Art in a technical revolution

The leftish British daily newspaper, The Guardian, recently ran an interesting article suggesting a possible cultural shift on our horizons. They have predicted a revival of romanticism in the 2020s and have substantiated the argument by looking at history.

The article reminds us of the Industrial Revolution of the 18th and 19th centuries, known for the steam engine, the cotton gin, and the mechanization of manufacturing. It was an exciting time for technology but a grim and dehumanizing life for laborers, and the arts of the time reflected an unmet need to connect with emotion and individualism. Mary Shelley wrote Frankenstein, Beethoven wrote his ninth symphony, and Delacroix captured the essence of Liberty against a backdrop of ongoing misery and uncertainty about the future.

The Guardian sees a similar situation today. A “backlash is bubbling,” they argue, against “tech’s dominance over everyday life, particularly the godlike algorithms.” We have survived a recent pandemic and political upheavals and are now smothered by technology. The Guardian predicts we will rebel by rediscovering spirituality, living offline, and embracing romanticism in the arts.

The comparison with the Industrial Revolution is appropriate; we certainly have a collection of anxieties to show for it. We are on the brink of multiple wars on multiple continents and have culture wars at home. We have a volatile economy, increased food costs, and an influx of cheap labor. Could we look any more like 18th-century Europe if we tried? Against that backdrop, our privacy is chipped away by the information age, and we now find ourselves in a rapidly changing technological environment that is on the brink of displacing entire job categories.

Although we’re already stressed by technology, we know that we are entering the age of Artificial Intelligence (AI), and there are changes to come. We hope and trust that most of the impacts will be positive, but we expect growing pains too. What we don’t know is how much or how soon. We just know it will be enormous. When the history of the world is written, AI will be on a list of game-changers next to the printing press, railroads, and the light bulb.

Artificial intelligence is destined to replace labor to some extent. We hope it will eventually create jobs, too, but people will inevitably be displaced. There will be hard feelings. There will be anger. During the Industrial Revolution, mobs rioted and destroyed machines. We hope we don’t see that reaction, but at least some pushback against technology can be expected.

The arts, of the romantic tradition or otherwise, would seem like a logical refuge from technology, yet the arts are under attack as well. The paintings of the great masters can now be reproduced in fantastic detail. Voices can be spoofed, and digital video effects can match facial movements to a simulated voice.

I thought it was a big deal when Natalie Cole sang a duet with her deceased father, but that’s child’s play by today’s standards. The Beatles have released songs posthumously, and hologram concert tours now feature Amy Winehouse, Whitney Houston, Elvis Presley, and Maria Callas. As impressive as those performances might be, they won’t provide relief from technology.

Literature is most at risk. Even in its infancy, AI technology for the written word has become remarkably powerful and will only improve. Those of us who enjoy writing tell ourselves that AI can’t replace the human imagination. We hope that’s true, but the writing process is forever changed. Academic debates center around research and attribution, while the business community argues about copyrights. AI has already impacted legal and technical writing, and dime-store novels can’t be far behind.

I’m not going to make any predictions, but I agree with the Guardian’s assertion that the conditions are suitable for a bit of anti-technological rebellion–and I would like to think that the arts can offer some solace in that regard. The challenge will be to connect with arts that are unfettered by technology.

Will we return to romanticism? The better bet would be in favor of minimalism. What better way to escape the ones and zeros than a performance of Shakespeare in the park with no set or costumes, a solo performance of a Bach suite for Cello, a gallery filled with the works of local artists, or acoustic roots music played live in a small hall?

I would find any of those appealing, and with McCook undergoing a surge of interest in the arts, they may have arrived at just the right time.