“No AI was in used this.”
Every time I see this, I think: okay… but is it any good?
It’s presented like a virtue. A signal: “This came from a real human, the old-fashioned way.” I get it. It’s meant to signal something: purity,
effort, humanity. Like buying bread from someone who insists it was made “the
old way.” Which sounds nice, until you realize the old way also produced a lot
of very bad bread.
“Human-made” has never been a quality guarantee. I’ve read
plenty of human writing that felt like wading through wet cement. Being
human is a good starting point, but it doesn't stand alone as a credential.
Saying “no AI was used” is a bit like a chef bragging they
didn’t use a recipe. That could mean mastery or it could explain why the soup is
disappointing. The method isn’t the meal.
Lately, though, we’ve gotten fixated on the method. People
scan paragraphs like they’re counterfeit bills, looking for tells. “Too many
em-dashes.” “Too structured.” We’ve reached a point where writing clearly might
get you accused of outsourcing your brain.
This argument isn’t really about tools … it’s about ownership. If
something can help you think, shape an idea, sharpen a sentence… where do you
end? That question makes people nervous. So we draw a line. “This side is me,
that side is the machine,” and we stand there like we’ve secured something
important.
But the "this is me" line was always a bit of a fiction.
Because none of us create in isolation. We’re not as
original as we feel when we’re typing. We’re stitched together from things
we’ve read, arguments we’ve had, phrases that stuck, ideas that rattled around
long enough to feel like our own. We’ve been remixing other people’s thinking
forever. The only difference is that it used to happen slowly enough to feel
like invention instead of assembly.
That said, I don’t think the “No AI” crowd is entirely
wrong. There is something real they’re trying to protect, even if the
slogan is clumsy.
You can feel when a piece of writing has friction in it. Not
bad friction, human friction. The kind that comes from someone actually
wrestling with an idea instead of just arranging it neatly. A sentence that
almost trips over itself because the thought behind it isn’t fully settled yet.
A paragraph that reveals the writer changed their mind halfway through.
That stuff matters. It’s the difference between writing
that’s merely correct and writing that feels lived-in.
None of that, however, is guaranteed by the absence of AI.
You can write something painfully hollow all by yourself.
You can also use tools and still produce something sharp, strange, and
unmistakably yours. The presence or absence of assistance doesn’t map neatly to
depth, originality, or meaning. It’s just not that clean.
So when I see “no AI was used,” it feels less like a
meaningful signal and more like a kind of virtue shorthand. A way of saying,
“trust this,” without actually earning that trust on the page.
And readers, in my experience, are less interested in your
process than you think. They’re not sitting there awarding points for purity.
They’re asking much simpler, much harsher questions:
Is this worth my time?
Does it say something I haven’t quite
been able to articulate?
Does it sharpen a blurry thought?
Does it make me
pause, or laugh, or argue back in my head?
If the answer is yes, nobody cares how you got there. If the answer is no, the fact that you suffered through
every word unaided is admirable, I guess. But it doesn’t make the reading
experience any better.
Slop is slop. Handcrafted slop is still slop.
Maybe the more interesting shift would be this: instead of
obsessing over whether something used AI, we get better at noticing
whether something actually thinks.
Because that’s the part that’s getting rarer. Not humanity (there’s
plenty of that) but genuine, engaged thinking. The kind
that doesn’t just glide from point A to point B but leaves a few scuff marks
along the way.
Tools will come and go. People will keep drawing lines and
defending them. That’s what we do when something new shows up and
rearranges the furniture.
But I keep coming back to the same filter:
Not: “Who wrote this?”
Not: “How was this made?”
Just: Is it any good?
Everything else feels like reading the label instead of
tasting the food.
