distinct difference will remain: they’re not actually human. They can’t prove themselves human the way you can. Simply put, in the future, the work you produce as a verifiable human will automatically be worth more than work generated by AI. People inherently seek connection, and transactions underpinned by human relationships will be worth more because they will be rare.
At this stage, I believe there is a moral obligation to create content that contributes to making both the online and real worlds spaces you’d want to inhabit.
The bar for entry into content creation has never been lower. Free tools like OBS (Open Broadcasting Software) and Audacity mean the process costs nothing but your time.
Post a podcast about your favourite book series. Upload a YouTube video on the extinct owl rabbit hole you explored on Wikipedia the other night. Share something that showcases your humanity. Post something real.
